The Marmot with the Collar
Diary of a Philosopher

It seems that I detect already the approach of the Long Night. This scratching is almost a job.

The happiness that I experienced in recognising the mountains that had sheltered my childhood was soon disturbed. As soon as I was sufficiently master of myself to inspect objects in detail, I looked for my Burrow and I discovered only a ruin. I had thought much of my wife and my children, without being able to cast any light on the question as to whether they had shared my fate. On seeing my exposed Burrow, I realised the terrible truth. So long as I thought they had been able to escape, they must not be very far. No doubt but that they had sought asylum and protection from a family of our friends or from a populous enough tribe, settled higher up, whose chief was the first-born of my twenty-three children. I awaited the close of day to make a reconnaissance. Night had set in when I arrived at the door of my son’s Burrow. I called him by name, and in my impatience to press him to my heart, I hastened into the gallery. No one recognised the father’s voice. The whole tribe threw itself upon me as if I were a thief who comes by night, and for sure I would have perished under their blows if I had not taken flight, after having vainly tried to make myself known. They would have run me down; but I was leaner than them all, having yet to taste the Mountain Clover, and I surpassed them in speed.

I reached then the Burrow of our friends, our true friends, – at least I thought so, – our neighbours for a long time. This time I employed prudence. Having arrived at the entrance of the Burrow, I introduced myself and I called the master of the dwelling softly by name. He came out, looked at me askance, appeared to inspect my collar, which shone in the Moonlight; then he let out a sharp whistle. At the same instant wife and children ran up, and the whole family threw itself upon me with fury greater even than my son’s tribe. I had all the trouble in the world to extricate myself from their paws.

After these two misadventures, I took refuge in some hole, resolved to await the dawn. This night seemed longer than all those of my captivity. At the first glimmering of dawn, I saw the inhabitants of the neighbouring Burrows come out. They had a restless air. They took no time for breakfast; they came and went, in an extraordinary state of unease, gesturing and exchanging the news of the night. Soon, on every mountain flank shrilled the whistle of alarm. I understood that it was meant for me and that they were organising a general battue to purge the country of the prowler who had disturbed the repose of two Burrows. I was lost if they found me. Accordingly, I took flight in all haste, and I did not stop until I arrived at this high terrace, where there has never been a Burrow and where it was little likely that they would come looking for me. I spent two days here in the agony of my spirit, without taking food, without making for myself a shelter. I could almost have regretted my prison down below and the Man of the false blue eyes. At last, making a violent effort to overcome myself, I undertook the resolution to live alone and to devote myself to Wisdom.

O Marmots, Marmots, it is to you and not to Men that I owe the darkest hours of my life! Even so, it is for you that I labour. When I have pierced the mystery of the Long Night, I will brave anew your Burrows and I will teach you despite yourselves. I wish to reward you with good for the evil that you have forced me to suffer.