MM. SEGUIN’S GOAT 19

juices. The white goat, half tipsy,
revelled in this with her four feet in the
air, and rolled down the slopes helter-
skelter with the fallen leaves and chest-
nuts. Then suddenly she rose to her
feet with a bound. Off she went head-
long, over bush and briar, now on a
peak, now at the bottom of a ravine.
Here, there,and everywhere; you might
have supposed that ten goats had run
away from M. Seguin to the mountain.
Blanquette was afraid of nothing.
She cleared with one flying leap fierce
torrents which splashed her with foam
and drops of water as she jumped over
them. Then all dripping she laid
herself on some smooth stone and
dried her coat in the sun. Once
going to the edge of a piece of table-
land with a branch of cytisus in her
mouth, she saw far below on the
plain M. Seguin’s house and the
paddock behind it. She laughed till
she cried. ‘How small it is,’ she
said ; ‘how could I ever get into it!’