“But one day my mother fell ill. She could not go to her work; instead, she grew worse and worse, and I had no food to give her. In the course of three days I myself grew so hungry that I could think of nothing better to do than to sit in the sun at the door of our hut and weep. It was while I was doing this that I heard a noise, and looking up, saw approaching me a horse ridden by a being who seemed to me a god. He stopped his horse and asked me what the matter was. So overwhelmed was I by this vision that I could only point to the door of the hut and to my belly. He dismounted, he entered the hut, he looked at my mother; then he came out, patted me on the head and rode away. I was so dazzled by the sight of him that for a time I forgot my hunger; but at last it pinched me again more sharply than before, and I reflected that after all the visit of the god had profited me nothing. And I was just about to renew my wailing when again I heard a noise, and again saw my visitor approaching through the trees. This time he bore in one hand an iron kettle which he thrust upon me and bade me carry in to my mother. The kettle contained two fowls, steaming hot in their own juices,—the first I had ever tasted.”
“Ah, now I remember,” said M. le Comte smiling. “I snatched that kettle from the cook just as he had taken it from the fire. I can even yet see his astonished countenance. Well, did it save your mother?”
“No, M. le Comte, she was too far gone for that; but at least she entered heaven with a full belly. She filled herself, slept and never awakened. But it saved me, monsieur, and it is that debt which I hope to repay.”
“And yet,” said his master, looking at him, “if I remember rightly, that boy must have been at least three years younger than myself; while you are at least ten years older.”
“I do not know how old I am, monsieur; I have lost count of it; but I am that boy.”
“Then you cannot be more than twenty-seven. Twenty-seven!” and he gazed at the squat figure, the gnarled hands, the seamed and rugged countenance.
“No,” said Pasdeloup, “I do not think I am more than twenty-seven; but for many of those years, M. le Comte, I struggled day by day to keep the soul in the body. That ages one, you see.”
“Yes,” agreed his master, sadly, “I see.”
“At first I was only in the way,” said Pasdeloup. “No one wanted me, and I received everybody’s kicks and blows. Then I grew big enough to help with the pigs. Since I have been keeper of the gate for M. le Comte,” he added eagerly, “I have had an easy life.”
“Yet I have found you there whenever I passed, day or night.”