Green Mare

Начало книги

Once upon a time there was born in the village of Claque-bue a green mare, not of that rancid green which accompanies decrepitude in white-coated horseflesh but of a pretty jade green. Upon seeing it Jules Haudouin believed neither his own eyes nor those of his wife.

“It’s not possible,” he said. “I could never be so lucky.”

A farmer and horse-coper, Haudouin had never reaped the rewards due to cunning, lies and avarice. His cows died two at a time, his pigs by the half-dozen, and his corn sprouted in the sack. He was scarcely more fortunate with his children, having had to beget six in order to keep three. But children were less important. He wept copiously at the funeral, and when he got home wrung out his handkerchief and hung it on the line, being assured that in the natural course of events he would not be long in getting his wife with another. That is what is so convenient about children, and in this matter Haudouin did not greatly complain. He had three robust living sons and three daughters in the cemetery, which was pretty much what suited him.

Читать дальше →