and cause the suppression of time-worn abuses dear to the peasant heart?
Certain it is that this character in the comedy is called the
_geometrician_, and that he does his utmost to make himself unbearable
to those who handle the pick and shovel.

At last, after quarter of an hour of mummery and remonstrances, so that
the roots of the cabbage may not be cut and it can be transplanted
without injury, while spadefuls of earth are thrown into the faces of
the bystanders,--woe to him who does not step aside quickly enough;
though he were a bishop or a prince, he must receive the baptism of
earth,--the _païen_ pulls the rope, the _païenne_ holds her apron, and
the cabbage falls majestically amid the cheers of the spectators. Then
the basket is brought, and the pagan couple proceed to plant the cabbage
therein with all imaginable care and precautions. They pack it in fresh
soil, they prop it up with sticks and strings as city florists do their
superb potted camellias; they plant red apples stuck on twigs, branches
of thyme, sage, and laurel all about it; they deck the whole with
ribbons and streamers; they place the trophy on the hand-barrow with the
_paten_, who is expected to maintain its equilibrium and keep it from
accident, and at last they leave the garden in good order to the music
of a march.

But when they come to pass through the gate, and again when they try to
enter the bridegroom's yard, an imaginary obstacle bars the passage.
The bearers of the barrow stumble, utter loud exclamations, step back,
go forward again, and, as if they were driven back by an invisible
force, seem to succumb under the burden. Meanwhile, the rest of the
party laugh heartily and urge on and soothe the human team. "Softly!
softly, boy! Come, courage! Look out! Patience! Stoop! The gate is too
low! Close up, it's too narrow! a little to the left; now to the right!