Then began the song of the favors to a tune solemn as a church chant. The men without sang together in bass voices: “‘Open the door, true love, Open the door; I have presents for you, love, Oh, say not adieu, love.’” To this the women answered from within in falsetto, with mournful voices: “‘My father is sorry, my mother is sad, And I am a maiden too kind by far At such an hour my gate to unbar.’” The men took up the first verse as far as the fourth line and modified it thus: “‘And a handkerchief new, love.’” But, on behalf of the bride, the women answered in the same way as at first. For twenty couplets, at least, the men enumerated all the wedding-presents, always mentioning something new in the last line: a handsome apron, pretty ribbons, a cloth dress, laces, a golden cross, and even a hundred pins to complete the modest list of wedding-presents. The refusal of the women could not be shaken, but at length the men decided to speak of “A good husband, too, love.” And the women answered, turning toward the bride and singing in unison with the men: “‘Open the door, true love, Open the door; Here’s a sweetheart for you, love, Pray let us enter, too, love.’” [Illustration: (Ornament)] III The Wedding Immediately the hemp-dresser drew back the wooden bolt which barred the door within. At this time it was still the only fastening known in most of the dwellings of our hamlet. The groom’s band burst into the bride’s house, but not without a struggle; for the young men quartered within, and even the old hemp-dresser and the gossips, made it their duty to defend the hearth. The spit-bearer, upheld by his supporters, had to plant the roast before the fireplace. It was a regular battle, although people abstained from striking, and there was no anger shown in this struggle. But everybody was pushing and shoving so hard, and there was so much playful pride in this display of muscular strength, that the results might well have been serious, although they did not appear so across the laughs and songs. The poor old hemp-dresser, fighting like a lion, was pinned to the wall and squeezed by the crowd until his breath almost left him. More than one champion was upset and trodden under foot involuntarily; more than one hand, jammed against the spit, was covered with blood. These games are dangerous, and latterly the accidents have been so severe that our peasants have determined to allow the ceremony of the favors to fall into disuse; I believe we saw the last at the marriage of François Meillant, although there was no real struggle on that occasion.