Esmé Page #2

"Esmé" is a short story by Hector Hugh Munro, better known by his pen name Saki. The narrative follows a young girl named Esmé, who is both charming and mischievous, as she navigates life on a rural estate. The story is infused with Saki's characteristic wit and dark humor, exploring themes of innocence, the complexities of human relationships, and the often absurd nature of societal norms. Through Esmé's interactions, the tale highlights the contrasts between childhood innocence and adult preoccupations, ultimately leaving readers with a thought-provoking reflection on the nature of love and loss.

• Short story

								

place, whatever else he may be, I doubt if he's ravening at the present
moment.'

"Constance shuddered.  'Do you think the poor little thing suffered
much?' came another of her futile questions.

"'The indications were all that way,' I said; 'on the other hand, of
course, it may have been crying from sheer temper.  Children sometimes
do.'

"It was nearly pitch-dark when we emerged suddenly into the highroad.
A flash of lights and the whir of a motor went past us at the same
moment at uncomfortably close quarters.  A thud and a sharp screeching
yell followed a second later.  The car drew up, and when I had ridden
back to the spot I found a young man bending over a dark motionless
mass lying by the roadside.

"'You have killed my Esmé,' I exclaimed bitterly.

"'I'm so awfully sorry,' said the young man; I keep dogs myself, so I
know what you must feel about it.  I'll do anything I can in
reparation.'

"'Please bury him at once,' I said; 'that much I think I may ask of
you.'

"'Bring the spade, William,' he called to the chauffeur. Evidently
hasty roadside interments were contingencies that had been provided
against.

"The digging of a sufficiently large grave took some little time. 'I
say, what a magnificent fellow,' said the motorist as the corpse was
rolled over into the trench.  'I'm afraid he must have been rather a
valuable animal.'

"'He took second in the puppy class at Birmingham last year,' I said
resolutely.

"Constance snorted loudly.

"'Don't cry, dear,' I said brokenly; 'it was all over in a moment.  He
couldn't have suffered much.'

"'Look here,' said the young fellow desperately, 'you simply must let
me do something by way of reparation.'

"I refused sweetly, but as he persisted I let him have my address.

"Of course, we kept our own counsel as to the earlier episodes of the
evening.  Lord Pabham never advertised the loss of his hyaena; when a
strictly fruit-eating animal strayed from his park a year or two
previously he was called upon to give compensation in eleven cases of
sheep-worrying and practically to re-stock his neighbours'
poultry-yards, and an escaped hyaena would have mounted up to something
on the scale of a Government grant.  The gipsies were equally
unobtrusive over their missing offspring; I don't suppose in large
encampments they really know to a child or two how many they've got."

The Baroness paused reflectively, and then continued:

"There was a sequel to the adventure, though.  I got through the post a
charming little diamond brooch, with the name Esmé set in a sprig of
rosemary.  Incidentally, too, I lost the friendship of Constance
Broddle.  You see, when I sold the brooch I quite properly refused to
give her any share of the proceeds.  I pointed out that the Esmé part
of the affair was my own invention, and the hyaena part of it belonged
to Lord Pabham, if it really was his hyaena, of which, of course, I've
no proof."
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