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.”