The Cardinal's Snuff Box

Was there another man? Why should there not be? And yet was

there? In her continued absence, the question came back

persistently, and scarcely contributed to his peace of mind.

A few days later, nothing discouraged, "Would you like to have

a good laugh, Signorino?" Marietta enquired.

"Yes," he answered, apathetic.

"Then do me the favour to come," she said.

She led him out of his garden, to the gate of a neighbouring

meadow. A beautiful black-horned white cow stood there, her

head over the bars, looking up and down the road, and now and

then uttering a low distressful "moo."

"See her," said Marietta.

"I see her. Well--?" said Peter.

This morning they took her calf from her--to wean it," said

Marietta.

"Did they, the cruel things? Well-?" said he.

"And ever since, she has stood there by the gate, looking down

the road, waiting, calling."

"The poor dear. Well--?" said he.

"But do you not see, Signorino? Look at her eyes. She is

weeping--weeping like a Christian."

Peter looked-and, sure enough, from the poor cow's eyes tears

were falling, steadily, rapidly: big limpid tears that trickled

down her cheek, her great homely hairy cheek, and dropped on

the grass: tears of helpless pain, uncomprehending endurance.

"Why have they done this thing to me?" they seemed dumbly to

cry.

"Have you ever seen a cow weep before? Is it comical, at

least?" demanded Marietta, exultant.

"Comical--?" Peter gasped. "Comical--!" he groaned . . . .

But then he spoke to the cow.

"Poor dear--poor dear," he repeated. He patted her soft warm

neck, and scratched her between the horns and along the dewlap.

"Poor dear--poor dear."

The cow lifted up her head, and rested her great chin on

Peter's shoulder, breathing upon his face.

"Yes, you know that we are companions in misery, don't you?" he

said. "They have taken my calf from me too--though my calf,

indeed, was only a calf in an extremely metaphorical sense--and

it never was exactly mine, anyhow--I daresay it's belonged from

the beginning to another man. You, at least, have n't that

gall and wormwood added to your cup. And now you must really

try to pull yourself together. It's no good crying. And

besides, there are more calves in the sea than have ever been

taken from it. You'll have a much handsomer and fatter one

next time. And besides, you must remember that your loss

subserves someone else's gain--the farmer would never have done

it if it hadn't been to his advantage. If you 're an altruist,

that should comfort you. And you must n't mind Marietta,--you

must n't mind her laughter. Marietta is a Latin. The Latin

conception of what is laughable differs by the whole span of

heaven from the Teuton. You and I are Teutons."