Queen Balkis watched Balthasar. She realised that never again would there be love for her in that heart filled with a love divine. She turned white with rage and gave orders for the caravan to return at once to the land of Sheba. As soon as the star had ceased to speak, Balthasar and his companions descended from the tower. Then, having prepared a measure of myrrh, they formed a caravan and departed in the direction towards which they were guided by the star. They journeyed a long time through unknown countries, the star always journeying in front of them. One day, finding themselves in a place where three roads met, they saw two kings advance accompanied by a numerous retinue; one was young and fair of face. He greeted Balthasar and said: “My name is Gaspar. I am a king, and I bear gold as a gift to the child that is about to be born in Bethlehem of Judea.” The second king advanced in turn. He was an old man, and his white beard covered his breast. “My name is Melchior,” he said, “and I am a king, and I bring frankincense to the holy child who is to teach Truth to mankind.” “I am bound whither you are,” said Balthasar. “I have conquered my lust, and for that reason the star has spoken to me.” “I,” said Melchior, “have conquered my pride, and that is why I have been called.” “I,” said Gaspar, “have conquered my cruelty, and for that reason I go with you.” And the three mages proceeded on their journey together. The star which they had seen in the East preceded them until, arriving above the place where the child lay, it stood still. And seeing the star standing still they rejoiced with a great joy. And, entering the house they found the child with Mary his mother, and prostrating themselves, they worshipped him. And opening their treasures they offered him gold, frankincense and myrrh, as it is written in the Gospel. THE CURÉ’S MIGNONETTE TO JULES LEMAÎTRE In a village of the Bocage I once knew a curé, a holy man who denied himself every indulgence and who cheerfully practised the virtue of renunciation, and knew no joy but that of sacrifice. In his garden he cultivated fruit-trees, vegetables and medicinal plants, but fearing beauty even in flowers, he would have neither roses nor jasmine. He only allowed himself the innocent luxury of a few tufts of mignonette whose twisted stems, so modestly flower-crowned, would not distract his attention as he read his breviary among his cabbage-plots under the sky of our dear Father in Heaven.