Learn For Good 2

The Goat of Monsieur Seguin

To M, Pierre Gringoire, Lyrical Poet at Paris

YOU will always be the same, my poor

Gringoire!

Think of it! you are offered the place of reporter on a respectable Paris newspaper, and you have the assurance to refuse! Why, look at yourself, unhappy youth! look at that worn-out doublet, those ilapidated breeches, that gaunt face, which cries aloud that it is hungry. And this is where your passion for rhyme has brought you! this is the result of your ten years of loyal service among the pages of my lord Apollo! Are n't you ashamed, finally ?

Be a reporter, you idiot; be a reporter! You will earn honest crowns, you. will have your special seat at Brebant's, and you will be able to appear every first night with a new feather in your cap.

No? You will not? You propose to re- main perfectly free to the end? Well! just listen to the story of Monsieur Seguin's goat. You will see what one gains by attempting to remain free.

Monsieur Seguin had never had good luck with his goats. He lost them all in the same way ; some fine morning they broke their cord and went off to the mountain, and there the wolf ate them. Neither their master's petting, nor fear of the wolf, nor anything else de- terred them. They were, it would seem,

independent goats, determined to have fresh air and liberty at any price.

Honest Monsieur Seguin, who was unable to understand the temperament of his beasts, was dismayed. He said:

*M am done; the goats are bored at my house, and I won't keep another one." However, he did fiot get discouraged, and after losing six goats all in the same way, he bought a seventh; but that time he was very careful to buy a very young one, so that it would be more likely to become accustomed

to living with him.

Ah! Monsieur Seguin's little kid was such a pretty thing, Gringoire! with her soft eyes, her little beard like a subaltern's, her gleaming black hoofs, her striped horns, and her long white hair, which formed a sort of greatcoat! She was almost as lovely as Esmeralda's goat — do you remember, Gringoire ? And then,

so docile, too, and affectionate, allowing her- self to be milked without moving, without putting her foot into the pail. A perfect little love of a kid!

Monsieur Seguin had an enclosure behind his house, surrounded by hawthorn. There he placed his new boarder. He fastened her to a stake, in the place where the grass was the richest, taking care to give her a long rope; and from time to time he went to see if she was all right. The kid was very happy and browsed with such zest that Monsieur Seguin was overjoyed.

** At last," thought the poor man, *M have one that will not be bored here! "

Monsieur Seguin was mistaken; his kid was bored.

One day she said to herself, looking up at the mountain:

*' How happy they must be up there! what pleasure to gambol about in the heather, with- out this infernal cord that galls one's neck! It is all right for the donkey or the ox to graze in an enclosed place, but goats need plenty of room."

From that moment, the grass in the enclo- sure seemed distasteful. Ennui assailed the kid. She grew thin, her milk became scanty. It was painful to see her pulling at her cord all day long, with her head turned towards the mountain, her nostrils dilated, and bleating sadly.

Monsieur Seguin noticed that something was the matter with the kid, but he did not know

what it was. One morning as he finished milking her, the kid turned her head and said to him in her dialect:

*' Listen, Monsieur Seguin; I am dying in your enclosure; let me go to the mountain.''

*'Ah! mon Dieu! this one, too!" cried Monsieur Seguin in stupefaction; and the shock caused him to drop his pail; then, seat- ing himself on the grass beside his kid, he said :

**What, Blanquette, do you want to leave me?"

And Blanquette replied:

**Yes, Monsieur Seguin."

** Have n't you enough grass here } "

'*0h, yes! Monsieur Seguin."

*' Perhaps you are tied too short; do you want me to lengthen the rope ? "

*Mt is n't worth while, Monsieur Seguin."

** What is it that you want, then .^"

**I want to go to the mountain, Monsieur Seguin."

**Why, you wretched creature, don't you know that there is a wolf in the mountain ?

What will you do when he comes?"

*' 1 will butt him with my horns, Monsieur Seguin."

' ' The wolf does n't care for your horns. He has eaten goats with horns much longer than yours. Don't you remember poor Renaude who was here last year ? A fine goat, as strong and ill-tempered as any he-goat. She fought with the wolf all night, and then in the morning the wolf ate her."

''Pecatre! poor Renaude! but that does n't make any difference to me. Monsieur Seguin; let me go to the mountain."

''Divine mercy! ''exclaimed Monsieur Se- guin; "what on earth does somebody do to my goats .^ Still another one that the wolf will end by eating! But no! 1 will save you in spite of yourself, you hussy! and as I am afraid that you will break your rope, 1 am going to shut you up in the stable, and you shall always stay there."

Thereupon Monsieur Seguin carried the kid to a dark stable, the door of which he locked securely. Unluckily he forgot the window, and he no sooner had his back turned than the little creature took her leave.

Do you laugh, Gringoire? Parbleu! of course you do; you are of the faction of the goats, against poor Monsieur Seguin. We will see if you laugh in a moment.

When the white kid arrived in the mount- ain there was general rejoicing. Never had any of the old fir-trees seen anything so pretty. They welcomed her like a little queen. The chestnuts bent to the ground to caress her with their branches. The golden heather opened for her to pass, and gave forth the sweetest perfume that it could. The whole mountain celebrated her arrival.

You can imagine, Gringoire, whether our kid was happy! No more ropes, no more stakes, nothing to prevent her from gambol- ing and grazing at her pleasure. That was the place where the grass grew! above the tips of her horns, my dear fellow! And such grass! fine and sweet, made up of a thousand

different plants. It was a very different thing from the grass in the enclosure. And the flowers — great blue bellflowers, purple fox- gloves with long stamens, a whole forest of wild flowers, overflowing with intoxicating juices.

The white kid, half tipsy, played about there with her legs in the air, and rolled down the slopes, with the falling leaves and the chestnuts; then, of a sudden, she sprang to her feet with one leap. Away she went, with her head thrust forward, through the under- brush and the thickets, sometimes on a peak, sometimes in the bottom of a ravine, up and down and everywhere. You would have said that there were ten of Monsieur Seguin's kids in the mountain.

The fact is that Blanquette was afraid of nothing. She crossed with one bound broad torrents which spattered her, as she passed,with misty spray and foam. Then, dripping wet, she stretched herself out on a flat rock and allowed the sun to dry her. Once, as she crept to the edge of a plateau with some clover in her teeth, she spied below her, in the plain, Monsieur Seguin's house with the enclosure behind it. That made her laugh, until she cried.

**How tiny it is!" she said; *'how was T ever able to live there ? "

Poor dear! finding herself perched up there so high, she believed herself to be at least as large as the world.

In fact that was a great day for Monsieur Seguin's kid. About midday, as she ran to right and left, she happened upon a band of chamois which were busily engaged in eat- ing wild grapes. Our little white-robed va- grant created a sensation. They gave her the best place at the vine, and those gentlemen were all very gallant. Indeed it seems — this between ourselves, Gringoire — that a young chamois with a black coat had the good for- tune to please Blanquette. The two lovers lost themselves in the woods for an hour or two, and if you would know what they said to each other, go ask the chattering streams that flow invisibly under the moss.

Suddenly the wind freshened. The mount- ain turned purple; it was evening.

** Already!" said the little kid; and she stopped, much surprised.

The fields below were drowned in mist. Monsieur Seguin's enclosure disappeared in the haze, and of the cottage she could see only the roof, with a thread of smoke. She listened to the bells of a flock being driven home, and her heart was heavy. A falcon, flying homeward, brushed her with his wings as he passed. She started. Then there arose a howl in the mountain:

'*Hou! hou!"

She thought of the wolf; during the day the wild creature had not given him a thought.

At the same moment a horn blew in the valley. It was good Monsieur Seguin making

a last effort.

**Hou! hou!" howled the wolf.

**Come back! come back!" cried the horn. Blanquette longed to go back; but when

she remembered the stake, the rope, and the hedge about the enclosure, she thought that

she could never again become accustomed to that life, and that it was better to stay where

she was.

The horn ceased to blow.

The kid heard a rustling of leaves behind her. She turned and saw in the darkness two

short, straight ears and two gleaming eyes. It was the wolf.

He sat there on his haunches, enormous, motionless, gazing at the little white kid and

licking his chops in anticipation. As he felt sure that he should eat her, the wolf was in

no hurry; but when she turned, he began to laugh wickedly.

*'Ha! ha!" Monsieur Seguin's little kid!" and he passed his great red tongue over his lean chops.

Blanquette felt that she was lost. For a moment, as she remembered the story of old Renaude, who had fought all night only to be eaten in the morning, she thought that it would be better to be eaten then ; then, think- ing better of it, she stood on guard, her head down and her horns forward, like the brave Seguin goat that she was. Not that she had any hope of killing the wolf, — kids do not kill wolves — but simply to see if she could hold out as long as Renaude.

Thereupon the monster came forward and the little horns began to play.

Ah! the dear little kid, how courageously she went at it! More than ten times — I am not lying, Gringoire — she compelled the wolf to retreat in order to take breath. During these momentary respites, the little glutton hastily plucked another blade of her dear grass; then she returned to the battle with her mouth full. This lasted all night. From time to time Monsieur Seguin's kid glanced at the stars dancing in the lear sky and said to herself:

** Oh ! if only I can hold out until dawn ! "

One after another the stars went out. Blanquette fought with redoubled fury with her horns, the wolf ith his teeth. A pale gleam appeared on the horizon. The hoarse crowing of a cock came up from a farm.

'* At last! " said the poor creature, who was only awaiting the dawn to die; and she lay down in her lovely white coat all spotted with blood.

Thereupon the wolf threw himself upon the little kid and ate her. Adieu, Gringoire! The story you have heard is not a fable of my invention. If ever you come to Provence our farmers will often speak to you of *'the goat of Monsieur Seguin, that fought the wolf all night, and then, in the morning, the wolf ate her up."

You understand, Gringoire : " And then, in the morning, the wolf ate

her up.'*

Con Dê của Ông Sê Ganh

Alphonse Daudet

Ông Xơganh chẳng bao giờ nuôi dê gặp may cả.

Nuôi con nào mất con ấy và lần nào cũng mất như lần nào: một buổi sớm tinh sương, dê giật đứt thừng bỏ lên núi rồi cuối cùng bị sói ăn thịt. Mặc cho ông chủ vuốt ve, bất chấp cả nỗi sợ chó sói, chả có gì giữ nổi chúng lại được. Dường như chúng là những con dê độc lập, ham sống bằng bất cứ giá nào dưới bầu trời phóng khoáng và tự do.

Ông Xơganh vốn dĩ hiền lành, thật thà nào có hiểu tính nết những con vật của mình đâm ra thờ thẫn, ông bảo: “Thôi, chẳng còn hi vọng gì nữa, dê nó chán ở nhà mình, không nuôi được một con nào sất”.

Tuy thế ông vẫn chẳng ngã lòng và sau khi mất đứt sáu con cùng một cách như nhau, ông tậu tiếp con dê thứ bảy; có khác chăng, lần này, ông chú ý mua con dê còn rất non để nó quen dần cửa nhà ông.

Chà! Cái con dê bé bỏng này của Ông Xơganh mới tuyệt làm sao, nó quả là đẹp với đôi mắt dịu hiền, bộ râu hạ sĩ, những móng chân đen láy, cặp sừng nổi vằn và bộ lông trắng, dài như khoác lên mình nó chiếc áo choàng! Nó thật kiều diễm, chẳng thua mấy con dê của Exmêranđa(2), nó lại còn ngoan ngoãn, nũng nịu, để yên cho vắt sữa, không cho chân vào bồn. Một con dê tiểu thơ đáng yêu biết dường nào...

Sau nhà Ông Xơganh có một mảnh vườn rào kín đáo cây sơn trà. Ông thu xếp cho cô khách trọ mới vào đấy. ông buộc nó vào chiếc cọc giữa một khu đẹp nhất trong vườn, cẩn thận thả dài dây thừng cjo nó được thoải mái và lúc lúc lại tới thăm xem nó ăn ở có tốt không. Dê ta cảm thấy sung sướng vô cùng và gặm cỏ thích thú tới nỗi Ông Xơganh phải hỉ hả trong lòng.

“Cuối cùng - con người tội nghiệp ấy nghĩ - thế là được một con dê không đến nỗi chán ở với mình”.

Ông Xơganh lầm, con dê của ông đã chán ngấy mất rồi.

Một hôm, dê ta nhìn lên núi, tự nhủ thầm: “Ở trên kia chắc là sướng lắm! Còn gì vui thú hơn được chạy nhảy giữa những búi cây hoanh dã, không còn bị cái dây thừng chết tiệt này nó cứ cứa vào cổ! Chỉ có giống lừa, giống bò thì mới gặm cỏ trong vườn... còn đối với giống dê thì phải là khoảng rộng bao la”.

Từ bữa có ý nghĩ đó, cỏ trong vườn đối với dê thành nhạt nhẽo. Nỗi buồn chán ngán nảy sinh. Dê gày đi, sữa xuống ít. Trông nó mà thương, suốt ngày kéo lê chiếc dây thừng, đầu ngoảnh về phía núi, mũi phập phồng, miệng kêu mêêê... não ruột!

Ông Xơganh nhận ra dê của ông có vướng mắc chi đây, nhưng ông không hiểu nổi vì sao... Một buổi sớm mai, khi ông vừa vắt sữa dê xong thì dê quay lại nói với ông theo cái khẩu ngữ riêng của nó:

- Thưa ông Xơganh, xin ông hẵng nghe cháu, cháu buồn chán ở với ông quá rồi, ông cho cháu lên núi.

- Chết nỗi, trời ơi!... Cả nó cũng thế ư! Ông Xơganh thốt lên, lặng người, buông rơi cả chiếc bồn đựng sữa; rồi ông ngồi sệp xuống bãi cỏ bên cạnh con dê của mình.

- Thế nào, Dê bạch, con định bỏ ông ư?

Dê bạch liền trả lời:

- Vâng ạ, thưa ông Xơganh.

- Ở đây thiếu cỏ cho con ăn ư?

- Ồ, không đâu ạ, thưa ông Xơganh.

- Hay vì ông buộc thừng ngắn quá, con có muốn ông nới dài ra nữa không?

- Chả cần đâu thưa ông Xơganh.

- Thế thì con cần gì nào? Con muốn gì nào?

- Cháu muốn lên núi, thưa ông Xơganh.

- Thật khốn khổ con ơi, con không biết rằng có chó sói trên núi sao... Gặp nó thì con làm thế nào?...

- Cháu sẽ húc nó bằng cặp sừng của cháu, thưa ông Xơganh.

- Chó sói có coi ra gì cái cặp sừng đó của con, nó đã từng ăn thịt những con dê có sừng lợi hại gấp mười lần của con... Con không biết con dê già Rơnốt tội nghiệp ở đây nămm ngoái ư? Đó mới thật là một con dê cái chúa trùm, khoẻ và ngỗ ngược như dê đực. Nó đã quần nhau suốt đêm với sói... Rồi đến sáng, sói ăn thịt nó.

- Chao ôi! Chị Rơnốt tội nghiệp!... Cũng chẳng can gì, ông Xơganh ạ, ông cứ để cháu lên núi.

- Trời đất quỷ thần ơi! - Ông Xơganh thốt lên - ai đã làm cho lũ dê của tôi lú lẫn đến nỗi này? Lại thêm một con nữa cho chó sói ăn thịt đây... Không, dứt khoát không... dù mày muốn, tao cũng phải cứu cái mạng mày, cái con dê quỷ quái kia! Để mày khỏi giật đứt thừng, tao sẽ nhốt mày vào chuồng bò và mày sẽ nằm lì mãi trong đó.

Nói rồi, Ông Xơganh mang nhốt dê vào chuồng bò tối như bưng và khoá trái hai lần cửa lại. Chẳng may, ông quên khuấy mất đóng cửa sổ nên ông vừa quay lưng ra là con dê bé bỏng đã nhảy tót đi mất. Dê bạch vừa lên tới núi thì cả một niềm hân hoan tràn ngập khắp đó đây. Chưa bao giờ những cây tùng, cây bách cổ thụ lại được thấy một con dê đẹp đến thế. Nó được tiếp đón như một nàng công chúa. Cây giẻ cúi rạp xuống đưa đầu nhành lá vuốt ve nó, hoa kim tước vàng óng nở rộ và cố toả hương thật ngát dọc lối nó đi qua. Cả núi rừng tưng bừng đón nó.

Da ta hoan hỉ biết chừng nào! Chả còn cái thừng, cái cọc nữa... Chả còn ai cản được dê đi lại tung tăng, gặm cỏ tùy thích. Mà cỏ ở đây sao mà nhiều đến thế, cứ là ngập lút sừng. Và cỏ mới tuyệt chứ! Nào ngọt này, non sớt này, có răng cưa này, đủ mùi, đủ vị của muôn loài cây cỏ... Thật khác xa với cái thứ cỏ trong vườn nhà. Lại còn cả hao nữa!... Những bông cát cánh đại đoá xanh lơ, những đoá lồng đèn có đài dài hoa đỏ thắm, bạt ngàn rừng hoa dại căng mật nồng ngây ngất!

Dê bạch ta ngà ngà say tỉnh, vẫy vùng trên cỏ, bốn vó chổng lên trời, lăn tròn theo bờ dốc, vùi mình vào đám lá rụng lẫn lộn với hạt giẻ. Rồi, đùng một cái, dê chồm phắt dậy. Hấp! Nó đã chạy biến, cắm đầu, cắm cổ vượt qua các búi gai, các khu rừng rậm xanh rì, lúc trên mỏm núi, lúc dưới khe sâu, lên cao rồi xuống thấp, ẩn hiện khắp nơi... Người ta tưởng có tới mười con dê của Ông Xơganh lúc này ở trên núi.

Đúng là cái con Dê bạch này chẳng biết sợ gì hết.

Thoắt một cái, nó đã nhảy qua thác lớn, bọt nước và bụi ẩm toé lên mình nó. Mình mẩy ướt sũng, nó cứ thế lăn kềnh ra phiến đá phẳng và hong khô dưới ánh mặt trời... Một lần, dạo bước men theo một trái đồi, miệng ngậm bông hoa kim tước thơm ngào ngạt, dê bỗng nhận ra ngay dưới chân mình, tận phía cánh đồng tít tắp kia ngôi nhà có vườn rau của Ông Xơganh. Cảnh ấy khiến nó cười ra nước mắt. Nó nói: “Bé tí tẹo tèo teo thế kia kìa, thế mà sao mình đã sống được ở đó nhỉ?”.

Con vật nhỏ tội nghiệp! Thấy mình đứng chót vót trên cao, nó lại nghĩ mình chí ít cũng lớn bằng cả thiên hạ.

Tóm lại, đó là một ngày thú vị. Vào giữa trưa, đang lúc tung tăng chạy xuôi, chạy ngược, nó bỗng rơi vào một bầy sơn dương đang nhai nho rừng gau gáu. Nhà nữ du hành áo trắng của chúng ta làm ai nấy xốn xang. Người ta nhường chỗ nho ngon nhất cho cô nàng và tất cả các chàng trai đều trổ hết tài hào hoa phong nhã. Hình như có một chàng sơn dương trẻ trung, thắng bộ áo choàng đen mượt, được diễm phúc lọt vào cặp mắt xanh cô nàng Dê bạch. Đôi tình nhân tha thẩn trong rừng một, hai giờ liền và nếu bạn muốn biết chúng đã nói gì với nhau thì hãy đến hỏi những dòng suối nỏ mồm mách lẻo đang chảy ngầm trong đám rêu.

Gió bỗng thổi mạnh hơn. Núi non ngả sang màu tím sẫm. Đã xế chiều...

“Chiều đên rồi ư?” - Con dê bé bỏng nói và đứng sững lại sửng sốt.

Dưới chân núi, đồng ruộng chìm trong sương mù. Mảnh vường Ông Xơganh lẫn trong sương, chỉ còn thấy mái ngôi nhà với làn khói thoảng bay. Dê lắng nghe tiếng nhạc đàn cừu đang được lùa về làng và lòng nó rộn lên một nỗi buồn da diết... Một con chim ưng bay về tổ, đôi cánh chim lướt nhẹ vào mình nó. Nó rùng mình... Rồi tiếp đến, một tiếng hú vang lên trong lòng núi:

“Hu hu!”.

Dê nghĩ đến chó sói. Suốt cả ngày, cái con điên dại này nào có lúc nào nghĩ đến. Cũng lúc này, từ dưới thung lũng xa tít kia vọng lên tiếng tù và. Đó là Ông Xơganh tốt bụng đang cố gọi một lần cuối cùng.

“Hu! Hu!” - Tiếng sói hú.

Trở về đi con! Trở về đi con! Tiếng tù và gào lên gọi.

Dê bạch muốn trở về nhưng nhớ đến chiếc cọc, chiếc dây thừng, chiếc hàng rào quanh vườn, nó lại nghĩ không thể chịu đựng nổi một cuộc sống như vậy, chi bằng ở lại đây hơn.

Tù và không thổi nữa...

Nghe đằng sau có tiếng lá cây sột soạt, dê quay đầu lại và nhận ra trong bóng tối hai cái tai ngắn dựng ngược với cặp mắt sáng quắc... Đó là con chó sói.

Con sói kếch sù, ngồi thù lù, im thin thít, mép nhấm nhép ngắm con dê trắng xinh xẻo. Chắc mẩm xơi ngon dê rồi nên sói chẳng vội vàng; khi thấy dê quay đầu lại; nó mới cất tiếng cười độc ác: “Ha! Ha! Chú dê bé bỏng của Ông Xơganh”; và nó lè cái lưỡi đỏ lòm to tướng ra liếm mép.

Dê bạch cảm thấy nguy đến nơi rồi... Nó thoáng nhớ lại chuyện con dê già Rơnốt đã quần nhau với sói suốt một đêm để rồi đến sáng thì bị nó ăn thịt, dê tự nhủ hay là mình cứ để sói ăn thịt quách đi còn hơn; nhưng rồi nghĩ lại, nó liền thủ thế, đầu cúi xuống, sừng giương ra phía trước, rõ đường đường một con dê dũng cảm của Ông Xơganh... Không phải nó hi vọng giết được chó sói - có đời thuở nào dê giết được sói - nhưng chỉ để nó xem thử có cầm cự được lâu như Rơnốt không...

Thế là con ác thú tiến lại và cặp sừng nhỏ bé của dê khoa lên nghênh chiến.

Chà! Con dê nhỏ dũng cảm! Nó mới quyết chiến làm sao? Có đến trên mười lần nó phải buộc sói lùi lại để lấy sức. Trong những lúc ngừng chiến ngắn ngủi ấy, con bé háu ăn còn bứt vội một nhánh cỏ thân thiết trong đời nó, rồi miệng vẫn nhồm nhoàm đầy cỏ, nó lại quay vào cuộc chiến... Cứ như thế mà kéo dài suốt đêm. Thỉnh thoảng, con dê của Ông Xơganh lại ngước trông những ngôi sao lấp lánh trên bầu trời trong sáng và nó tự nhủ thầm:

“Ồ! Miễn là mình cầm cự được tới lúc rạng đông...”.

Các vì sao lần lượt lụi tàn. Dê bạch dồn sức húc càng hăng, chó sói cũng dồn sức cắn càng dữ... Một vầng sáng xanh mờ nhạt hiện ra phía chân trời... Một tiếng gà gáy ồ ồ cất lên từ một trang trại.

“Thôi xong!”. Con vật tội nghiệp thốt lên, nó còn đợi có trời sáng để chết thôi, và nó đã ngã sõng xoài ra mặt đất trong bộ áo lông trắng đẹp đẫm máu.

Lập tức con chó sói chồm tới và ăn thịt nó.

[Hết].

Learn For Good 2

Thứ Tư, 24 tháng 12, 2014

900 Câu thông dụng

Thứ Năm, 19 tháng 1, 2012

The Goat of Monsieur Seguin -Con dê của ông Se-ganh - Alphonse Daudet