Mr. de Malassise looked out of the carriage window on one side, and his wife on the other. They saw a few scattered houses of the meanest description, and began to view their position with dismay; but Eusèbe found it an amusing adventure.
“I wish, now,” he said, “we were in Sicily, and then we might be attacked by brigands in such an out-of-the-way place as this. I read about them in that little book you gave me yesterday, you know, mamma.”
At this remark Eusèbe’s mother began to laugh as if it were very funny and brilliant; even his father was almost restored to good humour by it. And when Eusèbe added—“only, neither that man nor the coachman are as handsome as brigands”—the father and mother exchanged looks of congratulation at the wit and humour of their son.
They walked a short distance along the dirty, badly-paved street, and entered a small low house almost in ruins. You may imagine how well it was furnished, when I tell you that Mrs. de Malassise was obliged to stand, because the master of the house—that is, the man who conducted them—had but one chair to offer her, and that was lame of two of its legs. He opened a large closet, the door of which was concealed, appearing only like a panel in the wall, and he led forth a pretty little black horse, scarcely bigger than a large dog;—but I need not describe Cressida a second time to my young readers.
“HOW DID YOU COME BY THIS HORSE?”
Now although Eusèbe had often had Cressida described to him by Maurice, he had never happened to see the little horse; consequently he did not recognise it on the present occasion; nor had he ever imagined Cressida to be so wonderful as he found this horse to be. He had no sooner seated himself in the saddle than the pressure of his knees against the sides of the horse caused the legs to move, and it walked round the room. Then, when Eusèbe in his delight very naturally began to pat it on the neck, this had the effect of causing the little horse to neigh joyfully, just like a real pony. Eusèbe’s father and mother were as much astonished and delighted as he was.
“How did you come by this horse?” inquired Mr. de Malassise, in a voice which sufficiently showed the suspicions he entertained.
“It was given to me by a friend of mine,” replied the man.
“That was a generous friend. And how much do you ask for it?”