Upon a smooth and rockless strand Alleluiah! our ship doth land. Prostrate we fall on the wet sand, crying: “Our lives, that He from storm did save, Here are they ready, Death to brave, And preach the law that once He gave, O Christ, we swear it, even dying!” At that glad name, most glorious still, Noble Provence seemed all a-thrill; Forest and moor throughout their being Were stirred and answered that new cry; As when a dog, his master nigh, Goes out to meet him joyfully, And welcome gives, the master seeing. The sea some shells to shore had cast ... Thou gav’st a feast to our long fast-- _Our Father, Thou who art in Heaven;_ And for our thirst, a fountain clear Rose limpid ’mid the sea-plants here; And, marvellous, still rises near The church where we were burial given. (Trans. Alma Strettell.) CHAPTER XV JEAN ROUSSIÈRE “Good morning, Mr. Frédéric. They tell me that you have need of a man on the farm.” “Yes--from whence comest thou?” “From Villeneuve, the country of the ‘lizards’--near to Avignon.” “And what canst thou do?” “A little of everything. I have been helper at the oil mills, muleteer, carrier, labourer, miller, shearer, mower if necessary, wrestler on occasions, pruner of poplars, a high-class trade, and even cleaner of sewers, which is the lowest of all!” “And they call thee?” “Jean Roussière, and Rousseyron--and Seyron for short.” “How much do you ask?--it is for taking care of the beasts.” “About fifteen louis.” “I will give thee a hundred crowns.” “All right for a hundred crowns.” That is how I engaged Jean Roussière, he who taught me the old folk-melody of “Magali”--a jovial fellow and made on the lines of a Hercules. The last year that I lived at the farm, with my blind father, in the long watches of our solitude Jean Roussière never failed to keep me interested and amused, good fellow that he was. At his work he was excellent and always enlivened his beasts by some cheering song. Naturally artistic in all he did, even if it was heaping a rick of straw or a pile of manure, or stowing away a cargo, he knew how to give the harmonious line or, as they say, the graceful sweep. But he had the defects of his qualities and was rather too fond of taking life in an easy and leisurely fashion, even passing part of it in an afternoon nap. A charming talker at all times, it was worth hearing him as he spoke of the days when he led the big teams of horses on the towing-path, tugging the barges up the Rhône to Valence and to Lyons. “Just fancy!” he said, “at the age of twenty, I led the finest turn-out on the banks of the Rhône! A turn-out of twenty-four stallions, four abreast, dragging six barges! Ah, what fine mornings those were, when we set out on the banks of the big river and silently, slowly, this fleet moved up the stream!”