Let’s see, thought Blurtso. My renaissance donkey has shown his prowess in poetry and battle, so he must now hold forth on science, philosophy, and matters of state.



Do you believe we will return to France? asked Pableau. La France? said Blurtseau. Ahhh… la France, ma mère que me manque comme la jambe que je me serais perdue… ahhh, la France. A time of change is in the offing… the King, whose favor I’ve lost, sits an uneasy throne. Revolution is ahoof. The people starve and the Queen fattens pets with her pies. I know, for I am as guilty as she. I have used infatuation as an excuse to ignore. But we live in an age of Reason, and the people will be heard. But who will govern, asked Pableau, when the King is gone? Who? said Blurtseau. A warrior, a poet, a prophet, a seer with a pirate’s principles and a maiden’s heart. A pirate’s principles? said Pableau. Yes, said Blurtseau. For of all seamen, only the pirate practices democracy. Only there, aboard his ship, is each one alike, and all booty is divided evenly. The captain rules, as he must, with an iron hoof, but his authority rests on the vote of his mates, and his tenure may not outlast the gale. And a maiden’s heart? said Pableau. Yes, said Blurtseau. A heart made of constancy, compassion, and the hope that springs from innocence. Will you be the one? asked Pableau. Will you be the savior of France?

No, said Blurtseau. I am but a child of the mother that bore me. And though I may lord over the ship I sail, the helm of France is reserved for a hoof more willful, and more determined, than my own.