brother, and told him to go and rest himself, as he was no doubt tired: then he started post-haste, and soon arrived at the inn, where, finding the same youths, he fell into chat with them. And when the youth asked him the same question, what he thought of that month of March, Cianne, making a big mouth, said, “Confound the miserable month!—the enemy of the shepherds, which stirs up all the ill-humours and brings sickness to our bodies,—a month of which, whenever we would announce ruin to a man, we say, ‘Go, March has shaved you!’—a month of which, when you want to call a man presumptuous, you say, ‘What cares March?’[1]—a month in short so hateful, that it would be the best fortune for the world, the greatest blessing to the earth, the greatest gain to men, were it excluded from the band of brothers.”
March, who heard himself thus slandered, suppressed his anger till the morning, intending then to reward Cianne for his calumny; and when Cianne wished to depart, he gave him a fine whip, saying to him, “Whenever you wish for anything, only say, ‘Whip, give me a hundred!’ and you shall see pearls strung upon a rush.”
Cianne, thanking the youth, went his way in great haste, not wishing to make trial of the whip until he
- ↑ Che ceusa Marzo? I do not understand this.
