As charming Paris gave the apple to the most beautiful, my darling rustic girl, I give you this flower. But more glorious than he, I am happier than he, because as a reward for my gift I carry off your lovely heart. I see clearly in that little face that I've reduced you to smithereens. It's not anything surprising, I am gallant, I'm a sergeant; there is no beauty who can resist the sight of military uniform; to Mars, the god of war, even the mother of love yielded.