Crying at the lock,
"Are the babes in their beds?
For it's now ten o'clock."
These myths have some analogy with a being known as "La Dormette" who frequents the neighbourhood of Poitou. She is a good old woman who throws sand and sleep on children's eyes, and is hailed with the words:
Passez la Dormette,
Passez par chez nous!
Endormir gars et fillettes
La nuit et le jou.
Now and then we hear of an angel who passes by at nightfall; it is not clear what may be his mission, but he is plainly too much occupied to linger with his fellow seraphs, who have nothing to do but to kiss the babe in its sleep. A little French song speaks of this journeying angel:
Il est tard, l'ange a passé,