Three short works | Page 6

the
meaning of the prophecy was not clear to him, and he even doubted
that he had heard it.
The parents kept their secret from each other. But both cherished the
child with equal devotion, and as they considered him marked by God,
they had great regard for his person. His cradle was lined with the
softest feathers, and lamp representing a dove burned continually over
it; three nurses rocked him night and day, and with his pink cheeks and
blue eyes, brocaded cloak and embroidered cap he looked like a little
Jesus. He cut all his teeth without even a whimper.
When he was seven years old his mother taught him to sing, and his
father lifted him upon a tall horse, to inspire him with courage. The
child smiled with delight, and soon became familiar with everything
pertaining to chargers. An old and very learned monk taught him the
Gospel, the Arabic numerals, the Latin letters, and the art of painting
delicate designs on vellum. They worked in the top of a tower, away
from all noise and disturbance.
When the lesson was over, they would go down into the garden and
study the flowers.
Sometimes a herd of cattle passed through the valley below, in charge
of a man in Oriental dress. The lord of the manor, recognising him as a
merchant, would despatch a servant after him. The stranger, becoming
confident, would stop on his way and after being ushered into the
castle-hall, would display pieces of velvet and silk, trinkets and strange
objects whose use was unknown in those parts. Then, in due time, he

would take leave, without having been molested and with a handsome
profit.
At other times, a band of pilgrims would knock at the door. Their wet
garments would be hung in front of the hearth and after they had been
refreshed by food they would relate their travels, and discuss the
uncertainty of vessels on the high seas, their long journeys across
burning sands, the ferocity of the infidels, the caves of Syria, the
Manger and the Holy Sepulchre. They made presents to the young heir
of beautiful shells, which they carried in their cloaks.
The lord of the manor very often feasted his brothers-at-arms, and over
the wine the old warriors would talk of battles and attacks, of
war-machines and of the frightful wounds they had received, so that
Julian, who was a listener, would scream with excitement; then his
father felt convinced that some day he would be a conqueror. But in the
evening, after the Angelus, when he passed through the crowd of
beggars who clustered about the church-door, he distributed his alms
with so much modesty and nobility that his mother fully expected to
see him become an archbishop in time.
His seat in the chapel was next to his parents, and no matter how long
the services lasted, he remained kneeling on his prie-dieu, with folded
hands and his velvet cap lying close beside him on the floor.
One day, during mass, he raised his head and beheld a little white
mouse crawling out of a hole in the wall. It scrambled to the first
altar-step and then, after a few gambols, ran back in the same direction.
On the following Sunday, the idea of seeing the mouse again worried
him. It returned; and every Sunday after that he watched for it; and it
annoyed him so much that he grew to hate it and resolved to do away
with it.
So, having closed the door and strewn some crumbs on the steps of the
altar, he placed himself in front of the hole with a stick. After a long
while a pink snout appeared, and then whole mouse crept out. He
struck it lightly with his stick and stood stunned at the sight of the little,
lifeless body. A drop of blood stained the floor. He wiped it away

hastily with his sleeve, and picking up the mouse, threw it away,
without saying a word about it to anyone.
All sorts of birds pecked at the seeds in the garden. He put some peas in
a hollow reed, and when he heard birds chirping in a tree, he would
approach cautiously, lift the tube and swell his cheeks; then, when the
little creatures dropped about him in multitudes, he could not refrain
from laughing and being delighted with his own cleverness.
One morning, as he was returning by way of the curtain, he beheld a fat
pigeon sunning itself on the top of the wall. He paused to gaze at it;
where he stood the rampart was cracked and a piece of stone was near
at hand; he gave his arm a jerk and the well-aimed missile struck the
bird squarely, sending it straight into the