When we promenaded thus along the village street, the
people would laugh and shout: 'There go Count Jharose's three tame
bears.' At last I got out of the way of doing hard work, and got used to
being ridiculed by all the world. But I had not yet learned to steal.
The bears grew fat under my care. I was given every day two loaves of
bread to feed to them. One day I saw, in a wretched hut at the end of
the village, a poor woman and her daughter who were starving. From that
day the bears began to grow thin; for I stole one of the loaves of bread
and gave it to the poor women, who were glad enough to get it, I can
tell you! But the steward found out my theft, and I was dismissed from
the count's service. The poor women were turned out of their miserable
hut. The mother froze to death,--for it was winter then,--and the
daughter was left on my hands. We got a Franciscan monk, whom we met in
the forest, to marry us--which was a bad move for the girl, for no one
would employ her, because she was my wife. So the forest became our
home, hollow trees our shelter; and what a friend an old tree can
become! Well, to make a long story short, necessity very soon taught me
how to take what belonged to others.
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