“There--look.” But he, suddenly turning his back, stepped into Paradise backwards. “What are you doing?” asked Saint Peter. “The great light dazzles me,” replied the Tarasconais, “I must go in backwards. But, as you ordered, when I have put in my nose, be easy, I will go no further.” Now, thought he, delighted, I have got my nose in the hay. The Tarasconais was in Paradise. “Oh,” said he, “how happy one feels! how beautiful it is! What music!” After a moment the doorkeeper said: “When you have gaped enough, you will go out, for I have no more time to waste.” “Don’t you worry,” said Jarjaye. “If you have anything to do, go about your business. I will go out when I will go out. I am not the least in a hurry.” “But that was not our agreement!” “My goodness, holy man, you seem very distressed! It would be different if there were not plenty of room. But thank God, there is no squash!” “But I ask you to go, for if the good God were to pass by----” “Oh! you arrange that as you can. I have always heard, that he who finds himself well off, had better stay. I am here--so I stay.” Saint Peter frowned and stamped. He went to find St. Yves. “Yves,” he said, “You are a barrister--you must give me an opinion.” “Two if you like,” replied Saint Yves. “I am in a nice fix! This is my dilemma,” and he related all. “Now what ought I to do?” “You require,” said Saint Yves, “a good solicitor, and must then cite by bailiff the said Jarjaye to appear before God.” They went to look for a good solicitor, but no one had ever seen such a person in Paradise. They asked for a bailiff--still more impossible to find. Saint Peter was at his wits’ end. Just then Saint Luke passed by. “Peter, you look very melancholy! Has our Lord been giving you another rebuke?” “Oh, my dear fellow, don’t talk of it--I am in the devil of a fix, do you see. A certain Jarjaye has got into Paradise by a trick, and I don’t know how to get him out.” “Where does he come from, this Jarjaye?” “From Tarascon.” “A Tarasconais?” cried Saint Luke. “Oh! what an innocent you are! There is nothing, nothing easier than to make him go out. Being, as you know, a friend of cattle, the patron of cattle-drovers, I am often in the Camargue, Arles, Beaucaire, Nîmes, Tarascon, and I know that people. I have studied their peculiarities, and how to manage them. Come--you shall see.” At that moment there went by a flight of cherubs. “Little ones!” called Saint Luke, “here, here!” The cherubs descended. “Go quietly outside Paradise--and when you get in front of the door, run past crying out: ‘The oxen--the oxen!’” So the cherubs went outside Paradise and when they were in front of the door they rushed past crying, “Oxen, oxen! Oh see, see the cattle-drover!” Jarjaye turned round, amazed. “Thunder! What, do they drive cattle here? I am off!” he cried. He rushed to the door like a whirlwind and, poor idiot, went out of Paradise.