| We receive the following letter, where
our readers will recognize, without waiting for the signature, the ultra-southern enthusiasm of our sympathetic friend Girieud, for all that is the sun lighting up the Cannebière, or the mistral blowing in victory, up there at the top ... of Notre - Lady of the Guard.
Tauber, November 5, 1918.
Dear friend,
I was rather morose the other day, a rare thing, but your few lines cheered me up...
I recognized then there, the spirit of the sons of the Island of Beauty, sharpened by the air of our Cannebière; the galéjade is good.
Eh yes ! We Provencals are unrepentant lovers, our mistress is so beautiful. From our cradle, it lavishes its rarest flowers on us, the evening breeze brings us the scent of the Big Blue!
It is in a home where traditions reign that we take our first steps, from the arms of our young mothers with their velvety eyes,... to the arms of our ancestors, with trembling hands, but lively and cheerful despite the years.
Like the plants of our hills, we
let's grow in the cheerful sun, lulled by the song of the cicadas, our complexion browned by the bites of our mistral and it is thanks to our generous wine that our spirit sparkles without malice.
In this context, at twenty, our heart
finds his Mireille, grace and beauty.
But I stop
So ! Dear friend, what the Old adores
Gandin: "The Provence". this little corner of our beautiful France, adored mistress, which we love all the more because we are separated from it....
In the future, when you see me pacing through the fog, tell yourself: he's worried about the Rascasse!!
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