When the white goat reached the mountain, there was general delight. Never had the old fir-trees seen anything so pretty. They received her like a little princess. The chestnut- trees bent to the ground to kiss her with the tips of their branches. The golden gorse opened wide to let her pass, and smelt just as sweet as it could. In fact, the whole mountain welcomed her.
You can imagine how happy she was. No rope, no stake, nothing to prevent her from skipping and browsing as she pleased.. My dear fellow, the grass was above her horns, and such grass!-luscious, delicate, toothsome, made of all sorts of plants-quite another thing from that grass in the meadow. And the flowers-oh, great big campanulas, and crimson foxgloves with their long calyxes, a perfect forest of wild flowers giving out an intoxicating sweetness.
The white goat wallowed in the thick of them with her hoofs in the air, and rolled down the banks pell-mell with the falling leaves and the chestnuts. Then, suddenly, she sprang to her feet with a bound and a hop. Away she went, head foremost, through thicket and bushes, now on a rock, now in a gully, up there, down there, everywhere. You would have said that tenlittle white goats were on the mountain.
The fact is, Blanchette was afraid of nothing. She sprang with a leap over torrents that spattered her as she passed with a dust of damp spray. Then, all dripping, she would stretch herself out on a nice flat rock, and dry in the sun. Once, coming to the edge of a slope with a bit of laurel in her teeth, she saw below, far below in the plain, the house of her master with the meadow behind it; and she laughed till she cried. "How small it is! " she said. " How could I ever have lived there? " Poor little thing ! Being perched so high, she fancied she was as tall as the world.
*****
Suddenly the wind freshened. The mountain grew violet; it was dusk. "Already ! " said the little goat; and she stopped, quite surprised. Below, the fields were drowned in mist. Her master"s meadow disappeared in the fog, and nothing could be seen of the house but the roof and a trifle of smoke. She heard the little bells of a flock that was on its way home, and her heart grew sad. A falcon, making for his nest, swept her with his wings as he passed. She shuddered. There came a howl on the mountain: " Hoo, hoo ! "She thought of the wolf. All day that silly young thing had never once thought of it. At the same moment, a horn sounded far, far down the valley. It was that kind master of hers, making a last effort. "Hoo, hoo! " howled the wolf. "Come back! Come back! " cried the horn.
Blanchette felt a wish to return; but, remembering thestake, the rope, the hedge round the field, she thought that she never could endure that life again, and it was better to remain where she was. The horn ceased to sound. The goat heard behind her the rustling of leaves. She turned, and saw in the shadow two short ears erect and two eyes shining. It was the wolf.
Enormous, motionless, seated on his tail, he was looking at the little white goat, and smacking his lips in advance. As he knew very well he would eat her up, the wolf was not in a hurry; but, when she turned round and saw him, he began to laugh wickedly. "Ha, ha! the little white goat ! " And he licked his great red tongue round his wily chops.
"She put herself on guard. "
Blanchette felt she was lost. For an instant, she thought toherself it was better, perhaps, to be eaten at once; but then, thinking otherwise, she put herself on guard, head low, horns forward, like the brave little goat that she was. Not that she had any hope of killing the wolf-goats can"t kill wolves-but only to hold out as long as she could. Then the monster advanced, and the pretty little horns began to dance.
Ah, the brave goatling, with what heart she went at it! More than ten times she made the wolf draw back to get breath. During each of these truces, the dainty little thing nibbled one more blade of her dearly loved grass; then, with her mouth full, she returned to the combat. It lasted all through the night. From time to time, the little white goat looked up at the stars as they danced on the cloudless sky, and said to herself, " Oh, if I can only hold out till dawn ! "On e a fter a n o th er , th e sta r s wen t o ut. B la n ch ette redoubled the blows of her horns, and the wolf the snap of his teeth. A pale gleam showed on the horizon. The hoarse crowing of a cock arose from a barnyard. " At last ! " said the poor little goat, who had only awaited the dawn to die; and she stretched herself out on the ground in her pretty white coat all spotted with gore. Then the wolf fell upon her, and ate her up.
Alphonse Daudet, in Letters from my Mill
Author.-Alphonse Dauted, born 1840, died 1897, was a popular French novelist. His best-known works are Letters from my Mill and Tartarin of Tarascon. He is a master of delicate wit and simple pathos.
General.-What is the character of this story? Why didn"t the goat stay at home? Why didn"t she give in to the wolf and have done with it? Is the story well told? Why the name Blanchette? What foreign plants and animals are mentioned? Pick out a few striking phrases. Judging by the story, what kind of man was Alphonse Daudet?
