the log must be a
big one to last the week out, and it is only in rich households that the
rule can be observed. Persons of modest means are satisfied if they can
keep burning the sacred fire over Christmas Day; and as to the very
poor, their _cacho-fio_ is no more than a bit of a fruit-tree's
branch--that barely, by cautious guarding, will burn until the midnight
of Christmas Eve. Yet this suffices: and it seems to me that there is
something very tenderly touching about these thin yule-twigs which make,
with all the loving ceremonial and rejoicing that might go with a whole
tree-trunk, the poor man's Christmas fire. In the country, the poorest
man is sure of his _cacho-fio_. The Provencaux are a kindly race, and
the well-to-do farmers are not forgetful of their poorer neighbors at
Christmas time. An almond-branch always may be had for the asking; and
often, along with other friendly gifts toward the feast, without any
asking at all. Indeed, as I understood from the Vidame's orders, the
remainder of our old almond was to be cut up and distributed over the
estate and about the neighborhood--and so the life went out from it
finally in a Christmas blaze that brightened many homes. In the cities,
of course, the case is different; and, no doubt, on many a chill hearth
no yule-fire burns. But even in the cities this kindly usage is not
unknown. Among the boat-builders and ship-wrights of the coast towns the
custom long has obtained--being in force even in the Government
dock-yard at Toulon--of permitting each workman to carry away a
_cacho-fio_ from the refuse oak timber; and an equivalent present
frequently is given at Christmas time to the labourers in other trades.

While the Vidame talked to me of these genial matters we were returning
homeward, moving in a mildly triumphal procession that I felt to be a
little tinctured with ceremonial practices come down from forgotten
times. Old Jan and Marius marching in front, Esperit and the sturdy
Nanoun marching behind, carried between them the yule-log slung to
shoulder-poles. Immediately in their wake, as chief rejoicers, the
Vidame and I walked arm in arm. Behind us came Elizo and Janetoun and
Magali--save that the last (manifesting a most needless solicitude for
Nanoun, who almost could have carried the log alone on her own strapping
shoulders) managed to be frequently near Esperit's side. The children,
waving olive-branches, careered about us; now and then going through
the