e habits and haunts of
all the animals. He had a pretty young wife and two children, who had
also lived in the woods all their lives, and could do nothing else.
The wife came to see me one day to ask for some clothes for herself
and the children, which I gave, of course, and then tried mildly to
speak to her about her husband, who spent half his time in prison, and
was so sullen and scowling when he came out that everybody gave him a
wide berth. The poor thing burst into a passion of tears and
incoherent defence of her husband. Everybody had been so hard with
him. When he had done his best, been up all night looking after the
game, and then was rated and sworn at by his master before every one
because un des Parisiens didn't know what to do with a gun when he had
one in his hand, and couldn't shoot a hare that came and sat down in
front of him, it was impossible not to answer un peu vivement
peut-etre, and it was hard to be discharged at once without a chance
of finding anything else, etc., and at last winding up with the
admission that he did take hares and rabbits occasionally; but when
there was nothing to eat in the house and the children were crying
with hunger, what was he to do? Madame would never have known or
missed the rabbits, and after all, le Bon Dieu made them for
everybody. I tried to persuade W. to take him as a workman in the
woods, with the hope of getting back as under-keeper, but he would not
hear of it, said the man was perfectly unruly and violent-tempered,
and would demoralize all the rest. They remained some time in the
country, and the woman came sometimes to see me, but she had grown
hard, evidently thought I could have done something for her husband,
and couldn't understand that as long as he went on snaring game no one
would have anything to do with him--always repeating the same thing,
that a Bon Dieu had made the animals pour tout le monde. Of course it
must be an awful temptation for a man who has starving children at
home, and who knows that he has only to walk a few yards in the woods
to find rabbits in plenty; and one can understand the feeling that le
Bon Dieu provided food for all his children, and didn't mean some to
starve, while others lived on the fat of the land.

It was a long time before I could get accustomed to seeing women work
in the fields (which I had never seen in America). In the cold autumn
days, when they were picking the betterave (a big beet root) that is
used to m