VI.

“What! buxom damsels--not discerned before. “Where hid my Venus?” Blanca cried: “Forbear!”-- “How now? By Heaven, this coyness fires me more; “No dame of Normandy more beauteous fair, “No Bretonne maiden binds more golden hair.”-- “Black,” quoth his comrade “is of Beauty’s flower “For me the hue--so, lovingly we’ll share. “Come, be a soldier’s bride--for half an hour.” He grinned--both troopers laughed--the maids were in their power!