The new friend and attendant of Pantagruel was, as has already been seen, a man of good presence, neither too tall nor too short. His nose was a fine aquiline, so fine and sharp, indeed, that its curve was said by even his best friends to look for all the world like the blade of a razor. He was thirty-five years old, or thereabout, and was the gayest, maddest, most reckless roisterer that gay, mad, reckless, roistering Paris had ever welcomed within her walls. His purse never knew what it was to be full. For, although he had, as he was fond of boasting, as many as sixty-three different ways of getting money, he always had two hundred and fourteen different ways of spending it. The fact is, Panurge had as many cunning ways as a monkey, and could have taught the wisest and grayest old monkey in the forest tricks of which he, in his simplicity, had never once dreamed. He made it a point never to go abroad without having a flask of good wine and a fat, juicy slice of bacon hidden away under his gown, saying, "These are my body-guard. I have no other sword." But if he had one special weakness, it was the bitter hatred he bore against the sergeants and the city-watch of Paris. Of course, these little eccentricities all came out in time, and so became gradually known to Pantagruel, who often frowned on them, but could not, for the life of him, each time he heard of a new prank, help shaking the houses within a mile around, with the rumble of his hearty laughter.
It was one favorite custom of Panurge to gather three or four good fellows, and make them drink like Templars toward nightfall, when he would lead them to the high ground just above the church St. Genevieve, or near the college of Navarre, about the hour the city-watch were taking their rounds on the low ground below. He could always make sure of the hour of the guard by laying a sword down on the pavement, with his ear very close to it; and when he would hear the sword hum, he knew that the watch were coming. As soon as he had made sure of that, he and his companion would begin to push one of the dirt-carts, always about there, with all their strength, into the hollow, where it would come tumbling down on the unhappy watch, who, by that time, had just reached the spot, setting them to rolling and knocking about in the dust like so many swine. Of course, the party would then scamper off in a hurry, as Panurge—who, besides having a mortal dread of blows, was a born coward—had, after two days, learned to know every street, crossing, lane, and alley in Paris.
Another time he would drop along some good, level place where the watch were obliged to pass, a long train of powder, and, then, after finding a safe hiding-place, when they had come, he would fire the train at his end, laugh a loud laugh while he watched their antics in scurrying away, thinking all the time that good St. Anthony was tugging away at their legs.
Now, Panurge was a very wise man, but, in spite of all his learning, he dearly loved to plague those whom he ought certainly to have most respected,—I mean the Masters of Arts and the students of the Universities. Whenever he would meet one of these on the street, he was sure to do him some mischief, such as pinning to his back little fox-tails, hare's ears, or some such roguery.
Another great delight of Panurge was keeping a whip under his gown, with which he used to lash, until his very arm ached, such pages as he found carrying wine to their masters. He used to say it was to make them go faster, and he was sure their masters would thank him for it.
Another was to carry in his coat more than twenty-and-six little fobs and pockets, which were always full,—one of a little lead-water; another of a little blade sharpened like a glover's needle, with which, I am ashamed to say, Panurge used to cut purses; another of some bitter stuff, which he used to throw in the eyes of everybody he met; and still others of a mixture which he would throw upon the dresses and bonnets of good people, walking peaceably and soberly in the streets.
Another trick was slily to fasten people together by little hooks, which he always kept in his pocket, and to laugh till he grew black in the face, on seeing how, in trying to get loose, they only tore their clothes to rags.
Another was to provide himself with two or three looking-glasses, and, by shifting them here and there in his hand from a distance, throw the fierce light straight into the eyes of men and women, who would get half-crazy trying to find out where their sudden blindness came from.
Still another trick—and this was a very mean one—he used to play with a small vial filled with the oldest and most rancid oil he could find. Whenever he met a woman dressed as fine as a peacock, he would come up, saying: "Why, here's a fine cloth, or a fine satin, or a fine taffety," as the case might be. "Madam, may Heaven grant you whatever your noble heart might wish for! You have there a new dress. Heaven keep it long for you, fair dame!" While the rogue was saying all these fine words, he would, of course, be placing his hand on the collar or the shoulder of the lady, and smearing it all over with his vile oil, and leaving a spot which could never be scrubbed out. Then he would make his prettiest bow, and smile his sweetest smile, saying: "My dear Madam, let me beg you to be very careful about here, because there is a large and muddy hole just before you, and you might soil your beautiful dress."
At another time he would carry a box filled with a well-powdered sneezing-gum, into which he would put a handsome broidered handkerchief that he had stolen on the way from a pretty seamstress of the Palace. He would go looking about for some fine ladies, and whenever he would meet them, with a great show of reverence, he would take out his scented handkerchief, and, on pretence of showing its beauty, flirt it quickly before their noses, at which the fine ladies would sneeze for four hours without stopping.
Then Panurge would make a lower and more respectful bow than ever, and go away to the nearest corner to have a quiet laugh by himself.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
SHOWING WHY THE LEAGUES ARE SO MUCH SHORTER IN FRANCE THAN IN GERMANY.
A short time after the famous dispute, Pantagruel heard two very startling bits of news. One was that his father Gargantua had been transported to the country of the Fairies by Morgan, in the same way that she had already carried off Ogier the Dane and King Arthur. The other was that, on hearing of this, and taking advantage of it, the Dipsodes, or Thirsty people, Gargantua's neighbors, had swarmed from their fortresses and ravaged a large part of Utopia, and were even then besieging the chief city of the Amaurotes. When Pantagruel heard this bad news he boiled with rage. He left Paris without a word of good-by to anybody, for the affair called for speed. He was accompanied only by his special train, which included his master Epistemon, Panurge, Eusthenes, and Carpalim. From Paris he went to Rouen. While on the road, Pantagruel noticed that the French leagues were very short when compared with those of other countries, which he had seen in his travels. He asked Panurge how this could be. Then Panurge, who was never at fault, after turning up his long nose, told him this little story:—
"In the old days, when that fine King Pharamond reigned over France, there were no leagues, no metes, no furlongs, no recognized boundaries between different countries; nothing, in fact, to show where one country began and where another ended. That just old King resolved to make all this right. So he caused to be brought together in Paris two hundred of the brightest and prettiest girls and boys to be found in all France, whom he feasted well for eight days. After it the King called the two hundred children before him, and gave them a sum of money large enough for their expenses during a long journey. He then commanded that they should not go out by the same gate, but start away on different roads, here and there, as their fancy took them out from the city. He further told them that, wherever they should stop to play and run about in the bright sunshine, and gather flowers, or chase the beautiful butterflies, they should leave a stone there to show that they had done so.
"That stone would mean, 'This is one league.'
"It was summer time in the pleasant, flowery, laughing month of June, when the skies seem more full of blue, the fields more full of green, and the roses more full of red, than they are at any other time, that the gentle King Pharamond had gathered these innocent children together. The whole party, with bright cheeks and merry laughter, started from Paris by one road and another. How could the children help feeling happy when the skies were so blue, the fields so green, and the roses so red, and when the butterflies would fly so near the ground, as if only too glad to be run after and caught! And then each boy and girl knew that their generous King had given them so much money that, to their simple fancies, it seemed as if they could never spend it all, try as hard as they might.
"In those bright June days, full of light, and green, and blue, they were always crying out: 'Let us stop! Oh, let us stop to play.'
"So they used, at first, to stop at every turn of the road to skip and gambol about in the fields, to gather the pretty flowers, to chase the brilliant butterflies, to sing back to the singing-birds in the trees, and to breathe in the sweet summer air, after which, with ringing laughter and the merriest shouts, they would leave a big stone to mark the spot where they had been so happy.
"This explains, my lord," said Panurge, making a face, "why our leagues in France are so short."
"I see, I see," said the good Pantagruel, who had fallen into deep thought.
"But the longest summer must come to an end," Panurge went on to say. "And when children stop at every turn of the road to play in the sun, and to run in the fields, and to pluck the flowers, and chase the butterflies, and sing with the singing-birds, they are only robbing themselves of their own glad time. For Autumn, with his clouds that hide the sun, and his ugly days, and his chilly nights, must be very patient if he does not soon begin to think it high time for him to come on the scene. So it got to be quite another thing for the poor children the farther they went from Paris, because they soon found out that King Pharamond's gift, large as it was, could not last forever. The more they travelled, the worse the weather, the nearer they came to the bottom of their purse, the heavier grew the road, and the more tired their little bodies became. At last, all that the weary children prayed for was that they might reach the end of their hard journey as fast as possible. But Autumn himself was getting very old by that time, and fierce Winter, with his chilling breath, and his hands of ice, and his mantle of snow, was beginning to wonder when brother Autumn was going to give him a chance of dropping his shining mantle over field, lane, and road. There were no longer any blue sky; no longer any green fields; no longer any red roses for the children; and the bright butterflies were all dead now, and the singing-birds were all mute.
"All that the poor little children could now do, wringing their hands, was to cry: 'Let us go on! Oh, do let us go on!'
"So, too sad to think of play, but remembering always the command of their good King, they walked, or rather limped, along the highway, and would rest as little as they could until they had reached Germany, and gone to the very end of that country, to make sure that they had done their duty."
After telling this legend of King Pharamond and his two hundred little children, Panurge remarked, with a very ugly grin:—
"And this, Your Highness, is why those cursed German leagues are so long."
CHAPTER XXIX
HOW THE CUNNING OF PANURGE, WITH THE AID OF EUSTHENES AND CARPALIM, DISCOMFITED SIX HUNDRED AND SIXTY HORSEMEN.
Starting from Rouen, Pantagruel, Panurge, Epistemon, Eusthenes, and Carpalim arrived at Harfleur, but remained at that city only one hour, when they took to sea,—a friendly North-North-west wind blowing at the time,—and, with all sails set, in a short time passing by Porto Sancto, and Madeira, touched at the Canaries.
Once more on blue water, keeping; close to the Senegal coast of Africa, they skirted by Cape Blanco and Cape Verde, and, still steering south-east, sailed on, day after day, until, after weathering the Cape of Good Hope, they touched at the friendly kingdom of Melinda. Taking to ship again after resting a week in Melinda, they made good progress with a wind from over the mountains, and, after passing by Meden, Uti, Uden, Galasin, by the Isles of the Fairies, and skirting the kingdom of Anchoria, finally cast anchor in the port of Utopia, which is a little over three leagues from the chief city of the Amaurotes, that was then being hotly besieged by the Dipsodes, who, as you know, called themselves the Thirsty People.
When they had rested a bit and got their land-legs well on again, Pantagruel, who, even in sea-sickness,—and he had, in fact, been very sick,—had been thinking of the perils in which his father's kingdom had been placed, remarked: "My children, it is lucky that those rascals have not occupied this port, and it is just as strange as lucky, because the city is not more than three leagues off. But, before we march to its relief, it would be wise to consider what is best to be done. Are you all resolved to live or die with me?"
"Yes, Your Highness, yes!" responded all. "Count on us as you might count on your fingers."
"I have somehow a trouble on my mind," Pantagruel went on to say. "I know neither in what order nor in what number are my enemies who besiege the city. If I could once know this, we should more surely be able to help my poor people."
Then all the four companions cried out together: "Leave that to us! This day shall not pass before we bring Your Highness news."
Panurge, as was to be expected, was the first to step forward.
"I undertake, my lord," he said, "to enter into their camp in spite of their guards. What is more, I shall dine with them at their own expense,—not one of them knowing who I am; visit their artillery; count the number of tents of their captains; and strut at my will through the bands without ever being once detected. For I am of the lineage of Zopyrus."
Then Master Epistemon came forward:—
"I know all the stratagems of the ancient captains and champions of Antiquity; and all the ruses and artifices of the camps. Your Highness need have no fear of my being caught, as I shall make them believe of you what I please. For I am of the lineage of Sinon."
Then Eusthenes:—
"I shall get through their trenches under the noses of their sentinels; for I shall pass through them, and—in spite of them, even though each one were as strong as a bull—break their legs and wrench their arms for them as I pass. For I am of the lineage of Hercules."
Then Carpalim:—
"As for me, Your Royal Highness, I promise to slip into the camp if ever a bird can fly there, because my body is so light that I can jump their trenches and leap through their tents before their keenest eyes can see me. I am afraid of neither arrows nor bow-shots. As for their swift horses, I laugh at them. I undertake to skim over an ear of corn or the tall meadow grass, without either ever bending under me. For I am of the lineage of Camilla, the Amazon."
Carpalim had scarcely declared that he was of the lineage of Camilla, the Amazon, when a great shout was heard; and the whole party, turning round to find whence the noise came, saw six hundred light cavalry riding at full speed to see what ship had come into port, and to capture the crew if fast riding and loud shouting could do it.
Pantagruel's big nostrils opened and shut, and went up and down in excitement, as he roared out:—
"My lads, get you at once to the ship! You see our enemies there? I shall kill them, if they were ten times their number, just as easily as though they were so many beasts. So get in there, and you will have some sport!"
But Panurge, who, if a coward, was very sly, had been hatching a plan of his own, and answered:—
"No, my lord, there is no need of your taking so much trouble. On the contrary, you are the one to go into the ship, both you and the others, for I, myself, undertake, singly and without aid, to settle those rogues. But there is no time for delay. Seconds are worth hours now!"
The others joined in with Panurge.
"Well said, my lord. Let Your Highness retire, and we shall help Panurge in such a way that you will soon learn what we can do when we try."
Pantagruel, who saw that trick, not fight, was to win the battle, was highly amused at all this. As he started to go back into the ship, he said:—
"I am willing, but on one condition. If those rascals are too strong for you, call out for me."
The first thing Panurge did was to get two stout ropes from the vessel. After tying these to the capstan on the deck he pulled them to the shore, where he twined them round and round into two circles, one very large, and the other a smaller circle inside of the larger one. After he had his two circles ready, he said to Epistemon:—
"Go into the ship and wait until I call out. Then you will turn the capstan as strong and as quickly as you can, drawing up, of course, both these ropes as you turn."
Panurge had also a word of warning for Eusthenes and Carpalim:—
"Wait here, my lads, until the enemy come near, then make signs that you surrender. But take care not to get your legs inside of these ropes. All you will have to do is, while appearing to yield yourselves, to get as far away from those fellows as you can."
Then Panurge, all in a hurry, rushed into the vessel once more, and caught up a bundle of straw and a small barrel of gunpowder, the contents of which he scattered along inside and outside of the two circles of ropes. Holding in his hand a bit of lighted paper, and putting on his most innocent face, he was ready for the men on horseback, who just then came thundering down. The first rank came nearly as far as the ship, but, because the sand was yielding, forty-four men and as many horses were brought tumbling to the ground. Seeing the first line fall, and believing that their comrades had met some resistance, the others were about to rush to the rescue; but just here was heard the mild voice of Panurge:—
"Gentlemen, you will pardon me, if I say it is not we who have stretched your noble companions there, but the sea-water, which makes the sand slippery. We surrender at your good pleasure."
Eusthenes, and Carpalim, and Epistemon, who was on deck, said the same thing.
But, even while he was talking, the cunning Panurge had been sliding off and, when he saw that all the horsemen were drawn well within the circles, and that his two friends had got to a safe distance, making way for the cavalry who were pressing forward to see the ship, shouted out suddenly to Epistemon:—
"Turn! turn!"
Hearing these words, Epistemon began to turn for his life, and the two ropes twisted themselves around the legs of the horses in such a fashion that, in falling, they brought their riders down with them. Those in the rear, seeing the trick, drew their swords to cut the ropes, and so escape; but Panurge was quite ready for them. It was when they did so that he fired his powder-train, which burned up every one of the company, men and horses, except one. He only escaped the flames because he was mounted on a Turkish horse of great swiftness, which bore him off with his light hoofs. But when Carpalim saw this he said to himself: "Here, now, is a chance to show that I am of the lineage of Camilla!" and ran after him with such speed that he caught up with the Turkish steed within less than a hundred steps, and, leaping on his croup, hugged the rider from behind and brought him a prisoner to the ship.
Pantagruel was, of course, in a most jovial mood, and praised to the skies the cunning of his friends. Nothing would do but that they should celebrate their victory in eating and drinking, and the prisoner along with them. It was a merry feast on the shore, for all but the poor captive, who was not at all sure that Pantagruel was not going to gobble him up whole, which he might have done—his throat being so large—with as much ease as he would have taken down a sugar-plum. Indeed, the prisoner would not have made any greater show in the Giant's throat than a grain of millet in an ass' mouth.
CHAPTER XXX.
HOW CARPALIM WENT HUNTING FOR FRESH MEAT, AND HOW A TROPHY WAS SET UP.
While they were thus chatting and feasting, Carpalim suddenly cried out: "Are we never to have any fresh meat? His Highness makes us thirsty enough, but this salt meat quite finishes me. Wait a moment! I am going to fetch you here the thigh of one of those horses which are burning over yonder. No fear of their not being roasted enough!"
As he was springing up to do this, his quick eye caught sight, just at the edge of the wood, of a large stag, which had come out of the forest, attracted doubtless by Panurge's big bonfire. Carpalim ran towards the stag with such fleetness that he seemed to have been shot from a cross-bow, and caught up with him in a moment. Even while he was bounding along, he was holding his hands up in the air, with all his fingers spread open, and, in that way, he caught four great bustards, seven bitterns, twenty-six gray partridges, sixteen pheasants, nine snipes, nineteen herons, thirty-two red-legged partridges; and he killed moreover with his feet, by kicking here and there, ten or twelve hares or rabbits that chanced to start up in his path and hadn't time to get away; fifteen tender young boars, and three large foxes. First killing the stag by striking him on the head with his sword, he picked him up and, while joyously returning along the road, gathered together his hares, rabbits, boars, and foxes. And from as far as could be heard, he began to cry out:—
"Panurge! Panurge! Vinegar! Vinegar!"
The good Pantagruel, having his back turned to the road, thought from this that Carpalim surely must be sick, and so ordered that vinegar should be at once brought. But Panurge, who happened to be looking out, had already noticed what Carpalim had about him, and told Pantagruel that his valet was carrying a fine stag around his neck, and around his waist a belt of hares. Wise Master Epistemon at once made nine handsome wooden spits in the old style. Eusthenes, wanting to be useful, helped him to skin the game; while Panurge placed two of the dead men's saddles in such a way that they served as andirons. The prisoner was made cook, and at the very same fire where his friends were burning, the poor cook roasted Carpalim's venison. Of course, everybody enjoyed the fresh meat after so much salt meat, and became very gay and chatty. Panurge evidently thought his friends were getting too noisy, for, of a sudden, he cried:—
"We had better think a little about our affairs, so as to decide in what way we will conquer our enemies."
"That is well thought on!" said Pantagruel.
He at once turned to the prisoner, and, wishing to frighten him still more, said: "My friend, tell us here the truth, and do not lie to us in any one single thing, if thou dost not want to be eaten alive, for they say I am he who eats little children. Give us, therefore, the order, the number, the strength in guns, of thy army."
"My lord," answered the prisoner humbly, "know for truth that in my army there are three hundred giants, all clad in armor, and wonderfully tall giants they are, too,—not quite so tall as Your Highness, save one who is their chief, who is called Loupgarou, and who is armed with anvils. Besides these giants, there are one hundred and sixty-three thousand foot-soldiers, all armed with the skins of hobgoblins, and all strong and valiant men; eleven thousand, four hundred men-at-arms; three thousand, six hundred double cannon, and quite too many arquebusiers to count; and ninety-four thousand pioneers."
"That is all very well, so far as it goes," said Pantagruel, dryly; "but is thy King there?"
"Yes, sire, the King is there in person. He is known among us as Anarchus, King of the Dipsodes, which is the same as saying the Thirsty People, because you have never yet seen a people so thirsty by nature or with such throats for drinking. The giants guard the King's tent."
"Enough!" said Pantagruel. "Brave boys, are you willing to follow me?"
"May Heaven confound those who would leave you!" cried out Panurge.
Then the party began to joke one another about the prisoner's report, and to boast about the glorious feats each one was going to do on the giants who guarded King Anarchus' tent.
As was his habit the noble Pantagruel laughed at all the nonsense, but, in the midst of a good shaking, he suddenly thought of what was really before him.
"Gentlemen," he said, "you reckon without your host. I am rather afraid that, if you go on much longer in the way you are now, it will not be dark before you are in such a state that those Thirsty People can come here and maul you with pike and lance. So, then, children, let's be marching. However, before we leave this place, in remembrance of the courage you have just shown, I wish to erect here a fine trophy."
This was a happy idea, and everybody was at once busy—singing meanwhile pleasant little songs—in setting up a high post. This done, they hung up on the post a great cuirassier saddle, the front-piece of a barbed horse, bridle-bits, knee-pieces, stirrups, stirrup-leathers, spurs, a coat of mail, a battle-axe, a strong, short, sharp sword, a gauntlet, leg-harness, and a throat-piece,—all spoils from the poor horsemen whose bones were then lying half-charred on the sands.
And this was the trophy which Pantagruel raised.
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE STRANGE WAY IN WHICH PANTAGRUEL OBTAINED A VICTORY OVER THE THIRSTY PEOPLE.
When the trophy had been raised, Pantagruel had his prisoner brought before him and sent him away with these words:—
"Get thee back to thy King in his camp, and tell him what thou hast seen. Be sure you tell him to be ready to welcome me to-morrow, at noon. All I am waiting for are my galleys, which, are on the sea. As soon as they come, which will be to-morrow morning, at the very latest, I shall prove to thy King, by eighteen hundred thousand men and seven thousand giants,—each of those giants taller and larger than thou see'st me here,—that he has been an idiot to attack my country."
Of course, in all this talk about having an army on the sea, Pantagruel was only trying to frighten the King of the Thirsty People.
The prisoner made haste to assure Pantagruel that he was his humble slave, and that he would be only too glad, not only if he never should see his people again, but, also, if he should be allowed to fight under the Prince against them. Pantagruel shook his great head at this. No! no! he must leave at once, and do what he had been told to do. He gave him at the same time a box full of a strange paste, made with some grains of black chameleon-thistle, steeped in brandy, ordering him to place this in the hands of his King, and say to him that, if he could eat even one ounce of the mixture without wanting to drink after it, he would be able to resist Pantagruel and his whole army without fear.
Then the prisoner began to wring his hands, begging Pantagruel in the hour of battle to have pity on him.
"After thou hast announced all to thy King," answered Pantagruel, gravely, "put all thy trust in God, and He will never forsake thee. Look at me! I am, as thou canst see, mighty. I can put millions of troops in the field. Yet I place no reliance on my strength or my skill; but all my trust is in God, my protector, who never abandons those who have their faith in Him. Go, then," he added more kindly, "and, if thou wishest no evil to happen to thee, turn thy back on bad company."
When the prisoner had at last got away, the good Giant turned to his friends, saying: "My children, you know that I do not tell lies; but it is always lawful in war to deceive an enemy. This is why I have made that prisoner believe we had armies on the sea, and, also, that we were not going to make an assault on their camp till to-morrow at noon. But I have sent a paste that will put them all to sleep to-night, so that they will not be prepared to receive my attack to-morrow, at noon. My real purpose is to attack their camp in the hour of their first nap."
But the prisoner—knowing nothing of all this side-talk—walked quickly towards the city, which he soon reached, as you already know it was only three leagues from the coast. As soon as he saw the King, he began the story of how there had come a great Giant, who had routed and caused to be cruelly roasted alive, six hundred and fifty-nine horsemen; and how he, alone of all the troop, had escaped to bring the terrible news. He then went on to state that that wonderful Giant had charged him to say that he would look on His Majesty at dinner-time, and wanted him to make ready for him. Then he presented the box of paste, but, just as soon as the King had swallowed one spoonful, his throat started to burn, and, after a while, his very tongue began to peel off. What was to be done? There was only one way out of the trouble, and that was for the King to drink—drink—drink, without stopping! The result was that everybody was bringing the King wine, and pouring it down his royal throat; and if ever he stopped, the royal throat began to burn just as bad as ever. For the Thirsty People, there could be nothing finer than such a sweetmeat, that would make them drink, and drink, and drink again. Nothing would do the pashas, captains, and guardsmen but that they should try the paste to see whether it would produce such thirst in them; and the moment they did so they were in the same fix as their King, and they all drank so long that a rumor ran through the camp that the prisoner had come back, and that a great attack was to be made the next day by some terrible enemy, of whose name nobody knew. What could be better, then, than to enjoy themselves the night before? So the captains and the guards began to drink, and clink glasses, and give healths, until they got stupidly drunk, and lay, here and there, where they fell, as so many swine all about the camp.
What was Pantagruel doing in the meanwhile?
As soon as he found that he could no longer see the prisoner trudging along the road—and remember the eyesight of giants is just so much keener than that of common men, as their bodies are stronger—Pantagruel pulled out the mast from his ship, which he carried in his hand like a pilgrim's staff, first putting in the hollow of it two hundred and thirty-seven puncheons of white wine of Anjou. The next thing he did was to tie to his waistband the bark itself, filled with salt, which he carried as readily as women going to market carry their little baskets of vegetables. When they got near the enemy's camp, Panurge said: "My lord, do you wish to do a wise thing? Get that white wine of Anjou down from that mast, and let us drink to our success." Panurge was right in this, because, strong as Pantagruel was, such a weight of wine would have only troubled him if he had to fight. He was willing enough, and they drank so much of the delicious wine that, at the end, there was not a single drop of the two hundred and thirty-seven puncheons left except what was to be found in one leathern-flask, which Panurge grabbed for his own private use, and hid away in his pocket.
When the wine was gone, Pantagruel called out to Carpalim: "Get thee into the city, scrambling over the walls like a cat, as thou knowest well how to do. Tell our people in the city that now is the very time for them to attack their foes, who are weak. As soon as thou art through with them, seize a lighted torch, run through the streets, and set fire everywhere. Don't forget to cry out with thy loudest voice: 'Fire! Fire!' and skip from the camp."
Without another word, Carpalim was on the road, leaping and bounding for the city. Everything was done as Pantagruel had commanded. All the army in the city—that part which was not drunk—rushed out of the walls to meet the foe, and found—nobody. Carpalim, meanwhile, ran through all the tents and pavilions, setting fire to each one. Of course, in doing so, he had now and then to step over the captains and other officers who had eaten of Pantagruel's paste, but he stepped so lightly, and they were so drunk, that they never knew it. The tents caught fire so quickly that poor Carpalim—if it had not been for his wonderful agility—would have been roasted alive, like the captains, pashas, and guardsmen who were snoring in their tents when he set fire to them.
When the army, that had been silly enough, when Carpalim shouted, to run outside of the walls, reached the plain and found no enemy, they wandered about in great confusion, and, being very tired, at last returned to the city and lay outside of the burning tents, and went to sleep with their mouths open. Nobody thought of taking care of the burning gates. It was long after midnight when Pantagruel entered the city, and as he marched through the streets he would take bags of salt out of the ship, which he carried around his waist, and, as he passed the sleepers, would drop the salt into their open mouths. Many died from choking; and the rest of those who were lucky enough not to be burnt, when they woke next morning, thought they had enough salt in their mouths to last them for a lifetime. All they said as they got up and humbly went about their business, wetting their tongues every now and then to get the vile, bitter taste out, was:—
"O Pantagruel, thou hast made our throats burn worse than before!"
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE WONDERFUL WAY IN WHICH PANTAGRUEL DISPOSED OF THE GIANT LOUPGAROU AND HIS TWO HUNDRED AND NINETY-NINE GIANTS.
As soon as the body-guard of Giants saw flames bursting from the tents, all they could think of doing was to snatch up their little King Anarchus, tie him to the neck of one of them, and get out of the burning city as fast as their long legs could take them. Panurge, as usual, was the first to see the Giants racing out of the city.
"My lord," he said, "just look at those big rogues over there! All you have to do is to charge with that mast you have in your hand. You can have no better way to prove your skill. We, on our part, are not going to fail you."
"Ho! ho!" answered Pantagruel, "I do not lack courage. But even Hercules did not dare fight against two, and here thou wouldst have me fight against three hundred!"
"What!" retorted Panurge, while his tip-tilted nose curled higher in the air than usual, "does Your Highness seriously mean to compare yourself with Hercules? God has given you stronger teeth and stouter limbs than ever Hercules had." Panurge was going to say a good deal more, but here came Loupgarou with all his Giants.
When Loupgarou saw that Pantagruel was alone,—for, after all, to the eyes of giants common-sized men, like Panurge, Epistemon, Carpalim, and Eusthenes, must have looked like so many dwarfs,—he felt sure that he would be able to make away with him. In fact, he was so sure that he turned to his Giants, laughing all the time so as to show all his big, cruel, yellow teeth. "By Mahomet! if any of you dare fight with that great braggart over there, you shall die at these hands! I, alone, wish to fight with him! Meanwhile, you shall have rare sport in looking on."
Laughing loudly, the other Giants fell back a short distance, where the wine and victuals had been left, carrying their little King along with them. They had hardly got there when the cunning Panurge and his friends, putting on a most humble, miserable look, crawled up, saying:—
"We surrender, good comrades. We have no taste for war. All we ask is to join with you in feasting while our masters are fighting."
The poor little King was willing; the Giants were willing; and so they began to feast, Panurge and the others along with them.
Loupgarou had, by this time, advanced upon Pantagruel, with a fearful mace of steel, weighing nine hundred and seventy thousand pounds. At the end of the mace there were thirteen diamond points, the very smallest of which was as big as the largest bell of the Nôtre Dâme, in Paris. But what made that mace so terrible was, that it was formed of fairy steel, so that it had only to touch the strongest thing in the world to break it into pieces. But Pantagruel, as we know, put his faith in God alone. As every good Christian, when he sees a fearful enemy near him, calls upon God, so Pantagruel prayed to Him, while Loupgarou was cursing furiously, to aid him who had always loved the Church and obeyed the Ten Commandments. He had scarcely ended his prayer when he heard a voice from the sky, saying: "Have faith, and thou shall gain the victory."
By this time, Loupgarou, with his mouth wide open, was drawing near him, and Pantagruel, who had no enchanted weapon, but only his mast, thought to frighten the monster by crying out, as the old Lacedæmonians used to do, in his most awful tones: "Thou diest, rascal! Thou diest!" Even while he was saying this, he was digging his big hands into the ship which he carried at his waist, from which he took more than eighteen kegs and four bushels of salt, which he threw, filling Loupgarou's mouth, throat, nose, and eyes. This only made Loupgarou rage worse than ever. Roaring with pain and anger, he rushed against Pantagruel, thinking to break his skull with his fairy mace. Pantagruel, luckily, was both quick of foot and keen of eye. Seeing what Loupgarou was at, he stepped with his left foot back one pace; but even then he was not so quick as to save the ship. Loupgarou's blow fell upon its prow, which was enough to smash it into four thousand and eighty-six pieces, scattering, of course, the rest of the salt along the ground.
When Pantagruel saw his good ship all in pieces he did not despair, but gallantly attacked Loupgarou with its mast, striking him two blows; one fell above the breast, the other between neck and shoulders. The monster did not relish such treatment. So, when Pantagruel wanted to give another blow in the same sharp style, Loupgarou raised his enchanted mace and rushed upon him, knowing that he had only to touch him with it to cleave him from head to foot. But, by God's blessing, Pantagruel's nimbleness saved him here a second time. Stepping briskly to one side, the terrible mace swept with a hissing noise through the air, striking a great rock which stood in the way, into which it crashed more than seventy-three feet, making a fire greater in bulk than nine thousand and six tons flash from the hole it had made.
Here was another chance for Pantagruel.
Seeing that Loupgarou was tugging away at his enchanted mace to pull it from the rock, Pantagruel ran towards him with his mast well-poised, feeling sure that, this time, he would take off his head; but, by bad luck, his mast just grazed the stock of Loupgarou's mace. Of course it broke, and, what is worse, broke within three hand-breadths of his own hand. Pantagruel was so much amazed at all this, as he had never before heard that Loupgarou's mace was enchanted, that he cried out, without very well knowing what he was doing: "Ho! Panurge, where art thou?"
Panurge, whose eyes and cars had been stretched wide open ever since the beginning of the fight, shouted out to the King and the Giants: "By Heaven! if we don't get them apart, they will hurt one another."
But the Giants, on their side, were in high chuckles. When Carpalim wanted to get up to help his master, one of them said:—
"By Golfarim!"—who is the nephew of Mahomet,—"if thou stir from here, I shall tuck thee in my belt."
Meanwhile Pantagruel, having lost his staff, caught hold of the little stump that was left of the mast, striking blows, here and there, with it on the Giant's body. But the stump was so short that no harm was done. Of course, all this time, Loupgarou was puffing and blowing hard to pull his mace out from the rock. He at last succeeded. All the time he was getting ready to swing it once more, he was bawling out: "Villain! this time I shall surely kill thee! Never after this shalt thou make honest people thirsty!" In trying to get his mace in proper position to strike, he was, of course, bending a little.
Here was one more chance for Pantagruel; and Pantagruel took it.
While Loupgarou had his body half-bent, Pantagruel gave him such a kick in the stomach that he made him fall backwards, heels over head, and as he began to drag him along the ground, Loupgarou was bleeding at the throat, and could only find breath to call out three times: "Mahomet! Mahomet!! Mahomet!!!"
The moment they heard that cry, up started all the Giants to help their leader; but now came Panurge's time to interfere.
"Gentlemen, don't you go, if you have the slightest faith in me. My master is mad, and is striking out blindly. He may hurt you in his anger."
But the Giants only ha-ha'd at all this, having seen that poor Pantagruel's only weapon, the mast, had been shivered to the handle by the fairy mace. So, like idiots, they started in a body to Loupgarou's rescue. The moment Pantagruel, who was just then breathing a little hard, saw the Giants coming up, he caught Loupgarou's body, encased in an armor of stout anvils, up by the two feet, lifting it high in the air with the same ease as he might have raised a pike; and, with the master's own body, he slashed around right and left among the Giants, knocking them down as a mason chips with his hammer little bits off a stone. Not one of the Giants could stand before Pantagruel without being struck flat to the ground. While Pantagruel was performing such wonders with Loupgarou's body and his armor of anvils, Panurge, together with Carpalim and Eusthenes, were not idle. They, who had been so humble a few moments before, were now going from one to the other of the party who lay stretched on the ground, cutting the throats of such as had not fallen quite dead. When the battle seemed to be at an end, up came a fearful Giant, whom Pantagruel did not know, but who was so much taller and stouter than his comrades that Loupgarou had made him his first officer. Pantagruel felt perfectly safe with his new weapon; but, seeing how big the Giant was, he gave an extra strong blow with the body, which sent Loupgarou's head rolling on the ground. This new Giant was the last, and that one strong blow killed him. Then Pantagruel, seeing that none of the Giants had escaped, with one great swing of the arm, threw the headless body into the city, which was not very far off.
It fell into the great Square, where it crushed with its weight one singed cat, one wet cat, one lame duck, and one bridled goose.