The shepherd you know? If he is unhappy, He does n't seem so. You love him, Nanon, As I adore you? Yes, indeed, kind sir, And much better too. Pray tell me, Nanon, Who made you so smart? You, too, have studied, And learned things by heart. In my father's house, I have studied deep.-- I got my learning In watching my sheep. One of the favorite ruses is that by which the shepherd maid induces the gallant to let her go, on some frivolous excuse and a promise to return, and then mocks him for his credulity. A similar jest, with the proverb that when you hold a quail in hand you should pluck it, is very common in French folk-song, as, indeed, in that of all nations. This is one of the Poitevin versions:-- THE SHEPHERDESS AND THE GENTLEMAN. It was a gentleman returning from the army, Upon the road he met a shepherd maid; He dismounted quickly, and went to sit beside her. Cunning was the maid, and wept as if afraid. "Have mercy, gentleman, you 'll spoil my fine, white cap, I 'll go and put it off, and come back quite soon." The gallant gentleman found the time quite tedious, The maiden did not come; he whistled a blank tune. "John, my little John, go and tell the maiden To come back at once, for she must be asleep." "Good fortune it is to me that I have got away, By the grace of God I have no shame to weep." "Little John returned to where his master waited, Whistling a blank tune beneath the willow tree, "Alas, my master, the maid is very cunning; She is safe at home, and sends you mockery." The gallant ceased his tune, and swore in bitter anger, "If again that maid I meet by any hap, Either in the highroad, or on the flowery meadow, I will have no mercy on her fine, white cap." Then the love songs of Poitou have a light and humorous turn, a jest at the fickleness of the runaway lover, and the easy consolation of the young maiden, whose desire is more to have a lover than that he should be any particular person. La Belle Rosalie illustrates this gay mockery of youthful love. THE FAIR ROSALIE. The fair Rosalie Has lost her lover bold, Is n't she unhappy, Only fifteen years old! He promised to return,-- The deep woods were to blame,-- But she has waited vainly; The traitor never came. "Nightingale that sings, Nightingale that flies, Tell me, tell me truly, Where my lover lies." "Your lover, maiden fair, Has gone across the Rhine. Captains three are with him, And he is brave and fine. "Exchange your woman's dress For a soldier's coat of blue: In thirty days you 'll find him,