"The Wolf and the Lamb"
A wolf stopped to drink at a stream and spied a young lamb resting in the
shade nearby.
"You there!" the wolf said.
"Me, sir?" said the lamb, getting to his feet and bowing.
"Yes, You’ve been drinking in the stream, and you stirred up the mud so the
water was foul when I came to drink. It would be a matter of justice if I ate
you."
The lamb trembled. "Please, sir. I wasn’t drinking at all. And in any case, I am
downstream from you. Any mud would have gone the other way."
"True, true," said the wolf, approaching. "But I remember you now. We met here
on this very spot a year ago, and you insulted me. For such a gross insult, you
owe me your life."
"Sir," said the lamb, "I am sorry that anyone gave you offense. However, I could
not have been the one who insulted you last year, for I was born only four
months ago."
"Hm," said the wolf, who now towered over the lamb. "I see." The wolf narrowed
his eyes. "But look at the destruction of this meadow. Grass once grew up to my
shoulders here. But you, you greedy criminal, have cropped it down to the
earth!"
"I do not wish to seem disrespectful," said the lamb, "but I could not have
eaten the grass as you say. To this day, I have tasted only my mother’s milk. I
am innocent of every charge."
"Indeed, indeed," said the wolf. "I cannot eat you for fouling the stream, for
insulting me last year, or for eating all the grass. I must say that your wit
and your politeness impress me. You have met every accusation with a fine
argument."
"Thank you," said the lamb.
"Nevertheless," said the wolf, "arguments, no matter how polite, tend to disturb
the general peace. Therefore, it is my duty to eat you."
And he did.