"Madame," said the poet, "sonnets and madrigals are natural flowers beneath your feet, and grow apace in the sunshine of your lovely eyes: half a score of lines have come to my mind simply from looking into them."
"Indeed, master! Very good! we will listen to them. Ah! Messire le Prévôt, welcome; pray forgive me for not seeing you at once. Have you news of your future son-in-law, our friend Comte d'Orbec?"
"Yes, madame," replied D'Estourville, "he writes that he is to hasten his return, and we shall soon see him, I trust."
A half suppressed sigh made Madame d'Etampes start, but she said, without turning toward its author:—
"He will be welcomed by us all. Well, Vicomte de Marmagne," she continued, "have you found the sheath of your dagger?"
"No, madame; but I am on the trace of it, and I know how and where to find it now."
"Good luck to you then, Monsieur le Vicomte, good luck to you. Are you ready, Master Clement? we are all ears."
"The subject is the duchy of Etampes," said Marot.
A murmur of approval ran through the room, and the poet recited the following lines in an affected voice:—
"Ce plaisant val que l'on nomme Tempé
Dont mainte histoire est encore embellie,
Arrosé d'eau, si doux, si attrempé,
Sachez que plus il n'est en Thessalie;
Jupiter, roi qui les cœurs gagne et lie,
L'a de Thessale en France remué,
Et quelque peu son propre nom mué,
Car pour Tempé veut qu'Etampes s'appelle,
Ainsi lui plait, ainsi l'a situé
Pour y loger de France la plus belle."[7]