MOTHER ETIENNE'S DREAM
Mother Etienne was very restless again that night, haunted, not by
a dreadful nightmare as before, but by a troublesome dream.
Everything she had just seen at Sir Booum's appeared before her,
the tiniest incidents, the least important details.
All the explanations, concerning the creatures in the menagerie
given her by the trainer, came back to her, like an object lesson
in a curious dream.
The principal person in it was Yollande. Yollande as Barnum,
Yollande as trainer, Yollande holding in one hairy wing a stout
whip, in the other the pitchfork as a protection against claws and
teeth.
"You see here," said Yollande in a loud voice, "you see here the
wild ox from Madagascar, which takes the place of the horse. In
that country he is harnessed to small, light vehicles which he
draws along rapidly. This other is a buffalo from Caffraria. He is
a Jack-of-all-trades, sometimes ridden, sometimes driven,
sometimes laden, sometimes yoked to the plough. Those big striped
animals you see yonder are giraffes. Their long necks permit them,
without having recourse to a ladder, to eat the young shoots of
the mimosa, of which they are very fond, as well as the fresh
dates which usually grow at the tops of the palm-trees."
In this kind of dream a strange idea was at work in the brain of
the sleeper. With these object lessons were mingled strange,
quaint asides.
"If children had long necks like that, one couldn't keep the
jam-pots out of their way by putting them on the top shelves of
the cupboard."
"There," went on Yollande, "are the elephants. They are used for
all sorts of tasks. Their trunks, a continuation of their
nostrils, serve both for breathing and holding. It is, as it were,
an extremely sensitive and powerful hand."
"Great goodness me," cried Mother Etienne; "imagine having a hand
at the end of your nose! Would it have a glove on it and rings on
its fingers?"
All sorts of ridiculous ideas like that came into her head. The
little beaver, who builds his houses all along the Canadian
streams, appeared trowel in hand, mortar-board on his head, and
Mother Etienne felt most anxious to have his valuable assistance
in repairing her barns and mills. Dear little marabout, how useful
you would be in the village, sweeping the streets, cleaning up the
refuse, advance-guard of the street-cleaner with his, "Now then,
everything into the gutter."
"The antelopes are very silly, coquettish creatures to wear such
long boas round their necks in this warm country. But, after all,
perhaps they are wise enough, for they have chosen a kind which,
unlike our make of furs, is cold to the touch."
Yollande, in her rôle of trainer, went on and on like a brook.
"Here, now, is a dromedary. He has a hump on his back, a fatty
exerescence which enables him to bear much fatigue, without eating
or drinking for several days. It is owing to this fat, rather like
a box of provisions on his back, that he can traverse hot and
sandy deserts where it would be difficult to find a single blade
of grass to eat."
Then through the farm bedroom passed long caravans of camels, led
by carnival Arabs, their humps changed into gigantic larders in
which rattled all sorts of canned things. Canned salmon, Russian
caviare, dried biscuits, smoked meats, tongues, sardines, canned
peas, foies-gras, lobsters, and fruits, in fact all those things
which Mother Etienne had seen piled up in many-coloured pyramids
at the best grocery stores. Really it was too ridiculous.--Miss
Booum must have been making fun of her visitor.--That couldn't
really be the best food for camels.
It was still worse when it came to the turn of the hippopotami. A
thousand ill-digested memories from the illustrated papers were in
her mind, all mixed up. Where did the Nile and the Zanzibar flow?
Which was it that separated Egypt from Senegal? And the gigantic
hippopotamus, looking perfectly huge and out-of-place in a gondola
fit for a sultana, appeared to her, floating down the calm stream,
a red fez with a golden star on his head, puffing away at a
peculiar double-bowled pipe, the pride of the collection of a
retired police-officer in the village, who had it from the real
cousin of a sea-captain from Marseilles.
"Do you see those little lumps there enclosed between four boards?
It is a nest of land-tortoises. The largest, called the Giant
tortoise, easily supports on its back a weight of two hundred
pounds. This shell which weighs so heavily is its house. At the
least alarm, it retreats into its house and stays there, till all
danger is past." This plan of walking about with your house on
your back seemed rather a good one to Mother Etienne. You could go
out on rainy days without getting wet, and on cold days it would
keep your back nice and warm.
"Near at hand is a collection of mammals, the kangaroo family. The
kangaroo is the largest mammal of Australia. It is generally a
peace-loving animal, but bites, scratches, and claws if it is
teased. Its best defence however is flight." All these technical
details left the good woman cold. What she remembered best were
the practical qualities of the creatures. The kangaroo has one
very great peculiarity, the female has a pouch, a sort of bag, in
which she hides her young if danger appears, just as the soldier
has his knapsack.
For the first time in her life Mother Etienne was much struck
By certain resemblances between animals and human beings,
finding in them actions, looks, and habits which reminded her
irresistibly of many of her acquaintances. It was amongst the
monkeys that it was the most marked. Two chimpanzees, with pensive
faces garbed in black, seemed to be mourning some beloved
relative. It was as though their sad but shining eyes, gazing at
the straw which half-covered them, were seeking something hidden,
intangible.
A family of big African monkeys, by their challenging, crafty air,
reminded her unpleasantly of a band of good-for-nothings who for
months had spread terror and desolation throughout the country.
The chief--or the one who appeared to be the chief--the biggest
and strongest, hurled himself at the bars and shook them in his
clenched hands. He would certainly have enjoyed strangling Mother
Etienne, had he been able to do so. Since he was not able to, he
displayed in a huge yawn, a terrifying set of teeth, worthy of a
wild beast. They were horrid animals, I assure you, not the kind
you would like to meet loose on a lonely road.
Fortunately some pretty little witsits, with black faces, no
bigger than your fist, and white and grey ruffles, whistling like
blackbirds, by their pretty tricks did away with the bad
impression made by these sinister neighbours.
[Illustration: Cake Walk; Mother Etienne's dream.]
This one was a regular little mother, that one had just been
sweeping out the yard, another was the living image of the Count's
servant when he followed his master on his walks, carrying under
his arm a shawl or a sunshade. An orang-outang, an elderly
peasant, whose four big hands were clasped, suggested to her how
useful it would be to have a helper like that to milk the cows. It
would go twice as fast with four hands. What a lot of precious
time it would save.
And many other queer things came into her head. That yowling dog,
that sharp-faced rabbit, are the type who come on fair-days to cry
their papers, sell their toys, etc.--a noisy, rough crew. Goodness
gracious! Where was Mother Etienne's absurd dream leading her?
She, whose life was always so calm, and who, to tell the truth,
with Germaine, were rather like the two little monkeys at the
corner of the fire-place, hands clasped under their aprons, feet
on foot-warmers, and little pointed handkerchiefs on their heads.
At this personal picture everything turned as though by
enchantment into one huge, vast medley, which ended in a general
cake-walk of the whole menagerie, passing before the tired eyes of
Mother Etienne, roaring, bellowing, mewing, whistling, howling,
whinnying, and braying. Poor Mother Etienne was thoroughly
exhausted.