nd persons.

Just then the carriages appeared, the state carriages which had figured
in the festivities in honor of the former bey, two great pink and gold
chariots _a la mode de Tunis_, which Mother Jansoulet had taken care of
as precious relics, and which came forth from the carriage-house with
their varnished panels, their hangings and gold fringe as bright and
fresh as when they were new. There again Cardailhac's ingenuity had
exerted itself freely, and instead of horses, which were a little heavy
for those fragile-looking, daintily decorated vehicles, the white reins
guided eight mules with ribbons, plumes, and silver bells upon their
heads, and caparisoned from head to foot with those marvellous
_sparteries_, of which Provence seems to have borrowed the secret
from the Moors and to have perfected the cunning art of manufacturing.
If the bey were not satisfied with that!

The Nabob, Monpavon, the prefect and one of their generals entered the
first carriage, the others took their places in the second and
following ones. The cures and mayors, all excited by the wine they had
drunk, ran to place themselves at the head of the singing societies of
their respective parishes, which were to go to meet the procession; and
the whole multitude set forth on the Giffas road.

It was a superbly clear day, but warm and oppressive, three months in
advance of the season, as often happens in those impetuous regions
where everything is in a hurry, where everything arrives before its
time. Although there was not a cloud to be seen, the deathlike
stillness of the atmosphere, the wind having fallen suddenly as one
lowers a veil, the dazzling expanse, heated white-hot, a solemn silence
hovering over the landscape, all indicated that a storm was brewing in
some corner of the horizon. The extraordinary torpidity of the
surrounding objects gradually affected the persons. Naught could be
heard save the tinkling bells of the mules as they ambled slowly along,
the measured, heavy tread, through the burning dust, of the bands of
singers whom Cardailhac stationed at intervals in the procession, and
from time to time, in the double, swarming line of human beings that
bordered the road as far as the eye could see, a call, the voices of
children, the cry of a peddler of fresh water, the inevitable
accompaniment of all open-air fetes in the South.

"For heaven's sake, open the window on your side, General, it's
stifling," said Monpavon, with cri