Hmmm, thought Blurtso, what shall I write? Maybe a story? Maybe a tale? Maybe an epic tale, one of adventure and intrigue? Yes, an epic tale with a tragic hero... a brave and chivalrous donkey, a Renaissance donkey who sails the seas in search of fortune and fame...



Hmmm, thought Blurtso, I’d better find a good opening line... yes... an opening line that makes it impossible not to read on... an irresistible line... yes, an irresistible line, thought Blurtso, thinking long and hard what to write... I’ve got it!... “Blurtseau, the Renaissance donkey, thought long and hard what to write... but what words to address the King? What words indeed, from the pen of a renegade donkey exiled from happiness and home. Exiled, from the sight and embrace of the one who holds his heart, the purest of pure, the sweetest of sweet, the tender and ravishing Blurtsoiselle...



Qu’est-ce qu’on doit faire?! shouted the cook, breaking into the galley, Voilá qu’y viene le tempest!! What shall we do?! snapped Blurtseau rising from the écrivan. We shall do as always! We shall turn and face the storm! No sooner had Blurtseau capped the inkwell and stored his pen than he heard the first wave crash on the foredeck. Mon Capitain! cried the First Mate, Nous avons besoin de vous! The chaos and confusion ceased the moment the crew spied the tip of Blurtseau’s nose, and by the time his ears and eyes came on deck the sailors were in line and standing at attention... Blurtseau paused for a moment in the hurricane gale, staring into the eyes of his terrified crew, then he walked slowly and steadily to the prow where he turned and cried with a voice louder than the storm... To your posts and ride out the wind!!... 
 


"Ma chère Soiselle... The storm has passed and again I am spared death and condemned to this living grave. I trust you are well. I trust the geraniums are in bloom and winter is not upon you. At sea we are bound to a seasonless season. The waves rise and fall, and the stars set our sails to a horizonless horizon. How distant this dismal barge from our afternoons at Roquebrune, eating pumpkin pie on the terrace, gazing down at the blue of the Côte d’Azur! I remember you said to me, Blurtseau, Je t’aime viene ce qu’y viene... and I too said I could not stop loving you. Ma belle Soiselle! There are no pies this year in last year’s cupboard! I remain captive in the expanse of the sea, while you wander freely in the prison of your palace...."

 

Mon Capitain! said the First Mate, do not fall prey to melancholie! Exiled as we are, we may still sail in the service of our King. We may still fly the flag of France in our coeur though its colors do not dance at our mast. Courage et âme! mon Capitain. Courage et âme! And please, Mon Capitain, do not drink so much!... Mon cher Pableau, faithful First Mate of this vagrant voyage, I entreat thee, do not let the crew know of my sad and sorry state, but bar the door and say I have slipped into a deep and dreamless sleep...