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Updated: May 15, 2025
"But what in the world do you two boys want with a cow, and have you got the money?" he demanded. We told him how much money we had, and how we got it, and that we were going to give a present, a surprise, to Mother Barberin of Chavanon, who had looked after me when I was a baby. He showed a very kindly interest then, and promised to meet us the next morning at the fair at seven o'clock.
"Oh, tell me the story!" Then he told me the story of Joachim Murat; for hours we sat on the bench. As he talked, the pale light from the moon fell across him, and I listened in rapt attention, my eyes fixed on his face. I had not heard this story before. Who would have told me? Not Mother Barberin, surely! She did not know anything about it. She was born at Chavanon, and would probably die there.
Milligan had not spoken of my parents, I should have taken much more than the ten minutes to say good-by that my master had given me. "They live in Chavanon, do they not?" asked Mrs. Milligan. Without replying, I went up to Arthur and, putting my arms round him, clung to him for a moment then, freeing myself from his weak clasp, I turned and held out my hand to Mrs. Milligan.
My village, or, to be more exact, the village where I was brought up, for I did not have a village of my own, no birthplace, any more than I had a father or mother the village where I spent my childhood was called Chavanon; it is one of the poorest in France. Only sections of the land could be cultivated, for the great stretch of moors was covered with heather and broom.
The next morning we rose with the sun and started for Chavanon. How grateful I was to Mattia for the help he had given me; without him I never could have collected such a big sum. I wanted to give him the pleasure of leading the cow, and he was very proud indeed to pull her by the rope while I walked behind.
In that case we should have to go, first of all, to Varses and see Benny and give all the performances that we could on our way. And then on our return we would have the money and we would go to Chavanon and act the fairy tale, "The Prince's Cow." I told Mattia of my plan and he raised no objections.
It seemed to me that I was dying there. And then I felt very sad. I thought of Chavanon, of poor Mother Barberin. Must I die without seeing her again, and our little house, and my little garden! Then, I was no longer cold; it seemed that I was back in my little garden. The sun was shining and was so warm.
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