by Adrien Paul
CHAPTER XV.
GOD'S GOVERNMENT--KING STANISLAUS--THE DAUPHIN SON OF LOUIS XV.--THESHORTEST ROAD--NEW YEAR'S DAY--A MIRACLE--CLEVER ANIMALS--THECALENDAR--MR. JULIUS CAESAR AND POPE GREGORY XIII.--HOW THE DAY AFTERTHE 4TH OF OCTOBER WAS THE 15TH--OLYMPIAD--LUSTRES--THE HEGIRA--AHORSE MADE CONSUL--JACK'S DREAM.
Some men, when they regard the sinister side of events, are apt tocall in question the axiom, Nothing is accomplished without the willof God. Why, they ask, do the wicked triumph? Why are the justoppressed? Why this evil? What is the use of that disaster? Was itnecessary that Mary Wolston should be thrown into the sea, and thatshe should afterwards die in consequence of the accident?
To these questions we reply, that God does not interrupt the ordinarycourse of His works. Man is a free agent in so far as regards his ownactions; were it otherwise, we should not be responsible for our owncrimes. We might as well plunge into vice as adhere to virtue; for wecould not be called upon to expiate the one, nor could we hope to berewarded for the other. It is not to be expected that God is toperform miracles at every instant for our individual benefit. It isunreasonable in us to suppose that, in obedience to our wishes ordesires, He will alter His immutable laws.
A foot slips on the brink of a precipice, and we are dashed to atoms.Our boat is upset in a squall, and we are drowned. Like StanislausLeszinsky, King of Poland, we fall asleep in the corner of a chimney,our clothes take fire, and we are burned to death. We go a hunting; wemistake a grey overcoat for the fur of a deer, and we kill our friendor his gamekeeper, as once happened to the son of Louis XV., who inconsequence almost died of grief, and renounced forever a sport ofwhich he was passionately fond. Did Providence will, exact, orpre-ordain all these calamities? Certainly not; but our Creator hasseen fit to tolerate and permit them, since he did not interpose toprevent them.
The government of God is a conception so wonderful, so sublime, thatnone but Himself can fathom its depths. Human intelligence is toofinite to penetrate or comprehend a system so complex, and yet souniform. The mind of man can only form a just idea of a cause when theeffect has been made manifest to his understanding. There might havebeen a reason for the death of Mary Wolston--who knows? But if it wereso, that reason was beyond the pale of mortal ken.
Let us not, however, anticipate. Mary Wolston is not yet dead. On thecontrary, when the ninth day of her illness had passed, Fritz and Jackwere returning from an expedition, the nature of which was only knownto themselves, but which, to judge from the packs that they bore ontheir backs, had been tolerably productive. The two young men observedtheir mother advancing, as usual, to meet them, but this time _sheran_. They had no need to be told in words that Mary Wolston was nowout of danger; the serenity of their mother's countenance was moreeloquent than the most elaborate discourse that ever stirred humansouls.
Mrs. Becker herself felt that words were superfluous, so she quietlytook her son's arm, and they walked gently homewards, whilst Jackstrode on before. On turning a corner of the road, the latter stumbledupon Wolston and Ernest, who, in the exuberance of their joy, had alsocome out to meet the hunters. They were, however, a little behind; butthat was nothing new. These two members of the colony had become quiteremarkable for procrastination and absence of mind. When Wolston themechanician, and Ernest the philosopher, travelled in company, it wasrare that some pebble or plant, or question in physics, did not inducethem to deviate from their route or tarry on their way. One day theyboth started for Rockhouse to fetch provisions for the family dinner,but instead of bringing back the needful supplies of beef and mutton,they returned in great glee with the solution of an intricate problemin geometry. All fared very indifferently on that occasion, and, inconsequence, Wolston and Ernest were, from that time on, deprived ofthe office of purveyors.
In the present instance, instead of running like Mrs. Becker, they hadphilosophically seated themselves on the trunk of a tree. At theirfeet was a diagram that Wolston had traced with the end of his stick;this was neither a tangent nor a triangle, as might have beenexpected, but a figure denoting how to carve one's way to a position,amidst the rugged defiles of life.
"In all things," observed Wolston, "in morals as well as physics, theshortest road from one point to another, is the straight line."
"Unless," objected Ernest, "the straight line were encumbered withobstacles, that would require more time to surmount than to go round.Two leagues of clear road would be better than one only a singleleague in length, if intersected by ditches and strewn with wildbeasts."
"Bah!" cried Jack, who had just come up out of breath, "you might leapthe one and shoot the others."
"Your argument," replied Wolston, "is that of the savage, who canimagine no obstacles that are not solid and tangible. The obstaclesthat retard our progress in life neither display yawning chasms norrows of teeth; they dwell within our own minds--they are versatility,disgust, ennui, thirst after the unknown, and love of change. Theselead us to take bye-paths and long turnings, and fritter away thestrength that should be used in promoting a single aim. Hence arise amultiplicity of hermaphrodite avocations and desultory studies, thatterminate in nothing but vexation of spirit. Let us suppose, forexample, that Peter has made up his mind to be a lawyer."
"I do not see any particular reason why Peter should not be a lawyer,"said Jack.
"Nor I either; but unfortunately when Peter has pored a certain timeover Coke upon Littleton, and other abstruse legal authorities, heaccidentally witnesses a review; he throws down his books, andresolves to become a soldier."
"After the manner and style of our Fritz," suggested Jack.
"He changes the Pandects for Polybius, and Gray's Inn for a militaryschool. All goes well for awhile; the idea of uniform helps him overthe rudiments of fortification and the platoon exercise. He passes twoexaminations creditably, but breaks down at the third, in consequenceof which he throws away his sword in disgust. He does not like now torejoin his old companions in the Inn, who have been working steadilyduring the years he has lost. He therefore, perhaps, adopts a middlecourse, and gets himself enrolled in the society of solicitors, whichdoes not exact a very elaborate diploma."
"Well, after all, the difference between a barrister and a solicitoris not so great."
"True; but the exercises to which he has been accustomed previouslyunfit him for the drudgeries of his new employment, and he soonabandons that, just as he abandoned the other two."
"Your friend Peter is somewhat difficult to please," said Jack.
"He then goes into business, a term which may mean a great deal ornothing at all; it admits of one's going about idle with theappearance of being fully occupied. Then a few unsuccessfulspeculations bring him back, at the end of his days, to the pointwhence he started--that is, zero."
"Ah, yes, I see now," cried Jack, whilst he traced a diagram on theground. "Poor Peter has always stopped in the middle of eachprofession and gone back to the starting point of another, thuspassing his life in making zig-zags, and only moving from one zero toanother."
"Exactly," added Wolston: "whilst those who persevered in following upthe profession they chose at first finally succeeded in attaining aposition, and that simply by adhering to a straight line."
Here Fritz and his mother arrived, arm in arm.
"Ha! there you are," cried Ernest. "We were on our way to meet you."
"You surely do not call sitting down there being on your way to meetus, do you?"
"Well, yes, mother," suggested Jack, "on the principle that two bodiescoming into contact meet each other."
Like those flowers that droop during a storm, but recover theirbrilliancy with the first rays of the sun, so a few days more sufficedto restore Mary Wolston to better health than she had ever enjoyed inher life before. Some months now elapsed without giving rise to anyevent of note. All the men, women, and children in the colony had beenbusily employed from early morn to late at e'en. No sooner had onefield been sown than there was another to plant; then came the grainharvest and its hard b
ut healthy toil; next, much to the delight ofWillis, herrings appeared on the coast, followed by their attendantdemons, the sea-dogs; salmon-fishing, hunting ortolans, the foundriesand manufactories, likewise exacted a portion of their time.Frequently parties were occupied for weeks together in the remotedistricts; so that, with the exception of one day each week--theSabbath--the two families had of late been rarely assembled togetherin one spot.
The hope of ever again beholding the _Nelson_ had gradually ceased tobe entertained by anybody. Like an echo that resounds from rock torock until it is lost in the distance, this hope had died away intheir breasts. Willis nevertheless continued to keep the beacon onShark's Island alight; but he regarded it more as a sepulchral lamp incommemoration of the dead, than as a signal for the living.
One morning, the break of day was announced by a cannon-shot. Allinstantly started on their feet and gazed inquiringly in each other'sfaces. One thing forced itself upon all their thoughts--daybreakgenerally arrives without noise; it is not accustomed to announceitself with gunpowder; like real merit, it requires no flourish oftrumpets to announce its advent.
"Good," said Becker; "Fritz and Jack are not visible, therefore we mayeasily guess who fired that shot."
"Particularly," added Wolston, "as this is the first of January. Lastnight I observed an unusual amount of going backwards and forwards,so, I suppose, nobody need be much at a loss to solve the mystery."
"Aye," sighed Willis, "New Year's Day brings pleasing recollections tomany, but sad ones to those who are far away from their own homes."
Shortly after, the absentees arrived, each mounted on his favoriteostrich.
"Mrs. Wolston," said Fritz, spreading out a fine leopard's skin, "begood enough to accept this, with the compliments of the season."
"Mr. Wolston," said Jack, at the same time, "here is the outercovering of a panther, who, stifling with heat, commissioned me topresent you with his overcoat."
"I am very proud of your gift, Master Fritz," said Mrs. Wolston; "itis really very handsome."
"It may, perhaps, be useful at all events, madam," said Fritz; "for,in the absence of universal pills and such things, it is a capitalpreventative of coughs and colds."
"You have been over the way again, then?" inquired Willis.
"Yes; but, as you see, we adopted a more efficacious mode ofoperations than the one you suggested."
"Ah," replied Willis, drily, "you did not light a fire this time tofrighten the brutes away, and go to sleep when it went out!"
Sophia then presented Willis with a handsome tobacco pouch, on whichthe words, "From Susan," were embroidered.
"Bless your dear little heart!" said the sailor, whilst a tearsparkled in the corner of his eye, "you make me almost think I am inOld England again."
"What is the matter?" inquired Mrs. Wolston, as Mary came running in.
"Oh, such a miracle, mamma! my parrot commenced talking this morning."
"And what did it say, child?"
Here Mary blushed and hesitated; Mrs. Wolston glanced at Fritz, andthought it might be as well not to inquire any further.
"Perhaps somebody has changed it," suggested Jack.
"Not very likely that a strange parrot could pronounce my own name."
"Well, perhaps your own has been learning to spell for a long time,and has just succeeded in getting into words of two or more syllables.These creatures abound in sell-esteem; and yours, perhaps, would notspeak till it could speak well."
"Odd, that it should pitch upon New Year's morning to say all sorts ofpretty things. They do not carry an almanack in their pockets, dothey?"
"Well," remarked Willis, "parrots do say and do odd things. I heard ofone that once frightened away a burglar, by screaming out, 'TheCampbells are coming;' so, Miss Wolston, perhaps yours does keep alog."
"By counting its knuckles," suggested Jack.
"Counting one's knuckles is an ingenious, but rather a clumsysubstitute for the calendar," remarked Wolston.
"And who invented the calendar?" inquired Willis.
"I am not aware that the calendar was ever invented," replied Wolston."Fruit commences by being a seed, the admiral springs from thecabin-boy, words and language succeed naturally the babble of theinfant; so, I presume, the calendar has grown up spontaneously to itspresent degree of perfection."
"Yes, Mr. Wolston, but some one must have laid the first plank."
"The motions of the sun, moon, and stars would, in all probability,suggest to the early inhabitants of our globe a natural means ofmeasuring time. God, in creating the heavenly bodies, seems to havereflected that man would require some index to regulate his labors andthe acts of his civil life. The primary and most elementarysubdivisions of time are day and night, and it demanded no greatstretch of human ingenuity to divide the day into two sections, calledforenoon and afternoon, or into twelve sections, called hours. Suchsubdivisions of time would probably suggest themselves simultaneouslyto all the nations of the earth. Necessity, who is the mother of allinvention, doubtless called the germs of our calendar into existence."
"Yes, so far as the days and hours are concerned. There are otherdivisions--weeks, for example."
"The division of time into weeks is a matter that belongs entirely torevelation; the Jews keep the last day of every seven as a day ofrest, in accordance with the law of Moses, and the Christians dedicatethe first day of every seven to our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ."
"Then there are months."
"The month is another natural division. The return of the moon inconjunction with the sun, was observed to occur at regular intervalsof twenty-nine days, twelve hours, and some minutes. This interval iscalled the _lunar month_, which for a long time was regarded as theradical unit in the admeasurement of time."
"But the year is now the unit, is it not?"
"Yes, in course of time the moon, in this respect, gave place to thesun. It was observed that the earth, in performing her revolutionround the sun, always arrived at the same point of her orbit at theend of three hundred and sixty-five days, five hours, fifty-eightminutes, and forty-five seconds."
"Does the earth invariably pass the same point at that interval?"
"Yes, invariably; and the interval in question is termed the solaryear."
"After all," remarked Jack, "the perseverance of the earth is verymuch to be admired. It goes on eternally, always performing the samejourney, never deviates from its path, and is never a minute toolate."
"If the earth had performed her annual voyage in a certain number ofentire days, the solar year would have been an exact unit of time; butthe odd fraction defied all our systems of calculation. Originally, wereckoned the year to consist of three hundred and sixty-five days."
"And left the fraction to shift for itself!"
"Yes, but the consequence was, that the civil year was always nearly aquarter of a day behind; so that at the end of a hundred andtwenty-one years the civil year had become an entire month behind. Thefirst month of winter found itself in autumn, the first month ofspring in the middle of winter, and so on.
"Rather a lubberly sort of log, that," remarked Willis.
"This confusion became, with time, more and more embarrassing. Anotherevil was, likewise, eventually to be apprehended, for it was seenthat, on the expiring of fourteen hundred and sixty revolutions of theearth round the sun, fourteen hundred and sixty-one civil years wouldbe counted."
"But where would have been the evil?"
"All relations between the dates and the seasons would have beenobliterated, astronomical calculations would have become inaccurate,and the calendar virtually useless."
"Well, Willis, you that are so fertile in ideas, what would you havedone in such a case?" inquired Jack.
"I! Why I scarcely know--perhaps run out a fresh cable and commenced anew log."
"Your remedy," continued Wolston, "might, perhaps, have obviated thedifficulty; but Julius Caesar thought of another that answered thepurpose equally well. It was simply to add t
o every fourth civil yearan additional day, making it to consist of three hundred and sixty-sixinstead of three hundred and sixty-five, This supplementary day wasgiven to the month of February."
"Why February?"
"Because February, at that time, was reckoned the last month of theyear. It was only in the reign of Charles IX. of France, or in thesecond half of the sixteenth century, that the civil year was made tobegin on the 1st of January. As the end of February was five daysbefore the 1st or kalends of March, the extra day was known by thephrase _bis sexto_ (_ante_) _calendus martii_. Hence the fourth yearis termed in the calendar _bissextile_, but is more usually called byus in England _leap year_."
"The remedy is certainly simple; but are your figures perfectlysquare? If you add a day every four years, do you not overleap theearth's fraction?"
"Yes, from ten to eleven minutes."
"And what becomes of these minutes? Are they allowed to run up anotherscore?"
"No, not exactly. In 1582, the civil year had got ten clear days thestart of the solar year, and Pope Gregory XIII. resolved to cancelthem, which he effected by calling the day after the 4th of Octoberthe 15th."
"That manner of altering the rig and squaring the yards," said Willilaughing, "would make the people that lived then ten days older. If ithad been ten years, the matter would have been serious. Had the Popesaid to me privately, 'Willis, you are now only forty-seven, butto-morrow, my boy, you will fill your sails and steer right intofifty-seven,' I should have turned 'bout ship and cleared off. Few mencare about being put upon a short allowance of life, any more than wesailors on short rations of rum."
"But you forget, Willis, that, though ten years were added to yourage, you would not have died a day sooner for all that."
"Still, it is my idea that the Pope was not much smarter at taking alatitude than Mr. Julius Caesar--but what are you laughing at?"
"Nothing; only Julius Caesar is not generally honored with the prefix_Mr_. It is something like the French, who insist upon talking of _SirNewton_ and _Mr. William Shakespeare_; the latter, however, by way ofamends, they sometimes style the _immortal Williams_.'"
"Not so bad, though, as a Frenchman I once met, who firmly believedthe Yankees lived on a soup made of bunkum and soft-sawder. But whowas Julius Caesar."
"Julius Caesar," replied Jack, sententiously, "was first of all anauthor, Laving published at Rome an Easy Introduction to the LatinLanguage; he afterwards turned general, conquered France and England,and gave _Mr._ Pompey a sound thrashing at the battle of Pharsalia."
"He must have been a clever fellow to do all that; still, my ideacontinues the same. When he began to caulk the calendar, he ought tohave finished the business in a workmanlike manner."
"That, however," continued Wolston, "he left to Pope Gregory, whodecreed that three leap years should be suppressed in four centuries.Thus, the years 1700 and 1800, which should have been leap years, didnot reckon the extra day; so the years 2000 and 2400 will likewise bedeprived of their supplementary four-and-twenty hours."
"There is one difficulty about this mode of stowing away extra days;these leap years may be forgotten."
"Not if you keep in mind that leap years alone admit of being dividedby four."
"Did the Pope manage to get entirely rid of the fraction?"
"Not entirely; but the error does not exceed one day in four thousandyears, and is so small that it is not likely to derange ordinarycalculations; and so, Willis, you now know the origin of the calendar,and likewise how time came to be divided into weeks, months, andyears."
"You have only spoken of the Christian calendar," remarked Ernest."There have been several other systems in use. Those curious peoplethat call themselves the children of the sun and moon, possess a modeof reckoning that carries them back to a period anterior to thecreation of the world. Then, the Greeks computed by Olympiads, orperiods of four years. The Romans reckoned by lustri of five years,the first of which corresponds with the 117th year of the foundationof Rome."
"And when does our calendar begin?"
"It dates only from the birth of Christ, but may be carried back tothe creation, which event, to the best of our knowledge, occurred fourthousand and four years before the birth of our Savior. This period,added to the date of the present, or any future year, gives us, asnearly as we can ascertain, the interval that has elapsed since ourfirst parents found themselves in the garden of Eden."
"Our calendar," remarked Jack, "appears simple enough; it is to beregretted that there have been, and are, so many other modes ofreckoning extant. What with the Greek Olympiads, the Roman lustres,the Mahometan hegira, and Chinese moonshine, there is nothing butperplexity and confusion."
"It is possible, however," said Becker, "to accommodate all thesesystems with each other. Leaving the Chinese out of the question, wehave only to bear in mind, that the Christian era begins on the firstyear of the 194th Olympiad, 753 years after the building of Rome, and622 years before the Mahometan hegira. These three figures will serveus as flambeaux to all the dates of both ancient and modern history."
The discourse was here interrupted by Toby, who entered the room, andwas gleefully frisking and bounding round Mary.
"Really," observed Mrs. Becker, "Toby does seem to know that this isNew Year's Day, he looks so lively and so smart."
The animal, in point of fact, wore a new collar, and seemed consciousthat he was more than usually attractive that particular morning. At asign from Mary, the intelligent brute went and wagged his tail toFritz. Hereupon the young man, observing the collar more closely,noticed the following words embroidered upon it: _I belong nowentirely to Master Fritz, who rescued my mistress from the sea_.
"Ah, Miss Wolston," said Fritz, "you forget I only did my duty; youmust not allow your gratitude to over-estimate the service I renderedyou."
"Well, I declare," cried Mrs. Wolston, laughing "here is anotheranimal that speaks."
"The age of Aesop revived," suggested Mrs. Becker.
"What do you say, Master Jack?" inquired Mrs. Wolston. "Do you supposethat Toby has learned embroidery in the same way that the parrotlearned grammar?"
"Oh, more astonishing things than that have happened! Mr. Wolstonthere will tell you that he has seen a wooden figure playing at chess;why, therefore, should the most sagacious of all the brutes not learnknitting?"
"I fear, in speaking so highly of the dog," replied Mrs. Wolston, "youare doing injustice to other animals. Marvellous instances ofsagacity, gratitude, and affection, have been shown by other brutesbeside the dog. A horse of Caligula's was elevated to the dignifiedoffice of consul."
"Yes, and talking of the affection of animals," observed Ernest, "putsme in mind of an anecdote related by Aulus Gellius. It seems that alittle boy, the son of a fisher man, who had to go from Baiae to hisschool at Puzzoli, used to stop at the same hour each day on the brinkof the Lucrine lake. Here he often threw a bit of his breakfast to aDolphin that he called Simon, and if the creature was not waiting forhim when he arrived, he had only to pronounce this name, and itinstantly appeared."
"Nothing very wonderful in that," said Jack; "the common gudgeon,which is the stupidest fish to be found in fresh water, would do thatmuch."
"Yes; but listen a moment. The dolphin, after having received hispittance, presented his back to the boy, after having tacked in allhis spines and prickles as well as he could, and carried him rightacross the lake, thus saving the little fellow a long roundabout walk;and not only that, but after school hours it was waiting to carry himback again. This continued almost daily for a year or two; but at lastthe boy died, and the dolphin, after waiting day after day for hisreappearance, pined away, and was found dead at the usual place ofrendezvous. The affectionate creature was taken out of the lake, andburied beside its friend.[D]
"And, on the other hand," added Jack, "if animals sometimes attachthemselves to us, we attach ourselves to them. We are told thatCrassus wore mourning for a dead ferret, the death of which grievedhim as much as if it h
ad been his own daughter.[E] Augustus crucifiedone of his slaves, who had roasted and eaten a quail, that had foughtand conquered in the circus.[F] Antonia, daughter-in-law of Tiberius,fastened ear-rings to some lampreys that she was passionately fondof."[G]
"That, at all events, was attachment in one sense of the word," saidMrs. Wolston.
"Without reference to the dog in particular," continued Jack, "proofsof sagacity in animals are very numerous. The nautilus, when he wantsto take an airing, capsizes his shell, and converts it into a gondola;then he hoists a thin membrane that serves for a sail; two of hisarms are resolved into oars, and his tail performs the functions of arudder. There are insects ingenious enough to make dwellings forthemselves in the body of a leaf as thin as paper. At the approach ofa storm some spiders take in a reef or two of their webs, so as to beless at the mercy of the wind. Beavers will erect walls, and constructhouses more skilfully than our ablest architects. Chimpanzees havebeen known spontaneously to sit themselves down, and perform theoperation of shaving."
"Stop, Jack," cried Mrs. Wolston; "I must yield to such a deluge ofargument, and admit that Toby may have acquired the art of embroiderywith or without a master, only I should like to see some otherspecimen of his skill."
"Probably you will by-and-by," replied Jack, laughing, "if you keepyour eyes open."
Here Sophia came into the room leading her gazelle.
"Ah, just in time," said Mrs. Wolston; "here is another animal thatprobably has something to say."
"Wrong, mamma," replied Sophia; "my gazelle is as mute as a mermaid.Very provoking, is it not, when all the other animals in the housetalk?"
"You had better apply to Master Jack; he may, probably, be able to hitupon a plan to make your gazelle communicative."
"Will you, Master Jack?"
"Certainly, Miss Sophia. The plan I would suggest is very simple. Feedhim for a week or two with nouns, adjectives, and verbs."
Here Sophia, addressing her gazelle, said, "Master Jack Becker is agoose."
Meantime Fritz was leaning on the back of Mary's chair.
"Miss Wolston," said he, "did you not tell me that you had broughtToby up, and that you were very fond of him?"
"Yes, Fritz."
"Then it would be unfair in me to withdraw his allegiance from younow, and, consequently, I must refuse your present"
"But where would have been the merit of the gift if I did not holdhim in some esteem? Besides, I thought you were fond of Toby."
"So I am, Miss Wolston."
"Then you will not be indebted to me for anything--I owe you much."
"No such thing; you owe me nothing."
"My life, then, is nothing?"
"Oh, I did not mean that; I must beg your pardon."
"Which I will only grant on condition you accept my gift."
"Well, if you insist upon it, I will."
"I can see him as before; the only difference will be that you are hismaster, in all other respects he will belong to us both."
"May I know what your knight-errant is saying to you, Mary?" inquiredMrs. Becker.
"Oh, I have been so angry with him; he was going to refuse mypresent."
"That was very naughty of him, certainly."
"He has, however, consented, like a dutiful squire, to obey mybehests."
"Yes, mother, Toby is henceforth to be divided between us."
"Divided?"
"Yes; that is, he is to be nominally mine, but virtually to belong tous both. Is it not so, Miss Wolston?"
"Yes, Master Fritz."
On his side, Jack had approached Miss Sophia.
"So you won't give me your gazelle?" he whispered.
"No, certainly not, Mr. Jack," replied Sophia; "if you had saved mylife, as Fritz saved my sister's, I should then have had the right tomake you a present. But you know it is not my fault."
"Nor mine either," said Jack.
"Perhaps not; but if I had fallen into the sea, you would have allowedthe sharks to swallow me, would you not?"
"I only wish we had been attacked by a hyena or a bear on our way toWaldeck."
"God be thanked, that we were not!"
"Well, but look here, Miss Sophia; let me paint the scene. You havefainted, as a matter of course, and fallen prostrate on the ground,insensible."
"That is likely enough, if we had encountered one of the animals youmention."
"Then I throw myself between you and the savage brute."
"Supposing you were not half a mile off at the time."
"No fear of that--he rises, on his hind legs, and glares."
"Is it a hyena or a bear?"
"Oh, whichever you like--he opens his jaws, and growls."
"Like the wolf at Little Red Riding Hood."
"I plunge my arm down his throat and choke him."
"Clever, very; but are you not wounded?"
"I beg your pardon, however; all my thoughts are centred in you--Ithink of nothing else."
"I am insensible, am I not?"
"Yes, more than ever--we all run towards you, and exert ourselves tobring you back to your senses."
"Then I come to life again."
"No, stop a bit."
"But it is tiresome to be so long insensible."
"My mother has luckily a bottle of salts, which she holds to yournose--I run off to the nearest brook, and return with water in thecrown of my cap, with which I bathe your temples."
"Oh, in that case, I should open one eye at least. Which eye is openedfirst after fainting?"
"I really don't know."
"In that case, to avoid mistakes, I should open both."
"It is only then, when I find you are recovering, that I discover thebrute has severely bitten my arm."
"Then comes my turn to nurse you."
"You express your thanks in your sweetest tones, and I forget mywounds."
"Sweet tones do no harm, if they are accompanied with salves andointment."
"In short, I am obliged to carry my arm in a sling for three monthsafter."
"Is that not rather long?"
"No; because your arm, in some sort, supplies, meantime, the place ofmine."
"Your picture has, at least, the merit of being poetic. Is itfinished?"
"Not till next New Year's Day, when you present me with an embroideredscarf, as the ladies of yore used to do to the knights that defendedthem from dragons and that sort of thing."
"What a pity all this should be only a dream!"
"Well, I am not particularly extravagant, at all events; others dreamof fortune, honor, and glory."
"Whilst you confine your aspirations to a bear, a bite, and a scarf."
"You see nothing was wanted but the opportunity."
"And foresight."
"Foresight?"
"Yes; if you had previously made arrangements with a bear, the wholescene might have been realized."
"You are joking, whilst I am taking the matter _au serieux_."
"That order is usually reversed; generally you are the quiz and I amthe quizzee."
"You will admit, at all events, that I would not have permitted thebear to eat you."
Here Sophia burst into a peal of laughter, and vanished with hergazelle.
FOOTNOTES:
[D] Aulus Gellius, VII., 8.
[E] Macrobius, _Saturn_, XL, 4.
[F] Plutarch.
[G] Pliny, IX., 53.