When all were assembled the music struck up at a signal from an elder.  The instruments were akin to the goat-skin pipes of Lower Brittany; the music wild, weird, appealing to the passion if not melodious to the ear.  At any rate the effect was inspiriting.  First, the men danced, the maidens seating themselves round the dancers and chanting the following words, to the rhythm of which they swayed their bodies gracefully:—­

    “Mille Sarrazins, mille Sarmates,
    Un jour nous avons tues. 
    Mille, mille, mille, mille, mille Perses,
    Nous cherchons a present.”

The dance, footed to this truculent chant, had no warlike features; beginning with a march, or rather a tripping walk, it ended with feats in which each dancer defied his neighbour to out-spring him; nor did the vocalists appear to expect representations of strife and doughty deeds.  The words, Roman by origin, as is clear from the allusion to the Persians, had been adapted to a native air by the conquerors, and had been left by them as a legacy to the islanders.  Next, the maidens trod a measure, the men standing round and applauding; the dance was quiet and soft, consisting principally of graceful movements of the body as if the dancers were getting themselves into training for greater efforts; in this case the dancers themselves chanted words suitable to the music.  This ended, there was a pause before the principal business of the day began, the dance in which both sexes joined, to be followed by the bestowal of a wreath on the loveliest of the maidens.

During the pause it was evident that an unusual incident had occurred.  The best-looking of the girls were pouting, the attention of the youths was distracted.  During the latter part of the dance the applause had been intermittent; towards the close it had almost ceased.  The elders, looking about under their shaggy eyebrows, had not been long in discovering the cause, and when they had found it allowed their attention to wander also.

The disturbing element was, indeed, not far to seek.  Close to one of the bridges was seated a maiden, unknown to all of them, but lovely enough to hold the glance of old and young.  Unlike the natives she was tall and fair; masses of golden hair encircled her oval face and clustered over her blue eyes.  Who was she?  Whence came she?  None could answer.  By degrees some of the boldest of the youths approached, but their bluff manners seemed to displease her; though unaccustomed to rebuffs they retired.  One, however, among them fared differently.  Jean Letocq, a member of the family to which the hero belonged who near this very spot discovered the sleeping troops of the Grand Sarrazin, was admired and beloved both by youths and maidens.  First in every sport, having shown courage and resource in times of peril both by sea and land, tender of glance and gentle of tongue, he held a pre-eminence which none disputed, and which was above the reach of envy.  The fair stranger,