THE POPE’S MULE 65

wine came back, and with them her
good temper, her long slumbers, and
her little dancing steps on the bridge
of Avignon. Still, since her adventure,
some coldness was shown towards her
in the city. There were whispers as
she passed by; old folks shook their
heads, and the children laughed and
pointed their fingers at the belfry.
The good Pope himself did not trust
her as he used to do, and if he was
tempted to indulge in a little doze on
her back, on a Sunday when he was
coming back from his vineyard, he
could not help thinking: ‘What if I
were to wake up to find myself at the
top of the belfry?’ The mule saw all
this, and her feelings were hurt, though
she said nothing; but if the name of
Tistet Védtne was mentioned in her
presence, her long ears quivered, and
she scraped her iron shoes on the
pavement with a little laugh.

Seven years passed away. Then at

the end of seven years Tistet Védéne
F