Was the little animal beside itself with mortal fear? Enough, it
leaped upon me, just like a little dog, ran up my overcoat with
its tiny paws, and, still upright, struggled to bore itself into
the depths of my chest—the terrible chest of the master of the
chase. With upraised arms and my body bent backwards, I stood there
and looked down upon the rabbit who, on his part, looked up at me.
We stood thus for only a second, perhaps it was only the fraction
of a second, but thus and there we stood. I saw him with such
strange, disconcerting minuteness, saw his long ears, of which one
stood upright, whilst the other hung down, saw his great, clear,
protuberant, short-sighted eyes, his rough lip, and the long hairs
of his whiskers, the white on his breast and the little paws. I
felt, or seemed to feel the pounding of his harried little heart.
It was very strange to see him thus plainly and to have him so
close to me, the little familiar spirit of the place, the secret
throbbing heart of the landscape, this ever evasive creature which
I had seen only for a few brief moments in its meadows and downs
as it went scudding comically away. And now in the extremity of
its need and helplessness it was nestling up against me and
clutching my coat, clutching at the breast of a man—not the man,
it seemed to me, who was Bashan’s master, but the breast of one
who is also the master of the rabbit and of Bashan and of Bashan’s
master. This lasted, as I have said, only a brief moment or so,
and then the rabbit had dropped off, had once more taken to his
unequal legs and jumped down the escarpment to the left, whilst
Bashan had now arrived in his place—Bashan with horrible hue-and-cry
and with all the heady tones of his frenetic hunting-howls—all of
which suffered swift interruption on his arrival. For a well-aimed
blow of the stick delivered with malice prepense by the master of
the rabbit, sent him yelping with smarting hindquarters down the
slope to the right, up which he was forced to climb—with a
limp—before he was once more able, after considerable delay, to
take up the trail of the no longer visible quarry.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account