Run
away, then. But no; stay; I should like you once in your life to see
a nobleman receive a thrashing from the hand of a peasant. And that is
what you are going to see; and I ask you not to forget it, little one,
and to tell your parents about it."
Livid, and gnashing my teeth with rage, I made desperate efforts to
resist. Patience, with hideous calmness, bound me to a tree with an
osier shoot. At the touch of his great horny hand I bent like a reed;
and yet I was remarkably strong for my age. He fixed the owl to a branch
above my head, and the bird's blood, as it fell on me drop by drop,
caused me unspeakable horror; for though this was only the correction
we administer to sporting dogs that worry game, my brain, bewildered by
rage, despair, and my comrades' cries, began to imagine some
frightful witchcraft. However, I really think I would rather have
been metamorphosed into an owl at once than undergo the punishment he
inflicted on me. In vain did I fling threats at him; in vain did I take
terrible vows of vengeance; in vain did the peasant child throw himself
on his knees again and supplicate:
"Monsieur Patience, for God's sake, for your own sake, don't harm him;
the Mauprats will kill you."
He laughed, and shrugged his shoulders. Then, taking a handful of holly
twigs, he flogged me in a manner, I must own, more humiliating than
cruel; for no sooner did he see a few drops of my blood appear, than he
stopped and threw down the rod.
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