Chapter IX: The Donkey Race

I lived miserably on account of the season, for the home I had selected was in a forest where I could scarcely find the wherewith to keep me from dying of hunger and thirst. When the streams were frozen I ate snow, my only nourishment was got by nibbling thistles, my only shelter the pines. How often did I not compare my present sad existence with that I had led at my good master George’s, and even at the farmer’s to whom he had sold me, until I gave myself up to idleness, mischief and revenge. However, there were no means of improving my miserable condition, for I was determined to remain free, and master of my actions. Sometimes, by way of recreation, I went to the outskirts of a village very near the forest, to find out what was going on in the world. One day, it was Springtime (and the fine weather had set in,) I was surprised to notice that something extraordinary was going on, the village wore a festive air, people went in throngs, every one arrayed in his or her holiday garments, and what was still more astonishing, all the donkeys of a neighboring county were collected there, curried and rubbed, carrying neither panier nor saddle, some even having flowers on their head or around their neck, and every one accompanied by a master, leading him by a bridle.

“This is singular,” thought I, “there is no fair going on to-day! What can all my comrades be doing here, curried and decorated? And how fat they are! they have certainly been well fed this winter!”

As I mentally ejaculated these words, I looked at myself; my back, my belly, my crest were thin and rough, and the hair all over my body standing awry, but I felt strong and vigorous.

“I would rather be homely,” thought I, “but healthy and active; none of my comrades here, so handsome, fat and well cared for, could support the fatigues and privations I have endured all winter.” As I drew near to ascertain the meaning of this re-union of donkeys, one of the boys in charge of them, perceiving me, began to laugh.

“Come boys, come see the beautiful donkey that has just arrived! How well curried he is!” cried he.

“And well fed and cared for,” said another. “Has he come for the race?”

“If he has, let him run,” cried a third, “there is no danger of his gaining the prize.”

A general laugh followed these words. Though displeased at the boys’ stupid jokes, my vexation was tempered by the satisfaction of having learned what all the commotion meant. There was to be a race, but when or how? Wishing to know more, I continued to listen, though apparently understanding nothing of what was said.

“Are they going to start soon?” inquired one of the young men.

“I do not know, they are waiting for the Mayor.”

“Where is the race course?” said a good woman who had just arrived.

“In the big meadow by the mill, mother Tranchet,” answered John.

“How many donkeys are there here now?”

“There are sixteen not counting you, mother Tranchet.” A burst of laughter followed this jest.

“Ah! you are a scamp!” said mother Tranchet laughing, “and what does the winner of the race get?”

“Honor first, and a silver watch next.”

“I would be well pleased to be a donkey for the sake of gaining the watch; I have never had the money to buy a watch.”

“Well, if you had brought a donkey you would have to run—the chance.”

And all laughed their heartiest.

“Where do you suppose I would get a donkey? Have I ever had the means to buy one, or to feed one after buying it.”

This good woman pleased me greatly she had such a cheerful, lively air; and the idea struck me of trying to win her the watch. I was accustomed to running, for every day in the woods I took long runs to warm myself, and I had formerly enjoyed the reputation of running as long and as swiftly as a horse.

“Come,” said I to myself, “let’s try; if I do not win, I lose nothing; if I do win, I shall gain a watch for mother Tranchet, who greatly desires it.”

Starting off at a little trot, I took my place beside the last mule, and assuming a proud air I began to bray vigorously.

“Stop! stop!” exclaimed Andrew, “will you stop that music? Get away donkey, you are without a master, you are too badly curried, you can’t run.”

I held my peace, but did not budge. Some laughed, some were vexed, and they were beginning to contend among themselves, when mother Tranchet exclaimed:

“Well, if he has no master, he is going to have a mistress; I recognize him now. It is Cadichon, poor Miss Pauline’s donkey; they drove him off when the poor, little thing was no longer there to protect him, and I firmly believe he has lived all winter in the woods, for no one has seen him since. I take him to-day into my service; he is going to run for me.”

“It is Cadichon!” cried several in various directions. “I have heard of this famous Cadichon.”

“But mother Tranchet,” said John, “if he is going to run for you, you must drop a silver piece of fifty centimes in the Mayor’s bag, just like everybody else.”

“That shall not hinder me, my children, here is my money,” she added, untying a knot in her handkerchief, “but don’t ask any more, for I haven’t it.”

“Ah well! if your donkey wins you will not lose anything, for all the village has contributed to this bag, it contains more than a hundred francs.”

I approached mother Tranchet, and I whirled on my heel, leaped and kicked with such facility, that the boys began to fear I might win the day.

“Listen, John,” said Andrew in an undertone, “you were wrong to let mother Tranchet contribute to the bag. That gives her a right to let Cadichon run, and he has such a nimble air, I fear he may win the watch and money.”

“Ah bah! how silly you are! Don’t you see there what a figure this poor Cadichon cuts! He is going to make us laugh, he’ll not go far indeed.”

“I can’t say, suppose I coax him off with some oats.”

“And what of mother Tranchet’s money?”

“Her donkey gone, the money would be returned to her.”

“I agree; Cadichon is no more to her, than to you or me. Get some oats and try to coax him off without mother Tranchet’s knowledge.”

I had heard and understood all; so when Andrew returned with the oats in his apron, instead of approaching him, I drew near mother Tranchet, who was talking with her friends. Andrew followed; John thinking I had not seen the oats, took me by the ears and made me turn my head. Still I would not budge, notwithstanding my longing to taste such a luxury. Andrew began to push, John, to pull me, and I to bray in my loudest voice. Mother Tranchet turned, and seeing the manœuvres of Andrew and John:

“Boys,” said she, “you are not doing right there. Since you made me deposit my silver piece in the bag, you must not take Cadichon off. It appears to me that you are afraid of him.”

“Afraid! afraid of a dirty donkey like that! Oh! no, we have no fears of him,” said Andrew.

“Then why would you try to lead him off?”

“To give him some oats.”

“Ah! that’s a different thing!” replied mother Tranchet in a sportive way, “you are very obliging, just pour the oats on the ground so that he can eat them at his ease! And to think that I suspected you of giving them to him from malice! How one can be mistaken.”

Andrew and John were ashamed and vexed, but they took good care to conceal it. Their companions laughed to see them so nicely caught, mother Tranchet clapped her hands, and as for me, I was delighted, eating my oats with avidity, and feeling a renewal of strength as I did so. I was quite pleased with mother Tranchet also. Having finished eating, I was impatient to start. At last there was a great tumult, the Mayor had just ordered us to be ranged in line. I modestly took the last place. My appearance alone, without a master, was the signal for a general inquiry as to who I was, and to whom I belonged.

“To no one,” said Andrew.

“To me,” cried mother Tranchet.

“It is necessary to contribute to the bag, mother Tranchet,” said the Mayor.

“I have done so, Mr. Mayor.”

“Good; write mother Tranchet’s name,” said the Mayor.

“It is already down, sir,” replied the secretary.

“Very well,” said the Mayor. “Is everything ready? One, two, three! Start!”

At this the boys suddenly released the donkeys they were holding, giving them a smart blow of the whip at the same time. All started. No one had held me, and as I honestly awaited my turn all the others had a slight advantage over me. But we had not gone more than a hundred steps ere I reached them. Behold me now at the head of the band, outstripping them, indeed, without overtaxing myself to do so. The boys halloed and cracked their whips to urge on their own. I glanced back occasionally to see their disconcerted visages, to contemplate my triumph and laugh at their efforts. My companions, furious at being distanced by me—a poor, unknown, piteous looking creature—redoubled their efforts to overtake me, and endeavored to block the road, one against another. I heard behind me savage cries, kicks, bites. Twice was I reached, almost passed, by John’s donkey. Perhaps I ought to have employed the same means against him that he had used in outstripping his companions; but I disdained such unworthy manœuvres. I saw, however, that not to be beaten it was necessary to do my utmost. With a vigorous bound, I dashed ahead of my rival, who at the same moment seized me by the tail. So great was the pain that I almost dropped down on the spot; but the thought of victory inspired me with courage to snatch myself away, leaving a piece of my tail in his mouth. The desire of vengeance gave me wings. I ran with such speed that not only did I reach the goal first, but far, far ahead of all my rivals. I was breathless, exhausted, but happy and triumphant, reveling amidst the applause of thousands of spectators who thronged the fields. With a victor’s pride I walked up to the tribunal of the Mayor, who was to bestow the prize. Good mother Tranchet also advanced, caressing and promising me a fine repast of oats. She extended her hand for the watch and silver which the Mayor was about to give her, when Andrew and John, running in breathless haste, exclaimed:

“Stop, Mr. Mayor, stop; it is not right, that. No one knows this donkey. Mother Tranchet has no right to the prize. This donkey does not count; it was mine and John’s donkeys that beat; the watch and money belong to us.”

“Did not mother Tranchet contribute to the race?”

“Yes, Mr. Mayor, but—”

“Was there any opposition when she did so?”

“No, Mr. Mayor, but—”

“Did you oppose it at the moment of departure?”

“No, Mr. Mayor, but—”

“Then mother Tranchet’s donkey has really won the watch and money.”

“Mr. Mayor, assemble the municipal council to decide this question; you have no right to decide alone.”

The Mayor hesitated. Seeing this, I abruptly seized the watch and bag with my teeth and put them in the hands of mother Tranchet, who, anxious and trembling, awaited the Mayor’s decision.

This act of intelligence put every one on our side and covered me with applause.

“Behold the question decided by the victor in favor of mother Tranchet,” said the Mayor, laughing. “Gentlemen of the municipal council, at table we will deliberate upon my allowing justice to be decided by a donkey. Friends,” added he, casting a mischievous glance at Andrew and John, “in my opinion the greatest donkey among us is not that of mother Tranchet.”

“Bravo! bravo! Mr. Mayor!” arose from every side. And all laughed except Andrew and John, who went off shaking their fists at me.

And as to myself, was I pleased? No, my pride revolted; the Mayor had insulted me in calling my enemies donkeys. It was ungrateful and base to do so. I had displayed courage, forbearance, patience, intelligence, and this was my recompense! Having insulted, they abandoned me. Even mother Tranchet, in her joy at getting a watch and a purse of a hundred and thirty-five francs, forgot her benefactor and thought no more of the promised repast of oats, but departed with the crowd, leaving me minus the reward I so truly deserved!