In the Yule-Log Glow, Book I

chateau, a miniature cathedral with arches intercrossed and a wainscot of oak moun

huge head-dress of lace, made in the latest fashion of the French court. Further down, dressed in black, with vast pointed perukes and shaven faces, are the bailiff, Thomas Arnoton, and the notary, Master Ambroy, two grave objects among the flowing silks and figured damasks. Then come the fat majordomos, the pages, the grooms, the attendants; dame Barbe, all her keys suspended at her s

Mass? Or, it may be the clangor made by Garrigou's bells, that pulsating sound

We'll soon be done; w

the coming revel. He pictures to himself the uproar of the kitchens; the furnace heated like a blacksmith's forge;

marvellous fish of which Garrigou told (ah! well, yes, Garrigou!) held aloft on a bed of fennel, the mother-of-pearl scales as bright as when they came from the water, with a bouquet of odorous herbs in their monster-like nostrils. So distinct is the vision of these marvels, that it seems to Dom Balaguère as if all the wonderful dishes are served before him on the embroideries of the altar-cloth; and

n, without losing a minute, he made a sign to his cl

din! Dre

and with it begins also

ite. Frantically he bows; arises; makes the signs of the cross, goes through the genuflexions, abbreviates all his gestures, the sooner to be finished. Scarcely does he extend his arms to the Gospel, or strike his breast where it is required.

s ps-

ulpa-

pes in a vat, both wade through the Lati

!" says B

eir ears, like those little bells put on the post-horses to make them gallop m

hen without taking time to breathe, red, persp

elindin din! The

th the very folly of impatience and greediness. His vision accentuates it; the golden carp, the roast turkeys are there. He may touch t

up; still faste

Then the epistle is too long-he does not finish it; skims the Gospel, passes by the creed without even entering, skips the pater, salutes from afar the preface, and by bounds and jumps precipitates himself into eternal damnation, always following the infam

they did not understand a word, some rose when others kneeled, or seated themselves when others stood, an

ugh the heavens yonder by the little mange

deuce the words could be. But, after all, that gallant host, which itself was thinking only of the feast, was far from being vexed because the Mass rode post; and when Balaguère, with beaming countenance, turned toward t