Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/171

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"Thou wilt kill me then, father! It is I
Whom Vincen worships thus despairingly;
And before God and our most holy Mother,
I give my seal to him, and to no other!"
A deathlike hash followed Mirèio's word.
The wife of Ramoun was the first who stirred.

Upspringing with clasped hands and utterance wild,
"Your speech is an atrocious insult, child!
Your love 's a thorn that long hath stung us deep.
Alari, the owner of a thousand sheep,
You sent away; and keeper Veran too,
Disgusted with your scorn, his suit withdrew;

"Also the wealthy herdsman, Ourrias,
You treated as a dog and a scapegrace!
Tramp through the country with your beggar, then!
Herd with strange women and with outcast men!
And cook your pot with fortune-telling crones
Under a bridge mayhap, upon three stones.

"Go, gypsy, you are free!" the mother said;
Nor stayed Ramoun her pitiless tirade,
Though his eye like a taper burned. But now
The lightning flashed under his shaggy brow,
And his wrath brake, all barriers overbearing,
Like swollen torrent down a mountain tearing.