midday, scampering all over the place, she chanced upon a herd of
chamois munching on wild vines with some relish. Our little minx in a
white dress was an absolute sensation. All these gentlemanly bucks made
way for her so she could have the very best of the vines.... It even
seemed--and this is for your ears only Gringoire--that one of the black
coated young chamois caught Blanquette's eye. The two lovers got lost
in the trees for an hour or two, and if you want to know what they said
to one another, go and ask the babbling brooks who meander unseen in
the moss.

* * * * *

Suddenly, the wind freshened; the mountain turned violet; and evening
fell....

--Already!, said the little kid goat, and stopped in astonishment.

In the valley, the fields were shrouded in mist. Monsieur Seguin's
enclosure was hidden in the fog, and nothing could be seen of the house
except the roof and a faint trace of smoke. She heard the bells of a
flock of sheep returning home and began to feel very melancholy. A
returning falcon just missed her with his wings as he passed over. She
winced.... Then there was a howl on the mountain.

Now, the silly nanny thought about the big bad wolf; having not once
done it all day. At the same time, a horn sounded far away in the
valley. It was Monsieur Seguin making one last effort.

The wolf howled again.

--Come home! Come home! cried the horn.

Blanquette wanted to; but then, she remembered the stake, and the rope,
and the hedged enclosure; and she thought that now she couldn't
possibly get used to all that lot again, and it was better to stay put.

The horn went silent....

She heard a noise in the leaves behind her. She turned round and there
in the shade she saw two short, pricked-up ears and two shining
eyes.... It was the big, bad wolf.

* * * * *

Huge and motionless, there he was, sitting on his hindquarters, looking
at the little white goat and licking his chops. He knew full well that
he would eventually eat her, so he was in no hurry, and as she turned
away, he laughed maliciously:

--Ha! Ha! It's Monsieur Seguin's little kid goat! and he licked his
chops once again with his red tongue.

Blanquette felt all was lost. It only took a moment's thought about the
story of old Renaude, who became the wolf's meal after bravely fighting
all night, to convince her that perhaps it would have been better to
get it over with, and to let herself be