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“Tell us at least what you do know,” insisted
the Baroness.
“I know that life is beautiful, but I also know
that we often make a mess of it and turn it into
a silly farce or a heart-rending tragedy, or both,
so much so that one ends by not knowing whether
to cry or to laugh. It is easier to cry, but far
better to laugh, so long as one doesn’t laugh
aloud.”
“Tell us an animal story,” said the Countess
to help me on to safer ground. “They say
your country is full of bears, tell us something
about them, tell us a Bear-story!”
“There was once a lady who lived in an old
manor-house on the border of a big forest, high
up in the North. This lady had a pet bear she
was very fond of. It had been found in the
forest half-dead of hunger, so small and helpless
that it had to be brought up on the bottle by the
lady and the old cook. This was several years
ago and now it had grown up to a big bear, so
big and strong that he could have slain a cow
and carried it away between his two paws if
he had wanted to. But he did not want to, he
was a most amiable bear who did not dream of
harming anybody, man or beast. He used to
sit outside his kennel and look with his small
intelligent eyes most amicably at the cattle
grazing in the field near by. The three shaggy
mountain ponies in the stable knew him well and
did not mind in the least when he shuffled into
the stable with his mistress. The children used
to ride on his back and had more than once been
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