"With an order like that in his pocket," said Mistral, "you can fancy how my grandfather put the leagues behind him; and how joyfully he reached Maillane on the lovely Christmas Eve, and how there was danger of rib-cracking from the hugging that went on. But the next day it was another matter. News of his coming had flown about the town, and the Mayor sent for him. "'In the name of the law, citizen,' the Mayor demanded, 'why hast thou left the army?' "Now my grandfather was a bit of a wag, and so--with never a word about his famous pass--he answered: 'Well, you see I took a fancy to come and spend my Christmas here in Maillane.' "At that the Mayor was in a towering passion. 'Very good, citizen,' he cried. 'Other people also may take fancies--and mine is that thou shalt explain this fancy of thine before the Military Tribunal at Tarascon. Off with him there!' "And then away went my grandfather between a brace of gendarmes, who brought him in no time before the District Judge: a savage old fellow in a red cap, with a beard up to his eyes, who glared at him as he asked: 'Citizen, how is it that thou hast deserted thy flag?' "Now my grandfather, who was a sensible man, knew that a joke might be carried too far; therefore he whipped out his pass and presented it, and so in a moment set everything right. "'Good, very good, citizen!' said old Redcap. 'This is as it should be. Thy Captain says that thou art a brave soldier of the Republic, and that is the best that the best of us can be. With a pass like that in thy pocket thou canst snap thy fingers at all the mayors in Provence; and the devil himself had best be careful--shouldst thou go down that way, as thy pass permits thee--how he trifles with a brave soldier of France!' "But my grandfather did not try the devil's temper," Mistral concluded. "He was satisfied to stay in his own dear home until the Day of the Kings was over, and then he went back to his command." IX The day dragged a little when we had finished in the kitchen with the giving of Christmas portions and the last of the farm-hands, calling back "_Boni festo!_," had gone away. For the womenkind, of course, there was a world to do; and Mise Fougueiroun whisked us out of her dominions with a pretty plain statement that our company was less desirable than our room. But for the men there was only idle waiting until night should come. As for the Vidame--who is a fiery fume of a little old gentleman, never happy unless in some way busily employed--this period of stagnation was so galling that in sheer pity I mounted him upon his hobby and set him to galloping away. 'Twas an easy matter, and the stimulant that I administered was rather dangerously strong: for I brought up the blackest beast in the whole herd of his abominations by asking him if there were not some colour of reason in the belief that Marius lay not at Vielmur but at Glanum--now Saint-Remy-de-Provence--behind the lines of Roman wall which exist there to this day.