At the sight of the baron, cries of "Long live monseigneur!"

resounded on all sides.

In front of the door on the ground lay a large olive-tree, the trunk and branches. It was the Christmas log.

Abbe Mascarolus, in ca.s.sock and surplice, commenced the ceremony by blessing the Christmas log, or the _calignaou_, as it was called in the Provencal language; then the child approached, followed by Laramee, who, in his costume of majordomo, bore on a silver tray a gold cup filled with wine.

The child took the cup in his little hands and poured, three times, a few drops of wine on the _calignaou_, or Christmas log, and recited, in a sweet and silvery voice, the old Provencal verse, always said upon this solemn occasion:

"'Allegre, Diou nous allegre,

Cachofue ven, tou ben ven,

Diou nous f.a.gue la grace de veire l'an que ven,

Se si an pas mai, que signen pas men.'"

"Oh, let us be joyful, G.o.d gives us all joy;

Cachofue comes, and it comes all to bless;

G.o.d grant we may live to see the New Year;

But if we are no more, may we never be less!"

These innocent words, recited by the child with charming grace, were listened to with religious solemnity.

Then the child wet his lips with the wine in the cup, and presented it to Raimond V., who did likewise, and the cup pa.s.sed from hand to hand, among all the members of the baron's family, until each one had wet his lips with the consecrated beverage.

Then twelve foresters in holiday dress lifted the calignaou, and carried it into the hall of the dais, while, in conformity to the law of the ceremony, Raimond V. held in his hand one of the roots of the tree, and the child held one of the branches; the old man saying, "Black roots are old age," and the child answering, "Green branches are youth,"

and the a.s.sistants adding in chorus, "G.o.d bless us all, who love him and serve him!"

The log, borne into the hall on the robust shoulders of the foresters, was placed in the immense fireplace, whereupon the child took a pine torch, and held it to a pile of fir-apples and boughs; a tall white flame sparkled in the vast, black hearth, and threw a joyous radiance to the farther end of the gallery.

"Christmas, Christmas!" cried the guests of the baron, clapping their hands.

"Christmas! Christmas!" repeated the va.s.sals a.s.sembled in the interior court.

At the same moment, the pile of wood outside was kindled, and the tall yellow flames mounted in the midst of enthusiastic shouts, and whirls of a Provencal dance.

One other last ceremony was to take place, and then the guests would gather around the supper-table.

Reine advanced to the cradle, and Stephanette brought to her a wooden bowl filled with the corn of St. Barbara, which was already green. For it was the custom in Provence, every fourth of December, St Barbara's day, to sow grains of corn in a porringer filled with earth frequently watered. This wet earth was exposed to a very high temperature, and the com grew rapidly. If it was green, it predicted a good harvest, if it was yellow, the harvest would be bad.

Mlle, des Anbiez placed the wooden bowl at the foot of the cradle, and on each side of this offering lit two little square silver lamps, called in the Provencal tongue the lamps of Calenos, or Christmas lamps.

"St Barbara's corn, green; fine harvests all the year!" cried the baron: "so may my harvests and your harvests be, my guests and cousins! Now to the table, yes, to the table, friends, and then come the Christmas presents for friends and relations!"

Master Laramee opened the folding doors which led to the dining-room, and announced supper. It is needless to speak of the abundance of this meal, worthy in every respect of the hospitality of Raimond V.

What, however, we must not fail to remark, is that there were three table-cloths, in conformity to another ancient custom.

On the smallest, which was in the middle of the table, in the style of a centre-piece, were the presents of fruits and cakes that the members of the family made to their head.

On the second, a little larger and lapping over the first, were arranged the national dishes of the simplest character, such as bouillabaisse, a fish-soup, famous in Provence, and broiled salt tunny.

Lastly, on the third cloth, which covered the rest of the table, were the choicest dishes in abundance, and artistically arranged.

We will leave the guests of Raimond V. to the enjoyment of a patriarchal hospitality as they discussed old customs, and grew excited over arguments relating to freedom and ancient privileges, always so respected and so valiantly defended by those who remain faithful to the pathetic and religious traditions of the olden time.

That happy, peaceful evening was but too soon interrupted by the events to which we will now introduce the reader.

CHAPTER x.x.x. THE ARREST

While Raimond V. and his guests were supping gaily, the company of soldiers seen by the watchman, about fifty men belonging to the regiment of Guitry, had arrived almost at the door of Maison-Forte.

The recorder Isnard, followed by his clerk, as usual, said to Captain Georges, who commanded the detachment:

"It would be prudent, captain, to try a summons before attacking by force, in order to take possession of the person of Raimond V. There are about fifty well-armed men in his lair behind good walls."

"Eh! what matters the walls to me?"

"But, besides the walls, there is a bridge, and you see, captain, it is up."

"Eh! what do I care for the bridge? If Raimond V. refuses to lower it--ah, well, zounds! my carabineers will a.s.sault the place; that happened more than once in the last war! If necessary, we will attach a petard to the door, but let it be understood, recorder, that, whatever happens, you are to follow us to make an official report."

"Hum! hum!" grunted the man of law. "Without doubt, I and my clerk must a.s.sist you; I shall be able, even under that circ.u.mstance, to note the good conduct and zeal of the aforesaid clerk in charging him with this honourable mission."

"But, Master Isnard, that is your office, and not mine!" said the unhappy clerk.

"Silence, my clerk, we are here before Maison-Forte. The moments are precious. Do you prepare to follow the captain and obey me!"

The company had, in fact, reached the end of the sycamore walk, which bordered the half-circle.

The bridge was up, and the windows opening on the interior court were brilliant with light, as the baron's guests had departed but a little while.

"You see, captain, the bridge is up, and more, the moat is wide and deep, and full of water," said the recorder.

Captain Georges carefully examined the entrances of the place; after a few moments of silence, he pulled his moustache on the left side violently,--a sure sign of his disappointment.

A sentinel, standing inside the court, seeing the glitter of arms in the moonlight, cried, in a loud voice:

"Who goes there? Answer, or I will fire!"

The recorder jumped back three steps, hid himself behind the captain, and replied, in a high voice: