The Schoolboy: Saint-Leons 



water there in copper pails. By the time that the 

 schoolmaster's donkey has slaked her thirst and the 

 neighbours have taken their provision for the day, 

 the basin is dry. We have to wait for four-and- 

 twenty hours for it to fill. No, this is not the 

 hole in which the ducks would delight, nor in- 

 deed in which they would be tolerated. 



There remains the brook. To go down to it 

 with the troop of ducklings is fraught with danger. 

 On the way through the village we might meet 

 cats, bold ravishers of small poultry; some surly 

 mongrel might frighten and scatter the little band; 

 and it would be a hard puzzle to collect it in its 

 entirety, We must avoid the traffic and take refuge 

 in peaceful and sequestered spots. 



On the hills, the path that climbs behind the 

 chateau soon takes a sudden turn and widens into 

 a small plain beside the meadows. It skirts a 

 rocky slope whence trickles, level with the ground, 

 a streamlet, which forms a pond of some size. 

 Here profound solitude reigns all day long. The 

 ducklings will be well off; and the journey can 

 be made in peace by a deserted footpath. 



You, little man, shall take them to that delect- 

 able spot. What a day it was that marked my 

 first appearance as a herdsman of ducks! Why 

 must there be a jar to the even tenor of such joys! 

 The too-frequent encounter of my tender skin with 

 the hard ground had given me a large and pain- 

 ful blister on the heel. Had I wanted to put on 

 the shoes stowed away in the cupboard for Sun- 

 days and holidays, I could not. There was noth- 



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