, and that name seemed to please
Felice, for when farmer Jacques came thrice a day to the stile and
cried, "Petit-Poulain, petit, petit, Petit-Poulain!" the kind old
mother would look up fondly, and, with doting eyes, watch her dainty
little colt go bounding toward his calling master. And he was indeed a
lovely little fellow. The cure, the holy pere Francois, predicted that
in due time that colt would make a great name for himself and a great
fortune for his owner. The holy pere knew whereof he spake, for in his
youth he had tasted of the sweets of Parisian life, and upon one
memorable occasion had successfully placed ten francs upon the winner
of le grand prix. We can suppose that Felice thought well of the holy
pere. He never came down the road that she did not thrust her nose
through the hedge and give a mild whinny of recognition, as if she fain
would say: "Pray stop a moment and see Petit-Poulain and his old
mother!"

What happy days those were for Felice and her darling colt. With what
tenderness they played together in the paddock; or, when the sky was
overcast and a storm came on, with what solicitude would the old mother
lead the way into the thatched stable, where there was snug protection
against the threatening element. There are those who say that none but
humankind is immortal,--that none but man has a soul. I do not make or
believe that claim. There is that within me which tells me that no
thing in this world and life of ours which has felt the grace of
maternity shall utterly perish. And this I say in all reverence, and
with the hope that I offend neither God nor man.

You are to know that old Felice's devotion to Petit-Poulain was human
in its tenderness. As readily, as gladly, and as surely as your dear
mother would lay down her life for you would old Felice have yielded up
her life for her innocent, blithe darling. So old Felice was happy
that pleasant time in that fair country, and Petit-Poulain waxed hale
and evermore blithe and beautiful.

Happy days, too, were those for that peaceful country and the other
dwellers therein. There was no thought of evil there; the seasons were
propitious, the vineyards thrived, the crops were bountiful; as far as
eye could see all was prosperity and contentment. But one day the holy
Father Francois came hurrying down the road, and it was too evident
that he brought evil tidings. Felice thought it very strange that he
paid no heed to her when, as wa