But then, the vivacity of the mother exerted a happy influence on the character of the offspring who acquired therefrom much common sense, before his birth, and some of the real common sense, of course, which great poets are made of. VII. CONFINEMENT Baron François des Ygrées left Munich when the baroness knew that the hour of delivery was approaching. Monsieur des Ygrées did not want to have a child born in Bavaria; he was sure that that country was overrun with syphilis. They arrived in the springtime, in the little port of Napoule, which in an excellently turned verse the baron baptised for eternity: _Napoule of the golden skies._ It was there that the delivery of Macarée's child took place. * * * "Ah! Ah! Aie! Aie! Aie! Ouh! Ouh! Whee-ee-ee!" The three local midwives took to improvising pleasantly: FIRST MIDWIFE I dream of war. O my friends, the stars, the bright stars, have you ever counted them? O my friends, do you even remember the titles of all the books you have read and the names of their authors? O my friends, have you ever thought of the poor men who tread the broad highways? The herdsmen of the golden age led their herds to pasture without fear that the cattle would flee, they feared only the jungle beasts. O my friends, what do you think of all these cannons? SECOND MIDWIFE What do I think of these cannons? They are vigorous phalli. O my beautiful nights! I am happy because of a sinister horn which enchanted me last night, 'tis a good augury. My hair is perfumed with abelmosch. O! the beautiful and rigid phalli that these cannons are! If women had to do military service they would all go into the artillery. The sight of the cannons in battle would be strange for them. Lights are born on the sea far off. Reply, o Zelotide, reply with thy sweet voice. THIRD MIDWIFE I love his eyes at night, he knows my hair well and its odour. In the streets of Marseilles an officer pursued me for a long time. He was well dressed and of fair colour, there was gold on his costume and his mouth tempted me, but I fled his kisses and took refuge in my "bedroom" of the "family-house" where I was stopping.[2] FIRST MIDWIFE O Zelotide, spare the sad men as thou sparest this beau. Zelotide what thinkest thou of the cannons. SECOND MIDWIFE Alas! Alas! I want to be loved. THIRD MIDWIFE They are the tools of the ignoble love of the people. O Sodom! Sodom. O sterile love! FIRST MIDWIFE But we are women, why dost thou speak of Sodom? THIRD MIDWIFE The fire of heaven devoured her. THE CONFINED When you have finished your monkey-tricks, if it please you, will you not forget to give a little attention to the baroness des Ygrées. * * *