It was the donkey awakened them.
For some time he had been rolling along the ground in ecstasy; now his
agitated legs were pointing at the sky while he scratched his back
against little stones and clumps of tough clay; now he was lying flat
rubbing his jowl against these same clumps. He stood up suddenly, shook
himself, swung up his tail and his chin, bared his teeth, fixed his eye
on eternity, and roared "hee-haw" in a voice of such sudden mightiness,
that not alone did the sleepers bound from their slumbers, but the very
sun itself leaped across the horizon and stared at him with its wild
eye.
Mary ran and beat the ass on the nose with her fist, but whatever Mary
did to the ass was understood by him as a caress, and he willingly
suffered it--"hee-haw," said he again triumphantly, and he planted his
big head on her shoulder and stared sadly into space.
He was thinking, and thought always makes an ass look sad, but what he
was thinking about not even Mary knew; his eye was hazy with cogitation,
and he looked as wise and as kindly as the eldest of the three angels;
indeed, although he had never been groomed, he looked handsome also, for
he had the shape of a good donkey; his muzzle and his paws were white,
the rest of his body was black and his eyes were brown. That was the
appearance of the donkey.
The angels arose and, much as the ass did they shook themselves; there
was no further toilet than that practicable; they ran their hands
through their abundant hair, and the two who had beards combed these
also with their fingers--then they looked around them.
Now the birds were sweeping and climbing on the shining air; they were
calling and shrieking and singing; fifty of them, and all of the same
kind, came dashing madly together, and they all sang the one song, so
loud, so exultant, the heaven and earth seemed to ring and ring again of
their glee.
They passed, and three antic wings came tumbling and flirting together;
these had no song or their happiness went far beyond all orderly sound;
they squealed as they chased each other; they squealed as they dropped
twenty sheer feet towards the ground, and squealed again as they
recovered on a swoop, and as they climbed an hundred feet in three swift
zig-zags, they still squealed without intermission, and then the three
went flickering away to the west, each trying to bite the tail off the
others.
There came a crow whose happiness was so intense that he was not able to
move; he stood on the hedge for a long time, and all that time he was
trying hard to compose himself to a gravity befitting the father of many
families, but every few seconds he lost all control and bawled with
fervour. He examined himself all over; he peeped under his feathers to
see was his complexion good; he parted the plumage of his tail modishly;
he polished his feet with his bill, and then polished his bill on his
left thigh, and then he polished his left thigh with the back of his
neck. "I'm a hell of a crow," said he, "and everybody admits it." He
flew with admirable carelessness over the ass, and cleverly stole two
claws and one beak full of hair; but in mid-air he laughed incautiously
so that the hair fell out of his beak, and in grabbing at that portion
he dropped the bits in his claws, and he got so excited in trying to
rescue these before they reached the ground that his voice covered all
the other sounds of creation.
The sun was shining; the trees waved their branches in delight; there
was no longer murk or coldness in the air; it sparkled from every point
like a vast jewel, and the brisk clouds arraying themselves in fleeces
of white and blue raced happily aloft.
That was what the angels saw when they looked abroad; a few paces
distant the cart was lying with its shafts up in the air, and a tumble
of miscellaneous rubbish was hanging half in and half out of it; a
little farther the ass, in a concentrated manner, was chopping grass as
quickly as ever he could, and, naturally enough, eating it; for after
thinking deeply we eat, and it is true wisdom to do so.
The eldest of the angels observed the donkey. He stroked his beard.
"One eats that kind of vegetable," said he.
The others observed also.
"And," that angel continued, "the time has come for us to eat."
The second eldest angel rolled his coal-black chin in his hand and his
gesture and attitude were precisely those of Patsy Mac Cann.
"I am certainly hungry," said he.
He picked a fistful of grass and thrust some of it into his mouth, but
after a moment of difficulty he removed it again.
"It is soft enough to eat," said he musingly, "but I do not care greatly
for its taste."
The youngest angel made a suggestion.
"Let us talk to the girl," said he.
And they all moved over to Mary.
"Daughter," said the eldest of the three, "we are hungry," and he beamed
on her so contentedly that all fear and diffidence fled from her on the
instant.
She replied:
"My father has gone down the road looking for food; he will be coming
back in a minute or two, and he'll be bringing every kind of thing
that's nourishing."
"While we are waiting for him," said the angel, "let us sit down and you
can tell us all about food."
"It is a thing we ought to learn at once," said the second angel.
So they sat in a half-circle opposite the girl, and requested her to
give them a lecture on food.
She thought it natural they should require information about earthly
matters, but she found, as all unpractised speakers do, that she did not
know at what point to begin on her subject. Still, something had to be
said, for two of them were stroking their beards, and one was hugging
his knees, and all three were gazing at her.
"Everything," said she, "that a body can eat is good to eat, but some
things do taste nicer than others; potatoes and cabbage are very good to
eat, and so is bacon; my father likes bacon when it's very salt, but I
don't like it that way myself; bread is a good thing to eat, and so is
cheese."
"What do you call this vegetable that the animal is eating?" said the
angel pointing to the ass.
"That isn't a vegetable at all, sir, that's only grass; every kind of
animal eats it, but Christians don't."
"Is it not good to eat?"
"Sure, I don't know. Dogs eat it when they are sick, so it ought to be
wholesome, but I never heard tell of any person that ate grass except
they were dying of the hunger and couldn't help themselves, poor
creatures! And there was a Jew once who was a king, and they do say that
he used to go out with the cattle and eat the grass like themselves, and
nobody says that he didn't get fat.
"But here's my father coming across the fields (which is a queer way for
him to come, because he went away by the road), and I'm thinking that he
has a basket under his arm and there will be food in it."