THE POPE’S MULE 5I

even Francet Mamai, my fifer, who
has all the legends of Provence in his
head. Francet thinks with me that
there is some ancient tale of Avignon
connected with it; but he has never
heard any more of it than the proverb.
“You will never find it unless you go
to the Grasshopper’s Library,’ said the
_ old fifer laughing.

It seemed a good notion, and as
the Grasshopper’s Library is within a
stone’s throw, I went and shut myself
up there for a week.

It is a wonderful library, perfectly
furnished, open to all poets both day
and night, and served by little librarians
with cymbals, who make music all the
time. I spent some delicious days
there, and after a week of study, iz a
horizontal position, 1 ended by finding
what I wanted, that is to say, the story
of the Pope’s mule and the kick that
she kept for seven years. The tale is
pretty, though simple, and I am going
to try to tell it to you as I read it