clined the figure of a handsome lad, impersonating John
the Baptist, with long golden hair, dressed in rich robes and skins--a
sceptre in his hand, a snowy lamb at his feet. The rude symbolism was
softened and toned to an almost poetical refinement, and gave to the
harmless revels a touch of Arcady.

After this semi-religious procession, evening brought the march of
Garotte's Kalathumpians. They were carried on three long drays, each
drawn by four horses, half of them white, half black. They were an
outlandish crew of comedians, dressed after no pattern, save the
absurd-clowns, satyrs, kings, soldiers, imps, barbarians. Many had
hideous false-faces, and a few horribly tall skeletons had heads of
pumpkins containing lighted candles. The marshals were pierrots and
clowns on long stilts, who towered in a ghostly way above the crowd.
They were cheerful, fantastic revellers, singing the maddest and
silliest of songs, with singular refrains and repetitions. The last line
of one verse was the beginning of another:

"A Saint Malo, beau port de mer,
Trois gros navir' sont arrives.

Trois gros navir' sont arrives
Charges d'avoin', charges de ble."

For an hour and more their fantastic songs delighted the simple folk.
They stopped at last in front of the Louis Quinze. The windows of
Valmond's chambers were alight, and to one a staff was fastened.
Suddenly the Kalathumpians quieted where they stood, for the voice of
their leader, a sort of fat King of Yvetot, cried out:

"See there, my noisy children!" It was the inventive lime-burner who
spoke. "What come you here for, my rollicking blades?"

"We are a long way from home; we are looking for our brother, your
Majesty," they cried in chorus.

"Ha, ha! What is your brother like, jolly dogs?"

"He has a face of ivory, and eyes like torches, and he carries a silver
sword."

"But what the devil is his face like ivory for, my fanfarons?"

"So that he shall not blush for us. He is a grand seigneur," they
shouted back.

"Why are his eyes like torches, my ragamuffins?"

"To show us the way home."

Valmond appeared upon the balcony.

"What is it you wish, my children?" he asked. "Brother," said the
fantastic leader, "we've lost our way. Will you lead us home again?"

"It is a long travel," he answered, after the fashion of their own
symbols. "There are high hills to climb; there may be wild beasts in the
way; and storms come down th