“That’s plain enough,” Emile assented.
“Then let us be content with sloes, and if hunger presses too hard we must tighten our belts. Since, too, at any moment, some furious wild beast might pounce upon us and devour us, let us lose no time in getting back to reflect on our sad plight.
“Our wretched state is indeed lamentable. Incessant hunger torments us, despite the extreme abundance of game, which would be an invaluable resource for us, but which unfortunately we cannot turn to account. If, to stay our hunger, we go in search of wild fruit, a thousand dangers await us. We may fall into clutches that no stone will intimidate and no sticks cause to relax. We are without provisions, defenseless. A terrible alternative awaits us: to die of hunger or be devoured by those that are stronger than we.”
“Such a Robinson Crusoe life I should not care for,” declared Emile.
“Now let us suppose one thing more: Heaven takes pity on our distress and, to extricate us from our difficulty, [[163]]offers us the aid of one of our domestic animals, whichever one we choose to name. Which will you ask for, children?”
“My stomach is so tired of sloes,” Emile replied, “and my teeth are so set on edge with this sour fruit that I think I should choose a sheep. Some cutlets broiled over live coals would make up to me for my dinners on wild berries.”
“But the sheep will soon be eaten up,” objected Jules, “and then back you go once more to the sloes. I should prefer a goat. Every evening it would come back to the grotto with its big udders swollen with milk. In this way I should be sure of food with some variety, because I could make butter and cheese out of the milk.”
“Your goat will perhaps not last so long as Emile’s sheep. It must go out to get pasturage, and who can say that it will not be devoured by wolves in the woods the first time it ventures forth?”
“I will keep careful watch over it.”
“But who will watch over you, my friend? Who will protect you?”