hould be. Before arriving at Chavanon I would buy a cow and Mattia
would lead it by a rope, right into Mother Barberin's yard.

Mattia would say to her: "Here is a cow I've brought you."

"A cow!" she would say; "you've made a mistake, my boy," and she would
sigh.

"No, I haven't," Mattia would answer; "you're Mother Barberin of
Chevanon, aren't you? Well, the prince (like in fairy tales) has sent
you this as a present."

"What prince?"

Then I would appear and take her in my arms, and after we had hugged
each other we would make some pancakes and apple fritters which would be
eaten by the three of us and not by Barberin, as on that Shrove Tuesday
when he had returned to upset our frying pan and put our butter in his
onion soup. What a beautiful dream! But to realize it we must first buy
the cow!

How much would a cow cost? I had not the slightest idea; a great deal
probably, but still.... I did not want a very big cow. Because the
fatter the cow the higher the price, and then the bigger the cow the
more nourishment it would require, and I did not want my present to be a
source of inconvenience to Mother Barberin. The essential, for the
moment, was to find out the price of cows or, rather, of a cow of the
kind that I wanted. Fortunately, that was not difficult for we often met
many farmers and cattle dealers at the different villages where we
stopped. I put the question to the first I met at the inn that day.

He burst out laughing and gave a bang on the table. Then he called the
landlady.

"This little musician wants to know how much a cow costs, not a very
large one, but a very healthy one that'll give plenty of milk!"

Every one laughed. I didn't care, though.

"Yes, she must give good milk and not eat too much," I said.

"And she mustn't mind being led along the lanes by a halter."

When he had had his laugh, he was quite willing to enter a discussion
with me, and to take the matter seriously. He had just the very thing, a
nice cow which gave delicious milk--real cream!--and she hardly ate
anything. If I would put down fifty ecus, the cow was mine. Although I
had had trouble in making him talk at first, once he commenced it was
difficult to stop him. Finally, we were able to retire for the night,
and I dreamed of all I had learned from him.

Fifty ecus; that was one hundred and fifty francs! I had nothing like
that great sum. Perhaps if our luck still continued I could, if I saved
sou by sou, get tog