sombre green tints, and which seem to have advanced to-day until they
overhang the church, houses of the village appear in relief, very neat,
very white under their coat of kalsomine,--old Pyrenean houses with their
wooden balconies and on their walls intercrossings of beams in the
fashion of the olden time. In the southwest, the visible portion of
Spain, the denuded and red peak familiar to smugglers, stands straight
and near in the beautiful clear sky.

Gracieuse does not appear yet, retarded doubtless by the nuns in some
altar service. As for Franchita, who never mingles in the Sunday
festivals, she takes the path to her house, silent and haughty, after a
smile to her son, whom she will not see again until to-night after the
dances have come to an end.

A group of young men, among whom is the vicar who has just taken off his
golden ornaments, forms itself at the threshold of the church, in the
sun, and seems to be plotting grave projects.--They are the great players
of the country, the fine flower of the lithe and the strong; it is for
the pelota game of the afternoon that they are consulting, and they make
a sign to Ramuntcho who pensively comes to them. Several old men come
also and surround them, caps crushed on white hair and faces clean shaven
like those of monks: champions of the olden time, still proud of their
former successes, and sure that their counsel shall be respected in the
national game, which the men here attend with pride as on a field of
honor.--After a courteous discussion, the game is arranged; it will be
immediately after vespers; they will play the "blaid" with the wicker
glove, and the six selected champions, divided into two camps, shall be
the vicar, Ramuntcho and Arrochkoa, Gracieuse's brother, against three
famous men of the neighboring villages: Joachim of Mendiazpi; Florentino
of Espelette, and Irrubeta of Hasparren--