t let on; except, as she was helping
him into his Spanish smoking jacket with mother of pearl buttons, I
heard the dear old soul gently saying:

--You won't be out too long, will you?

--Ah, ha! I don't know, you'll have to wait and see ... he answered, a
touch mischievously.

With that, they exchanged looks and laughed, and the little blues
joined in, a mood caught even by the canaries--in their chirping
way.... Between ourselves, I think they had all been a bit intoxicated
by the smell of the cherries.

... Night fell as the grandfather and I went out. His little blue
followed us at a distance to help him home, but he never noticed her,
and he was proud fit to burst, to walk on my arm like a man. Mamette,
beaming, saw it from her doorstep and nodded her head as she looked in
a way that seemed to say: "Well, well, he's my very own, dear, little
man!... and he still has some go in him."

PROSE BALLADS

When I opened my door this morning, I was surprised by a great carpet
of hoar-frost around the windmill. Grass sparkled and crackled like
shattered glass; the whole hillside tinkled and twinkled.... For a day,
my beloved Provence was dressed up as a northern land. It was here,
amongst these ice-fringed pines, and clumps of lavender in crystal
bouquets, that I wrote both these Germanic-style fantasies, prompted by
the white frost gleaming at me and great _V_'s of storks from Heinrich
Heine's land made their way in a clear sky to the Camargue screaming,
"It's cold ... it's cold ... it's cold."

I

DEATH OF THE DAUPHIN

The little Dauphin is sick; the truth is he's dying.... In every church
in the Kingdom, the blessed Sacrament is displayed night and day, and
huge candles burn all the time for the recovery of the royal Child. The
roads around the old residence are miserable and silent, the clocks
don't chime, and the coaches go at walking pace.... Around the palace,
through the railings, the curious bourgeoisie are watching some
gold-draped, potbellied Swiss who are talking, self-importantly, in the
courtyards.

The whole castle is troubled.... Chamberlains, and major-domos, scurry
up and down the marble stairways.... The galleries are filled with
silk-clad pages, and courtesans flitting from group to group seeking
some whisper of news.... On the grand stairs, the weeping
ladies-in-waiting hold themselves respectfully, and delicately wipe
their eyes with finely embroidered handkerchiefs.

In the o