en he was on earth, whether heaven
was like this or like that. Since he was there, he had no need of
anything else.

His mother and father, whether or not they had died before him, came
to meet him. They did not weep any more than he, for the three had
really never been separated.

His mother said to him:

"Put out the wine to cool, we are about to dine with the _Bon Dieu_
under the green arbor of the Garden of Paradise."

His father said to him:

"Go down and cull of the fruits. There is none that is poisonous. The
trees will offer them to you of their own accord, without sufferance
either to their leaves or their branches, for they are inexhaustible."

The poet was filled with joy in being able to obey his parents. When
he had returned from the orchard and submerged the bottles of wine in
the water, he saw his old dog. It too had died before him, and it came
gently running toward him, wagging its tail. It licked his hands, and
he patted it. Beside it were all the animals he had loved best while
on earth: a little red cat, two little gray cats, two little white
cats, a bullfinch, and two goldfish.

Then he saw that the table was set and about it were seated the _Bon
Dieu_, his father and mother, and a lovely young girl whom he had
loved here-below on earth. She had followed him to heaven even though
she was not dead.

He saw that the Garden of Paradise was none other than that of his
own birthplace here on earth, in the high reaches of the Pyrenees, all
filled with lilies and pomegranates and cabbages.

The _Bon Dieu_ had laid his hat and stick on the ground. He was garbed
like the poor on the great highways, those who have only a morsel of
bread in their wallet, and whom the magistrates arrest at the town
gates, and throw into prison, since they know not how to write their
name. His beard and hair were white like the great light of day, and
his eyes profound and black like the night. He spoke, and his voice
was very soft:

"Let the angels come and minister unto us, for to serve is their
happiness."

Then from all corners of the heavenly orchard legions were seen to
hasten. They were the faithful servitors who here on earth had loved
the poet and his family. Old Jean was there, he who was drowned while
saving a little boy, old Marie who had fallen dead under a sunstroke,
and lame Pierre was there and Jeanne and still another Jeanne.

Then the poet rose to do them honor, and said unto them:

"Sit down