“Well, sir,” I continued, “I will return it, only don’t let us quarrel about trifles. Morning dawns and the storm has abated, pray let me follow you. I am lost, have no home, nothing in the world; should you leave me, I shall destroy myself in the gutter.”
“Come along, follow me if you can.”
Casting a last look at the garden where my mother was sleeping, I spread my wings and away I flew.
III.
My wings were still feeble, and while my guide flew like the wind, I struggled along at his side, keeping up pretty well for some time. Soon I became confused, and nearly fainting with fatigue, gasped out, “Are we near Brussels?”
“No, we are at Cambray, and have sixty miles to fly.”
Bracing myself for a final effort, I flew for another quarter of an hour, and besought him to rest a little as I felt thirsty.
“Bother! you are only a Blackbird,” replied my companion, continuing his journey as I fell into a wheat-field.
I know not how long I lay there. When at last I made an effort to raise myself, the pain of the fall and fatigue of the journey so paralysed me that I could not move. The dread of death filled my breast when I saw approaching me two charming birds, one a nicely-marked coquettish Magpie, the other a rose-coloured Ringdove. The Dove stopped a few paces off and gazed on me with compassion, but the Magpie hastened to my side, saying, “Ah, my poor child, what has befallen you in this lonely spot?”
“Alas! madam, I am a poor traveller left by a courier on the road; I am starving.”