ur Rhone, come, raise
your glasses to the cause of the vanquished!"

The love scenes between the Prince and the Anglore continue during the
journey up the river. Her devotion to him is complete; she knows not
whither she goes, if to perish, then let it be with him. In a moment of
enthusiasm William makes a passionate declaration.

"Trust me, Anglore, since I have freely chosen thee, since thou hast
brought me thy deep faith in the beautiful wonders of the fable, since
thou art she who, without thought, yields to her love, as wax melts in
the sun, since thou livest free of all our bonds and shams, since in thy
blood, in thy pure bosom, lies the renewal of the old sap, I, on my
faith as a Prince, I swear to thee that none but me, O my Rhone flower,
shall have the happiness to pluck thee as a flower of love and as a
wife!"

But this promise is never kept. One day the boats meet the steamer
coming down the river. Apian, pale and silent, watches the magic bark
whose wheels beat like great paws, and, raising great waves, come down
steadily upon him.

The captain cries, "One side!" but, obstinate and angry, Apian tries to
force the steamer to give way. The result is disastrous. The steamer
catches in the towing cables and drags the horses into the water. The
boats drift back and are hurled against a bridge. William and the
Anglore are thrown into the river and are lost. All the others escape
with their lives. Jean Roche is not sure but that he was the Drac after
all, who, foreseeing the shipwreck, had thus followed the boats, to
carry the Anglore at last down into the depths of the river. Maitre
Apian accepts his ruin philosophically. Addressing his men, he says:
"Ah, my seven boats! my splendid draught horses! All gone, all ruined!
It is the end of the business! Poor fellow-boatmen, you may well say,
'good-by to a pleasant life.' To-day the great Rhone has died, as far as
we are concerned."

The idea of the poem is, then, to tell of the old life on the Rhone.
To-day the river flows almost as in the days when its shores were untrod
by men. Rarely is any sort of boat seen upon its swift and dangerous
current. Mistral portrays the life he knew, and he has done it with
great power and vividness. The fanciful tale of the Prince and the
Anglore, suggested by the beliefs and superstitions of the humble folk,
was introduced, doubtless, as a necessary love story. The little maid
Anglore, half mad in her illusion, is none the les