"I know you well," continued Gilbert, in a loud voice. "You cannot deny that you are the Franciscan friar named Timothy," But the ass still shook its head, and Gilbert continued to argue with the animal till a crowd gathered round them and began to mock and jeer.
"If this ass is Brother Timothy," they cried, "you ought to buy him and feed him on the tenderest grass. It would surely be an act of charity to show some kindness to a poor unfortunate who has been transformed into an ass."
The simple farmer took their advice, bought his own ass and led him homeward over hill and dale and, as they went, he exhorted the animal to behave well and be content. The children ran to meet their father and, when they saw what he was leading, they shouted for joy, for they could not understand that this creature was a holy friar, and not their own lost donkey.
"Oh, Brother Timothy," they cried, "we are so glad you have come back to us; we were afraid that you were dead and that we would never see you any more!"
Then they wove green garlands for his neck, patted him and kissed his head, and led him back to his stable. Henceforward, the donkey, who was always known as Brother Timothy, led a life of luxury; he had little work given him to do and so much hay and corn to eat, that he grew ungrateful and vicious. At length Farmer Gilbert lost his patience and said to the ass: "As our kindness is not repaid by good behavior, I shall have to see what a sound thrashing will do."
It would be difficult to tell you of all the vices that this spoiled animal had fallen into; among others was a habit of flinging up his heels, breaking his halter, and running away through woods and over meadows, defying the efforts of everyone to catch him. But his gravest offense was breaking out of his shed at night and ravaging the cabbage patch. This was too much for even the long-suffering farmer to endure, and he determined to take strong measures to curb the donkey's wickedness, whether the animal were a holy friar or not. So Brother Timothy was sent back again to his old life of toil. He was beaten without mercy, and instead of luxuries and caresses he had to work harder than he had ever done before. And this was not the worst, for as his work grew more his food grew less, till at last the poor creature could only take his revenge on his hard taskmaster by dying.
Great was the lamentation which then uprose, and sad was Farmer Gilbert to think that the unfortunate monk had died without repenting of his sins. Dame Cicely and the children cried for a week, and Farmer Gilbert recounted all the virtues of the deceased and added solemnly: "May Heaven pardon Brother Timothy and keep us from the deadly sin of greed!"