THE FÊTE OF ST. SAUVEUR
ST. SAUVEUR is the patron saint of Petit Andelys, and its little church
is the church of St. Sauveur.
Each year Petit Andelys, as do most of the towns of France, celebrates
the fête-day of its patron, and does it so well that the lustre of the
fête has spread far and wide, bringing many visitors, which pleases the
good folk of the little town, for they are proud of it and everything
connected therewith.
The fête-day of St. Sauveur has no connection whatever with Petit
Andelys' big twin town of Grand Andelys, which has its own fête, but
nothing like so grand. There is some little jealousy between the two
Andelys. The size and importance of Grand Andelys throws the other
quite in the shade, but Petit Andelys has the river, and the people of
Grand Andelys have to walk a dusty mile before they reach it, and that
is one reason that visitors like the Belle Étoile.
So Petit Andelys arranges its own fête. The mayor and its leading
citizens organize committees, and great preparations go on for weeks
beforehand.
One day the children running out of school at the noon hour saw, in the
square in front of the church, many wagons with poles, and flapping
canvas strewn about. These were the booths for the fair, which were
being put up.
The great attraction of every fête is its fair, and these _foires_, as
the French also call them, move about the country from town to town in
wagons like an old-fashioned circus, planning to reach an important
town for some special occasion--such as its fête-day.
The participants in these fairs live in their lumbering wagons very
much as do gipsies, selling all sorts of knickknacks, and performing
little plays, or feats of agility or strength.
In a few days the little town was dressed out with flags and wreaths,
gay streamers and paper lanterns.
Marie and Germaine, who were staying at their Uncle Daboll's for the
fête, were awakened at five o'clock on the opening day by a succession
of terrific noises, which were set forth on the official programme as a
"Salvo of Artillery."
They were soon dressed and out, but even at that early hour the whole
town was astir. Later on the booths in the square opened up for
business.
There was a merry-go-round, "flying horses" the children call them,
with big pink pigs to ride on, and swings in the shape of boats, and a
marvellous "wheel of fortune" for those who wanted to try their luck.
Germaine never tired of admiring what seemed to her the most beautiful
things set out for sale.
Jean's great ambition was to hit some of the pipes in the
shooting-gallery, and win a wonderful knife that contained everything
from a corkscrew to a file.
The real gaiety, however, only began in the evening, when a torchlight
procession marched up and down the main streets.
First came the "Salvo of Artillery" again, which, after all, was a very
simple affair. A cartridge was placed on a paving-stone and struck
with a big hammer. It made a tremendous noise, however, and everybody
jumped, and Germaine put her fingers in her ears when she saw the
hammer coming down.
Behind came men and boys carrying lighted paper lanterns, and then
the band of the _pompiers_ (the village fire department), and then
more people, while all along the route was burned red and green fire.
Lanterns and fairy lamps in front of the houses and around the square
were lighted, and the band played on a platform near the booths for the
young people to dance.
Jean rode on one of the pink pigs on the merry-go-round, but Marie and
Germaine preferred the chairs shaped like swans, for they were afraid
of slipping off the round pigs. The only trouble was that the man who
had charge of these wonderful beasts cut the rides rather short.
Uncle Daboll and M. Lafond broke several of the pipes in the
shooting-gallery, and Germaine's papa even hit one of the funny paper
ducks that kept bobbing up, and got a walking-stick for his pains, but
no one succeeded in hitting the white ball that swung at the end of a
string.
Germaine's mamma bought her a little toy _laiterie_, which looked just
like the one at their farm. There was a little cow on one side, and in
the other the milk-pans and churn--all true to life.
Perhaps the booth which had the most custom was the one with the
gingerbread, which is a very popular variety of cake throughout France.
Our little friends were soon there buying quite a menagerie of animals
made of gingerbread. Jean chose a horse, Marie an elephant, and
Germaine a cat, which, strange to say, was as big as Marie's elephant.
Then they all crowded into the little theatre; the funniest one you
ever saw. The stage was made up out of a wagon, and the audience sat
under an awning in front. There was no scenery, but a piece of cloth
with a queer-looking picture painted on it, and the actors never
changed their costumes once, but every one laughed and enjoyed it as
much as if it had been the big theatre in Grand Andelys.
It was late when everybody got home, that is, it was ten o'clock, which
is a very late hour for a French village, where every one is usually
sound asleep by half-past eight or nine. The fête was to last a week,
and every day had something new to offer.
The next day Jean announced, "There is a circus down on the quay," as
he burst into the kitchen where the family were gathered for breakfast.
"The baker's boy told me he could see them from the bakery. They came
late last night, and are waiting to get permission from the mayor to
put up their tents in the town."
"Oh, let's go and see them at once!" said Marie and Germaine in the
same breath. Jean quickly disposed of his breakfast by taking a slice
of bread and eating it as he went.
The quay presented a lively appearance indeed. There were nearly a
dozen gaudily painted wagons, while near by were tethered the horses.
The women were preparing the morning meal outside the wagons, which
served for houses, while the men fed the horses or fished in the
river, and the children played about, or followed the visitors with
outstretched hands asking for pennies.
"I should like to give them something," said Marie, "but you know they
are not allowed to beg while they are in the village, and we should not
encourage them to break the law. I will go back, though, and ask aunty
to give me some cakes for them," and the kind-hearted girl ran back to
Madame Daboll's.
Meanwhile Jean was wondering what was inside the wagons with CIRQUE
painted in big black letters on their sides. Near a bright yellow van
were tethered two goats which were carried for their milk. Goat's milk
is much used in France among the poorer classes, especially in the
southern part of the country, and the white goat's milk cheeses are
rather good, when one gets used to the peculiar flavour.
[Illustration: THE CIRCUS]
Germaine was getting acquainted with a lot of dark-skinned little
children, who looked chubby and well taken care of in their neat cotton
dresses.
Their mother was a gipsy-like woman who had fancy baskets for sale,
and she told Germaine she had nine children, which set Germaine to
wondering how they all stowed themselves away in the one wagon. It was
a big one, to be sure, divided into two rooms, and wonderfully compact,
and as they sat and eat out-of-doors on the ground or the steps of
their wagons, they could easily get on without tables and chairs.
Here Marie came running up with her cakes, which she divided among the
little ones who gathered about her.
By this time they had got the desired permission to open up the circus
on the square, and that afternoon our three little friends had the
pleasure of seeing the horse that could find a hidden handkerchief, the
performing dogs, and all the other wonders of the show.
The grand events of the fête were saved up for the last day. There were
to be the sports in the afternoon, and a grand illumination and display
of fireworks in the evening. The sports, in which the young boys were
to take part, were held in the square. Jean was to participate in one
of these, and was one of the first to be at the roped-in enclosure in
the middle of which stood two high poles. Between these poles were hung
a dozen or more tin buckets all filled with water, except the middle
one. In this was a new five-franc piece. To each bucket was attached
a string, and when a boy was blindfolded, and an enormous grotesque
mask put over his head, it was a somewhat difficult task to walk up
and to pull the string of the bucket which held the five-franc piece.
Should he pull any of the others, down would tumble a pail full of
water all over him, amid the laughter and jeers of the bystanders. Jean
had talked for weeks beforehand how he would spend the five francs if
he were fortunate enough to win it. He had in imagination bought most
of the things in M. Carré's shop. Five francs, which is equal to one
American dollar, was a big sum to a little French boy such as Jean.
"I do hope you will get it, Jean!" whispered Germaine; "remember to
try and walk straight." Jean was so excited as he groped his way along
he could not have told whether he was going backwards or forwards.
"Oh, he will get it! Keep where you are! You're in the right place!"
shouted Jean's friends, as they watched his hand touch the strings with
indecision. Little Germaine held her breath. "Oh, he has done it!" she
cried, jumping up and down and clapping her hands. "Marie, he has it!"
as the bag with the five franc piece tumbled on top of his head.
Jean was the hero of the hour among the children, and some of his prize
was soon spent at one of the booths on _sucre du pomme_, which was
distributed lavishly among his admiring friends. _Sucre du pomme_, by
the by, is a very nice candy made in sticks of various sizes from sugar
and the drippings of the cider apples. Each stick is carefully wrapped
in a pretty paper, and tied together, in bundles of six or a dozen,
with bright ribbons.
Jean's father and M. Lafond took part in the men's sports on the
river-front, but neither had Jean's luck. One feat was quite difficult.
It was something like what children elsewhere know as "climbing the
greasy pole," but in this case it was a bar that extended over the
river, in which at regular intervals were placed, hanging downward,
wooden pegs. These pegs were well greased, and one had to swing
himself by his hands from one of these pegs to another in order to
reach the extreme end of the bar, where was fastened a small bag of
money. Well, you may imagine this was not easy to do, and generally
about the third or fourth peg the participant would drop into the water
with a splash, and be picked up by a waiting boat, to the intense
amusement of the lookers-on, who thronged the banks of the river. After
many trials, one venturesome fellow grabbed the bag just before he
slipped off, taking it with him, however, into the water.
After this came the diving matches and the swimming contests, and then
everybody got ready for the evening's grand wind-up. In the Belle
Étoile all was bustle and confusion; the maids were flying about, for
there were many visitors who had come in for the usual _apéritif_.
The café was full, the gardens were filled up with extra tables, and
M. Auguste was quite distracted in his endeavours to be polite and
attentive to every one, besides stopping to take a glass with his
friends, as was his custom. He had barely a moment to pat Germaine on
the cheek, and to hear the story of Jean's success.
Mr. Carter, with the help of the young lady artists, was hanging
lanterns in the front windows, and getting ready a big lot of Roman
candles as the contribution of the visitors of the Belle Étoile to
the evening's gaieties, while Mimi, the white cat, sat in the doorway
regarding things with her usual lofty air of superiority.
As it grew dark, our two parties found themselves once more on the
quay, amid a great throng of tourists, country folk, visitors in
automobiles and farm carts, on bicycles, and in lumbering buses from
out-of-the-way villages.
The prosaic little neighbourhood was changed for the night into a
gorgeous panorama of light and colour. The river banks burned with
red, green, and white Bengal fires. Queer boats rigged with golden
lamps, and sails of coloured lanterns, floated down the stream, and
into the sky burst showers of gold and silver stars.
[Illustration: CHÂTEAU GAILLARD]
Suddenly there was heard a great boom, and from the top of Château
Gaillard rose a red cloud of fire, and the old walls and turrets stood
out red against the dark blue sky, a beacon for miles of country
roundabout. It was a mimic reproduction of the destruction of the grand
old castle many hundreds of years ago.
Germaine caught Marie's hand, it seemed so real. It seemed as if her
cherished playground were crumbling away, and that never again could
she picture the great king and his knights riding out of its massive
gateway to do battle against its foes.
"Ah! _Messieurs_ and _Mesdames_, is it not a wonderful sight; a grand
occasion for our city?" The voice brought Germaine back to earth
again. It was the indefatigable little _sous-Commissaire_, the one
policeman of the village, speaking to them. The little man had come
unwearied and triumphant through the excitements of the great day. Ah!
it was he who had managed it all so successfully! It was he who had
kept order among the vast throng. No other _sous-Commissaire_ in all
France could have done better, and the little man swelled with pride.
The light had faded off the château; the last rocket had been fired;
the band of the _pompiers_ played the "Marseillaise,"--the national
air,--and the great event of the year for Petit Andelys was over.