mbranes of the locust that make its
song. "Like a scythe under the hammer," "Their heads leaning together
like two marsh-flowers in bloom, blowing in the merry wind," "His words
flowed abundantly like a sudden shower on an aftermath in May," "When
your eyes beam upon me, it seems to me I drink a draught of perfumed
wine," "My sister is burned like a branch of the date tree," "You are
like the asphodel, and the tanned hand of Summer dares not caress your
white brow," "Slender as a dragon-fly," are comparisons taken at random.
Of Mireio the poet says, "The merry sun hath hatched her out," "Her
glance is like dew, her rounded bosom is a double peach not yet ripe."

The background of the action is obtained by the simplest description, a
cart casting the shadow of its great wheels, a bell now and then
sounding afar off across the marshes, references to the owl adding its
plaint to the song of the nightingale, to the crickets who stop to
listen now and then, and the recurring verses about the "magnanarello"
reminds us now and then, like a lovely leitmotiv, of the group of
singing girls about the amorous pair.

The next canto is called _La Descoucounado_ (The Opening of the
Cocoons), and it must be confessed that there is a slight falling off in
interest. All that describes the life of the country-folk is full of
sustained charm, but Mistral has not escaped the dangers that beset the
modern poet who aims at the epic style. Here begins the recounting of
the numerous superstitions of the ignorant peasants, and the wonders of
Provence are interpolated at every turn. The maidens, while engaged in
stripping the cocoons, make known a long list of popular beliefs, and
then branch off into a conversation about love. They are surprisingly
well acquainted with the writings of Jean de Nostradamus, to whom the
Felibres are indebted for a lot of erroneous ideas concerning the
Troubadours and the Courts of Love. This literary conversation is not
convincing, and we are pleased when Noro sings the pretty song of
Magali, which, composed to be sung to an air well known in Provence, has
become very popular. The idea is not new; the young girl sings of
successive forms she will assume, to avoid the attentions of her suitor,
and he, ingeniously, finds the transformation necessary to overcome her.
For instance, when she becomes a rose, he changes into a butterfly to
kiss her. At last the maiden becomes convinced of the love of her
pursuer, and is