"Gendarmes, hands to your sabres!" Whereupon the music, consisting of a fife and a drum, filled the church. That was the supreme moment of my life. I conquered sleep so as not to miss it. I thought of it through the whole year. You will not wonder, therefore, when I tell you that I forgot all about Marion from midnight until about two o'clock. Everything was over by two o'clock. The fife and drum had escorted the priest to the rectory; the _quinquiss_ had put out the lights on the altar; and as all the faithful had blown upon their meagre luminaries the church was completely dark. In a few moments it was deserted, and not a sound was to be heard save that of the swaying pendulum. On the other hand, the graveyard was crowded. If it happened to be raining or snowing too hard, the people took refuge in the houses; but they gave this proof of weakness only when they could no longer hold out. The taverns were overflowing with customers. Some people stood a little table out at their door, and upon it they placed a loaf, a _cervelas_, and numerous bottles of cider, thus defrauding, in connivance with the authority, the tax on consumable commodities. At three o'clock the bells rang for the Mass of the Aurora. After the ceremony our people came for us and awaited us at the church door with a huge red cotton umbrella, which did us as much honor as the same utensil does a Roman cardinal. We were also provided with an extra pair of wooden shoes half filled with warm ashes. We hastened home, exchanging courtesies with all, but stopping with no one; for there was a Christmas supper in our kitchen,--a supper to which all our friends were invited, and besides them all the servants who had been present at the blessing of the Yule log. During midnight Mass the great kitchen table had been replaced by boards laid as evenly as possible upon props. These were covered by a cloth of dazzling whiteness,--the pride of my poor mother, who used to bleach it on the grass of our meadow. On this occasion we had candles on the table,--real candles, of seven to the pound, which were sent for a week beforehand to Vannes. We considered our menu decidedly sumptuous. We had buckwheat pancakes, accompanied by numerous pots of cider and the most delicious butter. After that, we were helped to a porringer of the very worst chocolate that was ever manufactured by a country grocer. We tried to convince ourselves that this course was excellent. It had to be served on that day, and to be drunk, and to be praised, but then we had the pleasure of feeling that we should not be called upon to repeat the sacrifice for a year. We also had a home-cured ham and rye bread. Everybody stood up during the _Benedicite_, then those who found room on the benches sat down; the others helped themselves over the heads of these privileged ones, and took their share out into the street with them.