"'No, no, I'm not wounded. I've something the matter with that leg; but it's nothing serious, I know.'

"'And what horse played you that trick?'

"'Why, this one.'

"And I pointed out Brutus to Mme. de Noriolis. Brutus was there, quite near us, untied, peacefully crunching little tufts of broom.

"'What, that one, that brave horse? Oh, he has well made up for his faults, I a.s.sure you. I will tell you about it, but later on. You must first get home, and at once.'

"'I can't walk a step.'

"'But I am going to take you back myself, at the risk of compromising you.'

"And she called Bob, her little groom, and taking me gently by the arm, while Bob took me by the other, she made me get into her carriage; five minutes later we were bowling off, both of us, in the direction of La Roche-Targe: she, holding the reins and driving the pony with a light hand; I, looking at her, feeling troubled, confused, embarra.s.sed, ridiculous, and stupid. We were alone in the carriage. Bob was commissioned to bring Brutus, who, very docile, had allowed himself to be taken.

"'Lie down,' Mme. de Noriolis said to me; 'keep your leg straight; I am going to drive you slowly so as to avoid b.u.mps.'

"In short, she made a lot of little amiable and pleasant remarks; then, when she saw me well settled, she said:

"'Tell me how you came to fall, and then I will tell you how I happened to come to your aid. It seems to me this horse story must be queer.'

"I began my tale; but as soon as I spoke of Brutus's efforts to unhorse me, and the two reports of the gun, she exclaimed:

"'I understand, I understand. You have bought a circus charger.'

"'A circus charger!'

"'Why, yes; that's it, and that explains everything. You have seen twenty times at the Circus of the Empress the performance of the circus charger--the light-cavalryman who enters the arena on a gray horse, then the Arabs come and shoot at the cavalryman, who is wounded and falls; and as you didn't fall, the horse, indignant and not understanding how you could so far forget your part, threw you on the ground. And when you were on the ground, what did the horse do?'

"I related Brutus's little work in burying me suitably.

"'The circus charger,' she continued; 'still the circus charger. He sees his master wounded, the Arabs could come back and finish him, and so what does the horse do? He buries the cavalryman. Then goes off galloping, didn't he?'

"'Yes, on a hard gallop,'

"'Carrying the flag, which is not to fall into the hands of the Arabs.'

"'It's my hat that he took.'

"'He took what he could. And where does the circus charger gallop to?'

"'Ah! I know, I know,' I exclaimed, in my turn, 'he goes to get the sutler.'

"'Precisely. He goes to get the sutler; and the sutler to-day, if you please, is I, Countess of Noriolis. Your big gray horse galloped into my grounds. I was standing on the porch, putting on my gloves and ready to step into my carriage, when the stablemen came running, upon seeing that horse arrive saddled and bridled, without a rider, and a hat in his mouth. They tried to catch him, but he shunned them and escaped, and came straight to the porch, falling on his knees before me. The men approached, and once more tried to catch him; but he got up, galloped away, stopped by the gate of the grounds, turned around, and looked at me. He called to me--I a.s.sure you, he called to me. I told the men not to bother about the horse any more. Then I jumped into my carriage and started; the horse rushed into the woods; post-haste I followed him by paths that were not always intended for carriages; but still I followed him, and I arrived and found you.'

"At the moment Mme. de Noriolis was speaking those last words the carriage received a tremendous shock from behind; then we saw in the air Brutus's head, which was held there upright as though by a miracle. For it was again Brutus. Mounted by Bob, he had followed the carriage for several minutes, and seeing that the back seat of the little pony-carriage was unoccupied, he had, like a true artist, cleverly seized the moment to give us a new proof of his talent in executing the most brilliant of his former performances. In one jump he had placed his fore-feet on the carriage, then, that done, he quietly continued trotting on his two hind-legs. Bob, distracted, with his body thrown over and his head thrown back, was making vain attempts to put the horse back on his four legs.

"As to Mme. de Noriolis, she was so well frightened, that, letting the reins drop from her hands, she had simply thrown herself in my arms. Her adorable little head had rolled hap-hazard on my shoulder, and my lips just touched her hair. With my left hand I tried to recover the reins, with my right I supported Mme. de Noriolis; my leg hurt me frightfully, and I was seized with a queer feeling of confusion.

"It was thus that Mme. de Noriolis made her first entry into La Roche-Targe.

"When she returned there, one evening at midnight, six weeks later, having during the day become Mme. de La Roche-Targe, she said:

"'What is life, after all? Nothing like this would have happened if you hadn't bought the circus charger.'"

BLACKY

"Don't be alarmed, sir; you won't miss the train. For the last fifteen years I've been carrying travellers to the station, and I've never yet missed a train! Think of that, sir; never!"

"But--"

"Oh, don't look at your watch. There is one thing you don't know and that you must learn, and that your watch will never be able to tell you--that is, that the train is always a quarter of an hour late. Such a thing as the train's being on time has never happened."

Such a thing happened that day, however, for the train was on time, and so I missed it. My driver was furious.

"You should warn us," he said to the station-master, "if your trains are suddenly going to start at the right hour. Who ever saw the like!"

And he turned to one or two of the porters for witnesses.

"Did you ever see such a thing? I don't wish to appear blamable before the gentleman. A train on time--on time! You know it's the first time it has ever happened."

There was a general cry of "Yes, indeed; usually there's some delay."

But, for all that, I had none the less three long hours to pa.s.s in a very desolate village (in the Canton of Vaud) shut in by two sad-looking mountains, which had their little topknots covered with snow.

But how kill three hours? In my turn I now asked advice, and again there was a chorus of "Go see the Caldron; that's the only sight to be seen in this part of the country." "And where is this Caldron?" On the mountain, to the right, half way up; but the path was a little complicated, and I was advised to take a guide; and there, over there in that white cottage with green blinds, I would find the best guide there was about here, an honest man--Old Simon.

So I went and knocked at the door of the little house.

An old woman opened it.

"Simon, the guide?"

"Yes, right here; but--if it's to go to the Caldron--"

"It is to go to the Caldron."

"Well, Simon hasn't been very well since morning; he hasn't much strength, and he can't go out. But don't worry yourself; there is some one who can replace him--there is Blacky."

"All right, let it be Blacky, then."

"Only I must tell you that Blacky isn't a person."

"Not a person?"