A STORY OF A WOODEN HORSE.
CHAPTER VIII.
HOW EUSÈBE TREATS THE HORSE AT DIEPPE.—MAURICE RECOVERS IT.—THE THIEVES ARE ARRESTED.—RETURN OF FRITZ.—HIS GRATITUDE TO MAURICE.—HE MENDS THE HORSE.
A few days after Eusèbe came into possession of the horse, in the way described in the last chapter, he went off with his father and mother to Dieppe for sea-bathing. He took Cressida with him, for he wished to show it to some little friends whom he expected to meet there.
His fondness for the wooden horse did not last long. Instead of being reasonable and gentle with it, like Maurice, he was continually wanting this ingenious automaton to do more than it was intended to do. When it failed, he would grow impatient, call it obstinate, and beat it with all his might; sometimes he would spitefully pull the hair from its mane, and try to tear out its eyes. The best that could happen for the poor little horse now would be for its master to get tired of it, and cast it aside entirely.
THE RECOIL OF THE PISTOL THREW HIM ON HIS BACK.
The garden of the house occupied by Mr. and Mrs. de Malassise at Dieppe was ornamented with grottoes, rocks, cascades, rivulets, all in miniature, as if intended to amuse children. Eusèbe was fond of jumping about among the rocks and rivulets, and one day he took it into his head that Cressida should do the same. He took the horse at a gallop up to a little stream, only two or three feet wide, intending it to leap across; but it galloped into the water instead, leaping not being one of the movements it was constructed to make. Eusèbe took it up to the water two or three times, not sparing threats or blows while he did so, but in vain. Then he began to scream, as usual when he was in a rage, and looking about for some means of satisfying his anger, he remembered that his father kept a loaded pistol on the upper shelf of a closet in his dressing-room. He ran upstairs, and by mounting on a chair, contrived to reach the pistol, which was a double-barrelled one. Returning again into the garden, and still as furious as ever against the poor little horse, he went close up to it and fired off both barrels at once.
The horse was not so much damaged as Eusèbe himself. The child held the pistol in both hands, the left hand being close to the muzzle, and the result of his exploit was that not only did the recoil of the pistol throw him down on his back, but his hand was wounded and burnt by the explosion. He fainted from the pain, and in this state was picked up by his father, who ran into the garden at the sound of the shot.
Mr. and Mrs. de Malassise, instead of being angry with their son, laid the blame of the accident on the unfortunate horse; and a servant was at once ordered to break it in pieces, and throw it upon the fire.