It’s not a great story! ... It’s not a great story at all!
Commissioner Monet mumbled
beneath his long black mustaches,
while he was a long way off from hearing.
Her voice was too irritating for his ears. As a music that does not sound good. A scratched disc that stops the pin and blows up ruining
the melody of things.
Would you like something to drink?
A brandy or some coffee? Maybe some tea?
The waitress said to all
the guests in the salon.
In that night of shock-white snow
on the windows steamed up.
In this strange story, full of
unsolved mysteries.
It seemed that everyone, listening to the story about Count Ladurée, they had completely forgotten why they were there.
At that late hour in a night
a few days before Christmas.
They had completely forgotten about
Mary Jane and little Jean Baptiste.
They drank and had conversations again, about this and that, they talked about the weather changes and Madame Tussauds was a very good host. Then they drank a toast again,
making wishes each other.
Meanwhile, a few kilometers from there,
the two children slept with the animals in the warmth of the stable, dreaming of a happy Christmas.
Only after all the unnecessary pleasantries Commissioner C. Monet,
seemed to get away from the group, pursuing a quick thought that
it seemed to fly away and be unreachable.
Then, calling his Gendarme, he said:
Unleashed the dogs and look for the little girl and the baby boy all over Paris!
Arrest anyone who has not reported
the facts and protects the two fugitives!
Madame Tussauds and the Rev. Dumas nodded, as if Commissioner Monet
had addressed directly to them.
Unfortunately for the Gendarmerie and fortunately for the two children,
the next morning it looked like spring and
the snow melting fast,
hid all traces at sniffer dogs.
Sniffer dogs that, under the shining sun
of that morning, they found themselves in rivers
of running water to smell in vain.
Water followed its paths,
made of descents and slopes,
curves or recesses, and then puddles,
small ponds and canals.
Water, as was its mission,
besides the fact of irrigating the ground and
nourishing plants and all living things,
it was hiding with careful parsimony
the smell of the two fugitives.
It seemed that all Nature somehow protected the two children.
As if they were her first children or
a precious gift for everyone.
A miraculous harvest of fields
that had to be nourished with great care.
A fruit ... A red apple
given to all men and women
so that they may also know other truths.
The Sun rose and replaced the Moon.
The same thing happened even in the barn,
but here all the animals
saw it happen.
Not because they had nothing else to look at
but because the birth of a day,
like the growth of a child,
is the most important thing in the world.
A single ray of light passed
through the slit of the stable.
On the side where the children were sleeping, it lit up
Mary Jane’s face; she stretched herself and leaned in unison with Thomas the cat,
which, licking its private parts, soon after her, greeted the Sun with a giant yawning.
You look like the characters in that small village that humans call nativity scene!
Thomas the cat said pointing at the children,
the cows and the hay all around them.
Look out! The Farmer is coming! Help! Find some cover!
Bernhard said coming out quickly from his hole and running wildly.
We should moo all together!
When the farmer arrives... and the sheep bleating, the rooster crowing, not to let him hear
the child's weeping! Ismael the bull said.
All for one! ... It continued.
one for all! ... All the animals replied.
And it was a choir! The barn was immense in the daylight and the animals were many, so many.
Mary Jane was well hidden from the view of the farmer and she looked from beneath the udders and listened astonished, as if she was still dreaming ... A cool dreaming!
3
Upon his arrival, the farmer found the animals very, very agitated.
Cows and calves were mooing, horses were neighing, the rooster was crowing incessantly,
the cat was meowing, the donkey was braying and the sheep were bleating.
In seeing that confusion, the farmer feared that an Earthquake, or a Storm, perhaps a Hurricane was coming.
Since animals feel disasters and earthquakes first.
The farmer hurried to take them out to the pasture, and got his family
out of the house.
He looked at the sky, but everything looked serene. It was the cold sky of a rigid December, but clear and light blue, a nice cool winter sky.
While the farmer was heading grazing absorbed in a thousand questions,
animals suddenly stopped pawing, making verses and various bellows.
As if everything had passed and
the coming storm had become
flat calm of that sky so blue.
Mary Jane and Jean Baptiste remained hidden in a floor packed with straw,
together with Bernhard the mouse and Thomas the cat.
You're Thomas the cat, right?
Mary Jane said
At your service,