“Possibly,” he replied with indifference. “I tell you what I have always heard. Now, do you see that fine chariot with its four wheels which dazzles all the north? That is the Chariot of the Souls. The three stars which precede it are the three beasts of the team, and the small star which is near the third is named the Charioteer.” “They are what the books call the Great Bear.” “As you please--but look, look, all around are falling stars--they are the poor souls who have just entered Paradise. Make the sign of the Cross, Mister Frédéric.” “Beautiful angels, may God be with you!” “But see,” he went on, “a fine star shining there, not far from the chariot. It is the drover of the skies.” “Which in astronomy they call Arcturus.” “That is of no importance. Now look over there in the north at the star which scarcely scintillates: that is the seaman’s star, otherwise called the Tramontane. She is nearly always visible, and serves as a signal to sailors, they think themselves lost if they lose the Tramontane.” “Also called the Polar Star,” said I; “it is found in the Little Bear, and as the north wind comes from there, the sailors of Provence, like those of Italy, say they are going to the Bear when they go against that wind.” “Now turn your head,” said the shepherd, “you will see the Chicken-coop twinkling, or, if you like it better, the Brood of Chickens.” “Which the learned have named the Pleiades, and the Gascon, the Dog’s Cart.” “That’s so,” he allowed. “A little lower shine the Signalmen, specially appointed to mark the hours for the shepherds. Some call them the ‘Three Kings,’ others the ‘Three Bells.’” “Just so, it is Orion and his Belt.” “Very well,” conceded my friend, “now still lower, always towards the meridian, shines Jean de Milan.” “Sirius, if I mistake not.” “Jean de Milan is the torch of the stars,” he continued. “Jean de Milan had been invited one day, with the Signalmen and the Young Chicken, so they say, to a wedding, the wedding of the beautiful Maguelone, of whom we will speak again. The Young Chicken set out, it appears, early, and took the high road. The Signalmen, having taken a lower cut, at last arrived there also. Jean de Milan slept on, and when he rose took a short cut, and to stop them, threw his stick flying in the air--which caused them to be called ever since, by some people, the Stick of Jean de Milan.” “And that one, far away, which is just showing its nose above the mountain?” I inquired. “That is the Cripple,” he replied. “He also was asked to the wedding, but as he limps, poor devil, he goes but slowly. Also, he gets up late and goes to bed early.” “And that one going down, over there, in the west, and shining like a bride?” I asked.