PETITON
Source
All Mouret, Petiton's dog, lacked was speech.
— “Here, Mouret. Come, let me tie this bladder, full of chicken blood, in the hairs of your chest. Listen. I'm waiting for two scoundrel cattle dealers. When they get there, you will pretend to be mad. I will grab you by the scruff of your neck, and I will pretend to bleed you, by puncturing, with this knife, your bladder, full of chicken blood. Immediately, you will play dead, only to get up as soon as I have said:
Black-handled knife, white-handled knife.
Get my dog up quickly.
Mouret signaled that he understood.
At exactly noon, the two scoundrel horse dealers were in front of Petiton's house. The young man was waiting for them, his good oak staff within reach. This cools the visitors a little.
"Hello, my friends. Well! Are you happy with your ram?"
"Ah! Bandit! Ah! scoundrel!"
"Calm down, good people. Otherwise, watch out for my good oak stick. Listen. You fooled me. I gave it back to you. “Whoever does it to you, do it to him." We are even now. I fear no one. Let's fight, if you want. Let's be good friends if that pleases you."
The two scoundrel horse dealers thought about it and said:
“Well, Petiton, let’s be good friends."
"Excellent! Let’s go to the inn, have a drink, and toast together."
Then, Petiton made a sign to Mouret.
Immediately, the brave dog bristled his fur, rolled his eyes, stuck out his tongue, and drooled, as if he were truly enraged. The two scoundrel horse dealers were white with fear. But Petiton drew his knife, grabbed Mouret by the scruff of the neck, and punctured the bladder full of hen's blood, hidden in the hairs of his chest.
The dog fell as if dead.
“And now, my friends, let us go to the inn, have a drink, and toast together."
The three of them went to the inn, sat down at a table, and chatted while clinking glasses.
“Petiton, you are a strong and clever fellow. Grabbing a rabid dog by the scruff of the neck, bleeding it with a knife, that's what very few men are capable of doing without letting themselves be bitten."
"My friends, you are wrong. For doing what you saw, I have not the slightest merit. Look at this knife, it doesn’t look like anything. By his virtue, I bleed, without danger, in the chest, all the wicked beasts. With their blood comes their wickedness. When I want to resurrect them, I just have to show them my knife and say:
Black-handled knife, white-handled knife.
Raise my animals quickly.
Immediately, my animals get up healed, and gentle, and calm, like lambs born a month ago."
"Petiton, you are pulling our leg."
"My friends, come outside, and you will see if I am lying."
All three went out. Mouret continued to play dead.
Petiton approached the beast, showed him the knife, and said:
Black-handled knife, white-handled knife.
Get my dog up quickly.
Immediately, Mouret jumped three feet in the air and came to lick his master’s hand.
“Petiton, you didn’t lie. Do you want to sell us this knife?"
"My friends, what would you do with it?"
"Petiton, our fortune would soon be made if we had this knife. At the fairgrounds we would go and buy all the bad oxen and cows, all the vicious horses and mules. We would bleed them, as you did with your dog, to bring them back to life healed, and gentle, calm, like lambs born a month ago."
Source: Petiton, from the French book Contes populaires de la Gascogne, tome 3, published in 1886
Hello, my name is Vincent Celier.
I am writing translations of folk tales that I found in public domain French books, so that people who do not understand French may enjoy them too.
Petiton is apparently OK with the two cattle dealers after they fooled each other.
While pretending to make peace with the two scoundrels he is setting his new trap, with the help of his dog.
As they are hooked, he will be able to set a very high price for his miraculous knife!
Yesterday morning, before we left the house in Harrison Hot Springs, we set up the Christmas Tree.
I bought this artificial Christmas tree ten years ago, as I was fed up with buying a tree, handling it, cleaning the mess, and getting rid of the dead tree.
We arrived at our apartment in Coquitlam at 1 PM.
At 4 PM, Kati told me to bring her to the emergency at the hospital. For more than a week, she had nosebleeds that lasted several hours. She already went to the emergency last Thursday, but they just referred her to a specialist.
So, I drove her to the hospital. She asked me to go back home and wait for her call, so I did. She had to wait for more than 4 hours before seeing a doctor, who cauterized her nostril and thus stopped the bleeding.
I came to get her and we were back home a little after 9 PM.
Yesterday was the birthday of my youngest daughter Gaëlle, who lives in Montreal. I tried several times to phone her, but apparently she was too busy celebrating. She texted me this morning that she will call me soon.
-- Vincent Celier