er and summer alike in the same suit of
worn brown velvet, a rabbit skin cap on his head, his feet shoved into
wooden sabots.

His reputation before the war was not what one would call spotless.
His passion for fowl (other people's on principle) had led to his being
strongly suspected. He was a poacher, as well, always ready to bring
you the hare or the pike you needed, at a fixed date and hour, more
especially when the shooting and fishing seasons were closed.

His was one of those hidden geniuses which the war had revealed.
Otherwise we should never on earth have suspected him of being so
capable. But be it requested that he repair a sewing machine, a
bicycle or a watch; sharpen a pair of scissors, put in a pane of glass,
make over mattresses, shear a horse, a dog or a human, paint a sign,
cover an umbrella, kill a pig or treat a sprain, Laigut never
hesitates, Laigut is always found competent. Add to this his commerce
in seeds and herbs, his talent for destroying snakes and trapping
moles, the fact that he is municipal bell ringer and choir boy, and you
will have but a feeble idea of the activities of this man whose field
seems so unlimited.

In a little old shed behind his house he carefully stores the
innumerable and diverse objects which are confided to his care, and
contrary to what one might suppose, he bears no malice for the lack of
esteem bestowed upon him in times gone by. Not at all. His breadth of
character is equalled only by the diversity of his gifts. From time to
time a fowl may still disappear, but none save _Maitre Renard_ is now
accused. In these days there are so many foxes about!

If I may seem to have gone deep into detail concerning these people it
is only because I am anxious to make better understood what life means
in a village without men. That is to say without valid men who care
for the cattle, steer the plough, keep the furrows of equal depth and
straight as a die; rake, hoe and sow; reap, harvest and carry the heavy
burdens, in fact, perform all the hard, fatiguing labour that the
upkeep of the soil requires.

And yet, in spite of their absence, not a foot of ground has been
neglected. The cattle are robust and well cared for, the harvests
reaped and brought to cover, the taxes and the rents have been paid,
and down under the piles of linen in those big oak cupboards lie many
blue bank notes, or several bonds of the National Defense. And France
has crossed the threshold o