When she ended, Jacques remained silent, and was only waked, so to speak, by hearing his name pronounced. "Yes," he said at random. Belle-Bouche laughed. "You agree with me, then, that my voice is wretchedly out of tune?" she said mischievously. Poor Jacques only sighed and blushed. "Betty Martin was a foolish girl," said Belle-bouche, laughing to hide her embarrassment. "How?" murmured Jacques. Belle-bouche found that she was involved in a delicate explanation; but thinking boldness the best, she replied: "Because she could not find just the husband she wanted. You know the song says so--'some were too coarse and some too fine.'" "Yes," murmured Jacques; "and 'tis often the case with us poor fellows. We seldom find the Chloe we want--she flies us ever spite of our attempts to clasp her to our hearts." "That is not because Chloe is fickle, but because Corydon is so difficult to please," Belle-bouche replied, with a sly little smile. "Ah! I am not!" he sighed. "Indeed, you are mistaken; I'm sure you are a very fastidious shepherd." "No, no. True, I may never find my Chloe; but when I do, then I shall no longer be my own master." Belle-bouche hesitated, blushed, and said quickly: "Perhaps you long to meet with an angel." "Oh, no--only a woman," said Jacques; "and if you will listen, I will describe my ideal in a moment." "Yes," said Belle-bouche, looking away; for his eyes were fixed upon her with such meaning that she could not return his gaze. "First," said Corydon, sighing, "she should be young--that is to say, she should unite the grace and innocence of childhood with the splendor and fascination of the fully-developed woman. This is most often found at seventeen--therefore she should be just seventeen." Belle-bouche was scarcely more than seventeen, as we know. The cunning Jacques went on. "She should be a blonde, with light golden hair, eyes as azure as the heavens, and, as one great poet said of another, 'with a charming archness' in them." "Yes," murmured Belle-bouche, whom this description suited perfectly. "Her voice should not be loud and bold, her manner careless," Jacques went on; "but a delicious gentleness, and even at times a languor, should be diffused through it--diffused through voice and manner, as a perfume is diffused through an apartment, invisible, imperceptible almost, filling us with quiet pleasure." "Quite a poetical description," said Belle-bouche, trying to laugh. "She should be soft and tender--full of wondrous thoughts, and ever standing like a gracious angel," sighed the rapturous Jacques, "to bless, console, and comfort me." "Still prettier," said Belle-bouche, blushing.