his blue-white eye upon Christophe, then his fierce
black eye that glowed like a coal, and he told in a
solemn and awesome voice of the Recatadou di Rato-
Penado. Then he told of the Baumo de la Mascp
Taven, and Lou Courredou de PEsperit Fantasti,
while the sudden nightfall darkened the shop, so
that Eusebe must light the lamp which gave out so
pungent and unpleasant an odour.
There is still the Cafourno de la Chaucho Viejo.'
he reminded, CI remember how frightened you be-
came when you first heard about that horrible night-
mare — shall we have it?'
But Christophe shook his cropped head, while his
pale, bright eyes actually filled with tears: 'No,5 he
murmured, *I cannot feel frightened any more . . .
not at such things . . .'
'That is sad,5 remarked Eusebe. For something of
the wisdom he had gleaned from the earth, and from
years of tending the fruits of the earth, touched his
hoary old heart to a partial understanding, so that
his glowing black eye looked more kind as it rested
on Christophe, and he spoke almost gravely: €It
is that you now have a new thing to fear — as we
grow we must listen to the story of life; mais oui,
mais oui, the story of life — yet who knows but that
that is also a legend. Mon brave, it is better to be
like me; I say to myself: {<I have lost an eye, but
thanks be to Bacchus I have still got the other/' I say
to myself: "Boots and shoes are not gay, they are
clumsy and ugly and dull to make, but thanks be to
Bacchus I can also make sandals." I say to myself:
"I am growing old like my good feather bed; I am
careless and dirty; the girls will not look at me do\^
at the port, and the men from the tartanes make a
mock of my blindness, thrusting forward their women
upon my blind side — but thanks be to Bacchus there
is still the fine wine and the dreams that come from
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