e etiquette of it, or ever suspected that
that foolish tale was anything but dignified and valuable history. There
was not an atom of value in it; and whilst they thought it distressing
and pathetic, it was in fact not pathetic at all, but actually
ridiculous. At least it seemed so to me, and it seems so yet. Indeed, I
know it was, because it made Joan laugh; and the more sorrowful it got
the more it made her laugh; and the Paladin said that he could have
laughed himself if she had not been there, and Noel Rainguesson said the
same. It was about old Laxart going to a funeral there at Domremy two or
three weeks back. He had spots all over his face and hands, and he got
Joan to rub some healing ointment on them, and while she was doing it,
and comforting him, and trying to say pitying things to him, he told
her how it happened. And first he asked her if she remembered that black
bull calf that she left behind when she came away, and she said indeed
she did, and he was a dear, and she loved him so, and was he well?--and
just drowned him in questions about that creature. And he said it was a
young bull now, and very frisky; and he was to bear a principal hand at
a funeral; and she said, "The bull?" and he said, "No, myself"; but said
the bull did take a hand, but not because of his being invited, for
he wasn't; but anyway he was away over beyond the Fairy Tree, and fell
asleep on the grass with his Sunday funeral clothes on, and a long black
rag on his hat and hanging down his back; and when he woke he saw by the
sun how late it was, and not a moment to lose; and jumped up terribly
worried, and saw the young bull grazing there, and thought maybe he
could ride part way on him and gain time; so he tied a rope around the
bull's body to hold on by, and put a halter on him to steer with,
and jumped on and started; but it was all new to the bull, and he was
discontented with it, and scurried around and bellowed and reared and
pranced, and Uncle Laxart was satisfied, and wanted to get off and go
by the next bull or some other way that was quieter, but he didn't
dare try; and it was getting very warm for him, too, and disturbing and
wearisome, and not proper for Sunday; but by and by the bull lost all
his temper, and went tearing down the slope with his tail in the air and
blowing in the most awful way; and just in the edge of the village
he knocked down some beehives, and the bees turned out and joined the
excursion, and soared alon