ingly a corner of
his stable in which the wayfarers may lie for the night.

Esperit and Magali sang this responsively; Magali taking Saint Joseph's
part--in which, in all the noels, is a strain of feminine sweetness and
gentleness. Then Marius and Esperit, in the same fashion, sang the
famous "C'est le bon lever": a dialogue between an Angel and a Shepherd,
in which the Angel--as becomes so exalted a personage--speaks French,
while the Shepherd speaks Provencal.

"It's high time to get up, sweet shepherd," the Angel begins; and goes
on to tell that "in Bethlehem, quite near this place," the Saviour of
the world has been born of a Virgin.

"Perhaps you take me for a common peasant," the Shepherd answers,
"talking to me like that! I am poor, but I'd have you to know that I
come of good stock. In old times my great-great-grandfather was mayor of
our village! And who are you, anyway, fine sir? Are you a Jew or a
Dutchman? Your jargon makes me laugh. A virgin mother! A child god! No,
never were such things heard!"

But when the Angel reiterates his strange statement the Shepherd's
interest is aroused. He declares that he will go at once and steal this
miraculous child; and he quite takes the Angel into his confidence--as
though standing close to his elbow and speaking as friend to friend. In
the end, of course, he is convinced of the miracle, and says that he
"will get the ass and set forth" to join the worshippers about the
manger at Bethlehem.

There are many of these noels in dialogue; and most of them are touched
with this same quality of easy familiarity with sacred subjects, and
abound in turns of broad humour which render them not a little startling
from our nicer point of view. But they never are coarse, and their
simplicity saves them from being irreverent; nor is there, I am sure,
the least thought of irreverence on the part of those by whom they are
sung. I noticed, though, that these lively numbers were the ones which
most hit the fancy of the men; while the women as plainly showed their
liking for those of a finer spirit in which the dominant qualities were
pathos and grace.

Of this latter class is Roumanille's rarely beautiful noel "The Blind
Girl" ("La Chato Avuglo")--that Magali sang with a tenderness which set
the women to crying openly, and which made the older men cough a little
and look suspiciously red about the eyes. Of all the modern noels it has
come closest to and has taken the strongest hold