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"Pascal is unfortunate; he has been six months ill from the wounds he received in defence of Franconnette, and now his family is dependent upon him; but he has industry and courage, and will soon recover from his misfortunes." Franconnette remained quiet, concealing her emotions. Then the games began. They played at Cache Couteau or Hunt the Slipper.
Who would not overlook a fault, if fault it be, which is confessed in so naive a manner? When complimented about reviving the traditions of the Troubadours, Jasmin replied, "The Troubadours, indeed! Why, I am a better poet than any of the Troubadours! Not one of them could have composed a long poem of sustained interest, like my Franconnette."
At length she reached her grandmother's house, but she could not work, she could scarcely stand. The once radiant Franconnette could neither play nor sing; she could only weep. Thus ended two cantos of the poem. The third opens with a lovely picture of a cottage by a leafy brookside in the hamlet of Estanquet. The spring brought out the singing-birds to pair and build their nests.
At Pau he recited his Franconnette to an immense audience amidst frenzies of applause. It was alleged that the people of the Pyrenean country were prosaic and indifferent to art. But M. Dugenne, in the 'Memorial des Pyrenees, said that it only wanted such a bewitching poet as Jasmin with his vibrating and magical voice to rouse them and set their minds on fire.
The more exquisite the mastery of a writer over his own language, the more difficult it is to reproduce it in another. But the spirit of the song is in Miss Costello's translation, as given in Franconnette at the close of this volume. When reciting Franconnette, Jasmin usually sang The Syren to music of his own composition. We accordingly annex his music.
He said the most flattering things about my Franconnette, and considered it an improvement upon L'Aveugle. 'Continue, he said, 'my good friend' and you will take a place in the brightest poetry of our epoch. In showing me over the shelves in the Library containing the works of the old poets, which are still read and admired, he said, 'Like them, you will never die."
All were transported with admiration at the beautiful song. When Thomas had finished, loud shouts were raised for the name of the poet. "Who had composed this beautiful lay?" "It is Pascal," replied Thomas. "Bravo, Pascal! Long live Pascal!" was the cry of the young people. Franconnette was unwontedly touched by the song. "But where is Pascal?" she said. "If he loves, why does he not appear?"
On recovering his speech, he stammered out, grinding his teeth: "They shall pay clearly for this jesting; Franconnette shall have no other husband than myself." Many months passed. The harvest was gathered in. There were no more out-door fetes or dances. The villagers of Estanquet assembled round their firesides. Christmas arrived with it games and carol-singing.
In some respects Jasmin resembled Allan Ramsay, a barber and periwig-maker, like himself, whose Gentle Shepherd met with as great a success as Jasmin's Franconnette. Jasmin, however, was the greater poet of the two.
Since that time other bridges, especially the suspension bridge, have been erected, to enable the inhabitants of the towns on the Garonne to communicate freely with each other. It had hitherto been the custom of Jasmin to dedicate his poems to one of his friends; but in the case of Franconnette he dedicated the poem to the city of Toulouse.
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