ing loose, I am going to lock you in the cowshed and you will
stay there.

Without further ado, Monsieur Seguin carried the goat into the pitch
blackness of the cowshed and locked and bolted the door. Unfortunately,
he had forgotten to shut the window, and he had hardly turned his back
when she got free.

Are you laughing, Gringoire? Heavens! I'm quite sure you are on the
goats' side, and not Monsieur Seguin's. We'll see if you manage to keep
laughing.

There was general delight when the white goat arrived on the mountain.
The old fir trees had never seen anything nearly so lovely. She was
received like a queen. The chestnut trees bowed down to the ground to
stroke her with the tips of their leaves. The brooms opened up the way
for her and brushed against her as best they could. The whole
mountainside celebrated her arrival.

So, Gringoire, imagine how happy our goat was! No more tether ... no
more stake ... nothing to prevent her from going where she wanted and
nibbling at anything she liked. Hereabouts, there was lots of grass;
she was up to her horns in it, my friend. And what grass! Delicious,
fine, feathery, and dense, so much better than that in the enclosure.
And then there were the flowers!... Huge bluebells; purple,
long-stemmed foxgloves; a whole forest full of wild blooms brimming
over with heady sap.

The white goat, half-drunk, wallowed in it, and with her legs flailing
in the air, rolled along the bank all over the place on the fallen
leaves in amongst the chestnut trees. Then, quite suddenly, she jumped
confidently onto her feet. Off she went, heedlessly going forward
through the clumps of boxwood and brooms; she went everywhere; up hill,
and down dale. You would have thought that there were loads of Monsieur
Seguin's goats on the mountain.

Clearly, Blanquette was not frightened of anything. In one leap, she
covered some large torrential streams, which burst over her in a
soaking mist. Then, dripping wet, she stretched herself out on a flat
rock and dried herself in the sun. Once, approaching the edge of a
drop, a laburnum flower in her mouth, she noticed Monsieur Seguin's
house and the enclosure far down on the plain. It made her laugh till
the tears came.

--How small it all is! she said; how did I manage to put up with it?

Poor little thing, finding herself so high up, she believed herself to
be on top of the world.

Overall, it was a jolly good day for Monsieur Seguin's kid goat. About