Did I live a hundred years A hundred years I would bake, And a hundred years give to the poor. At his funeral the poor who mourned him said with fervour: “May he have as many angels to bear him to Paradise as he gave us loaves of bread.” This is a picture of the simple and noble patriarchal life of Provence in my youth. CHAPTER III THE MAGI KINGS The eve of the Feast of Epiphany it was the custom for all the children of our countryside to go forth to meet the three kings, the wise men from the East, who with their camels and attendants and all their suite came in procession to Maillane there to adore the Holy Child. One such occasion I well remember. With hearts beating in joyful excitement, eyes full of visions, we sallied forth on the road to Arles a numerous company of shock-headed urchins and blonde-headed maidens with little hoods and sabots, bearing our offerings of cakes for the kings, dried figs for their pages, and hay for the camels. The east wind blew, which means it was cold. The sun sank, lurid, into the Rhône. The streams were frozen, and the grass at the water’s edge dried up. The bark of the leafless trees showed ruddy tints, and the robin and wren hopped shivering from branch to branch. Not a soul was to be seen in the fields, save perhaps some poor widow picking up sticks or a ragged beggar seeking snails beneath the dead hedges. “Where go you so late, children?” inquired some passer-by. “We go to meet the kings,” we answered confidently. And like young cocks, our heads in the air, along the white, wind-swept road we continued our way, singing and laughing, sliding and hopping. The daylight waned. The bell-tower of Maillane disappeared behind the trees, the tall dark pointed cypresses and the wide barren plain stretched away into the dim distance. We strained our eyes as far as they could see, but in vain. Nothing was in sight save some branch broken by the wind laying on the stubbly field. Oh, the sadness of those mid-winter evenings when all nature seemed dumb and suffering. Then we met a shepherd, his cloak wrapped tightly round him, returning from tending his sheep. He asked whither we were bound so late in the day. We inquired anxiously had he seen the kings, and were they still a long way off. Oh, the joy when he replied that he had passed the kings not so very long since--soon we should see them. Off we set running with all speed, running to meet the kings and present our cakes and handfuls of hay. Then, just as the sun disappeared behind a great dark cloud and the bravest among us began to flag--suddenly, behold them in sight. A joyful shout rang from every throat as the magnificence of the royal pageant dazzled our sight. A flash of splendour and gorgeous colour shone in the rays of the setting sun, while the blazing torches showed the gleams of gold on crowns set with rubies and precious stones.