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MY     PETS 


......  J  .•   • • 

•.*.•     •,*.• 


I   SEIZKI)    Till-;    NKiciEK    ll\-    TlllC   SHcHLDERS   AND    HALLKl)   HIM    OUT   OF    THK    HASKET 


MY    PETS 

BY 

ALEXANDRE  DUMAS 


NEWLY  TRANSLATED 

BY 

ALFRED     ALLINSON 

WITH     SIXTEEN     ILLUSTRATIONS     BY 

V.  LECOMTE 


'  •  .  >  . »  • 


METHUEN   &   CO. 

36    ESSEX    STREET    W.C. 

LONDON 


This  Translation  by  Alfred  Allinson  was  first  published 

in  igog 


•  !  •*    ' 


r:^ 


4^A^ 


E. 


INTRODUCTORY    NOTE 


T  T    has    been    found    necessary   to   omit   two   brief 

-■-      passages    and    a    few    scattered    lines    from    Mes 

Betes   in   its    present    form    to    bring    it    into    line   with 


English  taste. 


THE   TRANSLATOR 


252454 


CONTENTS 


CHAP. 
I. 

II. 

III. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

XII. 

XIII. 

XIV. 

XV. 

XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

XIX. 

XX. 

XXI. 


ihe  dog  i  own,  and  the  fowls  i  once  owned 

enumeration  of  my  pets  . 

a  scotch  pointer    . 

"they've  got  the  jay!"  . 

vatrin  and  his  pipe 

pritchard  and  the  cutlet 

a  glass  of  wine 

worse  and  worse    . 

cunning  better  than  hrute  force 

a  capacious  pocket 

MOUTON  .... 

A   COMING   CATASTROPHE   CASTS    ITS   SHADOW   BEFORE 

HOW    I    WAS    OVER-PERSUADED   TO   BUY   A   GREEN    MONKEY 
AND   A   BLUE   MACAW 

HOW      1     ARRIVED     AT     THE     INTERESTING     INFORMATION 
THAT   PARROTS   BREED   IN    FRANCE 

A    CABRIOLET    DRIVER    WHO    WAS    A    GREAT   GEOGRAPHER 
ASSURES   ME   I    AM   A    NEGRO 

I    BUY   MADEMOISELLE   DESGARCINS   A   HUSBAND 

THE   FOUNDLING 

MYSOUFF — FIRST    OF    THE    NAME 

DORVAL's   BASKET   OF    FLOWERS 

TOO  GOOD    A    "character"! 

ALEXIS  JOINS   THE   GARDE   MOBILE 

vii 


PAGE 
I 

8 

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46 

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74 
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91 

96 

lOI 


viii  MY  PETS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

XXII.    THE    PRODIGAL    RETURNS    .....       Io6 

XXIII.  ALEXIS    FINDS    SCOPE    FOR    HIS   MILITARY   PROCLIVITIES 

AT   LAST  .  .  .  .  .  ,  .       I  lO 

XXIV.  MAQUET  BUYS  A  SECOND   HUSBAND   FOR   MADEMOISELLE 

DESGARCINS  .  .  .  .  .  .       Il6 

XXV.    MADEMOISELLE      DESGARCINS     AND     THE     SODA-WATER 

BOTTLE     .  .  .  .  .  .  .120 

XXVI.    INFAMOUS    CONDUCT    OF    POTICH,    THE    "  LAST    OF    THE 
LAIDMANOIRS,"     MADEMOISELLE      DESGARCINS,      AND 
MYSOUFF   11  .  .  .  .  .  .125 

XXVII.    A   WAGER     .......       I30 

XXVIII.    TRIAL   AND   CONDEMNATION   OF   MYSOUFF  .  -136 

XXIX.    DON    RUSCONI  .  .  .  .  .  .       I4I 

XXX.  IN   WHICH    MOUTON    BETRAYS    HIS    ODIOUS    CHARACTER      I49 

XXXI.  THE  GREATEST  AUTOGRAPH-HUNTER   IN    PARIS   .  .       153 
XXXII.    MY    FIRST    HARE       .                  .                  .                  .                 .                 -159 

XXXIII,  ALFRED   AND   M^DOR  .....      166 

XXXIV.  HOW     ALFRED     WAS      OBLIGED     TO      RETURN     TO     COM- 

PI^GNE   IN   HIGHLAND   COSTUME  .  .  .       177 

XXXV.  HOW  I  BROUGHT  BACK  FROM  CONSTANTINE  A 
VULTURE  WHICH  COST  ME  FORTY  THOUSAND 
FRANCS — AND    THE   GOVERNMENT    TEN   THOUSAND      .       188 

XXXVI.  HOW  PRITCHARD  BEGAN  TO  RESEMBLE  THE  MAR^CHAL 
DE  SAXE,  TO  WHOM  MARS  HAD  LEFT  NOTHING  BUT 
A   LOVING   HEART  .....      209 

XXXVII.  WHICH    DEALS  WITH   MY    D^BUT   AS   AN   ORATOR    IN   THE 

DEPARTMENT      OF      THE     YONNE,      AND     PRITCHARD's 
D^BUT   IN   THE   SAME   DEPARTMENT   AS   A   POACHER     .      223 

XXXVIII.  AN   IMPECCABLE   MAGISTRATE  ....      238 

XXXIX.    DISCUSSING     THE     ERUDITE     QUESTION  :     WAS     IT     THE 

TOAD    TAUGHT     THE    DOCTORS    TO    BE   ACCOUCHEURS, 
OR   THE    DOCTORS   TAUGHT   THE   TOADS?  .  .       244 

XL.  IN  WHICH  PRITCHARD  HAS  THE  CALAMITY  TO 
ENCOUNTER  A  CANON  FULBERT  WITHOUT  HAVING 
MET   A   HELOiSE  .....      254 


CONTENTS  ix 

CHAP.  PAGE 

XLI.    A   SCENE    IN    THE   CHAMBER               ....  261 

XLII.    DEALS    WITH     THE     REVOLUTION     OF     FEBRUARY,     AND 
THE      INFLUENCE      EXERTED      BY     THAT      EVENT      ON 

ANIMALS   AND   MEN           ,                .                 .                 .                 .  27I 

XLIII.    MY   BEST   PLAY   AND   MY   BEST   FRIEND      .                .                .  277 

XLIV.    FLORA            .......  286 

XLV,    THE   DEATH   OF   PRITCHARD              ....  29I 

XLVI.    A    WAY    MICHEL    HAD    OF    CURING    DOGS    OF    THE    BAD 

HABIT  OF   EATING   FOWLS             ....  299 

XLVII.   JUSTIFYING   WHAT   WAS   SAID   AS   TO  THE   RESEMBLANCE 

BETWEEN    flora's    DEATH   AND   THAT    OF    EURYDICE  306 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


I   SEIZED   THE   NIGGER  BY  THE  SHOULDERS  AND  HAULED   HIM   OUT 

OF  THE  BASKET.  .....    Frontispiece 

FACING    PAGE 
IN    HIS   JAWS    HE    HELD   A   CUTLET    HE    HAD    JUST    FILCHED    FROM 

THE   GRIDIRON     ...... 


THE   DOG   HAD  THE   SUGAR-BASIN   ON   HIS   NOSE   LIKE   A   MUZZLE 

MYSOUFF   USED  TO   DANCE   ABOUT   MY   LEGS   LIKE   A   DOG  . 

"I    IMAGINED    MONSIEUR   WOULD    LIKE    ME     TO   BE   HANDSOMELY 
dressed"  ...... 

MADEMOISELLE   DESGARCINS   OPENS   THE   SODA-WATER    BOTTLE 

MOUTON   WAS   MANGLING   MY   HAND 

I   CAUGHT   MY   VICTIM   BY   ONE    PAW 

THE   DOG   GAVE   A   SPRING  AND   SEIZED   THE   LAD   BY  THE   POCKET 
OF   HIS  JACKET   ...... 

THE   HORSE   HUNG   SUSPENDED   OVER   THE   PRECIPICE 

I    LET   FLY   WITH   MY   SWITCH    FULL   TILT   AT  JUGURTHA    . 

SUDDENLY   PRITCHARD   GAVE   A   LEAP 

PRITCHARD     WALKED     IN      PROUDLY     HOLDING     IN     HIS    JAWS     A 
MAGNIFICENT   GREAT    HAKE         .... 

PRITCHARD   HAD   COLLAPSED  ON   THE   GROUND 

CATINAT  LEAPT  AT  MY  THROAT   AS    IF    HE  WANTED   TO   STRANGLE 
ME  ......  . 


31 

44 
90 

109 
122 

151 
162 

176 
184 
208 
218 

235 

260 

299 


PRITCHARD   LOOKED  AT  ME   SADLY   AND   LOVINGLY  .  .  .  AND   DIED      303 


MY     PETS 


CHAPTER   I 

THE   DOG   I   OWN,   AND   THE   FOWLS 
I   ONCE   OWNED 

MAY  I  assume  you,  reader,  to  be  a  sportsman — and 
a  poultry  fancier  to  boot  ?  Well,  then,  did  it 
ever  happen  to  you  that  your  sporting  dog,  with  the 
best  intentions  in  the  world,  and  fully  believing  he  was 
after  game,  chivied  and  killed  your  fowls  ? 

This  is  quite  a  likely  thing  to  have  occurred,  and  one 
you  have  no  call  to  be  ashamed  of  after  all ;  so  I  will 
make  bold  to  make  all  these  several  assumptions. 

Such  being  the  case,  I  have  no  doubt  that,  loving 
your  dog  and  loving  your  fowls  too,  you  deeply  regretted 
you  knew  of  no  way  of  punishing  the  former  adequately, 
short  of  beating  him  to  death. 

For  beat  your  dog  as  you  may,  you  cannot  bring 
your  poultry  to  life  again.  Besides  which,  the  Bible 
expressly  says  that  God  desires  not  the  death  of  a  sinner, 
but  his  repentance. 

You  object  that  in  this  precept  God  was  not  think- 
ing about  dogs.  I  say  you  are  puffed  up  with  the 
insolence  of  your  supposed  human  superiority. 

I  firmly  believe  God  paid  just  as  much  attention 
as  He  did  to  man  to  every  animal  He  endowed  with 


2  MY  PETS 

life,  from  the  tiniest  insect  to  the  elephant,  from  the 
humming-bird  to  the  eagle. 

However,  I  will  make  some  concession  to  your  pre- 
judices, reader,  and  allow  that  perhaps  God  implanted 
a  special  liability  to  be  tempted  in  this  particular 
direction  in  the  dog,  which  of  all  beasts  is  the  one  whose 
instinct  comes  nearest  to  human  intelligence. 

Perhaps  we  might  even  venture  on  the  proposition 
that  some  dogs  have  more  instinct  than  some  men  have 
intelligence. 

Remember  what  Michelet  said  so  pleasantly  :  "  Dogs 
are  candidates  for  humanity." 

Finally,  if  the  point  is  contested,  we  can  allege  this 
convincing  proof — that  dogs  go  mad,  and  bite. 

This  settled,  let  us  to  our  story. 

I  own  a  dog,  and  I  once  owned  fowls. 

There !  just  think  what  it  is  to  be  a  dramatic  author, 
and  with  what  an  artful  touch  a  dramatic  author  can 
broach  a  subject !  "  I  own  a  dog,  and  I  once  owned 
fowls ! "  Why,  that  single  sentence,  those  nine  simple 
words,  imply  a  whole  catastrophe  in  the  past,  and  give 
the  actual  state  of  things  here  and  now  into  the 
bargain. 

/  own  a  dog — yes,  I  have  one  still ;  my  dog,  there- 
fore, is  alive.  /  ojice  owned  fowls,  but  I  do  so  no  longer ; 
ergo,  my  fowls  are  dead. 

Nay !  it  is  plain  that,  if  you  have  any  powers  of 
deduction  at  all, — even  though  I  had  not  told  you, 
perhaps  rather  prematurely, — by  means  of  the  phrase 
"  I  own  a  dog,  I  once  owned  fowls,"  you  would  know 
perfectly  well  not  merely  that  my  dog  is  alive  and  my 
poultry  dead,  but  be  able  to  guess,  into  the  bargain, 
that  in  all  probability  it  was  my  dog  killed  my  fowls. 

So  you  see  there  is  a  whole  tragedy  implicit  in  the 
words :  /  own  a  dog,  I  once  owned  fowls  ' 


THE  DOG  I  OWN  3 

If  I  could  ever  hope  to  be  elected  a  member  of  the 
Academy,  I  should  enjoy  the  certainty  that  one  day 
at  any  rate  my  panegyric  would  be  pronounced  by 
my  successor ;  and  lauded  by  a  great  noble  or  a  great 
poet  of  the  future,  a  Noailles  or  a  future  Viennet,  I 
could  fall  asleep  in  calm  reliance  on  this  one  sentence : 
/  own  a  dog,  and  I  once  oivned  foivls,  confident  that 
the  fine  implications  involved  would  not  be  lost  on  an 
admiring  posterity. 

But,  alas  !  I  shall  never  join  the  Immortal  Forty  ! 
A  fellow-Academician  will  never  pronounce  my  pane- 
gyric after  I  am  dead  ! 

The  simplest  plan,  therefore,  is  for  me  to  do  it  for 
myself  while  I  am  still  alive. 

Now  you  are  aware,  dear  reader,  or  possibly  you 
are  not  aware,  that  in  dramatic  art  everything 
depends  on  the  preparation,  the  working-up. 

To  introduce  and  make  known  the  dramatis  personcB 
is  one  of  the  surest  ways  of  forcing  the  reader  to  be 
interested  in  them. 

To  force — it  is  a  hard  word,  I  know,  but  it  is  the 
proper  technical  expression;  we  must  always yi7;r^  the 
reader  to  be  interested  in  some  person  or  some  thing. 

Only  there  are  several  different  means  of  arriving  at 
this  result. 

Remember  Walter  Scott, — well,  Walter  Scott  had  a 
way  of  his  own  of  attracting  interest  to  his  characters, 
one  which,  though  it  was  with  a  very  few  exceptions 
always  the  same  and  of  a  kind  to  strike  one.  at  the 
first  blush  as  very  extraordinary,  nevertheless  proved 
highly  successful. 

His  way  was  to  be  tiresome,  deadly  tiresome,  often 
for  half  the  first  volume,  sometimes  for  the  whole  of  it. 

But,  in  the  course  of  this  volume  he  was  bringing  his 
personages  on   the  scene,  and   giving  so   minute  and 


4  MY  PETS 

detailed  a  description  of  their  personal  appearance,  their 
moral  character,  their  habits  and  idiosyncrasies,  the 
reader  learnt  so  exactly  how  they  dressed  and  walked 
and  talked,  that  when  at  the  beginning  of  volume  ii. 
one  of  these  individuals  found  himself  in  some  danger 
or  emergency,  you  could  not  help  exclaiming — 

"  Ah,  dear  !  that  poor  gentleman  who  wore  an  apple- 
green  coat,  and  limped  as  he  walked,  and  lisped  in  speak- 
ing, how  ever  is  he  going  to  get  out  of  this  difficulty  ?  " 

And  you  were  quite  surprised,  after  being  bored  to 
death  for  half  a  volume  or  a  whole  volume,  sometimes 
even  for  a  volume  and  a  half,  you  were  quite 
astonished  to  find  yourself  deeply  interested  in  the 
gentleman  who  lisped  in  speaking,  who  limped  as  he 
walked,  and  who  wore  an  apple-green  coat. 

You  may  possibly  observe,  reader — 

"  This  method,  sir,  which  I  see  you  commend  so 
highly,  is  the  one  you  follow  yourself,  is  it  ?  " 

In  the  first  place,  I  do  not  commend  it ;  I  only 
explain  and  describe  and  discuss  it.  Secondly,  my 
own  is  precisely  the  opposite. 

"  Ah  !  so  you  have  a  method  of  your  own  ?  "  Mr, 
This  or  Mr.  That  will  ask  me,  with  a  pretty  air  of 
polished  sarcasm. 

"  Certainly — and  why  not,  my  good  friends  ?  " 

Well,  then,  here  is  viy  method :  I  give  it  you  for 
what  it  is  worth. 

Only  I  am  bound  to  begin  by  telling  you  I  think  it 
is  a  bad  one, 

"  But,"  you  naturally  object,  "  if  your  way  is  a  bad 
one,  why  employ  it  ?  " 

Because  one  is  not  always  in  a  position  to  employ  or 
not  to  employ  a  method  at  will ;  and  sometimes,  I 
strongly  suspect,  it  is  the  method  uses  us  rather  than 
we  the  method. 


THE  DOG  I  OWN  5 

Men  deem  they  have  ideas ;  I  have  a  shrewd 
notion  myself  it  is  ideas  often  possess  men.  There  is 
many  an  idea  has  used  up  two  or  three  generations  of 
mankind  and,  before  working  itself  out,  is  going  to  use 
up  three  or  four  more. 

Anyhow,  whether  it  is  1  own  my  method  or  my 
method  me,  here  it  is,  such  as  it  is : — 

To  begin  by  being  interesting,  instead  of  beginning 
by  being  tiresome ;  to  begin  with  action,  instead  of 
beginning  with  preparation  for  action ;  to  describe  the 
characters  after  having  brought  them  on  the  stage, 
instead  of  bringing  them  on  the  stage  after  describing 
them. 

Well,  you  will  likely  enough  say  at  the  first  go  off — 

*'  Really,  I  see  nothing  so  very  perilous  about  this  way 
of  going  to  work." 

All  I  can  say  to  that  is :  you  are  mistaken.  In 
reading  a  book  or  watching  a  play, — comedy,  tragedy, 
theatrical  piece  of  any  sort — any  Schauspiel,  as  they  say 
in  German, — we  must  always  be  bored  more  or  less. 

There  is  no  fire  without  smoke,  no  sunlight  without 
shadow.  Well,  boredom,  ennui,  is  the  shadow,  the 
smoke,  in  this  case. 

Now  experience  has  shown  this  much :  it  is  better  to 
be  bored  at  the  start  than  the  finish. 

More  than  that  :  some  of  my  fellow  novelists  and 
dramatists,  uncertain  which  of  the  two  plans  to  adopt, 
have  chosen  that  of  boring  the  reader  all  through  the 
romance  or  the  spectator  all  through  the  play. 

And  they  have  been  quite  successful ;  while  I,  I 
have  found  my  method  pretty  nearly  fatal  to  me, 
consisting  as  it  does  in  being  amusing  at  the  start ! 

Consider  my  first  acts,  look  at  my  first  volumes ; 
the  pains  I  have  always  taken  to  make  them  as 
amusing  as  possible  have  frequently  been  prejudicial  to 


6  MY  PETS 

the  four  others  where  a  play  has  been  concerned,  the 
fifteen  or  twenty  others  where  a  novel  has  been  in 
question. 

Witness  the  prologue  of  Caligula,  which  killed  that 
tragedy,  and  the  first  act  of  Mademoiselle  de  Belle-Isle, 
which  came  near  ruining  that  comedy. 

Once  people  are  amused  in  the  first  act  or  the 
first  volume,  they  expect  to  be  amused  all  through 
— and  it  is  hard,  extremely  hard,  well-nigh  impossible, 
to  be  always  amusing. 

On  the  contrary,  when  ennui  is  the  order  of  the 
day  in  the  first  act  or  first  volume,  a  change  becomes 
highly  desirable — and  then  the  reader  or  spectator, 
as  the  case  may  be,  is  endlessly  grateful  for  whatever 
is  done  with  a  view  to  bringing  that  about. 

The  prologue  alone  of  Caligula  contained  stuff 
enough  to  ensure  the  success  of  half  a  dozen  tragedies 
such  as  Clovis  or  Artaxerxes,  such  as  Le  Cid  d'Anda- 
lousie,  or  Pertinax,  or  Julien  dans  les  Gaules. 

But  we  should  give  only  a  little  bit  at  a  time,  and 
above  all  not  at  the  beginning ! 

A  novel  or  a  play  is  like  a  dinner.  Your  guests 
are  hungry ;  they  want  to  eat,  and  don't  much  care 
what  they  eat  so  long  as  their  appetite  is  satisfied. 

Give  them  a  dish  of  good  plain  onion  soup.  Some 
will  make  a  face,  perhaps ;  but  all  will  take  a  plateful, 
never  fear.  Next,  give  them  pork  and  pickled  cab- 
bage— any  coarse  food  you  please ;  provided  there's 
plenty  of  it,  they  ask  nothing  better,  and  dine  without 
a  grumble,  finally  leaving  table  with  the  words, 
"  Well,  it  wasn't  very  delicate  fare,  to  be  sure,  but,  'pon 
my  word,  I've  dined,  anyway." 

That  is  why  authors  are  often  successful  who  are 
always  tiresome,  from  the  beginning  of  the  novel  or 
play  to  the  end. 


THE  DOG  I  OWN  7 

This  method  is  the  least  usual  and  the  most 
uncertain  ;  I  do  not  advise  its  adoption. 

Now  for  the  two  other  systems — and  first  Walter 
Scott's. 

You  serve,  as  at  the  dinner  just  described,  onion 
soup  to  begin  with,  pickled  cabbage,  and  common 
coarse  dishes.  But  next  come  game,  partridges  and 
pheasants,  or  perhaps  poultry,  say  a  goose,  and  lo ! 
everybody  begins  to  applaud,  and  forget  the  unap- 
petising beginning  of  the  meal,  and  declare  they  have 
dined  like  Lucullus. 

My  own  particular  system  is  the  worst  of  all — I 
said  so  before. 

I  serve  up  my  partridges  and  pheasants,  my  turbot 
and  lobster  at  once,  and  even  my  pine-apples,  which  I 
do  not  reserve  for  dessert ;  then  later  on  you  come  to 
the  jugged  hare  and  Gruyere  cheese,  and  make  a  wry 
face.  Indeed,  I  am  very  lucky  if  you  don't  go  and 
cry  on  the  housetops  that  my  kitchen  is  a  thousand 
yards  below  the  lowest  suburban  cook-shop  and  the 
level  of  the  sea. 

However,  I  begin  to  see,  reader  mine,  that  I  have 
wandered  a  long  way  from  the  dog  I  own  and  the 
fowls  I  once  owned. 

I  really  think  to-day  I  have  been  using  Walter 
Scott's  method. 

Well,  we  ought  to  try  everything,  you  know. 


CHAPTER   II 
ENUMERATION  OF  MY  PETS 

WELL,  then,  we  had  better  go  on  in  the  fashion 
of  the  Wizard  of  the  North — that  is  to  say, 
begin  by  introducing  our  characters. 

But,  to  make  them  adequately  known,  the  reader 
must  be  so  good  as  to  hark  back  seven  or  eight 
years,  at  which  date  he  will  find  me  residing  at  Monte 
Cristo. 

Now,  how  did  Monte  Cristo  come  to  be  so  called  ? 
/  did  not  give  it  the  name ;  I  could  never  have  been 
so  foolish  and  conceited. 

It  was  one  day  I  was  expecting  M^lingue  to  dinner 
with  his  wife  and  two  children.  Monte  Cristo  was 
only  just  built,  and  as  yet  had  no  name. 

I  had  explained  as  well  as  I  could  the  situation  to 
my  guests,  but  not  so  accurately  as  to  enable  the 
family  to  find  their  way  there  on  foot. 

At  Le  Pecq  they  took  a  conveyance. 

"  To  M.  Dumas',"  Madame  Melingue  told  the  driver. 

"  M.  Dumas' — where's  that  ?  "  the  man  asked. 

"  Why,  on  the  Marly  road." 

"  There  are  two  Marly  roads — the  lower  road  and 
the  upper." 

"  The  deuce  there  are  !  " 

"  Well,  which  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

8 


ENUMERATION  OF  MY  PETS        9 

"  But  come,  has  not  M.  Dumas'  house  got  a  name?  " 

"  A  name  ?  why,  of  course ;  it's  the  Chateau  de 
Monte  Cristo." 

So  off  they  started  to  look  for  the  Chateau  de 
Monte  Cristo — and  what's  more,  they  found  it. 

It  was  Madame  Melingue  told  me  the  story.  Ever 
after  M.  Dumas'  house  was  known  as  the  Chateau  de 
Monte  Cristo. 

It  is  only  right  that,  when  posterity  inquires  into 
the  affair,  it  should  hear  the  true  account  of  the 
matter. 

Well,  in  those  days  I  lived  at  Monte  Cristo,  and, 
barring  the  visitors  who  came  to  see  me,  I  lived  there 
alone, 

I  love  solitude.  For  those  who  can  appreciate  her 
charms,  solitude  is  the  most  loving  of  mistresses. 

The  first  necessity  to  a  man  who  works  and  works 
hard  is  solitude.  Society  is  the  distraction  of  the 
body ;  love  the  occupation  of  the  heart ;  solitude  the 
religion  of  the  soul. 

At  the  same  time  I  do  not  love  a  lonely  solitude. 
I  prefer  the  solitude  of  the  terrestrial  paradise — that 
is  to  say,  a  solitude  peopled  with  animals.  I  adore 
all  animals — except  those  of  the  human  species. 

As  a  mere  boy,  I  was  the  greatest  birds'-nester,  the 
most  inveterate  bird-catcher  in  all  the  broad  forest  of 
Villers-Cotterets,  See  my  Memoirs  passim^  and  the 
life  and  adventures  of  Ange  Pitou. 

The  consequence  was  that,  in  my  solitude  at  Monte 
Cristo,  without  boasting  either  the  innocence  or  the 
costume  of  Adam,  I  possessed  a  Garden  of  Eden  in 
miniature. 

I  had — not  all  at  once,  but  one  after  the  other — 
five  dogs :  to  wit — Pritchard,  Phanos,  Turk,  Caro, 
and  Tambo.      I  had  a  tame  vulture — Diogenes.      I  had 


10  MY  PETS 

three  monkeys — one  bearing  the  name  of  a  celebrated 
translator,  another  that  of  an  illustrious  novelist,  and 
the  third — a  lady  ape—  that  of  a  successful  actress. 

The  reader  will  readily  understand  my  motives  for 
not  mentioning  these  names,  which  had  been  mostly 
given  in  reference  to  some  detail  of  the  private  life  or 
some  physical  peculiarity  of  the  original. 

Now,  as  a  great  novelist  has  said, — I  would  tell  you 
which,  but  I  really  am  not  quite  sure, — "  private  life 
must  be  held  sacred." 

So  we  will,  if  you  please,  call  the  translator  Potich ; 
the  novelist,  the  Last  of  the  Laidvianoirs ;  and  the  she- 
monkey.  Mademoiselle  Desgarcins. 

I  had,  moreover,  a  big  blue  and  red  parakeet  called 
Buvat,  and  a  green  and  yellow  one  known  as  Papa 
Everard. 

I  had  a  cat  named  Mysouff,  a  golden  pheasant 
named  Lucullus,  and  a  cock  named  Ccssar. 

Such  is  an  accurate  enumeration,  I  think,  of  all  the 
animals  inhabiting  Monte  Cristo, 

Add  a  peacock  and  pea-hen,  a  dozen  fowls,  and  a 
pair  of  guinea-fowl,  creatures  I  only  set  down  here  for 
the  sake  of  completeness,  their  individuality  being  nil 
or  next  to  it. 

Needless  to  say  also  that  I  make  no  mention  of  the 
stray  dogs  which  used  to  come  in  en  passant  as  they 
went  by  on  the  Marly  road,  upper  or  lower,  and  make 
or  renew  acquaintance  with  Pritchard,  Phanos,  Turk, 
Caro,  or  Tambo.  In  strict  accordance  with  the  laws 
of  Arab  hospitality, — which,  by  the  bye,  the  owner  of 
Monte  Cristo  was  often  blamed  for  following  too 
implicitly, — all  these  were  entertained  for  longer  or 
shorter  periods,  the  length  of  their  stay  depending 
solely  and  entirely  on  the  fancy,  caprice,  necessities,  or 
engagements  of  these  four-footed  guests. 


ENUMERATION  OF  MY  PETS      11 

And  now,  since  the  destiny  of  several  of  the  creatures 
residing,  about  1850,  in  the  Eden  of  Monte  Cristo  is 
more  or  less  closely  connected  with  the  fortunes  of  other 
pets  at  present  occupying  the  courtyard  and  garden 
of  the  house  I  now  occupy  in  the  Rue  d'Amsterdam, 
we  will  conclude  this  long  list  of  dogs  and  monkeys 
and  birds  with  a  brief  enumeration  of  my  new 
favourites. 

A  fighting-cock,  by  name  Marlboj'ough. 

Two  sea-gulls,  known  as  M.  and  Madame  Denis. 

A  heron,  named  Charles  the  Fifth. 

A  bitch,  called  Flora. 

A  dog,  originally  called  Catinat,  but  subsequently 
renamed  Catiline. 

It  is  the  latter  beast  to  which  I  apply  the  character- 
istic phrase  I  am  so  proud  of  having  invented — "  The 
dog  I  own,  and  the  fowls  I  once  owned." 

However,  before  coming  to  this  story,  which  I 
naturally  enough  keep  for  the  last,  as  being  the  most 
thrilling  and  dramatic,  we  have  a  long  talk  before  us, 
dear  reader,  our  subject-matter  being  nothing  more 
nor  less  than  the  detailed  biographies  of  Pritchard, 
Phanos,  Turk,  Caro,  Tambo,  Diogenes,  PoticJi,  the  Last 
of  the  Laidnianoirs,  Mademoiselle  Desgarcins,  Mysouff, 
Buvat,  Papa  ^verard,  Lucullus,  and  Ccesar. 

We  will  begin  with  Pritchard,  whose  noble  qualities 
and  high  breeding  well  deserve  this  honour. 


CHAPTER   III 

A  SCOTCH  POINTER 

PRITCHARD  was  a  '^zotc\i  pointer. 
You,  all  of  you,  dear  readers  of  the  sterner  sex, 
know  what  in  sporting  language  a  pointer  is ;  but  it 
may  be  some  of  my  fair  readers  may  be  less  familiar 
with  canine  nomenclature  and  may  need  informa- 
tion, and  for  their  sakes  we  give  the  explanations  that 
follow. 

A  pointer  is  a  dog  which,  as  its  name  imports,  points. 
Good  pointers  come  from  England,  the  very  best  from 
Scotland. 

This  is  the  way  the  pointer  goes  to  work.  Instead 
of  running  almost  under  the  gun,  as  most  sporting  dogs 
do, — brach-hounds,spaniels,or  water-spaniels, — he  takes 
a  wide  sweep  and  hunts  at  a  hundred  yards,  or  even 
two  or  three  hundred  on  occasion,  ahead  of  his  master. 

But,  the  instant  he  comes  upon  game,  a  good  pointer 
stops  dead  and  stands  as  still  as  Cephalus'  dog,  till  his 
master  actually  treads  on  his  tail..'- 

For  the  benefit  of  any  of  our  readers,  male  or  female, 
who  may  not  be  well  up  in  the  Heathen  Mythology,  we 
will  observe  that  Cephalus'  dog  was  turned  into  stone 
while  chasing  a  fox.  Some  people  always  want  to 
know  everything,  so  we  will  mention,  further,  that  the 
dog's  name  was  Lailaps. 

"  But  what  was  the  fox's  name  ?  " 

IS 


A  SCOTCH  POINTER  13 

Ah  !  you  think  you  have  me  there  !  Not  a  bit  of 
it ;  the  Greek  word  alopex  means  fox.  Well,  this  fox 
was  the  {o^  par  excellence,  and  just  as  Rome  was  called 
tJie  tow7i,  urbs,  so  this  fox  was  called  the  fox. 

And  truly  he  deserved  his  pre-eminence.  Picture  a 
giant  fox,  sent  by  Themis  to  punish  the  Thebans 
for  their  offences  against  her,  to  which  they  were 
bound  to  sacrifice  every  month  a  human  victim — 
twelve  a  year,  only  two  less  than  the  Minotaur  exacted. 
This  would  seem  to  imply  a  fox  standing  only  four 
or  five  inches  lower  than  a  bull — a  very  fine  height 
for  a  fox  ! 

"  But,  if  Lailaps  was  turned  into  stone,  the  fox  got 
away  from  him  ?  " 

Never  fear,  fair  readers ;  the  fox  was  turned  into 
stone  at  the  same  moment  as  the  dog. 

If  you  ever  go  to  Thebes,  they  will  show  you  both 
of  them,  trying  their  best, — they  have  Been  trying  for 
three  thousand  years  or  so  now, — the  fox  to  get  away 
from  the  dog,  the  dog  to  catch  the  fox. 

Where  were  we  ?  Oh  yes,  we  were  talking  about 
pointers,  whose  bounden  duty  it  is,  having  made  a 
point,  to  stop  as  still  and  steady  as  a  granite  dog. 

In  England,  an  aristocratic  country,  where  sport 
is  pursued  in  parks  of  three  or  four  thousand 
acres  surrounded  by  walls  or  palings,  swarming  with 
red-legged  partridges  and  pheasants,  the  surfaces 
picturesquely  variegated  with  fields  of  clover,  buck- 
wheat, colza,  and  lucerne, — which  they  are  careful 
not  to  cut,  so  that  the  game  may  always  have  covert, 
— the  pointers  can  stop  where  and  when  they  please 
and  stand  as  stock-still  as  stone  dogs.  The  game 
will  always  keep  covert. 

But  in  a  democratic  country  like  France,  divided  up 
among  five  or  six  million  owners,  where  every  peasant 


14  MY  PETS 

has  a  double-barrelled  gun  hanging  over  the  mantel- 
shelf, where  harvesting  operations,  impatiently  looked 
forward  to  by  the  grower,  begin  punctually  to  the 
moment  and  are  often  all  over  before  the  opening  of 
the  shooting  season,  a  pointer  is  the  very  devil. 

Now  Fritchard,  as  I  have  already  said,  was  a 
pointer. 

But,  knowing  how  disastrous  the  use  of  such  a  dog 
is  in  France,  how  in  the  world,  you  will  naturally  ask, 
did  I  come  to  have  a  pointer  ? 

Ah  !  good  Lord !  and  how  does  it  come  about  a 
man  has  a  bad  wife,  tell  me  that ;  or  a  false  friend 
who  cheats  him  ;  or  a  gun  that  bursts  in  your  fingers 
— and  this  for  all  our  being  so  knowing  in  women  and 
men  and  guns  ?  Why,  circumstances,  circumstances, 
and  the  inevitable  haphazards  of  life  ! 

The  fact  is,  I  had  gone  to  Ham  to  pay  a  visit  to 
a  prisoner  in  that  historic  fortress  for  whom  I  felt  a 
sincere  respect.  Indeed,  I  always  feel  great  respect  for 
prisoners  and  exiles.  Does  not  Sophocles  tell  us : 
"  Honour  calamity  ;  calamity  comes  from   the  gods  "  ? 

On  his  side,  the  prisoner  in  question  was  much 
attached  to  me.  We  quarrelled  later,  .  .  .  but  that 
is  another  story. 

Well,  I  spent  some  days  at  Ham,  in  the  course  of 
which  I  naturally  saw  something  of  the  special  Com- 
missary of  the  Government — a  charming  gentleman, 
by  name  M.  Lerat.  He  showed  me  many  flattering 
attentions,  taking  me  on  one  occasion  to  the  Fair  of 
Chauny,  where  I  bought  a  pair  of  horses,  and  on 
another  to  the  Castle  of  Coucy,  where  I  climbed  to  the 
top  of  the  great  donjon. 

Finally,  on  the  last  day  of  my  stay,  having  heard  me 
mention  that  I  was  in  want  of  a  sporting  dog — 

"  Ah ! "     he  informed  me,  "  I   am  delighted  to  say 


A  SCOTCH  POINTER  15 

I  can  give  you  a  real  handsome  present !  One  of  my 
friends,  who  lives  in  Scotland,  has  sent  me  a  dog  of 
royal  breed  ;   I  will  giv^e  him  you." 

How  refuse  a  gift  offered  so  gracefully,  even  though 
the  animal  was  a  pointer  ? 

"  Bring  Pritchard  here,"  he  went  on,  turning  to  his 
little  girls,  two  charming  children  of  ten  or  twelve. 

Pritchard  was  duly  introduced.  He  was  a  dog  with 
prick  ears,  or  almost  so,  mustard-coloured  eyes,  a  long 
greyish  white  coat,  waving  a  magnificent  feathery  plume 
at  the  end  of  his  tail. 

With  the  exception  of  this  ornament,  he  was  an  ill- 
looking  beast  enough.  But  I  have  read  in  the  Selectee 
e  profanis  scriptoribus  that  we  should  not  judge 
people  by  appearances,  and  in  Don  Quixote  that  "  the 
habit  does  not  make  the  monk."  So  I  asked  myself 
why  a  rule  applicable  to  men  should  not  be  equally  so 
to  dogs  ?  and  trusting  to  Cervantes  and  Seneca,  I 
received  the  present  now  made  me  with  open  arms. 

M.  Lerat  appeared  even  more  pleased  to  give  me 
his  dog  than  I  was  to  receive  him  ;  it  is  the  mark  of 
kind  hearts  to  care  less  to  get  than  to  give. 

"  The  children,"  he  told  me,  with  a  laugh,  "  call  him 
Pritchard.  But  if  you  don't  like  the  name,  you  are  at 
liberty  to  give  him  any  other  you  choose." 

I  had  nothing  to  say  against  the  name ;  indeed,  if 
anybody  had  an  objection  to  make,  it  seemed  to  me  it 
was  the  dog.  But  Pritchard  said  nothing,  so  Pritchard 
he  remained. 

I  returned  to  Saint-Germain, — I  had  not  taken  up  my 
abode  as  yet  at  Rlonte  Cristo  at  the  time  I  speak  of, — 
richer — or  poorer,  if  you  prefer  it — by  a  dog  and  two 
horses  than  when  I  left  home. 

Perhaps,  under  the  circumstances, /i?^;-^;-  is  the  better 
word,  for  one  of  my  nags  had  the  glanders  and  the 


16  MY  PETS 

other  strained  himself  badly.  The  consequence  was  I 
had  to  get  rid  of  them  both  for  a  hundred  and  fifty- 
francs,  and  the  vet.  declared  I  was  well  out  of  the 
business.     They  had  cost  me  two  thousand  francs. 

As  for  Pritchard,  in  whom  you  are  mainly  interested, 
we  shall  see  what  became  of  him.    , 


CHAPTER   IV 
"THEY'VE   GOT   THE   JAY!" 

ACCORDING  to  the  most  likely  calculations, 
Pritchard  might  be  nine  or  ten  months  old — 
past  the  age  when  dogs  begin  their  education.  The 
great  thing  was  to  select  a  good  teacher. 

I  had  an  old  friend  in  the  forest  of  Le  Vesinet. 
He  was  called  Vatrin  ;  indeed  I  may  say  he  r's  called, 
for  I  hope  and  believe  he  is  still  in  the  land  of  the 
living. 

Our  acquaintance  dated  from  the  early  days  of  my 
boyhood ;  his  father  had  been  keeper  of  the  division  of 
the  forest  of  Villers-Cotterets  over  which  my  father 
had  the  right  of  shooting.  Vatrin  was  a  lad  of  twelve 
or  fifteen  then,  and  ever  after  he  retained  a  heroically 
exaggerated  mental  picture  of  t/ie  General — so  he 
always  spoke  of  my  father. 

To  give  an  instance.  One  day  my  father  was 
thirsty,  and  stopped  at  Keeper  Vatrin's  door  to  ask  for 
a  glass  of  water. 

Vatrin  senior  gave  the  General  a  glass  of  wine 
instead,  and  when  he  had  drunk  it,  the  admiring  fellow 
actually  put  the  glass  on  a  pedestal  of  black  oak  and 
covered  it  with  a  glass  shade,  as  if  it  had  been  a  sacred 
relic. 

When  he  died  he  left  the  glass  by  will  to  his  son. 
To  this  day,  most  likely,  it  forms  the  chief  ornament 


18  MY  PETS 

of  the  old  forest-keeper's  mantelshelf.  For  the  son  in 
turn  has  grown  old — though  that  in  no  way  prevented 
his  still  being,  the  last  time  I  saw  him,  one  of  the 
most  active  head  keepers  of  the  forest  of  Saint- 
Germain. 

Vatrin  is  perhaps  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  my  senior. 
When  we  were  both  of  us  young  together,  the  differ- 
ence was  more  noticeable  and  important  than  it  is 
nowadays. 

He  was  a  tall,  well-grown  boy  when  I  was  still  a 
little  chap,  and  I  used  to  follow  his  lead  with  all  the 
simple  admiration  of  childhood  on  bird-catching  and 
bird-liming  expeditions. 

The  truth  is,  Vatrin  was  one  of  the  cleverest  snarers 
I   have  ever  known. 

More  than  once,  when  I  have  been  telling  my 
Parisian  friends,  male  or  female,  of  this  eminently 
picturesque  form  of  sport  known  as  liming,  and  after  I 
had  done  my  very  best  to  make  them  understand  how 
it  is  done,  one  of  my  auditors  has  ended  by  saying — 

"  Well,  I  must  say  I  should  enjoy  seeing  the  thing 
in  action," 

Then  I  would  ask  the  company  to  fix  a  day,  and 
this  settled,  I  would  write  a  line  to  Vatrin — 

"  My  dear  Vatrin, — Get  a  tree  ready.  We  will 
sleep  such  and  such  a  night  at  Collinet's,  and  next 
morning  at  five  o'clock  we  will  be  at  your  service." 

You  know,  of  course,  who  Collinet  is — the  landlord 
of  the  Pavilion  Henri  iv  at  Saint-Germain,  one  of  the 
best  cooks  in  creation. 

Whenever  you  go  to  Saint-Germain,  ask  him  to  give 
you  cotelettes  a  la  bearnaise.  Use  my  name,  and  tell 
me  afterwards  how  you  liked  them  ! 

Well,   in    due     course     Vatrin    would     turn    up    at 


"THEY'VE  GOT  THE  JAY!"        19 

ColHnet's,  and  with  a  wink  that  was  peculiar  to 
himself — 

"  It's  all  right,"  he  would  say. 

"  The  tree  is  ready  ?  " 

"  Rather." 

"  And  the  jay  ?  " 

"  We've  got  the  jay." 

"  Up  and  at  'em,  then  !      Hurrah  !  " 

Then,  turning  to  the  company — 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  I  would  observe  oratoric- 
ally,  "  here's  good  news  !      They've  got  the  jay  !  " 

Nine  times  out  of  ten  nobody  knew  what  I  meant. 

Yet  it  was  an  all-important  announcement ;  it  meant 
the  certainty  of  good  sport  to-morrow.  The  moment 
they  had  the  jay,  a  good  morning's  work  was  assured. 

A  word  of  explanation  to  make  the  full  importance 
of  this  apparent. 

La  Fontaine,  whom  folks  will  call  the  ivorthy  La 
Fontaine,  just  as  they  speak  of  Plutarch  as  the  zvorthy 
Plutarch^  has  written  a  fable  about  the  jay,  which  he 
entitles,  "  The  Jay  that  dressed  in   Peacock's  feathers." 

Well,  that's  all  pure  calumny — nothing  more  nor 
less  !  The  jay,  one  of  the  most  mischievous  and  ill- 
conditioned  of  birds,  never  conceived  the  notion,  I'll 
swear,  of  doing  anything  so  silly  as  La  F'ontaine  says. 
He  never  did  such  a  thing,  and  it's  a  hundred  to  one 
never  thought  of  such  a  thing. 

It  would  have  been  far  better  for  him  if  he  had, 
instead  of  doing  what  he  does  ;  he  would  have  brought 
far  fewer  enemies  about  his  ears. 

What  is  it  the  jay  does,  then  ?  You  know  the  myth 
of  Saturn,  who  used  to  devour  his  children  ?  Well,  the 
jay  is  a  better  father  than  Saturn  ;  he  only  eats  other 
people's,  or  rather  other  birds',  children. 

Now  you  can   understand  the  virulent  hatred  vowed 


20  MY  PETS 

against  the  jay  by  all  the  smaller  members  of  the 
feathered  tribe — tomtits,  siskins,  chaffinches,  gold- 
finches, nightingales,  warblers,  linnets,  bullfinches,  and 
red-breasts,  whose  eggs  or  chicks  the  jay  gobbles 
up. 

They  all  hate  him  like  death ;  but  none  of  them  is 
strong  enough  to  tackle  a  jay. 

Only,  let  any  misfortune,  any  accident,  any  disaster 
befall  a  jay,  and  all  the  birds  of  the  countryside  are  in 
ecstasies. 

Well,  it  is  a  misfortune,  an  accident,  a  terrible 
disaster  for  a  jay  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  a  bird-snarer, 
while  at  the  same  time  it  is  a  veritable  stroke  of  luck 
for  a  bird-catcher  to  get  hold  of  a  jay.  For  when 
once  the  snarer  has  prepared  his  tree — that  is  to  say,  has 
thinned  the  leaves,  made  incisions  in  the  boughs,  and 
fixed  limed  twigs  in  these  ;  when  beneath  the  tree  he 
has  built  his  hut,  well  covered  up  with  broom  and 
heather ;  when,  alone  or  with  his  companions,  he  has 
taken  up  his  position  inside  it,  instead  of  being  obliged 
to  imitate  by  means  of  a  leaf  of  couch  grass  or  a  bit  of 
silk,  the  song,  or  rather  the  cry,  of  the  different  birds,  he 
has  only,  if  he  has  a  jay,  to  pull  the  bird  out  of  his 
pocket  and  twitch  out  a  feather  from  its  tail. 

The  jay  gives  a  sharp  cry,  which  rings  through  the 
forest. 

Instantly  all  the  tomtits,  chaffinches,  siskins,  bull- 
finches, warblers,  red-breasts,  nightingales,  goldfinches, 
red  and  grey  linnets,  for  miles  round  give  a  simultane- 
ous start  and  listen  with  all  their  ears. 

Then  the  operator  twitches  another  feather  from  the 
jay's  wing,  and  the  bird  gives  another  cry. 

Thereupon  fierce  rejoicing  among  all  the  feathered 
tribe ;  it  is  plain  some  calamity  has  befallen  the 
common  enemy. 


"  THEY'\  E  GOT  THE  JAY  I  '        21 

What  can  it  be  ?  where  is  it  ?  which  way  ?  We  must 
hurry  up  to  see  ! 

The  bird-catcher  pulls  a  third  feather  from  his 
captive's  wing,  and  again  the  cry  of  pain  is  heard. 

"  Ah  !  there  it  is !  This  way,  this  way  !  "  chorus 
the  little  birds,  one  and  all — and  they  fly  in  flocks,  in 
hosts,  towards  the  tree  from  which  those  three  shrill 
outcries  have  come. 

Now,  as  the  tree  is  armed  with  limed  twigs,  every 
bird  that  lights  on  it  is  a  bird  caught. 

That's  the  reason  why  I  would  announce  to  my 
guests,  as  I  introduced  Vatrin :  "  Ladies  and  gentle- 
men, great  news  !     They've  got  the  jay  !  " 

You  see,  dear  readers,  everything  is  explained  in  my 
stories ;  only  you  must  give  me  time — especially  when 
I  am  following  Walter  Scott's  method. 
K  Well,  it  was  to  this  worthy  fellow  Vatrin's  place — 
I  have  borrowed  his  name,  by  the  bye,  to  bestow  it  on 
the  hero  of  one  of  my  romances,  already  published  : 
Catherine  Blum,  to  wit — that  I  now  took  Pritchard, 


CHAPTER   V 
VATRIN  AND  HIS  PIPE 

VATRIN  looked  the  dog  up  and  down  with  a 
depreciatory  look. 

"  H'm  !  another  Englishman  !  "  he  growled. 

But,  before  we  go  further,  you  must  make  Vatrin's 
acquaintance. 

He  is  a  man  of  five  feet  six,  lean,  bony,  sharp- 
featured.  There's  never  a  bramble  bush  his  legs, 
equipped  with  long  leather  gaiters,  won't  stride  through, 
never  a  coppice  of  ten  years'  growth  his  elbows,  as 
sharp  as  a  carpenter's  square,  won't  cleave. 

He  is  taciturn  as  a  rule,  as  men  are  who  are  used 
to  going  the  rounds  at  night.  When  dealing  with 
his  under-keepers,  who  look  upon  him  as  an  infallible 
oracle,  he  limits  himself  to  a  wink  or  a  wave  of  the 
hand — and  they  perfectly  understand. 

One  of  the  ornaments — I  should  rather  say  one  of 
the  features — of  his  face  is  his  pipe.  Whether  it  ever 
had  a  stem  I  cannot  say,  but  I  have  never  seen  it 
under  any  other  aspect  than  as  a  cutty. 

The  reason  is  plain  enough — Vatrin  smokes  incess- 
antly. Now,  to  make  way  through  the  tangled 
undergrowth,  he  must  have  a  pipe  of  a  special  sort,  a 
pipe  that  does  not  project  beyond  the  tip  of  his  nose, 
to  the  end  pipe  and  nose  may  work  together  in  concert 
to  make  a  passage  for  the  face. 

By  dint  of  always  pressing  the  pipe-stem,  such  as  it 

88 


VATRIN  AND  HIS  PIPE  23 

is,  Vatrin's  teeth — those  that  are  so  employed — have 
been  worn  into  a  half-circle  above  and  below.  Thus 
the  stem  is  caught  as  it  were  in  a  vice,  from  which  it 
cannot  move,  once  it  has  been  inserted.  Vatrin's  pipe 
never  quits  his  mouth  save  to  bend  gracefully  over  the 
edge  of  his  bacca  pouch  and  be  filled  from  the  contents, 
like  the  Princess  Nausicaa's  amphora  at  the  fountain 
or  Rachel's  water-jar  at  the  well. 

Once  stuffed  full,  Vatrin's  pipe  at  once  resumes  its 
place  in  the  vice.  Then  the  old  head  keeper  pulls  from 
his  pocket  his  flint,  steel,  and  tinder ;  for  Vatrin  does 
not  hold  with  new-fangled  ideas,  and  speaks  contemptu- 
ously of  chemical  contrivances.  Then  he  lights  his 
pipe,  and  till  it  is  finished  to  the  very  end,  the  smoke 
issues  from  his  mouth  as  regularly  and  almost  as 
abundantly  as  the  steam  from  a  steam-engine. 

"  Vatrin,"  I  told  him  one  day,  "  when  you  can't 
walk  any  more,  you  will  only  have  to  get  a  couple  of 
wheels  fitted,  and  your  head  will  serve  as  locomotive 
to  your  body." 

"  I  shall  always  be  able  to  walk,"  Vatrin  answered, 
in  his  simple  way — and  he  spoke  only  the  truth  ;  the 
Wandering  Jew  was  not  better  provided  in  the  way  of 
walking  capabilities. 

Needless  to  mention  that  Vatrin  replies  to  a  question 
without  requiring  to  displace  his  pipe.  His  pipe  is  a 
sort  of  vegetable  growth  in  his  jaws,  a  black  coral 
grafted  on  to  his  teeth.  The  only  difference  it  makes 
is  that  he  speaks  with  a  sort  of  hissing  articulation 
peculiar  to  himself,  caused  by  the  limited  space  his 
teeth  allow  the  sound  to  issue  by. 

Vatrin  has  three  ways,  three  degrees,  of  paying  his 
respects. 

For  me,  for  instance,  he  contents  himself  with  lifting 
his  hat  and  replacing  it  on  his  head. 


24  MY  PETS 

For  a  superior,  he  removes  his  hat  and  carries  it  in 
his  hand. 

For  a  Prince,  he  removes  his  hat  from  his  head  and 
his  pipe  from  his  mouth. 

To  take  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  is  the  highest  mark 
of  consideration  Vatrin  can  pay. 

But  when  this  is  done,  you  must  not  suppose  he 
relaxes  his  teeth  by  a  single  fraction  of  an  inch.  Just 
the  opposite ;  the  two  jaws,  having  nothing  now  to 
separate  them,  come  together  as  if  moved  by  a  spring, 
and  instead  of  the  hissing  sound  diminishing,  it  is 
increased,  the  sound  now  having  only  the  small  opening 
due  to  the  pipe-stem  to  come  out  at. 

Moreover,  a  fine  sportsman,  whether  after  fur  or 
feathers,  hardly  ever  missing  his  shot,  and  bringing 
down  snipe  as  easily  as  you  and  I  can  a  pheasant ; 
knowing  every  haunt  and  run  and  trace  of  game  ;  telling 
you  at  a  glance  all  particulars  of  the  wild-boar  you  have 
tracked  down,  whether  a  yearling,  a  "  rogue,"  a  solitary, 
or  a  four-year-old ;  distinguishing  the  sow,  and  in- 
forming you,  by  the  impress  of  the  hoof,  whether  she 
is  with  pig  and  how  many  the  litter  will  be ;  in  a  word, 
everything  a  man  can  wish  to  know  before  attacking 
the  quarry. 
^s  Well,  Vatrin  looked  at  Pritchard,  and  said,  "  H'm  ! 
another  EnglisJiman,  eh  ?  " 

Pritchard  was  weighed  in  the  balance  and  found 
wanting.  Vatrin  was  as  little  enamoured  with  modern 
progress  in  the  matter  of  dogs  as  of  the  means  of 
striking  a  light.  The  utmost  concession  he  had  been 
able  to  bring  himself  to  make  was  to  advance  from  the 
old-fashioned  French  brach-hound,  the  dear  old  grey 
and  brown  dog  our  fathers  swore  by,  to  the  double- 
nosed  English  setter  bitch,  black  and  tan. 

But  the  pointer    he  could  not  abide  at  any  price. 


VATRIN  AND  HIS  PIPE  25 

So  he  raised  all  sorts  of  difficulties  about  undertaking 
Pritchard's  education. 

He  even  went  so  far  as  to  offer  to  give  me  a  dog  of 
his  own,  one  of  those  faithful  old  servants  a  sportsman 
only  parts  with  to  his  father  or  his  son. 

I  refused  ;  it  was  Pritchard  I  wanted,  and  not  some 
other  dog. 

Vatrin  heaved  a  sigh,  offered  me  a  glass  of  wine  in 
the  General's  glass,  and  agreed  to  keep  Pritchard. 

This  he  did  accordingly,  but  not  so  successfully  as 
to  prevent  that  animal  being  back  at  the  Villa 
Medicis  within  two  hours. 

I  have  mentioned  the  fact  that  at  this  date  I  had 
not  yet  settled  at  Monte  Cristo,  but  I  forgot  to  say  I 
was  then  living  at  the  Villa  Medicis. 

Pritchard  received  a  warm  welcome — warm  in  one 
sense ;  he  got  a  good  thrashing,  and  Michel,  my 
gardener,  gate-keeper,  and  general  factotum,  was  ordered 
to  take  him  back  to  Vatrin's. 

Michel  did  so,  and  asked  particulars  as  to  how  he 
had  escaped.  Pritchard,  it  seems,  had  been  penned  in 
with  the  rest  of  the  keeper's  dogs,  but  had  jumped  over 
the  palisade,  and  bolted  back  to  the  house  of  his  pre- 
dilection. 

The  railing  in  question  was  four  feet  high,  and 
Vatrin  had  never  known  a  dog  leap  so  high.  But  then 
he  had  never  owned  a  pointer. 

Next  morning,  when  the  front  door  was  opened  at 
the  Villa  Medicis,  Pritchard  was  found  squatted  on  the 
steps. 

He  received  a  second  thrashing,  and  once  again 
Michel  was  ordered  to  take  him  back  to  the  keeper's. 

The  latter  put  an  old  collar  round  the  dog's  neck 
and  chained  him  up,  Michel  returned,  announcing  this 
harsh  but  necessary  precaution.      Vatrin,  for  his  part, 


26  MY  PETS 

sent  word   I   should  see  no  more  of  Pritchard  till  his 
training  was  complete. 

Next  day,  as  I  sat  working  in  a  summer-house 
lying  at  the  very  end  of  the  garden,  I  heard  a  noise  of 
furious  barking. 

It  was  Pritchard  fighting  a  huge  Pyrenean  boar- 
hound,  which  a  neighbour  of  mine,  M.  Challamel,  had 
made  me  a  present  of. 

I  quite  forgot,  by  the  bye,  dear  readers,  to  tell  you 
about  this  animal — the  Pyrenean  hound.  You  must 
allow  me  to  come  back  to  him  in  a  subsequent  chapter. 
Possibly  my  forgetfulness  was  premeditated — a  stroke 
of  art,  in  fact ;  for  it  will  likely  enough  bring  into 
prominence  one  of  my  pet  virtues — my  readiness  to 
forgive  injuries. 

Pritchard,  after  being  rescued  by  Michel  from 
Mouton's  jaws  (the  Pyrenean  hound  was  called  Mouton 
(sheep),  not  because  of  any  mildness  of  disposition — in 
that  case  the  name  would  have  been  singularly  in- 
appropriate— but  on  account  of  his  white  coat,  which 
was  as  fine  and  fleecy  as  wool),  Pritchard,  I  say,  after 
being  rescued  by  Michel  from  Mouton's  tender  mercies, 
got  a  third  thrashing,  and  was  reconducted  for  the 
third  time  to  Vatrin's  domicile. 

Pritchard  had  eaten  his  collar !  Vatrin  often  asked 
himself  the  question  how  the  animal  contrived  to  per- 
form this  remarkable  feat,  but  he  could  never  arrive  at 
a  satisfactory  answer. 

This  time  the  dog  was  shut  up  in  a  sort  of  wood- 
house,  whence  he  could  not  very  well  escape  without 
eating  either  the  wall  or  the  door. 

He  tried  both  these  expedients,  and  presumably 
finding  the  latter  less  indigestible  than  the  former, 
he  ate  the  door,  like  the  father  of  The  Captive  in 
M.  d'Arlincourt's  play — 


VATRIN  AND  HIS  PIPE  27 

"  Mon  pere,  en  ma  prison,  seul  k  manger  m'apporte 
(a  mang^  ma  porte)." 

The  next  day  but  one,  at  dinner-time,  lo !  Pritchard 
marching  into  the  eating-room,  his  magnificent  tail 
waving  in  the  wind,  his  yellow  eyes  crying  with  joy. 

It  was  too  much  :  this  time  he  was  not  beaten,  and 
was  not  sent  back  again. 

Vatrin's  arrival  was  awaited,  to  hold  a  council  of 
war  and  adjudge  Pritchard  a  deserter  for  the  fourth 
time. 


CHAPTER   VI 
PRITCHARD  AND  THE  CUTLET 

NEXT  morning  Vatrin  arrived  with  the  first  streak 
of  dawn. 

"  A  blackguard  !  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  black- 
guard ?  "  he  began  the  instant  he  saw  me. 

The  man  was  so  excited  and  angry  he  clean  forgot 
to  say  good  morning  even. 

"  Vatrin,"  I  said,  "  I  notice  one  thing — your  cutty 
is  shorter  than  it  ever  was  before." 

"  I  should  think  so  indeed ;  that  blackguard  of  a 
Pritchard  puts  me  in  such  a  rage  I've  broken  off  the 
stem  three  times  over  between  my  teeth,  and  my  wife 
has  been  obliged  to  wind  it  round  with  thread.  Else 
he  would  ruin  me  in  pipe-stems,  the  good-for-nothing 
varmint !  " 

"  Do  you  hear,  Pritchard,  what  they're  saying  about 
you  ? "  I  said  to  the  dog,  who  was  sitting  on  his  tail 
in  the  middle  of  the  floor. 

Pritchard  heard  me,  but  presumably  he  failed  to 
understand  the  gravity  of  the  charge,  for  he  only 
looked  at  me  with  his  most  affectionate  leer,  sweeping 
the  boards  meantime  with  his  tail. 

"  Ah  !  "  went  on  Vatrin,  "  if  the  General  had  had  a 
dog  like  him !  " 

"  What  would  he  have  done,  Vatrin  ? "  I  asked. 
"  We  will  do  what  he  would  have  done." 

2S 


PRITCHARD  AND  THE  CUTLET     29 

"  He  would,"  said  Vatrin,  "  he  would  have " 

Then,  stopping  to  think — 

"  He  would  have  done  nothing,"  he  resumed  ;  "  for 
the  General,  look  you,  was  the  most  good-tempered 
man  God  ever  made." 

"  Well,  what  shall  we  do,  Vatrin  ?  " 

"  Devil  fly  away  with  me  if  I  know ! "  said  Vatrin. 
"  If  I  persist  in  keeping  the  blackguard,  he'll  tear  the 
house  down  ;  if  I  give  him  back  to  you  .  .  .  But  there, 
I  don't  mean  to  be  bested  by  a  dog ;  that's  a  bit  too 
humiliating,  mind  you." 

I  saw  he  had  reached  the  last  stage  of  exasperation, 
and  I  thought  it  best  to  say  something  conciliatory. 

"  Listen  here,  Vatrin,"  I  told  him.  "  I'm  going  to  put 
on  my  shooting  boots  and  leggings.  We'll  go  down 
to  Le  Vesinet  and  take  a  turn  round  your  preserves, 
and  see,  the  two  of  us  together,  if  it's  worth  while  taking 
more  trouble  with  the  blackguard,  as  you  call  him." 

"  I  only  call  him  as  he  deserves.  He's  a  brigand,  I 
say  ;  his  name  ought  not  to  be  Pritchard  at  all,  but 
Cartouche  or  Mandrin,  Poulailler  or  Artifaille ! " 

Vatrin  named  the  four  greatest  robbers  whose  ex- 
ploits and  adventures  had  beguiled  his  youthful  leisure. 

"  Pooh  !  pooh  !  "  I  told  Vatrin.  "  Let  us  go  on  calling 
him  Pritchard.  Come,  admit  even  Pritchard  had  his 
merits — indeed  has  them  still." 

"  Very  good  !  "  muttered  Vatrin.  "  I  only  said  that 
because  I  never  knew  Pritchard  in  the  past,  and  I  do 
know  the  other  dogs." 

I  shouted  for  Michel.  "  Michel,"  I  said,  "  tell  them 
to  bring  me  my  shooting  boots  and  leggings.  W^e  are 
going  to  Le  Vesinet  to  see  what  Pritchard  is  good  for." 

"  Well,  well,"  Michel  replied,  "  Monsieur  will  find  he 
won't  have  so  much  fault  to  find  as  he  thinks." 

Michel  had   always  shown  a  sneaking  fondness  for 


30  MY  PETS 

the  dog.  The  real  fact  is  Michel  is  a  bit  of  a  poacher, 
and  Pritchard,  as  we  shall  see  later  on,  was  a  true 
poacher's  dog. 

We  went  down  to  Le  Vesinet,  Michel  holding 
Pritchard  on  a  leash,  Vatrin  and  myself  devising,  not, 
like  Amadis  of  Gaul,  doughty  deeds  of  war  and  love, 
but  deeds  of  sporting  prowess. 

At  the  turn  of  the  hill — 

"  Look,  look,  Michel !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  There's  a  dog 
so  like  Pritchard." 

"  Why,  where  ?  " 

"  Down  yonder,  on  the  bridge,  five  hundred  yards 
ahead  of  us." 

"  It's  very  true,  'pon  my  word,"  said  Vatrin. 

The  resemblance  appeared  so  striking  to  Michel 
that  he  glanced  behind  him. 

Pritchard  was  gone ;  not  a  trace  of  him  to  be  seen. 
The  animal  had  quietly  severed  the  leash  with  his 
cutting  teeth,  and,  making  a  detour,  had  got  in  front 
of  the  party. 

It  was  Pritchard  swaggering  there  on  the  bridge  of 
Le  Pecq,  looking  out  through  the  openings  in  the 
parapet  to  see  the  water  flow  by. 

"  The  skunk  !  "  cried  Michel,  for  even  he  was  dis- 
gusted. Astonishing,  by  the  bye,  what  a  number  of 
strange  names  Pritchard  had  the  faculty  of  calling  to 
the  lips  of  his  two-legged  friends.  "  I  say,  Vatrin,"  I 
observed,  "  if  we  don't  know  what  else  to  make  of 
Pritchard,  we  will  make  him  a  language  master." 

"  You'll  make  a  rogue  and  vagabond  of  him,"  growled 
Vatrin,  "  and  nothing  else,  I  tell  you.  Do  you  see 
where  he's  going  ?      Look,  look  !  " 

"  Vatrin,  do  not  abuse  poor  Pritchard  for  his  good 
qualities  ;  you  will  have  quite  enough  to  do,  I  assure 
you,  if  you  attend  to  his  bad  ones  only.      I'll  tell  you 


■  5    f     t  c  c       «    c  •  o    e      o 


c       .    .       t       cc       e      coc    c  ■ 

c,  c     c    t   •   f     ,c  c  "L      '    'c    t  ' 

C    '      t     <      ''       r     ,'      c      'c'  C      C     ,    c    <      <  .  c' 


;.#5^'^ 


IN    HIS    lAWS    HE    HELD  A    CU  lI.E  1'    HE    HAD    JUST    KILCHED    KKOM    THE    GKIDIRON 


PRITCHARD  AND  THE  CUTLET     31 

where  he  is  going :  he's  going  to  bid  good  morning  to 
my  friend  Correge  and  eat  his  breakfast  for  him,  unless 
the  maid  keeps  a  sharp  look-out." 

And  so  it  turned  out :  another  moment,  and  Pritchard 
darted  out  of  the  station  of  Le  Pecq,  hotly  pursued  by 
a  woman  armed  with  a  broom. 

In  his  jaws  he  held  a  cutlet  he  had  just  filched 
from  the  gridiron. 

"  Monsieur  Dumas,"  the  woman  was  shouting, 
"  Monsieur  Dumas,  stop  your  dog  !  " 

Accordingly  we  blocked  Pritchard's  way. 

"  Stop  him,  stop  him  ! "  vociferated  the  woman. 

Stop  him  indeed  !  As  well  try  to  stop  Boreas  carry- 
ing off  the  nymph  Orithyia.  Pritchard  shot  between 
Michel  and  me  like  a  flash  of  lightning. 

It   seems   the   scoundrel    likes   his    meat    bleeding 


raw." 


"  Mutton  bleating,  veal  bleeding,  pork  rotten,"  quoted 
Vatrin  sententiously,  as  he  gazed  after  Pritchard,  who 
disappeared  round  a  bend  in  the  hill. 

"  Well,"  I  remarked  to  the  keeper,  "  you  don't  know 
yet  whether  he  can  retrieve,  but  at  any  rate  he  can 
deceive." 

By  this  time  the  woman  had  joined  us,  and  wanted 
to  go  on  with  the  pursuit  of  Pritchard. 

"  But,  my  good  woman,"  I  expostulated,  "  you  will 
only  waste  your  time ;  by  the  time  you  catch  up  with 
the  dog,  if  ever  you  do,  the  cutlet  will  be  far  enough, 
I  imagine." 

"  You  think  so  ? "  said  the  woman,  leaning  on  her 
broom  to  recover  breath. 

"  I  don't  think — I'm  sure  of  it." 

"  Then  you  can  boast  of  feeding  a  fine  thief." 

"  This  morning,  my  good  woman,  it's  you  are  feed- 
ing him,  not  I." 


32  MY  PETS 

"Yes,  that's  true,  that's  true  ...  at  least  M. 
Correge  is.  Well,  now,  what  will  M.  Correge  say,  I 
wonder  ?  " 

"  He  will  say  what  Michel  said  just  now :  '  It  seems 
Pritchard  likes  his  meat  bleeding  raw,' " 

"  Yes,  but  he'll  be  anything  but  pleased,  and  I  shall 
have  to  pay  for  it." 

"  Listen  here :  I'm  going  to  tell  him  to  come  and 
have  breakfast  at  the  Villa  Medicis." 

"  All  the  same,  if  he  goes  on  as  he  has  begun,  he'll 
come  to  a  bad  end,  your  dog  will.  ...  I  say  no  more 
— he'll  come  to  a  bad  end  ! " — and  the  dame  pointed 
her  broom  handle  in  the  direction  in  which  Pritchard 
had  vanished. 

So  nothing  was  wanting  to  add  impressiveness  to 
the  witch's  prophecy,  not  even  the  broomstick  ! 


:?^ 


CHAPTER   VII 
A  GLASS  OF  WINE 

THUS  we  stood  on  the  bridge  of  Le  Pecq,  Vatrin, 
Michel,  and  I,  our  eyes  fixed  on  the  particular 
point  of  the  horizon  where  Pritchard  had  disappeared, 
while  the  woman  held  her  broom  pointing  in  the  same 
direction  in  an  attitude  of  malediction.        .    . 

If  a  painter  had  wished  to  draw  the  subject  of 
a  picture  from  the  narrative  I  am  telling  you,  this 
is  precisely  the  point  he  would  have  chosen  for 
illustration. 

In   the  foreground  he  would  have  placed  a  pictur- 
esquely   grouped    quartette ;     in    the   middle    distance, 
Pritchard   in  full  flight,  cutlet  in  mouth — he  would  be 
bound  to  show  the  dog,  to  make  the  scene  intelligible ; 
in  the  background   and  closing  the  horizon,  the  pretty 
town  of  Saint-Germain,  built  semicircularly  on  the  side 
of  the  hill,  and  showing  conspicuously,  as  the  first  object 
to  meet   the  traveller's  eye,  the  famous   Pavilion  where 
Anne  of  Austria  was  brought  to  bed,  and  the  window 
from  which   Louis  XIII,  beaming  with  pride  and  satis- 
faction, showed  his  son,  Louis  XIV,  to  the  people. 
y>  Vatrin  was  the  first  to  recover  the  power  of  speech. 
I      "  Oh,  the  blackguard  !   the  blackguard  !  "  he  groaned. 
"  Well,  my  dear  Vatrin,"  I   told  him,  "  I   think   our 
^ort  is  finished  for  the  day." 

3 


34  MY  PETS 

"  Why  so  ?  "  asked  Michel. 

"  Why,  because  we  were  to  take  Pritchard  with  us, 

and  we  have  lost  Pritchard " 

"  So  Monsieur  doesn't  believe  he'll  come  back 
again  ?  " 

"  Egad,  Michel !  I  only  judge  by  what  I  should  do 
myself.  I  know,  if  I  were  he,  I  should  take  good  care 
not  to." 

"  Monsieur  does  not  know  Pritchard.  He's  a  dog 
devoid  of  shame." 

"Then  you  advise,  Michel ?" 

"  That  we  walk  on  quietly  to  M.  Vatrin's.  There 
we  can  eat  a  mouthful  of  bread  and  cheese  and  drink 
a  glass  of  wine,  and  I  shall  be  surprised  if  in  ten 
minutes  or  so  you  don't  feel  Pritchard's  tail  tickling 
your  legs." 

"  So  that's  it,  eh  ? "  Vatrin  assented  hospitably. 
"  Well,  as  luck  will  have  it,  my  wife  had  a  bit  of  veal 
cooked  yesterday,  and  Pve  got  a  nice  little  Loiret 
wine — it's  my  wife's  native  district,  you  know — I 
think  you'll  like  it  ...  I  remember  you're  fond  of 
veal." 

'*  I  was  so  young  when  you  knew  me  first,  dear  old 
Vatrin,  I  could  not  hide  any  of  my  failings  from  you, 
if  I  wanted  to.      But  about  Correge  ?  " 

"  We'll  pick  him  up  as  we  go  by ;  when  there's 
enough  for  two,  there's  enough  for  three." 

"  Yes,  but  we  shall  be  four." 

"  Well,  and  what  of  the  fowls  ?  do  you  think  they've 
left  off  laying  ?      We'll  have  an  omelette." 

"  Bravo,  Vatrin  !  I'm  in  for  a  good  time,  I  can  see. 
Hurrah  for  the  Loiret !  hurrah  for  the  veal  and  the 
omelette  ! " 

"  To  say  nothing  of  an  excellent  cup  of  coffee. 
Ah  !  you  shall  see  what  good  milk's  like." 


A  GLASS  OF  WINE  35 

"  Good,  Vatrin,  good  ;  so  come  along." 

"  Come  along  by  all  means.  .  .  .  But  confound  that 
blackguard  of  a  dog  !  " 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  The  matter !  Why,  I've  let  my  pipe  out. 
Another  like  him  to  train,  and  upon  my  word  of 
honour  they'd  drive  me  stupid   the  two  of  them  !  " 

Vatrin  pulled  out  his  flint  and  tinder,  laid  on  with 
the  steel,  and  relit  his  pipe. 

Then  we  set  off  again.  We  had  not  gone  twenty 
yards  when  Michel  nudged  me  with  his  elbow.  I 
looked  at  him,  and  he  signed  to  me  to  look  behind 
me. 

Half  Pritchard's  body  was  visible  poking  round  the 
corner  of  the  wall  he  had  disappeared  behind.  He 
was  watching  what  we  were  after,  and  most  likely 
trying  hard  to  guess  our  thoughts. 

"  Pretend  not  to  see  him,"  whispered  Michel,  "  and 
he  will  come  after  us." 

And  so  it  was ;  I  made  as  though  I  could  see 
nothing,  and  Pritchard  presently  came  out  and  fell 
in   behind  us. 

As  we  passed  the  station  of  Le  Vesinet,  I  added 
Correge  to  our  band,  v  ,  . 

Do  you  care,  dear  readers,  to  see  a  fine  swimmer 
and  make  the  acquaintance  of  an  excellent  fellow  ? 
If  so,  take  a  ticket  at  Saint-Germain  for  the  station 
of  Le  Vesinet,  and  on  reaching  that  place  ask  for 
Correge. 

The  excellent  fellow  will,  I  undertake  to  say,  put 
himself  at  your  service  for  anything  you  please. 

As  a  first-rate  swimmer,  he  will  follow  the  course 
of  the  Seine  with  you  as  far  as   Saint-Cloud,  or,  if  you 
insist  a  bit,  all  the  way  to  Paris. 
-A  In  due  course  we  arrived  at  Vatrin's.      Before  going 


36  MY  PETS 

into  the  house,  I  turned  round  and  could  see  Pritchard, 
keeping  away  judiciously  at  a  respectful  distance  — 
two  hundred  yards  or  so,  in  fact. 

I  gave  Michel  a  nod  of  comprehension  and  content- 
ment, and  we  all  went  in. 

"  Wife,"  Vatrin  called  out,  "  breakfast !  " 
Madame  Vatrin    threw  a  look  of   consternation  in 
our  direction. 

"  Oh,  Lord  preserve  us  !  "  she  exclaimed,  in  alarm. 
"  Why,  what  then  ?  "  Vatrin  reassured  her.     "  There 
are  four  of  us ;  well,  four  bottles  of  wine,  an   omelette 
with  twelve  eggs  in  it,  the  bit  of  veal,  and  a  good  cup 
of  coffee  each — that'll  be  all  right  enough." 

Madame  Vatrin  heaved  a  sigh — not  that  the  excellent 
woman  thought  us  too  many,  but  only  because  she  was 
afraid  there  would  not  be  enough  for  us  to  eat. 

"  Come,    come,    we'll    do    the    sighing    to-morrow," 
laughed  Vatrin  ;  "  quick's  the  word.     We  are  in  a  hurry." 
In  a  jiffy  the  table  was  laid  and  the  four  bottles  of 
Loiret  ranged  in  line  on  the  tablecloth. 

The  butter  could  be  heard  beginning  to  sizzle  already 
in  the  frying-pan. 

"  Now,  tell  me  what  you  think  of  my  little  country 
wine,  eh  ?  "  said  Vatrin,  pouring  me  out  a  full  glass. 

"  Vatrin,  Vatrin,"  I  protested,  "  what  the  deuce  are 
you  doing?  "-  •  . 

"  True,  I  forgot  you  were  like  the  General ;  he  never 
drank  anything  but  water.  Sometimes,  as  a  great 
dissipation,  a  glass  of  wine  and  water,  though  once  my 
father  made  him  drink  a  glass  of  neat  wine — look, 
there's  the  very  glass  on  the  mantelshelf.  You've 
never  seen  the  glass,  have  you.  Monsieur  Correge  ? 
Well,  we  call  it  the  General's  glass.  Poor  General  ! " 
Then,  turning  to  me — 
Ah !  if  only   he  could  see  you   writing  the  books 


A  GLASS  OF  WINE  37 

you    do,    and    shooting    as  you   do,  he'd  be  fine  and 
proud." 

It  was  my  turn  now  to  heave  a  sigh. 

"  There,"  said  Vatrin,  "  I've  no  tact  at  all !  though 
I  knew  all  the  time  you're  like  that  when  I  talk  about 
the  General.  But,  hang  it  !  I  can't  help  doing  it.  He 
was  a  man — by  the  Lord  !  .  .  .  There  now,  I've 
broken  my  pipe." 

The  fact  is,  Vatrin,  to  give  greater  emphasis  to  his 
words,  had  wanted  to  clack  his  teeth  together,  and 
this  time  had  snapped  off  his  pipe-stem  close  to  the 
bowl. 

The  latter  had  tumbled  on  the  floor  and  broken 
into  a  thousand  pieces. 

"  Oh  Lord  !  oh  Lord  !  "  cried  Vatrin.  "  Such  a 
nobly  coloured  pipe  as  it  was  !  " 

"  Well,  well,  Vatrin,  you  must  colour  another,  that's 
all." 

"  Anybody  can  see  you're  no  smoker,"  growled 
Vatrin  ;  "  if  you  were,  you'd  know  it  takes  a  pipe  six 
months  to  acquire  a  bit  of  flavour.  You  smoke. 
Monsieur  Correge  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  I  do !  only  I  smoke  cigars." 

"  Ah  !  "  grunted  Vatrin  ;  "  then  you  don't  know 
what  a  pipe  is." 

The  keeper  opened  a  cupboard  and  selected  a  pipe 
almost  as  deeply  coloured  as  the  one  he  had  just  had 
the  misfortune  to  smash. 

"  Good  ! "  I  observed.  "  I  see  you  keep  a  reserve 
stock,  my  dear  fellow." 

"  Oh  yes,"  he  admitted,  "  I  have  ten  or  a  dozen  of 
them  in  different  degrees  of  perfection ;  but  all  the 
same,  that  chap  was  my  favourite." 

"  Pooh  !  say  no  more  about  it,  Vatrin  ;  there  are  some 
calamities  are  incurable,  and  it's  best  to  forget  them." 


38  MY  PETS 

"  Right  you  are.  Now,  taste  that  liquor,  and  just 
hold  up  a  glass  to  the  light  ;  it's  as  clear  as  a  ruby. 
To  your  good  health  !  " 

"  The  same  to  you,  Vatrin  !  "  and  I  drained  off  my 
glass  to  please  him. 


CHAPTER   VIII 
WORSE  AND  WORSE 

I  HAD  barely  emptied  the  glass  when  we  heard  a 
terrible  outcry. 

"  Thief !  robber  !  wretch  !  "  Madame  Vatrin's  voice 
was  screaming  in  the  kitchen. 

«  Fire  !  "  cried  Michel. 

The  word  was  hardly  out  of  his  mouth  before 
Vatrin's  glass  had  been  sent  flying  with  all  the  force 
of  my  arm  muscles. 

A  yell  of  pain  was  heard. 

"  Ah  ha  ! "  laughed  Michel.  "  Monsieur  hasn't 
missed  this  time,  anyway." 

"  What  is  it  now  ?  "  asked  Correge. 

"  I  wager  it's  that  blackguard  of  a  Pritchard  again," 
growled  Vatrin. 

"  Wager  away,  Vatrin  ;  you'll  win  your  bet,"  I  told 
him,  darting  out  into  the  yard  as  I  spoke. 

"If  only  it  isn't  the  veal  !  "  cried  Vatrin,  turning  pale. 

"  That's  just  what  it  is,"  announced  Madame  Vatrin, 
appearing  in  the  doorway  ;  "  I  had  just  put  it  on  the 
window-ledge,  and  that  brute  of  a  dog  whipped  it  off." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  coming  in  again  with  the  veal  in  my 
hand,  "  I  have  recovered  it  for  you." 

"  So  it  was  at  Pritchard  you  threw  the  glass  ?  " 

"  That's  so,"  said  Michel, "  and  the  glass  isn't  broken  ! 
Well,  sir,  I  call  that  a  fine  bit  of  jugglery." 

39 


40  MY  PETS 

The  glass  had  caught  the  dog  just  in  the  bend 
of  the  shoulder,  and  dropped  back  on  the  grass 
unbroken. 

But  the  blow  had  been  sharp  enough  to  draw  a 
yelp  from  Pritchard.  To  utter  this,  the  dog  had  been 
obliged  to  unclose  his  jaws,  and  in  doing  so  he  had  let 
go  the  joint  of  veal. 

It  had  fallen  on  the  clean  grass,  and  I  had  picked  it 
up  and  carried  it  within  doors. 

"  Come,  come,"  I  said,  "  be  comforted,  Madame 
Vatrin.     We  shall  breakfast  all  right " 

I  was  going  to  add,  like  Ajax,  "  in  defiance  of  the 
gods ! "  but  thinking  the  expression  a  trifle  high- 
falutin,  "  in  defiance  of  Pritchard,"  I  said  instead. 

"  What !  "  cried  Madame  Vatrin,  "  you  are  going  to 
eat  that  veal  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  so  indeed  !  "  replied  Michel.  "  It's 
only  a  question  of  cutting  away  the  place  where  the 
teeth  went  in  ;  there's  nothing  more  wholesome  than 
a  dog's  mouth." 

"  That's  true  enough !  "  assented  Vatrin. 

"  True !  of  course  it's  true.  Why,  if  you  get  hurt, 
sir,  by  any  chance,  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  let  a  dog 
lick  your  wound.  There's  never  a  plaster  in  the  world 
so  good  as  a  dog's  tongue." 

"  Unless  he's  a  mad  dog." 

"  Oh  !  ah  !  that's  a  different  matter.  But  if  ever 
Monsieur  zvas  bitten  by  a  mad  dog,  he  ought  to  take 
the  hind  leg  of  a  frog,  the  liver  of  a  rat,  the  tongue " 

"  Good,  Michel,  good !  If  ever  I  am  bitten,  I 
promise  you  I  will  use  your  recipe."    .  , 

"  It's  the  same  if  Monsieur  was  ever  stung  by  a 
viper.  .  .  .  Have  you  ever  seen  any,  Vatrin,  in  the 
forest  of  Le  V^sinet  ?  " 

"  No,  never." 


WORSE  AND  WORSE  41 

"  So  much  the  worse  ;  because,  if  ever  you  are  stung 

by  a  viper,  you  have  only " 

I  broke  in — 

"  Only  to  rub  the  wound  with  alkali  and  drink  five 
or  six  drops  of  the  same  mixed  with  water." 

"  Yes  ;  and  supposing  Monsieur  is  three  or  four 
leagues  from  a  town,  where  is  he  going  to  procure 
alkali  ?  "  observed  Michel. 

"  Yes  !  "  said  Correge,  "  where  will  you  get  any  ? " 

"  Quite  true,"  I  admitted,  hanging  my  head,  crushed 
beneath  the  weight  of  argument,  "  I  don't  know  where 
I  could  get  any." 

"  Then  what  would  Monsieur  do  ?  " 

"  I  should  do  like  the  ancient  PsylH  of  Libya,  I 
should  begin   by  sucking  the  place." 

"  And  supposing  the  place  were  somewhere 
Monsieur  could  not  suck — on  the  elbow,  for  in- 
stance ? " 

I  felt  more  crushed  than  ever. 

"  Well,  Monsieur  would  only  have  to  catch  the 
viper,  break  in  its  head,  open  its  belly,  take  out  its 
gall-bladder,  and  rub  the  place  with  it.  In  two  hours 
he  would  be  well." 

"  You  are  sure  of  that,  Michel  ?  " 

"Sure?  I  should  think  I  was  sure.  It  was  M. 
Isidore  Geoffroy  Saint-Hilaire  told  me,  the  last  time  I 
went  to  the  Jardin  des  Plantes  for  eggs.  You  won't 
tell  me  he's  not  an  authority,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"Oh  no,  Michel,  you  need  not  fear;  I  shall  never 
tell  you  anything  of  the  sort." 

Michel  has  a  whole  host  of  recipes,  each  more  effica- 
cious than  the  other,  which  he  borrows  from  different 
sources.  I  ought  to  say  that  all  these  sources  are  not 
as  trustworthy  as  the  one  he  had  just  quoted.  •   .   ■ 

"  There ! "  said  Correge  at  this  moment, — which  meant 


42  MY  PETS 

the  veal  had  been  operated  on  according  to  his  method, 
and  displayed  on  every  surface  a  pink  and  appetising 
flesh  from  which  all  trace  of  the  dog's  teeth  had 
disappeared. 

After  the  veal  came  the  omelette ;  a  thick  omelette, 
of  a  fine  deep  orange,  rather  creamy.      ,    , 

Yes,  creamy ;  that  is  the  proper  technical  word,  as 
my  fair  readers  will  be  aware,  if  they  happen  to  possess 
a  cook  who  can  make  omelettes — which  I  very  much 
doubt.  It's  not  my  word,  and  Bescherelle's  Dictionary, 
which  contains  ten  thousand  words  more  than  the 
Dictionnaire  de  I'Acad^mie,  gives  this  and  no  other. 

Ah  !  I  see  you  are  annoyed  because  I  doubt  your 
having  a  cook  who  can  turn  out  an  omelette.  You 
say  you  have  a  cordon  bleu !  Well,  that  only  confirms 
me  in  my  scepticism.  An  omelette  is  a  housewife's 
dish,  what  a  farmer's  wife  or  peasant  woman  is  the  best 
hand  at,  not  a  professed  cook  !  An  omelette  and  a 
chicken  stew,  those  are  the  two  things  I  set  a  new  cook, 
male  or  female,  to  work  upon  when  I  want  to  test 
their  capabilities. 

"  But,  after  all,  who  ever  eats  omelettes  ?  " 

Oh !  but  you  make  a  huge  mistake,  my  fair  readers  ! 
Open  Brillat-Savarin  at  the  word  omelette,  and  read 
the  paragraph  headed  Omelette  d  laitance  de  carpe 
(carp's  roe  omelette). 

An  omelette !  Ask  the  accomplished  gourmet  what 
he  thinks  of  an  omelette. 

I  would  have  taken  my  teacher  of  the  violin  ten 
leagues  any  day  to  eat  a  crayfish  omelette  and  a  bacon 
salad. 

"  What !   you  once  kept  a  violin  master  ?  " 

"  What !  once  kept  a  violin  master  ?  .  .  .  I  should 
think  I  did — for  three  years;  see  my  Memoirs /^.sj'm." 

"  But  I  never  heard  say  you  played  the  violin." 


WORSE  AND  WORSE  43 

"  No  more  I  do ;  but  that  does  not  prevent  my 
having  learnt  to  play.      See  my  Memoirs  again." 

"  You  should  have  stuck  to  it." 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  a  M.  Ingres  or  a  Raphael  to  show 
such  desperate  perseverance." 

However,  to  come  back  to  Madame  Vatrin's 
omelette — this  was  first-rate.  (/We  called  in  the  ex- 
cellent woman  to  compliment  her  on  her  skill ;  but 
she  listened  to  us  in  an  absent-minded  way,  peering 
about  her  all  the  time. 

"  What  are  you  looking  for  ?  "  Vatrin  asked  her. 

"  What  am   I   looking  for  ?      Why,  I'm  looking  for, 

for "  stammered   Madame  Vatrin.     "  Well,  there's 

no  accounting  for  it !  " 

"  Out  with  it ;  what  are  you  looking  for  ?  " 

"  I'm  looking  for — why,  I  saw  it,  I  had  it  in  my 
hand,  not  ten  minutes  ago." 

"  Saw  what  ?  had  what  in  your  hand  ?  Come,  tell 
us." 

"  Why,  I  had  only  just  filled  it  with  sugar." 

"  Oh,  it's  your  sugar-basin  you  have  lost  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  sugar-basin." 

"  Well,  well !  "  said  Correge  ;  "  the  mice  are  so  plenty 
this  year." 

"  It's  not  good  for  them,  all  the  same — for  mice,  I 
mean — to  eat  sugar,"  observed  Michel. 

"  Why,  of  course ;  Monsieur  is  aware  that  if  you 
feed  a  mouse  on  sugar,  it  goes  blind." 

"  Yes,  Michel,  I  know  that.  But  you  cannot  hold 
the  mice  to  blame  in  this  case ;  supposing  they  have 
eaten  the  sugar,  they  could  hardly  have  eaten  the 
sugar-basin." 

"  One  never  knows,"  said  Correge  sapiently. 

"  What  was  the  sugar-basin  made  of?  "  asked  Michel. 

"  Porcelain,"      Madame       Vatrin      informed      him, 


44  MY  PETS 

"  porcelain !  a  superb  sugar-basin  I  won  at  the 
Foire  des  Loges  at  Saint-Germain." 

"  When  ?  " 

"  Only  last  year." 

"  Look  here,  Madame  Vatrin,"  said  Correge  :  "  I  won 
another  piece  of  crockery  myself.  Say  the  word,  and 
I'll  make  you  a  present  of  it,  to  take  the  place  of  your 
sugar-basin.      It's  never  been  used." 

"  That's  all  very  well,"  said  Madame  Vatrin ;  "  but 
all  the  same,  I  wonder  what  can  have  become  of  my 
sugar-basin." 

"  Where  did  you  put  it  down  ? "  said  Vatrin. 

"  I  put  it  on  the  window-shelf." 

"  Ah  ! "  exclaimed  Michel,  as  if  struck  by  a  sudden 
revelation — and  he  strode  out  of  the  room. 

Five  minutes  afterwards  he  returned,  driving 
Pritchard  in  front  of  him  ;  the  dog  had  the  sugar-basin 
on  his  nose  like  a  muzzle. 

"  Here's  a  sinner  whose  sin  has  found  him  out ! "  he 
observed  scathingly. 

"  What !  it  was  Pritchard  went  off  with  the  sugar- 
basin  ?  " 

"  You  see  it  was ;  hasn't  he  got  it  with  him  now  ? 
Oh,  he's  not  the  dog  to  be  satisfied  with  a  lump  of 
sugar,  not  he ;  he  must  have  the  sugar-basin  into  the 
bargain." 

"  You  tied  the  thing  on  to  his  nose.      I  see,  I  see " 

"  Not  I  ;  it  sticks  on  by  itself." 

"By  itself!" 

"  Yes  ;  look,  and  you  will  see." 

"  He  has  a  magnet  at  the  end  of  his  snout,  then,  the 
villain  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  nonsense ;  this  is  the  explanation :  he 
poked  his  nose  into  the  sugar-basin,  which  is  wider  at 
the  bottom  than  the  top,  and  then  crammed  his  mouth 


THE    DOG    HAD   THE   SUCIAK-BASI.N    (JN    HIS    NOSE    LIKE    A    MfZZLE 


WORSE  AND  WORSE  45 

with  sugar.  I  came  up  at  that  moment ;  he  tried  to 
shut  his  jaws,  but  the  lumps  of  sugar  prevented  him  ; 
he  tried  to  withdraw  his  nose,  but  found  this  impossible 
with  the  jaws  wide  open.  M.  Pritchard  was  caught  in 
a  trap  ;  and  there  he's  got  to  stop  till  the  sugar  melts." 

"  Well,  well,  however  it  happened,  Monsieur  Dumas, 
the  fact  remains  you  have  a  dreadful  dog  there,  and 
whoever  gave  it  you  would  have  done  better  to  keep 
the  beast." 

"  Let  me  just  tell  you  one  thing,  Madame  Vatrin," 
I  replied,  "  and  that  is — I  begin  to  think  the  same  as 
you  do  ! " 

"  Well,  it's  all  most  amazing,"  struck  in  Vatrin ; 
"and  do  you  know,  I'm  getting  to  like  the  animal;  I 
have  a  notion  we  shall  make  something  of  him  yet." 

"  And  you're  in  the  right,  old  man,"  said  Correge ; 
"  all  great  men  have  had  great  faults,  and  once  they've 
left  school,  it's  not  prizes  of  virtue  have  made  them 
famous." 

Meantime  the  sugar  had  melted,  and,  as  Michel 
had  foretold,  Pritchard  got  rid  of  his  muzzle  without 
extraneous  assistance. 

Only,  to  guard  against  further  accidents,  Michel 
now  knotted  one  end  of  his  handkerchief  round  the 
dog's  neck  and  wound  the  other  round  his  hand. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Vatrin,  "  here's  more  sugar ;  let's 
drink  our  coffee,  and  be  off  to  see  what  the  scamp 
can  do." 

So  we  finished  our  coffee,  which  was  even  better 
than  Vatrin  had  led  us  to  expect,  and  repeated  after 
him,  "  Let's  be  off  then,  and  see  what  the  scamp 
can  do ! " 


CHAPTER   IX 
CUNNING  BETTER  THAN  BRUTE  FORCE 

BUT,  before  setting  out,  Vatrin  took  the  precaution 
of  substituting  a  spiked  collar  for  Michel's 
handkerchief. 

Does  the  reader  know  precisely  what  a  spiked 
collar  implies  ?  My  male  readers  do  not,  I  feel  sure, 
need  information  on  the  point ;  it  is  to  the  fairer 
members  of  my  audience  I  address  my  remarks. 

Have  you  ever  noticed,  ladies,  a  butcher's  dog,  some 
ill-conditioned,  quarrelsome  brute,  wearing  a  collar 
provided  with  spikes  sticking  outwards,  the  object 
being  to  prevent  any  dog  that  attacks  the  animal  so 
defended  from  getting  a  grip  with  its  teeth  in  the 
skin  of  the  neck  ? 

Well,  this  is  a  defensive  collar.  To  make  a  de- 
fensive collar  into  the  sort  of  collar  we  are  speaking 
of,  you  have  only  to  turn  it  the  other  way  about,  so 
as  to  bring  the  pointed  nails  inside. 

To  it  the  dog-breaker  fastens  a  cord,  and  so  keeps 
the  animal  always  at  a  distance  of  twenty  yards  or 
so.      This  is  what  they  call  running  under  the  guns. 

So  long  as  the  cord  is  slack,  the  points  of  the  spikes 
merely  tickle  the  dog's  neck  pleasantly. 

But,  let  the  animal  get  out  of  control  and  make  a 
bolt,  then  the  cord  is  suddenly  tautened,  and  the  nails 
digging  instantly  into  the  flesh,  the  creature  stops  at 

46 


CUNNING  BETTER  THAN  FORCE     47 

once,  giving  a   more  or  less  agonised  yelp  according 
as  the  points  penetrate  more  or  less  deeply. 

When  the  animal  has  been  thus  pulled  up  a  hundred 
times  or  so,  it  is  very  seldom  he  fails  to  gather  that 
the  discipline  is  intended  to  stop  him  from  pointing. 

When  this  severe  training  is  relaxed,  it  is  done 
gradually,  little  by  little.  To  begin  with,  the  cord  is 
allowed  to  trail  behind  with  a  stick,  eight  or  ten  inches 
long,  tied  to  it  crosswise.  The  stick,  as  it  drags 
through  the  bushes,  the  clover,  and  lucerne,  checks  the 
dog's  progress  to  a  certain  extent,  and  brings  it  home 
to  his  intelligence  that  he  is  doing  wrong. 

Then  the  cord  is  left  to  drag  alone,  without  any 
stick  attached.  This  is  the  second  stage  ;  the  obstacle 
being  less,  the  pain  the  animal  feels  is  less  intense. 

Next,  the  cord  is  removed,  and  only  the  collar  left 
on.  This  just  tickles  the  dog's  neck  pleasantly,  as  we 
said  before,  reminding  him  that  the  spikes  are  still 
there — that  his  Damocles'  sword  still  hangs  over 
him. 

Last  of  all,  the  collar  is  taken  off  altogether — 
though  of  course  it  may  be  put  on  again  in  great 
emergencies.      The  training  is  practically  finished. 

This  was  the  dreadful  ordeal  Pritchard  was  now  to 
undergo. 

Think  what  a  dire  humiliation  for  a  pointer,  accus- 
tomed to  beat  up  the  game  at  three  hundred  yards 
away  from  his  master,  to  be  forced  to  run  under  the 
very  guns  ! 

I  felt  convinced  in  my  inmost  heart  that  Pritchard 
would  never,  never  submit. 

Vatrin  declared  he  had  broken  the  most  recalcitrant 
in  before  now. 

Michel  contented  himself  with  the  judicious  ob- 
servation, "  Well,  we  shall  see." 


48  MY  PETS 

And  we  soon  did  see.  At  the  first  tree  he  came 
to,  Pritchard  galloped  three  times  round  the  trunk, 
and  was  pulled  up  short. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  brute  ?  "  growled  Vatrin, 
and  making  as  many  turns  round  the  stem,  in  the 
reverse  direction,  as  the  dog  had  made,  he  released 
the  captive. 

Then  we  set  off  again.  At  the  second  tree  he  came 
across  Pritchard  repeated  the  same  performance,  and 
once  more  found  himself  tied  fast. 

Only,  instead  of  taking  his  three  turns  to  the  right, 
the  same  as  the  first  time,  Pritchard  had  now  gone 
round  by  the  left. 

An  instructor  in  the  National  Guard  could  not  have 
got  an  order  more  exactly  and  accurately  executed. 

"  Double-dyed  brute  !  "  cried  Vatrin. 

And  he  too  repeated  his  three  turns  round  this 
second  tree,  of  course  going  in  the  reverse  direction, 
and  again  set  the  dog  free. 

At  the  third  tree  he  encountered,  Pritchard  followed 
the  same  procedure. 

"  Trebly  dyed  brute  !  "   bellowed  Vatrin. 

Michel  burst  out  laughing. 

"  Well,  what  now  ?  "  asked  Vatrin  crossly. 

"  Why,  can't  you  see  he's  doing  it  on  purpose  ? " 
grinned  Michel. 

I  was  beginning  to  share  the  latter's  opinion. 

"  What !  does  it  on  purpose  ?  " — and  Vatrin  looked 
at  me. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  I  said,  "  I  am  afraid  it's  so ! " 

"  The  cunning  villain  !  "  shouted  Vatrin.  "  Well, 
you  shall  see !  " — and  he  pulled  his  whip  out  of  his 
pocket. 

Pritchard  lay  down  in  an  attitude  of  resignation,  like 
a  Russian  serf  condemned  to  the  knout. 


CUNNING  BETTER  THAN  FORCE     49 

"  What's  to  be  done  ?  Thrash  him  to  ribbons,  the 
blackguard  ?  " 

"  No,  Vatrin,  no  ;  it  would  be  no  good,"  I  protested. 

"But    there,    there,    there "     grumbled     Vatrin, 

thoroughly  out  of  temper. 

"  Why,  then,  we  must  just  learn  the  animal  to  follow 
his  instinct ;  you  will  never  give  a  pointer  the  qualities 
of  a  brach-dog." 

"  Then  you  say,  let  him  do  as  he  likes  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that's  what  I  advise,  Vatrin." 

"  Off  with  you  !  tut,  gallop,  you  scoundrel  !  "  cried 
Vatrin,  removing  the  cord. 

No  sooner  did  Pritchard  feel  himself  free  than, 
without  troubling  his  head  about  any  tree  whatever, 
he  disappeared  in  the  undergrowth,  nose  down  and 
bushy  tail  waving  in  the  wind. 

"  Well,  he's  gone  now,  the  scamp,  anyway,"  said  I. 

"  Better  go  look  for  him,"  said  Michel  cheerfully. 

"  Look  for  him,  well !  "  grunted  Vatrin,  shaking  his 
head  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  is  far  from  convinced 
of  the  verity  of  the  Biblical  maxim,  "  Search  and  ye 
shall  find  ! " 

Nevertheless  we  set  out  on  our  search  for  the  errant 
Pritchard. 


CHAPTER   X 

A  CAPACIOUS  POCKET 

THERE  was  nothing  better  to  be  done  indeed 
than  to  follow  Michel's  advice  and  go  look  for 
Master  Pritchard. 

This  we  did,  calling  and  whistling  again  and  again 
after  the  vagabond,  as  the  worthy  keeper  called  him. 
The  search  lasted  a  good  half-hour,  Pritchard  taking 
good  care  to  make  no  sort  of  reply  to  our  appeals. 

At  last  Michel,  who  was  walking  in  the  line  thirty 
yards  or  so  from  me,  stopped  suddenly. 

"  Sir  !  "  he  called  out,  "  sir  !  " 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter,  Michel  ?  " 

"  Come  and  see,  sir ;  oh,  do  come  and  look  !  " 

I  was  not  bound,  I  suppose,  by  the  same  obligations 
as  Pritchard  to  muteness  and  immobility,  so  I  made  no 
bones  about  answering  Michel's  cry  and  making  in  his 
direction. 

"  Well,"  I  asked,  "  what's  wrong  now  ?  " 

"  Nothing ;  only  look,  look  !  " — and  he  pointed  in 
front  of  him. 

I  turned  my  eyes  in  the  direction  indicated,  and 
beheld  Pritchard  standing  as  stock-still  as  the  celebrated 
hound  of  Cephalus  I  had  the  honour  to  tell  you  about 
a  little  above. 

Head,  back,  and  tail  made  a  straight  line,  perfectly 
straight  and  perfectly  rigid. 

50 


A  CAPACIOUS  POCKET  51 

"  Vatrin,"  I  said  in  my  turn, "  come  here  " — and  on  his 
reaching  my  side,  I  showed  him  Pritchard. 

"  Good  !  "  said  he.     "  I  believe  he's  pointing." 

"  Why,  of  course  he  is  ! "  said  Michel. 

"  What  is  he  pointing  at  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Come  along,  and  let's  see,"  was  Vatrin's  answer. 

We  crept  nearer,  and  Vatrin  circled  as  many  times 
round  Pritchard  as  Pritchard  had  done  about  the  trees. 
But  the  animal  never  stirred. 

"  All  the  same,"  said  Vatrin,  "  he  can  point." 

Then,  waving  me  forward,  "  Come  on,  sir,"  he 
said. 

"  Look  there,"  he  went  on,  when  I  was  beside  him. 
"  Look  there  ...  do  you  see  ?  " 

"  No,  I  can't  see  anything." 

"  What !  you  don't  see  a  rabbit  in  its  form  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  of  course  I  do." 

"  Lord  !  "  cried  Vatrin  ;  "  if  I  had  my  stick,  I  could 
knock  the  fellow  over,  and  he'd  make  you  a  nice  rabbit 
ragout." 

"  Oh,"  said  Michel,  "  don't  let  that  stop  you.  Cut 
one  ;  cut  yourself  a  stick." 

"  Good  !  And  while  I'm  doing  it,  Pritchard  will  run 
in." 

"  No  fear  of  that ;  I'll  answer  for  him — unless  the 
rabbit  bolts  in  the  meantime." 

"  I'll  go  and  cut  one,"  declared  Vatrin,  "  if  only  to 
see  what'll  happen  ; "  and  he  set  to  work. 

Pritchard  never  stirred  an  inch  ;  only  from  time  to 
time  he  turned  on  us  his  yellow  eye,  which  glittered 
like  a  topaz. 

"Patience,  patience,"  Michel  would  tell  him;  "you 
can  see  for  yourself  M.  Vatrin  is  cutting  a  stick." 

And  Pritchard,  cocking  an  eye  at  Vatrin,  seemed 
quite  to  understand,  and  bringing  back   his  head  into 


52  MY  PETS 

the  straight  line,  he  would  fall  back  into  complete 
immobility. 

Presently,  when  Vatrin  had  cut  a  stout  stick — 

"  Ah  ! "  said  Michel,  "  you  have  time  enough  to  trim 
it  too  " — and  Vatrin  proceeded  to  cut  away  the  twigs 
and  branches. 

Then,  the  stick  being  duly  trimmed  and  smoothed, 
he  crept  up  cautiously,  measured  the  distance  with  his 
eye,  and  hit  down  hard  into  the  tuft  of  grass  in  which 
the  rabbit  was  crouching. 

Next  instant  the  poor  little  creature's  white  belly 
could  be  seen,  and  its  four  paws  beating  the  air. 

Pritchard  wanted  to  pounce  on  the  rabbit ;  but 
Vatrin  was  there,  and  after  a  moment's  scrimmage  the 
law  carried  the  day. 

"  Put  that  chap  in  your  pocket,  Michel ;  there's  the 
ragout  we  were  promised  all  right." 

"  There's  a  fine  long  back  for  you,"  exclaimed  Michel, 
as  he  pouched  the  rabbit  between  the  lining  and 
the  cloth  of  his  coat.  God  only  knows  how  many  of 
the  same  sort  the  same  pocket  had  held  at  different 
times  ! 

Vatrin  looked  round  for  Pritchard  to  give  the  dog 
a  word  of  praise ;  but  lo  !   Pritchard  had  vanished. 

"  Where  the  devil  is  the  dog  now  ? "  snapped 
Vatrin. 

"  Where  is  he  ?  "  said  Michel.  "  That's  easy  guessed  : 
he's  off  after  another." 

It  was  obviously  true ;  and  we  set  out  again  in 
search  of  our  friend. 

In  ten  minutes  or  so  we  came  across  him. 

"Stands  like  a  rock,  eh?"  said  Michel;  "just  look 
at  him  ! " 

In  fact,  Pritchard  was  again  pointing  in  the  same 
thoroughly  conscientious  way  as  before. 


A  CAPACIOUS  POCKET  53 

Vatrin  crept  up  again,  and — 

"  Here's  the  bunny  !  "  he  whispered. 

"  Well,  Vatrin,  this  time  you've  got  your  stick  all 
ready  cut." 

The  stick  rose  in  the  air  and,  swinging  down  again 
almost  instantaneously,  whistled  through  a  clump  of 
bramble. 

Then  Vatrin  plunged  his  hand  into  the  bush  and 
pulled  out  a  second  rabbit  by  the  ears. 

"  There,  Michel,"  he  laughed ;  "  clap  that  in  your  other 
pocket." 

Michel  did  not  require  to  be  told  twice;  only  he 
put  it  in  the  same  pocket. 

"  Well,  well,  Michel ;  and  why  not  in  the  other  one, 
as  Vatrin  said  ?  " 

"  Ah,  but,  sir,"  the  fellow  explained,  "  I  can  take 
five  of  'em  in  each." 

"  Michel,  Michel,  you  must  not  say  things  like  that 
before  a  public  functionary." 

Then,  turning  to  Vatrin — 

"  Come,  Vatrin,  the  number  three  is  pleasing  to  the 
gods." 

"  Maybe,"  said  Vatrin,  "  but  M.  Guerin  may  not  be 
equally  well  pleased."  M.  Guerin,  we  should  explain, 
was  the  Head  Inspector. 

"  Besides,  it's  all  no  good ;  you  know  Pritchard's 
little  ways." 

"As  well  as  if  I'd  made  the  dog  myself,"  said 
Vatrin  emphatically. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  say  of  him  ?  " 

"  I  say  this  :  if  only  he'd  run  under  the  guns,  he'd 
be  a  first-rate  sporting  dog.  However,  he's  a  pointer, 
and  point  he  can  !  " 

"  Where  is  he  got  to  now  ?  "  I  said  to  Michel. 

"  Oh,  he'll  have  found  a  third  rabbit  by  this  time." 


54  MY  PETS 

So  we  searched  again,  and,  as  he  had  supposed,  we 
found  Pritchard  pointing  as  before. 

«  Ton  honour,"  said  Vatrin  thoughtfully,  "  I  should 
like  to  know,  as  a  matter  of  curiosity,  how  long  he'll 
stay  there  " — and  the  keeper  pulled  out  his  watch. 

"  Well,  Vatrin,"  I  told  him,  "  you  are  here  in  the 
performance  of  your  official  duties,  and  can  afford  to 
satisfy  your  fancy ;  but  I  am  expecting  company,  so 
please  excuse  me  if  I  make  for  home." 

"  Very  well,  sir  ;  go  by  all  means." 

So  Michel  and  myself  set  off  homewards  for  the 
Villa  Medicis. 

Turning  round  for  a  last  look,  I  saw  Vatrin  slipping 
a  spiked  collar  round  Pritchard's  neck  without  the 
latter  seeming  so  much  as  to  notice  what  the  keeper 
was  about. 

An  hour  later  Vatrin  walked  into  my  house. 

"  Seven-and-twenty  minutes,"  he  called  out  the 
instant  he  caught  sight  of  me,  "  and  if  the  rabbit 
hadn't  bolted,  the  dog  would  be  there  still." 

"  So  then,  Vatrin,  what  do  you  say  of  him  ?  " 

"  Egad,  I  say  he  points  first-rate." 

"  Yes,  we  know  that ;  but  what  is  there  left  for  you 
to  teach  him  ?  " 

"  Only  one  thing,  which  you'll  teach  him  as  well  as 
I  can — a  mere  bagatelle — to  retrieve.  You  can  teach 
that  as  a  game,  without  your  needing  me  at  all." 

"  You  hear  that,  Michel  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sir,"  said  Michel,  "  it's  done." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  '  it's  done  '  ?  " 

"  Why,  he  retrieves  like  an  angel." 

This  did  not  give  any  very  precise  notion  of  the 
way  Pritchard  retrieved.  But  Michel  threw  the  dog 
his  handkerchief,  and  Pritchard  duly  brought  it  back 
to  its  owner. 


A  CAPACIOUS  POCKET  55 

Then  Michel  tossed  him  one  of  Vatrin's  two  rabbits, 
and  Pritchard  carried  it  back  again. 

Finally,  Michel  went  to  the  poultry-run,  picked  up 
an  egg,  and  laid  it  on  the  ground. 

Pritchard  retrieved  the  egg  just  as  successfully  as 
he  had  the  rabbit  and  the  handkerchief. 

"  Why,  the  beast,"  Vatrin  declared,  "  knows  every- 
thing he  can  know ;  all  he  wants  now  is  practice." 

"  Well,  Vatrin,  next  2nd  of  September  I  will  let  you 
have  news  of  Pritchard." 

"  And  just  think,"  sighed  the  keeper,  "  that  if  a 
ruffian  like  that  would  only  consent  to  run  under  the 
guns,  he'd  be  worth  five  hundred  francs  if  he's  worth 
a  penny ! " 

"  True  for  you,  Vatrin,"  I  told  him  ;  "  but  you  must 
just  make  up  your  mind  to  bear  it.  He  never  will 
consent." 

At  that  moment  the  guests  I  expected  arrived,  and 
as  one  of  Vatrin's  most  conspicuous  qualities  is  discre- 
tion, he  withdrew,  and  so  put  an  end  to  our  conver- 
sation, interesting  as  it  was. 


CHAPTER   XI 

MOUTON 

WHO  were  these  visitors  whose  arrival  interrupted 
the  weighty  discussion  Michel,  Vatrin,  and 
myself  were  holding  with  regard  to  Pritchard  ? 

They  included :  Maquet,  who  had  just  added  to 
the  denizens  of  my  monkey-house  the  Last  of  the  Laid- 
manoirs^  and  in  collaboration  with  whom  I  was  then 
at  work  on  the  Chevalier  de  Maison-Rouge ; 

Fiennes,  one  of  the  best-hearted  fellows  I  know — 
when  he  does  not  think  himself  bound  to  uphold  some 
opinion  in  literary  matters ; 

Atala  Beauchene,  who  played  Anna  Damby  in 
Kean  with  so  much  grace,  and  who  was  presently 
to  play  Genevieve  in  Les  Girondins  with  so  much 
feeling ; 

And,  to  complete  the  party,  my  son. 

I  welcomed  my  guests,  and  put  the  house  at  their 
disposition  from  cellar  to  garret — the  stable  with  its 
four  horses,  the  coach-house  with  its  three  carriages, 
the  garden  and  its  hen-run,  monkey-house,  aviary, 
conservatory,  game  of  box-quoits,  to  say  nothing  of  its 
flower-beds. 

All  I  kept  for  my  exclusive  use  was  a  little  summer- 
house  with  coloured-glass  windows,  against  the  wall  of 
which  1  had  fixed  a  table,  and  which  in  summer  I 
made  my  writing-room. 

66 


MOUTON  57 

I  informed  my  guests  that  the  house  contained  a 
new  inmate,  by  name  Mouton  (sheep),  and  warned 
them  not  to  trust  too  implicitly  to  his  name,  as  beyond 
that  I  knew  nothing,  and  was  entirely  ignorant  of  his 
history  and  disposition. 

I  showed  them  where  he  was  squatted  in  one  of  the 
garden-paths,  rolling  his  great  head  about  like  a  Polar 
bear,  while  two  gleaming  eyes  darted  red  fire  like  the 
reflection  of  a  brace  of  carbuncles. 

However,  always  provided  you  did  not  interfere  with 
him,  Mouton  had  always  shown  himself  perfectly  in- 
ofifensive. 

I  commissioned  Alexandre  to  do  the  honours.  For 
myself,  I  had  no  time  for  amusement ;  I  had  my  three 
feuilletons  to  attend  to. 

I  don't  mean  to  say  that  writing  my  stories  does 
not  amuse  me.  Far  from  it ;  but  it  is  not  the  sort  of 
amusement  that  appeals  to  ordinary  mortals. 

The  company  dispersed  about  the  garden,  and  each 
chose  for  himself  what  struck  him  as  most  attractive — 
monkey-house,  aviary,  conservatory,  or  poultry-run. 

I  was  dressed  in  my  shooting  rig,  and  ran  up  to  my 
room  to  dress  myself  at  once  for  company  and  work. 
You  must  know,  reader,  if  you  care  to  know,  that 
winter  and  summer  I  work  without  coat  and  waistcoat, 
in  pantalons  a  pieds,  slippers,  and  shirt-sleeves. 

The  only  difference  the  changing  seasons  bring  with 
them  in  my  costume  is  to  alter  the  material  of  which 
my  trousers  and  shirt  are  made. 

In  winter  my  trousers  are  of  cloth ;  in  summer  of 
dimity.  In  winter  my  shirt  is  of  linen  ;  in  summer  of 
cambric. 

Accordingly  I  reappeared  ten  minutes  later  in  cambric 
shirt  and  d\m\{.y  pantai on  a  pieds. 

"  Why  !  what's  that  thing  ?  "  asked  Atala  Beauchene. 


58  MY  PETS 

"  Oh,  only  a  father  I  have  vowed  shall  wear  virgin 
white  till  he's  of  age  !  "  laughed  Alexandre. 

I  passed  between  a  double  row  of  applauding 
spectators,  and  reached  the  refuge  of  my  working 
arbour. 

I  was  then  at  work  on  Le  Batard  de  Mauleon,  and 
as  my  neighbour  Challamel  had  just  made  me  a  present 
of  Mouton,  at  the  very  time  I  was  starting  on  the 
book,  I  had  the  happy  thought  of  describing  the  animal 
and  making  him  play  a  part  in  my  latest  romance. 

Following  Walter  Scott's  method  again,  I  had 
begun  by  drawing  Mouton's  portrait,  giving  him  the 
name  of  Allan,  and  making  him  the  property  of  Don 
Frederigo,  brother  of  Don  Pedro. 

I  copy  Allan's  description  in  the  book,  which  will 
relieve  me  of  any  necessity  of  delineating  Mouton  more 
particularly :' — 

"  Behind  them  raced  a  dog,  bounding  vigorously 
forward. 

"  He  was  one  of  those  sturdy  yet  slim  hounds  of  the 
Sierra  that  have  a  muzzle  as  pointed  as  a  bear,  an  eye 
as  glittering  as  a  lynx,  limbs  as  sinewy  and  nervous  as 
a  stag. 

"  His  body  was  covered  with  a  complete  coat  of 
long,  silky  hair  that  gleamed  with  silvery  reflections  in 
the  sun. 

"  Round  his  neck  was  a  heavy  gold  collar  set  with 
rubies  and  carrying  a  little  bell  of  the  same  precious 
metal. 

"  Joy  was  expressed  in  his  every  bound,  and  these 
bounds  were  directed  to  two  objects — one  visible,  one 
still  hidden.  The  former  was  a  snow-white  charger, 
with  heavy  housings  of  purple  and  brocade,  which 
replied  to  the  dog's  advances  with  a  merry  neigh ;  the 
latter  was  no  doubt  some  noble  Knight  still  detained 


MOUTON  59 

under  the  vaulted  entrance,  into  which  the  hound  kept 
dashing  impatiently,  only  to  emerge  again  leaping  and 
frolicking  a  few  moments  later. 

"  Finally,  the  man  for  whom  the  horse  neighed,  and 
the  dog  leapt,  and  the  people  shouted  Viva  !  appeared 
himself,  and  one  and  the  same  cry  was  taken  up  by  a 
thousand  voices, '  Long  live  Don  Frederigo  ! '  " 

Well,  if  you  want  to  know,  dear  readers,  who  Don 
Frederigo  was,  you  must  read  the  Bdtard  de  Mauleon. 
I  have  undertaken  only  to  tell  you  this  much  here,  who 
and  what  Mouton  was,  and  I  have  told  you. 

So  let  us  pursue  the  history  of  this  new  character 
we  have  come  across,  without  so  much  as  knowing 
whither  it  will  lead  us. 

It  is  what,  in  railway  parlance,  is  called  a  bmnch  line, 
and  in  connection  with  a  poem  or  romance  an  episode. 

Ariosto  was  the  inventor  of  the  episode.  Who  was 
the  inventor  of  the  branch  line  I  should  like  to  be  able 
to  inform  you  ;  but  unfortunately  I  don't  know  myself. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A  COMING   CATASTROPHE   CASTS   ITS 
SHADOW   BEFORE 

I     TOLD  you   just  above:    "Now  you  know  what 
Mouton  was."     But    I   was  wrong :  you    do   not 
know. 

You  know  his  outward  appearance,  very  true ;  but 
that  is  a  minor  point,  after  all.  It  is  character  that  is 
all-important  in  dogs  as  in  men. 

If,  in  order  to  know  people,  it  were  enough  to  know 
their  outward  man,  then,  on  Socrates  telling  his  disciples, 
"  The  first  precept  of  wisdom  is  to  knozv  thyself"  his 
disciples  would  simply  have  looked  at  their  reflection  in 
a  polished  steel  mirror ;  they  would  have  seen  that 
they  had  red  or  brown  hair,  as  the  case  might  be,  blue 
or  black  eyes,  light  or  dark  complexion,  thin  or  plump 
cheeks,  a  slim  or  heavy  figure  ;  and  once  they  had 
verified  these  facts,  they  would  have  completed  their 
knowledge  of  themselves  ! 

But  that  was  not  what  Socrates  meant  by  his  famous 
7i;w^t  aeavrbv ;  what  he  did  mean  was :  "  Dive  into 
your  deepest  being,  scrutinise  your  conscience,  and 
discover  what  you  are  worth  morally.  The  body  is 
only  the  envelope  of  the  soul,  the  sheath  of  the  sword." 

Well,  so  far,  you  know  only  the  envelope,  the  out- 
side, of  Mouton,  you  only  know  the  exterior  sheath  of 
this  descendant  of  Allan. 

60 


A  COMING  CATASTROPHE        61 

And  even  this  you  know  incorrectly.  I  have  just 
shown  you  Allan  wearing  a  gold  collar  set  with  rubies 
and  a  little  bell  of  the  same  precious  metal  round  his 
neck.  Such  magnificence,  you  will  of  course  under- 
stand, was  fitting  enough  for  a  dog  belonging  to  a 
king's  brother ;  but  a  mere  novelist's  and  play-writer's 
dog  has  no  claim  to  any  such  distinctions. 

Mouton  did  not  possess  a  gold  collar  set  with  rubies 
• — nor  even  an  iron  collar  or  a  leather  one.  This 
detail  set  right,  let  us  go  on  to  Mouton's  character  and 
disposition. 

This  is  difficult  to  define  exactly.  At  first  sight 
Mouton  appeared  rather  of  the  lymphatic  than  the 
bilious,  the  sanguine,  or  the  nervous  temperament ;  he 
was  deliberate  in  his  movements,  slow  and  solemn  in 
his  ways  of  doing  things.  I  had  tried  to  question 
Challamel  as  to  his  antecedents,  but  he  had  confined 
himself  to  telling  me — 

"  Endeavour,  to  begin  with,  to  win  his  attachment, 
and  you  will  then  find  out  what  he  can  do." 

This  had  made  me  somewhat  suspicious  about  the 
dog's  past  history  ;  but  unfortunately  nothing  is  farther 
from  my  natural  impulses  than  suspicion.  My  only 
care  was  to  act  in  such  a  way  as  to  win  Mouton's  love. 

Accordingly,  at  breakfast  and  dinner  time,  I  used  to 
put  my  bones  aside  for  him,  and  after  every  meal  carry 
them  to  him  myself. 

Mouton  would  gnaw  these  dainties  with  an  air  of 
combined  ferocity  and  gloom  ;  but  all  my  attentions 
failed  to  win  the  smallest  token  of  gratitude  or  friendli- 
ness on  his  side. 

Sometimes  of  an  evening  I  would  take  a  walk  on 
the  celebrated  Terrace  of  Saint-Germain,  and  take 
Mouton  with  me  in  hopes  of  enlivening  his  spirits. 
But  instead  of  running  and  leaping  like  other  dogs,  he 


62  MY  PETS 

always  dragged  lugubriously  behind,  head  and  tail 
down,  like  a  pauper's  dog  following  his  master's  coffin 
to  the  grave. 

The  only  variety  was  when  an  acquaintance  came 
up  to  speak  to  me.  Then  Mouton  would  give  a  low 
growl. 

"  Oh  !  oh  !  "  my  friend  would  exclaim.  "  What's  the 
matter  with  your  dog  ?  " 

"  Never  mind  him ;  he  is  by  way  of  getting  used 
to  me." 

"  Yes ;  but  he  does  not  seem  much  like  getting  used 
to  other  people." 

People  knowing  in  reading  character  would  add — 

"  Have  a  care !  That  chap  has  a  nasty  look  in  his 
eye." 

And  so  saying,  if  they  added  the  merit  of  prudence 
to  that  of  knowingness,  they  would  beat  a  hasty 
retreat,  asking  me — 

"  What's  your  animal's  name,  eh  ?  " 

"  Mouton." 

"  Well,  good-bye,  good-bye.  .  .  .  Keep  a  careful 
eye  on  Mouton  !  " 

Then  I  would  turn  round  and  say — 

"  Mouton,  do  you  hear  what  they  think  of  you  ?  " 
But  Mouton  never  said  a  word. 

I  remembered,  by  the  bye,  that  during  the  whole 
week  the  animal  had  been  a  member  of  my  household 
I  had  never  once  heard  him  bark. 

When,  instead  of  a  friend,  it  was  a  friend's  dog 
that  approached  me,  or  rather  Mouton,  with  the  polite 
intention  of  bidding  him  good-day  after  the  fashion  of 
dogs,  Mouton  would  growl  just  as  he  did  for  a  man  ; 
but  now  the  growl  was  instantly  followed  by  a  dart  and 
a  bite,  as  rapidly  delivered  as  a  boxer's  hit  out  from 
the  shoulder. 


A  COMING  CATASTROPHE         63 

If  the  dog  attacked  was  within  Mouton's  "  reach," 
woe  betide  him  !  he  was  a  maimed  dog  for  the  rest  of 
his  days. 

If  he  were  hicky  enough,  by  a  swift  backward 
movement,  by  feint  or  flight,  to  escape  the  terrible  jaws, 
and  they  only  closed  on  emptiness,  then  you  heard 
Mouton's  teeth  close  with  the  same  snap  and  rattle 
M.  Martin's  lions  make  when  they  are  waiting  im- 
patiently for  feeding  time. 

On  the  day  following  my  third  appearance  with 
Mouton,  I  received  an  official  communication  from 
the  Mayor  of  Saint-Germain,  in  which  he  invited  me 
to  buy  a  chain  and  put  Mouton  on  it  when  I  took 
my  walks  abroad  in  his  company. 

I  had  the  required  article  purchased  at  once,  in  order 
to  obey  like  a  good  citizen  the  municipal  recommenda- 
tion.    But  Michel  persistently  forgot  to  buy  a  collar. 

Now,  the  reader  will  see  directly  how  Michel's  for- 
getfulness  probably  saved  my  life. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

HOW  I  WAS  OVER-PERSUADED  TO  BUY  A  GREEN 
MONKEY  AND  A  BLUE  MACAW 

FROM  what  has  been  related  in  the  preceding 
chapter,  it  is  evident  that  Mouton's  character 
was  still,  if  not  absolutely  unknown,  at  any  rate  more 
or  less  a  mystery  to  me,  and  that  what  the  animal  had 
so  far  revealed  was  not  particularly  attractive. 

Such  was  the  general  state  of  things  about  two 
o'clock  one  afternoon :  Mouton  amusing  himself  by 
digging  up  one  of  Michel's  dahlias — as  every  good 
gardener  should  be,  Michel  was  bent  on  producing  a 
blue  dahlia  one  of  these  days ;  my  son  lying  in  a 
hammock  smoking  a  cigarette ;  Maquet,  de  Fiennes, 
and  Atala  teasing  Mysouff,  then  undergoing  a  five 
years'  term  of  imprisonment  in  the  monkey-house  for 
murder — under  extenuating  circumstances. 

We  must  ask  our  readers'  indulgence  for  postponing 
the  catastrophe  we  have  led  them  to  believe  imminent : 
but  we  deem  the  moment  arrived  to  say  a  few  words 
anent  Mademoiselle  Desgarcins,  Potich,  the  Last  of 
the  Laidmanoirs,  and  the  felon  Mysouff. 

Mademoiselle  Desgarcins  was  a  dog-faced  monkey, 
and  one  of  the  tiniest  of  her  species.  Her  birthplace 
was  unknown ;  but,  if  we  are  to  trust  to  Cuvier's 
classification,  she  must  have  seen  the  light  somewhere 
on  the  old  continent. 

64 


I  BUY  A  MONKEY  AND  MACAW     65 

The  way  I  became  her  possessor  was  quite  simple 
and  ordinary. 

I  had  been  to  pay  a  visit  to  Havre.  With  what 
object  ?  Upon  my  word  !  I  can  hardly  say — perhaps 
it  was  to  have  a  look  at  the  sea.  Once  there,  I  had 
immediately  been  seized  with  the  wish  to  be  back  in 
Paris. 

But  it  was  out  of  the  question  to  return  quite 
empty  handed.  The  only  point  to  be  decided 
was  what  I  should  take  back  with  me  from  that 
seaport. 

I  had  a  wide  range  of  choice — ivory  toys  from 
China,  fans  from  the  Far  East,  weapons  and  trophies 
from  the  South  Sea  Islands,  and  a  hundred  other 
curios.  But  none  of  these  articles  quite  took  my 
fancy. 

I  was  strolling  along  the  quay,  as  melancholy  as 
the  fantastic  Dane  of  Shakespeare's  immortal  play, 
when  I  caught  sight,  at  the  door  of  a  dealer  in  animals, 
of  a  green  monkey  and  a  blue  macaw. 

The  monkey  had  put  her  little  hand  out  between 
the  bars  of  her  cage  and  caught  hold  of  my  coat- 
tail. 

The  blue  parrot  was  twisting  its  head  about  and 
gazing  amorously  at  me  out  of  its  yellow  eye,  the  pupil 
of  which  kept  narrowing  and  dilating  with  the  tenderest 
of  tender  expressions. 

I  am  very  amenable  to  demonstrations  of  the 
kind,  and  those  of  my  friends  who  know  me  best 
declare  that,  for  my  own  good  name  and  my 
family's,  it  is  a  very  lucky  thing  I  was  not  born  a 
woman. 

I   stopped  therefore,  pressing  the  monkey's  paw   in 
one    hand,  and    gently    scratching  the    macaw's  head 
with    the    other,    at    the    risk    of    meeting    the   same 
5 


66  MY  PETS 

fate  as  Colonel  Bro  with  his  parrot.  See  my 
Memoirs. 

But  nothing  of  the  sort  occurred.  Instead,  the  little 
monkey  drew  my  hand  gently  to  her  mouth,  put  out 
her  tongue  through  the  bars  and  licked  my  fingers 
lovingly. 

The  parrot  dropped  its  head  right  between  its  two  feet, 
half  shut  its  eye,  with  a  look  of  supreme  content,  and 
gave  a  low  murmur  of  pleasure  that  left  no  doubt 
about  its  agreeable  feelings. 

Well,  'pon  my  word  !  What  a  charming  pair  !  If 
I  were  not  very  much  afraid  their  owner  will  demand 
Duguesclin's  ransom  for  them,  I  would  ask  him  how 
much. 

"  Monsieur  Dumas,"  said  the  dealer,  suddenly 
appearing  out  of  his  shop,  "  can  I  oblige  you  with 
anything  —  this  monkey  here,  and  this  parrot,  for 
instance  ?  " 

Monsieur  Dumas !  It  was  a  third  bit  of  delicate 
flattery,  crowning  the  other  two. 

One  day  I  hope  some  wizard  will  reveal  why  it  is 
that  my  face,  one  of  the  least  widely  reproduced  in 
paintings,  engravings,  and  lithography,  is  familiar  at  the 
very  Antipodes,  so  that  wherever  I  land,  the  first 
porter  that  comes  up  asks  me  instantly — 

"  Monsieur  Dumas,  where  am  I  to  carry  your 
trunk  ?  " 

True,  in  default  of  portrait  or  bust,  I  have  been 
represented  again  and  again  by  my  good  friends  Cham 
and  Nadar.  So,  I  suppose,  the  two  traitors  were 
deceiving  me  all  the  while,  and  instead  of  drawing 
my  caricature,  they  were  giving  the  world  my 
portrait !  .  .  . 

Besides  the  inconvenience  of  being  precluded  from 
travelling  anywhere    incognito,  this  widespread  vogue 


I  BUY  A  MONKEY  AND  MACAW     67 

of  my  features  involves  another  disadvantage.  Every 
shopkeeper  in  the  world,  having  read  in  my  biographies 
that  I  am  accustomed  to  pitch  my  money  out  of  the 
window,  no  sooner  sees  me  walking  up  to  his  shop 
than  he  takes  the  virtuous  resolution  to  sell  whatever 
he  has  to  sell  three  times  more  dear  to  M.  Dumas  than 
to  the  general  run  of  his  victims — and  makes  a  point 
of  acting  accordingly. 

However,  the  mischief  is  done,  and  there  is  no  help 
for  it. 

Well,  in  this  case  the  fellow  addressed  me  in  the 
unctuous  tones  of  the  tradesman  who  has  quite 
made  up  his  mind  to  sell,  even  though  you  may 
be  firmly  resolved  not  to  buy :  "  Now,  Monsieur 
Dumas,  shall  I  oblige  you  with  my  monkey  and 
parrot  ? " 

It  only  needed  the  addition  of  three  letters  to  give 
the  word  its  real  meaning,  and  make  the  sentence  run  as 
it  should, — "  Monsieur  Dumas,  shall  I  disobVigQ  you 
with  my  monkey  and  parrot  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,"  I  grumbled ;  "  now  you  know  my  name, 
of  course  you  are  going  to  sell  me  your  parrot  and 
your  monkey  at  just  twice  their  value." 

"  Oh,  Monsieur  Dumas,  how  can  you  say  such  a 
thing?  I  would  never  overcharge  j/^z/ !  I  shall  ask 
you  .   .  .  ask  you  ..." 

The  man  pretended  to  search  his  memory  to  recall 
the  exact  price. 

"  I  shall  ask  you  a  hundred  francs." 

I  am  bound  to  say  I  trembled  with  joy.  I  cannot 
lay  claim  to  any  very  precise  acquaintance  with  the 
current  market-price  of  apes  and  parrots ;  but  a 
hundred  francs,  for  two  such  creatures,  struck  me  as 
an  unheard-of  bargain. 

"  Only  I   feel  obliged,  as  an  honest  man,  to  tell  you 


68  MY  PETS 

this,"  the  dealer  went  on  ;  "  the  parrot  will  most  likely 
never  talk." 

This  doubled  his  value  in  my  eyes.  I  was  going  to 
have  a  bird  that  would  not  be  forever  dinning  in  my 
ears  his  inevitable,  "  Pretty  Poll !  Pretty  Poll !  " 

"  Dear,  dear,"  said  I,  "  that's  unfortunate." 

But  I  had  hardly  said  the  word  ere  I  felt  ashamed 
of  my  duplicity.  I  had  prevaricated, — yes,  prevaricated 
in  hopes  of  getting  a  reduction  in  price, — while  the 
dealer  had  told  the  truth  at  the  risk  of  depreciating 
his  own  goods. 

So,  under  the  influence  of  these  remorseful 
feelings — 

"  Look  here,"  I  cried,  "  I  don't  want  to  haggle  with 
you ;   I  will  give  you  eighty  francs." 

"  Done ! "  said  the  fellow,  without  an  instant's 
hesitation. 

"  Yes,  yes ;  but  let  us  understand  each  other,"  I 
added,  seeing  plainly  I  had  been  victimised.  "  Eighty 
francs  including  the  monkey's  cage  and  the  parrot's 
stand." 

"  H'm  !  "  grumbled  the  dealer,  "  that  was  not  in  our 
bargain  ;  but  there,  I  can  refuse  you  nothing.  Yes,  I 
have  had  some  fine  laughs,  I  can  tell  you,  over  your 
Capitaine  Pamphile,  if  you  care  to  know  it.  Well, 
well,  there's  no  more  to  be  said ;  you  understand 
animals,  and  I  hope  my  little  friends  won't  be 
unhappy  with  you.  Yes,  take  the  cage  and  the 
stand." 

So  I  took  the  cage  and  the  stand, — the  two 
together  were  worth  perhaps  two  francs, — and  walked 
back  to  the  Hotel  de  rAniirauti,  looking  like  a  sort  of 
amateur  Robinson  Crusoe. 

The  same  evening  I  set  off  for  Paris,  engaging  the 
whole    coup^  of   the    diligence    for    myself   as    far    as 


I  BUY  A  MONKEY  AND  MACAW     69 

Rouen.     When  I  say  for  myself,  I  mean,  of  course,  for 
myself,  my  monkey,  and  my  parrot. 

From  Rouen  to  Poissy  I  went  by  railway,  and 
from  Poissy  to  the  Villa  Medicis  in  a  glass-coach 
which  I  hired  in  that  town,  once  the  capital  of  the 
Countship  of  Louis  ix,  our  Sainted  Sovereign. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

HOW  I  ARRIVED  AT  THE  INTERESTING  INFORMA- 
TION THAT  PARROTS   BREED  IN   FRANCE 

I  NEED  not  mention  that  Mademoiselle  Desgarcins 
and  Buvat  were  not  yet  christened,  my  custom 
being  to  bestow  names,  surnames,  and  nicknames  on 
my  proteges  according  to  the  merits  or  demerits, 
physical  or  moral,  which  I  observe  in  them.  So  far 
they  were  simply  known  as  the  little  monkey  and  the 
blue  macaw. 

"  Here,  quick,  Michel !  quick ! "  I  called  out  as  I 
came  in.     "  Here's  something  in  your  line," 

Michel  ran  up,  and  I  handed  him  the  monkey's 
cage  and  the  parrot's  box,  from  which  its  tail  stuck 
out  like  a  lance-head.  I  had  superseded  the  perch, 
for  which  I  got  a  franc,  by  a  box  that  cost  me  three. 

"  Ah,"  observed  Michel,  "  yes,  it  is  the  long-haired 
monkey  of  Senegal — Cercopithecus  sabcea" 

I  looked  at  Michel  in  the  deepest  amazement. 

"  What  was  that  you  said,  Michel  ?  " 

"  Cercopithecus  sabcsa" 

"  So  you  know  Latin,  Michel.  Why,  you  must 
teach  me  in  your  spare  time  in  that  case." 

"  No,  I  don't  know  Latin,  but  I  do  know  my  Diction- 
ary of  Natural  History^ 

"  'Pon  my  soul !  And  the  parrot,  do  you  know  it 
too  ? "   I  asked,  pulling  the  bird  out  of  its  box. 

70 


PARROTS  BREED  IN  FRANCE     71 

"  I  should  think  I  did  !  "  said  Michel.  "  Why,  it's 
the  blue  macaw,  Macrocetrus  arai'auna.  Ah,  sir,  why 
did  you  not  bring  the  female  with  you  along  with  the 
male  ? " 

"  What  for,  Michel  ?  because  parrots,  you  know, 
don't  breed  in  France." 

"  That  is  just  where  Monsieur  is  mistaken,"  said 
Michel  imperturbably. 

"  What !  the  blue  macaw  breeds  in  France  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  in  France." 

"  In  the  South,  perhaps." 

"  No,  sir,  it  does  not  need  to  be  in  the  South." 

"  Where  then  ?  " 

"  At  Caen,  sir." 

"  What !  at  Caen  ?  " 

"  Yes,  at  Caen,  I  tell  you,  sir,  at  Caen  !  " 

"  I  was  not  aware  that  the  latitude  of  Caen  was 
such  as  to  allow  macaws  to  reproduce  their  species. 
Go  and  fetch  my  Bouillet^  Michel." 

Michel  soon  returned  with  the  encyclopaedia  in 
question. 

"  Cacus — no,  that's  not  it.  .  .  .  Cadet  de  Gassi- 
court — no,  that's  not  it.  .  .  .  Caducee — that's  not 
it  .   .  .   Caen  at  last " 

"  Now  you  will  see,  Michel,"  and  I  read  out — 

" '  Cadoinus,  chief  town  of  the  Department  of  Cal- 
vados, on  the  Orne  and  Odon,  223  kilometres  west  of 
Paris,  population  41,876.  Court  of  Assize,  Court 
of  Primary  Jurisdiction,  and  Tribunal  de  Com- 
merce  ' " 

"  You  will  see,  sir,"  said  Michel ;  "  the  parrots  are 
coming,  never  fear." 

" '  College,  School  of  Law,  Academy  of 
Science ' " 

"  You  are  getting  warm,  sir  !  " 


72  MY  PETS 

" '  Extensive  trade  in  plaster,  salt,  timber,  and 
deal.  .  .  .  Captured  by  the  English  in  1346  and  14 17. — 
Retaken  by  the  French,  etc, — Birthplace  of  Malherbe, 
T.  Lefebvre,  Choron,  etc, — 9  cantons :  Bourguebus, 
Villers-Bocage,  etc.,  and  Caen  town,  which  counts  as 
two;  205  communes,  total  population  140,435. — Caen 
was  the  capital  of  Lower  Normandy.' — And  that's  all, 
Michel," 

"  What,  it  does  not  say  in  your  book  that  the  ararauna, 
otherwise  known  as  the  blue  macaw,  breeds  at  Caen  ?  " 

"  No,  Michel,  not  a  word  about  it." 

"  Well,  what  a  dictionary !  Wait  a  bit,  and  I'll 
fetch  you  a  different  sort,  and  then  you'll  see." 

Accordingly,  in  a  few  minutes  more  Michel  returned 
with  his  Dictionary  of  Natural  History. 

"  Now  you'll  see,  sir,  now  you'll  see ! "  he  cried, 
opening  /lis  treasury  of  knowledge.  "  Peritoine — 
that's  not  it  .  ,  .  P(frou — that's  not  it  ,  .  .  Perroquet — 
there  we  are  !     '  Parrots  are  monogamous  birds,' " 

"  You  know  Latin  so  well,  Michel,  you  will  know 
what  inonogaDwus  means,  I  feel  sure." 

"  It  means  they  can  sing  on  every  note,  I  suppose." 

"  No,  Michel,  no,  not  a  bit  of  it ;  it  means  they  have 
only  one  wife." 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Michel,  "  that's  because  they  talk  like 
human  beings,  most  likely.  However,  here's  what 
I  want — '  It  was  long  believed  that  parrots  did  not 
breed  in  Europe,  but  experiments  have  proved  the 
contrary  in  the  case  of  a  pair  of  blue  macaws  at 
Caen.   .  .  .' — At  Caen,  there  you  see,  sir " 

"  'Pon  my  word,  yes,  I  see." 

'"  M.  Lamouroux  supplies  details  in  connection 
with  the  results  then  obtained.' " 

"  Well,  let's  hear  M.  Lamouroux'  details,  Michel ; " 
and  Michel  proceeded — 


PARROTS  BREED  IN  FRANCE     73 

"  *  These  macaws,  between  the  month  of  March 
1818,  and  the  month  of  August  1822,  that  is  to  say 
in  a  period  of  four  years  and  a  half,  laid  sixty-two 
eggs  in  nine  broods '  " 

"  Michel,  I  never  said  that  macaws  did  not  lay ; 
what  I  said  was " 

'"Amongst  the  number,'"  Michel  went  on  reading, 
" '  twenty-five  '^ggs  were  hatched  out,  and  of  the 
young  ones  only  ten  died.  The  rest  lived  and  became 
perfectly  acclimatised '  " 

"  Michel,  I  have  not  a  word  to  say " 

" '  The  number  of  eggs  varied,  in  some  cases 
amounting  to  as  many  as  six  at  once ' " 

"  Michel,  I  surrender  unconditionally," 

"  Only,"  concluded  Michel,  closing  his  book,  *'  Mon- 
sieur knows  he  must  never  give  them  either  bitter 
almonds  or  parsley  ?  " 

Michel,  who  had  left  a  finger  between  the  leaves, 
reopened  his  book. 

" '  Parsley  and  bitter  almonds,' "  he  read  out  im- 
pressively, "  '  are  deadly  poisons  for  parrots.' " 

"  Good  !   Michel,  I  won't  forget." 

And  I  never  did.  In  fact,  some  while  after,  when 
I  was  told  that  M.  Persil  (parsley)  had  died  suddenly, 
I  exclaimed — 

"  Dear  !  dear  !   perhaps  he  had  been  eating  parrot !  " 


CHAPTER   XV 

A  CABRIOLET  DRIVER  WHO  WAS  A  GREAT 
GEOGRAPHER  ASSURES  ME  I  AM  A  NEGRO 

I  WAS  dumbfounded  at  Michel's  scientific  knowledge ; 
he  knew  the  Dictionary  of  Natural  History  off 
by  heart. 

To  give  another  instance  of  the  same  sort  of  thing. 
One  day  I  was  driving  about  Paris  with  one  of  my 
friends  in  one  of  the  old-fashioned  cabriolets  then  in 
vogue,  where  the  passengers  sit  side  by  side  with  the 
coachman.  I  forget  why,  but  I  had  occasion  to 
mention  to  my  companion  that  I  came  from  the 
Department  of  the  Aisne. 

"  Ah !  so  you  come  from  the  Aisne,  do  you  ? "  the 
driver  asked  me. 

"  I  do.  Is  there  anything  in  that  you  object 
to?" 

"  Oh  no,  sir  !  quite  the  contrary." 

The  man's  original  question  and  his  subsequent 
answer  to  mine  were  equally  inexplicable  to  me. 
Why  had  the  fellow  exclaimed  when  he  heard  I 
came  from  that  particular  Department  ?  and  why 
did  he  prefer — his  qiiite  the  contrary  led  me  to  suppose 
he  did  prefer — my  belonging  to  that  Department 
rather  than  to  any  one  of  the  eighty-five  others  ? 

I  should  certainly  have  asked  him  to  explain  these 
points  if  I  had  been  alone  with  him ;  but,  my  thoughts 

74 


1  AM  A  NEGRO  75 

being  occupied  with  what  I  was  saying  to  my  friend, 
I  let  my  curiosity  gallop  off  ahead,  and  as  our  nag 
never  got  beyond  a  walk,  it  got  so  far  away  in  front 
I  never  caught  it  up  again 

A  week  afterwards  I  happened  to  hire  a  cabriolet 
at  the  same  coach-stand. 

"  Ah  ha !  "  cried  my  driver,  "  why,  it's  the  gentle- 
man who  comes  from  the  Aisne." 

"  Quite  right ;  and  you  are  the  coachman  who 
drove  me  a  week  ago  ?  " 

"  Myself  and  no  one  else.  Where  am  I  to  take 
you  to-day,  sir  ?  " 

"  To  the  Observatoire." 

"  H'sh,  sir  !  not  so  loud,  please." 

"  But  why  ?  " 

"  Why,  if  my  horse  overheard  you,  you  know.  .  .  . 
Such  a  long  way !  .  .  .  Hup !  Bijou  !  .  .  .  Ah,  sir ! 
there's  a  fellow,  if  ever  he  comes  in  for  ten  thousand 
a  year,  won't  buy  a  cabriolet ! " 

I  looked  at  the  man  curiously. 

"  Tell  me,  why  did  you  ask  me  if  I  came  from  the 
Department  of  the  Aisne  ?  " 

"  Because,  if  Monsieur  had  been  by  himself  and 
inclined  to  talk,  we  could  have  had  a  chat  about  the 
Department." 

"  So  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  Know  it !  I  should  think  so  !  A  noble  Depart- 
ment !  The  Department  of  General  Foy,  of  M. 
Mechin,  of  M.  Lherbette,  and  M.  Demoustier,  author  of 
the  Lettres  h  Ami/ie  sur  la  Mythologie." 

As  you  see,  dear  reader,  I  was  entirely  forgotten 
in  the  enumeration  of  the  famous  men  of  the 
Department. 

This  prejudiced  me  a  good  deal  against  the 
man. 


76  MY  PETS 

"  Well,  what  places  do  you  know  in  the  Department  ?  " 

"  I  know  every  place." 

"  What,  you  !      Every  one  ?  " 

*'  Every  one." 

"  Do  you  know  Laon  ? "  only  I  pronounced  it 
Lan. 

"  Laon,  you  mean,  don't  you  ? "  and  /te  called  it 
La-on. 

"  Laon  or  Lan,  it's  the  same  thing ;  only,  it's  written 
Laon  and  pronounced  Lan." 

"  Lord,  sir !   I  say  a  word  as  it's  written." 

"  You  are  in  favour  of  M.  Marie's  phonetic  spelling, 
eh?" 

"  I  know  nothing  about  M.  Marie  and  his  spelling ; 
but  I  know  Laon  right  enough — the  Bibrax  of  the 
Romans  and  the  Laudanum  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
.   .  .  Come  now,  why  do  you  look  at  me  like  that  ?  " 

"  I  don't  merely  look  at  you ;  I  marvel  at  you,  I 
admire  you  ! " 

"  Oh  !  poke  fun  as  much  as  ever  you  please  ;  you 
won't  hinder  my  knowing  Laon  and  the  whole  Depart- 
ment of  the  Aisne,  with  its  Prefecture  and  all.  More 
by  token,  there's  a  tower  there  built  by  Louis 
d'  Outre-Mer,  and  a  vast  trade  in  artichokes  is  carried 
on." 

"  I  have  not  a  word  to  say  to  the  contrary.  You 
speak  God's  own  truth,  my  good  fellow.  And 
Soissons  ?  do  you  know  Soissons  ?  " 

"  Soissons — Noviodunum, — do  I  know  Noviodununt  ? 
I  should  think  I  do  !  " 

"  I  congratulate  you ;  I  used  to  know  Soissons 
myself,  but  I  never  knew  Noviodunum." 

"  But  it's  the  same  thing,  six  of  one  and  half  a 
dozen  of  the  other.  That's  where  the  Cathedral  is  of 
the  watery  Saint — Saint  M(fdard,  you  know.     If  it  rains 


I  AM  A  NEGRO  11 

on  Saint  M^dard's  Day,  why  it  rains  forty  days  on  end. 
He  should  be  the  patron  of  cab-drivers,  for  sure !  Do 
I  know  Soissons  ?  .  .  .  Well,  well,  well,  you  ask  me  if  I 
know  Soissons — birthplace  of  Louis  d'Hericourt,  of 
Collot  d'Herbois,  of  Quinette;  where  Clovis  defeated 
Siagrius  and  Charles  Martel  vanquished  Chilperic,  where 
King  Robert  died  ;  chief  town  of  its  arrondissement ; 
six  cantons — Braisne-sur-Vesle,  Oulchy-le-Chateau, 
Soissons,  Vailly-sur-Aisne,  Vic-sur-Aisne,  Villers- 
Cotterets " 

"  Ah !  and  Villers-Cotterets,  do  you  know  it  ? " 
hoping  to  have  him  on  toast  when  it  came  to  my 
native  place. 

"  Villerii  ad  Cotiavi  reti^. — Do  I  know  it  ?  Villers- 
Cotterets,  otherwise  Coste  de  Retz,  considerable 
village." 

"  No,  no  ;  small  town,"  I  protested. 

"  Large  village  I  say,  and  I  stick  to  it." 

In  fact  he  said  it  with  so  much  assurance  that  I  saw 
I  should  gain  nothing  by  contradicting  him.  Besides, 
I  had  a  sneaking  suspicion  I  might  be  wrong. 

"  Big  village,  so  be  it,"  I  said,  giving  in. 

"  Oh  !  it's  not  a  question  of  so  be  it,  it's  a  fact.  Do 
I  know  Villers-Cotterets! — forest  of  25,000  acres; 
population  2692  ;  old  castle  of  the  time  of  Francois  I, 
now  a  poor-house ;  birthplace  of  Charles  Albert 
Demoustier,  author  of  the  Lettres  a  Emilie  sur  la 
Mythologie  ..." 

"  And  of  Alexandre  Dumas,"  I  added  diffidently. 

"  Alexandre  Dumas,  author  of  Monte-CristOy  and 
The  Three  Musketeers  ?  " 

I  nodded  assent. 

"  No,"  said  the  coachman  decidedly. 

"  No  ?     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean,  no  !  " 


78  MY  PETS 

"  You  say  Alexandre  Dumas  was  not  born  at 
Villers-Cotterets  ? " 

"  I  repeat  he  was  not  born  there." 

"  Come,  come  now,  that's  going  a  bit  too  far." 

"  Oh,  say  what  you  please ;  Alexandre  Dumas 
does  not  come  from  Villers-Cotterets.  Besides,  he's  a 
Negro." 

I  confess  I  was  dumbfounded.  The  man  seemed 
so  exceedingly  well  informed  about  the  whole  Depart- 
ment I  began  to  fear  I  must  be  mistaken.  Since  he 
said  so  with  such  an  air  of  certainty,  and  having  the 
whole  district  at  his  finger-ends,  it  really  seemed,  after 
all,  I  might  be  a  Nigger  and  have  been  born  in  the 
Congo  or  in  Senegal." 

"  But  you  were  born  there,"  I  said  ;  "  you  were,  in  the 
Aisne  ? " 

"  No,  I  come  from  Nanterre." 

"  But  you  have  lived  there,  at  any  rate  ?  " 

"  Not  I." 

"  But  you  have  been  there,  surely  ?  " 

"  Never  once." 

"  Then  how  the  devil  do  you  come  to  know  the 
Department  as  you  do  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  where's  the  puzzle  ?  Look  there,"  and  he 
offered  me  a  tattered  book. 

"  What  book  is  it  ?  " 

"  It's  my  whole  library,  from  garret  to  cellar." 

"  The  deuce !  you  seem  to  consult  it  pretty 
often." 

"  I've  read  nothing  else  for  twenty  years." 

"  Yet  you  are  a  great  reader,  by  what  I  can 
see. 

"  What  would  you  have  a  man  do  when  he's  on  the 
stand  ?  And  times  are  so  hard  one  is  half  the  day 
there." 


1  AM  A  NEGRO  79 

I  opened  the  book,  curious  to  know  the  name  of  a 
work  which  had  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  serving  for  a 
man's  amusement  during  twenty  years. 

And  I  read  :  Statistical  Compendium  of  the 
Department  of  the  Aisne. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

I  BUY  MADEMOISELLE  DESGARCINS  A  HUSBAND 

MICHEL  resembled  my  cabriolet   driver.      Only- 
he  had  chosen   a  sort  of  reading,  if  not  more 
profitable,  at  least  a  trifle  less  insipid. 

"  Michel,"  I  said  to  him,  "  look  here ;  we  must  go  to 
Laurent's  and  get  them  to  make  a  perch  for  the 
Macrocercus  ararauna,  and  to  Trouille's  to  buy  a  cage 
for  the  Cercopithecus  sabcua!' 

"  Very  good,  sir,  so  far  as  the  perch  goes,"  Michel 
replied ;  "  but  for  the  cage,  there's  no  need." 

"  What  do  you  mean, — no  need  ?  Why,  the  poor 
creature  can  never  stay  in  that  one  ;  it's  a  bullfinch's 
cage.      The  bird  would  die  of  cramp  in  a  week." 

"  While  Monsieur  was  away,  we  had  a  bit  of  a 
disaster." 

"  Ho,  ho  !   a  disaster,  eh  ?      And  what  was  it  ?  " 

"  A  weasel  killed  the  pheasant ;  Monsieur  is  going 
to  have  it  for  his  dinner." 

I  uttered  an  exclamation  that  implied  neither 
refusal  nor  consent.  I  am  ready  enough  to  eat  game 
I  have  shot  myself,  but  I  don't  feel  so  eager  about 
what's  been  killed  by  any  animal  except  a  sporting- 
dog. 

"  In  that  case,"  I  said,  "  the  cage  is  at  liberty  ?  " 

"  Yes,  since  this  morning." 

"  Then  let's  get  our  monkey  into  it. 

80 


MADEMOISELLE  DESGARCINS     81 

We  carried  the  small  cage  close  up  to  the  big  one, 
and  set  the  two  doors  wide  open  facing  each  other. 
The  monkey  sprang  into  her  new  abode,  leapt  excitedly 
from  perch  to  perch,  and  ended  by  clinging  to  the  bars, 
gnashing  her  teeth  at  me,  uttering  little  plaintive  cries 
and  putting  out  her  tongue  at  me. 

"  Sir,"  said  Michel,  "  what  she  wants  is  a  male." 

"  You  think  that's  it,  eh,  Michel  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  it  is." 

"  So  you  hold  that  monkeys  breed  in  this  country, 
the  same  as  parrots  ?  " 

"  There  are  some  in  the  Jardin  des  Plantes  that 
were  born  there.  Now,  listen  to  me,  sir ;  there's  a 
little  Auvergnat  lad  comes  here  with  his  monkey  to 
beg  a  trifle  now  and  again.  If  I  were  Monsieur,  I'd 
buy  his  monkey  of  him." 

"  Why  his  rather  than  any  other  monkey  ? " 

"  Because  he's  as  gentle  as  a  lamb,  and  has  had  a 
first-rate  education.  He  wears  a  cap  with  a  feather, 
and  makes  a  bow  when  you  give  him  a  nut  or  a  bit  of 
sugar." 

"  Can  he  do  any  other  tricks  ? " 

"  He  fights  a  duel." 

"  Is  that  the  end  of  his  accomplishments  ?  " 

"  No  ;  he  hunts  for  his  master's  fleas  as  well." 

"  And  you  think,  Michel,  the  young  barbarian  will 
sell  a  beast  that  is  so  useful  to  him  ? " 

"  Well,  you  know,  sir,  there's  no  harm  in  asking." 

"  Then  we  will  ask  him,  Michel ;  and  if  he's  not  too 
unconscionable,  we  shall  make  two  hearts  happy." 

"  Sir,  sir  !  "  cried  Michel  at  this  juncture. 

"  Well,  what  now  ?  " 

"  Here  he  comes,  in  the  nick  of  time." 

"  Who  ? " 

"  The  Auvergnat  with  the  monkey." 
6 


82  MY  PETS 

And  so  it  was.  Next  moment  the  yard-door  was 
pushed  half  open  and  a  fat  face,  wearing  a  gentle, 
phlegmatic  expression,  peeped  in. 

"  Come  in  !  come  in  ! "  cried  Michel,  imitating  the 
uncouth  Auvergnat  accent  with  some  skill. 

The  lad  did  not  wait  to  be  asked  twice,  but  stepped 
in,  hat  in  hand.  His  ape,  perched  on  a  box  the  boy- 
carried  on  his  back,  felt  bound  to  copy  his  master's 
politeness  and  took  off  his  troubadour's  cap. 

He  was  of  the  same  species  as  my  recent  purchase, 
and,  like  her,  of  the  smallest  breed.  So  far  as  we  could 
judge  under  his  fancy  costume,  he  had  a  charming 
little  person  of  his  own,  as  soft  and  sweet  and  dainty 
as  any  one  could  desire. 

"  Oh  !  "  I  said  to  Michel,  "  how  like  he  is  to  .  .  ." 
and  I  pronounced  the  name  of  a  celebrated  translator. 

"  Well  and  good,"  returned  Michel,  "  then  we've 
found  a  name  for  him  without  further  searching." 

"  Yes  ;  only  we  must  use  the  anagram  of  it,  you 
know,  Michel." 

"  What  is  an  anagram,  eh  ?  " 

"  It  means,"  I  explained,  "  that  using  the  same 
letters,  we  make  him  another  name  out  of  them.  We 
must  beware  of  an  action  for  libel,  Michel." 

Michel  looked  at  me  in  wonder. 

"  But  surely  Monsieur  can  call  his  ape  what  he  likes." 

"  I  can  call  my  ape  what  I  like  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Monsieur  has  a  perfect  right  to  " 

"  I  think  not,  Michel." 

"  I  say  Monsieur  has." 

"  Well,  anyhow,  if  I  am  fortunate  enough  to  become 
the  possessor  of  the  pretty  creature,  we  will  call  him 
Potich. 

"  Yes,  let's  call  him  Potich  by  all  means." 

"  But  we  have  not  got  him  yet,  Michel." 


MADEMOISET.LE  DESGARCTNS     83 

"  Will  Monsieur  give  me  carte  blanche  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you  shall  be  armed  with  full  powers,  my  man." 

"  Up  to  what  sum  may  I  go  ?  " 

"  Up  to  forty  francs." 

"  Leave  me  alone  with  the  youngster,  and  I'll  bring 
the  thing  off,  never  fear,"  said  Michel  confidently. 

So  I  left  Michel  alone  with  the  Auvergnat,  as  he 
desired,  and  entered  the  Villa  Medicis,  having  been 
absent  from  home  four  days. 


CHAPTER   XVII 
THE  FOUNDLING 

WHAT  I  find  so  delightful  in  travelling,  whether 
for  a  long  or  short  period,  is  that  it  involves 
two  indubitable  pleasures, — that  of  going  away  and 
that  of  coming  back.  I  say  nothing  of  the  joys 
of  the  journey  itself;  for  these  are  much  more 
uncertain. 

I  entered  the  house,  therefore,  with  a  radiant  face, 
casting  happy  and  benignant  glances  from  one  article 
of  furniture  to  another. 

The  furniture  amid  which  one  lives  always  holds 
something  of  one's  own  personality,  some  reflection  of 
one's  character  and  taste  and  inmost  thoughts. 

Mahogany  chairs  and  tables,  if  they  could  speak, 
would  certainly  not  tell  the  same  tale  as  carved  wood 
pieces  of  furniture ;  cabinets  and  sideboards  of  ebony 
the  same  anecdotes  as  similar  articles  of  rosewood ; 
Boule  dressing  -  tables  and  secretaires  as  the  like 
conveniences  of  walnut  wood. 

I  was  gazing  then,  as  I  have  said,  with  a  happy, 
benignant  smile  on  my  various  household  gods  one 
after  the  other,  when  suddenly  I  caught  sight,  on  a 
lounge  by  the  fireside,  of  something  that  looked  like  a 
black-and-white  muff,  and  which  I  did  not  recognise 
as  a  familiar  object. 

I  stepped  nearer,  the  muff  was  purring  in   the  most 

84 


THE  FOUNDLING  85 

comfortable  and  contented  fashion.  It  was  a  young 
tom-cat  fast  asleep. 

"  Madame  Lamarque  !  "  I  shouted,  "  Madame 
Lamarque  ! " — Madame  Lamarque  was  the  cook. 

"  I  knew  very  well  Monsieur  had  come,"  she  began, 
"  and  I  should  have  paid  my  respects  before,  but  the 
fact  is  I  was  making  a  white  sauce  at  the  moment, 
and  Monsieur,  who  understands  cooking  himself, 
knows  how  quickly  they  burn." 

"  Yes,  I  know  they  do,  Madame  Lamarque ;  but 
what  I  don't  understand  is  where  this  fresh  arrival 
comes  from," — and  I  pointed  a  denunciatory  finger 
at  the  cat." 

"  Oh,  sir,"  sighed  Madame  Lamarque  sentimentally, 
"  'tis  an  Antony." 

"  What  do  you  mean  —  an  Antony,  Madame 
Lamarque  ?  " 

"  In  other  words,  a  foundling,  sir." 

"  Ah  !   well,  poor  creature." 

"  I  felt  sure  Monsieur  would  be  interested." 

"  And  where  did  you  find  him,  Madame  Lamarque  ?  " 

"  In  the  cellar,  sir." 

"In  the  cellar?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  heard  something  going  '  Mew  !  mew  !  mew  ! ' 
and  I  said  to  myself,  '  That  must  be  a  cat.' " 

"  What  perspicacity  1 " 

"  Yes ;  and  I  went  down,  sir,  and  there,  behind  the 
firewood,  I  found  the  poor  beast.  Then  I  remembered 
how  Monsieur  had  said  once,  '  Madame  Lamarque,  we 
ought  to  have  a  cat.' " 

"  I  said  that,  did  I  ?  I  think  you  are  mistaken, 
Madame  Lamarque." 

"  Monsieur  certainly  said  so.  Then  I  said  to  myself, 
'  As  Monsieur  wants  to  keep  a  cat,  it's  surely  Providence 
sends  us  this  one.' " 


86  MY  PETS 

"  You  said  that,  did  you,  dear  Madame  Lamarque  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  I  adopted  him  on  the  spot,  as  Monsieur 
can  see  for  himself." 

"  Well,  if  you  feel  you  must  share  your  cup  of  coffee 
with  a  guest,  you  are  quite  at  liberty,  you  know." 

"  Only,  what  are  we  to  call  him,  sir  ?  " 

"  We  will  call  him  Mysouff,  if  you  are  agreeable." 

"  If  I  am  agreeable  !      Monsieur  is  master." 

"  Only,  Madame  Lamarque,  you  will  see  he  does  not 
eat  my  birds — my  coral-beaks  and  Senegal  wrynecks, 
my  avadavats  and  Indian  sparrows." 

"  Oh !  if  Monsieur  fears  that,"  struck  in  Michel, 
entering  the  room,  "  there's  a  way." 

"  A  way  to  do  what,  Michel  ?  " 

"  To  prevent  cats  from  eating  birds/' 

"  Tell  us  what  it  is,  my  good  man." 

"  Very  well,  sir.  You  have  a  bird  in  a  cage,  you 
cover  it  up  on  three  sides,  you  heat  a  wire  red-hot,  and 
fix  it  in  the  side  of  the  cage  that's  not  hidden ;  then 
you  leave  the  room,  leaving  the  cat  behind.  The 
animal  looks  about,  examines  the  ground,  measures  his 
distance,  crouches,  and  with  a  sudden  spring  comes 
down  all  four  paws  and  nose  on  the  red-hot  wire.  The 
hotter  the  wire,  the  better  the  cure." 

"  Thanks,  Michel.  .  .   .  And  about  our  troubadour  ?  " 

"  True,  true ;  I  was  forgetting  that  was  what  I  came 
about.  Well,  sir,  it's  all  settled  ;  he'll  sell  Fotich  for 
forty  francs,  but  he  insists  on  our  giving  him  two 
white  mice  and  a  guinea-pig  to  clinch  the  bargain." 

"  But,  Michel,  where  the  deuce  do  you  suppose 
I  am  to  get  two  white  mice  and  a  guinea  -  pig 
from  ?  " 

"  If  Monsieur  will  leave  it  to  me,  I  know  where 
they're  to  be  got,  I  do." 

"  What !  will  I  leave  it  to  you,  you  say  ?     Why,  of 


THE  FOUNDLING  87 

course  I  will,  and  I  shall  be  infinitely  obliged  to  you 
to  boot." 

"  Then  give  me  forty  francs." 

"  Here  they  are,  Michel,  here  they  are," — and  that 
worthy  man  went  off  with  his  forty  francs. 

"If  it  is  not  an  indiscreet  question,"  said  Madame 
Lamarque,  "  I  should  like  to  ask  Monsieur  what  is  the 
meaning  of  Mysoiiffl " 

"  Meaning  ?  Why,  my  dear  Madame  Lamarque, 
Mysouff  means  Mysouff;  what  else  should  it  mean?" 

"  It's  just  a  cat's  name  then — Mysouff?  " 

"  Of  course  it  is  ;  was  not  Mysouff  called  so  ?  " 

"  What  Mysouff?  " 

"  Mysouff  I.  Ah !  very  true,  Madame  Lamarque, 
you  never  knew  Mysouff." 

Thereupon  I  fell  into  so  deep  a  fit  of  abstraction 
that  Madame  Lamarque  showed  her  well-known  tact 
and  discretion  in  waiting  for  another  time  to  find  out 
who  and  what  was  Mysouff — first  of  the  name. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

MYSOUFF— FIRST  OF  THE  NAME 

DOUBTLESS,  reader,  you  have  often  been  in  a 
bric-a-brac  shop,  where,  after  admiring  a  Dutch 
drawing,  a  Renaissance  cabinet,  an  old  Japanese  vase, 
after  examining  a  Venice  goblet,  a  German  beaker,  after 
grinning  at  a  Chinese  Mandarin  that  wagged  its  head 
and  put  out  its  tongue,  you  suddenly  stood  rooted  to 
the  floor,  your  eyes  fixed  on  some  little  painting  hanging 
half  hidden  in  a  dusky  corner. 

From  the  darkness  gleamed  the  aureole  of  a 
Madonna  holding  the  Infant  Jesus  on  her  knees. 
The  gracious  figure  recalled  some  tender  recollection 
of  your  childhood,  and  you  felt  your  heart  flooded 
with  a  tide  of  gentle  melancholy. 

Then  you  looked  back  and  back,  farther  and  farther, 
into  the  past,  forgetting  your  companions,  the  place 
where  you  were,  and  what  you  had  come  there  for.  The 
wings  of  memory  bore  you  far  away,  you  flew  through 
space  as  if  possessed  of  Mephistopheles'  magic  cloak, 
and  you  found  yourself  once  more  a  child,  full  of  hope 
and  happy  augury  for  the  future,  as  you  faced  the 
dream  of  early  days  called  up  by  the  sight  of  the 
Blessed   Madonna  in  the  picture. 

Well,  this  was  how  it  was  with  me  at  this  moment. 
The  name  of  Mysouff  had  carried  me  back  fifteen 
years  of  my  life. 

88 


MYSOUFF— FIRST  OF  THE  NAME     89 

My  mother  was  still  alive.  I  still  enjoyed  in  those 
days  the  felicity  of  being  scolded  from  time  to  time 
by  a  loving  mother's  voice. 

My  mother  was  alive,  and  I  held  a  post  in  M.  le 
Due  d'Orleans  service  worth  1500  francs  per  annum. 
My  duties  occupied  me  from  ten  in  the  morning  to 
five  in  the  afternoon. 

We  lived  in  the  Rue  de  I'Ouest,  and  we  had  a  cat 
called  Mysouff.  The  animal  had  clearly  missed  its 
vocation ;  it  ought  to  have  been  born  a  dog. 

Every  morning  I  used  to  set  out  at  half-past  nine, — 
it  took  me  half  an  hour  to  go  from  the  Rue  de  I'Ouest 
to  my  office  in  the  Rue  Saint-Honore,  No.  216, — every 
morning  I  set  out  at  half-past  nine,  to  return  at  half- 
past  five. 

Every  morning  Mysouff  escorted  me  as  far  as  the 
Rue  de  Vaugirard,  and  every  evening  waited  for  me 
at  the  same  point. 

This  was  his  limit,  his  ring  of  Popilius,  which  I 
never  remember  having  seen  him  cross. 

And  the  curious  thing  was  that,  on  such  days  as 
some  chance  circumstance  or  casual  invitation  tempted 
me  to  break  my  dutiful  habits  as  a  son  and  I  was  not 
going  to  come  back  to  dine  at  home,  Mysouff,  though 
the  door  was  opened  for  his  exit  as  usual,  positively 
refused  to  obey,  and  lay  motionless  on  his  cushion,  in 
the  posture  of  a  serpent  biting  its  own  tail. 

It  was  quite  different  on  days  when  I  meant  to 
return  punctually.  Then,  if  they  forgot  to  open  the 
door  for  him,  Mysouff  would  scratch  at  it  persistently 
with  his  claws  till  he  got  what  he  wanted. 

Naturally  enough  my  mother  adored  the  faithful 
beast ;  she  used  to  call  him  her  barometer. 

"  Mysouff  marks  my  good  and  bad  weather,"  she 
used  to  tell    me,    the   dear,   loving  heart ;    "  the   days 


90  MY  PETS 

when  you  come,  it  is  my  '  set  fair/  those  when  you 
stay  away,  my  '  much  rain.'  " 

Poor,  sweet  woman  !  And  to  think  that  it  is  only 
when  we  have  lost  these  treasures  of  love  that  we 
discover  how  ill  we  appreciated  them  when  we  had  them. 
It  is  only  when  we  can  see  our  dear  ones  no  more  that 
we  remember  we  might  have  seen  them  oftener,  and 
bitterly  regret  we  neglected  our  opportunities  now  lost 
forever !   .   .  . 

Yes,  I  invariably  found  Mysouff  on  the  look-out  for 
me  in  the  middle  of  the  Rue  de  I'Ouest,  where  it 
emerges  into  the  Rue  de  Vaugiraud,  sitting  up  and 
gazing  at  the  utmost  horizon  of  the  Rue  d'Assas. 

The  instant  he  caught  sight  of  me,  he  began 
lashing  the  pavement  with  his  tail ;  then,  as  I  came 
nearer  and  nearer,  he  would  get  to  his  feet,  walk 
obliquely  all  along  the  line  of  junction  with  the  Rue 
de  rOuest,  tail  held  high  and  back  arched. 

The  moment  I  set  foot  in  the  Rue  de  I'Ouest,  he 
used  to  dance  about  my  legs  just  like  a  dog ;  then 
careering  along  in  front,  and  turning  back  to  rejoin 
me,  he  would  start  back  for  the  house. 

Twenty  yards  from  the  door,  he  would  come  back 
for  a  last  look  and  then  dash  in  full  gallop.  Two 
seconds  later  I  would  see  my  mother  appear  on  the 
threshold. 

Blessed  vision,  which  has  vanished  forever  from 
this  earth  ;  but  which,  I  hope  and  trust,  waits  to  greet 
me  on  the  threshold  of  another  door. 

Yes,  these  were  my  thoughts,  reader,  these  the 
memories  the  name  of  Mysouff  called  up  in  my 
mind.  So,  you  see,  it  was  excusable  if  I  failed  to  give 
Madame  Lamarque  an  answer. 


'    '  •  I  •  .  >  •    •" 


MVSOUFF    USED   TO    DANCK   ABOUT   MY   LE(;.S    LIKE    A    DOG 


CHAPTER   XIX 

DORVAL'S  BASKET  OF  FLOWERS 

ONCE  christened,  Mysouff  ll  enjoyed  in  the  house 
all  the  privileges  of  Mysouff  I. 

The  following  Sunday,  were  gathered  in  the 
garden,  Giraud,  Maquet,  my  son  Alexandre,  and 
two  or  three  other  habitues  of  the  house,  when 
a  second  Auvergnat  with  a  second  monkey  was 
announced. 

"  Show  him  in,"  I  told  Michel,  and  a  few  minutes 
afterwards  the  Auvergnat  made  his  appearance. 

On  his  shoulder  squatted  a  fantastic  figure, 
all  beribboned  and  wearing  a  cap  of  green  satin 
cocked  over  one  ear,  and  a  shepherd's  crook  in  one 
hand. 

"  Iss  it  no  here  they  puy  moonkeys  ? "  the  fellow 
asked. 

"  Oh  !  what  ?  "  we  cried  in  chorus. 

"  He's  asking  if  it  isn't  here  they  buy  monkeys," 
explained  Michel. 

"  My  good   man,"    I   said,  "  you  have  mistaken  the 

house.     You  must  take  the  first  train  back,  make  for 

the  boulevard,  follow  it  right  away  to  the  Colonne  de  la 

Bastille.       There,  turn   to  the  right,  or  to  the   left,  as 

you  please,  cross   the  Pont  d'Austerlitz,  and  you  will 

find  yourself  in   front  of  the  great  gates  of  the  Jardin 

des  Plantes.      Ask  them  for  M.  Thiers'  new  monkey- 
si 


92  MY  PETS 

house,  and  here's  a  couple  of  francs  to  cover 
expenses." 

"  Hech,  sirs  !  but  ah  haf  seen  twa  apes  in  a  cage 
here  a'ready,"  the  Auvergnat  persisted  in  his  uncouth 
patois,  "  and  Jean-Pierre's  lad  tellt  me  she  had  solt 
her  moonkey  to  ane  Mossoo  Doamass,  Sae  I  tellt 
mysel' :  *  Aiblins  Mossoo  Doamass  wad  like  my 
moonkey  as  weel ;  ah  wad  let  her  haf  the  beastie,  and 
nae  dearer  ava  than  Jean-Pierre's  lad  he  sellt  her 
nain." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  I  am  much  obliged  for  your  kind 
offer,  and  here's  a  franc  in  token  of  gratitude ;  but 
I  have  plenty,  two  monkeys  are  enough.  If  I  kept 
more,  I  should  require  another  servant  only  to  look 
after  them." 

"  Sir,"  put  in  Michel,  "  there's  Soulouque,  who  won't 
do  a  thing ;  Monsieur  might  put  him  in  charge  of 
the  monkeys." 

This  opened  quite  a  new  perspective  as  to 
Soulouque's  possible  future. 

Alexis,  known  as  Soulouque,  was  a  young  Negro  of 
thirteen  or  fourteen,  of  the  finest  ebony  complexion, 
who  must  have  originally  come  from  Senegal  or  the 
Congo.  He  had  been  a  denizen  of  my  house  for  five 
or  six  years  now. 

Dorval,  one  day  she  came  to  dine  with  me,  had 
brought  him  with  her  in  a  big  basket. 

"  Look,"  she  said,  opening  the  lid,  "  here's  something 
I  have  brought  you  as  a  present." 

After  removing  a  mass  of  flowers,  I  caught  sight  of 
something  black  with  two  great  white  eyes,  crouching 
at  the  bottom  of  the  hamper. 

"  Why  !  "  I  exclaimed,  "  whatever  is  that,  eh  ?  " 

"  Don't  be  afraid,  it  doesn't  bite." 

"  But,  tell  me,  do,  what  is  it  ?  " 


DORVAL'S  BASKET  OF  FLOWERS    93 

"  A  Negro  !  " 

"  A  Negro  ?  " 

And  diving  my  two  hands  into  the  basket,  I  seized 
the  Nigger  by  the  shoulders,  hauled  him  out  and  stuck 
him  on  his  legs. 

Thereupon  he  gave  me  a  radiant  smile  with  his  two 
great,  starry  eyes  and  his  thirty-two  teeth  as  white  as 
snow. 

"  Where  the  deuce  does  he  come  from  ? "  I  asked 
Dorval. 

"  From  the  Antilles,  my  dear  man ;  one  of  my 
friends,  on  landing  from  there,  gave  him  me.  He  has 
been  at  my  house  for  a  year  now." 

"  I  have  never  seen  him." 

"  Very  likely — because  you  never  come.  Why  do 
we  never  see  you  nowadays  ?  Come  and  have  break- 
fast one  day,  and  dinner,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Not  I ;  you  are  surrounded  by  a  swarm  of 
parasites  who  are  eating  you  up  alive." 

"  You  are  perfectly  right ;  only  it  won't  last  much 
longer.  At  this  moment,  dear  boy,  they  are  licking  the 
empty  platters." 

"  You  poor  dear,  good  creature,  what  a  state  of 
things  !  " 

"  So  I  said  to  myself,  looking  at  Alexis :  '  Well, 
well,  my  lad,  I  am  going  to  take  you  somewhere  where 
you  won't  get  paid  perhaps  any  more  punctually  than 
you  are  here,  but  where  you  will  have  something  to  eat 
every  day,  at  any  rate.'  " 

"  But  what  do  you  expect  me  to  make  of  this  fine 
fellow  ? " 

"  He  is  very  intelligent,  I  do  assure  you,  and  here's 
a  proof  of  it.  On  days  when  dinner  is  scanty  and  the 
joint  is  conspicuous  by  its  absence,  I  do  the  same  as 
Madame    used,  1    relate    stories.     Well,  sometimes    I 


94  MY  PETS 

look  round  his  way,  and  I  always  see  him  laughing 
or  crying,  according  as  the  tale  is  sad  or  merry. 
Then,  I  lengthen  out  my  narrative ;  they  all  think  it's 
to  please  them  ;  but  nothing  of  the  kind,  it's  for  Alexis. 
I  tell  myself:  'Poor  boy,  they  are  eating  your  dinner, 
they  are ;  but  they  cannot  eat  your  story.'  Isn't  that 
so,  Alexis  ?  " 

Alexis  nodded  his  head  in  sign  of  affirmation. 

"  You  possess  just  the  kindest  heart  I  know,  upon 
my  word ! " 

"  After  you,  my  good  fellow.  Then  you  will  take 
Alexis  ?  " 

«  Yes,  I  will." 

Then  I  turned  to  my  new  protege. 

"  So,"  I  said,  "  you  come  from  Havanna,  it  seems  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  what  language  do  they  talk  at  Havanna,  my 
lad  ? " 

"  They  talk  Creole." 

"  So  ?  And  how  do  you  say  '  Good-day,  sir,'  in 
Creole  ?  " 

"  You  say,  '  Good-day^  sir!  " 

"  And,  '  Good-day,  Madam  '  ?  " 

"  You  say,  '  Good-day,  Madam!  " 

"  Ah !  then  that's  all  right,  we  will  talk  Creole 
together. — Michel !  Michel !  "  I  called,  and  on  his 
coming,  "  Look  here,  Michel,"  I  said,  "  here's  a  fine 
fellow  belongs  to  the  house  henceforth  ;  I  entrust  him 
to  your  care." 

Michel  looked  at  him  critically. 

"  Who  is  it  did  the  washing  for  you,  my  lad  ?  "  he 
asked  the  Negro. 

"  Beg  pardon  ?  "  stammered  Alexis. 

"  I  ask  you  what's  your  washerwoman's  name 
and  address ;    I  mean  to  make  her  refund  your  money, 


DORVAi;S  BASKET  OF  FLOWERS    95 

I   do.      She's    just    robbed  you !      Well,    come    along 
Soulouque." 

So  Michel  carried  off  Alexis, — Alexis  for  everybody 
else,  but  for  Michel  Soulouque  from  that  day  forward 
forever. 


CHAPTER   XX 
TOO  GOOD  A  "CHARACTER"! 

FROM  that  time  Alexis  became  a  regular  inmate 
of  the  household. 

I  am  strongly  tempted  to  break  my  usual  habit  of 
digression  and  tell  the  rest  of  Alexis'  history  right 
away,  and  I  now  proceed  to  do  so. 

The  lad  remained  in   my  service  till  the  Revolution 
of  February.     The  next  day  after  the  proclamation  of  1 
the   Republic,   he  walked  into   my  study  and   planted 
himself  in  front  of  my  desk. 

When  I  got  to  the  end  of  my  page,  1  looked  up, 
and  saw  his  face  wreathed  in  smiles. 

"  Well,  Alexis,"  I  asked,  "  what  is  it  now  ? " 

We  had  always  gone  on,  by  the  bye,  in  our  conversa- 
tions speaking  Creole. 

"  Monsieur  is  aware  there  are  no  more  servants  now," 
Alexis  began. 

"  No,  I  did  not  know  that." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  inform  you  of  the  fact." 

"  Oh,  Lord  !  my  poor  lad,  but  this  strikes  me  as  a  jj 
very  bad  bit  of  news  for  you  ! "  " 

"  Oh  no,  sir  !  just  the  opposite." 

"  So  much  the  better,  then  !  What  do  you  propose  to 
be  instead  ?  " 

"  Sir,  I  should  like  to  be  a  sailor." 

"  Ah  !  but  that  falls  out  pat,  to  be  sure  !     You  were 

96 


I 


TOO  GOOD  A  "CHARACTER"!     97 

born  under  a  lucky  star,  for  certain.  It  so  happens 
one  of  my  friends  is  likely  to  have  some  influence  at 
the  Ministry  of  Marine." 

"  M.  Arago,  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Hang  it,  my  man,  you  do  go  the  pace !  Will 
nothing  content  you  but  the  Minister  himself?  True, 
he  is  a  friend  of  mine  too ;  but  I  was  not  talking  of 
him  ;  it's  Allier  I  had  in  my  mind." 

"  Well,  sir  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  am  going  to  give  you  a  line  for  Allier ;  he 
will  enlist  you,  or  get  you  enlisted,  in  the  Navy." 

I  took  a  sheet  of  notepaper  and  wrote — 

"  My  dear  Allier, — I  am  sending  you  my 
servant,  who  has  quite  made  up  his  mind  to  be  an 
Admiral ;  I  have  no  doubt,  under  your  auspices,  he  will 
presently  reach  this  exalted  rank.  But  as  we  must,  of 
course,  begin  at  the  beginning,  will  you,  to  start  with,  get 
him  a  berth  as  cabin-boy  ? — Yours  ever,  A.  D." 

"  Here,"  I  said  to  Alexis,  handing  him  the  letter, 
"  here's  your  recommendation." 

"  Has  Monsieur  put  the  address  on  it  ? "  asked 
Alexis,  who  spoke  Creole,  but  could  not  write  or  even 
read  that  language. 

"  I  have  put  the  name,  Alexis ;  the  address  you 
must  find  out  for  yourself." 

"  How  does  Monsieur  suppose  I  can  ever  find 
it?" 

"  There  is  a  certain  sentence  in  the  Bible  must  be 
your  guiding  star — '  Search,  and  you  shall  find.' " 

"Very  well,  I  will  search,  sir;"  and  Alexis  left  me 
to  myself. 

Two  hours  later  he  returned,  radiant ;  his  face  looked 
like  a  sun  seen  through  a  smoked  glass. 

7 


98  MY  PETS 

"Well,  and  AlHer?" 
"  Well,  sir,  I  found  him  all  right" 
"  And  did  he  receive  you  nicely  ?  " 
"  Nothing  could  be  nicer.    ...    He  sent  a  lot  of 
messages  to  you,  sir." 

"  You  explained  to  him  that  you  did  not  wish  to  be 
a  servant  any  more,  and  that  you  were  sacrificing  to 
your    country    the    thirty    francs    I    pay  you  by    the 
month?  " 
"  Yes,  sir." 
"  And  he  said  ?  " 

"  He  said  :  '  Bring  me  a  "  character "  from  Dumas 
stating  that  you  were  a  good  servant  to  him.' " 
«  Oh  ho  ! " 
"  And  if  Monsieur  will  give  me  this  '  character,'  well 

then " 

"  Yes,  then  ? " 

"  I    think   M.    Allier  will  do   something  handsome 
for  me." 

"  Think,  Alexis  ;  think  twice." 
"  Think  what,  sir  ?  " 
"  You  are  giving  up  a  good  place." 
"  But,  sir,  as  there  are  no  more  servants  now  ? " 
"  You  can  be  an  exception.   ...   It  is  always  a  good 
thing  to  be  amongst  the  exceptions,  you  know." 
"  Sir,  I  want  to  be  a  sailor." 

"  If  it  is  your  vocation,  Alexis,  I  will  not  stand  in 
the  way.  Look,  my  lad,  there's  your  month's  money, 
— thirty  francs — and  your  '  character.'  I  need  not  tell 
you,  Alexis,  I  have  lied  like  a  Trojan,  and  said  you 
are  an  admirable  servant." 

"  Thank  you,  sir " — and  Alexis  vanished  like  a 
conjuring  trick. 

A  fortnight  later  Alexis'  successor  in  office  an- 
nounced a  sailor  to  see  me. 


TOO  GOOD  A  "CHARACTER"!     99 

"  A  sailor  !  What  does  that  mean  ?  I  don't  know 
any  one  in  the  Navy." 

"  Sir,  it's  a  black  sailor." 

"  Ah,  it's  Alexis  !     Show  him  in,  Joseph." 

Alexis  walked  in,  in  his  cabin-boy's  dress,  his 
shiny  leather  cap  in  his  hand. 

"  So  it's  you,  my  lad !  It  suits  you  capitally,  let 
me  tell  you,  your  new  costume." 

<'  Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,  so  now  your  prayers  are  answered,  your 
wishes  realised,  your  desires  accomplished,  eh  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  have  the  honour  to  serve  the  Republic." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  why,  why  do  you  speak  with  such  an  air  of 
melancholy  ?     A  sailor's  first  duty  is  to  be  hearty." 

"  The  fact  is  I  am  not  a  sailor  except  now  and  then 
in  my  spare  time,  sir." 

"  Why,  how  is  that  ?  " 

"  I  only  serve  the  Republic  after  I  have  done  serving 
M.  Allien" 

"You  serve  M.  Allier?" 

"Alas!  yes." 

"  In  what  capacity,  Alexis  ?  " 

"  As  his  servant,  sir." 

"  But  I  thought  there  were  no  servants  any  more  ? " 

"It  appears  there  are,  sir,  after  all." 

"  But  I  thought  you  yourself  were  determined  not 
to  be  a  servant  any  longer  ?  " 

"  Very  true,  that  was  my  wish." 

"  Well,  then  ?  " 

"  It  is  all  Monsieur's  fault  if  I  am  one  still." 

"  My  fault !      How  do  you  make  that  out  ?  " 

"  Because  Monsieur  gave  me  too  good  a  '  character.'  " 

"  Alexis,  you  are  as  dense  as  the  Sphinx,  my  boy." 


100  MY  PETS 

"  M.  Allier  read  the  '  character '  you  gave  me." 

"  Yes  ;  and  then  ?  " 

"  Then  he  said  :  '  Is  it  all  true  what  your  master 
says  in  your  praise  ? ' — '  Yes,  sir,'  I  told  him. — '  Well, 
in  view  of  such  an  excellent  "  character,"  I  will  take 
you  into  my  own  service.'  " 

"  Oh,  I  see !  .  .  .  so  that  now  you  are  Allier's  servant  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  how  much  does  he  give  you  a  month  ?  " 

"  Nothing  at  all,  sir." 

"  But,  anyhow,  you  get  a  kick  behind  now  and 
then,  or  a  box  on  the  ear  ?  I  know  Allier  ;  he  is  not 
the  man  to  neglect  his  duty  in  these  little  matters." 

"  Ah  !  there  you're  right,  sir ;  he  never  spares 
expenses,  and  the  pay  is  first-rate." 

"  Well,  Alexis,  I  congratulate  you." 

"  Don't  mention  it,  don't  mention  it,  sir." 

"  And    here's    a   five-franc    piece    to    drink    Allier's 

health." 

"  If  it's  all  the  same  to   Monsieur,  I'd  rather  drink 

his  health." 

"  Drink  to  whose  health  you  please,  my  lad ;  and 
say  all  that's  civil  from  me  to  Allier." 

"  I  will  not  fail,  sir ; "  and  so  saying,  Alexis  took 
his  departure,  less  melancholy  to  the  tune  of  five 
francs,  but  still  very  crestfallen. 

The  poor  lad  was  more  of  a  servant  than  ever ;  only 
he  received  no  wages, — unless  we  are  to  reckon  as  an 
equivalent  for  the  thirty  francs  I  used  to  give  him, 
the  kicks  behind  and  the  boxes  on  the  side  of  the 
head  which  Allier  bestowed  on  him. 


CHAPTER   XXI 
ALEXIS  JOINS  THE  GARDE  MOBILE 

YOU  think,  perhaps,  that  we  have  finished  with 
Alexis  ?     Not  a  bit  of  it. 

A  week  after  the  June  cmeutes  I  saw  Alexis  walk 
into  my  study  once  more.  He  had  his  cutlass  by  his 
side  and  his  cap  cocked  over  his  ear. 

"  Oh  ho  !  Alexis,"  I  greeted  him  ;  "  so  here  you  are 
agam  ! 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  look  very  cheerful,  my  lad," 

"  Yes,  sir,"  grinned  Alexis,  showing  his  thirty-two 
ivories. 

"  There  has  been  a  change  in  your  fortunes,  eh  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  a  great  change." 

"  And  what  is  it,  my  boy  ?  " 

"  Sir,  I  have  left  M.  Allier's  service." 

"  So  !      But  you  are  still  serving  the  Republic  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  but " 

"  But  what,  Alexis  ?  " 

"  Sir,  I  have  altered  my  mind  about  being  a  sailor." 

"  Oh,  you  have  altered  your  mind,  have  you  ? 
And  what  do  you  want  to  be  now,  you  fickle 
fellow  ?  " 

"  Sir,  I  should  like  to  join  the  Garde  Mobile." 

"  The  Garde  Mobile,  eh,  Alexis  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

101 


102  MY  PETS 

"  You  have  some  reason,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Sir,  in  the  Garde  Mobile  one  gets  a  medal." 

"  Yes,  after  fighting  " 

'*  Sir,  I'm  ready  to  fight,  if  needs  be." 

"  Well,  but,  deuce  take  it !  this  is  a  complete  change 
of  front,  my  lad." 

"  Does  Monsieur   know  the  Colonel    of   the  Garde 
Mobile  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do  ;  it  is  Clary." 

"  If  Monsieur  would  give  me  a  letter  for  him " 

"  I  am  perfectly  willing." 

"  Only  .  .  ."  stammered  Alexis,  stopping  and 
hesitating. 

"  Only  what  ?  " 

"  No  '  character,'  if  you  please,  sir." 

"  Never  fear." 

I  gave  him  a  letter  for  Clary,  this  time  with  the 
address  duly  inscribed. 

"  And  now,"  declared  Alexis  in  the  tone  of  the 
Centurion  of  Pharsalia  saying  to  Caesar :  "  Now  you 
will  only  see  me  dead  or  victorious ! " — "  Now,"  said 
Alexis,  "  Monsieur  will  not  see  me  again  ;  or,  if  he  does, 
it  will  be  in  the  uniform  of  the  Garde  !  " 

Six  weeks  afterwards  I  did  see  Alexis  again — 
wearing  the  uniform  in  question. 

"  Well,  Alexis,"  I  laughed,  "  you  have  not  got  your 
medal  yet  ? " 

"  Ah,  sir,  what  luck !  Since  I  have  been  in  the 
force — as  if  they'd  done  it  on  purpose — never  another 
imeute  !  " 

"  Yes,  that's  their  spite,  no  doubt,  my  poor  lad." 
"  Then,  worse    still,  they're  going    to    disband    the 
Garde  Mobile  and  transfer  us  to  the  Regular  Army," 

The  announcement  was  followed  by  a  deep  sigh, 
and  Alexis  rolled  his  great  appealing  eyes  at  me. 


ALEXIS  IN  THE  "GARDE  MOBILE  "  103 

These  demonstrations  plainly  signified :  "  Oh,  if 
only  Monsieur  would  take  me  on  again  as  domestic  ! 
I  would  far  rather  serve  him  than  M.  Allier,  or  even 
the  Republic." 

I  pretended  to  notice  nothing,  whether  sighs  or 
appealing  looks. 

"  Well,  now,"  1  suggested,  "  if  you  want  to  go  back 
to  the  Navy " 

"  No,  thank  you,  sir,"  said  Alexis.  "  Just  think, 
the  vessel  on  which  I  was  to  have  embarked,  if 
I  had  not  joined  the  Mobiles,  was  shipwrecked,  and 
lost  with  all  hands." 

"  What  would  you  have,  my  fine  fellow  ?  Why,  ship- 
wreck's all  in  the  way  of  business  for  a  sailor." 

"  Oh,  Lord  !  and  I  can't  swim  a  stroke.  I'd  prefer 
to  join  the  land  forces.  But  all  the  same,  if  Monsieur 
happened  to  know  of  a  place,  even  though  it  shouldn't 
be  such  a  good  one  as  yours,  sir,  well,  I'd  make  it  do." 

"  Ah,  my  poor  lad,  a  week  after  the  Revolution  of 
February  you  came  and  told  me :  '  There  are  no 
more  servants  now,'  and  you  found  yourself  mistaken. 
Well,  it's  thirty  months  now  since  the  establishment 
of  the  Republic,  and  I  tell  you  :  '  There  are  no  more 
masters  now,'  and  I  think  I  am  not  mistaken." 

"  In  that  case,  sir,  your  advice  is  to  stick  to  my 
soldiering  ?  " 

"  That  is  my  advice  ;  and  what's  more,  I  don't  see 
what  else  you  can  do." 

Alexis  heaved  a  sigh  twice  as  despondent  as  the  first. 

"  I  see  I  must  just  resign  myself  to  circumstances," 
he  said. 

"  Yes,  I  really  think,  my  boy,  that  is  the  best  thing 
you  can  do." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  must,"  he  groaned,  and  left  the 
room  with  anything  but  an  air  of  resignation. 


104  MY  PETS 

Three  months  afterwards  I  received  a  letter  bearing 
the  postmark  of  Ajaccio.  As  I  did  not  know  a  living 
soul  there,  I  could  not  think  who  my  correspondent 
could  be  writing  from  Napoleon's  birthplace. 

The  best  way  to  satisfy  my  curiosity  was  obviously 
to  open  the  letter,  which  I  accordingly  did.  Glancing 
at  the  end,  I  read  the  signature — Alexis  ! 

How  came  it  that  Alexis,  whom  I  had  parted  from 
in  Paris  unable  to  write,  was  now  inditing  an  epistle 
to  me  from  Ajaccio  ?  This  I  should  probably  find 
out  from  the  letter  itself;  so  I  proceeded  to  read  it — 

"  Sir, — I  am  writing  to  you,  my  former  master  and 
kind  protector,  by  the  hand  of  our  quartermaster- 
sergeant,  to  tell  you  that  I  am  in  a  hole  of  a  country 
where  there's  nothing  for  a  fellow  to  do, — except  the 
girls,  who  are  pretty  enough ;  but  you  can't  say  a 
word  to  them,  because  everybody  is  a  relation  of 
everybody  else  in  the  place,  and  if  you  don't  marry 
the  wench  afterwards,  they're  sure  to  murder  you. 
This  they  call  the  vendetta. 

"  So,  sir,  if  you  could  get  me  home  from  this  hole 
of  a  place,  where  it's  as  much  as  your  life's  worth  to 
go  near  a  bush,  and  you're  just  eaten  up  with  vermin, 
you  would  be  doing  a  fine  service  to  your  poor  Alexis, 
who  asks  you  the  favour  in  good,  kind  Madame 
Dorval's  name.  She  was  so  fond  of  you,  and  I  see 
by  the  papers  we  have  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  her. 

"  I  don't  think  this  would  be  very  difficult,  if  you 
would  see  to  it  a  bit ;  not  being  a  highly  efficient 
soldier,  I  believe  my  officers  would  not  be  very  un- 
willing to  let  me  off.  In  that  case,  you  would  have 
to  apply  to  my  Colonel,  whose  address  you  will  find 
below. 

"  There  will  be  no  trouble  about  knowing  me  from 


ALEXIS  IN  THE  "GARDE  MOBILE"  105 

your    description,   as    I    am    the    only  Negro    in    the 
Regiment. 

"  As  for  getting  back  to  Paris,  never  fear,  sir.  Once 
I  have  my  discharge,  they'll  give  mc  a  free  passage 
to  Toulon  or  Marseilles.  Once  landed  in  France,  1 
can  make  my  way  to  Paris  cum  pedibus  et  janibibus — 
which  the  quartermaster-sergeant  tells  me  means  on 
my  own  ten  toes. 

"  Now,  sir,  if  I  were  lucky  enough  to  be  taken  back 
again  into  your  house,  I  give  you  my  solemn  promise 
I  will  serve  you  for  nothing,  if  necessary — and  serve 
you  better,  I  make  bold  to  say,  than  when  you  paid 
me  thirty  francs  a  month. 

"  But  if,  in  your  anxiety  to  see  me  sooner,  you 
would  care  to  send  me  a  trifle  of  money,  so  as  not  to 
have  to  take  leave  of  my  comrades  like  a  sneak  and 
a  skunk,  why,  it  would  be  very  welcome,  to  drink  to 
your  good  health,  sir,  and  to  make  the  journey  a  bit 
easier  to  manage. 

"  I  am  and  shall  always  be,  my  good  and  kind 
master,  your  obedient  and  devoted  servant, 

"  Alexis  " 

Here  followed  the  Colonel's  address. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

THE  PRODIGAL  RETURNS 

YOU  have  guessed,  reader,  what  I  did,  have  you 
not? 

I  went  to  the  Ministry  of  War  and  asked  to  see 
my  dear,  good  friend  Charras ;  I  begged  him  to  back 
up  my  request  to  the  Colonel,  to  whom  I  wrote  then 
and  there,  using  the  official  notepaper  of  the  Ministry. 
I  enclosed  with  it  an  order  for  fifty  francs,  to  be  spent 
partly  in  drinking  my  health,  partly  in  "  making  the 
journey  a  bit  easier." 

This  done,  I  waited  developments  with  the  calm 
satisfaction  of  a  man  conscious  of  having  done  a  good 
action. 

Six  weeks  later,  I  beheld  Alexis  once  more  on  the 
threshold  of  my  study. 

"  Well,"  I  greeted  him  as  usual,  "  so  here  you  are 
again  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Your  mind  is  made  up  to  enter  my  service  for 
board,  lodging,  and  clothing  only  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  you  will  never  ask  me  for  a  penny  ? " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Well,  I  will  take  you  back  on  these  conditions." 

"  Ah !  I  knew  Monsieur  would,"  cried  Alexis,  beam- 
ing with  delight. 

106 


THE  PRODIGAL  RETURNS       107 

"  One  moment,  my  boy  ;  don't  imagine  I  am  taking 
you  back  because  I  cannot  do  without  you.  You  would 
be  mightily  mistaken  if  you  did,  Alexis." 

"  I  am  quite  aware  Monsieur  does  this  out  of  pure 
goodness  of  heart,  and  nothing  else." 

"  Bravo !  Now,  what  have  you  learnt  in  foreign 
parts  ?  " 

"  To  make  cartridge  grease,  to  pipeclay  buff-belts 
and  keep  the  muskets  clean.  If  Monsieur  will  give 
me  charge  of  his  guns,  he'll  see  what  I  can  do." 

"  I  will  do  better  than  that,  Alexis,  I  will  give  you 
charge  of  myself." 

"  What !      I'm  to  come  back  as  Monsieur's  valet  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Alexis ;  for  valets  are  still  in  existence,  it 
seems ;  though  I  keep  none  myself  any  longer.  Go 
and  hunt  up  your  old  livery,  and  get  to  work." 

"  But  where  can  my  old  livery  have  got  to,  sir  ? " 

"  Oh,  /  don't  know  !  Search,  my  lad,  search.  It's 
like  Allier's  address,  there's  only  the  Bible  precept 
can  give  you  any  hope  of  finding." 

Alexis  left  the  room  to  start  his  search.  He  soon 
came  back  in  triumph,  carrying  the  livery  in  his  hand. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  began,  "  to  begin  with,  it's  all  moth- 
eaten  ;  and  in  the  second  place,  I  can't  get  into  it  any 
more." 

"  The  deuce,  Alexis  !      What's  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  Doesn't  Monsieur  still  employ  the  same  tailor  ? " 
Alexis  asked. 

"  No,  he  is  dead,  and  I  have  not  yet  appointed  a 
successor." 

"  The  deuce  !  as  Monsieur  says,  what's  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  Go  and  ask  my  son  to  give  you  the  address  of 
his  tailor,  and  look  in  my  wardrobe  for  something  to 
suit  you." 

"  Thank  you,  sir." 


108  MY  PETS 

"  Meantime,  keep  on  your  uniform,  my  lad.  Only 
get  rid  of  that  sort  of  tin  quiver  you  wear  over  your 
shoulder,  or  at  any  rate  empty  the  arrows  out  of  it ; 
else  folks  will  take  you  for  Cupid." 

"  It's  not  arrows  in  it,  sir;  it's  my  discharge." 

"  Ah,  well,  empty  it  anyway." 

Three  or  four  days  later  there  walked  into  my  room 
a  gentleman  of  fashion  in  a  pair  of  light  green  trousers 
with  a  grey  check,  a  black  frock-coat,  a  waistcoat  of 
white  pique  and  a  cambric  cravat.  On  top  of  all 
appeared  Alexis'  black   face. 

I  hardly  knew  him. 

"  Why,  what's  that  thing  I  see  ?  "   I  asked. 

"  It's  only  me,  sir." 

"  Why,  has  a  Russian  Princess  fallen  in  love  with 
you,  then  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Then  where  did  you  get  all  those  fine  clothes,  eh  ?  " 

"  Why,  Monsieur  told  me — '  Go  and  look  in  my  ward- 
robe for  something  to  suit  you.' " 

"  And  you  looked  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  you  found  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,  come  here,  closer." 

"  Here  I  am,  sir." 

"  But,  God  forgive  me !  it's  my  new  trousers, 
Alexis  !  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  But,  the  devil  take  me  !  it's  my  new  coat,  Alexis  !  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,  really,  you  are  the  deuce  of  a  fellow  !  " 

"  Why  do  you  say  that,  sir  ?  " 

"  Why  ?  Why,  you  go  and  take  my  very  best 
clothes  ?      Well,  really  !  .  .   .  and  what  about  me  ?  " 


-t' 


c       et.c.ooeotcc  c        c        '      « 

cc     e   e    •«   ^    «    «     '     ,c    c         c      cc  ' 


I    IMAC;iNF.I)    MONSIEUR    WOL'I.I)    LIKK    ME   TO    RE    HANDSOMELV    DRESSED 


THE  PRODIGAL  RETURNS       109 

"  Why,  I  thought,  as  Monsieur  sits  at  work  all  day 


long " 

"  Yes  ?  " 

"  I  thought,  as  Monsieur  never  leaves  the  house " 

"  Well  ?  " 

"  I  thought  Monsieur  would  not  mind  about  being 
finely  dressed." 

"  Upon  my  word  !  " 

"  While  for  me,  who  go  out  so  much " 

"So?" 

"  Who  run  on  all  the  errands " 

"  What  next  ?  " 

"  Who  is  fond  of  the  ladies " 

"  Coxcomb !  " 

"  I  imagined  Monsieur  would  like  me  to  be 
handsomely  dressed," 

"  Oh  !  you  imagined  that,  did  you  ?  " 

"  Give  him  your  decorations  into  the  bargain,  sir," 
grinned  Michel,  who  came  in  at  that  moment. 
"  Then  they'll  all  take  him  for  heir-apparent  of 
His  Majesty  King  Faustin  I — and  the  thing  will  be 
complete ! " 

"  But  meantime  I  have  neither  coats  nor  trousers 
to  wear  myself" 

"  Oh  yes,  you  have,  sir !  there  are  the  old  ones." 

After  all,  Alexis  was  more  reasonable  than  many 
of  his  betters.  I  have  known  so  many  people  in  the 
course  of  my  life  who  have  appropriated  my  new  duds, 
and  have  not  so  much  as  left  me  the  old  ! 


CHAPTER  XXIIl 

ALEXIS  FINDS  SCOPE  FOR  HIS  MILITARY 
PROCLIVITIES  AT  LAST 

ANYWAY,  my  new  coat  and  trousers  being  no 
longer  available,  I  had  a  twofold  motive  for 
staying  at  home,  and  my  work  was  naturally  benefited. 

Thereupon  I  told  myself:  "This  poor  lad  Alexis 
thinks  he  is  serving  me  for  nothing;  well,  it  is  only 
fair  his  self-respect  should  be  consulted,  as  his 
pecuniary  interests  are  being  jeopardised." 

I  have  underlined  the  word  thinks ;  for  I  trust  you 
know  me  too  well,  dear  readers,  to  suppose  for  an 
instant  that  he  was  really  giving  his  services  gratis. 

I  wanted  to  see  what  difference  there  was  between 
Alexis  receiving  thirty  francs  a  month  and  Alexis 
acting  as  my  servant  unpaid.  I  am  bound  to  say 
in  common  justice  to  him  that  there  was  none 
whatever. 

However,  I  proposed,  at  a  given  time,  to  make 
Alexis  a  refund,  as  they  say  in  the  Government 
offices. 

Now  you  know,  or  possibly  you  do  not  know,  that 
on  December  7,  1852,  I  left  Paris  for  Brussels,  Alexis 
accompanied  me,  and  I  took  up  my  quarters  at  the 
H6tel  de  I'Europe. 

There  I   had  all  the  hotel  waiters  to  do  anything 

I  wanted — and  this  proved  Alexis'  undoing. 

110 


ALEXIS  FINDS  SCOPE  111 

I  knew  Brussels  from  of  old,  and  felt  no  curiosity 
to  explore  the  city  again.  So  I  set  to  work  without 
a  moment's  delay  directly  I  arrived. 

But  Alexis  had  never  been  in  the  Belgian  capital 
before,  and  had  a  strong  desire  to  see  its  beauties. 
The  result  was  that,  having  nothing  else  to  do,  he 
undertook  a  series  of  linguistic  studies  by  way  of 
comparing  the  French,  Belgian,  and  Creole  tongues. 

He  was  still  engaged  in  these  studies  when  it 
occurred  to  me  to  give  up  living  at  an  hotel  and 
rent  and  furnish  a  small  house  instead.  I  did  this 
accordingly ;  but  by  the  time  I  entered  into  possession 
of  my  new  quarters,  Alexis  had  become  so  enamoured 
of  his  new  pursuits  that  he  invariably  left  the  house  at 
eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  came  back  at  eleven  for  de- 
jeuner^ went  out  again  at  noon,  returning  at  six,  and  out 
again  at  seven  and  finally  home  and  to  bed  at  midnight. 

Finally,  one  day  I  confronted  him  when  he  came  in 
at  one  of  these  times,  and  told  him — 

"  Alexis,  I  am  going  to  give  you  a  piece  of  news 
you  will  be  glad  to  hear.  My  lad,  I  have  just 
engaged  a  servant  to  attend  to  us.  Only  don't  take 
him  away  with  you  when  you  go  out." 

Alexis  looked  at  me  with  his  great,  soft  eyes,  in 
which  there  was  not  the  faintest  gleam  of  ill-nature. 

"  I  quite  understand,"  he  said  ;  "  Monsieur  discharges 
me. 

"  Please  observe,  Alexis,  I  have  not  said  one  word 
about  dismissal," 

*'  Oh  !   I'm  ready  to  admit  one  thing " 

"  What  is  that,  Alexis  ?  " 

"  I  can  see  for  myself  I  don't  suit  Monsieur." 

"  If  you  say  so  yourself,  Alexis,  I  am  too  good  a 
master  to  contradict  you." 

"  Then  my  mind  is  made  up," 


112  MY  PETS 

"  It  is  always  something  gained  to  have  made  up 
one's  mind." 

"  There's  no  doubt  about  it,  sir,  my  vocation  is  to 
be  a  soldier." 

"  I  will  say  to  you  what  Louis  Philippe  did  to  M. 
Dupin :  '  I  always  thought  as  you  do,  my  dear  sir ; 
but  I  never  durst  tell  you  so." 

"  When  does  Monsieur  wish  me  to  go  ?  " 

"  Fix  your  own  time,  Alexis." 

*'  As  soon  as  ever  Monsieur  has  given  me  something 
to  pay  my  journey  with." 

"  Here's  fifty  francs." 

"  How  much  is  the  ticket  to  Paris,  sir  ?  " 

"  Twenty-five  francs,  Alexis ;  for  I  presume  you 
don't  intend  to  travel  first-class." 

"  Oh  no,  sir,  no ! — So  I  shall  have  twenty-five 
francs  over." 

"  You  will  have  more  than  that  left,  Alexis." 

"  Why,  how  much  shall  I  have  left  ?  " 

"  You  will  have  four  hundred  and  fifty  francs  plus 
twenty-five  francs, — total,  four  hundred  and  seventy-five 
francs." 

"  I  don't  understand,  sir." 

"  You  have  been  in  my  service  for  fifteen  months ; 
very  well,  fifteen  months  at  thirty  francs  a  month 
makes  exactly  four  hundred  and  fifty  francs." 

"  But,"  stammered  Alexis,  blushing  through  his 
black  skin,  "  I  thought  I  was  serving  Monsieur  for 
nothing  ?  " 

"  Well,  then,  you  were  mistaken,  Alexis.  It  was  only 
a  way  of  making  you  save  up  a  trifle  in  spite  of 
yourself.  If  you  choose  to  travel  on  foot,  and  buy 
yourself  an  annuity  with  the  four  hundred  and  seventy- 
five  francs  you  own,  you  will  have  twenty-three  francs 
seventy-five  centimes  a  year." 


ALEXIS  FINDS  SCOPE  113 

"  And  Monsieur  is  really  going  to  give  me  four 
hundred  and  seventy-five  francs  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  am." 

"  But  it  can't  be." 

"  What !  can't  be  ? — what  do  you  mean,  Alexis  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  Why,  sir,  you  owed  me  nothing,  even  if  I 
had  been  a  good  servant  to  you ;  so  you  can't  possibly 
owe  me  four  hundred  and  seventy-five  francs  for  being 
a  bad  one." 

"  But  it  is  so,  all  the  same.  And  let  me  tell  you, 
Alexis,  the  Belgian  laws  are  very  strict,  and  if  you 
refuse  to  take  your  wages  I  can  force  you  to." 

"  I  should  not  like  to  bring  an  action  against 
Monsieur,  that's  certain ;  I  know  Monsieur  hates 
going  to  law." 

"  Then  be  reasonable,  Alexis  ;  take  your  four  hundred 
and  seventy-five  francs." 

"  I  will  propose  a  compromise — if  Monsieur  will 
allow  me." 

"  Very  well ;  I  want  nothing  better  than  to  come  to 
some  agreement,  Alexis." 

"If  Monsieur  gives  me  the  whole  sum  at  once,  I 
shall  spend  it  right  away." 

"  That's  extremely  likely." 

"  Whereas,  if  Monsieur  would  be  so  kind  as  to  give 
me  an  order  to  receive  fifty  francs  a  month  on  M. 
Cadot,  his  publisher " 

"  An  excellent  plan,  Alexis." 

"  I  shall  have  money  for  eight  months  to  live  like  a 
prince  on ;  presently,  when  the  ninth  month  comes,  I 
will  take  a  place,  and  still  have  the  seventy-five  francs 
to  draw  upon." 

"  By  the  Lord,  Alexis,  I  did  not  know  you  were 
such  a  financier  !  " 

So  I  handed  Alexis  twenty-five  francs  in  ready 
8 


114  MY  PETS 

money  to  pay  for  his  ticket,  and  an  order  on  Cadot 
as  desired. 

Tliis  arranged,  he  begged  me  for  my  blessing,  and 
set  out  for  Paris. 

In  the  next  eight  months  Alexis  was  to  be  seen  at 
all  hours  on  the  Boulevards,  where  he  was  known  by 
the  sobriquet  of  the  Black  Prmce. 

Finally,  in  the  ninth  month,  he  sought  and  found 
employment  as  he  had  proposed. 

Let  us  add  at  once  that  this  time  Alexis  had 
discovered  his  true  vocation,  as  is  shown  by  the 
following  letter,  which  I  received  from  him  two  years 
after  his  departure — 

"  Sir, — The  present  communication  is  to  inquire, 
first  of  all,  after  my  dear  master's  health,  and  secondly, 
to  inform  you  that  I  am  as  happy  and  prosperous  as 
can  be.  I  have  made  great  progress  with  the  foils, 
and  have  just  been  admitted  as  Assistant  in  a  Fencing 
School.  Monsieur  probably  does  not  know  that,  in 
reaching  this  preferment,  it  is  customary  to  treat  one's 
comrades. 

"  I  know  Monsieur  too  well  to  suppose  I  need  tell 
him  this  twice — it  is  the  custom  to  treat  the  other 
fellows. 

"  Believe  me,  sir,  I  am  eternally  grateful  for  past 
favours. — Your  devoted  Alexis  " 

Alexis  duly  treated  "  the  other  fellows "  at  my 
expense.  I  don't  mean  to  say  he  gave  them  a 
Trimalchio's  feast  or  a  dinner  of  Monte-Cristo,  but  he 
entertained  them  adequately. 

To-day  Alexis  enjoys  his  comrades'  goodwill  and 
the  respect  of  his  superiors,  to  whom  I  recommend 
him  as  one  of  the  best  and  truest  hearts  I  know. 


ALEXIS  FINDS  SCOPE  115 

Unfortunately  there  is  one  thing  will  always  prove 
an  obstacle  to  his  advancement — the  fact  that  he 
cannot  either  read  or  write. 

In  former  days  the  Emperor  created  a  rank 
especially  for  gallant  fellows  in  his  position,  where  book 
learning  was  not  required.  He  made  them  ensign- 
bearers  ;  that  was  their  marshal's  baton. 

Such,  dear  readers,  is  Alexis'  story.  Now  we 
must  hark  back  to  the  second  Auvergnat  and  his 
moonkey  number  two. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

MAQUET  BUYS  A  SECOND  HUSBAND  FOR 
MADEMOISELLE    DESGARCINS 

YOU  will  remember,  reader,  how  the  Auvergnat 
lad  urged  me  eagerly  to  buy  his  ape,  and  how  I 
objected,  telling  him  that,  if  I  made  the  purchase,  I  should 
want  a  special  servant  merely  to  look  after  the  monkeys. 

It  was  then  that  Michel,  always  a  man  of  resource, 
proposed  I  should  appoint  Soulouque  superintendent  of 
the  monkey-house ;  and  this  name  of  Soulouque  led 
me  to  give  the  information  about  Alexis  which  you 
have  just  perused. 

His  story  completed,  I  now  resume  the  thread  of 
my  general  narrative. 

"  And  how  much  do  you  want  for  your  monkey  ?  "  I 
asked  the  Auvergnat. 

"  The  shentleman  knows  hersel'  what  price  she  haf 
paid  for  the  other  moonkey." 

"  I  gave  forty  francs  for  the  other  one,  a  guinea-pig, 
and  two  white  mice." 

"  Come  now,  buy  the  pretty  little  beast ! "  urged 
Giraud. 

"  Yes,  do  buy  the  wretched  ape !  "  said  Alexandre. 

"  Listen  to  them,  just  listen  to  them !  the  dear 
creatures  !  I  tell  you,  forty  francs  is  forty  francs.  And 
as  for  the  guinea-pig  and  two  white  mice,  they  are  not 
to  be  found  in  the  first  field  neither !  " 

U6 


A  SECOND  HUSBAND  117 


t< 


"Gentlemen,"  struck  in  Alexandre,  "there's  one 
thing  I  mean  to  prove  one  day — that  my  father  is  the 
most  avaricious  of  mankind  !  " 

Everybody  protested  violently  ;  but  my  son  persisted  : 
"  Yes,  I  shall  prove  it  one  day." 

"  There,  what  a  pity  not  to  buy,"  persisted  Giraud  ; 
"  see  what  a  little  love  it  is !  " — and  he  held  out  his 
arms  to  the  monkey,  which  threw  itself  into  them  and 
gripped  him  tight  round  the  neck. 

"  More  by  token,"  observed  Michel,  "  he's  as  like  as  two 
drops  of  water  to  your  neighbour,  sir,  and  you  know " 

"  'Pon  honour,  but  it's  true !  "  exclaimed  the 
company  in  chorus. 

"  Capital !  "  Giraud  began  again  ;  "  what  could  be 
better  ?  Why,  I  have  a  portrait  to  paint  of  him  for 
Versailles.  .  .  .  Upon  my  word  !  you  might  buy  him, 
and  he  could  pose  for  the  head  ;  that  would  help  me  on 
with  my  work  enormously." 

"  Come,  buy,  buy  !  "  chorused  all  my  friends. 

"  Well,  are  my  father's  niggardly  habits  proved,  or 
are  they  not  ?  "  grinned  Alexandre. 

"  My  dear  Dumas,"  said  Maquet,  "  without  meaning 
to  say  I  agree  with  your  son,  may  I  be  allowed  to  offer 
you  the  '  Last  of  the  Laidmanoirs  '  as  a  present  ?  " 

"  Bravo,  Maquet !  bravo,  sir  !  "  shouted  everybody  ; 
"  give  the  skinflint  a  lesson." 

I  bowed,  and,  "  My  dear,  good  Maquet,"  I  said, 
"  you  know  whatever  comes  from  you  is  welcome  here." 

"  He  accepts  !  "  sneered  Alexandre,  "  there,  you  see, 
gentlemen." 

"  Accept !  of  course  I  accept. — Now,  my  young 
Auvergnat  friend,  kiss  your  moonkey  for  the  last  time, 
and  if  you  have  a  tear  to  shed,  now's  the  time," 

"  And  ma  forty  francs,  ma  guinea-pig,  and  ma 
white  mice  ? " 


118  MY  PETS 

"  The  whole  company  guarantees  your  payment." 

"  Come,  gif  me  back  ma  moonkey"  said  the 
Auvergnat,  holding  out  his  arms  to  Giraud. 

"  There,"  laughed  Alexandre,  "  there  you  see  the 
fine  trustfulness  of  youth  !  " 

Maquet  drew  two  gold  coins  from  his  pocket. 

"  Look,"  he  said,  "there's  the  main  item,  to  begin  with." 

"  And  the  guinea-pig  and  the  white  mice  ?  "  persisted 
the  suspicious  Auvergnat. 

"  Oh,  as  for  them,"  said  Maquet,  "  I  can  only  offer 
you  their  value  in  money.  How  much  do  you  reckon 
a  guinea-pig  and  two  white  mice  at  ?  " 

"  I  think  they  mak  ten  francs." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  you  young  humbug ! "  cried 
Michel.  "  A  franc  the  guinea-pig  and  a  franc  and  a 
quarter  apiece  the  white  mice,  that  makes  three  francs 
and  a  half  altogether.  Give  the  fellow  five  francs. 
Monsieur  Maquet ;  and  if  he's  not  satisfied,  I'll  settle 
accounts  with  him  myself." 

"  Ach  !  but  ye' re  a  hard  man,  gardener  ! " 

"  There,  take  your  five  francs,"  said  Maquet, 
handing  him  the  money. 

"  Now,"  added  Michel,  "  rub  your  two  noses 
together  and  let  that  be  the  end  ! " 

The  Auvergnat  stepped  up  to  Giraud,  his  arms 
open  ;  but  instead  of  springing  into  his  late  master's 
arms,  the  "  Last  of  the  Laidmanoirs "  clung  on  to 
Giraud's  beard,  uttering  little  yells  of  terror  and 
making  faces  at  the  Auvergnat. 

"  Good  !  "  said  Alexandre,  "  that  is  the  last  straw  of 
all ;  so  monkeys  are  ungrateful  too.  Pay  him  quick, 
Maquet,  quick  ;  else  he'll  be  wanting  to  charge  as  if 
for  a  man." 

Maquet  handed  over  the  balance  of  five  francs,  and 
the  Auvergnat  made  for  the  door. 


A  SECOND  HUSBAND  119 

As  the  latter  disappeared  the  "  Last  of  the  Laid- 
maiioirs "  gave  more  and  more  manifest  tokens  of 
satisfaction.  When  he  had  vanished  altogether,  the 
monkey  indulged  in  a  sort  of  war-dance  indicative  of 
triumph  and  delight. 

"  Look,  look  !  "  cried  Giraud,  "  look  there  !  " 
"  Well,  we  are  looking  with  all  our  eyes." 
"  No,  no,  not  there  !      Look  in  the  cage ;  see  what 
Mademoiselle  Desgarcins  is  after." 

The  latter,  not  in  the  least  intimidated  by  the 
shepherd's  costume  worn  by  the  new-comer,  was 
enthusiastically  dancing  back  at  him  with  might 
and   main. 

"  Let  us  not  delay  any  longer  the  bliss  of  these  two 
interesting  and  fascinating  creatures,"  said  Maquet. 


CHAPTER   XXV 

MADEMOISELLE  DESGARCINS  AND  THE 
SODA-WATER  BOTTLE 

I  CAN  honestly  say  there  never  was  anything 
more  grotesque  in  this  world  than  the  nuptials  of 
Mademoiselle  Desgarcins,  all  in  the  sweet  simplicity  of 
her  naked  monkeyhood,  with  the  "  Last  of  the  Laid- 
manoirs,"  in  shepherd  costume,  the  ceremony  presided 
over  by  Potich  dressed  as  troubadour. 

Potich,  we  should  add,  appeared  greatly  chagrined 
at  the  event.  In  fact,  if  he  had  still  worn  the  famous 
sword  which  he  was  flourishing  in  the  face  of  his 
master  the  day  I  first  made  his  acquaintance,  it  is 
likely  enough  that,  taking  advantage  of  Article  324  of 
the  Penal  Code,  he  might,  as  an  injured  husband 
wronged  within  the  walls  of  the  conjugal  domicile, 
have  washed  out  the  affront  in  the  blood  of  the  "  Last 
of  the  Laidmanoirs." 

But  fortunately  Potich  was  unarmed,  and  the 
hostile  demonstration  he  did  make  being  answered  by 
a  terrific  volley  of  blows  from  the  "  Last  of  the 
Laidmanoirs,"  things  took  their  course. 

Not  that  Potich  was  one   of  those  accommodating 

husbands    who    wink    at    what    goes    on    under    their 

eyes.      Far    from    it ;    indeed    the    grief   and    chagrin 

Potich  endured  in  his  internal   economy  brought  about 

his  death  eighteen  months  later. 

120 


THE  SODA-WATER  BOTTLE     121 

At  this  stage  of  affairs  Alexis  appeared  on  the 
scene,  bringing  in  a  tray  with  three  or  four  glasses,  a 
bottle  of  Chablis,  and  a  bottle  of  soda-water." 

"  Look  here,"  cried  Alexandre,  "  I  have  an  idea." 

"  Yes  ? " 

"  To  make  Mademoiselle  Desgarcins  uncork  the 
soda-water." 

Then,  without  so  much  as  waiting  for  the  company 
to  approve  his  notion,  he  took  the  soda-water  bottle 
and  laid  it  on  the  floor  of  the  cage  in  the  position  of  a 
gun  on  its  gun-carriage. 

The  saying  goes — "  As  inquisitive  as  a  monkey," 
and  as  a  matter  of  fact  Alexandre  had  hardly  with- 
drawn his  hand  and  arm  from  the  cage  before  the 
three  droll  creatures,  the  lady  included,  were  squatted 
round  the  strange  object,  scrutinising  it  curiously. 

Mademoiselle  was  the  first  to  realise  that  the 
moving  mechanism,  whatever  it  was,  was  centred  in 
the  four  crossed  strings  that  held  the  cork  in  place. 

Accordingly  she  attacked  the  string  with  her 
fingers ;  but  these,  strong  and  clever  as  they  were, 
could  make  nothing  of  it. 

Then  she  had  recourse  to  her  teeth.  This  time  it 
was  a  different  matter ;  after  a  few  seconds  of  tugging 
and  tearing  the  string  gave  way,  still  leaving  three 
intact,  however. 

Mademoiselle  instantly  set  to  work  again  and 
attacked  the  second. 

Meantime  her  two  companions,  squatting  on  their 
rumps  to  right  and  left  of  her,  looked  on  with  ever- 
growing curiosity. 

The  second  string  gave  way ;  but  the  remaining  two 
were  underneath  towards  the  ground. 

P.otich  and  the  "  Last  of  the  Laidmanoirs,"  their 
differences  made  up  for  the  moment  apparently,  took 


122  MY  PETS 

hold  of  the  bottle  with  the  utmost  adroitness  and 
turned  it  over,  so  that  the  two  last  strings  were 
upwards. 

Without  a  moment's  loss  of  time,  Mademoiselle  fell 
to  on  the  third  string.  Then,  the  third  having  given 
way,  she  went  on  to  the  fourth. 

The  nearer  the  operation  approached  completion,  the 
more  intense  grew  the  attention  of  all ;  the  spectators, 
needless  to  say,  being  as  keenly  interested  as  the 
actors.  Animals  and  human  beings  held  their  breath 
with  one  accord. 

Suddenly  a  terrible  explosion  was  heard.  Made- 
moiselle Desgarcins  was  pitched  head  over  heels  by 
the  cork  and  smothered  with  soda-water,  while  Potich 
and  the  "  Last  of  the  Laidmanoirs  "  sprang  to  the  roof 
of  their  cage,  uttering  piercing  screams. 

In  all  these  apish  antics,  so  curiously  mimicking 
human  emotions,  there  was  a  vis  comica  that  is 
altogether  indescribable, 

"  Oh  !  "  laughed  Alexandre,  "  I'll  give  up  my  share  of 
soda-water  to  see  Mademoiselle  Desgarcins  uncork  a 
second  bottle." 

Meanwhile  Mademoiselle  Desgarcins  had  picked 
herself  up,  shaken  herself,  and  gone  to  join  her  two 
friends  at  the  top  of  the  cage,  where  they  still  hung 
head  downwards  by  their  tails,  giving  vent  to  a 
succession  of  apish  yells. 

"  And  to  think  young  Dumas  imagines  she  will  let 
herself  be  fooled  a  second  time  !  " 

"  Upon  my  word  !  "  said  Maquet,  "  I  should  not  be 
a  bit  surprised ;  I  think  curiosity  is  stronger  even  than 
fear," 

"  Pooh  !  so  long  as  you'll  go  on  giving  them  soda- 
water  bottles,  so  long  they'll  go  on  uncorking  them  ; 
they  are  just  as  obstinate  as  mules,  are  monkeys ! " 


.  ;   ,  •  •  • .  •  •   ♦• 


MADEMOISELLE    DESCiARCIfS   OPENS   THE   SODA   WATER    BOTTLE 


THE  SODA-WATER  BOTTF.E     123 

"  You  think  so,  Michel  ?  " 

"  Monsieur  knows  how  they  catch  them  in  their  own 
country  ?  " 

"  No,  Michel,  I  do  not." 

"  What !  Monsieur  doesn't  know  that  ?  "  exclaimed 
Michel  in  the  tone  of  one  filled  with  compassion  at  the 
thought  of  my  ignorance. 

"  Tell  us  about  it,  Michel." 

"  Monsieur  is  aware  that  monkeys  are  extremely 
fond  of  Indian  corn  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  sir,  they  put  some  Indian  corn  in  a  bottle, 
the  neck  of  which  is  just  wide  enough  to  admit  the 
monkey's  paw." 

"  Good,  Michel !  and  then  ?  " 

"  They  can  see  the  Indian  corn  through  the  sides  of 
the  bottle." 

"  Yes,  Michel  ?      Go  on." 

"  They  dive  their  paw  down  the  neck  and  pick  up  a 
fistful  of  the  grain.  At  that  moment  the  layer  of  the 
trap  shows  himself.  They  are  so  obstinate — the 
monkeys " 

"  Yes,  I  understand." 

"  They  are  so  obstinate,  they'll  never  let  go  any- 
thing they've  once  grasped  ;  but  as  the  paw,  that  went 
in  all  right  when  the  fingers  were  open,  refuses  to  be 
drawn  out  again  with  the  fist  closed,  they're  caught 
like  that,  sir,  in  the  act." 

"  Well  and  good,  Michel ;  so,  if  ever  our  monkeys 
run  away,  you  know  how  to  catch  them  again." 

"  Oh,  Monsieur  need  not  be  the  least  afraid,  that's 
exactly  what  I  shall  do." 

Then,  "  Alexis,"  Michel  called  to  my  Negro  servant, 
"  bring  another  bottle  of  soda-water." 

We  are  bound  to  add,  in  the  interests  of  truth,  that 


124  MY  PETS 

the  experiment  was  repeated  a  second  time,  and  even 
a  third,  under  exactly  the  same  conditions  and  circum- 
stances— to  the  glorification  of  Michel's  perspicacity. 

Alexandre  was  for  going  on ;  but  I  pointed  out 
that  poor  Mademoiselle  Desgarcins'  nose  was  all 
swelled  up,  her  gums  bleeding,  and  her  eyes  starting 
out  of  her  head. 

"  Bah !  it  isn't  that,"  sneered  Alexandre,  "  but 
because  you  want  to  save  your  soda-water.  I  told 
you  so,  gentlemen ;  my  father,  while  posing  as  a 
spendthrift,  is  really  at  heart  the  most  niggardly  of 
men." 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

INFAMOUS  CONDUCT  OF  POTICH,  THE  "LAST 
OF  THE  LAIDMANOIRS,"  MADEMOISELLE 
DESGARCINS,  AND  MYSOUFF  II 

THE  reader  must  forgive  this  long  digression.     We 
now  come  at  last  to  Mysoufif  II. 

One  morning,  after  having  worked  till  three  o'clock 
a.m.,  I  was  still  in  bed  at  eight,  when  I  heard  my  door 
open  softly. 

I  have  mentioned  before  that  no  matter  how  gently 
my  door  is  opened  and  how  soundly  I  am  asleep,  I 
awake  without  fail  the  instant  it  begins  to  turn  on 
its  hinges. 

I  opened  my  eyes,  therefore,  almost  before  the  latch 
was  raised,  and  as  it  was  broad  daylight,  I  could  catch 
a  glimpse  of  Michel's  face  between  door  and  doorpost. 
He  was  evidently  in  trouble. 

"  Well,  sir,"  he  began,  "  here's  a  calamity  !  " 

"  Why,  what's  wrong,  Michel  ?  " 

"  Wrong  indeed  !  Why,  those  wretched  monkeys — 
I  can't  think  how  ever  they  did  it — have  managed  to 
untwist  a  mesh  of  the  wire,  and  then  another  and 
another,  till  they  made  a  hole  big  enough  to  squeeze 
through,  and  they  are  clean  gone  ! " 

"  Well  1  but,  Michel,  you  know  the  accident  has 
been  provided  against.  We  have  only  to  get  three 
bottles  and  buy  some  Indian  corn." 

126 


126  MY  PETS 

"  Yes,  yes,  Monsieur  will  have  his  joke ;  but  he'll 
find  it's  no  joke  directly." 

"  Why,  good  lord,  Michel !  what  else  has  happened, 
eh?" 

"  What  else  !     Why,  they've  opened  the  aviary." 

"  And  the  birds  have  flown  ?  Well,  so  much  the 
worse  for  us,  Michel,  but  so  much  the  better  for 
them." 

"  Ah,  sir  !  your  six  pairs  of  ring-doves,  your  fourteen 
quails,  and  your  little,  rare  birds — Indian  sparrows, 
wrynecks,  coralbeaks,  widow-birds,  and  all  the  rest  are 
gobbled  up." 

"  But,  Michel,  the  monkeys  cannot  have  eaten  my 
birds  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  but  they've  been  and  fetched  a  gentleman 
who  did  the  job  for  them — M.  Mysoufif,  to  wit." 

"  Oh,  the  devil !      We  must  look  into  this." 

"  Oh,  it's  a  pretty  sight  truly — a  regular  field  of 
carnage ! " 

I  sprang  out  of  bed,  slipped  on  my  pantalon  a  pieds, 
and  was  ready  to  sally  forth. 

"Wait  a  bit,"  said  Michel,  "let's  just  see  where 
they've  got  to,  the  villains." 

I  went  to  the  window,  which  gave  on  the  garden, 
and  looked  out. 

Potich  was  swinging  gracefully  to  and  fro,  hanging 
by  the  tail  to  the  branch  of  a  maple. 

Mademoiselle  Desgarcins  was  still  inside  the  aviary, 
and  was  leaping  merrily  from  east  to  west  and  north 
to  south. 

As  for  the  "  Last  of  the  Laidmanoirs,"  that  noble 
animal  was  doing  gymnastics  on  the  conservatory  door. 

"  Well,  Michel,  the  question  now  is  to  catch  them 
all  again.  I  will  undertake  the  'Last  of  the  Laidmanoirs,' 
if  you  will  see  to  Mademoiselle  Desgarcins.     As  for 


INFAMOUS  CONDUCT  OF  POTICH    127 

little  Potich,  when  he  finds  he  is  the  only  one  left  he'll 
come  back  of  his  own  accord." 

"  Oh,  sir,  don't  you  trust  him  !  He's  a  vile  hypocrite. 
Why,  he's  made  it  up  with  the  other  fellow." 

"  What !  with  Mademoiselle  Desgarcins'  lover  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  indeed  !  " 

"  Tut,  tut !  it  makes  me  despair  of  the  simian  race ; 
I  thought  such  baseness  was  only  done  amongst 
human  beings," 

"  We  mustn't  look  upon  these  as  mere  monkeys," 
said  Michel ;  "  you  see,  they've  enjoyed  the  benefits  of 
intercourse  with  men." 

"  Oh,  but  it's  sad  to  think  they  should  be  so 
depraved ;  and  sadder  still,  Michel,  to  reflect  that 
perhaps  it's  our  plays  and  romances,  Victor  Hugo's 
and  mine,  that  have  done  the  mischief!  However, 
be  this  as  it  may,  our  first  business  is  to  catch  them." 

"  Very  true,  sir,  very  true." 

"  To  work  then,  Michel !  "  I  cried — and  to  work  we 
went. 

Certain  preliminary  measures  were  necessary  before 
we  could  reach  the  delinquents,  and  these  precautions 
we  proceeded  to  take,  taking  up  the  best  strategical 
positions  like  true  sportsmen.  By  the  time  the  simple- 
minded  Potich,  who  appeared  to  have  been  placed  as 
sentinel  by  his  two  accomplices,  gave  the  alarm,  it  was 
too  late.  I  was  master  of  the  door  of  the  conservatory 
and  Michel  of  that  of  the  aviary.  I  marched  into  the 
conservatory,  and  shut  to  the  door  behind  me. 

Seeing  the  door  blocked,  the  "  Last  of  the 
Laidmanoirs"  did  not  even  attempt  to  fly,  but  made 
ready  to  defend  himself. 

He  retreated  into  a  corner  so  as  to  have  his  flanks 
and  rear  protected,  and  began  to  grind  his  teeth  in  a 
threatening  manner. 


128  MY  PETS 

I  considered  myself  too  well  practised  in  the  three 
great  arts  of  fencing,  boxing,  and  the  savate  to  be  greatly 
alarmed  at  the  thought  of  a  duel  with  a  monkey. 

I  walked  straight  up  to  the  animal,  which,  as  I  came 
nearer  and  nearer,  redoubled  his  hostile  demonstrations. 

Potich  had  run  up  from  the  end  of  the  garden  and 
was  hopping  up  and  down,  peeping  through  the  glass 
to  see  what  was  going  to  occur  between  me  and  the 
"  Last  of  the  Laidmanoirs,"  all  the  while  making 
strange  little  throat-cries  by  way  of  encouraging  the 
latter.  On  the  other  hand  he  treated  me,  his  master, 
to  a  succession  of  hideous  grimaces,  pretending  to  spit 
in  my  face  through  the  panes. 

At  this  moment  the  she-monkey  gave  vent  to  a 
series  of  piercing  screams,  of  which  Michel  was  the 
inciting  cause;  he  had  just  clapped  his  hands  on 
her. 

Her  outcries  seemed  to  exasperate  the  "  Last  of  the 
Laidmanoirs."  He  gathered  himself  together,  and  then 
flew  straight  at  my  face  like  a  bolt  from  a  cross-bow. 

Instinctively  I  parried  in  carte;  my  fist  met  the 
creature's  body  full  in  the  chest,  and  knocked  him  flat 
against  the  wall. 

The  shock  was  so  violent  that  the  "  Last  of  the 
Laidmanoirs  "  lay  for  a  moment  half  stunned. 

I  took  advantage  of  the  respite  to  grip  him  by  the 
skin  of  his  neck.  The  creature's  features,  red  and 
congested  a  moment  before,  were  now  as  pale  as  a 
death-mask. 

"  Have  you  secured  Mademoiselle  Desgarcins  ? "  I 
shouted  to  Michel. 

"  Have  you  got  the  '  Last  of  the  Laidmanoirs,'  sir  ? " 
Michel  shouted  back  to  me. 

"  Yes." 

"  Yes." 


INFAMOUS  CONDUCT  OF  POTICH    129 

"  Bravo,  then  !  " — and  we  marched  out,  each  holding 
our  prisoner  in  hand,  while  Potich  scuttled  off  to  the 
top  of  the  only  tree  the  garden  boasted,  uttering 
pitiful  cries,  only  comparable  to  the  lamentations  of 
Electra. 


CHAPTER   XXVIl 
A  WAGER 

IN  the  meantime  a  smith  had  been  sent  for,  who 
proceeded  to  repair  the  broken  wires  of  the 
monkey-house.  Then  Mademoiselle  Desgarcins  and 
the  "  Last  of  the  Laidmanoirs "  were  put  back  again 
after  being  soundly  whipped. 

The  sight  of  their  punishment  brought  Potich's 
lamentations  to  the  highest  pitch  of  agony.  At  last, 
unlikely  as  it  may  seem,  and  proving  the  natural 
aptitude  of  monkeys — who  are  men's  caricatures  in 
this  as  in  so  many  points — for  slavery,  once  the  two 
culprits  were  safe  in  confinement  again,  Potich  came 
down  from  his  tree  of  his  own  accord,  sidled  timidly 
up  to  Michel,  and  asked  with  little  plaintive  whimpers 
and  hands  clasped  in  pitiful  appeal,  to  be  reimprisoned 
along  with  his  comrades. 

"  There,  do  you  see  that  ?  "  cried  Michel.  "  Oh,  the 
hypocrite !  " 

But  was  it  hypocrisy  or  devotion  ?  I  was  inclined 
to  think  the  latter ;   Michel  held  out  for  the  former. 

In  very  truth,  what  better  had  Regulus  done,  when  he 
went  back  to  Carthage  to  keep  his  plighted  word  ;  or 
King  Jean,  surrendering  himself  again  to  the  English, 
to  rejoin  the  Countess  of  Salisbury  ? 

Potich  was  forgiven  in  consideration  of  his  repent- 
ance.     Michel  picked  the  little  beast  up  by  the  scruff 

130 


A  WAGER  131 

of  his  neck  and  tossed  him  into  the  cage,  without  the 
"  Last  of  the  Laidmanoirs  "  or  Mademoiselle  Desgarcins 
deigning  to  pay  the  slightest  attention  to  his  arrival. 
When  a  she-monkey  is  not  in  love,  she  seems  to  be 
every  whit  as  cruel  as  a  woman. 

Mysouff  remained  to  be  attended  to.  So  far  he  had 
been  overlooked,  and  still  inside  the  aviary,  he  was  still 
chewing  the  bones  of  his  unhappy  victims  with  the 
callous  indifference  of  a  hardened  criminal. 

He  had  enjoyed,   like    the  Vicomte    de    V ,     a 

breakfast  costing  five  hundred  francs. 

"  A  breakfast  costing  five  hundred  francs ! "  the 
reader  will  exclaim.  "  Why,  what  ever  do  you  mean  ; 
we  fail  to  grasp  the  allusion." 

Well,  to  explain  :  the  Vicomte  de  V ,  brother  to 

Comte  Horace  de  V ,  and  one  of  the  most  finished 

gourmets  in  France, — and  not  only  in  France,  but  in 
Europe,  not  only  in  Europe,  but  in  all  the  world, — one 
day  ventured  to  propound  at  a  gathering,  half  artistic, 
half  society,  the  startling  statement — 

"  One  man  by  himself  can  eat  a  dinner  costing  five 
hundred  frances." 

A  universal  shout  of  incredulity  greeted  the  remark. 
"  Impossible  !  "   was  heard  on  all  sides. 

"  It  is  understood,  of  course,"  added  the  Vicomte, 
"  that  the  word  eat  is  taken  to  include  the  word 
drmk  as  well." 

"  Why,  of  course." 

"  Well,  then,  I  maintain  that  a  man, — and  when  I 
say  a  man,  I  do  not  mean  a  common  yokel,  you  know, 
but  a  gourmet,  a  disciple  of  Montrond  or  Courchamp, — 
well,  I  say  that  a  man,  a  gourmet  of  the  sort  I  mean, 
is  capable  of  eating  a  dinner  costing  five  hundred 
francs." 

"  You  could  do  it  yourself,  for  instance  ? " 


132  MY  PETS 

"  Certainly  I  could." 

"  Will  you  wager  you  could  ?  " 

"  By  all  means." 

"  I  will  hold  the  stakes,"  said  one  of  the  bystanders. 

"  Yes,  and  I  will  eat  them,"  declared  the  Vicomte. 

"  Come,  then,  let  us  settle  the  details." 

"  It  is  all  as  simple  as  can  be.  ...  I  will  dine  at  the 
Cafe  de  Paris,  arrange  my  menu  as  I  please,  and  con- 
sume five  hundred  francs'  worth  of  dinner." 

"  Without  leaving  anything  over  in  the  dishes  or  on 
your  plate  ?  " 

"  Excuse  me,  I  shall  leave  the  bones." 

"  That  is  only  fair." 

"  And  when  is  the  wager  to  be  decided  ?  " 

"  To-morrow,  if  you  like." 

"  Then,  you  won't  eat  any  breakfast  ?  " 

"  I  shall  breakfast  just  as  usual." 

"  Well  and  good  ;  for  to-morrow,  then,  at  seven 
o'clock,  at  the  Caf6  de  Paris." 

The  same  evening,  the  Vicomte  de  V went  to 

dine  as  usual  at  the  fashionable  restaurant.  Then,  after 
the  meal,  so  as  not  to  be  biased  by  any  pangs  of 
hunger,  he  set  to  work  to  draw  up  his  menu  for  the 
following  day. 

The  maitre  d'hotel  was  summoned.  It  was  mid- 
winter. The  Vicomte  ordered  several  kinds  of  fruit 
and  spring  vegetables,  as  well  as  game,  which  was  out 
of  season. 

The  maitre  d'hotel  demanded  a  week's  delay  to 
obtain  these  delicacies  ;  and  the  dinner  was  accordingly 
postponed  for  that  time. 

To  right  and  left  of  the  Vicomte's  table  the  judges 
of  the  wager  were  to  sit  and  dine.  He  was  allowed 
two  hours  for  the  meal — from  seven  to  nine.  He 
might  talk,  or  not,  just  as  he  pleased. 


A  WAGER  133 

At  the  appointed  hour  the  Vicomte  walked  in, 
bowed  to  the  umpires,  and  took  his  seat. 

The  menu  had  been  kept  secret ;  the  Vicomte's 
opponents  were  to  be  given  the  gratification  of  the 
unexpected. 

When  he  was  duly  installed,  twelve  dozen  Ostend 
oysters  were  set  on  the  table,  together  with  a  half 
bottle  of  Johannisberg. 

The  Vicomte  was  in  form  ;  he  called  for  a  second 
gross  of  oysters  and  another  half  bottle  of  the  same 
vintage. 

Next  came  a  tureen  of  swallows'-nest  soup,  which 
the  Vicomte  poured  into  a  bowl  and  drank  off, 

"  Upon  my  word  !  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  I  have  a 
fine  appetite  to-day,  and  I  feel  greatly  tempted  to 
indulge  a  fancy." 

"  By  all  means  !  you  are  at  liberty  to  do  exactly  as 
you  like," 

"  I  adore  beefsteak  and  potatoes. — Here,  waiter,  a 
beefsteak  and  potatoes," 

The  man  looked  at  the  Vicomte  in  wonder. 

"  Well,"  added  the  latter,  "  don't  you  understand 
what  I  say  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir,  yes  !  but  I  thought  M.  le  Vicomte  had 
settled  his  menu." 

"  True,  true ;  but  this  is  an  extra,  I  will  pay  for  it 
separately." 

The  umpires  looked  at  one  another.  The  dish  was 
brought,  and  the  Vicomte  devoured  it  to  the  last  scrap. 

"  Good  !  .  ,  .  and  now  the  fish  " — and  the  fish  was 
set  on  the  table. 

"  Gentlemen,"  observed  the  Vicomte,  "  it  is  a  ferra 
from  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  a  fish  only  to  be  found  there. 
Still  it  can  be  procured.  I  was  shown  it  this  morning 
as  I  sat  at  breakfast ;  it  was  then   alive.      It  had  been 


134  MY  PETS 

conveyed  from  Geneva  to  Paris  swimming  in  Lake 
water.      I  can  recommend  the  dish  ;  it  is  excellent." 

Five  minutes  more  and  only  the  fish  bones  remained 
on  the  Vicomte's  plate. 

"  The  pheasant,  waiter  !  "  cried  the  Vicomte — and  a 
truffled  pheasant  was  duly  served. 

"  Another  bottle  of  bordeaux,  same  vintage " — and 
the  second  bottle  was  produced. 

The  bird  was  disposed  of  in  ten  minutes. 

"  Monsieur,"  remarked  the  waiter  at  this  point, 
"  surely  you  have  made  a  mistake  in  asking  for  the 
truffled  pheasant  before  the  stewed  ortolans." 

"  Egad  !  but  that's  so.  Luckily,  it  is  not  stipulated 
in  what  order  the  courses  are  to  come ;  else  I  should 
have  lost  my  bet.     Now  for  the  ortolans,  waiter  !  " 

There  were  ten,  and  the  Vicomte  made  just  ten 
mouthfuls  of  them. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  Vicomte,  "  my  menu  is  a  very 
plain  one  now, — asparagus,  green  peas,  a  pineapple,  and 
a  dish  of  strawberries.  For  wine — a  half  bottle  of 
constantia,  a  half  bottle  of  sherry,  East  Indian,  you 
know.  Then,  of  course,  to  finish  up  with,  the  usual 
coffee  and  liqueurs." 

Each  item  appeared  in  due  course — fruits  and 
vegetables,  all  was  eaten  conscientiously,  wines  and 
liqueurs,  all  was  drunk  to  the  last  drop. 

The  Vicomte  had  taken  an  hour  and  fourteen 
minutes  over  his  dinner. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  turning  to  the  umpires, 
"  has  everything  been  done  honestly  and  above- 
board  ?  " 

The  judges  answered  unanimously  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Waiter,  the  bill !  " 

Observe,  people  did  not  use  the  word  addition  in 
those  days,  as  they  do  now. 


A  WAGER 


135 


The  Vicomte  glanced   at  the   total,  and  handed  in 

the  document  to  the  judges. 

It  read  as  follows  : — 

Frs. 
Ostend  oysters,  24  dozen        ....  30 


Swallows'-nest  soup    . 

150 

Beefsteak  and  potatoes 

2 

Truffled  pheasant 

40 

Stewed  ortolans 

SO 

Asparagus 

15 

Green  peas     . 

12 

Pineapple 

24 

Strawberries  . 

20 

Wines  and  Liqueurs 

Johannisberg,  one  bottle 

24 

Bordeaux,  best  quality,  two  bottles    . 

5° 

Constantia,  half  bottle 

40 

Sherry  (East  Indian),  half  bottle 

so 

Cofi'ee  and  liqueurs 

1.50 

Total 

508  frs.  50 

This  total  was  duly  verified  and  found  correct. 

The  account  was  carried  to  the  Vicomte's  adversary, 
who  was  dining  in  a  private  room.  In  five  minutes' 
time  he  appeared,  bowed  to  the  Vicomte,  drew  from 
his  pocket  six  bank-notes  of  a  thousand  francs,  and 
handed  them  to  him.     This  was  the  amount  of  the  bet. 

"  Oh,  sir,"  said  the  Vicomte,  "  there  was  no  hurry 
about  it ;  besides,  you  would  perhaps  have  liked  to 
have  your  revenge." 

"  Should  you  feel  inclined  to  give  it  me,  sir  ?  " 

"  By  all  means." 

"  When  ? " 

"Why,"  replied  the  Vicomte,  with  sublime  simplicity, 
"  now,  at  once,  sir,  if  you  wish." 

The  loser  pondered  deeply  for  a  few  seconds. 

"  Ah,  no,  upon  my  word  ! "  he  said  at  last  ;  "  after 
what  I  have  seen,  I  think  you  are  capable  of  anything." 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 
TRIAL   AND   CONDEMNATION    OF   MYSOUFF 

WE  left  Mysouff  gloating  over  the  mangled  re- 
mains of  his  feathered  victims,  and  his  capture 
presented  little  difficulty.  By  merely  shutting  the 
door  of  the  aviary  we  had  the  culprit  at  the  disposition 
of  justice. 

The  only  question  was  to  decide  his  fate.  Michel 
voted  to  shoot  him  straight  away.  I  opposed  such  a 
step,  which  seemed  too  violent  altogether. 

I  proposed  to  wait  for  the  coming  Sunday  and  have 
Mysouff  brought  to  trial  before  the  friends  who  always 
visited  me  on  that  day. 

In  addition  to  the  regular  weekly  habitues  of  the 
house,  we  could  invite  others  specially  for  the  occasion. 
This  was  accordingly  done,  and  judgment  postponed 
till  the  fateful  Sunday. 

Meantime  Mysouff  remained  a  prisoner  on  the  very 
scene  of  his  crime.  Michel  removed  the  last  vestiges 
of  the  dead  birds  on  which  he  was  feeding  without 
a  touch  of  compunction.  He  was  put  on  a  diet  of 
bread  and  water,  Michel  constituting  himself  his 
gaoler. 

When  Sunday  came,  both  the  ordinary  weekly 
habitues  and  the  specially  invited  guests  having  turned 
up  in  force,  the  necessary  quorum  for  a  jury  was  more 
than  provided. 

136 


TRIAL  OF  MYSOUFF  137 

Michel  was  nominated  Procureur-G^n^ral,  and 
Nogent  Saint  -  Laurent  official  Counsel  for  the 
Defence. 

I  am  bound  to  say  the  minds  of  the  jury  were 
manifestly  predisposed  against  the  prisoner,  and  that 
after  the  Public  Prosecutor's  speech,  a  sentence  of  death 
seemed  a  practical  certainty, 

But  the  clever  advocate  to  whom  poor  MysoufTs 
defence  had  been  entrusted,  taking  the  accusation  in 
the  most  serious  way  and  calling  all  his  eloquence  into 
play,  insisted  on  the  animal's  innocent  intentions  con- 
trasted with  the  mischievousness  of  the  monkeys,  on 
the  absence  of  initiation  on  the  part  of  the  four-footed 
as  compared  with  two  -  handed  vertebrates.  He 
demonstrated  how,  closely  approximating  to  men  as 
they  did,  the  latter  were  bound  to  be  full  of  criminal 
promptings.  He  showed  Mysouff  incapable  by  him- 
self of  meditating  such  a  crime.  He  showed  him 
sleeping  the  sleep  of  the  just ;  then  suddenly  awakened 
from  his  harmless  slumbers  by  the  odious  apes  that 
had  long  been  watching  the  aviary  intent  on  com- 
mitting murder.  He  described  Mysouff,  still  only  half 
awake,  stretching  his  paws,  purring  softly  the  while, 
opening  his  little  pink  mouth  and  showing  his 
pretty  tongue ;  listening,  then  shaking  his  ears, — a 
plain  sign  that  he  rejected  the  odious  proposal  his 
tempters  dared  to  make  ;  at  first  refusing  all  participa- 
tion in  the  foul  deed  (the  speaker  asserted  positively 
that  his  client  had  begun  by  refusing)  ;  then,  young 
and  easily  led  astray,  demoralised  moreover  by  the 
cook,  who  instead  of  giving  him  his  innocent  bread 
and  milk  and  bowl  of  broth  according  to  orders,  had 
excited  his  carnivorous  appetite  by  feeding  him  on 
scraps  of  meat,  the  remains  of  bullocks'  hearts  and 
mutton     bones  ;     gradually    degenerating    more     from 


138  MY  PETS 

weakness  of  character  and  feebleness  to  resist  tempta- 
tion than  from  actual  greediness  and  cruelty  ;  following, 
even  now  only  part  awake,  with  half-shut  eyes  and 
staggering  steps,  the  wretched  apes,  the  true  instigators 
of  the  crime.  Then  he  took  the  accused  in  his  arms, 
displayed  his  paws,  drew  attention  to  their  shape  and 
form,  appealed  to  the  anatomists,  calling  upon  them  to 
say  if,  with  such  paws,  an  animal  could  open  a  locked 
aviary.  Finally  he  borrowed  from  Michel  himself  his 
famous  Dictionary  of  Natural  History ;  he  opened  it 
at  the  article  "  Cat, " — domestic  cat,  brindled  cat  \  he 
demonstrated  that  Mysouff,  albeit  not  of  the  brindled 
sort,  was  not  a  whit  less  interesting  for  having  a  white 
coat — the  token  of  his  innocence.  Then,  to  wind  up, 
he  struck  a  resounding  blow  on  the  book. 

"  Cat !  "  he  exclaimed  vehemently,  "  cat !  .  .  .  yes,  I 
will  read  you  what  Buffon,  the  great  Buffon,  who 
always  wrote  in  lace  ruffles,  what  he  wrote  on  the 
knees  of  Mother  Nature,  concerning  the  cat — 

"  The  cat,"  M.  de  Buffon  tells  us,  "  is  but  a  faithless 
domestic  pet,  one  we  only  keep  out  of  necessity,  to 
keep  down  other  household  enemies  even  more 
annoying,  and  which  we  cannot  otherwise  get  rid 
of  .  .  . ;  true,"  continues  the  illustrious  Naturalist, 
"  true,  the  cat,  and  still  more  the  kitten,  has  pretty 
ways,  it  has  at  the  same  time  an  inborn  love  of 
mischief,  a  treacherous  disposition,  a  natural  perversity, 
which  age  only  increases  and  training  only  succeeds  in 
partially  concealing." 

"  Well,"  pursued  the  orator,  after  concluding  this 
description  of  his  client,  "  what  need  I  say  more  ?  .  .  . 
Did  Mysouff,  I  ask  you,  did  poor  Mysouff  present 
himself  here  with  a  false  certificate  of  character  signed, 
it  may  be,  by  Lac6pcde  or  Geoffroy  Saint-Hilaire,  to 
weigh   in  the  balance  against  Buffon's  indictment? — 


TRIAL  OF  MYSOUFF  139 

No,  he  scorned  to  do  so. — It  was  the  cook  herself  who 
went  and   fetched  him  from   M.   Acoyer's,  who  hunted 
him  out  from  behind   a  heap  of  firewood  where  he  had 
taken  refuse,  who  then  invented  a  fictitious  tale  to  enlist 
her  master's    sympathies  of   how  she    had    found  the 
creature  mewing  piteously  in  the    cellar.       Was    any 
attempt  made  to  give  him  an  idea  of  the  wickedness 
he  was  guilty  of  in  killing  these  unfortunate  birds,  these 
poor  little  creatures, — greatly  to  be  pitied,  of  course, 
yet  which,  when  all  is  said  and   done, — the  quails  in 
particular, — were  liable  to  be  sacrificed  at  any  moment 
to    satisfy    man's    hunger,    and    now    find    themselves 
happily  delivered  from  the  agonies  of  terror  they  must 
daily  have  experienced  every  time  they  saw  the  cook 
come  near  their  cage  ?   .  .  ,   .      In  a  word,  gentlemen,  I 
appeal  to  your  sense  of  fairness  ;  we    have   invented  a 
new  word  to  excuse  crime  among  ourselves,  as  feather- 
less  bipeds,  endowed  with  free  will,  to  wit  monomania', 
when,  thanks  to  the  word,  we  have  saved  the  lives  of 
the  greatest  criminals,  shall  we  not  admit  that  the  un- 
fortunate and  interesting  Mysouff  yielded  not  merely  to 
his  natural  instincts  but  also  to  extraneous  suggestions  ? 
...   I  have  done,  gentlemen.      I   claim   for  my  client 
the  benefit  of  extenuating  circumstances." 

Shouts  of  enthusiasm  greeted  this  flight  of  eloquence, 
which  was  purely  extempore.  The  jury  gave  their 
verdict  whilst  still  under  the  impression  of  the  great 
advocate's  address,  and  Mysouff  was  declared  guilty 
of  complicity  in  the  assassination  of  the  doves 
and  quails,  also  of  the  wrynecks,  widow-birds,  Indian 
sparrows,  and  other  rare  birds,  but  with  extenuating 
circumstances.  He  was  merely  condemned  to  five 
years  of  incarceration  with  the  apes. 

It  was  this  sentence  he  was  serving,  shut  up  in 
the  same  cage  with  the  monkeys,  on   the    day   when 


140  MY  PETS 

Maquet,  Atala  Beauchene,  Matharel  and  my  son 
Alexandre  could  be  seen  watching  and  listening 
outside  the  bars  with  the  varied  and  sometimes 
contradictory  emotions  we  experience  in  visiting  a 
convict  prison. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

DON  RUSCONI 

BUT,  alas !  I  see  I  have  inadvertently  and  in- 
judiciously, as  my  way  is,  dragged  in,  without 
a  word  of  warning,  a  new  character,  to  trespass  on  my 
narrative. 

The  personage  in  question,  whose  name  I  now  intro- 
duce for  the  first  time,  is  Don  Rusconi,  as  he  is 
universally  called  in  my  house  and  among  my 
friends. 

Don  Rusconi  was  born  at  Mantua,  like  Virgil  and 
Sordello. 

Do  not  imagine,  please,  that  I  am  going  to  give 
you  a  biography  of  Rusconi ;  it  would  call  for  several 
volumes  to  do  so  adequately,  and  the  limits  of  our 
book  forbid  such  lengthy  digressions. 

Rusconi's  life  shows  three  culminating  points.  He 
drank,  in  the  Island  of  Elba,  a  cup  of  coffee  with  the 
Emperor;  he  conspired,  in  1822,  at  Colmar,  with 
Carrel ;  lastly,  he  received,  at  Nantes,  from  the  hands 
of  M.  de  Menars,  the  famous  hat,  which  to  this  day,  I 
am  assured,  remains  in  the  family  of  Her  Highness's 
equerry,  as  a  precious  memorial  of  the  Duchesse  de  Berry. 

How  came   Rusconi,  after  having  taken  coffee  with 

Napoleon  at   Elba,  after  having  conspired  with  Carrel 

at    Colmar,    after    having    captured  the  Duchesse    de 

Berry  at  Nantes,  to  be  showman  and  exhibitor  of  my 

111 


142  MY  PETS 

monkeys  at  the  Villa  Medicis  ?  The  story  is  at  once 
an  Odyssey  and  an  Iliad. 

Rusconi,  who  had  made  the  campaign  of  1 8 1 2  with 
the  Italian  Division  of  General  FontanelH,  had  at  the 
time  of  the  disasters  of  1 8 1 4  retired  to  Milan.  There 
he  learnt  how  his  Emperor,  after  giving  away  so  many 
thrones,  had  just  been  presented  with  one  himself. 
True,  the  Holy  Alliance  had  not  exactly  ruined  itself  by 
the  gift,  for  the  throne  in  question  was  that  of  Elba ! 

From  that  moment  Rusconi  conceived  the  idea  of 
consecrating  his  services  to  his  Emperor. 

By  the  good  offices  of  Vantini,  Procureur  Imperial  in 
the  island,  he  obtained  the  post  of  special  Commissary 
of  Police  at  Porto-Ferrajo. 

One  day  a  disturbance  occurred  between  some 
soldiers  of  the  guard  and  a  body  of  townsmen.  The 
commissary  of  the  town  drew  up  his  report  of  the 
circumstances  in  Italian. 

The  document  was  delivered  to  Cambronne.  The 
latter,  who  did  not  know  a  word  of  the  language  and 
did  not  expect  to  remain  long  enough  on  the  island  to 
make  it  worth  his  while  to  learn  it,  sent  for  Rusconi  to 
translate  his  colleague's  report  to  him. 

Rusconi  had  hardly  reached  the  second  line  when 
General  Drouot  sent  for  the  report.  Knowing  just  as 
much,  or  rather  as  little  Italian  as  Cambronne,  he 
asked  for  an  interpreter  to  be  furnished  at  the  same 
time  as  the  report.  So  General  Cambronne  sent  in 
the  report  and  Rusconi  with  it,  one  carrying  the  other, 
to  General  Drouot. 

Now  General  Drouot  was  just  sitting  down  to 
breakfast.  He  invited  Rusconi  to  share  the  meal ; 
he  could  translate  the  report  over  their  dessert. 

But  it  was  written  above  that  the  said  report  should 
never  get  translated.     The   two    were  just    beginning 


DON  RUSCONI  143 

their  after  -  breakfast  coffee  when  in  walked  the 
Emperor.      He  had  come  to  ask  for  the  report. 

"  But,  sire,"  Drouot  told  him,  "  it  is  in  Italian." 

'•  Well,  but,"  said  the  Emperor,  "  am  I  not  a 
Corsican,  eh  ? " 

He  took  the  report  and  proceeded  to  read  it ;  but 
as  he  went  on — 

"  Your  coffee  smells  very  good,"  he  said  after  a 
bit  to  Drouot. 

"  If  I  might  venture  to  offer  your  Majesty  a  cup," 
said  the  General. 

"  Do  so  by  all  means,  Drouot  ;  but  I  like  it  piping 
hot,  I  warn  you." 

Rusconi  seized  the  silver  coffee-pot,  clapped  it  on 
the  glowing  charcoal,  and  Napoleon,  on  finishing  his 
perusal  of  the  report,  had  the  satisfaction  of  drinking 
a  boiling  hot  cup  of  coffee. 

Then  he  invited  Drouot  and  Rusconi  to  take  theirs. 
They  drank  it  cold,  hit  in  Napoleon's  company ;  and 
this  was  the  way  the  portentous  event  came  about 
which  left  so  deep  an  impression  on  Rusconi's 
memory. 

Rusconi  returned  to  France  with  the  Emperor ; 
but  after  Waterloo,  it  was  a  case  of  beginning  life  over 
again  for  him. 

He  withdrew  to  Colmar,  where,  thanks  to  his  studies 
in  land-surveying,  he  made  a  livelihood  by  plotting 
out  the  territory  of  France — such  of  it  as  the  allies 
had  left  us. 

But  France,  such  as  the  allies  had  left  it  us,  was 
the  France  he  longed  to  see.  The  result  was  that 
Rusconi  having  made  the  acquaintance  of  Carrel,  who 
was  busy  conspiring,  took  up  the  same  trade  too. 

It  was  General  Dermoncourt,  a  former  aide-de- 
camp of  my  father's,   who  was  the  ringleader  of  the 


144  MY  PETS 

conspiracy.  The  blow  was  to  be  struck  on  ist 
January  1822;  the  plot  was  discovered  on  28th 
December  1821  ! 

Rusconi  was  playing  dominoes  in  his  usual  cafe 
when  they  came  to  warn  him  that  a  warrant  of  arrest 
was  out  against  Carrel, General  Dermoncourt, and  himself. 

He  could  not  well  disbelieve  the  information,  seeing 
it  was  brought  him  by  the  Clerk  of  the  Court,  who 
had  himself  signed  the  papers. 

Rusconi  ran  home  instantly.  He  was  treasurer  of 
the  association  ;  he  put  in  his  pocket  the  five  hundred 
louis  which  formed  the  total  funds  for  the  moment, 
and  hurried  off  to  Carrel's  house. 

But  Carrel  was  not  at  home.  So  Rusconi,  being 
on  the  run,  dashed  out  again  to  warn  General 
Dermoncourt.  But  neither  was  the  General  to  be 
found. 

Rusconi  had  no  time  to  wait  for  them,  having  his 
own  precious  person  to  look  after.  He  left  a  word 
for  each  of  his  confederates,  and  then  away  to  hide  in 
a  wood  behind  the  Colmar  road. 

It  was  along  this  road  the  conspirators  were  bound 
to  pass  in  their  flight.  First  came  Carrel ;  it  was 
six  o'clock  in  the  morning  or  thereabouts.  Rusconi 
hailed  him  and  made  himself  known.  Carrel  had 
been  warned  and  was  escaping. 

"  Are  you  in  want  of  money  ? "  Rusconi  asked 
him. 

"  Have  you  any,  by  any  chance  ?  "  asked  Carrel  in 
great  surprise. 

"  I  have  five  hundred  louis  from  the  general  fund," 
Rusconi  told  him. 

"  Give  me  fifty  of  them,"  said  Carrel. 

Rusconi  gave  him  the  fifty  louis,  and  Carrel  dis- 
appeared at  a  hand-gallop. 


DON  RUSCONI  145 

Scarcely  had  the  sound  of  Carrel's  gallop  died 
away  in  the  distance  before  another  horse  could  be 
heard  coming  up  at  the  same  rapid  pace.  It  was 
Dermoncourt  taking  Jiis  turn  at  flight. 

Rusconi  introduced  himself — and  his  four  hundred 
and  fifty  louis.  Such  a  sum  is  always  convenient 
to  come  across — more  particularly  when  a  man  is 
compromised  in  a  plot  and  is  leaving  France  hurriedly 
without  any  definite  idea  when  he  may  return. 

Dermoncourt  without  more  ado  mounted  treasure 
and  treasurer  behind  him. 

This  done,  instead  of  making  for  the  bridge  of  Alt 
Brisach,  which  in  all  probability  was  already  guarded 
by  this  time,  they  headed  for  the  residence  of  a  relation 
of  General  Dermoncourt's. 

The  day  following  the  arrival  of  the  General  and 
Rusconi  at  the  house  in  question,  nothing  was  talked 
about  but  a  shooting-party  which  it  was  proposed  to 
hold  for  the  destruction  of  the  water-fowl  in  the 
islands  in  midstream.  Fifty  sportsmen,  chosen  from 
the  neighbouring  gentry  known  to  hold  the  most 
revolutionary  opinions,  were  invited  to  share  the  sport. 
The  number  was  ample  to  show  a  good  face  to  all  the 
gendarmerie  of  the  district,  supposing  the  latter  should 
take  it  into  their  heads  to  ask  the  gunners  for  their 
licences.  Moreover,  to  make  security  doubly  secure, 
instead  of  loading  with  ordinary  snipe  shot,  they 
used,  according  to  individual  fancy,  some  ball  and 
some  slugs. 

In  due  course  a  start  was  made.  There  were 
twenty  boats  in  all — a  regular  flotilla.  One  of  these 
got  out  of  her  course,  carried  away  presumably  by 
the  current,  and  landed  two  of  the  party  on  the 
opposite  bank  of  the  Rhine,  in  other  words  in  foreign 
territory. 

lO 


146  MY  PETS 

The  two  sportsmen  in  question  were  General 
Dermoncourt  and  his  trusty  henchman  Rusconi. 

The  former  secured  his  re-admission  to  France  on 
a  judgment  of  the  Court  that  no  sufficient  grounds 
for  a  prosecution  were  to  be  found.  Things  went 
somewhat  hard  for  Rusconi,  an  Italian  and  a  foreigner ; 
but  eventually  he  was  able  to  return,  and  set  to  work 
again  on  the  survey  of  the  country. 

After  some  years  the  Revolution  of  1830  broke 
out ;  Dermoncourt  was  once  more  in  activity  and 
took  Rusconi  for  his  secretary. 

In  1832,  the  General  was  appointed  commander 
in  charge  of  the  Department  of  the  Loire  Inferieure,  and 
Rusconi  accompanied  him  to  Nantes. 

On  7th  November  of  the  same  year,  at  nine  o'clock 
one  morning,  Rusconi  found  himself  in  the  garret  of 
a  house  belonging  to  the  Demoiselles  du  Guigny, 
chatting  calmly  with  a  couple  of  gendarmes,  who  were 
warming  their  feet  at  a  blaze  they  had  made  of  old 
newspapers  in  the  fireplace,  when  a  voice  coming  they 
knew  not  whence,  cried — 

"  Take  out  the  back  of  the  fireplace ;  we  are  stifling  !  " 

The  gendarmes  leapt  in  their  seats,  and  Rusconi 
jumped  back  three  steps. 

At  the  same  time  a  loud  rapping  could  be  heard  on 
the  fireplace  back. 

"  Quick  !  quick !  we  are  choking,"  came  the  same 
voice  again. 

Now  they  knew  where  the  mysterious  voice  came 
from,  and  who  it  was  were  choking. 

The  gendarmes  dashed  forward  and  succeeded  with 
difficulty  in  lifting  out  the  iron  back  of  the  fireplace, 
which  was  red-hot  by  this  time.  Then  they  pro- 
ceeded to  sweep  out  the  burning  paper  from  the  fire- 
place to  afford  the  prisoners  a  practicable  exit. 


DON  RUSCONI  147 

The  latter  then  stepped  out  in  the  following  order : 

First  and  foremost,  Her  Royal  Highness  the 
Duchesse  de  Berry — taking  her  proper  precedence  of 
course,  you  say.  Not  at  all  ;  there  was  no  question  of 
rank  or  precedence  about  it  ;  Madame  was  the  nearest 
to  the  grate-back,  and  so  she  came  out  first,  that  was 
all !  Rusconi,  as  a  practical  squire  of  dames,  offered 
her  his  hand  with  graceful  politeness. 

Next  came  Mademoiselle  de  Kersabiec.  In  her 
case  it  was  not  so  easy  a  matter  ;  she  was  so  fat  she 
could  not  get  through  the  opening.  Finally,  all  gave 
a  hand  and  pulled  together,  and  she  was  presently 
landed  safely  beside  the  Duchesse. 

Next  came  M.  de  M^nars,  who  slipped  out  unaided  ; 
tall  and  thin  as  he  was,  all  but  his  great  nose,  he  could 
have  crept  through  a  mouse-hole,  if  need  be. 

Now  how  had  Rusconi,  after  fulfilling  these  high 
destinies,  come  down  to  the  humble  position  he  adorned 
about  my  household  ?  This  we  may  now  explain  in 
as  few  words  as  possible. 

For  having  conversed  with  the  Duchesse  de  Berry, 
hat  in  hand,  while  M.  le  Prefet  Maurice  Duval  had  kept 
his  on  his  head,  General  Dermoncourt  was  super- 
seded. 

Having  to  retire  into  inglorious  inactivity,  Dermon- 
court no  longer  required  a  secretary,  and  this  being 
the  case,  he  parted  with  Rusconi. 

But  in  dismissing  him,  he  handed  him  a  letter  to 
give  to  me.  In  this  he  begged  me  to  create  some 
sinecure  about  my  person  in  the  employment  of  which 
poor  old  Rusconi  might  spend  the  remainder  of  his 
years  in  peace. 

I  did  as  I  was  asked  ;  Rusconi  joined  my  household 
about  1832,  I  think,  and  he  is  still  there  as  I  write. 

For  three-and-twenty  years  therefore,  except  when 


148  MY  PETS 

on  my  journeys  abroad,  I  have  enjoyed  the  felicity  of 
seeing  Rusconi  every  day. 

"  What  does  he  do  in  the  house  ?  " 

Well,  it  would  be  hard  to  say — he  does  everything, 
and  nothing.  I  have  invented  a  word  for  it,  which 
perfectly  explains  what  I  mean — to  ruscojiise. 

All  the  obliging  services  in  fact  which  a  man  can 
perform  for  his  fellow  are  included  in  the  boundless 
expanse  covered  by  this  comprehensive  verb  to  rusconise. 


CHAPTER   XXX 

IN  WHICH  MOUTON  BETRAYS  HIS  ODIOUS 
CHARACTER 

RUSCONI,  you  see,  lived  with  me  in  order  to 
make  himself  useful.  At  the  present  moment 
he  was  fulfilling  his  function  by  expounding  the 
manners  and  customs  of  my  monkeys  for  the  benefit 
of  my  guests.  Needless  to  say,  Rusconi,  who  was  one 
of  the  most  modest  of  men,  glossed  over  certain  things 
all  he  could. 

Meantime  I  was  in  my  little  summer-house  with 
the  coloured  glass  windows,  dressed  in  my  dimity 
pantalon  a  pieds  and  my  muslin  shirt,  working,  as  I 
have  mentioned  before,  on  the  Bdtard  de  Maule'on. 
As  I  sat  at  my  work,  I  was  watching,  as  I  have  also 
mentioned  before,  Mouton,  who  was  busy  digging  up 
one  of  Michel's  dahlias  —  not  one  of  my  dahlias,  for 
I  have  never  looked  upon  the  dahlia  as  one  of  my 
flowers  ;  indeed,  I  am  not  very  sure  that  I  regard  it 
as  a  flower  at  all,  flowers  that  have  no  scent  hardly 
seeming  to  me  to  come  under  that  category. 

Well,  as  I  write,  I  kept  watching  Mouton,  who  was 
digging  up  one  of  Michel's  dahlias,  and  saying  to 
myself,  "  Never  mind,  my  fine  fellow ;  when  I  have 
finished  off  my  fight,  I  shall  have  a  word  to  say  to 
you  !  " 

The  fight   I   was  engaged    in    describing  was    that 


150  MY  PETS 

between  a  dog  and  a  Moor ;  and  for  the  dog's  portrait, 
as  above  said,  Mouton  had  posed. 

Anyway,  here  ts>  word  for  word  what  I  was  writing — 

"...  But  scarcely  had  they  taken  fifty  steps  ere 
a  white,  motionless  figure  grew  visible  in  the  dusk. 
The  Grand  Master,  not  knowing  what  it  could  be, 
advanced  straight  upon  the  spectral-looking  being. 
It  was  a  second  sentinel  wrapped  in  a  burnoose,  who 
now  levelled  his  lance,  saying  in  Spanish,  though  with 
the  guttural  intonation  of  the  Arabs — 

"  *  You  cannot  pass  ! ' 

"  *  And  who,  pray,  is  this  fellow  ? '  Don  Frederigo 
demanded  of  Fernando. 

" '  I  do  not  know  him,'  replied  the  latter. 

" '  It  is  not  you  then  who  stationed  him  here  ? ' 

"  '  No  ;  you  see  he  is  a  Moor  ! ' 

"  *  Let  us  go  by,'  said  Don  Frederigo  in  Arabic. 

"  The  Moor  only  shook  his  head  and  continued  to 
hold  the  broad,  keen  point  of  his  halberd  at  the  Grand 
Master's  bosom. 

" '  What  does  this  mean  ? '  cried  Don  Frederigo. 
'Am  I  a  prisoner,  then,  I  the  Grand  Master,  I  the 
Prince  ?      Hola,  then,  my  guards,  help  ! ' 

"  For  his  part  Fernando  drew  a  golden  whistle 
from  his  pocket  and  blew  it.  ,  .  .  " 

It  was  while  I  was  in  the  act  of  writing  this  dialogue 
that  Mouton  was  busily  engaged,  with  ever-growing 
activity,  in  digging  up  his  dahlia,  and  that  I  said  to 
myself,  "  Never  mind,  my  fine  fellow ;  when  I  have 
finished  off  my  fight,  I  shall  have  a  word  to  say  to 
you  ! " 

Then,  with  a  gesture  that  promised  little  good  to 
Mouton,  I  proceeded — 

"  But  before  the  guards,  before  even  the  Spanish 
sentinel  stationed  fifty  yards  behind  the  two  companions. 


MOUTON    WAS    MANc;LI.\c;    MV    HAM) 


MOUTON'S  CHARACTER         151 

appeared,  bounding  swiftly  forward,  Don  Frederigo's 
dog.  Recognising  his  master's  voice,  and  gathering 
that  he  was  calling  for  help,  the  animal  darted  up, 
his  coat  bristling  with  anger,  and  with  one  spring,  like 
a  tiger,  hurled  himself  at  the  Moor,  seizing  him  so 
savagely  by  the  throat  through  the  folds  of  his 
burnoose  that  the  soldier  fell  to  the  ground  with  a 
sudden  cry  of  alarm." 

"  Ah  !  "  I  exclaimed,  laying  down  my  pen,  "  here  is 
my  fight  and  my  paragraph  completed ;  "  look  out  for 
yourself,  Motiton  !  " 

So  saying,  I  sallied  out,  without  a  word  to  anybody, 
and  crept  softly  up  to  Mouton,  preparing  to  give  him 
the  hardest  kick  I  possibly  could  with  the  light 
slipper  I  wore  in  the  part  of  his  anatomy  exposed  to 
me. 

Now  the  part  in  question  was  the  animal's  rear. 
Taking  the  best  aim  I  could,  I  let  fly  the  promised 
kick,  which  proved  eminently  satisfactory  and  plainly 
hurt  him  shrewdly. 

The  dog  gave  a  low  growl,  wheeled  round,  fixing 
his  bloodshot  eyes  on  me,  stepped  back  two  or  three 
paces,  then  sprang  straight  at  my  throat. 

Fortunately  I  realised  instantly  what  he  would  be 
at,  and  found  time  to  put  myself  in  an  attitude  of 
defence.  At  the  same  moment  he  leapt  upon  me,  I 
struck  out  at  him  with  both  hands. 

One  hand,  the  right,  struck  his  open  jaws,  while  the 
other  encountered  his  throat. 

Thereupon  I  felt  a  pain  which  I  can  only  com- 
pare to  that  of  a  tooth  being  pulled  out.  Only  the 
agony  of  a  tooth  being  extracted  lasts  but  a  moment, 
whereas  the  pain  I  experienced  went  on  for  five 
minutes. 

It  was  Moutott  mangling  my  hand. 


152  MY  PETS 

Meantime  I  had  him  by  the  throat  and  was  throttling 
him.  I  clearly  realised  one  fact,  that  gripping  him  as 
I  did,  my  only  chance  was  to  go  on  choking  him,  more 
and  more  fiercely,  till  the  beast's  breath  failed  him. 

So  that  is  what  I  did.  Luckily  I  have  a  small,  but 
strong  hand ;  whatever  it  once  seizes,  it  never  lets  go 
of — barring  money. 

It  held  firm  and  squeezed  Mouton's  neck  to  such 
purpose  that  a  rattle  soon  began  in  the  animal's  throat. 
So  far  so  good ;  I  squeezed  harder  still,  and  the  rattle 
grew  more  pronounced.  Finally,  gathering  all  my 
strength  for  a  supreme  effort,  I  had  the  satisfaction 
of  feeling  Motitons  teeth  begin  to  unfasten  ;  another 
moment,  and  his  jaws  opened,  his  eyes  rolled,  and  he 
fell  back  inanimate,  without  my  having  ever  let  go  his 
throat.      But  my  right  hand  was  torn  to  pieces. 

I  put  my  knee  on  the  dog's  head,  and  shouted  for 
Alexandre,  who  came  running  up,  to  find  me  streaming 
with  blood. 

Besides  my  mangled  hand,  the  creature  had  torn 
my  chest  with  a  blow  of  his  claws,  and  the  blood  was 
flowing  freely  from  the  wounds. 

At  first  sight,  Alexandre  thought  the  struggle  was 
still  going  on,  and  dashing  into  the  salon  returned 
armed  with  an  Arab  poniard. 

But  I  stopped  his  onslaught.  "  No,  no,"  I  told 
him  ;  "  I  think  it  highly  important  to  see  him  eat  and 
drink,  to  make  sure  he  is  not  mad.  Let  them  put 
him  on  his  muzzle  and  take  him  to  the  stables." 

Michel  was  summoned,  and  he  slipped  on  Mouton's 
muzzle ;  then,  and  not  till  then,  did  I  let  go  his  throat. 

The  animal  had  lost  consciousness.  They  took  him 
up  by  the  four  paws  and  carried  him  off  to  the  stables. 

As  for  me,  I  made  straight  for  the  salon.  I  felt  the 
time  was  come  to  sit  down  in  a  chair  and  be  ill  myself. 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

THE  GREATEST  AUTOGRAPH-HUNTER  IN  PARIS 

WHEN  I  came  to  myself,  I  was  surrounded  by 
my  guests. 

The  first  thing  I  looked  at  was  my  injured  hand. 
The  palm  was  torn  open  to  the  bone,  the  metacarpal 
bone  was  bitten  through  in  two  places,  and  the  first 
joint  of  the  little  finger  was  all  but  torn  away. 

You  will  perhaps  suppose,  dear  readers,  that  on 
regaining  consciousness,  it  was  of  myself  I  thought. 
Not  so,  it  was  of  Mouton. 

"  Has  Mouton  come  to  yet  ?  "    I  asked. 

They  ran  to  the  stable  to  find  out.  Yes,  Mouton 
had  come  to  all  right ;  but  he  was  like  me,  he  could 
not  stand  on  his  legs. 

"  Good,"  I  said.  "  And  now  go  and  fetch  the 
Regimental  surgeon." 

"  Why  the  Regimental  surgeon  ? "  Alexandre  de- 
manded. 

"  I  have  my  reasons." 

It  was  no  time  to  go  against  my  wishes  ;  so  they 
went  for  the  Regimental  surgeon. 

In  ten  minutes  he  was  standing  beside  my  chair. 

"  We  shall  first  have  to  cauterise  this,"  he 
began. 

"  Not  so,"  I  answered. 

'*  What  do  you  mean  by  not  so  ?  " 

153 


154  MY  PETS 

"  I  mean  I  have  no  fear  of  rabies ;  I  am  only 
afraid  of  tetanus  supervening." 

"  You  are  certain  the  dog  is  not  mad  ?  " 

"  Yes,  quite  certain ;  the  animal  attacked  me 
because  I  gave  him  provocation.      I  am  to  blame." 

My  confession  made,  it  only  remained  to  adopt  a 
mode  of  treatment. 

"  My  mind  is  made  up  on  that  point  too "  I 
informed  the  doctor.  "  You  will  treat  me  with  iced- 
water,  according  to  the  method  of  Baudens  and 
Ambroise  Pare." 

"  But  then,  why  did  you  send  for  me,"  the  doctor 
asked,  "  if  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  what  is  to  be 
done  ?  " 

"Why,  dear  doctor,  I  have  sent  for  you  to  stitch 
the  flesh  together,  and  put  the  bones  of  my  hand 
straight ;  they  are  dislocated  a  bit,  I  imagine." 

The  doctor  took  my  hand,  straightened  out  the 
forefinger,  middle  and  ring  fingers,  which  were  bent 
over,  secured  the  last  joint  of  my  little  finger  with  a 
bandage,  plugged  the  palm  with  lint,  tied  in  the  thumb 
with  a  ligature,  and  this  duly  completed,  asked  where 
I  proposed  to  establish  my  hydraulic  apparatus. 

I  had  a  charming  foimtain  of  Rouen  ware  with 
silver-gilt  taps ;  I  fitted  a  straw  to  the  cock,  filled  the 
reservoir  with  ice  and  fastened  it  against  the  wall. 

Then  I  had  a  camp  bed  made  up  underneath  and 
a  support  fixed  for  my  wounded  hand ;  after  which 
I  lay  down  on  the  improvised  bed  and  turned  the 
tap. 

For  three  days  and  nights  I  lay  there,  only  getting 
up  to  go  and  see  if  Mouton  had  begun  to  take  his 
food  and  water. 

The  first  day  I  paid  no  very  great  attention  to  the 
matter.     On  the  second  day,  I  began  to  get  anxious. 


THE  AUTOGRAPH-HUNTER      155 

By  the  third   day,   I   was  more  than   anxious,  I  was 
getting  terrified. 

Yet  they  had  made  the  fellow  a  tasty  soup  out  of 
all  the  meat  scraps  available  in  the  kitchen,  and 
provided  him  with  a  bucketful  of  clean  water. 

At  last,  about  the  middle  of  the  third  day,  when  I 
had  left  my  tap  for  a  moment  to  pay  one  of  my 
visits  to  Mouton — visits  which  grew  more  and  more 
frequent  as  the  time  drew  on,  I  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  Mouton  with  his  nose  crammed  into  the  soup- 
bowl. 

Then,  like  a  well-brought-up  dog,  that  knows  it  is 
wholesome  to  drink  after  eating,  I  saw  our  friend, 
after  polishing  off  his  soup,  make  for  his  bucket  of  water. 
I  did  not  leave  him  time  so  much  as  to  dip  the  tip 
of  his  tongue  in  it  before  I  called,  "  Michel !  Michel  1  " 
and  that  worthy  appeared. 
"  Did  Monsieur  call  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear  man,  you  can  take  Mouton  back  to 
Challamel's,  now  I  have  seen  what  I  wanted  to  see." 

Michel  put  out  his  head  at  the  stable  door  I  had 
left  open  on  withdrawing,  and, — "  What  was  it 
Monsieur  wanted  to  see  ?  "  he  called  after  me, 

"  I  wanted  to  see  if  Mouton  was  going  to  eat  and 
drink ;  he  has  eaten  and  drunk,  and  I  am  satisfied." 

"  So  ! "  said  Michel,  "  was  Monsieur  afraid  of  going 
mad  ? " 

"  Why,  Michel,  what ?  " 

"  Oh,  but,  if  Monsieur  was  afraid,  I  have  a 
sovereign  remedy  for  rabies.  First  you  take  some 
fowls'   dung   and  you   mix   it   with    milk    which    you 

leave  to  go  sour ;  then  you  add " 

"  Beg  pardon,  Michel,  but  is  your  remedy  internal 
or  external  ?  " 

"  I  beg  yours,  sir ;   I  don't  understand." 


156  MY  PETS 

"  Is  it  to  be  rubbed  in,  I  mean,  or  to  be  swallowed  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  swallowed,  sir ;  but  I  have  not  told  Monsieur 
half  the  ingredients  yet." 

"  I  know  quite  enough,  thank  you,  Michel ;  now  I  am 
not  afraid  any  more  of  going  mad,  I  won't  trouble 
your  nostrum." 

"  Oh,  but,  sir,  to  make  quite  sure !  " 

"  Michel,  you  go  and  take  Mouton  back." 

"  Come  on,  then,  scamp  !  "  cried  Michel,  as  he  led 
the  dog  off,  which  never  once  dropped  his  nonchalant 
air.  The  animal  had  only  once  done  so  in  all  our 
acquaintance,  and  that  was  when  he  flew  at  my 
throat. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  afterwards  Michel  returned. 

"  You  have  taken  plenty  of  time  about  it,  Michel ! " 
I  observed. 

"  I  should  think  so,"  replied  the  man ;  "  M. 
Challamel  would  not  have  him  back." 

"■  And  why  would  he  not  take  him  back  ?  " 

"  It  seems  his  master  got  rid  of  him  because  he 
bit." 

"Very  well,  Michel,  next  time  you  see  Challamel, 
you  will  thank  twice  instead  of  once,  mind  that !  " 

I  don't  know  whether  Michel  thanked  Challamel 
once  or  twice ;  but  I  do  know  this, — Challamel  has 
never  forgiven  me  for  sending  Mouton  back  to  him. 

For  the  first  three  days  I  had  felt  no  great  degree  of 
boredom  ;  the  dread  of  going  mad  had  kept  ennui 
victoriously  at  bay ;  but  the  instant  this  haunting 
preoccupation  was  banished,  my  head  was  full  of  my 
interrupted  romance,  the  Bdtard  de  Mauleon. 

Alas !  it  was  no  easy  thing  to  write  with  a  hand 
entirely  deprived  of  the  power  of  movement  and 
swathed  in  bandages  ;  but  I  did  not  despair.  I  called 
to  my  aid  all  the  mechanical  notions   I   possessed,  and 


THE  AUTOGRAPH-HUNTER     157 

hit  on  the  following  device.  I  inserted  the  penholder 
into  a  sort  of  pincers  which  I  contrived  between  the 
fore,  middle  and  ring  fingers ;  and  thanks  to  a  motion 
of  the  forearm  which  I  substituted  for  that  of  the 
fingers  and  wrist,  I  took  up  my  story  again  just  where 
I  had  dropped  it  in  order  to  administer  to  Mouton  the 
unfortunate  kick  that  had  precipitated  the  whole 
disaster.  But,  as  may  be  supposed,  this  novel  method 
of  execution  made  a  great  difference  in  my  hand- 
writing. 

Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  when  Gudin,  who  was 
a  near  neighbour,  came  over  to  see  me.  I  noticed  he 
entered  the  room  with  a  certain  caution.  The  fact  is, 
the  report  was  already  going  about  that  I  had  been 
bitten  by  a  mad  dog,  and  had  had  a  first  fit  of  madness 
by  this  time. 

I  reassured  Gudin,  and  showed  him  my  contrivance, 
which  he  praised  warmly. 

Then,  by  way  of  conversation — 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said,  "  though  I  am  the  greatest 
collector  of  autographs  in  Paris,  I  have  not  a  single 
specimen  of  your  handwriting." 

"  Really  !  "    I  exclaimed. 

"  No,  not  a  single  one." 

"  And  you  thought  it  was  time  to  see  about  getting 
one,  eh  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my  dear  sir  ! " 

"  Well,  Gudin,"  I  told  him,  "  I  am  going  to  give  you 
one — and  a  mighty  curious  one  too,  that  nobody  can 
boast  of  having  the  match  to." 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  give  you  the  first  volume  of  the 
BAtard  de  Maulhn,  written  in  two  different  hand- 
writings— that  of  the  good  hand  and  that  of  the 
ill.     You  can   tell  the   reason    of  the  alteration,  and  it 


158  MY  PETS 

will  be  at  one  and  the  same  time  an  autograph  and  a 
good  story." 

"  Oh,  but,"  protested  Gudin,  "  I  am  really  ashamed 
to  take  it !  " 

"  No  need,  dear  boy,  no  need  !  you  can  give  me  a 
drawing,  and  we  shall  be  quits." 

"  Done,  it's  a  bargain  !  " 

"  Very  well ;  you  must  send  to  ask  news  of  me 
every  day,  and  the  day  the  volume  is  finished  I  will 
hand  it  over  to  your  servant-man." 

"  Oh  no,  but  I  will  come  myself!" 

Gudin  was  as  good  as  his  word,  and  came  to 
inquire  every  day.  The  third  day  he  carried  away  the 
volume  with  him. 

/  am  waiting  for  a  dog  to  bite  Gudin's  hand  so  that 
I  can  go  and  tell  him,  "  Dear  Gudin,  do  you  know  I 
have  not  a  single  drawing  of  yours  ?  " 


CHAPTER   XXXII 
MY  FIRST  HARE 

THE  opening  day  of  the  season  came  at  last. 
The  day  had  been  impatiently  expected  by 
Vatrin,  Michel,  and  myself.  This  ist  September  was 
to  see  a  definitive  judgment  pronounced  on  Pritchard. 

Ever  since  I  was  a  boy,  I  had  fired  my  first  shot 
of  the  season  in  the  same  locality — at  a  worthy 
farmer's  named  M.  Mocquet,  at  Brassoire.  It  was 
there  that,  in  company  with  my  brother-in-law  and 
M.  Deviolaine,  I  had  killed  my  first  hare. 

It  is  a  fine  thing  killing  one's  first  hare ;  I  don't 
think  I  felt  so  much  elated  at  my  first  literary 
triumph ! 

Every  year  I  went  to  Brassoire  for  the  opening 
day.  I  used  to  revisit  the  memorable  spot,  and  if  I 
had  any  one  with  me,  I  would  tell  the  said  some  one 
in  solemn  tones — 

"  This  is  the  place  where  I  killed  my  first  hare." 

Shall  I  tell  you  how  a  fellow  kills  his  first  hare? 
It  will  make  me  feel  forty  years  younger.  All  the 
more  so  as,  following  my  good  friend  Dr.  Demarquay's 
advice,  I  have  at  this  moment  one  leg  extended  on  a 
foot-rest  with  a  swelling  of  the  synovial  tissue  in  the 
knee — which  means  I  may  very  possibly  have  killed 
my  last  hare  last  year. 

I   was  thirteen,   and  possessed   of  a   pretty   single- 

159 


160  MY  PETS 

barrelled  gun  with  a  velvet  pad  on  the  butt,  showing 
it  had  been  a  lady's  gun  before  being  a  child's. 

My  brother-in-law  and  M.  Deviolaine  had  got  my 
poor  mother's  permission  for  me  to  join  their  shooting 
party  at  Brassoire. 

I  was  the  rawest  of  recruits ;  my  exploits  hitherto 
had  included  seven  larks  and  a  partridge.  All  through 
dinner, — and  everybody  knows  how  long  a  farmhouse 
dinner  lasts, — I  had  been  the  butt  of  the  company's 
wit.  But  as  we  rose  from  table,  M.  Mocquet  whispered 
in  my  ear — 

"  Never  you  mind,  I'll  put  you  in  the  good  places, 
and  it  won't  be  my  fault  if,  by  to-morrow  evening, 
it's  not  you  having  the  laugh  of  them." 

How  long  the  night  seemed !  I  heard  and  counted 
every  hour  as  it  struck.  At  six  I  was  up,  dressed 
and  downstairs.  I  hung  about  the  yard  waiting;  it 
was  still  dark  night,  and  everybody  else  was  fast 
asleep. 

At  seven  the  windows  began  to  open ;  by  eight 
the  sportsmen  were  assembled,  and  thirty  or  so 
peasants  from  the  neighbourhood  were  standing  in 
line  at  the  main  gate  of  the  farm.  These  were  the 
beaters. 

The  sport  began  directly  this  main  gate  was  passed. 
M.  Mocquet  placed  me,  at  a  hundred  yards  from  the 
farm,  in  a  sandy  ravine.  The  youngsters  in  their 
play  had  excavated  a  great  pit  in  the  sand.  M. 
Mocquet  showed  me  this,  and  told  me  to  bury  myself 
in  it,  declaring,  if  only  I  kept  still,  the  hares  would 
come  tumbling  about  my  feet. 

It  was  not  exactly  luxurious ;  the  morning  was 
bitterly  cold  and  the  air  biting.  Soon  the  sport  began. 
At  the  first  cries  of  the  beaters,  two  or  three  hares 
sprang  out,  and   after  a   moment's   consultation  as  to 


MY  FIRST  HARE  161 

the  route  to  be  followed,  they  started  off,  spaced  at 
intervals  like  the  three  Curiatii,  whose  story  I  had 
been  translating  only  the  day  before  in  the  De  viris 
illustribus,  and  made  straight  for  my  ravine. 

I  could  not  believe  my  eyes  at  first.  Were  they 
really  hares  ?  they  looked  to  me  as  big  as  donkeys. 

But  when  there  could  be  no  more  doubt  about  their 
identity,  when  I  saw  them  come  towards  me  as  straight 
as  if  they  had  made  an  appointment  to  meet  at  my 
hole,  a  mist  passed  over  my  sight,  and  I  thought  I 
was  going  to  faint.      I  believe  I  actually  shut  my  eyes. 

But  I  soon  opened  them  again,  to  see  my  hares 
still  following  the  same  bee-line.  The  nearer  they 
came,  the  more  furiously  did  my  heart  beat ;  the 
thermometer  registered  some  degrees  below  zero,  yet 
the  moisture  was  pouring  down  my  face.  Finally,  the 
one  who  led  the  advance  seemed  definitely  to  make 
up  his  mind  to  charge,  and  came  straight  at  me.  From 
the  moment  he  first  started,  I  had  my  aim  on  him  ; 
I  could  have  let  him  come  within  twenty  paces,  or  ten, 
or  five  for  the  matter  of  that,  and  swept  him  out  of 
existence  with  my  shot,  as  if  with  a  thunderbolt. 
But  I  could  not  hold  myself  in  ;  at  thirty  yards  I  fired 
straight  at  his  face. 

Instantly  the  hare  turned  head  over  heels  in  a 
way  that  showed  plainly  he  was  hit,  and  then  began 
a  series  of  the  most  fantastic  capers. 

I  leapt  from  my  lair  like  a  tiger,  shouting — 

"  Ha,  ha !  have  I  got  you,  have  I  got  you,  eh  ? 
Here,  dogs !  Beaters,  beaters,  here !  .  .  .  Ah !  you 
scamp,  you  villain,  wait  a  bit,  wait  a  bit !  " 

But  instead  of  waiting  a  bit  to  receive  the  punish- 
ment   I    was    keeping    for  him    for    being    so   set    on 
escaping,  the    hare,  no  doubt  hearing  my  voice,  only 
began  a  set  of  even  more  frantic  twists  and  turns. 
II 


162  MY  PETS 

As  for  his  two  companions,  one,  scared  by  all  this 
commotion  and  his  friend's  mad  antics,  turned  tail 
and  broke  back  through  the  line  of  beaters.  The 
other  chose  a  bolder  course,  and  ran  close  past  me — 
so  close  that,  having  nothing  in  my  gun,  I  threw  the 
gun  itself  at  him. 

But  this  was  only  a  side  issue  after  all,  which  did 
not  for  a  moment  distract  me  from  the  main  attack. 

I  dashed  in  pursuit  of  my  hare,  which  continued  to 
indulge  in  the  maddest  dance  ever  seen,  not  going 
ten  steps  in  a  straight  line,  springing  first  to  one  side, 
then  to  the  other,  leaping  forwards,  leaping  backwards, 
upsetting  all  my  calculations,  escaping  me  at  the  very 
instant  I  thought  I  held  him,  scudding  ten  yards  ahead 
of  me  as  nimbly  as  if  he  had  not  a  scratch,  then 
suddenly  wheeling  right  round  and  darting  between 
my  legs.  You  might  have  thought  he  was  doing  it 
for  a  wager.  I  was  furious,  and  my  shouts  changed 
to  howls  of  rage.  I  picked  up  stones  and  hurled  them 
at  the  creature;  when  I  thought  I  had  him  within 
reach,  I  threw  myself  flat  on  my  face,  hoping  to  trap 
him  between  my  body  and  the  ground.  Through 
the  sweat  that  half  blinded  me,  I  could  make  out  in 
the  distance,  as  if  through  a  fog,  the  rest  of  the  party, 
— some  cracking  with  laughter,  some  swearing  with 
annoyance.  The  former  were  vastly  amused  at  the 
frantic  efforts  I  was  making,  the  latter  vexed  at  the 
rumpus  I  was  kicking  up,  which  was  bound  to  frighten 
the  game  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  round. 

At  last,  after  unheard-of  efforts,  which  neither  pen 
nor  pencil  can  ever  reproduce,  I  caught  my  victim  by 
one  paw,  then  by  two,  finally  by  the  middle  of  the 
body.  Now  rdles  were  reversed  ;  it  was  I  who  kept 
a  grim  silence,  while  the  poor  beast  uttered  despairing 
cries.      I   gripped  him  against  my  chest,  as  Hercules 


»  9 
'   »         J  3 


1  )       »  » 

•  •.     t     •         •  » 


• :.'  :  • 


I    CAUtiHT    MV   VICTIM    BV   ONE    TAW 


MY  FIRST  HARE  163 

did  Antseus,  and  got  back  to  my  hole,  not  forgetting, 
as  I  went  by,  to  piclc  up  my  gun,  which  lay  on  the 
ground  where  I  had  thrown  it. 

Back  in  my  lair,  I  could  examine  my  hare  properly, 
and  I  saw  the  explanation  of  the  whole  thing. 

I  had  destroyed  both  the  wretched  creature's  eyes, 
without  doing  him  any  other  injury. 

I  gave  the  animal  the  knock  on  the  back  of  the 
neck  so  well  known  to  sportsmen,  by  which  they  put 
hares  and  rabbits  out  of  their  pain.  Then  I  reloaded 
my  gun,  with  a  beating  heart  and  a  trembling  hand.   .   .   . 

Perhaps  I  ought  to  end  my  narrative  here,  seeing 
my  first  hare  is  duly  killed ;  but  I  think,  for  my  part, 
this  would  be  leaving  the  story  incomplete. 

Well,  I  reloaded  my  gun,  as  I  say,  with  a  beating 
heart  and  a  trembling  hand.  The  charge  struck  me 
as  somewhat  heavy  ;  but  I  could  trust  the  barrel,  and 
this  excess  of  four  or  five  lines  gave  me  all  the  better 
chance  of  killing  at  long  range. 

Hardly  was  I  back  in  position  before  I  saw  another 
hare  coming  straight  for  me. 

I  had  had  enough  of  firing  head  on  ;  and  indeed 
this  one  looked  like  passing  me  full  sideways  at 
twenty-five  yards. 

He  did  exactly  as  I  hoped  ;  and  taking  aim  with 
more  steadiness  than  might  have  been  expected,  and 
more  than  I  had  supposed  myself  capable  of,  I  fired, 
in  the  full  persuasion  I  had  secured  my  brace  of  hares. 

The  priming  fired,  but  the  gun  refused  to  go  off! 

I  pricked  out  the  touch-hole,  reprimed,  and  waited 
further  developments.  M,  Mocquet  knew  his  ground, 
and  had  not  exaggerated  a  bit  in  promising  me  fine 
sport. 

A  third  hare  came  along  in  the  track  of  his  pre- 
decessors.     Like  the  last,  he  gave  me  a  full  sideways 


164  MY  PETS 

shot,  at  twenty  yards.  As  before,  I  aimed  carefully ; 
and  as  before  only  the  priming  went  off. 

I  could  have  cried  with  vexation — the  more  so 
as  a  fourth  hare  came  trotting  up. 

The  same  thing  exactly  was  repeated.  He  did 
everything  he  could  to  oblige  me,  and  my  gun  was 
as  pig-headed  as  ever.  The  creature  passed  within 
fifteen  yards  of  me,  and  for  the  third  time  my  weapon 
missed  fire. 

Evidently  the  hares  had  passed  the  word,  and  the 
first  one  that  got  past  safe  and  sound  had  signalled 
to  the  others  there  was  no  danger. 

This  time  the  tears  actually  came.  A  good  shot, 
posted  where  I  was,  would  have  killed  his  four  hares. 

The  shooting  was  over,  and  M.  Mocquet  came  to 
see  how  I  had  fared. 

"  It  has  missed  fire  three  times  over,  M.  Mocquet," 
I  cried  in  a  lamentable  voice ;  "  three  times  over  at 
three  different  hares  ! " — and  I  showed  him  my  gun. 

"  Priming  not  caught,  or  gun  missed  fire  ? "  asked 
M.  Mocquet. 

"  Missed  fire !  What  the  devil  can  be  wrong  in  the 
chamber  ?  " 

M.  Mocquet  shook  his  head,  took  out  of  his  game- 
bae  a  wad-extractor  and  screwed  it  on  to  the  end  of 
his  ramrod.  Then  he  extracted  first  the  top  wad, 
then  the  shot,  then  the  second  wad,  then  the  powder, 
then,  after  the  powder,  half  an  inch  of  soil,  which  had 
lodged  in  the  muzzle  when  I  pitched  my  gun  at  the 
hare,  and  which  I  had  forced  right  down  the  barrel 
with  the  first  wad  I  pushed  home  on  top  of  the  charge 
of  powder. 

I  might  have  shot  at  a  hundred  hares;  my  gun 
would  have  missed  fire  every  time  ! 

Vanity  of  human  wishes  !  but  for  this  half  inch  of 


MY  FIRST  HARE  165 

soil  I  should  have  had  two  or  three  hares  in  my  bag, 
and  been  the  king  of  the  day's  shoot. 

Well,  it  was  to  this  same  spot,  so  full  of  youthful 
memories,  that  I  used  to  return  as  a  man,  still  a 
passionate  lover  of  sport,  still  a  broken  sleeper  on  the 
night  before  the  opening  day  of  the  shooting  season. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

ALFRED  AND  MfiDOR 

ON  this  occasion  I  was  visiting  the  old  spot  as 
leader  of  the  company,  which  included  my  son, 
Maquet,  and  my  nephew. 

Both  my  son  and  Maquet  are  known  to  the  reader, 
but  not  so  my  nephew.  The  latter,  at  this  date,  was 
a  big,  or  rather  a  tall  youth  of  nearly  six  feet,  who, 
more  favoured  than  the  camel  of  the  Scriptures,  might 
very  well  have  passed  through  the  eye  of  a  needle. 

Everybody  has  his  fellow  in  the  animal  kingdom, 
and  my  nephew  belonged  to  the  genus  of  long-legged 
waders. 

His  baptismal  name  was  Alfred,  and  he  was  in- 
variably accompanied  on  shooting  days  by  a  dog 
called  M^dor. 

Oh,  M^dor !  Medor  was  worth  his  weight  in  gold. 
And  how  exactly  Mddor  suited  Alfred,  and  Alfred 
Medor.  Since  he  has  lost  Medor,  Alfred  is  the  old 
Alfred  no  more. 

He  (Alfred)  was  what  they  call  a  pretty  shot,  killing 
three  times  out  of  four.  But  Medor !  .  .  .  never  a 
mistake,  never  a  fault,  never  a  false  point  at  a  lark  ! 

At  five  in  the  morning,  or  as  soon  after  as  might  be, 
the  sport  began  on  opening  days,  and  Alfred  would 
range  up  with  the  other  guns. 

But  this  was  a  mere  concession  to  public  discipline. 

16« 


ALFRED  AND  MEDOR  167 

At  the  first  coppice,  the  first  warren,  the  first  rising 
ground,  Alfred  would  discreetly  vanish.  He  would  slip 
away,  with  M^dor  nosing  twenty  yards  ahead  of  him. 

At  noon,  during  the  halt  for  lunch,  you  would  see 
Alfred  reappear,  always  marching  along  with  the  same 
regular  strides,  like  a  pair  of  compasses  measuring  out 
the  ground. 

By  this  time  M^dor's  enthusiasm  had  calmed  down, 
and  he  kept  soberly  side  by  side  with  his  master. 

We  would  beckon  to  Alfred  to  come  and  join  the 
rest ;  but  he  would  never  condescend.  He  would 
point  to  a  hunch  of  bread  and  a  little  flask  of  brandy 
he  held  in  his  hand,  and  shake  his  head  to  signify  that 
he  looked  upon  our  lunch  as  a  piece  of  Sybaritism 
unworthy  of  a  true  sportsman.  Then  he  would  once 
more  disappear. 

At  five  in  the  evening  all  returned.  Numbers  were 
counted,  and  everybody  was  found  to  be  present  except 
Alfred. 

"  At  seven,  on  leaving  table,  the  company  strolled  out 
to  the  door  of  the  farm  to  enjoy  the  fresh  air  and  listen 
to  the  partridges  calling  in  the  stubbles. 

Then  the  man  with  the  best  eyes  gave  a  sudden  cry. 
On  the  horizon-line,  relieved  against  the  red  of  the 
sunset,  Alfred  could  be  made  out  still  keeping  his 
regulation  yard-long  stride.  Only  Medor,  who  in  the 
morning  had  been  twenty  paces  ahead  of  his  master, 
and  at  noon  had  been  side  by  side  with  him,  now  at 
eventide  was  plodding  weariedly  twenty  yards  behind 
his  heels. 

As  night  closed  in,  sportsman  and  dog  always  turned 
up  as  regularly  as  clockwork,  invariably  bringing  in 
their  three  dozen  partridges,  their  half-dozen  quails, 
their  three  or  four  rabbits,  two  or  three  hares,  and  very 
often  a  brace  of  woodcock  into  the  bargain. 


168  MY  PETS 

All  this  Alfred  carried  in  his  game-bag,  without  a 
sign  either  of  conceit  or  affected  humility.  There  was 
enough  to  fill  three  game-bags,  yet  his  seemed  half 
empty.      The  fact  is  he  was  a  most  admirable  packer. 

He  would  pull  out  each  bird  or  beast  separately, 
look  it  over,  smooth  down  feathers  or  fur,  as  the  case 
might  be,  and  deposit  it  on  the  table,  beginning  with 
the  small  and  ending  with  the  big. 

The  operation  lasted  a  good  quarter  of  an  hour,  and 
then,  on  counting,  the  bag  was  frequently  found  to 
include  fifty  or  sixty  head  of  game. 

On  the  conclusion  of  the  enumeration,  Alfred's 
remark  was  invariably  the  same — 

"  Well,  now  it's  time  to  go  and  titivate  a  bit." 

And,  before  touching  food,  Alfred  would  march  up 
to  his  room  to  put  on  striped  socks,  patent-leather 
shoes,  a  waistcoat  and  trousers  of  drill,  tie  round  his 
neck  a  very  broad  cravat  of  the  lightest  blue,  and  pass 
— as  a  matter  of  hygiene  presumably — through  his 
scanty  locks  a  comb  that  had  more  bristles  than  his 
skull  had  hairs. 

Meantime  we  would  be  examining  Alfred's  bag,  to 
find  it  included  a  good  quarter  that  bore  no  mark  of 
shot  whatever. 

This  portion  was  Medor's  contribution.  Never  was 
there  such  a  dog  for  catching,  or  letting  his  master 
catch,  a  rabbit  in  its  form  or  a  quail  sitting. 

Next  day  the  company,  men  and  dogs,  would  start 
out  afresh  with  somewhat  diminished  ardour  —  but 
Alfred  and  Medor  with  unabated  zeal. 

This  time  it  was  a  trial  of  prowess  between  M^dor, 
in  the  decline  of  life,  and  Pritchard,  in  the  heyday 
of  youth,  who  stood  up  to  one  another  like  two  rival 
athletes. 

If  it  had  been  solely  a  matter  of  speed,  Pritchard 


ALFRED  AND  M£dOR  169 

would  have  been  an  easy  victor.  Hardly  out  of  the 
farm  gates,  Pritchard  leapt  on  to  the  top  of  a  dike, 
studied  the  lie  of  the  country  with  his  mustard- 
coloured  optics,  lashing  the  air  the  while  with  his 
tufted  tail.  Then  in  a  moment  dashed  off  in  the 
direction  of  a  patch  of  clover. 

Shouts  and  whistles  were  equally  unavailing.  Deaf 
as  a  dead  dog,  Pritchard  blocked  his  ears  and  let  us 
yell. 

A  third  of  the  way  across  the  field,  he  stopped 
dead. 

"Look!"  said  Alfred,  who  had  watched  him  away 
with  a  look  of  profound  contempt,  "  you  would  really 
think  he  was  pointing  !  " 

"  And  why  shouldn't  he  point  ?  "   I  asked. 

"H'm!  h'm!" 

Alexandre  was  rolling  a  cigarette  at  the  moment ; 
he  made  as  if  to  put  it  away  so  as  to  get  up  in 
time. 

"  Oh,"  I  told  him,  "  you  need  not  hurry ;  light  your 
cigarette  by  all  means."  So  my  son  finishing  his 
rolling,  licked  the  paper  and  duly  lit  up. 

Pritchard  stood  as  firm  as  a  rock. 

"  Well,  well,  let's  go  and  see  what's  what,  anyway," 
suggested  Alfred. 

So  we  set  off  for  the  clover.  A  space  of  four 
hundred  yards  or  so  divided  us  from  Pritchard. 

We  soon  came  close  up  behind  the  dog,  but  he 
never  budged. 

"  Go  on  in  front  of  him,"  I  told  Alexandre,  and 
Alexandre  did  as  he  was  bid ;  but  still  not  a  move- 
ment. 

"  Oh  ho ! "  laughed  Alexandre,  "  your  dog  is 
squinting !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean — squinting  ?  " 


170  MY  PETS 

"  Yes,  he  is  staring  towards  Morienval  to  see  if 
Pierrefonds  is  on  fire." 

"  Well,  you  look  down  at  your  own  feet,  and  see 
what  will  happen." 

I  had  hardly  spoken  when  a  leveret  broke  covert. 

Alexandre  let  fly  at  the  animal,  which  rolled  over 
dead. 

But  still  Pritchard  never  stirred.  Only  he  had 
stopped  squinting.  The  eye  that  was  looking  Morien- 
val way  to  see  Pierrefonds  was  now  directed  in  the 
same  axis  as  the  other, 

"  Idiot ! "  cried  Alfred,  giving  him  a  kick  under 
the  tail ;    "  can't  you  see  it's  dead  and  done  for  ?  " 

Pritchard  looked  round  with  an  air  that  said  "  You're 
another !  "  as  plain  as  words — and  went  on  pointing, 
as  steady  as  ever. 

"  There,  look  at  the  creature  !  "  sneered  Alfred. 

"  Why,  don't  you  see  ? "  said  I,  "  he  has  marked 
down  two  leverets  at  once.  One  has  bolted  under 
my  son's  nose,  and  the  other  is  going  to  follow  suit 
under  Maquet's." 

I  had  not  finished  speaking  when  the  second  leveret, 
as  if  he  had  only  been  waiting  my  instructions,  broke 
covert  too. 

Maquet  missed  him  with  his  first  barrel,  and  knocked 
him  over  with  his  second. 

"  Come,  Medor,  come  along ! "  said  Alfred ;  and  he 
started  off  for  Morienval. 

"  Good  !  "  I  said  to  Alexandre,  "  here's  Alfred  taking 
his  line ;  we  shall  not  see  him  again  till  this  evening." 

"  Let's  console  ourselves  for  his  loss  with  the  hope 
he  will  never  come  back,"  observed  Alexandre. 

So  saying,  he  picked  up  his  hare  and  clapped  it 
in  his  bag,  while  Maquet  did  the  same  with  his. 

"  All  the  same,  four  of  us,  with  two  dogs, — things 


ALFRED  AND  MjfeDOR  171 

were  going  finely,  while  with  only  three  and  one 
dog  .   .  ." 

"  I  think  Pritchard,  by  himself,  is  as  good  as  two," 
observed  Maquet  sententiously. 

"  Where  is  the  dog,  by  the  bye  ?  "  asked  Alexandre. 

We  peered  about  in  every  direction ;  not  a  sign 
of  Pritchard  ! 

At  that  moment  our  attention  was  attracted  by  a 
shot  fired  by  Alfred,  who  had  just  disappeared  behind 
the  crest  of  a  bit  of  shrubbery.  The  explosion  was 
followed  by  shouts  of,  "  Hi !  Medor,  go  fetch,  go 
fetch  ! " 

"  Well,"  remarked  Alexandre,  "  there's  Alfred  begin- 
ning his  day's  shooting." 

While  Alexandre  and  Maquet  were  reloading  their 
guns,  not  only  did  Alfred's  vociferations  continue,  but 
they  increased  in  volume  and  intensity. 

"  Look,  look  I "  I  urged  Alexandre ;  "  do  look 
there ! " 

Alexandre  turned  his  eyes  in  the  direction  in  which 
I  pointed. 

"  Ah  1  good,"  he  said,  "  so  Pritchard  has  caught  a 
partridge,  I  see." 

"  Caught  it,  no  ;  stolen  it  rather." 

"  Stolen  it  I     Who  from  ?  " 

"  Why,  from  Alfred,  to  be  sure !  It  is  the  bird  he 
is  telling  Medor  to  go  fetch." 

At  that  moment  a  second  shot  rang  out,  .still  in 
Alfred's  direction. 

"  Look,  look  what  Pritchard  is  after !  "  I  shouted  to 
Alexandre. 

"  Come,  come,"  he  laughed,  "  you  should  have  told 
me  we  were  going  to  the  play  and  not  to  a  shooting 
party ;  then  I  could  have  brought  my  opera-glasses 
instead  of  a  gun." 


172  MY  PETS 

The  fact  is  Pritchard  had  just  dropped  into  a  furrow 
the  partridge  he  was  carrying,  and  had  started  off 
again  at  full  speed  in  the  direction  of  the  shot. 

Ten  seconds  more,  and  he  reappeared  with  a  second 
partridge. 

Alfred  was  still  shouting  at  the  top  of  his  voice — 

"  Go  fetch,  Medor,  go  fetch  !  " 

"  Will  you  kindly  explain  what's  happening  ?  "  asked 
Maquet. 

"  Oh,  it  is  quite  simple,"  I  told  him.  "  There  is  a 
coppice  on  the  hillside  yonder ;  just  outside  its  limits 
a  partridge  got  up  in  front  of  Alfred,  and  Alfred 
killed  it ;  only  the  bird  fell  inside,  among  the  trees. 
Alfred  thought  it  was  all  right,  and  shouted,  as  he 
reloaded  his  gun,  '  Fetch,  Medor,  go  fetch  ! '  Alfred 
knew  his  dog,  and  had  no  fear  of  the  result.  But  he 
did  not  know  Pritchard,  who  is  a  thief,  a  pirate,  a 
bandit !  He  was  in  the  coppice,  and  picked  up  Alfred's 
bird  before  Medor  had  so  much  as  jumped  the  bound- 
ary ditch,  and  set  off  to  bring  it  in  to  me  without 
troubling  his  head  whether  it  was  I  had  shot  it  or  no. 
Alfred,  bothered  at  not  seeing  either  Medor  or  his 
partridge  again,  made  his  way  into  the  coppice  to  help 
his  dog.  A  second  partridge  got  up,  which  he  killed, 
as  he  had  the  first.  From  where  he  was  Pritchard 
could  see  the  direction  in  which  the  bird  had  fallen. 
He  dropped  his  first  prize  and  darted  after  the  second. 
.  .  .  And,  look,  there  he  comes  with  the  second,  as 
he  was  doing  with  the  first ;  or  rather,  here  he  comes 
with  them  both  ! " 

"  Well,  upon  my  word  !  " 

"  Not  a  doubt  about  it ;  he  has  come  back  by  way 
of  the  furrow  where  he  deposited  his  first  partridge. 
Presently,  when  he  got  there,  thinking  his  jaws  were 
capacious  enough  to  carry  the  pair  of  them,  he  per- 


ALFRED  AND  M^DOR  173 

formed  the  feat  you  see,  or  rather  which  you  do  not 
see.  .  .   .  Look,  Alexandre,  do  !     Look,  Maquet !  " 

"  What's  he  after  ?  " 

"  He  is  marking  down  a  quail,  with  a  brace  of 
partridges  in  his  jaws." 

"  How  does  he  manage  to  scent  the  quail  ?  " 

"  He  does  not  scent  it,  he  sees  it.  Catch  hold  of  my 
gun." 

"  Why,  what  are  you  going  to  shoot  it  with  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  going  to  shoot  it ;  I  am  going  to  catch 
it  in  my  hat." 

I  walked  up  to  Pritchard,  and,  following  the  direction 
of  his  eyes,  I  saw  the  quail. 

A  second  later  the  bird  was  under  my  hat. 

"  Well,  well,"  grumbled  Alexandre,  "  possibly  it's 
more  diverting  than  using  our  guns,  but  it's  not  sport." 

At  that  moment  we  saw  M^dor  appear,  following 
in  Pritchard's  tracks,  and  Alfred  following  in  Mddor's. 

"Why,  what's  the  matter?"  I  asked  Alfred. 

"  The  matter  !  What's  the  matter  ?  .  .  .  I  like  your 
fun  !  I  fire  at  two  birds,  I  kill  them  both,  and  I  can't 
find  one  !      A  fine  beginning  truly  !  " 

"  Ah,  well,"  I  told  him,  "  I  am  luckier  than  you ; 
I  have  not  fired  a  shot  yet,  and  I  have  bagged  a 
brace  of  partridges  and  a  quail." 

So  saying,  I  showed  him  in  one  hand  the  two  dead 
partridges,  and  in  the  other  the  quail,  still  alive  and 
kicking. 

The  whole  thing  was  explained  by  reference  to 
Pritchard's  exploits,  and  Alfred  cursed  the  dog 
soundly. 

But  the  dog  was  not  there  to  hear  his  maledictions. 
He  had  vanished  again,  and  was  hunting  on  his  own 
account.  As  it  was  getting  too  fatiguing  to  keep 
with    him,  we    made    up  our  minds  to  shoot  on   our 


L 


174  MY  PETS 

own  hook,  and  only  use  Pritchard  as  opportunity 
might  offer.  We  spread  out  in  line  and  fell  to 
without  a  dog. 

Alexandre,  who  has  first-rate  sight,  had  just  caught 
sight  of  Pritchard  a  quarter  of  a  league  away,  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  valley. 

It  was  not  our  shooting  there — a  detail  that  did 
not  trouble  Pritchard  in  the  slightest,  but  was  highly 
important  to  us. 

A  partridge  got  up  in  front  of  me,  and  I  fired — 
my  first  shot  that  day.  Wounded,  but  not  killed, 
the  bird  flew  straight  ahead,  and  seemed  likely  to 
drop  somewhere  near  a  lad  gleaning  in  a  field. 

I  had  no  Pritchard  with  me  to  tell  him  to  go  fetch ; 
so  I  resolved  to  follow  up  my  bird  and  retrieve  it 
myself. 

On  the  way  I  put  up  a  leveret  and  shot  it.  This 
rather  distracted  my  attention  from  my  partridge, 
the  result  being  that  by  the  time  I  had  picked  up 
the  leveret  and  put  it  in  my  game-bag  I  had  rather 
lost  my  bearings. 

Fortunately  the  gleaner  gave  me  a  point  to  make 
for.      He  was  now  sitting  down  eating. 

I  walked  up  to  him. 

"  Ho !  my  good  fellow,"  I  accosted  him,  "  have  you 
seen  a  partridge  ?  " 

"  A  partridge,  eh  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  partridge." 

"  I've  seen  many  a  one,  sir." 

"Yes,  but  a  single  one?  " 

"  I've  seen  single  ones  too." 

"  A  wounded  one." 

"  Wounded  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  Oh  !    I  know  naught  of  that." 


ALFRED  AND  M^DOR  175 

"  Come,  don't  play  the  confounded  idiot,  my  lad  ! 
I  ask  you  a  plain  question  ;  when  I  fired  just  now, 
did  not  you  see  a  partridge  drop  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  was  you  who  fired  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  was." 

"  Ah,  well,  I  saw  naught  drop." 

I  gave  a  wry  look  at  the  young  fellow  and  fell  to 
hunting  about  for  my  bird,  Alexandre  helping  me. 

Suddenly — "  Look!"  he  exclaimed;  "  here's  Pritchard 
come  back." 

"  Why,  where  is  he  ?  " 

'*  There,  by  your  gleaner,  looking  very  much  as  if 
he  wanted  to  prig  the  fellow's  breakfast." 

"  Dry  bread,  eh  ?      You  don't  know  Pritchard." 

"  Well,  but  just  watch  him  a  moment." 

I   did  so,  and  saw  the  whole  thing  in  a  flash. 

"  Oh  ho ! "  I  laughed,  "  this  is  the  finest  game 
of  all !  " 

"  He's  pointing  at  your  gleaner  !  "  cried  Alexandre. 

"  Not  he ;  he  is  pointing  at  my  partridge,  which  is 
not  dead  and  is  in  that  fellow's  pocket." 

"  Hosannah  ! "  cried  Alexandre  ;  "  if  that's  so,  I  call 
the  dog  a  miracle." 

"  Take  half  a  franc,  step  up  to  that  fine  young 
labourer,  who  looks  to  me  to  be  a  good  bit  embarrassed 
by  the  dog's  attentions,  and  tell  him  this :  '  My 
father's  partridge  and  half  a  franc,  or  my  father's 
partridge  and  a  kick  behind   .  .  ." 

The  fellow  had  got  up  by  this  time  and  was  trying 
to  make  off. 

But  Pritchard,  who  saw  the  game  running  away  on 
two  human  legs,  kept  persistently  on  the  track  of  the 
rascally  lad,  his  nose  at  the  height  of  the  fellow's 
pocket.  '    • 

"  Call  off  your  dog,  sir,  call  off  your  dog,"  whimpered 


176  MY  PETS 

the  young  scamp ;  "  he's  going  to  bite  me  " — and  he 
started  running. 

"  Bring  him  in,  Pritchard,  bring  him  in  !  "  I  shouted. 

The  dog  gave  a  spring  and  seized  the  lad  by  the 
pocket  of  his  jacket. 

"  There,  now  !  "  I  said  to  Alexandre,  "  it's  all  plain 
sailing  for  you." 

Alexandre  hurried  up,  dived  his  hand  into  the 
thief's  pocket  and  drew  out  the  missing  partridge. 

As  this  was  the  only  attraction  drawing  Pritchard 
to  this  new  acquaintance,  hardly  was  the  bird  out  of 
the  lad's  pocket  before  Pritchard  let  go  his  jacket. 

No  need  to  proceed  further  with  the  tale  of  Pritchard's 
deeds  of  prowess. 

After  a  long  day,  during  which  the  extraordinary 
animal  had  indulged  in  the  most  frantic  and  altogether 
unexpected  eccentricities,  I  returned  to  the  farm  with 
twenty-five  brace  or  so  of  game  to  my  credit. 

Alfred  the  Great  with  the  redoubtable  Medor  had 
not  done  better. 

Only,  the  net  result  of  my  observations  on  Pritchard 
and  his  little  ways  was  this:  that  the  sportsman 
who  had  the  happiness  to  own  him  had  better  go 
shooting  utterly  and  absolutely  alone.  A  Trappist 
monk  was  the  only  individual  capable  of  really 
appreciating  his  merits. 


•      •    •  .  *    1     •.  '  •      •  i  • 


THE    DOG   GAVE    A   Sl'RINti    AND   SEIZED    IHE    LAD    liV    THE    I'OCKEI    l)l-'    HIS  JALKtr 


CHAPTER   XXXIV 

HOW  ALFRED  WAS  OBLIGED  TO  RETURN  TO 
COMPIEGNE  IN  HIGHLAND  COSTUME 

THE  following  day,  thanks  to  Pritchard,  who 
started  us  a  covey  of  partridges  in  a  clover 
field  belonging  to  one  of  M.  Mocquet's  neighbours, 
M.  Dumont  of  Morienval,  we  had  an  argument  with 
the  aforesaid  M.  Dumont. 

We  thought  we  gathered  that,  seduced  by  feelings 
of  neighbourliness,  and  I  believe  even  of  relationship, 
M.  Mocquet  was  not  backing  us  properly. 

We  called  a  council  therefore,  and  resolved,  instead 
of  going  back  to  his  house,  to  give  up  the  shooting 
and  return  to  Compiegne. 

We  had  hired  in  the  Sous-prefecture  of  the  Oise 
a  little  open  cart,  which  had  been  entrusted,  along 
with  the  horse,  to  our  care  and  guidance. 

Our  guidance  was  indeed  called  for  whenever  the 
microscopic  quadruped  in  question  was  under  way. 
Though  claiming  the  name  of  horse,  by  the  bye,  he 
was  barely  as  big  as  a  good-sized  donkey. 

But  it  would  seem  that  little  horses,  like  little 
men,  are  naturally  quarrelsome.  Ours,  from  the  first 
moment  we  had  commanded  his  services,  had  never 
ceased  to  wrangle  with  us. 

Accordingly  I  was  entrusted  with  the  task  of  reason- 
ing with  him,  and  as  my  arguments  had  been  a  stiff 

12 


178  MY  PETS 

bit  and  an  active  whip,  he  had  ended,  not  indeed  in 
owning  himself  in  the  wrong,  but  by  acting  as  if  I  had 
proved  myself  right. 

Thanks  to  my  good  management,  I  had  brought 
myself  and  three  companions  safe  and  sound  to  the 
farm  in  the  first  instance.  Now  that  we  had  deter- 
mined definitely  to  leave  for  Compiegne  without  going 
back  to  M.  Mocquet's  at  all,  we  despatched  an  under- 
keeper  to  Brassoire,  with  orders  to  put  Devorant  to  the 
cart  and  drive  out  to  join  us  somewhere  on  the  line 
of  the  Compiegne  road.  Our  Bucephalus  was  called 
Devorant  because  of  his  capabilities  in  the  way  of 
devouring  space. 

Alfred  alone  had  raised  some  objections  to  these 
arrangements.  The  fact  is  he  would  be  obliged  to 
return  to  Compiegne  without  the  possibility  of  "  titi- 
vating a  bit," — a  circumstance  that  must  prejudice  him 
in  the  eyes  of  the  fair  ladies  of  the  Sous-prefecture  of 
the  Oise.  But  his  regrets  and  expostulations  were 
ignored  in  deference  to  our  offended  dignity. 

Accordingly,  about  noon  we  saw  Devormit  appear 
on  the  horizon,  together  with  cart  and  keeper.  The 
nag,  which  had  eaten  at  the  farm  the  allowance  of  oats 
of  an  ordinary-sized  horse,  was  neighing  and  tossing 
his  head  and  moving  his  ears  like  the  arms  of  an 
aerial  telegraph.  All  this  promised  us  as  animated 
an  argument  on  the  return  journey  as  we  had  enjoyed 
before. 

At  the  moment  Devorant  appeared  the  shooting 
was  going  famously ;  we  resolved,  therefore,  to  let  the 
cart  follow  on  after  us  till  the  time  came  for  getting 
into  it. 

Besides,  we  thought,  it  was  a  good  way  to  calm 
the  animal's  over-high  spirits  to  make  him,  as  a 
preliminary     to     his    journey    to    Compiegne,    do   his 


ALFRED  IN  HIGHLAND  COSTUME  179 

three    or    four     leagues     over    ploughed     fields     and 
stubble. 

Then  there  was  yet  another  advantage ;  as  each  shot 
told,  the  game  was  carried  to  the  cart  at  once.  On  the 
morrow  of  the  opening  day  of  the  season  not  only  are 
legs  a  bit  tired,  but  shoulders  are  apt  to  be  lazy. 

Unfortunately  our  expectations  with  regard  to 
D^vorant  were  imperfectly  realised.  True,  the  ploughed 
land  and  the  stubbles  exerted  a  calming  effect,  but  the 
firing  exasperated  his  nerves  the  more.  Every  time  a 
gun  went  off,  man  and  horse  had  a  desperate  struggle. 

At  two  o'clock  we  called  the  roster.  This  time 
Alfred  was  present ;  he  knew  that  if  he  did  not  show 
up  at  this  supreme  moment  he  would  have  four  long 
leagues  to  cover  on  foot ;  and  though  perfectly  content 
to  do  his  four,  or,  at  a  pinch,  eight  leagues,  across 
country,  he  had  no  sort  of  desire  to  tramp  the  same 
distance  along  a  high-road. 

The  cart  was  waiting  for  us  at  the  edge  of  the 
forest.  We  took  our  places  in  the  following  order : 
Maquet  and  Alfred  on  the  back  seat,  Alexandre  and 
myself  on  the  front. 

Medor,  as  a  dog  of  a  certain  age  and  one  having 
every  right  to  consideration,  slipped  unobtrusively  and 
noiselessly  between  our  legs.  Obviously  his  only  wish 
was  to  escape  notice.  He  was  seen  all  the  same,  but 
the  only  result  was  that  his  modesty  received  a  warm 
eulogium. 

Pritchard,  on  the  contrary,  crushed  under  Alfred's 
jeers  and  gibes,  sneered  at  as  a  performing  dog,  told 
he  ought  to  turn  out  next  season  with  a  Zany's  coat 
of  many  colours, — Pritchard  never  seemed  to  conceive 
the  idea  of  sharing  the  comforts  of  our  conveyance, 
but  set  off  sturdily  along  the  road,  his  nose  pointing 
for    Compiegne,  his   tail  waving  in  the  wind,  without 


180  MY  PETS 

apparently  giving  so  much  as  a  thought  to  the  two 
hundred  leagues  he  must,  at  the  lowest  computation, 
have  galloped  since  the  day  before. 

I  offered  to  take  the  reins ;  but  Alexandre  pointed 
out  that,  being  nearer  Hippolytus'  age  than  I  was, 
it  was  his  office  to  drive.  I  was  only  half  convinced ; 
however,  with  my  usual  easiness  of  temper,  I  let  him 
have  his  way. 

Besides,  being  the  youngest  of  us  all,  he  was  the 
most  interested  in  not  killing  himself;  this  sounds 
specious,  but  it  is  a  poor  argument  nevertheless.  But 
I  am  so  often  satisfied  with  fallacious  arguments,  that 
I  yielded  to  this,  which  was  only  half  fallacious. 

We  set  off  in  due  course.  The  calculation  we  had 
relied  on  as  to  Devorant  in  connection  with  the  ploughed 
lands  and  stubbles  proved  utterly  and  entirely  wrong. 
Obstacles,  instead  of  daunting  that  intrepid  little 
animal,  only  irritated  him.  So  no  sooner  did  he  feel 
a  good  hard  road  under  his  hoofs  than  he  started  off 
like  the  wind. 

"  Good !  away  you  go !  .  .  ."  cried  Alexandre, 
slackening  the  reins. 

The  road  was  uphill  for  some  distance.  After  a 
hundred  yards  or  so,  Devorant  saw  he  was  acting 
foolishly  and  dropped  into  a  more  sober  gait. 

We  thought  it  was  fatigue  ;  it  was  really  hypocrisy. 
Devorant  was  looking  for  his  opportunity  to  score  a 
startling  revenge  on  us  —  and  he  was  not  long  in 
finding  it. 

We  jogged  on,  talking  sporting  talk,  till  we  came 
to  a  very  steep  descent.  On  our  left  we  had  the 
forest  falling  away  in  a  sort  of  amphitheatre ;  on  our 
right  a  ravine  fifty  feet  or  so  deep. 

The  highway  authorities,  always  full  of  fond  care  for 
travellers'  safety,  had  been  kind  and  considerate  enough 


ALFRED  IN  HIGHLAND  COSTUME  181 

to  plant  stone  posts  every  ten  yards  to  serve  as  a 
parapet  along  the  edge  of  the  road  bordering  the 
ravine.  But  in  the  intervals  between  these  posts  there 
was  nothing  whatever  to  prevent  carriages,  horses,  or 
pedestrians  from  pitching  over. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  road  broken  flints  were 
piled  in  long  heaps  every  ten  yards. 

D^vorant  cast  a  look  to  the  left,  a  look  to  the  right, 
a  look  ahead.  Ahead  he  had  the  descending  hill ;  to 
left  the  heaps  of  flints,  to  right  the  ravine. 

The  spot  struck  him  as  well  adapted  for  his  purpose, 
and  the  circumstances  as  propitious. 

Without  the  smallest  warning  he  broke  from  a  trot 
into  a  gallop.  Alexandre  tugged  hard  at  the  reins, 
but  Devorants  pace  only  grew  more  and  more  furious. 

There  was  no  mistaking  his  intentions,  especially  for 
any  one  occupying,  as  I  did,  the  front  seat. 

The  following  brief  dialogue  was  exchanged  under 
our  breaths  between  my  son  and  myself: — 

"  What  now  ?  " 

"  Eh  ?  " 

"  D^vorant  is  bolting,  I  think." 

"  To  be  sure  he  is." 

"  Hold  him  in." 

"  I  can't." 

"  Can't !     Why  not  ?  " 

"  He's  taken  the  bit  between  his  teeth." 

"  Well,  well !  " 

We  were  now  travelling  five-and-twenty  leagues  an 
hour. 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Alfred  and  Maquet 
in  the  same  breath. 

"  Nothing,  nothing  !  "  I  told  them  ;  "  only  Devorant 
is  a  bit  fresh." 

As    I  spoke,  with  a   rapid,  and  at   the   same   time 


182  MY  PETS 

vigorous  motion,  I  wound  the  off  rein  round  my  wrist, 
and  hauled  violently  to  the  left. 

The  bit  slipped  from  between  the  animal's  teeth,  and 
the  latter  swerved  violently  to  the  left  and  dashed 
into  one  of  the  heaps  of  flints  above  mentioned. 

Seeing  himself  turned  aside,  and  feeling  the  slipping 
stones  yield  under  his  feet,  Devorant  fell  into  a  perfect 
fury. 

Losing  all  hope  of  breaking  our  necks  by  upsetting 
the  cart,  he  was  determined  to  have  some  satisfaction 
instead.  So  he  set  to  work  to  kick  out  and  break  our 
limbs  ;  and  he  kicked  so  frantically  that  one  leg  got 
over  the  shaft. 

In  this  unaccustomed  predicament  Devorant^  it  seems 
to  me,  completely  lost  his  head.  Suicide  seemed  a 
pleasant  thing,  if  only  he  could  kill  us  at  the  same 
time. 

Accordingly,  with  a  violence  and  an  unexpectedness 
there  was  no  gainsaying,  he  made  a  half-turn  to  the 
right,  and  sweeping  diagonally  across  the  roadway, 
dashed  towards  the  ravine. 

This  time  the  dialogue  was  briefer  still  between 
Alexandre  and  myself. 

"  We  are  done  for  !  " 

"  Yes,  father  !  " 

I  do  not  know  what  the  others  did  ;  for  my  own 
part  I  shut  my  eyes  and  waited  developments. 

Suddenly  I  felt  a  terrific  jar,  and  was  pitched  out 
of  the  cart  on  to  the  high-road.  The  shock  was 
appalling. 

Alexandre  had  fallen  full  length  on  top  of  me,  so 
that  he  was  guaranteed  from  injury  from  head  to  heel. 

In  a  second  he  was  on  his  feet ;  and  in  another 
second  I  was  on  mine. 

"  Are  you  hurt  ?  "   I  asked  him. 


ALFRED  IN  HIGHLAND  COSTUME  183 

"  Not  a  scrap.     And  you  ?  " 

"  Not  a  scrap  either,"  I  assured  him. 

"  Well,  then,  the  dynasty  of  Dumas  being  safe  and 
sound,  let  us  see  what  has  become  of  the  others," — 
and  we  cast  an  inquiring  look  about  us. 

Alfred  had  disappeared,  Maquet  was  lying  almost 
unconscious. 

Alexandre  ran  to  him  and  raised  his  head. 

"  What  is  wrong,  my  dear  old  fellow  ? " 

"  I  am  in  for  a  broken  arm  anyway — if  not  a  broken 
back,"  groaned  Maquet. 

'•  The  deuce  !  "  exclaimed  Alexandre,  "  that's  bad 
hearing  what  you  say." 

Maquet  turned  deadly  pale,  and  fainted  away  again. 
Alexandre  dragged  him  on  to  the  slope  of  the  ditch  on 
the  left  side  of  the  road. 

Meantime  I  was  examining  the  upper  part  of  my 
thigh.  I  had  been  a  bit  premature  when  I  said  I  was 
not  a  scrap  hurt.  1  had  fallen  on  top  of  my  gun- 
barrel,  which  I  had  flattened  out  by  the  force  of  my 
fall  and  the  weight  of  my  body,  doubled  by  those  of 
Alexandre  atop  of  me. 

The  result  was,  not  a  fracture  of  the  bone, — thank 
goodness  the  stuff  my  thigh-bone  was  made  of  had 
proved  too  much  for  the  metal, — but  a  most  terrible 
bruise.  My  thigh  had  turned  a  brilliant  violet  that 
strongly  resembled  the  tints  decorating  the  door-posts 
of  a  pork-butcher's. 

At  that  moment  I  caught  sight  of  Alfred,  who  was 
coming  up  to  join  the  rest  of  the  party ;  slim  as  an 
arrow,  light  as  a  rush,  and  having  encountered  no 
obstacle,  he  had  been  tossed  thirty  yards  away. 
Medor  was  following  him  at  ten  paces  behind. 

"  Look,"  I  said  to  Alexandre,  "  we  were  just  looking 
for  Alfred ;  there  he  is  coming  back  from  Compicgne." 


184  MY  PETS 

I  hailed  him.     "  What  news  ?  "   I  asked. 

"  I  have  torn  my  trousers  from  top  to  bottom." 

"  And  yourself?  " 

"  All  right,  all  right !  "  declared  Alfred. 

"  Too  bony  to  come  to  much  harm,  eh  ?  "  laughed 
Alexandre.     "  Ah  !  there's  Maquet  coming  to  again." 

It  was  so  ;  he  was  opening  his  eyes  and  looking 
about  him.  A  flask  still  held  a  little  brandy,  and  we 
made  him  swallow  a  few  drops. 

He  got  on  to  his  feet,  staggering  at  first ;  then 
presently,  little  by  little,  he  regained  his  centre  of 
gravity. 

We  now  had  time  to  turn  our  attention  to 
D^vorant  and  the  cart,  and  think  how  the  accident  had 
happened. 

By  a  providential  miracle,  just  as  we  were  on  the 
point  of  being  pitched  over  the  edge,  the  wheel  had 
struck  a  post,  mounted  it,  and  emptied  us  out  into  the 
roadway. 

The  horse  hung  suspended  over  the  precipice,  the 
weight  of  the  vehicle  alone  preventing  his  falling. 
The  animal  was  literally  swimming  in  empty  space. 

We  stepped  up  and  looked  over  the  edge.  It  was 
enough  to  make  you  giddy  !  Picture  a  ravine  fifty  or 
sixty  feet  deep,  nicely  carpeted  with  jagged  rocks, 
brambles,  and  nettles. 

If  the  wheel  had  not  encountered  the  post,  horse, 
cart,  and  ourselves  must  all  have  been  dashed  to 
pieces ! 

We  made  several  attempts  to  draw  Divoi'ant  back 
into  the  road  ;  but  our  efforts  were  quite  unavailing. 

"  My  word  !  "  said  Alexandre  at  last,  "  the  beast 
chose  the  place  himself;  let  him  stay  there.  Let's 
attend  to  ourselves  first.      What  do  you  want,  Maquet  ?  " 

"  To  rest  a  while." 


THE    HOKSK    HLNG   SUSl'ENDED   OVER    THE   I'KECII'ICE 


ALFRED  IN  HIGHLAND  COSTUME  185 

"Well,  there's  the  ditch-side  to  welcome  you  with 
open  arms. — And  you,  father  ?  " 

«  What's  left  of  the  brandy." 

"  What !  the  brandy  ?  Why,  to  think  of  your 
drinking  brandy  !  " 

"  All  right,  my  boy ;  it's  for  my  thigh." 

"  Well  and  good,  here's  the  stuff  you  ask  for.  And 
you,  Alfred  ?  " 

"  I  think,"  said  Alfred,  seizing  the  opportunity, "  that 
it's  about  time  to  titivate  a  bit." 

Then,  drawing  a  small  comb  from  his  pocket,  he 
began  arranging  his  hair,  as  systematically  as  if  he  had 
been  in  his  room  at  M.  Mocquet's  farm. 

"  There ! "  he  said,  when  he  had  finished,  "  I  think 
now,  I  can,  without  being  wasteful,  offer  my  trousers  as 
a  gift  to  the  nymphs  of  the  wood." 

And  pulling  off  his  tattered  breeches,  after  displaying 
the  garment  for  a  moment  to  the  company  to  see  if 
any  one  put  in  a  claim,  and  no  tongue  having  spoken, 
he  tossed  the  trousers  into  the  ravine. 

No  one  had  said  a  word,  in  the  first  place  because 
the  trousers  did  not  seem  in  the  least  worth  claiming, 
and  secondly  because  all  eyes  were  fixed  on  Alfred's 
legs,  which  till  that  moment  we  none  of  us  had  ever 
had  occasion  to  see  except  encased  in  more  or  less 
voluminous  garments. 

"  Alfred,"  said  Alexandre  solemnly,  "  do  you  know 
what  M.  de  Talleyrand  said  to  the  Mayor  of  Ferrette, 
who  had  legs  of  your  sort  ?  " 

"  No  ;   what  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  He  said  :  '  Mister  Mayor,  you  are  the  bravest  man  in 
France.' — '  Why  so,  Monseigneur  ?  ' — '  Because  you  are 
the  only  living  soul  bold  enough  to  walk  on  such  a  pair 
of  legs ! '  Well,  I  think  you  are  even  braver  than  the 
Mayor  of  Ferrette." 


186  MY  PETS 

"  Oh,  what  a  pretty  wit !  " 

"  I  take  no  credit  for  the  joke,"  said  Alexandre  ;  "  it's 
not  mine." 

"  Ah !  thunder  !  "  suddenly  cried  Alfred,  with  a 
despairing  gesture. 

"  Why,  what  now  ?  " 

"  Fool  that  I  am  !  " 

"  Don't  say  things  like  that,  Alfred ;  they  might 
believe  you,  you  know." 

"  Just  think,  the  key  of  my  dressing-bag  is  in  my 
trousers  pocket." 

"  In  the  trousers  that  are  in  your  carpet-bag  ? " 

"  No,  no ;  in  the  pair  I  have  just  offered  up  to  the 
nymphs  of  the  wood." 

"  Never  mind,  never  mind !  Why,  man,  you're 
showing  yourself  to  them  with  every  advantage ;  they 
will  take  you  for  Narcissus,  lucky  beggar !  " 

"  Yes,  but  the  brambles  and  thorns  !  " 

"  After  all,  who  risks  nothing  wins  nothing."  i| 

All  this  while  the  peasant  men  and  women  who 
were  passing  along  the  road — it  was  market-day  at 
Cr^py — gazed  at  us  with  curious  looks,  carefully 
refraining,  of  course,  from  affording  us  any  assistance. 

It  is  very  true  things  may  have  worn  a  suspicious 
aspect  to  them.  They  understood  very  well  what 
Maquet  was  doing,  sitting  pale  and  haggard  at 
the  edge  of  the  forest ;  they  understood  very  well 
what  Alexandre  was  doing,  loosening  his  cravat  and 
rubbing  his  temples  with  a  handkerchief  soaked  in 
the  cool  water  of  a  neighbouring  rivulet ;  they 
understood  very  well  what  I  was  doing,  bathing 
my  bruised  leg  with  brandy.  But  they  failed  to 
comprehend  what  this  Scotsman-looking  fellow,  with 
bare  legs,  what  he  was  doing,  pacing  up  and  down 
above  the  ravine,  into  which   he  darted  savage  looks, 


ALFRED  IN  HIGHLAND  COSTUME  187 

accompanied  by  growls  and  howls  and  threatening 
gestures. 

Suddenly  he  gave  vent  to  a  cry  of  joy — 

"  I  am  saved  !  I  am  saved  !  " — and  pointing  to  the 
ravine  :   "  Go  search,  Medor,"  he  cried,  "  go  search  !  " 

Medor  hurried  down  into  the  depths  of  the  ravine. 
Five  minutes  afterwards  he  reappeared  with  his 
master's  trousers. 

But,  alas !  a  fresh  calamity.  During  the  journey 
the  key  of  the  carpet-bag  had  slipped  out  of  the 
pocket,  which  was  found  to  be  perfectly  empty. 

You  can  imagine  how  much  prospect  there  was  of 
finding  it  in  such  a  dense  mass  of  undergrowth. 

Thus  Alfred  was  necessarily  compelled  to  return  in 
Highland  garb  into  the  Sous-prefecture  of  the  Depart- 
ment of  the  Oise. 

Happily,  it  was  already  dark  by  the  time  we 
reached  the  first  houses  of  the  little  town. 

We  despatched  the  carriage  proprietor  to  look  for 
the  cart  and  Devorant.  He  found  them  both  precisely 
where  we  had  left  them. 


I 


CHAPTER   XXXV 

HOW  I  BROUGHT  BACK  FROM  CONSTANTINE  A 
VULTURE  WHICH  COST  ME  FORTY  THOU- 
SAND FRANCS— AND  THE  GOVERNMENT  TEN 
THOUSAND 

WHILE  we  were  performing,  on  the  high-road 
from  Cr(fpy  to  Compiegne,  the  upset  I  have 
had  the  honour  of  telling  you  about  in  the  preceding 
chapter,  two  men,  escorted  by  a  couple  of  Spahis  and 
several  servants,  native  and  European,  were  following, 
on  their  return  from  a  long  expedition  they  had  just 
concluded,  the  road  from  Blidah  to  Algiers. 

"  It  is  a  strange  thing,"  one  of  the  two  travellers 
was  observing  to  the  other,  "  a  very  strange  thing  that 
the  magnificent  country  we  have  lately  been  traversing 
should  be  so  little  known.  Can  you  think  of  any  way 
of  popularising  it  ?  " 

The  individual  addressed  seemed  to  ponder  the 
question  a  moment  or  two  ;  then  suddenly — 

"  Do  you  know  what  /  should  do,  Monsieur  le 
Ministre,  if  I  had  the  honour  to  be  in  your  place  ?  I 
should  so  arrange  it  that  Dumas  should  make  the  same 
journey  we  have  just  terminated  and  then  write  two 
or  three  volumes  about  Algeria.  Dumas  is  all  the 
fashion  at  the  moment;  people  will  read  his  book, 
even  though  it  is  a  book  of  travel,  and  out  of  the 
three    million   readers   he  will    have,  perhaps    he  will 

1S8 


A  VULTURE  FROM  CONSTANTINE   189 

inoculate  fifty  or  sixty  thousand  with  a  taste  for 
Algeria." 

"  A  good  idea,"  said  the  Minister ;  "  I  will  think  it 
over." 

The  two  who  paid  me  the  compliment  of  calling  my 
name  to  mind  on  the  road  from  Blidah  to  Algiers  were, 
one  M.  de  Salvandy,  Minister  of  Public  Instruction, 
the  other  our  famous  traveller  and  my  own  very  good 
friend,  Xavier  Marmier. 

Well,  M.  de  Salvandy,  on  reflection,  thought  so  well 
of  the  suggestion  that  one  fine  morning  in  September 
I  received  an  invitation  to  dine  with  him  at  the 
Ministry.  Thither  accordingly  I  betook  myself,  not  a 
little  surprised  at  the  honour  done  me.  My  only 
acquaintance  with  him  was  in  consequence  of  his 
having  been  instructed  by  the  Due  d'Orleans  to  bestow 
on  us,  Victor  Hugo  and  myself,  on  Hugo  the  Officer's 
Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honour  and  on  me  the  Chevalier's 
of  the  same  noble  Order. 

At  that  period,  to  prevent  our  nomination  giving 
rise  to  too  excessive  a  scandal,  he  had  deemed  it 
judicious  to  complete  the  group  by  the  addition  of 
a  worthy  nonentity  by  name  Grille  de  Bruzelin.  As 
there  was  no  conceivable  reason  for  giving  the  decora- 
tion to  this  latter  individual,  M.  de  Salvandy  had 
deemed  he  would  by  himself  constitute  an  adequate 
counterpoise  for  Hugo  and  myself. 

M.  de  Salvandy  had  likewise  written,  in  his  salad 
days,  a  sort  of  a  romance  entitled  Alonzo,  or  Spain 
in  the,  I  don't  quite  remember  which,  Century ;  still, 
this  hardly  constituted  him  a  literary  confrere  to  a 
sufficient  degree  to  suggest  his  going  out  of  his  way 
to  cultivate  my  acquaintance. 

Then  what  could  M.  de  Salvandy  want  with  me? 
It  was  certainly  not  to  raise  me  to  the  rank  of  Officer 


190  MY  PETS 

of  the  Legion  of  Honour;  ideas  of  that  sort  never 
occur  spontaneously  to  Ministers — least  of  all  in 
connection  with  men  who  deserve  the  distinction  ! 

Accordingly  I  set  out  for  M.  de  Salvandy's  dinner, 
not  exactly  anxious,  I  don't  mean  that,  but  with  many 
thoughts  running  through  my  head. 

The  Minister  received  me  with  his  most  affable  mien 
and  blandest  smile,  and  after  our  coffee,  drawing  me 
aside  in  the  garden  of  the  Ministry — 

"  My  dear  poet,"  he  began,  "  you  must  do  us  all  a 
favour." 

"  What,  a  poet  do  a  Minister  a  favour !  Nothing 
I  should  like  better — if  only  because  of  the  rarity  of 
the  thing.      What  is  it  ?  " 

"  Have  you  made  your  arrangements  for  the  winter  ?  " 

"  Arrangements,  I  !  Now,  do  I  ever  make  arrange- 
ments? I  live  like  the  birds,  on  a  bough.  If  there's 
no  wind,  I  stay  where  I  am  ;  if  it  blows,  I  spread  my 
wings  and  away  where  the  wind  takes  me." 

"  And  would  you  have  any  objection  to  the  wind 
taking  you  to  Algeria  ?  " 

"  None  whatever ;  on  the  contrary,  I  have  always 
had  the  strongest  wish  to  visit  Africa.  I  was  ready 
to  start  for  that  continent  on  July  26,  1830,  at  five 
in  the  evening,  when  at  five  o'clock  on  the  preceding 
morning  the  Moniteur  published  the  famous  Royal 
'  ordonnances'  The  result  was  that,  when  evening  came, 
instead  of  taking  the  mail-coach,  I  took  my  gun,  and 
three  days  later,  instead  of  arriving  at  Marseilles,  I 
was  fighting  my  way  into  the  Louvre," 

"  Well,  if  your  wishes  still  point  the  same  way,  I 
can  offer  to  help  you  to  pay  travelling  expenses." 

"  Oh  !  as  for  that,"  I  answered,  "  times  are  changed 
since  then  !  Sixteen  years  ago  I  was  a  young  man, 
a  sort  of  roving  student  of  Salamanca,  tramping  the 


A  VULTURE  FROM  CONSTANTINE   191 

high-roads  afoot,  knapsack  on  back  and  iron-shod 
staff  in  hand.  But  nowadays  I  drag  a  whole  string  of 
followers  after  me.  I  can  do  nothing  unaccompanied 
in  these  days  ;  the  journey  you  propose  is  a  tremendous 
business." 

"  And  that  is  why,"  the  Minister  said  impressively, 
"  I  have  set  aside  ten  thousand  francs  to  defray  the 
cost." 

"  Now,  look  here,  are  you  very  much  set  on  my 
going  to  Algeria  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course  ;  else  I  should  not  have  asked  you." 

"  It  will  really  gratify  you  ?  " 

"  It  will,  very  much  indeed." 

"  Well,  then,  I  will  add  another  forty  thousand 
francs,  out  of  my  own  pocket,  to  the  ten  thousand  you 
offer  me — and  I  will  go." 

M.  de  Salvandy  looked  at  me  in  utter  amazement. 

"  Egad,  sir !  that's  how  it  is,"  I  told  him ;  "  you 
don't  suppose  I  am  going  to  travel  like  a  vagabond 
herb-doctor.  I  propose  to  invite  three  or  four  friends 
to  go  with  me ;  as  you  are  sending  me  to  represent 
France,  I  wish  to  do  my  country  honour." 

At  first  M.  de  Salvandy  had  imagined  I  was 
joking ;  but  he  now  came  to  see  I  was  speaking  with 
perfect  seriousness. 

"  Then,  that  is  not  all,"  I  went  on.  "  If  I  am  to  go 
to  Algeria,  I  wish  to  go  with  all  the  travelling 
facilities  the  Government  can  put  at  my  disposal." 

"  Well,  you  ai'e  a  hard  man  to  please  ! "  objected 
the  Minister. 

"  As  a  man  will  naturally  be  when  he  can  go  per- 
fectly well  without  you  ;  so,  going  to  please  you,  he 
lays  down  certain  conditions,  and  no  wonder.  Don't 
you  like  my  tone  ?  Well,  then,  I  will  make  the  journey 
on  my  own  account  and  as  I  please." 


192  MY  PETS 

"  But  I  gather  you  will  make  it  ?  " 

"  'Pon  my  word,  yes !  You  have  given  me  the 
notion,  and  now  I  am  dead  set  on  going." 

"  But  that  is  not  the  way  I  want  you  to  go ;  I  want 
you  to  go  with  a  special  commission  from  Government. 
Come  now,  what  was  it  you  were  going  to  ask  for 
when  I  interrupted  you  ?  Do  you  want  us  to  make 
you  Officer  of  the  Legion  of  Honour?" 

"  No,  thank  you ;  I  have  no  ambition  in  that  Hne. 
I  was  made  Chevalier  by  the  poor  dear  Due  d'Orleans, 
whom  I  was  devoted  to  with  all  my  heart.  If  he 
were  there  to  make  me  Officer,  I  would  very  likely 
agree  ;  but  he  is  not,  to  my  deep  regret,  and  I  prefer 
to  remain  what  he  made  me  rather  than  become 
something  else." 

"  Well,  what  is  it  you  want,  then  ?  " 

"  I  want  a  Government  vessel  to  be  put  at  my 
service  and  that  of  my  travelling  companions,  to 
coast  along  the  shores  of  Algeria  at  my  own  sweet 
will,  and  not  as  your  officials  may  see  fit  to  direct." 

"  Why,  man,  you  are  asking  us  to  do  what  is  only 
done  for  princes  !  " 

"  Exactly  so.  If  you  do  no  more  for  me  than 
you  are  ready  to  do  for  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry,  why 
trouble  me  at  all  ?  I  have  only  to  drop  a  Hne  to  the 
Head  Offices  of  the  Messageries,  and  I  can  secure  on 
board  their  liners  not  merely  a  passage  for  Algeria, 
but  for  any  part  of  the  Mediterranean." 

"  Ah,  well,  so  be  it,  then.  You  shall  have  your 
man-of-war.  But  if  you  imagine  it  will  be  any  saving 
to  you,  you  are  very  much  mistaken  ! " 

"  Saving !  any  saving  ?  Do  you  suppose  /  was 
thinking  of  saving  ?  For  a  Minister  of  Public 
Instruction  you  are,  let  me  tell  you,  very  ill 
instructed." 


A  VULTURE  FROM  CONSTANTINE   193 

"  Now,  when  do  you  wish  to  start  ?  " 

"  Whenever  you  please.  I  have  two  or  three  novels 
to  finish,  but  that's  a  matter  of  a  fortnight ;  I  have 
some  railway  stocks  to  sell,  but  that's  a  question  of  an 
hour  or  two." 

"  In  a  fortnight,  then,  you  will  be  ready  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"And  your  Thedtre-Historiquel" 

"  They  will  finish  building  it  while  I  am  abroad." 

I  made  my  adieus  to  the  Minister,  and  we  parted 
the  best  of  friends. 

Next  day  I  had  the  honour  to  dine  at  Vincennes 
with  the  Due  de  Montpensier.  I  told  him  about  the 
strange  notion  that  had  occurred  to  the  Minister  of 
Public  Instruction — sending  me  on  a  journey  to  Africa 
by  way  of  popularising  our  colony  of  Algeria. 

"  Well,"  the  Duke  declared,  "  it  is  a  very  capital 
idea — especially  if  you  take  Spain  on  your  way." 

"  And  why,  pray,  should  I  take  Spain  on  my 
way  ?  " 

"  Why,  to  attend  my  wedding ;  you  know  I  am  to 
be  married  on  the  i  ith  or  12th  October." 

"  I  thank  you  cordially,  Monseigneur ;  you  pay  me 
the  greatest  compliment.  But  what  will  the  King  say 
to  it  ?  Your  Highness  is  aware  he  does  not  altogether 
share    the  goodwill    you    are    good    enough     to    bear 


me. 


"The  King  will  know  nothing  about  it  till  after- 
wards ;  then,  finding  you  eligible  to  go  to  Algeria, 
why,  he  will  think  you  good  enough  to  go  to  Madrid. 
In  one  word,  set  your  mind  at  rest ;  it  is  /  am  getting 
married,  and  I  invite  you  to  my  wedding." 

"  I  accept,  Monseigneur,  gratefully." 

We  were  then  between  the  20th  and  25  th 
September,  and  the  Duke's  marriage  was  fixed  for  the 
13 


194  MY  PETS 

iith  or  1 2th  October.  There  was  not  a  moment, 
therefore,  to  be  lost,  if  I  meant  to  be  at  Madrid  two 
or  three  days  before  the  happy  event. 

I  began  by  realising  the  money  needful  for  the 
journey.  I  held  50,000  or  so  francs'  worth  of  stock 
in  the  Lyons  railway.  The  moment  was  favourable 
for  selling,  and  the  shares  could  be  disposed  of  at 
a  comparatively  small  loss — say  20  per  cent.  I 
instructed  my  broker,  who  duly  disposed  of  my 
50,000  francs  of  scrip  for  40,000  francs  in  ready 
money. 

As  for  the  10,000  francs  contributed  by  Govern- 
ment, as  this  sum  was  for  Algerian  expenses,  I  would 
only  touch  the  money  in  Algeria,  and  sent  my  letter 
of  credit  to  Marshal  Bugeaud  to  hold  for  me.  These 
two  precautions  taken,  the  main  thing  was  done ;  all 
that  was  left  was  to  see  about  my  travelling 
companions. 

I  wrote  to  my  son  and  to  Louis  Boulanger — 

"  I  am  starting  to-morrow  evening  for  Spain  and 
Algeria ;  will  you  come  with  me  ? 

"  If  you  say  yes,  you  have  only  to  think  of  packing 
your  trunk.      Only,  pick  out  the  smallest, — Yours  ever, 

"Alex.  Dumas" 

I  wrote  practically  the  same  letter  to  Maquet,  only 
making  the  wording  a  trifle  more  formal. 

All  three  wrote  back  to  say  they  accepted. 

It  only  remained  to  find  the  model  servant-man 
who  was  needed  to  take  charge  of  the  luggage  and 
arrange,  so  far  as  possible,  that  the  four  travellers 
should  not  die  of  hunger. 

I  say  fi7id  advisedly,  because  not  one  of  the 
domestics    I   had   at  that  period  was  the  man  required. 


A  VULTURE  FROM  CONSTANTINE   195 

Alexis  was  too  young ;  the  coachman  too  limited  in 
his  functions  ;  as  for  Michel,  I  never  for  one  moment 
regarded  him,  during  all  the  dozen  years  he  spent 
under  my  roof,  as  being  really  in  my  service.  Michel 
was  simply  and  solely  in  his  own  service.  Only,  as 
he  dearly  loved  animals,  he  made  me  believe  it  was 
I  who  loved  them,  and,  for  his  own  increased  satisfac- 
tion, multiplied  the  numbers  of  bipeds,  quadrupeds, 
and  quadrumanes.  Thus  it  was  I  came  to  possess, 
by  Michel's  count,  twelve  or  fifteen  fowls  of  unknown 
antecedents,  five  or  six  cocks  of  rare  breeds,  two  dogs, 
one  of  which,  as  we  saw  just  now,  tried  to  devour  me, 
three  monkeys  and  a  tom-cat  that  made  the  marauding 
expedition  on  my  humming-birds,  Indian  sparrows,  and 
quails  which  the  reader  will  probably  recall. 

Michel,  therefore,  was  to  stay  behind  with  his  animals, 
because,  if  I  took  Michel  with  me,  I  should  have  to 
take  his  menagerie  as  well. 

At  this  crisis  chance  came  to  my  assistance.  Mind, 
I  am  not  so  conceited  as  to  say  Providence;  I  leave 
that  to  crowned  heads. 

Chevet,  to  whom  I  owed  a  bill  of  113  francs, 
having  heard  say  I  was  starting  for  a  voyage  round 
the  world,  thought  he  would  like  to  see  the  amount 
of  his  little  account  paid  up  before  I  left  Saint- 
Germain. 

He  appeared,  therefore,  one  morning  in  person,  his 
bill  in  his  hand.  This  settled,  I  asked  if  by  any  chance 
he  knew  of  a  good  servant  who  would  be  willing  to 
accompany  me  to  Spain  and  Algeria. 

"  Why,  sir,"  he  exclaimed,  "  how  aptly  that  falls 
out ;   I  have  a  perfect  pearl  to  offer  you — a  negro." 

"  A  black  pearl,  it  seems." 

"  Yes,  sir,  but  a  true  pearl  nevertheless." 

"  The  deuce,  Chevet !    I   have    a    negro    already,    a 


196  MY  PETS 

ten  years'  old  one,  who   is,  off  his  own  bat,  as   lazy 
as  two  negroes  of  twenty — if  they  grow  to  twenty." 

"  That  is  just  his  age,  sir." 

"  He  will  be  as  lazy  as  two  negroes  of  forty  then." 

"  Sir,  he  is  not  a  true  negro." 

"  What,  he  is  dyed  !  " 
"  No,  no,  sir ;  he  is  an  Arab." 

"  Ah,  the  deuce !  but  that  is  a  find  for  any  one 
going  to  Algeria — unless  indeed  he  talks  Arabic  the 
same  way  Alexis  talked  Creole." 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,  how  Alexis  talked  Creole ;  but 
I  do  know  an  officer  of  Spahis  came  to  the  house 
the  other  day,  and  they  jabbered  away  together, 
Paul  and  he." 

"  He  is  called  Paul  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  is  called  Paul  for  us,  that's  his  French 
name ;  but  for  his  compatriots,  he  has  another  name, 
an  Arab  name  that  means  Benzoin-  Water." 

"  You  will  be  answerable  for  him  ?  " 

"  As  I  would  for  myself,  sir." 

"  Very  well,  then,  send  me  your  Benzoin-Water." 

"  Ah,  sir,  you  will  soon  see  what  a  treasure  you 
have  got !  A  va/et  de  chambre  as  elegant  as  a  man 
could  wish,  of  a  fine  olive  tint,  speaking  four  languages, 
not  counting  his  own,  a  good  walker  and  a  good  rider. 
He  has  only  one  fault ;  he  invariably  loses  whatever 
you  trust  to  his  care.  But  then,  you  understand, 
one  never  trusts  him  with  anything " 

"  Good,  Chevet,  good  ;  thank  you,  thank  you  ! " 

By  the  four  o'clock  train  I  duly  saw  Benzoin-Water 
arrive.  Chevet  had  not  deceived  me ;  the  man  showed 
no  sign  whatever  of  the  low  brow,  flat  nose,  and  thick 
lips  of  the  natives  of  the  Congo  or  Mozambique. 

He  was  an  Abyssinian  Arab,  with  all  the  elegant 
shape  and  limbs  of  his  race.      As  Chevet  had  told  me, 


A  V^ULTURE  FROM  CONSTANTINE    197 

his  complexion  was  of  the  very  tint  to  have  delighted 
Delacroix.  Being  anxious  to  test  his  boasted  linguistic 
talents,  I  spoke  a  few  words  to  him  in  Italian,  English, 
and  Spanish.  He  answered  me  quite  correctly,  and 
as  he  also  spoke  French  very  fluently,  I  came  to  the 
same  conclusion  as  Chevet,  that  he  knew  four 
languages  besides  his  own. 

Now  how  this  drop  of  fragrance  named  Benzoin- 
Water  had  come  into  existence  on  the  slopes  of  the 
Samen  Mountains,  between  the  shores  of  Lake  Ambra 
and  the  sources  of  the  Blue  Nile,  is  a  matter  on  which 
Benzoin-Water  could  never  afford  me  any  information, 
and  so  I  cannot  tell  you.  All  that  one  could  make 
out  amid  the  obscurity  of  his  earliest  years  was  that 
an  English  gentleman,  a  globe-trotter,  returning  from 
India  by  way  of  the  Gulf  of  Aden,  had  chosen  to 
ascend  the  River  to  Naso  and  pass  by  Emfras  and 
Gondar,  had  halted  at  the  latter  town,  had  there  seen 
the  little  Benzoin-Water,  a  lad  of  five  or  six,  and,  taking 
a  fancy  to  his  looks,  had  bought  him  of  his  father  in 
exchange  for  a  bottle  of  rum. 

The  boy  followed  his  new  master,  crying  bitterly 
for  three  or  four  days  after  his  lost  parents.  Then, 
under  the  influence,  so  powerful  with  all  and  especially 
with  children,  of  change  of  scene  and  surroundings,  he 
grew  pretty  nearly  reconciled  in  the  course  of  a  week, 
by  which  time  the  caravan  reached  the  sources  of  the 
river  Rahad.  The  English  traveller  descended  that 
river  to  the  point  where  it  discharges  its  waters  into 
the  Blue  Nile  ;  then  he  follow'ed  down  the  latter  stream 
to  where  it  joins  the  White  Nile  ;  he  halted  a  fortnight 
at  Khartoum,  then  resumed  his  journey,  and  two 
months  later  arrived  at  Grand  Cairo. 

For  six  years  Benzoin-Water  remained  with  his 
English   master.      During  that  time  he  went  all  over 


198  MY  PETS 

Italy,  and  learnt  a  little  Italian  ;  Spain,  and  learnt  a 
little  Spanish ;  England,  and  learnt  a  little  English. 
Finally  he  settled  down  in  France,  and  acquired  a 
really  sound  knowledge  of  French. 

The  child  from  Lake  Ambra  took  very  kindly  to 
this  nomad  life,  which  recalled  that  of  his  ancestors  the 
Shepherd  Kings — for  Benzoin-Water  had  so  proud  a 
carriage,  so  aristocratic  an  air,  that  I  have  always 
maintained,  and  do  so  still,  that  he  must  have  been 
descended  from  those  conquerors  of  Egypt.  If  it  had 
depended  on  him,  he  would  never,  despite  the  ancient 
saw  of  good  King  Dagobert,  have  left  his  English 
master ;  but,  alas  !  his  English  master  left  him.  He 
was  a  great  traveller,  this  Englishman  ;  he  had  seen 
everything — Europe,  Asia,  Africa,  America,  and  even 
Oceania.  He  had  seen  all  this  world,  and  determined 
to  visit  the  next.  Every  morning  at  seven  o'clock  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  ringing  for  Benzoin-Water.  One 
morning  he  did  not  ring.  At  eight  o'clock  Benzoin- 
Water  went  into  his  room,  to  find  his  master  hanging 
from  the  ceiling,  the  bell-rope  round  his  neck — which 
sufficiently  explained  why  he  had  not  rung. 

The  Englishman  was  generous ;  he  had  even  taken 
the  precaution,  before  hanging  himself,  to  leave  a 
rouleau  of  guineas  to  Benzoin-Water.  But  the  poor 
lad  was  not  of  a  saving  disposition  ;  like  a  true  child 
of  the  tropics,  he  loved  everything  that  glittered  in 
the  sun  ;  provided  it  glittered,  what  matter  to  him 
whether  it  were  copper  or  gold,  green  glass  or  emerald, 
tinsel  or  ruby,  paste  or  diamond.  So  he  spent  his 
guineas  in  buying  whatever  glittered,  purchasing  now 
and  again  by  way  of  variety  sundry  drinks  of  rum,  for 
the  fellow  was  very  fond  of  rum — a  fact,  by  the  bye, 
which  Chevet  had  omitted  to  tell  me,  no  doubt  because 
I  was  sure  to  find  it  out  very  soon  for  myself. 


A  VULTURE  FROM  CONSTANTINE    199 

When  Benzoin-Water  had,  I  won't  say  eaten  up — 
he  was  but  a  small  eater,  the  poor  lad — but  scattered 
to  the  winds  his  last  guinea,  he  realised  the  time  was 
come  to  look  out  for  another  place. 

As  he  was  good-looking,  pleasant,  and  obliging  in 
all  his  ways,  with  a  clear  eye,  an  open  smile,  and  flash- 
ing white  teeth,  he  was  not  long  in  finding  a  new 
master.  This  was  a  French  colonel,  who  took  him 
with  him  to  Algeria,  where  Paul  found  himself  as  it 
were  e7i  famille.  It  was  his  native  language  the 
Algerians  spoke,  or,  to  be  strictly  accurate,  he  spoke 
the  mother-tongue  of  the  Algerians  with  far  more 
purity  and  elegance  than  they  did  themselves,  for  his 
Arabic  is  borrowed  from  the  primitive  source  of  that 
beautiful  speech.  He  stayed  five  years  in  Algeria,  in 
the  course  of  which  time,  the  grace  of  the  Lord  having 
touched  him,  he  had  himself  baptized  under  the  name 
of  Pierre,  doubtless  to  safeguard  himself  the  right,  like 
his  patron  saint,  of  thrice  denying  God. 

Unfortunately  he  had  forgotten,  when  he  chose  the 
name,  that  it  was  his  master's  too.  The  end  was  that 
the  Colonel,  not  wishing  to  have  a  servant  called  the 
same  as  himself,  unbaptized  Benzoin-Water  and  changed 
his  name  from  Peter  to  Paul,  deeming  it  would  not  fail 
to  please  him  to  exchange  the  patronage  of  the  Apostle 
who  holds  the  keys  for  that  of  the  one  who  holds  the 
sword. 

At  the  end  of  these  five  years  Paul's  Colonel  was 
retired.  He  came  back  to  France  to  appeal  against 
the  order,  but  to  no  purpose.  So  the  Colonel  being 
reduced  to  half-pay,  had  to  inform  Paul  that  to  his 
great  regret  he  was  forced  to  part  with  him. 

There  was  one  disagreeable  difference  between  the 
Colonel  and  the  Englishman,  to  wit  that  the  former 
being  still   alive  and   needing  his   money  to    end    his 


200  MY  PETS 

days  with,  gave  Paul  just  what  was  due  to  him  for 
wages  and  no  more.  The  amount  came  to  thirty-three 
francs  and  a  half,  which  promptly  vanished  between 
Paul's  brown  fingers. 

However,  in  the  Colonel's  service,  that  officer  being 
very  fond  of  good  living,  Paul  had  made  one  very  useful 
acquaintance,  Chevet's  namely.  We  have  seen  how  the 
latter  had  recommended  him  to  my  notice,  telling  me  he 
was  a  capital  servant,  with  one  great  fault,  however,  that 
he  always  lost  whatever  was  entrusted  to  his  keeping. 

I  stated  a  little  above  somewhere  that  Chevet  had 
omitted  to  warn  me  that  Paul  had  another  fault,  a 
decided  predilection  for  rum  ;  I  added  that  this  was  prob- 
ably because  Chevet  felt  sure  I  should  soon  find  out 
this  fact  for  myself. 

Well,  Chevet  had  formed  too  exalted  an  opinion  of  my 
powers  of  observation.  True,  I  saw  Paul  from  time  to 
time  getting  to  his  feet  as  I  went  by  to  salute  me,  and 
rolling  big  eyes  which  had  turned  from  white  to  yellow  ; 
I  noticed  that  he  held  his  little  finger  desperately  to 
the  seam  of  his  trousers,  a  pleasing  military  posture  he 
had  learnt  in  the  Colonel's  establishment ;  I  heard  how 
he  mixed  up  confusedly  English,  French,  Spanish,  and 
Italian.  But,  buried  in  my  work,  I  paid  small  heed  to 
these  superficial  changes,  and  continued  to  be  very  well 
satisfied  with  his  behaviour.  Only,  in  accordance  with 
Chevet's  advice,  I  never  trusted  anything  to  Paul's 
charge — except  the  key  of  the  cellar,  which,  contrary 
to  his  general  custom,  he  never  lost. 

Thus  I  remained  in  blissful  ignorance  of  this  fatal 
failing  of  Paul's  until  one  day  an  unexpected  incident 
revealed  it  to  me.  After  starting  for  a  shooting  party, 
intending  to  remain  away  a  week,  I  came  back  next 
day  unexpectedly,  and  as  I  usually  did  on  returning 
home,  called  lor  Paul. 


A  VULTURE  FROM  CONSTANTINE   201 

But  there  was  no  answer.  Then  I  called  Michel ; 
but  Michel  was  in  the  garden.  So  1  called  Michel's 
wife,  Augustine ;  but  she  was  out  marketing.  I  made 
up  my  mind  to  go  upstairs  without  more  ado  to 
Paul's  bedroom,  fearing  he  might  have  hanged 
himself  like  his  former  master  the  Englishman. 

A  single  glance  reassured  me  on  this  head.  For 
the  moment  Taul  had  entirely  forsaken  the  vertical 
posture  for  the  horizontal ;  fully  dressed  in  complete 
livery,  the  fellow  was  lying  on  his  bed,  as  stiff  and 
still  as  if  he  were  embalmed ;  I  did  not  think  he  was 
this,  but  I  own  I  thought  he  was  pretty  near  gone  to 
another  world.  I  called  him  by  name,  but  could  get 
no  answer.  I  shook  him,  but  he  never  stirred  ;  I  lifted 
him  by  the  shoulders,  just  as  Pierrot  lifts  Harlequin  ; 
not  a  joint  gave.  I  set  him  up  on  his  legs,  and  seeing 
a  point  of  support  was  absolutely  necessary  to  enable 
him  to  stay  there,  I  planted  him  against  the  wall. 

During  this  latter  operation  Paul  had  at  last  vouch- 
safed some  tokens  of  life.  He  had  tried  to  speak, 
opened  his  eyes  very  wide,  showing  only  the  whites. 
At  last  his  lips  managed  to  articulate  some  almost 
unintelligible  sounds,  and  he  asked  peevishly — 

"  Why  are  they  disturbing  me  ?  " 

At  that  moment  I  heard  a  noise  at  the  bedroom 
door.  It  came  from  Michel,  who  had  heard  me 
calling  from  the  bottom  of  the  garden,  and  had  come 
at  last. 

"  Halloa  !  "  I  asked  him,  "  is  Paul  mad  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  he  answered  me,  "  but  Paul  is  drunk." 

"  What !      Paul  drunk  ?  " 

"  Alas !  yes,  sir.  The  instant  Monsieur's  back  is 
turned,  Paul  has  a  bottle  neck  between  his  teeth." 

"  Why,  Michel,  you  mean  to  say  you  knew  this, 
and  you  never  told  me  !  " 


202  MY  PETS 

"  I  am  here  to  be  Monsieur's  gardener,  not  to  play 
the  informer." 

"  True,  Michel  ;  you  are  in  the  right.  Well,  and 
now,  what  are  we  to  do  with  the  fellow  ?  I  cannot 
spend  all  the  day  holding  him  up  against  the  wall." 

"  Oh,  if  Monsieur  wants  to  sober  Paul,  it's  easily 
done." 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Michel  possessed  a  recipe 
to  meet  all  embarrassing  circumstances  whatsoever. 

"  What  must  we  do  to  sober  Paul,  eh,  Michel  ? " 

"  Heavens  and  earth,  man !  try  to  keep  upright 
against  the  wall,  do !  "  (this  parenthetically  to  Paul). 

"  Monsieur  has  only  to  take  a  glass  of  water,  drop 
into  it  eight  or  ten  drops  of  alkali,  and  force  Paul  to 
drink  it  off.  He'll  give  a  great  sneeze  and  be  sober 
in  an  instant." 

"  Have  you  any  alkali,  Michel  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  I  have  a  supply  of  ammonia." 

"  That  comes  to  exactly  the  same  thing.  Put  some 
ammonia  into  a  glass — not  too  much — and  bring  it 
me  here." 

Five  minutes  later  Michel  came  back  with  the 
required  mixture.  We  unclenched  Paul's  teeth  with 
a  paper-knife ;  then  we  slipped  in  the  edge  of  the  glass 
and  tilted  it  gently.  The  contents  followed  two  main 
directions — down  Paul's  throat  and  down  his  neck- 
tie. Though  the  latter  certainly  got  the  lion's  share, 
still  the  patient  imbibed  some,  and  as  Michel  had 
foretold,  presently  gave  so  terrific  a  sneeze  that  I  fled, 
leaving  him  unsupported.  He  staggered  for  a  moment, 
sneezed  a  second  time,  opened  great  staring  eyes  and 
looked  about  him,  uttering  only  a  single  word  the  while, 
though  that  seemed  to  express  his  thoughts  quite 
adequately — "  Faugh  !  " 

"  Well,  now,  Paul,"   1   said   to  him,  "  now   that  you 


A  VULTURE  FROM  CONSTANTINE   203 

are  sober  again,  lie  down,  my  fine  fellow,  and  go  to 
sleep,  and  directly  you  wake,  bring  me  your  account ; 
I  do  not  like  drunkards." 

But,  whether  it  was  that  Paul  was  of  an  exceptional 
nervous  susceptibility,  or  that  his  brain  was  over- 
stimulated  by  the  ammonia,  instead  of  dropping  off  to 
sleep,  as  I  advised  him,  or  presenting  me  with  his 
claim  for  wages,  as  he  was  entitled  to,  he  fell  to 
throwing  his  head  back,  writhing  his  arms  and  making 
the  faces  of  a  demoniac.  Paul  had  a  violent  nervous 
seizure,  and  amidst,  or  rather  in  the  intervals  between, 
his  wild  contortions,  he  kept  crying  out — 

"  No,  I  don't  want  to  go  away  ;  I  am  happy  here, 
and  I  want  to  stay  !  I  only  left  my  first  master 
because  he  hanged  himself;  I  only  left  my  second 
because  he  was  put  on  half-pay.  M.  Dumas  has 
neither  been  retired  nor  hanged  himself — and  I  want 
to  stay  on  with  M.  Dumas." 

This  affection  toward  myself  personally  touched  me. 
I  made  Paul  give  me  a  promise,  not  that  he  would 
leave  off  drinking,  he  was  too  honest  to  give  any 
such,  but  that  he  would  indulge  as  little  as  possible. 
I  also  compelled  him  to  give  me  back  the  key  of  the 
cellar — an  act  of  restitution  for  which  I  felt  the  more 
grateful  as  it  evidently  cost  him  a  severe  pang,  and  so 
everything  resumed  its  everyday  course. 

What  made  me  something  more  indulgent  to  the 
offender  than  I  should  otherwise  have  been  was  the 
fact  that  a  few  days  before  that  fixed  for  my  departure 
to  Spain,  my  friend  De  Saulcy  had  come  to  ask  me 
to  dinner,  and  had  talked  Arabic  with  Paul,  inform- 
ing me  after  the  conversation  that  Paul  spoke  that 
language  as  well  as  Boabdil  or  IMalek-Adel. 

Accordingly,  on  the  appointed  day  we  duly  set  out, 
Alexandre,   Maquet,  Boulanger,  and    myself,   attended 


204  MY  PETS 

by  a  black  shadow  that  was  none  other  than  our 
friend  Paul. 

I  have  no  intention  in  this  place  of  relating  my 
famous  Spanish  journey,  which  I  was  supposed  to 
have  undertaken  in  the  capacity  of  historiographer  of 
the  marriage  of  the  Due  de  Montpensier,  nor  yet  my 
still  more  famous  African  expedition,  which,  thanks  to 
M.  Leon  de  Malleville,  and  M.  Lacrosse,  raised  such 
a  startling  echo  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies. 

No,  my  intention  is  simply  and  solely  to  come  to 
the  story  of  a  new  inmate  which  the  aforesaid  African 
journey  was  to  add  to  my  menagerie  of  pets. 

I  was  at  Constantine,  where,  gun  in  hand,  I  was 
watching  a  number  of  vultures  wheeling  round  and 
round  above  a  charnel-house.  I  had  already  sent  two 
or  three  shots  amongst  them,  which  had  produced  no 
sort  of  effect,  when  I  heard  a  voice  behind  me  saying — 

"  Ah,  sir,  if  you  want  one,  a  live  one,  I  can  find 
you  one  for  sale,  I  can — and  very  cheap." 

I  turned  round  and  recognised  a  little  ragamuffin  of 
pure  French  breed,  from  the  most  populous  European 
quarter  of  the  town,  a  Beni-Mouffetard,  as  he  called 
himself,  who  had  on  two  or  three  occasions  served  me 
as  guide,  and  who  had  had  good  reason  to  approve  of 
my  generosity  each  time. 

"  A  fine  bird  ?  " 

"  Magnificent." 

"  How  old  ?  " 

"  Still  got  its  milk  teeth." 

"  But  exactly  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  eighteen  months  at  the  outside.  You  know 
they  live  to  a  hundred  and  fifty,  vultures  do?  " 

"  I  don't  insist  on  his  living  to  that  advanced  age, 
my  lad.  Well,  how  much  will  they  sell  your  vulture 
for,  eh  ?  " 


A  VULTURE  FROM  CONSTANTINE   205 

"  Oh,  ten  balls,  and  you  shall  have  him." 

Needless  to  inform  my  readers  that  in  street  slang 
ten  balls  means  ten  francs. 

"  Very  well,  Beni-Mouffetard,"  I  told  the  lad  ;  "  fix 
up  the  thing  for  a  dozen,  and  there  will  be  a  couple  of 
francs  for  yourself." 

"  Only,"  added  the  young  scamp,  as  if  seized  with  a 
touch  of  remorse,  "  I  ought  to  warn  you  of  one 
thing." 

"  Yes  ?  " 

"  He's  as  dangerous  as  the  pest,  that  damned  vulture 
is.  There's  not  a  living  soul  but  the  man  who  caught 
him  as  a  nestling  and  feeds  him  dare  come  near  the 
creature." 

"  Very  good  ! "  I  said  ;  "  if  he  is  so  dangerous  as  all 
that  we  will  put  a  muzzle  on  him." 

"  Yes ;  but  when  you  do  it  you'll  have  to  look  out 
for  your  fingers.  Day  before  yesterday  he  bit  off  a 
Kabyle's  thumb,  and  only  yesterday  a  dog's  tail." 

"  We  will  take  care,  never  fear  !  " 

By  next  day  I  was  owner  of  a  superb  vulture,  a  bird 
without  a  fault — except,  as  the  Beni-Mouffetard  had 
warned  me,  having  the  look  of  wanting  to  eat  up  every 
one  and  everything  that  came  near. 

He  was  christened  at  once  with  the  name  of  his 
fellow-countryman  Jugurtha.  Jugurtha,  for  greater 
security,  was  handed  over  to  me  in  a  large  cage  made 
out  of  bits  of  board,  and,  poor  feathered  prisoner,  he 
had  a  chain  two  or  three  feet  long  attached  to  one  leg, 
which  to  prevent  chafing  was  wrapped  round  with  a 
rag. 

The  hour  of  departure  having  come,  we  set  out  on 
our  way  back  by  the  same  vehicle  that  had  brought 
us,  to  wit  the  ordinary  diligence  that  runs  regularly 
between  Philippeville  and  Constantine. 


206  MY  PETS 

This  mode  of  conveyance  possessed  one  advantage  at 
any  rate  ;  the  coach  travelled  so  slowly,  and  made  so 
many  detours,  that  lovers  of  sport  could  indulge  their 
taste  all  along  the  road. 

Jugurtha  would  fain  have  indulged  his  sporting 
instincts  too.  From  the  top  of  the  imperiale,  where  he 
travelled,  he  could  see  whole  flocks  of  birds  that  he 
looked  upon  as  his  predestined  victims,  and  which, 
as  tyrant  of  the  air,  he  evidently  felt  aggrieved  at  not 
being  allowed  to  devour,  flesh,  bones,  and  feathers. 
He  paid  off  a  portion  of  his  resentment  on  the  finger  of 
an  outside  passenger  who  had  tried  to  get  on  friendly 
terms  with  him. 

Philippeville  was  reached  without  further  accident. 
There  more  difficulties  arose ;  there  was  a  league  still 
to  cover  to  arrive  at  the  port  of  embarkation,  Stora, 
and  the  diligence  did  not  go  on  to  that  place. 

True,  the  road  from  Philippeville  to  Stora  affords  a 
charming  walk,  running  beside  the  shores  of  the  bay  as 
it  does,  with  the  sea  on  one  side  and  fine  hills  and 
pretty  woods  on  the  other,  and  my  companions  had 
resolved  to  cover  the  intervening  miles  on  foot. 

But  how  was  Jugurtha  to  get  over  the  distance  ? 

It  was  out  of  the  question  to  put  his  cage  on  a 
porter's  back ;  he  would  have  devoured  the  man  alive 
through  the  interstices  between  the  bars.  To  hang 
him  from  a  pole  and  have  him  carried  as  in  a  litter  on 
the  shoulders  of  two  bearers  would  have  cost  a  matter 
of  fifty  francs,  and  after  buying  a  vulture  for  twelve 
francs,  commission  included,  one  does  not  feel  disposed 
to  pay  fifty  for  transport.  I  thought  of  another  method  ; 
this  was  to  lengthen  his  chain  to  eight  or  ten  feet  by 
means  of  a  rope,  and  drive  him  on  foot  in  front  of  me 
with  the  help  of  a  long  switch — the  same  way  turkey 
tenders  drive  their  charges  to  market. 


A  VULTURE  FROM  CONSTANTINE    207 

The  first  thing  was  to  force  our  friend  Jugurtha  to 
leave  his  cage.  To  tear  away  the  planks  by  hand  was 
not  to  be  thought  of;  Jugurtha  would  have  torn  the 
worker's  hands  all  to  pieces  long  before  the  planks 
gave  way. 

I  began  by  fastening  the  rope  to  the  end  of  the 
chain  ;  then  I  stationed  two  men,  armed  with  picks, 
one  on  each  side  of  the  cage.  Each  man  stuck  the 
point  of  his  pick  between  the  bars ;  then  each  pulled 
violently  in  opposite  directions. 

Two  opposing  and  equal  forces,  in  mechanics, 
neutralise  each  other  when  they  are  applied  to  the 
same  object ;  but  if  this  object  has  solutions  of 
continuity,  it  is  bound  to  give  way  and  go  in  the 
direction  of  the  one  that  pulls  the  stronger. 

The  final  result  was  that  a  plank  yielded,  then  two, 
then  three,  and  presently  the  whole  of  one  side  of 
the  cage  was  open  and  exposed.  As  Jugurtha  had  not 
been  docked  of  a  single  feather  of  his  wings,  his  first 
movement  was  to  dart  out,  spread  his  wings,  and 
fly  away.  But  he  only  flew  as  far  as  the  length  of  his 
rope  ;  cockchafer  or  vulture,  if  you  have  a  string  to 
your  leg,  you  are  bound  to  break  the  string  or  remain 
a  prisoner. 

So  Jugurtha  was  forced  to  come  down  again.  But 
Jugurtha  was  a  very  intelligent  creature,  and  saw 
plainly  enough  where  the  obstacle  came  from,  and  that 
I  was  the  enemy  to  be  attacked.  Accordingly  he 
dashed  at  me,  in  the  vain  hope  of  either  putting  me  to 
flight  or  eating  me  up  if  I  refused  to  fly. 

But  Jugurtha  had  to  do  with  a  creature  every  bit  as 
intelligent  as  himself  Foreseeing  the  attack,  I  had 
given  Paul  orders  to  cut  me  a  nice,  springy,  dog-wood 
stick,  as  thick  as  my  forefinger  and  eight  or  ten  feet 
long. 


208  MY  PETS 

I  let  fly  with  my  switch  full  tilt  at  Jugurtha,  who 
seemed  surprised,  but  continued  to  advance ;  I  gave  a 
second  taste  of  the  same,  which  stopped  him ;  finally,  I 
administered  a  third  dose,  which  started  him  off  in  the 
reverse  direction,  that  is  on  the  road  to  Stora.  Once 
on  the  way,  I  had  only  to  manage  my  switch  cleverly, 
and  Jugurtha  made  his  four  or  five  kilometres  just  as 
fast  as  we  did,  to  the  huge  admiration  of  my  travel- 
ling companions  and  of  everybody  we  met  en  route. 

Arrived  at  Stora,  Jugurtha  made  no  difficulty  about 
getting  into  the  boat,  and  from  the  boat  on  board  the 
Veloce,  took  up  a  position  on  the  bowsprit,  and  calmly 
waited,  tied  to  the  base  of  the  foremast,  till  a  new  cage 
could  be  built  for  him.  When  this  was  ready,  he 
walked  into  it  of  his  own  accord,  allowed  the  bars  to 
be  nailed  into  position  without  an  attempt  to  bite  the 
men's  fingers,  and  received  with  evident  gratitude  the 
scraps  of  meat  which  the  ship's  cook  gave  him  with 
kindly  regularity.  Three  days  after  his  coming  aboard, 
he  would  offer  me  his  head  to  be  scratched  like  any 
tame  parrot,  though  on  his  arriving  eventually  at  Saint- 
Germain,  Michel  tried  quite  fruitlessly  to  teach  him  to 
say  the  regulation :  "  Pretty  Poll,  scratch  pretty  Polly's 
head  ! " 

So  you  have  the  story  of  how  I  imported  from 
Algeria  a  vulture  that  cost  me  forty  thousand  francs 
and  only  cost  the  French  Government  a  trifle  of  ten 
thousand. 


I    LEI     l-I.Y    WITH    MV    SWIICH    FILL   TILT    AT   JLCLKTHA 


CHAPTER   XXXVI 

HOW  PRITCHARD  BEGAN  TO  RESEMBLE  THE 
MARfiCHAL  DE  SAXE,  TO  WHOM  MARS  HAD 
LEFT  NOTHING  BUT  A  LOVING  HEART 

ON  my  return  to  France,  I  found  my  house  which 
I  was  building  on  the  Marly  road  pretty  nearly 
finished.  In  a  few  weeks'  time  I  had  the  papering 
and  woodwork  of  the  whole  of  one  floor  completed,  so 
that  I  was  able  to  satisfy  the  wishes  of  my  landlord  at 
the  Villa  IMedicis,  who,  finding  I  had  spent  between 
seven  and  eight  thousand  francs  on  his  property,  had 
conceived  the  very  natural  desire  of  going  back  to  it 
himself  and  so  profiting  by  all  the  improvements  I  had 
made. 

I  left  Saint-Germain,  therefore,  to  go  and  live  at  the 
Porte- Marly,  in  the  much-discussed  house  which  was 
subsequently  christened  Monte  Cristo  by  Madame 
Melingue,  and  which  later  on  made  such  a  noise  in 
the  world. 

Michel  had  long  before  this  made  all  his  arrange- 
ments for  the  accommodation  of  my  animals.  I  am 
bound  to  say  he  paid  far  less  attention  to  my  comfort, 
or,  for  the  matter  of  that,  to  his  own. 

I    do    not   know   what    is    the    condition    of    Monte 

Cristo  nowadays ;  but  I   do  know  that,  in   the  time  of 

my    occupancy,  there  was  neither  wall    nor  ditch  nor 

hedge    nor    enclosure    of    any    sort    about    the    place. 

14 


210  MY  PETS 

Consequently  men  as  well  as  animals  could  enter  at 
their  own  sweet  will,  walk  about  where  they  pleased, 
pluck  the  flowers  and  gather  the  fruits,  without  any  fear 
of  being  charged  with  trespass  or  burglary.  As  for 
the  animals, — and  it  is  to  the  dogs  I  would  specially 
refer, — Pritchard,  who  was  naturally  of  a  very 
hospitable  disposition,  did  the  honours  of  the  house 
with  an  agreeable  and  disinterested  freedom  from 
formality  quite  Highland  in  its  character. 

This  hospitality  was  practised  by  Pritchard  in  the 
most  simple  and  antique  fashion.  He  would  squat 
well  in  the  middle  of  the  Marly  road,  go  up  to 
every  dog  that  passed  with  that  low  growling  that  is 
half  a  threat  and  half  a  friendly  greeting,  and  is  the 
canine  manner  of  saying  "  How  d'ye  do  ?  " — smell  the 
new-comer  in  the  orthodox  way,  and  submit  to  the 
same  ceremony  himself. 

Then,  as  soon  as  a  proper  understanding  had  been 
reached  by  dint  of  these  little  familiarities,  conversation 
would  begin  on  something  like  the  following  lines — 

"  Have  you  a  good  master  ?  "  the  strange  dog  would 
ask. 

"  Oh,  not  bad,"  Pritchard  would  say. 

"  And  are  you  well  fed  at  your  place  ?  " 

"  Why,  we  have  pie  twice  a  day,  bones  for  breakfast 
and  dinner,  and  all  through  the  day  anything  we  can 
prig  from  the  kitchen." 

The  strange  dog  would  lick  his  chops  at  the  mere 
thought. 

"  Plague  on't ! "  he  would  say,  "  you've  nothing  to 
complain  of ! " 

"  Pm  not  complaining,"  Pritchard  would  declare. 

Then,  seeing  the  strange  dog  looking  pensive — 

"  Would  you  like  to  dine  with  me  ? "  Pritchard 
would  invite  him. 


POOR  PRITCHARD  211 

Dogs  never  have  the  silly  habit  men  are  prone  to  of 
waiting  to  be  pressed. 

The  guest  always  accepted  eagerly,  and  at  dinner- 
time I  was  greatly  surprised  to  see  an  animal  I  knew 
nothing  about  walk  in  under  Pritchard's  escort,  sit 
down  on  my  right,  if  Pritchard  took  the  left,  and  paw 
my  knee  coaxingly  in  a  fashion  that  told  me  plainly 
what  flattering  accounts  he  had  received  of  my  kindly 
and  Christian  disposition. 

No  doubt  invited  by  his  host  to  spend  the  evening 
with  him,  as  he  had  spent  the  day,  the  dog  stayed  on, 
and  presently,  finding  it  was  too  late  for  him  to  get 
home,  found  a  comfortable  place  for  himself  somewhere 
about  the  premises,  and  there  slept  off  his  heavy 
meal. 

Next  morning,  when  the  time  came  to  go,  the  dog 
would  stroll  once  or  twice  in  the  direction  of  the  outer 
gate,  then,  thinking  better  of  it,  would  remark  to 
Pritchard — 

"  Would  it  be  making  very  bold  if  I  stayed  on  in 
the  house  ?  " 

To  which  Pritchard  would  reply — 

"  With  a  little  care  and  ingenuity  you  can  very 
easily  make  them  think  you  are  the  dog  from  next- 
door.  Then  in  a  day  or  two  nobody  will  think  any 
more  about  you,  and  you  will  be  one  of  the  household, 
every  bit  the  same  as  those  lazy  apes  that  do  nothing 
whatever  all  day  long,  and  that  greedy  vulture  that 
does  nothing  but  gobble  guts,  and  that  squalling 
macaw  that  shouts  all  the  time  without  ever  knowing 
what  it's  talking  about." 

So  the  dog  would  stay  where  it  was,  hiding  itself  a 
bit  the  first  day,  wagging  its  tail  at  me  the  second, 
gambolling  at  my  heels  the  third,  and  there  would  be 
an  inmate  the  more  of  my  establishment. 


212  MY  PETS 

This  sort  of  thing  went  on.      Michel  asked  me  one 

day — 

"  Does  Monsieur  know  how  many  dogs  we  have  on 

the  premises  ?  " 

"  No,  Michel,  I  don't." 

"  Sir,  there  are  thirteen  of  them." 

"  It  is  an  unlucky  number,  Michel,  and  we  must 
take  care  they  don't  all  sit  down  to  table  together; 
there  would  infallibly  be  one  that  would  die  first." 

"  But  that's  not  the  point,  sir,"  insisted  Michel. 

"  Well,  what  is  it,  then  ?  " 

"  Why,  these  fine  chaps  would  eat  up  an  ox  a  day, 
horns  and  all." 

"  Do  you  really  think  they  would  eat  the  horns, 
Michel  ?      I  cannot  believe  it  myself." 

"  Oh !  if  Monsieur  takes  it   like  that,  I've  no  more 

to  say." 

"  You  are  wrong,  Michel ;  speak  out,  and  I  will  take 
it  exactly  as  you  prefer," 

"  Well,  sir,  if  you  give  me  a  free  hand,  I'll  just  take 
a  good  whip  and  I'll  turn  the  whole  crew  out  of  doors 
this  very  morning." 

"  Come,  Michel,  let  us  be  reasonable.  All  these 
dogs,  after  all,  are  paying  a  compliment  to  the  house 
by  staying  here.  Give  them  a  grand  dinner  to-day 
and  tell  them  it's  a  farewell  feast ;  then  at  dessert  you 
will  put  them  all  out  at  the  door." 

"  How  does  Monsieur  think  I  am  going  to  put  them 
out  at  the  door?      There  is  no  door." 

"  Michel,"  I  replied  gravely,  "  we  must  put  up  with 
certain  conditions  of  locality  and  social  position  and 
inherited  disposition,  such  as  we  have  unfortunately 
been  endowed  with  by  fate.  The  dogs  are  in  the 
house,  and,  by  the  Lord  !  they  must  just  stay  there, 
i   don't   suppose,  anyhow,  it's   the  dogs   will   ever  ruin 


POOR  PRITCHARD  213 

me,  Michel.      Only,  for  their  own  welfare,  see  to  it  they 
are  not  thirteen  for  the  future." 

"  Well,  sir,  I'll  drive  one  away,  and  make  them  a 
dozen." 

"  No,  Michel,  let  another  one  come  in,  so  as  to  make 
fourteen." 

Michel  heaved  a  sigh. 

"  If  it  were  a  pack,  that  would  be  something,"  he 
muttered. 

Well,  it  was  a  pack — and  a  very  strange  pack  at  that. 
There  was  a  wolf-dog,  a  poodle,  a  water-spaniel,  a 
mastiff,  a  basset-hound  with  twisty  legs,  a  mongrel 
terrier,  a  mongrel  King  Charles, — there  was  even  a 
Turkey  dog  with  never  a  hair  on  his  body  except  a 
tuft  on  the  top  of  the  head  and  a  plume  at  tip  of  his  tail. 

Well,  all  this  crew  lived  together  on  the  very  best 
of  terms,  and  might  have  given  an  example  of  brotherly 
love  to  a  philanstery  or  a  community  of  Moravian 
brethren.  True,  at  meal  times  there  would  be  a  snap 
now  and  then  to  right  or  left ;  there  would  be  some 
love  quarrels  between  rivals,  in  which,  as  always,  the 
weaker  would  go  to  the  wall ;  but  the  most  touching 
harmony  would  be  instantly  restored  the  moment  I 
appeared  in  the  garden.  Not  an  animal,  no  matter 
how  lazily  stretched  in  the  sun,  no  matter  how 
luxuriously  curled  up  on  the  soft  turf,  no  matter  how 
amorously  engaged  in  conversation  with  a  canine 
mistress,  but  would  break  off  his  sleep  or  love-making 
to  sidle  up  to  me  with  affectionate  eye  and  waving  tail. 
All  did  their  best  to  manifest  their  gratitude,  each 
in  his  own  way, — some  by  slipping  familiarly  between 
my  legs,  others  by  getting  up  on  their  hind  paws  and 
begging,  others  again  by  jumping  over  the  stick  I  held 
for  them,  whether  for  the  Czar  of  Russia  or  the  Queen 
of  Spain,  but  positively  refusing  to  leap  for  the  poor 


214  MY  PETS 

King  of  Prussia,  the  humblest  and  most  hackneyed  of 
all  monarchs,  not  only  at  home  but  among  the  canine 
population  of  all  Europe. 

We  recruited  a  little  spaniel  bitch  named  Lisette, 
and  the  number  of  our  pack  was  duly  raised  to 
fourteen. 

Well,  these  fourteen  dogs,  when  all  was  said  and 
done,  cost  me  say  fifty  or  sixty  francs  a  month.  A 
single  dinner  to  five  or  six  of  my  literary  brethren 
would  have  demanded  three  times  the  sum,  and  then 
they  would  have  left  my  house,  saying,  it  may  be,  my 
wine  was  decent  stuff,  but  there  was  no  doubt  my 
books  were  rubbish. 

Among  all  the  pack  Pritchard  had  chosen  out  a 
comrade  and  Michel  a  favourite.  This  was  a  basset- 
hound  with  twisty  legs,  a  short,  thickset  animal,  that 
seemed  to  walk  on  his  stomach,  and  at  utmost  speed 
might  perhaps  have  covered  a  league  in  an  hour  and 
a  half,  but,  as  Michel  was  never  tired  of  saying,  the 
finest  organ  in  all  the  department  of  the  Seine-et-Oise. 

It  was  quite  true ;  Portugo — that  was  the  basset's 
name — had  one  of  the  finest  bass  voices  ever  uttered 
by  dog  in  pursuit  of  rabbit,  hare,  or  roebuck.  Some- 
times at  night,  as  I  sat  at  work,  these  majestic  tones 
would  make  themselves  heard  about  the  neighbourhood, 
and  it  was  a  sound  to  rejoice  the  heart  of  St.  Hubert 
in  his  grave.  Now,  what  was  Portugo  after  at  this  hour 
of  the  night,  and  why  was  he  up  and  about  when  the 
rest  of  the  pack  were  sleeping.?  The  mystery  was 
resolved  one  morning. 

"  Would  Monsieur  like,"  Michel  asked  me,  "  would 
Monsieur  like  to  have  a  nice  dish  of  stewed  rabbit  for 
his  breakfast  ?  " 

"  Very  good,"  I  said ;  "  has  Vatrin  sent  us  some 
rabbits,  then  ? " 


POOR  PRITCHARD  215 

"  Oh,  M.  Vatrin  !  why  it's  over  a  year  since  I've  set 
eyes  on  him." 

"  Well,  where  did  they  come  from,  then  ?  " 

"  Monsieur  doesn't  need  to  know  where  the  rabbit 
came  from,  provided  the  stew  is  all  right." 

"  Take  care,  Michel,  take  care ;  you  will  get  yourself 
caught  one  of  these  days." 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean,  sir?  I  have  not  so  much 
as  touched  my  gun  since  the  end  of  the  shooting 
season." 

I  could  see  that  Michel  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
tell  me  nothing  that  time  ;  but  I  knew  him  well  enough 
to  be  quite  sure  he  would  open  his  lips  one  day  or 
another. 

"  Why,  yes,  Michel,"  I  told  him,  answering  his 
original  question,  "  I  should  be  very  glad  to  eat  a 
good  dish  of  stewed  rabbit." 

"  Does  Monsieur  prefer  to  cook  it  himself  or  to  let 
Augustine  see  to  it  ?  " 

"  Let  Augustine  attend  to  it,  Michel ;  I  have  work 
to  do  this  morning." 

It  was  Michel  waited  at  breakfast  that  morning 
instead  of  Paul ;  he  wished  to  see  how  much  I  liked 
his  stew. 

The  much-talked-of  dish  appeared  in  due  course,  and 
I  finished  it  to  the  last  scrap. 

"  So  Monsieur  liked  it  ? "  Michel  asked,  beaming 
with  satisfaction. 

"  Excellent,  excellent !  " 

"  Well,  Monsieur  can  have  one  like  that  every 
morning,  if  he  so  pleases." 

"What,  Michel,  every  morning?  It  seems  to  me 
you  are  going  ahead  pretty  fast,  my  friend." 

"  I  know  what  I'm  talking  about." 

"  Well,  Michel,  we  shall  see.      Stewed  rabbit  is  very 


216  MY  PETS 

good ;  but  there  is  a  certain   tale  entitled  Eel-pie,  the 

moral  of  which  is  we  must  never  abuse  a  good  thing 

— not  even  stewed  rabbit.      Besides,  before  consuming 

such  a  lot  of   rabbits,   I   should    like  to   know  where 

they  come  from  ?  " 

"  Sir,  you    shall    know  this  very  night,  if  you    will 

condescend  to  come  with  me." 

"  Did  not  I  say  you  were  a  poacher,  Michel  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,  sir !   I'm  as  innocent  as  a  new-born  babe. 

As  I  said  before,  if  only  Monsieur  will  come  with  me 

to-night  .  .   ." 

"  Is  it  far,  Michel  ?  " 

"  Only  a  hundred  yards  from  this  spot,  sir." 

"  What  time  ?  " 

"  When  Monsieur  hears  Portugo's  first  bark." 

"  Well,  so  be  it,  Michel ;  if  you   see  a  light  in   my 

room  when  Portugo  first  gives  cry,  I  am  your  man." 
I   had  almost  forgotten  I   had  pledged  my  word  to 

Michel,  and  was  working  away  as  usual,  when  about 

eleven  o'clock  of  a  magnificent  moonlight  night  Michel 

walked  into  my  room. 

"  Well,"  said    I,  "  I   don't  think    Portugo  has  given 

voice,  has  he  ?  " 

"  No,"    he    told    me ;    "  but    it    struck    me    that,    if 

Monsieur  waited    till   then,  he  would    miss    the   most 

curious  part  of  all." 

"  Why,  what  should  I  miss,  Michel  ?  " 

"  Monsieur  would  not  see  the  Council  of  War." 

"  Council  of  War  !      What  Council  of  War  ?  " 

"  The     Council     of    War     between     Pritchard     and 

Portugo." 

"  You  are  quite  right ;  it  must  be  a  curious  sight." 
"  If  Monsieur  will  come  down  now,  he  can  see  it." 
I   followed   Michel,  and  presently,  as  he  had  led  me 

to  expect,  I  saw  in  the  midst  of  the  encampment  of 


POOR  PRITCHARD  217 

the  fourteen  dogs,  lying  each  as  he  found  most  com- 
fortable, Portugo  and  Pritchard  sitting  up  solemnly 
on  their  tails  and  apparently  debating  some  question 
of  the  last  importance. 

This  point  decided,  the  pair  separated.  Portugo 
darted  out  of  the  gate,  struck  into  the  upper  Marly 
road,  which  bounded  the  property  on  that  side,  and 
disappeared. 

As  for  Pritchard,  he  showed  every  sign  of  having 
time  to  spare,  and  started  off  at  a  leisurely  pace  to 
follow  the  by-path  that,  after  passing  alongside  the 
island  in  the  river,  mounted  the  hill  behind  the 
quarry. 

We  in  turn  set  off  after  Pritchard,  who  appeared 
to  pay  no  attention  to  us,  though  he  had  evidently 
scented  our  presence. 

The  dog  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  quarry,  which 
was  planted  with  vines  extending  as  far  as  the  Marly 
road  above.  There  he  examined  the  ground  with  the 
utmost  care,  keeping  to  the  line  of  the  quarry,  lighted 
on  a  scent,  sniffed  and  found  it  fresh,  advanced  a  few 
yards  along  a  furrow  formed  by  a  double  line  of  vine- 
sticks,  crouched  flat  on  his  belly  and  waited. 

Almost  at  the  same  moment  Portugo's  first  bark 
could  be  heard  five  hundred  yards  away.  The  plan 
of  campaign  was  now  clear.  At  nightfall  the  rabbits 
always  quitted  the  quarry  and  scattered  to  feed. 
Pritchard  would  then  nose  out  the  scent  of  one  of 
them,  while  Portugo,  making  a  wide  detour,  chased 
the  rabbit.  Now  rabbits  and  hares  invariably  hark 
back  on  their  own  track,  and  Pritchard,  enscreened 
treacherously  in  ambush,  awaited  the  creature's  return. 

And  so  it  was ;  the  nearer  Portugo's  barks  ap- 
proached, the  more  brilliantly  we  saw  Pritchard's  yellow 
eyes  gleam.     Then  suddenly,  using  all    four  paws  as 


218  MY  PETS 

a  sort  of  quadruple  spring,  he  gave  a  leap,  and  we 
heard  a  little  scream  of  surprise  and  distress  from  the 
victim. 

**  The  trick's  done  !  "  exclaimed  Michel,  and  going 
up  to  Pritchard,  he  took  a  very  fine  rabbit  out  of  his 
jaws,  and  finished  it  with  a  sharp  blow  on  the  back  of  the 
neck.  He  disembowelled  it  there  and  then,  dividing 
the  entrails  between  the  two  dogs,  who  shared  them 
amicably,  feeling  presumably  only  one  regret,  that 
Michel's  interference,  backed  by  my  authority,  robbed 
them  of  the  whole  to  leave  them  only  a  part.  As 
Michel  said,  I  might,  if  I  had  so  desired,  have  had 
every  morning  for  breakfast  a  nice  dish  of  stewed 
rabbit. 

But  at  that  very  time  things  were  happening  at 
Paris  that  made  a  longer  stay  in  the  country  impossible. 

The  Theatre-Historique  was  on  the  point  of  opening. 
Now,  seeing  this  is  neither  a  history,  nor  a  novel,  nor 
a  primer  of  literature,  but  just  a  friendly  talk,  dear 
reader,  between  you  and  me,  let  me  tell  you  in  plain 
words  the  legend  of  this  unfortunate  Theatre-Histor- 
ique, which  was  for  a  short  time,  you  will  remember, 
the  terror  of  the  Theatre  Fran^ais  and  an  example  to 
all  the  other  theatres  of  the  capital. 

If  it  had  had  disasters,  it  would  have  been  supported 
by  those  great  abettors  of  failure  known  as  the 
Directors  of  the  Beaux  Arts ;  but  it  had  nothing  but 
successes,  and  the  Beaux  Arts  abandoned  it  to  its  fate. 

This  is  how  the  thing  happened.  In  1845  or  1846, 
I  cannot  now  recall  exactly  which,  I  was  giving,  at  the 
Ambigu,  the  first  representations  of  my  Mousquetaires. 

The  Due  de  Montpensier  was  present  at  the  first 
night.  One  of  my  good  friends,  Dr.  Pasquier,  was 
his  surgeon  in  ordinary.  After  the  fifth  or  sixth  scene, 
the  Duke  sent  Pasquier  to  congratulate  me,     At  the 


•    ••'.*;»• 


SL'UDENLV    I'KITCHAKD   (;AVE    A    LKAl- 


POOR  PRITCHARD  219 

end  of  the  piece,  which  had  only  finished  at  two  in  the 
morning,  Pasquier  came  back  to  tell  me  the  Duke 
was  expecting  me  in  his  box,  whither  I  proceeded. 

I  had  seen  little  of  the  Due  de  Montpensier 
hitherto;  when  his  brother  died,  in  July  1842,  he 
was  still  hardly  more  than  a  boy,  being  seventeen  or 
eighteen  at  the  time,  but  as  a  matter  of  family 
tradition  he  was  aware  that  his  brother  had  entertained 
a  great  affection  for  me. 

I  entered  the  Duke's  box  not  without  emotion  ;  each 
of  these  four  young  Princes  has  in  him  certain  traits  of 
the  elder  brother,  and  at  this  period  I  could  not  help 
a  sharp  pang  of  grief  on  finding  myself  in  the  presence 
of  one  of  them. 

The  Duke  had  sent  for  me  to  repeat  the  congratula- 
tions he  had  conveyed  to  me  before  through  Pasquier. 
The  young  Prince,  I  was  already  aware,  was  an 
enthusiastic  admirer  of  the  series  of  historical  romances 
I  was  then  publishing,  and  especially  of  that  epic  of 
chivalry  known  under  the  title  of  The  Three 
Musketeers. 

"  But  I  am  bound,"  he  said  on  this  occasion,  "  to 
find  fault  with  you  for  one  thing ;  why  do  you  have 
your  work  produced  at  a  minor  theatre  ?  " 

"  Monseigneur,"  I  told  him,  "  when  a  man  has  not 
a  theatre  of  his  own,  he  gets  his  pieces  played  where 
he  can." 

"  And  why  have  you  not  a  theatre  of  your  own  ?  " 
he  asked  me. 

"  Why,  Monseigneur,  for  the  very  simple  reason  that 
the  Government  would  not  give  me  the  needful 
'  privilege.' " 

"  You  think  so  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it." 

"  But,  if  1  intervened  ?  " 


220  MY  PETS 

"  Oh,  Monseigneur,  that  might  quite  hkely  alter  the 
look  of  things  ;  but  Monseigneur  will  never  take  that 
much  trouble." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Because  I  have  no  claim  on  Monseigneur's  good 
graces." 

"  Pooh !  who  said  so  ?  Now,  on  whom  does  the 
granting  of  a  '  privilege  '   depend  ?  " 

"  On  the  Minister  of  the  Interior,  Monseigneur." 

"  Duchatel,  in  fact  ?  " 

"  Precisely  so,  and  I  am  bound  to  tell  your  Highness 
I  don't  think  he  is  particularly  fond  of  me." 

"  At  the  very  next  Court  ball  I  will  dance  with  his 
wife,  and  arrange  the  matter  before  I  take  her  back  to 
her  seat." 

I  do  not  know  whether  there  was  actually  a  Court 
ball,  or  whether  the  Due  de  Montpensier  danced  with 
Madame  Duchatel  or  no ;  what  I  do  know  is  that  one 
day  Pasquier  came  to  see  me  and  tell  me  the  Duke 
was  expecting  me  at  the  Tuileries. 

I  and  Pasquier  took  a  conveyance  and  drove  to  the 
Palace. 

"  Well,"  he  accosted  me  the  moment  he  saw  me, 
"  your  '  privilege '  is  granted ;  it  only  remains  for  me 
to  ask  you  the  name  of  the  lessee." 

"  M.  Hostein,"  I  told  him. 

The  Duke  took  down  M.  Hostein's  name  in  his 
pocket-book  ;  then  he  asked  me  where  the  house  was 
to  be  built,  what  piece  we  should  begin  with,  what 
special  line  I  proposed  it  should  follow.  I  informed 
him  the  site  was  already  chosen,  namely,  the  former 
Hotel  Foulon  ;  that  the  play  I  should  open  with  would 
probably  be  the  Queen  M argot  \  that  with  regard  to 
the  line  I  meant  to  adopt,  this  was  to  constitute  the 
stage  of  my  new  theatre  a  great  book  in  which,  every 


POOR  PIIITCHARD  221 

night,  the  public  might  read  a  page  of  our  national 
history. 

The  "  privilege "  was  duly  signed  in  M,  Hostein's 
name ;  the  Hotel  Foulon  was  purchased  ;  the  Theatre- 
Historique  was  built,  and  it  opened,  if  I  remember 
right,  a  month  after  my  return  from  Spain  and  Africa, 
with  Queen  Margot,  precisely  as  I  had  told  the  Due  de 
Montpensier  it  should. 

The  opening  of  my  theatre,  rehearsals,  performances, 
results,  endless  affairs,  in  a  word,  detained  me  nearly 
two  months  in  Paris. 

The  day  before  that  on  which  I  was  to  return  to 
Saint-Germain,  I  wrote  to  tell  Michel,  and  found  my 
factotum  waiting  for  me  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill 
of  Marly. 

"  Sir,"  he  shouted  directly  I  was  within  hail,  "  two 
great  events  have  happened  in  the  house." 

"  What  are  they,  Michel  ?  " 

"To  begin  with,  Pritchard  caught  his  hind  paw  in 
a  trarp,  and  going  mad  with  rage  and  pain,  instead  of 
staying  caught  as  any  other  dog  would  have  done,  he 
gnawed  off  his  foot  with  his  teeth,  sir,  and  came  back 
home  on  three  pins." 

"  But  the  poor  beast  died,  I  suppose,  after  it  all  ? " 

"  Died  !   why  should  he  die,  sir  ?       Wasn't  /  there  ?  " 

"  And  how  did  you  treat  him,  Michel  ?  " 

"  I  amputated  the  paw  neatly  at  the  joint,  with  a 
pruning-knife ;  I  sewed  up  the  skin  over  the  place,  and 
there's  no  sign  of  a  wound.  Look  !  the  scoundrel,  he's 
scented  you  and  here  he  comes  !  " 

Yes,  there  was  Pritchard,  dashing  up  on  three  legs, 
and  at  such  a  pace  that,  as  Michel  said,  he  really  looked 
as  if  he  had  never  lost  the  fourth. 

The  greetings  between  Pritchard  and  his  master 
were  very  tender,  as  you   may  suppose,  on  both  sides. 


222  MY  PETS 

I    commiserated    the    poor    fellow  very    much    on    his 
mutilation. 

"  Pooh,  sir,"  said   Michel,  "  it  only  means  that  out 
shooting  he  won't  be  so  fond  of  pointing  now." 

"  And  your  second  piece  of  news,  Michel  ?  You 
told  me  you  had  two  things  to  tell  me." 

"  Oh !  the  other  is  that  Jugurtha  is  no  longer  called 
Jugurtha." 
"  Why  so  ?  " 

"  Because  he's  called  Diogenes  now." 
"  And  the  reason  ?  " 
"  Look  for  yourself,  sir." 

We  had  reached  the  avenue  of  ash-trees  leading  to 
the  main  door  of  the  villa.  On  the  left  side  of  the 
way  the  vulture  was  taking  its  ease  in  a  huge  tub, 
made  out  of  a  cask,  one  end  of  which  Michel  had 
knocked  out. 

"Ah,     yes,     I     understand,"     I     told     the     latter; 

"  directly  he  has  a  tub " 

"That's  it,"  chorused  Michel,  "directly  he  has  a 
tub,  he  can't  be  called  Jugurtha  any  more,  his  name  is 
bound  to  be  Diogenes." 

I  was  lost  in  admiration  of  Michel's  historical  and 
surgical  attainments,  just  as,  a  year  earlier,  I  had 
been  dumbfounded  at  his  profound  acquaintance  with 
Natural   History. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIl 

WHICH  DEALS  WITH  MY  DEBUT  AS  AN  ORATOR 
IN  THE  DEPARTMENT  OF  THE  YONNE,  AND 
PRITCHARD'S  D^BUT  IN  THE  SAME  DEPART- 
MENT AS  A  POACHER 

A  YEAR  passed,  during  which  were  successively 
produced  at  the  Theatre- Historique  the  Queen 
Ma7'got,  already  alluded  to,  Intrigue  et  Amour,  Les 
Girondins,  and  Monte-O'isto  in  two  nights'  performances. 
The  reader  will  recall,  no  doubt,  the  famous  song  of  the 
Girondists — Mourir  pour  la  patrie;  the  day  it  was 
rehearsed  for  the  first  time,  I  observed  to  the  leader  of 
the  orchestra — 

"  And  to  think,  my  dear  Varney,  that  the  next 
Revolution  will  be  made  to  that  tune !  " 

As  a  matter  of  fact  the  Revolution  of  1848  was 
made  to  the  air  I  had  foretold. 

While  rejoiced  to  see  the  principles  I  have  upheld 
all  my  life  triumphing,  while  taking  a  personal  part  in 
the  Revolution  of  1848  almost  as  active  as  I  had  in 
that  of  1830,  I  was  yet  sore  and  grieved  at  heart. 

The  political  cataclysm,  while  bringing  in  new  men 
who  were  my  friends,  yet  removed  others  who  likewise 
held  a  place  in  my  affections.  I  had  a  brief  and 
momentary  hope  that  a  Regency  might  be  thrown  as 
a  connecting  bridge  between  the  Monarchy  and  the 
Republic.     But      the      revolutionary     avalanche     was 

223 


224  MY  PETS 

precipitated  with  irresistible  violence ;  it  swept  away 
with  it,  not  only  the  old  King,  not  only  the  four 
Princes,  his  stay  and  support,  but  even  the  mourning 
mother  and  the  weakly  child,  who  knew  neither  what 
this  tempestuous  blast  was,  nor  whence  it  came,  nor 
whither  it  was  carrying  him. 

There  came  a  moment  in  the  history  of  France  when 
nothing  stood  where  once  it  had,  when  the  place  where 
for  seven  centuries  had  risen  the  throne  of  the  Capets, 
the  Valois,  the  Bourbons,  was  mowed  as  smooth  as  in 
September  is  the  plain  where  a  week  before  the  harvest 
was  still  waving. 

Then  France  gave  a  great  cry,  half  of  amazement, 
half  of  distress ;  she  knew  no  longer  where  she  was, 
searching  vainly  with  startled  eyes  for  what  she  was 
used  to  see.  She  called  to  her  help  the  most  intel- 
ligent of  her  sons,  and  told  them  :  "  See  what  my  people 
have  done  in  a  fit  of  passion  ;  perhaps  they  have  gone 
too  far,  but  at  any  rate  what  is  done  is  done.  In  this 
empty  place,  which  terrifies  me  by  its  emptiness,  build 
me  up  something  on  which  may  rest  the  foundations  of 
society,  public  wealth,  morality,  and  religion." 

I  had  been  one  of  the  first  to  hear  this  appeal  of  my 
Country,  and  I  held  I  had  a  right  to  count  myself 
in  the  number  of  the  men  of  intelligence  she  was 
summoning  to  her  aid. 

It  only  remained  to  decide  to  what  Department  I 
should  go  and  offer  myself  for  election. 

It  seemed  simple  enough  to  address  myself  to  my 
native  Department,  that  of  the  Aisne.  But  I  had 
ceased  to  reside  in  it  in  1823.  I  had  scarcely  ever 
returned  there  since,  while  one  of  the  few  occasions  I 
had  done  so  was  to  carry  out  that  famous  expedition  of 
Soissons  which  the  reader  knows  of,  if  he  has  ever  read 
my   Memoirs,  in  which   I   came  very  near   being   shot. 


MY  DfiBUT  AS  AN  ORATOR      225 

But,  although  it  was  for  the  same  cause  1  was 
fighting,  whether  in  1830  or  in  1848,  I  feared  I  might 
be  looked  upon  as  too  ardent  a  Republican  for  the 
Republic  such  as  the  majority  of  the  electors  wished  to 
see  it,  and  I  gave  up  all  thoughts  of  standing  for  the 
Department  of  the  Aisne. 

Then  right  before  my  eyes  was  the  Department  of 
the  Seine-et-Oise,  where  I  had  been  living  for  the  last 
four  or  five  years.  I  had  even  held  in  it  the  eminent 
position  of  Chief  of  Batta'ion  of  the  National  Guard  of 
Saint-Germain.  But,  inasmuch  as,  during  the  three 
days  of  the  Revolution  of  1848,  I  had  had  the  drums 
beaten  and  an  appeal  made  to  the  seven  hundred  and 
thirty  men  of  my  command  to  follow  me  to  Paris  and 
intervene  forcibly  in  the  struggle,  the  wives,  children, 
fathers,  and  mothers  of  my  seven  hundred  and  thirty 
National  Guards,  making  a  grand  total  of  perhaps 
three  thousand  individuals,  had  all  protested  with  one 
voice  against  the  recklessness  with  which  I  was  for 
endangering  the  lives  of  my  men.  So  at  the  mere 
suspicion  that  I  might  possibly  offer  myself  for  election 
in  their  town,  the  good  folk  of  Saint-Germain  had 
uttered  a  universal  cry  of  alarm  and  indignation. 
More  than  that,  they  had  assembled  in  general  com- 
mittee and  resolved  that  I  should  be  invited  to  give  in 
my  resignation  as  Commander  of  the  National  Guard 
for  having  compromised  myself  so  unjustifiably  during 
the  three  days  of  revolutionary  disturbance. 

You  see  they  understood  the  question  of  national 
representation  and  the  oath  of  fidelity  to  the  Republic 
in  pretty  much  the  same  sense  in  the  Department  of 
the  Seine-et-Oise  as  in  that  of  the  Aisne. 

Things  were  in  this  state  when  a  young  man,  to 
whose  family  I  had  rendered  some  services  and  who 
had    connections,   he    told    me,  in    Lower    Burgundy, 

15 


226  MY  PETS 

assured  me  that,  were  I  to  offer  myself  in  the  Depart- 
ment of  the  "Vonne,  I  could  not  fail  to  be  elected. 
Now  I  am  bursting  with  a  genial  simplicity  which  ill- 
natured  people  call  self-conceit.  Call  it  simplicity  or 
self-conceit,  whichever  you  please,  the  result  was  the 
same.  I  imagined  myself  well  enough  known  even 
in  the  Department  of  the  Yonne  to  out-distance  any 
competitors  that  might  be  set  up  against  me.  Poor 
simpleton  that  I  was  !  I  quite  forgot  the  fact  that  every 
Department  makes  a  point  of  having  local  men  to 
represent  it,  and,  alas  !  my  locality  was  the  Department 
of  the  Aisne.  Accordingly,  hardly  had  I  set  foot  in 
the  Department  of  the  Yonne  before  the  journals  of 
all  the  localities  rose  up  in  arms  against  me.  What 
business  had  I  in  the  Department  of  the  Yonne  ? 
Was  I  a  Burgundian  ?  Was  I  in  the  wine  trade  ? 
Had  I  any  vineyards  ?  Had  I  ever  studied  the 
question  of  vine-growing  ?  Was  I  a  member  of  the 
Society  Ginophile  ?  So  I  had  no  Department,  it 
seemed,  of  my  own  ;  I  was  a  sort  of  political  bastard. 
Or  rather  no,  I  was  none  of  these  things ;  I  was  an 
agent  of  the  Orleanists,  and  was  offering  myself, 
simultaneously  with  M.  Gaillardet,  my  collaborator 
on  the  Tour  de  Nesle,  as  a  candidate  of  the  Regency 
party. 

Needless  to  say  the  men  who  had  invented  and 
disseminated  this  fine  story  did  not  believe  one  single 
word  of  it  themselves. 

True,  I  had  been  injudicious  enough,  it  must  be 
owned,  to  give  some  excuse  for  these  statements  on 
the  occasion  of  the  Orleans  Princes  leaving  the 
country.  Instead  of  abusing,  insulting,  and  black- 
guarding them  like  the  men  who,  a  week  before,  were 
dancing  attendance  in  their  anterooms,  /,  on  March 
4,  I  848, — that  is  to  say,  seven  days  after  the  revolution 


MY  DfiBUT  AS  AN  ORATOR     227 

of  February,  in  the  midst  of  the  popular  excitement 
which  filled  the  streets  of  Paris  with  noise  and  clamour, 
— I  had  written  the  following  letter  in  the  columns  of 
La  Presse,  one  of  the  most  generally  read  newspapers 
of  that  day  : — 

"  To  Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Montpensier 

"Prince, — If  1  knew  where  to  find  your  Highness, 
it  would  be  with  my  own  lips,  it  would  be  face  to  face, 
that  I  should  offer  you  the  expression  of  my  sorrow  at 
the  catastrophe  that  overwhelms  you  as  well  as  others. 

"  I  can  never  forget  how,  for  three  years,  in  defiance 
of  all  political  ties,  and  contrary  to  the  King's  wishes, 
who  was  aware  of  the  opinions  I  held,  you  were 
pleased  to  receive  me  and  treat  me  almost  as  a 
personal  friend. 

"This  title  oi friend,  Monseigneur,  when  you  lived 
at  the  Tuileries,  I  was  proud  of;  to-day,  when  you 
have  left  the  country,   I   claim   it  still. 

"  However,  Monseigneur,  your  Highness,  I  am 
convinced,  had  no  need  of  this  letter  of  mine  to  be 
assured  that  my  heart  was  of  those  that  are  his  for 
all  time. 

"  God  forbid  I  should  fail  to  preserve  in  all  its 
purity  the  religion  of  the  tomb  and  the  worship  and 
respect  of  fallen  greatness. 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  be,  with  deep  respect,  your  Royal 
Highness's  most  obedient  and  most  humble  servant, 

"  Alex.  Dumas  " 

Nor  was  this  all ;  indeed,  I  must  surely  have  been 
bitten  by  that  devil  of  contradiction  which  lives  in  me, 
is  even  more  powerful  than  that  other  devil  of  pride. 
The  celebrated  Colonel  Desmoulins,  Commandant  of 
the  Louvre,  having  deemed  it  proper  to  throw  down 


228  MY  PETS 

the  equestrian  statue  of  the  Due  d'Orleans  which  stood 
in  the  courtyard  of  the  Louvre,  I  returned  home  in 
a  furious  passion,  and  wrote  to  M.  de  Girardin  the 
letter  given  below.  The  individual  for  whom  it  was 
really  intended  was  plain  enough,  and  it  could  hardly 
fail — at  least,  so  I  firmly  believed — to  procure  me  the 
pleasure  of  cutting  throats  with  the  Colonel  first  thing 
next  morning.      It  ran  as  follows : — 

"  My  dear  Girardin, — Yesterday,  as  I  crossed  the 
courtyard  of  the  Louvre,  I  saw  with  astonishment  that 
the  statue  of  the  Due  d'Orleans  was  no  longer  on  its 
pedestal. 

"  I  asked  if  it  was  the  people  of  Paris  that  had 
thrown  it  down ;  I  was  informed  it  was  the  Governor 
of  the  Louvre  who  had  ordered  its  removal. 

"  Why  is  this  ?  Whence  this  proscription  that 
violates  the  tombs  of  the  dead  ? 

"  When  the  Duke  was  alive,  whatever  constituted 
in  France  the  advanced  section  of  the  Nation  had 
based  its  hopes  on  him. 

"  And  it  was  but  justice  ;  for,  as  every  one  knows,  the 
Due  d'Orleans  was  in  constant  opposition  to  the  King, 
and  he  was  the  victim  of  a  veritable  disgrace  in  con- 
sequence of  his  pronouncement  in  open  council :  '  Sire, 
I  had  rather  be  slain  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine  than 
in  a  gutter  of  the  Rue  Saint-Denis  ! ' 

"  The  people,  the  French  people,  that  is  always 
just  and  intelligent,  knew  and  understood  this  as  well 
as  we.  Go  to  the  Tuileries  and  see  for  yourself  which 
are  the  only  apartments  respected  by  the  people :  they 
are  those  once  occupied  by  the  Due  d'Orleans.  Why, 
then,  be  more  severe  than  the  people  has  been  towards 
this  poor  Prince,  who  has  the  good  fortune  to  belong 
henceforth  only  to  History  ? 


MY  DEHUT  AS  AN  ORATOR     229 

"  The  future — the  future  is  the  block  of  marble 
that  events  may  hew  at  their  pleasure  and  caprice ; 
the  past  is  the  statue  of  bronze  cast  into  the  mould 
of  eternity. 

"  You  cannot  annihilate  the  past.  You  cannot 
abolish  the  fact  that  the  Due  d'Orleans,  at  the  head 
of  the  French  columns,  carried  the  Col  de  Mouzaia. 
You  cannot  abolish  the  fact  that  for  ten  years  he 
has  given  the  third  part  of  his  civil  list  to  the  poor. 
You  cannot  abolish  the  fact  that  he  has  repeatedly 
asked  mercy  for  men  condemned  to  death,  and  by 
dint  of  urgent  prayers  has  won  their  pardon  in  several 
instances.  If  we  can  to-day  clasp  the  hand  of  Barbes, 
to  whom  do  we  owe  that  bliss  ?      To  the  Due  d'Orleans  ! 

"  Ask  the  artists  who  followed  his  coffin  to  the 
grave;  summon  the  chiefest  among  them — Ingres, 
Delacroix,  Scheffer,  Gudin,  Barye,  Marochetti,  Cala- 
matta,  Boulanger. 

"  Call  to  witness  the  poets  and  historians :  Hugo, 
Thierry,  Lamartine,  de  Vigny,  Michelet,  myself,  any 
others  you  please — ask  them,  ask  us,  if  we  deem  it 
well  his  statue  should  be  replaced  where  once  it  stood. 
And  with  one  voice  we  shall  tell  you  :  '  Yes  ;  for  it 
was  raised  at  once  to  a  Prince,  a  soldier,  an  artist, 
to  the  great  and  enlightened  soul  that  has  gone  to 
the  skies,  to  the  noble  and  kindly  heart  that  has  been 
laid  in  the  earth.' 

"The  Republic  of  1848  is  strong  enough,  believe 
me,  to  consecrate  this  sublime  anomaly  of  a  Prince 
left  standing  on  his  pedestal,  in  face  of  a  Royalty 
falling  from  his  throne.  Alex.  Dumas  " 

The  journals  which  accused  me  of  being  a  Regentist 
candidate  may  well  have  done  so  in  all  good  faith,  for 
I   had   indeed    done    all    I    could  to  make  the  exiled 


230  MY  PETS 

family,  now  that  it  was  in  power  no  longer,  believe 
I  was  a  Regentist,  as  I  had  done,  when  it  was  in 
power,  whatever  I  could  to  persuade  its  members  I 
was  a  Republican. 

Let  me  try  to  explain  the  contradiction  to  any 
who  will  waste  their  time  in  reading  what   I  write. 

Compounded  of  two  elements,  aristocratic  and 
popular, — the  former  on  my  father's  side,  the  latter 
on  my  mother's, — no  one  unites  to  a  higher  degree 
than  myself  in  a  single  heart  at  once  a  respectful 
admiration  of  all  that  is  great  and  noble  and  a  tender 
and  profound  sympathy  with  all  that  is  unfortunate. 
I  have  never  spoken  so  much  of  the  Napoleon  family 
as  under  the  younger  branch  of  the  Royal  Family ;  I 
have  never  spoken  so  much  of  the  Prince  of  the 
younger  branch  as  under  the  Republic  and  the 
Empire.  I  am  a  faithful  worshipper  of  those  whom 
I  have  known  and  loved  in  adversity,  and  I  only 
forget  them  if  they  become  powerful  and  prosperous. 
So  no  fallen  greatness  passes  before  me  but  I  salute 
it,  no  merit  stretches  forth  its  hand  to  me  but  I  clasp 
it.  It  is  when  all  the  rest  of  the  world  seems  to 
have  forgotten  those  who  are  no  more  in  place  and 
power  that,  like  an  obstinate  echo  of  the  past,  I  pro- 
claim their  name  aloud.  Why?  I  cannot  say.  It  is 
the  voice  of  my  heart  that  awakes  suddenly  and 
impulsively,  apart  altogether  from  my  mind  and  will. 
I  have  written  a  thousand  volumes,  composed  sixty 
plays.  Open  them  at  random, — at  the  first  page,  in 
the  middle,  at  the  end, — you  will  see  I  have  always 
advocated  clemency,  whether  peoples  were  the  slaves 
of  kings  or  whether  kings  were  the  prisoners  of 
peoples. 

Thus  it  is  a  noble  and  a  lowly  family  I  have  gathered 
round  me,  such  as  no  one  has  but  myself.     The  moment 


MY  D]£BUT  as  an  orator     231 

a  man  falls,  I  go  to  him,  I  hold  out  my  hand  to  him,  let 
him  be  called  the  Comte  de  Chambord  or  the  Prince  de 
Joinville,  Louis  Napoleon  or  Louis  l^lanc.  Through 
whom  did  I  learn  the  death  of  the  Due  d'Orlt^^ans  ? 
Through  Prince  Jerome  Napoleon.  Instead  of  paying 
my  court  at  the  Tuileries  to  those  in  power,  I  was  at 
Florence  offering  my  sympathy  to  the  exile.  True, 
I  instantly  left  the  exile  to  seek  the  dead,  and  started 
on  a  journey  of  five  hundred  leagues,  to  meet,  in  spite 
of  my  very  sincere  tears  of  mourning,  a  Royal  rebuff 
at  Dreux — fit  pendant  to  that  which  av/aited  me  at 
Claremont,  when,  after  having  followed  out  of  affection 
the  funeral  of  the  son,  I  thought  propriety  demanded 
I  should  attend  the  father  to  the  grave. 

On  the  eve  of  July  1 3  I  was  the  declared  enemy 
of  M.  Ledru-Rollin,  whom  I  was  in  the  habit  of 
attacking  daily  in  my  journal  Le  Mois;  on  July  14 
M.  Ledru-Rollin  sent  me  word  to  have  no  further 
anxiety — that  he  was  in  safety. 

This  is  why  I  am  more  often  a  visitor  to  prisons 
than  to  palaces ;  this  is  why  I  have  been  thrice  to 
Ham,  once  only  to  the  Elysee,  never  to  the  Tuileries. 

Naturally,  I  had  not  vouchsafed  all  these  explanations 
to  the  electors  of  the  Yonne ;  so,  when  I  entered  the 
great  hall  of  the  Club,  where  three  thousand  persons 
awaited  me,  I  was  received  with  sounds  that  betokened 
anything  but  friendliness. 

At  that  critical  moment  a  coarse  insult  was  launched 
at  me.  Unluckily  for  the  individual  who  took  this 
liberty,  he  was  within  reach  of  my  hand.  The  gesture 
with  which  I  answered  him  was  striking  enough  to 
leave  no  one  present  in  doubt  as  to  its  nature.  Groans 
changed  to  yells,  and  it  was  amid  a  perfect  hurricane 
of  protest  I  mounted  the  tribune  to  speak. 

The  first  question    asked    me    was    a    demand    for 


232  MY  PETS 

explanations  of  my  fanatical  attitude  with  regard  to 
the  Due  d'Orleans.  This  was  taking  the  bull  by  the 
horns  indeed.  But  for  once  the  bull  proved  the 
stronger.  I  made  them  all  feel  shame — some  for  their 
forgetfulness,  the  rest  for  their  ingratitude.  I  reminded 
them  of  the  cry  of  universal  sorrow  that  rose,  on  July 
13,  1842,  from  the  heart  of  thirty  million  French- 
men, and  brought  me,  jBve  hundred  leagues  away,  the 
fatal  news.  I  pictured  the  poor  Prince,  young,  hand- 
some, gallant,  graceful,  artistic,  a  Frenchman  to  the 
finger-tips,  a  patriot  if  ever  there  was  one.  I  spoke 
of  Antwerp,  the  Col  de  Mouzaia,  the  Portes-de-Fer, 
the  respite  of  Bruyant  the  huzzar,  granted  at  my 
instance,  the  pardon  of  Barbes,  accorded  to  Victor 
Hugo's  prayers.  I  repeated  some  of  his  sayings,  so 
full  of  wit  they  might  have  fallen  from  the  lips  of 
Henri  IV ;  others  so  replete  with  genial  kindliness  they 
could  only  have  come  from  his  own  heart.  The  end 
was  that  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  half  my  audience 
were  in  tears — and  I  with  them  ;  in  twenty  minutes, 
the  whole  room  was  clapping  hands ;  and  from  that 
evening  forth  I  possessed  not  merely  three  thousand 
votes  but  three  thousand  friends. 

What  has  become  of  these  three  thousand  friends 
whose  names  I  never  knew  ?  God  knows  !  They  are 
scattered,  each  carrying  away  in  his  heart  the  precious 
bit  of  gold  we  call  a  kindly  memory.  Two  or  three 
only  have  survived  from  this  great  shipwreck  of  time, 
which  will  end  by  engulfing  these  likewise,  and  me  with 
them ;  but  these  not  only  have  remained  friends,  but 
have  become  brothers — brothers  in  friendship,  brothers 
in  St.  Hubert's  mysteries. 

There,  you  see  we  have  made  a  wide  digression, 
but  we  have  come  back,  nevertheless,  at  last  to  the 
point  from  which  we  set  out — Pritchard,  to  wit. 


MY  DJfiBUT  AS  AN  ORATOR     233 

I  had  been  invited  to  attend  the  forthcoming 
opening  of  the  shooting  season  in  the  vineyards  of 
Lower  Burgundy. 

As  every  sportsman  knows,  every  wine-growing 
country  has  two  opening  days  instead  of  one :  that 
when  the  wheat-crops  are  cleared,  and  the  other  when 
the  vintage  is  complete — in  other  words,  every  wine 
district  has  two  false  opening  days  and  no  true  one 
at  all. 

It  will  easily  be  understood  that  in  those  after- 
dinner  stories  that  amuse  a  company  of  gunners  Prit- 
chard  and  his  exploits  had  not  been  forgotten.  I  had 
done  my  best  by  word  of  voice  to  tell  the  same  tales 
which  I  have  narrated  with  pen  and  ink  to  the  reader. 
Consequently,  Pritchard  had  been  invited  no  less  than 
his  master,  and  his  coming  was  awaited  with  equal 
impatience. 

We  feared  only  one  thing — that  Michel's  amputa- 
tion of  one  of  the  poor  animal's  hind  paws  would  ruin 
the  speed  of  those  evolutions  of  which  I  have  tried  to 
convey  some  idea,  and  which  formed  Pritchard's  dis- 
tinctive character  and  originality. 

I  thought  myself  justified  in  declaring  beforehand 
this  would  not  be  the  case,  and  that  Pritchard  was 
strong  enough  and  clever  enough  to  give  a  leg  to  the 
best  dog  in  Burgundy,  even  though  the  missing  one 
were  a  hind  leg. 

On  October  14,  the  eve  of  the  opening  day  in 
the  vineyards,  I  arrived  at  the  house  of  my  good 
friend  Charpillon,  notary  at  Saint-Bris,  advising  his 
cook  by  telegraph  to  let  nothing  interfere  with  her 
preparations  for  dinner. 

Within  an  hour  of  my  reaching  my  destination 
there  were  already  three  several  complaints  lodged 
against   Pritchard,  any  one   of  which,  if  the  dog  had 


234  .  MY  PETS 

been  a  man,  would  have  brought  him  to  a  convict 
prison.  There  was  theft,  theft  with  premeditation,  and 
theft  and  burglary. 

We  emptied  a  hen-house,  shoved  Pritchard  in,  and 
shut  to  the  door  on  him.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  later 
I  saw  his  tufted  tail  waving  gaily  in  the  wind. 

"  Why,  who  let  Pritchard  go  ? "  I  shouted  to  Michel. 

"  Pritchard  ? — he's  not  loose." 

"  Yes,  he  is  ;  go  and  look  in  the  hen-house." 

Pritchard  had  effected  his  escape  in  the  same  way 
as  Casanova,  by  making  a  hole  in  the  roof. 

"  Go  and  fetch  the  dog,"  I  told  Michel,  "  and  put 
him  on  the  chain." 

Michel  asked  no  better.  He  had  fits  of  anger 
sometimes  in  which  he  would  scream,  as  some  parents 
do  at  their  children — 

"  Ah !  you  scamp,  you  villain !  I'll  kill  you,  I 
will ! " 

He  darted  off  on  Pritchard's  tracks  eagerly  enough. 
But  he  searched  the  three  or  four  streets  that  make 
up  Saint-Bris  in  vain  ;  Pritchard  had  vanished,  after 
giving  a  final  flirt  of  his  tail  in  the  way  one  friend 
parting  from  another  waves  his  handkerchief  in  farewell. 

"Ah!"  cried  Michel,  as  he  came  back  panting, 
"this  caps  all!" 

"  What  caps  all,  Michel  ?  " — I  had  quite  forgotten 
Pritchard   for  the  moment. 

"  The  scoundrel  is  gone  off  on  his  own  account." 

"  Gone  where  ?  " 

"  Why,  after  game,  to  be  sure." 

"  Oh  !  you  are  talking  of  Pritchard." 

"  Of  course  I  am.  Clean  impossible  to  lay  hands 
on  him,  and  the  curious  part  of  it  is,  he  has  debauched 
Rocador  into  the  bargain." 

"  What !  debauched  Rocador,  do  you  say  ?  " 


c  ,    '       c 


c        c  c  <  ♦  c  c 

c     c  e  «   ,  <:  t  c 

C  C  £  «,'  C  c  C 

c        C  t  f  f        f  • 


,f  ............ 


5-V  — 1'-^'**>.  ■ 


I'KITCHARO    WALKED    IN    l-ROUDLV,    MOLDING    IN     HIS    JAWS    A    MAGNIFICENT    GREAT    HARE 


MY  DfiBUT  AS  AN  ORATOR      235 

"  Impossible  !  "  protested  Pierre.  Pierre  was  M.  Char- 
pillon's   Michel. 

"  Impossible,  and  pray  why  ?  " 

"  Rocador  was  on  the  chain." 

"  Oh,  if  Rocador    was  really   on    the  chain "   I 

put  in. 

"  Let  him  tell  his  story,"  urged  Michel. 

"  Yes,  an  iron  chain  as  thick  as  my  little  finger," 
resumed  Pierre,  taking  advantage  of  the  permission. 

"  And  at  the  end  of  the  chain  what  was  there  ? " 
asked   Michel. 

Then,  winking  one  eye  at  me,  "  Listen,"  he  said. 

"  Lord  !  at  the  end  of  the  chain,  what  was  there 
at  the  end  of  the  chain  ?  Why,  a  ring  fixed  into  the 
wall." 

"  I'm  not  asking  you  about  that  end,"  snapped 
Michel ;  "  I  want  to  know  about  the  other  end." 

"  Oh  !  at  the  other  end  there  was  Rocador's  collar." 

"  Made  of  what  ?  " 

"  Why,  leather,  to  be  sure  !  " 

"  Well,  he  has  done  the  friendly  thing  by  him ; 
he  has  bitten  through  the  collar  with  his  teeth.  Go 
and  look  at  it,  and  you'll  find  it  cut  clean  through  as 
if  with  a  knife,"  We  went  to  examine  the  collar, 
and  saw  that  Michel  had  not  exaggerated  one  whit. 

There  was  no  further  news  of  Pritchard  till  ten  that 
night ;  at  ten  we  heard  a  scratching  at  the  main  door. 
Michel,  who  was  on  the  look-out,  went  and  opened. 

Then  I  knew  by  Michel's  loud  exclamations  that 
something  altogether  unexpected  was  toward.  A 
moment  more,  the  cries  of  astonishment  coming  nearer 
and  nearer,  the  door  of  the  salon  opened,  and  Pritchard 
walked  in  proudly,  holding  in  his  jaws  a  magnificent 
great  hare,  entirely  uninjured  except  for  having  been 
throttled. 


236  MY  PETS 

Rocador  had  halted  when  he  came  to  his  kennel, 
into  which  he  had  slipped  quietly.  Both  dogs,  like 
a  pair  of  bandits,  were  drenched  with  blood. 

Others  who  did  not  know  Pritchard  could  not 
reconcile  the  uninjured  condition  of  the  hare  with 
these  bloody  stains  that  denounced  the  two  ac- 
complices. 

But  Michel  and  myself  understood,  and  exchanged 
a  knowing  wink. 

"  Come,  Michel,"  I  said.  "  I  can  see  you  are  dying 
to  tell  the  company  how  the  deed  was  done.  Now, 
Michel,  tell  your  story." 

Michel  caught  the  ball  on  the  hop. 

"  Why,  look  you,"  he  began  at  once,  "  the  dog's  that 
artful.  He  went  to  Rocador  and  said,  '  Would  you 
like  to  go  hunting  with  me,  eh  ?  '  Rocador  answered, 
'  You  can  see  for  yourself,  I  can't ;  I'm  on  the  chain.' 
'Idiot,'  returned  Pritchard;  'just  you  wait  a  bit' — 
and  he  proceeded  to  free  him  from  his  collar.  Then 
the  pair  set  out  together.  Soon  they  discovered 
where  a  hare  had  gone  by ;  Pritchard  lay  down  and 
watched  the  line,  sending  Rocador  on  to  turn  the  hare. 
The  instant  the  animal  came  back  on  his  tracks  after 
his  first  break  away,  Pritchard  pounced  on  him  and 
throttled  him.  Then,  as  two  good  comrades  should, 
they  shared  their  first  hare  for  their  dinner." 

Pritchard  listened  with  the  deepest  attention  to 
what  Michel  was  saying ;  his  own  name,  recurring 
as  it  did  every  other  minute,  showed  him  we  were 
talking  about  him. 

"  Isn't  that  the  way  it  happened,  eh,  Pritchard  ? " 
Michel   asked  him. 

Pritchard  gave  a  short,  sharp  bark  that  was 
evidently,  in  dog  language,  the  equivalent  of  the 
adverb  precisely. 


MY  DJEBUT  AS  AN  ORATOR     237 

"  Yes,  but  the  other  hare  ? "  asked  one  of  the  by- 
standers ;  "  the  one  there  .  .  .  ?  " — and  he  pointed  to 
the  dead  hare  lying  on  the  floor. 

"  All  right,  we're  coming  to  that ! "  Michel  replied 
imperturbably.  "  The  first  hare  eaten,  Rocador  said, 
'  'Pon  my  word,  Pritchard,  I'm  quite  satisfied.  I've 
dined  deuced  well.  I  vote  the  best  thing  we  can  do 
now  is  just  to  trot  back  home.'  But  Pritchard,  who 
is  a  finished  scamp,  said,  '  What !  home  .  .  .  ?  '  '  Yes, 
home,  home,  to  be  sure,'  repeated  Rocador.  '  And 
what  shall  we  find  waiting  for  us  at  home,  eh  ? '  asked 
Pritchard.  '  Oh  !  the  devil ! '  groaned  Rocador,  *  what  ?  ' 
'  Why !  a  sound  thrashing ;  I  know  Michel,'  said 
Pritchard.  '  Yes,  and  I  know  Pierre,'  agreed  Rocador. 
'  Well,  then,'  went  on  that  artful  Pritchard,  '  we  must 
disarm  'em.'  '  But  how  ? '  '  Let's  look  out  for  an- 
other scent,  catch  another  hare,  and  take  this  one 
back  to  our  masters.'  Rocador  made  a  wry  face ;  his 
belly  was  full,  and  he  had  no  mind  to  go  hunting. 
But  Pritchard  said  roundly,  '  It's  no  use  pulling  long 
faces,  my  fine  friend  ;  you've  got  to  hunt,  and  quick's 
the  word  too,  or  you'll  have  news  of  me ! ' — and  he 
showed  his  teeth  to  Rocador,  as  if  he  were  grinning. 
Rocador  saw  who  was  master,  and  set  off  again 
obediently.  Presently  they  caught  a  second  hare. 
Pritchard  broke  his  back  with  a  quick  bite,  and  brought 
him  in,  like  the  cunning  beast  he  is. — Isn't  that  it, 
Pritchard  ?  " 

The  audience  looked  at  me  for  confirmation. 

"  Gentlemen,"  I  told  them  gravely,  "  if  Pritchard 
could  speak,  he  would  tell  you  precisely  the  same  tale 
as  Michel  has — not  a  word  more  or  a  word  less  1 " 

"  Pierre,"  said  the  master  of  the  house,  "  take  that 
hare  to  the  larder.  Well,  at  any  rate,  we  are  sure  of 
to-morrow's  dinner." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

AN  IMPECCABLE  MAGISTRATE 

THUS  we  have  seen  Pritchard  triumphing  by  dint 
of  the  very  sin  he  had  committed,  and  forgiven 
his  escapade  for  the  sake  of  the  dish  he  had  provided 
for  next  day.  You  can  see  indeed  how  greatly  his 
training  had  improved  him  since  the  days  of  his 
sojourn  with  Vatrin.  Then  he  used  to  carry  off  the 
day's  dinner ;  now  he  supplied  it ! 

But  it  is  time,  without  deserting  Pritchard,  to  say 
something  of  the  fowls — one  of  the  main  subjects 
of  our  fascinating  book. 

M.  Charpillon  loves  his  profession  and  is  passion- 
ately fond  of  sport,  but  above  all  else  he  is  a  fanatical 
poultry  fancier. 

No  fowl,  for  ten  leagues  round,  can  be  compared 
to  the  meanest  bird  belonging  to  M.  Charpillon ; 
this  was  proved  at  the  last  show  at  Auxerre,  where 
Charpillon's  fowls  carried  off  a  first  medal.  It  is 
brahmas  and  cochin-chinas  he  particularly  favours. 

Needless  to  add  our  friend  is  not  one  of  those  heart- 
less breeders  who  are  inhuman  enough  to  eat  what 
they  rear.  Once  elected  an  inmate  of  Charpillon's  hen- 
yard,  once  adjudged  worthy  of  his  feathery  harem,  a  fowl 
has  neither  spit  nor  stew-pan  to  fear.  It  is  assured 
of  a  happy  life  to  the  final  term  of  a  fowl's  existence. 

Charpillon  has  even    gone    so    far  as    to   have  the 

238 


AN  IMPECCABLE  MAGISTRATE     239 

inside  of  his  hen-house  painted  green,  so  that,  albeit 
shut  indoors,  his  fowls  may  think  themselves  in  a 
meadow.  For  the  first  few  days  after  the  paint  was 
applied  to  the  walls,  the  illusion  was  so  great  that 
the  birds  actually  refused  to  come  into  the  hen-house 
at  evening,  for  fear  of  catching  a  chill.  But  they  were 
forced  to  go  in,  and  shut  inside,  so  that  before  long, 
small  as  is  a  fowl's  capacity  for  learning  a  new  fact, 
the  stupidest  understood  that  she  had  the  good  fortune 
to  belong  to  a  master  who  knew  his  Horace  and  had 
successfully  solved  the  problem  of  "  combining  the 
useful   with  the  agreeable." 

Once  convinced,  thanks  to  the  green  hue  of  their 
surroundings,  that  they  were  laying  in  the  grass, 
Charpillon's  fowls  laid  with  greater  confidence  and 
therefore  more  abundantly.  What  with  other  hens  is 
a  pain  which  they  manifest  by  a  cry,  which  in  our 
ignorance  we  take  for  a  song  of  triumph,  became  for 
them  a  mere  diversion,  in  which  they  indulged  with 
unfailing  regularity  night  and  morning. 

Thus  their  fame,  now  at  its  apogee,  began  to  spread 
abroad  throughout  the  Department. 

Whenever  they  ventured  forth  into  one  or  other  of 
the  three  streets  of  Saint- Bris,  if  any  stranger,  unaware 
of  the  marvel  sheltered  by  that  Burgundian  village, 
exclaimed,  "  Oh,  what  beautiful  fowls !  "  a  better-in- 
formed voice  would  instantly  reply,  "  Why,  I  should 
think  so ;  those  are  M.  Charpillon's  birds  !  " 

Then,  supposing  the  owner  of  the  voice  endowed 
with  an  envious  temper,  he  would  never  fail  to  add, 
in   a  peevish  tone — 

"I  should  think  so  indeed! — fowls  who  have  every 
mortal  thing  they  can  wish  ! " 

M.  Charpillon's  fowls,  to  say  nothing  of  the  prizes 
they  had  won   at  the  last  show,  had,  in  fact,  reached 


240  MY  PETS 

the  highest  degree  of  fame  and  popular  renown  to 
which  any  hens,  be  they  as  cochin-chinese  as  they 
may,  can  ever  reasonably  hope  to  attain. 

But  this  renown,  precluding  any  possibility  of  in- 
cognito, sometimes  involved  its  inconveniences. 

One  day  the  Garde-Champetre  came  with  a  look  of 
great  embarrassment  to  see  Charpillon. 

"  Monsieur  Charpillon,"  he  said,  "  I  have  just  caught 
your  fowls  among  the  vines." 

"  My  fowls  !     Are  you  sure,  Coquelet  ?  " 

"  Good  Lord,  sir !  they  are  easy  enough  to  know, 
your  fowls — the  finest  birds  in  all  the  Department !  " 

"  Well,  and  what  did  you  do  ?  " 

"  Nothing  ;   I  have  come  to  inform  you  of  the  facts." 

"  You  are  in  the  wrong ;  you  ought  to  have  drawn 
up  3.  proces  verbal." 

"  But  .  .  .  but.  Monsieur  Charpillon,  I  thought,  as 
you  are  deputy-mayor " 

"  All  the  more  reason ;  as  a  magistrate,  I  am  bound 
to  give  a  good  example." 

"  Oh,  for  such  a  trifle ;  it's  only  once  in  a  way  the 
poor  creatures  have  gone  astray  !  " 

"  They  are  doubly  to  blame.  They  lack  for  nothing 
here ;  so,  if  they  go  marauding  among  the  vines,  it 
can  only  be  because  they  have  the  bump  of  thieving. 
We  must  not  give  their  evil  instincts  time  to  develop. 
Come,  a  good  proch  verbal,  Coquelet  !  a  good  proces 
verbal's  the  thing  !  " 

"  But,  Monsieur  Charpillon " 

"  Coquelet,  as  deputy-mayor,  I  give  you  my  express 
order." 

"  Yes,  but  who  am  I  to  deliver  my  report  to,  sir  ?  " 

"  To  the  mayor,  man  alive  !  " 

"  You  know  quite  well  that  M.  Gaignez  is  in  Paris." 

"  Well,  then,  you  must  give  it  in  to  me." 


AN  IMPECCABLE  MAGISTRATE     241 

"  To  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  And  you  will  sanction  a  report  drawn  up  against 
your  own  fowls  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  in  that  case,  it's  a  different  matter.  ,  .  .  But 
you  know,  Monsieur  Charpillon ?  " 

"  Yes,  Coquelet  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  very  good  at  drawing  up  reports." 

"  Why,  it's  not  a  very  difficult  affair  drawing  up 
a  proccs  verbal^ 

"  There  arc  reports  and  reports,  Monsieur  Char- 
pillon." 

"  Come  now,  look  here :  '  I,  the  undersigned,  Garde- 
Champetre,  hereby  declare  myself  to  have  recognised 
and  seized  sundry  fowls,  the  property  of  M.  Charpillon, 
notary  and  deputy-mayor  of  the  commune  of  Saint- 
Bris,  trespassing  among  the  vines  of  Monsieur  So-and- 
so  or  of  Madame  Such-and-such  '  There's  your  report 
for  you  ! " 

"  It  was  among  M.  Raoul's  vines,  as  a  matter  of  fact." 

"  Very  well ;  put  '  among  M.  Raoul's  vines,'  and  sign 
your  name,  '  Coquelet,'  at  the  bottom." 

"  My  signature,  yes,  I  can  manage  that.  Monsieur 
Charpillon  ;  I  have  taken  pains  about  that.  But  for 
the  writing " 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  see.  Your  hand  is  a  bit  given  to 
zigzags,  eh  ?  " 

"  Oh,  if  that  were  all !  .  .  .  Why,  I  saw  the  other 
day  a  printed  piece  of  music  that  was  all  zigzags." 

"  Who  writes  your  reports  usually,  then  ?  " 

"  The  schoolmaster." 

"  Well,  then,  go  and  fetch  the  schoolmaster." 

"  He  won't  be  at  home  to-day  ;  it's  a  wliole  holiday." 

"  Go  to-morrow,  then." 
i6 


242  MY  PETS 

"  He  won't  be  there  to-morrow  either ;  it's  a  half- 
holiday." 

"  Coquelet,"  said  Charpillon,  frowning  sternly,  "  you're 
inventing  excuses  to  avoid  reporting  against  me ! " 

"  Why,  yes,  Monsieur  Charpillon.  You  see,  I  draw 
up  a  report  against  you  to-day,  and  you're  as  pleased 
as  Punch !  But  later  on  you  might  not  like  it  so  well, 
and  I  should  not  like  to  get  into  hot  water  with  the 
deputy-mayor,  you  know." 

"  Very  well,  Coquelet,"  said  Charpillon,  "  I  will  take 
the  responsibility  off  your  shoulders  " — and  taking  a 
sheet  of  official  paper  out  of  the  drawer  of  his  desk, 
Charpillon  drew  out  a  full  and  formal  proces  verbal, 
that  only  needed  Coquelet's  signature  to  be  complete. 
This  Coquelet  did  not  hesitate  to  append,  seeing  his 
responsibility  in  a  way  covered  by  the  fact  of  his 
superior  having  written  the  document. 

The  report  was  duly  sent  in,  and  a  fortnight  later 
Charpillon  had  to  appear  before  the  court  at  Auxerre. 

There  he  defended  himself — or  rather  accused 
himself.  He  admitted  the  offence,  made  himself 
responsible  for  his  fowls'  depredations,  and  rebutted 
the  extenuating  circumstances  which  the  Procureur 
de  la  Rdpublique  insisted  on. 

Accordingly,  Charpillon  was  condemned  to  the 
maximum  penalty  :  to  wit,  fifteen  francs'  fine  and  costs. 

But  a  great  and  noble  example  was  given  to  the  com- 
mune of  Saint-Bris  and  all  the  neighbouring  villages. 
And  surely  a  noble  example  is  cheap  at  fifteen  francs  ! 

All  the  same,  Charpillon's  fowls  had  some  excuse  for 
their  unseemly  conduct.  The  heavy  diet  on  which 
their  master  fed  them,  bringing  them  little  by  little 
to  the  condition  of  fatted  pullets,  was  proving  detrimental 
to  their  regular  laying.  What  the  proces  verbal  spoke  of 
as  sheer  greediness  was  really  and  truly  a  hygienic  pre- 


AN  IMPECCABLE  MAGISTRATE     243 

caution  suggested  by  Nature  herself  to  the  poor  birds,  Hke 
that  which  sets  dogs  eating  a  particular  laxative  grass. 

One  of  our  friends,  a  doctor,  and  a  good  doctor  too, 
Dr.  Drouin,  condescended  to  offer  this  explanation  to 
our  modern  Aristides — an  account  of  the  matter  that 
told  altogether  in  favour  of  the  feathered  sinners. 

The  fact  is,  the  hens  were  really  laying  with  ever- 
decreasing  frequency.  Charpillon  accordingly  gathered 
grapes  from  the  vines,  and  giving  them  to  his  fowls,  re- 
established the  equilibrium  which  had  been  temporarily 
disturbed. 

Not  only  did  the  fowls  resume  their  regular  laying 
during  the  grape  harvest,  but  more  than  that,  thanks  to 
the  lettuce  and  chicory  leaves  supplied  in  lieu  of  the  miss- 
ing grapes,  they  went  on  laying  in  those  months  when,  as 
a  rule,  the  process  slackens  off  or  even  ceases  altogether. 

Charpillon  therefore,  when  inviting  me  to  his  shoot- 
ing party,  knowing  my  predilection  for  fresh  eggs,  had 
not  feared  to  write — 

"If  only  you  will  come,  dear  Dumas,  you  shall  eat 
eggs  such  as  you  have  never  tasted  in  all  your  life." 

Accordingly,  I  had  come  to  Saint-Bris,  not  only  in 
the  hope  of  seeing  a  friend  I  love  like  a  brother,  not 
only  in  the  hope  of  killing  hares  and  partridges  galore 
on  M.  Gaignez's  and  M.  Raoul's  lands,  but  also  in  the 
expectation  of  eating  such  eggs  as  I  had  never  tasted 
in  all  my  life. 

On  the  day  of  my  arrival,  I  am  bound  to  say,  my 
fondest  hopes,  and  even  Charpillon's  own,  were  more 
than  fulfilled  :  at  breakfast  appeared  the  finest  possible 
eggs,  of  the  finest  possible  colour — eggs  whose  superior 
quality  I  had  ardently  appreciated  as  only  an  accom- 
plished gourmet  can. 

But,  alas !  the  succeeding  days  showed  a  lamentable 
falling  off. 


CHAPTER   XXXIX 

DISCUSSING  THE  ERUDITE  QUESTION:  WAS  IT 
THE  TOADS  TAUGHT  THE  DOCTORS  TO  BE 
ACCOUCHEURS,  OR  THE  DOCTORS  TAUGHT 
THE  TOADS? 

NEXT  day,  in  fact,  the  daily  supply  of  eggs  was 
reduced  from  eight  to  three,  and  even  these 
three  were  found  in  the  highest  nests  of  all.  The  same 
evening  even  there,  in  the  most  inaccessible  laying 
places,  nothing  at  all  was  to  be  found. 

Never  before  had  such  a  thing  been  known,  not 
even  at  the  period  when  the  brahmas  and  cochin- 
chinese  had  felt  the  sorest  need   of  grapes   or   green 

stuff. 

We  did  not  know  whom  to  suspect ;  but  it  is  only 
fair  to  Charpillon  to  say  this  much,  that  he  suspected 
all  and  sundry  before  he  could  believe  it  was  his 
beloved  fowls'  fault.  A  certain  vague  distrust  was 
even  beginning  to  penetrate  his  mind  in  connection 
with  his  lad  -  of  -  all  -  work,  whom  he  had  hitherto 
implicitly  trusted.  But  at  this  juncture  I  saw  Michel 
hovering  uncertainly  about  us, 

I  knew  Michel's  little  ways,  and  saw  at  once  he 
wanted  to  speak  to  me.  I  asked  him  if  this  was  the 
case,  and  he  replied — 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  sJwuld  just  like  to  say  a  word  or  two 
to  you." 


244 


AN  ERUDITE  QUESTION         245 

"In  private  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  better  certainly,  for  the  sake  of 
Pritchard's  reputation." 

"  Oh  ho !  has  the  scamp  been  at  some  of  his  tricks 
again  ?  " 

"  Does  Monsieur  remember  what  his  avocat  said  to 
him  one  day,  when  I  was  there  ?  " 

"  What  he  said  to  me,  Michel  ?  Nay,  my  avocat  is 
a  man  of  infinite  wit  and  infinite  good  sense ;  he  says 
so  many  witty  and  wise  things  whenever  we  have  a 
talk  together  that,  for  all  my  wishes  to  remember  them 
all,  I  always  end  by  forgetting  some." 

"  Well,  he  told  you  this :  '  Find  who  profits  by  the 
crime,  and  you  will  find  the  criminal.' " 

"  Yes,  I  recall  that  axiom  perfectly,  Michel.  But 
what  then  ? " 

"  Well,  sir,  who  can  profit  by  the  stolen  eggs  if  not 
that  scoundrel  of  a  Pritchard  ?  " 

"  Pritchard  !  So  you  think  it  is  Pritchard  steals  the 
eggs  ?  Come,  come  !  Pritchard,  who  will  retrieve  an 
6gg  without  breaking  the  shell !  " 

"  Monsieur  should  say,  '  Who  used  to  retrieve  .  .   .'  " 

"  How  so,  Michel  ?  " 

"  Pritchard  is  a  beast  full  of  evil  instincts,  sir ;  if  he 
doesn't  come  to  a  bad  end,  well,  I  shall  be  surprised." 

"  So,  Michel,  Pritchard  is  fond  of  eggs  ?  " 

"  As  far  as  that  goes.  Monsieur  is  partly  to  blame." 

"  What !  I  am  to  blame  because  Pritchard  is  fond 
of  eggs  ?      I  am  to  blame,  eh  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Monsieur  is  partly  to  blame." 

"  Well,  well,  Michel,  this  is  a  bit  too  strong !  It  is 
not  enough  that  I  am  told  my  writings  are  perverting 
all  my  generation,  but  you  must  join  my  detractors 
and  tell  me  my  example  is  ruining  Pritchard !  " 

"  Does    Monsieur    remember   one   day  at  the  Villa 


246  MY  PETS 

Medicis  when    he  was    eating   a    boiled   egg,  and   M. 
Rusconi,  who  was  at  table,  said  something  so  supremely 
silly  that  Monsieur  dropped  his  egg  on  the  ground  ? " 
"  Why,  had  I  no  egg-cup,  then,  Michel  ?  " 
"  No,  Monsieur ;  Alexis  had  broken  them  all." 
"  So  I  dropped  my  egg  ?  " 
"  Yes,  sir ;  dropped  it  on  the  polished  floor." 
"  Yes,  I  remember  the  incident  quite  well,  Michel." 
"  And  does  Monsieur  remember  calling  up  Pritchard, 
who  was    busy  tearing   up   a   bed    of  fuchsias  in   the 
garden,  and   making  him   lick  up  the  remains  of  the 

egg  ? " 

"  I  do  not  remember  about  his  tearing  up  a  fuchsia 
bed,  Michel,  but  I  do  recall  having  made  him  lick  up 
my  egg." 

**  Well,  sir,  that  was  his  undoing — that  and  nothing 
else." 

"  Whose  undoing  ?  " 

"  Why,  Pritchard's.  Oh,  he's  the  sort  doesn't  want 
showing  twice  how  to  go  wrong ! " 

"  Michel,  you  really  are  so  long-winded ! " 

"  It's  no  fault  of  mine ;  Monsieur  will  always  inter- 
rupt me." 

"  You  are  right,  Michel,  and  I  am  wrong.  Come 
now,  tell  me,  how  did  I  show  Pritchard  the  way  to 
go  wrong  ?  " 

"  By  making  him  eat  an  egg.  You  understand,  the 
creature  was  as  innocent  as  the  new-born  babe ;  he 
didn't  so  much  as  know  what  an  egg  was ;  he  thought 
it  was  a  badly  shaped  billiard  ball !  But  then  you 
made  him  eat  one ;  good  !  Now  he  knows  what  an 
egg  is !  .  .  .  Three  days  after  that,  M.  Alexandre 
comes  to  the  house,  and  complains  of  his  dog's  being 
heavy-jawed.  '  Ah !  Pritchard's  the  dog,'  I  tell  him, 
'  for  a  tender  mouth  !     You  shall  see  how  he  retrieves  an 


AN  ERUDITE  QUESTION         247 

egg  without  breaking  it.'  Thereupon  I  go  and  fetch 
an  egg  from  the  kitchen.  I  put  it  down  on  the  grass 
and  say  to  Fritchard,  *  Go  fetch,  Pritchard  ! '  Prit- 
chard  doesn't  need  to  be  told  twice,  but  do  you  know 
what  he  does  then,  the  cunning  beast  ?  .  .  .  A  few 
days  before  that,  M.  Chose,  you  know,  who  has  a 
nervous  tic,  a  sort  of  spasm,  you  remember,  of  the 
jaws " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  remember  he  came  to  see  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  quite  well." 

"  Pritchard  pretended  all  the  while  he  noticed 
nothing  particular ;  but  mind  you,  with  his  yellow 
eyes,  nothing  ever  escapes  him  !  Suddenly  he  pretends 
he's  got  the  same  trick  as  M.  Chose,  and  snap  !  there's 
the  egg  broken.  Pritchard,  as  if  ashamed  of  his 
awkwardness,  makes  all  haste  to  gulp  down  the  lot — 
white,  yolk,  and  shell.  I  imagine  it's  just  an  accident, 
and  go  off  for  another  egg ;  but  he  had  hardly  gone 
three  steps  with  the  egg  in  his  jaws  when  the  same 
spasm  took  him  again.  Crack !  and  the  second  egg 
was  smashed.  I  begin  to  suspect  something  !  Never- 
theless, I  go  and  fetch  a  third  ...  if  I  had  gone  on, 
sir,  I  might  have  cleared  the  kitchen  !  The  end  was 
that  M.  Alexandre,  who's  a  fine  hand  at  chaffing,  said 
to  me,  '  I  say,  Michel,  you  may  possibly  train  Prit- 
chard to  be  a  good  musician  or  a  fine  astronomer,  but 
you'll  never  make  him  anything  but  a  bad  broody 
hen  ! ' " 

"  But  how  is  it  you  never  said  a  word  about  this, 
Michel  ? " 

"  Because  I  felt  humiliated,  sir." 

"  Oh,  come,  Michel !  you  must  not  identify  your- 
self so  much  as  all  that  with  Pritchard  !  " 

"  But  that's  not  all." 


248  ]MY  PETS 

«  What !  not  all  ?  " 

"  No ;  the  scoundrel  has  grown  a  perfect  fanatic 
after  eggs." 

"  Pooh,  pooh  !  " 

"  I  tell  you  he  was  going  to  devour  all  M.  Acoyer's 
eggs,  only  M.  Acoyer  came  and  informed  me  about 
it.      Where  do  you  suppose  he  got  his  foot  cut  off?  " 

"  You  told  me  yourself — in  some  park,  where  he 
forgot  to  read  the  notice  to  trespassers." 

"  Monsieur  need  not  joke ;  I  believe,  for  my  part, 
the  scoundrel  knows  how  to  read." 

"  Oh,  Michel,  Michel !  ,  .  .  Pritchard  has  crimes 
enough  laid  to  his  charge  without  being  accused  of 
that.  .  .  .  But  to  come  back  to  Pritchard's  mutilated 
paw.  Where  do  you  think  the  accident  happened  him, 
Michel  ? " 

"  Why,  in  some  hen-house,  sir." 

"  But  it  was  in  the  night  the  thing  occurred,  Michel, 
and  at  night-time  hen-houses  are  locked  up." 

"  What  difference  does  that  make  ?  " 

"  Come,  you  are  not  going  to  have  me  believe  he 
can  get  through  a  hole  only  big  enough  for  a  fowl ! " 

"  But,  sir,  he  has  no  need  to  get  into  the  hen-houses 
to  eat  the  eggs." 

"  Why,  how  does  he  manage,  then  ?  " 

"  He  charms  the  hens.  Look  you,  sir,  Pritchard  is 
what  they  call  a  '  charmer.' " 

"  Why,  Michel,  you  surprise  me  more  and  more 
every  word  you  say  !  " 

"  Yes,  sir !  yes,  sir  !  it's  quite  true.  At  the  Villa 
Medicis  he  used  to  charm  the  hens  ...  I  thought 
M.  Charpillon's  hens,  which  I  had  heard  tell  of  as  quite 
extraordinary  and  exceptional  fowls,  would  not  be  so 
foolish  as  the  Villa  Medicis  ones ;  but  I  see  now  hens 
are  just  the  same  everywhere." 


AN  ERUDITE  QUESTION        249 

"And  you  think  Pritchard ?" 

"  Yes,  he  charms  M.  Charpillon's  hens ;  that's  why 
they  don't  lay — or  rather,  why  they  don't  lay  any 
more  except  for  Pritchard." 

"  By  the  Lord,  Michel,  I  should  very  much  like 
to  know  how  he  sets  about  charming  M.  Charpillon's 
fowls  ! " 

"  Doesn't  Monsieur  know  about  the  manners  and 
customs  of  the  batrachians  ?  " 

I  have  already  mentioned  that  Michel  was  a  con- 
stant source  of  admiration  to  me  by  reason  of  his 
acquirements  in  the  domain  of  Natural  History. 

"  Good  !  "  I  said.  "  So  now  we  are  getting  to  the 
toads !  What  the  deuce  has  Pritchard  to  do  with 
toads  ? " 

"  Monsieur  is  aware  that  it  is  the  toads  who  gave 
the  doctors  lessons  in  the  art  and  practice  of  accouche- 
ment, just  as  it  is  the  frogs  taught  men  to  swim  ?  " 

"  Neither  one  nor  the  other  of  these  facts  is  proved 
to  my  mind,  Michel." 

"  Still  we  have  the  toad  acting  as  accoucheur,  there's 
no  doubt  about  that.  Does  Monsieur  suppose  it  was 
the  doctors  taught  him  the  trick  ?  " 

"  No,  no ;   I  am  quite  sure  of  that  much." 

"  But  it  must  either  have  been  the  toads,"  retorted 
Michel,  "  that  taught  the  doctors  the  art,  or  the  doctors 
that  taught  the  toads.  Now,  seeing  there  were  toads 
before  there  were  doctors,  it  is  probable  it  was  the 
doctors  who  learnt  the  lesson  from  the  toads." 

"  Well,  after  all  is  said  and  done,  that  may  be  so, 
Michel." 

"  Oh,  it  is  so,  sir !      I  am  certain  of  it." 

"  Well,  and  what  then  ?  Tell  me  now,  what 
possible  resemblance  is  there  between  Pritchard  and 
the  accoucheur  toad  ?  " 


250  MY  PETS 

"  This  resemblance,  sir — that  just  as  the  toad  serves 
as  accoucheur  to  the  female  toad,  Pritchard  does  the 
same  to  the  hens," 

"  Bravo,  Michel !  you  do  let  your  fancy  run  away 
with  you.      What  a  fantastic  idea,  my  man  ! " 

"  No,  sir,  no ;  not  a  bit  of  it !  Get  up  early  to- 
morrow morning ;  your  window  looks  out  on  to  the 
hen-house.  Peep  out  through  your  blind,  and  you'll 
see  .  .  .  well,  you'll  see  something  you  have  never 
seen  before,  there  !  " 

"  Why,  Michel,  to  see  something  I  have  never  seen 
before — I  who  have  seen  so  many  different  things,  and 
amongst  others  sixteen  changes  of  Government — not 
only  will  I  gladly  get  up  at  any  hour  you  please,  but 
I  won't  go  to  bed  at  all,  if  necessary." 

"  There's  no  need  for  that,  sir ;  if  Monsieur  wishes,  ^ 
I'll  wake  him." 

"  Do  so,  Michel — all  the  more  as  we  are  starting 
for  the  shooting  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  so  that 
you  won't  be  robbing  me  of  much  sleep  after  all." 

"  Is  that  agreed  ?  " 

"Yes,  Michel,  that's  settled.  But  every  night,"  I 
further  objected,  ashamed  to  seem  to  assent  to  a  thing 
I  believed  to  be  a  mere  hallucination  on  Michel's  part, 
"  every  night  they  shut  the  gate  in  the  trellis  separating 
the  smaller  yard  from  the  main  yard ;  so  how  can 
Pritchard  get  in  ?      Does  he  jump  over  the  trellis  ?  " 

"  Monsieur  will  see,  Monsieur  will  see  all  in  good 
time." 

"  What  shall  I  see  ?  " 

"  The  truth  of  the  old  proverb :  '  Tell  me  how  you 
get  in,  and  I'll  tell  you  who  you  are.' "  Michel,  it  will 
be  recollected,  was  in  the  habit  of  introducing  sundry 
variations  into  the  generally  accepted  orthography  of 
certain  words,  and  the  same  holds  good  of  his  quotation 


AN  ERUDITE  QUESTION         251 

of  certain  proverbs.  He  had  just  given  me  a  fresh 
proof  of  this  peculiarity. 

Next  morning  at  daybreak  Michel  came  to  wake  me. 

"If  Monsieur  will  take  up  his  post  of  observation," 
he  said,  "  it's  time  now." 

"  Here  I  am,  Michel,  here  I  am  ! "  I  cried,  springing 
out  of  bed. 

"  Wait  a  bit,  wait  a  bit !  ...  let  me  open  the 
window  softly.  If  the  scoundrel  had  the  smallest 
inkling  he  was  being  watched,  he  wouldn't  stir  from 
his  kennel.  Monsieur  has  no  idea  how  cunning  the 
villain  is." 

Michel  opened  the  window  with  all  possible  pre- 
cautions. Looking  between  the  slats  of  the  blinds, 
one  could  see  perfectly  well  both  the  smaller  court 
where  the  hen-house  was  and  Pritchard's  kennel. 

The  scoundrel,  as  Michel  called  him,  was  lying  in 
his  kennel,  his  nose  reposing  innocently  on  his  two 
paws. 

In  spite  of  all  Michel's  care  in  opening  the  window, 
Pritchard  half  unclosed  one  yellow  eye,  and  cast  a  look 
in  the  direction  from  which  the  sound  came.  But  as 
the  noise  was  slight  and  momentary,  Pritchard  con- 
cluded there  was  no  call  to  take  any  great  notice  of  it. 

Ten  minutes  afterwards  we  heard  the  hens  clucking. 
At  the  first  cluck  Pritchard  opened  not  one  eye  but 
both,  stretched  himself  like  a  dog  waking  up,  looked 
all  round  about  him,  and  seeing  the  yard  was  entirely 
deserted,  slipped  into  a  sort  of  wood-house,  and  next 
moment  poked  his  head  out  at  a  skylight. 

The  yard  was  as  solitary  as  ever.  Then  Pritchard 
stepped  from  the  skylight  on  to  the  roof.  The  roof 
sloped  very  gently,  and  the  dog  had  no  difficulty  in 
reaching  the  part  that  overhung  the  smaller  yard  on 
one  side. 


252  MY  PETS 

To  reach  the  level  of  the  yard  only  needed  a  jump 
of  half  a  dozen  feet,  and  this  a  downward  leap.  This 
offered  no  obstacle  to  Pritchard ;  in  the  days  when  he 
had  all  four  paws,  he  could  easily  have  managed  it 
from  below  upwards. 

Once  in  the  poultry-yard,  he  lay  down  flat  on  his 
belly,  his  fore- paws  wide  apart,  his  nose  pointing 
towards  the  hen-house,  and  uttered  a  little  friendly  cry 
of  greeting. 

In  a  few  seconds'  time  the  egg  was  laid.  But  we 
had  barely  time  to  see  it ;  it  was  swallowed  before  ever 
it  touched  the  ground. 

The  bird,  once  safely  delivered,  got  up  on  its  legs, 
shook  its  crest,  and  fell  to  scratching  merrily  in  the 
dunghill,  making  way  for  another,  which  instantly 
came  forward  to  take  its  place. 

In  this  way  Pritchard  gobbled  up  four  eggs  one 
after  the  other — just  as  Saturn  devoured,  under  similar 
circumstances,  the  offspring  of  Rhea. 

True,  Pritchard  had  the  advantage  of  Saturn  on  the 
point  of  morality.  It  was  not  his  own  children  he 
was  devouring,  but  creatures  of  different  species  from 
his  own,  and  over  which  he  possibly  believed  he  had 
the  same  rights  as  mankind, 

"  Well,"  Michel  asked  me,  "  Monsieur  will  cease  to 
wonder  now  that  Pritchard  has  so  fine  and  clear  a 
note  .  .  .  for  Monsieur  is  aware  that  singers  are  in  the 
habit  of  swallowing  every  morning  two  eggs  just  that 
very  moment  laid  to  improve  their  voices  ? " 

"  Yes ;  but  what  I  do  not  know,  Michel,  is  how 
Pritchard  is  going  to  get  out  of  the  poultry-yard." 

"  You  think  he's  in  a  fix  ?  Why,  look  at  him,  I 
say " 

"  But,  Michel " 


"  There,  do  you  see  what  he's  after,  the  scoundrel  ?  " 


AN  ERUDITE  QUESTION         253 

The  fact  is,  Pritchard,  seeing  his  morning's  harvest 
was  gathered  in,  and  possibly  because  he  heard  some 
one  stirring  in  the  house,  got  up  on  his  hind  leg,  and 
passing  one  of  his  front  paws  through  the  trellis,  lifted 
the  latch,  and  so  made  his  exit. 

"  And  when  you  think,"  said  Michel,  "  that  if  we 
were  to  ask  him  why  the  door  of  the  poultry-yard  is 
open,  he  would  declare  it's  because  Pierre  forgot  to 
shut  it  yesterday  evening  !  " 

"  You  really  think  he  would  be  base  enough  to  say 
that,  Michel  ? " 

"  Perhaps  not  to-day,  perhaps  not  to-morrow, 
because,  you  see,  he's  not  yet  full  grown, — dogs,  you 
know,  continue  to  grow  till  four  years  old, — but  one 
day,  one  day,  don't  you  be  surprised  to  hear  him 
speak.  .  ,  .  Ah  !  the  scoundrel  ;  it's  not  Pritchard  we 
should  call  him,  but  brigand,  bandit !  " 


CHAPTER  XL 

IN  WHICH  PRITCHARD  HAS  THE  CALAMITY  TO 
ENCOUNTER  A  CANON  FULBERT  WITHOUT 
HAVING  MET  A  H^LOiSE 

THIS  achievement,  of  which  our  host  was  informed 
just  as  we  were  starting  for  the  day's  shooting, 
stirred  him  more  to  wonder  and  admiration  than  to 
sympathy  with  Pritchard.  It  was  agreed  that,  directly 
we  got  back,  the  dog  should  be  put  in  the  stable,  and 
the  door  bolted  and  padlocked. 

Pritchard,  without  the  least  suspicion  of  what  was 
plotting  against  him,  was  running  on  ahead  along  the 
high-road,  lashing  the  air  with  his  tail. 

The  sportsmen  had  meantime  taken  up  their 
positions. 

"  You  know,"  Charpillon  said  to  me,  "  that  neither 
men  nor  dogs  must  trespass  among  the  vines.  Gaignez 
as  Mayor  and  myself  as  Deputy  are  bound  to  give  a 
good  example.      So  keep  an  eye  on  Pritchard." 

"  Very  good,"  said  I  ;  "  we  will  look  after  him." 

But  Michel,  coming  up  to  me — 

"  If  I  might  advise  Monsieur,"  he  said,  "  while  we 
are  still  only  a  short  way  from  the  house,  you  would 
give  me  leave  to  take  Pritchard  home.  I  have  a  notion 
he'll  get  us  into  some  scrape  about  the  vines." 

"  Make  your  mind  easy,  Michel ;  I  have  thought  of  a 
way." 

2bi 


POOR  PRITCHARD  AGAIN       255 

Michel  took  off  his  straw  hat  and  made  me  a 
bow. 

"  I  knew  Monsieur  was  clever,  very  clever ;  but  I 
didn't  know  he  was  so  clever  as  all  that,"  he  said. 

"  You  will  see." 

"  In  that  case,"  insisted  Michel,  "  Monsieur  must 
make  haste ;  there's  Pritchard  in  mischief  already." 

It  was  so ;  Pritchard  had  just  dashed  in  among 
some  vines.      Next  instant  a  covey  of  partridges  rose. 

"  Hold  your  dog  in  !  "  shouted  Gaignez. 

"  Certainly,  Monsieur  le  Maire,"  I  called  back — and 
I  called  to  Pritchard  to  come  to  heel. 

But  Pritchard  knew  very  well  what  he  had  to  expect 
when  he  had  been  indulging  in  pranks  of  this  sort,  and 
he  pretended  to  be  deaf  as  a  post. 

"  Catch  him,"  I  ordered  Michel ;  and  away  he  went 
in  pursuit  of  the  dog.  Ten  minutes  after  he  returned 
holding  Pritchard  in  a  leash. 

Meanwhile  I  had  picked  out  a  vine-prop  that  was  as 
much  longer  than  the  general  run  of  vine-props  as  the 
middle  pin  is  taller  than  the  others  in  a  set  of  ninepins. 
It  was  perhaps  five  feet  long — a  short  stature  for  a 
man,  but  a  great  length  for  a  vine-prop.  This  I  tied 
on  to  the  animal's  neck  crosswise,  and  let  him  go  thus 
ornamented. 

But  Pritchard  did  not  give  me  the  satisfaction  I  had 
expected  in  the  way  of  enjoying  his  embarrassment  ; 
he  realised  at  once  that  with  such  an  arrangement  it 
was  out  of  the  question  for  him  to  go  amongst  the 
vines.  He  kept  along  the  outside  just  far  enough  away 
from  the  vines  for  his  vine-prop  not  to  knock  against 
them,  dashing  forward  all  the  more  swiftly  as  he  had 
open  ground  to  run  on. 

From  that  moment  it  was  one  oft-repeated  cry  all 
along  the  line — 


256  MY  PETS 

"  Call  in  your  dog  Pritchard  ;  call  him  in,  I  say  !  He 
has  just  put  up  a  covey  of  partridges  a  hundred  yards 
ahead  of  me  ! " 

"  Great  God  !  mind  your  confounded  dog  !  He  has 
just  started  a  hare  for  me  clean  out  of  range," 

"  I  say,  would  you  very  much  object  if  I  put  a 
charge  of  shot  into  your  damned  animal  ?  There's  no 
getting  any  shooting  with  that  brute  about." 

"  Michel,"  I  ordered,  "  catch  Pritchard  again," 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  so,  sir  ?  Fortunately,  we  are  still 
pretty  near  the  house,  so  that  I  can  easily  take  him 
home  again," 

"  No,  no ;   I  have  another  happy  thought," 

"  To  stop  his  running  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  had  one,  anyway,  to  prevent  his  going 
among  the  vines  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  must  say  you  were  successful  there  ;  but  for 
the  other — unless  Monsieur  puts  hobbles  on  him  as 
they  do  with  a  horse  at  grass " 

"  You  are  warm,  Michel,  decidedly  warm  !  .  .  .  only 
catch  Pritchard  for  me." 

"  Well  and  good  !  "  said  Michel,  "  'pon  my  word  ! 
what  we  are  doing  is  as  good  sport  as  shooting " — 
and  he  started  off,  yelling  "  Pritchard  !      Pritchard  !  " 

Before  long  I  saw  him  coming  back  dragging  the 
dog  along  by  his  vine-prop.  The  animal  was  sidling 
along,  a  partridge  in  his  jaws, 

"  There,  look  at  the  thief !  You  see  he's  beginning 
his  tricks  again,"  cried  Michel. 

"  That  must  be  the  bird  Cabasson  has  just  shot ;  I 
can  see  him  searching  for  it," 

**  Yes,  and  Pritchard  has  collared  it.  I  wanted  to 
bring  the  scoundrel  to  you  red-handed." 

"  Well,  put  Cabasson's  partridge  in  your  game-bag ; 
we  will  give  him  a  pleasant  surprise." 


POOR  rRITCHARD  AGAIN       257 

"  Ah  !  but  what  vexes  me,"  observed  Michel,  "  is  the 
opinion  the  scamp  has  of  you." 

"What,  Michel,  so  you  think  Pritchard  has  a  bad 
opinion  of  me  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  sir,  a  very  low  opinion." 
"  And  what  makes  you  think  that  ?  " 
"  His  actions." 
"  Explain,  Michel." 

"  Look  here,  sir  ;  do  you  suppose  Pritchard  does  not 
know,  in  his  soul  and  conscience,  that,  when  he  brings 
you  a  bird  killed  by  another  gun,  it's  a  theft  he's 
committing?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  I  think  he  has  some  suspicion  to  that 
effect,  Michel." 

"  Very  well,  sir,  once  he  knows  he  is  a  thief,  he 
takes  you  for  a  receiver  of  stolen  goods,  eh  ?  Now, 
sir,  remember  what  the  Code  says :  Receivers  are  on 
the  same  footing  as  thieves  and  deserve  the  same 
penalties." 

"  Michel,  you  open  up  a  whole  horizon  of  new 
terrors  !  But  there,  we  are  going  to  try  to  cure  him 
of  running,  and  when  that  is  accomplished  he  will  be 
cured  of  thieving." 

"  Never,  sir  ;  you  will  never  cure  that  scoundrel  of 
his  vices." 

"  But  in  that  case,  Michel,  we  shall  have  to  kill  him." 
"  Oh,  I  don't  say  that,  sir !  for  indeed  at  bottom  I 
am  fond  of  the  beggar  !  But  we  might  ask  M.  Isidore 
Geoffroy  Saint-Hilaire,  who  spends  his  life  among  the 
most  noxious  animals,  if  he  cannot  think  of  some 
remedy." 

"  Look  here,  Michel,  I  think  /  have  got  hold  of  one." 

As   I   spoke,   I   passed   Pritchard's    right    front    paw 

through  his  collar;     in    this  way,  the  right    front  leg 

being  closely  attached    to    the  dog's  neck,  while    the 

17 


258  MY  PETS 

left  hind  leg  was,  as  we  know,  cut  off  at  the  joint, 
Pritchard  had  only  two  legs  left — the  left  fore  leg 
and  the  right  hind  leg. 

"  Well !  "  exclaimed  Michel,  "  if  he  can  get  along 
now,  he  must  have  the  devil  inside  him,  that's  all !  " 

"  Let  him  go,  Michel." 

Michel  released  the  dog  accordingly.  The  animal 
stood  still  a  moment  in  uncertainty  and  surprise,  as  if 
trying  to  get  his  balance. 

This  secured,  he  began  to  walk  away,  then  to  trot ; 
very  soon,  getting  more  and  more  confident  of  his 
equilibrium,  he  started  off  at  a  gallop,  running  faster, 
not  a  doubt  of  it,  on  his  two  legs  than  another  dog 
would  have  done  with  four. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  that,  sir  ?  "  asked  Michel. 

"  It  is  his  confounded  vine-prop  that  serves  him  as 
a  balancing-pole,"  I  replied,  in  a  tone  of  considerable 
disappointment. 

"  There's  a  fortune  to  be  made  out  of  that  scamp," 
said  Michel ;  "  it's  only  a  matter  of  teaching  him  to 
dance  on  the  tight-rope,  and  taking  him  about  from 
fair  to  fair." 

"If  you  really  think  so,  Michel,  you  shall  put  up  a 
rope  across  the  lawn  and  train  him  as  an  acrobat.  The 
worthy  Madame  Saqui  is  a  friend  of  mine,  and  I  will 
ask  her  to  let  us  enter  Pritchard  as  her  pupil.  She 
will  not  refuse  me  a  little  favour  like  that." 

"  Oh  yes,  joke  away,  sir.  But,  hark  !  do  you  hear 
that  ? " 

The  most  awful  imprecations  sounded  from  all 
quarters  against  Pritchard — and  these  curses,  loud  and 
deep,  were  presently  followed  by  the  noise  of  a  shot, 
and  then  by  an  agonised  yelp. 

"  That's  Pritchard's  voice,  I  know,"  said  Michel. 
"  Good  !   it's  only  what  the  brute  deserved." 


POOR  PRITCHARD  AGAIN       259 

Next  moment  Pritchard  reappeared,  carrying  a 
hare  in  his  mouth. 

"  Why,  you  said  you  recognised  Pritchard's  voice, 
Michel  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  would  take  my  oath  I  did." 

"  But  how  could  he  give  tongue,  holding  a  hare  in 
his  mouth,  eh  ?  " 

Michel  scratched  his  ear. 

"  All  the  same  it  zaas  Pritchard  gave  voice,"  he 
declared.  "  And  more  by  token — look  !  he  has  hardly 
strength  left  to  bring  in  the  hare." 

"  Go  and  see  what's  wrong,  Michel," — and  the  man 
ran  off  to  do  as  he  was  told. 

"  Oh,  sir !  "  he  cried,  "  I  knew  I  was  right.  The 
sportsman  whose  hare  he  appropriated  has  sent  a 
charge  of  shot  after  the  poor  beast.  His  hind  quarters 
are  streaming  with  blood  !  " 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  him  !  this  will  cure  him 
perhaps.  But,  all  the  same,  I  should  like  to  know  how 
he  contrived  to  give  tongue  while  he  held  the  hare  in 
his  mouth." 

"  Better  ask  M.  Charpillon.  Look  !  there  he  comes, 
running  after  his  hare." 

"  You  know  I  have  just  let  him  have  it  hot  behind, 
your  precious  Pritchard  ? "  Charpillon  shouted  out  to 
me  the  moment  he  saw  me. 

"  Never  mind  ;   I  say  you  have  done  quite  right." 

"  He  was  marching  off  with  my  hare !  " 

"  I  tell  you,"  put  in  Michel,  "  there's  no  way  of 
curinrf  the  thief.      He's  worse  than  Cartouche  !  " 

"  But  if  he  was  marching  off  with  your  hare,  as  you 
say,  he  had  it  in  his  mouth,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Why  !  where  would  you  have  him  hold  it  ?  " 

"  But  how,  if  he  held  your  hare  in  his  mouth,  could 
he  give  tongue  ?     Tell  me  that !  " 


260  MY  PETS 

"  He  put  it  down  on  the  ground  to  give  voice,  and 
then  picked  it  up  again." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Michel,  "  isn't  he  a  cunning  brute, 
now,  isn't  he  ?  " 

By  this  time  Pritchard  had  come  up  to  me  with  his 
hare ;  but  once  there,  he  had  collapsed  on  the  ground. 

"  Deuce  take  it ! "  said  Charpillon,  "  can  I  have 
hurt  him  more  seriously  than  I  intended  ?  I  fired  at 
more  than  a  hundred  yards," 

Then,  without  giving  another  thought  to  his  hare, 
Charpillon  began  to  examine  what  injury  he  might 
have  brought  about  in  Pritchard's  rearward  arrange- 
ments. 

The  damage  turned  out  to  be  serious.  The  dog 
had  received  five  or  six  pellets  of  shot  in  the  posterior 
portion  of  his  person. 

"  Oh,  poor  beast,  poor  beast !  "  exclaimed  Charpillon, 
"  I  would  not,  for  all  the  hares  on  earth,  have  fired 
that  shot  if  I  had  known " 

"  Pooh  !  "  said  Michel,  "  something  worse  happened 
to  Abelard — and  he  didn't  die  of  it." 

The  end  was  that,  three  weeks  later,  which  he 
spent  under  the  care  of  the  Veterinary  at  Saint- 
Germain,  Pritchard  returned  to  Monte  Cristo,  perfectly 
cured  and  his  tail  waving  in  the  wind  as  of  old. 

"  Well  ?  "   I  asked  Michel. 

"  Well,  sir,"  he  replied  oracularly,  "  all  I  can  say  is  : 
half  a  loaf  is  better  than  none  at  all !  " 

"  So  far,  so  good  !  " — and  I  made  all  haste  to  send 
the  good  news  to  Charpillon. 


1     •».*'•    •  »      ■' 


I'KITCHAKU    HAD    COLLAl'SEU   ON    THE   GROUND 


CHAPTER   XLI 

A  SCENE  IN  THE  CHAMBER 

ABOUT  the  same  time  at  which  the  calamitous 
accident  I  have  just  related  befell  Pritchard, 
a  dreadful  storm  broke  out  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies. 

"  Against  whom  ?  "  you  ask. 

Against  me — and  nobody  else. 

The  National  Representatives,  who  had  certainly 
never  been  intended  for  any  such  purpose,  were  so 
extremely  kind  as  to  busy  their  heads  with  poor  me. 

"  About  what  ?  "  will  be  your  second  question. 

About  that  famous  journey  to  Spain  and  Africa, 
the  cost  of  which  we  shared  together,  the  Government 
and  myself,  the  former  contributing  ten  thousand 
francs  and  I  forty  thousand. 

Every  day  of  the  year  men  were  sent  on  official 
missions,  and  every  day  war-vessels  lent  for  their 
conveyance  ;  but  these  were  unknown,  obscure  indi- 
viduals.     So  there  was  nothing  to  be  said. 

But  for  me — that  was  a  very  different  matter ! 
The  fact  is,  at  that  date  these  parliamentary  gentlemen 
were  furiously  angry  with  us, — and  not  without  good 
reason,  you  must  allow. 

Eugene    Sue    was    issuing   the    Mysteres   de    Paris, 

Souli^  the  Mimoires  du  Diable,  Balzac  his  Cousin  Pons, 

I  was  bringing  out  Monte-Cristo ;  the  result  was  that 

the  public  paid  scant  attention  to  prominent  politicians, 

2(a 


262  MY  PETS 

hardly  any  at  all  to  the  discussions  in  the  Chamber, 
reserving  all  their  interest  for  the  current  feuilletons. 

The  further  result  was  that  the  worthies  of  the 
Chamber  were  bitterly  jealous  of  ihe,  feuilletonists^  and 
cried  out  in  scandalised  protest  against  the  supposed 
immorality  of  these  productions  as  loudly  as  they 
were  accustomed  to  shout  against  breaches  of  order 
in  the  House — and  Heaven  knows  that  is  loud  enough ! 

So  great  was  the  danger  to  morals,  according  to 
them,  that  they  ended  by  clapping  a  tax  on  the 
feuilletons  which  they  had  refused  to  put  on  dogs. 
This,  by  the  bye,  was  a  fortunate  thing  for  me,  seeing 
I  had  at  that  particular  time  only  three  or  four 
feuilletons  running  at  once  on  any  one  day,  whereas, 
thanks  to  Pritchard's  generous  invitations,  I  had  some- 
times as  many  as  thirteen  or  fourteen  dogs  to 
dinner. 

Once  the  feuilletons  were  duly  stamped,  they  had 
no  more  objections  to  raise ;  the  tax  had  made  them 
perfectly  moral  in  a  moment. 

But  still  our  excellent  Representatives  were  furious 
at  heart.  The  feuilleton  still  continued  its  triumphant 
course.  It  now  carried  a  black  or  red  ear-mark  ;  it 
cost  the  newspaper  in  which  it  appeared  two  or  three 
hundred  francs  more, — in  other  words,  it  brought  in  to 
the  Government  twice  as  much  as  it  gave  the  author, 
which  is  a  highly  moral  arrangement ;  but  neither 
readers  nor  journals  could  dispense  \v\\h  feuilletons. 

There  were  even  certain  papers  whose  readers  took 
them  in  solely  for  the  sake  of  the  feuilletons,  the 
result  of  which  was  that  the  said  journals  were  even 
more  furiously  angry  than  the  gentlemen  of  the 
Chamber. 

This  was  the  reason  why,  whenever  I  produced  a 
drama  or  a  comedy,   I   was  even    more  savagely  cut 


A  SCENE  IN  THE  CHAMBER     263 

up  in  those  journals  which  I  supplied  with,  feuilleions 
than  in  those  in  which  my  stones  did  not  appear.  I 
may  mention  the  Steele^  to  which  I  contributed 
successively:  the  Corricolo,  the  Chevalier  d'Harmentaly 
the  Trois  Mousqiietaires,  Vingt  Ans  Apres,  and  the 
Vico))ite  dc  Bragelonne. 

Yet  all  the  while  the  Sikle  had  found  in  the 
insertion  of  the  books  1  have  named  no  small  com- 
pensation to  make  up  for  the  obnoxious  tax ;  for  the 
two  or  three  years  my  stories  had  run  in  this  paper, 
it  had  been  enabled  to  maintain  the  smaller  size  of 
sheet  without  loss  of  clientele. 

I  had  a  fine  reward  for  all  my  trouble  when 
Bragelonne  was  finished.  The  authorities  of  the  Steele 
put  a  blank  agreement  before  my  fellow-author  Scribe. 
They  thought  they  had  done  with  me,  that  I  was 
written  out,  and   so  they  applied  to  some  one  else. 

I  had  been  so  ambitious  as  to  ask  for  rayfeuilletons, 
and  the  five  years'  copyright  that  was  to  follow,  five 
thousand  francs  a  volume,  and  they  had  thought  this 
a  very  high  price. 

Scribe  for  his  part  modestly  demanded  seven 
thousand,  and  they  held  this  was  not  enough  seem- 
ingly ;  for  they  made  him  a  present,  to  clench  the 
bargain,  of  a  silver-gilt  inkstand  and  gold  pen. 

From  this  silver-gilt  inkstand  and  this  gold  pen 
came  Piquillo  Alliaga ! 

I  consoled  myself  by  proceeding  to  contribute  Queen 
Margot,  the  Dame  de  Monsoreau,  and  the  Chevalier  de 
Maison-Roiige  to  La  Presse,  Le  Constitiitionnel,  and  La 
Democratie  Pacifiqiie  respectively. 

A  strange  fate  that  of  the  Chevalier  de  Maison-Rouge, 
which,  originally  contributed  to  a  Republican  paper,  was 
to  be  so  helpful  to  the  Republic  that,  under  the  Republic, 
the   Director  of  the  Beaux  Arts  forbade  its  publication. 


264  MY  PETS 

for  fear  it  might,  after  assisting  to  create  the  Republican 
Government,  further  help  to  keep  it  in  existence ! 

However,  to  come  back  to  the  virtuous  rage  of  the 
Chamber  of  Deputies.  One  morning  the  storm  broke, 
and  the  lightning  descended,  not  on  a  lightning-rod  or 
an  oak  of  the  forest,  but  on  me,  a  poor,  feeble  reed. 

One  fine  day  a  vexatious  attack  was  made  on  M.  de 
Salvandy  as  to  the  ten  thousand  francs  which  he  had 
added  to  my  forty  thousand,  and  a  similar  storm 
raised  against  the  King  about  the  twelve  thousand 
francs'  worth  of  coal  he  had  burnt  for  me,  and  an 
accusation  levelled  against  him  of  undue  partiality  for 
men  of  letters. 

Poor  Louis  Philippe !  he  had  been  very  often 
accused,  and  very  unjustly,  but  never  more  unjustly 
than  on  this  count  ! 

Nor  was  this  all.  A  Deputy,  a  very  serious  man — 
so  serious,  indeed,  he  could  actually  look  at  himself 
in  the  glass  without  laughing — declared  solemnly  that 
the  French  flag  had  been  degraded  by  giving  us  the 
protection  of  its  shadow. 

Two  other  Deputies  chimed  in ;  and  the  whole 
opposition  applauded. 

The  same  evening  the  three  orators  received  each  of 
them  a  communication — 

M.  *,  a  letter  signed  by  me ; 

M.  *   *,  a  letter  signed  by  Maquet  ; 

M.  *   *   *,   a  letter  signed  by  Desbarrolles. 

Not  trusting  the  post,  and  determined  these  letters 
should  be  duly  delivered,  we  sent  each  of  them  by  the 
hands  of  two  friends,  with  injunctions  to  hand  them 
severally  to  the  several  recipients.  My  two  friends 
were  Frederic  Soulic  and  Guyet-Desfontaines. 

I  had  chosen  M.  Guyet-Desfontaines  for  two  reasons  : 
because  he  was  my  country  neighbour  at  Marly,  and 


A  SCENE  IN  THE  CHAMBER     265 

also  because  his  seat  was  next  to  M.  *'s  at  the 
Palais  Bourbon.  Thus  I  could  be  certain  of  M.  * 
receiving  my  letter. 

This  epistle  was  in  the  simplest  words  ;  there  was  no 
possibility  of  misunderstanding  it.      It  ran  as  follows  : — 

"  Sir, — Parliament  has  its  privileges,  the  Tribune  its 
rights  ;  but  to  every  privilege  and  every  right  there  are 
limits. 

"  These  limits  you  have  overstepped  with  regard  to  me. 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  demand  satisfaction. 

"Alex.  Dumas" 

If  I  have  made  any  minor  error,  M.  *  can  set  me 
right,  as  he  is  still  living. 

The  other  two  letters  were  conceived  in  almost 
identical  terms.  The  style  of  all  these  was  laconic, 
but  perfectly  plain. 

The  three  replies  were  equally  plain,  and  even  more 
laconic — 

"  We  make  our  appeal  to  the  inviolability  of  the 
Tribune." 

There  was  no  more  to  be  said. 

True,  each  of  us  had  eight  or  ten  friends  on  the 
Press,  each  armed  with  a  pen,  the  point  of  which  we 
could  feel  from  time  to  time  like  the  sting  of  a  wasp. 
But  not  one  of  them  stirred  a  finger. 

But  I   had  a  friend  of  the  opposite  sex. 

A  piece  of  advice,  dear  readers ;  directly  you  put 
pen  to  paper  to  write  anything  more  than  your 
domestic  accounts,  have  friends  of  the  gentler  sex, 
never  of  the  sterner. 

Yes,  I  had  a  friend, — a  good  friend  indeed.  Her 
name  was  Madame  Emile  de  Girardin. 

It  is  not  so  long  the  adorable  being  has  been  in  the 


266  MY  PETS 

grave ;  you  cannot  have  forgotten  her  yet.  Oh  no ! 
all  must  remember  that  charming  personality,  that 
mind  of  almost  masculine  vigour,  that  intellect  that 
covered  the  triple  octave  of  grace  and  wit  and  power. 

Well,  woman  as  she  was,  she  did  what  no  man  had 
dared,  or  rather,  had  chosen,  to  do. 

Throughout  all  the  parliamentary  discussion,  where- 
of I  had  been,  if  not  the  hero,  at  any  rate  the  object, 
not  once  had  my  name  been  mentioned.  I  had  been 
referred  to,  not  even  as  M.  *,  M.  *  *,  or  M.  *  *  *, 
as  I  have  named  the  three  Deputies  who  had  more 
specially  devoted  their  attention  to  me  at  that 
memorable  sitting, — but  monsieur  shortly  and  simply, 
or  sometimes,  by  way  of  variety,  le  monsieur  or  ce 
monsieur. 

The  moment  the  inviolability  of  the  Tribune  was 
called  in  force,  they  might  call  me  what  they  pleased. 

Well,  Madame  de  Girardin  took  by  the  collar  the 
most  aggressive  of  my  three  assailants,  and  with  her 
pretty  hand,  plump  and  white  and  rosy-nailed,  she 
shook  him, — how  she  shook  him.  .  .  .  But  there, 
why  should  I  not  give  you  the  gratification  of  showing 
you  how  she  did  shake  the  poor  wretch  ? 

It  is  a  woman's  writing  ;  but  Madame  de  Girardin  and 
Madame  Sand  have  accustomed  us  to  these  miracles — 

"...  But  at  the  same  time  we  must  be  just, 
and  we  are  bound  to  recognise  that,  for  all  his 
mistakes,  M.  Dumas  has  more  than  one  good  and 
adequate  excuse.  He  has,  to  begin  with,  the  fiery 
ardour  of  his  imagination,  the  fever  of  his  ancestral 
African  blood ;  and,  furthermore,  he  has  an  excuse 
everybody  cannot  plead  —  the  intoxication  of  glory. 
Yes,  we  should  greatly  like  to  see  you,  you  sober, 
reasonable  people,  involved  in  the  whirlpool  that  carries 
him    along ;     we  should    like    to   see  what   sort    of   a 


A  SCENE  IN  THE  CHAMBER     267 

figure  you  would  cut  if  they  came  to  you  suddenly  to 
offer  you  three  francs  a  line  for  your  tiresome  scrawls. 
Oh !  how  uplifted  you  would  be !  what  magnificent 
airs  you  would  assume !  how  your  heads  would  be 
turned  !  how  frantic  would  be  your  delight !  So  be 
more  indulgent  for  errors  of  taste,  for  outpourings  of 
proud  conceit  such  as  you  know  nothing  of  and  are 
incapable  of  understanding ! 

"  But  if  we  can  find  excuses  for  Alexandre  Dumas' 
hotheadedness,  we  can  find  none  for  the  wanton  attack 
made  on  him  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies  by  M. 
*  *  *.  In  this  case  neither  the  ardour  of  imagina- 
tion, nor  the  fever  of  African  blood,  nor  the 
intoxication  of  glory,  can  explain  this  strange 
forgetfulness  of  what  is  seemly  and  becoming  in 
a  man  so  well  born,  so  well  brought  up,  who  belongs 
to  the  most  distinguished  section  of  Parisian  society. 

"  Contractor  for  feuilletons  !  Yes,  the  vulgar  herd 
may  call  him  that,  it  is  very  possible ;  but  then  the 
vulgar  herd  thinks  that  necessarily  the  man  who 
writes  much  writes  ill ;  the  vulgar  herd,  to  which 
everything  is  difficult,  has  a  horror  of  all  talent  that 
finds  difficulties  easy.  It  holds  that,  if  an  author's 
works  are  numerous,  they  must  be  trumpery ;  having 
no  time  to  read  all  the  new  romances  Alexandre 
Dumas  finds  time  to  publish,  it  supposes  those  it  has 
read  are  the  only  meritorious  and  delightful  ones, 
while  all  the  rest  are  detestable,  and  explains  his 
marvellous  fecundity  of  output  by  an  assumed 
mediocrity  of  talent.  That  the  common  herd  should 
fail  to  comprehend  the  wondrous  possibilities  of  genius 
is  simple  enough,  is  only  what  might  be  expected ; 
but  that  a  young  Deputy,  one  who  is  reputed  a  man 
of  wit  and  intelligence,  should  thoughtlessly  take  the 
side  of  the  vulgar  crowd  and   go  out  of  his  way  to 


268  MY  PETS 

make  an  uncalled-for  and  useless  attack  on  a  man 
of  incontestable  ability,  of  European  celebrity,  without 
ever  having  weighed  his  merits,  or  examined  the 
nature  of  his  talents,  or  reflected  whether  he  really 
and  truly  deserved  the  cruel  description  it  pleased 
him,  in  his  irony,  to  bestow  on  him,  this  is  an  instance 
of  reckless  injustice  that  amazes — or  should  we  rather 
say,  shocks  and  disgusts  us. 

"  Since  when  has  it  been  usual  to  reproach  talent 
with  the  facility  of  its  exercise  as  with  a  crime,  if  this 
facility  in  no  way  militates  against  the  perfection  of 
the  result  ?  What  cultivator  of  the  soil  ever  alleged 
its  fertility  as  a  fault  against  the  rich  land  of  Egypt  ? 
Who  ever  blamed  its  harvests  for  their  precocious 
maturity,  and  refused  to  reap  its  superb  crops  under 
pretext  that  they  had  budded,  germinated,  grown, 
and  ripened  in  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time  ? 
Just  as  there  are  favoured  soils,  so  there  are  specially 
privileged  individuals.  A  man  is  not  blameworthy 
because  he  is  unduly  endowed  by  nature ;  the  crime 
is  not  in  possessing  these  precious  gifts,  but  in  abusing 
them.  Moreover,  for  true  artists  who  consider  Alex- 
andre Dumas  and  who  have  studied  his  astonishing 
talent  with  the  interest  every  skilled  physiologist  is 
bound  to  take  in  every  exceptional  phenomenon,  this 
amazing  facility  of  production  ceases  to  be  an  in- 
explicable  mystery. 

"  This  rapidity  of  composition  is  like  the  speed  of 
locomotion  attained  on  railways.  Both  have  the 
same  principles,  the  same  causes, — an  extreme  facility 
won  by  vanquishing  immense  difficulties.  You  travel 
sixty  leagues  in  three  hours ;  it  seems  nothing,  and 
you  laugh  at  having  performed  so  swift  a  journey. 
But  think,  to  what  do  you  owe  this  rapidity  of  travel, 
this    facility    of   transport  ?     To   years    of   formidable 


A  SCENE  IN  THE  CHAMBER     269 

efforts,  to  millions  spent  like  water,  expended  in 
profusion  all  along  the  levelled  track,  to  thousands 
of  arms  employed  during  thousands  of  days  in  clearing 
a  way  for  your  passage.  You  fly  past  so  swiftly  as 
to  be  almost  invisible ;  but  to  enable  you  to  go  so 
fast  one  day,  how  many  men  have  worked  and  watched, 
plied  pickaxe  and  spade !  how  many  plans  have  been 
made  and  abandoned  !  how  much  arduous  thought,  how 
much  wearing  anxiety,  expended  on  making  the  way 
easy  which  you  traverse  in  a  few  short  minutes  with- 
out the  smallest  pains  or  trouble !  .  .  .  Well,  so  it  is 
with  the  talent  of  Alexandre  Dumas.  Each  volume  he 
writes  represents  immense  preliminary  labours,  endless 
studies,  a  world-wide  knowledge.  Dumas  did  not 
possess  this  facility  twenty  years  ago,  because  he  did 
not  then  know  what  he  knows  now.  But  since  then 
he  has  learnt  everything,  forgotten  nothing ;  his 
memory  is  appalling,  his  outlook  infallible ;  he 
possesses,  to  guess  right,  instinct,  experience,  recol- 
lection ;  he  sees  true,  compares  swiftly,  understands 
intuitively.  He  knows  by  heart  all  he  has  read,  he 
has  kept  in  his  brain  all  the  pictures  his  retina  has 
reflected.  The  most  grave  matters  of  history,  the 
most  insignificant  of  the  oldest  memoirs,  he  remembers 
them  all ;  he  speaks  familiarly  of  the  manners  and 
customs  of  all  ages  and  all  countries ;  he  knows  the 
names  of  all  weapons,  all  dresses,  all  forms  of  furniture 
in  use  since  the  creation  of  the  world,  of  all  the  dishes 
ever  eaten,  from  the  rude  Spartan  broth  to  the  last 
dainties  concocted  by  Careme.  If  he  has  to  describe 
a  hunt,  he  is  acquainted  with  every  word  in  the 
Dictionnaire  des  Chasseurs  better  than  a  Grand  Hunts- 
man ;  if  a  duel,  he  is  better  instructed  than  Grisier ; 
if  a  carriage  accident,  he  will  tell  you  all  the  technical 
terms  as  well  as  Binder  or  Baptiste. 


270  MY  PETS 

"  When  other  authors  write,  they  are  stopped  every 
other  instant  by  a  question  to  be  resolved,  a  piece  of 
information  to  be  looked  up,  a  doubt  to  be  settled, 
something  forgotten,  some  obstacle  or  other.  But  he 
is  delayed  by  nothing ;  besides  which,  the  habit  of 
writing  for  the  stage  gives  him  the  greatest  agility 
of  composition.  He  draws  a  scene  as  quickly  as 
Scribe  scribbles  off  a  piece  for  the  theatre.  Add  to 
all  this  a  brilliant  wit,  a  gaiety  and  verve  that  are 
inexhaustible,  and  you  will  perfectly  understand  how, 
with  such  resources,  a  man  can  attain  in  his  work  an 
almost  incredible  rapidity,  without  ever  sacrificing  the 
appropriateness  of  his  diction,  without  even  spoiling 
the  quality  and  sterling  merits  of  his  production. 

"  And  it  is  a  man  of  this  kind  they  call  un  monsieur ! 
Why !  that  implies  some  one  unknown,  a  man  who  has 
never  written  a  good  book,  who  has  never  performed 
a  good  action  or  said  a  noble  word,  a  man  France 
knows  nothing  of,  whose  name  Europe  has  never  heard. 
No  doubt,  M.  Dumas  is  much  less  a  marquis  than 
]y[^  #  #  #  .  |3u|-  M.  "^  *  *  is  much  more  tm  monsieur 
than  Alexandre  Dumas  !  " 

There,  did  I  not  tell  you,  dear  readers,  that  in 
literature  it  was  far  better  to  have  friends  of  the 
gentler  than  of  the  sterner  sex  ! 


CHAPTER  XLIl 

DEALS  WITH  THE  REVOLUTION  OF  FEBRUARY, 
AND  THE  INFLUENCE  EXERTED  BY  THAT 
EVENT  ON  ANIMALS  AND  MEN 


AFTER  the  political  digression  we  have  indulged 
in  a  propos  of  my  African  journey,  let  us  come 
back  now  to  my  animals,  which  meantime,  thank  God  ! 
were  thinking  of  anything  rather  than  the  Chambers 
of  Parliament,  of  which,  honest  beasts  !  they  had  never 
so  much  as  heard. 

Fortunately  neither  did  the  Chambers  ever  think 
of  my  pets ;  else,  after  doing  me  the  honour  of 
interfering  in  my  affairs,  they  would  certainly  have 
done  the  same  with  them. 

Heaven  preserve  me  from  speaking  ill  of  a  fallen 
leader  or  a  form  of  government  that  exists  no  more ; 
but  it  was  a  strange  machine,  that  contrivance  with  three 
driving-wheels,  whereof  one  was  called  Mole,  the  other 
Guizot,  and  the  third  Thiers, — an  engine  that  could  only 
work  by  the  help  of  one  of  these  wheels,  which,  directly 
it  was  started,  found  itself  blocked  by  the  two  others. 

The  reader  will  remember  the  famous  tavern  score 
which  the  Prince  of  Wales  finds  in  the  pocket  of  the 
tipsy  Falstaff- — 

"A  turkey       ....     Three  shillings. 


A  goose 
Ham 
Beer 
Bread 


Two  shillings. 
One  shilling. 
Six  shillings. 
One  penny." 


271 


272  MY  PETS 

Well,  for  eighteen  years  our  constitutional  politics 
are  not  unlike  Falstaff's  score,  thus — 

Mole  and  his  concerns  .  Six  years. 

Guizot  and  his  concerns  .  Six  years. 

Thiers  and  his  concerns  .  Five  years,  nine  months,  and  three  weeks. 

France  and  her  concerns  .  One  week. 

From  which  we  must  deduct  the  three  days  of  Feb- 
ruary, during  which  France  looked  after  her  concerns 
herself. 

One  day  I  will  tell  the  story  of  the  Revolution 
of  February,  as  I  have  told  that  of  the  Revolution 
of  July ;  for,  from  the  very  fact  of  my  having  taken 
a  less  active  part  in  the  former,  I  perhaps  enjoyed 
a  better  view  of  what  was  going  on. 

But  for  the  time  being,  as  1  said,  I  have  to  do  with 
innocent  creatures  that  have  neither  fall  of  Ministry 
nor  overthrow  of  Throne  to  reproach  themselves  with ; 
I  have  to  speak  of  poor  Pritchard,  who  had  only  three 
legs  left,  and  who  had  just  lost  an  eye  in  this  Revolu- 
tion of  February. 

How  came  Pritchard,  of  whom  there  has  never  been 
any  question  whatever  in  the  two  volumes  of  Lamartine 
or  in  the  Revue  Retrospective  of  M.  Taschereau,  to  have 
lost  an  eye  in  the  Revolution  of  February  ?  Was  it 
on  the  Boulevard  des  Capucines  ?  or  was  it  at  the 
attack  on  the  Pont  Tournant  ? 

Pritchard  lost  an  eye  because,  curiosity  having 
drawn  me  to  Paris  to  see  what  was  going  on  there, 
and  having  called  Michel  for  the  same  reason  to 
Saint-Germain,  no  one  had  remembered  to  give  him 
his  daily  feed  and  regular  supply  of  bones.  The 
consequence  was  that  he  had  made  a  raid  on  the 
vulture's  pittance,  and  the  bird  which,  like  Prometheus' 
vulture,  had  no  tolerance  for  any  trifling  with  his  heart, 


THE  REVOLUTION  OF  FEBRUARY  273 

liver  and  lights,  had  given  Pritchard  a  well-directed 
blow  with  his  beak  that  had  neatly  knocked  out 
an  eye. 

The  dog  was  henceforth — unless  one  was  ready 
to  bear  endless  chaff  from  fellow-sportsmen — out 
of  the  question  for  shooting  purposes. 

Fortunately  for  Pritchard  I  did  not  share  the 
opinion  of  Cato  Major, — for  whose  views  or  morals 
I  must  confess  I  feel  only  a  moderate  degree  of 
admiration, — who  says :  "  Sell  your  horse  when  he  is 
old,  and  your  slave  when  he  is  infirm  ;  the  longer  you 
delay,  the  more  you  will  lose  on  each  of  the  pair." 

Nor  could  I  have  found  a  purchaser  if  1  Jiad  wished 
to  sell  the  animal,  nor  any  one  obliging  enough  to  take 
him,  if  I  had  wanted  to  give  him  away.  Thus  there 
was  only  one  thing  left  me  to  do, — viz.  to  con- 
stitute this  old  servant,  bad  servant  though  I  con- 
sidered him  to  have  been,  an  inmate  of  the  house, 
a  retired  veteran,  in  a  word   a  friend. 

Doubtless  some  will  tell  me,  as  I  was  within  a  few 
yards  of  the  river,  it  would  have  been  the  simplest 
plan  just  to  tie  a  stone  round  his  neck  and  chuck 
him  in. 

This  is  what  Cato  would  most  likely  have  done. 
But  there,  I  am  not  an  ancient  Roman ;  and  the 
Plutarch  who  will  write  my  biography  in  days  to  come, 
will  not  fail  to  say,  in  modern  phraseology,  that  I  was 
indeed  a  bottomless  basket,  of  course  forgetting  to  add 
the  qualification  that  it  was  not  always  myself  who  had 
knocked  the  bottom  out. 

Further,  you  will  tell  me  there  was  nothing  easier 
than  to  replace  Pritchard,  that  I  had  merely  to  descend 
the  slope  of  the  hill,  cross  the  bridge  of  Le  Pecq,  make 
for  the  Forest  of  Le  Vesinet,  march  into  Vatrin's  house 
and  buy  of  him  a  good,  honest,  French  pointer,  such  as 
i8 


274  MY  PETS 

we  are  in  the  habit  of  using  in  our  own  country,  instead 
of  an  EngHsh  dog. 

But  I  have  my  answer — as  I  always  have — that 
albeit  not  so  poor  as  to  drown  poor  Pritchard,  I  was 
not  rich  enough  to  afford  to  buy  another  dog. 

Needless  to  say  that,  at  the  noise  made  by  journals 
bearing  such  names  as  the  Pere  Duchesne,  the  Guillotine, 
the  Republique  Rouge,  literature  of  a  purely  historical 
and  picturesque  scope  had  fallen  to  the  lowest  possible 
figure. 

So,  instead  of  pursuing  literature,  I  had  founded  a 
paper  called  Le  Mais,  and  collaborated  in  the  production 
of  another  entitled  La  Libejie. 

All  this  brought  in  thirty-one  francs  a  day.  But 
then  the  Theatre-Historique  was  still  on  my  hands, 
and  this  absorbed  anything  from  a  hundred  to  five 
hundred  of  the  same  coins. 

True,  I  had  one  chance  left ;  waging  as  I  did,  in 
my  two  journals,  a  war  to  the  knife  with  MM.  Barbes, 
Blanqui,  and  Ledru-Rollin,  I  had  a  fair  chance  of  being 
knocked  on  the  head,  one  day  or  another,  by  the 
partisans  of  those  gentlemen. 

It  was  plainly  a  question  of  instituting  a  great 
reform  in  my  household  expenses.  I  sold  my  three 
horses  and  my  two  carriages  for  a  quarter  of  what  I 
had  given  for  them.  I  made  a  present  to  the  Jardin 
des  Plantes  of  the  "  Last  of  the  Laidmanoirs,"  of  Potich, 
and  Mademoiselle  Desgarcins.  I  was  likely  to  be 
turned  out  of  house  and  home,  but  anyway  my 
monkeys  were  to  be  transferred  to  a  palace.  After 
revolutions,  it  happens  sometimes  that  apes  are  lodged 
like  princes,  and  princes  like  apes.  Unless,  indeed,  the 
princes  have  terrified  Europe, — in  which  case  they  are 
honoured  by  being  caged  like  lions. 

So   from    henceforth,  dear    readers,   you    must    bid 


THE  REV  OLUTION  OF  FEBRUARY  275 

good-bye  to  the  bursts  of  passion  of  the  "  Last  of  the 
Laidmanoirs,"  the  fits  of  melancholy  of  Potich,  and  the 
outbreaks  of  caprice  of  Mademoiselle  Desgarcins,  to 
whom  I  had  now  no  more  bottles  of  soda-water  to 
give,  happy  if  only  I  had  clear  water  left  to  drink, 
at  a  time  when  so  many  folks  who  had  won  instead 
of  lost  by  the  last  change  of  government  were  forced 
to  drink  very  muddy  stuff. 

As  for  Mysouff,  he  was  treated  as  a  political 
prisoner ;  though  as  a  matter  of  fact  his  confinement, 
it  will  be  remembered,  had  a  much  less  honourable 
origin,  he  regained  his  liberty  by  reason  of  present 
events. 

There  still  remained  Diogenes.  This,  the  reader 
may  recollect,  was  the  name  given  by  Michel  to  the 
vulture,  in  virtue  of  the  tub  in  which  it  had  taken 
up  its  residence.  Well,  he  was  despatched  to  the 
Restaurant  Henri  IV  as  a  present  to  my  friend  and 
neighbour  Collinet,  my  rival  in  the  culinary  art,  and 
the  populariser,  if  not  the  inventor,  of  cotelettes  a  la 
bearnaise.  Go  and  order  breakfast  there,  wash  down 
the  aforesaid  cutlets  with  champagne,  and  see  what  a 
famous  meal  you  will  have  ! 

To  say  nothing  of  the  fact  that,  on  entering  and 
leaving  the  house,  you  may  have  the  opportunity  of 
seeing  Diogenes — no  longer  in  his  tub,  but  mounted 
on  a  perch. 

At  Collinet's,  Diogenes  was  in  a  veritable  land 
of  plenty.  The  bird  prospered  hugely  in  health  and 
good  looks,  and  by  way  of  testifying  proper  gratitude, 
it  lays  him  an  ^g'g  every  year — a  thing  the  creature 
had  never  dreamt  of  doing  when  an  inmate  of  my 
establishment. 

That  year  all  thoughts  of  sport  had  to  be  given  up. 
Houses,  lands,  coaches,  horses,  all  had  fallen  to  zero  ; 


276  MY  PETS 

but  shooting  licences  had  remained  at  exactly  the  same 
price,  to  wit  five-and-tvventy  francs. 

If  I  had  treated  myself  to  a  gun  licence  in  the  year 
of  grace  1848,  I  should  have  had  left  over  that  day  only 
six  francs,  which  would  not  have  sufficed  for  the  needs 
of  such  people  and  such  animals  as  were  still  remaining 
in  the  house. 

So  Pritchard  was  requested  to  discontinue  those 
invitations  to  dinner  which  in  happier  days  he  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  issuing  on  the  road  from  Saint- 
Germain  to  Marly. 

Not  that  the  order  was  in  the  least  necessary ; 
Pritchard's  guests,  once  they  had  tasted  the  black  broth 
of  his  present  menu,  never  came  back  a  second  time ! 


CHAPTER   XLIII 
MY  BEST  PLAY  AND  MY  BEST  FRIEND 

IT  was  in  the  course  of  this  same  year  that  I  visited 
the  Department  of  the  Yonne  and  made  the 
acquaintance  of  my  two  excellent  shooting  comrades, 
Gaignez  and  Charpillon.  But  for  this  particular  year, 
as  I  have  said  before,  there  was  no  use  thinking  of 
sport. 

No,  I  am  wrong ;  on  the  contrary,  I  enjoyed  some 
of  the  roughest  sport  I  had  ever  known — hunting  for 
votes ! 

I  have  already  related  how,  nine  hundred  individuals 
having  been  found  in  France  more  intelligent  than 
myself,  I  had  come  back  having  mulled  my  shot,  as  we 
say  in  sporting  language. 

Yet  in  offering  myself  to  the  electors,  I  was  making 
a  genuine  sacrifice  for  my  country.  As  Deputy,  I 
should  only  receive  twenty-five  francs  a  day,  while  as 
Journalist,  I  could  go  on  making  one-and-thirty. 

This  state  of  things  lasted  a  year, — I  am  speaking 
of  my  own  financial  position,  not  of  the  general  state 
of  the  country.  During  this  year  I  saw  the  accom- 
plishment of  the  fifteenth  change  of  government  at 
which  I  have  been  present  since  the  day  of  my 
birth. 

About  August  25,  1849,  I  found  I  had  to  face 
the  world  with  a   sum  of  three  hundred   francs.     As 

277 


278  MY  PETS 

this  may  seem  incredible  in  these  days  of  scarcity  and 
distress,  let  me  explain  at  once  I  had  neither  borrowed 
nor  stolen  the  money. 

No,  I  had  written  a  play  called  Le  Comte  Hermann. 

So  many  impossible  fables  that  everybody  pretends 
to  believe  grow  up  about  each  drama  of  mine  that  sees 
the  light  that  I  am  not  sorry  to  have  the  opportunity 
of  describing  in  some  detail  the  genesis  of  this  par- 
ticular production. 

One  day,  one  of  my  fellow-workers,  Lefebvre  by 
name,  came  to  me  bringing  me  a  comedy  that  had 
been  accepted  at  the  Vaudeville  and  bearing  as  title : 
Ufie  Vieille  Jeunesse. 

In  spite  of  all  protests,  he  read  it  to  me,  begging 
me  to  recast  the  piece  and  become  his  collaborator.  I 
have  always  had  a  horror  of  collaboration,  and  yet 
so  yielding  is  my  temper  I  have  again  and  again 
allowed  myself  to  be  over-persuaded. 

This  time  I  held  out,  and  though  I  could  glimpse 
as  through  a  fog  the  five  Acts  of  a  fine,  impressive 
play  that  would  bear  no  sort  of  resemblance  to  the 
petty  comedy  in  three  acts  that  Lefebvre  was  reading 
out  to  me,  I  told  him  point-blank — 

"  I  will  not  work  on  your  play.  Bring  it  out,  as  it 
has  been  accepted ;  make  all  the  money  you  can  out 
of  it,  and  when  the  management  has  done  with  it, 
/  will  give  you  a  thousand  francs  for  your  plot." 

Lefebvre  seemed  dimly  to  see  a  way  of  extracting 
more  money  from  his  piece  after  it  was  dead  than  he 
ever  hoped  to  get  from  it  when  alive.  So  he  made 
me  repeat  my  offer,  which  he  could  not  make  head 
or  tail  of.  I  did  so ;  then  he  understood  and  instantly 
accepted. 

Six  months  afterwards,  the  piece  had  had  its  little 
run  and  was  fallen  dead  ;  the  author  brought  me  the 


BEST  PLAY  AND  BEST  FRIEND     279 

corpse.  The  play  had  not  even  attained  the  honour 
of  print. 

As  I  always  do,  I  let  the  thing  lie  by  me  till  the 
inspiration  seized  me.  Then  one  fine  morning  the 
Comte  Hermann  found  itself  finished  and  complete  in 
my  head.  A  week  later,  it  was  down  on  paper ;  a 
month  more  and  it  was  walking  the  boards  of  the 
Th^atre-Historique  in  the  person  of  Melingue,  sup- 
ported by  Madame  Person  and  Laferriere.  It  was 
one  of  my  best  plays,  and  proved  one  of  my  most 
conspicuous  successes. 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  thanks  to  this  triumph, 
I  found  myself,  as  I  said,  about  August  25,  the 
proud  possessor  of  a  sum  of  three  hundred  francs. 

Just  then  I  heard  tell  of  a  certain  M.  Bertram  as 
having  a  shooting  to  let  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Melun.  I  hurried  off  to  find  him ;  he  occupied  a 
fourth-floor  apartment  in  the  Rue  des  Marais-Saint- 
Germain. 

The  shooting  did  not  belong  to  him,  it  appeared, 
but  to  M.  de  Montesquieu.  His  price  was  eight 
hundred  francs.  We  discussed  the  terms  for  a  bit, 
and  finally  he  let  me  the  shooting  at  six  hundred 
francs,  but  on  one  condition. 

I  was  to  set  out  next  day,  with  a  line  from  him, 
go  round  the  property  accompanied  by  the  game- 
keeper, to  whom  the  note  was  addressed,  assure  myself 
of  the  head  of  game  on  the  ground,  and  if  satisfied,  we 
would  then  sign  at  the  price  mentioned. 

Accordingly,  next  morning  I  took  Fritchard  with 
me,  shouldered  my  gun,  put  a  dozen  cartridges  in  my 
pocket,  and  took  the  train  for  Melun. 

Arrived  there,  I  inquired  for  the  place  where  my 
shooting  was  situated,  and  for  five  francs  engaged  a 
conveyance  to  take  me  there  and  bring  me  back. 


280  MY  PETS 

The  harvest  had  been  exceptionally  early  that  year, 
so  that  in  the  Department  of  the  Seine,  and  the  neigh- 
bouring parts,  the  shooting  season  had  opened  on 
August  25. 

I  soon  found  the  keeper ;  he  read  M.  Bertram's 
note,  who  authorised  me  to  take  the  opportunity  of 
firing  a  few  shots  as  well.  As  the  man's  most  ardent 
desire  was  for  the  shooting  to  be  let, — which  had  not 
been  arranged  the  year  before, — he  set  out  immediately 
to  show  me  the  way,  after  first  casting  a  scornful  look 
at  Pritchard. 

On  leaving  his  house,  we  were  right  on  the  scene  of 
action.  Pritchard  instantly  dashed  up  on  to  a  hillock 
and  saw  a  field  of  beetroot  waving  green  in  the 
distance.  He  made  straight  for  this,  galloping  over 
a  ploughed  field  that  lay  between.  I  let  him  do  as  he 
pleased  with  a  look  of  perfect  indifference. 

"  Sir,"  the  keeper  addressed  me,  "  I  would  point  out 
that  your  shooting  only  covers  five  hundred  acres ; 
that  on  these  five  hundred  acres  there  are  eight  or  ten 
coveys  of  partridges,  and  three  or  four  hundred  hares. 
If  you  don't  keep  your  dog  to  heel,  he'll  spoil  the  best 
field  we  have,  and  start  five  or  six  hares  and  two  or 
three  coveys  before  we've  got  there  at  all." 

"  Don't  you  trouble  about  Pritchard,"  I  told  the 
man.  "  He  has  his  own  way  of  managing,  and  it's 
a  way  I  am  used  to.  Leave  him  alone  in  his  beet- 
roots, and  let  us  see  what  is  to  be  found  in  this 
ploughed  field  that  separates  us  from  it." 

"  There  ought  to  be  two  or  three  hares,  sir.  Hi ! 
look,  look  !   .   .  .  there  goes  one,  right  in  front  of  us." 

Before  the  fellow  had  ceased  speaking,  the  hare 
was  dead. 

Pritchard  paid  no  attention  to  the  shot,  but  dashed 
round  this  field  so  as  to  get  up  the  wind. 


BEST  PLAV  AND  BEST  FRIEND     281 

Meantime  a  second  hare  bolted,  and  I  let  him  have 
my  second  barrel.  He  was  so  hard  hit  that  after 
a  hundred  yards  he  was  obliged  to  stop,  and  toppled 
over ;  he  was  as  dead  as  the  first. 

Pritchard,  who  was  now  pointing,  paid  no  heed 
either  to  the  shot  or  the  hare  which  had  fallen  dead 
within  twenty  paces  of  where  he  was. 

The  keeper  picked  up  the  two  hares,  remarking  that 
M.  Bertram's  note  no  doubt  authorised  me  to  fire 
a  few  shots,  but  that  he  thought  it  his  duty  to  beg  me 
not  to  shoot  any  more  hares,  but  merely  go  after 
the  birds. 

"In  that  case,"  I  told  him,  "let  us  make  a  detour 
and  get  up  the  wind,  the  same  as  Pritchard  has 
done." 

"  Oh,  sir,  your  dog  will  never  wait  for  you  !  " 

"  Never  fear,"  I  told  him.  "  You  are  going  to  see 
him  at  work.  But  meantime,  if  you  have  anything  to 
do,  your  pipe  to  light  for  instance,  now's  your  time." 

"  No,  thank  you,  I've  just  put  it  back  in  my  pocket." 

"  Well,  at  any  rate,"  I  said,  pulling  a  flask  from  my 
pocket,  "  have  a  sip  of  brandy  ;  it's  the  best  cognac." 

"  Ah !  a  drop  of  brandy,  sir,  there's  no  refusing 
that,"  said  the  keeper.      "  But  your  dog ?  " 

"  Oh  !  as  for  my  dog — I  told  you  we  had  plenty  of 
time ;  so  don't  let  us  hurry." 

"  Do  you  know  he  has  been  pointing  a  good  five 
minutes  already  ? " 

"  How  long  will  it  take  us  to  come  up  with  him  ?  " 

"  Oh  1  five  minutes,  or  thereabouts." 

"  And  another  five  to  have  a  rest.  So  by  the  time 
we  reach  him  it  will  be  a  quarter  of  an  hour." 

"  Well,  he's  a  first-class  dog,  all  the  same ! " 
declared  the  keeper.  "  It's  a  pity  he  has  lost  an  eye 
and  a  leg." 


282  MY  PETS 

In  another  five  minutes  we  reached  the  spot  where 
Pritchard  was. 

"  In  five  minutes  more,"  I  said  to  the  keeper,  "  we 
are  going  to  have  a  try  to  kill  a  brace  of  birds  right  in 
front  of  his  nose ;  and  if  we  succeed,  you  will  see  he 
won't  budge  an  inch  till  I  have  had  time  to  reload 
my  gun." 

"  Well,  if  he  does  that,"  replied  the  man,  "  he's  a 
dog  that's  worth  five  hundred  francs  if  he's  worth 
a  farthing." 

"  Yes,"  I  agreed,  "  for  the  first  week,  yes — that  is  to 
say  as  long  as  the  game  holds  out.  Now,"  I  went  on, 
"  we  are  going  to  try  an  experiment.  Judging  by  the 
direction  of  Pritchard's  eye,  I  think  he  is  pointing  at 
a  covey  ten  yards  or  so  in  front  of  him.  Well,  I  am 
going  to  step  back  fifteen  paces ;  then  I  shall  fire  my 
shot  at  the  point  his  eye  is  fixed  on — most  likely 
bang  into  the  middle  of  a  covey  of  partridges.  If 
I  don't  kill,  and  the  birds  don't  rise,  Pritchard  will  not 
stir ;  if  I  kill  one  or  two  out  of  the  lot,  and  the  rest 
still  don't  take  wing,  again  Pritchard  won't  budge ;  if 
the  whole  covey  makes  off,  and  amongst  the  lot  there's 
one  wounded  bird,  Pritchard  will  follow  that  one  till 
it  falls." 

The  keeper  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  wagged  his 
head  in  a  way  that  said  plainly :  "  By  the  Lord  !  if  he 
does  so,  I've  no  more  to  say." 

I  stepped  back  my  fifteen  paces,  knelt  down,  and 
aiming  straight  over  Pritchard's  nose,  fired, 

A  brace  of  birds  rose  and  tumbled  head  over  heels 
in  the  air,  showing  their  white  under  feathers,  while 
four  yards  from  them  a  hare  bolted,  scurrying  away  as 
if  my  shot  had  been  fired  specially  for  him. 

Pritchard  never  stirred. 

"  Well  ?  "   I  said,  turning  to  the  keeper. 


BEST  PLAY  AND  BEST  FRIEND     283 

"Oh!"  he  said,  "let's  finish  the  thing;  it's  too 
curious  altogether." 

I  reloaded,  and  walked  up  to  the  dog.  Pritchard 
looked  up  at  me,  as  if  to  ask  if  I  was  ready,  and  on 
my  nodding  permission,  dashed  forward. 

A  covey  of  fifteen  or  sixteen  birds  got  up.  I  killed 
one  with  my  first  barrel,  while  with  the  second  I  hit 
another  in  the  back,  and,  as  birds  so  wounded  always 
do,  it  rose  right  up  almost  vertically  in  the  air. 

What  I  had  foretold  happened  ;  Pritchard  gave  his 
sole  attention  to  the  wounded  bird,  keeping  his  eye  on 
it  and  following  its  flight,  so  that  when  it  fell  heavily 
to  the  ground,  it  almost  lighted  in  the  dog's  jaws. 

There  was  no  need  to  indulge  in  more  slaughter.  I 
knew  what  I  wanted  to  know  ;  the  land  was  well 
stocked  with  game.  I  returned  to  Paris,  and  hurrying 
at  once  to  see  my  friend  d'Orsay,  told  him  of  my  good 
luck. 

I  found  him  busy  on  a  bust  of  Lamartine. 

Now  d'Orsay,  the  Count  d'Orsay,  brother  of  the 
beautiful  Madame  de  Grammont,  is  one  of  those  men 
whose  name  I  love  to  find  from  time  to  time  under  my 
pen.  I  have  always  something  new  to  say  of  him, — 
and,  what  is  more,  something  good. 

Well,  d'Orsay  was  making  a  bust  of  Lamartine. 
For,  besides  being  a  great  nobleman,  d'Orsay  was  a 
great  artist ;  both  his  drawings  and  sculptures  were 
marked  with  a  consummate  elegance.  Possibly  the 
technical  qualities  of  his  work  might  be  open  to  criticism  ; 
but  no  one  had  a  better  grasp  than  he  of  the  ideal. 

The  only  portrait  left  us  of  Byron,  the  one  the  poet 
demanded  should  be  prefixed  to  his  works,  was  by 
d'Orsay. 

This  perfection  of  taste  coloured  all  he  did.  Of 
only  moderate  fortune,  and  compelled  towards  the  end 


284  MY  PETS 

of  his  life  to  look  carefully  after  his  expenditure  after 
having  long  reigned  as  the  leader  of  fashion  in  France 
and  England,  he  had  rented  in  some  minor  street,  the 
name  of  which  I  have  forgotten,  a  sort  of  garret,  which 
he  had  transformed  into  the  most  elegantly  appointed 
studio  in  all  Paris. 

For  ten  years  he  had  dictated  the  mode  to  France 
and  England.  His  tailor,  whose  fortune  he  made,  was 
renowned  for  the  extraordinary  skill  he  displayed  in 
dressing  his  customers  according  to  the  class  of  life 
they  belonged  to,  marking  distinctions  with  an  almost 
magical  subtlety. 

One  day  a  country  squire,  a  friend  of  d'Orsay's,  was 
going  to  spend  a  month  in  London.  He  pays  a  visit 
to  the  Count,  and  thus  addresses  him — 

"  Look  here,  you  are  my  friend.  I  am  come  to 
town,  and  I  mean  to  spend  some  time  there.  I  don't 
want  to  look  ridiculous  ;  I  am  neither  a  dandy  nor  a 
City  merchant,  I  am  a  country  gentleman.  Take  a 
good  look  at  me,  and  tell  your  tailor  how  he  ought  to 
dress  me." 

D'Orsay  looks  him  over,  goes  to  his  collection  of 
walking  sticks — d'Orsay  possessed  fifty  or  sixty  of  all 
sorts — picks  out  one  the  handle  of  which  was  a 
curved  stag's  foot  shod  with  silver. 

"  There,"  he  told  his  friend,  "  go  and  see  Blindem, 
and  tell  him  to  dress  you  for  that  stick." 

And  Blindem  dressed  the  gentleman  for  that  stick, 
and  with  nothing  else  to  guide  him ;  and  never,  he 
owned  it  himself,  was  he  better  dressed. 

D'Orsay's  drawings  were  marvels.  I  remember  one 
night  at  Masnefs,  a  young  Russian  and  a  friend  of  mine, 
where  he  spent  the  evening  in  making  lead-pencil 
sketches  of  us  all.  I  have  never  seen  a  more  curious 
and  interesting  collection  than   these  drawings  formed. 


BEST  PLAY  AND  BEST  FRIEND     285 

among  which  was  the  portrait  of  a  young  girl,  a 
charming  figure  beyond  all  question,  but  whom  he  had 
made — an  uncommon  achievement — I  will  not  say 
prettier,  but  more  angelic  than  she  really  was.  What 
has  become,  I  wonder,  of  this  portrait,  to  which  he  had 
only  to  add  wings  for  it  to  pass  as  the  work  of  Fra 
Angelico  ? 

D'Orsay  was  not  only  elegant,  but  supremely 
handsome  too ;  not  only  supremely  handsome,  but 
charmingly  witty  into  the  bargain.  And  these 
qualities  he  retained  to  the  end  of  his  life. 

Well,  I  went  to  his  rooms  to  propose  our  taking 
the  shooting  between  us.  He  readily  agreed,  but  on 
condition  we  asked  his  nephew,  the  Due  de  Guiche,  now 
Due  de  Grammont  and  Envoy  at  Venice,  to  join  us.  I 
could  wish  for  nothing  better ;  I  was  as  deeply  attached 
to  de  Guiche  as  I  was  to  d'Orsay. 

Accordingly  we  took  the  shooting  between  the  three 
of  us.  As  there  was  no  time  to  lose,  we  resolved  to 
make  the  next  day  but  one  our  opening  day. 

We  went  that  very  day  to  sign  the  agreement  at 
Maitre  Bertram's,  who  insisted  on  one  small  restriction  : 
paying  six  hundred  francs,  we  were  not  for  this  sum  to 
kill  more  than  a  hundred  hares,  making  thirty-three 
hares  apiece ;  partridges  were  not  specially  mentioned 
in  the  bargain.  Any  of  us  killing  a  hare  more  than  his 
allowance  was  to  be  fined  five  francs. 

By  midday  on  our  first  day's  shooting  I  had  killed 
eleven  hares. 

Needless  to  say  Pritchard  had  been  the  butt,  on  the 
part  of  my  two  aristocratic  friends,  of  endless  jokes, 
which,  as  was  always  his  way,  he  turned  eventually  to 
his  own  honour  and  renown. 


CHAPTER   XLIV 
FLORA 

THE  following  year  I  went  once  more  to  see  M. 
Bertram,  fully  expecting,  in  view  of  the  ex- 
cellent relations  that  had  always  existed  between  us, 
and  the  presents  of  game  I  had  sent  him  from  time 
to  time  during  the  shooting  season,  to  obtain  the  same 
favourable  conditions  as  on  the  first  occasion. 

But  I  was  altogether  mistaken.  The  price  of  the 
shooting  was  doubled. 

My  means  not  allowing  me  to  pay  so  high  a  price, 
I  made  up  my  mind  to  go  for  the  shooting  to  one  of 
my  friends  who  lives  in  Normandy. 

His  chateau  lay  a  few  leagues  from  Bernay.  He 
came  to  meet  us  on  horseback,  accompanied  by  two 
great  white  greyhounds  that  I  had  given  him, 

"  Ah  !  look  at  M.  Ernest,  sir  !  "  exclaimed  Michel, 
directly  he  caught  sight  of  him ;  "  he's  just  like  the 
Queen  of  England." 

The  fact  is  Michel  had,  hung  up  in  his  room,  an 
engraving  after  a  picture  by  Dedreux,  representing  the 
Queen  of  England  mounted  on  a  black  horse  and  ac- 
companied by  two  white  greyhounds.  I  told  Ernest 
of  the  likeness  Michel  saw  between  him  and  Queen 
Victoria,  and  he  was  highly  flattered. 

I  had  a  poor  day's  shooting,  although  I  had  slipped 
away  by  myself — bolted  from  the  rails,  as    they  say 

886 


FLORA  287 

in  the  language  of  the  turf — for  fear  of  Pritchard's 
playing  some  of  his  usual  tricks  on  my  fellow-sportsmen. 

I  was  coming  home  with  a  brace  or  two  of  birds 
and  a  hare  in  Michel's  game-bag  when  I  met  a  country- 
man holding  in  leash  a  handsome  brown  bitch,  three 
or  four  years  old  to  all  appearance. 

"  Egad  ! "  I  remarked  to  Michel,  "  if  yonder  good 
fellow  would  part  with  his  bitch  at  a  reasonable  figure, 
she's  just  the  animal  would  suit  my  book." 

"  But,"  objected  Michel,  "  Monsieur  forgets  he  com- 
missioned his  friend  Devisme  to  buy  him  a  dog,  and 
with  that  object  authorised  him  to  spend  a  hundred 
and  fifty  francs." 

"Pooh!"  said  I,  "Devisme  has  doubtless  forgotten. 
If  he  had  bought  me  a  dog,  he  would  have  done  so  in 
time  for  the  opening  of  the  season.  On  the  eve  of  that 
day  all  the  dogs  are  to  buy ;  a  fortnight  later  all  are 
to  sell.  Go  and  have  a  word  with  the  good  man,"  I 
insisted  —  and  Michel  accordingly  went  up  to  the 
countryman. 

"  'Od's  life  !  "  began  the  fellow,  "  your  master's  best 
plan  would  be  to  get  me  to  drown  his  dog  there,  which 
has  only  three  legs  and  one  eye  left,  instead  of  my 
bitch,  and  buy  her  to  take  the  animal's  place." 

"  Why,  are  you  going  to  drown  your  bitch,  my  fine 
fellow?"  Michel  asked  him. 

"  Alas,  sir !  if  it's  not  to-day,  it  will  have  to  be 
to-morrow.  Why,  they  have  no  common  sense ! 
They  go  and  clap  a  tax  of  ten  francs  a  head  on 
dogs,  while  we  human  beings  only  pay  two  !  Isn't 
it  humiliating  that  a  dumb  beast  should  be  rated  five 
times  as  high  as  a  man  ?  No,  no ;  folk  are  not  rich 
enough  in  these  days,  when  they  have  two  children  to 
feed,  to  feed  a  dog  into  the  bargain — especially  when 
the  animal  pays  a  ten  francs'  tax." 


288  MY  PETS 

"  Then  you  offer  to  give  your  bitch  to  my  master, 
eh?" 

"  Oh  yes ;  with  all  my  heart !  "  cried  the  country- 
man.    "  I'm  sure  she'll  be  happy  with  him." 

"  Happy  ?  as  happy  as  a  queen  ! "  Michel  assured 
him.  You  see  Michel  was  a  prudent  man,  and  did 
not  guarantee  any  extravagant  degree  of  happiness. 

"  Well,  then,"  continued  the  man,  with  a  sigh,  "  go 
and  ask  the  gentleman  if  he'll  take  Flora." 

On  Michel's  coming  back  to  me,  I  asked,  "  And 
have  you  been  successful  in  your  negotiations,  Michel, 
and  is  the  man  reasonable  in  his  demands  ?  " 

"  You  must  judge  for  yourself,  sir,"  returned 
Michel :  "  he  offers  to  let  you  have  the  animal  for 
nothing." 

"  What  !  for  nothing  ?  " 

"  Yes,  only  think :  he  was  just  on  his  way  to  drown 
the  poor  beast." 

"  But  why  was  he  going  to  drown  his  dog  ?  "  I  asked 
Michel.     "  Was  she  mad  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  ;  on  the  contrary,  as  gentle  as  a  sheep.  But 
what  would  you  have  ? — he's  drowning  her  because  he 
has  no  bread  to  spare  at  home  for  himself,  his  wife,  and 
his  two  children." 

"  There,  Michel,  there's  ten  francs ;  give  them  to  the 
poor  fellow,  and  bring  the  animal  here  to  me." 

"  The  fact  is  .  .  ."  stammered  Michel,  in  some  em- 
barrassment, "  I  ought  to  mention  one  thing." 

"  What  is  that  ?  " 

"  That  the  bitch  is  called  Flora." 

"  Well,  yes,  Michel,  it  is  rather  a  pretentious  name 
certainly ;  but  come,  a  dog  doesn't  deserve  to  be 
chucked  into  the  river  merely  because  she's  called 
after  the  Goddess  of  Springtime." 

As  a  gardener  Michel  protested — 


FLORA  289 

"  But  I  always  thought,  sir,  she  was  the  Goddess 
of  Gardens." 

"  No,  Michel ;  without  wishing  to  impugn  your 
knowledge  of  heathen  mythology,  I  must  tell  you 
gardens  have  as  their  protecting  divinity  not  a  goddess 
but  a  god  known  as  Vertumnus  (Vertumne)," 

"  Oh  yes !  "  exclaimed  Michel,  "  like  M.  Vertumne 
of  the  Theatre-Frangais,  the  gentleman  I  used  to  ask 
for  tickets." 

"  Verteuil,  you  mean,  Michel,  don't  you  ? — a  very 
charming  fellow  !  " 

"  He  has  his  days  like  other  people.  .  .  .  Ah,  well ! 
for  my  part,  I  have  always  called  him  Vertumne." 

"  The  days  when  you  called  him  so  were  probably 
his  bad  days ;  but  as  for  me,  as  I  have  always  called 
him  Verteuil,  I  never  noticed  anything  of  what  you 
say." 

"  All  the  same,  he  ought  to  marry." 

"  Who  ought  ?      Verteuil  ?  " 

"  No,  no ;  this  Vertumnus  of  yours.  He  ought  to 
marry  Flora." 

"  You  are  a  bit  late  in  making  the  demand,  Michel ; 
he  married,  just  about  two  thousand  eight  hundred 
years  ago,  a  nymph  of  a  very  good  family,  by  name 
Pomona." 

"  Ah  !  is  that  so  ?  "  said  Michel,  evidently  put  out. 

Then,  returning  to  our  previous  topic — 

"  So,"  he  resumed,  "  you  have  no  objection  to  the 
name  Flora? " 

"  It  is  a  trifle  pretentious,  as  I  observed  before ;  but 
there,  I  shall  get  used  to  it." 

Michel  took  two  or  three  steps  in  the  direction  of 
the  countryman,  but  then  almost  immediately  turned 
back  again,  scratching  the  tip  of  his  nose — a  habit  he 
had  acquired  since  the  day  when  Turk,  an  idiot  dog 

19 


290  MY  PETS 

which  I  have  scarcely  mentioned  because  he  was  not 
worth  mentioning,  all  but  bit  that  organ  in  two. 

"  What  is  it,  Michel  ?  " 

"  It  struck  me,  sir,  that  before  I  give  the  fellow  ten 
francs,  and  that  for  an  animal  he  was  going  to  drown, 
I  have  a  right  to  ask  him  if  she  can  retrieve  and 
point." 

"  Michel,  that's  a  great  deal  to  require  for  ten  francs  ! 
It's  as  much  as  you  ask  of  a  dog  costing  a  hundred 
crowns.  Michel,  give  the  man  his  ten  francs,  take 
Flora,  and  .  .  .  let's  trust  in  Providence ! " 

So  Michel  gave  the  countryman  the  money,  and  we 
took  Flora  home  with  us.  Providence  was  good,  and 
we  found  she  could  both  point  and  retrieve  as  well  as 
any  hundred-crown  dog. 

But,  alas !  her  mythological  name  brought  mis- 
fortune in  its  train :  Flora  died  like  Eurydice. 


CHAPTER   XLV 
THE   DEATH    OF    PRITCHARD 

ON  reaching  the  chateau,  I  found  a  letter  from  my 
daughter,  who  informed  me  that  Devisme  had 
secured  me,  for  a  hundred  and  twenty  francs,  a  superb 
dog,  by  name  Catinat ;  she  asked  whether  she  should 
send  the  animal  on  to  me  or  wait  till  I  returned  home, 
leaving  him  meantime  in  the  stable,  where  she  had 
given  him  quarters, 

I  wrote  back  to  tell  her  to  leave  Catinat  where  he 
was, — in  the  stable,  that  is  to  say, — adding  that  I 
expected  to  be  back  in  Paris  by  the  next  day  but 
one. 

Next  morning,  when  he  came  to  call  me,  Michel 
announced  that  in  all  probability  our  wishes  were  going 
to  be  fulfilled  with  regard  to  a  new  generation  of  little 
Pritchards.  He  thereupon  advised,  in  order  to  prevent 
Flora  being  annoyed  by  her  lover's  attentions,  to  take 
her  out  alone,  leaving  Pritchard  in  his  kennel.  We 
could  form  an  opinion  at  the  same  time  as  to  what  she 
was  good  for.  It  was  sound  advice,  and  we  set  off 
with  Flora,  in  spite  of  the  despairing  howls  of  poor 
Pritchard. 

Flora  turned  out  to  be  a  good  average  sporting  dog, 
without  any  marked  faults  or  any  very  startling  merits. 
It  is  very  certain  that,  but  for  the  chance  that  brought 
her  in   my  road,  her  life  would   have  remained   in   the 


292  MY  PETS 

most  complete  obscurity,  and  her  death,  whatever  it 
were,  would  have  done  nothing  to  make  her  famous. 

Fortunately,  one  of  the  merits  she  did  possess  was  to 
run  close  under  the  guns.  On  the  whole  I  was  very 
well  content  with  my  new  purchase.  Flora  was  one 
of  those  animals  you  buy  for  a  hundred  and  twenty 
francs  the  day  before  the  opening  day  of  the  season 
and  sell  for  forty  the  day  after  its  close. 

Pritchard  gave  a  wildly  enthusiastic  welcome  to  Flora 
on  our  return.  He  was  a  dog  of  good  breeding,  who 
was  anxious,  by  dint  of  fond  attentions,  to  make  his 
innamorata  forget  his  infirmities  and  injuries. 

We  took  leave  of  our  Bernay  friends,  and  made  the 
best  of  our  way  back  to  Paris  on  September  3,  1850. 

This  year  the  season  opened  late  in  the  Depart- 
ment of  the  Yonne,  not  till  the  5th.  A  letter  from  my 
friends  at  Auxerre  informed  me  that,  if  I  would  promise 
to  come  for  the  opening  day,  as  I  was  hand-in-glove 
with  Mayors  and  Deputy-Mayors,  they  would  defer  the 
beginning  of  the  shooting  till  the  loth.  This  com- 
munication was  not  without  influence  on  my  hurried 
departure  from  Bernay. 

On  reaching  home,  my  first  care  was  to  ask  to  see 
Catinat.  With  this  end,  we  began  by  shutting  up 
Pritchard  and  Flora  in  the  dining-room,  while  Catinat 
was  brought  up  to  my  working-room. 

I  was  then  residing  in  a  small  hotel,  which  I  occupied 
alone  with  my  eleven  fowls,  my  heron,  Pritchard,  and 
Michel,  and  which  was  now  to  give  admittance — at 
least  I  thought  so — to  two  new  inmates,  Flora  and 
Catinat. 

Catinat  was  a  sturdy  brach-hound,  three  or  four 
years  old,  wild,  rampageous,  and  quarrelsome.  He 
bounded  upstairs,  leapt  at  my  throat  as  if  he  wanted 
to    strangle   me,  knocked    over    my  daughter's    easels, 


THE  DEATH  OF  PRITCHARD     293 

jumped  on  to  the  table  where  my  weapons  and  china 
figures  were  ranged,  showing  me  at  once  that  it 
would  be  in  the  last  degree  injudicious  to  admit  him 
into  any  sort  of  familiar  intercourse  with  the  house- 
hold. 

I  called  Michel  and  told  him  this  superficial 
introduction  was  quite  enough  for  the  present,  and 
that  I  meant  to  defer  till  the  beginning  of  the  shooting 
season  at  Auxerre  the  pleasure  of  a  more  intimate 
acquaintance.  Michel  therefore  was  invited  to  take 
Catinat  back  to  the  stable. 

I  am  bound  to  say  the  poor  fellow  had  a  presenti- 
ment of  coming  evil  at  the  mere  sight  of  the  dog. 

"  Oh,  sir,"  he  said,  "  that  animal  will  do  us  a 
mischief!  I  can't  say  what  yet,  but  he  will,  I  feel  sure 
he  will !  " 

"  Well,  meantime,  Michel,"  I  bade  him,  "  put  Catinat 
back  in  his  stable." 

But  Catinat,  who  no  doubt  was  conscious  himself 
that  an  author's  working-room  was  no  place  for  him, 
had  gone  downstairs  again  of  his  own  accord.  Only, 
unfortunately,  as  he  did  so,  he  found  the  door  of  the 
dining-room  standing  open,  and  pushed  his  way  in. 

Not  Hector  and  Achilles  felt  at  first  sight  so  fierce 
and  sudden  a  hate  of  one  another  as  Catinat  and 
Pritchard.  They  sprang  at  each  other,  with  instinctive 
and  unpremeditated  hostility,  so  furiously  that  Michel 
was  forced  to  call  me  to  his  aid  to  part  them. 

Whether  from  constitutional  apathy,  or  perhaps  from 
that  cruel  vanity  which  causes  the  she  lion  no  less 
than  the  human  female  rather  to  like  seeing  two  rivals 
tearing  one  another  to  pieces  for  her  sake.  Flora  had 
remained  indifferent  during  the  fight,  which  after  all 
was  only  a  momentary  savage  tuzzle,  thanks  to 
Michel's  and   my  own  intervention. 


294  MY  PETS 

Still  Catinat  appeared  to  be  bleeding  at  the  throat, 
the  blood  showing  at  once  on  his  white  coat.  As  for 
Pritchard,  his  brindled  colour  concealed  his  wounds, 
if  he  had  received   any. 

To  enable  the  reader  to  comprehend  the  events  that 
occurred  next,  it  is  indispensable  for  him  to  have 
some  approximate  idea  of  the  disposition  of  the  out- 
buildings attached  to  the  little  hotel  in  the  Rue 
d'Amsterdam. 

The  main  door  giving  on  the  street  opened  in 
the  opposite  direction  on  a  small  garden,  longer  than 
it  was  broad,  at  the  bottom  of  which  I  had  found,  on 
taking  possession,  coach-houses,  a  stable,  and  a  second 
court  serving  as  a  stable-yard.  Now,  since  the 
Revolution  of  1 848  I  had  possessed  neither  horses 
nor  carriages.  I  had  turned  the  coach-houses  into  a 
big  room  for  writing  and  general  business ;  the  stable 
into  a  lumber  room,  where  all  sorts  of  rubbish  was 
deposited ;  and  the  stable-yard  into  a  poultry-run, 
where  my  eleven  hens  and  my  cock  Csesar  perched 
and  cackled  and  laid,  and  where,  in  a  huge  kennel, 
a  veritable  canine  palace,  Pritchard  had  lorded  it 
hitherto. 

Pritchard's  friendliness  with  the  fowls  had  suffered 
no  diminution.  In  fact,  we  know  from  what  we  saw 
in  Charpillon's  hen-run  the  good  account  he  turned 
it  to  in  his  own  interests ;  from  that  day  on  the  poor 
laying  of  my  own  fowls  was  sufficiently  accounted  for 
in  my  eyes. 

Pritchard  resumed  his  place  in  the  poultry-yard,  and 
as  the  kennel  was  large  enough  both  for  him  and  Flora, 
the  latter  shared  his  abode  as  a  wife  should. 

Catinat  was  sent  back  to  the  stable,  where  he  had 
been  installed  in  the  first  instance,  but  which  he  had 
left  temporarily  on  my  arrival. 


THE  DEATH  OF  PRITCHARD     295 

Michel,  as  usual,  was  in  charge  of  all  the  live  stock 
quadrupeds  and  bipeds  alike. 

That  evening,  while  my  daughter  and  I  were  taking 
the  air  in  the  garden,  he  came  up  to  me,  twisting  his 
cap  about  in  his  hands — a  plain  sign  he  had  something 
important  to  say  to  me. 

"  Well,  what  is  it,  Michel?  "  I  asked. 

"  Sir,"  he  began,  "  an  idea  occurred  to  me  as  I  was 
taking  Pritchard  and  Flora  to  the  poultry-yard,  and 
that  is,  that  we  have  no  eggs  because  Pritchard  eats 
them,  as  Monsieur  saw  at  Saint-Bris,  and  Pritchard 
eats  them  because  he  is  in  direct  communication 
with   the   fowls." 

"  Yes,  it  is  self-evident,  Michel,  that  if  Pritchard 
could  not  get  into  the  poultry-yard,  he  would  not 
eat  the  eggs." 

"  Well,  sir,  it  seems  to  me,"  Michel  went  on,  "  that 
if  we  were  to  put  Catinat — a  dog  of  no  education, 
I  imagine,  but  not  a  thief,  like  that  low  Pritchard — 
it  seems  to  me  that  if  we  were  to  put  Pritchard  and 
I'lora  in  the  stable,  and  Catinat  in  the  poultry-yard, 
things  would  go  better," 

"  Do  you  know  what  would  happen  then,  Michel  ?  " 
I  objected.  "  It  may  be,  as  you  say,  Catinat  would 
not  be  able  to  eat  the  eggs,  but  he  might  very  well 
eat  the  hens." 

"  Oh,  if  such  a  disaster  happened,  I  have  a  way 
of  curing  him  for  all  the  rest  of  his  life  of  any  desire 
to  eat  fowls." 

"  Yes,  Michel ;  but  then,  meantime,  the  fowls  would 
be  eaten." 

I  had  hardly  spoken  when  there  rose  among  the 
outbuildings  an  uproar  as  if  a  whole  pack  of  hounds 
was  in  full  cry — yells  of  rage,  yelps  of  pain,  every  sign 
of  a  death  struggle  being  fought  out. 


296  MY  PETS 

"  Good  Lord,  Michel !   do  you  hear  that  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  hear  right  enough,"  he  said  calmly ;  "  but 
it's  M.  Pigeory's  dogs," 

"  Michel,  it's  Catinat  and  Pritchard  eating  each  other 
up — that  and  nothing  else  !  " 

"  Sir,  it's  impossible ;   I  separated  them." 

"  Well,  Michel,  they  have  managed  to  meet  again, 
that's  all." 

"  No  difficulty  about  that — the  scoundrels  are  quite 
capable  of  it ;  why,  that  blackguard  Pritchard  could  open 
the  stable  door  as  easily  as  any  locksmith," 

"  Well,  Pritchard  being  a  dog  of  spirit,  no  doubt  he 
has  opened  the  stable  door  in  order  to  defy  Catinat. 
Listen :  upon  my  word,  I  am  very  much  afraid  one 
or  other  of  them  may  have  been  killed." 

Michel  dashed  down  the  path  leading  to  the  stable, 
and  disappeared ;  in  a  few  moments  I  heard  sounds 
of  lamentation,  indicating  that  some  great  calamity 
had  befallen. 

Another  second  or  two  and  I  saw  Michel  reappear, 
sobbing  and  carrying  Pritchard  in  his  arms. 

"  Look,  look,  sir  !  "  he  cried.  "  Poor  Pritchard's  done 
for !  Look  at  the  state  he's  in — all  the  doing  of 
M,  Devisme's  fine  new  dog !  His  name  should  be 
Catiline,   I   say,  instead  of  Catinat." 

I  hurried  up  to  Michel;  for  all  the  rages  the  animal  had 
often  put  me  into,  I  was  much  attached  to  Pritchard. 
He  was  the  only  dog  in  whom  I  had  found  true 
originality  and  that  element  of  the  unexpected  to  be 
met  with  in  a  man  of  quick  wits  and  lively  caprice. 

"  Now,  Michel,  tell  me  what's  wrong  ? " 

"  Wrong,  sir,  wrong  ?     Why,  he's  dead  !  " 

"  No,  no,  Michel ;  not  yet." 

"  Anyway,  he's  as  good  as  dead  " — and  he  laid  the 
poor  beast  on  the  ground. 


THE  DEATH  OF  PRITCHARD     297 

Michel's  shirt  was  all  covered  with  blood. 

"  Pritchard  !   my  poor  Pritchard  !  "  I  sobbed. 

Like  the  dying  Gaul,  Pritchard  opened  his  yellow  eye, 
looked  at  me  sadly  and  lovingly,  threw  out  his  four  paws, 
stiffened  his  body,  heaved  a  sigh,  and  died. 

Catiline,  with  one  snap  of  his  jaws,  had  severed  the 
carotid  artery,  and  death  had  been  almost  instantaneous, 

"  Well,  well,  Michel !  "  I  said,  "  we  may  not  have  lost 
a  good  servant,  but  we  have  lost  a  good  friend.  .  .  . 
You  must  wash  him  carefully,  poor  fellow  !  We  will 
give  you  something  to  wrap  him  in  ;  then  you  must 
dig  a  hole  in  the  garden,  and  we  will  have  a  tombstone 
erected  on  which  we  will  inscribe  this  epitaph : — 

"Comme  le  grand  Rantzau,  d'immortelle  memoire, 
II  perdit,  inutile,  quoique  toujours  vainqueur, 
La  moitie  de  son  corps  dans  les  champs  de  la  gloire, 
Et  Mars  ne  lui  laissa  rien  d'entier  que  le  coeur. "  ^ 

As  I  always  did  under  such  circumstances,  I  sought 
relief  from  my  regrets  in  work. 

However,  about  midnight,  feeling  a  wish  to  see  if 
my  orders  with  regard  to  Pritchard's  burial  had  been 
duly  carried  out,  I  stole  softly  downstairs,  to  find 
Michel  seated  on  the  steps  of  the  dining-room  with 
the  dog's  body  lying  at  his  feet. 

Michel's  grief  was  in  no  way  assuaged ;  he  was 
groaning  and  sobbing  as  bitterly  as  when  he  first 
brought   Pritchard  to  me  in  his  arms. 

Only  two  wine  bottles,  which  I  conjectured  to  be 
empty  because  both  were  lying  on  their  sides  on  the 
floor,  showed  me  that,  as  in  antique  obsequies,  Michel 
had   not  neglected  the    proper    libations  to  the  dead 

^  "  Like  the  great  Rantzau,  of  immortal  memory,  he  lost  by  mutilation, 
though  always  victorious,  the  half  of  his  person  on  the  fields  of  glory,  and 
Mars  left  him  nothing  entire  but  the  brave  heart  only." 


298  MY  PETS 

and  I  withdrew  firmly  convinced  that  if  he  was  not 
weeping  pure  wine,  the  faithful  Michel  was  at  any 
rate  crying  wine  and  water. 

For  his  part,  so  absorbed  was  he  in  his  sorrow  that 
he  neither  saw  nor  heard  me. 


CATINAT    LKAI'T    AT    MV    THROAT    AS    IF    HE    WANTED    TO    STRANGLE    ME 


CHAPTER   XLVI 

A  WAY  MICHEL  HAD  OF  CURING  DOGS  OF 
THE  BAD  HABIT  OF  EATING  FOWLS 

NEXT  morning  I  was  awakened  at  daybreak  by 
Michel,  who  had  not  been  to  bed  at  all. 

Much  has  been  said  of  Talma's  entry  on  the  stage 
in  Ducis'  version  of  the  tragedy  of  Hamlet.  I  can 
judge  of  its  effect,  for  I  have  seen  it  two  or  three 
times. 

I  have  only  seen  Michel's  entry  into  my  room  once ; 
but  this  once  entirely  effaced  from  my  memory  the 
thrice-repeated  impression  of  Talma's  famous  piece  of 
acting. 

Never  did  Talma,  in  horror  and  amazement,  give 
forth  his  dreadful  cry  at  sight  of  the  father's  ghost  in 
such  appalling  tones  as  those  in  which  Michel  uttered 
the  simple  words,  three  times  repeated — 

"  Oh,  sir  !  oh,  sir  !   oh,  sir  !  " 

I  opened  my  eyes,  and  by  the  first  glimmer  of  the 
dawning  day,  in  the  dim  grey  light  of  the  hour  when 
the  sun  is  still  striving  with  the  darkness,  I  saw 
Michel  standing  before  me  with  pale  face  and  dishev- 
elled hair,  his  arms  raised  with  a  frantic  gesture  to  the 
sky. 

"What  is  it  now,  Michel?"  I  asked  him,  half  in 
alarm,  half  in  annoyance  at  being  roused  at  so  untimely 
an  hour. 

2W 


300  MY  PETS 

"  Oh,  sir !  you  don't  know  what  he  has  done,  that 
brigand  of  a  Catiline  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  do,  Michel:  he  has  killed  Pritchard,  and 
I  know " 

"  Ah  yes,  sir ;  if  that  were  all  he  had  done " 

"  What !  if  that  ivere  all  ?  But  surely  that  is  enough, 
I  imagine." 

"  If  Monsieur  will  come  down  to  the  poultry-yard, 
he'll  see." 

"  See  ?     What  shall  I  see  ?     Out  with  it " 

"  A  general  massacre,  sir !  a  veritable  St.  Bartholo- 
mew ! " 

"  Our  fowls,  Michel  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  birds  that  were  worth  a  hundred  francs 
apiece — not  to  mention  the  cock,  which  was  price- 
less." 

"  A  hundred  francs,  Michel  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes,  sir,  a  hundred  francs.  Why,  there  was 
actually  one  that  had  no  feathers  at  all,  that  seemed 
to  be  covered  with  veritable  hair — beautiful  silky  hair. 
You  remember  the  one,  sir.  That  hen  was  worth  a 
hundred  and  fifty  francs." 

"  And  the  dog  has  killed  them  all  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir,  all — from  the  first  to  the  last !  " 

"  Ah,  well,  Michel !  yesterday  you  said  that  if 
Catiline  killed  the  fowls,  you  knew  a  way  of  curing 
him  of  this  fault " 

"  To  be  sure,  sir." 

"  Well,  have  you  buried  Pritchard  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  he  lies  under  the  lilacs  " — and  Michel 
wiped  away  a  tear  with  the  sleeve  of  his  jacket, 
"  Poor  Pritchard,  he  would  never  have  done  such  a 
thing ! " 

"  Well,  well,  Michel !  come,  what  is  to  be  your  course 
of  action  under  these  dreadful  circumstances  .?  " 


CURING  DOGS  OF  A  BAD  HABIT    301 

"  For  my  part,  sir,  I  must  own  that  this  morning  I 
was  very  nearly  taking  Monsieur's  gun  and  putting  an 
end  to  that  blackguardly  Catiline," 

"  Michel,  Michel,  such  extremities  are  all  very  well 
for  Cicero,  who  was  a  lawyer,  who  was  in  mortal  terror, 
and  who  was  determined  to  assure  the  triumph  of  the 
gown  over  the  sword ;  but  we,  we  who  are  Christians, 
know  that  God  wills  the  repentance,  not  the  death,  of 
a  sinner." 

"  You  think  Catiline  will  ever  repent,  sir  ?  Not  he  ; 
he's  ready  at  this  moment  to  begin  again.  Yesterday, 
Pritchard ;  to-day,  the  fowls.  No,  nothing  will  stop 
him,  sir !  .  .  .  To-morrow  it  will  be  me ;  the  day 
after  it  will  be  you." 

"  But  after  all,  Michel,  you  say  you  have  a  way  of 
curing  dogs  of  the  foul  trick  of  killing  fowls  ;  so  let 
us  try  your  method  first.  If  Catiline  still  goes  on, 
it  will  then  be  time  enough  to  resort  to  extreme 
measures." 

"  That  is  Monsieur's  final  decision  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Michel." 

"  Very  well,  then  ;  as  soon  as  all's  ready,  I  will  let 
Monsieur  know." 

Then  Michel  left  me  and  went  downstairs  again. 
Half  an  hour  afterwards  I  felt  some  one  shaking  me 
by  the  shoulder. 

It  was  Michel  waking  me  up  a  second  time — for 
I  must  admit  that,  despite  yesterday's  murder  and 
this  morning's  carnage,  I  had  dropped  off  to  sleep 
again. 

"  It's  all  ready,  sir,"  he  told  me. 

"  The  deuce  !  then  I  must  get  up,  eh  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  unless  Monsieur  prefers  to  watch  pro- 
ceedings from  his  window.  But  Monsieur  won't  see 
well  in  that  case." 


302  MY  PETS 

"  Where  is  the  execution  to  be,  Michel  ? — for  I  pre- 
sume there  is  to  be  one." 

"  In  the  outhouse  at  the  side  of  the  courtyard." 

"  Very  well,  Michel ;  down  you  go.    I  will  follow  you." 

I  slipped  on  ^.pantalon  h pieds  and  a  loose  jacket,  put 
on  my  slippers,  and  descended  the  stairs.  I  had  only 
to  pass  out  of  doors  and  go  into  the  outhouse  opposite. 

There  I  found  Michel  holding  Catiline  on  his  chain 
with  one  hand  and  carrying  in  the  other  a  curious- 
looking  instrument  of  which  I  could  make  nothing  at 
first.  This  was  a  cross-piece  of  green  wood,  split  up 
the  middle,  to  which  was  tied  by  the  neck  a  black  hen, 
the  only  one  of  my  eleven  fowls  of  that  colour. 

"  If  Monsieur  would  like  to  see  the  victims,"  said 
Michel,  "  they  lie  in  a  row  on  the  dining-room  table." 

I  cast  an  eye  over  the  table,  and  there  I  saw,  as 
Michel  said,  all  my  poor  feathered  family,  bleeding, 
torn,  and  covered  with  mud. 

My  gaze  wandered  from  the  table  to  Catiline,  whom 
this  grievous  spectacle  appeared  to  leave  absolutely 
callous.      This  want  of  feeling  hardened  my  heart. 

"  Come,  Michel,"  I  said,  "  to  work  ! " 

With  the  words  we  sallied  out.  It  was  the  hour  of 
executions — four  o'clock  in  the  morning.-  We  entered 
the  empty  outhouse,  and  shut  the  door  behind  us. 

"  There  !  "  said  Michel,  shortening  Catiline's  chain  ; 
"  now,  if  Monsieur  will  hold  him  by  the  collar,  he'll  see 
what  he  shall  see." 

I  gripped  the  dog  by  the  collar  while  Michel  seized 
his  tail,  and,  in  spite  of  his  growls,  prising  open  the 
split  with  his  knife,  he  opened  the  wood  slightly,  and 
through  the  opening  crammed  four  or  five  inches  of 
Catiline's  tail. 

"  Let  go,  sir,"  he  cried. 

And,  while   1   released  the  collar,  he  did  the  same 


i'«'-4^- 


/^^ 


TKITCHARD    LOOKED    AT    ME   SAULV   AND    LOVINGLY 


AND    DIED 


CURING  DOGS  OF  A  BAD  HABIT    303 

with  the  piece  of  wood,  which,  snapping  together,  closed 
on  the  culprit's  tail  and  squeezed  it  violently. 

Catiline  darted  away  with  a  yell  of  pain.  But  he 
was  caught.  The  stick  imprisoned  his  tail  too  tight 
for  any  obstacle  whatever  he  might  encounter  to  rid 
him  of  this  new  sort  of  drag. 

At  the  same  moment,  the  fowl,  which  was  firmly 
fastened  to  the  cross-piece,  being  violently  shaken  by 
the  dog's  struggles,  began  leaping  up  and  down  on  his 
back,  tumbling  on  the  ground,  then  bouncing  back 
again  on  to  his  shoulders.  Deceived  by  this  factitious 
appearance  of  life,  Catiline  thought  it  was  the  bird  and 
its  furious  pecks  that  were  causing  him  such  agonies  of 
pain. 

The  quicker  he  ran  the  more  violent  grew  the  pain, 
and  Catiline  dashed  to  and  fro  more  and  more  wildly. 
He  would  stop,  wheel  round,  give  a  savage  bite  at  the 
fowl ;  then,  thinking  he  had  killed  the  bird,  he  would 
set  off  again.  But  by  this  momentary  respite  he  had 
only  won  a  sharper  pang  than  ever.  He  began  a  series 
of  howls,  that  moved  my  compunction  but  produced 
no  effect  on  the  implacable  Michel.  Driven  to  madness, 
Catiline  dashed  among  the  piles  of  wood,  hurled  himself 
against  the  walls,  vanished  from  sight,  reappeared,  his 
career  getting  every  moment  wilder  and  more  reckless, 
till  at  last,  panting,  exhausted,  done  for,  unable  to  take 
another  step,  he  sank  on  the  ground  with  a  long-drawn 
groan. 

Thereupon  Michel  went  up  to  Catiline,  once  more 
prised  open  the  piece  of  wood  with  his  knife,  released 
the  dog's  bleeding  tail,  without  the  latter  seeming  to 
experience  any  great  relief  on  the  termination  of  his 
punishment. 

I  thought  he  was  dead.  I  stepped  up  to  where  the 
poor  beast  lay ;  his  limbs  were  as  stiff  as  a  hare's  that 


304  MY  PETS 

has  been  hunted  to  death ;  only  the  eyes  were  open 
and  still  kept  a  feeble  spark  of  life. 

"  Michel,"  I  ordered,  "  take  a  jug  of  water  and  empty 
it  over  his  head." 

Michel  looked  about  him.  He  saw  a  bucket  con- 
taining water,  brought  as  much  as  his  two  joined  hands 
would  hold,  and  emptied  it  over  Catiline's  head. 

The  animal  sneezed  and  shook  his  head,  but  that 
was  all. 

"  Oh,  sir,"  sneered  Michel,  "  what  a  fuss  for  a  con- 
founded villain  like  him!  Let's  carry  him  into  the 
house,  and  if  he  comes  round,  well,  so  much  the 
better  ! " 

So  saying,  Michel  took  Catiline  by  the  scruff  of  the 
neck,  and,  carrying  him  through  the  house,  dropped 
him  on  the  turf  of  the  lawn. 

Chance  served  us  well.  At  the  time  of  Catiline's 
execution,  the  sky  had  been  overcast,  as  at  the  feast  of 
Thyestes.  But  now,  as  if  the  storm  did  not  conde- 
scend to  burst  in  full  fury  for  so  minor  an  incident, 
and  as  if  the  thunders  of  heaven  were  reserved  for 
mankind  alone,  the  rain  began  to  fall,  but  unaccompanied 
by  thunder  and  lightning. 

The  rain  gradually  soaked  Catiline's  stiffened  limbs. 
He  drew  them  in  one  after  the  other,  then  presently 
got  up  on  his  four  legs.  But  finding  himself  unable 
to  stand,  he  sat  down  on  his  rump,  and  remained  still 
and  motionless,  with  lack-lustre  eye  and  a  look  of  com- 
plete stolidity. 

"  Michel,"  I  said,  "  I  think  your  lesson  has  been  over- 
severe." 

Michel  went  up  to  him  again,  but  the  animal  made 
no  sign,  not  even  one  of  terror,  at  his  approach.  He 
bared  his  teeth,  opened  his  eyes  and  closed  them  again, 
and  shouted  his  name  in  his  ears — but  all  without  avail. 


CURING  DOGS  OF  A  BAD  HABIT    305 

"  Sir,"  he  said,  turning  to  me,  "  Catiline  is  gone 
silly  altogether ;  we  must  send  him  to  Sanfourche." 

Sanfourche,  as  everybody  knows,  is  the  Esquirol  of 
dogs.  That  very  day  the  patient  was  duly  conducted 
to  the  great  veterinary's. 


20 


CHAPTER   XLVII 

JUSTIFYING  WHAT  WAS  SAID  AS  TO  THE  RE- 
SEMBLANCE BETWEEN  FLORA'S  DEATH  AND 
THAT  OF  EURYDICfi 

THE  reader  will  remember  how  my  Auxerre 
friends  had  offered  to  put  off  the  shooting  to 
the   loth   September  to  suit  my  convenience. 

I  had  written  to  tell  them  I  should  arrive  on  the 
evening  of  the  7th,  and  that  the  opening  day  might 
therefore  be  fixed  for  the  8th.  This  time  I  hoped  to 
make  a  longer  stay  at  Saint- Bris ;  so  I  brought  work 
with  me  to  last  me  two  or  three  weeks. 

We  have  said  so  much  in  different  chapters  about 
shooting  matters  that  I  will  not  tire  my  readers  with 
further  details  of  the  sort.  I  will  merely  mention  that, 
having  in  three  weeks'  time  verified  the  fact  that  Flora 
was  in  an  advanced  stage  of  pregnancy,  I  begged  my 
good  friend  Charpillon  to  keep  her  with  him  in  the 
country  till  she  had  pupped. 

Charpillon,  who  was  aware  that  Pritchard  was  the 
father,  and  who  was  conscious  of  wrongs  done  towards 
that  individual,  asked  me  for  no  indemnity  for  Flora's 
board  and  lodging  beyond  the  privilege  of  choosing 
one  of  the  litter  for  himself  I  made  a  condition  on 
my  side,  which  was  that  none  of  the  pups  should  be 
drowned,  as  is  generally  done  under  pretext  of  the 
mother  not  being  strong  enough  to  bring  them  all  up. 

306 


FLORA'S  DEATH  307 

Finding  myself  already  a  quarter  of  the  way  there, 
I  had  determined  to  pay  a  visit  to  my  friends  at 
Marseilles  ;  and  to  give  myself  a  pretext  for  doing  so 
in  my  own  eyes,  I  had  made  arrangements  with  the 
manager  of  the  Gynmase  Marseillais  for  the  production 
of  a  piece  called  Les  Gardes  Forestiers.  The  play  was 
to  be  specially  written  for  the  local  actors,  and  to  have 
never  been  performed  on  any  other  stage. 

My  friend  Bertheau  offered  me  the  sumptuous 
hospitality  of  his  bastide  or  country  house,  La 
Blancardc.  I  stayed  nearly  a  month  at  Marseilles. 
Then  I  returned  to  Charpillon's,  who  had  made  me 
promise  to  stop  with  him  on  my  way  back.  I  got 
there  just  in  time  to  see  Flora's  litter  arrive. 

This  consisted  of  five  pups,  of  which  it  was 
impossible  not  to  recognise  Pritchard  as  the  father. 
Each  chose  the  one  he  preferred,  and  in  twenty- four 
hours  they  all  had  a  home.  I  contented  myself  with 
taking  the  one  nobody  else  wanted. 

Every  day  the  keeper  took  Flora  a  little  walk  for 
the  sake  of  her  health.  One  day  at  the  end  of  the 
first  week  he  told  us  how  he  had  come  across  a  viper 
and  killed  it.  These  noxious  creatures  are  fairly 
common  in  the  woods  of  Saint-Bris,  and  we  con- 
gratulated him  on  having  diminished  the  number. 

Next  day  he  took  out  Flora  as  usual,  but  came 
back  without  her.  The  worthy  fellow  seemed  deeply 
chagrined.  He  asked  to  have  a  word  in  private  with 
Charpillon. 

This  is  what  had  happened  ;  he  had  not  had  the 
heart  to  tell  us  the  story  publicly.  He  had  taken  the 
same  walk  as  the  day  before ;  on  entering  the  path 
where  he  had  killed  the  viper,  Flora  had  scented  the 
dead  reptile,  had  run  up  to  it,  and  then  uttered  a 
sharp,  sudden  cry. 


308  MY  PETS 

Almost  instantly  she  had  gone  into  convulsions,  and 
fallen  dead  as  if  struck  by  lightning. 

The  keeper  knew  very  well  that  every  effect  has  a 
cause,  and  searched  for  the  reason  of  the  catastrophe. 
A  rustling  among  the  leaves  betrayed  the  presence  of 
something  crawling  through  the  undergrowth ;  he 
pulled  out  the  iron  ramrod  of  his  gun,  pushed  the 
bushes  aside,  and  saw  a  viper  trying  to  escape. 

One  blow  with  the  ramrod  stopped  it  instantly. 
What  he  now  saw  was  not  one  viper  only,  but  two — one 
dead,  the  other  still  alive.  The  one  he  had  killed  the 
day  before  was  a  female ;  the  male  had  found  it  dying, 
and  in  hopes,  no  doubt,  of  bringing  it  back  to  life,  had 
stayed  close  beside  it  all  night.  Thus  the  man  had 
found  them  both  when  he  searched  the  bushes — the 
dead  reptile  of  the  day  before,  and  the  other  which  had 
proved  fatal  to  poor  Flora. 

It  was  no  doubt  due  to  the  exasperation  caused  by 
grief  of  the  male  at  the  death  of  its  mate  that  the 
venom  had  acquired  such  an  extraordinary  degree  of 
energy  as  to  kill  Flora  in  a  few  seconds. 

The  dental  cavities  of  vipers  contain  eight  milli- 
grammes of  poison  ;  the  whole  eight  milligrammes  are 
required  to  kill  a  dog,  sixteen  to  kill  a  man.  Now 
it  is  seldom  that,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  the 
reptile  expels  the  whole  eight  milligrammes  of  venom. 
But  it  has  been  observed  that  under  the  influence  of 
anger,  as  also  during  the  months  of  extreme  heat,  this 
poison,  which  is  dangerous  only  when  it  enters  the 
blood  but  is  innocuous  if  swallowed,  redoubles  in 
intensity.  It  was  doubtless  to  one  of  these  circum- 
stances, probably  the  first,  that  Flora  owed  her 
sudden  death. 

As  with  all  accidents  that  are  beyond  remedy,  we 
had  to  console  ourselves  as  well  as  we  could   for  this 


FLORA'S  DEATH  309 

disaster.  I  had  not  had  time  to  grow  extravagantly 
fond  of  the  dog ;  I  mourned  her  as  much  as  her 
merits  and  the  circumstances  called  for,  and  presently 
returned  to  Paris. 

My  first  visit  was  to  Sanfourche,  to  see  how  Catiline 
was  progressing.  The  animal  had  recovered  his  wits, 
but  he  was  afflicted  with  a  sort  of  St.  Vitus'  dance, 
and  the  sight  of  a  fowl  gave  him  a  violent  attack  of 
nerves. 

Thus  I  found  myself  left  with  two  dogs  only — one 
a  confirmed  invalid,  the  other  a  puppy  to  be  reared 
by  hand  ! 

Luckily,  the  first  and  most  important  days  of  the 
shooting  were  over,  and  I  had  time  enough  to  provide 
myself  better  before  the  opening  of  the  next  season. 


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28 

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22 

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38 

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23 

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23 

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30 

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24 

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31 

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24 

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31 

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24 

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31 

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24 

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31 

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24 

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32 

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25 

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32 

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25 

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32 

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r 

\A^estminster  Commentaries 

32 

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25 

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36 

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27 

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33-39 

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27 

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39 

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27 

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39 

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28 

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Barker  (Aldred  P.).  See  Textbooks  of 
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Bowden(E.  Al.).  THE  IMITATION  OF 
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Boyle  (W.).  CHRISTMAS  AT  THE  ZOO. 
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Brailsford  (H.  N.).  MACEDONIA: 
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Brodrick  (Mary)  and  Morton  (A.  Ander= 
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Brooks  (E.  W.).  See  Hamilton  (F.  J.) 
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General  Literature 


Cowley  (Abraham).     See  Little  Library. 

Cowper  (Wiiliani;.  THE  POKMS. 
Kdited  with  an  Introduction  and  Notes  by 
J.  C.  Bailey,  M.A.  Illustrated,  including 
two  unpublished  designs  by  William 
Blake.     DemyZvo.     los.  6d.  n>t. 

Cox  (J.  Cbarles).  See  Ancient  Cities,  Anti- 
quary's Hooks,  and  Little  Guides. 

Cox    (Harold),      15. A.,      M.P.  LAND 

NATIONALIZATION  AND  LAND 
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9 


FItzGerald  (H.  P.).  A  CONCISE  HAND- 
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Foat  (F.  W.  G.),  D.Litt.,  M.A.,  Assistant 
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LONDON  :  A  RE.\DER  FOR  YOUNG 
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Books. 

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Fortescue  (Mrs.  Q.).  See  Little  Books  on 
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Fraser  (J.  F.).     ROUND  THE  WORLD 
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Freudenreich  (Ed.  von).  DAIRY  BAC- 
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Fulford  (H.  W.),  RLA.  See  Churchman's 
Bible. 

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Texts. 

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Gallaher  (D.)and  Stead  (W.  J.).  THE 
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Goudge  (H.  L.),  M.A.,  Principal  of  Wells 
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A  2 


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Horth  (A.  C).  See  Textbooks  of  Technology. 

Horton(R.  F.),  D.D.  See  Leaders  of  Religion. 

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12 


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Redputh(H.  A.).  M.A.,  U.Litt.  See  Wcbt- 
iiiiD.sler  Comincntaries. 

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INDIA.  Second  Edition.  DeinyZvo.  ioj. 
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•Reich  (Cmil),   Doctor  Juris.      WOMAN 
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Rhodes  (VV.  E.).     See  School  Histories. 

Rieu(H.),  M.A.   See  Simplified  French  Texts. 

Roberts  (M.  E.).     See  Channer  (C.  C). 

Robertson  (A.).  D.D.,  Lord  Bishop  of 
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Robertson  (C.  Grant)  and  Bartholomew 
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Robinson  (A.  W.).  M.A.     See  Churchman's 

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Robinson    (Cecilia).      THE    MINISTRY 

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34 


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Wyllarde  (Dolf).  THE  P.^THWAY  OF 
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Edition.     Cr.  Zvo.    6s. 

Yeldham  (C.  C).  DURHAM'S  FARM. 
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Syd  Belton  :  Or,  the  Boy  who  would  not  go 
to  Sea.    By  G.  Manville  Fenn.    Second  Ed. 


By  Mrs.  Molesworth. 
A  Girl  of  the  People.     By  L.  T.  Meade. 

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The  Honourable  Miss.     By  L.  T.  Meade. 

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COMPLETE    LIST    ON    APPLICATION. 


Methuen's  Sixpenny  Books 

Alcdimn  %vo. 


Albanesi    (E.    Maria).      LOVE    AND 

LOUISA. 
I  KNOW  A  MAIDEN. 
Austen  (J.).    PRIDE  AND  PRETUDICE. 
Bagot  (Richard).   A  ROMAN  MYSTERY. 
CASTING  OF  NETS. 
Balfour    (Andrew).      BY    STROKE    OF 

SWORD. 
Baring. Gould  (S.).     FURZE  BLOOM. 
CHEAP  JACK.  ZITA. 
KITTY  ALONE. 
UKITH, 

THE  BROOM  SQUIRE. 
IN  THE  ROAR  OF  THE  SEA. 
NOEMI. 
A  BOOK  OF  FAIRY  TALES-    Illustrated. 


LITTLE  TU'PENNY. 

WINEFRED. 

THE  FROBISHERS. 

THE  QUEEN  OF  LOVE. 

Barr   (Robert).     JENNIE    BAXTER. 

IN  THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS. 

THE  COUNTESS  TEKLA. 

THE  MUTABLE  MANY. 

Benson  (E.  F.).     DODO. 

THE  VINTAGE. 

Bronte  (Charlotte).     SHIRLEY. 

Brownell    (C.     L.).     THE    HEART    OF 

JAPAN. 
Burton  (J.  Bloundelle).      ACROSS  THE 

SALT  SEA.S. 
Ca«yn(Mrs.).     ANNE  MAULEVERER. 


\ 


40 


Messrs.  Methuen's  Catalogue 


Capes  (Bernard).      THE    LAKE    OF 

WINE, 
Clifford  (Mrs.   W.    K.).    A    FLASH    OF 

SUMMER. 
MRS.  KEITH'S  CRIME. 
Corbett    (Julian).        A    BUSINESS    IN 

GREAT  WATERS. 
Crolcer  (Mrs.  B.  M.).     ANGEL. 
A  STATE  SECRET. 
PEGGY  OF  THE  BARTONS. 
JOHANNA. 
Dante    (Alighieri).        THE     DIVINE 

COMEDY  (Cary). 
Doyle  (A.  Conan).    ROUND  THE  RED 

LAMP. 
Duncan  (Sara  Jeannette).      A  VOYAGE 

OF  CONSOLATION. 
THOSE  DELIGHTFUL  AMERICANS. 
Eliot  (George).      THE   MILL  ON   THE 

FLOSS. 
Findlater    (Jane    H.).      THE     GREEN 

GRAVES  OF  BALGOWRIE. 
Gallon  (Tom).     RICKERBY'S  FOLLY. 
Gaskell  (Mrs.).    CRANFORD. 
MARY  BARTON. 
NORTH  AND  SOUTH. 
Gerard    (Dorothea).        HOLY     MATRI- 
MONY. 
THE  CONQUEST  OF  LONDON. 
MADE  OF  MONEY. 

Gissing(G).  THE  TOWN  TRAVELLER. 
THE  CROWN  OF  LIFE. 
Glanville    (Ernest).       THE      INCA'S 

TREASURE. 
THE  KLOOF  BRIDE. 
Gleig  (Charles).     BUNTER'S  CRUISE. 
Grimm     (The     Brothers).         GRIMM'S 

FAIRY  TALES. 
Hope  (Anthony).     A  MAN  OF  MARK. 
A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 
THE   CHRONICLES    OF   COUNT 

ANTONIO. 
PHROSO. 
THE  DOLLY  DIALOGUES. 

Hornunsr  (E.  W.).  DEAD  MEN  TELL 
NO  TALES. 

ingraham  (J.  H.).  THE  THRONE  OF 
DAVID. 

Le  Queux  (\V.).  THE  HUNCHBACK  OF 
WESTMINSTER. 

Levett- Yeats  (S.  K.).  THE  TRAITOR'S 
WAY. 

Linton  (E.  Lynn).  THE  TRUE  HIS- 
TORY OF   lOSHUA  DAVIDSON. 

Lyall  (Edna).  ■  DERRICK  VAUGHAN. 

Malet (Lucas).    THE  CARISSIMA. 

A  COUNSEL  OF  PERFECTION. 

Mann  (Mrs.).     MRS.  PETER  HOWARD. 

A  LOST  ESTATE. 

THE  CEDAR  STAR. 

ONE  ANOTHER'S  BURDENS. 

Marchmont  (A.  W.).  MISER  HOAD- 
LEY'S  SECRET. 

A  MOMENTS  ERROR. 

Marryat  (Captain).    PETER  SIMPLE. 

JACOB  FAITHFUL, 


Marsh  (Richard).  A  METAMORPHOSIS. 

THE  TWICKENHAM  PEERAGE. 

THE  GODDESS. 

THE  JOSS. 

Mason  (A,  E.  W.).    CLEMENTINA. 

Mathers  (Helen).     HONEY. 

GRIFF  OF  GRIFFITHSCOURT 

SAM'S  SWEETHEART. 

Meade  (Mrs.  L.  T.).     DRIFT. 

Alitford  (Bertram).    THE  SIGN  OF  THE 

SPIDER. 
Montresor  (F.  F.).     THE  ALIEN. 
Morrison    (Arthur).      THE    HOLE    IN 

THE  WALL. 
Nesbit  (E.)    THE    RED    HOUSE. 
Norris(W.  E.).     HIS  GRACE. 
GILES  INGILBY. 
THE  CREDIT  OF  THE  COUNTY. 
LORD  LEONARD  THE  LUCKLESS. 
MATTHEW  AUSITN. 
CLARISSA  FURIOSA. 
Oliphant  (Mrs.).    THE  LADY'S  WALK. 
SIR  ROBERTS  FORTUNE. 
THE  PRODIGALS. 
THE  TWO  MARYS. 

Oppenheim  (E.  P.).    MASTER  OF  MEN. 
Parker  (Gilbert).    THE  POMP  OF  THE 

LAVILETTES. 
WHEN  VALMOND  CAME  TO  PONTIAC. 
THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 
Pemberton  (Max).      THE    FOOTSTEPS 

OF  A  THRONE. 
I  CROWN  THEE  KING. 
Phillpotts  (Eden).     THE  HUMAN  BOY. 
CHILDREN  OF  THE  MIST. 
THE  POACHER'S  WIFE. 
THE  RIVER. 
'  Q '    (A.     T.     Quiller     Couch).      THE 

WHITE  WOLF. 
Ridge  (W.  Rett).  A  SON  OF  THE  STATE. 
LOST  PROPERTY. 
GEORGE  and  THE  GENERAL. 
Russell  (W.  Clark).    ABANDONED. 
A  MARRIAGE  AT  SEA. 
MY  DANISH  SWEETHEART. 
HIS  ISLAND  PRINCESS. 
Sergeant  (Adeline).    THE  MASTER  OF 

BEECHWOOD. 
BARBARA'S  MONEY. 
THE  YELLOW  DIAMOND. 
THE  LOVE  THAT  OVERCAME. 
.Surtees   (R.    S.).      HANDLEY    CROSS. 
MR.     SPONGE'S      SPORTING     TOUR. 
ASK  MAMMA. 

WaIford(Mrs.  L.  B.).     MR.  SMITH. 
COUSINS. 

THE  BABY'S  GRANIDMOTHER. 
Wallace  (General  LeVf-).     BEN-HUR. 
THE  FAIR  GOD. 

■Watson  (H.  B.  Marri(itt).  THE  ADVEN- 
TURERS. 

Weekes  (A.  B.).     PRISONERS  OF  WAR. 

Wells  (H.  G.).    THE.  SEA  LADY. 

White  (Percy),  A  PASSIONATE 
PILGRIM. 


^ 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WfflCH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below, 
or  on  the  date  to  which  renewed.  Renewals  onlv: 

Tel.  No.  642-3405 
Renewals  may  be  made  4  days  ^rior  to  date  due. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


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