The Original Fables of La Fontaine | Page 9

sight, and see it he did.
There was the monster right enough!
And what was it after all?--Nothing but a poor little mouse that had by
some unlucky chance got in between the lenses of the telescope. Here
was the cause of all the devastating wars! Everybody laughed....

XIV
THE FORTUNE-TELLERS
(BOOK VII.--No. 15)
Reputations may be made by the merest chances, and yet reputations
control the fashions. That is a little prologue that would fit the case of
all sorts of people. Everywhere around one sees prejudices, scheming,
and obtuseness; but little or no justice. Nothing can be done to stem this
torrent of evil. It must run its course. It always has been and always
will be.
A woman in Paris once made it her profession to tell fortunes. She
became very popular and had great success. Did anybody lose a bit of
finery; had any one a sweetheart; had any wife a husband she was tired
of; any husband a jealous wife, to the prophetess such would run
simply to be told the thing that it was comforting to hear.
The stock-in-trade of this fortune-teller consisted merely of a
convincing manner, a few words of scientific jargon, a great deal of
impudence, and much good luck. All these things together so impressed
the people that as often as not they would cry, "Miraculous!" In short,
although the woman's ignorance was quite twenty-three carat she
passed for a veritable oracle.
Notwithstanding the fact that this oracle only lived in a garret, she
found so many ready to pay her well for her shams that she soon grew
rich enough to improve the position of her husband, to rent an office,
and buy a house.
The garret being left empty was shortly tenanted by another woman to
whom all the town--women, girls, valets, fine gentlemen--everybody in
fact swarmed, as before, to consult their destiny. The former tenant had
built up such a reputation that the garret was still a sibyl's den, in spite
of the fact that quite a different creature dwelt in it. "I tell fortunes?
Surely you're joking! Why, gentlemen, I cannot read, and as for writing,

I never learnt more than to make my mark." But these disclaimers were
useless. People insisted on having their fortunes told, and she had to do
it. In consequence, she put by plenty of money, being able to earn, in
spite of herself, quite as much as two lawyers could. The poverty of her
home was a help rather than a hindrance. Four broken chairs and a
broom-handle savoured of a witch's frolic.
If this woman had told the truth in a room well-furnished she would
have been scorned. The fashion for a garret had set in, and garret it
must be.
In her new chambers the first fortune-teller waited in vain; for it was
the outward sign alone that brought customers, and the sign was
poverty.
I have seen in a palace a robe worn awry win much distinction and
success, such crowds of followers and adherents did it draw. You may
well ask me why!
[Illustration: The garret was still a sybil's den.]

XV
THE COBBLER AND THE FINANCIER
(BOOK VIII.--No. 2)
There was once a cobbler who was so light hearted that he sang from
morning to night. It was wonderful to watch him at his work, and more
wonderful still to hear his runs and trills. He was in fact happier than
the Seven Sages.
This merry soul had a neighbour who was exactly the reverse. He sang
little and slept less; for he was a financier, and made of money, as they
say. Whenever it happened that after a sleepless night he would doze
off in the early morning, the cobbler, who was always up betimes,
would wake him up again with his joyful songs. "Ha!" thought the man
of wealth, "what a misfortune it is that one cannot buy sleep in the open
market as one buys food and drink!" Then an idea came to him. He
invited the cobbler to his house, where he asked him some questions.
"Tell me, Master Gregory, what do you suppose your earnings amount
to in a year?"
"In a year," laughed the cobbler, "that's more than I know. I never keep
accounts that way, nor even keep one day from another. So long as I
can make both ends meet, that's good enough for me!"

"Really!" replied the financier. "But what can you earn in one day?"
"Oh, sometimes more and sometimes less. The mischief of it is that
there are so many fête days and high-days and fast-days crowded into
the year, on which, as the priest tells us, it is wicked to work at all; and
worse still he keeps on finding some new saint