Mistral and his dog Pan-Perdu.
In the meanwhile the musicians banged away at their tambourines. When they had finished, the leaders of the party with flowers in their buttonholes entered the room together with the town-clerk proudly carrying high on a pole the prizes prepared for the games, and followed by the dancers of the farandole and a crowd of girls.
The glasses were filled with the good wine of Alicante. All the cavaliers, each one in his turn, cut a slice of cake, and clicked glasses all round to the health of his Worship the Mayor. Then his Worship the Mayor, when all had drunk and joked for a while, addressed them thus:
“My children, dance as much as you like, amuse yourselves as much as you can, and be courteous to all strangers. You have my permission to do anything you like, except fight or throw stones.”
“Long live Monsieur Lassagne!” cried the young people. They went off and the farandole commenced. When we were alone again I inquired of my friend:
“How long is it that thou hast been Mayor of Gigognan?”
“Fifty years, my dear fellow.”
“Seriously? Fifty years?”
“Yes, yes, it is fifty years. I have seen eleven governments, my boy, and I do not intend to die, if the good God helps me, until I have buried another half-dozen.”
“But how hast thou managed to keep thy sash[12] amidst so much confusion and revolution?”