And then the men go about their affairs and leave Vincèn and Mirèio
alone together. Their talk is full of charm. Vincèn is eloquent, like a
true southerner, and tells his experiences with flashing eye and
animated gestures. Here we learn of the belief in the three Maries, who
have their church in the Camargue. Here Vincèn narrates a foot-race in
which he took part at Nimes, and Mirèio listens in rapt attention.

"It seems to me," said she to her mother, "that for a basket-maker's
child he talks wonderfully. O mother, it is a pleasure to sleep in
winter, but now the night is too bright to sleep, but let us listen
awhile yet. I could pass my evenings and my life listening to him."

The second canto opens with the exquisite stanza beginning,--

"Cantas, cantas, magnanarello
Que la culido es cantarello!"

and the poet evidently fell in love with its music, for he repeats it,
with slight variations, several times during the canto. This second
canto is a delight from beginning to end; Mistral is here in his
element; he is at his very best. The girls sing merrily in the lovely
sunshine as they gather the silkworms, Mirèio among them. Vincèn passes
along, and the two engage in conversation. Mistral cannot be praised too
highly for the sweetness, the naturalness, the animation of this scene.
Mirèio learns of Vincèn's lonely winter evenings, of his sister, who is
like Mirèio but not so fair, and they forget to work. But they make good
the time lost, only now and then their fingers meet as they put the
silkworms into the bag. And then they find a nest of little birds, and
the saying goes that when two find a nest at the top of a tree a year