stories by english authors in germany(旅德英国作家的故事)-第9章
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over the land north and south； from the blue sea to the green mountains。
They sold him for a small price； because he was so young。
This man was a drunkard and a brute。 The life of Patrasche was a life
of hell。 To deal the tortures of hell on the animal creation is a way which
the Christians have of showing their belief in it。 His purchaser was a sullen；
ill…living； brutal Brabantois； who heaped his cart full with pots and pans
and flagons and buckets； and other wares of crockery and brass and tin；
and left Patrasche to draw the load as best he might； while he himself
lounged idly by the side in fat and sluggish ease； smoking his black pipe
and stopping at every wineshop or cafe on the road。
Happily for Patrasche； or unhappily； he was very strong； he came of an
iron race； long born and bred to such cruel travail； so that he did not die；
but managed to drag on a wretched existence under the brutal burdens； the
scarifying lashes； the hunger； the thirst； the blows； the curses； and the
exhaustion which are the only wages with which the Flemings repay the
most patient and laborious of all their four…footed victims。 One day； after
two years of this long and deadly agony； Patrasche was going on as usual
along one of the straight； dusty； unlovely roads that lead to the city of
Rubens。 It was full midsummer； and very warm。 His cart was very heavy；
piled high with goods in metal and in earthenware。 His owner sauntered
on without noticing him otherwise than by the crack of the whip as it
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curled round his quivering loins。 The Brabantois had paused to drink beer
himself at every wayside house； but he had forbidden Patrasche to stop a
moment for a draught from the canal。 Going along thus； in the full sun； on
a scorching highway； having eaten nothing for twenty…four hours； and；
which was far worse to him； not having tasted water for near twelve； being
blind with dust； sore with blows； and stupefied with the merciless weight
which dragged upon his loins； Patrasche staggered and foamed a little at
the mouth； and fell。
He fell in the middle of the white； dusty road； in the full glare of the
sun； he was sick unto death； and motionless。 His master gave him the only
medicine in his pharmacykicks and oaths and blows with a cudgel of oak；
which had been often the only food and drink； the only wage and reward；
ever offered to him。 But Patrasche was beyond the reach of any torture or
of any curses。 Patrasche lay； dead to all appearances； down in the white
powder of the summer dust。 After a while； finding it useless to assail his
ribs with punishment and his ears with maledictions； the Brabantois
deeming life gone in him； or going； so nearly that his carcass was forever
useless； unless； indeed； some one should strip it of the skin for gloves
cursed him fiercely in farewell； struck off the leathern bands of the harness；
kicked his body aside into the grass； and； groaning and muttering in
savage wrath； pushed the cart lazily along the road uphill； and left the
dying dog for the ants to sting and for the crows to pick。
It was the last day before kermess away at Louvain； and the Brabantois
was in haste to reach the fair and get a good place for his truck of brass
wares。 He was in fierce wrath； because Patrasche had been a strong and
much…enduring animal； and because he himself had now the hard task of
pushing his /charette/ all the way to Louvain。 But to stay to look after
Patrasche never entered his thoughts； the beast was dying and useless； and
he would steal； to replace him； the first large dog that he found wandering
alone out of sight of its master。 Patrasche had cost him nothing； or next to
nothing； and for two long； cruel years he had made him toil ceaselessly in
his service from sunrise to sunset； through summer and winter； in fair
weather and foul。
He had got a fair use and a good profit out of Patrasche； being human；
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he was wise； and left the dog to draw his last breath alone in the ditch； and
have his bloodshot eyes plucked out as they might be by the birds； whilst
he himself went on his way to beg and to steal； to eat and to drink； to
dance and to sing； in the mirth at Louvain。 A dying dog； a dog of the cart
why should he waste hours over its agonies at peril of losing a handful of
copper coins； at peril of a shout of laughter？
Patrasche lay there； flung in the grass…green ditch。 It was a busy road
that day； and hundreds of people； on foot and on mules； in waggons or in
carts； went by； tramping quickly and joyously on to Louvain。 Some saw
him； most did not even look； all passed on。 A dead dog more or lessit
was nothing in Brabant； it would be nothing anywhere in the world。
After a time； among the holiday…makers； there came a little old man
who was bent and lame； and very feeble。 He was in no guise for feasting；
he was very poorly and miserably clad； and he dragged his silent way
slowly through the dust among the pleasure…seekers。 He looked at
Patrasche； paused； wondered； turned aside； then kneeled down in the rank
grass and weeds of the ditch； and surveyed the dog with kindly eyes of
pity。 There was with him a little rosy； fair…haired； dark…eyed child of a few
years old； who pattered in amid the bushes； that were for him breast…high；
and stood gazing with a pretty seriousness upon the poor； great； quiet
beast。
Thus it was that these two first metthe little Nello and the big
Patrasche。
The upshot of that day was； that old Jehan Daas； with much laborious
effort； drew the sufferer homeward to his own little hut； which was a
stone's throw off amidst the fields； and there tended him with so much
care that the sickness； which had been a brain seizure brought on by heat
and thirst and exhaustion； with time and shade and rest passed away； and
health and strength returned； and Patrasche staggered up again upon his
four stout； tawny legs。
Now for many weeks he had been useless； powerless； sore； near to
death； but all this time he had heard no rough word； had felt no harsh
touch； but only the pitying murmurs of the child's voice and the soothing
caress of the old man's hand。
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In his sickness they two had grown to care for him； this lonely man
and the little happy child。 He had a corner of the hut； with a heap of dry
grass for his bed； and they had learned to listen eagerly for his breathing in
the dark night； to tell them that he lived； and when he first was well
enough to essay a loud； hollow； broken bay； they laughed aloud； and
almost wept together for joy at such a sign of his sure restoration； and little
Nello； in delighted glee； hung round his rugged neck chains of marguerites；
and kissed him with fresh and ruddy lips。
So then； when Patrasche arose； himself again； strong； big； gaunt；
powerful； his great wistful eyes had a gentle astonishment in them that
there were no curses to rouse him and no blows to drive him； and his heart
awakened to a mighty love； which never wavered once in its fidelity while
life abode with him。
But Patrasche； being a dog； was grateful。 Patrasche lay pondering long
with grave； tender； musing brown eyes； watching the movements of his
friends。
Now； the old soldier； Jehan Daas； could do nothing for his living but
limp about a little with a small cart； with which he carried daily the milk…
cans of those happier neighbours who owned cattle away into the town of
Antwerp。 The villagers gave him the employment a little out of charity；
more because it suited them well to send their milk into the town by so
honest a carrier； and bide at home themselves to look after their gardens；
their cows； their poultry； or their little fields。 But it was becoming hard
work for the old man。 He was eighty…three； and Antwerp was a good
league off； or more。
Patrasche watched the milk…cans come and go that one day when he
had got well and was lying in the sun with the wreath of marguerites round
his tawny neck。
The next morning； Patrasche； before the old man had touched the cart；
arose and walked to it and placed himself betwixt its handles； and testified
as plainly as dumb…show could do his desire and his ability to work in
return for the bread of charity that he had eaten。 Jehan Daas resisted long；
for the old man was one of those who thought it a foul shame to bind dogs
to labor for which Nature never formed them。 But Patrasche would not be
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gainsaid； finding they did not harness him； he tried to draw the cart
onward with his teeth。
At length Jehan Daas gave way； vanquished by the persistence and the
gratitude of this creature whom he had succored。 He fashioned his cart so
that Patrasche could run in it； and this he did every morning of his life
thenceforward。
When the winter came； Jehan Daas thanked the blessed fortune that
had brought him to the dying dog in the ditch that fair…day of Louvain； for
he was very old； and he grew feebler with each year； and he would ill have
known how to pull his load of milk…cans over the snows and through the
deep ruts in the mud if it had not been for the strength and the industry of
the animal he had befriended。 As for Patrasche； it seemed heaven to him。
After the frightful burdens that his old master had compelled him to strain
under； at the call of the whip at every step； it seemed nothing to him but
amusement to step out with this little light； green cart； with its bright brass
cans； by the side of the gentle old man who always paid him with a tender
caress and with
