Then he replied with the lines,

"Shells of rosy pink and silver are most like her dainty ears;
Shells wherein the fisher maiden the sad Nereid's singing hears."

"Oh, indeed Monsieur, my ears are not at all beautiful like that;
indeed they're not." Then slightly changing her tone, "Perhaps le
capitaine made these about some white maiden whose ears _are_, like
that."

"What an ungrateful little creature it is!"

"No, but Monsieur cannot make me believe that my ears resemble
shells, coloured in pink and silver. In his heart he is comparing my
brown skin with the snow-white complexions of some of his Caucasian
girls, and thinking how horrid mine is."

"Why, you irreconcilable little wretch, it is your complexion that
most of all I adore. It is not 'brown;' who told you that it was? The
colour of your skin I described in these lines, though you do not
deserve that I should repeat them to you:"

"In the sunny, southern orchard fronting on some tawny beach,
Exquisite with silky softness hangs the downy silver peach; But as
dainty as the beauty of the bloom whereof I speak--Rain, nor sun, nor
frost can change it--is the bloom on Annette's cheek."

"Oh, monsieur! I do not know what to say, if you really made these
verses about me. If you did, they are not true; I am sure they are