“Bless me, M. Abbé, I understand nothing about it! I sometimes ask myself what is the good, the day of the feast of St. Elmo, of dressing up, at the expense of the city or community, all the poor young boys and girls as handsomely as possible. That is not all. Not content with that, these young people go from house to house, among the rich citizens and the lords, asking to borrow something. This one wants a gold necklace, that one a pair of diamond earrings, another a silver belt, another a hatband set with precious stones, or a sword-belt braided in gold. Ah, well! in my opinion,—but I may change it in an hour,—M. Abbé, it is wrong to lend all these costly articles to poor people and artisans who have not a cent.”
“Why so? Since the feast of St. Lazarus has been celebrated here, have you ever heard, Dame Dulceline, that any of those precious jewels have been lost or stolen?”
“Good God in Heaven! Never, M. Abbé, neither here, nor in Marseilles, nor in all Provence, I believe. Thank God, our youth is honest, after all! For instance, last year Mlle. Reine loaned her Venetian girdle, which Stephanette says cost more than two thousand crowns. Ah, well! Thereson, the daughter of the miller at Pointe-aux-Cailles, who wore this costly ornament during all the feast, came and brought it back before sunset, although she had permission to keep it till night. And for this same feast of St. Lazarus, monseigneur loaned to Pierron, the fisherman of Maison-Forte, his beautiful gold chain, and his medallion set with rubies, that Master Laramée cleans, as you told him to do, with teardrops of the vine.”
“That is true; and if one can mix with these teardrops of the vine a tear of a stag killed in venison season, Dame Dulceline, the rubies will shine like sparks of fire.”
“Ah, well, M. Abbé, Pierron, the fisherman, brought back faithfully that precious chain even before the appointed hour. I repeat, M. Abbé, our youth is an honest youth, but I do not see the use of risking the loss, not by theft, but by accident, of beautiful jewels, for the pleasure of seeing these young people dance the old Provençal dances in the streets and roads, to the sound of tambourines and cymbalettes and flutes, that play the national airs, ooubados and bedocheos, until you are deaf.”
“Ah, well, Dame Dulceline,” said Mascarolus, smiling sweetly, “you are going to learn that you were wrong not to see in this custom, too, a lesson and a use. When mademoiselle loaned to Thereson, the poor daughter of a miller, a costly ornament, she showed a blind confidence in the girl; now, Dame Dulceline, confidence begets honesty and prevents dishonesty. That is not all; in giving Thereson the pleasure of wearing this ornament for one day, our young mistress showed her at the same time the charm and the nothingness of it, and then, as this pleasure is not forbidden to the poor people, they do not look on it with jealousy. This custom, in fact, establishes delightful relations between rich and poor, which are based on probity, confidence, and community of interest What do you think now of the dance of St. Elmo, Dame Dulceline?”
“I think, M. Chaplain, that, although I have no jewels but a cross and a gold chain, I will lend them with a good heart to young Madelon, the best worker in my laundry, on the next feast of St. Lazarus, because every time I take this gold cross out of its box the poor girl devours it with her eyes, and I am sure that she will be wild with joy. But I am getting bewildered, M. Abbé; I brought some pure oil to fill the two Christmas lamps, which mademoiselle is to light, and I was about to forget them.”
“Speaking of oil, Dame Dulceline, do not forget to fill well with oil that jug in which I have steeped those two beautiful bunches of grapes. I wish to attempt the experiment cited by M. de Maucaunys.”
“What experiment, M. Abbé?”
“This erudite and veracious traveller pretends that by leaving bunches of grapes, gathered on the day which marks the middle of September, in a jug of pure oil for seven months, the oil will acquire such a peculiar property that whenever it burns in a lamp whose light is thrown on the wall or the floor, thousands of bunches of grapes will appear on this wall or floor, perfect in colour, but as deceptive as objects painted on glass.” Dame Dulceline was just about to testify her admiration for the good and credulous chaplain, when she heard in the court the sound of carriage and horses, which announced the return of Raimond V.