“I was about to turn and go home, quite edified as to Brutus’s qualities, when the report of a gun was heard twenty yards away in the woods.  It was one of my keepers who was shooting a rabbit, and who received some time after a handsome present from my wife for that shot.

“I was then in the centre of the cross-roads, which formed a perfect circle of five or six yards in radius; six long green alleys came to an end at this spot.  On hearing the report, Brutus had stopped short, planted himself on his four legs, with ears erect and head raised.  I was surprised to find the horse so impressionable.  I should have thought that after the brilliant education that very certainly he had received in his youth, Brutus must be an artillery horse, used to gun and cannon.  I drew in my legs to urge the horse on, but Brutus didn’t move; I spurred him sharply twice, but Brutus didn’t move; I whipped him soundly, but Brutus didn’t move.  I tried to back the horse, to push him to the right, to the left, but I couldn’t move him in the slightest degree.  Brutus seemed glued to the ground, and yet—­don’t you dare to laugh, and be assured that my tale is absolutely true—­each time that I attempted to put the horse in motion he turned his head and looked at me with an expression which could clearly be read as impatience and surprise; then he would again become as immovable as a statue.  There was evidently some misunderstanding between the horse and myself.  I saw that in his eyes, and Brutus said to me, with all the clearness he could put in his expression, ’I, as a horse, am doing my duty, and it’s you, as a rider, who are not doing yours!’

“I was more puzzled than embarrassed.  ’What extraordinary kind of a horse have I bought at Cheri’s,’ I said to myself, ’and why does he look at me so queerly?’ I was, however, going to take strong measures—­that is to say, I was preparing to whip him smartly—­when another report was heard.

“Then the horse gave a jump.  I thought I had the best of it, and, profiting by his bound, I tried to carry him forward with hand and knee.  But no; he stopped short after his bound, and again planted himself on the ground more energetically and more resolutely than the first time.  Ah, then I grew angry, and my whip came into play; I grasped it firmly and began to strike the horse with all my strength to the right and left.  But Brutus, he too lost patience, and, instead of the cold and immovable opposition that at first he had shown, I met with furious retaliations, strange springs, bucking, extraordinary rearing, fantastic whirling; and in the midst of this battle, while the infatuated horse bounded and reared, while I, exasperated, struck with vigor the leather pommel with my broken whip, Brutus still found time to give me glances not only of surprise and impatience, but also of anger and indignation.  While I was asking the horse for the obedience which he refused me, it is certain that he expected from me something that I was not doing.