18 STORIES FROM DAUDET

turned his back when the little goat
jumped out.

When the white goat got up to the
mountain everybody there was delighted.
The old fir-trees had never seen any-
thing so pretty. The chestnut-trees
stooped their boughs to the ground to
touch herwith the tipsof their branches.
The golden broom-flowers opened as
she passed by and perfumed the air
with their blossoms. All the mountain
rejoiced at her coming.

How happy she was! No more
bonds or cords, nothing to prevent her
skipping, jumping, browsing as she
chose. What heaps of grass there were,
deep enough to cover her, horns and
all. . . . And what grass! Sweet, deli-
cate, like lace-work, made up of a
thousand different herbs. ... Very
different from the turf in the paddock.
And such flowers! ... Great blue
Canterbury bells, and purple foxgloves
with their long cups. A perfect forest
of wild flowers all full of intoxicating