No one knew Prince Edward Street as well as Pierre Dupin. He had delivered milk to the families on the street for thirty years. For the past fifteen years a large white horse named Joseph pulled his milk wagon. Joseph was a gentle horse with beautiful spirit shining out of its eyes, so Pierre named him after Saint Joseph.
Every morning at five, Pierre arrived at the milk company's stables to find Joseph waiting for him, Pierre would call, “Good morning, my old friend.”, as he climbed into his seat, while Joseph turned his head toward the driver. And the two would go proudly down the street. Without any order from Pierre, the wagon would roll down three streets. Then it turned right for two streets, before turning left to Saint Catherine Street. The horse finally stopped at the first house on Prince Edward Street. There, Joseph would wait perhaps thirty seconds for Pierre to get down off his seat and put a bottle of milk at the front door.
Pierre knew every one of the forty families that got milk. The cooks knew that Pierre could not read or write; so, instead of leaving orders in an empty milk bottle, they simply sang out if they needed an extra bottle.
Pierre also had a wonderful memory. When he arrived at the stable he always remembered to tell Jacques, the foreman(领班) of the stables, “The Pacquins took an extra bottle this morning; the Lemoines bought a pint of cream …” Most of the drivers had to make out the weekly bills and collect the money. But Jacques, liking Pierre, never asked him to do this.
One day the president of the milk company came to inspect the early morning milk deliveries. Jacques pointed to Pierre and said: ”See how the horse listens and how he turns his head toward Pierre? See the look in that horse's eyes? You know, I think those two share a secret. I have often felt it. He is getting old. Maybe he ought to be given a rest, and a small pension.”
“But of course,” the president laughed. “He has been on this job now for thirty years. All who know him love him. Tell him it is time he rested. He will get his pay every week as before.”
But Pierre refused to leave his job. He said his life would be nothing if he could not drive Joseph every day. “We are two old men,” he said to Jacques. “Let us wear out together. When Joseph is ready to leave, then I too will do so.”
Then one cold morning Jacques had terrible news for Pierre. Jacques said, ”Pierre, your horse, Joseph, didn't wake up. He was very old, Pierre.” Jacques said softly. “He is over in his stall, looking very peaceful. Go over and see him.” Pierre took one step forward, then turned. “No ... no ... I cannot see Joseph again. You ..., you don't understand, Jacques.”
For years Pierre had worn a large heavy cap that came down low over his eyes. It kept out the bitter cold wind. Now, Jacques looked into Pierre's eyes and he saw something that shocked him. He saw a dead, lifeless look in them.
“Take the day off, Pierre,” Jacques said. Pierre walked to the corner and stepped into the street. There was a warning shout from the driver of a big truck ... there was the screech(尖锐的刹车声) of rubber tires as the truck tried to stop. But Pierre heard nothing.
Five minutes later a doctor said, “He's dead ..., killed instantly.”
“I couldn't help it,” the truck driver said. “He walked in front of my truck. He never saw it, I guess. Why, he walked as though he were blind.”
The doctor bent down. “Blind？Of course, this man has been blind for five years.” He turned to Jacques, “Didn't you know he was blind？”
“No ...no ...” Jacques said softly. “None of us knew. Only one ... only one knew－a friend of his, named Joseph ... It was a secret, I think, just between those two.”
