“And thy Mirèio they have all portrayed
So charmingly, that, if thou wilt,” he said,
“And if thou like me, I would gladly be
Thy son-in-law!” “God grant me this to see!”
Said Ramoun. “The brave scion of my friend
To me and mine can only honour lend.”
Then did he fold his hands and them upraise
In saint-like gratitude. “And yet,” he says,
“The child must like you too, O Veranet!
The only one will alway be a pet!
Meanwhile, in earnest of the dower I’ll give her,
The blessing of the saints be yours for ever!”
Forthwith summoned Ramoun his little daughter,
And told her of the friend who thus had sought her.
Pale, trembling, and afraid, “O father dear!”
She said, “is not thy wisdom halting here?
For I am but a child: thou dost forget.
Surely thou wouldst not send me from thee yet!
“Slowly, so thou hast often said to me,
Folk learn to love and live in harmony.
For one must know, and also must be known;
And even then, my father, all’s not done!”
Here the dark shadow on her brow was lit
By some bright thought that e’en transfigured it.
So the drenched flowers, when morning rains are o’er,
Lift up their heavy heads, and smile once more.
Mirèio’s mother held her daughter’s view.
Then blandly rose the keeper, “Adieu,
Master,” he said: “who in Camargue hath dwelt
Knows the mosquito-sting as soon as felt.”
Also that summer came to Lotus Place
One from Petite Camargue, named Ourrias.
Breaker and brander of wild cattle, he;
And black and furious all the cattle be
Over those briny pastures wild who run,
Maddened by flood and fog and scalding sun.
Alone this Ourrias had them all in charge
Summer and winter, where they roamed at large.
And so, among the cattle born and grown,
Their build, their cruel heart, became his own;
His the wild eye, dark colour, dogged look.
How often, throwing off his coat, he took
His cudgel,—savage weaner!—never blenching,
And first the young calves from the udders wrenching,
Upon the wrathful mother fell so madly
That cudgel after cudgel brake he gladly,
Till she, by his brute fury masterèd,
Wild-eyed and lowing to the pine-copse fled!
Oft in the branding at Camargue had he
Oxen and heifers, two-year-olds and three,
Seized by the horns and stretched upon the ground.
His forehead bare the scar of an old wound
Fiery and forked like lightning. It was said
That once the green plain with his blood was red.
On a great branding-day befell this thing:
To aid the mighty herd in mustering,
Li Santo, Agui Morto, Albaron,
And Faraman a hundred horsemen strong
Had sent into the desert. And the herd
Roused from its briny lairs, and, forward spurred