Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1891-10-30
THE STORY OF AN ASS,

Lord Houghton-
THE STORY OF AN ASS,
Elysees, powdered them with white like a
marquis of the old regime.
In the Avenue Montaigu it was close
upon 9 in the morning; the sun shone
through the fog like ball of fire, but
threw out no warming beams, and the
breeze was sharp and cruel on that poor
struggling world.
One saw passing rapidly along the avenue
women with yelled faces and men with
bowed heads. like vessels whose prows dip
under the blasts of the furious hurricane.
One would have turned neither dog nor
a lover from the door; the kiss of an limo
cent, even, would have frozen en- route.
l, too, passed in haste, like all the world,
while close beside me ragpicker, pale and
careworn, led by the bride forlorn little
ass that had the air of being at least a hun
bred years old and dragged painfully poor
little cart, full of the trash and the cast
offs of the quarter-scraps, broken bottles,
discarded papers, disdained bouquets, worn
out saucepans, skillets, crusts of bread,
billet douX-in word, the thousand moth
ings that make up the fortune of ragpick-
erS
The woman had made good collection
in her run of the night, but the ass was at
the end of its endurance
AS I drew near the little wagonette a
name caught my eye suddenly among the
crumpled papers, the name of Mile. Gen
evieve, the name precisely of the demoiselle
from whose house had just come. Was
it, perchance, that Mile. Genevieve?
did not need her portrait to be sure that
it was she-I, who had seen her only the
night before, dazzling with beauty, all
daubed with red and white and with her
hair in the latest fashion and her comedy
ways, for really she seemed to adore me
I, who go too much, however, to genuine
comedy to be caught by shams like these
Nevertheless, though it was but scrap,
l dared not help myself to that tempting
letter; it was the ragpicker's property.
Madame" said to her, will you give
me bit of paper to light my cigar WITH"
She regarded me with a surprised air,
but as an honest woman. who did not de-
sire to take advantage of the situation, re
sponded simply;
"Help yourself, monsieurl" and prof
fered me match.
l carelessly dropped Il sou piece into her
hand and turned away, the letter with me.
Word for word behold it:
Permit me to say, my friend, that for
several weeks past have found you very
peculiar, posing, it seems to me, for one of
the Eleven Thousand Virgins of ancient
fame warn you, therefore, that the end
approaches; you will respond by offering
me cup of tea this very evening, or
seek the hospitality of your charming
neighbor for shall dance attendance on
you no longer"
And this epistle was signed with the
name of our mutual friend de Marignac.
But why, l asked myself, why was this
letter thrown thus in the trash of the rub
bish cart? A letter that myself had seen
at Genevieve's house within twenty-four
hours? Did it mean-but what mattered
what it meant? l was going to turn about
and return to her house to see for myself
what it meant, when the ass diverted me,
happily, from SO stupid step.
He had abruptly stopped short, as if re-
solved never to move again; his legs
swayed under him, and he hung his head
saged his last hour.
short with him.
A ragman would have beaten the ass to
reanimate his failing strength, cursed and
reviled him; the woman, on the contrary,
regarded the poor beast with a compass
sionate air, the gaze of mother, a wife,
or sister, The ass also regarded her, his
eye eloquent, saying plainly: sit is finished!
The end is here. have struggled for thee
heroically. l have passed the days and
nights without ever complaining, because
have comprehended that thy misery was
greater than mine. Thou hast been good
to me; thou hast refused me neither food
nor caresses; thou hast even stolen for me
the hay of thy neighbor; thou hast given
me the half of thy bed Of straw But die
of agony"
The woman stroked the ass always, talk
ing to him softly, tenderly reasoning with
him.
Come, come, my dear Pierrot, surely
thou wouldst not leave me herer' said she;
and she stepped to the side of the little
vehicle and took ost and threw aside the
basket of broken glass and bottles.
"Now come" said she, as if he had under
stood her; this time thou wilt be able to
walk, Pierrot."
And she placed herself in readiness at
the wheel, but the ass did not stir. No, he
knew that he had not the strength to go
on to Saint Ouen, his last country, his last
station, as it were, in misery.
"But, how then shall we ever arrive
Pierrot?" his mistress pursued pleadlngly.
1.-THE wagon could draw myself, true; but
thou, thou, Pierrot, thou wouldst never be
willing that should shame thee by fasten-
ing and dragging thee at the tail OF the
cartt'
The ass raised an ear, but that was all.
l was going to speak to the ragpicker
and the ass, when she turned quickly and
ran to neighboring cabaret. The animal
followed her with his eyes with vague,
wistful uneasiness 1t seemed as if he
were afraid of dying there without his mis-
tress.
Poor little beastl so small that at a dis
lance you would have taken him for a
Pyrenees dog, he had literally grown gray
in harness; here and there only some tufts
of whitish hair in the name, on the tail and
under the stomach. But they would never
more need to shave him as they shave
horses OF h!SH ueSree anu poslGlou, 81 wen
had pain and age done the work for them.
He was like mountain ravaged by gul
lies and ravines, and which the hot sun of
summer has scorched over in patches.
Pierrot, for that matter, seemed with his
resigned air to have given up all earthly
yanities; to have long since ceased TO pose
If ever he had posed in his gayest season
for a parsonage of Importance. 'i'c give
an idea of his spine is simply impossible
The bones were piercing the skim little
more and he had been transparent, but his
face had gained only the more expression
something, know not how else to describe
it, of human intelligence, benevolent good.
ness.
Why had he been condemned to such
martyrdom? Was it expiration for one oil
his kind or punishment for a previous ex
istence passed in orgies?
But now the ragpicker was returning
carrying in one hand piece Of bread, il
the other lump Of sugar
Pierrot raised his lip and attempted to
show his teeth. worn and yellow as the
keys of an old harpschord, but though
If WAS the brea k fast hour he LET the bread