130 STORIES FROM DAUDET

former days there were many millers
here who drove a roaring trade, and
the people of the farms for thirty miles
round brought their corn here for
grinding. . . . On each side of the
village the hills were covered with
windmills. From right to left you
could see nothing but mill-sails turning
in the mistral wind, above the pine-
trees, and long strings of little donkeys
loaded with sacks, climbing and going
down the road to the hills; and all
through the week it was pleasant to
hear the crack of the whip on the
heights, the rattling of the sails, and
the dia hue/ the cry of the miller’s
men. On Sundays we went up to the
mills in troops. Up there the millers
treated us to Muscat wine. The
millers’ wives were as fine as queens
with their lace kerchiefs and gold
crosses. J brought my fife, and they
danced the Farandol till midnight.
These mills were the joy and wealth of
our village, you see.