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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78917 ***
+
+
+
+
+  Transcriber’s Note
+  Italic text displayed as: _italic_
+
+
+
+
+ADVENTURES OF A DONKEY
+
+[Illustration:
+
+  CADICHON,
+  THE DONKEY,
+  SPEAKS!!
+]
+
+
+
+
+  THE
+
+  ADVENTURES OF A DONKEY
+
+  FROM THE FRENCH OF
+
+  _Mme. LA COMTESSE DE SÉGUR_.
+
+  BY P. S., A GRADUATE OF ST. JOSEPH’S, EMMITTSBURG, MD.
+
+  ILLUSTRATED.
+
+  BALTIMORE:
+  PUBLISHED BY JOHN B. PIET,
+  NO. 174 WEST BALTIMORE STREET,
+  1881.
+
+
+
+
+  COPYRIGHT, JOHN B. PIET, 1880.
+
+  _Press of John B. Piet, Baltimore._
+
+
+
+
+TO MY LITTLE MASTER,
+
+M. HENRI DE SÉGUR.
+
+
+My little master, you have been good to me, but you have spoken
+contemptuously of donkeys in general. To make you better acquainted
+with them, I write and offer you this story of my adventures, from
+which you will learn, my dear little master, how I, a poor donkey, and
+my very many donkey friends, have been and are still unjustly treated
+by men. You will see that we have much intelligence and many excellent
+qualities; you will also see how wicked I was in my youth, that I was
+severely punished for it, and how repentance changed me and restored
+to me the friendship of my comrades and masters. In fine, you will
+perceive on reading this book, that instead of saying “as stupid as a
+donkey, as ignorant as a donkey, as headstrong as a donkey,” one should
+say, “as intelligent as a donkey, as learned as a donkey, as docile as
+a donkey,” and that you and your kindred might well be proud of these
+eulogiums.
+
+Hi! han! my good master, I hope no period of your life may resemble the
+early years of your faithful servant,
+
+  CADICHON, THE LEARNED DONKEY.
+
+
+
+
+ADVENTURES OF A DONKEY.
+
+
+I do not remember my infancy; I was probably unhappy, like all infant
+donkeys, pretty and graceful as we all are. I was certainly very
+intelligent, since, even at my present time of life, being now somewhat
+advanced in years, my mental endowments are far superior to those of
+my comrades. More than once did I outwit my poor masters, who were
+but men, and who, consequently, could not be expected to possess the
+intelligence of a donkey.
+
+I shall begin these Adventures by relating one of the tricks I played
+upon them in my youth.
+
+
+
+
+TABLE OF CONTENTS.
+
+
+      I.—THE MARKET,                                                   1
+
+     II.—THE PURSUIT,                                                  8
+
+    III.—THE NEW MASTERS,                                             13
+
+     IV.—THE BRIDGE,                                                  17
+
+      V.—THE CEMETERY,                                                24
+
+     VI.—THE HIDING PLACE,                                            32
+
+    VII.—THE LOCKET,                                                  40
+
+   VIII.—THE FIRE,                                                    46
+
+     IX.—THE DONKEY RACE,                                             53
+
+      X.—GOOD MASTERS,                                                66
+
+     XI.—CADICHON SICK,                                               75
+
+    XII.—THE ROBBERS,                                                 78
+
+   XIII.—THE VAULTS,                                                  86
+
+    XIV.—THERESA,                                                     94
+
+     XV.—THE GUNNING PARTY,                                          111
+
+    XVI.—MEDOR,                                                      122
+
+   XVII.—THE SCHOOL CHILDREN,                                        132
+
+  XVIII.—THE BAPTISM,                                                138
+
+    XIX.—THE LEARNED DONKEY,                                         147
+
+     XX.—THE FROG,                                                   164
+
+    XXI.—THE PONY,                                                   168
+
+   XXII.—THE PUNISHMENT,                                             180
+
+  XXIII.—THE REFORMATION,                                            194
+
+   XXIV.—THE ROBBERS,                                                218
+
+    XXV.—THE REPARATION,                                             239
+
+   XXVI.—THE BOAT,                                                   254
+
+  Conclusion                                                         272
+
+
+
+
+THE ADVENTURES OF A DONKEY.
+
+
+
+
+I.
+
+THE MARKET.
+
+
+Men not being supposed to be aware of all that donkeys know, you, who
+read this book, are doubtless ignorant of what is well known to all my
+donkey friends, namely: that every Tuesday in the town of Laigle there
+is held a market, where vegetables, butter, eggs, cheese and other
+excellent things are sold. This Tuesday is a day of torture for my poor
+comrades; it was so for me before I was bought by my present good old
+mistress, your grandmother. I belonged to a farmer’s wife, exacting and
+cruel. Just imagine, my dear little master, that she carried her malice
+so far as to collect all the eggs her hens laid, all the butter and
+cheese from her cows’ milk, all the vegetables and fruits that ripened
+during the week, to fill baskets which she placed upon my back.
+
+And when I was so heavily laden that I could scarcely move, this wicked
+woman seated herself upon the baskets and obliged me to trot thus
+burdened, overwhelmed, indeed, to the market of Laigle, a league from
+the farm. I was all this time in a rage I dared not show, for fear of
+the stick my mistress carried, a very big one full of knots, that hurt
+sorely when she beat me. Whenever I saw or heard these preparations for
+market, I sighed, I groaned, I ever brayed, in hopes of softening the
+hearts of my owners.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+“Shut your mouth, great idle thing,” said they, coming to get me, “shut
+your mouth, and do not deafen us with your coarse, horrid voice. Hi!
+han! hi! han! that is beautiful music you are giving us! Edward, my
+boy, bring this lazy beast up to the door whilst your mother puts the
+load on his back. Here is a basket of eggs—one more! The cheese—the
+butter!—now the vegetables. That’s right! Here is a fine load, that is
+going to bring us several five franc pieces. Mary, my daughter, bring
+a chair for your mother to mount the donkey. Good-bye, a pleasant trip,
+wife, and make this lazy beast move. Hold on, here is your stick, hit
+him with it.”
+
+Pan! Pan!
+
+“That’s right, a few more caresses of that kind and he’ll go.”
+
+Vlan! Vlan! The stick never ceased to belabor my sides, my legs, my
+neck; I trotted, I almost galloped, yet the woman still beat me. I was
+indignant at so much injustice and cruelty; I tried to kick and throw
+her off, but I was too heavily burdened; I could only start and sway
+from side to side, thus affording myself the satisfaction of feeling
+her slipping down. “Wicked donkey! stupid animal! headstrong creature!”
+said she, “I am going to teach you better, I’ll let you feel the weight
+of my stick.”
+
+And indeed, she beat me so I could scarcely reach the town. We arrived
+at last. All the baskets were lifted off my poor skinned back and
+placed on the ground. My mistress having tied me to a post, went to
+breakfast, whilst I, who was dying of hunger and thirst, got not a
+sprig of grass, or a drop of water. I found means of getting close to
+the vegetables during her absence and refreshed myself by filling my
+stomach with a basket of salad and cabbage. I had never eaten anything
+so good in my life, but just as I was finishing the last cabbage and
+the last salad, my mistress returned. She uttered a scream on seeing
+her basket empty; I regarded her with such a satisfied insolent air,
+that she immediately recognized me as the author of her loss. I shall
+not repeat to you the names she called me. She was very high-tempered,
+and when in a rage, she swore and said things that made me blush,
+donkey as I am. Having loaded me with the most humiliating reproaches,
+to which I made no reply, except by licking my lips and turning my back
+upon her, she took her stick and began to beat me so cruelly, that I,
+at last, lost all patience, and launched at her three kicks, the first
+of which broke her nose and two teeth; the second, her wrist, and the
+third, striking her in the stomach, knocked her over. Twenty persons
+rushed upon me, overwhelming me with blows and vile words. They carried
+my mistress off, I know not where, and left me attached to the post,
+near which the marketing I had brought was displayed. Here I remained a
+long time; seeing that no one thought of me, I ate a second basket of
+excellent vegetables, and cutting with my teeth the cord that held me,
+I quietly took the road home.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Every one I passed on the way seemed astonished at seeing me alone.
+
+“Look, there is a donkey with a broken strap! He has escaped,” said one.
+
+“It must be a fugitive from the galleys,” said another. And they all
+began to laugh.
+
+“He doesn’t carry a heavy load on his back,” remarked a third.
+
+“Very true,” exclaimed a youth, “he has been at some mischief.”
+
+[Illustration]
+
+“Catch him, husband,” said a woman, “let us put the little one in the
+saddle.”
+
+“He will carry you as well as the little boy,” replied the husband.
+
+Wishing to give them a good opinion of my gentleness and condescension,
+I very quietly approached the woman and stopped to let her mount.
+
+“He doesn’t seem at all vicious,” said the man, helping his wife into
+the saddle.
+
+I smiled with pity at hearing this. Vicious! as if a donkey kindly
+treated was ever vicious! We become ill-tempered, disobedient,
+headstrong, only in retaliation for the blows and foul names heaped
+upon us. When properly treated, we are good-natured—much better in this
+respect than other animals.
+
+I carried the wife and child home. The latter was a pretty little boy
+about two years old, who caressed me fondly, thought me charming, and
+wanted to keep me altogether. But I reflected that this would not be
+honest; my masters had bought me, I belonged to them. I had already
+revenged myself upon my mistress by breaking her nose, teeth, and
+wrist, and giving her a good kick in the stomach. Seeing, then, that
+the mother would yield to the little boy, whom she spoiled (I soon
+perceived this whilst they were on my back), I jumped to one side, and
+before the mother could seize my bridle, was off in a gallop towards
+home.
+
+Mary, my master’s daughter, saw me first.
+
+“Oh! there is Cadichon. How early he has returned. Here, Edward, come
+take off his saddle.”
+
+“Wicked creature,” said Edward, in an angry tone, “one has always to be
+bothered with you. But why has he returned alone? I’ll bet he has run
+away. Vile beast!” he added, kicking me on the leg, “if I knew you had
+escaped, I would give you a hundred licks of the stick!”
+
+Once rid of my saddle and bridle, I went off galloping. Scarcely had I
+entered the pasture when I heard loud cries proceeding from the house.
+Approaching the hedge, I saw that the farmer’s wife had been brought
+home, and I recognized the screams as those of the children. I listened
+most intently, and heard Edward say to his father:
+
+“Father, I am going to tie him to a tree, and take the big wagon, whip
+and beat him till he falls to the ground!”
+
+“Very well, my son, go, but do not kill him, for we would lose what he
+cost us. I shall sell him at the next fair.”
+
+I trembled with fright on hearing these words, and on seeing Edward
+run to the stable for the whip. There was no time for hesitation, and
+without any scruple now as to defrauding my owner of what he had paid
+for me, I ran towards the hedge separating me from the fields, and
+dashed against it with such force, that I broke the branches and made
+my way through. I ran at full speed through the field, and I continued
+to gallop a very long time, believing myself pursued. At last, unable
+to go farther, I stopped; I listened, but heard nothing. I mounted a
+slight eminence, I saw no one. Then I began to breathe freely, and
+rejoice at having delivered myself from these wicked farmers.
+
+But I now commenced to wonder what would become of me. If I remained
+where was, I would be discovered, recognized and taken back to my
+master’s. What should I do? where should I go?
+
+I looked around, and finding myself solitary and unhappy, I was about
+to shed tears over my sad fate, when I perceived that I was on the edge
+of a magnificent woods, it was the forest of St. Evroult.
+
+“What good luck!” I exclaimed, “In this forest I shall find tender
+herbage, water, fresh moss; I shall remain here a few days, and then go
+to another forest, farther, much farther from my master’s farm.”
+
+I entered the forest; I ate with delight the tender grass and I drank
+the water from a beautiful spring. Towards night, I lay down on the
+moss at the foot of an old pine, and there slept peacefully till
+morning.
+
+
+
+
+II.
+
+THE PURSUIT.
+
+
+The next morning after eating and drinking, I thought over my happiness.
+
+“Here,” said I, “they can never find me, I am saved. In two days,
+however, when I shall have rested from my fatigue, I will go still
+farther.”
+
+Scarcely was this reflection finished, when I heard the distant barking
+of a dog, then of another, and in a few minutes I distinguished the
+sound of a whole pack of hounds. Anxious, and even somewhat frightened,
+I arose and went towards a little stream that I had noticed in the
+morning. Scarcely had I done so, ere I heard Edward saying to the dogs:
+
+“Come, come, dogs, seek him well, find me this wicked donkey, bite him,
+tear his legs to pieces and bring him to me, that I may lay my whip on
+his back.”
+
+[Illustration: Towards evening two men entered the meadow.—(Page 11.)]
+
+I nearly sank to the ground from fright; but suddenly remembering that
+I could throw the dogs off my track by walking in the water, I ran at
+once to the stream, which fortunately was bordered on both sides with
+very thick bushes. I walked a very long time without stopping; the
+barking of the dogs died away in the distance, as well as the voice of
+the wicked Edward.
+
+Breathless and exhausted I stopped an instant to drink, and I ate a
+few leaves from the bushes. My legs were stiff with cold, but I dared
+not quit the water, for fear the dogs might return and get upon my
+trail. When somewhat rested I began to run, following the stream all
+the while, until I was out of the forest. I then found myself in a vast
+meadow, where cows and oxen (over fifty in number) were pasturing. They
+took no notice of me, so I lay down in the sun to rest in a corner of
+the field.
+
+Towards evening two men entered the meadow.
+
+“Brother,” said the tallest of the two, “shall we not bring up the
+cattle to-night? they say there are wolves in the woods.”
+
+“Wolves! who told you that nonsense?”
+
+“The Aigle folks. They tell how a donkey from the hedge farm was
+carried off and devoured in the forest.”
+
+“Bah! let it go, the people of that farm are so cruel, they have beaten
+their donkey to death.”
+
+“Why, then, would they say the wolves devoured it?”
+
+“Because it is not known that they killed it.”
+
+“Even so, it would be better to bring in the cattle.”
+
+“Do as you wish, brother, I leave it to you.”
+
+I did not stir in my corner, for fear of being discovered. The grass
+was high and concealed me entirely, the cattle did not pass near me,
+but were driven towards the gate and thence to their masters’ farm.
+
+I had no fear of wolves, for I was the very donkey of whom the men
+spoke; and in the forest where I had passed the night, I had not seen
+even a wolf’s trail. So I slept delightfully, and was finishing my
+breakfast when the cattle re-entered the field, led by two big dogs.
+
+Whilst I was quietly looking at them, one of the dogs perceived me,
+and barking fiercely, ran at me, followed by his companion. What would
+become of me? how should I escape them? I rushed against the fence
+enclosing the meadow; the stream I had followed crossed the lot, and I
+was fortunate enough to clear this stream, also to hear the voice of
+one of the men I had seen the evening before, calling back his dogs. I
+quietly continued my walk until I had reached another forest, the name
+of which I did not know. I must now have been more than ten leagues
+from the hedge farm; consequently I was safe, no one knew me, and I
+could show myself without fear of being taken back to my former owners.
+
+
+
+
+III.
+
+THE NEW MASTERS.
+
+
+I lived peacefully in this forest one month. Sometimes I felt a little
+lonesome, but I preferred solitude to misery. I was then tolerably
+happy, when I began to perceive that the grass was getting scarce and
+dry, the leaves falling, the water freezing, the ground growing damp.
+
+“Alas! alas!” thought I, “what is to become of me? If I stay here I
+shall perish of cold, of hunger and thirst, but where shall I go? who
+is there that wants me?”
+
+By dint of reflection, I devised a means of securing shelter. Leaving
+the forest, I went to a little village near by. There I saw a small,
+neat looking, isolated house, and a good woman seated at the door
+spinning. I was touched with her sad, gentle appearance; I approached
+her and put my head upon her shoulder. Much startled, the good woman
+uttered a scream and jumped up from her chair. I did not stir, but
+regarded her with a pitiful, supplicating air.
+
+“Poor beast!” said she, at length, “you do not look wicked. If no one
+owned you, I would be very much pleased to have you supply the place of
+my poor old Grison, who died of old age. I could then continue to make
+my living selling my vegetables at the market. But, no doubt, you have
+a master,” she added, sighing.
+
+“To whom are you talking, grandmother?” said a soft voice from the
+inside of the house.
+
+“I am talking to a donkey that has come here and put his head on my
+shoulder, and he looks at me so pitifully that I haven’t the heart to
+drive him away.”
+
+“Let me see! let me see!” answered the soft voice. And immediately
+there appeared on the threshold a handsome little boy six or seven
+years of age, neatly but poorly clad. He looked at me with a curious,
+half timid air.
+
+“May I pet him, grandmother?” said he.
+
+“Certainly, my George, but take care that he does not bite you.”
+
+The little boy extended his arm, and not being able to reach me, he
+advanced a step, then another, and began to smooth my back.
+
+I did not stir for fear of frightening him; I only turned my head
+towards him, and passed my tongue over his hand.
+
+“Grandmother, grandmother, this poor donkey is so good-natured, he has
+licked my hand.”
+
+“It is very strange that he should be alone. Where is his master? Go,
+George, to the village inn, where travelers stop, and make inquiries
+about him. His master is probably worried about him.”
+
+“Shall I take the donkey, grandmother?”
+
+“He will not follow you; let him go where he wishes.”
+
+George started off in a run; I trotted after him. When he saw that I
+followed, he came to me, and petting me, said: “Say then, my pretty
+donkey, since you follow me, you will surely let me ride you.” And he
+mounted at once, exclaiming as he did so, “get up!” I went off in a
+little gallop, which enchanted him. “Ho! ho!” said he before the inn,
+I stopped immediately, and George dismounted. I remained opposite the
+door, not stirring any more than if I had been tied.
+
+“What is it, my boy?” said the inn-keeper.
+
+“I came to know, Mr. Duval, if this donkey at the door belongs to you
+or any of your customers?”
+
+Mr. Duval came to the door and regarded me attentively. “No, my boy,”
+said he, “it is not mine, nor that of any one I know. You will have to
+inquire further.”
+
+George remounted, and setting off again in a gallop, we went from house
+to house, inquiring for my owner. No one knew me, and we returned to
+the good grandmother, who was still sitting in the door spinning.
+
+“Grandmother, the donkey belongs to no one about here. What are we to
+do with him? He keeps close to me, but he jumps away when anybody else
+tries to touch him.”
+
+“In that case, my George, we must not let him stay out-doors all night;
+something might happen to him. Lead him to our poor Grison’s stable,
+give him a bundle of hay and a bucket of water. We can take him to
+market to-morrow, and perhaps we may find his master.”
+
+“And if we do not find him, grandmother?”
+
+“We will keep the donkey till some one claims him. We could not let the
+poor beast perish of cold this winter, or fall into the hands of wicked
+people who would beat him, or cause his death from fatigue and hard
+treatment.”
+
+After giving me food and water, George caressed me and went out,
+saying, as he shut the door:
+
+“How I hope he has no master, so he may stay with us.”
+
+Next day, having given me my breakfast, George put a halter on my neck
+and led me up to the door; the grandmother next placed a very light
+pack-saddle on my back and seated herself upon it. George then brought
+a little basket of vegetables, which she took upon her knees, and we
+set out for the market of Mamers. The good woman sold her vegetables at
+a fair price, no one recognized me, and I returned with my new mistress.
+
+I lived there four years; I was happy, injuring no one and making
+myself very useful, for I loved my little master, who never beat me,
+never worked me to death and always fed me well. However, I was no
+glutton; in summer, remnants of vegetables and the herbs which neither
+the horses nor cows ate; in winter a little hay and the skins of
+potatoes, carrots and turnips, satisfied my wants, as is the case with
+other donkeys.
+
+There were some days I did not enjoy, those on which my mistress hired
+me to the children in the neighborhood. Being poor, and not always
+having enough work to keep me busy, she was very glad to make a little
+something by hiring me to the children of the castle near by.
+
+They were not always good children.
+
+Listen to what happened on one of these excursions.
+
+
+
+
+IV.
+
+THE BRIDGE.
+
+
+There were six donkeys drawn up in the yard; I was one of the
+handsomest and strongest of the number. Three little girls brought
+us oats in a bucket. Whilst eating I listened to the children’s
+conversation.
+
+“Come,” said Charles, “let us choose our donkeys, as for myself, I take
+that one,” pointing to me with his finger.
+
+“You always take the best,” answered the five children at once, “we
+must draw lots.”
+
+“How do you wish us to draw lots, Caroline,” replied Charles, “do we
+put the donkeys in a bag and draw them out as one does balls?”
+
+“Ah! ah! ah!” said Francis, “what an idiot, with his donkeys in a bag!
+As if one could not number them 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, put the numbers in a
+bag, and let each draw his number.”
+
+“So we can,” cried the five others, “Ernest set down the numbers, while
+we write them on the donkey’s backs.”
+
+These children are dunces, said I to myself. If they had the sense of
+a donkey, instead of tiring themselves writing numbers on our backs,
+they would simply arrange us along the wall, the first would be 1, the
+second, 2, and so on for the rest.
+
+Meanwhile, Francis had brought a big piece of coal. I was the first,
+so he made an enormous 1 on my back; whilst he wrote 2 on that of my
+comrade, I gave myself a vigorous shake, to convince him that his
+invention was not a famous one. Behold, the particles of coal flew off
+and the 1 disappeared. “You dunce!” cried he, “I must commence over.”
+Whilst he re-wrote his number 1, my comrade that had perceived my
+doings, and was also mischievous, shook himself in turn. Behold the 2
+disappear. Francis began to get angry; the others laughed and mocked
+him. I made a sign to my comrades and we let him number us, no one
+budged. Ernest returned with the numbers in his handkerchief; each one
+drew. Whilst they were looking at what they had drawn I made another
+sign to my comrades, and we all shook ourselves worse than ever. More
+coal, more numbers, it must be commenced over, the children were
+enraged. Charles was triumphant and giggled; Ernest, Albert, Caroline,
+Cecilia and Louisa were indignant at Francis, who in turn, stamped
+his foot, my comrades and I began to bray. The noise attracted the
+papas and mamas. The cause was explained to them and one of the papas
+suggested the plan of arranging us along the wall. He made the children
+draw their numbers.
+
+“One!” cried Ernest. It was myself.
+
+“Two!” cried Cecilia. It was one of my friends.
+
+“Three,” cried Francis, and so on to the last.
+
+“Let us start now,” said Charles, “I go first.”
+
+“Oh! I shall soon overtake you,” replied Ernest with animation.
+
+“I bet not.”
+
+“I bet I shall.”
+
+Charles taps his donkey, which sets off at a gallop. Before Ernest has
+time to touch me with a whip, I start also, and at such a pace that
+Charles is speedily overtaken. Ernest is delighted, Charles is furious.
+He taps and keeps tapping his donkey. Ernest has no need to tap me; I
+run, I fly like the wind. I pass Charles in a minute, and I hear the
+others who follow, laughing, and crying out:
+
+“Bravo! donkey number 1, bravo! he runs like a horse.”
+
+Self love gives me courage; I continue to gallop until we reach a
+bridge. I stop suddenly, for I have just perceived that a large plank
+in the bridge is rotten; I do not wish to fall in the water with
+Ernest, but to return to the others who are far, far behind us.
+
+“Ho there! ho there! donkey,” said Ernest to me. “On the bridge,
+donkey, on the bridge.”
+
+I resist, he gives me a touch with the switch.
+
+I still continue to walk towards the others.
+
+“Headstrong thing! stupid brute! will you turn and pass the bridge?”
+
+I walk on towards my comrades and rejoin them, in spite of this wicked
+boy’s cross words and blows.
+
+“Why do you beat your donkey, Ernest?” cries Caroline, “he is
+excellent, he went flying and you overtook Charles.”
+
+“I beat him to make him go over the bridge, he is determined to turn
+back.”
+
+“Ah! bah! because he was alone; now that we are all together he will
+pass the bridge like the rest.”
+
+“Unfortunate creatures!” think I, “they are all going to fall into the
+river. I must try to convince them of the danger.”
+
+And I set off in a gallop towards the bridge, to Ernest’s great
+satisfaction and amidst cries of joy from the other children.
+
+I gallop up to the bridge; reaching it, I stop suddenly as if afraid,
+Ernest astonished, urges me on, I recoil with an air of fright that
+surprises Ernest still more. Silly boy! he sees nothing though the
+rotten board is in full view. The others rejoin him, and enjoy the
+spectacle of his efforts to make me go across and mine not to do so. At
+last the whole party dismount from their donkeys, each one pushing and
+beating me mercilessly, still I budge not.
+
+“Pull him by the tail,” cries Charles, “donkeys are so headstrong that
+if you want to make them go one way, they are sure to go the other.”
+
+Behold them seize me by the tail. I defend myself with a kick; they all
+beat me at once, and yet I will not move an inch.
+
+“Wait Ernest,” says Charles, “let me go first and he will certainly
+follow.”
+
+He tries to advance, to prevent him I place myself crosswise before the
+bridge, but by dint of blows he makes me fall back.
+
+[Illustration: “A pole! a pole!” he cried.—(Page 23.)]
+
+“Well,” said I to myself, “I’ll give up, if this bad boy wants to be
+drowned, let him be, I have done my best to save him; since he is so
+determined, let him taste a draught.”
+
+Scarcely had his donkey touched the rotten plank, ere it gave way, and
+both rider and animal were thrown into the water. There was no danger
+for my comrade, as like the rest of his race, he knew how to swim, but
+Charles struggled and screamed without the power of extricating himself.
+
+“A pole! a pole!” he cried.
+
+The children ran in every direction, at last Caroline found a long
+pole, which she hastily held out to him; he seized it, but his weight
+was dragging her in, and she called for help. Ernest, Francis and
+Albert ran to her. At length, with a great deal of difficulty, they
+succeeded in drawing to land the unhappy Charles, who had drank more
+than he relished, and who was wet from head to foot. When assured of
+his safety, they all began to laugh at his piteous plight; Charles got
+angry, they jumped upon their donkeys, and with bursts of laughter
+advised him to return to the house and change his clothes. Wet as he
+was, he mounted his donkey. I laughed in my sleeve at his ridiculous
+figure, the current had carried away his hat and shoes, the water was
+running off him to the ground, his dripping hair clung to him, and his
+countenance was furious—altogether he was a most ludicrous picture. The
+children laughed, my comrades pranced and ran to express their delight.
+
+I ought to add that Charles’ donkey was detested by the rest of us,
+because he was quarrelsome, gluttonous and stupid, qualities very rare
+among us.
+
+At length Charles disappeared, and both children and donkeys became
+more quiet. Every one caressed me and admired my spirit, and we all
+started off again, I at the head of the band.
+
+
+
+
+V.
+
+THE CEMETERY.
+
+
+We went at a brisk pace; and soon approached the village cemetery,
+which is about a league from the castle. “Suppose we turn back and take
+the forest road,” said Caroline.
+
+“Why?” asked Cecilia.
+
+“Because I do not like cemeteries.”
+
+“Why do you not like them,” replied Cecilia with an air of derision.
+“Are you afraid you will not get away?”
+
+“No, but I think of the poor people who are buried there, and it makes
+me sad.”
+
+The children ridiculed Caroline and rode directly past the wall. They
+were just about to keep on, when Caroline, who seemed disquieted,
+stopped her donkey, leaped off, and ran to the cemetery gate.
+
+“What are you doing, Caroline, where are you going?” exclaimed the
+others.
+
+Caroline did not answer, but hurriedly pushing open the gate, she
+entered the cemetery, looked all around her, and ran towards a freshly
+made grave.
+
+Ernest, who had anxiously followed, had caught up with her, at the
+moment when bending over the grave, she lifted up a poor little boy, of
+about three years, whose moans had attracted her attention.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+“What is the matter, my poor little one? Why are you crying?”
+
+The child could not answer for his sobs.
+
+“Why are you here alone?” said Caroline again, noticing the child’s
+beauty and miserable clothing.
+
+“They left me here, I am hungry,” he answered sobbing.
+
+“Who left you here?”
+
+“The black men, I am hungry,” was the answer accompanied with another
+sob.
+
+“Ernest,” said Caroline, “run, and get our lunch, quick; we must give
+this poor little fellow something to eat; he will tell us afterwards
+why he weeps, and why he is here.”
+
+Ernest ran to get the basket of provisions, whilst Caroline endeavored
+to console the child. In a few minutes Ernest re-appeared, followed by
+the whole band, whom curiosity had attracted to the spot. They gave the
+child some cold chicken and some bread soaked in wine. As he ate, his
+tears ceased to flow, his countenance became smiling. When he had eaten
+heartily, Caroline again asked him why he was lying on this grave.
+
+“Because they have put grandmother here. I want to wait till she comes
+back.”
+
+“Where is your papa?”
+
+“I can’t tell, I don’t know him.”
+
+“And your mama?”
+
+“I don’t know, black men carried her off as they did grandmother.”
+
+“But who takes care of you?”
+
+“No one.”
+
+“Who feeds you?”
+
+“Nobody, I suck nurse.”
+
+“Where is your nurse?”
+
+“Down there at the house.”
+
+“What does she do?”
+
+“She walks, and she eats grass.”
+
+“Grass?”
+
+Here all the children looked at one another with surprise.
+
+“Is she silly?” said Cecilia in an undertone.
+
+“He does not know what he is saying,” replied Francis, “he is too
+little.”
+
+“Why,” continued Caroline, “does not your nurse take you home?”
+
+“She can’t, she has no arms.”
+
+The children’s surprise increased.
+
+“How then can she carry you?”
+
+“I get on her back.”
+
+“Do you sleep with her?”
+
+“Oh! no, I could not do that,” said the child smiling.
+
+“Where then does she sleep? Hasn’t she a bed?”
+
+The child began to laugh as he answered.
+
+“Oh! no, she sleeps on straw.”
+
+“What does he mean,” said Ernest, “let us ask him to take us to the
+house, we shall see his nurse, and she can explain matters.”
+
+“I must confess, it is all a mystery to me,” said Francis.
+
+“Will you go back to your home, my little one?” asked Caroline.
+
+“Yes, but not all alone; I am afraid of the black men, grandma’s room
+was full of them.”
+
+“We will all go with you, you must show us the way.”
+
+Caroline remounted her donkey, and took the little boy upon her lap.
+He showed us the way, and in five minutes we all reached the cabin
+of mother Thibaut, who died the evening previous and was buried that
+morning. The child ran to the house and called out “Nurse! Nurse!”
+Immediately a goat bounded out of the open stable, and darting towards
+the child, testified its joy at his return by a thousand gambols and
+caresses. The child likewise fondled it, and then said “Suck Nurse.”
+The goat immediately lay down on the ground, the little boy stretched
+himself near her, and began to suck as if he had neither eaten nor
+drunk.
+
+“There, the nurse is explained,” said Ernest, at last. “What shall we
+do with this child?”
+
+“We have nothing to do with him, except leave him with his nurse,” said
+Francis.
+
+The others cried out with indignation.
+
+“It would be wrong,” answered Caroline, “to abandon this poor little
+one, he might soon die for want of care.”
+
+“What do you wish to do with him,” said Francis, “are you going to take
+him home with you?”
+
+“Certainly; I shall ask mama to keep him at the house whilst she makes
+inquiries as to who he is, and whether he has any relatives or not.”
+
+“And our donkey party, are we to give that up and all return?”
+
+[Illustration: The little boy stretched himself near the goat.—(Page
+28.)]
+
+“No, Ernest will be kind enough to accompany me, and the rest of you
+can continue your excursion, there will still be four, so you can well
+do without Ernest and me.”
+
+“She is right,” said Francis, “let us mount and continue our ride.”
+
+And they departed, leaving the kind Caroline with her cousin Ernest.
+
+“How fortunate it is they tried to tease me by passing so near the
+cemetery!” said she, “but for that, I would not have heard this poor
+child, and he would have spent the entire night on the cold, damp
+ground.”
+
+It was I whom Ernest mounted. With my usual intelligence, comprehending
+that we must reach the castle as promptly as possible, I set off at
+a gallop, my comrade followed, and we were there in half an hour.
+The family was startled at our unexpectedly early return. Caroline
+recounted her adventure with the child. Her mama was puzzled as to what
+arrangements could be made for him, when the porter’s wife offered
+to raise him with her son, who was about the same age. The offer was
+accepted. On sending to the village to make inquiries concerning his
+name and parentage, Caroline’s mama learned that his father had been
+dead a year, his mother six months; the child had been living with a
+wicked, miserly old grandmother, who had just died the day before, that
+following the coffin to the cemetery, he had been forgotten and left
+there; moreover, that he was not poor, the grandmother having been in
+comfortable circumstances. The porter’s wife raised him well, and he
+became a fine fellow. I know him, his name is John Thibaut, he is
+always kind to animals, which proves his good heart, and he is very
+fond of me, which proves his sense.
+
+The good goat was also brought to the porter’s and found a home there.
+
+
+
+
+VI.
+
+THE HIDING PLACE.
+
+
+I have already said that I was happy, but my happiness was soon to end.
+George’s father was a soldier and when he returned to his country,
+bringing the money his dying captain had left him, and the cross given
+him by his general, he bought a house at Mamers, to which he removed
+his old mother and little son, and sold me to a neighboring farmer.
+I was very sad at leaving my good, old mistress and my little master
+George; both had been kind to me and I had been faithful to them.
+
+[Illustration: Cadichon’s master says good-by to his friends.—(Page
+35.)]
+
+My new owner was not unkind, but he had a foolish fancy for making
+everything about him work, and myself among the number. He used to
+harness me to a little cart and make me haul earth, manure, apples, and
+wood. I commenced to grow lazy, I did not like to be harnessed, and
+market day I especially detested, not that they loaded me too heavily
+or beat me, but because I had to stand without eating from the morning,
+till three or four o’clock in the afternoon. When the heat was great,
+I nearly died of thirst, waiting till everything was sold, till my
+master had received his money and said good day to his friends, with
+whom he must also take a glass.
+
+I was not very good in those days; I wanted fair treatment, if denied
+me I sought revenge. Here is one of my tricks, from which you will
+perceive not only that donkeys are not stupid, but also that I had
+become very bad.
+
+On market day the family arose earlier than usual—the vegetables
+were to be gathered, the butter churned, the eggs collected. In
+summer, sleeping out-doors in a large meadow, I saw and heard these
+preparations, and knew that at ten o’clock, they would come to harness
+me to the little cart filled with all their marketable produce. I have
+already said how tiresome and trying this market was to me, so having
+noticed in the meadow a large ditch filled with briers and brambles,
+here I determined if possible, to conceal myself in such a manner that
+no one could find me at the moment of departure. Market day arrived;
+as soon as I saw the farm folks beginning to move about, I very gently
+descended into the ditch, and there buried myself so completely,
+that discovery was almost impossible. I had been there an hour hid
+away amongst the briers, when I heard the boy calling me, running in
+every direction to find me, and at last returning to the farm-house.
+Doubtless he had apprised the master of my disappearance, for in a few
+minutes I heard the farmer’s voice calling his wife and all the other
+farm folks to come help find me.
+
+“He must have got through the hedge,” said one.
+
+“How could he have got through, there is no break anywhere,” replied
+the other.
+
+“Some one has left the gate open,” said the master. “Run into the
+fields boys, he cannot be far; go quick, and bring him, for time
+passes, and we shall be too late.”
+
+Every one started off into the fields or the woods, running and calling
+me. I laughed to myself down in the hole, and took good care not to
+make my appearance. After the lapse of an hour, they all returned
+breathless and panting, from a fruitless search.
+
+The master having sworn at me, and said no doubt I had been taken, put
+one of his horses to the cart, and drove off in a very bad humor. When
+I saw that all returned to their work, and no one could see me, lifting
+up my head very cautiously, I looked around. Finding myself alone, I
+suddenly emerged from the ditch, and running to the other end of the
+field, to mislead their suspicions as to where I had been, I began to
+bray with all my strength.
+
+At this noise every one on the farm ran.
+
+“Here he is come back,” cried the shepherd.
+
+“Which way did he come?” said the mistress.
+
+“Which way did he go?” replied the wagoner.
+
+In my joy at having escaped the market, I ran to them. They were
+delighted to see me, caressed me, said I was a good creature to have
+escaped from the thieves, and paid me so many compliments that I was
+ashamed, knowing full well how much more deserving I was of the stick
+than caresses. They let me graze quietly, and I should have passed a
+charming day, had not my conscience reproached me for having deceived
+my poor master.
+
+When the farmer came home and learned of my return, he was well
+pleased, but very much surprised. Next day he went all around the
+meadow, and carefully repaired even the slightest breach in the hedge.
+
+“The donkey will be very smart to escape now,” said he, on finishing. I
+have stopped even the smallest holes with stakes and brambles; there is
+not room enough for a cat to get through.
+
+The week passed quietly, my adventure was no longer thought of. But the
+next market day I repeated the wicked trick, and again concealed myself
+in the ditch, for so doing saved me so much fatigue and weariness. As
+before, they sought me everywhere; their astonishment was greater than
+ever, they were now fully convinced that a skillful thief had carried
+me off by letting me through the gate.
+
+“This time,” said my master sadly, “he is certainly lost. He will
+not be able to escape again, and even if he should, he could not get
+into the meadow, for I have repaired the breaches in the hedge too
+carefully.”
+
+He went off sighing, and one of the horses again took my place in the
+cart. As on the preceding occasion, I emerged from my hiding place
+when everybody had got out of the way, but I was prudent enough not to
+announce my appearance with a hi han! as before.
+
+When they found me quietly eating grass in the field, and my master
+learned that I had returned a short time after his departure, I saw
+that they had suspected me of some trick, for no one paid me any
+compliments, everyone eyed me with distrust, and I fully perceived that
+they watched me more closely than before. I laughed in my sleeve at
+them and said to myself:
+
+“Good friends, you will be very sharp if you discover the trick I have
+played on you; I am smarter than you, and I intend to keep the game up.”
+
+So I concealed myself a third time, very well pleased with my cunning.
+But scarcely was I stowed away in the ditch, ere I heard the furious
+barking of the big watch dog, and the voice of my master, saying:
+
+“Seize him Caesar, seize him; go down into the ditch, bite his legs,
+bring him! bravo my dog! seize him, seize him!”
+
+Caesar indeed darted down, he bit my legs, my body, and he would have
+devoured me, had I not decided to leave that ditch. I was about to run
+towards the hedge, and try forcing a passage through, when the farmer
+who was waiting for me, threw a slip knot over my head and brought
+me to a stand. He was armed with a whip and he made me feel it most
+sensibly; the dog continued to bite, the master to beat me, and I
+repented bitterly of my idleness. At last the farmer called Caesar off,
+put up his whip, exchanged the slip knot around my neck for a halter,
+and led me all mortified and beaten unmercifully, to the little cart
+which was in readiness for me.
+
+I learned afterwards that one of the children, who had been stationed
+near the gate, to open it if I returned, had perceived me coming out of
+the ditch, and had carried the news to his father. The little traitor!
+
+For a long time after, until my troubles and sad experience had taught
+me better, I wished all manner of evil to him.
+
+From that day I was treated more severely. They wished to keep me shut
+up, but I found means of opening all the fastenings with my teeth; if
+a latch, I lifted it; if a button, I turned it; if a bolt, I pushed it
+aside. I went just where I pleased. The farmer swore, scolded and beat
+me; he became harder on me, and I got to be worse and worse to manage.
+I felt that I had brought all this unhappiness on myself. I compared
+my present miserable life with that I had formerly led among the same
+people; but instead of reforming me, the reflexion made me only more
+headstrong and vicious. One day I went into the kitchen garden and
+eat all the salad; another day I knocked down the little boy who had
+betrayed me; another time, I drank a tub of cream they had placed out
+to be churned. I tramped on their chickens and young turkeys, I bit
+their pigs; in fine, I got so unmanageable that the mistress at last
+asked her husband to sell me at the fair at Mamers, which was to take
+place in fifteen days. I had become a very thin, miserable looking
+object, by reason of blows and poor nourishment. But now, wishing to
+put me in a good condition, (as the farmers say,) that I might sell to
+advantage, everyone on the farm was forbidden to maltreat me. I was
+released from work and was well fed. Very happy indeed was I during
+those fifteen days. My master, at the expiration of that time, took
+me to the fair and sold me for a hundred francs. I longed to give
+him a good bite at parting, but fearing such an act might make a bad
+impression on my new owner, I contented myself with turning my back
+upon him with a gesture of contempt.
+
+
+
+
+VII.
+
+THE LOCKET.
+
+
+I had been bought by the parents of a delicate little girl, aged about
+twelve years, who living in the country and having no friends of her
+own age, was greatly in need of diversion, for the father devoted very
+little time to her, and the mother, though fond of her child, was
+so jealous, she could not bear to see her attached to anything but
+herself, not even animals. The physician having prescribed recreation
+of some kind, the mother decided upon donkey rides. My little mistress
+was named Pauline; she was a very kind, gentle, pretty child, of a sad,
+quiet disposition. She was often sick, but every day when not unwell,
+she went riding, and it was my delight to show her the prettiest paths
+and woods I knew. At first, we were always accompanied by a domestic,
+but when everyone saw what good care I took of her, we were allowed
+to go alone. It was she who called me Cadichon, which name I have ever
+retained.
+
+“Go, take a stroll with Cadichon,” the father would say, “there is no
+danger with a donkey like that, he has the intelligence of a man, and
+he will always bring you safe home.”
+
+So we would go out together. When my little mistress got tired of
+walking, I used to stand near a slight elevation, or rather descend
+into a hollow, that she might mount the more easily. I would also lead
+her up to hazel trees filled with nuts, and stop to let her gather
+them. She loved me much, and expressed it by kind attentions and
+caresses. When bad weather prevented our promenades, she would come to
+the stable, bringing me bread, fresh grass, salad leaves, carrots; she
+would stay a long time, a very long time; and talking to me, though
+believing that I did not understand her, she would tell me all her
+little troubles, often with tears.
+
+“Oh! my poor Cadichon,” she would say, “you are a donkey, and you
+cannot understand me, yet you are my only friend, for it is only to you
+I can say all I think. Mama loves me, but she is jealous, she wants me
+to love nothing but herself. I have no childish friends, and I am so
+lonesome.”
+
+And then she would weep and caress me. I loved her too, and I pitied
+the poor little thing. When she was near me, I was very careful not to
+move, for fear of tramping on her.
+
+One day she came running towards me in the greatest delight.
+
+“Cadichon, Cadichon,” she cried, “mama has given me a locket with her
+hair; I am going to mix some of yours with it, for you too are dear to
+me, and I shall then have the hair of the two I love best in the world.”
+
+She cut off a little of my mane and put it in the locket with her
+mother’s hair.
+
+It made me happy to see how much Pauline loved me and I was proud of
+having my hair in a locket, but I must confess the effect was not very
+pretty; coarse, stiff and grey as my mane was, it made her mother’s
+tress look frightful. Pauline never perceived this, and she was turning
+her locket in every direction, and admiring it extravagantly, when her
+mother entered.
+
+“What are you looking at,” said the mother.
+
+“My locket mama,” answered Pauline concealing it somewhat.
+
+“Why did you bring it here?”
+
+“To show it to Cadichon.”
+
+“What foolishness! Indeed Pauline, you are losing your head with
+Cadichon! as if he could understand anything about a locket with hair!”
+
+“I assure you, mama, he understands very well, he licked my hand
+when—when—”
+
+Here Pauline blushed and was silent.
+
+“Well, why do you not finish? What made Cadichon lick your hand?”
+
+“Mama, I would rather not tell you, I am afraid you will scold me,”
+said Pauline, much embarrassed.
+
+“What is it, at once?” replied her mother impatiently. “Speak, what
+nonsense have you been at now?”
+
+“It is not nonsense, mama, on the contrary—”
+
+“Then why are you afraid to tell me? I suppose you have been giving
+Cadichon oats to make him sick.”
+
+“No, I have given him nothing, on the contrary—”
+
+“On the contrary? You provoke me, Pauline—now listen to me, I wish to
+know what you have been doing here for the last hour nearly.”
+
+And indeed the arrangement of my hair in the locket had been rather
+a long process; it was necessary to take off the paper back of the
+locket, remove the glass, insert the memento of myself, and then put
+the whole together again.
+
+Pauline still hesitated, at last, she said in a very low tone and with
+great embarrassment.
+
+“I cut a little of Cadichon’s mane to—”
+
+“To what?” said her mother impatiently, “finish now, you cut it for
+what?”
+
+“To put it in the locket,” was the very low answer.
+
+“In what locket?” said her mother angrily.
+
+“In the one you gave me.”
+
+“In that I gave you with my hair!” replied the mother with increasing
+anger. “And what have you done with my hair?”
+
+“It is still there, see,” said poor Pauline, displaying the locket.
+
+“My hair mixed with a donkey’s mane!” exclaimed the mother in a rage.
+“Ah! it is too much! You do not deserve the present I gave you! To
+class me with a donkey! To express the same affection for a donkey as
+for me!”
+
+[Illustration]
+
+And snatching the locket from the hands of the unfortunate, stupefied
+Pauline, she dashed it to the ground, trampled it under foot and broke
+it into a thousand pieces. Then without noticing her daughter, she left
+the stable, slamming the door violently.
+
+Pauline surprised and frightened at this outburst of temper, was
+motionless an instant, then breaking into sobs, and throwing herself
+upon my neck, she exclaimed passionately:
+
+“Cadichon, Cadichon, you see how I am treated! They do not want me to
+love you, but I will love you in spite of them, and more than them,
+because you are good to me—you never scold me, you never grieve me,
+and you always try to amuse me in our promenades. Alas! Cadichon, how
+unfortunate that you can neither understand me nor talk to me. Oh! what
+I would tell you!”
+
+Pauline was silent, she throw herself on the ground and continued to
+weep gently. I was touched and distressed at her grief, but I could not
+console her or even let her know that I understood her. I felt enraged
+at this mother, who through stupid or excessive affection, could render
+her child so unhappy. Had it been in my power, I would have told her
+of the grief she caused Pauline, and the injury it did her already
+delicate health, but Alas! I could not speak. I could do nothing but
+look sadly on at the poor child’s flowing tears.
+
+Scarcely a quarter of an hour had elapsed since her mother’s leaving
+the stable, when a servant opened the door and called Pauline.
+
+“Mademoiselle,” said she, “your mama has sent for you, she does not
+wish you to stay in the stable with Cadichon, or even to come here at
+all.”
+
+“Cadichon, my poor Cadichon!” exclaimed Pauline, “they do not wish me
+to see you any more!”
+
+“Only when you go out riding, Mademoiselle, your mama says, the place
+for you is in the parlor, not in the stable.”
+
+Pauline made no answer; she knew her mother exacted obedience, but
+embracing me again, and I felt her tears on my neck as she did so, she
+left the stable to return no more.
+
+From that time Pauline became sadder and more delicate, she coughed,
+she grew pale and thin. The bad weather rendered our promenades shorter
+and less frequent. When we did go however, I was brought up to the
+castle steps, Pauline mounted without saying one word to me, or taking
+any notice of me, but as soon as we were out of sight, she jumped off,
+caressed me, and relieved her heart by recounting her daily troubles
+and griefs, though still thinking I could not understand her. It was
+thus I learned her mama’s continued displeasure since that affair of
+the locket, how Pauline’s life was sadder and more irksome than ever,
+and how the malady from which she suffered was becoming graver every
+day.
+
+
+
+
+VIII.
+
+THE FIRE.
+
+
+Just as I had gone to sleep one evening, I was awakened by cries of
+“fire! fire!” Startled and terrified I endeavored to rid myself of the
+leather strap that held me fast, but in vain did I pull at it, and
+roll on the ground, the strap would not break. At last the happy idea
+occurred to me of cutting it with my teeth, and this I succeeded in
+doing after several efforts. My poor stable was lighted up with the
+reflexion of the fire; the cries, the noise increased; I heard the
+lamentations of the servants, the crash of falling walls, the giving
+way of floors, the roaring of flames; the smoke had already reached my
+stable, and no one thought of me, no one had had charity enough just to
+open my door and let me out. The flames increased in violence, already
+I began to experience a feeling of great heat and suffocation.
+
+“It is all over for me,” said I, “I am condemned to be burned alive!
+what a frightful death! Oh! Pauline, my dear mistress, you have
+forgotten your poor Cadichon!”
+
+Scarcely had I, not pronounced, but thought these words, when my door
+was opened violently, and I heard the terrified voice of Pauline
+calling me. Happy at being saved, I darted towards her, and we were
+just on the threshold, when a frightful crash made us recoil. A
+building directly opposite my stable had tumbled down, and every
+passage was choked up with the ruins; my poor mistress must now perish
+for having attempted to save me! We were nearly suffocated with the
+smoke, the dust of the fallen building, and the heat. Pauline dropped
+down beside me. Suddenly, I took a dangerous resolution, but the
+only one that could save us. Seizing my little mistress’s dress in
+my teeth, she being partly unconscious from fright, I darted across
+the burning beams that strewed the ground. Being fortunate enough to
+get through without her clothing taking fire, I now stopped to see
+whither I must direct my steps; everything around us was in flames.
+Discouraged and almost in despair, I was going to lay Pauline, now
+utterly unconscious, on the ground, when perceiving an open cave; I
+rushed in, (knowing full well that in one of these vaults under the
+castle we were in absolute safety,) and I laid Pauline near a tub of
+water, so that she could bathe her forehead and temples on awaking
+from her swoon. It did not last very long, and when she awoke to
+consciousness and found herself out of danger, she threw herself
+upon her knees, and in a touching prayer thanked God for having so
+mercifully preserved her. Then, after thanking me with a tenderness
+and gratitude quite affecting, she drank a few mouthfuls of water from
+the tub and listened. The fire continued its ravages, everything was
+burning; we still heard a few voices, but so indistinctly that we could
+not recognize them.
+
+“Poor mama and papa!” said Pauline, “they think I have perished in
+disobeying them, by going to Cadichon’s rescue. We must now wait till
+the fire is extinguished. No doubt, we shall spend the night in the
+vault. Good Cadichon!” she added, “I owe my life to you.”
+
+She said no more, but took her seat on an upturned chest, and leaning
+her head upon an empty barrel, was soon asleep. I felt tired and
+hungry, so I drank from the tub, and stretching myself out near the
+door, I was not long in following her example.
+
+I awoke very early. Pauline still slept. I arose softly and went
+to the door, which I opened; everything was burned and the flames
+extinguished, and I saw that one could easily pick his way through
+the ruins to the castle yard. I gave a light hi! han! to awaken my
+mistress, who opened her eyes, and seeing me near the door, she ran
+towards it and gazed around her.
+
+“All burned up! all gone!” said she sadly, “I shall never see the
+castle any more. I shall be dead before it is rebuilt, I feel it; I am
+weak and sick, very sick, although mama says—”
+
+“Come, my Cadichon,” she continued after remaining pensive and
+motionless for a few minutes, “come, let us go now, I must find mama
+and papa to console them, they think me dead.”
+
+She lightly threaded her way among the fallen stones, the crumbled
+walls, the still smoking beams. I followed her, and we soon reached the
+lawn, where she got on my back. Directing my steps towards the village,
+we lost no time in finding the house where her parents had taken
+refuge. Believing their child lost, they were plunged in the deepest
+affliction.
+
+At sight of her, they uttered an exclamation of joy and rushed out to
+clasp her in their arms. She recounted to them with what intelligence
+and courage I had saved her life; but instead of thanking and caressing
+me, the mother surveyed me with an air of indifference, and the father
+never deigned to look at me at all.
+
+“He nearly caused your death, my poor child,” said the mother. “If you
+had not been so foolish as to think of opening the stable, and setting
+him at liberty, your father and I would not have passed such a night of
+desolation.”
+
+“But,” said Pauline earnestly, “it is he who—”
+
+“Hush, hush,” replied the mother interrupting her, “say no more to me
+about this animal which I detest, for he has almost caused your death.”
+
+Pauline sighed, looked sorrowfully at me and was silent.
+
+From that day I never saw her more. The terrible fright, the fatigue of
+a night passed out of bed, but especially the low temperature of the
+vault, all increased the disease from which she had suffered a long
+time. In the morning she was taken with a fever that never left her.
+The chill of the preceding night finished what sadness and weariness
+had commenced; her chest already weak, could not stand the shock, and
+she died at the end of a month, neither regretting life nor fearing
+death. She often spoke of me and called me in her delirium. No one
+thought of me now. I ate what I could find, and I slept unsheltered in
+cold and rain. When I saw the coffin which contained the body of my
+poor, little mistress carried out of the house, my grief was so intense
+that I left that part of the country, and have never been there since.
+
+[Illustration: She was taken with a fever.—(Page 50.)]
+
+
+
+
+IX.
+
+THE DONKEY RACE.
+
+
+I lived miserably on account of the season, for the home I had selected
+was in a forest where I could scarcely find the wherewith to keep me
+from dying of hunger and thirst. When the streams were frozen I ate
+snow, my only nourishment was got by nibbling thistles, my only shelter
+the pines. How often did I not compare my present sad existence with
+that I had led at my good master George’s, and even at the farmer’s
+to whom he had sold me, until I gave myself up to idleness, mischief
+and revenge. However, there were no means of improving my miserable
+condition, for I was determined to remain free, and master of my
+actions. Sometimes, by way of recreation, I went to the outskirts of
+a village very near the forest, to find out what was going on in the
+world. One day, it was Springtime (and the fine weather had set in,) I
+was surprised to notice that something extraordinary was going on, the
+village wore a festive air, people went in throngs, every one arrayed
+in his or her holiday garments, and what was still more astonishing,
+all the donkeys of a neighboring county were collected there, curried
+and rubbed, carrying neither panier nor saddle, some even having
+flowers on their head or around their neck, and every one accompanied
+by a master, leading him by a bridle.
+
+“This is singular,” thought I, “there is no fair going on to-day! What
+can all my comrades be doing here, curried and decorated? And how fat
+they are! they have certainly been well fed this winter!”
+
+As I mentally ejaculated these words, I looked at myself; my back, my
+belly, my crest were thin and rough, and the hair all over my body
+standing awry, but I felt strong and vigorous.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+“I would rather be homely,” thought I, “but healthy and active; none of
+my comrades here, so handsome, fat and well cared for, could support
+the fatigues and privations I have endured all winter.” As I drew near
+to ascertain the meaning of this re-union of donkeys, one of the boys
+in charge of them, perceiving me, began to laugh.
+
+“Come boys, come see the beautiful donkey that has just arrived! How
+well curried he is!” cried he.
+
+“And well fed and cared for,” said another. “Has he come for the race?”
+
+“If he has, let him run,” cried a third, “there is no danger of his
+gaining the prize.”
+
+A general laugh followed these words. Though displeased at the boys’
+stupid jokes, my vexation was tempered by the satisfaction of having
+learned what all the commotion meant. There was to be a race, but when
+or how? Wishing to know more, I continued to listen, though apparently
+understanding nothing of what was said.
+
+“Are they going to start soon?” inquired one of the young men.
+
+“I do not know, they are waiting for the Mayor.”
+
+“Where is the race course?” said a good woman who had just arrived.
+
+“In the big meadow by the mill, mother Tranchet,” answered John.
+
+“How many donkeys are there here now?”
+
+“There are sixteen not counting you, mother Tranchet.” A burst of
+laughter followed this jest.
+
+“Ah! you are a scamp!” said mother Tranchet laughing, “and what does
+the winner of the race get?”
+
+“Honor first, and a silver watch next.”
+
+“I would be well pleased to be a donkey for the sake of gaining the
+watch; I have never had the money to buy a watch.”
+
+“Well, if you had brought a donkey you would have to run—the chance.”
+
+And all laughed their heartiest.
+
+“Where do you suppose I would get a donkey? Have I ever had the means
+to buy one, or to feed one after buying it.”
+
+This good woman pleased me greatly she had such a cheerful, lively air;
+and the idea struck me of trying to win her the watch. I was accustomed
+to running, for every day in the woods I took long runs to warm myself,
+and I had formerly enjoyed the reputation of running as long and as
+swiftly as a horse.
+
+“Come,” said I to myself, “let’s try; if I do not win, I lose nothing;
+if I do win, I shall gain a watch for mother Tranchet, who greatly
+desires it.”
+
+Starting off at a little trot, I took my place beside the last mule,
+and assuming a proud air I began to bray vigorously.
+
+“Stop! stop!” exclaimed Andrew, “will you stop that music? Get away
+donkey, you are without a master, you are too badly curried, you can’t
+run.”
+
+I held my peace, but did not budge. Some laughed, some were vexed, and
+they were beginning to contend among themselves, when mother Tranchet
+exclaimed:
+
+“Well, if he has no master, he is going to have a mistress; I recognize
+him now. It is Cadichon, poor Miss Pauline’s donkey; they drove him off
+when the poor, little thing was no longer there to protect him, and I
+firmly believe he has lived all winter in the woods, for no one has
+seen him since. I take him to-day into my service; he is going to run
+for me.”
+
+“It is Cadichon!” cried several in various directions. “I have heard of
+this famous Cadichon.”
+
+[Illustration: “Here is my money.”—(Page 59.)]
+
+“But mother Tranchet,” said John, “if he is going to run for you, you
+must drop a silver piece of fifty centimes in the Mayor’s bag, just
+like everybody else.”
+
+“That shall not hinder me, my children, here is my money,” she added,
+untying a knot in her handkerchief, “but don’t ask any more, for I
+haven’t it.”
+
+“Ah well! if your donkey wins you will not lose anything, for all the
+village has contributed to this bag, it contains more than a hundred
+francs.”
+
+I approached mother Tranchet, and I whirled on my heel, leaped and
+kicked with such facility, that the boys began to fear I might win the
+day.
+
+“Listen, John,” said Andrew in an undertone, “you were wrong to let
+mother Tranchet contribute to the bag. That gives her a right to let
+Cadichon run, and he has such a nimble air, I fear he may win the watch
+and money.”
+
+“Ah bah! how silly you are! Don’t you see there what a figure this poor
+Cadichon cuts! He is going to make us laugh, he’ll not go far indeed.”
+
+“I can’t say, suppose I coax him off with some oats.”
+
+“And what of mother Tranchet’s money?”
+
+“Her donkey gone, the money would be returned to her.”
+
+“I agree; Cadichon is no more to her, than to you or me. Get some oats
+and try to coax him off without mother Tranchet’s knowledge.”
+
+I had heard and understood all; so when Andrew returned with the oats
+in his apron, instead of approaching him, I drew near mother Tranchet,
+who was talking with her friends. Andrew followed; John thinking I had
+not seen the oats, took me by the ears and made me turn my head. Still
+I would not budge, notwithstanding my longing to taste such a luxury.
+Andrew began to push, John, to pull me, and I to bray in my loudest
+voice. Mother Tranchet turned, and seeing the manœuvres of Andrew and
+John:
+
+“Boys,” said she, “you are not doing right there. Since you made me
+deposit my silver piece in the bag, you must not take Cadichon off. It
+appears to me that you are afraid of him.”
+
+“Afraid! afraid of a dirty donkey like that! Oh! no, we have no fears
+of him,” said Andrew.
+
+“Then why would you try to lead him off?”
+
+“To give him some oats.”
+
+“Ah! that’s a different thing!” replied mother Tranchet in a sportive
+way, “you are very obliging, just pour the oats on the ground so that
+he can eat them at his ease! And to think that I suspected you of
+giving them to him from malice! How one can be mistaken.”
+
+Andrew and John were ashamed and vexed, but they took good care to
+conceal it. Their companions laughed to see them so nicely caught,
+mother Tranchet clapped her hands, and as for me, I was delighted,
+eating my oats with avidity, and feeling a renewal of strength as I
+did so. I was quite pleased with mother Tranchet also. Having finished
+eating, I was impatient to start. At last there was a great tumult, the
+Mayor had just ordered us to be ranged in line. I modestly took the
+last place. My appearance alone, without a master, was the signal for a
+general inquiry as to who I was, and to whom I belonged.
+
+“To no one,” said Andrew.
+
+“To me,” cried mother Tranchet.
+
+“It is necessary to contribute to the bag, mother Tranchet,” said the
+Mayor.
+
+“I have done so, Mr. Mayor.”
+
+“Good; write mother Tranchet’s name,” said the Mayor.
+
+“It is already down, sir,” replied the secretary.
+
+“Very well,” said the Mayor. “Is everything ready? One, two, three!
+Start!”
+
+At this the boys suddenly released the donkeys they were holding,
+giving them a smart blow of the whip at the same time. All started. No
+one had held me, and as I honestly awaited my turn all the others had a
+slight advantage over me. But we had not gone more than a hundred steps
+ere I reached them. Behold me now at the head of the band, outstripping
+them, indeed, without overtaxing myself to do so. The boys halloed and
+cracked their whips to urge on their own. I glanced back occasionally
+to see their disconcerted visages, to contemplate my triumph and laugh
+at their efforts. My companions, furious at being distanced by me—a
+poor, unknown, piteous looking creature—redoubled their efforts to
+overtake me, and endeavored to block the road, one against another.
+I heard behind me savage cries, kicks, bites. Twice was I reached,
+almost passed, by John’s donkey. Perhaps I ought to have employed the
+same means against him that he had used in outstripping his companions;
+but I disdained such unworthy manœuvres. I saw, however, that not to
+be beaten it was necessary to do my utmost. With a vigorous bound,
+I dashed ahead of my rival, who at the same moment seized me by the
+tail. So great was the pain that I almost dropped down on the spot;
+but the thought of victory inspired me with courage to snatch myself
+away, leaving a piece of my tail in his mouth. The desire of vengeance
+gave me wings. I ran with such speed that not only did I reach the
+goal first, but far, far ahead of all my rivals. I was breathless,
+exhausted, but happy and triumphant, reveling amidst the applause of
+thousands of spectators who thronged the fields. With a victor’s pride
+I walked up to the tribunal of the Mayor, who was to bestow the prize.
+Good mother Tranchet also advanced, caressing and promising me a fine
+repast of oats. She extended her hand for the watch and silver which
+the Mayor was about to give her, when Andrew and John, running in
+breathless haste, exclaimed:
+
+“Stop, Mr. Mayor, stop; it is not right, that. No one knows this
+donkey. Mother Tranchet has no right to the prize. This donkey does not
+count; it was mine and John’s donkeys that beat; the watch and money
+belong to us.”
+
+“Did not mother Tranchet contribute to the race?”
+
+“Yes, Mr. Mayor, but—”
+
+[Illustration: My rival seized me by the tail.—(Page 62.)]
+
+“Was there any opposition when she did so?”
+
+“No, Mr. Mayor, but—”
+
+“Did you oppose it at the moment of departure?”
+
+“No, Mr. Mayor, but—”
+
+“Then mother Tranchet’s donkey has really won the watch and money.”
+
+“Mr. Mayor, assemble the municipal council to decide this question; you
+have no right to decide alone.”
+
+The Mayor hesitated. Seeing this, I abruptly seized the watch and
+bag with my teeth and put them in the hands of mother Tranchet, who,
+anxious and trembling, awaited the Mayor’s decision.
+
+This act of intelligence put every one on our side and covered me with
+applause.
+
+“Behold the question decided by the victor in favor of mother
+Tranchet,” said the Mayor, laughing. “Gentlemen of the municipal
+council, at table we will deliberate upon my allowing justice to be
+decided by a donkey. Friends,” added he, casting a mischievous glance
+at Andrew and John, “in my opinion the greatest donkey among us is not
+that of mother Tranchet.”
+
+“Bravo! bravo! Mr. Mayor!” arose from every side. And all laughed
+except Andrew and John, who went off shaking their fists at me.
+
+And as to myself, was I pleased? No, my pride revolted; the Mayor had
+insulted me in calling my enemies donkeys. It was ungrateful and base
+to do so. I had displayed courage, forbearance, patience, intelligence,
+and this was my recompense! Having insulted, they abandoned me. Even
+mother Tranchet, in her joy at getting a watch and a purse of a hundred
+and thirty-five francs, forgot her benefactor and thought no more of
+the promised repast of oats, but departed with the crowd, leaving me
+minus the reward I so truly deserved!
+
+
+
+
+X.
+
+GOOD MASTERS.
+
+
+Left sad and solitary in the field, and suffering from my bitten tail,
+I was just wondering to myself if donkeys were not better than men,
+when I felt a soft hand caress me, and heard a voice not less gentle,
+saying:
+
+“Poor thing! they have been unkind to you, come, poor beast, come go
+home to grandma’s, she will feed and care for you better than your
+wicked masters! Poor donkey! how thin you are!”
+
+Turning round, I saw a pretty little boy about five years old, his
+sister apparently three, and the nurse.
+
+“James,” said Ruth, “what are you saying to this poor donkey?”
+
+“I told it to come home to grandma’s, it is all alone, poor beast!”
+
+“Yes, James, take him; wait, I am going to get on his back. Nurse,
+nurse, put me on the donkey’s back.”
+
+The nurse put the little girl on my back; James wished to lead me, but
+had no bridle.
+
+[Illustration: I seized the watch and bag with my teeth.—(Page 65.)]
+
+“Wait nurse,” said he, “I am going to tie my handkerchief around his
+neck.”
+
+Little James tried to do so, but my neck was much too large for his
+small handkerchief; the nurse gave him hers and it was too small.
+
+“What shall I do nurse?” said he, ready to cry.
+
+“We must get a halter or rope from the village. Come, my little Ruth,
+get down.”
+
+“No,” said Ruth, clinging to my neck, “I want to stay on the donkey, I
+want him to take me home.”
+
+“But you have nothing to lead him with; you see he won’t move any more
+than if he were a stone.”
+
+“Wait nurse, yes he will, I know his name, it is Cadichon, mother
+Tranchet told me so, I am going to pet and coax him, and I believe he
+will follow me.”
+
+James came up to me and whispered in my ear. “Go my nice Cadichon,
+please go.”
+
+This dear little boy’s confidence touched me, I noticed with pleasure,
+that instead of asking for a stick to make me go, he had thought only
+of kind and gentle means. So, scarcely had he finished his words and
+the accompanying caresses, ere I began to move.
+
+“You see nurse, he understands me, he loves me,” exclaimed James, his
+cheeks flushed, his eyes sparkling with joy, as he ran a little in
+advance to show me the way.
+
+“As if a donkey could understand anything! he goes because he is tired
+of standing here.”
+
+“But nurse, he follows me, you see.”
+
+“Because he smells the bread in your pocket.”
+
+“Do you think he is hungry, nurse?”
+
+“Very likely, you see how thin he is.”
+
+“Yes he is, poor Cadichon, and for me not to think of giving him my
+bread.”
+
+And taking from his pocket the piece of bread intended for his
+luncheon, he offered it to me.
+
+I was offended at the nurse’s unkind suggestion, and delighted with
+an opportunity of proving that she had judged me harshly, I followed
+James and carried Ruth on my back, not from interest at all, but from
+civility and courtesy.
+
+I refused the offered bread, and contented myself with licking James’s
+hand.
+
+“Nurse, look! look! he licks my hand,” exclaimed James. “He does not
+want the bread. Oh! my dear, nice Cadichon, how I love you! You see
+now nurse, that he follows me because he loves me, and not to get the
+bread.”
+
+“So much the better for you, if you can believe you have a donkey
+like one nobody else ever saw, a model donkey. I know they are all
+headstrong and vicious, and for my part, I do not like them.”
+
+“Oh nurse, poor Cadichon is not vicious, see how good he is to me.”
+
+“And how long will it all last?”
+
+“My Cadichon, you will always be good to me and Ruth, won’t you?” said
+James, caressing me.
+
+I turned towards him with such a look of affection, that in spite of
+his tender years, he noticed it; then I cast upon the nurse such a
+furious glance that she likewise observed it, for she said immediately:
+
+“What a wicked eye! and defiant air! he looks at me as if he wanted to
+devour me!”
+
+“Oh nurse,” replied James, “how can you say that? he looks at me with
+such a gentle air, as if he wished to embrace me.”
+
+Both were right, and I had not been misunderstood. I promised myself to
+be gentle and good to James, Ruth, and all on the place who would be
+kind to me, and I also made the wicked resolution, of being spiteful
+and vicious to those who would maltreat or insult me, as the nurse
+had done. This desire of vengeance, was eventually to cause me much
+unhappiness.
+
+Talking as they went, we kept on and soon reached their grandmother’s
+residence.
+
+They left me at the door, where I stood quietly, like a well behaved
+donkey, not even nibbling the grass that bordered the gravel walks.
+
+In two minutes, James re-appeared, accompanied by his grandmother.
+
+“Come see, grandma, come see how gentle he is, and how he loves me. Do
+not believe nurse, I beg you,” said James clasping his hands.
+
+“No, grandma, don’t believe it, I entreat you not to believe it,”
+repeated Ruth.
+
+“Let us see,” said the grandmother smiling, “let us see this famous
+donkey.”
+
+And coming up to me, she touched me, she caressed me, she took hold of
+my ears, put her hand to my mouth, I stood very quietly, making not the
+slightest attempt to bite her, or even get away from her.
+
+“He seems to be very gentle,” she said, “how could you say, Emily, that
+he had a wicked look?”
+
+“Isn’t he good, grandma, isn’t he? and mustn’t we keep him?” said James.
+
+“My dear little one, I believe he is very good; but how can we keep
+him, since he is not ours? He must be taken back to his master.”
+
+“He has no master, grandma.”
+
+“We are sure he has no master, grandma,” replied Ruth, who always
+repeated her brother’s words.
+
+“How is that, it is impossible.”
+
+“It is true, grandma, mother Tranchet told me.”
+
+“Then how did he gain the race prize for her? Since he ran for her, she
+must have borrowed him from some one.”
+
+“No, Grandma, he came all alone, and wanted to run with the others.
+Mother Tranchet paid the risk, but she does not own him, he belongs to
+nobody, it is Cadichon, whose mistress, poor Pauline died; her parents
+drove him off, and he has lived all winter in the woods.”
+
+“Cadichon! the famous Cadichon who saved his little mistress from the
+fire? Ah! I am very glad to know him; he is truly an extraordinary and
+admirable donkey.”
+
+And she walked around me, regarding me attentively. Proud to see my
+reputation so well established, I reared my head, inflated my nostrils
+and shook my mane.
+
+“Oh! how thin he is! Poor beast! his devotion met with little
+recompense,” said the grandmother in a serious manner and tone of
+reproach. “We will keep him, my child, we will keep him, since he has
+been abandoned and driven off by those who ought to have cared for and
+loved him. Call Bouland to put him in the stable and give him a good
+bed.”
+
+James, delighted, ran to get Bouland, who came immediately.
+
+“Bouland, here is a donkey the children have brought home; take him to
+the stable and feed and water him,” said the grandmother.
+
+“Must he then be taken to his master?” said Bouland.
+
+“No; he has no master. It appears that he is the famous Cadichon that
+was driven off after the death of his little mistress. He came to the
+village and my little children found him abandoned in the field. They
+brought him home and we are going to keep him.”
+
+“And madam does well to keep him; there is not his equal in all the
+country. I have heard most wonderful things about him. They say he
+hears and understands all that is said to him. Let us try him, madam.
+Come, Cadichon, come get some oats.”
+
+I immediately turned and followed Bouland.
+
+“It is astonishing,” said the grandmother; “he really understood.”
+
+And she went in the house, but James and Ruth accompanied me to the
+stable. I was placed in a stall, my companions being two horses and a
+donkey. Bouland, assisted by James, made me a good bed, and then went
+to get my oats.
+
+“More, more, Bouland; I beg you to give him more,” said James; “he
+needs a hearty meal, he has run so hard.”
+
+“But, Master James, if you give him too many oats he will get so lively
+that you and Miss Ruth can’t ride him.”
+
+“Oh! he is such a good donkey, I know we can ride him all the same.”
+
+They gave me an enormous quantity of oats and put a bucket of water
+beside me. Being thirsty, I first drank a little and then attacked my
+oats, meanwhile congratulating myself upon having fallen into the hands
+of this good little James. I also made some reflections upon mother
+Tranchet’s ingratitude. Then devouring my bundle of hay, I lay down on
+my straw, and, couched like a king, I slept.
+
+
+
+
+XI.
+
+CADICHON SICK.
+
+
+My only employment next morning was to take the children riding an
+hour. James himself got me my oats, and in spite of Bouland’s warning,
+he gave me enough to feed three donkeys my size. I ate all that was
+given me; I was happy. But on the third day I felt sick, I had fever,
+and both head and stomach seemed affected; I could eat neither hay nor
+oats, but remained extended upon the straw.
+
+“Here is Cadichon not up yet,” said James coming to see me. “Come,
+Cadichon, it is time to rise, I am going to give you your oats.”
+
+I endeavored to rise but my head fell back heavily upon the straw.
+
+“Oh! Cadichon is sick,” exclaimed little James, “Bouland, Bouland, come
+quick, Cadichon is sick!”
+
+“How is that,” said Bouland, “he ate his breakfast this morning?”
+
+Going up to the trough, Bouland looked in and said:
+
+“He is sick, he has not touched his oats—his ears are warm,” added he,
+taking hold of my ears, “and his side beats.”
+
+“What does that mean, Bouland?” exclaimed poor James, in great alarm.
+
+“It means master James, that Cadichon has a fever, you have fed him too
+high, we must get the veterinary.”
+
+“What is a veterinary?” asked James, still more alarmed.
+
+“It is a horse doctor. You see, master James, I told you right. The
+poor beast suffered this winter from hunger and want of shelter, (you
+can tell by looking at him, see the color of his hair and how lean he
+is,) then he got very much heated running at the race. He ought to have
+had a few oats, and some grass to strengthen him, but you have given
+him just as many oats as he could eat.”
+
+“Oh! my poor Cadichon! he is going to die, and it is my fault!” said
+James with a sob.
+
+“No, master James, he is not going to die this time, but he must be
+bled and put out on grass.”
+
+“Oh! but it will hurt so to bleed him,” said James, all in tears.
+
+“Not this bleeding; you will see, for I am going to bleed him at once,
+whilst waiting for the veterinary.”
+
+“I don’t want to see, I don’t want to see,” cried James, running away,
+“I am sure it will hurt him.”
+
+Bouland took his lancet, placed it on a vein in my neck, struck it a
+slight blow with a hammer, and the blood gushed out immediately. As the
+blood flowed, I began to feel better, my head became less heavy, and I
+was relieved of oppression; I was soon able to rise. Bouland stopped
+the blood and gave me some bran water, and in about an hour led me into
+the field. I was better but not well, and nearly eight days elapsed
+before I entirely recovered. Meanwhile, James and Ruth loaded me with
+such kindness and attentions as I shall never forget. They came to see
+me several times a day; they gathered grass and held it up to my mouth,
+that I might be spared the trouble of bending my head to browse; they
+brought me garden salad, cabbage and carrots; every evening they led
+me into the stable themselves, to find the trough full of my favorite
+dainty, potato pickings with salt. One day, dear little James wanted to
+give me his pillow, because, he said, my head was too low when I slept.
+Another time Ruth wished to lend me her coverlet, to keep me warm at
+night, and again, they wrapped my legs with pieces of woolen stuff, for
+fear of my taking cold. I was distressed at not being able to express
+my gratitude, for I had the misfortune of understanding everything,
+without the power of uttering a word. I got well at last, and soon
+after my recovery, learned that James and Ruth with several of their
+cousins, were getting up a donkey party to the woods.
+
+
+
+
+XII.
+
+THE ROBBERS.
+
+
+The children were assembled in the yard, and with them were many
+donkeys from the neighboring villages. I recognized nearly all of the
+latter as my rivals at the race. John’s donkey eyed me savagely, whilst
+I, in return, bestowed upon him most insulting glances. Nearly all
+the grandchildren of James’s grandmother were there: Maud, Beatrice,
+Elizabeth, Helen, Ruth, William, Henry, Louis and James. All the mammas
+were to accompany them on donkeys, whilst the papas went on foot and
+armed with switches to keep the lazy animals moving. Before starting,
+there was as usual in such cases, a slight contention as to who should
+have the best animal; everybody wanted me, no one was willing to give
+up, so it was at last decided to draw lots. I fell to the lot of little
+Louis, James’s cousin; he was an excellent child, and I would have been
+well satisfied had I not seen poor little James’s unsuccessful efforts
+to hide his tears. Every time he looked at me they would flow afresh.
+I felt very sorry, but was unable to comfort him; however, it was
+necessary for him as well as myself to learn resignation and patience.
+With manly resolution he mounted his donkey, saying to Louis as he did
+so:
+
+“I will keep near you, Louis; don’t make Cadichon gallop too fast, or I
+will be behind.”
+
+“And why would you remain behind? why not gallop like me?”
+
+“Because Cadichon gallops faster than any other donkey in the country.”
+
+“How do you know?”
+
+“Because I saw him run for the prize the day of the donkey race at the
+village, and he was far ahead of all the others.”
+
+Louis promised his cousin not to go too fast, and we both started off
+in a trot. My companion was no laggard, so I had to restrain myself but
+little that we might keep together. The others following, some briskly,
+some tardily, we thus reached the forest where stood the very beautiful
+ruins of an old convent and chapel that the children were anxious to
+see. The place bore an evil reputation throughout the country, and
+no one liked to go there except in large companies. At night, it was
+said, strange noises were heard issuing from the ruins, groans, cries,
+the clinking of chains; and several travelers who laughed at these
+accounts, and went to visit the spot alone, never returned and were
+never afterwards heard of.
+
+Every one dismounted, and when we had been turned loose to graze with
+the bridle over our heads, the papas and mammas took their children
+by the hand to prevent their straying off or lagging behind, and much
+to my anxiety the whole party was soon lost to sight amid the ruins.
+I likewise left my companions, and screened myself from the sun under
+a half-ruined arch, upon a declivity beside the woods, and a little
+farther distant than the convent. I had scarcely been there a quarter
+of an hour when I heard a noise near the arch. Crouching in a recess of
+the ruined wall, where unperceived, I could see all around, I listened.
+The noise, though dull, increased; it seemed to be underground.
+
+Not many minutes and I saw a man’s head cautiously peering up amidst
+the bushes.
+
+“Nothing,” said he in a low tone, looking all around. “No one—you may
+come, comrades. Every one is to take a donkey and lead him carefully.”
+
+He then moved out of the way to allow passage to about a dozen men.
+
+“If the donkeys escape,” said he, in an undertone, “don’t amuse
+yourselves running after them. Quick, and no noise, that is the order.”
+
+Creeping through the woods, which were very thick just there, the men
+moved cautiously but quickly. The donkeys seeking shade, were browsing
+upon the grass at the edge of the forest. At a given signal, every
+robber caught a donkey by his bridle and led him into the thicket.
+Instead of resisting, struggling and braying to give the alarm, these
+donkeys allowed themselves to be taken as passively as if they were
+sheep. Five minutes after the robbers had reached the thicket at the
+foot of the arch. One by one my comrades were led into the bushes,
+whence they disappeared. I heard the noise of their footsteps under
+ground, then all was silent.
+
+“Here,” thought I, “is an explanation of the mysterious noises that
+have frightened the country, a band of robbers concealed in the convent
+vaults. They must be taken, but how? that’s the difficulty.”
+
+I remained concealed in my recess (whence I had a fine view of the
+entire convent ruins, and the surrounding country), and did not stir
+until I heard the voices of the children seeking their donkeys. Then I
+ran forward to prevent their going too near the arch and thicket, so
+skilfully concealing the entrance to the vaults that it was impossible
+to perceive them.
+
+“There is Cadichon!” exclaimed Louis.
+
+“But where are the others?” said all the children at once.
+
+“They must be near,” said Louis’s papa.
+
+“We had better seek them by the ravine behind the arch; the grass there
+is fine, and they have probably wished to taste it.”
+
+Trembling at thoughts of the danger they incurred, I rushed from the
+side of the arch to prevent their passing. They endeavored to make me
+move, but I resisted so stoutly, barring the passage whichever way they
+attempted to go, that Louis’s papa stopped his brother-in-law and said
+to him:
+
+“Listen, there is something very extraordinary about Cadichon’s
+behavior. You know what is said of this animal’s intelligence. Listen
+to me, and let us turn back. Besides, it is not likely that all the
+donkeys would be on the other side of the ruins.”
+
+“You are right,” answered James’s papa, “and I perceive the grass
+around the arch pressed down as if it had been recently trampled upon.
+No doubt our donkeys have been stolen.”
+
+They returned towards the mammas, who had kept the children with them,
+and I followed with a light heart, happy at having probably averted a
+terrible calamity. They talked low, and I perceived that they got close
+together.
+
+“How shall we manage this?” said Louis’s mamma, when they had called me
+up. “One donkey can’t carry all these children.”
+
+“Put the smallest on Cadichon, and let the rest follow with us,” said
+James’s mamma.
+
+“Come, Cadichon, let us see how many you can carry,” said Helen’s mamma.
+
+Ruth being the smallest, was put in front, then Helen, then James, then
+Louis. The whole four were not heavy, and wishing to show that I could
+carry them without the least fatigue, I set off in a trot.
+
+“Not so fast, Cadichon!” cried the papas, “gently, so we can hold on to
+those on your back.”
+
+I changed my gait to a walk, and proceeded, surrounded by the larger
+children and the mammas, the papas following to assist those that were
+disposed to lag behind.
+
+“Mamma, why didn’t papa hunt for our donkeys?” said Henry, who was the
+youngest of the band, and found the way long.
+
+“Because your papa thinks they have been stolen, and it would be
+useless to seek them.”
+
+“Stolen! who stole them? I saw nobody.”
+
+“Nor did I, but there were traces of footsteps around the arch.”
+
+“But then, mamma, he ought to have hunted for the robbers,” said
+William.
+
+“That would have been very imprudent, as there must have been several
+men, to have taken thirteen donkeys. They were probably armed, and
+would have killed or wounded your papas.”
+
+“Armed, mamma!” said William.
+
+“Yes, with clubs, knives, perhaps pistols.”
+
+“Oh! how very dangerous! Papa was right to return with my uncles!”
+exclaimed Maud.
+
+“We must hasten home, for your papa and uncles are going to the village
+after our return.”
+
+“Why, mamma?” asked William.
+
+“To warn the guards, and try to recover the donkeys.”
+
+“I am sorry we went to see the ruins,” said Maud.
+
+“Why?” replied Beatrice, “they were beautiful.”
+
+“Yes, but it was very dangerous. Suppose the robbers had captured us
+instead of the donkeys?”
+
+“That would have been impossible! there were too many of us,” said
+Elizabeth.
+
+“But there must have been a number of robbers,” was Maud’s reply.
+
+“We would all have fought them,” said Elizabeth.
+
+“With what? we had only a stick.”
+
+“And our feet, our fists, our teeth; I would have scratched them to
+death; I would have torn their eyes out!”
+
+“And the robbers would have killed you, that’s all,” said William.
+
+“Killed me! and papa and mamma there! do you suppose they would have
+allowed the robbers to carry me off or kill me?”
+
+“The robbers would have killed them too, and before they killed you,”
+answered Beatrice.
+
+“Do you think, then, that there was an army of robbers?”
+
+“There could not have been less than a dozen.”
+
+“A dozen? what nonsense! do you believe that robbers always go in
+dozens, like oysters?”
+
+“You are always making fun of whatever is said to you! I say that to
+carry off thirteen donkeys, there must have been at least twelve men.”
+
+“I bet so myself, and the thirteenth was to make good measure, like
+little pies.”
+
+The mammas, and the other children laughed at this conversation, until
+it turned into dispute; then Elizabeth’s mamma bade her be silent, and
+said that Beatrice was probably correct as to the number of robbers.
+
+We were not long in reaching the house, and great was the surprise
+of all there, to see the party returning on foot, and me, Cadichon,
+carrying four children. But when the papas recounted the disappearance
+of the donkeys, and my persistency in not allowing any one to approach
+the arch, all shook their heads, and gave vent to a multitude of
+most singular suppositions; some said the donkeys had been swallowed
+up by demons; others, that the religious buried in the chapel had
+seized them to ride all over with them; and others again, that the
+angels guarding the convent, reduced to dust and ashes every animal
+approaching too near the cemetery where the souls of the religious
+wandered. Not one suggested the idea of robbers concealed in the vaults.
+
+Immediately on their return, the three papas acquainted the grandmother
+with the probable theft of their donkeys, after which the horses were
+put to the carriage, and they went to lay their complaint before the
+authorities of the neighboring town. In two hours they returned with an
+officer and six guards. Such was my reputation for intelligence, that
+the gravest suspicions were based upon my resistance to the attempted
+passage of the arch. The guards were armed with pistols and carbines,
+ready to take the field. However, they accepted the grandmother’s
+invitation to dinner, and sat down to the table with the ladies and
+gentlemen.
+
+
+
+
+XIII.
+
+THE VAULTS.
+
+
+The dinner was not long, for the soldiers were anxious to make their
+inspection before night. They asked the grandmother’s permission to
+take me with them.
+
+“He will be very useful in our expedition, madam,” said the officer.
+“This Cadichon is not an ordinary donkey; he has already accomplished
+more difficult things than we are going to require of him.”
+
+“Take him, if you think it necessary, but do not fatigue him too
+much, I beg of you. The poor beast made that journey this morning and
+returned with four of my grandchildren on his back.”
+
+“Oh, as to that, madam, you may be perfectly easy; be sure we will
+treat him as kindly as possible.”
+
+Having eaten and drunk, my dinner being a peck of oats, an armful of
+salad, carrots and other vegetables, with a bucket of water, I was
+ready to start. When they came to take me, I placed myself at the
+head and they all followed—a donkey guiding soldiers! They did not
+seem vexed at this, however, for they were all good men. Soldiers are
+generally considered rough and harsh, but I assure you they are just
+the contrary; no people in the world are kinder, none more charitable,
+patient and generous than these same military men. Whilst on the road
+they took every imaginable care of me, relaxing their pace when they
+thought me fatigued, and proposing to let me drink at every stream we
+crossed.
+
+It was nearly night when we reached the convent. Fearing their horses
+might be a disadvantage, they had been left at a village near the
+forest. The officer now gave orders for the men to follow all my
+movements and to keep together. Without hesitation I led them to the
+entrance of the arch overgrown with bushes, and whence I had seen the
+twelve robbers issue.
+
+With the greatest anxiety, I saw that they remained there. To get them
+away I went a few steps behind the wall; they followed and I returned
+to the bushes, preventing them from returning also, by barring the way
+whenever they attempted a step in that direction. They understood me
+and remained concealed along the wall.
+
+I then approached the entrance to the vaults, and began to bray with
+all the strength of my lungs. I was not long in attaining my object.
+All my imprisoned comrades responded vigorously. I made a step towards
+the soldiers, who divined my manœuvres, and I returned to the entrance
+of the vaults, where I began to bray again. This time there was no
+answer, and I suspected that the robbers to prevent my comrades’
+braying had tied stones to their tails. Everybody knows that on braying
+we raise our tails, and not being able to raise their tails, because of
+the weight of the stones, my comrades held their peace.
+
+I remained about two steps from the entrance. Soon a man’s head
+cautiously peered up amidst the bushes. Looking all around and seeing
+no one but myself:
+
+“Ah!” said he, “here is the knave we missed this morning. You will
+rejoin your companions, my brayer.”
+
+As he was about to seize me, I retreated a couple of steps, he
+followed, I still kept out of his reach, until I had brought him to
+the angle of the wall, behind which my friends, the soldiers, were
+concealed.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Before he had time to utter a cry even, they had seized, gagged, and
+bound and extended him on the ground. I returned to the entrance and
+brayed again, not doubting but this would bring another to see what
+had become of his companion. And sure enough, I soon heard a slight
+movement among the bushes, and saw a new head looking around with
+the same precaution. Not being able to reach me, the second robber
+did precisely as the first. I executed the same manœuvre, and he was
+in the soldiers’ hands before he had time to know what had happened.
+I proceeded thus, until six were taken. After the sixth, I brayed in
+vain; no one appeared. I suppose, noticing that their companions did
+not return, the robbers began to suspect a trap and determined to run
+no more risks.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Meanwhile, night had set in and we could scarcely see. The officer sent
+one of his men for reinforcements to attack the robbers in their cave,
+and to take away in a vehicle, the six prisoners bound and gagged. The
+remaining soldiers were divided into two bands to guard the convent
+outlets; as for me, receiving many caresses and unbounded compliments,
+I was allowed to follow my own inclinations.
+
+“If he were not a donkey,” said one soldier, “he would merit the cross.”
+
+“Hasn’t he one on his back?” said another.
+
+“Hush that,” said a third, “its a poor joke; you know very well that
+this cross is marked upon their backs to remind us that one of their
+number had once the honor of carrying our Lord Jesus Christ.”
+
+“That’s why it is a cross of honor,” was the answer.
+
+“Silence,” said the officer in an undertone, “Cadichon pricks up his
+ears.”
+
+I indeed heard an extraordinary noise from beneath the arch, it was not
+the sound of footsteps, but rather that of stifled cries and a sort of
+crackling. The soldiers likewise heard it, but could not divine the
+cause. At last a thick smoke was seen issuing from the air holes and
+lower windows of the convent, tongues of flame leaped out, and in a few
+minutes all was on fire.
+
+“They have set fire to the vaults, so they can escape by the doors,”
+said the officer.
+
+“It must be extinguished, lieutenant,” replied a soldier.
+
+“Be very careful! Guard every opening more closely than ever, and
+if the robbers show themselves, fire your carbines, use the pistols
+afterwards.”
+
+The officer had truly divined their manœuvres; understanding that they
+had been discovered and their comrades captured, the robbers hoped to
+avail themselves of the opportunity afforded by the soldiers’ efforts
+in extinguishing the flames, to make their own escape and liberate
+their friends. We soon saw the remaining six and their captain rush
+out of the masked entrance by the bushes; but three guards were at
+this post; each one drew his carbine before the robbers had time to
+use their arms. Two of the thieves fell, and the third let his pistol
+drop from his hands, his arm was broken. But the captain and the other
+three rushed furiously upon the soldiers, who, sabre in one hand and
+pistol in the other, fought like lions. Before the officer and the two
+soldiers guarding the opposite side of the convent had had time to come
+to their companions’ assistance, the combat was nearly ended and the
+robbers all either killed or wounded; the captain who still defended
+himself against a soldier, being the only one on his feet. His two
+comrades were dangerously wounded. The arrival of reinforcements ended
+the contest. In the twinkling of an eye, the captain was surrounded,
+disarmed, gagged and put beside the other six.
+
+During this struggle the fire died out; in fact, nothing had been
+burning but some bushes and undergrowth, but the officer before
+penetrating into the vaults wished to await the arrival of the
+expected reinforcements. The night was well advanced, when we saw the
+six additional soldiers and the vehicle which was to take away the
+prisoners. They were placed in it side by side. The officer being
+humane, had given orders to remove the gags, and in consequence, the
+soldiers were loaded with all manner of abusive epithets, to which,
+however, they paid no attention. Two of them got into the wagon to
+escort the prisoners, and meanwhile litters were made to carry the
+wounded.
+
+During these preparations, I accompanied the officer, who, with eight
+men, penetrated into the vaults. We traversed a long corridor, which
+sloped downward, until at last we reached the vaults, where the
+brigands had established their dwelling. One of these caves served for
+their stable, and here we found all my comrades captured that day, each
+one with a stone to his tail. The stones were immediately detached,
+and the donkeys began to bray in unison. Being underground, it was
+deafening.
+
+“Silence! donkeys!” said a soldier, “unless you want your trinkets put
+on again.”
+
+“Let them alone,” responded another soldier, “you know very well they
+are sounding Cadichon’s praises.”
+
+“I would prefer their doing it in another tone,” said the first soldier
+laughing.
+
+“This man assuredly,” said I to myself, “does not like music. What does
+he find to censure in my comrades’ voices.” Poor comrades! they chanted
+their deliverance.
+
+We continued our inspection. One of the vaults was full of stolen
+goods. In another, were the prisoners kept to wait on them, some
+attended to the dishes, the cooking, the cleaning of the vaults, others
+made the clothing and shoes. Some of these unhappy creatures had been
+there for two years; they were chained by twos, and had little bells
+to their arms and feet, so as to keep one always acquainted with their
+movements. Two robbers remained constantly with them as guards, and
+never more than two captives were allowed in the same vault, except
+those who made the clothing. The latter were all together whilst
+working, but during this time the end of their chain was attached to a
+ring fastened in the wall.
+
+I learned afterwards that these captives, about forty in number, were
+the visitors to the ruins, who had been disappearing for the last two
+years. They related how the robbers had killed before their eyes, three
+of them, who were sick, and one who obstinately refused to work.
+
+The soldiers delivered all these poor creatures, brought the donkeys
+to the castle, carried the wounded men to the hospital, and put the
+robbers in prison. The latter were judged and condemned; the captain
+to death, the others to transportation to Cayenne. As for me, I was
+the universal subject of admiration; wherever I went, I heard persons
+saying:
+
+“It is Cadichon! the famous Cadichon, worth all the donkeys in the
+country!”
+
+
+
+
+XIV.
+
+THERESA.
+
+
+My little mistresses, (for my masters and mistresses corresponded to
+the number of the grandmother’s grandchildren,) had a cousin, of whom
+they were very fond. She was near their age, and their most intimate
+friend. Theresa was her name, and a good, kind little darling she was.
+She never touched me with a switch, and never permitted anyone to do so
+when she was on my back.
+
+In one of our promenades, my young mistresses came upon a little girl
+seated along the roadside. She rose at their approach and came limping
+towards them, asking alms. They were all touched at her sad, dejected
+appearance.
+
+“Why do you limp, little one?” said Theresa.
+
+“Because my shoes hurt me, miss.”
+
+“Why don’t you ask your mamma to get you another pair?”
+
+“I have no mamma, miss.”
+
+“Ask your papa, then?”
+
+“I have no papa, miss.”
+
+“But with whom do you live?”
+
+“With nobody, I live alone.”
+
+“Who feeds you?”
+
+[Illustration: A little girl asked alms from them.—(Page 94.)]
+
+“Sometimes nobody, sometimes everybody.”
+
+“How old are you?”
+
+“I do not know, miss, about seven years perhaps.”
+
+“Where do you sleep?”
+
+“Wherever anybody takes me in; when everybody drives me away, I sleep
+out-doors, under a tree, near a hedge, anywhere.”
+
+“But in winter you must freeze.”
+
+“I get cold, but I am used to it,”
+
+“Have you had any dinner to-day?”
+
+“I have not eaten since yesterday.”
+
+“Oh! that is dreadful, dreadful,” said Theresa, with tears in her eyes.
+“My dear cousins, wouldn’t your grandma give this poor little thing
+something to eat and let her sleep in the castle?”
+
+“Certainly,” answered the three cousins, “grandma would be delighted,
+and, besides, she always does what we wish her to do.”
+
+“But, Theresa,” said Beatrice, “how shall we get her to the house? see
+how she limps.”
+
+“Put her on Cadichon, and let us go on foot, instead of taking turns on
+Cadichon, two by two, as we have been doing.”
+
+“Oh, to be sure; what a good idea,” exclaimed the three cousins.
+
+They put the little girl on my back, and Maud gave her a piece of bread
+that had been left of their lunch. She was delighted to get a ride,
+but so great were her fatigue and hunger, that she ate the bread with
+avidity, and said nothing.
+
+When we reached home, Maud and Elizabeth took the child into the
+kitchen, whilst Beatrice and Theresa ran to their grandmother.
+“Grandma,” said Beatrice, “will you let us give a good little girl that
+we found on the road something to eat?”
+
+“Certainly, my darling; but who is she?”
+
+“I don’t know, grandma.”
+
+“Where does she live?”
+
+“Nowhere, grandma.”
+
+“Nowhere! how is that? Her parents must live somewhere.”
+
+“She has no parents, grandma, she is all alone.”
+
+“And,” said Theresa, timidly, “will you let the poor little thing sleep
+here?”
+
+“If she really has no home, I could not turn her away; but I must see
+her and speak to her.”
+
+So saying, she arose and went to the kitchen where the little girl was
+finishing her meal. She called the child, who came limping, questioned
+her and obtained the same replies. It was truly an embarrassing
+case. To send this child away, plunging her again into the state of
+abandonment and suffering from which she had just been rescued, would
+be impossible; but then what was to be done with her? who was to take
+charge of and raise her?
+
+“Listen, my dear,” said the grandmother, “you will eat and sleep here,
+whilst I make inquiries as to the truth of your account, and in a few
+days I will see what I can do for you.”
+
+She then gave orders to prepare a bed for the child, and not to let
+her want for anything; but the poor little creature was so filthy
+that no one wished to touch her or even come near her. Theresa was in
+despair; she could not insist upon her aunt’s servants doing what was
+so repugnant to them.
+
+“It was I,” thought she, “who brought her here, and I am the one to
+have the care and trouble. But how shall I do?”
+
+After a moment’s reflection, an idea presented itself.
+
+“Wait, my dear,” said she, “I will be back presently.” And she ran to
+her mamma.
+
+“Mamma,” said she, “ought I not to take a bath?”
+
+“Yes, Theresa, go now, your nurse is waiting for you.”
+
+“Mamma, instead of taking a bath myself, would you let me give one to
+the little girl we have brought here?”
+
+“What little girl? I have not seen her.”
+
+“A poor, poor little thing, who has no papa, no mamma, no one to take
+care of her, who sleeps out-doors, and eats only what people give
+her. Maud’s grandma says she may stay at the castle, but none of the
+servants will touch her.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“Because she is so dirty, so dirty, she is disgusting; then mamma, if
+you are willing, I will bathe her in my place, not to disgust nurse. I
+will undress and soap her myself, and I will cut her hair, which is all
+tangled and full of little white insects.”
+
+“But, my little Theresa, won’t it disgust you too, to touch and wash
+her?”
+
+“A little, mamma, but when I think that if I were in her place, it
+would make me so happy to have somebody care for me, I feel encouraged.
+And mamma, when she is washed, will you let me put some of my old
+clothes on her, till I buy her new ones?”
+
+“Certainly, my dear little Theresa, but how can you buy her clothing?
+You have only two or three francs, about enough to get her a chemise.”
+
+“Oh! mamma, you forgot my twenty franc piece!”
+
+“That you gave your papa to keep for you, so you would not spend it?
+I thought you were saving that to buy a beautiful prayer book like
+Maud’s.”
+
+“I would rather do without the beautiful prayer book, mamma, I still
+have my old one.”
+
+“Do as you wish, my child, whenever there is a question of doing good,
+I leave you free to use your own pleasure.”
+
+Her mamma embraced her, and then went with her to see this little girl
+that no one would touch.
+
+“If she has any disease of the skin, that Theresa can catch, I shall
+not let Theresa touch her,” said the mother.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+The little girl still waited at the door. A careful examination of
+her hands and body revealed no traces of disease, but a great deal
+of dirt. Her hair was so full of vermin, that making her sit on the
+grass, Theresa’s mamma cut it close to her head, without touching it
+with her hands. When it was all on the grass, she took it up on a
+shovel, and told one of the servants to throw it away out of reach.
+Then in a tub of tepid water, with Theresa’s assistance, she gave the
+little beggar’s head a thorough washing and cleaning. Having wiped
+it, she said to Theresa: “Now, my pet, whilst you give her a bath, I
+will throw these rags in the fire.” Maud, Beatrice and Elizabeth came
+to Theresa’s assistance; they all four led her into the bath room and
+undressed her, in spite of the disgusting odor of her rags and dirt.
+Then eagerly plunging her in the water, they soaped her from head to
+foot. The operation was such a pleasant one to all parties, both the
+little girl and her friends, that she was kept in somewhat longer than
+necessity required. When the bathing was over, and she had expressed
+her satisfaction, the four assisted her out of the bath tub. Then after
+wiping and rubbing her skin until it was very red and as dry as a ham
+bone, they arrayed her in a chemise, a petticoat and a dress belonging
+to Theresa, all of which answered the purpose, because Theresa, like
+other little girls in her station, wore her clothes very short, whilst
+the little beggar’s were expected to reach her ankles. The waist was
+somewhat long, but not being excessively particular, everyone was
+pleased. When about to put on her shoes and stockings, the children
+perceived a sore upon the instep. It was this which had made her limp.
+Maud immediately ran to her grandmother for some salve. The grandmother
+gave what was necessary, and Maud, assisted by her three friends, one
+of whom steadied the little girl, whilst a second held her foot, and a
+third unrolled the bandage and applied the liniment. They were nearly
+one quarter of an hour arranging a compress and band; sometimes it was
+too tight, sometimes not tight enough; the band was too high, or the
+compress too low; they disputed and jerked the sore foot first this way
+and then that, the owner, meanwhile, not daring to object or utter a
+complaint. At last, however, the bandage was arranged satisfactorily, a
+pair of Theresa’s old stockings and slippers put on her feet, and the
+little beggar relieved of her kind waiting maids’ attentions. When she
+returned to the kitchen no one recognized her.
+
+“This is certainly not the little fright that just went out of here,”
+said one servant.
+
+“It is the same child,” replied another servant, “but no one would know
+it, she looks so genteel now.”
+
+“It is all lost time for Madame d’Arbe and the children to fix her up
+like that. As for me, I would not have touched her if they had given me
+twenty francs,” said the cook.
+
+“And she smelt so bad,” said the kitchen girl.
+
+[Illustration: “Come, come,” interposed the cook, “don’t go too
+far.”—(Page 105.)]
+
+“You ought not to have such a sensitive nose, my fair one,” replied
+the coachman, “you who have your gridirons, your saucepans and all such
+things to clean.”
+
+“My gridirons and saucepans are not strong of the stable, like some
+people I know,” was the kitchen girl’s answer, somewhat piqued.
+
+“Ah! ah! ah! she is angry, take care of the broom!” said the other
+servants.
+
+“If she takes hers, I know very well where to find mine,” said the
+coachman, “and the pitchfork and curry-comb.”
+
+“Come, come,” interposed the cook, “don’t go too far; she is
+passionate, and you know you must not irritate her.”
+
+“What is that to me? if she gets angry, so will I.”
+
+“But I do not want that here; madam does not like disputes; it is very
+certain that we all would come in for a share of the blame.”
+
+“Le Vatel is right,” said another servant. “Hush, Thomas, you are
+always getting up a quarrel. Besides, this is not your place.”
+
+“Indeed! my place is anywhere, when I have no stable work to do.”
+
+“But you have work to do,” replied the cook. “Look at Cadichon, not yet
+unsaddled, and walking up and down like a countryman waiting for his
+dinner.”
+
+“I believe Cadichon listens at the doors; he is more cunning than
+he seems; he is a real scamp of a donkey,” said the coachman, as he
+called me, and taking hold of my bridle, led me to the stable. Having
+unbridled and unsaddled me, he left me alone, that is, with two horses
+and another donkey, with none of whom I ever deigned to converse.
+
+I know not what took place that evening at the castle, but the next
+afternoon I was saddled, and with the little beggar on my back, my four
+little mistresses following on foot, we all went to the village. I
+learned from their conversation that they were on a shopping expedition
+for their protégé. Theresa wished to furnish the outfit entire,
+the others insisted on paying their share, and the dispute grew so
+animated, that had I not stopped at the store of myself, they would
+have passed it. In helping the little girl to get down, they nearly
+pitched her face foremost on the ground, for all darted at her at once;
+one caught her by the legs, another by the arms, a third by the waist,
+whilst Elizabeth, who was stronger than two or three of the others put
+together, pushed them away so that she could help the child off all by
+herself. Pulled here and there, the poor thing began to cry of fright,
+until she attracted the attention of passers by. The store-keeper
+opened the door:
+
+“Good morning, young ladies, let me help you, you are not strong enough
+to lift this little girl.”
+
+My young mistresses, satisfied at not having yielded to one another,
+relinquished their hold on the child and the store-keeper immediately
+lifted her off my back.
+
+“What will you have, young ladies?” said Madam Juivet.
+
+“We want to get materials for clothing for this little girl,” answered
+Beatrice.
+
+“Oh, certainly; is it a dress, a petticoat, or undergarments you wish?”
+
+“We want materials for all, Madam Juivet,” answered Maud; “let us have
+enough to make three chemises, one petticoat, one dress, one apron, one
+neckerchief, two bonnets.”
+
+“Let me speak, Maud,” whispered Theresa, “since I am going to pay.”
+
+“No, you are not going to pay all, we wish to pay part,” was the
+whispered answer.
+
+“But I would rather pay alone,” said Theresa in the same tone, “she is
+my girl.”
+
+“No, she isn’t, she belongs to us all,” said Maud.
+
+“What materials do you prefer?” interrupted Madam Juivet, impatient to
+sell.
+
+Whilst Maud and Theresa continued their dispute in an undertone,
+Beatrice and Elizabeth took advantage of the opportunity to make the
+purchases.
+
+“Good-bye, Madam Juivet,” said they, “send it home as soon as possible,
+and enclose the bill also.”
+
+“How is that!” exclaimed Maud and Theresa, “have you already bought the
+things?”
+
+“Yes,” answered Beatrice, with a mischievous air, “we selected all that
+was necessary whilst you two were talking.”
+
+“But you ought to have consulted our tastes too,” replied Maud.
+
+“Certainly, since I am the person who pays,” said Theresa.
+
+“We’ll all pay, we’ll all pay!” cried the other three in chorus.
+
+“How much is it?” inquired Theresa.
+
+“Thirty-two francs, miss.”
+
+“Thirty-two francs!” exclaimed the frightened Theresa, “but I have only
+twenty.”
+
+“Ah! we’ll pay the rest,” said Maud.
+
+“So much the better, as we will then have all helped to clothe her,”
+said Elizabeth.
+
+“So thanks to Madam Juivet, we are at last agreed, and it was not such
+an easy matter,” said Beatrice laughing.
+
+Through the open door, I had heard all, and was indignant at Madam
+Juivet, for she had charged my kind little mistresses at least double
+the value of their goods. I hoped their mammas would not consent to
+the imposition. We returned home, every one pleased, thanks to Madam
+Juivet, as Beatrice had innocently remarked.
+
+It was beautiful weather, and all were seated on the lawn in front of
+the house when we arrived. William, Henry, Louis and James had been
+fishing in one of the ponds, during our trip to the village, and had
+just returned with three fine fishes and a number of little ones.
+Whilst Louis and James took off my saddle and bridle, the four little
+girls gave their mammas an account of their purchases.
+
+“What did they come to?” said Theresa’s mamma. “How much is left of
+your twenty franc piece?”
+
+Theresa was a little embarrassed, and blushed slightly as she answered:
+
+“Nothing, mamma.”
+
+“Nothing! twenty francs to dress a child six or seven years old!” said
+Maud’s mamma. “That is dreadfully high! what have you bought?”
+
+Theresa could not tell, she could only say that Beatrice and Elizabeth
+had made the selection.
+
+But the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Madam Juivet
+with the package, much to the delight of Beatrice and Elizabeth, who
+were beginning to think they had made a bad bargain.
+
+“Good day, Madam Juivet,” said the grandmother, “open your package here
+on the lawn and let us see what these little girls have bought.”
+
+Making a salutation, Madam Juivet laid down her bundle, undid it, and
+after taking from it the bill, which she handed Beatrice, proceeded to
+display the goods.
+
+Beatrice had blushed on receiving the bill; her grandmother took it
+from her hands and uttered an exclamation of surprise.
+
+“Thirty-two francs to dress a little beggar! Madam Juivet,” added she,
+in a severe tone, “you have taken advantage of my grandchildren’s
+ignorance; you know very well that these materials are entirely too
+expensive for our purpose. You will take them all back, and know that
+hereafter we deal no more with you.”
+
+“Madam,” said Madam Juivet, with restrained wrath, “these young ladies
+consulted their own tastes, I did not make the selection of a single
+article.”
+
+“But you ought to have shown them only what was suitable, and not have
+tried to palm off on them your old merchandise that no one wants.”
+
+“Madam, these young ladies having bought my goods, ought to pay for
+them.”
+
+“They will pay for none of them,” replied the grandmother, in a tone
+of severity, “and you may take them all back. Go, immediately; I shall
+send my maid to make the necessary purchases of Madam Jourdan.”
+
+Madam Juivet retired in a terrible rage. I accompanied her to the road,
+braying triumphantly and frisking around her, much to the children’s
+amusement and her own terror, for feeling guilty, she feared my
+vengeance, as everybody considered me somewhat of a sorcerer, and
+consequently evil doers stood greatly in awe of me.
+
+The mammas scolded the children, the boys laughed at them; as for me,
+I quietly nibbled the grass, and watched them run, skip and play.
+Listening meantime to all that was said (for I always took good care to
+keep within hearing distance). I learned that next day there was to be
+a gunning party, that Henry and William were to have little muskets for
+the occasion, and also, that one of their young neighbors was invited
+to join them.
+
+
+
+
+XV.
+
+THE GUNNING PARTY.
+
+
+As I have already remarked there was to be a gunning expedition next
+day, William and Henry were ready before anyone else—it was their
+first appearance as gunners—so equipped with guns and game bags, their
+eyes sparkling with pleasure, they strutted around in a proud, defiant
+manner, as if they expected to shoot all the game in the country. I
+followed at a distance, and observed all their preparations for the
+expedition.
+
+“William,” said Henry in a thoughtful manner, “when our game bags are
+full, where shall we put the rest of our game?”
+
+“That is just what I was thinking of,” answered William, “I will ask
+papa to let us take Cadichon.”
+
+This idea did not please me at all; I knew that young gunners fired a
+little at random and in aiming at a partridge, they might send the load
+into me, so I anxiously awaited the result of the request.
+
+“Papa,” said William to his father who approached, “may we take
+Cadichon?”
+
+“For what?” answered the father laughing, “do you wish to gun on donkey
+back, and pursue the partridges in their flight? If so, you must first
+put wings to Cadichon.”
+
+“No, papa,” said Henry, a little vexed, “we want him to carry our game
+when our pouches are too full.”
+
+“To carry your game!” replied his father greatly surprised and still
+laughing. “You think then, poor innocents, you are going to kill not
+only something, but a great deal!”
+
+“Certainly papa,” was Henry’s piqued reply, “I have twenty cartridges
+in my vest, and I shall kill fifteen pieces of game, at least.”
+
+“Ah! ah! ah! that is really a good joke! Do you know what you will
+kill, you two and your friend Alfred?”
+
+“What papa?”
+
+“Time and nothing else.”
+
+“Well papa,” said Henry, very much annoyed, “why do you give us guns,
+and take us out gunning, if you think us so stupid and awkward as to
+kill nothing?”
+
+“To teach you to gun, little dunces, nobody is a successful gunner at
+first, one becomes so only by dint of practice.”
+
+Here the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Alfred, also
+ready to shoot all he came across. William and Henry were still flushed
+with indignation when Alfred joined them.
+
+“Papa thinks we are not going to shoot anything, Alfred,” said William,
+“we’ll convince him that we are better gunners than he thinks.”
+
+“Don’t worry about it; we shall kill more than themselves,” replied
+Alfred.
+
+“Why more?” inquired Henry.
+
+“Because we are young, active and nimble, whilst our papas are getting
+a little old.”
+
+“Yes indeed,” said Henry, “my papa is forty-two years old, whilst
+William is fifteen and I thirteen. What a difference!”
+
+“And between my papa and me too! He is forty-three, whilst I am but
+fourteen!” said Alfred.
+
+“Listen to me,” said William, “without telling papa, I am going to have
+Cadichon saddled and the panniers put on him. He will follow us, and we
+will make him carry our game.”
+
+“Oh, that is splendid!” replied Alfred, “but put on the big panniers,
+for if we were to kill a buck it would take up a great deal of room.”
+
+Henry was charged with the commission. I laughed to myself at their
+foresight, for I was very sure not only of not being loaded with a
+buck, but of returning with panniers as empty as at my departure.
+
+“Ready!” said the papas. “We will go ahead, and you boys keep near. We
+will disband on getting into the field.”
+
+“What does this mean, Cadichon following us?” said William’s father in
+great surprise, “Cadichon ornamented with two enormous baskets!”
+
+“Those baskets,” said the gamekeeper laughing, “are to carry the young
+gentlemen’s game.”
+
+“Ah! ah! they wish to put him at their head—I would prefer Cadichon’s
+following (if he has nothing else to do,) instead of taking the lead,”
+replied William’s father.
+
+And he smiled as he glanced at William and Henry, who tried to look
+very indifferent.
+
+“Is your gun cocked, William?” inquired Henry.
+
+“Not yet, it is so hard to cock and uncock, that I prefer waiting till
+a partridge starts up.”
+
+“We are now in the field,” said their papa, “keep in a line and shoot
+ahead, straight ahead of you, not to the right or the left, unless you
+want to kill some of us.”
+
+The partridges flew up on all sides; I remained prudently behind, and
+even at a little distance, finding it advisable, for more than one dog
+that happened to be in the way, got a few grains of shot. The dogs
+scented the game, started it up, and did their duty in every respect,
+reports of muskets were heard all along the line. I did not lose sight
+of my three young boasters, they fired often, but got nothing, none
+of the three even touched a hare or partridge. Their impatience was
+so great that they always fired out of range, either too far or too
+near; sometimes all three aimed in vain at the same partridge. The
+papas on the contrary, were having fine sport, each report of the gun
+representing an addition to their game bags. In about two hours, Henry
+and William’s papa came up to them.
+
+“Well, children,” said he, “is Cadichon very heavily laden? Is there
+still room for me to empty my game bag? for it is too full.”
+
+There was no answer; the boys knew from their father’s mischievous
+manner, that he was making sport of them. As for me, I came running up,
+and turned one of the baskets towards him.
+
+“How is this?” said he, “empty! your game bags will burst if you cram
+them.”
+
+The game bags were flat. Laughing at the young gunners’ discomfited
+air, he emptied his birds into one of my baskets and hastened to his
+dog which was starting more game.
+
+“I see how your father kills so many partridges,” said Alfred; “he has
+two dogs that scare up the game and bring it to him, when he kills it;
+as for us, they have not left us even one dog.”
+
+“That is true,” replied Henry, “perhaps we have killed a number of
+partridges, but have lost them for want of a dog to bring them to us.”
+
+“But I have not seen any fall,” said William.
+
+“Because a partridge does not fall as soon as it is shot,” said Alfred,
+“It flies a little and falls some distance off.”
+
+“But when papa and my uncles shoot,” persisted William, “their
+partridges fall immediately.”
+
+“It seems so to you,” explained Alfred, “because you are some ways off,
+but if you were in their place, you would notice the difference.”
+
+William said nothing, but his manner betrayed very little confidence in
+Alfred’s words. They had all begun to leave off somewhat of the proud,
+soldierly air with which they sallied forth as gunners.
+
+They commenced to inquire the hour.
+
+“I am hungry,” said Henry.
+
+“I am thirsty,” said Alfred.
+
+“I am tired,” said William.
+
+As to the papas, they fired and killed, and had plenty of luck.
+However, not forgetting their young companions, and not wishing to
+fatigue them too much, they proposed a halt for breakfast, which met
+with universal approbation. Calling in the dogs from the field to
+rest for awhile, they all directed their steps towards a farm about a
+hundred steps off, where the grandmother had sent the provisions.
+
+They seated themselves on the ground under an old oak, and opened the
+baskets, which displayed as usual on such occasions, a chicken pie, a
+ham, hard eggs, cheese, marmalade, preserves, a big bun, an enormous
+cake and several bottles of old wine. All the gunners, young and old,
+had fine appetites, and ate enough to have astonished a spectator. Yet
+the grandmother had provided so bountifully for the needs of the most
+voracious, that half the provisions remained for the gamekeepers and
+farm people. The dogs had the scraps to appease their hunger and pond
+water to quench their thirst.
+
+“You have not had much luck, children,” said Alfred’s papa. “Cadichon
+does not move as if he were heavily laden.”
+
+“It is no wonder, papa, we had no dogs, you had them all.”
+
+“Ah! you think then that one, two or three dogs would have insured the
+death of all the partridges that passed under your nose.”
+
+“No, papa, they would not have killed the partridges, but they would
+have sought and brought us those we had killed, and then—”
+
+“Those you killed!” interrupted the father, with an air of
+astonishment. “Do you really think you have killed any birds?”
+
+“Certainly, papa, only as we did not see them fall, we could not pick
+them up.”
+
+“And do you suppose you would not have seen them if they had fallen?”
+
+“No, papa, for our sight is not as keen as that of the dogs.”
+
+At this, the father, the uncles, and even the gamekeepers, burst into a
+loud laugh, whilst the children reddened with vexation.
+
+“Now listen,” said William and Henry’s father, “since you lose your
+game for want of dogs, we are going to let you have a dog, when we get
+through breakfast and commence to gun again.”
+
+“But, papa,” said William, “the dogs will not follow us, they do not
+know us as well as they do you.”
+
+“To make them follow you, we will give you the two attendants, and we
+will not start for a half hour after you, and then the dogs will not be
+tempted to rejoin us.”
+
+“Oh! thanks, papa,” exclaimed William, radiant with joy. “With the dogs
+we are sure to kill as many as you!”
+
+Breakfast over and all rested, the young gunners were eager to set out
+with the dogs and the guards.
+
+“Now we look like real gunners,” said they, with an air of satisfaction.
+
+And we tried the field again, I following them as before breakfast,
+but always at a little distance. The guards had been told to keep near
+the children in order to prevent any imprudence. The partridges flew
+up on all sides as in the morning, the young gentlemen fired as in
+the morning, and with like success. Yet the dogs did their duty, they
+sought, they stopped the birds, but brought none, for this reason only,
+there were none to bring. At last, Alfred impatient at firing to no
+purpose and seeing one of the dogs standing the game, concluded that
+he would fire before the partridges had flown up, and thus secure his
+prize indeed. He aimed, he fired—the dog fell, struggling and uttering
+a piercing howl.
+
+“Zounds! it is our best dog!” exclaimed the gamekeeper rushing towards
+it.
+
+But the dog was dead ere he reached it, it had been shot in the head
+and died almost instantly.
+
+“You made a fine shot that time, master Alfred,” said the guard, laying
+the poor animal down, “I suppose that ends the gunning.”
+
+Alfred was motionless with consternation, William and Henry seemed much
+affected at the dog’s death, whilst the gamekeeper concealed his wrath
+and looked at the poor creature without saying a word.
+
+I approached to see which dog had been the miserable victim of
+Alfred’s awkwardness and conceit, and what was not my sorrow, my
+anguish, on recognizing Medor, my friend, my dearest friend! and oh!
+imagine my horror to see the guard lift Medor up, and put him in one of
+the baskets on my back! Ah! behold the game I was condemned to carry,
+Medor, my friend, murdered by a bad, stupid, conceited boy!
+
+We returned to the farm not quite so merry as we left, the children not
+speaking a word, the guard occasionally letting fall a furious oath,
+and I feeling no consolation, except in the thought of the severe,
+humiliating reprimand the murderer would surely receive.
+
+On reaching the farm we found the papas still there, for not having
+their dogs, they preferred to rest till the children’s return.
+
+“Already!” they exclaimed at the sight of us.
+
+“I really believe,” said William’s papa, “they have killed a big piece
+of game of some sort. Cadichon walks as if he had a load, and one of
+the baskets hangs as if it contained something heavy.”
+
+They arose and came towards us, but the children, with rueful
+countenances, lagged behind. Their parents were struck with their
+demeanor, what could it mean?
+
+“They certainly have not the air of victors,” said Alfred’s father,
+laughing.
+
+“Perhaps they have killed a calf or a sheep, mistaking it for a
+rabbit,” answered William’s papa, also laughing.
+
+The gamekeeper approached.
+
+“What’s the matter, Michaud? you look as downcast as the gunners.”
+
+“And with cause, sir, we bring a sad game.”
+
+“Tell us what it is then, a sheep, a calf, a donkey?”
+
+“Ah! sir, it is nothing to laugh at, it is your dog, Medor, the very
+best of the band, that master Alfred has killed, taking him for a
+partridge.”
+
+“Medor! Oh! the awkward boy! if ever he guns here again—” exclaimed the
+poor dog’s master.
+
+“Come here, Alfred,” said his father, “you see now the result of your
+conceit and ridiculous presumption. Say good-bye to your friends, sir;
+you are going home immediately, and you will put your gun away in my
+room, to touch it no more until you have learned a little sense and
+modesty.”
+
+“But, papa,” answered Alfred, assuming an air of indifference, “I don’t
+know why you should get so angry, it often happens that the dogs are
+killed on gunning parties.”
+
+“The dogs! the dogs are killed!” exclaimed the stupefied father,
+“indeed this is too much! You have beautiful notions of gunning, sir!”
+
+“But, papa,” continued Alfred, still apparently indifferent, “everybody
+knows that very often the best gunners kill their dogs accidentally.”
+
+“My dear friends,” said his father, turning towards the other
+gentlemen, “will you excuse me for having brought such an ill-mannered
+boy here? I did not believe him capable of so much stupidity and
+impudence.”
+
+Then to his son:
+
+“You have my orders, sir, go!”
+
+“But, papa—”
+
+“Silence! I tell you,” answered the father in a tone of severity, “not
+one word, if you don’t want to make acquaintance with my ramrod!”
+
+Alfred hung his head and went off, covered with confusion.
+
+“You see, children,” said William and Henry’s papa to them, “you see
+the result of presumption; that is, belief in a merit or quality which
+one does not possess. What happened with Alfred, might have happened
+with you also. You were all so convinced that nothing was easier than
+to be an expert marksman, you had nothing to do but to take aim, and
+the game was yours. You have all three been ridiculous since morning,
+you have despised our counsels, our experience, and in fact, you are
+all three guilty of poor Medor’s death. I see that you are both too
+young for gunning. In a year or two you may try it again. Meantime,
+return to your gardens and other childish amusements, it will be the
+better for everyone.”
+
+William and Henry hung their heads and made no answer, but sadly
+returned to the house. My unfortunate friend Medor, whose history I
+am going to relate to you, was buried in the garden by the children
+themselves, who wished to perform this last mournful rite for their
+pet. After reading the following sketch of his life, you will see why I
+loved him so much.
+
+
+
+
+XVI.
+
+MEDOR.
+
+
+I had known Medor a long time; I was young, and he still younger, when
+we became acquainted and formed mutual and inalterable attachment. I
+was then living miserably with those wretched farmers who had bought
+me from a dealer in donkeys, and from whom I escaped so cleverly. I
+was quite thin, for really they never gave me enough to eat. Medor
+(presented to them as a good watch dog, and afterwards proving himself
+a superb hunting dog) fared better than I; he amused the children,
+who often gave him bread and scraps of their meals; moreover, as he
+acknowledged to me himself, whenever it was possible, he used to slip
+into the dairy with the mistress or servant, where he was always sure
+to find some means of lapping a little milk or cream, and seizing the
+particles of butter which fell from the churn. Medor was kind; my lean,
+miserable appearance excited his pity, and one day he brought me a
+piece of bread, presenting it with a most triumphant air.
+
+“Eat, my poor friend,” said he, in his language, “I have bread enough
+given me for my own sustenance, and you, you have only thistles and
+poor grass, and hardly enough of these to keep you alive.”
+
+“Good Medor,” said I, “I am sure you have deprived yourself of this for
+me. I do not suffer so much as you think, for I am used to meagre fare,
+little sleep, much work and hard beatings.”
+
+“I am not hungry, my friend,” replied Medor, “I assure you, I am not
+hungry. Prove your friendship for me by accepting my little present.
+It is trifling I know, but I offer it willingly, and if you persist in
+refusing, I shall feel quite grieved.”
+
+“Then I accept, my kind Medor,” said I, “because I am fond of you, and
+I must confess, that I shall relish it greatly, for I am hungry.”
+
+And I ate the bread good Medor had brought me, he keenly enjoying the
+eagerness with which I crunched and swallowed it. I felt thoroughly
+revived by this unaccustomed repast, and said so to Medor, believing I
+could thus best express my gratitude. The result was characteristic of
+Medor, every day he brought me the biggest piece of bread given him. In
+the evening, he used to come and lie down beside me under the tree or
+bush I had selected for my night’s shelter, and we thus enjoyed many a
+pleasant conversation. And no one suspected, or could have understood,
+for we conversed without talking. We other animals, we do not pronounce
+our words like men, but we understand one another by winks, motions
+of the head, the ears, the tail, and we converse among ourselves as
+readily as men.
+
+One evening Medor came to me quite sad and dejected.
+
+“My friend,” said he, “I fear I shall no longer be able to bring you a
+part of my bread; my masters have decided that I am big enough to be
+tied all day, and let loose only at night. Moreover, my mistress has
+scolded the children for giving me so much bread; she has forbidden
+them to feed me at all, because she wishes to feed me herself and that
+sparely, to make me a good watch dog, she says.”
+
+“My kind Medor,” said I, “if it is the thought of my losing the bread
+that frets you, compose yourself, I no longer need it, for this morning
+I discovered a hole in the side of the hay rack, from which I have
+already helped myself to a little hay, and I find that I can easily do
+so every day.”
+
+“Indeed!” exclaimed Medor, “I am so glad! but yet it gave me such
+pleasure to share my bread with you. And then to be tied all day, and
+see you only at night, it is really sad!”
+
+We conversed a long time and it was very late when he left me.
+
+“I shall have time enough to sleep during the day,” said he, “and you
+too, as you are not kept very busy either at this season.”
+
+All the next day passed indeed without my seeing poor Medor. Towards
+evening, I was impatiently awaiting him, when his cries reached my
+ears. Running to the hedge, I saw that wicked woman, the farmer’s wife
+holding my kind friend by the skin of his neck, whilst Edward beat
+him with a carriage whip. I dashed through a breach in the hedge,
+caught Edward by the arm, and bit him in such a fashion that the whip
+fell from his hands. The wicked woman released her hold on Medor, who
+escaped; this was all I wanted, so I let go Edward’s arm, and was about
+returning to my enclosure, when I felt myself seized by the ears. It
+was the farmer’s wife, who in a rage called out to Edward:
+
+“Give me the big whip, till I beat this vicious animal! There never was
+a worse donkey in the world! Give it to me, or whack him yourself!”
+
+[Illustration]
+
+“I can’t lift my arm,” said Edward in tears, “it is numb.”
+
+Seizing the whip that lay on the ground, she ran at me to avenge her
+cruel son. I was not fool enough to wait for her, you may be sure. Just
+as she had nearly caught me, I made a leap and left her some distance
+behind, she continued to pursue me, and I to escape, taking great care
+to keep myself out of reach of the whip. This race amused me very much;
+I saw my mistress’s wrath increase in proportion to her fatigue. I
+could run and sweat without doing myself the slightest harm, whilst
+she, covered with perspiration, was completely exhausted, without
+having had the pleasure of giving me even one lash of the whip. My
+friend was sufficiently avenged when our promenade ended. I sought him
+with my eyes (for I had seen him run towards my enclosure), but in
+vain, he was afraid to show himself before the departure of his cruel
+mistress.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+“You wretch!” cried the enraged woman as she turned to leave, “I will
+pay you up for all this when I get you under the saddle!” and she went
+towards the house, whilst I remained alone.
+
+I now ventured to call Medor. He timidly lifted his head from the hole
+in which he had sought refuge. I ran to him.
+
+“Come,” said I, “she is gone. What did you do? why did Edward beat you?”
+
+“Because I seized a piece of bread one of the children had dropped on
+the ground. She saw me, darted at me, and calling Edward, told him to
+beat me unmercifully.”
+
+“Did no one try to defend you?”
+
+“Defend me indeed! they all cried out, that’s right! whip him Edward,
+so he won’t do it again.” ‘Keep quiet,’ said Edward, ‘I shall not go
+half way in the matter, you’ll hear how I can make him sing.’ And at my
+first cry, they all clapped their hands, exclaiming bravo! bravo!
+
+“Wicked little creatures!” cried I. “But why did you take the bread,
+Medor? Had they not given you your supper?”
+
+“Yes indeed, I had already eaten, but the bread in my soup was in such
+small pieces, that I could not get any of it out for you, but, if I
+could have carried off that big piece the child dropped, you would have
+had a delightful repast.”
+
+“My poor Medor! and it was for me you were beaten! Thanks, my friend,
+thanks; I shall never forget your kindness! But let me entreat you to
+not repeat it! Do you suppose that that bread would have given me any
+pleasure, if I had known what risks you ran to get it? I would rather a
+hundred times live on thistles, knowing that you were well treated and
+happy.”
+
+We conversed a long time, and I made Medor promise never again to
+incur the danger of a beating on my account; I also promised him that
+I would play all sorts of tricks on these people, and I kept my word.
+One day I knocked Edward and his sister into a puddle of water, and
+then ran off, leaving them struggling in the mud. Another time, I ran
+at the little three year old boy, as if I were going to bite him, how
+his screams of terror rejoiced my heart! Again, pretending to have the
+colic, I rolled on the ground with a heavy load of eggs on my back;
+every egg was smashed. My mistress, though furious, did not dare strike
+me, she believed I was really sick, that I was going to die, and they
+would lose all the money I had cost them, so instead of beating me,
+she led me back to the stable, and gave me some hay and bran. I never
+played a better trick in my life, and that evening Medor and I almost
+hurt ourselves laughing over it. Another time, seeing all their linen
+spread out on the hedge to dry, I took every piece in my teeth, one by
+one, and threw it into the barnyard pool. No one had seen me do this;
+so when the mistress could not find her linen, and when, at last after
+a search in every direction, it was discovered just where I have told
+you, she flew into a terrible rage, and beat the servant, who beat the
+children, who beat the cats, the dogs, the calves, the sheep! Oh! it
+was a charming uproar to me, every body screamed and was furious. Medor
+and I certainly passed a gay evening.
+
+[Illustration: She flew into a terrible rage.—(Page 128.)]
+
+In my subsequent reflexions upon these wicked deeds, I have sincerely
+reproached myself, for I revenged upon the innocent the faults of the
+guilty. Medor sometimes censured me and advised moderation, but no,
+I would not listen, every day I got worse and worse, only however to
+suffer for it, my evil conduct bringing its own punishment as you
+will learn hereafter.
+
+One day (and a sad day it was for me,) a gentleman who was passing took
+a fancy to Medor and offered the farmer a hundred francs for him. The
+farmer, believing him a dog of very little account, was delighted, and
+my poor friend with a rope around his neck, disappeared with his new
+master. He cast a sorrowful glance at me, and in vain did I run from
+one side of the hedge to the other seeking a passage, every breach was
+closed, and I had not even the consolation of bidding my dear Medor
+farewell. From that day, life there was almost insupportable. Medor’s
+departure was just before the little episode of market day, and my
+subsequent flight into the forest of St. Evroult, which I have already
+related. During the years that followed, I often, very often thought
+of my friend, and the pleasure it would be to see him again, but where
+seek him? for I knew his new master did not live in that part of the
+country, but was only there on a visit to some friends.
+
+Judge of my happiness, some time after little James had brought me
+to your grandmother’s, at seeing arrive with your uncle and cousins
+William and Henry, my friend, my dear friend Medor! He recognized
+me at once, and covered me with caresses, I responding to them, and
+following him everywhere. Our cordiality excited great surprise, but
+all attributed it to Medor’s delight at being in the country, and mine
+in finding a companion for my promenades. If they had been able to
+understand our long conversation they would have known the cause of
+our mutual affection.
+
+Medor was much pleased at all I told him of my present calm and
+peaceful life, of my master’s kindness, of my excellent and even
+glorious reputation throughout this part of the country. He sympathized
+with me in the recital of my pitiful adventures, and he laughed, though
+blaming me, at the tricks I had played on the farmer who bought me
+from George’s father. He actually was puffed up with pride when I told
+him of my victory at the race; he deplored the ingratitude of poor
+Pauline’s parents, and shed tears over the sad fate of that unhappy
+child.
+
+
+
+
+XVII.
+
+THE SCHOOL CHILDREN.
+
+
+One day Medor strayed off from the house where he had been born, and
+had always lived quite comfortably. He was in pursuit of a cat that
+had stolen a piece of meat given him by the cook, who thought it a
+little tainted. Medor, not being so delicate, had just put it down
+by his kennel, when a cat concealed near by, darted at the meat and
+carried it off, much to my friend’s indignation, as he was not often
+regaled on such luxuries. He pursued the thief with all the speed of
+his limbs, and would soon have caught her, if, wicked cat that she was,
+she had not bethought herself of climbing a tree. Medor, of course
+could not follow, and he was tantalized with seeing her devour before
+his eyes, the delicious morsel of which she had robbed him. Justly
+irritated at such effrontery, he remained at the foot of the tree,
+barking, growling and uttering a thousand reproaches. This attracted
+the attention of some children just out of school, and they united with
+Medor in annoying her. They even attacked her with stones until at last
+it was a veritable shower. The cat climbed higher, and tried to conceal
+herself in the thickest foliage. But this did not stop them, the shower
+of stones continued, accompanied by loud hurrahs, whenever a plaintiff
+mewing informed her persecutors that she had been hit.
+
+Medor began to weary of this game; the enemy’s touching cries had
+appeased his wrath and he feared that the children were too cruel. To
+end their sport he commenced to bark at them, and pull them by the
+blouse, but it had no effect, save that of causing a few stones to be
+directed against himself. At last, a hoarse, horrible cry, followed by
+a rustling among the branches, announced their success, the poor cat
+was grievously wounded, and had fallen from the tree. One minute after,
+she was not only wounded, but dead, her head having been crushed by a
+stone. This was a source of rejoicing to the mischievous children, who
+ought to have wept over their cruelty. As for Medor, he regarded his
+enemy with compassion, and the boys with an air of keen reproach. Just
+as he was about to return to the house, one of them exclaimed:
+
+“Oh! let us give him a bath in the river, it would be so amusing!”
+
+“Yes indeed, what a splendid idea,” cried the others, “catch him,
+Frederick, there he goes!”
+
+Behold Medor pursued by the cruel rascals, he and they running at
+full speed. Unfortunately, there were about a dozen of them scattered
+around, which obliged him always to run straight ahead, for if he
+deviated in the least, to the right or left, he could be surrounded
+and his flight retarded instead of hastened. At that time he was
+very young, not more than four months old; he could run neither very
+swiftly, nor any great distance without stopping, consequently his
+pursuers captured him. One seized him around the body, one by the tail,
+another by the paw, the neck, the ears, the back, they pulled him this
+way and that, to amuse themselves with his cries. At last, putting a
+cord around his neck almost tight enough to strangle him, they forced
+him by dint of kicks to the river.
+
+Two of them were about to remove the cord, and plunge him in, when the
+biggest boy exclaimed:
+
+“Wait, let’s tie two bladders to his neck, and make him swim; we can
+push him to the mill, and make him pass under the wheel.”
+
+[Illustration: They beat the boys—(Page 137.)]
+
+Vainly did poor Medor struggle; what could he do against a dozen little
+scamps, the youngest of them, at least, in his seventh year? Andrew the
+most cruel of the band, tied the two bladders around his neck, and
+then launched him into the very middle of the stream. My persecuted
+friend, impelled by the current, and still more vigorously by the
+poles in his tormentors’ hands, reached the place where the water
+precipitates itself under the mill wheel. Once under the wheel, he
+would certainly be ground to pieces.
+
+The workmen returned from their dinner, and one of them hastened to
+raise the barrier restraining the water. Perceiving Medor, he said:
+
+“Another of your cruel tricks,” you rascals; said he looking at the
+boys who waited in delightful anticipation of seeing Medor drawn under
+the wheel. “Friends,” he added, speaking to his fellow workmen, “come
+here and help punish these bad boys, who have been amusing themselves
+trying to drown a poor dog.”
+
+His comrades ran, and whilst he saved Medor by pushing a plank towards
+the poor creature for him to climb upon, the others gave chase to the
+boys, caught every one, and whipped them well, some with ropes, some
+with whips, some with sticks. The cries of the chastised children
+resounded far and near, for the workmen did not strike lightly. At
+last the job was finished, and Medor’s persecutors retreated, crying,
+sobbing and rubbing their smarting skins.
+
+The strangling cord around Medor’s neck was cut, and he was put out in
+the sun to dry upon some hay. He was soon dry, and ready to go home,
+but when the blacksmith led him back, the people there said they did
+not want him, they had too many dogs already, and they would throw him
+in the water with a stone to his neck, if he were left. The blacksmith
+was a kind man, and pitying Medor, took him to his own house. But at
+sight of the dog his wife got angry, her husband would ruin them, she
+said, they had not the wherewith to feed a worthless cur, and, besides,
+there was a tax upon dogs.
+
+Her opposition was so determined and so violent that her husband for
+peace sake got rid of Medor, by giving him to the cruel farmer with
+whom I then lived, and who had been wanting a watch dog.
+
+You now know how Medor and I became acquainted, and also, why we were
+so fondly attached to each other.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII.
+
+THE BAPTISM.
+
+
+William and Maud were to stand sponsors for a new born child, whose
+mother had been Maud’s nurse. Maud wanted them to call the baby after
+her.
+
+“Not at all,” said William, “since I am godfather, I have the right to
+name her, and I wish to call her Pierrette.”
+
+“Pierrette!” exclaimed Maud, “that’s a frightful name! I don’t want her
+named Pierrette, she shall be called Maud; as I am the godmother, I am
+the one who has the right to name her.”
+
+“No, you haven’t, the godfather has the best right, and I shall call
+her Pierrette.”
+
+“If she is to be named that, I won’t be godmother.”
+
+“If she is to be named Maud, I won’t be godfather.”
+
+“Just as you please about that, I can ask papa to take your place.”
+
+“And I, Miss, can ask mamma to take your place.”
+
+“Besides, I am quite sure aunt would not like her called Pierrette, it
+is too frightful and ridiculous.”
+
+“And I am sure uncle would not like her called Maud, it is too horrible
+and stupid.”
+
+“How did he happen to call me Maud then? Go to him and tell him you
+think it is a horrible, stupid name, go, my good man, and you will see
+how you will be received!”
+
+“Well, you may say what you please, but I say I will not be godfather
+for any Maud.”
+
+“Papa,” said Maud mischievously, running to her father, “will you stand
+godfather with me for little Maud?”
+
+“What Maud, dear pet? I know no Maud but you.”
+
+“My little godchild, papa, that I want called Maud when she is baptized
+to-day.”
+
+“But William is to stand with you, and there cannot be two godfathers.”
+
+“Papa, William does not wish to be godfather.”
+
+“Why? what is the meaning of this whim?”
+
+“Because he thinks Maud a horrible stupid name, and wants to call her
+Pierrette.”
+
+“Pierrette! that would be horrible and stupid indeed!”
+
+“It is just what I told him papa, but he would not believe me.”
+
+“Listen, my daughter, try to reason with your cousin, and if he insists
+upon not being godfather unless the baby is named Pierrette, I will
+cheerfully stand in place of him.”
+
+During Maud’s conversation with her father, William had run to his
+mother.
+
+“Mamma,” said he, “will you stand godmother with me in Maud’s place,
+for the little girl that is to be baptized to-day.”
+
+“Why is not Maud going to stand? it was a request of the baby’s mother
+that she would.”
+
+“Mamma, Maud wants the baby named after her, I think her name too ugly,
+and as I am godfather, I want the baby called Pierrette.”
+
+“Pierrette! that is frightful, William is pretty, but Pierrette is
+ridiculous!”
+
+“Oh! mamma, please call her Pierrette—At any rate, I don’t want her
+called Maud.”
+
+“But if neither of you will give up, how will you fix matters?”
+
+“Mamma, that is why I came to ask you to stand for little Pierrette in
+place of Maud?”
+
+“My poor William, I must tell you frankly, that I want no more of this
+Pierrette, the name is too ridiculous, besides, the child’s mother was
+Maud’s nurse, not yours, and you know very well, that she desires most
+particularly to have Maud for godmother. For my part, I think she
+would be pleased to have the baby called Maud.”
+
+“Then, I can’t be godfather.”
+
+At this instant Maud ran up, exclaiming:
+
+“Well, William, have you decided? We start in an hour, and must have a
+godfather.”
+
+“I am willing for her not to be called Pierrette, but I am not willing
+for her to be called Maud.”
+
+“Well, since you have given up Pierrette, I will give up Maud. But let
+us ask nurse what name she wants baby called.”
+
+“You are right; go ask her.”
+
+Maud went running off to the baby’s mother and soon came back.
+
+“William, William,” she exclaimed, “nurse wants her little daughter
+named Marie Maud.”
+
+“Did you inquire if she ought not to be called Pierrette, as I am
+godfather?”
+
+“Yes, I asked her, and she burst out laughing; mamma laughed too; they
+both said it was impossible, Pierrette was too ugly.”
+
+William blushed slightly, however, as he himself had began to think
+Pierrette ridiculous, he sighed and said nothing more on that subject.
+
+“Where are the sugar plums?” he asked.
+
+“In a big basket that will be taken to the church, the boxes and
+wrappings are left here. They are all ready, let us see how many there
+are.” And they ran to the hall where everything was in readiness.
+
+“What are these pennies for?” inquired William, “there seem to be
+nearly as many as sugar plums.”
+
+“They are to be thrown to the school children,” said Maud.
+
+“The school children? Are we going to the school after the baptism?”
+
+“No, we are to throw these from the church door, where all the school
+children collect on such occasions; we throw them by the handful, and
+the children catch them or pick them up from the ground.”
+
+“Did you ever see it done?”
+
+“Never, but I have heard that it is very amusing.”
+
+“I do not think I would like it, for I know very well the children
+fight and get hurt; besides I do not like the idea of flinging things
+to children as if they were dogs.”
+
+“Maud, William, come see the baby, it has just arrived; we start
+shortly,” cried Beatrice, out of breath.
+
+Both of them ran, trying to reach the baby first.
+
+“Oh! how fine our godchild is!” said William.
+
+“Yes, indeed,” replied Maud, “she has a dress embroidered all around, a
+lace bonnet, and a cloak lined with pink silk.”
+
+“Did you give her all those pretty things?”
+
+“Oh! no, I had not enough money; mamma paid for everything except the
+bonnet and I paid for it.”
+
+All was ready; though the weather was fine the carriage was brought out
+for the baby and its nurse, and the sponsors only. Maud and William
+were in the carriage like important personages. They started. I,
+harnessed to the children’s little conveyance waited for them. Louis,
+Helen, James and Ruth took the back seats, Beatrice and Elizabeth the
+front to drive, whilst Henry climbed behind. The mammas, papas and
+nurses started at different intervals, so that some of them might be
+near us in case of accident; but this was only an excess of prudence,
+for with me they knew there was nothing to fear.
+
+I set off in a gallop, notwithstanding my load, self-love excited me
+to overtake and even pass the carriage. I went like the wind and the
+children were enchanted.
+
+“Bravo!” they cried. “Courage, Cadichon, keep on galloping! Hurrah for
+Cadichon, the king of donkeys!”
+
+They clapped their hands and applauded.
+
+“Bravo!” cried people whom I passed on the road. “Look at that donkey,
+he runs like a horse! Good luck and no upsets!”
+
+The papas and mammas trudging along, were not so encouraging however,
+but wanted me to relax my speed, instead of which, I only galloped
+the faster. I was not very long in overtaking the carriage, and
+triumphantly did I dash past the horses, they looked at me with
+surprise. Feeling mortified at being overtaken by a donkey, especially
+as they had started first, they attempted a gallop, but the driver
+tightened his reins, and obliged them to relax their speed, whilst I
+hurried on faster than ever, so that when they reached the church door,
+my little masters and mistresses had all descended from the vehicle,
+whilst I, very warm and out of breath, was standing quietly hitched
+near the hedge for shade.
+
+The parents on arriving, admired my swiftness, and complimented the
+children on their equipage.
+
+The fact is we made quite a sensation, my carriage and I, I being
+well rubbed and curried, and decorated with variegated dahlias of red
+and white behind my ears, the harness polished and embellished with
+red mountings, and the vehicle repaired and varnished. We certainly
+presented a dashing appearance.
+
+Through the open window, I witnessed the baptismal ceremony, the infant
+screamed as if it were being murdered, Maud and William, somewhat
+embarrassed at their honors, got confused in repeating the Creed,
+and the priest was obliged to prompt them. Poor little godfather and
+godmother, their eyes were suffused with tears, and their faces as red
+as cherries! However, their mistake was no unusual occurrence, and
+often happens with grown people.
+
+Little Marie Maud being baptized, they went out of the church to throw
+sugar plums and pennies to the children collected around the door. As
+soon as the godfather and godmother appeared, all exclaimed; “Hurrah
+for the godmother! hurrah for the godfather!”
+
+The basket of sugar plums was ready, it was handed Maud, whilst William
+received the basket of pennies. Taking a handful of the former, Maud
+let them fall in a shower among the children. This was the signal for a
+general battle, a faithful representation of starving dogs.
+
+All rushed to the same spot, disputing every handful, both of sugar
+plums and pennies, as it was thrown; they tore one another’s hair,
+they struggled, they rolled over on the ground, and half the coveted
+articles were lost, crushed under foot or hidden in the grass. William
+did not laugh; nor Maud, after the first handful, for she saw that
+these battles were serious. For several of the children were crying,
+and others were badly scratched.
+
+“You were right, William,” said she, as soon as they took their seats
+in the carriage, “the next time I am godmother, I shall give the
+children sugar plums, not throw them.”
+
+“Nor I, the pennies,” said William, “I shall give them like you do the
+sugar plums.”
+
+The carriage started off, and I did not hear the rest of their
+conversation.
+
+My party now began to crowd in their vehicle, accompanied by the papas
+and mammas.
+
+“Cadichon,” said Maud’s mamma, “has already produced a sensation, so
+now he can afford to return more quietly and take us with him.”
+
+“Mamma,” said Beatrice, “do you like this custom of throwing the
+children sugar plums and pennies?”
+
+“No, dear child, I find it a very ignoble custom, the children
+reminding one of dogs fighting for a bone. If ever I am godmother in
+this part of the country, I shall distribute the sugar plums among the
+children, instead of throwing them, and I shall give to the poor, the
+amount of money wasted in pennies flung at random.”
+
+“You are right, mamma; please let me be godmother to do as you say.”
+
+“As an absolute necessity for your fulfilling that office, we must have
+a baby to be baptized,” said the mamma, smiling, “and I know of none.”
+
+“Oh, how provoking! I could be godmother with Henry. What would you
+call your godson, Henry.”
+
+“Henry, of course, what would you call him?”
+
+“Madelon.”
+
+“Oh horror! Madelon! In the first place it is not a name.”
+
+“It is as much of a name as Pierrette.”
+
+“Pierrette is prettier, and besides you see that William yielded.”
+
+“I could give up too,” replied Beatrice, “but we have time enough to
+think of it.”
+
+We reached the castle, all got out of the carriage and hastened to lay
+aside their holiday attire; my trinkets and dahlias were also taken off
+and I was turned out to pasture, whilst the children ate their lunch.
+
+
+
+
+XIX.
+
+THE LEARNED DONKEY.
+
+
+One day I saw the children run into the meadow where I was quietly
+grazing very near the castle. Louis and James were playing around
+me, finding amusement in getting on my back. They thought themselves
+as nimble as gymnasts, whilst they were, in reality, I must confess,
+somewhat clumsy, little James especially, who was plump, chunkier than
+his cousin. Louis at last, by holding on to my tail, managed to climb
+(he called it jumping) up on my back. James made prodigious efforts to
+follow his example, but the poor little fat fellow slipped, fell and
+got out of breath, and it was very evident that he could not succeed
+without the assistance of his cousin somewhat older than himself. To
+spare them so much fatigue, I went towards a piece of rising ground.
+Louis had already shown his agility, and James had just succeeded with
+a great effort in seating himself, when we heard the whole joyous
+band crying out: “James, Louis, we are going to the fair day after
+to-morrow, to see the learned donkey!”
+
+“The learned donkey? what is that?” inquired James.
+
+“A donkey,” replied Elizabeth, “that plays all manner of tricks.”
+
+“What tricks?”
+
+“Well tricks—tricks of—tricks I mean,” said Beatrice.
+
+“He can’t beat Cadichon, I know.”
+
+“Pshaw! Cadichon!”, said Henry, “Cadichon is a very fine animal and
+very intelligent of his kind, but he is nothing in comparison with the
+learned donkey at the fair!”
+
+“I am very sure,” answered Maud, “that if Cadichon were shown these
+tricks he could do them.”
+
+“Let us see what this learned donkey does, and then we can judge better
+as to whether he is more learned than our Cadichon,” said William.
+
+“William is right,” replied Maud, “let us wait till after the fair.”
+
+“And what will we do after the fair?” said Elizabeth.
+
+“We will dispute,” replied Beatrice laughing. James and Louis after
+whispering a few words to each other, had kept silence until the rest
+went away. When assured that these were out of sight and hearing, they
+commenced to dance around me, laughing and singing:
+
+    “Cadichon, Cadichon,
+    To the fair you will go,
+    And the learned donkey show
+    That as smart as he may be,
+    You are smarter still than he;
+    Every one will honor you,
+    Every one will praise you too,
+    And we shall be proud, so do
+    Your best, Cadichon, Cadichon.”
+
+“What we are singing is very pretty,” said James, stopping suddenly.
+
+“That is because they are rhymes,” answered Louis. “I really think they
+are pretty.”
+
+“Rhymes? I thought it was very difficult to make rhymes.”
+
+    Very easy as you see,
+    Though difficult apparently.
+
+“There are some more.”
+
+“Let us run and say them to our cousins.”
+
+“No, no, if they heard our verses, they would guess what we are going
+to do; we must take them by surprise at the fair.”
+
+“But do you believe papa and uncle will let us take Cadichon to the
+fair?”
+
+“Certainly, when we tell them in confidence, we want him to see the
+learned donkey.”
+
+“Let us run quick to ask them.”
+
+They were running at full speed towards the house just as the papas
+were coming to the meadow to see what the children were doing. “Papa,
+papa!” cried they, “come quick; we have something to ask you.”
+
+“Speak children, what is it?”
+
+“Not here, papa, not here,” was the mysterious answer, each one drawing
+his father aside.
+
+“What is the matter?” said Louis’s papa, laughing. “Into what
+conspiracy do you wish to drag me?”
+
+“Sh sh, papa, here is what it is: you know that day after to-morrow
+there will be a learned donkey at the fair.”
+
+“No, I did not know it, but what have we to do with learned donkeys,
+we, who have Cadichon?”
+
+“That is precisely what we say, papa, that Cadichon is smarter than
+any of them. My sisters and cousins are going to the fair to see this
+educated donkey, and we would like very much to take Cadichon, so that
+he may see what this donkey does and imitate him.”
+
+“What?” said James’s papa, “would you put Cadichon in the crowd to look
+at the donkey?”
+
+“Yes, papa, instead of going in the carriage, we can ride Cadichon, and
+get very near the circle in which the learned donkey plays his tricks.”
+
+“I would not ask anything better myself, but I do not believe Cadichon
+could learn much in one lesson.”
+
+“Can’t you, Cadichon, do as many smart tricks as that silly, educated
+donkey?”
+
+In addressing this question, James looked at me so anxiously, that to
+reassure him, I began braying, laughing all the while at his fears.
+
+“Do you hear that, papa,” said James triumphantly, “Cadichon says yes.”
+
+The two papas laughed, caressed their little boys, and turned away,
+promising not only that I should go to the fair, but that they would
+accompany us there.
+
+“Ah!” said I to myself, “they doubt my capacity! It is astonishing how
+much more intelligent these children are than their fathers.”
+
+The great day arrived. One hour before our departure, my toilet was
+made, and Louis and James having curried and rubbed me to the verge of
+vexation; after which, they decorated me with a perfectly new bridle
+and saddle, and then announced their readiness to start, as they wished
+to set out a little in advance, for fear of being late.
+
+“Why do you wish to go so early?” asked Henry, “and how are you going?”
+
+“We are going on Cadichon, and want to start early, because we can’t go
+fast,” said Louis.
+
+“Are you two going alone?” inquired Henry.
+
+“No, papa and uncle will accompany us.”
+
+“It will certainly be tiresome, if you are going at a gait to suit
+their walk.”
+
+“Oh! we never find it tiresome in our papa’s company.”
+
+“I prefer going in the carriage, we will get there long before you.”
+
+“No, you will not, for we will start so much sooner.”
+
+As they finished speaking, I was led out all saddled and decorated—the
+fathers were ready; they put their little boys on my back, and I
+started very slowly, so as not to make their fathers run.
+
+In an hour we reached the fair ground, where we found many persons
+already collected around the rope marking out a circle, within which
+the educated donkey was to display his ability. The fathers of the two
+little boys I had brought, stationed us very near the rope, and my
+other masters and mistresses soon rejoined us.
+
+The sound of a drum was the signal for my learned friend’s appearance.
+All eyes were fixed upon the curtain, which rose at last, and he came
+forth, a thin, sad, miserable looking creature. His master called him;
+he approached, but with an air of fear, and I saw at once that the poor
+thing’s learning had been instilled by hard beatings.
+
+“Gentlemen and ladies,” said the master, “I have the honor of
+presenting to you Mirliflore, the prince of donkeys. He is not like the
+rest of his race, he is a learned donkey, more learned indeed than many
+of us, he is the donkey par excellence, and without an equal. Come,
+Mirliflore, show what you can do, but first salute these gentlemen and
+ladies like a well raised donkey.”
+
+This discourse touched my pride, and made me very angry; I resolved to
+be revenged before the end of the exhibition.
+
+Mirliflore advancing three steps, made an inclination of his head with
+a melancholy air.
+
+“Go, Mirliflore, go give this bouquet to the prettiest lady here.”
+
+I laughed at seeing every hand half extended to receive the bouquet.
+Mirliflore went all around the circle, and stopping before a fat, ugly
+woman that I afterwards learned was the master’s wife, and who held a
+little sugar in her hand, lay down his flowers.
+
+[Illustration: “Mirliflore, the prince of donkeys.”—(Page 152.)]
+
+This want of taste enraged me; leaping over the rope to the great
+surprise of every one present, and making a graceful salutation, to
+those on my right, my left, before and behind me, I walked resolutely
+up to the fat woman, snatched the bouquet from her hands, and laid
+it on Maud’s lap. I then returned to my place, amidst the plaudits
+of the multitude. Every one inquired the meaning of this apparition;
+some believed it was all arranged beforehand, and that there were two
+learned donkeys; whilst others who had seen me with my little masters
+recognizing me, were delighted at my intelligence.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Mirliflore’s master seemed quite vexed, but the animal himself appeared
+so indifferent to my triumph, that I began to believe him really
+stupid, which is a quality very rare among us donkeys. When silence was
+re-established, the master called Mirliflore out again.
+
+“Come Mirliflore, show these gentlemen and ladies that you not only
+know how to distinguish beauty, but likewise stupidity; take this cap
+and put it on the most stupid person here.”
+
+Saying this, he gave Mirliflore a magnificent dunce-cap, ornamented
+with bells and variegated ribbons. Mirliflore, taking it between
+his teeth, went towards a fat, red faced boy, who inclined his head
+in advance to receive it. From his resemblance to the fat woman, so
+falsely declared the most beautiful person present, it was easy to
+recognize this boy as her son, and the master’s assistant.
+
+“Now,” thought I, “is the moment to revenge this fool’s insulting
+words!”
+
+And before anyone could think of preventing me, I again darted into the
+arena, ran to my comrade, snatched the dunce-cap from him at the moment
+he was about to place it on the fat boy’s head, and ere the master had
+time to defend himself, rushing at him, at putting my fore feet upon
+his shoulders, I tried to place the cap upon his head. He repulsed
+me violently, and grew furious, as peals of laughter and applause
+resounded on all sides.
+
+“Bravo donkey!” they cried, “this one is the real learned donkey.”
+
+Emboldened by the applause of the multitude, I made a new effort to
+fit the cap; as he recoiled I advanced, and we finished by a flying
+race, the man running at full speed, I after him, not getting near
+enough to him to ornament him with the cap, and not wishing to do him
+any harm. At last I jumped behind him, and placing my fore feet upon
+his shoulders, let him feel my weight; he fell and I profited by it,
+to bury his head up to his very chin in the dunce’s cap. I retired
+immediately; the man arose, but being somewhat confused and stunned
+by the fall, and unable to see clearly, he began to turn and jump. And
+I to complete the farce pretended to do the same, interrupting this
+burlesque imitation, by approaching him and braying in his ear, then
+standing on my hind feet, jumping like him, sometimes to one side, some
+times before him.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+To depict the laughter, the bravos, the joyful stamping of feet,
+would be an impossibility. Never had a donkey in the world such
+success, such a triumph! The ring was invaded by hundreds of persons
+wishing to touch, to caress, to approach me. Those who knew me were
+proud of what I had done, and told my name to those not acquainted
+with me. Numberless anecdotes, both true and false, were related,
+in which I played a magnificent part. One time, said my admirers, I
+had extinguished a fire, working a pump all alone; I had ascended
+to the third story, opened my mistress’s door, seized her asleep in
+bed, and all hope of escape by the stairs being cut off, I had jumped
+from the third story, having first carefully placed my mistress on my
+back—that neither she nor I had been hurt, because her guardian angel
+had sustained us in the air and we had gently descended to the ground.
+Another time, unassisted, I had killed fifty brigands, strangling them
+one by one with a single bite, so that none awakened to alarm the
+rest. I had afterwards liberated one hundred and fifty prisoners these
+robbers had kept chained in the caves for the sake of their services,
+making the poor creatures work to feed and enrich their masters. Again,
+at a race, I had beaten the best horses in the country, and finally, in
+five hours, I had made twenty-five leagues without stopping.
+
+The admiration for me increased in proportion to the circulation of
+these stories. I was surrounded, almost smothered, and the soldiers
+were obliged to drive off the crowd. Happily, the parents of James,
+Louis, and all my other masters had led their children away, whilst the
+crowd collected around me. I had much difficulty in escaping from my
+admirers, who wished to carry me in triumph—even the assistance of the
+soldiers was not sufficient to prevent such an honor, and I, in order
+to force my way through the crowd, was obliged to give a few bites, and
+attempted kicks, taking care, however, to hurt no one.
+
+[Illustration: The soldiers were obliged to drive off the crowd.—(Page
+158.)]
+
+Once rid of the crowd, I sought Louis and James, but in vain. Not
+wishing my dear little masters to return home on foot, I ran to the
+stable where our horses were always kept to see if they were still
+there, and, not finding them, I knew Louis and James had gone. Then,
+taking the road to the castle, and running at full speed, I soon caught
+up with the two carriages packed with parents and children to the
+number of fifteen.
+
+“Cadichon! there is Cadichon!” exclaimed all the children when they saw
+me.
+
+The carriages were stopped; James and Louis asked permission to get
+out, as they wished to compliment and caress me, and return home on
+foot. Their example was followed by Ruth and Helen, then by William and
+Henry, and at last by Elizabeth, Beatrice and Maud.
+
+“So you see,” said Louis and James, “we knew Cadichon better than you!
+How he did distinguish himself! He easily understood all the tricks of
+that stupid Mirliflore and his foolish master.”
+
+“So he did,” answered William, “but I would like very much to know why
+he insisted upon putting that dunce-cap on the master. Was it because
+he thought the master a fool, and knew that the donkey’s ears (the
+dunce-cap was fashioned in that style) were a mark of imbecility?”
+
+“Certainly, he understood it,” spoke Maud; “he is smart enough for
+that.”
+
+“Ah! ah! ah! You say that because he gave you the bouquet as the
+prettiest person present.”
+
+“Not at all; I did not think myself the prettiest, and, since you speak
+of it, let me tell you that I was astonished, and wished very much he
+had given the bouquet to mamma, for she was the prettiest person there.”
+
+“You represented her,” said William, “and I believe that, leaving aunt
+aside, Cadichon’s choice could not have been better.”
+
+“And I then, am I so ugly?” asked Beatrice.
+
+“Certainly not, but each one to his taste, and Cadichon’s taste
+selected Maud,” replied William.
+
+“Instead of discussing beauties and frights,” said Elizabeth, “we ought
+to inquire of Cadichon how he could understand so well what this man
+said.”
+
+“What a pity Cadichon cannot speak! how much he could tell!” replied
+Helen.
+
+“Who knows but what he does understand?” said Elizabeth. “I myself have
+read the ‘Recollections of a Doll,’ and does a doll appear to see and
+understand? That doll wrote about all she heard and saw.”
+
+“And do you really believe that?” asked Henry.
+
+“Certainly I believe it,” replied Elizabeth.
+
+“How could the doll write?”
+
+“She wrote at night, with a tiny pen made of a humming bird’s feather,
+and hid her ‘Recollections’ under her head.”
+
+“Don’t believe such nonsense, my poor Elizabeth,” said Beatrice. “It
+was a lady who wrote those ‘Recollections of a Doll,’ and to make the
+book more amusing, she pretended to be the doll and to write as if she
+were one.”
+
+“Do you think, then, it was not a real doll that wrote them?” asked
+Elizabeth.
+
+“Certainly it was not,” replied Maud. “How do you suppose a lifeless
+doll, made of wood or stuffed with bran could reflect, see, hear and
+write?”
+
+Talking thus, they reached the castle. Running immediately to their
+grandmother, who had remained at home, they recounted all my doings and
+how I had astonished and delighted every one.
+
+“He is truly wonderful, this Cadichon,” said she, coming to caress
+me. “I have known intelligent donkeys, far more sagacious than other
+animals, but never did I see one like Cadichon! I must confess, we are
+very unjust to donkeys.”
+
+I turned towards her with a look of gratitude.
+
+“One would really suppose he understood me,” she continued. “My poor
+Cadichon, rest assured you shall never be sold whilst I live, and you
+shall be as well taken care of as if you understood everything that was
+going on around you.”
+
+I sighed at thought of my old mistress’s age, for she was fifty-nine,
+and I not more than nine or ten.
+
+“My dear little masters,” thought I, “when your grandmother dies do not
+sell me, I entreat you, but keep me and let me die in your service.”
+
+As to the learned donkey’s unfortunate master; I afterwards repented
+bitterly of the trick I had played upon him, and you will see the sad
+consequences of my desire to display my intelligence.
+
+
+
+
+XX.
+
+THE FROG.
+
+
+The wicked boy who killed my friend, Medor, had at last (by dint of
+coaxing probably,) obtained pardon and permission to visit again at
+your grandmother’s. I could not bear him, you may well imagine, and I
+sought every opportunity of playing some ugly trick upon him, for I
+lacked charity and had not yet learned to forgive.
+
+This Alfred was a coward, but always boasting of his courage. One day,
+when his father had brought him to your grandmother’s on a visit, the
+other children proposed a stroll in the woods. Maud, who ran ahead
+suddenly jumped aside screaming.
+
+“What is the matter?” said William, running to her assistance.
+
+“I was frightened at a frog that jumped on my foot.”
+
+“Is it possible that you are afraid of frogs, Maud? For my part,” said
+Alfred, “I am afraid of nothing, of no animal.”
+
+“Why then,” retorted Maud, “did you jump so high the other day, when I
+told you there was a spider on your arm?”
+
+“Because I did not understand what you said to me.”
+
+“Did not understand? It was very easily understood.”
+
+“Certainly it was, if I had heard aright, but I thought you said, ‘look
+at that spider down there,’ and I jumped aside only to see it better.”
+
+“The idea!” chimed in William, “that is not so, for as you jumped, you
+cried, ‘Oh, William, take it off, please!’”
+
+“I meant to say, ‘take it off, so I can see it better.’”
+
+“He is telling a story,” whispered Beatrice to Maud.
+
+“So I perceive,” was Maud’s low response.
+
+I was listening to the conversation and profited by it, as you will
+see. The children were seated upon the grass, and I was near, having
+followed them. Perceiving a little green frog very near Alfred’s open
+pocket, my plan was quickly formed and easily executed. Approaching
+noiselessly, I seized the frog by one leg, and slyly dropped it into
+the little boaster’s pocket, quietly withdrawing as soon as the deed
+was done, so that Alfred might not suspect me of having made him this
+beautiful present.
+
+I could not hear distinctly all the conversation, but I distinguished
+this much, that Alfred continued to boast of his courage, he was
+afraid of no creature, not even of lions, at which the rest uttered an
+exclamation of incredulity. Just at this moment Alfred wished to blow
+his nose. Running his hand into his pocket, he withdrew it with a cry
+of terror, and rising precipitately, screamed aloud:
+
+“Take it out! take it out! Oh! I beg you to take it out! I am so
+afraid! Help! help!”
+
+“What is the matter, Alfred?” said Maud, half laughing, half frightened.
+
+“An animal! an animal! Take it out, I beg you!”
+
+“What animal do you mean, and where is it?” said William.
+
+“In my pocket! I felt it, I touched it! Oh! take it out, take it away!
+I am afraid of it, I dare not touch it!”
+
+“Do it yourself, you coward!” replied Henry, indignantly.
+
+“Well, just listen,” said Elizabeth, “he is afraid of something in his
+pocket, and wants us to take it out, because he dares not touch it!”
+
+After their first fright, the children were greatly amused at Alfred’s
+contortions, who knew not how to rid himself of the creature he felt
+wriggling about in his pocket. His terror increased with every movement
+of the frog. At last, frightened almost to distraction, and finding no
+other means of escape from this creature that he felt moving and yet
+dared not touch, he pulled off his jacket and threw it on the ground,
+remaining in his shirt sleeves. The others burst out laughing and made
+a rush for the jacket. Henry opened the hind pocket; the imprisoned
+frog seeing daylight, darted through the opening, narrow as it was,
+and each one saw a pretty little scared frog, that sought safety in
+desperate efforts to put itself out of reach.
+
+“The enemy has taken flight,” said Maud, laughing.
+
+“Take care it doesn’t chase you,” said William.
+
+“Don’t go too near, it might devour you!” said Henry.
+
+“Nothing is so dangerous as a frog!” added Beatrice.
+
+“If it were only a lion, Alfred would attack it!” chimed in Elizabeth,
+“but a frog! All his courage could not defend him from its claws!”
+
+“You forget its teeth!” continued Louis.
+
+“You may pick up your jacket,” said James, catching the frog. “I hold
+your enemy prisoner.”
+
+Alfred remained motionless and mute with shame at having thus exposed
+himself to so much ridicule.
+
+“Let us dress him,” cried William, “he has not strength enough to put
+on his jacket!”
+
+“Take care,” said Henry “that a fly or a gnat is not on it, for that
+would be a new danger to fear!”
+
+Alfred tried to escape, but all the children, big and little ran
+after him; William holding the jacket, the others pursuing the coward
+and endeavoring to intercept his retreat. It was a very amusing race
+for all but poor Alfred, who, red with shame and anger, ran first to
+the right and then to the left, and everywhere encountered an enemy.
+I joined the party, and galloped before and behind him, increasing
+his fear by braying and attempting to seize him by the seat of his
+trousers; once I caught him, but he jerked away leaving a piece of the
+trousers in my mouth which increased the other children’s laughter. I
+succeeded at last in catching him with a firm hold, he uttered such
+a cry, that, for an instant, I feared having seized skin as well as
+cloth. William and Henry were the first to reach him; he tried to
+struggle against them, but I pulled him gently, at which he screamed
+again, and then became as meek as a lamb, never budging any more than
+a statue whilst William and Henry put his jacket on him. Seeing that
+my services were no longer needed, I released him, and went my way
+delighted at having succeeded in rendering him so ridiculous. He never
+knew how that frog got into his pocket, and from that lucky day he
+dared boast no more of his courage—before the children.
+
+
+
+
+XXI.
+
+THE PONY.
+
+
+My vengeance ought to have been appeased, but it was not; I still
+retained for Alfred such sentiments of hatred as instigated me to play
+another trick upon him, of which I afterwards bitterly repented. We
+were rid of him for nearly a month after the episode of the frog. One
+day, however, his father brought him over, not much to anyone’s delight.
+
+“What shall we do to amuse this boy?” said William to Maud.
+
+“Propose a riding party to the woods; Henry will mount Cadichon;
+Alfred, the farm mule; and you, your pony.”
+
+“Oh! that’s a splendid idea, provided he wishes to go!”
+
+“Oh! but he must wish it; do you just have the animals saddled, and
+when they are ready help him mount.”
+
+William went to find Alfred, who was amusing himself tormenting Louis
+and James. Under the pretence of assisting them in their garden, he
+replanted their flowers, pulled their vegetables, cut their strawberry
+vines, and scattered confusion everywhere; when they attempted to
+prevent him, he repulsed them with a kick or a thrust of the spade,
+and William found them weeping over the ruins of their flowers and
+vegetables.
+
+“Why do you torment my poor little cousins?” said William, with evident
+displeasure.
+
+“I am not tormenting them; on the contrary, I am assisting them.”
+
+“But they don’t wish your assistance.”
+
+“They must be made to do right, even in spite of themselves.”
+
+“It is because he is twice as big as we are that he torments us,” said
+Louis; “he would not dare do so with you and Henry.”
+
+“Not dare!” replied Alfred; “don’t say that again, young one.”
+
+“No, you would not dare! William and Henry are much stronger than a
+frog, I know,” said James.
+
+At this, Alfred reddened, shrugged his shoulders with an air of
+disdain, and, turning to William, said:
+
+“Did you want me, dear friend? You seemed to be looking for me when you
+came here.”
+
+“Yes; I was going to propose a riding party,” said William, with an
+air of indifference; “be ready in a quarter of an hour, if you wish to
+go with Henry and me to the woods.”
+
+“Certainly; I would like nothing better,” replied Alfred eagerly,
+delighted at the idea of putting an end to the taunts of James and
+Louis.
+
+William and Alfred then went to the stable, and told the hostler to
+saddle the pony, the farm mule and myself.
+
+“Ah! you have a pony!” said Alfred; “I like them so much.”
+
+“It was a present from grandma.”
+
+“Do you know how to ride horseback?”
+
+“Yes; I learned two years ago at riding school.”
+
+“I would love to ride your pony.”
+
+“I would not advise you to do it, if you have never learned to ride
+horseback.”
+
+“I never learned, but I can do it just as well as anyone else.”
+
+“Did you ever try?”
+
+“Many a time. Who is there that can’t ride horseback?”
+
+“When did you? your father has no saddle horses.”
+
+“I never rode horseback, but I have ridden mules, which is the same
+thing.”
+
+“I tell you again, my dear Alfred,” said William, restraining a smile,
+“if you have never ridden horseback, I would advise you not to ride my
+pony.”
+
+“And why not?” replied Alfred a little piqued, “you might give him up
+for once.”
+
+“Oh! I don’t refuse you on that account, it is because the pony is a
+little spirited, and—”
+
+“And what?” said Alfred, in the same tone of vexation.
+
+“Well then he might throw you off.”
+
+“Be easy about that, do,” answered Alfred, quite irritated, “I am not
+quite so awkward as you think. If you are willing to give him up to me
+for once, be sure I can ride him just as good as yourself.”
+
+“Just as you please, my dear; take the pony, I will ride the mule, and
+Henry, Cadichon.”
+
+Henry now joined them. In a few moments we were to start. Alfred
+approached the pony, which capered a little and made two or three
+jumps. Alfred looked at him anxiously.
+
+“Hold him firmly,” said he, “until I am on.”
+
+“There is no danger, master, the animal is not vicious, and you need
+not be afraid,” said the hostler.
+
+“I am not at all afraid,” replied Alfred quickly, “do I look as if I
+were afraid, I, who am afraid of nothing?”
+
+“Except frogs,” whispered Henry to William.
+
+“What did you say, Henry? What did you whisper to William?” said Alfred.
+
+“Oh! nothing very interesting!” replied Henry, mischievously, “I told
+him I believed I saw a frog down on grass.”
+
+Alfred bit his lip, colored deeply, but said nothing. He got on the
+pony and began to pull the bridle, the pony recoiled, Alfred clung to
+the saddle.
+
+“Do not pull, master, do not pull, a horse must not be managed like a
+mule,” said the hostler, laughing.
+
+Alfred slackened the reins, I started ahead with Henry, William
+following on the mule. I maliciously broke into a gallop, and the
+pony tried to overtake me, but I went my fastest. William and Henry
+laughed, Alfred cried out and clung to the pony’s mane. We all ran,
+and I determined not to stop until Alfred was thrown off. Excited by
+the laughter and cries, the pony was not long in overtaking me, but I
+followed close behind him, nibbling his tail whenever he showed the
+slightest inclination to slacken his speed. We galloped thus for a
+quarter of an hour, Alfred clinging to the pony’s neck and ready to
+fall at every step. Determined to hasten this event, I gave a stronger
+nibble to the pony’s tail, he began to kick so vigorously that at
+the first essay, Alfred fell upon the horse’s neck, at the second,
+he passed over its head and was stretched motionless on the ground.
+William and Henry, thinking him hurt, dismounted instantly, and ran to
+pick him up.
+
+“Alfred, Alfred, are you hurt?” they anxiously inquired.
+
+“I think not, I do not know,” answered Alfred, as he arose, still
+quaking from fright.
+
+When on his feet, his limbs trembled, his teeth chattered. William and
+Henry examined him, and finding neither bruise nor scratch of any sort,
+looked at him with mingled pity and disgust.
+
+“It is sad to be such a coward as that,” said William.
+
+“I—am—not—a—coward—but—I—am—afraid,” answered Alfred, his teeth still
+chattering.
+
+“I hope you do not intend to mount my pony again,” said William, “we
+will exchange animals.”
+
+And without awaiting Alfred’s answer, he jumped lightly on the pony.
+
+“I would rather ride Cadichon,” said Alfred, piteously.
+
+“Just as you please,” answered Henry, “take Cadichon and I will mount
+Grison, the mule.”
+
+My first impulse was to prevent his getting on my back, but I formed
+another project which finished his day’s amusement, and served better
+to express my aversion and wickedness. So I let him mount quietly and I
+followed far behind the pony. If Alfred had dared beat me to increase
+my speed, I would have thrown him, but knowing my young master’s
+fondness for me, he never interfered with my gait, which was regulated
+entirely by my own pleasure. I took especial pains in going through
+the woods, to brush him up against all the bushes, particularly such
+as holly and others of that thorny nature, so that his face was well
+scratched. He complained of this to Henry, who answered coldly:
+
+“Cadichon does not treat people badly that he likes; probably you are
+not in his good graces.”
+
+We soon took the road homeward, for Henry and William got tired of
+listening to Alfred’s whimpering as each new branch switched across his
+face. He was scratched ridiculously; I had every reason to believe,
+however, that he was less amused than his companions. My frightful
+project was going to finish the day’s entertainment.
+
+In returning through the farm, we had to pass a hole or rather a ditch,
+into which emptied the pipe carrying off all the stale, greasy kitchen
+water. It was a receptacle for refuse of every sort, which rotting in
+the stagnant water, formed a black and stinking mud. I let William and
+Henry go ahead; reaching the ditch, I made a bound towards the edge and
+with one kick, landed Alfred just where I had desired. I then stood
+quietly enjoying the spectacle of his struggles in this black, filthy
+pool that almost blinded and strangled him.
+
+He attempted to scream for help, but the water got into his mouth, it
+even reached his ears, and try as he would, he found it impossible to
+extricate himself. “Medor,” thought I, “Medor, you are revenged!” I did
+not reflect on the harm I might do this poor boy, who had killed Medor
+by accident and not from malice, nor did I suspect for an instant that
+I was far worse than he. At last, William and Henry who had dismounted,
+seeing nothing of me nor Alfred, wondered at our delay and retraced
+their steps, to find me standing on the edge of the ditch, complacently
+regarding my struggling enemy. They approached, and uttered a cry
+of horror at sight of Alfred, for he was in imminent risk of being
+strangled by the mud. The farm men were called to the spot immediately.
+They held out a pole to the unfortunate boy, who, clinging to the end,
+was thus rescued from his peril. When landed, every one wished him
+to keep at a distance, for the mud was dripping from him and smelt
+intolerably.
+
+“We must go tell his father,” said William.
+
+“And then papa and my uncles,” added Henry, “so they may tell us some
+way of cleansing him.”
+
+“Come, Alfred, follow us, but please don’t come too near, for that mud
+does smell horribly.”
+
+Alfred, covered with confusion, black with mud, scarcely able to see
+his way, followed them at a distance, and was the object of much
+surprise and many ejaculations from all he met. I formed the vanguard,
+capering, running and braying with all my strength. William and Henry
+seemed much displeased at my gayety, and tried their best to silence
+me, but their screams were of no avail, and in fact, only added to the
+racket. This unusual noise attracted the attention of all the house;
+every one recognizing my voice, and knowing that I brayed thus only
+on grand occasions, ran to the windows so that when we came in sight
+of the castle, numberless countenances full of curiosity peered at us
+through the casements. Our appearance was the signal for a general
+exclamation, followed by a simultaneous rush for the door, and in a
+few moments everybody, big and little, young and old, had descended
+and formed a circle around us, with Alfred for the centre, every one
+inquiring what was the matter and trying to keep out of his way. Your
+grandmother was the first to say:
+
+“Some one must wash this poor boy, and see if he is hurt.”
+
+“But how to wash him is the question,” said William’s papa. “He must
+take a bath.”
+
+“I will undertake the washing,” said Alfred’s father. “Follow me,
+Alfred; I see by your walk that you are not hurt. Let us go to the
+pond, where you can plunge right in; then, when rid of some of that
+mud, you may use the soap and finish your bath. The water is not cold
+at this season. William will lend you linen and other clothing.”
+
+Saying this, he went towards the brook, followed by Alfred, who was
+afraid to do otherwise, as he stood considerably in awe of his father.
+I ran to assist at the operation, which was long and hard, for the
+nasty, greasy mud stuck to his skin and hair. The servants hastened to
+bring him towels, soap, clothing and shoes. The papas helped scrub him,
+and at the end of half an hour he emerged from his bath nearly clean,
+but shivering, and so abashed that he did not wish to be seen, and
+begged his father to take him home immediately.
+
+Meanwhile, every one inquired how this accident had happened. William
+and Henry mentioned the two falls.
+
+“I believe,” said William, “that Cadichon was the cause of both. He
+bit my pony’s tail, which he never does when one of us is on the pony;
+this forced the pony into a gallop; he kicked, and sent Alfred over
+his head. I did not see the second fall, but, judging from Cadichon’s
+triumphant air, his joyful braying, and his present complacent
+demeanor, it is very easy to discover that the deed was intentional—he
+detests Alfred.”
+
+“How do you know he detests him?” asked Beatrice.
+
+“He shows it in a thousand ways,” said William. “You remember the day
+Alfred had a frog in his pocket, how Cadichon chased him, caught him by
+the seat of his trousers, and held him whilst we put on his jacket? I
+observed Cadichon’s expression, and perceived that he cast upon Alfred
+such malicious glances as he bestows only on those he hates. He never
+looks at us in that way. His eyes sparkled like coals; indeed, his look
+was really ugly.”
+
+“Cadichon,” added he, turning towards me, “isn’t it so? Haven’t I
+guessed exactly right; you detest Alfred, and treated him badly on
+purpose?”
+
+My answer was to bray and then lick his hand.
+
+“Do you know,” said Maud, “that Cadichon is really an extraordinary
+creature? I am sure he hears and understands us.”
+
+I gave her a grateful glance, and, going up to her side, laid my head
+on her shoulder.
+
+“What a pity, my Cadichon,” said Maud, “that you get worse and worse,
+and oblige us to love you less and less! And what a pity it is, also,
+that you cannot write! You have seen so much that would be interesting
+to relate,” she added, passing her hand over my head and neck. “If you
+could only write the story of your adventures, I am sure they would be
+very amusing!”
+
+“My poor Maud,” said Henry, “what nonsense you are saying, wishing that
+Cadichon who is a donkey, could write an account of his life.”
+
+“A donkey like Cadichon is only one in part.”
+
+“Bah! they are all alike and do what you will, they are never anything
+but donkeys.”
+
+“All donkeys are not alike.”
+
+“But this does not prevent people when they wish to describe a man as
+stupid, ignorant, and headstrong, from saying: ‘As stupid as a donkey,
+as ignorant as a donkey, as headstrong as a donkey’ and if you were to
+say to me, ‘Henry you are a donkey,’ I would get angry and certainly
+take it as an insult.”
+
+“You are right, and yet I feel and see, first that Cadichon
+understands a great deal, that he loves us, and that he has wonderful
+intelligence—moreover, that donkeys are donkeys when treated like
+donkeys, that is, with harshness and even cruelty, by masters whom they
+cannot love or serve faithfully.”
+
+“According to your doctrine, then, it is really Cadichon’s intelligence
+that instigated him to betray the robbers, and that prompts him to so
+many extraordinary deeds.”
+
+“Certainly, how else would you account for his revealing the place of
+their concealment, except that he wished to do so?”
+
+“I would say, that seeing his comrades enter the cave, he wished to
+rejoin them.”
+
+“And the tricks of the learned donkey?”
+
+“I would account for that day’s doings on the score of jealousy and
+malice.”
+
+“And the race in which he came off victor?”
+
+“A donkey’s pride.”
+
+“And the fire when he saved Pauline?”
+
+“It was instinct.”
+
+“Hush, Henry, you provoke me.”
+
+“I am very fond of Cadichon, I assure you; but I consider him just what
+he is in reality, a donkey; and you, you make him a genius. I must
+say, that if he is endowed with all the mind and intelligence that you
+believe he possesses, he is wicked and detestable.”
+
+“How so?”
+
+“By turning into ridicule the poor learned donkey and his master,
+thus preventing them from making the money necessary for their
+subsistence—again, in playing so many ugly tricks on Alfred, who never
+did him any harm, and, finally, in making himself so detestable to the
+other animals, biting, kicking and maltreating them generally.”
+
+“That is true, indeed, you are right, Henry. I would rather believe for
+the sake of Cadichon’s honor, that he is ignorant of what he does and
+the consequences of his deeds.”
+
+And Maud ran off with Henry, leaving me alone, and quite displeased at
+what I had just heard. I felt indeed that Henry’s condemnation of my
+behavior was just, but I was unwilling to acknowledge it, and still
+more unwilling to change my conduct, by shaking off the yoke of pride,
+ill temper and revenge, by which I had so long been governed.
+
+
+
+
+XXII.
+
+THE PUNISHMENT.
+
+
+I remained alone till evening, no one came near me. Feeling lonesome
+and wearied, I went towards the servants who were airing themselves at
+the kitchen door, and engaged in conversation.
+
+“He is getting too wicked indeed,” said the chambermaid. “What an ugly
+trick he played on poor Alfred; he might have killed or drowned him.”
+
+“And after that he seemed so delighted,” said the valet, “he ran, he
+leaped, he brayed, as if he had accomplished something great.”
+
+“He shall be paid for it,” said the coachman, “I am going to give him a
+dressing off for his supper.”
+
+“Take care,” replied the valet, “if madam sees it—”
+
+“And how would madam see it? Do you suppose I am going to whip him
+under madam’s eyes? I shall wait until he is in the stable.”
+
+“Then you will be apt to wait a long time, for this animal that does
+only what he pleases, goes to the stable very late.”
+
+“Well, if I get tired waiting for him, I know a way to take him there
+in spite of himself and without disturbing any one.”
+
+“How can you do that?” asked the chambermaid, “for the wicked thing
+brays in such a way as to alarm the house.”
+
+“Leave him to me! I’ll stifle his breath, so that you will hardly hear
+him breathe,” was the reply, followed by a burst of laughter from the
+whole party.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+I was enraged at their spite, and began to consider some means of
+avoiding the threatened punishment. I would have jumped at them then,
+and bitten every one but I dared not, for fear they would go in a body
+and complain to my mistress, and I had a vague presentiment that vexed
+and annoyed at my numberless tricks, she might drive me off.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Whilst I was deliberating, I heard the chambermaid tell the coachman
+to look at my wicked eyes. He shrugged his shoulders, arose, went
+into the kitchen, and coming out again, directed his steps towards the
+stable. In passing me he threw a slip knot over my head; I drew back to
+break it, and he pulled in the opposite direction to make me advance;
+we both pulled our best, in consequence of which the tighter the cord
+strangled me; at the very first I tried to bray, but in vain, I could
+scarcely breathe, and was forced at last to yield. He led me to the
+stable, the door of which was obligingly opened by the other domestics.
+Once in my stall, they promptly passed the halter over my head and
+untied the rope that was choking me; then the coachman having first
+taken the precaution to shut the door, seized the wagon whip and began
+to beat me unmercifully, without the slightest remonstrance or sign
+of pity from anyone present. In vain did I bray and struggle, my young
+masters could not hear me, and the coachman was free to consult his own
+time and taste in meting out the punishment due the many wicked deeds
+of which I was accused.
+
+He left me in a state of suffering and dejection impossible to
+describe. It was the first time since my entrance into this house,
+that I had ever been humiliated and beaten. Since then, however, in
+reflecting upon it, I have recognized the justice of my punishment.
+
+The next day it was quite late when the coachman let me out of the
+stable. I was strongly tempted to bite him in the face, but was
+prevented, as on the previous day, only by the fear of being driven off
+the place.
+
+I directed my steps towards the house. The children were all collected
+around the front entrance, engaged in a most animated conversation.
+
+“There he is now, that wicked Cadichon,” said William, seeing me
+approach; “let us chase him away, he’ll bite us or play some ugly trick
+on us, like he did the other day on poor Alfred.”
+
+“What was it the doctor told papa just now?” asked Maud.
+
+“He says that Alfred is very sick; he has a fever and is delirious,”
+replied William.
+
+“Delirious?” inquired James, “what is that?”
+
+“A person is delirious,” answered William, “when he has such high fever
+that he does not know what he says, when he does not recognize anybody,
+and thinks he sees a great many things that he does not.”
+
+“What does Alfred think he sees?” asked Louis.
+
+“He imagines all the time that Cadichon is before him and going to dart
+at him and bite or crush him under foot; the doctor is very anxious
+about him; papa and my uncles have gone there now.”
+
+“How base it was in Cadichon to throw poor Alfred into that disgusting
+hole!” said Beatrice.
+
+“Yes; it was really base, sir,” exclaimed James, turning towards me.
+“Go! you are wicked! I do not love you anymore.”
+
+“Nor I, nor I, nor I,” repeated all the children in unison. “Go away,
+we want nothing more to do with you!”
+
+I was filled with consternation; every one, even to my little James
+(heretofore so tender and affectionate), repulsed me now.
+
+I slowly directed my steps in another direction, but turned and looked
+so sadly at James that his heart was touched. Running to me, he put his
+hands on my head, and said in a caressing voice:
+
+“Listen, Cadichon, we don’t love you now, but if you do better I assure
+you we will love you as before.”
+
+“No, no; never as before!” exclaimed all the rest; “he has been too
+bad!”
+
+“You see, Cadichon, what comes of being bad,” said little James,
+passing his hand over my neck. “You see that no one cares for you—but,”
+added he, whispering in my ear, “I still love you a little, and if you
+give up your ugly tricks I will love you a great deal, just as before.”
+
+[Illustration: He imagines that Cadichon is going to jump on him.—(Page
+184.)]
+
+“Take care, James,” said Henry, “don’t go too near him; if he should
+give you a bite or a kick, he would make you suffer much.”
+
+“There is no danger; I am very sure he’ll never bite any of us.”
+
+“And why not?” He threw Alfred off twice.
+
+“Oh! but Alfred, that’s another thing; he does not like Alfred.”
+
+“And why doesn’t he like Alfred? What did Alfred ever do to him? He
+might take a notion some day not to like us either.”
+
+James made no answer, for indeed there was nothing he could say; but
+he shook his head, and turning towards me, gave me such a friendly
+little caress, that I was affected to tears. The abandonment of all
+the others, rendered still more precious those marks of affection
+from my dear little James; and for the first time a sincere thought
+of repentance found its way into my heart. Poor Alfred’s illness
+caused me much anxiety. In the afternoon, we heard that he was worse,
+and the physician entertained fears of his life. Towards evening my
+young masters themselves went to his father’s to make inquiries about
+him. Their cousins impatiently awaited their return, and at the first
+glimpse of them all cried out: “Well, what news? how is Alfred?”
+
+“Very sick,” answered William, “and yet, not quite so ill as he was.”
+
+“His poor father,” said Henry, “is greatly to be pitied; he weeps and
+sighs, and begs the good God to spare him his son; he said so many
+touching things, that I could not help crying myself.”
+
+“We must all remember him in our evening prayers, we must pray with him
+and for him, must we not, dear ones?” said Elizabeth.
+
+“Certainly, with all our hearts,” responded every child at once.
+
+“Poor Alfred! suppose he should die!” said Beatrice.
+
+“Then,” answered Maud, “his father would lose his mind from grief, for
+Alfred is his only child!”
+
+“Where is Alfred’s mother?” said Elizabeth, “we never see her.”
+
+“It would be very astonishing if we were to see her,” answered William,
+“for she has been dead ten years.”
+
+“And the singular part of it is, that the poor lady’s death was caused
+by her falling into the water whilst on a boating party,” said Henry.
+
+“How? was she drowned,” inquired Elizabeth.
+
+“No,” said William, “she was rescued immediately; but it was warm
+weather, and the sudden chill of the water, combined with the fright,
+threw her into a fever and delirium just like Alfred’s, from which she
+died in eight days.”
+
+“Oh! my God!” exclaimed Maud, “grant it may not be thus with Alfred!”
+
+“And for this intention we must pray fervently,” said Elizabeth,
+“perhaps the good God will grant our request.”
+
+“Where is James?” inquired Beatrice.
+
+“He was here just now, he will return,” said Maud.
+
+[Illustration: “How is Alfred?”—(Page 191.)]
+
+But the poor child did not return, for he had thrown himself upon his
+knees behind a chest, and with his head buried in his hands, he wept
+and prayed! And it was I who had caused all this sorrow, Alfred’s
+illness, his father’s anxiety and bitter grief, my little James’s
+distress. This thought was a sad one for me, I began to reflect that it
+would have been better to have left Medor’s death unavenged.
+
+“What good did Alfred’s fall do to Medor?” I asked. “Medor is none
+the less lost to me, and the vengeance I have taken, has only served
+another purpose, that of making me feared and detested.”
+
+I impatiently awaited the next morning’s news of Alfred, and I was
+among the first to hear, for James and Louis harnessed me to the little
+carriage to take them over. Immediately on our arrival, we learned from
+a servant who was hastening for the doctor, that Alfred had passed
+a bad night, and had just had a convulsion that greatly alarmed his
+father. James and Louis waited for the doctor. He was not long in
+coming, and promised to give them correct news of his patient.
+
+In half an hour he descended the steps.
+
+“Oh! Mister Tudoux, how is Alfred?” inquired Louis and James.
+
+“Very sick, very sick, my children, but not as ill as I feared,” said
+Mister Tudoux very slowly.
+
+“But these convulsions,” asked Louis, “are they not dangerous?”
+
+“No, his convulsion resulted from great irritation of the nervous
+system. I gave him a pill that will compose him. He is not dangerously
+ill,” said Doctor Tudoux, in the same slow, deliberate manner.
+
+“Then, Mister Tudoux, you do not think he will die?” asked James.
+
+“No, no, no,” was the reply in the same measured tones, “he is not
+seriously ill, not at all.”
+
+“I am so glad!” exclaimed both the boys, “thanks Mister Tudoux.
+Good-bye, we must hasten home to take the good news to our cousins.”
+
+“Wait, wait a moment. Isn’t that Cadichon you are driving?”
+
+“Yes, this is Cadichon,” replied James.
+
+“Then take care,” said Doctor Tudoux calmly, “he might throw you into a
+ditch as he did Alfred. Tell your grandmother she ought to sell him, he
+is a dangerous animal.”
+
+And the Doctor bade them good morning. As for me, I remained in such a
+state of astonishment and humiliation, that I stood motionless, never
+dreaming of taking a step homeward until my little masters had thrice
+said to me:
+
+“Come, Cadichon, get up!—Go, Cadichon, get along, we are in a
+hurry!—Are you going to sleep here, Cadichon? Get up, get up!”
+
+I started at last, and ran all the way to the house, reaching which, we
+found the cousins, uncles and aunts, papas and mammas assembled at the
+first entrance, anxiously awaiting our return.
+
+“He is better,” exclaimed James and Louis, and then they related their
+conversation with Mister Tudoux, not forgetting his last injunction.
+
+With lively trepidation, I awaited the grandmother’s decision. After an
+instant’s reflection, she said:
+
+“It is very certain, my dear children, that Cadichon no longer deserves
+our confidence, and I do not wish the smaller of you to mount him.
+The very next trick he plays on any one, I shall sell him to the
+miller, who will give him employment in carrying bags of flour, but I
+want to try him a little longer, before reducing him to this state of
+humiliation. Perhaps he will reform, we shall be able to tell very well
+at the end of a few months.”
+
+My dejection, my humiliation, my repentance increased, but I could
+not repair the evil I had wrought myself, except by dint of patience,
+gentleness and time. I was deeply wounded both in my pride and my
+affections.
+
+Next day we heard still more encouraging news of Alfred. A few days
+later he was convalescent, and ceased to be the subject of anxiety at
+the castle.
+
+But I could never have him out of my mind, for some one was continually
+saying within my hearing:
+
+“Beware of Cadichon! Remember Alfred!”
+
+
+
+
+XXIII.
+
+THE REFORMATION.
+
+
+Since the day I had scratched Alfred’s face, brushing him up against
+all the thorny bushes along the road, and ended by pitching him into
+the ditch, there was a very visible change in the treatment I received
+from my little masters, their parents, and in fact, from every one
+about the place. The very animals behaved differently towards me; they
+seemed to avoid me, moving off when I approached them, or maintaining
+a rigid silence in my presence; for, as I have already remarked in
+connection with my friend Medor, we other animals converse among
+ourselves without speaking as men do, movements of the eyes, the ears,
+the tail taking the place of words. I knew only too well what had
+caused this change, and I was more irritated than grieved, until one
+day, when, alone as usual, taking my ease at the foot of a pine tree, I
+saw Henry and Elizabeth approach; they seated themselves and continued
+their conversation.
+
+“I believe you are right, Henry,” said Elizabeth, “and I agree with
+you; I also care very little for Cadichon since he treated Alfred so
+badly.”
+
+“And not only Alfred; don’t you remember the fair of Laigle, how he
+behaved to the learned donkey’s master?” replied Henry.
+
+“Ah! ah! ah! Yes; I recollect very well, it was funny! Everybody
+laughed; but for all that, we thought he displayed more wit than heart.”
+
+“That is true; he humbled the poor donkey and his master. I have been
+told that the unfortunate man was so ridiculed he had to leave without
+a cent in his pocket, and his wife and children were in tears for want
+of something to eat.”
+
+“And it was all Cadichon’s fault.”
+
+“Certainly; except for him the poor man would have made enough to live
+on several weeks.”
+
+“And, then, do you remember what was told us about the tricks he played
+his former masters? He ate their vegetables, broke their eggs, soiled
+their linen—I am decidedly of your opinion; I care for him no more.”
+
+Elizabeth and Henry arose and continued their walk. I remained sad
+and dejected; my first impulse was to get angry and gratify myself by
+taking some slight revenge, but reflection convinced me that they were
+right; I was always taking revenge, and what had it availed me? it had
+rendered me unhappy.
+
+First, I had broken the teeth and the arm of one of my mistresses, and
+kicked her in the stomach. The consequence was that I would have been
+beaten almost to death had I not luckily made my escape.
+
+I had also played numberless tricks on one of my masters, who had been
+good to me until I got lazy and vicious; then he treated me harshly,
+and I became very unhappy.
+
+As to the death of my friend Medor, I had never reflected that Alfred
+killed him not intentionally, or from malice, but through awkwardness,
+and that for his stupidity the boy was not to blame. In revenge, I
+had tormented him, finishing by causing him a spell of sickness, the
+consequence of his plunge into the ditch.
+
+And besides all these, of what numberless untold tricks had I not been
+guilty!
+
+The end of which was that no one cared for me. I was alone, no one came
+near to console or caress me, even the animals kept out of my way.
+
+“What shall I do?” I sadly asked myself. “If I could speak, I would go
+and tell them all that I have repented, that I beg pardon for my past
+conduct, that hereafter, I promise to be good and gentle, but alas!—I
+cannot make them understand, I cannot speak!”
+
+I threw myself upon the grass and wept, not as men shed tears, but in
+the depths of my heart; I wept, I bemoaned my sad lot, and for the
+first time I repented sincerely.
+
+“Ah! if I had been good,” said I “and instead of displaying my
+intelligence, had tried to show kindness, gentleness, patience! if I
+had only been to every one what I was to Pauline! how every one would
+love me, and how happy I should now be!”
+
+I reflected a long time, a very long time, forming first good
+resolutions and plans and then bad.
+
+At last, I decided upon a reformation so as to regain the favor of
+my masters and comrades, and I began immediately to put my good
+resolutions into practice.
+
+For some time, I had had a comrade that I treated very badly, a donkey
+which was bought for the little ones, as they were afraid to ride
+me after I came so near drowning Alfred. The larger children were
+not afraid of me, but I had lost favor and there were no longer any
+disputes at their riding parties, as to who should have me, little
+James being the only one who asked for me.
+
+This comrade was the object of my especial contempt, I always kept
+him behind me, kicking and biting him if he attempted to pass, until
+at last, the poor animal was worried into giving me first place and
+submitting to all my caprices.
+
+That evening when the time arrived for us to go into the stable, I
+found myself near the door almost at the same moment as my comrade.
+He eagerly made way for me to enter first, but as he was a few steps
+ahead, I stopped in turn, and made a sign for him to pass. The poor
+donkey obeyed me, but trembling, suspicious of my politeness and
+believing it only the prelude to some trick, for instance a kick or a
+bite. He was very much astonished to find himself safe and sound in his
+stall, and to see me take my place peaceably in mine.
+
+Noticing his astonishment, I said to him:
+
+“Brother, I have treated you very badly, but I shall do so no longer;
+I have been proud, but I shall never be so again; I have despised,
+humiliated, insulted you, but I do not intend to repeat it. Pardon me,
+brother, and in future regard me as a companion, a friend.”
+
+“Thanks, brother,” replied the poor donkey overjoyed. “I was unhappy,
+but I will be happy now; I was sad, I will be gay; I felt myself
+isolated, but now I feel loved and protected. Thanks again, brother,
+love me, for I already love you.”
+
+“Let me in turn, brother, thank you,” said I, “for I have been spiteful
+and you have pardoned me, I have made advances and you have not
+repulsed me, I have offered you my friendship, and you have given me
+yours. Yes, it is my turn, brother, to thank you.”
+
+And eating our supper, we thus continued to converse. It was the first
+time, for hitherto I had never deigned to notice him. I found him much
+better and wiser than myself, and I asked him to assist me in my new
+life, which he promised to do with equal affection and modesty.
+
+The horses, witnesses of our conversation and my unaccustomed
+gentleness, glanced at me and then at one another with surprise.
+Although they conversed in an undertone, I heard one say:
+
+“This is all pretence on Cadichon’s part; he is going to play some
+trick on his companion.”
+
+“Poor donkey,” answered the second horse, “I pity him. Suppose we give
+him a hint of it.”
+
+“Oh, no indeed,” replied the first horse. “Silence! Cadichon is wicked!
+he would pay us up for this if he were to hear us.”
+
+I was deeply wounded at the bad opinion those two horses had of
+me; the third said nothing, but putting his head over the stall, he
+observed me attentively. I looked at him sadly and humbly. He appeared
+surprised but never moved, and continued to regard me in silence.
+
+Fatigued and worn out by sorrow and regret, I lay down upon my bed,
+and as I did so, perceived it was less soft and comfortable than my
+comrade’s. Instead of getting angry as formerly, I recognized the
+justice of such treatment, and indulged in penitent reflections.
+
+“I have been wicked,” said I, “and they have punished me; I have
+made myself detestable, and they have made me feel it. I ought to
+congratulate myself on not having been sent to the mill, where I would
+be beaten, badly stabled, and my back broken with heavy loads.”
+
+Thus bemoaning my past misdeeds, I fell asleep. As I awoke the next
+morning the coachman entered the stable, assisting me to rise with a
+kick, he took off my halter and set me at liberty. I remained at the
+door, and to my surprise, beheld him curry and carefully rub down my
+comrade, then pass my beautiful ornamented bridle over his head, put my
+English saddle on his back, and lead him around to the front entrance.
+
+Anxious, trembling with emotion, I followed, and oh! what was my
+chagrin, my desolation to see James, my beloved little master, approach
+my comrade, and after a little hesitation, seat himself in the saddle.
+I remained motionless, overcome with grief. Dear little James perceived
+my consternation, for coming up to me, he patted me on the head and
+said sadly:
+
+“Poor Cadichon! you see what you have done! I am not afraid to ride
+you, but papa and mama are afraid you will pitch me off. Good-bye, poor
+Cadichon; be quiet, I will always like you.”
+
+And he rode slowly off, followed by the coachman, who cried out to him:
+
+“Take care, Master James, do not stay too near Cadichon, he will bite
+you, he will bite your donkey, you know very well how wicked he is.”
+
+“He never was wicked with me and he never will be,” answered James.
+
+The coachman struck the donkey, which started at a trot, and both
+he and his rider were soon out of sight. I remained rooted to the
+spot, overwhelmed with emotion, which was so much the more violent
+in proportion to the impossibility of making anyone understand
+my repentance and my good resolutions. Almost frantic with the
+insupportable weight oppressing my heart, I started off in a run, not
+knowing whither I went. I ran a long time, breaking through hedges,
+leaping ditches, clearing fences, crossing streams, not stopping till I
+came to a wall which I could neither break nor leap.
+
+I looked around me. Where was I? The country seemed familiar, but I
+could not remember when I had ever been there before. I skirted the
+wall at a rapid pace. I was in a foam, having run several hours,
+judging by the sun. A few steps brought me to the end of the wall; I
+turned the corner, and recoiled with surprise and terror—I was not more
+than two steps from Pauline’s tomb.
+
+My anguish was more bitter than ever. “Pauline, my dear little
+mistress!” I exclaimed, “you loved me because I was good; I loved you
+because you were good and unhappy. After losing you, I found others,
+who, good like you, treated me kindly. I was happy then, but all is
+changed now; my bad disposition, the desire of displaying my ability
+and satisfying my vengeance have destroyed all my happiness; no one
+cares for me now, and if I were to die no one would regret me.”
+
+I wept bitterly within myself, and for the hundredth time reproached
+myself with my misconduct. One consoling thought suddenly inspired
+me with consolation. “If I reform,” thought I, “and do as much good
+as I have evil, perhaps my young masters will receive me again into
+their confidence, my dear little James especially, who still loves
+me a little. But how shall I make known to them my repentance and
+reformation?”
+
+Whilst thus reflecting on my future, I heard steps approaching the
+wall, and the harsh voice of a man, saying:
+
+“What is the use of crying, simpleton? Tears will not give you bread,
+will they? Since I have nothing to give you, what do you wish me to
+do here? Do you suppose I have a full stomach, I who have swallowed
+nothing since yesterday morning but air and dust?”
+
+“I am very tired, father.”
+
+“Well, let us rest under the shade of this wall for a quarter of an
+hour; I am quite willing.”
+
+As they turned the wall and seated themselves near the tomb where I
+stood, judge of my astonishment at seeing Mirliflore’s poor master,
+with his wife and son! They all had a hungry, emaciated, care-worn
+appearance.
+
+The father looked at me; he seemed surprised, and, after a few minutes
+hesitation:
+
+“If I see aright,” said he, “this is the donkey, the beggarly donkey
+that made me lose more than fifty francs at the Laigle fair. You wicked
+animal,” he continued, addressing me, “you were the cause of my poor
+Mirliflore being killed by the crowd; it was you who prevented my
+gaining money enough to have lived on a month; you shall pay up for it!”
+
+He arose and approached, but I did not stir, being keenly conscious
+that I had merited this man’s indignation. He was astonished.
+
+“It cannot be the same,” said he, “for he does not budge any more than
+a stick—‘Pretty fellow,’” he continued addressing me and smoothing my
+limbs. “If I had him only a month, you would not want bread my son, nor
+your mother, nor would my stomach be so empty.”
+
+My mind was made up in an instant, I resolved to follow this man for
+several days, and suffer everything if necessary, to help him make some
+money for his family, in reparation of the wrong I had done him.
+
+[Illustration: The owner of Mirliflore, with his wife and son.—(Page
+202.)]
+
+When they resumed their journey, I followed them; at first, it was not
+noticed, but the father having looked around several times, and seen me
+always at their heels, tried to drive me back. I refused to leave them,
+persistently returning to my place beside or just behind them.
+
+“It is strange,” said the man, “that this animal will follow us! My
+faith, since he is so determined, let him do it.”
+
+On reaching the village, he presented himself at an inn, and asked for
+a meal and lodging, frankly confessing that he had not a cent in his
+pocket.
+
+“We have beggars enough of our own, my good man,” answered the
+inn-keeper, “without adding those who do not belong here, you must go
+elsewhere.”
+
+I darted to the inn-keeper’s side, and saluted him several times in
+such a grotesque fashion as to make him laugh.
+
+“This animal of yours does not appear stupid,” said the inn-keeper,
+laughing. “If you will let us see some of his tricks, I will cheerfully
+give you food and lodging.”
+
+“I do not refuse, landlord, but we must have something in our stomachs
+first,” answered the man, “when fasting, one cannot control his voice
+properly.”
+
+“Come in, come in, you shall be waited on; Madelon, my old woman,
+dinner for three, not counting the donkey.”
+
+Madelon brought them some good soup, which was swallowed in the
+twinkling of an eye, then a nice piece of boiled meat and some cabbage,
+both of which disappeared with equal rapidity, and at last, a dish of
+salad and some cheese, which they devoured with less avidity, their
+hunger by this time being somewhat appeased.
+
+My dinner was a bundle of hay, but I ate very little, I had too heavy a
+heart to be hungry.
+
+The inn-keeper had collected all the village to see me perform, and
+the yard was filled, when my new master led me out into the circle. He
+seemed greatly embarrassed, not knowing my capacity or whether I had
+received any education. At a venture he said to me:
+
+“Salute the society.”
+
+I made a bow to the right, to the left, before me and behind, and
+everybody applauded.
+
+“What are you going to make him do now?” said the wife in an under
+tone, “he doesn’t know what you mean.”
+
+“Perhaps he will understand. These educated donkeys are intelligent, I
+am going to try him.”
+
+“Go, Mirliflore,” (this name made me sigh) “go, kiss the prettiest lady
+here.”
+
+Looking right and left, I perceived behind nearly every one else, the
+landlord’s daughter, a pretty brunette of some fifteen or sixteen
+years. I directed my steps towards her, and pushing away with my head,
+those who blocked the passage, I went up to her and put my nose against
+her forehead. She laughed and seemed to be quite pleased.
+
+“Say now, father Hutfer, you gave that lesson, didn’t you?” exclaimed
+several in the crowd, laughing.
+
+“No, upon my honor,” answered Hutfer, “I came only as a spectator.”
+
+“Now, Mirliflore,” said my new master, “go find something, no matter
+what, and give it to the poorest person present.”
+
+I went towards the room in which they had just dined, seized a loaf of
+bread and triumphantly deposited it in his own hands.
+
+There was a general laugh, everybody applauded. “That’s not your
+lesson, father Hutfer,” cried a friend, “this donkey really is
+sensible, he has profited well by his master’s training.”
+
+“Are you going to let him have a whole loaf of bread like that?” said
+some one in the crowd.
+
+“No, not that,” answered Hutfer, “give it to me, donkey-man, this was
+not in our agreement.”
+
+“It was not, landlord,” responded the man, “nevertheless my donkey
+told the truth, when he pointed me out as the poorest here, for until
+we got our dinner, my wife, my son, and myself had eaten nothing since
+yesterday morning, for want of two sous to buy a bit of bread.”
+
+“Let him have the bread, father,” said Helen Hutfer, “our meal bins are
+full, and the good God will recompense us for what we give away.”
+
+“That is just like you, Helen,” said Hutfer, “if one listened to you,
+he would give away all he has.”
+
+“We are no longer poor, father, the good God always blesses our
+harvests and our house.”
+
+“Well, then—since you wish it—let him keep his bread, I am willing.”
+
+At these words, I went up to him, and made him a profound bow. Then
+taking between my teeth a little empty pan, I presented it to each one
+for his contribution, and when after going the round my pan was full,
+I emptied the contents into my master’s hands, put the pan where I
+had found it, and making a bow, I gravely retired amidst a storm of
+applause.
+
+My heart felt lighter. I was consoled and strengthened in my good
+resolutions. My new master seemed delighted. As he was about to retire,
+every one surrounded him, begging a second exhibition on the morrow,
+which he eagerly promised, and then went into the room with his wife
+and son to rest.
+
+When they found themselves alone, the wife, after looking cautiously
+around her, and perceiving no one but me with my head resting upon the
+window, said to her husband in a low tone:
+
+“Say husband, don’t you think it very singular our meeting this donkey
+coming out of a cemetery, its following us of its own accord, and
+making so much money for us? What amount have you there?”
+
+“I have not yet counted,” he answered, “come help me, you take this
+handful and I, the other.”
+
+“I have eight francs and four sous,” said the woman, after counting.
+
+“And I have seven fifty—that makes—how much does that make, wife?”
+
+“How much does that make? Eight and four make thirteen, and seven make
+twenty-four, and fifty make—make—somewhere about sixty.”
+
+“How stupid you are! Sixty francs in my hands, indeed! It is an
+impossibility! Come, my son, you are something of a scholar, you ought
+to know that.”
+
+“What is it, papa?”
+
+“I have eight francs four sous on one side, and seven francs fifty on
+the other.”
+
+“Eight and four make twelve,” said the boy, with quite a decided
+air; “carry one, and seven make twenty, carry two, and fifty
+make—make—fifty—fifty-two, carry five.”
+
+“Dunce! how could that make fifty, since I have eight in one hand and
+seven in the other?”
+
+“And fifty besides, papa.”
+
+“‘And fifty besides, papa?’” said his father, mocking him. “Don’t you
+see, simpleton, that the fifty are centimes? and centimes are not
+francs.”
+
+“No, papa; but it would still be fifty.”
+
+“Fifty what? How stupid! how stupid! If I were to give you fifty
+knocks, would you call them fifty francs?”
+
+“No, papa; but they would still be fifty.”
+
+“Here is one on the account, big animal,” said the man, giving him a
+blow that resounded through the house. The boy began to cry. I was
+enraged. If this poor boy was stupid, it was not his fault.
+
+“This man,” said I, “does not merit my pity; he has now, thanks to
+myself, enough to support himself and family for the next eight days.
+I shall still make more at to-morrow’s exhibition, and, after that, I
+return to my masters, perhaps they will receive me kindly.”
+
+I withdrew from the window and refreshed myself with a few fresh
+thistles that I saw growing on the edge of a ditch. I then went to the
+stable, and, finding the best places there already occupied by the
+horses, I modestly took a corner that no one wanted. There I could
+reflect at my ease, for nobody knew me, nobody troubled himself about
+me. Towards night, Helen Hutfer entered the stable to see if everything
+had been attended to, and, perceiving me in my damp, obscure corner,
+without a bed, hay or oats, she called one of the stable boys:
+
+“Ferdinand,” said she, “make a bed for this poor donkey here on the
+damp ground, give him a measure of oats and a bundle of hay, and see
+that he has water.”
+
+“Miss Helen,” replied Ferdinand, “you will ruin your papa; you are too
+careful of everything. What difference does it make whether this beast
+sleeps on a hard or a good bed? It is a waste of straw, that!”
+
+“You don’t find me too careful or kind when it concerns yourself,
+Ferdinand; I wish everything here to be well treated, beasts as well as
+men.”
+
+“Although,” said Ferdinand, with a mischievous air, “there are not a
+few men who could easily be taken for beasts, notwithstanding they do
+walk on two legs.”
+
+“Wherefore we say: ‘Beast which eat hay,’” answered Helen, smiling.
+
+“Oh! I would never give hay to you, miss, indeed! You have the wit—the
+wit—and the mischief of a monkey!”
+
+[Illustration: “Ah! miss, I did not say you were a monkey.”—(Page 213.)]
+
+“Thanks for the compliment, Ferdinand! What are you then, if I am a
+monkey?”
+
+“Ah! Miss, I did not say you were a monkey; and if I expressed myself
+badly, call me a donkey, a simpleton, an owl.”
+
+“No, no, not so bad as that, Ferdinand, but only a babbler who talks
+when he ought to work. Make a bed for the donkey,” added she in a
+serious tone, “and feed and water him.”
+
+She left the stable and Ferdinand complied with her orders in a
+measure, grumbling all the while. He made me a bed, giving me a few
+thrusts of the pitchfork as he did so, ill-naturedly threw me a bundle
+of hay and a handful of oats, and put a bucket of water beside me.
+
+Not being fastened I could easily have left the place, but in pursuance
+of my good resolutions I preferred to suffer a little and give on the
+morrow, my second, and last exhibition for the benefit of the man I had
+wronged.
+
+Towards evening of the next day my master led me out to a large square
+crowded with curious spectators; I had been well advertised in the
+morning, the village drummer having gone through the village at an
+early hour crying out: “This evening at eight o’clock there will be a
+grand exhibition of the learned donkey, Mirliflore; it will take place
+in the square opposite the school and mayor’s office.”
+
+I repeated all the preceding day’s tricks, and added some dances
+executed with grace; I waltzed, I polkaed, and, I played on Ferdinand
+the innocent trick of engaging him to waltz by braying before him, and
+extending my front hoof in invitation. He refused at first, but when
+every one cried out: “Yes, yes, a waltz with a donkey!” he darted into
+the circle laughing, and began to cut a thousand capers that I imitated
+at my best.
+
+At last, feeling fatigued, I left Ferdinand caper alone, and went as
+on the preceding day to get a pan. Not finding any, I took between my
+teeth a basket without a lid, and, as before, presented it to each one
+for a contribution. It was soon so full that I had to empty it in the
+blouse of my reputed master. I continued my begging, and, when all had
+given me, I, making a profound bow to the assembly again returned to
+my master, and waited till he had counted the proceeds which amounted
+to more than thirty-four francs. Thinking I had now made sufficient
+reparation for the past, I felt at liberty to return home, and
+consequently, after a parting salutation to my master, I wedged my way
+through the crowd, and started off in a trot.
+
+“Look there, your donkey has got away!” said Hutfer, the inn-keeper.
+
+“How prettily he flies off,” said Ferdinand.
+
+My pretended master turned around, looked at me anxiously, and called,
+“Mirliflore, Mirliflore;” but seeing I paid no attention, he cried out
+most piteously:
+
+“Stop him, stop him, please! It is my bread, my living he carries
+off; do run catch him, if you bring him back I promise you another
+exhibition.”
+
+“Tell us where you got him, and how long you have had him?” said a man
+named Clonet.
+
+[Illustration: The town crier.—(Page 213.)]
+
+“I have had him—since I owned him,” answered my false master, somewhat
+embarrassed.
+
+“I know that,” said Clonet, “but how long have you owned him?”
+
+The man was silent.
+
+“It appears to me,” added Clonet, “that I recognize him, he is the
+image of Cadichon, the donkey of Herpiniere castle; If I am not very
+much mistaken it is Cadichon.”
+
+I was stopped. I heard a confused murmuring of voices, I saw the
+trouble menacing my new master, who suddenly dashed through the crowd,
+and followed by his wife and son, darted off in the opposite direction
+to that I had taken.
+
+Some wished to pursue him, but others said it was not worth while,
+since I had escaped and the man had taken nothing away with him but the
+silver, which was his own, I having honestly made it for him.
+
+“And as to Cadichon,” said they, “give yourselves no concern about him,
+he can find the road home, and moreover, he will not let himself be
+taken unless he wishes it.”
+
+The crowd dispersed and all returned to their homes. I resumed my
+course hoping to reach my real masters before night, but the way was
+long, and being fatigued I was consequently obliged to stop about a
+league from the castle. It was night, the stables would be locked, so I
+decided to make my bed in a little piece of pine woods bordering on a
+stream.
+
+Scarcely had I lain down upon the moss, when I heard cautious steps and
+voices speaking in a whisper. I looked, but saw nothing, the night was
+too dark. I listened with all my ears and heard the conversation I am
+about to relate.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV.
+
+THE ROBBERS.
+
+
+“It is not late enough yet, Finot, it would be wiser to hide ourselves
+in the woods a little longer.”
+
+“But Passe Partout, we must have a little daylight to spy around; I,
+especially, for I have not studied the entrances.”
+
+“You have never studied anything, your comrades certainly made a
+mistake in naming you Finot, I would have called you Pataud, instead.”
+
+“That does not prevent my being the originator of all the good plans.”
+
+“Good plans indeed! that depends. What are we going to do at the
+castle?”
+
+“What are we going to do? Rifle the kitchen garden, cut up the
+artichokes, gather the peas, the beans, the turnips, carrots, carry off
+the fruits, that is the work.”
+
+“And what then?”
+
+“Why do you say what then? We are going to collect everything in a
+pile, get it over the wall, and take it to the market at Moulins and
+sell it.”
+
+“And how will you get into the garden, dunce?”
+
+“Over the wall, with a ladder to be sure. Would you have me go to the
+gardener and politely request the loan of his keys and tools?”
+
+“That’s a poor joke, I only want to know if you have marked out the
+place where we are to climb over the wall?”
+
+“No, and for that reason, I prefer going at once, to reconnoitre.”
+
+“And if they should see you, what would you say?”
+
+“I would say—that I came to beg a glass of cider and a crust of bread.”
+
+“That plan is not worth much. Now, here is my idea: I know the kitchen
+garden; one part of the wall needs repairing; I can climb up there by
+setting my feet among the stones; I shall find a ladder and pass it
+over to you, as you are not very expert in climbing.”
+
+“No; I am not as much of a cat as you.”
+
+“But suppose some one comes to upset our plans?”
+
+“You are a real child; if any one comes to disturb me, I shall know
+what to do.”
+
+“What would you do?”
+
+“If a dog, I would kill him; I don’t carry my sharp knife to no
+purpose.”
+
+“But suppose it’s a man?”
+
+“‘A man?’” answered Finot, scratching his ear. “That would be more
+perplexing—A man? yet a man can be killed as well as a dog. If it were
+only for something valuable but for vegetables! And, then, this castle
+is full of people.”
+
+“But tell me, what would you do?”
+
+“My faith! I would make off as fast as possible; it would be the safest
+plan.”
+
+“You are a coward, do you know that? If you see or hear a man, you have
+only to call me, and I will settle him.”
+
+“Act according to your own taste; it would not be mine.”
+
+“Well, now we are agreed—this is the plan: To-night we go to the
+kitchen garden wall; you remain at one end as a guard, whilst I climb
+over and get you a ladder, by means of which you rejoin me.”
+
+“Yes; it is all right,” answered Finot.
+
+Just then he looked anxiously around, listened, and said in a whisper:
+
+“I heard something stir back there, could it be anybody?”
+
+“Who wants to hide in the woods?” answered Passe Partout. “You are
+always afraid; it may be a frog or a snake.”
+
+They said no more. I did not stir again, and I now began to devise some
+means of thwarting these robbers’ plans and causing their arrest. I
+could warn no one; I could not even prevent their entering the garden.
+However, after much reflection, I thought of a scheme that might end
+theirs. I let them set out ahead of me, determined not to budge until
+they were out of hearing.
+
+I knew they could not walk fast, as the night was very dark. I took a
+short cut, and, clearing several hedges, reached the wall long before
+them. I knew the dilapidated place of which Passe Partout had spoken,
+and, finding it, crouched as close as possible to the wall to prevent
+their discovering me.
+
+Here I waited at least a quarter of an hour, still no one came; at
+last, I heard heavy footsteps and then a faint whispering. They
+approached very cautiously, one coming towards the spot in which I was
+concealed (this was Passe Partout), the other going in the opposite
+direction, near the entrance (this was Finot).
+
+I saw nothing, but I heard all. When Passe Partout reached the spot
+where several stones had fallen from the wall, and thus made a
+sufficient resting place for the feet, he began to ascend, assisting
+himself with his hands. I did not stir; I scarcely breathed; I heard
+and understood every one of his movements. When he had climbed about
+as high as my head, I darted out from my hiding place, seized him by
+the leg and gave him a vigorous pull. Before he had time to recollect
+himself, he was on the ground, stunned by the fall, wounded by the
+stones. To prevent his crying out, or calling on his comrade for help,
+I gave him a hard kick on the head, which left him unconscious. I then
+took my station very near him, thinking his comrade would soon come
+to see what had happened. I had not waited long ere I heard Finot
+advancing very cautiously. He took a few steps and stopped—he listened,
+heard nothing—and went a few steps farther. In this manner, he at
+length drew very near his companion, but without perceiving it, as his
+gaze was fixed upon the wall and the companion lay motionless on the
+ground.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+“Pst! pst! Have you the ladder? Must I mount now?” said he, in a low
+voice. The other, not hearing him, of course there was no answer. I
+saw that he was not much in the notion of climbing and might leave—it
+was time to act. I rushed at him, and, pulling him to the ground by
+the back of his blouse, gave him, like his companion, a hard kick
+on the head, and, with the same success, he lay motionless near his
+friend. Then, having nothing more to lose, I began to bray in my most
+formidable voice; I ran to the gardener’s house, to the stables, to the
+castle, braying with such violence that everybody was aroused. Some of
+the bravest hastened out with arms and lanterns; I ran up to them, and,
+by running a little ahead, led them to the two robbers stretched at
+the foot of the wall.
+
+“Two dead men! What can that mean?” said William’s father.
+
+“They are not dead,” answered James’s father; “they breathe.”
+
+[Illustration]
+
+“And I just heard one groan,” said the gardener.
+
+“Look at the blood! Such a wound on his head!” said the coachman.
+
+“And the other is similarly wounded; it looks like the kick of a horse
+or mule,” said William’s father.
+
+“Yes,” replied James’s father; “here is the mark of the shoe on his
+forehead.”
+
+“What are the gentlemen’s orders?” asked the coachman; “what shall we
+do with these men?”
+
+“Carry them to the house,” answered William’s father; “harness up the
+cab, and go for the doctor; whilst waiting for him, the rest of us will
+try to restore them to consciousness.”
+
+The gardener brought a litter, on which the wounded men were placed and
+carried to a large room used as an orangery in winter. They were still
+unconscious.
+
+“I do not know these faces,” said the gardener, after examining them
+attentively by the light.
+
+“Perhaps they have some papers about them that will reveal their
+identity,” said Louis’s father; “we ought to let their families know
+they are here and wounded.”
+
+The gardener rummaged in their pockets, and drew forth some papers,
+which he handed James’s papa; then two sharp, pointed knives and a big
+bunch of keys.
+
+“Ah! ah! This tells what these men are,” he exclaimed, “they came to
+rob and perhaps kill!”
+
+“I begin to understand it all now,” said William’s papa; “Cadichon’s
+presence and his extraordinary brayings explain matters; these men came
+here to rob; Cadichon instinctively divined their intentions, attacked
+them, kicked them on the head, and then began braying to arouse us.”
+
+“That is just it, the very thing,” said James’s papa; “this brave
+Cadichon can boast of having rendered us a great service; come,
+Cadichon, you are restored to favor this time.”
+
+I was happy once more, as I promenaded up and down before the
+green-house, whilst Finot and Passe Partout received the necessary
+attentions. They had not yet recovered consciousness, when Doctor
+Tudoux, who was not long in making his appearance, reached the spot. He
+examined their wounds.
+
+“Here are two well-directed blows,” said he; “I see distinctly the
+mark of a small horse-shoe, or I might say a donkey’s—and,” added he,
+perceiving me, “it is probably a new piece of mischief on the part
+of this animal, which seems as interested in our actions as if he
+understood them.”
+
+“Not a piece of mischief, but an act of fidelity and intelligence,”
+answered William’s papa; “these men are robbers, as you see by the
+knives and papers found on them.”
+
+And he began to read:
+
+“No. 1. Castle Herp. Many people; not easily robbed—kitchen garden
+easy—vegetables and fruits, wall a little high.”
+
+“No. 2. Presbytery. Old priest; no arms—woman servant, old and
+deaf—Good chance to rob during Mass.”
+
+“No. 3. Sourval Castle. Master absent—Wife alone on ground floor,
+servant in the second story, fine silver, easily robbed. Kill if they
+give an alarm.”
+
+“No. 4. Chanday Castle. Fierce watch dogs to be poisoned—no one on the
+ground floor—plate, gallery of rich curiosities and jewels to rob. Kill
+if anybody comes.”
+
+“You see,” continued he, “these men are burglars who came to rifle our
+garden in default of something better. Whilst you give them surgical
+attention, I will send to the town for the chief of the police.”
+
+Drawing from his pocket a case of surgical instruments, Doctor Tudoux
+took a lancet and bled the two robbers, who soon opened their eyes.
+They were greatly frightened at finding themselves in the castle and
+surrounded by people. When entirely restored to consciousness, they
+wished to speak.
+
+“Silence knaves,” said Doctor Tudoux slowly and calmly. “Silence, there
+is no necessity for your telling us who you are or what brought you
+here.”
+
+Finot put his hand in his vest; the papers were not there, he sought
+his knife, it was also gone. He looked at Passe Partout with a serious
+air and said in a low voice:
+
+“I told you in the woods I heard a noise.”
+
+“Hush,” answered Passe Partout in the same tone, “they will understand.
+We must deny everything.”
+
+“But the papers, they have them.”
+
+“We must say we found them.”
+
+“And the knives?”
+
+“We found them also, we must make a bold stand.”
+
+“Do you know who it was gave you that blow on the head which stretched
+you senseless?”
+
+“My faith! I do not know, I had not time to see or hear. I found myself
+on the ground and struck in a trice.”
+
+“And I the same. We must find out however, if they saw us climb the
+wall.”
+
+“We will indeed find out, those who attacked us, of course, will tell
+how and why.”
+
+“That is true. Till then we must deny everything. Just now, let us
+agree upon the details of our account, so as not to contradict each
+other. First, were we journeying together? Where did we find the—”
+
+“Separate these two men,” said Louis’s father, “they are agreeing upon
+the tale they are to tell.”
+
+Two men seized Finot, and two, Passe Partout, bound them hand and foot,
+in spite of their resistance, and carried Passe Partout into another
+room.
+
+The night was far advanced, all were impatiently awaiting the chief
+of the police. About daybreak he arrived, and accompanied by four
+policeman, having been told there was question of arresting two
+robbers. My little masters’ fathers recounted all that had happened,
+and produced the knives and papers found in the men’s pockets.
+
+“This sort of a knife,” said the officer, “indicates dangerous
+burglars, who murder to further their purposes. Moreover, it is easy
+to learn from these papers, that they had planned several robberies
+in the neighborhood. I would not be at all surprised if these two men
+were not Finot and Passe Partout, very hardened brigands escaped from
+the galleys, and now the object of official pursuit in several of
+the departments, where they have committed numberless and audacious
+thefts. I am going to examine them separately, you may assist at the
+examination if you wish.”
+
+Saying this, he entered the room where Finot lay. Looking at him an
+instant, he said:
+
+“Good morning, Finot! so you are taken at last.”
+
+Finot trembled and reddened, but said nothing.
+
+“Ah! Finot, so we have lost our tongue? Nevertheless, it was voluble
+enough at the last trial.”
+
+“To whom were you speaking, sir,” said Finot looking all around him,
+“there is no one here but myself.”
+
+“I know that very well, it is to yourself I am speaking.”
+
+“I do not know, sir, why you address me thus, I am not acquainted with
+you.”
+
+“Yes, but I am acquainted with you, you are Finot, an escaped criminal,
+condemned to the galleys for robbery and assaults.”
+
+“You are mistaken, sir, I am not the person you pretend to know so
+well.”
+
+“Then who are you, whence do you come, and where were you going?”
+
+“I am a dealer in sheep and was on my way to a fair at Moulins, to buy
+lambs.”
+
+“Indeed! and your companion, is he also a dealer in sheep and lambs?”
+
+“I do not know, we had met but a few moments before we were attacked
+and overcome by a band of robbers.”
+
+“And what about the papers in your pockets?”
+
+“I do not even know what they contain, we found them not far from here,
+and had not time to examine them.”
+
+“And the knives?”
+
+“The knives were with the papers.”
+
+“Really, you were lucky, to find and pick up so much without being able
+to see, the night was very dark.”
+
+“It was mere chance. My comrade stepped upon something that felt
+strange, we both stooped down, and feeling around, found these papers
+and knives which we divided.”
+
+“It is very unfortunate they were divided, for this circumstance
+furnishes evidence sufficient to thrust each of you in prison.”
+
+“You have no right to put us in prison, we are honest men.”
+
+“That is just what we are to find out, and before very long. Good day,
+Finot. Do not disturb yourself,” added he, seeing that Finot attempted
+to rise from the bench. “Men, give this man every attention, and keep
+him under your eye, for he has already escaped us more than once.”
+
+The officer retired, leaving Finot anxious and dejected.
+
+“If Passe Partout should only give the same account as myself,” said
+Finot, “but it is mere chance that he does.”
+
+Seeing the officer enter, Passe Partout felt that all was lost;
+however, he tried to conceal his anxiety and appear at ease, whilst the
+policeman looked at him attentively.
+
+“How do you happen to be here wounded and tied?” said the officer.
+
+“I know nothing about it,” answered Passe Partout.
+
+“You certainly know who you are, where you were going, by whom you were
+wounded.”
+
+“I know very well who I am, and where I was going, but I do not know
+who brutally attacked me.”
+
+“Well then, we will proceed in order—who are you?”
+
+“Is that your business? You have no right to ask travelers who they
+are.”
+
+“I have so good a right, that I put thumb-screws on those who refuse to
+answer, and take them to prison.”
+
+“I will begin again: who are you?”
+
+“I am a cider merchant.”
+
+“Your name if you please.”
+
+“Robert Partout.”
+
+“Where were you going?”
+
+“Just wherever I could buy cider.”
+
+“You were not alone, you had a companion?”
+
+“Yes, my partner in business, we attend to our affairs together.”
+
+“And these papers in your pockets, do you know anything about them?”
+
+“Ah!” said Passe Partout mentally, “he has read these papers, and
+thinks he can catch me there, but I will outwit him.”
+
+And then he added aloud:
+
+“Do I know anything about them? I certainly do. You mean the papers
+the brigands lost, and which I intended taking to the city police.”
+
+“How did you get these papers?”
+
+“We found them on the way, and having read them, were so anxious to
+deliver them to the authorities, that we continued our journey at
+night.”
+
+“And the knives that were found on you?”
+
+“The knives? we brought them to defend ourselves, for we had been told
+there were robbers in this part of the country.”
+
+“How and by whom were you and your companion wounded?”
+
+“By robbers who came upon us without our seeing them.”
+
+“Ah! Finot’s account is different from yours.”
+
+“Finot is so frightened that he has lost his memory, you must not
+credit what he says.”
+
+“I do not believe what he says, any more than I believe what you
+yourself tell me, friend Passe Partout, for I am well acquainted with
+you, you have betrayed yourself.”
+
+Passe Partout immediately perceived what a fool he had been in
+recognizing his companion as Finot. It was a nickname given him at the
+prison in derision of his lack of cunning.
+
+As to Passe Partout, his real name was Partout. One day as they were
+hurrying to the refectory, Finot exclaimed, “Passe Partout,” and the
+name became a fixture. He could deny matters no longer, still he would
+not confess; but shrugging his shoulders said:
+
+“Because I am acquainted with Finot? It was no harm to suppose you
+spoke of my companion. I thought you called him Finot in derision.”
+
+“Well, that is good! twist that as you will; it is none the less
+true, however, that you and your companion were journeying together
+buying cider, that you found these papers on the road, read them,
+and were carrying them to the town to put them in the hands of the
+authorities—that you bought the knives to defend yourselves against
+robbers, that you were attacked and wounded by these same robbers,—is
+not that the story?”
+
+“Yes, yes; that is, indeed, my account.”
+
+“Say, rather, your tale; for your companion has told quite another
+story.”
+
+“What did he say?” anxiously inquired Passe Partout.
+
+“It is not necessary for you to know just at present, but when you are
+both in the convict prison he will tell you.”
+
+And the officer went out of the room, leaving Passe Partout in a state
+of rage and anxiety easily imagined.
+
+“Do you think, doctor, that these men are able to walk to the town?”
+inquired the officer of Doctor Tudoux.
+
+“I think they can get there, if you do not urge them on too fast,”
+responded Doctor Tudoux, slowly. “Moreover, should they even give out
+on the way, you could easily send for a carriage and put them in it;
+but they are badly kicked on the head, and might die in three or four
+days.”
+
+[Illustration: The officer on horseback rode beside the wagon.—(Page
+235.)]
+
+The officer was perplexed, for he was a kind man, and, although the
+prisoners deserved no pity, he did not wish to make them suffer
+unnecessarily. Mr. de Ponchat, father of William and Henry, seeing
+his embarrassment, proposed to harness up one of our conveyances. His
+offer was gratefully accepted, and, when the vehicle was brought to
+the door, Finot and Passe Partout were put into it, each between two
+guards. Moreover, their feet were tied to prevent their leaping out and
+escaping, and the officer on horseback rode beside the wagon, never
+losing sight of his prisoners. They soon disappeared, and I remained
+alone before the house, eating grass and impatiently awaiting my little
+masters, especially my dear James, whom I longed to see. I knew that
+the service I had just rendered would secure their pardon for all past
+misdeeds.
+
+When, at last, it was a reasonable hour in the morning, and everyone
+about the castle had arisen, dressed and breakfasted, a group rushed
+down the front steps. It was the children. All ran to me and caressed
+me to my heart’s content, but the caresses of none were so affectionate
+or so dear to me as those of little James.
+
+“My good Cadichon,” said he, “you have come back! I was so sorry when
+you went away! You see my dear Cadichon, that we still love you!”
+
+“He has really become good,” said Maud.
+
+“And he has lost that insolent air he used to have,” said Beatrice.
+
+“And he bites his comrade and the watch dogs, no longer,” said
+Elizabeth.
+
+“And he lets himself be saddled and bridled without trouble,” said
+Louis.
+
+Helen—“And he doesn’t eat the bouquets, I hold in my hand.”
+
+Ruth—“And he doesn’t kick any more when we mount him.”
+
+William—“And he doesn’t run after my pony any more to bite his tail.”
+
+James—“And he has saved all our fruits and vegetables by causing the
+arrest of these robbers.”
+
+Henry—“And he has broken their hands with his feet.”
+
+Elizabeth—“But how could he cause the arrest of the robbers?”
+
+William—“We do not know all the particulars, but the household was
+aroused by his brayings. Papa, my uncles and some servants went out,
+and saw Cadichon galloping up and down from the house to the garden;
+following him with lanterns till he came to the end of the wall around
+the kitchen garden, they there found these two men, unconscious whom
+they discovered to be robbers.”
+
+James—“How could they tell these men were robbers? do not robbers look
+and dress like us?”
+
+Elizabeth—“Indeed they are not like us! I have seen a band of robbers,
+they wore pointed hats, and chestnut colored mantles and they had such
+wicked countenances and enormous mustaches.”
+
+“Oh! where did you see them and when?” exclaimed all the children at
+once.
+
+Elizabeth—“I saw them, last winter, at the Franconia theatre.”
+
+Henry—“Ah! ah! ah! What nonsense! I thought you meant real robbers,
+that you had met in some of your travels, and I was astonished at never
+having heard my uncle and aunt mention it.”
+
+“Certainly, sir, they were real robbers,” answered Elizabeth quite
+piqued, “the soldiers fought against them, and killed some and took
+some prisoners. There was nothing funny about it; I was much frightened
+and some of the poor soldiers were wounded.”
+
+William—“Ah! ah! ah! how silly you are! you saw what we call a drama,
+which is played by paid men, who repeat it every night.”
+
+Elizabeth—“How can they repeat it when they are killed?”
+
+William—“They only pretend to be killed or wounded, they are as sound
+as you or I.”
+
+Elizabeth—“How then did papa and my uncles know these men were robbers?”
+
+William—“Because knives to kill people were found in their pockets,
+and—”
+
+“But those knives to kill people, how are they made?” interrupted James.
+
+William—“Like—like, all other knives.”
+
+James—“Then how could you tell that they were to kill people? Perhaps
+they were to cut their bread?”
+
+William—“You worry me James, you always want to understand everything,
+and you interrupted me, just as I was going to tell you, that papers
+were found on them, revealing their plans; it was all written down what
+they were to do, steal our vegetables, and kill the priest and many
+other people.”
+
+James—“And why were they not going to kill us?”
+
+Elizabeth—“Because they know papa and my uncles are very brave, that
+they have pistols and guns, and also that we all would have helped.”
+
+Henry—“You would be famous assistance, indeed, if any one were to
+attack us.”
+
+Elizabeth—“I would be as brave as you, sir, and I would know very well
+how to pull the robbers by the legs to prevent their killing papa.”
+
+Maud—“Come, come; don’t quarrel, but let William tell us what he heard.”
+
+Elizabeth—“It is not necessary for William to tell us what we already
+know.”
+
+William—“Then why ask me how papa discovered that these men were
+robbers?”
+
+“Masters William and Henry, master Alfred wants you,” said the
+gardener, who had just brought the vegetables for the kitchen.
+
+“Where is he?” asked William and Henry.
+
+“In the garden,” answered the gardener; “he dares not come to the
+house, for fear of meeting Cadichon.”
+
+I sighed, as I thought that poor Alfred feared me not without reason
+since the sad day I had treated him so shamefully, almost drowning him
+in a filthy ditch, after scratching him with briers and thorns, and
+nibbling the pony’s tail until he was pitched over its head.
+
+“I ought to make reparation,” said I; “what can I do, what service can
+I render him to convince him that he has no longer any reason to fear
+me?”
+
+
+
+
+XXV.
+
+THE REPARATION.
+
+
+Whilst I vainly pondered a means of convincing Alfred of my repentance,
+the children approached the spot where I browsed and meditated at the
+same time. I saw that Alfred kept at a distance and regarded me with
+mistrust.
+
+William—“It is going to be warm to-day, and I don’t think it will be
+pleasant to go far. It would be better for us to remain in the shady
+park.”
+
+Alfred—“William is right, I have never regained my strength since
+that spell of sickness which nearly brought me to the grave, and
+consequently I am very easily fatigued.”
+
+Henry—“You must owe Cadichon a grudge, since he was the cause of your
+illness.”
+
+Alfred—“I do not believe he did it purposely, he was probably
+frightened at something on the road, and jumped aside, accidentally
+pitching me into that frightful ditch. So I do not hate him, but—”
+
+William—“But what?”
+
+“But,” said Alfred, blushing slightly, “I would rather not get on him
+again.”
+
+The poor boy’s generosity touched me, and increased my regret at having
+treated him so badly.
+
+Maud and Beatrice now proposed to do some cooking. The children had
+built in their garden an oven, which they heated with dry wood,
+gathering it themselves, and this proposition was joyfully received.
+
+They ran to get kitchen aprons and returned to their garden prepared
+for work. Alfred and William brought the wood; breaking each branch in
+two, they filled their oven.
+
+Before kindling the fire, they held a consultation as to what they
+should have for breakfast.
+
+“I wish an omelet,” said Maud.
+
+Beatrice—“I, coffee and whipped cream.”
+
+Elizabeth—“I, cutlets.”
+
+William—“I, cold veal with vinegar sauce.”
+
+Henry—“I, potato salad.”
+
+James—“I, strawberries and cream.”
+
+Louis—“I, slices of bread and butter.”
+
+Helen—“I, grated sugar.”
+
+Ruth—“And I, cherries.”
+
+Alfred—“I will cut the bread, set the table, prepare the wine and
+water, and help generally.”
+
+And each one went to the kitchen to get materials for the desired dish.
+Maud brought eggs, butter, salt, pepper, a fork and a frying pan.
+
+[Illustration: Alfred and William brought the wood.—(Page 240.)]
+
+“I must have some fire to melt my butter and cook my eggs,” said
+she. “Alfred, Alfred, some fire, if you please.”
+
+“Where must I kindle it?”
+
+“Near the oven, be quick, I am beating my eggs.”
+
+“Alfred, Alfred,” called out Beatrice, “run to the kitchen and get the
+coffee for the whipped cream, I forgot it, be quick.”
+
+“I must kindle the fire for Maud.”
+
+“You can do that afterwards, run quick and get my coffee, now it will
+not take you long, and I am in a hurry.”
+
+Alfred started off in a run.
+
+“Alfred, Alfred,” said Elizabeth, “I must have some embers and a
+gridiron for my cutlets; I have cut them nicely.”
+
+Alfred, who ran with the coffee, set out again for the gridiron.
+
+“I must have oil for my vinegar sauce,” said William.
+
+“And I, vinegar for my salad,” said Henry, “quick, Alfred with the oil
+and vinegar.”
+
+Alfred who had just brought the gridiron, returned for the vinegar and
+oil.
+
+“Oh! my fire!” said Maud, “is that how you light it, Alfred? My eggs
+are beaten, you are going to make me lose my omelet.”
+
+“My commissions have been so numerous, I have not had time to light the
+fire.”
+
+“And the coals?” cried Elizabeth, “where are you, Alfred? you have
+forgotten my coals!”
+
+“No, Elizabeth, I have not been able to get them, I have been kept
+running.”
+
+“Hurry, Alfred, or I shall not have time to broil my cutlets,” was the
+reply.
+
+“And I must have a knife to cut my slices of bread,” said Louis, “bring
+a knife, quick, Alfred.”
+
+“I have no sugar for my strawberries, grate the sugar, Helen, hurry,”
+said James.
+
+“I have grated till I am tired,” she answered, “I am going to rest a
+little—I am so thirsty!”
+
+“Eat some cherries,” said Ruth, “I am thirsty, too.”
+
+“And so am I,” chimed in James, “I am going to taste a few to refresh
+myself.”
+
+“I shall do the same,” added Louis, “it is very fatiguing to cut bread.”
+
+And the four little ones surrounded the basket of cherries.
+
+“Let us sit down,” said Ruth, “it will be more convenient whilst
+refreshing ourselves.”
+
+They refreshed themselves so well that they ate every cherry. When the
+basket was empty they looked anxiously at one another.
+
+“They are all gone,” said Ruth.
+
+“We are going to get scolded,” answered Helen.
+
+“Oh! what shall we do?” inquired Louis, anxiously.
+
+“Ask Cadichon to come to our aid,” said James.
+
+“What do you want Cadichon to do?” replied Louis, “he cannot make
+cherries appear in the basket when we have eaten them all!”
+
+“He might do what amounts to the same,” said James. “Cadichon, my good
+Cadichon, come to our aid, see this empty basket and try to fill it.”
+
+I was very near the four little gourmands.
+
+James put the empty basket under my nose to help me understand what
+he wanted. I smelt it and started off in a trot; going to the kitchen
+where I had seen some one take a basket of cherries, I seized the
+basket between my teeth, trotted off with it and deposited it in the
+midst of the children, still seated around the stones and stems in
+their plates.
+
+A cry of joy greeted my return. The others turned around at this and
+inquired the meaning of it.
+
+“It is Cadichon! Cadichon!” exclaimed James.
+
+“Don’t tell,” said Ruth, “they will know then that we ate up the other
+cherries.”
+
+“Well, suppose they do know it,” answered James, “I wish them also to
+know how kind and intelligent Cadichon is.”
+
+And running to them, he told how I had repaired their greediness.
+Instead of scolding the four little ones, they praised James’s
+frankness and bestowed the highest eulogiums upon my intelligence.
+
+Meanwhile Alfred had kindled Maud’s fire, and brought Elizabeth’s
+coals; Maud cooked her omelet, Beatrice finished her cream, Elizabeth
+her cutlets, William cut his veal in slices preparatory to making the
+seasoning, Henry stirred and stirred his potato salad; James made a
+mush of strawberries and cream, Louis cut a pile of buttered bread,
+Helen grated sugar until the sugar bowl was empty, Ruth picked over the
+basket of cherries, whilst Alfred breathless and in a perspiration,
+set the table, ran for fresh water to cool the wine, and vessels of
+radishes, cucumbers, sardines and olives to ornament the table. He had
+forgotten the salt, he had not thought of the covers, glasses were
+wanting, May bugs and gnats had fallen into the goblets and on plates.
+When, at last, everything was ready and on the table, Maud, clapping
+her hands to her forehead, exclaimed:
+
+[Illustration]
+
+“Ah! We have forgotten one thing, to ask our mammas’ permission to
+breakfast out-doors on a meal of our own preparation.”
+
+“Let us go at once,” was the unanimous answer; “Alfred will keep guard
+over the breakfast.”
+
+And, darting towards the house, they rushed into the parlor, where
+their papas and mammas were assembled.
+
+The sudden appearance of all these children, red, breathless, arrayed
+in kitchen aprons like scullions, quite surprised their parents.
+
+Each one ran to his or her mamma, and asked the required permission
+with such volubility that, at first, it was impossible to know what
+they meant. After a few questions and explanations, it was granted,
+and they hastened back to Alfred and their breakfast. But Alfred had
+disappeared.
+
+“Alfred! Alfred!” they cried.
+
+“Here I am, here I am,” answered a voice apparently from the skies.
+
+Looking up, they perceived Alfred, perched in an oak tree. He began to
+descend slowly and cautiously.
+
+“What made you climb up there?” said William and Henry; “what a strange
+idea that was!”
+
+Alfred made no reply, but continued to get down, and when he had
+reached the ground the children were surprised to see him pale and
+trembling.
+
+“Why did you climb that tree, Alfred? what has happened to you?” said
+Beatrice.
+
+“If it had not been for Cadichon, you would not have found me or your
+breakfast either; I climbed the oak tree to save my life.”
+
+“Do tell us what has happened!” said William; “how could Cadichon save
+your life and our breakfast?”
+
+“Let us take our places at the table and listen whilst we eat, I am
+dying of hunger,” said Maud.
+
+They seated themselves on the grass, around the table-cloth; Maud
+helped to her omelet, which was excellent; and Elizabeth, in turn,
+to her cutlets, which were very nice, but cooked a little too much.
+The rest of the breakfast followed, everything turning out quite
+satisfactorily. Whilst they ate, Alfred recounted the following:
+
+“You had scarcely started ere the two big farm dogs, attracted by
+the smell of food, came running to the spot. I seized a stick, and,
+brandishing it before them, tried to drive them off, but in vain; they
+could not resist the sight of the cutlets, the omelet, the bread,
+the butter, the cream; instead of flying from my stick, which they
+little feared, they rushed at me; I threw the stick at the head of the
+biggest, and it jumped on my back—”
+
+“How could it jump on your back?” said Henry; “he went behind you, did
+he?”
+
+“No,” said Alfred, blushing; “but, having thrown my stick at him, I had
+no means of defense, and you can certainly understand the folly of my
+letting myself be devoured by hungry dogs.”
+
+“Oh! I understand now,” replied Henry in a tone of raillery, “it was
+you who turned upon your heel to escape.”
+
+[Illustration: The other dog leaped at me.—(Page 251.)]
+
+“I was running to find you and the beasts were running after me,
+when Cadichon came to my assistance. Seizing the biggest dog by the
+skin of the back, he shook him well, whilst I sought safety by climbing
+a tree. The other dog leaped at me, caught me by my clothes, and would
+have torn me to pieces, had not Cadichon rescued me from this animal
+also. Giving a good final bite to the first dog, and throwing him up in
+the air whence he fell a few steps farther off, bruised and bleeding,
+Cadichon now seized the tail of the dog that held me, which act freed
+me at once, for, of course, my assailant immediately relinquished his
+hold. After pulling him a little distance, Cadichon turned around with
+incredible agility, and gave him a kick on the jaw bone that must have
+broken several teeth. The two dogs went off yelping, and I was about to
+descend when you came.”
+
+All admired my courage and presence of mind, and came up to me, loading
+me with caresses and praises.
+
+“You see now for yourselves,” said James, with a triumphant air and
+sparkling eyes, “that my friend Cadichon has become excellent, I don’t
+know whether you care for him or not, but I do more than ever. We will
+always be the best of friends, won’t we Cadichon?”
+
+I did my best to respond with a joyful bray; the children laughed and
+resuming their seats at the table, continued their repast. Beatrice now
+served her cream.
+
+“That’s good cream!” said James.
+
+“I wish some more,” said Louis.
+
+“And I, and I,” cried Helen and Ruth. Beatrice was much pleased with
+her success. Indeed, every dish had given such satisfaction, that
+the table was entirely cleared. Poor James, however, had a slight
+humiliation. His charge was the strawberries and cream. He had sugared
+his cream and poured it over the stemmed strawberries, making a very
+nice looking dish. Unfortunately for him, he finished before the
+others. Seeing there was plenty of time, he concluded to improve it and
+his dish together, by mashing the berries in the cream. He crushed and
+he crushed, so long and so well, that the result was a thick pap, quite
+nice to the taste, but very uninviting in appearance.
+
+Then James’s turn arrived to serve the strawberries.
+
+“Oh! what are you giving me,” exclaimed Maud, “what is it? red pap?
+What is it made of?”
+
+“It is not red pap,” answered James somewhat confused, “it is
+strawberries and cream, and very nice, I assure you, Maud; taste it,
+and you will see.”
+
+“Strawberries?” said Beatrice, “where are the strawberries? I see none.
+This stuff looks disgusting.”
+
+“Oh! yes, it is disgusting,” echoed all the rest.
+
+“I thought they would be nicer crushed,” said poor little James, his
+eyes full of tears. “But if you wish it, I will go quickly and pick
+some more strawberries, and get some cream from the house.”
+
+“No, no, James,” said Elizabeth, touched at his gentleness, “your
+cream is, no doubt, very nice. Give me some, I will eat it with great
+pleasure.”
+
+James’s face brightened, he kissed Elizabeth and helped her most
+bountifully.
+
+The other children, softened like Elizabeth by James’s mildness
+and good will, asked for some of his dish, and all, after tasting,
+pronounced it excellent, much better indeed than if the berries had
+been whole.
+
+Little James, who had been anxiously watching their countenances as
+they tasted his cream, became radiant when he saw the success of his
+invention; he partook of it himself, and although not much remained for
+him, there was enough to make him regret not having made more.
+
+Breakfast over, they washed the dishes in a large tub, that had been
+accidentally left out, and filled during the night from the rainspout.
+
+This was not the least amusing part of the business, and it was still
+in progress when the study bell sounded, and their parents called them
+to their books. They begged a quarter of an hour’s grace, to finish
+wiping the dishes and putting them away. It was granted, and before the
+expiration of the time, everything was carried back to the kitchen, put
+in its place, the children at their studies, and Alfred having said
+good-bye, was about to start home.
+
+Before leaving, he called me to him, and seeing that I approached, he
+ran to me, caressing and thanking me by his words and pattings for the
+service I had rendered him. I received this expression of gratitude
+with pleasure. It confirmed me in the opinion that Alfred was much
+better than I had at first judged him, that he was neither revengeful
+nor malicious, and also, that if somewhat cowardly and stupid, it was
+not his fault.
+
+I had occasion a few days afterwards to render him a new service.
+
+
+
+
+XXVII.
+
+THE BOAT.
+
+
+James—“What a pity we cannot cook a breakfast every day, as we did last
+week, it was so amusing!”
+
+Louis—“And what a good breakfast!”
+
+Maud—“The best thing to me was the potato salad and veal with vinegar
+sauce.”
+
+Beatrice—“I know why very well; it is because your mamma forbids you
+eating such things constantly.”
+
+“Very likely,” said Maud, laughing, “what we seldom get to eat always
+appears best, especially when it is something we like naturally.”
+
+William—“What shall we do to-day for amusement?”
+
+Elizabeth—“Sure enough, it is Thursday, we have holiday until dinner.”
+
+Henry—“If we could get a mess of fish from the big pond—”
+
+Maud—“What a splendid idea! we will have a dish of fish for to-morrow,
+Friday!”
+
+Beatrice—“How will we fish? have we fishing lines?”
+
+William—“We have hooks enough but we want rods.”
+
+Henry—“Shall we send one of the servants to the village to buy them?”
+
+William—“They are not sold in the village, we would have to send to the
+city and that is very far.”
+
+Maud—“Oh! here comes Alfred, perhaps they have some lines at his house;
+and we can send some one on the pony for them.”
+
+James—“I will ride over on Cadichon.”
+
+Henry—“You cannot go so far alone.”
+
+James—“It is not far, only half a league.”
+
+“What is it, my friends, you are going to get with Cadichon?” said
+Alfred as he came up.
+
+William—“Fishing lines; have you any, Alfred?”
+
+Alfred—“No; and there is no necessity for going so far; with knives, we
+can make as many ourselves, as we want.”
+
+Henry—“To be sure! why did we not think of it before?”
+
+Alfred—“Come quick to the woods to cut them. Have you knives? mine is
+in my pocket.”
+
+William—“I have an excellent one that Maud brought me from London.”
+
+Henry—“And I also have one that Beatrice gave me.”
+
+James—“I have one.”
+
+Louis—“And I.”
+
+“Come along then,” said Alfred, “whilst we cut the rods, you may strip
+off the bark and little twigs.”
+
+“And what shall we do in the meantime?” asked Maud, Beatrice and
+Elizabeth.
+
+“Make the other necessary preparations,” said William: “get the bread,
+the worms, the hooks.”
+
+And they all dispersed, each one to his or her post.
+
+I then went very quietly towards the pond, and in something over half
+an hour, the children arrived, running each one with his line, and
+bringing the hooks and other necessary appurtenances.
+
+“We must beat the water, must we not, to bring the fish to the
+surface,” said Henry.
+
+William—“Just the contrary, we must keep quiet as possible, for if we
+frighten the fish, they will all go down to the bottom in the mud.”
+
+Maud—“I think a good way of attracting them, would be to throw some
+crumbs of bread in the water.”
+
+Beatrice—“Yes, but not much; if we feed them plentifully, they will not
+bite at the hooks.”
+
+Elizabeth—“Let me do it, you prepare the hooks, whilst I throw in the
+bread.”
+
+Elizabeth took the bread, and at the first crumb she threw, half a
+dozen fish pounced upon it. She repeated the process, assisted by
+Louis, James, Helen and Ruth, until the fish were surfeited and would
+eat no more.
+
+“I believe we have given them too much,” said Elizabeth in an undertone
+to Louis and James.
+
+James—“What difference does that make? they will eat the rest this
+evening or to-morrow.”
+
+Elizabeth—“But they won’t bite at the bait now, they are no longer
+hungry.”
+
+James—“Oh! oh! our cousins will be displeased.”
+
+Elizabeth—“Say nothing about it, they are busy with their hooks;
+perhaps the fish will bite all the same.”
+
+“The lines are ready,” said William; “each of you take one and cast it
+in the water.”
+
+They did so, and waited a few minutes in breathless silence; the fish
+would not bite.
+
+Alfred—“This is not a good place, let us go farther.”
+
+Helen—“I believe there are no fish here, look at those bread crumbs not
+eaten.”
+
+Maud—“Let us go to the end of this pond, near the boat.”
+
+William—“The water is very deep there.”
+
+Elizabeth—“What difference does that make? Are you afraid the fish will
+be drowned?”
+
+William—“Not the fish, but one of us might fall in.”
+
+Henry—“How would we fall in? we are not going near enough to the edge
+to slip or roll in.”
+
+William—“Very true, but for all that, I do not wish the little ones to
+go there.”
+
+James—“Oh! yes, William, do let me go with you? we will keep at a
+distance from the water.”
+
+William—“No, no, stay where you are; we will soon be back, for I don’t
+think we will find any more fish there than here. Moreover,” he added,
+lowering his voice, “it is your fault we have caught none, you gave the
+fish ten times too much bread, I saw the whole thing; I do not wish to
+tell Henry, Alfred, Maud and Beatrice, but it is only right that you
+should be punished for your thoughtlessness.”
+
+James insisted no more, but told the other little culprits what William
+had said. They resigned themselves to remain where they were, and
+continued to throw their lines, still wishing the fish would bite, and
+still meeting with no success.
+
+I had followed William, Henry and Alfred to the end of the pond. They
+also cast their lines, but it was of no use; in vain did they move, and
+change their hooks, the fish would not bite.
+
+“Friends,” said Alfred, “I have an excellent idea, instead of worrying
+ourselves waiting for the fish to come to us, let us fish on a big
+scale, and take fifteen or twenty at a time.”
+
+William—“How can we take fifteen or twenty at a time, when we have not
+taken one yet?”
+
+Alfred—“With a sweep-net.”
+
+Henry—“But it is very difficult to manage; papa says, one must
+understand it.”
+
+Alfred—“Difficult! what nonsense! I have cast the sweep-net myself ten,
+yes, twenty times! It is very easy.”
+
+William—“Did you take many fish?”
+
+Alfred—“I did not take any because I did not cast it in the water.”
+
+Henry—“Where then, and how did you cast it, if not in the water?”
+
+Alfred—“On the grass or the ground, only to learn how.”
+
+William—“But that is not the same thing at all, I am sure you would
+cast it very awkwardly on the water.”
+
+Alfred—“Awkwardly! Do you really think that? I will convince you of
+the contrary. I am going to get the sweep-net which lies in the yard,
+drying in the sun.”
+
+William—“Please don’t Alfred, if anything should happen, papa would
+scold.”
+
+Alfred—“And what can happen? I tell you, that at home, we always fish
+with it. I am going, wait for me, I’ll not be long.”
+
+And away ran Alfred, leaving William and Henry anxious and
+dissatisfied. He soon returned dragging the sweep-net after him.
+
+“Here it is,” said he, spreading it out on the ground. “Now fish,
+beware!”
+
+He cast the net with tolerable dexterity, and began to draw it in
+cautiously and slowly.
+
+“Draw it in faster,” said Henry, “we will never finish at that rate.”
+
+“No, no,” replied Alfred, “it must be drawn very gently, so as not to
+break the meshes and let the fish escape.”
+
+He continued to draw it “very gently,” as he said, but only to find it
+empty, not one fish had been caught.
+
+“Oh!” said he, “the first time does not count, we must not be
+discouraged, let us commence again.”
+
+He did commence again, and succeeded no better the second time than the
+first.
+
+“I know what is the matter,” said he, “I am too near the edge of the
+pond, the water is not deep enough here, I am going to get in the boat,
+which is very long, consequently, the farther end of it will give me
+sufficient depth of water to unfold my net.”
+
+“No, Alfred,” said William, “keep away from the boat; you may get that
+sweep-net entangled in the oars, or cordages and have an upset.”
+
+“William, you are just like a two year old baby,” replied Alfred, “for
+my part I have more courage, you’ll see the result.”
+
+And he darted into the boat, which swayed from side to side. Although
+he pretended to laugh, Alfred was really afraid, and I saw that he
+would inevitably make a blunder, or do some mischief. He unfolded and
+spread out his net, notwithstanding the motion of the boat; but his
+knees shook under him and his hands were unsteady. Self-love, however,
+urged him on, and he cast the net. But the movement being arrested by
+his fear of falling, the net caught on his left shoulder, and gave him
+such a jerk that he fell headlong into the water. William and Henry
+uttered a scream of terror, in unison with that which escaped the
+unfortunate boy as he fell. Being enveloped in the net which crippled
+all his movements, his efforts to regain the shore were in vain. The
+more he struggled, the more entangled he became in the net. I saw him
+gradually sinking, a few minutes more and he would have been beyond
+hope. William and Henry could give him no assistance, neither of them
+knowing how to swim, and before they could have run for help, Alfred
+must certainly have perished.
+
+[Illustration: I climbed the very steep bank, still dragging
+Alfred.—(Page 263.)]
+
+I decided upon my part at once; resolutely plunging into the water,
+I swam towards him, and diving (for he had already sunk considerably
+beneath the surface), I seized with my teeth the net which enveloped
+him. Then swimming back, pulling it after me, I climbed the very steep
+bank, still dragging Alfred (no doubt giving him a few bruises on the
+stones and roots in our path,) and laid him on the grass, motionless
+and unconscious.
+
+William and Henry, pale and trembling, ran to him, and with
+considerable difficulty, succeeded in ridding him of the net which was
+wrapped around him. They then sent Maud and Beatrice to the house for
+help.
+
+The little ones, who, from a distance had seen Alfred fall, also
+came running to the spot, and assisted William and Henry to wipe his
+face and dripping hair. The servants soon appeared, and lifting the
+unconscious Alfred from the grass carried him to the house. The other
+children remained with me.
+
+“You splendid Cadichon!” exclaimed James, “it was you who saved
+Alfred’s life! Did you all see how courageously he plunged into the
+water?”
+
+Louis—“Yes, certainly, and how he dived to get hold of Alfred.”
+
+Elizabeth—“And how carefully he drew Alfred to the shore.”
+
+James—“Poor Cadichon! how wet he is!”
+
+Helen—“Don’t go near him James, you will get your clothes wet, just
+look how the water drips off of him.”
+
+“Ah! bah! what difference does it make if I am a little wet?” answered
+James, putting his arms around my neck, “I shall not be as wet as
+Cadichon.”
+
+Louis—“Instead of hugging him and paying him compliments, you had
+better take him to the stable, and let us rub him down with a little
+straw, and then give him some oats to warm him up and revive him.”
+
+James—“That is true, you are right. Come, my Cadichon.”
+
+I followed James and Louis who went towards the stable, making me a
+sign to follow them. Both began to rub me down with such vehemence
+that they were soon in a perspiration, but for all that, neither of
+them would stop until I was dry. Meanwhile, Helen and Ruth employed
+themselves combing and brushing my tail and mane. I was superb when
+they had all finished, and I partook with extraordinary appetite, of
+the oats which James and Louis gave me.
+
+“Helen,” said little Ruth in a low tone to her cousin, “Cadichon has a
+great quantity of oats, he has too many.”
+
+Helen—“That’s no matter, Ruth; he has been very good, and we have given
+him the oats as a reward.”
+
+Ruth—“I would like to have a few of his oats myself.”
+
+Helen—“For what?”
+
+Ruth—“To give our poor rabbits, that love oats so much, and never get
+any.”
+
+Helen—“If James and Louis see you taking oats from Cadichon, they will
+scold.”
+
+Ruth—“They shall not see me, I will wait until they are not looking.”
+
+Helen—“Then you will be a thief, for you would be stealing oats from
+poor Cadichon, who cannot complain, because he cannot speak.”
+
+[Illustration: Ruth ran joyously to her rabbits.—(Page 268.)]
+
+“So I would,” said Ruth sadly, “My poor rabbits would be too glad to
+have a few oats.” And she seated herself near my trough and watched me
+as I ate.
+
+“Why are you sitting there, Ruth?” asked Helen. “Come with me to
+inquire for Alfred.”
+
+“No,” said Ruth, “I would rather wait till Cadichon finishes eating,
+so that if he leaves any oats, I can take them for my rabbits without
+stealing.”
+
+Helen insisted, but Ruth refused to go, and Helen at last went off with
+her cousins.
+
+I ate slowly, wishing to see if Ruth would yield even once to the
+temptation of regaling her rabbits at my expense. From time to time she
+looked in the trough.
+
+“How he eats,” said she, “he will never finish—he cannot be hungry, for
+he is always eating—the oats are disappearing, if he would leave only a
+few, I should be so delighted.”
+
+I could easily have eaten all that was before me, but the poor little
+girl excited my pity. She touched nothing in spite of her desire to
+regale the rabbits. Pretending to have enough, I quit my trough,
+leaving the half of my oats; Ruth uttered a cry of joy, leaped to her
+feet, and taking the oats by the handful emptied them into her black
+taffetta apron.
+
+“Oh! how kind you are, how obliging you are, my dear good Cadichon,”
+said she. “I never saw such a donkey as you—It is very genteel not to
+be a glutton—Everybody loves you because you are good—The rabbits will
+be so pleased! I will tell them, it was you that gave them their oats.”
+
+And Ruth who had finished gathering up the oats and putting them in her
+apron, ran joyously to her rabbits. I saw her reach their little house,
+and I heard her tell them how good I was, that I was not the least bit
+of a glutton—that they must follow my example, and as I had left some
+oats for them, so ought they to leave some for the little birds.
+
+“I will soon return,” said she, “to see if you are as good as Cadichon.”
+
+She shut their door and ran to join Helen.
+
+Following her to hear something from Alfred, I was delighted on
+approaching the castle, to see him seated on the grass with his
+friends. He arose, and coming to me, covered me with caresses.
+
+“Here is my deliverer,” said he; “but for him I would have died, I
+became unconscious at the very moment, when Cadichon having seized
+the net, began to draw me to land; but I have a distinct recollection
+of seeing him plunge in the water and dive to save me. I shall never
+forget the service he has rendered me, and I shall never come here
+without speaking to Cadichon.”
+
+“That is right, Alfred,” said the grandmother. “He who has a good
+heart, is no less grateful to the lower animals than to men. As for me,
+I shall always remember Cadichon’s services, and happen what will, I am
+determined never to part with him.”
+
+“But grandmother,” said Maud, “a few months ago you talked of sending
+him to the mill. He would have been very miserable there.”
+
+[Illustration: “Here is my deliverer.”—(Page 268.)]
+
+“Yes, dear child, but I did not send him; I did think of it, it is
+true, after the trick he played Alfred, both because of it, and the
+numberless complaints from everyone on the place. But I decided to
+keep him in acknowledgment of his former services, and I now say, that
+not only shall he remain, but everything shall be done to render him
+comfortable and happy.”
+
+“Oh! thanks, grandma, thanks,” exclaimed James, throwing his arms
+around his grandmother’s neck and almost pulling her to the ground.
+“Let me be the one to take charge of my dear Cadichon, I shall love him
+and he will love me more than he does any one else.”
+
+“Why, my little James, do you wish Cadichon to care more for you than
+for the others? That is not right.”
+
+“Yes, yes, grandma, it is right, for I love him more than they do, and
+besides, when he was bad, and everybody displeased with him, I still
+cared a little for him, indeed, I might say, a great deal,” he added,
+laughing, “Isn’t it so, Cadichon?”
+
+I answered by coming up to him and laying my head on his shoulders.
+Everybody laughed and James continued:
+
+“Now, cousins, are you willing for Cadichon to love me more than he
+does you?”
+
+“Yes, yes, yes,” they all answered, laughing.
+
+“And haven’t I always cared more for him than the rest of you have?”
+
+“Yes, yes, yes,” was the unanimous reply.
+
+“You see, grandma, that since it was I who brought Cadichon here, and
+it is I who love him best, it is only fair that he should love me best.”
+
+“I can say no more, dear child,” said the grandmother, smiling, “but
+you cannot take care of him when you are not here.”
+
+“But I shall always be here, grandma,” said James, eagerly.
+
+“No, my dear child, you will not always be here, for your papa and
+mamma take you away when they go.”
+
+James became pensive and sad, he put his arm upon my neck and rested
+his head on his hand. Suddenly his face brightened.
+
+“Grandma,” said he, “will you give me Cadichon?”
+
+“I will give you whatever you wish, my dear little one, but I cannot
+let you take him to Paris with you.”
+
+“No, to be sure not; but then he will belong to me, and when papa has a
+castle we will take Cadichon.”
+
+“I give him to you on that condition, my child, meanwhile he will stay
+here where in all probability he will outlive me. Do not forget then
+that Cadichon is yours, and to you is entrusted the charge of making
+him comfortable and happy.”
+
+
+
+
+Conclusion.
+
+From that day my little master James seemed to love me more than
+ever, whilst I, in turn, did my very best to make myself useful and
+agreeable, not only to him, but to everyone about the place. I had no
+reason to repent of my reformation, for it gained me the esteem and
+affection of all. I continued to watch over the children, preserving
+them from several accidents, and protecting them against bad people and
+wicked animals.
+
+Alfred was often at the castle, and he never forgot his promised visit
+to me, always bringing me some delicacy, an apple, a pear, bread and
+salt of which I was particularly fond, a handful of lettuce or some
+carrots—always something that he knew I fancied, which fully convinced
+me how much mistaken I had been in my former opinion of the poor boy,
+believing him bad, when he was only a little foolish and vain.
+
+The idea of writing the story of my adventures was prompted by a
+series of conversations between Henry and his cousins; Henry always
+maintaining that I did not understand what I did nor why I did it,
+his cousins, James especially, as stoutly asserting the contrary. I
+profited by a very severe winter, which did not permit of my remaining
+out-doors, to jot down some of the most important events of my life.
+They may amuse you, perhaps, my young friends; at any rate, they will
+teach you, that if you wish faithful service, you must treat kindly
+those who serve you—that they who appear the most stupid are not always
+so—that a donkey like everything else, has a heart to love his masters
+and suffer from bad treatment, a will to be revenged or to show his
+affection—that it depends upon his masters to make him either happy
+or unhappy, a friend or an enemy, poor donkey as he is. I, myself, am
+very happy, loved by every one, and cared for as a friend by my little
+master James. I am beginning to grow old, but we donkeys sometimes live
+a long time, and just as long as I am able to walk and be of any use
+whatever, my services are at the disposal of my masters.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+  JOHN B. PIET,
+  PUBLISHER AND PRINTER,
+  BALTIMORE.
+
+
+
+
+  Transcriber’s Notes
+
+  pg 26 Changed: As he eat, his tears ceased to flow
+             To: As he ate, his tears ceased to flow
+
+  pg 45 Changed: “Madamoiselle,” said she, “your mama has sent for you
+             To: “Mademoiselle,” said she, “your mama has sent for you
+
+  pg 54 Changed: support the fatiques and privations I have endured
+             To: support the fatigues and privations I have endured
+
+  pg 72 Changed: Isn’t he good, grandma, isn’t he? and musn’t we keep
+                 him?
+             To: Isn’t he good, grandma, isn’t he? and mustn’t we keep
+                 him?
+
+  pg 72 Changed: but she does not own him, he belengs to nobody
+             To: but she does not own him, he belongs to nobody
+
+  pg 84 Changed: and before they killed you,” answerd Beatrice
+             To: and before they killed you,” answered Beatrice
+
+  pg 115 Changed: Laughing at the young gunners’ discomfitted air
+              To: Laughing at the young gunners’ discomfited air
+
+  pg 139 Changed: No, you havn’t, the godfather has the best right
+              To: No, you haven’t, the godfather has the best right
+
+  pg 175 Changed: This unusual noise attracked the attention of all
+              To: This unusual noise attracted the attention of all
+
+  pg 175 Changed: young and old, had decended and formed a circle
+              To: young and old, had descended and formed a circle
+
+  pg 179 Changed: money necessary for their subsistance
+              To: money necessary for their subsistence
+
+  pg 188 Changed: must we not, dear ones?” sad Elizabeth.
+              To: must we not, dear ones?” said Elizabeth.
+
+  pg 193 Changed: He is better,” exlaimed James
+              To: He is better,” exclaimed James
+
+  pg 199 Changed: and indulged in penitent reflexions
+              To: and indulged in penitent reflections
+
+  pg 199 Changed: then pass my beautful ornamented bridle
+              To: then pass my beautiful ornamented bridle
+
+  pg 202 Changed: in reparation of the wrong I dad done him
+              To: in reparation of the wrong I had done him
+
+  pg 213 Changed: I waltzed, I polkied, and, I played on Ferdinand
+              To: I waltzed, I polkaed, and, I played on Ferdinand
+
+  pg 214 Changed: How prettily he files off,” said Ferdinand
+              To: How prettily he flies off,” said Ferdinand
+
+  pg 227 Changed: where they have commited numberless and audacious
+                  thefts
+              To: where they have committed numberless and audacious
+                  thefts
+
+  pg 228 Changed: you may assist at the exemination
+              To: you may assist at the examination
+
+  pg 230 Changed: Just wherever I could by cider
+              To: Just wherever I could buy cider
+
+  pg 231 Changed: a nickname given him at the prison in dirision
+              To: a nickname given him at the prison in derision
+
+  pg 251 Changed: and I was about to decend when you came
+              To: and I was about to descend when you came
+
+  pg 253 Changed: there was enought to make him regret
+              To: there was enough to make him regret
+
+  pg 260 Changed: his left shoulder, and gave him sech a jerk
+              To: his left shoulder, and gave him such a jerk
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78917 ***
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+<body>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78917 ***</div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 85%">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" data-role="presentation">
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="r50">
+<h1><span class="smcap">Adventures of a Donkey</span></h1>
+<hr class="r50">
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 85%">
+<img src="images/frontis.jpg" alt="" data-role="presentation">
+</div>
+
+<p class="center no-indent">
+  CADICHON,<br>
+  THE DONKEY,<br>
+  SPEAKS!!
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p class="center no-indent wsp">
+  THE<br>
+  <br>
+  <span class="smcap fs200">Adventures of a Donkey</span><br>
+  <br><br>
+  <span class="fs80">FROM THE FRENCH OF</span><br>
+  <br><br>
+  <em>Mme. LA COMTESSE DE SÉGUR</em>.<br>
+  <br><br>
+  <span class="fs80">BY P. S., A GRADUATE OF ST. JOSEPH’S, EMMITTSBURG, MD.</span></p>
+  <br>
+<hr class="r50">
+<p class="center no-indent wsp">
+  <span class="fs150">ILLUSTRATED.</span></p>
+<hr class="r50">
+  <br>
+<p class="center no-indent wsp">
+  BALTIMORE:<br>
+  <span class="bold fs120">PUBLISHED BY JOHN B. PIET,</span><br>
+  <span class="smcap fs80">No. 174 West Baltimore Street</span>,<br>
+  <span class="fs80">1881.</span>
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr class="r25">
+<p class="center no-indent fs80">
+  <span class="smcap">Copyright, John B. Piet, 1880.</span></p>
+<hr class="r25">
+  <br><br>
+
+<p class="no-indent fs80 wsp">
+  <em>Press of John B. Piet, Baltimore.</em>
+</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <p class="center no-indent wsp">
+    <span class="fs80">TO MY LITTLE MASTER,</span>
+    <br><br>
+    <span class="smcap fs150">M. Henri de Ségur</span>.
+    <br>
+  </p>
+</div>
+<br>
+<hr class="r25">
+<br>
+<p class="fs90">My little master, you have been good to me, but you have
+spoken contemptuously of donkeys in general. To make you better
+acquainted with them, I write and offer you this story of my adventures,
+from which you will learn, my dear little master, how I, a poor
+donkey, and my very many donkey friends, have been and are
+still unjustly treated by men. You will see that we have much
+intelligence and many excellent qualities; you will also see how
+wicked I was in my youth, that I was severely punished for it, and
+how repentance changed me and restored to me the friendship of my
+comrades and masters. In fine, you will perceive on reading this
+book, that instead of saying “as stupid as a donkey, as ignorant as a
+donkey, as headstrong as a donkey,” one should say, “as intelligent
+as a donkey, as learned as a donkey, as docile as a donkey,” and that
+you and your kindred might well be proud of these eulogiums.</p>
+
+<p class="fs90">Hi! han! my good master, I hope no period of your life may
+resemble the early years of your faithful servant,</p>
+
+<p class="right">
+  CADICHON, THE LEARNED DONKEY.
+</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <p class="center no-indent fs150 wsp">
+    <span class="smcap">Adventures of a Donkey.</span>
+  </p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class="fs90">I do not remember my infancy; I was probably unhappy, like
+all infant donkeys, pretty and graceful as we all are. I was certainly
+very intelligent, since, even at my present time of life, being now
+somewhat advanced in years, my mental endowments are far superior
+to those of my comrades. More than once did I outwit my poor
+masters, who were but men, and who, consequently, could not be
+expected to possess the intelligence of a donkey.</p>
+
+<p class="fs90">I shall begin these Adventures by relating one of the tricks I
+played upon them in my youth.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="TABLE_OF_CONTENTS">
+    TABLE OF CONTENTS.
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="r25">
+<br>
+
+<table class="autotable lh">
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+I.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">The Market</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_1">1</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+II.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">The Pursuit</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_8">8</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+III.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">The New Masters</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_13">13</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+IV.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">The Bridge</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_17">17</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+V.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">The Cemetery</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_24">24</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+VI.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">The Hiding Place</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_32">32</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+VII.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">The Locket</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_40">40</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+VIII.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">The Fire</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_46">46</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+IX.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">The Donkey Race</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_53">53</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+X.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">Good Masters</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_66">66</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+XI.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">Cadichon Sick</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_75">75</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+XII.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">The Robbers</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_78">78</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+XIII.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">The Vaults</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_86">86</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+XIV.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">Theresa</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_94">94</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+XV.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">The Gunning Party</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_111">111</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+XVI.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">Medor</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_122">122</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+XVII.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">The School Children</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_132">132</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+XVIII.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">The Baptism</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_138">138</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+XIX.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">The Learned Donkey</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_147">147</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+XX.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">The Frog</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_164">164</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+XXI.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">The Pony</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_168">168</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+XXII.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">The Punishment</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_180">180</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+XXIII.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">The Reformation</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_194">194</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+XXIV.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">The Robbers</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_218">218</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+XXV.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">The Reparation</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_239">239</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+XXVI.
+</td>
+<td class="tdl">
+—<span class="smcap">The Boat</span>,
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_254">254</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl" colspan="2">
+Conclusion
+</td>
+<td class="tdrx">
+<a href="#Page_272">272</a>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p>
+
+
+  <p class="center no-indent fs200 wsp">
+    <span class="smcap">The Adventures of a Donkey</span>.
+  </p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="r50">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="I">
+    I.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">THE MARKET.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Men</span> not being supposed to be aware of all that donkeys
+know, you, who read this book, are doubtless ignorant
+of what is well known to all my donkey friends,
+namely: that every Tuesday in the town of Laigle there
+is held a market, where vegetables, butter, eggs, cheese
+and other excellent things are sold. This Tuesday is a
+day of torture for my poor comrades; it was so for me
+before I was bought by my present good old mistress, your
+grandmother. I belonged to a farmer’s wife, exacting
+and cruel. Just imagine, my dear little master, that she
+carried her malice so far as to collect all the eggs her
+hens laid, all the butter and cheese from her cows’ milk,
+all the vegetables and fruits that ripened during the week,
+to fill baskets which she placed upon my back.</p>
+
+<p>And when I was so heavily laden that I could
+scarcely move, this wicked woman seated herself upon
+the baskets and obliged me to trot thus burdened, overwhelmed,
+indeed, to the market of Laigle, a league from
+the farm. I was all this time in a rage I dared not show,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span>for fear of the stick my mistress carried, a very big one
+full of knots, that hurt sorely when she beat me. Whenever
+I saw or heard these preparations for market, I
+sighed, I groaned, I ever brayed, in hopes of softening
+the hearts of my owners.</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp65" id="frontis" style="max-width: 40.625em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image002.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>“Shut your mouth, great idle thing,” said they, coming
+to get me, “shut your mouth, and do not deafen us with
+your coarse, horrid voice. Hi! han! hi! han! that is
+beautiful music you are giving us! Edward, my boy, bring
+this lazy beast up to the door whilst your mother puts
+the load on his back. Here is a basket of eggs—one
+more! The cheese—the butter!—now the vegetables.
+That’s right! Here is a fine load, that is going to
+bring us several five franc pieces. Mary, my daughter,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span>bring a chair for your mother to mount the donkey.
+Good-bye, a pleasant trip, wife, and make this lazy beast
+move. Hold on, here is your stick, hit him with it.”</p>
+
+<p>Pan! Pan!</p>
+
+<p>“That’s right, a few more caresses of that kind and
+he’ll go.”</p>
+
+<p>Vlan! Vlan! The stick never ceased to belabor my
+sides, my legs, my neck; I trotted, I almost galloped, yet
+the woman still beat me. I was indignant at so much
+injustice and cruelty; I tried to kick and throw her off,
+but I was too heavily burdened; I could only start and
+sway from side to side, thus affording myself the satisfaction
+of feeling her slipping down. “Wicked donkey!
+stupid animal! headstrong creature!” said she, “I am
+going to teach you better, I’ll let you feel the weight of
+my stick.”</p>
+
+<p>And indeed, she beat me so I could scarcely reach the
+town. We arrived at last. All the baskets were lifted
+off my poor skinned back and placed on the ground.
+My mistress having tied me to a post, went to breakfast,
+whilst I, who was dying of hunger and thirst, got
+not a sprig of grass, or a drop of water. I found means
+of getting close to the vegetables during her absence and
+refreshed myself by filling my stomach with a basket of
+salad and cabbage. I had never eaten anything so good
+in my life, but just as I was finishing the last cabbage and
+the last salad, my mistress returned. She uttered a
+scream on seeing her basket empty; I regarded her with
+such a satisfied insolent air, that she immediately recognized
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span>me as the author of her loss. I shall not repeat
+to you the names she called me. She was very high-tempered,
+and when in a rage, she swore and said things
+that made me blush, donkey as I am. Having loaded
+me with the most humiliating reproaches, to which I made
+no reply, except by licking my lips and turning my back
+upon her, she took her stick and began to beat me so
+cruelly, that I, at last, lost all patience, and launched at
+her three kicks, the first of which broke her nose and
+two teeth; the second, her wrist, and the third, striking
+her in the stomach, knocked her over. Twenty persons
+rushed upon me, overwhelming me with blows and vile
+words. They carried my mistress off, I know not where,
+and left me attached to the post, near which the marketing
+I had brought was displayed. Here I remained
+a long time; seeing that no one thought of me, I ate a
+second basket of excellent vegetables, and cutting with
+my teeth the cord that held me, I quietly took the road
+home.</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image004" style="max-width: 62.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image004.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>Every one I passed on the way seemed astonished at
+seeing me alone.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Look, there is a donkey with a broken strap! He
+has escaped,” said one.</p>
+
+<p>“It must be a fugitive from the galleys,” said another.
+And they all began to laugh.</p>
+
+<p>“He doesn’t carry a heavy load on his back,” remarked
+a third.</p>
+
+<p>“Very true,” exclaimed a youth, “he has been at some
+mischief.”</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image005" style="max-width: 62.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image005.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>“Catch him, husband,” said a woman, “let us put the
+little one in the saddle.”</p>
+
+<p>“He will carry you as well as the little boy,” replied
+the husband.</p>
+
+<p>Wishing to give them a good opinion of my gentleness
+and condescension, I very quietly approached the woman
+and stopped to let her mount.</p>
+
+<p>“He doesn’t seem at all vicious,” said the man, helping
+his wife into the saddle.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span></p>
+
+<p>I smiled with pity at hearing this. Vicious! as if a
+donkey kindly treated was ever vicious! We become
+ill-tempered, disobedient, headstrong, only in retaliation
+for the blows and foul names heaped upon us. When
+properly treated, we are good-natured—much better in
+this respect than other animals.</p>
+
+<p>I carried the wife and child home. The latter was a
+pretty little boy about two years old, who caressed me
+fondly, thought me charming, and wanted to keep me
+altogether. But I reflected that this would not be honest;
+my masters had bought me, I belonged to them. I
+had already revenged myself upon my mistress by breaking
+her nose, teeth, and wrist, and giving her a good kick
+in the stomach. Seeing, then, that the mother would
+yield to the little boy, whom she spoiled (I soon perceived
+this whilst they were on my back), I jumped to one side,
+and before the mother could seize my bridle, was off in a
+gallop towards home.</p>
+
+<p>Mary, my master’s daughter, saw me first.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! there is Cadichon. How early he has returned.
+Here, Edward, come take off his saddle.”</p>
+
+<p>“Wicked creature,” said Edward, in an angry tone,
+“one has always to be bothered with you. But why has he
+returned alone? I’ll bet he has run away. Vile beast!”
+he added, kicking me on the leg, “if I knew you had
+escaped, I would give you a hundred licks of the stick!”</p>
+
+<p>Once rid of my saddle and bridle, I went off galloping.
+Scarcely had I entered the pasture when I heard loud
+cries proceeding from the house. Approaching the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span>hedge, I saw that the farmer’s wife had been brought
+home, and I recognized the screams as those of the children.
+I listened most intently, and heard Edward say to
+his father:</p>
+
+<p>“Father, I am going to tie him to a tree, and take the
+big wagon, whip and beat him till he falls to the ground!”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, my son, go, but do not kill him, for we
+would lose what he cost us. I shall sell him at the next
+fair.”</p>
+
+<p>I trembled with fright on hearing these words, and on
+seeing Edward run to the stable for the whip. There was
+no time for hesitation, and without any scruple now as
+to defrauding my owner of what he had paid for me, I
+ran towards the hedge separating me from the fields, and
+dashed against it with such force, that I broke the
+branches and made my way through. I ran at full speed
+through the field, and I continued to gallop a very long
+time, believing myself pursued. At last, unable to go
+farther, I stopped; I listened, but heard nothing. I
+mounted a slight eminence, I saw no one. Then I began
+to breathe freely, and rejoice at having delivered myself
+from these wicked farmers.</p>
+
+<p>But I now commenced to wonder what would become
+of me. If I remained where was, I would be discovered,
+recognized and taken back to my master’s. What should
+I do? where should I go?</p>
+
+<p>I looked around, and finding myself solitary and
+unhappy, I was about to shed tears over my sad fate,
+when I perceived that I was on the edge of a magnificent
+woods, it was the forest of St. Evroult.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span></p>
+
+<p>“What good luck!” I exclaimed, “In this forest I
+shall find tender herbage, water, fresh moss; I shall
+remain here a few days, and then go to another forest,
+farther, much farther from my master’s farm.”</p>
+
+<p>I entered the forest; I ate with delight the tender
+grass and I drank the water from a beautiful spring.
+Towards night, I lay down on the moss at the foot of an
+old pine, and there slept peacefully till morning.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="II">
+    II.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">THE PURSUIT.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> next morning after eating and drinking, I thought
+over my happiness.</p>
+
+<p>“Here,” said I, “they can never find me, I am saved.
+In two days, however, when I shall have rested from my
+fatigue, I will go still farther.”</p>
+
+<p>Scarcely was this reflection finished, when I heard the
+distant barking of a dog, then of another, and in a few
+minutes I distinguished the sound of a whole pack of
+hounds. Anxious, and even somewhat frightened, I
+arose and went towards a little stream that I had noticed
+in the morning. Scarcely had I done so, ere I heard
+Edward saying to the dogs:</p>
+
+<p>“Come, come, dogs, seek him well, find me this wicked
+donkey, bite him, tear his legs to pieces and bring him to
+me, that I may lay my whip on his back.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span></p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image009" style="max-width: 43.0625em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image009.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    Towards evening two men entered the meadow.—(Page <a href="#Page_11">11</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a><a id="Page_11"></a>[Pg 11]</span></p>
+
+<p>I nearly sank to the ground from fright; but suddenly
+remembering that I could throw the dogs off my track
+by walking in the water, I ran at once to the stream,
+which fortunately was bordered on both sides with very
+thick bushes. I walked a very long time without stopping;
+the barking of the dogs died away in the distance,
+as well as the voice of the wicked Edward.</p>
+
+<p>Breathless and exhausted I stopped an instant to
+drink, and I ate a few leaves from the bushes. My legs
+were stiff with cold, but I dared not quit the water, for
+fear the dogs might return and get upon my trail. When
+somewhat rested I began to run, following the stream
+all the while, until I was out of the forest. I then found
+myself in a vast meadow, where cows and oxen (over fifty
+in number) were pasturing. They took no notice of me,
+so I lay down in the sun to rest in a corner of the field.</p>
+
+<p>Towards evening two men entered the meadow.</p>
+
+<p>“Brother,” said the tallest of the two, “shall we not
+bring up the cattle to-night? they say there are wolves
+in the woods.”</p>
+
+<p>“Wolves! who told you that nonsense?”</p>
+
+<p>“The Aigle folks. They tell how a donkey from the
+hedge farm was carried off and devoured in the forest.”</p>
+
+<p>“Bah! let it go, the people of that farm are so cruel,
+they have beaten their donkey to death.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, then, would they say the wolves devoured it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because it is not known that they killed it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Even so, it would be better to bring in the cattle.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do as you wish, brother, I leave it to you.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span></p>
+
+<p>I did not stir in my corner, for fear of being discovered.
+The grass was high and concealed me entirely, the cattle
+did not pass near me, but were driven towards the gate
+and thence to their masters’ farm.</p>
+
+<p>I had no fear of wolves, for I was the very donkey of
+whom the men spoke; and in the forest where I had
+passed the night, I had not seen even a wolf’s trail. So
+I slept delightfully, and was finishing my breakfast when
+the cattle re-entered the field, led by two big dogs.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst I was quietly looking at them, one of the dogs
+perceived me, and barking fiercely, ran at me, followed
+by his companion. What would become of me? how
+should I escape them? I rushed against the fence enclosing
+the meadow; the stream I had followed crossed the
+lot, and I was fortunate enough to clear this stream, also
+to hear the voice of one of the men I had seen the evening
+before, calling back his dogs. I quietly continued my
+walk until I had reached another forest, the name of
+which I did not know. I must now have been more than
+ten leagues from the hedge farm; consequently I was
+safe, no one knew me, and I could show myself without
+fear of being taken back to my former owners.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span></p>
+
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="III">
+    III.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">THE NEW MASTERS.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>I <span class="smcap">lived</span> peacefully in this forest one month. Sometimes
+I felt a little lonesome, but I preferred solitude to
+misery. I was then tolerably happy, when I began to
+perceive that the grass was getting scarce and dry, the
+leaves falling, the water freezing, the ground growing
+damp.</p>
+
+<p>“Alas! alas!” thought I, “what is to become of me?
+If I stay here I shall perish of cold, of hunger and thirst,
+but where shall I go? who is there that wants me?”</p>
+
+<p>By dint of reflection, I devised a means of securing
+shelter. Leaving the forest, I went to a little village
+near by. There I saw a small, neat looking, isolated
+house, and a good woman seated at the door spinning.
+I was touched with her sad, gentle appearance; I approached
+her and put my head upon her shoulder. Much
+startled, the good woman uttered a scream and jumped
+up from her chair. I did not stir, but regarded her with
+a pitiful, supplicating air.</p>
+
+<p>“Poor beast!” said she, at length, “you do not look
+wicked. If no one owned you, I would be very much
+pleased to have you supply the place of my poor old
+Grison, who died of old age. I could then continue to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span>make my living selling my vegetables at the market.
+But, no doubt, you have a master,” she added, sighing.</p>
+
+<p>“To whom are you talking, grandmother?” said a soft
+voice from the inside of the house.</p>
+
+<p>“I am talking to a donkey that has come here and put
+his head on my shoulder, and he looks at me so pitifully
+that I haven’t the heart to drive him away.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let me see! let me see!” answered the soft voice.
+And immediately there appeared on the threshold a
+handsome little boy six or seven years of age, neatly but
+poorly clad. He looked at me with a curious, half timid
+air.</p>
+
+<p>“May I pet him, grandmother?” said he.</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly, my George, but take care that he does
+not bite you.”</p>
+
+<p>The little boy extended his arm, and not being able to
+reach me, he advanced a step, then another, and began to
+smooth my back.</p>
+
+<p>I did not stir for fear of frightening him; I only
+turned my head towards him, and passed my tongue over
+his hand.</p>
+
+<p>“Grandmother, grandmother, this poor donkey is so
+good-natured, he has licked my hand.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is very strange that he should be alone. Where is
+his master? Go, George, to the village inn, where
+travelers stop, and make inquiries about him. His master
+is probably worried about him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Shall I take the donkey, grandmother?”</p>
+
+<p>“He will not follow you; let him go where he wishes.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span></p>
+
+<p>George started off in a run; I trotted after him.
+When he saw that I followed, he came to me, and petting
+me, said: “Say then, my pretty donkey, since you follow
+me, you will surely let me ride you.” And he mounted
+at once, exclaiming as he did so, “get up!” I went off in
+a little gallop, which enchanted him. “Ho! ho!” said
+he before the inn, I stopped immediately, and George
+dismounted. I remained opposite the door, not stirring
+any more than if I had been tied.</p>
+
+<p>“What is it, my boy?” said the inn-keeper.</p>
+
+<p>“I came to know, Mr. Duval, if this donkey at the door
+belongs to you or any of your customers?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Duval came to the door and regarded me attentively.
+“No, my boy,” said he, “it is not mine, nor that
+of any one I know. You will have to inquire further.”</p>
+
+<p>George remounted, and setting off again in a gallop,
+we went from house to house, inquiring for my owner.
+No one knew me, and we returned to the good grandmother,
+who was still sitting in the door spinning.</p>
+
+<p>“Grandmother, the donkey belongs to no one about
+here. What are we to do with him? He keeps close to
+me, but he jumps away when anybody else tries to touch
+him.”</p>
+
+<p>“In that case, my George, we must not let him stay
+out-doors all night; something might happen to him.
+Lead him to our poor Grison’s stable, give him a bundle
+of hay and a bucket of water. We can take him to
+market to-morrow, and perhaps we may find his master.”</p>
+
+<p>“And if we do not find him, grandmother?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span></p>
+
+<p>“We will keep the donkey till some one claims him.
+We could not let the poor beast perish of cold this winter,
+or fall into the hands of wicked people who would beat
+him, or cause his death from fatigue and hard treatment.”</p>
+
+<p>After giving me food and water, George caressed me
+and went out, saying, as he shut the door:</p>
+
+<p>“How I hope he has no master, so he may stay with us.”</p>
+
+<p>Next day, having given me my breakfast, George put
+a halter on my neck and led me up to the door; the
+grandmother next placed a very light pack-saddle on my
+back and seated herself upon it. George then brought
+a little basket of vegetables, which she took upon her
+knees, and we set out for the market of Mamers. The
+good woman sold her vegetables at a fair price, no one
+recognized me, and I returned with my new mistress.</p>
+
+<p>I lived there four years; I was happy, injuring no one
+and making myself very useful, for I loved my little
+master, who never beat me, never worked me to death and
+always fed me well. However, I was no glutton; in
+summer, remnants of vegetables and the herbs which
+neither the horses nor cows ate; in winter a little hay
+and the skins of potatoes, carrots and turnips, satisfied
+my wants, as is the case with other donkeys.</p>
+
+<p>There were some days I did not enjoy, those on which
+my mistress hired me to the children in the neighborhood.
+Being poor, and not always having enough work
+to keep me busy, she was very glad to make a little something
+by hiring me to the children of the castle near by.</p>
+
+<p>They were not always good children.</p>
+
+<p>Listen to what happened on one of these excursions.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span></p>
+
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="IV">
+    IV.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">THE BRIDGE.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">There</span> were six donkeys drawn up in the yard; I was
+one of the handsomest and strongest of the number.
+Three little girls brought us oats in a bucket. Whilst
+eating I listened to the children’s conversation.</p>
+
+<p>“Come,” said Charles, “let us choose our donkeys, as for
+myself, I take that one,” pointing to me with his finger.</p>
+
+<p>“You always take the best,” answered the five children
+at once, “we must draw lots.”</p>
+
+<p>“How do you wish us to draw lots, Caroline,” replied
+Charles, “do we put the donkeys in a bag and draw them
+out as one does balls?”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah! ah! ah!” said Francis, “what an idiot, with
+his donkeys in a bag! As if one could not number them
+1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, put the numbers in a bag, and let each
+draw his number.”</p>
+
+<p>“So we can,” cried the five others, “Ernest set down
+the numbers, while we write them on the donkey’s backs.”</p>
+
+<p>These children are dunces, said I to myself. If they
+had the sense of a donkey, instead of tiring themselves
+writing numbers on our backs, they would simply arrange
+us along the wall, the first would be 1, the second, 2, and
+so on for the rest.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span></p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Francis had brought a big piece of coal.
+I was the first, so he made an enormous 1 on my back;
+whilst he wrote 2 on that of my comrade, I gave myself
+a vigorous shake, to convince him that his invention was
+not a famous one. Behold, the particles of coal flew off
+and the 1 disappeared. “You dunce!” cried he, “I
+must commence over.” Whilst he re-wrote his number
+1, my comrade that had perceived my doings, and was
+also mischievous, shook himself in turn. Behold the 2
+disappear. Francis began to get angry; the others
+laughed and mocked him. I made a sign to my comrades
+and we let him number us, no one budged. Ernest
+returned with the numbers in his handkerchief; each one
+drew. Whilst they were looking at what they had drawn
+I made another sign to my comrades, and we all shook
+ourselves worse than ever. More coal, more numbers, it
+must be commenced over, the children were enraged.
+Charles was triumphant and giggled; Ernest, Albert,
+Caroline, Cecilia and Louisa were indignant at Francis,
+who in turn, stamped his foot, my comrades and I began
+to bray. The noise attracted the papas and mamas.
+The cause was explained to them and one of the papas
+suggested the plan of arranging us along the wall. He
+made the children draw their numbers.</p>
+
+<p>“One!” cried Ernest. It was myself.</p>
+
+<p>“Two!” cried Cecilia. It was one of my friends.</p>
+
+<p>“Three,” cried Francis, and so on to the last.</p>
+
+<p>“Let us start now,” said Charles, “I go first.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! I shall soon overtake you,” replied Ernest with
+animation.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I bet not.”</p>
+
+<p>“I bet I shall.”</p>
+
+<p>Charles taps his donkey, which sets off at a gallop.
+Before Ernest has time to touch me with a whip, I start
+also, and at such a pace that Charles is speedily overtaken.
+Ernest is delighted, Charles is furious. He taps
+and keeps tapping his donkey. Ernest has no need to
+tap me; I run, I fly like the wind. I pass Charles in a
+minute, and I hear the others who follow, laughing, and
+crying out:</p>
+
+<p>“Bravo! donkey number 1, bravo! he runs like a
+horse.”</p>
+
+<p>Self love gives me courage; I continue to gallop until
+we reach a bridge. I stop suddenly, for I have just perceived
+that a large plank in the bridge is rotten; I do
+not wish to fall in the water with Ernest, but to return
+to the others who are far, far behind us.</p>
+
+<p>“Ho there! ho there! donkey,” said Ernest to me.
+“On the bridge, donkey, on the bridge.”</p>
+
+<p>I resist, he gives me a touch with the switch.</p>
+
+<p>I still continue to walk towards the others.</p>
+
+<p>“Headstrong thing! stupid brute! will you turn and
+pass the bridge?”</p>
+
+<p>I walk on towards my comrades and rejoin them, in
+spite of this wicked boy’s cross words and blows.</p>
+
+<p>“Why do you beat your donkey, Ernest?” cries Caroline,
+“he is excellent, he went flying and you overtook
+Charles.”</p>
+
+<p>“I beat him to make him go over the bridge, he is
+determined to turn back.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Ah! bah! because he was alone; now that we are
+all together he will pass the bridge like the rest.”</p>
+
+<p>“Unfortunate creatures!” think I, “they are all going
+to fall into the river. I must try to convince them of
+the danger.”</p>
+
+<p>And I set off in a gallop towards the bridge, to Ernest’s
+great satisfaction and amidst cries of joy from the other
+children.</p>
+
+<p>I gallop up to the bridge; reaching it, I stop suddenly
+as if afraid, Ernest astonished, urges me on, I recoil with
+an air of fright that surprises Ernest still more. Silly
+boy! he sees nothing though the rotten board is in full
+view. The others rejoin him, and enjoy the spectacle of
+his efforts to make me go across and mine not to do so.
+At last the whole party dismount from their donkeys,
+each one pushing and beating me mercilessly, still I budge
+not.</p>
+
+<p>“Pull him by the tail,” cries Charles, “donkeys are so
+headstrong that if you want to make them go one way,
+they are sure to go the other.”</p>
+
+<p>Behold them seize me by the tail. I defend myself
+with a kick; they all beat me at once, and yet I will not
+move an inch.</p>
+
+<p>“Wait Ernest,” says Charles, “let me go first and he
+will certainly follow.”</p>
+
+<p>He tries to advance, to prevent him I place myself
+crosswise before the bridge, but by dint of blows he
+makes me fall back.</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image021" style="max-width: 62.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image021.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    “A pole! a pole!” he cried.—(Page <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>“Well,” said I to myself, “I’ll give up, if this bad boy
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a><a id="Page_22"></a><a id="Page_23"></a>[Pg 23]</span>wants to be drowned, let him be, I have done my best to
+save him; since he is so determined, let him taste a
+draught.”</p>
+
+<p>Scarcely had his donkey touched the rotten plank, ere
+it gave way, and both rider and animal were thrown into
+the water. There was no danger for my comrade, as like
+the rest of his race, he knew how to swim, but Charles
+struggled and screamed without the power of extricating
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>“A pole! a pole!” he cried.</p>
+
+<p>The children ran in every direction, at last Caroline
+found a long pole, which she hastily held out to him; he
+seized it, but his weight was dragging her in, and she
+called for help. Ernest, Francis and Albert ran to her.
+At length, with a great deal of difficulty, they succeeded
+in drawing to land the unhappy Charles, who had drank
+more than he relished, and who was wet from head to
+foot. When assured of his safety, they all began to laugh
+at his piteous plight; Charles got angry, they jumped
+upon their donkeys, and with bursts of laughter advised
+him to return to the house and change his clothes. Wet
+as he was, he mounted his donkey. I laughed in my
+sleeve at his ridiculous figure, the current had carried
+away his hat and shoes, the water was running off him
+to the ground, his dripping hair clung to him, and his
+countenance was furious—altogether he was a most ludicrous
+picture. The children laughed, my comrades
+pranced and ran to express their delight.</p>
+
+<p>I ought to add that Charles’ donkey was detested by
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span>the rest of us, because he was quarrelsome, gluttonous
+and stupid, qualities very rare among us.</p>
+
+<p>At length Charles disappeared, and both children and
+donkeys became more quiet. Every one caressed me and
+admired my spirit, and we all started off again, I at the
+head of the band.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="V">
+    V.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">THE CEMETERY.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">We</span> went at a brisk pace; and soon approached the
+village cemetery, which is about a league from the castle.
+“Suppose we turn back and take the forest road,” said
+Caroline.</p>
+
+<p>“Why?” asked Cecilia.</p>
+
+<p>“Because I do not like cemeteries.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why do you not like them,” replied Cecilia with an
+air of derision. “Are you afraid you will not get away?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, but I think of the poor people who are buried
+there, and it makes me sad.”</p>
+
+<p>The children ridiculed Caroline and rode directly past
+the wall. They were just about to keep on, when Caroline,
+who seemed disquieted, stopped her donkey, leaped
+off, and ran to the cemetery gate.</p>
+
+<p>“What are you doing, Caroline, where are you going?”
+exclaimed the others.</p>
+
+<p>Caroline did not answer, but hurriedly pushing open
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span>the gate, she entered the cemetery, looked all around her,
+and ran towards a freshly made grave.</p>
+
+<p>Ernest, who had anxiously followed, had caught up
+with her, at the moment when bending over the grave,
+she lifted up a poor little boy, of about three years,
+whose moans had attracted her attention.</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image025" style="max-width: 62.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image025.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>“What is the matter, my poor little one? Why are
+you crying?”</p>
+
+<p>The child could not answer for his sobs.</p>
+
+<p>“Why are you here alone?” said Caroline again,
+noticing the child’s beauty and miserable clothing.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span></p>
+
+<p>“They left me here, I am hungry,” he answered sobbing.</p>
+
+<p>“Who left you here?”</p>
+
+<p>“The black men, I am hungry,” was the answer
+accompanied with another sob.</p>
+
+<p>“Ernest,” said Caroline, “run, and get our lunch,
+quick; we must give this poor little fellow something to
+eat; he will tell us afterwards why he weeps, and why
+he is here.”</p>
+
+<p>Ernest ran to get the basket of provisions, whilst Caroline
+endeavored to console the child. In a few minutes
+Ernest re-appeared, followed by the whole band, whom
+curiosity had attracted to the spot. They gave the child
+some cold chicken and some bread soaked in wine. As
+he ate, his tears ceased to flow, his countenance became
+smiling. When he had eaten heartily, Caroline again
+asked him why he was lying on this grave.</p>
+
+<p>“Because they have put grandmother here. I want to
+wait till she comes back.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where is your papa?”</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t tell, I don’t know him.”</p>
+
+<p>“And your mama?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know, black men carried her off as they did
+grandmother.”</p>
+
+<p>“But who takes care of you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No one.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who feeds you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nobody, I suck nurse.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where is your nurse?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Down there at the house.”</p>
+
+<p>“What does she do?”</p>
+
+<p>“She walks, and she eats grass.”</p>
+
+<p>“Grass?”</p>
+
+<p>Here all the children looked at one another with surprise.</p>
+
+<p>“Is she silly?” said Cecilia in an undertone.</p>
+
+<p>“He does not know what he is saying,” replied Francis,
+“he is too little.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why,” continued Caroline, “does not your nurse
+take you home?”</p>
+
+<p>“She can’t, she has no arms.”</p>
+
+<p>The children’s surprise increased.</p>
+
+<p>“How then can she carry you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I get on her back.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you sleep with her?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! no, I could not do that,” said the child smiling.</p>
+
+<p>“Where then does she sleep? Hasn’t she a bed?”</p>
+
+<p>The child began to laugh as he answered.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! no, she sleeps on straw.”</p>
+
+<p>“What does he mean,” said Ernest, “let us ask him to
+take us to the house, we shall see his nurse, and she can
+explain matters.”</p>
+
+<p>“I must confess, it is all a mystery to me,” said
+Francis.</p>
+
+<p>“Will you go back to your home, my little one?”
+asked Caroline.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but not all alone; I am afraid of the black men,
+grandma’s room was full of them.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span></p>
+
+<p>“We will all go with you, you must show us the
+way.”</p>
+
+<p>Caroline remounted her donkey, and took the little
+boy upon her lap. He showed us the way, and in five
+minutes we all reached the cabin of mother Thibaut, who
+died the evening previous and was buried that morning.
+The child ran to the house and called out “Nurse!
+Nurse!” Immediately a goat bounded out of the open
+stable, and darting towards the child, testified its joy at
+his return by a thousand gambols and caresses. The
+child likewise fondled it, and then said “Suck Nurse.”
+The goat immediately lay down on the ground, the little
+boy stretched himself near her, and began to suck as if
+he had neither eaten nor drunk.</p>
+
+<p>“There, the nurse is explained,” said Ernest, at last.
+“What shall we do with this child?”</p>
+
+<p>“We have nothing to do with him, except leave him
+with his nurse,” said Francis.</p>
+
+<p>The others cried out with indignation.</p>
+
+<p>“It would be wrong,” answered Caroline, “to abandon
+this poor little one, he might soon die for want of care.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you wish to do with him,” said Francis,
+“are you going to take him home with you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly; I shall ask mama to keep him at the house
+whilst she makes inquiries as to who he is, and whether
+he has any relatives or not.”</p>
+
+<p>“And our donkey party, are we to give that up and all
+return?”</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image029" style="max-width: 62.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image029.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    The little boy stretched himself near the goat.—(Page <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>“No, Ernest will be kind enough to accompany me,
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a><a id="Page_30"></a><a id="Page_31"></a>[Pg 31]</span>and the rest of you can continue your excursion, there
+will still be four, so you can well do without Ernest and
+me.”</p>
+
+<p>“She is right,” said Francis, “let us mount and continue
+our ride.”</p>
+
+<p>And they departed, leaving the kind Caroline with
+her cousin Ernest.</p>
+
+<p>“How fortunate it is they tried to tease me by passing
+so near the cemetery!” said she, “but for that, I would
+not have heard this poor child, and he would have spent
+the entire night on the cold, damp ground.”</p>
+
+<p>It was I whom Ernest mounted. With my usual intelligence,
+comprehending that we must reach the castle as
+promptly as possible, I set off at a gallop, my comrade
+followed, and we were there in half an hour. The family
+was startled at our unexpectedly early return. Caroline
+recounted her adventure with the child. Her mama
+was puzzled as to what arrangements could be made for
+him, when the porter’s wife offered to raise him with her
+son, who was about the same age. The offer was accepted.
+On sending to the village to make inquiries concerning
+his name and parentage, Caroline’s mama learned
+that his father had been dead a year, his mother six
+months; the child had been living with a wicked, miserly
+old grandmother, who had just died the day before, that
+following the coffin to the cemetery, he had been forgotten
+and left there; moreover, that he was not poor, the
+grandmother having been in comfortable circumstances.
+The porter’s wife raised him well, and he became a fine
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span>fellow. I know him, his name is John Thibaut, he is
+always kind to animals, which proves his good heart, and
+he is very fond of me, which proves his sense.</p>
+
+<p>The good goat was also brought to the porter’s and
+found a home there.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="VI">
+    VI.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">THE HIDING PLACE.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>I <span class="smcap">have</span> already said that I was happy, but my happiness
+was soon to end. George’s father was a soldier
+and when he returned to his country, bringing the money
+his dying captain had left him, and the cross given him
+by his general, he bought a house at Mamers, to which
+he removed his old mother and little son, and sold me to
+a neighboring farmer. I was very sad at leaving my
+good, old mistress and my little master George; both
+had been kind to me and I had been faithful to them.</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image033" style="max-width: 41.1875em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image033.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    Cadichon’s master says good-by to his friends.—(Page <a href="#Page_35">35</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>My new owner was not unkind, but he had a foolish
+fancy for making everything about him work, and myself
+among the number. He used to harness me to a little
+cart and make me haul earth, manure, apples, and wood.
+I commenced to grow lazy, I did not like to be harnessed,
+and market day I especially detested, not that they
+loaded me too heavily or beat me, but because I had to
+stand without eating from the morning, till three or four
+o’clock in the afternoon. When the heat was great, I
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a><a id="Page_34"></a><a id="Page_35"></a>[Pg 35]</span>nearly died of thirst, waiting till everything was sold,
+till my master had received his money and said good day
+to his friends, with whom he must also take a glass.</p>
+
+<p>I was not very good in those days; I wanted fair treatment,
+if denied me I sought revenge. Here is one of my
+tricks, from which you will perceive not only that donkeys
+are not stupid, but also that I had become very bad.</p>
+
+<p>On market day the family arose earlier than usual—the
+vegetables were to be gathered, the butter churned,
+the eggs collected. In summer, sleeping out-doors in a
+large meadow, I saw and heard these preparations, and
+knew that at ten o’clock, they would come to harness
+me to the little cart filled with all their marketable
+produce. I have already said how tiresome and trying
+this market was to me, so having noticed in the
+meadow a large ditch filled with briers and brambles,
+here I determined if possible, to conceal myself in such
+a manner that no one could find me at the moment of
+departure. Market day arrived; as soon as I saw the
+farm folks beginning to move about, I very gently descended
+into the ditch, and there buried myself so completely,
+that discovery was almost impossible. I had been
+there an hour hid away amongst the briers, when I heard
+the boy calling me, running in every direction to find me,
+and at last returning to the farm-house. Doubtless he
+had apprised the master of my disappearance, for in a
+few minutes I heard the farmer’s voice calling his wife
+and all the other farm folks to come help find me.</p>
+
+<p>“He must have got through the hedge,” said one.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span></p>
+
+<p>“How could he have got through, there is no break
+anywhere,” replied the other.</p>
+
+<p>“Some one has left the gate open,” said the master.
+“Run into the fields boys, he cannot be far; go quick,
+and bring him, for time passes, and we shall be too late.”</p>
+
+<p>Every one started off into the fields or the woods, running
+and calling me. I laughed to myself down in the
+hole, and took good care not to make my appearance.
+After the lapse of an hour, they all returned breathless
+and panting, from a fruitless search.</p>
+
+<p>The master having sworn at me, and said no doubt I
+had been taken, put one of his horses to the cart, and
+drove off in a very bad humor. When I saw that all
+returned to their work, and no one could see me, lifting
+up my head very cautiously, I looked around. Finding
+myself alone, I suddenly emerged from the ditch, and
+running to the other end of the field, to mislead their
+suspicions as to where I had been, I began to bray with
+all my strength.</p>
+
+<p>At this noise every one on the farm ran.</p>
+
+<p>“Here he is come back,” cried the shepherd.</p>
+
+<p>“Which way did he come?” said the mistress.</p>
+
+<p>“Which way did he go?” replied the wagoner.</p>
+
+<p>In my joy at having escaped the market, I ran to
+them. They were delighted to see me, caressed me, said
+I was a good creature to have escaped from the thieves,
+and paid me so many compliments that I was ashamed,
+knowing full well how much more deserving I was of the
+stick than caresses. They let me graze quietly, and I
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span>should have passed a charming day, had not my conscience
+reproached me for having deceived my poor
+master.</p>
+
+<p>When the farmer came home and learned of my return,
+he was well pleased, but very much surprised.
+Next day he went all around the meadow, and carefully
+repaired even the slightest breach in the hedge.</p>
+
+<p>“The donkey will be very smart to escape now,” said
+he, on finishing. I have stopped even the smallest holes
+with stakes and brambles; there is not room enough for
+a cat to get through.</p>
+
+<p>The week passed quietly, my adventure was no longer
+thought of. But the next market day I repeated the
+wicked trick, and again concealed myself in the ditch, for
+so doing saved me so much fatigue and weariness. As before,
+they sought me everywhere; their astonishment was
+greater than ever, they were now fully convinced that a
+skillful thief had carried me off by letting me through
+the gate.</p>
+
+<p>“This time,” said my master sadly, “he is certainly
+lost. He will not be able to escape again, and even if he
+should, he could not get into the meadow, for I have repaired
+the breaches in the hedge too carefully.”</p>
+
+<p>He went off sighing, and one of the horses again took
+my place in the cart. As on the preceding occasion, I
+emerged from my hiding place when everybody had got
+out of the way, but I was prudent enough not to announce
+my appearance with a hi han! as before.</p>
+
+<p>When they found me quietly eating grass in the field,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span>and my master learned that I had returned a short time
+after his departure, I saw that they had suspected me of
+some trick, for no one paid me any compliments, everyone
+eyed me with distrust, and I fully perceived that
+they watched me more closely than before. I laughed
+in my sleeve at them and said to myself:</p>
+
+<p>“Good friends, you will be very sharp if you discover
+the trick I have played on you; I am smarter than you,
+and I intend to keep the game up.”</p>
+
+<p>So I concealed myself a third time, very well pleased
+with my cunning. But scarcely was I stowed away in
+the ditch, ere I heard the furious barking of the big watch
+dog, and the voice of my master, saying:</p>
+
+<p>“Seize him Caesar, seize him; go down into the ditch,
+bite his legs, bring him! bravo my dog! seize him, seize
+him!”</p>
+
+<p>Caesar indeed darted down, he bit my legs, my body,
+and he would have devoured me, had I not decided to
+leave that ditch. I was about to run towards the hedge,
+and try forcing a passage through, when the farmer who
+was waiting for me, threw a slip knot over my head and
+brought me to a stand. He was armed with a whip and
+he made me feel it most sensibly; the dog continued to
+bite, the master to beat me, and I repented bitterly of
+my idleness. At last the farmer called Caesar off, put
+up his whip, exchanged the slip knot around my neck for
+a halter, and led me all mortified and beaten unmercifully,
+to the little cart which was in readiness for me.</p>
+
+<p>I learned afterwards that one of the children, who had
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span>been stationed near the gate, to open it if I returned,
+had perceived me coming out of the ditch, and had carried
+the news to his father. The little traitor!</p>
+
+<p>For a long time after, until my troubles and sad experience
+had taught me better, I wished all manner of evil
+to him.</p>
+
+<p>From that day I was treated more severely. They
+wished to keep me shut up, but I found means of opening
+all the fastenings with my teeth; if a latch, I lifted
+it; if a button, I turned it; if a bolt, I pushed it aside.
+I went just where I pleased. The farmer swore, scolded
+and beat me; he became harder on me, and I got to be
+worse and worse to manage. I felt that I had brought
+all this unhappiness on myself. I compared my present
+miserable life with that I had formerly led among the
+same people; but instead of reforming me, the reflexion
+made me only more headstrong and vicious. One day I
+went into the kitchen garden and eat all the salad;
+another day I knocked down the little boy who had
+betrayed me; another time, I drank a tub of cream they
+had placed out to be churned. I tramped on their
+chickens and young turkeys, I bit their pigs; in fine, I
+got so unmanageable that the mistress at last asked her
+husband to sell me at the fair at Mamers, which was to
+take place in fifteen days. I had become a very thin,
+miserable looking object, by reason of blows and poor
+nourishment. But now, wishing to put me in a good
+condition, (as the farmers say,) that I might sell to advantage,
+everyone on the farm was forbidden to maltreat
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span>me. I was released from work and was well fed. Very
+happy indeed was I during those fifteen days. My master,
+at the expiration of that time, took me to the fair
+and sold me for a hundred francs. I longed to give him
+a good bite at parting, but fearing such an act might
+make a bad impression on my new owner, I contented
+myself with turning my back upon him with a gesture
+of contempt.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="VII">
+    VII.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">THE LOCKET.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>I <span class="smcap">had</span> been bought by the parents of a delicate little
+girl, aged about twelve years, who living in the country
+and having no friends of her own age, was greatly in
+need of diversion, for the father devoted very little time
+to her, and the mother, though fond of her child, was so
+jealous, she could not bear to see her attached to anything
+but herself, not even animals. The physician having prescribed
+recreation of some kind, the mother decided upon
+donkey rides. My little mistress was named Pauline;
+she was a very kind, gentle, pretty child, of a sad, quiet
+disposition. She was often sick, but every day when not
+unwell, she went riding, and it was my delight to show
+her the prettiest paths and woods I knew. At first,
+we were always accompanied by a domestic, but when
+everyone saw what good care I took of her, we were
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span>allowed to go alone. It was she who called me Cadichon,
+which name I have ever retained.</p>
+
+<p>“Go, take a stroll with Cadichon,” the father would
+say, “there is no danger with a donkey like that, he has
+the intelligence of a man, and he will always bring you
+safe home.”</p>
+
+<p>So we would go out together. When my little mistress
+got tired of walking, I used to stand near a slight
+elevation, or rather descend into a hollow, that she might
+mount the more easily. I would also lead her up to hazel
+trees filled with nuts, and stop to let her gather them.
+She loved me much, and expressed it by kind attentions
+and caresses. When bad weather prevented our promenades,
+she would come to the stable, bringing me bread,
+fresh grass, salad leaves, carrots; she would stay a long
+time, a very long time; and talking to me, though believing
+that I did not understand her, she would tell me all
+her little troubles, often with tears.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! my poor Cadichon,” she would say, “you are
+a donkey, and you cannot understand me, yet you are
+my only friend, for it is only to you I can say all I think.
+Mama loves me, but she is jealous, she wants me to love
+nothing but herself. I have no childish friends, and I
+am so lonesome.”</p>
+
+<p>And then she would weep and caress me. I loved her
+too, and I pitied the poor little thing. When she was
+near me, I was very careful not to move, for fear of
+tramping on her.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span></p>
+
+<p>One day she came running towards me in the greatest
+delight.</p>
+
+<p>“Cadichon, Cadichon,” she cried, “mama has given
+me a locket with her hair; I am going to mix some of
+yours with it, for you too are dear to me, and I shall then
+have the hair of the two I love best in the world.”</p>
+
+<p>She cut off a little of my mane and put it in the
+locket with her mother’s hair.</p>
+
+<p>It made me happy to see how much Pauline loved me
+and I was proud of having my hair in a locket, but I
+must confess the effect was not very pretty; coarse, stiff
+and grey as my mane was, it made her mother’s tress look
+frightful. Pauline never perceived this, and she was
+turning her locket in every direction, and admiring it
+extravagantly, when her mother entered.</p>
+
+<p>“What are you looking at,” said the mother.</p>
+
+<p>“My locket mama,” answered Pauline concealing it
+somewhat.</p>
+
+<p>“Why did you bring it here?”</p>
+
+<p>“To show it to Cadichon.”</p>
+
+<p>“What foolishness! Indeed Pauline, you are losing
+your head with Cadichon! as if he could understand
+anything about a locket with hair!”</p>
+
+<p>“I assure you, mama, he understands very well, he
+licked my hand when—when—”</p>
+
+<p>Here Pauline blushed and was silent.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, why do you not finish? What made Cadichon
+lick your hand?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Mama, I would rather not tell you, I am afraid you
+will scold me,” said Pauline, much embarrassed.</p>
+
+<p>“What is it, at once?” replied her mother impatiently.
+“Speak, what nonsense have you been at now?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is not nonsense, mama, on the contrary—”</p>
+
+<p>“Then why are you afraid to tell me? I suppose you
+have been giving Cadichon oats to make him sick.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I have given him nothing, on the contrary—”</p>
+
+<p>“On the contrary? You provoke me, Pauline—now
+listen to me, I wish to know what you have been doing
+here for the last hour nearly.”</p>
+
+<p>And indeed the arrangement of my hair in the locket
+had been rather a long process; it was necessary to take
+off the paper back of the locket, remove the glass, insert
+the memento of myself, and then put the whole together
+again.</p>
+
+<p>Pauline still hesitated, at last, she said in a very low
+tone and with great embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>“I cut a little of Cadichon’s mane to—”</p>
+
+<p>“To what?” said her mother impatiently, “finish now,
+you cut it for what?”</p>
+
+<p>“To put it in the locket,” was the very low answer.</p>
+
+<p>“In what locket?” said her mother angrily.</p>
+
+<p>“In the one you gave me.”</p>
+
+<p>“In that I gave you with my hair!” replied the
+mother with increasing anger. “And what have you done
+with my hair?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is still there, see,” said poor Pauline, displaying
+the locket.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span></p>
+
+<p>“My hair mixed with a donkey’s mane!” exclaimed
+the mother in a rage. “Ah! it is too much! You do
+not deserve the present I gave you! To class me with a
+donkey! To express the same affection for a donkey as
+for me!”</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image044" style="max-width: 62.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image044.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>And snatching the locket from the hands of the unfortunate,
+stupefied Pauline, she dashed it to the ground,
+trampled it under foot and broke it into a thousand
+pieces. Then without noticing her daughter, she left the
+stable, slamming the door violently.</p>
+
+<p>Pauline surprised and frightened at this outburst of
+temper, was motionless an instant, then breaking into
+sobs, and throwing herself upon my neck, she exclaimed
+passionately:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Cadichon, Cadichon, you see how I am treated!
+They do not want me to love you, but I will love you in
+spite of them, and more than them, because you are good
+to me—you never scold me, you never grieve me, and
+you always try to amuse me in our promenades. Alas!
+Cadichon, how unfortunate that you can neither understand
+me nor talk to me. Oh! what I would tell you!”</p>
+
+<p>Pauline was silent, she throw herself on the ground
+and continued to weep gently. I was touched and distressed
+at her grief, but I could not console her or even
+let her know that I understood her. I felt enraged at
+this mother, who through stupid or excessive affection,
+could render her child so unhappy. Had it been in my
+power, I would have told her of the grief she caused
+Pauline, and the injury it did her already delicate health,
+but Alas! I could not speak. I could do nothing but
+look sadly on at the poor child’s flowing tears.</p>
+
+<p>Scarcely a quarter of an hour had elapsed since her
+mother’s leaving the stable, when a servant opened the
+door and called Pauline.</p>
+
+<p>“Mademoiselle,” said she, “your mama has sent for
+you, she does not wish you to stay in the stable with
+Cadichon, or even to come here at all.”</p>
+
+<p>“Cadichon, my poor Cadichon!” exclaimed Pauline,
+“they do not wish me to see you any more!”</p>
+
+<p>“Only when you go out riding, Mademoiselle, your
+mama says, the place for you is in the parlor, not in the
+stable.”</p>
+
+<p>Pauline made no answer; she knew her mother exacted
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span>obedience, but embracing me again, and I felt her tears
+on my neck as she did so, she left the stable to return no
+more.</p>
+
+<p>From that time Pauline became sadder and more delicate,
+she coughed, she grew pale and thin. The bad
+weather rendered our promenades shorter and less frequent.
+When we did go however, I was brought up to
+the castle steps, Pauline mounted without saying one
+word to me, or taking any notice of me, but as soon as
+we were out of sight, she jumped off, caressed me, and
+relieved her heart by recounting her daily troubles and
+griefs, though still thinking I could not understand her.
+It was thus I learned her mama’s continued displeasure
+since that affair of the locket, how Pauline’s life was
+sadder and more irksome than ever, and how the malady
+from which she suffered was becoming graver every day.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="VIII">
+    VIII.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">THE FIRE.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Just</span> as I had gone to sleep one evening, I was awakened
+by cries of “fire! fire!” Startled and terrified I endeavored
+to rid myself of the leather strap that held me fast,
+but in vain did I pull at it, and roll on the ground, the
+strap would not break. At last the happy idea occurred
+to me of cutting it with my teeth, and this I succeeded
+in doing after several efforts. My poor stable was lighted
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span>up with the reflexion of the fire; the cries, the noise
+increased; I heard the lamentations of the servants, the
+crash of falling walls, the giving way of floors, the roaring
+of flames; the smoke had already reached my stable,
+and no one thought of me, no one had had charity enough
+just to open my door and let me out. The flames
+increased in violence, already I began to experience a
+feeling of great heat and suffocation.</p>
+
+<p>“It is all over for me,” said I, “I am condemned to be
+burned alive! what a frightful death! Oh! Pauline, my
+dear mistress, you have forgotten your poor Cadichon!”</p>
+
+<p>Scarcely had I, not pronounced, but thought these
+words, when my door was opened violently, and I heard
+the terrified voice of Pauline calling me. Happy at
+being saved, I darted towards her, and we were just on
+the threshold, when a frightful crash made us recoil. A
+building directly opposite my stable had tumbled down,
+and every passage was choked up with the ruins; my
+poor mistress must now perish for having attempted to
+save me! We were nearly suffocated with the smoke, the
+dust of the fallen building, and the heat. Pauline
+dropped down beside me. Suddenly, I took a dangerous
+resolution, but the only one that could save us. Seizing
+my little mistress’s dress in my teeth, she being partly
+unconscious from fright, I darted across the burning
+beams that strewed the ground. Being fortunate enough
+to get through without her clothing taking fire, I now
+stopped to see whither I must direct my steps; everything
+around us was in flames. Discouraged and almost
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span>in despair, I was going to lay Pauline, now utterly unconscious,
+on the ground, when perceiving an open cave; I
+rushed in, (knowing full well that in one of these vaults
+under the castle we were in absolute safety,) and I laid
+Pauline near a tub of water, so that she could bathe her
+forehead and temples on awaking from her swoon. It did
+not last very long, and when she awoke to consciousness
+and found herself out of danger, she threw herself upon her
+knees, and in a touching prayer thanked God for having
+so mercifully preserved her. Then, after thanking me
+with a tenderness and gratitude quite affecting, she drank
+a few mouthfuls of water from the tub and listened.
+The fire continued its ravages, everything was burning;
+we still heard a few voices, but so indistinctly that we
+could not recognize them.</p>
+
+<p>“Poor mama and papa!” said Pauline, “they think I
+have perished in disobeying them, by going to Cadichon’s
+rescue. We must now wait till the fire is extinguished.
+No doubt, we shall spend the night in the vault. Good
+Cadichon!” she added, “I owe my life to you.”</p>
+
+<p>She said no more, but took her seat on an upturned
+chest, and leaning her head upon an empty barrel, was
+soon asleep. I felt tired and hungry, so I drank from
+the tub, and stretching myself out near the door, I was not
+long in following her example.</p>
+
+<p>I awoke very early. Pauline still slept. I arose softly
+and went to the door, which I opened; everything was
+burned and the flames extinguished, and I saw that one
+could easily pick his way through the ruins to the castle
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span>yard. I gave a light hi! han! to awaken my mistress,
+who opened her eyes, and seeing me near the door, she
+ran towards it and gazed around her.</p>
+
+<p>“All burned up! all gone!” said she sadly, “I shall
+never see the castle any more. I shall be dead before it
+is rebuilt, I feel it; I am weak and sick, very sick,
+although mama says—”</p>
+
+<p>“Come, my Cadichon,” she continued after remaining
+pensive and motionless for a few minutes, “come, let us
+go now, I must find mama and papa to console them,
+they think me dead.”</p>
+
+<p>She lightly threaded her way among the fallen stones,
+the crumbled walls, the still smoking beams. I followed
+her, and we soon reached the lawn, where she got on my
+back. Directing my steps towards the village, we lost
+no time in finding the house where her parents had taken
+refuge. Believing their child lost, they were plunged in
+the deepest affliction.</p>
+
+<p>At sight of her, they uttered an exclamation of joy
+and rushed out to clasp her in their arms. She recounted
+to them with what intelligence and courage I had saved
+her life; but instead of thanking and caressing me, the
+mother surveyed me with an air of indifference, and the
+father never deigned to look at me at all.</p>
+
+<p>“He nearly caused your death, my poor child,” said
+the mother. “If you had not been so foolish as to think
+of opening the stable, and setting him at liberty, your
+father and I would not have passed such a night of desolation.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span></p>
+
+<p>“But,” said Pauline earnestly, “it is he who—”</p>
+
+<p>“Hush, hush,” replied the mother interrupting her,
+“say no more to me about this animal which I detest,
+for he has almost caused your death.”</p>
+
+<p>Pauline sighed, looked sorrowfully at me and was
+silent.</p>
+
+<p>From that day I never saw her more. The terrible
+fright, the fatigue of a night passed out of bed, but especially
+the low temperature of the vault, all increased the
+disease from which she had suffered a long time. In the
+morning she was taken with a fever that never left her.
+The chill of the preceding night finished what sadness
+and weariness had commenced; her chest already weak,
+could not stand the shock, and she died at the end of a
+month, neither regretting life nor fearing death. She
+often spoke of me and called me in her delirium. No
+one thought of me now. I ate what I could find, and I
+slept unsheltered in cold and rain. When I saw the
+coffin which contained the body of my poor, little mistress
+carried out of the house, my grief was so intense
+that I left that part of the country, and have never been
+there since.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span></p>
+<br>
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image051" style="max-width: 43.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image051.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    She was taken with a fever.—(Page <a href="#Page_50">50</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a><a id="Page_53"></a>[Pg 53]</span></p>
+
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="IX">
+    IX.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">THE DONKEY RACE.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>I <span class="smcap">lived</span> miserably on account of the season, for the
+home I had selected was in a forest where I could scarcely
+find the wherewith to keep me from dying of hunger and
+thirst. When the streams were frozen I ate snow, my
+only nourishment was got by nibbling thistles, my only
+shelter the pines. How often did I not compare my
+present sad existence with that I had led at my good
+master George’s, and even at the farmer’s to whom he
+had sold me, until I gave myself up to idleness, mischief
+and revenge. However, there were no means of improving
+my miserable condition, for I was determined to
+remain free, and master of my actions. Sometimes, by
+way of recreation, I went to the outskirts of a village
+very near the forest, to find out what was going on in the
+world. One day, it was Springtime (and the fine weather
+had set in,) I was surprised to notice that something
+extraordinary was going on, the village wore a festive
+air, people went in throngs, every one arrayed in his or
+her holiday garments, and what was still more astonishing,
+all the donkeys of a neighboring county were collected
+there, curried and rubbed, carrying neither panier
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span>nor saddle, some even having flowers on their head or
+around their neck, and every one accompanied by a
+master, leading him by a bridle.</p>
+
+<p>“This is singular,” thought I, “there is no fair going
+on to-day! What can all my comrades be doing here,
+curried and decorated? And how fat they are! they
+have certainly been well fed this winter!”</p>
+
+<p>As I mentally ejaculated these words, I looked at
+myself; my back, my belly, my crest were thin and rough,
+and the hair all over my body standing awry, but I felt
+strong and vigorous.</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image054" style="max-width: 62.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image054.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>“I would rather be homely,” thought I, “but healthy
+and active; none of my comrades here, so handsome,
+fat and well cared for, could support the fatigues and
+privations I have endured all winter.” As I drew near
+to ascertain the meaning of this re-union of donkeys,
+one of the boys in charge of them, perceiving me, began
+to laugh.</p>
+
+<p>“Come boys, come see the beautiful donkey that has
+just arrived! How well curried he is!” cried he.</p>
+
+<p>“And well fed and cared for,” said another. “Has he
+come for the race?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span></p>
+
+<p>“If he has, let him run,” cried a third, “there is no
+danger of his gaining the prize.”</p>
+
+<p>A general laugh followed these words. Though displeased
+at the boys’ stupid jokes, my vexation was tempered
+by the satisfaction of having learned what all the
+commotion meant. There was to be a race, but when or
+how? Wishing to know more, I continued to listen,
+though apparently understanding nothing of what was
+said.</p>
+
+<p>“Are they going to start soon?” inquired one of the
+young men.</p>
+
+<p>“I do not know, they are waiting for the Mayor.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where is the race course?” said a good woman who
+had just arrived.</p>
+
+<p>“In the big meadow by the mill, mother Tranchet,”
+answered John.</p>
+
+<p>“How many donkeys are there here now?”</p>
+
+<p>“There are sixteen not counting you, mother Tranchet.”
+A burst of laughter followed this jest.</p>
+
+<p>“Ah! you are a scamp!” said mother Tranchet laughing,
+“and what does the winner of the race get?”</p>
+
+<p>“Honor first, and a silver watch next.”</p>
+
+<p>“I would be well pleased to be a donkey for the sake
+of gaining the watch; I have never had the money to
+buy a watch.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, if you had brought a donkey you would have
+to run—the chance.”</p>
+
+<p>And all laughed their heartiest.</p>
+
+<p>“Where do you suppose I would get a donkey? Have
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span>I ever had the means to buy one, or to feed one after buying
+it.”</p>
+
+<p>This good woman pleased me greatly she had such a
+cheerful, lively air; and the idea struck me of trying to
+win her the watch. I was accustomed to running, for
+every day in the woods I took long runs to warm myself,
+and I had formerly enjoyed the reputation of running as
+long and as swiftly as a horse.</p>
+
+<p>“Come,” said I to myself, “let’s try; if I do not win,
+I lose nothing; if I do win, I shall gain a watch for
+mother Tranchet, who greatly desires it.”</p>
+
+<p>Starting off at a little trot, I took my place beside the
+last mule, and assuming a proud air I began to bray
+vigorously.</p>
+
+<p>“Stop! stop!” exclaimed Andrew, “will you stop that
+music? Get away donkey, you are without a master,
+you are too badly curried, you can’t run.”</p>
+
+<p>I held my peace, but did not budge. Some laughed,
+some were vexed, and they were beginning to contend
+among themselves, when mother Tranchet exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>“Well, if he has no master, he is going to have a mistress;
+I recognize him now. It is Cadichon, poor Miss
+Pauline’s donkey; they drove him off when the poor,
+little thing was no longer there to protect him, and I
+firmly believe he has lived all winter in the woods, for
+no one has seen him since. I take him to-day into my
+service; he is going to run for me.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is Cadichon!” cried several in various directions.
+“I have heard of this famous Cadichon.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span></p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image057" style="max-width: 56.0625em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image057.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    “Here is my money.”—(Page <a href="#Page_59">59</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a><a id="Page_59"></a>[Pg 59]</span></p>
+
+<p>“But mother Tranchet,” said John, “if he is going to
+run for you, you must drop a silver piece of fifty centimes
+in the Mayor’s bag, just like everybody else.”</p>
+
+<p>“That shall not hinder me, my children, here is my
+money,” she added, untying a knot in her handkerchief,
+“but don’t ask any more, for I haven’t it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah well! if your donkey wins you will not lose anything,
+for all the village has contributed to this bag, it
+contains more than a hundred francs.”</p>
+
+<p>I approached mother Tranchet, and I whirled on my
+heel, leaped and kicked with such facility, that the boys
+began to fear I might win the day.</p>
+
+<p>“Listen, John,” said Andrew in an undertone, “you
+were wrong to let mother Tranchet contribute to the bag.
+That gives her a right to let Cadichon run, and he has
+such a nimble air, I fear he may win the watch and
+money.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah bah! how silly you are! Don’t you see there what
+a figure this poor Cadichon cuts! He is going to make us
+laugh, he’ll not go far indeed.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t say, suppose I coax him off with some oats.”</p>
+
+<p>“And what of mother Tranchet’s money?”</p>
+
+<p>“Her donkey gone, the money would be returned to
+her.”</p>
+
+<p>“I agree; Cadichon is no more to her, than to you or
+me. Get some oats and try to coax him off without
+mother Tranchet’s knowledge.”</p>
+
+<p>I had heard and understood all; so when Andrew
+returned with the oats in his apron, instead of approaching
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span>him, I drew near mother Tranchet, who was talking with
+her friends. Andrew followed; John thinking I had
+not seen the oats, took me by the ears and made me
+turn my head. Still I would not budge, notwithstanding
+my longing to taste such a luxury. Andrew began
+to push, John, to pull me, and I to bray in my loudest
+voice. Mother Tranchet turned, and seeing the manœuvres
+of Andrew and John:</p>
+
+<p>“Boys,” said she, “you are not doing right there. Since
+you made me deposit my silver piece in the bag, you
+must not take Cadichon off. It appears to me that you
+are afraid of him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Afraid! afraid of a dirty donkey like that! Oh! no,
+we have no fears of him,” said Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>“Then why would you try to lead him off?”</p>
+
+<p>“To give him some oats.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah! that’s a different thing!” replied mother Tranchet
+in a sportive way, “you are very obliging, just pour
+the oats on the ground so that he can eat them at his
+ease! And to think that I suspected you of giving them
+to him from malice! How one can be mistaken.”</p>
+
+<p>Andrew and John were ashamed and vexed, but they
+took good care to conceal it. Their companions laughed
+to see them so nicely caught, mother Tranchet clapped
+her hands, and as for me, I was delighted, eating my oats
+with avidity, and feeling a renewal of strength as I did
+so. I was quite pleased with mother Tranchet also.
+Having finished eating, I was impatient to start. At
+last there was a great tumult, the Mayor had just ordered
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span>us to be ranged in line. I modestly took the last place.
+My appearance alone, without a master, was the signal
+for a general inquiry as to who I was, and to whom I
+belonged.</p>
+
+<p>“To no one,” said Andrew.</p>
+
+<p>“To me,” cried mother Tranchet.</p>
+
+<p>“It is necessary to contribute to the bag, mother Tranchet,”
+said the Mayor.</p>
+
+<p>“I have done so, Mr. Mayor.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good; write mother Tranchet’s name,” said the
+Mayor.</p>
+
+<p>“It is already down, sir,” replied the secretary.</p>
+
+<p>“Very well,” said the Mayor. “Is everything ready?
+One, two, three! Start!”</p>
+
+<p>At this the boys suddenly released the donkeys they
+were holding, giving them a smart blow of the whip at
+the same time. All started. No one had held me, and
+as I honestly awaited my turn all the others had a slight
+advantage over me. But we had not gone more than a
+hundred steps ere I reached them. Behold me now at
+the head of the band, outstripping them, indeed, without
+overtaxing myself to do so. The boys halloed and
+cracked their whips to urge on their own. I glanced
+back occasionally to see their disconcerted visages, to
+contemplate my triumph and laugh at their efforts. My
+companions, furious at being distanced by me—a poor,
+unknown, piteous looking creature—redoubled their
+efforts to overtake me, and endeavored to block the road,
+one against another. I heard behind me savage cries,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span>kicks, bites. Twice was I reached, almost passed, by
+John’s donkey. Perhaps I ought to have employed the
+same means against him that he had used in outstripping
+his companions; but I disdained such unworthy
+manœuvres. I saw, however, that not to be beaten it
+was necessary to do my utmost. With a vigorous bound,
+I dashed ahead of my rival, who at the same moment
+seized me by the tail. So great was the pain that I
+almost dropped down on the spot; but the thought of
+victory inspired me with courage to snatch myself away,
+leaving a piece of my tail in his mouth. The desire of
+vengeance gave me wings. I ran with such speed that
+not only did I reach the goal first, but far, far ahead of
+all my rivals. I was breathless, exhausted, but happy
+and triumphant, reveling amidst the applause of thousands
+of spectators who thronged the fields. With a victor’s
+pride I walked up to the tribunal of the Mayor, who
+was to bestow the prize. Good mother Tranchet also
+advanced, caressing and promising me a fine repast of
+oats. She extended her hand for the watch and silver
+which the Mayor was about to give her, when Andrew
+and John, running in breathless haste, exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>“Stop, Mr. Mayor, stop; it is not right, that. No one
+knows this donkey. Mother Tranchet has no right to
+the prize. This donkey does not count; it was mine
+and John’s donkeys that beat; the watch and money
+belong to us.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did not mother Tranchet contribute to the race?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, Mr. Mayor, but—”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span></p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image063" style="max-width: 62.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image063.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    My rival seized me by the tail.—(Page <a href="#Page_62">62</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a><a id="Page_65"></a>[Pg 65]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Was there any opposition when she did so?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Mr. Mayor, but—”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you oppose it at the moment of departure?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Mr. Mayor, but—”</p>
+
+<p>“Then mother Tranchet’s donkey has really won the
+watch and money.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Mayor, assemble the municipal council to decide
+this question; you have no right to decide alone.”</p>
+
+<p>The Mayor hesitated. Seeing this, I abruptly seized
+the watch and bag with my teeth and put them in the
+hands of mother Tranchet, who, anxious and trembling,
+awaited the Mayor’s decision.</p>
+
+<p>This act of intelligence put every one on our side and
+covered me with applause.</p>
+
+<p>“Behold the question decided by the victor in favor of
+mother Tranchet,” said the Mayor, laughing. “Gentlemen
+of the municipal council, at table we will deliberate
+upon my allowing justice to be decided by a donkey.
+Friends,” added he, casting a mischievous glance at
+Andrew and John, “in my opinion the greatest donkey
+among us is not that of mother Tranchet.”</p>
+
+<p>“Bravo! bravo! Mr. Mayor!” arose from every side.
+And all laughed except Andrew and John, who went off
+shaking their fists at me.</p>
+
+<p>And as to myself, was I pleased? No, my pride
+revolted; the Mayor had insulted me in calling my enemies
+donkeys. It was ungrateful and base to do so. I
+had displayed courage, forbearance, patience, intelligence,
+and this was my recompense! Having insulted, they
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span>abandoned me. Even mother Tranchet, in her joy at
+getting a watch and a purse of a hundred and thirty-five
+francs, forgot her benefactor and thought no more of the
+promised repast of oats, but departed with the crowd,
+leaving me minus the reward I so truly deserved!</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="X">
+    X.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">GOOD MASTERS.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Left</span> sad and solitary in the field, and suffering from
+my bitten tail, I was just wondering to myself if donkeys
+were not better than men, when I felt a soft hand caress
+me, and heard a voice not less gentle, saying:</p>
+
+<p>“Poor thing! they have been unkind to you, come,
+poor beast, come go home to grandma’s, she will feed and
+care for you better than your wicked masters! Poor donkey!
+how thin you are!”</p>
+
+<p>Turning round, I saw a pretty little boy about five
+years old, his sister apparently three, and the nurse.</p>
+
+<p>“James,” said Ruth, “what are you saying to this
+poor donkey?”</p>
+
+<p>“I told it to come home to grandma’s, it is all alone,
+poor beast!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, James, take him; wait, I am going to get on his
+back. Nurse, nurse, put me on the donkey’s back.”</p>
+
+<p>The nurse put the little girl on my back; James wished
+to lead me, but had no bridle.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span></p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image067" style="max-width: 41.1875em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image067.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    I seized the watch and bag with my teeth.—(Page <a href="#Page_65">65</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a><a id="Page_69"></a>[Pg 69]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Wait nurse,” said he, “I am going to tie my handkerchief
+around his neck.”</p>
+
+<p>Little James tried to do so, but my neck was much too
+large for his small handkerchief; the nurse gave him hers
+and it was too small.</p>
+
+<p>“What shall I do nurse?” said he, ready to cry.</p>
+
+<p>“We must get a halter or rope from the village.
+Come, my little Ruth, get down.”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” said Ruth, clinging to my neck, “I want to
+stay on the donkey, I want him to take me home.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you have nothing to lead him with; you see he
+won’t move any more than if he were a stone.”</p>
+
+<p>“Wait nurse, yes he will, I know his name, it is Cadichon,
+mother Tranchet told me so, I am going to pet and
+coax him, and I believe he will follow me.”</p>
+
+<p>James came up to me and whispered in my ear. “Go
+my nice Cadichon, please go.”</p>
+
+<p>This dear little boy’s confidence touched me, I noticed
+with pleasure, that instead of asking for a stick to make
+me go, he had thought only of kind and gentle means.
+So, scarcely had he finished his words and the accompanying
+caresses, ere I began to move.</p>
+
+<p>“You see nurse, he understands me, he loves me,”
+exclaimed James, his cheeks flushed, his eyes sparkling
+with joy, as he ran a little in advance to show me the
+way.</p>
+
+<p>“As if a donkey could understand anything! he goes
+because he is tired of standing here.”</p>
+
+<p>“But nurse, he follows me, you see.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Because he smells the bread in your pocket.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you think he is hungry, nurse?”</p>
+
+<p>“Very likely, you see how thin he is.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes he is, poor Cadichon, and for me not to think of
+giving him my bread.”</p>
+
+<p>And taking from his pocket the piece of bread intended
+for his luncheon, he offered it to me.</p>
+
+<p>I was offended at the nurse’s unkind suggestion, and
+delighted with an opportunity of proving that she had
+judged me harshly, I followed James and carried Ruth
+on my back, not from interest at all, but from civility
+and courtesy.</p>
+
+<p>I refused the offered bread, and contented myself with
+licking James’s hand.</p>
+
+<p>“Nurse, look! look! he licks my hand,” exclaimed
+James. “He does not want the bread. Oh! my dear,
+nice Cadichon, how I love you! You see now nurse,
+that he follows me because he loves me, and not to get
+the bread.”</p>
+
+<p>“So much the better for you, if you can believe you
+have a donkey like one nobody else ever saw, a model
+donkey. I know they are all headstrong and vicious,
+and for my part, I do not like them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh nurse, poor Cadichon is not vicious, see how good
+he is to me.”</p>
+
+<p>“And how long will it all last?”</p>
+
+<p>“My Cadichon, you will always be good to me and
+Ruth, won’t you?” said James, caressing me.</p>
+
+<p>I turned towards him with such a look of affection,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span>that in spite of his tender years, he noticed it; then I
+cast upon the nurse such a furious glance that she likewise
+observed it, for she said immediately:</p>
+
+<p>“What a wicked eye! and defiant air! he looks at me
+as if he wanted to devour me!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh nurse,” replied James, “how can you say that?
+he looks at me with such a gentle air, as if he wished to
+embrace me.”</p>
+
+<p>Both were right, and I had not been misunderstood. I
+promised myself to be gentle and good to James, Ruth,
+and all on the place who would be kind to me, and I
+also made the wicked resolution, of being spiteful and
+vicious to those who would maltreat or insult me, as the
+nurse had done. This desire of vengeance, was eventually
+to cause me much unhappiness.</p>
+
+<p>Talking as they went, we kept on and soon reached
+their grandmother’s residence.</p>
+
+<p>They left me at the door, where I stood quietly, like a
+well behaved donkey, not even nibbling the grass that
+bordered the gravel walks.</p>
+
+<p>In two minutes, James re-appeared, accompanied by
+his grandmother.</p>
+
+<p>“Come see, grandma, come see how gentle he is, and
+how he loves me. Do not believe nurse, I beg you,” said
+James clasping his hands.</p>
+
+<p>“No, grandma, don’t believe it, I entreat you not to
+believe it,” repeated Ruth.</p>
+
+<p>“Let us see,” said the grandmother smiling, “let us see
+this famous donkey.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span></p>
+
+<p>And coming up to me, she touched me, she caressed
+me, she took hold of my ears, put her hand to my mouth,
+I stood very quietly, making not the slightest attempt to
+bite her, or even get away from her.</p>
+
+<p>“He seems to be very gentle,” she said, “how could
+you say, Emily, that he had a wicked look?”</p>
+
+<p>“Isn’t he good, grandma, isn’t he? and mustn’t we
+keep him?” said James.</p>
+
+<p>“My dear little one, I believe he is very good; but how
+can we keep him, since he is not ours? He must be taken
+back to his master.”</p>
+
+<p>“He has no master, grandma.”</p>
+
+<p>“We are sure he has no master, grandma,” replied
+Ruth, who always repeated her brother’s words.</p>
+
+<p>“How is that, it is impossible.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is true, grandma, mother Tranchet told me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then how did he gain the race prize for her? Since
+he ran for her, she must have borrowed him from some
+one.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Grandma, he came all alone, and wanted to run
+with the others. Mother Tranchet paid the risk, but she
+does not own him, he belongs to nobody, it is Cadichon,
+whose mistress, poor Pauline died; her parents drove
+him off, and he has lived all winter in the woods.”</p>
+
+<p>“Cadichon! the famous Cadichon who saved his little
+mistress from the fire? Ah! I am very glad to know
+him; he is truly an extraordinary and admirable donkey.”</p>
+
+<p>And she walked around me, regarding me attentively.
+Proud to see my reputation so well established, I reared
+my head, inflated my nostrils and shook my mane.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Oh! how thin he is! Poor beast! his devotion met
+with little recompense,” said the grandmother in a serious
+manner and tone of reproach. “We will keep him, my
+child, we will keep him, since he has been abandoned
+and driven off by those who ought to have cared for and
+loved him. Call Bouland to put him in the stable and
+give him a good bed.”</p>
+
+<p>James, delighted, ran to get Bouland, who came immediately.</p>
+
+<p>“Bouland, here is a donkey the children have brought
+home; take him to the stable and feed and water him,”
+said the grandmother.</p>
+
+<p>“Must he then be taken to his master?” said Bouland.</p>
+
+<p>“No; he has no master. It appears that he is the
+famous Cadichon that was driven off after the death of
+his little mistress. He came to the village and my little
+children found him abandoned in the field. They
+brought him home and we are going to keep him.”</p>
+
+<p>“And madam does well to keep him; there is not his
+equal in all the country. I have heard most wonderful
+things about him. They say he hears and understands
+all that is said to him. Let us try him, madam. Come,
+Cadichon, come get some oats.”</p>
+
+<p>I immediately turned and followed Bouland.</p>
+
+<p>“It is astonishing,” said the grandmother; “he really
+understood.”</p>
+
+<p>And she went in the house, but James and Ruth
+accompanied me to the stable. I was placed in a stall,
+my companions being two horses and a donkey. Bouland,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span>assisted by James, made me a good bed, and then
+went to get my oats.</p>
+
+<p>“More, more, Bouland; I beg you to give him more,”
+said James; “he needs a hearty meal, he has run so
+hard.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, Master James, if you give him too many oats
+he will get so lively that you and Miss Ruth can’t ride
+him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! he is such a good donkey, I know we can ride
+him all the same.”</p>
+
+<p>They gave me an enormous quantity of oats and put
+a bucket of water beside me. Being thirsty, I first drank
+a little and then attacked my oats, meanwhile congratulating
+myself upon having fallen into the hands of this
+good little James. I also made some reflections upon
+mother Tranchet’s ingratitude. Then devouring my
+bundle of hay, I lay down on my straw, and, couched
+like a king, I slept.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span></p>
+
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="XI">
+    XI.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">CADICHON SICK.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">My</span> only employment next morning was to take the
+children riding an hour. James himself got me my oats,
+and in spite of Bouland’s warning, he gave me enough
+to feed three donkeys my size. I ate all that was given
+me; I was happy. But on the third day I felt sick, I
+had fever, and both head and stomach seemed affected; I
+could eat neither hay nor oats, but remained extended
+upon the straw.</p>
+
+<p>“Here is Cadichon not up yet,” said James coming to
+see me. “Come, Cadichon, it is time to rise, I am going
+to give you your oats.”</p>
+
+<p>I endeavored to rise but my head fell back heavily
+upon the straw.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! Cadichon is sick,” exclaimed little James,
+“Bouland, Bouland, come quick, Cadichon is sick!”</p>
+
+<p>“How is that,” said Bouland, “he ate his breakfast
+this morning?”</p>
+
+<p>Going up to the trough, Bouland looked in and said:</p>
+
+<p>“He is sick, he has not touched his oats—his ears are
+warm,” added he, taking hold of my ears, “and his side
+beats.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span></p>
+
+<p>“What does that mean, Bouland?” exclaimed poor
+James, in great alarm.</p>
+
+<p>“It means master James, that Cadichon has a fever,
+you have fed him too high, we must get the veterinary.”</p>
+
+<p>“What is a veterinary?” asked James, still more
+alarmed.</p>
+
+<p>“It is a horse doctor. You see, master James, I told
+you right. The poor beast suffered this winter from
+hunger and want of shelter, (you can tell by looking at
+him, see the color of his hair and how lean he is,) then
+he got very much heated running at the race. He ought
+to have had a few oats, and some grass to strengthen him,
+but you have given him just as many oats as he could
+eat.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! my poor Cadichon! he is going to die, and it is
+my fault!” said James with a sob.</p>
+
+<p>“No, master James, he is not going to die this time,
+but he must be bled and put out on grass.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! but it will hurt so to bleed him,” said James,
+all in tears.</p>
+
+<p>“Not this bleeding; you will see, for I am going to
+bleed him at once, whilst waiting for the veterinary.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t want to see, I don’t want to see,” cried James,
+running away, “I am sure it will hurt him.”</p>
+
+<p>Bouland took his lancet, placed it on a vein in my
+neck, struck it a slight blow with a hammer, and the
+blood gushed out immediately. As the blood flowed, I
+began to feel better, my head became less heavy, and I
+was relieved of oppression; I was soon able to rise. Bouland
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span>stopped the blood and gave me some bran water, and
+in about an hour led me into the field. I was better but
+not well, and nearly eight days elapsed before I entirely
+recovered. Meanwhile, James and Ruth loaded me with
+such kindness and attentions as I shall never forget.
+They came to see me several times a day; they gathered
+grass and held it up to my mouth, that I might be spared
+the trouble of bending my head to browse; they brought
+me garden salad, cabbage and carrots; every evening
+they led me into the stable themselves, to find the trough
+full of my favorite dainty, potato pickings with salt.
+One day, dear little James wanted to give me his pillow,
+because, he said, my head was too low when I slept.
+Another time Ruth wished to lend me her coverlet, to
+keep me warm at night, and again, they wrapped my legs
+with pieces of woolen stuff, for fear of my taking cold.
+I was distressed at not being able to express my gratitude,
+for I had the misfortune of understanding everything,
+without the power of uttering a word. I got well at last,
+and soon after my recovery, learned that James and Ruth
+with several of their cousins, were getting up a donkey
+party to the woods.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span></p>
+
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="XII">
+    XII.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">THE ROBBERS.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> children were assembled in the yard, and with
+them were many donkeys from the neighboring villages.
+I recognized nearly all of the latter as my rivals at the
+race. John’s donkey eyed me savagely, whilst I, in return,
+bestowed upon him most insulting glances. Nearly
+all the grandchildren of James’s grandmother were there:
+Maud, Beatrice, Elizabeth, Helen, Ruth, William, Henry,
+Louis and James. All the mammas were to accompany
+them on donkeys, whilst the papas went on foot and
+armed with switches to keep the lazy animals moving.
+Before starting, there was as usual in such cases, a slight
+contention as to who should have the best animal; everybody
+wanted me, no one was willing to give up, so it was
+at last decided to draw lots. I fell to the lot of little
+Louis, James’s cousin; he was an excellent child, and I
+would have been well satisfied had I not seen poor little
+James’s unsuccessful efforts to hide his tears. Every
+time he looked at me they would flow afresh. I felt very
+sorry, but was unable to comfort him; however, it was
+necessary for him as well as myself to learn resignation
+and patience. With manly resolution he mounted his
+donkey, saying to Louis as he did so:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I will keep near you, Louis; don’t make Cadichon
+gallop too fast, or I will be behind.”</p>
+
+<p>“And why would you remain behind? why not gallop
+like me?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because Cadichon gallops faster than any other donkey
+in the country.”</p>
+
+<p>“How do you know?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because I saw him run for the prize the day of the
+donkey race at the village, and he was far ahead of all
+the others.”</p>
+
+<p>Louis promised his cousin not to go too fast, and we
+both started off in a trot. My companion was no laggard,
+so I had to restrain myself but little that we might
+keep together. The others following, some briskly, some
+tardily, we thus reached the forest where stood the very
+beautiful ruins of an old convent and chapel that the
+children were anxious to see. The place bore an evil
+reputation throughout the country, and no one liked to
+go there except in large companies. At night, it was
+said, strange noises were heard issuing from the ruins,
+groans, cries, the clinking of chains; and several travelers
+who laughed at these accounts, and went to visit the
+spot alone, never returned and were never afterwards
+heard of.</p>
+
+<p>Every one dismounted, and when we had been turned
+loose to graze with the bridle over our heads, the papas
+and mammas took their children by the hand to prevent
+their straying off or lagging behind, and much to my
+anxiety the whole party was soon lost to sight amid the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span>ruins. I likewise left my companions, and screened
+myself from the sun under a half-ruined arch, upon a
+declivity beside the woods, and a little farther distant
+than the convent. I had scarcely been there a quarter
+of an hour when I heard a noise near the arch. Crouching
+in a recess of the ruined wall, where unperceived, I
+could see all around, I listened. The noise, though dull,
+increased; it seemed to be underground.</p>
+
+<p>Not many minutes and I saw a man’s head cautiously
+peering up amidst the bushes.</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing,” said he in a low tone, looking all around.
+“No one—you may come, comrades. Every one is to
+take a donkey and lead him carefully.”</p>
+
+<p>He then moved out of the way to allow passage to
+about a dozen men.</p>
+
+<p>“If the donkeys escape,” said he, in an undertone,
+“don’t amuse yourselves running after them. Quick,
+and no noise, that is the order.”</p>
+
+<p>Creeping through the woods, which were very thick
+just there, the men moved cautiously but quickly.
+The donkeys seeking shade, were browsing upon the
+grass at the edge of the forest. At a given signal, every
+robber caught a donkey by his bridle and led him into
+the thicket. Instead of resisting, struggling and braying
+to give the alarm, these donkeys allowed themselves to
+be taken as passively as if they were sheep. Five
+minutes after the robbers had reached the thicket at the
+foot of the arch. One by one my comrades were led
+into the bushes, whence they disappeared. I heard the
+noise of their footsteps under ground, then all was silent.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Here,” thought I, “is an explanation of the mysterious
+noises that have frightened the country, a band of
+robbers concealed in the convent vaults. They must be
+taken, but how? that’s the difficulty.”</p>
+
+<p>I remained concealed in my recess (whence I had a
+fine view of the entire convent ruins, and the surrounding
+country), and did not stir until I heard the voices of
+the children seeking their donkeys. Then I ran forward
+to prevent their going too near the arch and thicket, so
+skilfully concealing the entrance to the vaults that it was
+impossible to perceive them.</p>
+
+<p>“There is Cadichon!” exclaimed Louis.</p>
+
+<p>“But where are the others?” said all the children at
+once.</p>
+
+<p>“They must be near,” said Louis’s papa.</p>
+
+<p>“We had better seek them by the ravine behind the
+arch; the grass there is fine, and they have probably
+wished to taste it.”</p>
+
+<p>Trembling at thoughts of the danger they incurred, I
+rushed from the side of the arch to prevent their passing.
+They endeavored to make me move, but I resisted so
+stoutly, barring the passage whichever way they attempted
+to go, that Louis’s papa stopped his brother-in-law
+and said to him:</p>
+
+<p>“Listen, there is something very extraordinary about
+Cadichon’s behavior. You know what is said of this
+animal’s intelligence. Listen to me, and let us turn back.
+Besides, it is not likely that all the donkeys would be on
+the other side of the ruins.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span></p>
+
+<p>“You are right,” answered James’s papa, “and I perceive
+the grass around the arch pressed down as if it had
+been recently trampled upon. No doubt our donkeys
+have been stolen.”</p>
+
+<p>They returned towards the mammas, who had kept the
+children with them, and I followed with a light heart,
+happy at having probably averted a terrible calamity.
+They talked low, and I perceived that they got close
+together.</p>
+
+<p>“How shall we manage this?” said Louis’s mamma,
+when they had called me up. “One donkey can’t carry
+all these children.”</p>
+
+<p>“Put the smallest on Cadichon, and let the rest follow
+with us,” said James’s mamma.</p>
+
+<p>“Come, Cadichon, let us see how many you can carry,”
+said Helen’s mamma.</p>
+
+<p>Ruth being the smallest, was put in front, then Helen,
+then James, then Louis. The whole four were not heavy,
+and wishing to show that I could carry them without
+the least fatigue, I set off in a trot.</p>
+
+<p>“Not so fast, Cadichon!” cried the papas, “gently, so
+we can hold on to those on your back.”</p>
+
+<p>I changed my gait to a walk, and proceeded, surrounded
+by the larger children and the mammas, the papas
+following to assist those that were disposed to lag behind.</p>
+
+<p>“Mamma, why didn’t papa hunt for our donkeys?” said
+Henry, who was the youngest of the band, and found
+the way long.</p>
+
+<p>“Because your papa thinks they have been stolen, and
+it would be useless to seek them.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Stolen! who stole them? I saw nobody.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nor did I, but there were traces of footsteps around
+the arch.”</p>
+
+<p>“But then, mamma, he ought to have hunted for the
+robbers,” said William.</p>
+
+<p>“That would have been very imprudent, as there must
+have been several men, to have taken thirteen donkeys.
+They were probably armed, and would have killed or
+wounded your papas.”</p>
+
+<p>“Armed, mamma!” said William.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, with clubs, knives, perhaps pistols.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! how very dangerous! Papa was right to return
+with my uncles!” exclaimed Maud.</p>
+
+<p>“We must hasten home, for your papa and uncles are
+going to the village after our return.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, mamma?” asked William.</p>
+
+<p>“To warn the guards, and try to recover the donkeys.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am sorry we went to see the ruins,” said Maud.</p>
+
+<p>“Why?” replied Beatrice, “they were beautiful.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but it was very dangerous. Suppose the robbers
+had captured us instead of the donkeys?”</p>
+
+<p>“That would have been impossible! there were too
+many of us,” said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>“But there must have been a number of robbers,” was
+Maud’s reply.</p>
+
+<p>“We would all have fought them,” said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>“With what? we had only a stick.”</p>
+
+<p>“And our feet, our fists, our teeth; I would have
+scratched them to death; I would have torn their eyes
+out!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span></p>
+
+<p>“And the robbers would have killed you, that’s all,”
+said William.</p>
+
+<p>“Killed me! and papa and mamma there! do you suppose
+they would have allowed the robbers to carry me off
+or kill me?”</p>
+
+<p>“The robbers would have killed them too, and before
+they killed you,” answered Beatrice.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you think, then, that there was an army of
+robbers?”</p>
+
+<p>“There could not have been less than a dozen.”</p>
+
+<p>“A dozen? what nonsense! do you believe that robbers
+always go in dozens, like oysters?”</p>
+
+<p>“You are always making fun of whatever is said to
+you! I say that to carry off thirteen donkeys, there
+must have been at least twelve men.”</p>
+
+<p>“I bet so myself, and the thirteenth was to make good
+measure, like little pies.”</p>
+
+<p>The mammas, and the other children laughed at this
+conversation, until it turned into dispute; then Elizabeth’s
+mamma bade her be silent, and said that Beatrice
+was probably correct as to the number of robbers.</p>
+
+<p>We were not long in reaching the house, and great
+was the surprise of all there, to see the party returning
+on foot, and me, Cadichon, carrying four children. But
+when the papas recounted the disappearance of the donkeys,
+and my persistency in not allowing any one to
+approach the arch, all shook their heads, and gave vent
+to a multitude of most singular suppositions; some said
+the donkeys had been swallowed up by demons; others,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span>that the religious buried in the chapel had seized them to
+ride all over with them; and others again, that the angels
+guarding the convent, reduced to dust and ashes every
+animal approaching too near the cemetery where the
+souls of the religious wandered. Not one suggested the
+idea of robbers concealed in the vaults.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately on their return, the three papas acquainted
+the grandmother with the probable theft of their donkeys,
+after which the horses were put to the carriage, and they
+went to lay their complaint before the authorities of the
+neighboring town. In two hours they returned with an
+officer and six guards. Such was my reputation for intelligence,
+that the gravest suspicions were based upon my
+resistance to the attempted passage of the arch. The
+guards were armed with pistols and carbines, ready to
+take the field. However, they accepted the grandmother’s
+invitation to dinner, and sat down to the table with the
+ladies and gentlemen.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span></p>
+
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="XIII">
+    XIII.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">THE VAULTS.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> dinner was not long, for the soldiers were anxious
+to make their inspection before night. They asked the
+grandmother’s permission to take me with them.</p>
+
+<p>“He will be very useful in our expedition, madam,”
+said the officer. “This Cadichon is not an ordinary
+donkey; he has already accomplished more difficult
+things than we are going to require of him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Take him, if you think it necessary, but do not
+fatigue him too much, I beg of you. The poor beast
+made that journey this morning and returned with four
+of my grandchildren on his back.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, as to that, madam, you may be perfectly easy;
+be sure we will treat him as kindly as possible.”</p>
+
+<p>Having eaten and drunk, my dinner being a peck of
+oats, an armful of salad, carrots and other vegetables,
+with a bucket of water, I was ready to start. When
+they came to take me, I placed myself at the head and
+they all followed—a donkey guiding soldiers! They did
+not seem vexed at this, however, for they were all good
+men. Soldiers are generally considered rough and harsh,
+but I assure you they are just the contrary; no people in
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span>the world are kinder, none more charitable, patient and
+generous than these same military men. Whilst on the
+road they took every imaginable care of me, relaxing
+their pace when they thought me fatigued, and proposing
+to let me drink at every stream we crossed.</p>
+
+<p>It was nearly night when we reached the convent.
+Fearing their horses might be a disadvantage, they had
+been left at a village near the forest. The officer now
+gave orders for the men to follow all my movements and
+to keep together. Without hesitation I led them to the
+entrance of the arch overgrown with bushes, and whence
+I had seen the twelve robbers issue.</p>
+
+<p>With the greatest anxiety, I saw that they remained
+there. To get them away I went a few steps behind the
+wall; they followed and I returned to the bushes, preventing
+them from returning also, by barring the way
+whenever they attempted a step in that direction. They
+understood me and remained concealed along the wall.</p>
+
+<p>I then approached the entrance to the vaults, and
+began to bray with all the strength of my lungs. I was
+not long in attaining my object. All my imprisoned
+comrades responded vigorously. I made a step towards
+the soldiers, who divined my manœuvres, and I returned
+to the entrance of the vaults, where I began to bray
+again. This time there was no answer, and I suspected
+that the robbers to prevent my comrades’ braying had
+tied stones to their tails. Everybody knows that on braying
+we raise our tails, and not being able to raise their
+tails, because of the weight of the stones, my comrades
+held their peace.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span></p>
+
+<p>I remained about two steps from the entrance. Soon
+a man’s head cautiously peered up amidst the bushes.
+Looking all around and seeing no one but myself:</p>
+
+<p>“Ah!” said he, “here is the knave we missed this
+morning. You will rejoin your companions, my brayer.”</p>
+
+<p>As he was about to seize me, I retreated a couple of
+steps, he followed, I still kept out of his reach, until I
+had brought him to the angle of the wall, behind which
+my friends, the soldiers, were concealed.</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp65" id="image088" style="max-width: 46.8125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image088.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>Before he had time to utter a cry even, they had seized,
+gagged, and bound and extended him on the ground. I
+returned to the entrance and brayed again, not doubting
+but this would bring another to see what had become of
+his companion. And sure enough, I soon heard a slight
+movement among the bushes, and saw a new head looking
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span>around with the same precaution. Not being able to
+reach me, the second robber did precisely as the first. I
+executed the same manœuvre, and he was in the soldiers’
+hands before he had time to know what had happened.
+I proceeded thus, until six were taken. After the
+sixth, I brayed in vain; no one appeared. I suppose,
+noticing that their companions did not return, the robbers
+began to suspect a trap and determined to run no
+more risks.</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp65" id="image089" style="max-width: 42.75em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image089.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, night had set in and we could scarcely see.
+The officer sent one of his men for reinforcements to
+attack the robbers in their cave, and to take away in a
+vehicle, the six prisoners bound and gagged. The remaining
+soldiers were divided into two bands to guard the
+convent outlets; as for me, receiving many caresses and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span>unbounded compliments, I was allowed to follow my own
+inclinations.</p>
+
+<p>“If he were not a donkey,” said one soldier, “he would
+merit the cross.”</p>
+
+<p>“Hasn’t he one on his back?” said another.</p>
+
+<p>“Hush that,” said a third, “its a poor joke; you know
+very well that this cross is marked upon their backs to
+remind us that one of their number had once the honor
+of carrying our Lord Jesus Christ.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s why it is a cross of honor,” was the answer.</p>
+
+<p>“Silence,” said the officer in an undertone, “Cadichon
+pricks up his ears.”</p>
+
+<p>I indeed heard an extraordinary noise from beneath
+the arch, it was not the sound of footsteps, but rather
+that of stifled cries and a sort of crackling. The soldiers
+likewise heard it, but could not divine the cause. At
+last a thick smoke was seen issuing from the air holes
+and lower windows of the convent, tongues of flame
+leaped out, and in a few minutes all was on fire.</p>
+
+<p>“They have set fire to the vaults, so they can escape by
+the doors,” said the officer.</p>
+
+<p>“It must be extinguished, lieutenant,” replied a soldier.</p>
+
+<p>“Be very careful! Guard every opening more closely
+than ever, and if the robbers show themselves, fire your
+carbines, use the pistols afterwards.”</p>
+
+<p>The officer had truly divined their manœuvres; understanding
+that they had been discovered and their comrades
+captured, the robbers hoped to avail themselves of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span>the opportunity afforded by the soldiers’ efforts in extinguishing
+the flames, to make their own escape and liberate
+their friends. We soon saw the remaining six and their
+captain rush out of the masked entrance by the bushes;
+but three guards were at this post; each one drew his
+carbine before the robbers had time to use their arms.
+Two of the thieves fell, and the third let his pistol drop
+from his hands, his arm was broken. But the captain
+and the other three rushed furiously upon the soldiers,
+who, sabre in one hand and pistol in the other, fought
+like lions. Before the officer and the two soldiers guarding
+the opposite side of the convent had had time to
+come to their companions’ assistance, the combat was
+nearly ended and the robbers all either killed or wounded;
+the captain who still defended himself against a soldier,
+being the only one on his feet. His two comrades
+were dangerously wounded. The arrival of reinforcements
+ended the contest. In the twinkling of an eye,
+the captain was surrounded, disarmed, gagged and put
+beside the other six.</p>
+
+<p>During this struggle the fire died out; in fact, nothing
+had been burning but some bushes and undergrowth, but
+the officer before penetrating into the vaults wished to
+await the arrival of the expected reinforcements. The
+night was well advanced, when we saw the six additional
+soldiers and the vehicle which was to take away
+the prisoners. They were placed in it side by side. The
+officer being humane, had given orders to remove the
+gags, and in consequence, the soldiers were loaded with
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span>all manner of abusive epithets, to which, however, they
+paid no attention. Two of them got into the wagon to
+escort the prisoners, and meanwhile litters were made to
+carry the wounded.</p>
+
+<p>During these preparations, I accompanied the officer,
+who, with eight men, penetrated into the vaults. We
+traversed a long corridor, which sloped downward, until
+at last we reached the vaults, where the brigands had
+established their dwelling. One of these caves served
+for their stable, and here we found all my comrades captured
+that day, each one with a stone to his tail. The
+stones were immediately detached, and the donkeys
+began to bray in unison. Being underground, it was
+deafening.</p>
+
+<p>“Silence! donkeys!” said a soldier, “unless you want
+your trinkets put on again.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let them alone,” responded another soldier, “you
+know very well they are sounding Cadichon’s praises.”</p>
+
+<p>“I would prefer their doing it in another tone,” said
+the first soldier laughing.</p>
+
+<p>“This man assuredly,” said I to myself, “does not like
+music. What does he find to censure in my comrades’
+voices.” Poor comrades! they chanted their deliverance.</p>
+
+<p>We continued our inspection. One of the vaults was
+full of stolen goods. In another, were the prisoners kept
+to wait on them, some attended to the dishes, the cooking,
+the cleaning of the vaults, others made the clothing
+and shoes. Some of these unhappy creatures had been
+there for two years; they were chained by twos, and had
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span>little bells to their arms and feet, so as to keep one
+always acquainted with their movements. Two robbers
+remained constantly with them as guards, and never
+more than two captives were allowed in the same vault,
+except those who made the clothing. The latter were all
+together whilst working, but during this time the end of
+their chain was attached to a ring fastened in the wall.</p>
+
+<p>I learned afterwards that these captives, about forty in
+number, were the visitors to the ruins, who had been disappearing
+for the last two years. They related how the
+robbers had killed before their eyes, three of them, who
+were sick, and one who obstinately refused to work.</p>
+
+<p>The soldiers delivered all these poor creatures, brought
+the donkeys to the castle, carried the wounded men to
+the hospital, and put the robbers in prison. The latter
+were judged and condemned; the captain to death, the
+others to transportation to Cayenne. As for me, I was
+the universal subject of admiration; wherever I went, I
+heard persons saying:</p>
+
+<p>“It is Cadichon! the famous Cadichon, worth all the
+donkeys in the country!”</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span></p>
+
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="XIV">
+    XIV.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">THERESA.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">My</span> little mistresses, (for my masters and mistresses
+corresponded to the number of the grandmother’s grandchildren,)
+had a cousin, of whom they were very fond.
+She was near their age, and their most intimate friend.
+Theresa was her name, and a good, kind little darling she
+was. She never touched me with a switch, and never
+permitted anyone to do so when she was on my back.</p>
+
+<p>In one of our promenades, my young mistresses came
+upon a little girl seated along the roadside. She rose at
+their approach and came limping towards them, asking
+alms. They were all touched at her sad, dejected appearance.</p>
+
+<p>“Why do you limp, little one?” said Theresa.</p>
+
+<p>“Because my shoes hurt me, miss.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why don’t you ask your mamma to get you another
+pair?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have no mamma, miss.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ask your papa, then?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have no papa, miss.”</p>
+
+<p>“But with whom do you live?”</p>
+
+<p>“With nobody, I live alone.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who feeds you?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span></p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image095" style="max-width: 36.125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image095.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    A little girl asked alms from them.—(Page <a href="#Page_94">94</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a><a id="Page_97"></a>[Pg 97]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Sometimes nobody, sometimes everybody.”</p>
+
+<p>“How old are you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not know, miss, about seven years perhaps.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where do you sleep?”</p>
+
+<p>“Wherever anybody takes me in; when everybody
+drives me away, I sleep out-doors, under a tree, near a
+hedge, anywhere.”</p>
+
+<p>“But in winter you must freeze.”</p>
+
+<p>“I get cold, but I am used to it,”</p>
+
+<p>“Have you had any dinner to-day?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have not eaten since yesterday.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! that is dreadful, dreadful,” said Theresa, with
+tears in her eyes. “My dear cousins, wouldn’t your
+grandma give this poor little thing something to eat and
+let her sleep in the castle?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly,” answered the three cousins, “grandma
+would be delighted, and, besides, she always does what
+we wish her to do.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, Theresa,” said Beatrice, “how shall we get her
+to the house? see how she limps.”</p>
+
+<p>“Put her on Cadichon, and let us go on foot, instead
+of taking turns on Cadichon, two by two, as we have
+been doing.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, to be sure; what a good idea,” exclaimed the
+three cousins.</p>
+
+<p>They put the little girl on my back, and Maud gave
+her a piece of bread that had been left of their lunch.
+She was delighted to get a ride, but so great were her
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span>fatigue and hunger, that she ate the bread with avidity,
+and said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>When we reached home, Maud and Elizabeth took the
+child into the kitchen, whilst Beatrice and Theresa ran
+to their grandmother. “Grandma,” said Beatrice, “will
+you let us give a good little girl that we found on the
+road something to eat?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly, my darling; but who is she?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know, grandma.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where does she live?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nowhere, grandma.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nowhere! how is that? Her parents must live
+somewhere.”</p>
+
+<p>“She has no parents, grandma, she is all alone.”</p>
+
+<p>“And,” said Theresa, timidly, “will you let the poor
+little thing sleep here?”</p>
+
+<p>“If she really has no home, I could not turn her away;
+but I must see her and speak to her.”</p>
+
+<p>So saying, she arose and went to the kitchen where the
+little girl was finishing her meal. She called the child,
+who came limping, questioned her and obtained the same
+replies. It was truly an embarrassing case. To send
+this child away, plunging her again into the state of
+abandonment and suffering from which she had just been
+rescued, would be impossible; but then what was to be
+done with her? who was to take charge of and raise
+her?</p>
+
+<p>“Listen, my dear,” said the grandmother, “you will
+eat and sleep here, whilst I make inquiries as to the truth
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span>of your account, and in a few days I will see what I can
+do for you.”</p>
+
+<p>She then gave orders to prepare a bed for the child,
+and not to let her want for anything; but the poor little
+creature was so filthy that no one wished to touch her or
+even come near her. Theresa was in despair; she could
+not insist upon her aunt’s servants doing what was so
+repugnant to them.</p>
+
+<p>“It was I,” thought she, “who brought her here, and
+I am the one to have the care and trouble. But how
+shall I do?”</p>
+
+<p>After a moment’s reflection, an idea presented itself.</p>
+
+<p>“Wait, my dear,” said she, “I will be back presently.”
+And she ran to her mamma.</p>
+
+<p>“Mamma,” said she, “ought I not to take a bath?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, Theresa, go now, your nurse is waiting for you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mamma, instead of taking a bath myself, would you
+let me give one to the little girl we have brought here?”</p>
+
+<p>“What little girl? I have not seen her.”</p>
+
+<p>“A poor, poor little thing, who has no papa, no mamma,
+no one to take care of her, who sleeps out-doors, and eats
+only what people give her. Maud’s grandma says she
+may stay at the castle, but none of the servants will
+touch her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why not?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because she is so dirty, so dirty, she is disgusting;
+then mamma, if you are willing, I will bathe her in my
+place, not to disgust nurse. I will undress and soap her
+myself, and I will cut her hair, which is all tangled and
+full of little white insects.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span></p>
+
+<p>“But, my little Theresa, won’t it disgust you too, to
+touch and wash her?”</p>
+
+<p>“A little, mamma, but when I think that if I were in
+her place, it would make me so happy to have somebody
+care for me, I feel encouraged. And mamma, when she
+is washed, will you let me put some of my old clothes on
+her, till I buy her new ones?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly, my dear little Theresa, but how can you
+buy her clothing? You have only two or three francs,
+about enough to get her a chemise.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! mamma, you forgot my twenty franc piece!”</p>
+
+<p>“That you gave your papa to keep for you, so you
+would not spend it? I thought you were saving that to
+buy a beautiful prayer book like Maud’s.”</p>
+
+<p>“I would rather do without the beautiful prayer book,
+mamma, I still have my old one.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do as you wish, my child, whenever there is a question
+of doing good, I leave you free to use your own
+pleasure.”</p>
+
+<p>Her mamma embraced her, and then went with her to
+see this little girl that no one would touch.</p>
+
+<p>“If she has any disease of the skin, that Theresa can
+catch, I shall not let Theresa touch her,” said the mother.</p>
+
+<figure class="figright illowp35" id="image101" style="max-width: 29.4375em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image101.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+
+<p>The little girl still waited at the door. A careful
+examination of her hands and body revealed no traces of
+disease, but a great deal of dirt. Her hair was so full of
+vermin, that making her sit on the grass, Theresa’s
+mamma cut it close to her head, without touching it with
+her hands. When it was all on the grass, she took it up
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span>on a shovel, and told one of the servants to throw it
+away out of reach. Then in a tub of tepid water, with
+Theresa’s assistance, she gave the little beggar’s head a
+thorough washing and cleaning. Having wiped it, she
+said to Theresa: “Now, my pet,
+whilst you give her a bath, I
+will throw these rags in the fire.”
+Maud, Beatrice and Elizabeth
+came to Theresa’s assistance;
+they all four led her into the
+bath room and undressed her,
+in spite of the disgusting odor
+of her rags and dirt. Then
+eagerly plunging her in the
+water, they soaped her from
+head to foot. The operation
+was such a pleasant one to all
+parties, both the little girl and
+her friends, that she was kept
+in somewhat longer than necessity
+required. When the bathing was over, and
+she had expressed her satisfaction, the four assisted her
+out of the bath tub. Then after wiping and rubbing
+her skin until it was very red and as dry as a ham bone,
+they arrayed her in a chemise, a petticoat and a dress
+belonging to Theresa, all of which answered the purpose,
+because Theresa, like other little girls in her station,
+wore her clothes very short, whilst the little beggar’s
+were expected to reach her ankles. The waist was somewhat
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span>long, but not being excessively particular, everyone
+was pleased. When about to put on her shoes and
+stockings, the children perceived a sore upon the instep.
+It was this which had made her limp. Maud immediately
+ran to her grandmother for some salve. The grandmother
+gave what was necessary, and Maud, assisted by
+her three friends, one of whom steadied the little girl,
+whilst a second held her foot, and a third unrolled the
+bandage and applied the liniment. They were nearly
+one quarter of an hour arranging a compress and band;
+sometimes it was too tight, sometimes not tight enough;
+the band was too high, or the compress too low; they
+disputed and jerked the sore foot first this way and then
+that, the owner, meanwhile, not daring to object or utter
+a complaint. At last, however, the bandage was arranged
+satisfactorily, a pair of Theresa’s old stockings and slippers
+put on her feet, and the little beggar relieved of her
+kind waiting maids’ attentions. When she returned to
+the kitchen no one recognized her.</p>
+
+<p>“This is certainly not the little fright that just went
+out of here,” said one servant.</p>
+
+<p>“It is the same child,” replied another servant, “but
+no one would know it, she looks so genteel now.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is all lost time for Madame d’Arbe and the children
+to fix her up like that. As for me, I would not
+have touched her if they had given me twenty francs,”
+said the cook.</p>
+
+<p>“And she smelt so bad,” said the kitchen girl.</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image103" style="max-width: 62.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image103.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    “Come, come,” interposed the cook, “don’t go too far.”—(Page <a href="#Page_105">105</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>“You ought not to have such a sensitive nose, my
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a><a id="Page_104"></a><a id="Page_105"></a>[Pg 105]</span>fair one,” replied the coachman, “you who have your
+gridirons, your saucepans and all such things to clean.”</p>
+
+<p>“My gridirons and saucepans are not strong of the
+stable, like some people I know,” was the kitchen girl’s
+answer, somewhat piqued.</p>
+
+<p>“Ah! ah! ah! she is angry, take care of the broom!”
+said the other servants.</p>
+
+<p>“If she takes hers, I know very well where to find
+mine,” said the coachman, “and the pitchfork and curry-comb.”</p>
+
+<p>“Come, come,” interposed the cook, “don’t go too far;
+she is passionate, and you know you must not irritate
+her.”</p>
+
+<p>“What is that to me? if she gets angry, so will I.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I do not want that here; madam does not like
+disputes; it is very certain that we all would come in for
+a share of the blame.”</p>
+
+<p>“Le Vatel is right,” said another servant. “Hush,
+Thomas, you are always getting up a quarrel. Besides,
+this is not your place.”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed! my place is anywhere, when I have no
+stable work to do.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you have work to do,” replied the cook. “Look
+at Cadichon, not yet unsaddled, and walking up and
+down like a countryman waiting for his dinner.”</p>
+
+<p>“I believe Cadichon listens at the doors; he is more
+cunning than he seems; he is a real scamp of a donkey,”
+said the coachman, as he called me, and taking hold of
+my bridle, led me to the stable. Having unbridled and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span>unsaddled me, he left me alone, that is, with two horses
+and another donkey, with none of whom I ever deigned
+to converse.</p>
+
+<p>I know not what took place that evening at the castle,
+but the next afternoon I was saddled, and with the little
+beggar on my back, my four little mistresses following
+on foot, we all went to the village. I learned from their
+conversation that they were on a shopping expedition
+for their protégé. Theresa wished to furnish the outfit
+entire, the others insisted on paying their share, and the
+dispute grew so animated, that had I not stopped at the
+store of myself, they would have passed it. In helping
+the little girl to get down, they nearly pitched her face
+foremost on the ground, for all darted at her at once;
+one caught her by the legs, another by the arms, a third
+by the waist, whilst Elizabeth, who was stronger than
+two or three of the others put together, pushed them
+away so that she could help the child off all by herself.
+Pulled here and there, the poor thing began to cry of
+fright, until she attracted the attention of passers by.
+The store-keeper opened the door:</p>
+
+<p>“Good morning, young ladies, let me help you, you
+are not strong enough to lift this little girl.”</p>
+
+<p>My young mistresses, satisfied at not having yielded to
+one another, relinquished their hold on the child and the
+store-keeper immediately lifted her off my back.</p>
+
+<p>“What will you have, young ladies?” said Madam
+Juivet.</p>
+
+<p>“We want to get materials for clothing for this little
+girl,” answered Beatrice.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Oh, certainly; is it a dress, a petticoat, or undergarments
+you wish?”</p>
+
+<p>“We want materials for all, Madam Juivet,” answered
+Maud; “let us have enough to make three chemises, one
+petticoat, one dress, one apron, one neckerchief, two
+bonnets.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let me speak, Maud,” whispered Theresa, “since I am
+going to pay.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, you are not going to pay all, we wish to pay
+part,” was the whispered answer.</p>
+
+<p>“But I would rather pay alone,” said Theresa in the
+same tone, “she is my girl.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, she isn’t, she belongs to us all,” said Maud.</p>
+
+<p>“What materials do you prefer?” interrupted Madam
+Juivet, impatient to sell.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst Maud and Theresa continued their dispute in
+an undertone, Beatrice and Elizabeth took advantage of
+the opportunity to make the purchases.</p>
+
+<p>“Good-bye, Madam Juivet,” said they, “send it home
+as soon as possible, and enclose the bill also.”</p>
+
+<p>“How is that!” exclaimed Maud and Theresa, “have
+you already bought the things?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” answered Beatrice, with a mischievous air, “we
+selected all that was necessary whilst you two were
+talking.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you ought to have consulted our tastes too,”
+replied Maud.</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly, since I am the person who pays,” said
+Theresa.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span></p>
+
+<p>“We’ll all pay, we’ll all pay!” cried the other three
+in chorus.</p>
+
+<p>“How much is it?” inquired Theresa.</p>
+
+<p>“Thirty-two francs, miss.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thirty-two francs!” exclaimed the frightened Theresa,
+“but I have only twenty.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah! we’ll pay the rest,” said Maud.</p>
+
+<p>“So much the better, as we will then have all helped
+to clothe her,” said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>“So thanks to Madam Juivet, we are at last agreed,
+and it was not such an easy matter,” said Beatrice laughing.</p>
+
+<p>Through the open door, I had heard all, and was indignant
+at Madam Juivet, for she had charged my kind
+little mistresses at least double the value of their goods.
+I hoped their mammas would not consent to the imposition.
+We returned home, every one pleased, thanks to
+Madam Juivet, as Beatrice had innocently remarked.</p>
+
+<p>It was beautiful weather, and all were seated on the
+lawn in front of the house when we arrived. William,
+Henry, Louis and James had been fishing in one of the
+ponds, during our trip to the village, and had just
+returned with three fine fishes and a number of little
+ones. Whilst Louis and James took off my saddle and
+bridle, the four little girls gave their mammas an account
+of their purchases.</p>
+
+<p>“What did they come to?” said Theresa’s mamma.
+“How much is left of your twenty franc piece?”</p>
+
+<p>Theresa was a little embarrassed, and blushed slightly
+as she answered:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Nothing, mamma.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing! twenty francs to dress a child six or seven
+years old!” said Maud’s mamma. “That is dreadfully
+high! what have you bought?”</p>
+
+<p>Theresa could not tell, she could only say that Beatrice
+and Elizabeth had made the selection.</p>
+
+<p>But the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of
+Madam Juivet with the package, much to the delight of
+Beatrice and Elizabeth, who were beginning to think
+they had made a bad bargain.</p>
+
+<p>“Good day, Madam Juivet,” said the grandmother,
+“open your package here on the lawn and let us see
+what these little girls have bought.”</p>
+
+<p>Making a salutation, Madam Juivet laid down her
+bundle, undid it, and after taking from it the bill, which
+she handed Beatrice, proceeded to display the goods.</p>
+
+<p>Beatrice had blushed on receiving the bill; her grandmother
+took it from her hands and uttered an exclamation
+of surprise.</p>
+
+<p>“Thirty-two francs to dress a little beggar! Madam
+Juivet,” added she, in a severe tone, “you have taken
+advantage of my grandchildren’s ignorance; you know
+very well that these materials are entirely too expensive
+for our purpose. You will take them all back, and know
+that hereafter we deal no more with you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Madam,” said Madam Juivet, with restrained wrath,
+“these young ladies consulted their own tastes, I did not
+make the selection of a single article.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you ought to have shown them only what was
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span>suitable, and not have tried to palm off on them your old
+merchandise that no one wants.”</p>
+
+<p>“Madam, these young ladies having bought my goods,
+ought to pay for them.”</p>
+
+<p>“They will pay for none of them,” replied the grandmother,
+in a tone of severity, “and you may take them
+all back. Go, immediately; I shall send my maid to
+make the necessary purchases of Madam Jourdan.”</p>
+
+<p>Madam Juivet retired in a terrible rage. I accompanied
+her to the road, braying triumphantly and frisking
+around her, much to the children’s amusement and her
+own terror, for feeling guilty, she feared my vengeance,
+as everybody considered me somewhat of a sorcerer, and
+consequently evil doers stood greatly in awe of me.</p>
+
+<p>The mammas scolded the children, the boys laughed at
+them; as for me, I quietly nibbled the grass, and watched
+them run, skip and play. Listening meantime to all
+that was said (for I always took good care to keep within
+hearing distance). I learned that next day there was to
+be a gunning party, that Henry and William were to
+have little muskets for the occasion, and also, that one of
+their young neighbors was invited to join them.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span></p>
+
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="XV">
+    XV.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">THE GUNNING PARTY.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">As</span> I have already remarked there was to be a gunning
+expedition next day, William and Henry were ready
+before anyone else—it was their first appearance as gunners—so
+equipped with guns and game bags, their eyes
+sparkling with pleasure, they strutted around in a proud,
+defiant manner, as if they expected to shoot all the game
+in the country. I followed at a distance, and observed
+all their preparations for the expedition.</p>
+
+<p>“William,” said Henry in a thoughtful manner,
+“when our game bags are full, where shall we put the
+rest of our game?”</p>
+
+<p>“That is just what I was thinking of,” answered William,
+“I will ask papa to let us take Cadichon.”</p>
+
+<p>This idea did not please me at all; I knew that young
+gunners fired a little at random and in aiming at a partridge,
+they might send the load into me, so I anxiously
+awaited the result of the request.</p>
+
+<p>“Papa,” said William to his father who approached,
+“may we take Cadichon?”</p>
+
+<p>“For what?” answered the father laughing, “do you
+wish to gun on donkey back, and pursue the partridges
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span>in their flight? If so, you must first put wings to
+Cadichon.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, papa,” said Henry, a little vexed, “we want him
+to carry our game when our pouches are too full.”</p>
+
+<p>“To carry your game!” replied his father greatly surprised
+and still laughing. “You think then, poor innocents,
+you are going to kill not only something, but a
+great deal!”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly papa,” was Henry’s piqued reply, “I have
+twenty cartridges in my vest, and I shall kill fifteen
+pieces of game, at least.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah! ah! ah! that is really a good joke! Do you
+know what you will kill, you two and your friend
+Alfred?”</p>
+
+<p>“What papa?”</p>
+
+<p>“Time and nothing else.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well papa,” said Henry, very much annoyed, “why
+do you give us guns, and take us out gunning, if you
+think us so stupid and awkward as to kill nothing?”</p>
+
+<p>“To teach you to gun, little dunces, nobody is a successful
+gunner at first, one becomes so only by dint of
+practice.”</p>
+
+<p>Here the conversation was interrupted by the arrival
+of Alfred, also ready to shoot all he came across. William
+and Henry were still flushed with indignation
+when Alfred joined them.</p>
+
+<p>“Papa thinks we are not going to shoot anything,
+Alfred,” said William, “we’ll convince him that we are
+better gunners than he thinks.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Don’t worry about it; we shall kill more than themselves,”
+replied Alfred.</p>
+
+<p>“Why more?” inquired Henry.</p>
+
+<p>“Because we are young, active and nimble, whilst our
+papas are getting a little old.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes indeed,” said Henry, “my papa is forty-two
+years old, whilst William is fifteen and I thirteen. What
+a difference!”</p>
+
+<p>“And between my papa and me too! He is forty-three,
+whilst I am but fourteen!” said Alfred.</p>
+
+<p>“Listen to me,” said William, “without telling papa,
+I am going to have Cadichon saddled and the panniers
+put on him. He will follow us, and we will make him
+carry our game.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, that is splendid!” replied Alfred, “but put on
+the big panniers, for if we were to kill a buck it would
+take up a great deal of room.”</p>
+
+<p>Henry was charged with the commission. I laughed
+to myself at their foresight, for I was very sure not only
+of not being loaded with a buck, but of returning with
+panniers as empty as at my departure.</p>
+
+<p>“Ready!” said the papas. “We will go ahead, and
+you boys keep near. We will disband on getting into
+the field.”</p>
+
+<p>“What does this mean, Cadichon following us?” said
+William’s father in great surprise, “Cadichon ornamented
+with two enormous baskets!”</p>
+
+<p>“Those baskets,” said the gamekeeper laughing, “are
+to carry the young gentlemen’s game.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Ah! ah! they wish to put him at their head—I
+would prefer Cadichon’s following (if he has nothing else
+to do,) instead of taking the lead,” replied William’s
+father.</p>
+
+<p>And he smiled as he glanced at William and Henry,
+who tried to look very indifferent.</p>
+
+<p>“Is your gun cocked, William?” inquired Henry.</p>
+
+<p>“Not yet, it is so hard to cock and uncock, that I prefer
+waiting till a partridge starts up.”</p>
+
+<p>“We are now in the field,” said their papa, “keep in
+a line and shoot ahead, straight ahead of you, not to the
+right or the left, unless you want to kill some of us.”</p>
+
+<p>The partridges flew up on all sides; I remained prudently
+behind, and even at a little distance, finding it
+advisable, for more than one dog that happened to be in
+the way, got a few grains of shot. The dogs scented the
+game, started it up, and did their duty in every respect,
+reports of muskets were heard all along the line. I did
+not lose sight of my three young boasters, they fired often,
+but got nothing, none of the three even touched a hare
+or partridge. Their impatience was so great that they
+always fired out of range, either too far or too near;
+sometimes all three aimed in vain at the same partridge.
+The papas on the contrary, were having fine sport, each
+report of the gun representing an addition to their game
+bags. In about two hours, Henry and William’s papa
+came up to them.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, children,” said he, “is Cadichon very heavily
+laden? Is there still room for me to empty my game
+bag? for it is too full.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span></p>
+
+<p>There was no answer; the boys knew from their
+father’s mischievous manner, that he was making sport
+of them. As for me, I came running up, and turned one
+of the baskets towards him.</p>
+
+<p>“How is this?” said he, “empty! your game bags will
+burst if you cram them.”</p>
+
+<p>The game bags were flat. Laughing at the young
+gunners’ discomfited air, he emptied his birds into one
+of my baskets and hastened to his dog which was starting
+more game.</p>
+
+<p>“I see how your father kills so many partridges,” said
+Alfred; “he has two dogs that scare up the game and
+bring it to him, when he kills it; as for us, they have
+not left us even one dog.”</p>
+
+<p>“That is true,” replied Henry, “perhaps we have
+killed a number of partridges, but have lost them for
+want of a dog to bring them to us.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I have not seen any fall,” said William.</p>
+
+<p>“Because a partridge does not fall as soon as it is
+shot,” said Alfred, “It flies a little and falls some distance
+off.”</p>
+
+<p>“But when papa and my uncles shoot,” persisted
+William, “their partridges fall immediately.”</p>
+
+<p>“It seems so to you,” explained Alfred, “because you
+are some ways off, but if you were in their place, you
+would notice the difference.”</p>
+
+<p>William said nothing, but his manner betrayed very
+little confidence in Alfred’s words. They had all begun
+to leave off somewhat of the proud, soldierly air with
+which they sallied forth as gunners.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span></p>
+
+<p>They commenced to inquire the hour.</p>
+
+<p>“I am hungry,” said Henry.</p>
+
+<p>“I am thirsty,” said Alfred.</p>
+
+<p>“I am tired,” said William.</p>
+
+<p>As to the papas, they fired and killed, and had plenty
+of luck. However, not forgetting their young companions,
+and not wishing to fatigue them too much, they
+proposed a halt for breakfast, which met with universal
+approbation. Calling in the dogs from the field to rest
+for awhile, they all directed their steps towards a farm
+about a hundred steps off, where the grandmother had
+sent the provisions.</p>
+
+<p>They seated themselves on the ground under an old
+oak, and opened the baskets, which displayed as usual on
+such occasions, a chicken pie, a ham, hard eggs, cheese,
+marmalade, preserves, a big bun, an enormous cake and
+several bottles of old wine. All the gunners, young and
+old, had fine appetites, and ate enough to have astonished
+a spectator. Yet the grandmother had provided
+so bountifully for the needs of the most voracious, that
+half the provisions remained for the gamekeepers and
+farm people. The dogs had the scraps to appease their
+hunger and pond water to quench their thirst.</p>
+
+<p>“You have not had much luck, children,” said Alfred’s
+papa. “Cadichon does not move as if he were heavily
+laden.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is no wonder, papa, we had no dogs, you had them
+all.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah! you think then that one, two or three dogs would
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span>have insured the death of all the partridges that passed
+under your nose.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, papa, they would not have killed the partridges,
+but they would have sought and brought us those we had
+killed, and then—”</p>
+
+<p>“Those you killed!” interrupted the father, with an
+air of astonishment. “Do you really think you have
+killed any birds?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly, papa, only as we did not see them fall, we
+could not pick them up.”</p>
+
+<p>“And do you suppose you would not have seen them if
+they had fallen?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, papa, for our sight is not as keen as that of the
+dogs.”</p>
+
+<p>At this, the father, the uncles, and even the gamekeepers,
+burst into a loud laugh, whilst the children reddened
+with vexation.</p>
+
+<p>“Now listen,” said William and Henry’s father,
+“since you lose your game for want of dogs, we are going
+to let you have a dog, when we get through breakfast
+and commence to gun again.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, papa,” said William, “the dogs will not follow
+us, they do not know us as well as they do you.”</p>
+
+<p>“To make them follow you, we will give you the two
+attendants, and we will not start for a half hour after
+you, and then the dogs will not be tempted to rejoin us.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! thanks, papa,” exclaimed William, radiant with
+joy. “With the dogs we are sure to kill as many as
+you!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span></p>
+
+<p>Breakfast over and all rested, the young gunners were
+eager to set out with the dogs and the guards.</p>
+
+<p>“Now we look like real gunners,” said they, with an
+air of satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>And we tried the field again, I following them as
+before breakfast, but always at a little distance. The
+guards had been told to keep near the children in order
+to prevent any imprudence. The partridges flew up on
+all sides as in the morning, the young gentlemen fired as
+in the morning, and with like success. Yet the dogs did
+their duty, they sought, they stopped the birds, but
+brought none, for this reason only, there were none to
+bring. At last, Alfred impatient at firing to no purpose
+and seeing one of the dogs standing the game, concluded
+that he would fire before the partridges had flown up, and
+thus secure his prize indeed. He aimed, he fired—the
+dog fell, struggling and uttering a piercing howl.</p>
+
+<p>“Zounds! it is our best dog!” exclaimed the gamekeeper
+rushing towards it.</p>
+
+<p>But the dog was dead ere he reached it, it had been
+shot in the head and died almost instantly.</p>
+
+<p>“You made a fine shot that time, master Alfred,” said
+the guard, laying the poor animal down, “I suppose that
+ends the gunning.”</p>
+
+<p>Alfred was motionless with consternation, William and
+Henry seemed much affected at the dog’s death, whilst
+the gamekeeper concealed his wrath and looked at the
+poor creature without saying a word.</p>
+
+<p>I approached to see which dog had been the miserable
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span>victim of Alfred’s awkwardness and conceit, and what
+was not my sorrow, my anguish, on recognizing Medor,
+my friend, my dearest friend! and oh! imagine my horror
+to see the guard lift Medor up, and put him in one
+of the baskets on my back! Ah! behold the game I
+was condemned to carry, Medor, my friend, murdered by
+a bad, stupid, conceited boy!</p>
+
+<p>We returned to the farm not quite so merry as we left,
+the children not speaking a word, the guard occasionally
+letting fall a furious oath, and I feeling no consolation,
+except in the thought of the severe, humiliating reprimand
+the murderer would surely receive.</p>
+
+<p>On reaching the farm we found the papas still there,
+for not having their dogs, they preferred to rest till the
+children’s return.</p>
+
+<p>“Already!” they exclaimed at the sight of us.</p>
+
+<p>“I really believe,” said William’s papa, “they have
+killed a big piece of game of some sort. Cadichon walks
+as if he had a load, and one of the baskets hangs as if it
+contained something heavy.”</p>
+
+<p>They arose and came towards us, but the children,
+with rueful countenances, lagged behind. Their parents
+were struck with their demeanor, what could it mean?</p>
+
+<p>“They certainly have not the air of victors,” said
+Alfred’s father, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps they have killed a calf or a sheep, mistaking
+it for a rabbit,” answered William’s papa, also laughing.</p>
+
+<p>The gamekeeper approached.</p>
+
+<p>“What’s the matter, Michaud? you look as downcast
+as the gunners.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span></p>
+
+<p>“And with cause, sir, we bring a sad game.”</p>
+
+<p>“Tell us what it is then, a sheep, a calf, a donkey?”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah! sir, it is nothing to laugh at, it is your dog,
+Medor, the very best of the band, that master Alfred has
+killed, taking him for a partridge.”</p>
+
+<p>“Medor! Oh! the awkward boy! if ever he guns
+here again—” exclaimed the poor dog’s master.</p>
+
+<p>“Come here, Alfred,” said his father, “you see now
+the result of your conceit and ridiculous presumption.
+Say good-bye to your friends, sir; you are going home
+immediately, and you will put your gun away in my
+room, to touch it no more until you have learned a little
+sense and modesty.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, papa,” answered Alfred, assuming an air of
+indifference, “I don’t know why you should get so angry,
+it often happens that the dogs are killed on gunning
+parties.”</p>
+
+<p>“The dogs! the dogs are killed!” exclaimed the stupefied
+father, “indeed this is too much! You have beautiful
+notions of gunning, sir!”</p>
+
+<p>“But, papa,” continued Alfred, still apparently indifferent,
+“everybody knows that very often the best gunners
+kill their dogs accidentally.”</p>
+
+<p>“My dear friends,” said his father, turning towards
+the other gentlemen, “will you excuse me for having
+brought such an ill-mannered boy here? I did not
+believe him capable of so much stupidity and impudence.”</p>
+
+<p>Then to his son:</p>
+
+<p>“You have my orders, sir, go!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span></p>
+
+<p>“But, papa—”</p>
+
+<p>“Silence! I tell you,” answered the father in a tone of
+severity, “not one word, if you don’t want to make
+acquaintance with my ramrod!”</p>
+
+<p>Alfred hung his head and went off, covered with confusion.</p>
+
+<p>“You see, children,” said William and Henry’s
+papa to them, “you see the result of presumption; that
+is, belief in a merit or quality which one does not possess.
+What happened with Alfred, might have happened with
+you also. You were all so convinced that nothing was
+easier than to be an expert marksman, you had nothing
+to do but to take aim, and the game was yours. You
+have all three been ridiculous since morning, you have
+despised our counsels, our experience, and in fact, you
+are all three guilty of poor Medor’s death. I see that
+you are both too young for gunning. In a year or two
+you may try it again. Meantime, return to your gardens
+and other childish amusements, it will be the better
+for everyone.”</p>
+
+<p>William and Henry hung their heads and made no
+answer, but sadly returned to the house. My unfortunate
+friend Medor, whose history I am going to relate to
+you, was buried in the garden by the children themselves,
+who wished to perform this last mournful rite for
+their pet. After reading the following sketch of his life,
+you will see why I loved him so much.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span></p>
+
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="XVI">
+    XVI.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">MEDOR.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>I <span class="smcap">had</span> known Medor a long time; I was young, and
+he still younger, when we became acquainted and formed
+mutual and inalterable attachment. I was then living
+miserably with those wretched farmers who had bought
+me from a dealer in donkeys, and from whom I escaped
+so cleverly. I was quite thin, for really they never gave
+me enough to eat. Medor (presented to them as a good
+watch dog, and afterwards proving himself a superb
+hunting dog) fared better than I; he amused the children,
+who often gave him bread and scraps of their meals;
+moreover, as he acknowledged to me himself, whenever it
+was possible, he used to slip into the dairy with the mistress
+or servant, where he was always sure to find some
+means of lapping a little milk or cream, and seizing the
+particles of butter which fell from the churn. Medor
+was kind; my lean, miserable appearance excited his
+pity, and one day he brought me a piece of bread, presenting
+it with a most triumphant air.</p>
+
+<p>“Eat, my poor friend,” said he, in his language, “I
+have bread enough given me for my own sustenance, and
+you, you have only thistles and poor grass, and hardly
+enough of these to keep you alive.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Good Medor,” said I, “I am sure you have deprived
+yourself of this for me. I do not suffer so much as you
+think, for I am used to meagre fare, little sleep, much
+work and hard beatings.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am not hungry, my friend,” replied Medor, “I assure
+you, I am not hungry. Prove your friendship for me by
+accepting my little present. It is trifling I know, but I
+offer it willingly, and if you persist in refusing, I shall
+feel quite grieved.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I accept, my kind Medor,” said I, “because I
+am fond of you, and I must confess, that I shall relish it
+greatly, for I am hungry.”</p>
+
+<p>And I ate the bread good Medor had brought me, he
+keenly enjoying the eagerness with which I crunched and
+swallowed it. I felt thoroughly revived by this unaccustomed
+repast, and said so to Medor, believing I could
+thus best express my gratitude. The result was characteristic
+of Medor, every day he brought me the biggest
+piece of bread given him. In the evening, he used to
+come and lie down beside me under the tree or bush I
+had selected for my night’s shelter, and we thus enjoyed
+many a pleasant conversation. And no one suspected,
+or could have understood, for we conversed without talking.
+We other animals, we do not pronounce our words
+like men, but we understand one another by winks,
+motions of the head, the ears, the tail, and we converse
+among ourselves as readily as men.</p>
+
+<p>One evening Medor came to me quite sad and dejected.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span></p>
+
+<p>“My friend,” said he, “I fear I shall no longer be able
+to bring you a part of my bread; my masters have decided
+that I am big enough to be tied all day, and let loose
+only at night. Moreover, my mistress has scolded the
+children for giving me so much bread; she has forbidden
+them to feed me at all, because she wishes to feed me herself
+and that sparely, to make me a good watch dog, she
+says.”</p>
+
+<p>“My kind Medor,” said I, “if it is the thought of my
+losing the bread that frets you, compose yourself, I no
+longer need it, for this morning I discovered a hole in
+the side of the hay rack, from which I have already helped
+myself to a little hay, and I find that I can easily do
+so every day.”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed!” exclaimed Medor, “I am so glad! but yet it
+gave me such pleasure to share my bread with you. And
+then to be tied all day, and see you only at night, it is
+really sad!”</p>
+
+<p>We conversed a long time and it was very late when
+he left me.</p>
+
+<p>“I shall have time enough to sleep during the day,”
+said he, “and you too, as you are not kept very busy
+either at this season.”</p>
+
+<p>All the next day passed indeed without my seeing poor
+Medor. Towards evening, I was impatiently awaiting
+him, when his cries reached my ears. Running to the
+hedge, I saw that wicked woman, the farmer’s wife holding
+my kind friend by the skin of his neck, whilst Edward
+beat him with a carriage whip. I dashed through a breach
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span>in the hedge, caught Edward by the arm, and bit him in
+such a fashion that the whip fell from his hands. The
+wicked woman released her hold on Medor, who escaped;
+this was all I wanted, so I let go Edward’s arm, and was
+about returning to my enclosure, when I felt myself seized
+by the ears. It was the farmer’s wife, who in a rage
+called out to Edward:</p>
+
+<p>“Give me the big whip, till I beat this vicious animal!
+There never was a worse donkey in the world! Give it
+to me, or whack him yourself!”</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image125" style="max-width: 62.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image125.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>“I can’t lift my arm,” said Edward in tears, “it is
+numb.”</p>
+
+<p>Seizing the whip that lay on the ground, she ran at me
+to avenge her cruel son. I was not fool enough to wait
+for her, you may be sure. Just as she had nearly caught
+me, I made a leap and left her some distance behind, she
+continued to pursue me, and I to escape, taking great
+care to keep myself out of reach of the whip. This race
+amused me very much; I saw my mistress’s wrath increase
+in proportion to her fatigue. I could run and sweat
+without doing myself the slightest harm, whilst she, covered
+with perspiration, was completely exhausted, without
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span>having had the pleasure of giving me even one lash
+of the whip. My friend was sufficiently avenged when
+our promenade ended. I sought him with my eyes
+(for I had seen him run towards my enclosure), but in
+vain, he was afraid to show himself before the departure
+of his cruel mistress.</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image126" style="max-width: 62.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image126.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>“You wretch!” cried the enraged woman as she turned
+to leave, “I will pay you up for all this when I get you
+under the saddle!” and she went towards the house,
+whilst I remained alone.</p>
+
+<p>I now ventured to call Medor. He timidly lifted his
+head from the hole in which he had sought refuge. I
+ran to him.</p>
+
+<p>“Come,” said I, “she is gone. What did you do?
+why did Edward beat you?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Because I seized a piece of bread one of the children
+had dropped on the ground. She saw me, darted at me,
+and calling Edward, told him to beat me unmercifully.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did no one try to defend you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Defend me indeed! they all cried out, that’s right!
+whip him Edward, so he won’t do it again.” ‘Keep
+quiet,’ said Edward, ‘I shall not go half way in the matter,
+you’ll hear how I can make him sing.’ And at my
+first cry, they all clapped their hands, exclaiming bravo!
+bravo!</p>
+
+<p>“Wicked little creatures!” cried I. “But why did
+you take the bread, Medor? Had they not given you
+your supper?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes indeed, I had already eaten, but the bread in my
+soup was in such small pieces, that I could not get any
+of it out for you, but, if I could have carried off that big
+piece the child dropped, you would have had a delightful
+repast.”</p>
+
+<p>“My poor Medor! and it was for me you were beaten!
+Thanks, my friend, thanks; I shall never forget your
+kindness! But let me entreat you to not repeat it! Do
+you suppose that that bread would have given me any
+pleasure, if I had known what risks you ran to get it?
+I would rather a hundred times live on thistles, knowing
+that you were well treated and happy.”</p>
+
+<p>We conversed a long time, and I made Medor promise
+never again to incur the danger of a beating on my
+account; I also promised him that I would play all sorts
+of tricks on these people, and I kept my word. One day
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span>I knocked Edward and his sister into a puddle of water,
+and then ran off, leaving them struggling in the mud.
+Another time, I ran at the little three year old boy, as
+if I were going to bite him, how his screams of terror
+rejoiced my heart! Again, pretending to have the colic,
+I rolled on the ground with a heavy load of eggs on my
+back; every egg was smashed. My mistress, though
+furious, did not dare strike me, she believed I was really
+sick, that I was going to die, and they would lose all the
+money I had cost them, so instead of beating me, she led
+me back to the stable, and gave me some hay and bran.
+I never played a better trick in my life, and that evening
+Medor and I almost hurt ourselves laughing over it.
+Another time, seeing all their linen spread out on the
+hedge to dry, I took every piece in my teeth, one by one,
+and threw it into the barnyard pool. No one had seen
+me do this; so when the mistress could not find her linen,
+and when, at last after a search in every direction, it was
+discovered just where I have told you, she flew into a
+terrible rage, and beat the servant, who beat the children,
+who beat the cats, the dogs, the calves, the sheep! Oh!
+it was a charming uproar to me, every body screamed
+and was furious. Medor and I certainly passed a gay
+evening.</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image129" style="max-width: 62.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image129.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    She flew into a terrible rage.—(Page <a href="#Page_128">128</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>In my subsequent reflexions upon these wicked deeds,
+I have sincerely reproached myself, for I revenged upon
+the innocent the faults of the guilty. Medor sometimes
+censured me and advised moderation, but no, I would not
+listen, every day I got worse and worse, only however to
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a><a id="Page_130"></a><a id="Page_131"></a>[Pg 131]</span>suffer for it, my evil conduct bringing its own punishment
+as you will learn hereafter.</p>
+
+<p>One day (and a sad day it was for me,) a gentleman
+who was passing took a fancy to Medor and offered the
+farmer a hundred francs for him. The farmer, believing
+him a dog of very little account, was delighted, and my
+poor friend with a rope around his neck, disappeared
+with his new master. He cast a sorrowful glance at me,
+and in vain did I run from one side of the hedge to the
+other seeking a passage, every breach was closed, and I
+had not even the consolation of bidding my dear Medor
+farewell. From that day, life there was almost insupportable.
+Medor’s departure was just before the little
+episode of market day, and my subsequent flight into the
+forest of St. Evroult, which I have already related.
+During the years that followed, I often, very often
+thought of my friend, and the pleasure it would be to see
+him again, but where seek him? for I knew his new
+master did not live in that part of the country, but was
+only there on a visit to some friends.</p>
+
+<p>Judge of my happiness, some time after little James
+had brought me to your grandmother’s, at seeing arrive
+with your uncle and cousins William and Henry, my
+friend, my dear friend Medor! He recognized me at
+once, and covered me with caresses, I responding to them,
+and following him everywhere. Our cordiality excited
+great surprise, but all attributed it to Medor’s delight at
+being in the country, and mine in finding a companion
+for my promenades. If they had been able to understand
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span>our long conversation they would have known the
+cause of our mutual affection.</p>
+
+<p>Medor was much pleased at all I told him of my
+present calm and peaceful life, of my master’s kindness,
+of my excellent and even glorious reputation throughout
+this part of the country. He sympathized with me in
+the recital of my pitiful adventures, and he laughed,
+though blaming me, at the tricks I had played on the
+farmer who bought me from George’s father. He actually
+was puffed up with pride when I told him of my victory
+at the race; he deplored the ingratitude of poor Pauline’s
+parents, and shed tears over the sad fate of that unhappy
+child.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="XVII">
+    XVII.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">THE SCHOOL CHILDREN.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">One</span> day Medor strayed off from the house where he
+had been born, and had always lived quite comfortably.
+He was in pursuit of a cat that had stolen a piece of
+meat given him by the cook, who thought it a little
+tainted. Medor, not being so delicate, had just put it
+down by his kennel, when a cat concealed near by, darted
+at the meat and carried it off, much to my friend’s indignation,
+as he was not often regaled on such luxuries. He
+pursued the thief with all the speed of his limbs, and
+would soon have caught her, if, wicked cat that she was,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span>she had not bethought herself of climbing a tree. Medor,
+of course could not follow, and he was tantalized with
+seeing her devour before his eyes, the delicious morsel of
+which she had robbed him. Justly irritated at such
+effrontery, he remained at the foot of the tree, barking,
+growling and uttering a thousand reproaches. This
+attracted the attention of some children just out of
+school, and they united with Medor in annoying her.
+They even attacked her with stones until at last it was a
+veritable shower. The cat climbed higher, and tried to
+conceal herself in the thickest foliage. But this did not
+stop them, the shower of stones continued, accompanied
+by loud hurrahs, whenever a plaintiff mewing informed
+her persecutors that she had been hit.</p>
+
+<p>Medor began to weary of this game; the enemy’s
+touching cries had appeased his wrath and he feared that
+the children were too cruel. To end their sport he commenced
+to bark at them, and pull them by the blouse,
+but it had no effect, save that of causing a few stones to
+be directed against himself. At last, a hoarse, horrible
+cry, followed by a rustling among the branches, announced
+their success, the poor cat was grievously
+wounded, and had fallen from the tree. One minute
+after, she was not only wounded, but dead, her head having
+been crushed by a stone. This was a source of rejoicing
+to the mischievous children, who ought to have wept
+over their cruelty. As for Medor, he regarded his enemy
+with compassion, and the boys with an air of keen
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span>reproach. Just as he was about to return to the house,
+one of them exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! let us give him a bath in the river, it would be so
+amusing!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes indeed, what a splendid idea,” cried the others,
+“catch him, Frederick, there he goes!”</p>
+
+<p>Behold Medor pursued by the cruel rascals, he and
+they running at full speed. Unfortunately, there were
+about a dozen of them scattered around, which obliged
+him always to run straight ahead, for if he deviated in
+the least, to the right or left, he could be surrounded and
+his flight retarded instead of hastened. At that time he
+was very young, not more than four months old; he
+could run neither very swiftly, nor any great distance
+without stopping, consequently his pursuers captured
+him. One seized him around the body, one by the tail,
+another by the paw, the neck, the ears, the back, they
+pulled him this way and that, to amuse themselves with
+his cries. At last, putting a cord around his neck almost
+tight enough to strangle him, they forced him by dint of
+kicks to the river.</p>
+
+<p>Two of them were about to remove the cord, and
+plunge him in, when the biggest boy exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>“Wait, let’s tie two bladders to his neck, and make
+him swim; we can push him to the mill, and make him
+pass under the wheel.”</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image135" style="max-width: 36.0em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image135.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    They beat the boys—(Page <a href="#Page_137">137</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>Vainly did poor Medor struggle; what could he do
+against a dozen little scamps, the youngest of them, at
+least, in his seventh year? Andrew the most cruel of the
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a><a id="Page_136"></a><a id="Page_137"></a>[Pg 137]</span>band, tied the two bladders around his neck, and then
+launched him into the very middle of the stream. My
+persecuted friend, impelled by the current, and still more
+vigorously by the poles in his tormentors’ hands, reached
+the place where the water precipitates itself under the
+mill wheel. Once under the wheel, he would certainly
+be ground to pieces.</p>
+
+<p>The workmen returned from their dinner, and one of
+them hastened to raise the barrier restraining the water.
+Perceiving Medor, he said:</p>
+
+<p>“Another of your cruel tricks,” you rascals; said he looking
+at the boys who waited in delightful anticipation of
+seeing Medor drawn under the wheel. “Friends,” he
+added, speaking to his fellow workmen, “come here and
+help punish these bad boys, who have been amusing
+themselves trying to drown a poor dog.”</p>
+
+<p>His comrades ran, and whilst he saved Medor by pushing
+a plank towards the poor creature for him to climb
+upon, the others gave chase to the boys, caught every one,
+and whipped them well, some with ropes, some with
+whips, some with sticks. The cries of the chastised
+children resounded far and near, for the workmen did
+not strike lightly. At last the job was finished, and
+Medor’s persecutors retreated, crying, sobbing and rubbing
+their smarting skins.</p>
+
+<p>The strangling cord around Medor’s neck was cut, and
+he was put out in the sun to dry upon some hay. He
+was soon dry, and ready to go home, but when the blacksmith
+led him back, the people there said they did not
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span>want him, they had too many dogs already, and they
+would throw him in the water with a stone to his neck,
+if he were left. The blacksmith was a kind man, and
+pitying Medor, took him to his own house. But at sight
+of the dog his wife got angry, her husband would ruin
+them, she said, they had not the wherewith to feed a
+worthless cur, and, besides, there was a tax upon dogs.</p>
+
+<p>Her opposition was so determined and so violent that
+her husband for peace sake got rid of Medor, by giving
+him to the cruel farmer with whom I then lived, and who
+had been wanting a watch dog.</p>
+
+<p>You now know how Medor and I became acquainted,
+and also, why we were so fondly attached to each other.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="XVIII">
+    XVIII.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">THE BAPTISM.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">William</span> and Maud were to stand sponsors for a new
+born child, whose mother had been Maud’s nurse. Maud
+wanted them to call the baby after her.</p>
+
+<p>“Not at all,” said William, “since I am godfather, I
+have the right to name her, and I wish to call her Pierrette.”</p>
+
+<p>“Pierrette!” exclaimed Maud, “that’s a frightful
+name! I don’t want her named Pierrette, she shall be
+called Maud; as I am the godmother, I am the one who
+has the right to name her.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span></p>
+
+<p>“No, you haven’t, the godfather has the best right, and
+I shall call her Pierrette.”</p>
+
+<p>“If she is to be named that, I won’t be godmother.”</p>
+
+<p>“If she is to be named Maud, I won’t be godfather.”</p>
+
+<p>“Just as you please about that, I can ask papa to take
+your place.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I, Miss, can ask mamma to take your place.”</p>
+
+<p>“Besides, I am quite sure aunt would not like her
+called Pierrette, it is too frightful and ridiculous.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I am sure uncle would not like her called Maud,
+it is too horrible and stupid.”</p>
+
+<p>“How did he happen to call me Maud then? Go to
+him and tell him you think it is a horrible, stupid name,
+go, my good man, and you will see how you will be
+received!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, you may say what you please, but I say I will
+not be godfather for any Maud.”</p>
+
+<p>“Papa,” said Maud mischievously, running to her
+father, “will you stand godfather with me for little
+Maud?”</p>
+
+<p>“What Maud, dear pet? I know no Maud but you.”</p>
+
+<p>“My little godchild, papa, that I want called Maud
+when she is baptized to-day.”</p>
+
+<p>“But William is to stand with you, and there cannot
+be two godfathers.”</p>
+
+<p>“Papa, William does not wish to be godfather.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why? what is the meaning of this whim?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because he thinks Maud a horrible stupid name, and
+wants to call her Pierrette.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Pierrette! that would be horrible and stupid indeed!”</p>
+
+<p>“It is just what I told him papa, but he would not
+believe me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Listen, my daughter, try to reason with your cousin,
+and if he insists upon not being godfather unless the
+baby is named Pierrette, I will cheerfully stand in place
+of him.”</p>
+
+<p>During Maud’s conversation with her father, William
+had run to his mother.</p>
+
+<p>“Mamma,” said he, “will you stand godmother with
+me in Maud’s place, for the little girl that is to be baptized
+to-day.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why is not Maud going to stand? it was a request of
+the baby’s mother that she would.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mamma, Maud wants the baby named after her, I
+think her name too ugly, and as I am godfather, I want
+the baby called Pierrette.”</p>
+
+<p>“Pierrette! that is frightful, William is pretty, but
+Pierrette is ridiculous!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! mamma, please call her Pierrette—At any rate,
+I don’t want her called Maud.”</p>
+
+<p>“But if neither of you will give up, how will you fix
+matters?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mamma, that is why I came to ask you to stand for
+little Pierrette in place of Maud?”</p>
+
+<p>“My poor William, I must tell you frankly, that I
+want no more of this Pierrette, the name is too ridiculous,
+besides, the child’s mother was Maud’s nurse, not
+yours, and you know very well, that she desires most
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span>particularly to have Maud for godmother. For my part,
+I think she would be pleased to have the baby called
+Maud.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then, I can’t be godfather.”</p>
+
+<p>At this instant Maud ran up, exclaiming:</p>
+
+<p>“Well, William, have you decided? We start in an
+hour, and must have a godfather.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am willing for her not to be called Pierrette, but
+I am not willing for her to be called Maud.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, since you have given up Pierrette, I will give
+up Maud. But let us ask nurse what name she wants
+baby called.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are right; go ask her.”</p>
+
+<p>Maud went running off to the baby’s mother and soon
+came back.</p>
+
+<p>“William, William,” she exclaimed, “nurse wants her
+little daughter named Marie Maud.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you inquire if she ought not to be called Pierrette,
+as I am godfather?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I asked her, and she burst out laughing;
+mamma laughed too; they both said it was impossible,
+Pierrette was too ugly.”</p>
+
+<p>William blushed slightly, however, as he himself had
+began to think Pierrette ridiculous, he sighed and said
+nothing more on that subject.</p>
+
+<p>“Where are the sugar plums?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“In a big basket that will be taken to the church, the
+boxes and wrappings are left here. They are all ready,
+let us see how many there are.” And they ran to the
+hall where everything was in readiness.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span></p>
+
+<p>“What are these pennies for?” inquired William,
+“there seem to be nearly as many as sugar plums.”</p>
+
+<p>“They are to be thrown to the school children,” said
+Maud.</p>
+
+<p>“The school children? Are we going to the school
+after the baptism?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, we are to throw these from the church door,
+where all the school children collect on such occasions;
+we throw them by the handful, and the children catch
+them or pick them up from the ground.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you ever see it done?”</p>
+
+<p>“Never, but I have heard that it is very amusing.”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not think I would like it, for I know very well
+the children fight and get hurt; besides I do not like
+the idea of flinging things to children as if they were
+dogs.”</p>
+
+<p>“Maud, William, come see the baby, it has just arrived;
+we start shortly,” cried Beatrice, out of breath.</p>
+
+<p>Both of them ran, trying to reach the baby first.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! how fine our godchild is!” said William.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, indeed,” replied Maud, “she has a dress embroidered
+all around, a lace bonnet, and a cloak lined with
+pink silk.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you give her all those pretty things?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! no, I had not enough money; mamma paid for
+everything except the bonnet and I paid for it.”</p>
+
+<p>All was ready; though the weather was fine the carriage
+was brought out for the baby and its nurse, and
+the sponsors only. Maud and William were in the carriage
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span>like important personages. They started. I, harnessed
+to the children’s little conveyance waited for
+them. Louis, Helen, James and Ruth took the back
+seats, Beatrice and Elizabeth the front to drive, whilst
+Henry climbed behind. The mammas, papas and nurses
+started at different intervals, so that some of them
+might be near us in case of accident; but this was only
+an excess of prudence, for with me they knew there was
+nothing to fear.</p>
+
+<p>I set off in a gallop, notwithstanding my load, self-love
+excited me to overtake and even pass the carriage.
+I went like the wind and the children were enchanted.</p>
+
+<p>“Bravo!” they cried. “Courage, Cadichon, keep on
+galloping! Hurrah for Cadichon, the king of donkeys!”</p>
+
+<p>They clapped their hands and applauded.</p>
+
+<p>“Bravo!” cried people whom I passed on the road.
+“Look at that donkey, he runs like a horse! Good luck
+and no upsets!”</p>
+
+<p>The papas and mammas trudging along, were not so
+encouraging however, but wanted me to relax my speed,
+instead of which, I only galloped the faster. I was not
+very long in overtaking the carriage, and triumphantly
+did I dash past the horses, they looked at me with surprise.
+Feeling mortified at being overtaken by a donkey, especially
+as they had started first, they attempted a gallop,
+but the driver tightened his reins, and obliged them to
+relax their speed, whilst I hurried on faster than ever, so
+that when they reached the church door, my little masters
+and mistresses had all descended from the vehicle,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span>whilst I, very warm and out of breath, was standing
+quietly hitched near the hedge for shade.</p>
+
+<p>The parents on arriving, admired my swiftness, and
+complimented the children on their equipage.</p>
+
+<p>The fact is we made quite a sensation, my carriage and
+I, I being well rubbed and curried, and decorated with
+variegated dahlias of red and white behind my ears, the
+harness polished and embellished with red mountings,
+and the vehicle repaired and varnished. We certainly
+presented a dashing appearance.</p>
+
+<p>Through the open window, I witnessed the baptismal
+ceremony, the infant screamed as if it were being murdered,
+Maud and William, somewhat embarrassed at
+their honors, got confused in repeating the Creed, and
+the priest was obliged to prompt them. Poor little godfather
+and godmother, their eyes were suffused with tears,
+and their faces as red as cherries! However, their mistake
+was no unusual occurrence, and often happens with
+grown people.</p>
+
+<p>Little Marie Maud being baptized, they went out of
+the church to throw sugar plums and pennies to the
+children collected around the door. As soon as the godfather
+and godmother appeared, all exclaimed; “Hurrah
+for the godmother! hurrah for the godfather!”</p>
+
+<p>The basket of sugar plums was ready, it was handed
+Maud, whilst William received the basket of pennies.
+Taking a handful of the former, Maud let them fall in a
+shower among the children. This was the signal for a
+general battle, a faithful representation of starving dogs.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span></p>
+
+<p>All rushed to the same spot, disputing every handful,
+both of sugar plums and pennies, as it was thrown; they
+tore one another’s hair, they struggled, they rolled over
+on the ground, and half the coveted articles were lost,
+crushed under foot or hidden in the grass. William did
+not laugh; nor Maud, after the first handful, for she saw
+that these battles were serious. For several of the children
+were crying, and others were badly scratched.</p>
+
+<p>“You were right, William,” said she, as soon as they
+took their seats in the carriage, “the next time I am godmother,
+I shall give the children sugar plums, not throw
+them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nor I, the pennies,” said William, “I shall give them
+like you do the sugar plums.”</p>
+
+<p>The carriage started off, and I did not hear the rest of
+their conversation.</p>
+
+<p>My party now began to crowd in their vehicle, accompanied
+by the papas and mammas.</p>
+
+<p>“Cadichon,” said Maud’s mamma, “has already produced
+a sensation, so now he can afford to return more
+quietly and take us with him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mamma,” said Beatrice, “do you like this custom of
+throwing the children sugar plums and pennies?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, dear child, I find it a very ignoble custom, the
+children reminding one of dogs fighting for a bone. If
+ever I am godmother in this part of the country, I shall
+distribute the sugar plums among the children, instead of
+throwing them, and I shall give to the poor, the amount
+of money wasted in pennies flung at random.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span></p>
+
+<p>“You are right, mamma; please let me be godmother
+to do as you say.”</p>
+
+<p>“As an absolute necessity for your fulfilling that office,
+we must have a baby to be baptized,” said the mamma,
+smiling, “and I know of none.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, how provoking! I could be godmother with
+Henry. What would you call your godson, Henry.”</p>
+
+<p>“Henry, of course, what would you call him?”</p>
+
+<p>“Madelon.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh horror! Madelon! In the first place it is not a
+name.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is as much of a name as Pierrette.”</p>
+
+<p>“Pierrette is prettier, and besides you see that William
+yielded.”</p>
+
+<p>“I could give up too,” replied Beatrice, “but we have
+time enough to think of it.”</p>
+
+<p>We reached the castle, all got out of the carriage and
+hastened to lay aside their holiday attire; my trinkets
+and dahlias were also taken off and I was turned out to
+pasture, whilst the children ate their lunch.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span></p>
+
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="XIX">
+    XIX.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">THE LEARNED DONKEY.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">One</span> day I saw the children run into the meadow
+where I was quietly grazing very near the castle. Louis
+and James were playing around me, finding amusement
+in getting on my back. They thought themselves as
+nimble as gymnasts, whilst they were, in reality, I must
+confess, somewhat clumsy, little James especially, who
+was plump, chunkier than his cousin. Louis at last,
+by holding on to my tail, managed to climb (he called it
+jumping) up on my back. James made prodigious efforts
+to follow his example, but the poor little fat fellow slipped,
+fell and got out of breath, and it was very evident
+that he could not succeed without the assistance of his
+cousin somewhat older than himself. To spare them so
+much fatigue, I went towards a piece of rising ground.
+Louis had already shown his agility, and James had just
+succeeded with a great effort in seating himself, when we
+heard the whole joyous band crying out: “James,
+Louis, we are going to the fair day after to-morrow, to
+see the learned donkey!”</p>
+
+<p>“The learned donkey? what is that?” inquired James.</p>
+
+<p>“A donkey,” replied Elizabeth, “that plays all manner
+of tricks.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span></p>
+
+<p>“What tricks?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well tricks—tricks of—tricks I mean,” said Beatrice.</p>
+
+<p>“He can’t beat Cadichon, I know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Pshaw! Cadichon!”, said Henry, “Cadichon is a
+very fine animal and very intelligent of his kind, but he
+is nothing in comparison with the learned donkey at
+the fair!”</p>
+
+<p>“I am very sure,” answered Maud, “that if Cadichon
+were shown these tricks he could do them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let us see what this learned donkey does, and then
+we can judge better as to whether he is more learned
+than our Cadichon,” said William.</p>
+
+<p>“William is right,” replied Maud, “let us wait till
+after the fair.”</p>
+
+<p>“And what will we do after the fair?” said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>“We will dispute,” replied Beatrice laughing. James
+and Louis after whispering a few words to each other,
+had kept silence until the rest went away. When assured
+that these were out of sight and hearing, they commenced
+to dance around me, laughing and singing:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">“Cadichon, Cadichon,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent1">To the fair you will go,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent1">And the learned donkey show</div>
+      <div class="verse indent1">That as smart as he may be,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent1">You are smarter still than he;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent1">Every one will honor you,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent1">Every one will praise you too,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent1">And we shall be proud, so do</div>
+      <div class="verse indent1">Your best, Cadichon, Cadichon.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span></p>
+
+<p>“What we are singing is very pretty,” said James,
+stopping suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>“That is because they are rhymes,” answered Louis.
+“I really think they are pretty.”</p>
+
+<p>“Rhymes? I thought it was very difficult to make
+rhymes.”</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Very easy as you see,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Though difficult apparently.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>“There are some more.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let us run and say them to our cousins.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no, if they heard our verses, they would guess
+what we are going to do; we must take them by surprise
+at the fair.”</p>
+
+<p>“But do you believe papa and uncle will let us take
+Cadichon to the fair?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly, when we tell them in confidence, we want
+him to see the learned donkey.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let us run quick to ask them.”</p>
+
+<p>They were running at full speed towards the house
+just as the papas were coming to the meadow to see what
+the children were doing. “Papa, papa!” cried they,
+“come quick; we have something to ask you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Speak children, what is it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not here, papa, not here,” was the mysterious answer,
+each one drawing his father aside.</p>
+
+<p>“What is the matter?” said Louis’s papa, laughing.
+“Into what conspiracy do you wish to drag me?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sh sh, papa, here is what it is: you know that day
+after to-morrow there will be a learned donkey at the fair.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span></p>
+
+<p>“No, I did not know it, but what have we to do with
+learned donkeys, we, who have Cadichon?”</p>
+
+<p>“That is precisely what we say, papa, that Cadichon
+is smarter than any of them. My sisters and cousins are
+going to the fair to see this educated donkey, and we
+would like very much to take Cadichon, so that he may
+see what this donkey does and imitate him.”</p>
+
+<p>“What?” said James’s papa, “would you put Cadichon
+in the crowd to look at the donkey?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, papa, instead of going in the carriage, we can
+ride Cadichon, and get very near the circle in which the
+learned donkey plays his tricks.”</p>
+
+<p>“I would not ask anything better myself, but I do not
+believe Cadichon could learn much in one lesson.”</p>
+
+<p>“Can’t you, Cadichon, do as many smart tricks as that
+silly, educated donkey?”</p>
+
+<p>In addressing this question, James looked at me so
+anxiously, that to reassure him, I began braying, laughing
+all the while at his fears.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you hear that, papa,” said James triumphantly,
+“Cadichon says yes.”</p>
+
+<p>The two papas laughed, caressed their little boys, and
+turned away, promising not only that I should go to the
+fair, but that they would accompany us there.</p>
+
+<p>“Ah!” said I to myself, “they doubt my capacity!
+It is astonishing how much more intelligent these children
+are than their fathers.”</p>
+
+<p>The great day arrived. One hour before our departure,
+my toilet was made, and Louis and James having
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span>curried and rubbed me to the verge of vexation; after
+which, they decorated me with a perfectly new bridle
+and saddle, and then announced their readiness to start,
+as they wished to set out a little in advance, for fear of
+being late.</p>
+
+<p>“Why do you wish to go so early?” asked Henry,
+“and how are you going?”</p>
+
+<p>“We are going on Cadichon, and want to start early,
+because we can’t go fast,” said Louis.</p>
+
+<p>“Are you two going alone?” inquired Henry.</p>
+
+<p>“No, papa and uncle will accompany us.”</p>
+
+<p>“It will certainly be tiresome, if you are going at a
+gait to suit their walk.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! we never find it tiresome in our papa’s company.”</p>
+
+<p>“I prefer going in the carriage, we will get there long
+before you.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, you will not, for we will start so much sooner.”</p>
+
+<p>As they finished speaking, I was led out all saddled
+and decorated—the fathers were ready; they put their
+little boys on my back, and I started very slowly, so as
+not to make their fathers run.</p>
+
+<p>In an hour we reached the fair ground, where we
+found many persons already collected around the rope
+marking out a circle, within which the educated donkey
+was to display his ability. The fathers of the two little
+boys I had brought, stationed us very near the rope, and
+my other masters and mistresses soon rejoined us.</p>
+
+<p>The sound of a drum was the signal for my learned
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span>friend’s appearance. All eyes were fixed upon the curtain,
+which rose at last, and he came forth, a thin, sad,
+miserable looking creature. His master called him; he
+approached, but with an air of fear, and I saw at once
+that the poor thing’s learning had been instilled by hard
+beatings.</p>
+
+<p>“Gentlemen and ladies,” said the master, “I have the
+honor of presenting to you Mirliflore, the prince of donkeys.
+He is not like the rest of his race, he is a learned
+donkey, more learned indeed than many of us, he is the
+donkey par excellence, and without an equal. Come,
+Mirliflore, show what you can do, but first salute these
+gentlemen and ladies like a well raised donkey.”</p>
+
+<p>This discourse touched my pride, and made me very
+angry; I resolved to be revenged before the end of the
+exhibition.</p>
+
+<p>Mirliflore advancing three steps, made an inclination
+of his head with a melancholy air.</p>
+
+<p>“Go, Mirliflore, go give this bouquet to the prettiest
+lady here.”</p>
+
+<p>I laughed at seeing every hand half extended to
+receive the bouquet. Mirliflore went all around the circle,
+and stopping before a fat, ugly woman that I afterwards
+learned was the master’s wife, and who held a
+little sugar in her hand, lay down his flowers.</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image153" style="max-width: 62.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image153.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    “Mirliflore, the prince of donkeys.”—(Page <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>This want of taste enraged me; leaping over the rope
+to the great surprise of every one present, and making a
+graceful salutation, to those on my right, my left, before
+and behind me, I walked resolutely up to the fat woman,
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a><a id="Page_154"></a><a id="Page_155"></a>[Pg 155]</span>snatched the bouquet from her hands, and laid it on
+Maud’s lap. I then returned to my place, amidst the
+plaudits of the multitude. Every one inquired the
+meaning of this apparition; some believed it was all
+arranged beforehand, and that there were two learned
+donkeys; whilst others who had seen me with my little
+masters recognizing me, were delighted at my intelligence.</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image155" style="max-width: 62.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image155.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>Mirliflore’s master seemed quite vexed, but the animal
+himself appeared so indifferent to my triumph, that I
+began to believe him really stupid, which is a quality
+very rare among us donkeys. When silence was re-established,
+the master called Mirliflore out again.</p>
+
+<p>“Come Mirliflore, show these gentlemen and ladies
+that you not only know how to distinguish beauty, but
+likewise stupidity; take this cap and put it on the most
+stupid person here.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span></p>
+
+<p>Saying this, he gave Mirliflore a magnificent dunce-cap,
+ornamented with bells and variegated ribbons. Mirliflore,
+taking it between his teeth, went towards a fat,
+red faced boy, who inclined his head in advance to receive
+it. From his resemblance to the fat woman, so falsely
+declared the most beautiful person present, it was easy to
+recognize this boy as her son, and the master’s assistant.</p>
+
+<p>“Now,” thought I, “is the moment to revenge this
+fool’s insulting words!”</p>
+
+<p>And before anyone could think of preventing me, I
+again darted into the arena, ran to my comrade, snatched
+the dunce-cap from him at the moment he was about to
+place it on the fat boy’s head, and ere the master had
+time to defend himself, rushing at him, at putting my
+fore feet upon his shoulders, I tried to place the cap upon
+his head. He repulsed me violently, and grew furious,
+as peals of laughter and applause resounded on all sides.</p>
+
+<p>“Bravo donkey!” they cried, “this one is the real
+learned donkey.”</p>
+
+<p>Emboldened by the applause of the multitude, I made
+a new effort to fit the cap; as he recoiled I advanced,
+and we finished by a flying race, the man running at full
+speed, I after him, not getting near enough to him to
+ornament him with the cap, and not wishing to do
+him any harm. At last I jumped behind him, and
+placing my fore feet upon his shoulders, let him feel
+my weight; he fell and I profited by it, to bury his head
+up to his very chin in the dunce’s cap. I retired immediately;
+the man arose, but being somewhat confused and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span>stunned by the fall, and unable to see clearly, he began
+to turn and jump. And I to complete the farce pretended
+to do the same, interrupting this burlesque imitation,
+by approaching him and braying in his ear, then
+standing on my hind feet, jumping like him, sometimes
+to one side, some times before him.</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image157" style="max-width: 62.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image157.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>To depict the laughter, the bravos, the joyful stamping
+of feet, would be an impossibility. Never had a
+donkey in the world such success, such a triumph! The
+ring was invaded by hundreds of persons wishing to
+touch, to caress, to approach me. Those who knew me
+were proud of what I had done, and told my name to
+those not acquainted with me. Numberless anecdotes,
+both true and false, were related, in which I played a
+magnificent part. One time, said my admirers, I had
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span>extinguished a fire, working a pump all alone; I had
+ascended to the third story, opened my mistress’s door,
+seized her asleep in bed, and all hope of escape by the
+stairs being cut off, I had jumped from the third story,
+having first carefully placed my mistress on my back—that
+neither she nor I had been hurt, because her guardian
+angel had sustained us in the air and we had gently
+descended to the ground. Another time, unassisted, I
+had killed fifty brigands, strangling them one by one with
+a single bite, so that none awakened to alarm the rest.
+I had afterwards liberated one hundred and fifty prisoners
+these robbers had kept chained in the caves for the
+sake of their services, making the poor creatures work to
+feed and enrich their masters. Again, at a race, I had
+beaten the best horses in the country, and finally, in five
+hours, I had made twenty-five leagues without stopping.</p>
+
+<p>The admiration for me increased in proportion to the
+circulation of these stories. I was surrounded, almost
+smothered, and the soldiers were obliged to drive off the
+crowd. Happily, the parents of James, Louis, and all
+my other masters had led their children away, whilst the
+crowd collected around me. I had much difficulty in
+escaping from my admirers, who wished to carry me in
+triumph—even the assistance of the soldiers was not sufficient
+to prevent such an honor, and I, in order to force
+my way through the crowd, was obliged to give a few
+bites, and attempted kicks, taking care, however, to hurt
+no one.</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image159" style="max-width: 62.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image159.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    The soldiers were obliged to drive off the crowd.—(Page <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>Once rid of the crowd, I sought Louis and James, but
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a><a id="Page_160"></a><a id="Page_161"></a>[Pg 161]</span>in vain. Not wishing my dear little masters to return
+home on foot, I ran to the stable where our horses were
+always kept to see if they were still there, and, not finding
+them, I knew Louis and James had gone. Then,
+taking the road to the castle, and running at full speed,
+I soon caught up with the two carriages packed with
+parents and children to the number of fifteen.</p>
+
+<p>“Cadichon! there is Cadichon!” exclaimed all the
+children when they saw me.</p>
+
+<p>The carriages were stopped; James and Louis asked
+permission to get out, as they wished to compliment and
+caress me, and return home on foot. Their example was
+followed by Ruth and Helen, then by William and Henry,
+and at last by Elizabeth, Beatrice and Maud.</p>
+
+<p>“So you see,” said Louis and James, “we knew Cadichon
+better than you! How he did distinguish himself!
+He easily understood all the tricks of that stupid Mirliflore
+and his foolish master.”</p>
+
+<p>“So he did,” answered William, “but I would like very
+much to know why he insisted upon putting that dunce-cap
+on the master. Was it because he thought the master
+a fool, and knew that the donkey’s ears (the dunce-cap
+was fashioned in that style) were a mark of imbecility?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly, he understood it,” spoke Maud; “he is
+smart enough for that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah! ah! ah! You say that because he gave you
+the bouquet as the prettiest person present.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not at all; I did not think myself the prettiest, and,
+since you speak of it, let me tell you that I was astonished,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span>and wished very much he had given the bouquet to
+mamma, for she was the prettiest person there.”</p>
+
+<p>“You represented her,” said William, “and I believe
+that, leaving aunt aside, Cadichon’s choice could not have
+been better.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I then, am I so ugly?” asked Beatrice.</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly not, but each one to his taste, and Cadichon’s
+taste selected Maud,” replied William.</p>
+
+<p>“Instead of discussing beauties and frights,” said
+Elizabeth, “we ought to inquire of Cadichon how he
+could understand so well what this man said.”</p>
+
+<p>“What a pity Cadichon cannot speak! how much he
+could tell!” replied Helen.</p>
+
+<p>“Who knows but what he does understand?” said
+Elizabeth. “I myself have read the ‘Recollections of a
+Doll,’ and does a doll appear to see and understand?
+That doll wrote about all she heard and saw.”</p>
+
+<p>“And do you really believe that?” asked Henry.</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly I believe it,” replied Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>“How could the doll write?”</p>
+
+<p>“She wrote at night, with a tiny pen made of a humming
+bird’s feather, and hid her ‘Recollections’ under her
+head.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t believe such nonsense, my poor Elizabeth,”
+said Beatrice. “It was a lady who wrote those ‘Recollections
+of a Doll,’ and to make the book more amusing,
+she pretended to be the doll and to write as if she were
+one.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you think, then, it was not a real doll that wrote
+them?” asked Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Certainly it was not,” replied Maud. “How do you
+suppose a lifeless doll, made of wood or stuffed with bran
+could reflect, see, hear and write?”</p>
+
+<p>Talking thus, they reached the castle. Running
+immediately to their grandmother, who had remained at
+home, they recounted all my doings and how I had
+astonished and delighted every one.</p>
+
+<p>“He is truly wonderful, this Cadichon,” said she,
+coming to caress me. “I have known intelligent
+donkeys, far more sagacious than other animals, but
+never did I see one like Cadichon! I must confess, we
+are very unjust to donkeys.”</p>
+
+<p>I turned towards her with a look of gratitude.</p>
+
+<p>“One would really suppose he understood me,” she
+continued. “My poor Cadichon, rest assured you shall
+never be sold whilst I live, and you shall be as well
+taken care of as if you understood everything that was
+going on around you.”</p>
+
+<p>I sighed at thought of my old mistress’s age, for she
+was fifty-nine, and I not more than nine or ten.</p>
+
+<p>“My dear little masters,” thought I, “when your
+grandmother dies do not sell me, I entreat you, but keep
+me and let me die in your service.”</p>
+
+<p>As to the learned donkey’s unfortunate master; I afterwards
+repented bitterly of the trick I had played upon
+him, and you will see the sad consequences of my desire
+to display my intelligence.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span></p>
+
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="XX">
+    XX.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">THE FROG.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> wicked boy who killed my friend, Medor, had at
+last (by dint of coaxing probably,) obtained pardon and
+permission to visit again at your grandmother’s. I could
+not bear him, you may well imagine, and I sought every
+opportunity of playing some ugly trick upon him, for I
+lacked charity and had not yet learned to forgive.</p>
+
+<p>This Alfred was a coward, but always boasting of his
+courage. One day, when his father had brought him to
+your grandmother’s on a visit, the other children proposed
+a stroll in the woods. Maud, who ran ahead suddenly
+jumped aside screaming.</p>
+
+<p>“What is the matter?” said William, running to her
+assistance.</p>
+
+<p>“I was frightened at a frog that jumped on my foot.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is it possible that you are afraid of frogs, Maud?
+For my part,” said Alfred, “I am afraid of nothing, of
+no animal.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why then,” retorted Maud, “did you jump so high
+the other day, when I told you there was a spider on your
+arm?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because I did not understand what you said to me.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Did not understand? It was very easily understood.”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly it was, if I had heard aright, but I thought
+you said, ‘look at that spider down there,’ and I jumped
+aside only to see it better.”</p>
+
+<p>“The idea!” chimed in William, “that is not so, for
+as you jumped, you cried, ‘Oh, William, take it off,
+please!’”</p>
+
+<p>“I meant to say, ‘take it off, so I can see it better.’”</p>
+
+<p>“He is telling a story,” whispered Beatrice to Maud.</p>
+
+<p>“So I perceive,” was Maud’s low response.</p>
+
+<p>I was listening to the conversation and profited by it,
+as you will see. The children were seated upon the
+grass, and I was near, having followed them. Perceiving
+a little green frog very near Alfred’s open pocket,
+my plan was quickly formed and easily executed.
+Approaching noiselessly, I seized the frog by one leg,
+and slyly dropped it into the little boaster’s pocket,
+quietly withdrawing as soon as the deed was done, so
+that Alfred might not suspect me of having made him
+this beautiful present.</p>
+
+<p>I could not hear distinctly all the conversation, but I
+distinguished this much, that Alfred continued to boast
+of his courage, he was afraid of no creature, not even of
+lions, at which the rest uttered an exclamation of incredulity.
+Just at this moment Alfred wished to blow his
+nose. Running his hand into his pocket, he withdrew it
+with a cry of terror, and rising precipitately, screamed
+aloud:</p>
+
+<p>“Take it out! take it out! Oh! I beg you to take it
+out! I am so afraid! Help! help!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span></p>
+
+<p>“What is the matter, Alfred?” said Maud, half laughing,
+half frightened.</p>
+
+<p>“An animal! an animal! Take it out, I beg you!”</p>
+
+<p>“What animal do you mean, and where is it?” said
+William.</p>
+
+<p>“In my pocket! I felt it, I touched it! Oh! take it
+out, take it away! I am afraid of it, I dare not touch it!”</p>
+
+<p>“Do it yourself, you coward!” replied Henry, indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, just listen,” said Elizabeth, “he is afraid of
+something in his pocket, and wants us to take it out,
+because he dares not touch it!”</p>
+
+<p>After their first fright, the children were greatly
+amused at Alfred’s contortions, who knew not how to
+rid himself of the creature he felt wriggling about in
+his pocket. His terror increased with every movement
+of the frog. At last, frightened almost to distraction,
+and finding no other means of escape from this creature
+that he felt moving and yet dared not touch, he pulled
+off his jacket and threw it on the ground, remaining in
+his shirt sleeves. The others burst out laughing and made
+a rush for the jacket. Henry opened the hind pocket;
+the imprisoned frog seeing daylight, darted through the
+opening, narrow as it was, and each one saw a pretty
+little scared frog, that sought safety in desperate efforts
+to put itself out of reach.</p>
+
+<p>“The enemy has taken flight,” said Maud, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>“Take care it doesn’t chase you,” said William.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t go too near, it might devour you!” said
+Henry.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Nothing is so dangerous as a frog!” added Beatrice.</p>
+
+<p>“If it were only a lion, Alfred would attack it!”
+chimed in Elizabeth, “but a frog! All his courage
+could not defend him from its claws!”</p>
+
+<p>“You forget its teeth!” continued Louis.</p>
+
+<p>“You may pick up your jacket,” said James, catching
+the frog. “I hold your enemy prisoner.”</p>
+
+<p>Alfred remained motionless and mute with shame at
+having thus exposed himself to so much ridicule.</p>
+
+<p>“Let us dress him,” cried William, “he has not
+strength enough to put on his jacket!”</p>
+
+<p>“Take care,” said Henry “that a fly or a gnat is not
+on it, for that would be a new danger to fear!”</p>
+
+<p>Alfred tried to escape, but all the children, big and
+little ran after him; William holding the jacket, the
+others pursuing the coward and endeavoring to intercept
+his retreat. It was a very amusing race for all but poor
+Alfred, who, red with shame and anger, ran first to the
+right and then to the left, and everywhere encountered
+an enemy. I joined the party, and galloped before and
+behind him, increasing his fear by braying and attempting
+to seize him by the seat of his trousers; once I caught
+him, but he jerked away leaving a piece of the trousers
+in my mouth which increased the other children’s laughter.
+I succeeded at last in catching him with a firm hold, he
+uttered such a cry, that, for an instant, I feared having
+seized skin as well as cloth. William and Henry were
+the first to reach him; he tried to struggle against them,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span>but I pulled him gently, at which he screamed again,
+and then became as meek as a lamb, never budging any
+more than a statue whilst William and Henry put his
+jacket on him. Seeing that my services were no longer
+needed, I released him, and went my way delighted at
+having succeeded in rendering him so ridiculous. He
+never knew how that frog got into his pocket, and from
+that lucky day he dared boast no more of his courage—before
+the children.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="XXI">
+    XXI.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">THE PONY.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">My</span> vengeance ought to have been appeased, but it was
+not; I still retained for Alfred such sentiments of hatred
+as instigated me to play another trick upon him, of which
+I afterwards bitterly repented. We were rid of him for
+nearly a month after the episode of the frog. One day,
+however, his father brought him over, not much to anyone’s
+delight.</p>
+
+<p>“What shall we do to amuse this boy?” said William
+to Maud.</p>
+
+<p>“Propose a riding party to the woods; Henry will
+mount Cadichon; Alfred, the farm mule; and you, your
+pony.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! that’s a splendid idea, provided he wishes to go!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! but he must wish it; do you just have the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span>animals saddled, and when they are ready help him
+mount.”</p>
+
+<p>William went to find Alfred, who was amusing himself
+tormenting Louis and James. Under the pretence of
+assisting them in their garden, he replanted their flowers,
+pulled their vegetables, cut their strawberry vines, and
+scattered confusion everywhere; when they attempted to
+prevent him, he repulsed them with a kick or a thrust of
+the spade, and William found them weeping over the
+ruins of their flowers and vegetables.</p>
+
+<p>“Why do you torment my poor little cousins?” said
+William, with evident displeasure.</p>
+
+<p>“I am not tormenting them; on the contrary, I am
+assisting them.”</p>
+
+<p>“But they don’t wish your assistance.”</p>
+
+<p>“They must be made to do right, even in spite of
+themselves.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is because he is twice as big as we are that he torments
+us,” said Louis; “he would not dare do so with you
+and Henry.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not dare!” replied Alfred; “don’t say that again,
+young one.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, you would not dare! William and Henry are
+much stronger than a frog, I know,” said James.</p>
+
+<p>At this, Alfred reddened, shrugged his shoulders with
+an air of disdain, and, turning to William, said:</p>
+
+<p>“Did you want me, dear friend? You seemed to be
+looking for me when you came here.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; I was going to propose a riding party,” said
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span>William, with an air of indifference; “be ready in a
+quarter of an hour, if you wish to go with Henry and
+me to the woods.”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly; I would like nothing better,” replied
+Alfred eagerly, delighted at the idea of putting an end
+to the taunts of James and Louis.</p>
+
+<p>William and Alfred then went to the stable, and told
+the hostler to saddle the pony, the farm mule and myself.</p>
+
+<p>“Ah! you have a pony!” said Alfred; “I like them
+so much.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was a present from grandma.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you know how to ride horseback?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; I learned two years ago at riding school.”</p>
+
+<p>“I would love to ride your pony.”</p>
+
+<p>“I would not advise you to do it, if you have never
+learned to ride horseback.”</p>
+
+<p>“I never learned, but I can do it just as well as anyone
+else.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you ever try?”</p>
+
+<p>“Many a time. Who is there that can’t ride horseback?”</p>
+
+<p>“When did you? your father has no saddle horses.”</p>
+
+<p>“I never rode horseback, but I have ridden mules,
+which is the same thing.”</p>
+
+<p>“I tell you again, my dear Alfred,” said William,
+restraining a smile, “if you have never ridden horseback,
+I would advise you not to ride my pony.”</p>
+
+<p>“And why not?” replied Alfred a little piqued, “you
+might give him up for once.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Oh! I don’t refuse you on that account, it is because
+the pony is a little spirited, and—”</p>
+
+<p>“And what?” said Alfred, in the same tone of vexation.</p>
+
+<p>“Well then he might throw you off.”</p>
+
+<p>“Be easy about that, do,” answered Alfred, quite irritated,
+“I am not quite so awkward as you think. If you are
+willing to give him up to me for once, be sure I can ride
+him just as good as yourself.”</p>
+
+<p>“Just as you please, my dear; take the pony, I will
+ride the mule, and Henry, Cadichon.”</p>
+
+<p>Henry now joined them. In a few moments we were
+to start. Alfred approached the pony, which capered a
+little and made two or three jumps. Alfred looked at
+him anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>“Hold him firmly,” said he, “until I am on.”</p>
+
+<p>“There is no danger, master, the animal is not vicious,
+and you need not be afraid,” said the hostler.</p>
+
+<p>“I am not at all afraid,” replied Alfred quickly, “do I
+look as if I were afraid, I, who am afraid of nothing?”</p>
+
+<p>“Except frogs,” whispered Henry to William.</p>
+
+<p>“What did you say, Henry? What did you whisper to
+William?” said Alfred.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! nothing very interesting!” replied Henry, mischievously,
+“I told him I believed I saw a frog down on
+grass.”</p>
+
+<p>Alfred bit his lip, colored deeply, but said nothing.
+He got on the pony and began to pull the bridle, the
+pony recoiled, Alfred clung to the saddle.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Do not pull, master, do not pull, a horse must not be
+managed like a mule,” said the hostler, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>Alfred slackened the reins, I started ahead with Henry,
+William following on the mule. I maliciously broke
+into a gallop, and the pony tried to overtake me, but I
+went my fastest. William and Henry laughed, Alfred
+cried out and clung to the pony’s mane. We all ran,
+and I determined not to stop until Alfred was thrown off.
+Excited by the laughter and cries, the pony was not long
+in overtaking me, but I followed close behind him, nibbling
+his tail whenever he showed the slightest inclination
+to slacken his speed. We galloped thus for a quarter
+of an hour, Alfred clinging to the pony’s neck and
+ready to fall at every step. Determined to hasten this
+event, I gave a stronger nibble to the pony’s tail, he
+began to kick so vigorously that at the first essay, Alfred
+fell upon the horse’s neck, at the second, he passed over
+its head and was stretched motionless on the ground.
+William and Henry, thinking him hurt, dismounted
+instantly, and ran to pick him up.</p>
+
+<p>“Alfred, Alfred, are you hurt?” they anxiously
+inquired.</p>
+
+<p>“I think not, I do not know,” answered Alfred, as he
+arose, still quaking from fright.</p>
+
+<p>When on his feet, his limbs trembled, his teeth chattered.
+William and Henry examined him, and finding
+neither bruise nor scratch of any sort, looked at him with
+mingled pity and disgust.</p>
+
+<p>“It is sad to be such a coward as that,” said William.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I—am—not—a—coward—but—I—am—afraid,” answered
+Alfred, his teeth still chattering.</p>
+
+<p>“I hope you do not intend to mount my pony again,”
+said William, “we will exchange animals.”</p>
+
+<p>And without awaiting Alfred’s answer, he jumped
+lightly on the pony.</p>
+
+<p>“I would rather ride Cadichon,” said Alfred, piteously.</p>
+
+<p>“Just as you please,” answered Henry, “take Cadichon
+and I will mount Grison, the mule.”</p>
+
+<p>My first impulse was to prevent his getting on my
+back, but I formed another project which finished his
+day’s amusement, and served better to express my aversion
+and wickedness. So I let him mount quietly and I
+followed far behind the pony. If Alfred had dared beat
+me to increase my speed, I would have thrown him, but
+knowing my young master’s fondness for me, he never
+interfered with my gait, which was regulated entirely by
+my own pleasure. I took especial pains in going through
+the woods, to brush him up against all the bushes, particularly
+such as holly and others of that thorny nature, so
+that his face was well scratched. He complained of this
+to Henry, who answered coldly:</p>
+
+<p>“Cadichon does not treat people badly that he likes;
+probably you are not in his good graces.”</p>
+
+<p>We soon took the road homeward, for Henry and
+William got tired of listening to Alfred’s whimpering as
+each new branch switched across his face. He was
+scratched ridiculously; I had every reason to believe,
+however, that he was less amused than his companions.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span>My frightful project was going to finish the day’s entertainment.</p>
+
+<p>In returning through the farm, we had to pass a hole
+or rather a ditch, into which emptied the pipe carrying
+off all the stale, greasy kitchen water. It was a receptacle
+for refuse of every sort, which rotting in the stagnant
+water, formed a black and stinking mud. I let
+William and Henry go ahead; reaching the ditch, I
+made a bound towards the edge and with one kick,
+landed Alfred just where I had desired. I then stood
+quietly enjoying the spectacle of his struggles in this
+black, filthy pool that almost blinded and strangled him.</p>
+
+<p>He attempted to scream for help, but the water got
+into his mouth, it even reached his ears, and try as he
+would, he found it impossible to extricate himself.
+“Medor,” thought I, “Medor, you are revenged!” I did
+not reflect on the harm I might do this poor boy, who
+had killed Medor by accident and not from malice, nor
+did I suspect for an instant that I was far worse than
+he. At last, William and Henry who had dismounted,
+seeing nothing of me nor Alfred, wondered at our delay
+and retraced their steps, to find me standing on the edge
+of the ditch, complacently regarding my struggling
+enemy. They approached, and uttered a cry of horror
+at sight of Alfred, for he was in imminent risk of being
+strangled by the mud. The farm men were called to
+the spot immediately. They held out a pole to the unfortunate
+boy, who, clinging to the end, was thus rescued
+from his peril. When landed, every one wished him to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span>keep at a distance, for the mud was dripping from him
+and smelt intolerably.</p>
+
+<p>“We must go tell his father,” said William.</p>
+
+<p>“And then papa and my uncles,” added Henry, “so
+they may tell us some way of cleansing him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Come, Alfred, follow us, but please don’t come too
+near, for that mud does smell horribly.”</p>
+
+<p>Alfred, covered with confusion, black with mud,
+scarcely able to see his way, followed them at a distance,
+and was the object of much surprise and many ejaculations
+from all he met. I formed the vanguard, capering,
+running and braying with all my strength. William and
+Henry seemed much displeased at my gayety, and tried
+their best to silence me, but their screams were of no
+avail, and in fact, only added to the racket. This unusual
+noise attracted the attention of all the house;
+every one recognizing my voice, and knowing that I
+brayed thus only on grand occasions, ran to the windows
+so that when we came in sight of the castle, numberless
+countenances full of curiosity peered at us through the
+casements. Our appearance was the signal for a general
+exclamation, followed by a simultaneous rush for the
+door, and in a few moments everybody, big and little,
+young and old, had descended and formed a circle around
+us, with Alfred for the centre, every one inquiring what
+was the matter and trying to keep out of his way. Your
+grandmother was the first to say:</p>
+
+<p>“Some one must wash this poor boy, and see if he is
+hurt.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span></p>
+
+<p>“But how to wash him is the question,” said William’s
+papa. “He must take a bath.”</p>
+
+<p>“I will undertake the washing,” said Alfred’s father.
+“Follow me, Alfred; I see by your walk that you are
+not hurt. Let us go to the pond, where you can plunge
+right in; then, when rid of some of that mud, you may
+use the soap and finish your bath. The water is not cold
+at this season. William will lend you linen and other
+clothing.”</p>
+
+<p>Saying this, he went towards the brook, followed by
+Alfred, who was afraid to do otherwise, as he stood considerably
+in awe of his father. I ran to assist at the
+operation, which was long and hard, for the nasty, greasy
+mud stuck to his skin and hair. The servants hastened
+to bring him towels, soap, clothing and shoes. The papas
+helped scrub him, and at the end of half an hour he
+emerged from his bath nearly clean, but shivering, and
+so abashed that he did not wish to be seen, and begged
+his father to take him home immediately.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, every one inquired how this accident had
+happened. William and Henry mentioned the two falls.</p>
+
+<p>“I believe,” said William, “that Cadichon was the
+cause of both. He bit my pony’s tail, which he never
+does when one of us is on the pony; this forced the pony
+into a gallop; he kicked, and sent Alfred over his head.
+I did not see the second fall, but, judging from Cadichon’s
+triumphant air, his joyful braying, and his present complacent
+demeanor, it is very easy to discover that the
+deed was intentional—he detests Alfred.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span></p>
+
+<p>“How do you know he detests him?” asked Beatrice.</p>
+
+<p>“He shows it in a thousand ways,” said William.
+“You remember the day Alfred had a frog in his pocket,
+how Cadichon chased him, caught him by the seat of his
+trousers, and held him whilst we put on his jacket? I
+observed Cadichon’s expression, and perceived that he
+cast upon Alfred such malicious glances as he bestows
+only on those he hates. He never looks at us in that
+way. His eyes sparkled like coals; indeed, his look was
+really ugly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Cadichon,” added he, turning towards me, “isn’t it
+so? Haven’t I guessed exactly right; you detest Alfred,
+and treated him badly on purpose?”</p>
+
+<p>My answer was to bray and then lick his hand.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you know,” said Maud, “that Cadichon is really
+an extraordinary creature? I am sure he hears and
+understands us.”</p>
+
+<p>I gave her a grateful glance, and, going up to her side,
+laid my head on her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>“What a pity, my Cadichon,” said Maud, “that you
+get worse and worse, and oblige us to love you less and
+less! And what a pity it is, also, that you cannot write!
+You have seen so much that would be interesting to
+relate,” she added, passing her hand over my head and
+neck. “If you could only write the story of your adventures,
+I am sure they would be very amusing!”</p>
+
+<p>“My poor Maud,” said Henry, “what nonsense you
+are saying, wishing that Cadichon who is a donkey, could
+write an account of his life.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span></p>
+
+<p>“A donkey like Cadichon is only one in part.”</p>
+
+<p>“Bah! they are all alike and do what you will, they
+are never anything but donkeys.”</p>
+
+<p>“All donkeys are not alike.”</p>
+
+<p>“But this does not prevent people when they wish to
+describe a man as stupid, ignorant, and headstrong, from
+saying: ‘As stupid as a donkey, as ignorant as a donkey,
+as headstrong as a donkey’ and if you were to say to me,
+‘Henry you are a donkey,’ I would get angry and certainly
+take it as an insult.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are right, and yet I feel and see, first that Cadichon
+understands a great deal, that he loves us, and that
+he has wonderful intelligence—moreover, that donkeys
+are donkeys when treated like donkeys, that is, with
+harshness and even cruelty, by masters whom they cannot
+love or serve faithfully.”</p>
+
+<p>“According to your doctrine, then, it is really Cadichon’s
+intelligence that instigated him to betray the
+robbers, and that prompts him to so many extraordinary
+deeds.”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly, how else would you account for his revealing
+the place of their concealment, except that he wished
+to do so?”</p>
+
+<p>“I would say, that seeing his comrades enter the cave,
+he wished to rejoin them.”</p>
+
+<p>“And the tricks of the learned donkey?”</p>
+
+<p>“I would account for that day’s doings on the score of
+jealousy and malice.”</p>
+
+<p>“And the race in which he came off victor?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span></p>
+
+<p>“A donkey’s pride.”</p>
+
+<p>“And the fire when he saved Pauline?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was instinct.”</p>
+
+<p>“Hush, Henry, you provoke me.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am very fond of Cadichon, I assure you; but I
+consider him just what he is in reality, a donkey; and
+you, you make him a genius. I must say, that if he is
+endowed with all the mind and intelligence that you
+believe he possesses, he is wicked and detestable.”</p>
+
+<p>“How so?”</p>
+
+<p>“By turning into ridicule the poor learned donkey
+and his master, thus preventing them from making the
+money necessary for their subsistence—again, in playing
+so many ugly tricks on Alfred, who never did him any
+harm, and, finally, in making himself so detestable to the
+other animals, biting, kicking and maltreating them
+generally.”</p>
+
+<p>“That is true, indeed, you are right, Henry. I would
+rather believe for the sake of Cadichon’s honor, that he
+is ignorant of what he does and the consequences of his
+deeds.”</p>
+
+<p>And Maud ran off with Henry, leaving me alone, and
+quite displeased at what I had just heard. I felt indeed
+that Henry’s condemnation of my behavior was just,
+but I was unwilling to acknowledge it, and still more
+unwilling to change my conduct, by shaking off the yoke
+of pride, ill temper and revenge, by which I had so long
+been governed.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span></p>
+
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="XXII">
+    XXII.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">THE PUNISHMENT.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>I <span class="smcap">remained</span> alone till evening, no one came near me.
+Feeling lonesome and wearied, I went towards the servants
+who were airing themselves at the kitchen door,
+and engaged in conversation.</p>
+
+<p>“He is getting too wicked indeed,” said the chambermaid.
+“What an ugly trick he played on poor Alfred;
+he might have killed or drowned him.”</p>
+
+<p>“And after that he seemed so delighted,” said the valet,
+“he ran, he leaped, he brayed, as if he had accomplished
+something great.”</p>
+
+<p>“He shall be paid for it,” said the coachman, “I am
+going to give him a dressing off for his supper.”</p>
+
+<p>“Take care,” replied the valet, “if madam sees it—”</p>
+
+<p>“And how would madam see it? Do you suppose I
+am going to whip him under madam’s eyes? I shall
+wait until he is in the stable.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you will be apt to wait a long time, for this
+animal that does only what he pleases, goes to the stable
+very late.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, if I get tired waiting for him, I know a way to
+take him there in spite of himself and without disturbing
+any one.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span></p>
+
+<p>“How can you do that?” asked the chambermaid, “for
+the wicked thing brays in such a way as to alarm the
+house.”</p>
+
+<p>“Leave him to me! I’ll stifle his breath, so that you
+will hardly hear him breathe,” was the reply, followed
+by a burst of laughter from the whole party.</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp65" id="image181" style="max-width: 47.8125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image181.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>I was enraged at their spite, and began to consider
+some means of avoiding the threatened punishment. I
+would have jumped at them then, and bitten every one
+but I dared not, for fear they would go in a body and
+complain to my mistress, and I had a vague presentiment
+that vexed and annoyed at my numberless tricks, she
+might drive me off.</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image182" style="max-width: 62.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image182.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>Whilst I was deliberating, I heard the chambermaid
+tell the coachman to look at my wicked eyes. He
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span>shrugged his shoulders, arose, went into the kitchen, and
+coming out again, directed his steps towards the stable.
+In passing me he threw a slip knot over my head; I
+drew back to break it, and he pulled in the opposite
+direction to make me advance; we both pulled our best,
+in consequence of which the tighter the cord strangled
+me; at the very first I tried to bray, but in vain, I could
+scarcely breathe, and was forced at last to yield. He led
+me to the stable, the door of which was obligingly opened
+by the other domestics. Once in my stall, they promptly
+passed the halter over my head and untied the rope that
+was choking me; then the coachman having first taken
+the precaution to shut the door, seized the wagon whip
+and began to beat me unmercifully, without the slightest
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span>remonstrance or sign of pity from anyone present. In
+vain did I bray and struggle, my young masters could
+not hear me, and the coachman was free to consult his
+own time and taste in meting out the punishment due
+the many wicked deeds of which I was accused.</p>
+
+<p>He left me in a state of suffering and dejection impossible
+to describe. It was the first time since my entrance
+into this house, that I had ever been humiliated and
+beaten. Since then, however, in reflecting upon it, I
+have recognized the justice of my punishment.</p>
+
+<p>The next day it was quite late when the coachman let
+me out of the stable. I was strongly tempted to bite
+him in the face, but was prevented, as on the previous
+day, only by the fear of being driven off the place.</p>
+
+<p>I directed my steps towards the house. The children
+were all collected around the front entrance, engaged in
+a most animated conversation.</p>
+
+<p>“There he is now, that wicked Cadichon,” said William,
+seeing me approach; “let us chase him away, he’ll bite
+us or play some ugly trick on us, like he did the other
+day on poor Alfred.”</p>
+
+<p>“What was it the doctor told papa just now?” asked
+Maud.</p>
+
+<p>“He says that Alfred is very sick; he has a fever and
+is delirious,” replied William.</p>
+
+<p>“Delirious?” inquired James, “what is that?”</p>
+
+<p>“A person is delirious,” answered William, “when he
+has such high fever that he does not know what he says,
+when he does not recognize anybody, and thinks he sees
+a great many things that he does not.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span></p>
+
+<p>“What does Alfred think he sees?” asked Louis.</p>
+
+<p>“He imagines all the time that Cadichon is before
+him and going to dart at him and bite or crush him
+under foot; the doctor is very anxious about him; papa
+and my uncles have gone there now.”</p>
+
+<p>“How base it was in Cadichon to throw poor Alfred
+into that disgusting hole!” said Beatrice.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; it was really base, sir,” exclaimed James, turning
+towards me. “Go! you are wicked! I do not love
+you anymore.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nor I, nor I, nor I,” repeated all the children in
+unison. “Go away, we want nothing more to do with
+you!”</p>
+
+<p>I was filled with consternation; every one, even to
+my little James (heretofore so tender and affectionate),
+repulsed me now.</p>
+
+<p>I slowly directed my steps in another direction, but
+turned and looked so sadly at James that his heart was
+touched. Running to me, he put his hands on my head,
+and said in a caressing voice:</p>
+
+<p>“Listen, Cadichon, we don’t love you now, but if you
+do better I assure you we will love you as before.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no; never as before!” exclaimed all the rest;
+“he has been too bad!”</p>
+
+<p>“You see, Cadichon, what comes of being bad,” said
+little James, passing his hand over my neck. “You see
+that no one cares for you—but,” added he, whispering in
+my ear, “I still love you a little, and if you give up your
+ugly tricks I will love you a great deal, just as before.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span></p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image185" style="max-width: 37.75em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image185.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    He imagines that Cadichon is going to jump on him.—(Page <a href="#Page_184">184</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a><a id="Page_187"></a>[Pg 187]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Take care, James,” said Henry, “don’t go too near
+him; if he should give you a bite or a kick, he would
+make you suffer much.”</p>
+
+<p>“There is no danger; I am very sure he’ll never bite
+any of us.”</p>
+
+<p>“And why not?” He threw Alfred off twice.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! but Alfred, that’s another thing; he does not
+like Alfred.”</p>
+
+<p>“And why doesn’t he like Alfred? What did Alfred
+ever do to him? He might take a notion some day not
+to like us either.”</p>
+
+<p>James made no answer, for indeed there was nothing
+he could say; but he shook his head, and turning towards
+me, gave me such a friendly little caress, that I was
+affected to tears. The abandonment of all the others,
+rendered still more precious those marks of affection
+from my dear little James; and for the first time a sincere
+thought of repentance found its way into my heart.
+Poor Alfred’s illness caused me much anxiety. In the
+afternoon, we heard that he was worse, and the physician
+entertained fears of his life. Towards evening my
+young masters themselves went to his father’s to make
+inquiries about him. Their cousins impatiently awaited
+their return, and at the first glimpse of them all cried
+out: “Well, what news? how is Alfred?”</p>
+
+<p>“Very sick,” answered William, “and yet, not quite
+so ill as he was.”</p>
+
+<p>“His poor father,” said Henry, “is greatly to be pitied;
+he weeps and sighs, and begs the good God to spare him
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span>his son; he said so many touching things, that I could
+not help crying myself.”</p>
+
+<p>“We must all remember him in our evening prayers,
+we must pray with him and for him, must we not, dear
+ones?” said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly, with all our hearts,” responded every child
+at once.</p>
+
+<p>“Poor Alfred! suppose he should die!” said Beatrice.</p>
+
+<p>“Then,” answered Maud, “his father would lose his
+mind from grief, for Alfred is his only child!”</p>
+
+<p>“Where is Alfred’s mother?” said Elizabeth, “we
+never see her.”</p>
+
+<p>“It would be very astonishing if we were to see her,”
+answered William, “for she has been dead ten years.”</p>
+
+<p>“And the singular part of it is, that the poor lady’s
+death was caused by her falling into the water whilst on
+a boating party,” said Henry.</p>
+
+<p>“How? was she drowned,” inquired Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” said William, “she was rescued immediately;
+but it was warm weather, and the sudden chill of the
+water, combined with the fright, threw her into a fever
+and delirium just like Alfred’s, from which she died in
+eight days.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! my God!” exclaimed Maud, “grant it may not
+be thus with Alfred!”</p>
+
+<p>“And for this intention we must pray fervently,” said
+Elizabeth, “perhaps the good God will grant our request.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where is James?” inquired Beatrice.</p>
+
+<p>“He was here just now, he will return,” said Maud.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span></p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image189" style="max-width: 38.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image189.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    “How is Alfred?”—(Page <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a><a id="Page_191"></a>[Pg 191]</span></p>
+
+<p>But the poor child did not return, for he had thrown
+himself upon his knees behind a chest, and with his head
+buried in his hands, he wept and prayed! And it was I
+who had caused all this sorrow, Alfred’s illness, his father’s
+anxiety and bitter grief, my little James’s distress. This
+thought was a sad one for me, I began to reflect that it
+would have been better to have left Medor’s death
+unavenged.</p>
+
+<p>“What good did Alfred’s fall do to Medor?” I asked.
+“Medor is none the less lost to me, and the vengeance I
+have taken, has only served another purpose, that of
+making me feared and detested.”</p>
+
+<p>I impatiently awaited the next morning’s news of
+Alfred, and I was among the first to hear, for James and
+Louis harnessed me to the little carriage to take them
+over. Immediately on our arrival, we learned from a
+servant who was hastening for the doctor, that Alfred had
+passed a bad night, and had just had a convulsion that
+greatly alarmed his father. James and Louis waited for
+the doctor. He was not long in coming, and promised
+to give them correct news of his patient.</p>
+
+<p>In half an hour he descended the steps.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! Mister Tudoux, how is Alfred?” inquired
+Louis and James.</p>
+
+<p>“Very sick, very sick, my children, but not as ill as I
+feared,” said Mister Tudoux very slowly.</p>
+
+<p>“But these convulsions,” asked Louis, “are they not
+dangerous?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, his convulsion resulted from great irritation of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span>the nervous system. I gave him a pill that will compose
+him. He is not dangerously ill,” said Doctor
+Tudoux, in the same slow, deliberate manner.</p>
+
+<p>“Then, Mister Tudoux, you do not think he will
+die?” asked James.</p>
+
+<p>“No, no, no,” was the reply in the same measured
+tones, “he is not seriously ill, not at all.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am so glad!” exclaimed both the boys, “thanks
+Mister Tudoux. Good-bye, we must hasten home to
+take the good news to our cousins.”</p>
+
+<p>“Wait, wait a moment. Isn’t that Cadichon you are
+driving?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, this is Cadichon,” replied James.</p>
+
+<p>“Then take care,” said Doctor Tudoux calmly, “he
+might throw you into a ditch as he did Alfred. Tell
+your grandmother she ought to sell him, he is a dangerous
+animal.”</p>
+
+<p>And the Doctor bade them good morning. As for me,
+I remained in such a state of astonishment and humiliation,
+that I stood motionless, never dreaming of taking
+a step homeward until my little masters had thrice said
+to me:</p>
+
+<p>“Come, Cadichon, get up!—Go, Cadichon, get along,
+we are in a hurry!—Are you going to sleep here, Cadichon?
+Get up, get up!”</p>
+
+<p>I started at last, and ran all the way to the house,
+reaching which, we found the cousins, uncles and aunts,
+papas and mammas assembled at the first entrance,
+anxiously awaiting our return.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span></p>
+
+<p>“He is better,” exclaimed James and Louis, and then
+they related their conversation with Mister Tudoux, not
+forgetting his last injunction.</p>
+
+<p>With lively trepidation, I awaited the grandmother’s
+decision. After an instant’s reflection, she said:</p>
+
+<p>“It is very certain, my dear children, that Cadichon
+no longer deserves our confidence, and I do not wish the
+smaller of you to mount him. The very next trick he
+plays on any one, I shall sell him to the miller, who will
+give him employment in carrying bags of flour, but I
+want to try him a little longer, before reducing him to
+this state of humiliation. Perhaps he will reform, we
+shall be able to tell very well at the end of a few
+months.”</p>
+
+<p>My dejection, my humiliation, my repentance increased,
+but I could not repair the evil I had wrought
+myself, except by dint of patience, gentleness and time.
+I was deeply wounded both in my pride and my affections.</p>
+
+<p>Next day we heard still more encouraging news of
+Alfred. A few days later he was convalescent, and
+ceased to be the subject of anxiety at the castle.</p>
+
+<p>But I could never have him out of my mind, for some
+one was continually saying within my hearing:</p>
+
+<p>“Beware of Cadichon! Remember Alfred!”</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span></p>
+
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="XXIII">
+    XXIII.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">THE REFORMATION.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Since</span> the day I had scratched Alfred’s face, brushing
+him up against all the thorny bushes along the road, and
+ended by pitching him into the ditch, there was a very
+visible change in the treatment I received from my little
+masters, their parents, and in fact, from every one about
+the place. The very animals behaved differently towards
+me; they seemed to avoid me, moving off when I
+approached them, or maintaining a rigid silence in my
+presence; for, as I have already remarked in connection
+with my friend Medor, we other animals converse among
+ourselves without speaking as men do, movements of the
+eyes, the ears, the tail taking the place of words. I
+knew only too well what had caused this change, and I
+was more irritated than grieved, until one day, when,
+alone as usual, taking my ease at the foot of a pine tree,
+I saw Henry and Elizabeth approach; they seated themselves
+and continued their conversation.</p>
+
+<p>“I believe you are right, Henry,” said Elizabeth, “and
+I agree with you; I also care very little for Cadichon
+since he treated Alfred so badly.”</p>
+
+<p>“And not only Alfred; don’t you remember the fair
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span>of Laigle, how he behaved to the learned donkey’s master?”
+replied Henry.</p>
+
+<p>“Ah! ah! ah! Yes; I recollect very well, it was
+funny! Everybody laughed; but for all that, we thought
+he displayed more wit than heart.”</p>
+
+<p>“That is true; he humbled the poor donkey and his
+master. I have been told that the unfortunate man was
+so ridiculed he had to leave without a cent in his pocket,
+and his wife and children were in tears for want of
+something to eat.”</p>
+
+<p>“And it was all Cadichon’s fault.”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly; except for him the poor man would have
+made enough to live on several weeks.”</p>
+
+<p>“And, then, do you remember what was told us about
+the tricks he played his former masters? He ate their
+vegetables, broke their eggs, soiled their linen—I am
+decidedly of your opinion; I care for him no more.”</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth and Henry arose and continued their walk.
+I remained sad and dejected; my first impulse was to
+get angry and gratify myself by taking some slight
+revenge, but reflection convinced me that they were
+right; I was always taking revenge, and what had it
+availed me? it had rendered me unhappy.</p>
+
+<p>First, I had broken the teeth and the arm of one of
+my mistresses, and kicked her in the stomach. The consequence
+was that I would have been beaten almost to
+death had I not luckily made my escape.</p>
+
+<p>I had also played numberless tricks on one of my
+masters, who had been good to me until I got lazy and
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span>vicious; then he treated me harshly, and I became
+very unhappy.</p>
+
+<p>As to the death of my friend Medor, I had never
+reflected that Alfred killed him not intentionally, or
+from malice, but through awkwardness, and that for his
+stupidity the boy was not to blame. In revenge, I had
+tormented him, finishing by causing him a spell of sickness,
+the consequence of his plunge into the ditch.</p>
+
+<p>And besides all these, of what numberless untold tricks
+had I not been guilty!</p>
+
+<p>The end of which was that no one cared for me. I
+was alone, no one came near to console or caress me,
+even the animals kept out of my way.</p>
+
+<p>“What shall I do?” I sadly asked myself. “If I
+could speak, I would go and tell them all that I have
+repented, that I beg pardon for my past conduct, that
+hereafter, I promise to be good and gentle, but alas!—I
+cannot make them understand, I cannot speak!”</p>
+
+<p>I threw myself upon the grass and wept, not as men
+shed tears, but in the depths of my heart; I wept, I
+bemoaned my sad lot, and for the first time I repented
+sincerely.</p>
+
+<p>“Ah! if I had been good,” said I “and instead of
+displaying my intelligence, had tried to show kindness,
+gentleness, patience! if I had only been to every one
+what I was to Pauline! how every one would love me,
+and how happy I should now be!”</p>
+
+<p>I reflected a long time, a very long time, forming first
+good resolutions and plans and then bad.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span></p>
+
+<p>At last, I decided upon a reformation so as to regain
+the favor of my masters and comrades, and I began immediately
+to put my good resolutions into practice.</p>
+
+<p>For some time, I had had a comrade that I treated very
+badly, a donkey which was bought for the little ones, as
+they were afraid to ride me after I came so near drowning
+Alfred. The larger children were not afraid of me,
+but I had lost favor and there were no longer any disputes
+at their riding parties, as to who should have me,
+little James being the only one who asked for me.</p>
+
+<p>This comrade was the object of my especial contempt,
+I always kept him behind me, kicking and biting him
+if he attempted to pass, until at last, the poor animal
+was worried into giving me first place and submitting to
+all my caprices.</p>
+
+<p>That evening when the time arrived for us to go into
+the stable, I found myself near the door almost at the
+same moment as my comrade. He eagerly made way
+for me to enter first, but as he was a few steps ahead, I
+stopped in turn, and made a sign for him to pass. The
+poor donkey obeyed me, but trembling, suspicious of my
+politeness and believing it only the prelude to some
+trick, for instance a kick or a bite. He was very much
+astonished to find himself safe and sound in his stall, and
+to see me take my place peaceably in mine.</p>
+
+<p>Noticing his astonishment, I said to him:</p>
+
+<p>“Brother, I have treated you very badly, but I shall
+do so no longer; I have been proud, but I shall never be
+so again; I have despised, humiliated, insulted you, but
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span>I do not intend to repeat it. Pardon me, brother, and
+in future regard me as a companion, a friend.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thanks, brother,” replied the poor donkey overjoyed.
+“I was unhappy, but I will be happy now; I
+was sad, I will be gay; I felt myself isolated, but now
+I feel loved and protected. Thanks again, brother, love
+me, for I already love you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let me in turn, brother, thank you,” said I, “for I
+have been spiteful and you have pardoned me, I have
+made advances and you have not repulsed me, I have
+offered you my friendship, and you have given me yours.
+Yes, it is my turn, brother, to thank you.”</p>
+
+<p>And eating our supper, we thus continued to converse.
+It was the first time, for hitherto I had never deigned to
+notice him. I found him much better and wiser than
+myself, and I asked him to assist me in my new life,
+which he promised to do with equal affection and modesty.</p>
+
+<p>The horses, witnesses of our conversation and my unaccustomed
+gentleness, glanced at me and then at one
+another with surprise. Although they conversed in an
+undertone, I heard one say:</p>
+
+<p>“This is all pretence on Cadichon’s part; he is going
+to play some trick on his companion.”</p>
+
+<p>“Poor donkey,” answered the second horse, “I pity
+him. Suppose we give him a hint of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no indeed,” replied the first horse. “Silence!
+Cadichon is wicked! he would pay us up for this if he
+were to hear us.”</p>
+
+<p>I was deeply wounded at the bad opinion those two
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span>horses had of me; the third said nothing, but putting
+his head over the stall, he observed me attentively. I
+looked at him sadly and humbly. He appeared surprised
+but never moved, and continued to regard me in silence.</p>
+
+<p>Fatigued and worn out by sorrow and regret, I lay
+down upon my bed, and as I did so, perceived it was less
+soft and comfortable than my comrade’s. Instead of
+getting angry as formerly, I recognized the justice of such
+treatment, and indulged in penitent reflections.</p>
+
+<p>“I have been wicked,” said I, “and they have punished
+me; I have made myself detestable, and they have
+made me feel it. I ought to congratulate myself on not
+having been sent to the mill, where I would be beaten,
+badly stabled, and my back broken with heavy loads.”</p>
+
+<p>Thus bemoaning my past misdeeds, I fell asleep. As
+I awoke the next morning the coachman entered the
+stable, assisting me to rise with a kick, he took off my
+halter and set me at liberty. I remained at the door,
+and to my surprise, beheld him curry and carefully rub
+down my comrade, then pass my beautiful ornamented
+bridle over his head, put my English saddle on his back,
+and lead him around to the front entrance.</p>
+
+<p>Anxious, trembling with emotion, I followed, and oh!
+what was my chagrin, my desolation to see James, my
+beloved little master, approach my comrade, and after a
+little hesitation, seat himself in the saddle. I remained
+motionless, overcome with grief. Dear little James perceived
+my consternation, for coming up to me, he patted
+me on the head and said sadly:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Poor Cadichon! you see what you have done! I am
+not afraid to ride you, but papa and mama are afraid you
+will pitch me off. Good-bye, poor Cadichon; be quiet,
+I will always like you.”</p>
+
+<p>And he rode slowly off, followed by the coachman,
+who cried out to him:</p>
+
+<p>“Take care, Master James, do not stay too near Cadichon,
+he will bite you, he will bite your donkey, you
+know very well how wicked he is.”</p>
+
+<p>“He never was wicked with me and he never will be,”
+answered James.</p>
+
+<p>The coachman struck the donkey, which started at a
+trot, and both he and his rider were soon out of sight.
+I remained rooted to the spot, overwhelmed with emotion,
+which was so much the more violent in proportion
+to the impossibility of making anyone understand my
+repentance and my good resolutions. Almost frantic
+with the insupportable weight oppressing my heart, I
+started off in a run, not knowing whither I went. I ran
+a long time, breaking through hedges, leaping ditches,
+clearing fences, crossing streams, not stopping till I came
+to a wall which I could neither break nor leap.</p>
+
+<p>I looked around me. Where was I? The country
+seemed familiar, but I could not remember when I had
+ever been there before. I skirted the wall at a rapid
+pace. I was in a foam, having run several hours, judging
+by the sun. A few steps brought me to the end of
+the wall; I turned the corner, and recoiled with surprise
+and terror—I was not more than two steps from Pauline’s
+tomb.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span></p>
+
+<p>My anguish was more bitter than ever. “Pauline, my
+dear little mistress!” I exclaimed, “you loved me because
+I was good; I loved you because you were good and
+unhappy. After losing you, I found others, who, good
+like you, treated me kindly. I was happy then, but all
+is changed now; my bad disposition, the desire of displaying
+my ability and satisfying my vengeance have
+destroyed all my happiness; no one cares for me now,
+and if I were to die no one would regret me.”</p>
+
+<p>I wept bitterly within myself, and for the hundredth
+time reproached myself with my misconduct. One consoling
+thought suddenly inspired me with consolation.
+“If I reform,” thought I, “and do as much good as I
+have evil, perhaps my young masters will receive me
+again into their confidence, my dear little James
+especially, who still loves me a little. But how shall I
+make known to them my repentance and reformation?”</p>
+
+<p>Whilst thus reflecting on my future, I heard steps
+approaching the wall, and the harsh voice of a man,
+saying:</p>
+
+<p>“What is the use of crying, simpleton? Tears will
+not give you bread, will they? Since I have nothing to
+give you, what do you wish me to do here? Do you suppose
+I have a full stomach, I who have swallowed nothing
+since yesterday morning but air and dust?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am very tired, father.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, let us rest under the shade of this wall for a
+quarter of an hour; I am quite willing.”</p>
+
+<p>As they turned the wall and seated themselves near
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span>the tomb where I stood, judge of my astonishment at
+seeing Mirliflore’s poor master, with his wife and son!
+They all had a hungry, emaciated, care-worn appearance.</p>
+
+<p>The father looked at me; he seemed surprised, and,
+after a few minutes hesitation:</p>
+
+<p>“If I see aright,” said he, “this is the donkey, the
+beggarly donkey that made me lose more than fifty francs
+at the Laigle fair. You wicked animal,” he continued,
+addressing me, “you were the cause of my poor Mirliflore
+being killed by the crowd; it was you who prevented
+my gaining money enough to have lived on a
+month; you shall pay up for it!”</p>
+
+<p>He arose and approached, but I did not stir, being
+keenly conscious that I had merited this man’s indignation.
+He was astonished.</p>
+
+<p>“It cannot be the same,” said he, “for he does not
+budge any more than a stick—‘Pretty fellow,’” he continued
+addressing me and smoothing my limbs. “If I
+had him only a month, you would not want bread my
+son, nor your mother, nor would my stomach be so
+empty.”</p>
+
+<p>My mind was made up in an instant, I resolved to
+follow this man for several days, and suffer everything if
+necessary, to help him make some money for his family,
+in reparation of the wrong I had done him.</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image203" style="max-width: 36.375em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image203.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    The owner of Mirliflore, with his wife and son.—(Page <a href="#Page_202">202</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>When they resumed their journey, I followed them;
+at first, it was not noticed, but the father having looked
+around several times, and seen me always at their heels,
+tried to drive me back. I refused to leave them, persistently
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a><a id="Page_204"></a><a id="Page_205"></a>[Pg 205]</span>returning to my place beside or just behind
+them.</p>
+
+<p>“It is strange,” said the man, “that this animal will
+follow us! My faith, since he is so determined, let him
+do it.”</p>
+
+<p>On reaching the village, he presented himself at an
+inn, and asked for a meal and lodging, frankly confessing
+that he had not a cent in his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>“We have beggars enough of our own, my good
+man,” answered the inn-keeper, “without adding those
+who do not belong here, you must go elsewhere.”</p>
+
+<p>I darted to the inn-keeper’s side, and saluted him several
+times in such a grotesque fashion as to make him
+laugh.</p>
+
+<p>“This animal of yours does not appear stupid,” said
+the inn-keeper, laughing. “If you will let us see some
+of his tricks, I will cheerfully give you food and lodging.”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not refuse, landlord, but we must have something
+in our stomachs first,” answered the man, “when
+fasting, one cannot control his voice properly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Come in, come in, you shall be waited on; Madelon,
+my old woman, dinner for three, not counting the
+donkey.”</p>
+
+<p>Madelon brought them some good soup, which was
+swallowed in the twinkling of an eye, then a nice piece
+of boiled meat and some cabbage, both of which disappeared
+with equal rapidity, and at last, a dish of salad
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span>and some cheese, which they devoured with less avidity,
+their hunger by this time being somewhat appeased.</p>
+
+<p>My dinner was a bundle of hay, but I ate very little,
+I had too heavy a heart to be hungry.</p>
+
+<p>The inn-keeper had collected all the village to see me
+perform, and the yard was filled, when my new master
+led me out into the circle. He seemed greatly embarrassed,
+not knowing my capacity or whether I had
+received any education. At a venture he said to me:</p>
+
+<p>“Salute the society.”</p>
+
+<p>I made a bow to the right, to the left, before me and
+behind, and everybody applauded.</p>
+
+<p>“What are you going to make him do now?” said the
+wife in an under tone, “he doesn’t know what you
+mean.”</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps he will understand. These educated donkeys
+are intelligent, I am going to try him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Go, Mirliflore,” (this name made me sigh) “go, kiss
+the prettiest lady here.”</p>
+
+<p>Looking right and left, I perceived behind nearly
+every one else, the landlord’s daughter, a pretty brunette
+of some fifteen or sixteen years. I directed my steps
+towards her, and pushing away with my head, those who
+blocked the passage, I went up to her and put my nose
+against her forehead. She laughed and seemed to be
+quite pleased.</p>
+
+<p>“Say now, father Hutfer, you gave that lesson, didn’t
+you?” exclaimed several in the crowd, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>“No, upon my honor,” answered Hutfer, “I came
+only as a spectator.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Now, Mirliflore,” said my new master, “go find something,
+no matter what, and give it to the poorest person
+present.”</p>
+
+<p>I went towards the room in which they had just dined,
+seized a loaf of bread and triumphantly deposited it in
+his own hands.</p>
+
+<p>There was a general laugh, everybody applauded.
+“That’s not your lesson, father Hutfer,” cried a friend,
+“this donkey really is sensible, he has profited well by
+his master’s training.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you going to let him have a whole loaf of bread
+like that?” said some one in the crowd.</p>
+
+<p>“No, not that,” answered Hutfer, “give it to me,
+donkey-man, this was not in our agreement.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was not, landlord,” responded the man, “nevertheless
+my donkey told the truth, when he pointed me
+out as the poorest here, for until we got our dinner, my
+wife, my son, and myself had eaten nothing since yesterday
+morning, for want of two sous to buy a bit of bread.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let him have the bread, father,” said Helen Hutfer,
+“our meal bins are full, and the good God will recompense
+us for what we give away.”</p>
+
+<p>“That is just like you, Helen,” said Hutfer, “if one
+listened to you, he would give away all he has.”</p>
+
+<p>“We are no longer poor, father, the good God always
+blesses our harvests and our house.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, then—since you wish it—let him keep his
+bread, I am willing.”</p>
+
+<p>At these words, I went up to him, and made him a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span>profound bow. Then taking between my teeth a little
+empty pan, I presented it to each one for his contribution,
+and when after going the round my pan was full, I
+emptied the contents into my master’s hands, put the pan
+where I had found it, and making a bow, I gravely
+retired amidst a storm of applause.</p>
+
+<p>My heart felt lighter. I was consoled and strengthened
+in my good resolutions. My new master seemed delighted.
+As he was about to retire, every one surrounded him,
+begging a second exhibition on the morrow, which he
+eagerly promised, and then went into the room with his
+wife and son to rest.</p>
+
+<p>When they found themselves alone, the wife, after looking
+cautiously around her, and perceiving no one but me
+with my head resting upon the window, said to her husband
+in a low tone:</p>
+
+<p>“Say husband, don’t you think it very singular our
+meeting this donkey coming out of a cemetery, its following
+us of its own accord, and making so much money for
+us? What amount have you there?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have not yet counted,” he answered, “come help me,
+you take this handful and I, the other.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have eight francs and four sous,” said the woman,
+after counting.</p>
+
+<p>“And I have seven fifty—that makes—how much does
+that make, wife?”</p>
+
+<p>“How much does that make? Eight and four make
+thirteen, and seven make twenty-four, and fifty make—make—somewhere
+about sixty.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span></p>
+
+<p>“How stupid you are! Sixty francs in my hands,
+indeed! It is an impossibility! Come, my son, you are
+something of a scholar, you ought to know that.”</p>
+
+<p>“What is it, papa?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have eight francs four sous on one side, and seven
+francs fifty on the other.”</p>
+
+<p>“Eight and four make twelve,” said the boy, with
+quite a decided air; “carry one, and seven make twenty,
+carry two, and fifty make—make—fifty—fifty-two, carry
+five.”</p>
+
+<p>“Dunce! how could that make fifty, since I have eight
+in one hand and seven in the other?”</p>
+
+<p>“And fifty besides, papa.”</p>
+
+<p>“‘And fifty besides, papa?’” said his father, mocking
+him. “Don’t you see, simpleton, that the fifty are centimes?
+and centimes are not francs.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, papa; but it would still be fifty.”</p>
+
+<p>“Fifty what? How stupid! how stupid! If I were
+to give you fifty knocks, would you call them fifty
+francs?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, papa; but they would still be fifty.”</p>
+
+<p>“Here is one on the account, big animal,” said the
+man, giving him a blow that resounded through the
+house. The boy began to cry. I was enraged. If this
+poor boy was stupid, it was not his fault.</p>
+
+<p>“This man,” said I, “does not merit my pity; he has
+now, thanks to myself, enough to support himself and
+family for the next eight days. I shall still make more
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span>at to-morrow’s exhibition, and, after that, I return to my
+masters, perhaps they will receive me kindly.”</p>
+
+<p>I withdrew from the window and refreshed myself with
+a few fresh thistles that I saw growing on the edge of a
+ditch. I then went to the stable, and, finding the best
+places there already occupied by the horses, I modestly
+took a corner that no one wanted. There I could reflect
+at my ease, for nobody knew me, nobody troubled himself
+about me. Towards night, Helen Hutfer entered
+the stable to see if everything had been attended to, and,
+perceiving me in my damp, obscure corner, without a
+bed, hay or oats, she called one of the stable boys:</p>
+
+<p>“Ferdinand,” said she, “make a bed for this poor
+donkey here on the damp ground, give him a measure of
+oats and a bundle of hay, and see that he has water.”</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Helen,” replied Ferdinand, “you will ruin your
+papa; you are too careful of everything. What difference
+does it make whether this beast sleeps on a hard or
+a good bed? It is a waste of straw, that!”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t find me too careful or kind when it concerns
+yourself, Ferdinand; I wish everything here to be
+well treated, beasts as well as men.”</p>
+
+<p>“Although,” said Ferdinand, with a mischievous air,
+“there are not a few men who could easily be taken for
+beasts, notwithstanding they do walk on two legs.”</p>
+
+<p>“Wherefore we say: ‘Beast which eat hay,’” answered
+Helen, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! I would never give hay to you, miss, indeed!
+You have the wit—the wit—and the mischief of a
+monkey!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span></p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image211" style="max-width: 37.0625em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image211.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    “Ah! miss, I did not say you were a monkey.”—(Page <a href="#Page_213">213</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a><a id="Page_213"></a>[Pg 213]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Thanks for the compliment, Ferdinand! What are
+you then, if I am a monkey?”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah! Miss, I did not say you were a monkey; and if
+I expressed myself badly, call me a donkey, a simpleton,
+an owl.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no, not so bad as that, Ferdinand, but only a
+babbler who talks when he ought to work. Make a bed
+for the donkey,” added she in a serious tone, “and feed
+and water him.”</p>
+
+<p>She left the stable and Ferdinand complied with her
+orders in a measure, grumbling all the while. He made
+me a bed, giving me a few thrusts of the pitchfork as he
+did so, ill-naturedly threw me a bundle of hay and a
+handful of oats, and put a bucket of water beside me.</p>
+
+<p>Not being fastened I could easily have left the place,
+but in pursuance of my good resolutions I preferred to
+suffer a little and give on the morrow, my second, and
+last exhibition for the benefit of the man I had wronged.</p>
+
+<p>Towards evening of the next day my master led me
+out to a large square crowded with curious spectators;
+I had been well advertised in the morning, the village
+drummer having gone through the village at an
+early hour crying out: “This evening at eight o’clock
+there will be a grand exhibition of the learned donkey,
+Mirliflore; it will take place in the square opposite the
+school and mayor’s office.”</p>
+
+<p>I repeated all the preceding day’s tricks, and added
+some dances executed with grace; I waltzed, I polkaed,
+and, I played on Ferdinand the innocent trick of engaging
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span>him to waltz by braying before him, and extending
+my front hoof in invitation. He refused at first, but
+when every one cried out: “Yes, yes, a waltz with a
+donkey!” he darted into the circle laughing, and began
+to cut a thousand capers that I imitated at my best.</p>
+
+<p>At last, feeling fatigued, I left Ferdinand caper alone,
+and went as on the preceding day to get a pan. Not
+finding any, I took between my teeth a basket without
+a lid, and, as before, presented it to each one for a contribution.
+It was soon so full that I had to empty it in
+the blouse of my reputed master. I continued my begging,
+and, when all had given me, I, making a profound
+bow to the assembly again returned to my master, and
+waited till he had counted the proceeds which amounted
+to more than thirty-four francs. Thinking I had now
+made sufficient reparation for the past, I felt at liberty
+to return home, and consequently, after a parting salutation
+to my master, I wedged my way through the
+crowd, and started off in a trot.</p>
+
+<p>“Look there, your donkey has got away!” said Hutfer,
+the inn-keeper.</p>
+
+<p>“How prettily he flies off,” said Ferdinand.</p>
+
+<p>My pretended master turned around, looked at me
+anxiously, and called, “Mirliflore, Mirliflore;” but seeing
+I paid no attention, he cried out most piteously:</p>
+
+<p>“Stop him, stop him, please! It is my bread, my living
+he carries off; do run catch him, if you bring him
+back I promise you another exhibition.”</p>
+
+<p>“Tell us where you got him, and how long you have
+had him?” said a man named Clonet.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span></p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image215" style="max-width: 36.8125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image215.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    The town crier.—(Page <a href="#Page_213">213</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216"></a><a id="Page_217"></a>[Pg 217]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I have had him—since I owned him,” answered my
+false master, somewhat embarrassed.</p>
+
+<p>“I know that,” said Clonet, “but how long have you
+owned him?”</p>
+
+<p>The man was silent.</p>
+
+<p>“It appears to me,” added Clonet, “that I recognize
+him, he is the image of Cadichon, the donkey of Herpiniere
+castle; If I am not very much mistaken it is
+Cadichon.”</p>
+
+<p>I was stopped. I heard a confused murmuring of
+voices, I saw the trouble menacing my new master, who
+suddenly dashed through the crowd, and followed by his
+wife and son, darted off in the opposite direction to that
+I had taken.</p>
+
+<p>Some wished to pursue him, but others said it was not
+worth while, since I had escaped and the man had taken
+nothing away with him but the silver, which was his own,
+I having honestly made it for him.</p>
+
+<p>“And as to Cadichon,” said they, “give yourselves no
+concern about him, he can find the road home, and moreover,
+he will not let himself be taken unless he wishes
+it.”</p>
+
+<p>The crowd dispersed and all returned to their homes.
+I resumed my course hoping to reach my real masters
+before night, but the way was long, and being fatigued
+I was consequently obliged to stop about a league from the
+castle. It was night, the stables would be locked, so I
+decided to make my bed in a little piece of pine woods
+bordering on a stream.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span></p>
+
+<p>Scarcely had I lain down upon the moss, when I heard
+cautious steps and voices speaking in a whisper. I
+looked, but saw nothing, the night was too dark. I
+listened with all my ears and heard the conversation I
+am about to relate.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="XXIV">
+    XXIV.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">THE ROBBERS.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>“<span class="smcap">It</span> is not late enough yet, Finot, it would be wiser to
+hide ourselves in the woods a little longer.”</p>
+
+<p>“But Passe Partout, we must have a little daylight to
+spy around; I, especially, for I have not studied the
+entrances.”</p>
+
+<p>“You have never studied anything, your comrades
+certainly made a mistake in naming you Finot, I would
+have called you Pataud, instead.”</p>
+
+<p>“That does not prevent my being the originator of all
+the good plans.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good plans indeed! that depends. What are we
+going to do at the castle?”</p>
+
+<p>“What are we going to do? Rifle the kitchen garden,
+cut up the artichokes, gather the peas, the beans, the
+turnips, carrots, carry off the fruits, that is the work.”</p>
+
+<p>“And what then?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why do you say what then? We are going to collect
+everything in a pile, get it over the wall, and take it
+to the market at Moulins and sell it.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span></p>
+
+<p>“And how will you get into the garden, dunce?”</p>
+
+<p>“Over the wall, with a ladder to be sure. Would you
+have me go to the gardener and politely request the loan
+of his keys and tools?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s a poor joke, I only want to know if you have
+marked out the place where we are to climb over the
+wall?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, and for that reason, I prefer going at once, to
+reconnoitre.”</p>
+
+<p>“And if they should see you, what would you say?”</p>
+
+<p>“I would say—that I came to beg a glass of cider and
+a crust of bread.”</p>
+
+<p>“That plan is not worth much. Now, here is my idea:
+I know the kitchen garden; one part of the wall needs
+repairing; I can climb up there by setting my feet
+among the stones; I shall find a ladder and pass it over
+to you, as you are not very expert in climbing.”</p>
+
+<p>“No; I am not as much of a cat as you.”</p>
+
+<p>“But suppose some one comes to upset our plans?”</p>
+
+<p>“You are a real child; if any one comes to disturb
+me, I shall know what to do.”</p>
+
+<p>“What would you do?”</p>
+
+<p>“If a dog, I would kill him; I don’t carry my sharp
+knife to no purpose.”</p>
+
+<p>“But suppose it’s a man?”</p>
+
+<p>“‘A man?’” answered Finot, scratching his ear.
+“That would be more perplexing—A man? yet a man
+can be killed as well as a dog. If it were only for something
+valuable but for vegetables! And, then, this castle
+is full of people.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span></p>
+
+<p>“But tell me, what would you do?”</p>
+
+<p>“My faith! I would make off as fast as possible; it
+would be the safest plan.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are a coward, do you know that? If you see or
+hear a man, you have only to call me, and I will settle
+him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Act according to your own taste; it would not be
+mine.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, now we are agreed—this is the plan: To-night
+we go to the kitchen garden wall; you remain at one
+end as a guard, whilst I climb over and get you a ladder,
+by means of which you rejoin me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; it is all right,” answered Finot.</p>
+
+<p>Just then he looked anxiously around, listened, and
+said in a whisper:</p>
+
+<p>“I heard something stir back there, could it be
+anybody?”</p>
+
+<p>“Who wants to hide in the woods?” answered Passe
+Partout. “You are always afraid; it may be a frog or
+a snake.”</p>
+
+<p>They said no more. I did not stir again, and I now
+began to devise some means of thwarting these robbers’
+plans and causing their arrest. I could warn no one; I
+could not even prevent their entering the garden. However,
+after much reflection, I thought of a scheme that
+might end theirs. I let them set out ahead of me,
+determined not to budge until they were out of hearing.</p>
+
+<p>I knew they could not walk fast, as the night was very
+dark. I took a short cut, and, clearing several hedges,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span>reached the wall long before them. I knew the dilapidated
+place of which Passe Partout had spoken, and,
+finding it, crouched as close as possible to the wall to
+prevent their discovering me.</p>
+
+<p>Here I waited at least a quarter of an hour, still no
+one came; at last, I heard heavy footsteps and then a
+faint whispering. They approached very cautiously, one
+coming towards the spot in which I was concealed (this
+was Passe Partout), the other going in the opposite direction,
+near the entrance (this was Finot).</p>
+
+<p>I saw nothing, but I heard all. When Passe Partout
+reached the spot where several stones had fallen from the
+wall, and thus made a sufficient resting place for the
+feet, he began to ascend, assisting himself with his hands.
+I did not stir; I scarcely breathed; I heard and understood
+every one of his movements. When he had climbed
+about as high as my head, I darted out from my hiding
+place, seized him by the leg and gave him a vigorous
+pull. Before he had time to recollect himself, he was on
+the ground, stunned by the fall, wounded by the stones.
+To prevent his crying out, or calling on his comrade for
+help, I gave him a hard kick on the head, which left him
+unconscious. I then took my station very near him,
+thinking his comrade would soon come to see what had
+happened. I had not waited long ere I heard Finot
+advancing very cautiously. He took a few steps and
+stopped—he listened, heard nothing—and went a few
+steps farther. In this manner, he at length drew very
+near his companion, but without perceiving it, as his
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span>gaze was fixed upon the wall and the companion lay
+motionless on the ground.</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp65" id="image222" style="max-width: 45.4375em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image222.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>“Pst! pst! Have you the ladder? Must I mount
+now?” said he, in a low voice. The other, not hearing
+him, of course there was no answer. I saw that he was
+not much in the notion of climbing and might leave—it
+was time to act. I rushed at him, and, pulling him to
+the ground by the back of his blouse, gave him, like his
+companion, a hard kick on the head, and, with the same
+success, he lay motionless near his friend. Then, having
+nothing more to lose, I began to bray in my most formidable
+voice; I ran to the gardener’s house, to the stables,
+to the castle, braying with such violence that everybody
+was aroused. Some of the bravest hastened out with
+arms and lanterns; I ran up to them, and, by running a
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span>little ahead, led them to the two robbers stretched at the
+foot of the wall.</p>
+
+<p>“Two dead men! What can that mean?” said
+William’s father.</p>
+
+<p>“They are not dead,” answered James’s father; “they
+breathe.”</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image223" style="max-width: 57.4375em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image223.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>“And I just heard one groan,” said the gardener.</p>
+
+<p>“Look at the blood! Such a wound on his head!”
+said the coachman.</p>
+
+<p>“And the other is similarly wounded; it looks like
+the kick of a horse or mule,” said William’s father.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” replied James’s father; “here is the mark of
+the shoe on his forehead.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</span></p>
+
+<p>“What are the gentlemen’s orders?” asked the coachman;
+“what shall we do with these men?”</p>
+
+<p>“Carry them to the house,” answered William’s father;
+“harness up the cab, and go for the doctor; whilst waiting
+for him, the rest of us will try to restore them to
+consciousness.”</p>
+
+<p>The gardener brought a litter, on which the wounded
+men were placed and carried to a large room used as an
+orangery in winter. They were still unconscious.</p>
+
+<p>“I do not know these faces,” said the gardener, after
+examining them attentively by the light.</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps they have some papers about them that will
+reveal their identity,” said Louis’s father; “we ought to
+let their families know they are here and wounded.”</p>
+
+<p>The gardener rummaged in their pockets, and drew
+forth some papers, which he handed James’s papa; then
+two sharp, pointed knives and a big bunch of keys.</p>
+
+<p>“Ah! ah! This tells what these men are,” he
+exclaimed, “they came to rob and perhaps kill!”</p>
+
+<p>“I begin to understand it all now,” said William’s
+papa; “Cadichon’s presence and his extraordinary brayings
+explain matters; these men came here to rob;
+Cadichon instinctively divined their intentions, attacked
+them, kicked them on the head, and then began braying
+to arouse us.”</p>
+
+<p>“That is just it, the very thing,” said James’s papa;
+“this brave Cadichon can boast of having rendered us a
+great service; come, Cadichon, you are restored to favor
+this time.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</span></p>
+
+<p>I was happy once more, as I promenaded up and down
+before the green-house, whilst Finot and Passe Partout
+received the necessary attentions. They had not yet
+recovered consciousness, when Doctor Tudoux, who was
+not long in making his appearance, reached the spot.
+He examined their wounds.</p>
+
+<p>“Here are two well-directed blows,” said he; “I see
+distinctly the mark of a small horse-shoe, or I might say
+a donkey’s—and,” added he, perceiving me, “it is probably
+a new piece of mischief on the part of this animal,
+which seems as interested in our actions as if he understood
+them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a piece of mischief, but an act of fidelity and
+intelligence,” answered William’s papa; “these men are
+robbers, as you see by the knives and papers found on
+them.”</p>
+
+<p>And he began to read:</p>
+
+<p>“No. 1. Castle Herp. Many people; not easily robbed—kitchen
+garden easy—vegetables and fruits, wall a
+little high.”</p>
+
+<p>“No. 2. Presbytery. Old priest; no arms—woman
+servant, old and deaf—Good chance to rob during Mass.”</p>
+
+<p>“No. 3. Sourval Castle. Master absent—Wife alone on
+ground floor, servant in the second story, fine silver,
+easily robbed. Kill if they give an alarm.”</p>
+
+<p>“No. 4. Chanday Castle. Fierce watch dogs to be
+poisoned—no one on the ground floor—plate, gallery of
+rich curiosities and jewels to rob. Kill if anybody
+comes.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</span></p>
+
+<p>“You see,” continued he, “these men are burglars who
+came to rifle our garden in default of something better.
+Whilst you give them surgical attention, I will send to
+the town for the chief of the police.”</p>
+
+<p>Drawing from his pocket a case of surgical instruments,
+Doctor Tudoux took a lancet and bled the two
+robbers, who soon opened their eyes. They were greatly
+frightened at finding themselves in the castle and surrounded
+by people. When entirely restored to consciousness,
+they wished to speak.</p>
+
+<p>“Silence knaves,” said Doctor Tudoux slowly and
+calmly. “Silence, there is no necessity for your telling us
+who you are or what brought you here.”</p>
+
+<p>Finot put his hand in his vest; the papers were not
+there, he sought his knife, it was also gone. He looked
+at Passe Partout with a serious air and said in a low
+voice:</p>
+
+<p>“I told you in the woods I heard a noise.”</p>
+
+<p>“Hush,” answered Passe Partout in the same tone,
+“they will understand. We must deny everything.”</p>
+
+<p>“But the papers, they have them.”</p>
+
+<p>“We must say we found them.”</p>
+
+<p>“And the knives?”</p>
+
+<p>“We found them also, we must make a bold stand.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you know who it was gave you that blow on the
+head which stretched you senseless?”</p>
+
+<p>“My faith! I do not know, I had not time to see or
+hear. I found myself on the ground and struck in a
+trice.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</span></p>
+
+<p>“And I the same. We must find out however, if they
+saw us climb the wall.”</p>
+
+<p>“We will indeed find out, those who attacked us, of
+course, will tell how and why.”</p>
+
+<p>“That is true. Till then we must deny everything.
+Just now, let us agree upon the details of our account,
+so as not to contradict each other. First, were we journeying
+together? Where did we find the—”</p>
+
+<p>“Separate these two men,” said Louis’s father, “they
+are agreeing upon the tale they are to tell.”</p>
+
+<p>Two men seized Finot, and two, Passe Partout, bound
+them hand and foot, in spite of their resistance, and carried
+Passe Partout into another room.</p>
+
+<p>The night was far advanced, all were impatiently
+awaiting the chief of the police. About daybreak he
+arrived, and accompanied by four policeman, having been
+told there was question of arresting two robbers. My
+little masters’ fathers recounted all that had happened,
+and produced the knives and papers found in the men’s
+pockets.</p>
+
+<p>“This sort of a knife,” said the officer, “indicates dangerous
+burglars, who murder to further their purposes.
+Moreover, it is easy to learn from these papers, that they
+had planned several robberies in the neighborhood. I
+would not be at all surprised if these two men were not
+Finot and Passe Partout, very hardened brigands escaped
+from the galleys, and now the object of official pursuit
+in several of the departments, where they have committed
+numberless and audacious thefts. I am going to examine
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</span>them separately, you may assist at the examination
+if you wish.”</p>
+
+<p>Saying this, he entered the room where Finot lay.
+Looking at him an instant, he said:</p>
+
+<p>“Good morning, Finot! so you are taken at last.”</p>
+
+<p>Finot trembled and reddened, but said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>“Ah! Finot, so we have lost our tongue? Nevertheless,
+it was voluble enough at the last trial.”</p>
+
+<p>“To whom were you speaking, sir,” said Finot looking
+all around him, “there is no one here but myself.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know that very well, it is to yourself I am speaking.”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not know, sir, why you address me thus, I am
+not acquainted with you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but I am acquainted with you, you are Finot,
+an escaped criminal, condemned to the galleys for robbery
+and assaults.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are mistaken, sir, I am not the person you pretend
+to know so well.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then who are you, whence do you come, and where
+were you going?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am a dealer in sheep and was on my way to a fair at
+Moulins, to buy lambs.”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed! and your companion, is he also a dealer in
+sheep and lambs?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not know, we had met but a few moments before
+we were attacked and overcome by a band of robbers.”</p>
+
+<p>“And what about the papers in your pockets?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not even know what they contain, we found
+them not far from here, and had not time to examine
+them.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</span></p>
+
+<p>“And the knives?”</p>
+
+<p>“The knives were with the papers.”</p>
+
+<p>“Really, you were lucky, to find and pick up so much
+without being able to see, the night was very dark.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was mere chance. My comrade stepped upon
+something that felt strange, we both stooped down, and
+feeling around, found these papers and knives which we
+divided.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is very unfortunate they were divided, for this
+circumstance furnishes evidence sufficient to thrust each
+of you in prison.”</p>
+
+<p>“You have no right to put us in prison, we are honest
+men.”</p>
+
+<p>“That is just what we are to find out, and before very
+long. Good day, Finot. Do not disturb yourself,” added
+he, seeing that Finot attempted to rise from the bench.
+“Men, give this man every attention, and keep him
+under your eye, for he has already escaped us more than
+once.”</p>
+
+<p>The officer retired, leaving Finot anxious and dejected.</p>
+
+<p>“If Passe Partout should only give the same account
+as myself,” said Finot, “but it is mere chance that he
+does.”</p>
+
+<p>Seeing the officer enter, Passe Partout felt that all
+was lost; however, he tried to conceal his anxiety and
+appear at ease, whilst the policeman looked at him
+attentively.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</span></p>
+
+<p>“How do you happen to be here wounded and tied?”
+said the officer.</p>
+
+<p>“I know nothing about it,” answered Passe Partout.</p>
+
+<p>“You certainly know who you are, where you were
+going, by whom you were wounded.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know very well who I am, and where I was going,
+but I do not know who brutally attacked me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well then, we will proceed in order—who are
+you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Is that your business? You have no right to ask
+travelers who they are.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have so good a right, that I put thumb-screws on
+those who refuse to answer, and take them to prison.”</p>
+
+<p>“I will begin again: who are you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am a cider merchant.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your name if you please.”</p>
+
+<p>“Robert Partout.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where were you going?”</p>
+
+<p>“Just wherever I could buy cider.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were not alone, you had a companion?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, my partner in business, we attend to our affairs
+together.”</p>
+
+<p>“And these papers in your pockets, do you know anything
+about them?”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah!” said Passe Partout mentally, “he has read
+these papers, and thinks he can catch me there, but I
+will outwit him.”</p>
+
+<p>And then he added aloud:</p>
+
+<p>“Do I know anything about them? I certainly do.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</span>You mean the papers the brigands lost, and which I
+intended taking to the city police.”</p>
+
+<p>“How did you get these papers?”</p>
+
+<p>“We found them on the way, and having read them,
+were so anxious to deliver them to the authorities, that
+we continued our journey at night.”</p>
+
+<p>“And the knives that were found on you?”</p>
+
+<p>“The knives? we brought them to defend ourselves,
+for we had been told there were robbers in this part of
+the country.”</p>
+
+<p>“How and by whom were you and your companion
+wounded?”</p>
+
+<p>“By robbers who came upon us without our seeing
+them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah! Finot’s account is different from yours.”</p>
+
+<p>“Finot is so frightened that he has lost his memory,
+you must not credit what he says.”</p>
+
+<p>“I do not believe what he says, any more than I
+believe what you yourself tell me, friend Passe Partout,
+for I am well acquainted with you, you have betrayed
+yourself.”</p>
+
+<p>Passe Partout immediately perceived what a fool he
+had been in recognizing his companion as Finot. It was
+a nickname given him at the prison in derision of his
+lack of cunning.</p>
+
+<p>As to Passe Partout, his real name was Partout. One
+day as they were hurrying to the refectory, Finot exclaimed,
+“Passe Partout,” and the name became a fixture.
+He could deny matters no longer, still he would
+not confess; but shrugging his shoulders said:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Because I am acquainted with Finot? It was no
+harm to suppose you spoke of my companion. I thought
+you called him Finot in derision.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that is good! twist that as you will; it is none
+the less true, however, that you and your companion
+were journeying together buying cider, that you found
+these papers on the road, read them, and were carrying
+them to the town to put them in the hands of the authorities—that
+you bought the knives to defend yourselves
+against robbers, that you were attacked and wounded by
+these same robbers,—is not that the story?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, yes; that is, indeed, my account.”</p>
+
+<p>“Say, rather, your tale; for your companion has told
+quite another story.”</p>
+
+<p>“What did he say?” anxiously inquired Passe
+Partout.</p>
+
+<p>“It is not necessary for you to know just at present,
+but when you are both in the convict prison he will tell
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>And the officer went out of the room, leaving Passe
+Partout in a state of rage and anxiety easily imagined.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you think, doctor, that these men are able to
+walk to the town?” inquired the officer of Doctor
+Tudoux.</p>
+
+<p>“I think they can get there, if you do not urge them
+on too fast,” responded Doctor Tudoux, slowly. “Moreover,
+should they even give out on the way, you could
+easily send for a carriage and put them in it; but they
+are badly kicked on the head, and might die in three or
+four days.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</span></p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image233" style="max-width: 62.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image233.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    The officer on horseback rode beside the wagon.—(Page <a href="#Page_235">235</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234"></a><a id="Page_235"></a>[Pg 235]</span></p>
+
+<p>The officer was perplexed, for he was a kind man, and,
+although the prisoners deserved no pity, he did not wish
+to make them suffer unnecessarily. Mr. de Ponchat,
+father of William and Henry, seeing his embarrassment,
+proposed to harness up one of our conveyances. His
+offer was gratefully accepted, and, when the vehicle was
+brought to the door, Finot and Passe Partout were put
+into it, each between two guards. Moreover, their feet
+were tied to prevent their leaping out and escaping, and
+the officer on horseback rode beside the wagon, never
+losing sight of his prisoners. They soon disappeared,
+and I remained alone before the house, eating grass and
+impatiently awaiting my little masters, especially my
+dear James, whom I longed to see. I knew that the
+service I had just rendered would secure their pardon
+for all past misdeeds.</p>
+
+<p>When, at last, it was a reasonable hour in the morning,
+and everyone about the castle had arisen, dressed
+and breakfasted, a group rushed down the front steps.
+It was the children. All ran to me and caressed me to
+my heart’s content, but the caresses of none were so
+affectionate or so dear to me as those of little James.</p>
+
+<p>“My good Cadichon,” said he, “you have come back!
+I was so sorry when you went away! You see my dear
+Cadichon, that we still love you!”</p>
+
+<p>“He has really become good,” said Maud.</p>
+
+<p>“And he has lost that insolent air he used to have,”
+said Beatrice.</p>
+
+<p>“And he bites his comrade and the watch dogs, no
+longer,” said Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</span></p>
+
+<p>“And he lets himself be saddled and bridled without
+trouble,” said Louis.</p>
+
+<p>Helen—“And he doesn’t eat the bouquets, I hold in
+my hand.”</p>
+
+<p>Ruth—“And he doesn’t kick any more when we
+mount him.”</p>
+
+<p>William—“And he doesn’t run after my pony any
+more to bite his tail.”</p>
+
+<p>James—“And he has saved all our fruits and vegetables
+by causing the arrest of these robbers.”</p>
+
+<p>Henry—“And he has broken their hands with his
+feet.”</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth—“But how could he cause the arrest of the
+robbers?”</p>
+
+<p>William—“We do not know all the particulars, but
+the household was aroused by his brayings. Papa, my
+uncles and some servants went out, and saw Cadichon
+galloping up and down from the house to the garden;
+following him with lanterns till he came to the end of
+the wall around the kitchen garden, they there found
+these two men, unconscious whom they discovered to be
+robbers.”</p>
+
+<p>James—“How could they tell these men were robbers?
+do not robbers look and dress like us?”</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth—“Indeed they are not like us! I have seen
+a band of robbers, they wore pointed hats, and chestnut
+colored mantles and they had such wicked countenances
+and enormous mustaches.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! where did you see them and when?” exclaimed
+all the children at once.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</span></p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth—“I saw them, last winter, at the Franconia
+theatre.”</p>
+
+<p>Henry—“Ah! ah! ah! What nonsense! I thought
+you meant real robbers, that you had met in some of
+your travels, and I was astonished at never having heard
+my uncle and aunt mention it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly, sir, they were real robbers,” answered
+Elizabeth quite piqued, “the soldiers fought against them,
+and killed some and took some prisoners. There was
+nothing funny about it; I was much frightened and some
+of the poor soldiers were wounded.”</p>
+
+<p>William—“Ah! ah! ah! how silly you are! you saw
+what we call a drama, which is played by paid men, who
+repeat it every night.”</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth—“How can they repeat it when they are
+killed?”</p>
+
+<p>William—“They only pretend to be killed or wounded,
+they are as sound as you or I.”</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth—“How then did papa and my uncles know
+these men were robbers?”</p>
+
+<p>William—“Because knives to kill people were found
+in their pockets, and—”</p>
+
+<p>“But those knives to kill people, how are they made?”
+interrupted James.</p>
+
+<p>William—“Like—like, all other knives.”</p>
+
+<p>James—“Then how could you tell that they were to
+kill people? Perhaps they were to cut their bread?”</p>
+
+<p>William—“You worry me James, you always want to
+understand everything, and you interrupted me, just as
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</span>I was going to tell you, that papers were found on them,
+revealing their plans; it was all written down what they
+were to do, steal our vegetables, and kill the priest and
+many other people.”</p>
+
+<p>James—“And why were they not going to kill us?”</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth—“Because they know papa and my uncles
+are very brave, that they have pistols and guns, and also
+that we all would have helped.”</p>
+
+<p>Henry—“You would be famous assistance, indeed, if
+any one were to attack us.”</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth—“I would be as brave as you, sir, and I
+would know very well how to pull the robbers by the
+legs to prevent their killing papa.”</p>
+
+<p>Maud—“Come, come; don’t quarrel, but let William
+tell us what he heard.”</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth—“It is not necessary for William to tell us
+what we already know.”</p>
+
+<p>William—“Then why ask me how papa discovered that
+these men were robbers?”</p>
+
+<p>“Masters William and Henry, master Alfred wants
+you,” said the gardener, who had just brought the vegetables
+for the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>“Where is he?” asked William and Henry.</p>
+
+<p>“In the garden,” answered the gardener; “he dares
+not come to the house, for fear of meeting Cadichon.”</p>
+
+<p>I sighed, as I thought that poor Alfred feared me not
+without reason since the sad day I had treated him so
+shamefully, almost drowning him in a filthy ditch, after
+scratching him with briers and thorns, and nibbling the
+pony’s tail until he was pitched over its head.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I ought to make reparation,” said I; “what can I
+do, what service can I render him to convince him that
+he has no longer any reason to fear me?”</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="XXV">
+    XXV.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">THE REPARATION.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Whilst</span> I vainly pondered a means of convincing
+Alfred of my repentance, the children approached the
+spot where I browsed and meditated at the same time.
+I saw that Alfred kept at a distance and regarded me
+with mistrust.</p>
+
+<p>William—“It is going to be warm to-day, and I don’t
+think it will be pleasant to go far. It would be better
+for us to remain in the shady park.”</p>
+
+<p>Alfred—“William is right, I have never regained my
+strength since that spell of sickness which nearly
+brought me to the grave, and consequently I am very
+easily fatigued.”</p>
+
+<p>Henry—“You must owe Cadichon a grudge, since he
+was the cause of your illness.”</p>
+
+<p>Alfred—“I do not believe he did it purposely, he was
+probably frightened at something on the road, and jumped
+aside, accidentally pitching me into that frightful ditch.
+So I do not hate him, but—”</p>
+
+<p>William—“But what?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</span></p>
+
+<p>“But,” said Alfred, blushing slightly, “I would rather
+not get on him again.”</p>
+
+<p>The poor boy’s generosity touched me, and increased
+my regret at having treated him so badly.</p>
+
+<p>Maud and Beatrice now proposed to do some cooking.
+The children had built in their garden an oven, which
+they heated with dry wood, gathering it themselves, and
+this proposition was joyfully received.</p>
+
+<p>They ran to get kitchen aprons and returned to their
+garden prepared for work. Alfred and William brought
+the wood; breaking each branch in two, they filled their
+oven.</p>
+
+<p>Before kindling the fire, they held a consultation as to
+what they should have for breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>“I wish an omelet,” said Maud.</p>
+
+<p>Beatrice—“I, coffee and whipped cream.”</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth—“I, cutlets.”</p>
+
+<p>William—“I, cold veal with vinegar sauce.”</p>
+
+<p>Henry—“I, potato salad.”</p>
+
+<p>James—“I, strawberries and cream.”</p>
+
+<p>Louis—“I, slices of bread and butter.”</p>
+
+<p>Helen—“I, grated sugar.”</p>
+
+<p>Ruth—“And I, cherries.”</p>
+
+<p>Alfred—“I will cut the bread, set the table, prepare
+the wine and water, and help generally.”</p>
+
+<p>And each one went to the kitchen to get materials for
+the desired dish. Maud brought eggs, butter, salt, pepper,
+a fork and a frying pan.</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image241" style="max-width: 37.0625em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image241.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    Alfred and William brought the wood.—(Page <a href="#Page_240">240</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>“I must have some fire to melt my butter and cook
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241"></a><a id="Page_242"></a><a id="Page_243"></a>[Pg 243]</span>my eggs,” said she. “Alfred, Alfred, some fire, if you
+please.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where must I kindle it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Near the oven, be quick, I am beating my eggs.”</p>
+
+<p>“Alfred, Alfred,” called out Beatrice, “run to the
+kitchen and get the coffee for the whipped cream, I forgot
+it, be quick.”</p>
+
+<p>“I must kindle the fire for Maud.”</p>
+
+<p>“You can do that afterwards, run quick and get my
+coffee, now it will not take you long, and I am in a
+hurry.”</p>
+
+<p>Alfred started off in a run.</p>
+
+<p>“Alfred, Alfred,” said Elizabeth, “I must have some
+embers and a gridiron for my cutlets; I have cut them
+nicely.”</p>
+
+<p>Alfred, who ran with the coffee, set out again for the
+gridiron.</p>
+
+<p>“I must have oil for my vinegar sauce,” said William.</p>
+
+<p>“And I, vinegar for my salad,” said Henry, “quick,
+Alfred with the oil and vinegar.”</p>
+
+<p>Alfred who had just brought the gridiron, returned
+for the vinegar and oil.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! my fire!” said Maud, “is that how you light
+it, Alfred? My eggs are beaten, you are going to make
+me lose my omelet.”</p>
+
+<p>“My commissions have been so numerous, I have not
+had time to light the fire.”</p>
+
+<p>“And the coals?” cried Elizabeth, “where are you,
+Alfred? you have forgotten my coals!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</span></p>
+
+<p>“No, Elizabeth, I have not been able to get them, I
+have been kept running.”</p>
+
+<p>“Hurry, Alfred, or I shall not have time to broil my
+cutlets,” was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>“And I must have a knife to cut my slices of bread,”
+said Louis, “bring a knife, quick, Alfred.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have no sugar for my strawberries, grate the sugar,
+Helen, hurry,” said James.</p>
+
+<p>“I have grated till I am tired,” she answered, “I am
+going to rest a little—I am so thirsty!”</p>
+
+<p>“Eat some cherries,” said Ruth, “I am thirsty, too.”</p>
+
+<p>“And so am I,” chimed in James, “I am going to
+taste a few to refresh myself.”</p>
+
+<p>“I shall do the same,” added Louis, “it is very
+fatiguing to cut bread.”</p>
+
+<p>And the four little ones surrounded the basket of
+cherries.</p>
+
+<p>“Let us sit down,” said Ruth, “it will be more convenient
+whilst refreshing ourselves.”</p>
+
+<p>They refreshed themselves so well that they ate every
+cherry. When the basket was empty they looked
+anxiously at one another.</p>
+
+<p>“They are all gone,” said Ruth.</p>
+
+<p>“We are going to get scolded,” answered Helen.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! what shall we do?” inquired Louis, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>“Ask Cadichon to come to our aid,” said James.</p>
+
+<p>“What do you want Cadichon to do?” replied Louis,
+“he cannot make cherries appear in the basket when we
+have eaten them all!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</span></p>
+
+<p>“He might do what amounts to the same,” said James.
+“Cadichon, my good Cadichon, come to our aid, see this
+empty basket and try to fill it.”</p>
+
+<p>I was very near the four little gourmands.</p>
+
+<p>James put the empty basket under my nose to help
+me understand what he wanted. I smelt it and started
+off in a trot; going to the kitchen where I had seen some
+one take a basket of cherries, I seized the basket between
+my teeth, trotted off with it and deposited it in the
+midst of the children, still seated around the stones and
+stems in their plates.</p>
+
+<p>A cry of joy greeted my return. The others turned
+around at this and inquired the meaning of it.</p>
+
+<p>“It is Cadichon! Cadichon!” exclaimed James.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t tell,” said Ruth, “they will know then that we
+ate up the other cherries.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, suppose they do know it,” answered James,
+“I wish them also to know how kind and intelligent
+Cadichon is.”</p>
+
+<p>And running to them, he told how I had repaired
+their greediness. Instead of scolding the four little
+ones, they praised James’s frankness and bestowed the
+highest eulogiums upon my intelligence.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Alfred had kindled Maud’s fire, and
+brought Elizabeth’s coals; Maud cooked her omelet,
+Beatrice finished her cream, Elizabeth her cutlets, William
+cut his veal in slices preparatory to making the
+seasoning, Henry stirred and stirred his potato salad;
+James made a mush of strawberries and cream, Louis
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</span>cut a pile of buttered bread, Helen grated sugar until
+the sugar bowl was empty, Ruth picked over the basket
+of cherries, whilst Alfred breathless and in a perspiration,
+set the table, ran for fresh water to cool the wine, and
+vessels of radishes, cucumbers, sardines and olives to
+ornament the table. He had forgotten the salt, he
+had not thought of the covers, glasses were wanting,
+May bugs and gnats had fallen into the goblets and on
+plates. When, at last, everything was ready and on the
+table, Maud, clapping her hands to her forehead,
+exclaimed:</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp65" id="image246" style="max-width: 46.4375em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image246.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>“Ah! We have forgotten one thing, to ask our
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</span>mammas’ permission to breakfast out-doors on a meal of
+our own preparation.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let us go at once,” was the unanimous answer;
+“Alfred will keep guard over the breakfast.”</p>
+
+<p>And, darting towards the house, they rushed into the
+parlor, where their papas and mammas were assembled.</p>
+
+<p>The sudden appearance of all these children, red,
+breathless, arrayed in kitchen aprons like scullions, quite
+surprised their parents.</p>
+
+<p>Each one ran to his or her mamma, and asked the
+required permission with such volubility that, at first, it
+was impossible to know what they meant. After a few
+questions and explanations, it was granted, and they
+hastened back to Alfred and their breakfast. But Alfred
+had disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>“Alfred! Alfred!” they cried.</p>
+
+<p>“Here I am, here I am,” answered a voice apparently
+from the skies.</p>
+
+<p>Looking up, they perceived Alfred, perched in an oak
+tree. He began to descend slowly and cautiously.</p>
+
+<p>“What made you climb up there?” said William and
+Henry; “what a strange idea that was!”</p>
+
+<p>Alfred made no reply, but continued to get down, and
+when he had reached the ground the children were surprised
+to see him pale and trembling.</p>
+
+<p>“Why did you climb that tree, Alfred? what has happened
+to you?” said Beatrice.</p>
+
+<p>“If it had not been for Cadichon, you would not have
+found me or your breakfast either; I climbed the oak
+tree to save my life.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Do tell us what has happened!” said William;
+“how could Cadichon save your life and our breakfast?”</p>
+
+<p>“Let us take our places at the table and listen whilst
+we eat, I am dying of hunger,” said Maud.</p>
+
+<p>They seated themselves on the grass, around the table-cloth;
+Maud helped to her omelet, which was excellent;
+and Elizabeth, in turn, to her cutlets, which were very
+nice, but cooked a little too much. The rest of the
+breakfast followed, everything turning out quite satisfactorily.
+Whilst they ate, Alfred recounted the following:</p>
+
+<p>“You had scarcely started ere the two big farm dogs,
+attracted by the smell of food, came running to the spot.
+I seized a stick, and, brandishing it before them, tried to
+drive them off, but in vain; they could not resist the
+sight of the cutlets, the omelet, the bread, the butter, the
+cream; instead of flying from my stick, which they little
+feared, they rushed at me; I threw the stick at the head
+of the biggest, and it jumped on my back—”</p>
+
+<p>“How could it jump on your back?” said Henry;
+“he went behind you, did he?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” said Alfred, blushing; “but, having thrown
+my stick at him, I had no means of defense, and you
+can certainly understand the folly of my letting myself
+be devoured by hungry dogs.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! I understand now,” replied Henry in a tone of
+raillery, “it was you who turned upon your heel to
+escape.”</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image249" style="max-width: 36.875em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image249.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    The other dog leaped at me.—(Page <a href="#Page_251">251</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>“I was running to find you and the beasts were running
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249"></a><a id="Page_250"></a><a id="Page_251"></a>[Pg 251]</span>after me, when Cadichon came to my assistance.
+Seizing the biggest dog by the skin of the back, he shook
+him well, whilst I sought safety by climbing a tree.
+The other dog leaped at me, caught me by my clothes,
+and would have torn me to pieces, had not Cadichon
+rescued me from this animal also. Giving a good final
+bite to the first dog, and throwing him up in the air
+whence he fell a few steps farther off, bruised and bleeding,
+Cadichon now seized the tail of the dog that held
+me, which act freed me at once, for, of course, my assailant
+immediately relinquished his hold. After pulling
+him a little distance, Cadichon turned around with
+incredible agility, and gave him a kick on the jaw bone that
+must have broken several teeth. The two dogs went off
+yelping, and I was about to descend when you came.”</p>
+
+<p>All admired my courage and presence of mind, and
+came up to me, loading me with caresses and praises.</p>
+
+<p>“You see now for yourselves,” said James, with a
+triumphant air and sparkling eyes, “that my friend Cadichon
+has become excellent, I don’t know whether you
+care for him or not, but I do more than ever. We will
+always be the best of friends, won’t we Cadichon?”</p>
+
+<p>I did my best to respond with a joyful bray; the
+children laughed and resuming their seats at the table,
+continued their repast. Beatrice now served her cream.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s good cream!” said James.</p>
+
+<p>“I wish some more,” said Louis.</p>
+
+<p>“And I, and I,” cried Helen and Ruth. Beatrice was
+much pleased with her success. Indeed, every dish had
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</span>given such satisfaction, that the table was entirely cleared.
+Poor James, however, had a slight humiliation. His
+charge was the strawberries and cream. He had sugared
+his cream and poured it over the stemmed strawberries,
+making a very nice looking dish. Unfortunately for him,
+he finished before the others. Seeing there was plenty
+of time, he concluded to improve it and his dish together,
+by mashing the berries in the cream. He crushed and
+he crushed, so long and so well, that the result was a
+thick pap, quite nice to the taste, but very uninviting in
+appearance.</p>
+
+<p>Then James’s turn arrived to serve the strawberries.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! what are you giving me,” exclaimed Maud,
+“what is it? red pap? What is it made of?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is not red pap,” answered James somewhat confused,
+“it is strawberries and cream, and very nice, I
+assure you, Maud; taste it, and you will see.”</p>
+
+<p>“Strawberries?” said Beatrice, “where are the strawberries?
+I see none. This stuff looks disgusting.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! yes, it is disgusting,” echoed all the rest.</p>
+
+<p>“I thought they would be nicer crushed,” said poor
+little James, his eyes full of tears. “But if you wish it,
+I will go quickly and pick some more strawberries, and
+get some cream from the house.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no, James,” said Elizabeth, touched at his gentleness,
+“your cream is, no doubt, very nice. Give me
+some, I will eat it with great pleasure.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</span></p>
+
+<p>James’s face brightened, he kissed Elizabeth and helped
+her most bountifully.</p>
+
+<p>The other children, softened like Elizabeth by James’s
+mildness and good will, asked for some of his dish, and
+all, after tasting, pronounced it excellent, much better
+indeed than if the berries had been whole.</p>
+
+<p>Little James, who had been anxiously watching their
+countenances as they tasted his cream, became radiant
+when he saw the success of his invention; he partook of
+it himself, and although not much remained for him,
+there was enough to make him regret not having made
+more.</p>
+
+<p>Breakfast over, they washed the dishes in a large tub,
+that had been accidentally left out, and filled during the
+night from the rainspout.</p>
+
+<p>This was not the least amusing part of the business,
+and it was still in progress when the study bell sounded,
+and their parents called them to their books. They
+begged a quarter of an hour’s grace, to finish wiping
+the dishes and putting them away. It was granted, and
+before the expiration of the time, everything was carried
+back to the kitchen, put in its place, the children at their
+studies, and Alfred having said good-bye, was about to
+start home.</p>
+
+<p>Before leaving, he called me to him, and seeing that I
+approached, he ran to me, caressing and thanking me by
+his words and pattings for the service I had rendered
+him. I received this expression of gratitude with pleasure.
+It confirmed me in the opinion that Alfred was
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</span>much better than I had at first judged him, that he was
+neither revengeful nor malicious, and also, that if somewhat
+cowardly and stupid, it was not his fault.</p>
+
+<p>I had occasion a few days afterwards to render him a
+new service.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="XXVII">
+    XXVII.
+    <br>
+    <span class="fs80">THE BOAT.</span>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>James—“What a pity we cannot cook a breakfast
+every day, as we did last week, it was so amusing!”</p>
+
+<p>Louis—“And what a good breakfast!”</p>
+
+<p>Maud—“The best thing to me was the potato salad and
+veal with vinegar sauce.”</p>
+
+<p>Beatrice—“I know why very well; it is because your
+mamma forbids you eating such things constantly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very likely,” said Maud, laughing, “what we seldom
+get to eat always appears best, especially when it is something
+we like naturally.”</p>
+
+<p>William—“What shall we do to-day for amusement?”</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth—“Sure enough, it is Thursday, we have holiday
+until dinner.”</p>
+
+<p>Henry—“If we could get a mess of fish from the big
+pond—”</p>
+
+<p>Maud—“What a splendid idea! we will have a dish
+of fish for to-morrow, Friday!”</p>
+
+<p>Beatrice—“How will we fish? have we fishing lines?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</span></p>
+
+<p>William—“We have hooks enough but we want rods.”</p>
+
+<p>Henry—“Shall we send one of the servants to the
+village to buy them?”</p>
+
+<p>William—“They are not sold in the village, we would
+have to send to the city and that is very far.”</p>
+
+<p>Maud—“Oh! here comes Alfred, perhaps they have
+some lines at his house; and we can send some one on
+the pony for them.”</p>
+
+<p>James—“I will ride over on Cadichon.”</p>
+
+<p>Henry—“You cannot go so far alone.”</p>
+
+<p>James—“It is not far, only half a league.”</p>
+
+<p>“What is it, my friends, you are going to get with
+Cadichon?” said Alfred as he came up.</p>
+
+<p>William—“Fishing lines; have you any, Alfred?”</p>
+
+<p>Alfred—“No; and there is no necessity for going so far;
+with knives, we can make as many ourselves, as we
+want.”</p>
+
+<p>Henry—“To be sure! why did we not think of it
+before?”</p>
+
+<p>Alfred—“Come quick to the woods to cut them. Have
+you knives? mine is in my pocket.”</p>
+
+<p>William—“I have an excellent one that Maud brought
+me from London.”</p>
+
+<p>Henry—“And I also have one that Beatrice gave me.”</p>
+
+<p>James—“I have one.”</p>
+
+<p>Louis—“And I.”</p>
+
+<p>“Come along then,” said Alfred, “whilst we cut the
+rods, you may strip off the bark and little twigs.”</p>
+
+<p>“And what shall we do in the meantime?” asked Maud,
+Beatrice and Elizabeth.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Make the other necessary preparations,” said William:
+“get the bread, the worms, the hooks.”</p>
+
+<p>And they all dispersed, each one to his or her post.</p>
+
+<p>I then went very quietly towards the pond, and in
+something over half an hour, the children arrived, running
+each one with his line, and bringing the hooks and
+other necessary appurtenances.</p>
+
+<p>“We must beat the water, must we not, to bring the
+fish to the surface,” said Henry.</p>
+
+<p>William—“Just the contrary, we must keep quiet as
+possible, for if we frighten the fish, they will all go down
+to the bottom in the mud.”</p>
+
+<p>Maud—“I think a good way of attracting them,
+would be to throw some crumbs of bread in the water.”</p>
+
+<p>Beatrice—“Yes, but not much; if we feed them plentifully,
+they will not bite at the hooks.”</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth—“Let me do it, you prepare the hooks, whilst
+I throw in the bread.”</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth took the bread, and at the first crumb she
+threw, half a dozen fish pounced upon it. She repeated
+the process, assisted by Louis, James, Helen and Ruth,
+until the fish were surfeited and would eat no more.</p>
+
+<p>“I believe we have given them too much,” said Elizabeth
+in an undertone to Louis and James.</p>
+
+<p>James—“What difference does that make? they will
+eat the rest this evening or to-morrow.”</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth—“But they won’t bite at the bait now,
+they are no longer hungry.”</p>
+
+<p>James—“Oh! oh! our cousins will be displeased.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</span></p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth—“Say nothing about it, they are busy with
+their hooks; perhaps the fish will bite all the same.”</p>
+
+<p>“The lines are ready,” said William; “each of you
+take one and cast it in the water.”</p>
+
+<p>They did so, and waited a few minutes in breathless
+silence; the fish would not bite.</p>
+
+<p>Alfred—“This is not a good place, let us go farther.”</p>
+
+<p>Helen—“I believe there are no fish here, look at those
+bread crumbs not eaten.”</p>
+
+<p>Maud—“Let us go to the end of this pond, near the
+boat.”</p>
+
+<p>William—“The water is very deep there.”</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth—“What difference does that make? Are
+you afraid the fish will be drowned?”</p>
+
+<p>William—“Not the fish, but one of us might fall in.”</p>
+
+<p>Henry—“How would we fall in? we are not going
+near enough to the edge to slip or roll in.”</p>
+
+<p>William—“Very true, but for all that, I do not wish
+the little ones to go there.”</p>
+
+<p>James—“Oh! yes, William, do let me go with you?
+we will keep at a distance from the water.”</p>
+
+<p>William—“No, no, stay where you are; we will soon
+be back, for I don’t think we will find any more fish
+there than here. Moreover,” he added, lowering his voice,
+“it is your fault we have caught none, you gave the fish
+ten times too much bread, I saw the whole thing; I do
+not wish to tell Henry, Alfred, Maud and Beatrice, but
+it is only right that you should be punished for your
+thoughtlessness.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</span></p>
+
+<p>James insisted no more, but told the other little culprits
+what William had said. They resigned themselves
+to remain where they were, and continued to throw their
+lines, still wishing the fish would bite, and still meeting
+with no success.</p>
+
+<p>I had followed William, Henry and Alfred to the end
+of the pond. They also cast their lines, but it was of no
+use; in vain did they move, and change their hooks, the
+fish would not bite.</p>
+
+<p>“Friends,” said Alfred, “I have an excellent idea,
+instead of worrying ourselves waiting for the fish to come
+to us, let us fish on a big scale, and take fifteen or twenty
+at a time.”</p>
+
+<p>William—“How can we take fifteen or twenty at a
+time, when we have not taken one yet?”</p>
+
+<p>Alfred—“With a sweep-net.”</p>
+
+<p>Henry—“But it is very difficult to manage; papa
+says, one must understand it.”</p>
+
+<p>Alfred—“Difficult! what nonsense! I have cast the
+sweep-net myself ten, yes, twenty times! It is very
+easy.”</p>
+
+<p>William—“Did you take many fish?”</p>
+
+<p>Alfred—“I did not take any because I did not cast it
+in the water.”</p>
+
+<p>Henry—“Where then, and how did you cast it, if not
+in the water?”</p>
+
+<p>Alfred—“On the grass or the ground, only to learn
+how.”</p>
+
+<p>William—“But that is not the same thing at all, I am
+sure you would cast it very awkwardly on the water.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</span></p>
+
+<p>Alfred—“Awkwardly! Do you really think that? I
+will convince you of the contrary. I am going to get the
+sweep-net which lies in the yard, drying in the sun.”</p>
+
+<p>William—“Please don’t Alfred, if anything should
+happen, papa would scold.”</p>
+
+<p>Alfred—“And what can happen? I tell you, that at
+home, we always fish with it. I am going, wait for
+me, I’ll not be long.”</p>
+
+<p>And away ran Alfred, leaving William and Henry
+anxious and dissatisfied. He soon returned dragging the
+sweep-net after him.</p>
+
+<p>“Here it is,” said he, spreading it out on the ground.
+“Now fish, beware!”</p>
+
+<p>He cast the net with tolerable dexterity, and began to
+draw it in cautiously and slowly.</p>
+
+<p>“Draw it in faster,” said Henry, “we will never finish
+at that rate.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no,” replied Alfred, “it must be drawn very
+gently, so as not to break the meshes and let the fish
+escape.”</p>
+
+<p>He continued to draw it “very gently,” as he said,
+but only to find it empty, not one fish had been caught.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh!” said he, “the first time does not count, we
+must not be discouraged, let us commence again.”</p>
+
+<p>He did commence again, and succeeded no better the
+second time than the first.</p>
+
+<p>“I know what is the matter,” said he, “I am too near
+the edge of the pond, the water is not deep enough here,
+I am going to get in the boat, which is very long, consequently,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</span>the farther end of it will give me sufficient
+depth of water to unfold my net.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Alfred,” said William, “keep away from the
+boat; you may get that sweep-net entangled in the oars,
+or cordages and have an upset.”</p>
+
+<p>“William, you are just like a two year old baby,”
+replied Alfred, “for my part I have more courage, you’ll
+see the result.”</p>
+
+<p>And he darted into the boat, which swayed from side to
+side. Although he pretended to laugh, Alfred was really
+afraid, and I saw that he would inevitably make a blunder,
+or do some mischief. He unfolded and spread out his net,
+notwithstanding the motion of the boat; but his knees
+shook under him and his hands were unsteady. Self-love,
+however, urged him on, and he cast the net. But the
+movement being arrested by his fear of falling, the net
+caught on his left shoulder, and gave him such a jerk that
+he fell headlong into the water. William and Henry
+uttered a scream of terror, in unison with that which
+escaped the unfortunate boy as he fell. Being enveloped
+in the net which crippled all his movements, his efforts to
+regain the shore were in vain. The more he struggled,
+the more entangled he became in the net. I saw him
+gradually sinking, a few minutes more and he would have
+been beyond hope. William and Henry could give him
+no assistance, neither of them knowing how to swim,
+and before they could have run for help, Alfred must
+certainly have perished.</p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image261" style="max-width: 62.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image261.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    I climbed the very steep bank, still dragging Alfred.—(Page <a href="#Page_263">263</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p>I decided upon my part at once; resolutely plunging
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_261"></a><a id="Page_262"></a><a id="Page_263"></a>[Pg 263]</span>into the water, I swam towards him, and diving (for he
+had already sunk considerably beneath the surface), I
+seized with my teeth the net which enveloped him.
+Then swimming back, pulling it after me, I climbed
+the very steep bank, still dragging Alfred (no doubt giving
+him a few bruises on the stones and roots in our path,)
+and laid him on the grass, motionless and unconscious.</p>
+
+<p>William and Henry, pale and trembling, ran to him,
+and with considerable difficulty, succeeded in ridding him
+of the net which was wrapped around him. They then
+sent Maud and Beatrice to the house for help.</p>
+
+<p>The little ones, who, from a distance had seen Alfred
+fall, also came running to the spot, and assisted William
+and Henry to wipe his face and dripping hair. The servants
+soon appeared, and lifting the unconscious Alfred
+from the grass carried him to the house. The other
+children remained with me.</p>
+
+<p>“You splendid Cadichon!” exclaimed James, “it was
+you who saved Alfred’s life! Did you all see how courageously
+he plunged into the water?”</p>
+
+<p>Louis—“Yes, certainly, and how he dived to get hold
+of Alfred.”</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth—“And how carefully he drew Alfred to the
+shore.”</p>
+
+<p>James—“Poor Cadichon! how wet he is!”</p>
+
+<p>Helen—“Don’t go near him James, you will get your
+clothes wet, just look how the water drips off of him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah! bah! what difference does it make if I am a
+little wet?” answered James, putting his arms around
+my neck, “I shall not be as wet as Cadichon.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</span></p>
+
+<p>Louis—“Instead of hugging him and paying him
+compliments, you had better take him to the stable, and
+let us rub him down with a little straw, and then give
+him some oats to warm him up and revive him.”</p>
+
+<p>James—“That is true, you are right. Come, my
+Cadichon.”</p>
+
+<p>I followed James and Louis who went towards the
+stable, making me a sign to follow them. Both began to
+rub me down with such vehemence that they were soon
+in a perspiration, but for all that, neither of them would
+stop until I was dry. Meanwhile, Helen and Ruth
+employed themselves combing and brushing my tail and
+mane. I was superb when they had all finished, and I
+partook with extraordinary appetite, of the oats which
+James and Louis gave me.</p>
+
+<p>“Helen,” said little Ruth in a low tone to her cousin,
+“Cadichon has a great quantity of oats, he has too many.”</p>
+
+<p>Helen—“That’s no matter, Ruth; he has been very
+good, and we have given him the oats as a reward.”</p>
+
+<p>Ruth—“I would like to have a few of his oats myself.”</p>
+
+<p>Helen—“For what?”</p>
+
+<p>Ruth—“To give our poor rabbits, that love oats so
+much, and never get any.”</p>
+
+<p>Helen—“If James and Louis see you taking oats from
+Cadichon, they will scold.”</p>
+
+<p>Ruth—“They shall not see me, I will wait until they
+are not looking.”</p>
+
+<p>Helen—“Then you will be a thief, for you would be
+stealing oats from poor Cadichon, who cannot complain,
+because he cannot speak.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</span></p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image265" style="max-width: 62.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image265.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    Ruth ran joyously to her rabbits.—(Page <a href="#Page_268">268</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_266"></a><a id="Page_267"></a>[Pg 267]</span></p>
+
+<p>“So I would,” said Ruth sadly, “My poor rabbits
+would be too glad to have a few oats.” And she seated
+herself near my trough and watched me as I ate.</p>
+
+<p>“Why are you sitting there, Ruth?” asked Helen.
+“Come with me to inquire for Alfred.”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” said Ruth, “I would rather wait till Cadichon
+finishes eating, so that if he leaves any oats, I can take
+them for my rabbits without stealing.”</p>
+
+<p>Helen insisted, but Ruth refused to go, and Helen at
+last went off with her cousins.</p>
+
+<p>I ate slowly, wishing to see if Ruth would yield even
+once to the temptation of regaling her rabbits at my
+expense. From time to time she looked in the trough.</p>
+
+<p>“How he eats,” said she, “he will never finish—he
+cannot be hungry, for he is always eating—the oats are
+disappearing, if he would leave only a few, I should be
+so delighted.”</p>
+
+<p>I could easily have eaten all that was before me, but
+the poor little girl excited my pity. She touched nothing
+in spite of her desire to regale the rabbits. Pretending
+to have enough, I quit my trough, leaving the half of
+my oats; Ruth uttered a cry of joy, leaped to her feet,
+and taking the oats by the handful emptied them into
+her black taffetta apron.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! how kind you are, how obliging you are, my
+dear good Cadichon,” said she. “I never saw such a
+donkey as you—It is very genteel not to be a glutton—Everybody
+loves you because you are good—The rabbits
+will be so pleased! I will tell them, it was you that gave
+them their oats.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</span></p>
+
+<p>And Ruth who had finished gathering up the oats and
+putting them in her apron, ran joyously to her rabbits.
+I saw her reach their little house, and I heard her tell
+them how good I was, that I was not the least bit of a
+glutton—that they must follow my example, and as I
+had left some oats for them, so ought they to leave some
+for the little birds.</p>
+
+<p>“I will soon return,” said she, “to see if you are as
+good as Cadichon.”</p>
+
+<p>She shut their door and ran to join Helen.</p>
+
+<p>Following her to hear something from Alfred, I was
+delighted on approaching the castle, to see him seated
+on the grass with his friends. He arose, and coming
+to me, covered me with caresses.</p>
+
+<p>“Here is my deliverer,” said he; “but for him I would
+have died, I became unconscious at the very moment,
+when Cadichon having seized the net, began to draw me
+to land; but I have a distinct recollection of seeing him
+plunge in the water and dive to save me. I shall never
+forget the service he has rendered me, and I shall never
+come here without speaking to Cadichon.”</p>
+
+<p>“That is right, Alfred,” said the grandmother. “He
+who has a good heart, is no less grateful to the lower
+animals than to men. As for me, I shall always remember
+Cadichon’s services, and happen what will, I am
+determined never to part with him.”</p>
+
+<p>“But grandmother,” said Maud, “a few months ago
+you talked of sending him to the mill. He would have
+been very miserable there.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</span></p>
+<br>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp85" id="image269" style="max-width: 62.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/image269.jpg" alt="">
+  <figcaption>
+    “Here is my deliverer.”—(Page <a href="#Page_268">268</a>.)
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<br>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_270"></a><a id="Page_271"></a>[Pg 271]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Yes, dear child, but I did not send him; I did think
+of it, it is true, after the trick he played Alfred, both
+because of it, and the numberless complaints from everyone
+on the place. But I decided to keep him in
+acknowledgment of his former services, and I now say,
+that not only shall he remain, but everything shall be
+done to render him comfortable and happy.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! thanks, grandma, thanks,” exclaimed James,
+throwing his arms around his grandmother’s neck and
+almost pulling her to the ground. “Let me be the one
+to take charge of my dear Cadichon, I shall love him
+and he will love me more than he does any one else.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, my little James, do you wish Cadichon to care
+more for you than for the others? That is not right.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, yes, grandma, it is right, for I love him more
+than they do, and besides, when he was bad, and everybody
+displeased with him, I still cared a little for him,
+indeed, I might say, a great deal,” he added, laughing,
+“Isn’t it so, Cadichon?”</p>
+
+<p>I answered by coming up to him and laying my head
+on his shoulders. Everybody laughed and James continued:</p>
+
+<p>“Now, cousins, are you willing for Cadichon to love
+me more than he does you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, yes, yes,” they all answered, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>“And haven’t I always cared more for him than the
+rest of you have?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, yes, yes,” was the unanimous reply.</p>
+
+<p>“You see, grandma, that since it was I who brought
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</span>Cadichon here, and it is I who love him best, it is only
+fair that he should love me best.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can say no more, dear child,” said the grandmother,
+smiling, “but you cannot take care of him when you
+are not here.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I shall always be here, grandma,” said James,
+eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>“No, my dear child, you will not always be here, for
+your papa and mamma take you away when they go.”</p>
+
+<p>James became pensive and sad, he put his arm upon
+my neck and rested his head on his hand. Suddenly his
+face brightened.</p>
+
+<p>“Grandma,” said he, “will you give me Cadichon?”</p>
+
+<p>“I will give you whatever you wish, my dear little
+one, but I cannot let you take him to Paris with you.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, to be sure not; but then he will belong to me,
+and when papa has a castle we will take Cadichon.”</p>
+
+<p>“I give him to you on that condition, my child, meanwhile
+he will stay here where in all probability he will
+outlive me. Do not forget then that Cadichon is yours,
+and to you is entrusted the charge of making him comfortable
+and happy.”</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="Conclusion">
+    Conclusion.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+ From that day my little master James seemed to love
+ me more than ever, whilst I, in turn, did my very best
+ to make myself useful and agreeable, not only to him,
+ but to everyone about the place. I had no reason to
+ repent of my reformation, for it gained me the esteem
+ and affection of all. I continued to watch over the
+ children, preserving them from several accidents, and
+ protecting them against bad people and wicked animals.</p>
+<p>
+ Alfred was often at the castle, and he never forgot his
+ promised visit to me, always bringing me some delicacy,
+ an apple, a pear, bread and salt of which I was particularly
+ fond, a handful of lettuce or some carrots—always
+ something that he knew I fancied, which fully convinced
+ me how much mistaken I had been in my former
+ opinion of the poor boy, believing him bad, when he was
+ only a little foolish and vain.</p>
+<p>
+ The idea of writing the story of my adventures was
+ prompted by a series of conversations between Henry
+ and his cousins; Henry always maintaining that I did
+ not understand what I did nor why I did it, his cousins,
+ James especially, as stoutly asserting the contrary. I
+ profited by a very severe winter, which did not permit of
+ my remaining out-doors, to jot down some of the most
+ important events of my life. They may amuse you,
+ perhaps, my young friends; at any rate, they will teach
+ you, that if you wish faithful service, you must treat
+ kindly those who serve you—that they who appear the
+ most stupid are not always so—that a donkey like
+ everything else, has a heart to love his masters and
+ suffer from bad treatment, a will to be revenged or to
+ show his affection—that it depends upon his masters to
+ make him either happy or unhappy, a friend or an
+ enemy, poor donkey as he is. I, myself, am very happy,
+ loved by every one, and cared for as a friend by my little
+ master James. I am beginning to grow old, but we
+ donkeys sometimes live a long time, and just as long as
+ I am able to walk and be of any use whatever, my services
+ are at the disposal of my masters.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p class="center no-indent fs80 wsp">THE END.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+<p class="center no-indent wsp fs80">
+  <span class="smcap">John B. Piet,</span><br>
+  <span class="smcap">Publisher and Printer,</span><br>
+  <span class="smcap">Baltimore.</span>
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 85%">
+<img src="images/backcover.jpg" alt="" data-role="presentation">
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter transnote">
+  <h2 class="nobreak bold fs150" id="Transcribers_Notes">
+    Transcriber’s Notes
+  </h2>
+
+<table class="autotable">
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 26 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+As he eat, his tears ceased to flow
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+As he ate, his tears ceased to flow
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 45 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+“Madamoiselle,” said she, “your mama has sent for you
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+“Mademoiselle,” said she, “your mama has sent for you
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 54 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+support the fatiques and privations I have endured
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+support the fatigues and privations I have endured
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 72 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+Isn’t he good, grandma, isn’t he? and musn’t we keep him?
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+Isn’t he good, grandma, isn’t he? and mustn’t we keep him?
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 72 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+but she does not own him, he belengs to nobody
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+but she does not own him, he belongs to nobody
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 84 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+and before they killed you,” answerd Beatrice
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+and before they killed you,” answered Beatrice
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 115 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+Laughing at the young gunners’ discomfitted air
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+Laughing at the young gunners’ discomfited air
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 139 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+No, you havn’t, the godfather has the best right
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+No, you haven’t, the godfather has the best right
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 175 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+This unusual noise attracked the attention of all
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+This unusual noise attracted the attention of all
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 175 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+young and old, had decended and formed a circle
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+young and old, had descended and formed a circle
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 179 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+money necessary for their subsistance
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+money necessary for their subsistence
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 188 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+must we not, dear ones?” sad Elizabeth.
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+must we not, dear ones?” said Elizabeth.
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 193 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+He is better,” exlaimed James
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+He is better,” exclaimed James
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 199 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+and indulged in penitent reflexions
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+and indulged in penitent reflections
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 199 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+then pass my beautful ornamented bridle
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+then pass my beautiful ornamented bridle
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 202 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+in reparation of the wrong I dad done him
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+in reparation of the wrong I had done him
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 213 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+I waltzed, I polkied, and, I played on Ferdinand
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+I waltzed, I polkaed, and, I played on Ferdinand
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 214 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+How prettily he files off,” said Ferdinand
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+How prettily he flies off,” said Ferdinand
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 227 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+where they have commited numberless and audacious thefts
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+where they have committed numberless and audacious thefts
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 228 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+you may assist at the exemination
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+you may assist at the examination
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 230 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+Just wherever I could by cider
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+Just wherever I could buy cider
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 231 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+a nickname given him at the prison in dirision
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+a nickname given him at the prison in derision
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 251 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+and I was about to decend when you came
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+and I was about to descend when you came
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 253 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+there was enought to make him regret
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+there was enough to make him regret
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+pg 260 Changed:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+his left shoulder, and gave him sech a jerk
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdr">
+To:
+</td>
+<td class="tdlx">
+his left shoulder, and gave him such a jerk
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78917 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
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@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
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@@ -0,0 +1 @@
+[Project Gutenberg](https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for eBook [#78917](https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/78917)
author	www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org>	2026-06-22 11:47:14 -0700
committer	www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org>	2026-06-22 11:47:14 -0700
commit	fcb9d8698ce3cd4736b58035c766d96adc5a2d4a (patch)
tree	e8db6e1e652a72630377dcf90d328efd8b9fbb99