We had arrived at the dessert, when all at once we heard in the street the cheering buzz of the tambourine. The youth of the place had come, according to custom, to serenade the mayor. “Open the door, Françonnette,” cried the worthy man. “Go fetch the hearth-cakes and come, rinse out the glasses.” [Illustration: MISTRAL AND HIS DOG PAN-PERDU.] In the meanwhile the musicians banged away at their tambourines. When they had finished, the leaders of the party with flowers in their buttonholes entered the room together with the town-clerk proudly carrying high on a pole the prizes prepared for the games, and followed by the dancers of the _farandole_ and a crowd of girls. The glasses were filled with the good wine of Alicante. All the cavaliers, each one in his turn, cut a slice of cake, and clicked glasses all round to the health of his Worship the Mayor. Then his Worship the Mayor, when all had drunk and joked for a while, addressed them thus: “My children, dance as much as you like, amuse yourselves as much as you can, and be courteous to all strangers. You have my permission to do anything you like, except fight or throw stones.” “Long live Monsieur Lassagne!” cried the young people. They went off and the _farandole_ commenced. When we were alone again I inquired of my friend: “How long is it that thou hast been Mayor of Gigognan?” “Fifty years, my dear fellow.” “Seriously? Fifty years?” “Yes, yes, it is fifty years. I have seen eleven governments, my boy, and I do not intend to die, if the good God helps me, until I have buried another half-dozen.” “But how hast thou managed to keep thy sash[12] amidst so much confusion and revolution?” “Eh! my good friend, there is the asses’ bridge. The people, the honest folk, require to be led. But in order to lead them it is necessary to have the right method. Some say drive with the rein tight. Others, drive with the rein loose; but I--do you know what I say?--take them along gaily.” “Look at the shepherds; the good shepherds are not those who have always a raised stick; neither are they those that lie down beneath a willow and sleep in the corner of the field. The good shepherd is he who walks quietly ahead of his flock and plays the pipes. The beasts who feel themselves free, and who are really so, browse with appetite on the pasture and the thistle. When they are satisfied and the hour comes to return home, the shepherd pipes the retreat and the contented flock follow him to the sheepfold. My friend, I do the same, I play on the pipes, and my flock follow.” “Thou playest on the pipes; that is all very well.... But still, among thy flock thou hast some Whites, and some Reds, some headstrong and some queer ones, as there are everywhere! Now, when an election for a deputy takes place, for example, how dost thou manage?”