LA CHÈVRE DE MONSIEUR SEGUIN

I Mr Seguin had never had any luck with his goats. He lost them all in the same way : one fine morning they would break their tether and go off on to the mountain, and up there the wolf would eat them. Neither their master's caresses nor fear of the wolf could hold them back. They were, it would appear, independent goats, determined to have open air and freedom at any price. Good Mr Seguin, who couldn't understand the disposition of his beasts, was in a state of consternation. He kept saying : « That settles it ! Goats get homesick in my keeping ; I shan't manage to keep a single one ! » Yet he did not lose courage, and after six goats had left him in the same way he bought a seventh one ; only, this time, he was careful to choose her quite young, so that she might get accustomed to living with him. Ah ! What a pretty little goat Mr Seguin had got there ! What a pretty little goat, with her gentle eyes, her « non-com's » goatee, her black and shining hoofs, her striped horns, and her greatcoat of long white hair ! She was nearly as charming as Esmeralda's goat and a docile, winsome goat, who never stirred when she was milked, never set her foot in the milking-bowl ; a little love of a goat !... Mr Seguin had behind his house an enclosure hedged in with hawthorn, into which he put the new member of his household. He fastened her to a stake, in the nicest part of the meadow, and was careful to give her plenty of tether. Now and again he would come to see if she was getting onall right. The goat was quite happy, and cropped the grass so heartily that Mr Seguin was delighted. « At last, » the poor man thought, « here is one who won't weary with me ! » Mr Seguin was mistaken : his goat began to weary.

II One day she said to herself, as she looked toward the mountain : « How nice it must be up there ! How pleasant to frolic in the heather, without that wretched tether scraping one's neck !... To browse in an enclosure is all right for a donkey or an ox !... But goats want space. » From that moment the grass in the paddock seemed to lose its taste. She began to feel home- sick, to lose flesh, and her milk fell off. It was pitiful to see her pulling all day at her tether, with her head turned toward the mountain, her nostrils distended, and wistfully bleating out Baa, baa I Mr Seguin was well aware that there was something wrong with his goat, but he didn't know what it was... One morning, just as he had finished milking her, the goat turned round and said to him in her own way : « Listen, Mr Seguin : I feel homesick here. Let me go into the mountain. » - « Good Lord ! This one too !" exclaimed Mr Seguin in amazement, and he got such a shock that he let his bowl fall. Then, sitting down in the grass beside his goat : « What, Blanquette, you want to leave me ! » And Blanquette answered : - « Yes, Mr Seguin. - Is it more grass you want ? - Oh, no, Mr Seguin. - Perhaps you are tethered too short ; shall I lengthen the rope ? - You needn't trouble, Mr Seguin. - Then what do you lack ? What do you want ? - I want to go on to the mountain, Mr Seguin. - But, my poor dear, don't you know that the wolf lives on the mountain ?... What will you do when he comes ? - I'll butt at him with my horns, Mr Seguin. - Much the wolf cares for your horns ! He's eaten goats of mine that had bigger horns than yours. You know, poor old Renaude, who was here last year. A real tartar of a goat, as strong and vicious as a billy. She fought the wolf the whole night through... then, in the morning, the wolf ate her. - Dear me ! Poor Renaude ! All the same, Mr Seguin, you must let me go on the mountain. - Mercy me !... » said Mr Seguin, « whatever comes over my goats ? Here's another one that the wolf will eat... Well, no ! I'll save you in spite of yourself, you wench ! And for fear you should break your tether, I shall shut you up in the shed, and you shall stay there always ! » Thereupon Mr Seguin carried away his goat to a dark, dark shed, closed the door, and gave two turns to the key. Unfortunately, he had forgotten the window, and no sooner was his back turned than the little goat escaped... You are laughing ? Why, of course ; you are on the side of the goats, and against thatgood Mr Seguin. We shall see whether you will laugh in a minute or two !

III When the little white goat arrived on the mountain every one was delighted. The old firtrees had never seen anything so pretty. She was received like a little queen. The chestnut-trees bent down to the ground to caress her with the tips of their branches. The golden broom opened up to let her pass, and smelt as sweet as ever it could. The whole mountain welcomed her. You can imagine, Gringoire, whether our goat was happy ! No more rope, no more stake... nothing to prevent her frisking about and browsing as she liked. . . . There was plenty of grass, I can tell you ! She was in it up to the horns, my dear fellow !... And what grass ! Tasty, delicate, like feathery lace, and made up of a thousand varied plants. Something very different from the turf in the paddock ! And then the flowers ! Great blue harebells, long-cupped purple foxgloves, a whole forest of wild flowers, overflowing with heady juices ! The white goat, half intoxicated, flung herself down in all this vegetation, lay on her back, rolled down the slopes helter-skelter with the fallen leaves and the chestnuts.... Then, with one quick bound, she would be on her feet again. With a hop and a skip she would be off, head down, through the brush and the boxwood, now on the top of a crag, now deep in a hollow, up and down and everywhere. You would have thought that there were ten of Mr Seguin's goats on the mountain. Indeed, she knew no fear, our little Blanquette ! She would take a flying leap across great torrents which splashed her with their spray and foam. Then, dripping with water, she would go and lie down on some rocky ledge until the sun had dried her. Once, when she came to the edge of a plateau, with a laburnum flower between her teeth, she descried down below, far away in the plain, Mr Seguin's house with the paddock behind it. She laughed till she cried again ! « How tiny it is ! » she said. « How did I ever manage to live in that little hole ! » Poor little thing ! Seeing herself up above the world so high, she thought herself fully equal to the world in size... To make a long story short, Mr Seguin's goat had a fine day of it. About noon, as she ran right and left, she fell in with a company of chamois enjoying a feast of wild vine. Our little white-robed runagate created quite a sensation. They invited her to feed where the vine was juiciest, and all the gentlemen were most attentive. It would even appear but this is strictly between ourselves, that a young black-coated chamois had the good luck to find favour in Blanquette's eyes. The two lovers wandered through the wood for an hour or two, and if you would know what they said to each other, you must go and ask the bab- bling springs that trickle unseen through the moss.

IV Suddenly the wind freshened. The mountain took on a purple hue ; evening was at hand.... « Already ! » said the little goat, and she slopped, quite astonished. Down, below, the fields were veiled in mist. Mr Seguin's paddock was lost in the haze, and all that could be seen of the house was the roof and a little smoke. She listened to the tinkling bells of a flock on its way home, and felt quite sad at heart... A falcon, flying home, touched her with its wings as it went by. She shuddered... then a howl echoed over the mountain : « Hooo ! hooo ! » She thought of the wolf ! Not once during the day had the madcap thought of him... At the same moment a horn sounded away down in the valley. It was good Mr Seguin making a last attempt to bring her back. « Hooo ! hooo ! » howled the wolf. « Come back ! come back ! » called the horn. For a moment Blanquette felt inclined to go back ; but when she recalled the stake, the tether, the hedge round the paddock, she thought that now she could never make herself at home there, and that it would be better to stay on the mountain. The horn had ceased to sound... The goat heard the leaves rustle behind her. She looked round, and in the shadow she saw two short, straight ears, with two shining eyes. It was the wolf.

V Huge, motionless, seated on his hind-quarters, he was there, looking at the little white goat, and enjoying the prospect of this tasty morsel. As he was quite sure of eating her, the wolf was in no hurry ; only, when she turned round, he began to laugh wickedly. « Ha ! ha ! Mr Seguin's little goat ! » And he licked his aery chops with his great red tongue. Blanquette felt that all was over with her... For a moment, as she called to mind the story of old Renaude, who had fought during the whole night only to be eaten in the morning, she said to herself that it would perhaps be best to allow herself to be devoured at once ; then she thought better of it ; she fell on guard, her head down and her horns pointing forward, a worthy successor to Mr Seguin's former goats. Not that she had any hope of killing the wolf goats don't kill the wolf but only just to see whether she would hold out as long as Renaude had done. Then the monster advanced, and the little horns came into play. Ah ! the brave little goat, what a plucky fight she made of it ! More thanjtefi times and I'm speaking the truth, Gringoire the wolf had to fall back to get his breath. During these intervals between the rounds, the greedy little goat would hastily nibble another blade of her beloved grass ; then she was up and at him again, with her mouth full. It lasted all night. Now and again Mr Seguin's goat would glance up at the stars twinkling in the clear sky, and would say to herself : « Oh ! if only I can hold out till dawn !... » One after another the stars went out. Blanquette fought harder than ever with her horns, and the wolf with his teeth. A pale light appeared on the horizon. The raucous crow of a cock rose from a farm. « At last ! » said the poor beast, who had only waited for daylight to die ; and she lay down on the ground in her lovely white coat, that was all spotted with blood... Then the wolf throw himself on the little goat and ate her.