mournful creatures, a real halo, as large as the universe, placed
there by God Himself.

Yesterday I was at a fair, and watched the merry-go-round. There was
an ass among the wooden animals. The sight of it almost made me weep,
because I was reminded of those living martyrs, its brothers.

I wanted to pray, and to say to it: "Little ass, you are my brother.
They say that you are stupid, because you are incapable of doing evil.
You go your slow pace, and seem to think as you walk: 'See! I cannot
go any faster...The poor make use of me, because they need not give
me much to eat.' Little ass, the goad pricks you. Then you go a little
faster, but not a great deal. You cannot go very fast...Sometimes
you fall. Then they beat you, and pull at the rein fastened to the bit
in your mouth. They pull so hard that your lips are drawn back showing
your poor, yellow teeth which browse on miseries."

* * * * *

At the same fair I heard the shrilling of a bagpipe. F. asked me:
"Doesn't it remind you of African music?"--"Yes," I answered, "at
Touggart the bagpipes have the same nasal note. It must be an Arab
who is playing."--"Let us go into the booth," he said...Dromedaries
were on exhibition there.

A dozen little camels, crowded like sardines in a can, were stupidly
going round and round in a sort of trench. These creatures which I
have seen in the Sahara undulant like waves with only God and Death
surrounding them, I now saw here, Oh sorrow of my heart! They went
round and round again in that narrow space. The anguish which passed