Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/65

] "Or possibly a sun-stroke may have lighted Upon thee!" And the eager Vincen cited An ancient crone among the hills of Baux, Taven by name, "who on the forehead,—so,— A glass of water sets: the ray malign The dazed brain for the crystal will resign."

"Nay, nay!" impetuously the maiden cried, "Floods of May sunshine never terrified The girls of Crau. Why should I hold you waiting? Vincen, in vain my heart is palpitating! My secret cannot bide a home so small: I love you, Vincen, love you!—That is all!"

The river-banks, the close-pruned willows hoary, Green grass and ambient air, hearing this story, Were full of glee. But the poor basket-weaver, "Princess, that thou who art so fair and clever, Shouldst have a tongue given to wicked lying! Why, it confounds me! It is stupefying!

"What! thou in love with me? Mirèio, My poor life is yet happy. Do not go And make a jest thereof! I might believe Just for one moment, and thereafter grieve My soul to death. Ah, no! my pretty maid. Laugh no more at me in this wise!" he said.