city. The paving stones were covered with the needles of pines, with
fir boughs, with rose leaves, lily stocks, and with the petals of flock
and clematis. One's feet sank into the odorous carpet as in the thick
wool of an Oriental prayer rug. To tread upon this verdure was to crush
out perfume. Yet the fragrance had a solemn flavor. There was a touch
of consecration in the very aroma of the fir sap.

Never was there a town so given over to its festival. Everything
else--all trade, commerce, occupation, work, or pleasure even, was at a
dead standstill. In all the city there was but one thought, one object,
one end in view. This was the great day of the _Fete-Dieu_. To this
blessed feast of the Sacrament the townspeople had been looking forward
for weeks.

It is their June Christmas. The great day brings families together.

[Illustration: AN EXCITING MOMENT--A COUTANCES INTERIOR]

From all the country round the farm wagons had been climbing the hill
for hours. The peasants were in holiday dress. Gold crosses and amber
beads encircled leathery old necks; the gossamer caps, real Normandy
caps at last, crowned heads held erect today, with the pride of those
who had come to town clad in their best. Even the younger women were in
true peasant garb; there was a touch of a ribbon, brilliant red and
blue stockings, and the sparkle of silver shoe-buckles and gold
necklaces to prove they had donned their finery in honor of the
_fete_. The men wore their blue and purple blouses over their holiday
suits; but almost all had pinned a sprig of bright geranium or
honeysuckle to brighten up the shiny cotton of the preservative blouse.
Even the children carried bouquets; and thus many of the farm wagons