"So much the better; I wish to remain, I desire it; and after the gross insult you have offered me, I shall certainly not be beholden to you as a guide, or return to the town in your company." And he kicked the dead carcass before him in his rage.
"But, Monsieur le Banquier, the night is getting chilly and damp, and remember you are only just convalescent; come, let us be off."
"Gentlemen, I have already told you I shall not accompany you."
"Why, this is madness, sir."
"Anything you please; but thus it shall be. I will not leave this wood until I have killed a wolf; yes, I must have a wolf; it is only in the blood of a wolf that I can wash out the insult I have received; and I will remain in the forest eight days, fifteen, three months, if necessary. I will live on acorns, ants, toad's eggs, and roots, but by the soul of that stupid brute that lays there," and he gave the deceased ass a second kick, "I will not budge until I have killed a wolf: enable me to slaughter a wolf, and I will follow you; nay, what is more, forgive you."
"Monsieur le Banquier, let us in the first place tie a stone round the neck of this unfortunate animal, and throw his body into the Mare, and then, as we are the only witnesses of this adventure, we swear that we will never divulge it to any one, or make the slightest allusion to it; and, as we are men of honour, you will of course believe us;—the secret shall be kept inviolable. On the other hand, as we are to a certain extent responsible for your health, and as your remaining here any longer in this cold wind will seriously endanger it, do not feel discomposed if we defer to another day the pleasure of seeing you kill a wolf, and request you will accompany us back to the château."
With various flattering speeches and consoling words, to heal his mortification, we at length succeeded in bringing him away with us; many a laugh had we on our road home, and many were the promises given that we would never reveal the events of the evening. But, alas! the secret came out on the following day, for before twelve o'clock had struck, a peasant came knocking at the door, howling, crying, bawling like a blind beggar, and demanding who had killed his ass. His importunity succeeded; the murderer was brought to light, the banker cheerfully paid for his shot, and laughed heartily at the adventure; but in spite of his apparent philosophy, I remarked that from that moment he never met an ass that he did not turn away his head; and this is the kind of game that one finds in Mare No. 2.