The Peasant and the Prince | Page 9

and have done with them?"
The smoker here muttered something which made his comrade jog his
elbow, and the host say, "Hush! Hush!" What he was muttering was,
that if they wanted to get rid of a nuisance, the aristocrats were fewer
than the frogs.
Randolphe was evidently anxious to be gone after he had heard this
speech. He would not say another word on his own grievances, or those
of his neighbours. He fetched his woollen cap, and stood only
undecided as to what he should do about furnishing a second, to work
with him that night. He glanced from one boy to the other: but both
looked too pale to stand in the damps through an April night. He
repeated that he would take no second: but while he said so, there were
images in his mind of fine or compensation, bringing increased
hardships on the morrow. At this moment a voice from the darkness
without called his name, and said he need not look any further for a
comrade.
All the family knew that this was Charles's voice; but even the little
boys had learned so much caution from hardship, that they did not
speak, but only looked at each other. Jerome observed that it told well
for his host that he had a neighbour ready, without asking, to help him
in so irksome a service.
The soldiers contrived to make room for the boys to sleep, thinking it
quite enough that the law obliged Randolphe to flog the ponds, and his
wife and daughter to toil in the shed all night, without the addition of
the two half-fed lads having to lie down on the clay floor, or not at all.
So each boy had a share of the crib, and a corner of the rug.

VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER THREE.
A HOLIDAY MORNING.
The boys were wakened in the morning by a rap on the door, like that
of the preceding evening. When they had rubbed their eyes and got up,

they found that their mother was speaking with no less a person than
the bailiff from the chateau. It took little time to slip on the only day
garment each had: and then, as their mother stood in the doorway, one
looked out under each of her arms, to see what was going on.
"Ah! You little fellows," said the bailiff, "I have some business with
you. What have you to do with pigeons, when you know 'tis against the
law for you to keep them? Come, no excuses; I saw a brood of pigeons
on the ridge of the roof, as I came."
"How are we to help the Count's pigeons lighting on our ridge, if they
choose, please sir!" said Marc.
"Nay, Marc, no tricks!" said his mother. "The pigeons are theirs, sir;
got from the wood, and a present for their sister: but you see, sir, how
trickery and falsehood come. If there were no reasons why my boys
should not do such an innocent thing as bring up a brood of pigeons,
the thought of an untruth would not enter their heads; but you see what
you tempt them to, by driving them so very hard about almost the only
pleasure they have."
"It is not I, good woman," said the bailiff. "Do not say I drive them
hard--I did not make the laws; but it is my business to see that the laws
are regarded between the Count and his people, that is all. Come!
While your daughter puts on her gayest ribbon, I will go round, and see
about these pigeons."
Marie had no gay ribbon to put on, though she must go immediately
with her father before the Count. It was the bailiffs errand to say this.
While she made herself as neat as she could, and her father was called
in from the field (to which he had gone straight from the ponds,
because he knew there was no meal ready for him at home), the bailiff
examined the premises, followed at a distance by the boys, in terror for
their rabbit-hutch. Of course, the rabbits were found; and of course,
they were carried off. Robin rolled upon the ground in his grief, and
Marc looked as if his heart was bursting. The bailiff was so sorry for
what he felt it his duty to do, that against all rule he offered the boys
one young rabbit and one young pigeon to keep. At first, these were

accepted; but Robin was sure that Marc's rabbit would pine alone; and
Marc was certain Robin's pigeon could never live solitary; and they
gave up these last remains of their treasures. To do it with a good grace
was more than they were equal to; and when Marie and her father