Reine advanced to the cradle, and Stephanette brought to her a wooden bowl filled with the corn of St. Barbara, which was already green. For it was the custom in Provence, every fourth of December, St Barbara’s day, to sow grains of corn in a porringer filled with earth frequently watered. This wet earth was exposed to a very high temperature, and the com grew rapidly. If it was green, it predicted a good harvest, if it was yellow, the harvest would be bad. Mlle, des Anbiez placed the wooden bowl at the foot of the cradle, and on each side of this offering lit two little square silver lamps, called in the Provençal tongue the lamps of Calenos, or Christmas lamps. “St Barbara’s corn, green; fine harvests all the year!” cried the baron: “so may my harvests and your harvests be, my guests and cousins! Now to the table, yes, to the table, friends, and then come the Christmas presents for friends and relations!” Master Laramée opened the folding doors which led to the dining-room, and announced supper. It is needless to speak of the abundance of this meal, worthy in every respect of the hospitality of Raimond V. What, however, we must not fail to remark, is that there were three table-cloths, in conformity to another ancient custom. On the smallest, which was in the middle of the table, in the style of a centre-piece, were the presents of fruits and cakes that the members of the family made to their head. On the second, a little larger and lapping over the first, were arranged the national dishes of the simplest character, such as bouillabaisse, a fish-soup, famous in Provence, and broiled salt tunny. Lastly, on the third cloth, which covered the rest of the table, were the choicest dishes in abundance, and artistically arranged. We will leave the guests of Raimond V. to the enjoyment of a patriarchal hospitality as they discussed old customs, and grew excited over arguments relating to freedom and ancient privileges, always so respected and so valiantly defended by those who remain faithful to the pathetic and religious traditions of the olden time. That happy, peaceful evening was but too soon interrupted by the events to which we will now introduce the reader. CHAPTER XXX. THE ARREST While Raimond V. and his guests were supping gaily, the company of soldiers seen by the watchman, about fifty men belonging to the regiment of Guitry, had arrived almost at the door of Maison-Forte. The recorder Isnard, followed by his clerk, as usual, said to Captain Georges, who commanded the detachment: “It would be prudent, captain, to try a summons before attacking by force, in order to take possession of the person of Raimond V. There are about fifty well-armed men in his lair behind good walls.” “Eh! what matters the walls to me?” “But, besides the walls, there is a bridge, and you see, captain, it is up.”