Page:Devil stories - an anthology.djvu/191

 the bells of the baronial chapel chime out, his reverence was putting on his chasuble in the little sacristy of the chateau; and with his mind already agitated by all these gastronomic descriptions, he kept saying to himself as he was robing:

"Roasted turkeys, … golden carp, … trout as big as that! …"

Out of doors, the soughing night wind was carrying abroad the music of the bells, and with this, lights began to make their appearance on the dark sides of Mount Ventoux, on the summit of which rose the ancient towers of Trinquelague. The lights were borne by the families of the tenant farmers, who were coming to hear the midnight mass at the chateau. They were scaling the hill in groups of five or six together, and singing; the father in front carrying a lantern, and the women wrapped up in large brown cloaks, beneath which their little children snuggled and sheltered. In spite of the cold and the lateness of the hour these good folks were marching blithely along, cheered by the thought that after the mass was over there would be, as always in former years, tables set for them down in the kitchens. Occasionally the glass windows in some lord's carriage, preceded by torch-bearers, would glisten in the moonlight on the rough ascent; or perhaps a mule would jog by with tinkling bells, and by the light of the misty lanterns the tenants would recognize their bailiff and would salute him as he passed with:

"Good evening. Master Amoton."

"Good evening. Good evening, my friend."

The night was clear, and the stars were twinkling with [169]