window, he opened the shutters. The full moon flooded the yard with
yellow light, and the reflection of the apple trees made black shadows
at their feet, while in the distance the fields gleamed, covered with
the ripe corn. But as he was leaning out, listening to every sound in
the still night, two bare arms were put round his neck, and his wife
whispered, trying to pull him back: "Do leave them alone; it has nothing
to do with you. Come to bed."

He turned round, put his arms round her, and drew her towards him,
feeling her warm skin through the thin material, and lifting her up in
his vigorous arms, he carried her towards their couch, but just as he
was laying her on the bed, which yielded beneath her weight, they heard
another report, considerably nearer this time, and Jean, giving way to
his tumultuous rage, swore aloud: "God, G...! Do you think I shall not
go out and see what it is, because of you?... Wait, wait a few minutes!"
He put on his shoes again, took down his gun, which was always hanging
within reach, against the wall, and, as his wife threw herself on her
knees in her terror to implore him not to go, he hastily freed himself,
ran to the window and jumped into the yard.

She waited one hour, two hours, until daybreak, but her husband did not
return. Then she lost her head, aroused the house, related how angry
Jean was, and said that he had gone after the poachers, and immediately
all the male farm-servants, even the boys, went in search of their
master. They found him two leagues from the farm, tied hand and foot,
half dead with rage, his gun broken, his trousers turned inside out, and
with three dead hares hanging round his neck, and a placard on his
chest, with these words: _Who goes on the chase, loses his place._

And later on, when he used to tell this story of his wedding night, he
generally added: "Ah! As far as a joke went, it was a good joke. They
caught me in a snare, as if I had been a rabbit, the dirty brutes, and
they shoved my head into a bag. But if I can only catch them some day,
they had better look out for themselves!"

That is how they amuse themselves in Normandy on a wedding day.

A COCK CROWED

Madame Berthe d'Avancelles had up till that time resisted all the
prayers of her despairing adorer, Baron Joseph de Croissard. He had
pursued her ardently in Paris during the winter, and now he was giving
fetes and shooting parties in her honor at his Chateau at Carville, in
Norm