A Secret For Two圣诞
1 Montreal is a very large city, but, like all large cities, it has some very small streets. Streets, for instance, like Prince Edward Street, which is only for blocks long, ending in a cul de sac. No one knew Prince Edward Street as well as did Pierre Dupin, for Pierre had delivered milk to the families on the street for thirty years.
2 During the past fifteen years the hor which drew the milk wagon ud by Pierre was a large white hor named Joph. In Montreal, especially in that part of Montreal which is very French, the animals, like the children, are often given the names of saints. When the big white hor first came to the Provincale Milk pany he didn’t have a name. They told Pierre that he could u the white hor henceforth. Pierre stroked the softness of the hor’s neck; he stroked the sheen of its splendid belly and he looked into the eyes of the hor.
3 “This is a kind hor, a gentle and a faithful hor,” Pierre said, “and I can e a beautiful spirit shining out of the eyes of the hor. I will name him after the good St. Jop
h, who was also kind and gentle and faithful and who had a beautiful spirit.”
4 Within a year Joph knew the milk route as well as Pierre. Pierre ud to boast哲理的句子 that he didn’t need reins –he never touched them. Each morning Pierre arrived at the stables of the Provincale Milk pany at five o’clock. The wagon would be loaded and Joph hitched to it. Pierre would call “bon jour, vieille ami,” as he claim市场主管ed into his at and Joph would turn his head and the other drivers would smile and say that the hor would smile at Pierre. Then Jacques, the foreman, would say, 中国十大帅哥“All right, Pierre: go on,” and Pierre would call softly to Joph, “Avance, mon ami,” and this splendid bination would stalk proudly down the street.
5 The wagon, without any direction from Pierre, would roll three blocks down St. Catherine Street, then turn right two blocks along Roslyn Avenue; then turn left, for that was Prince Edward Street. The hor would stop at the first hou, allow Pierre perhaps thirty conds to get down from his at and put a bottle of milk at the front door and would then go on, skipping two hous and stopping at the third. So down the length of th胃肠功能紊乱
e street. Then Joph, still without any direction from Pierre, would turn around and e back along the other side. Yes, Joph was a smart hor.
6 Pierre would boast at the stable of Joph’s skill. “I never touch the reins. He knows just where to stop. Why, a blind man could handle my route with Joph pulling the wagon.”
7 So it went on for years –always the same. Pierre and Joph both grew old together, but gradually, not suddenly. Pierre’s huge walrus mustache was pure white now and Joph didn’t lift his knees so high or rai his head as much. Jacques, the foreman of the stables, never noticed that they were both getting old until Pierre appeared one morning carrying a heavy walking stick.
8 “Hey, Pierre,” Jacques laughed. “Maybe you got the gout, hey?”
9 “Mais oui, Jacques实属巧合,” Pierre said a bit uncertainly. “One grows old. One’s legs get tired.”
10 “You should teach that hor to carry the milk to the front door for you.” Jacques told h
im. “He does everything el.”
11 He knew every one of the forty families he rved on Prince Edward Street. The cooks knew that Pierre could neither read nor write, so instead of following the usual custom of leaving a note in an empty bottle if an additional quart of milk was needed they would sing out when they heard the rumble of his wagon wheels over the cobbled street, “Bring an extra quart this morning, Pierre.”
12 “So you have pany for dinner tonight,” he would call back gaily.
13 Pierre had a remarkable memory. When he arrived at the stable he’d always remember to tell Jacques, “The Paquins took an extra quart this morning; the Lemoines bought a 藤野先生选自pint of cream.”
14 Jacques would note the things in a little book he always carried. Most of the drivers had to make out the weekly bills and collect the money, but Jacques, liking Pierre, had always excud him from this task. All Pierre had to do was to arrive at five in the mornin
g, walk to his wagon, which was always in the same spot at the curb, and deliver his milk. He returned some two hours later, got down stiffly from his at, called a cheery “Au’voir”绿色生命 to Jacques, and then limped slowly down the street.
15 One morning the president of the Provincale Milk pany came to inspect the early morning deliveries. Jacques pointed Pierre out to him and said: “Watch how he talks to that hor. See how the hor listens and how he turns his head toward Pierre. See the look in that hor’s eyes? You know, I think tho two share a cret. I have often noticed it. It is as though they both sometimes chuckle at us as they go off on their route. Pierre is a good man, Monsieur President, but he is getting old. Would it be too bold of me to suggest that he be retired and be given perhaps a small pension?” He added anxiously.
