with snow.  The bell was ringing, the big doors wide open, sending out a glow of warmth and colour, and the carpet of white untrodden country snow was quite intact, except a little pathway made by the feet of the men who had brought up the harmonium.  The red carpet and bright chrysanthemums made a fine effect of colour, and the little “niche” (it could hardly be called a chapel) of the Virgin was quite charming, all dressed with greens and white flowers, our tall Italian candles making a grand show.

The La Ferte contingent had arrived.  They had much difficulty in getting the omnibus up to the church, as it was heavy with the harmonium on top; however, everybody got out and walked up the hill, and all went off well.  The Abbe was robing, with his two choir children, in the minute sacristy, and the two good Sisters were standing at the gate with all their little flock—­about ten girls, I should think.  There were people in every direction, of all sizes and ages—­some women carrying a baby in their arms and pushing one or two others in a cart, some wretched old people so bent and wrinkled one couldn’t imagine how they could crawl from one room to another.  A miserable old man bent double, really, leaning on a child and walking with two canes, was pointed out to me as the “pere Colin,” who makes the “margottins” (bundles of little dry sticks used for making the fires) for the chateau.  However, they were all streaming up the slippery hillside, quite unmindful of cold or fatigue.  We walked up, too, and I went first to the school-house to see if our provisions had come.  Food was also a vexed question, as tea and buns, which would seem natural to us, were unknown in these parts.  After many consultations with the women about us—­lessiveuses (washerwomen), keepers’ wives, etc.—­we decided upon hot wine and brioches.  The Mayor undertook to supply the wine and the glasses, and we ordered the brioches from the Hotel du Sauvage at La Ferte; the son of the house is a very good patissier.  It is a funny, old-fashioned little hotel, not very clean, but has an excellent cuisine, also a wonderful sign board—­a bright red naked savage, with feathers in his hair and a club in his hand—­rather like the primitive pictures of North American Indians in our school-books.

Everything was there, and the children just forming the procession to walk to the church.  Some of the farmers’ wives were also waiting for us at the school-house, so I only had a moment to go into the big class-room to see if the Tree looked all right.  It was quite ready, and we agreed that the two big boys with the keeper should begin to light it as soon as the service was over.  Madame Isidore (the school-mistress) was rather unhappy about the quantity of people.  There were many more than thirty children, but Henrietta and Pauline had made up a bundle of extras, and I was sure there would be enough.  She told us people had been on the way since nine in the morning—­women