"And I am going to confess to you. There are no insects, no birds, no earth-worms that I have not eaten. I have eaten skunks and snakes, rats and crickets and caterpillars. I have eaten everything. It is well known in the neighborhood. When they find a beast, dead or alive, a beast unknown to anybody, they say to themselves: 'I must take it to Captain Mauger.' They bring it to me, and I eat it. In winter especially, when it is very cold, unknown birds pass this way, coming from America, or from a greater distance perhaps. They bring them to me, and I eat them. I will bet that there is not a man in the world who has eaten as many things as I have. I eat everything." The walk over, we returned to sit down under the acacia. And I was getting ready to leave, when the captain cried: "Oh! I must show you something curious,--something that you have never seen, I am sure." And he called in a loud voice: "Kléber! Kléber!" Between two calls he explained to me: "Kléber is my ferret. A phenomenon!" And he called again: "Kléber! Kléber!" Then, on a branch above us, between green and golden leaves, there appeared a pink snout and two little black, sharp, bright eyes. "Oh! I knew well that he was not far away. Come, come here, Kléber! Psstt!" The animal crept along the branch, ventured upon the trunk, and descended carefully, burying its claws in the bark. His body, covered with white fur and marked with pale yellow spots, had the supple movements, the graceful undulations, of a serpent. He touched ground, and in two bounds was on the knees of the captain, who began to caress him joyfully. "Oh! the good Kléber! Oh! the charming little Kléber!" He turned to me: "Did you ever see a ferret as tame as that? He follows me about the garden everywhere, like a little dog. I have only to call him, and he is there directly, his tail frisking, his head lifted. He eats with us, sleeps with us. Indeed, I love the little beast as if he were a person. Why, Mademoiselle Célestine, I have refused three hundred francs for him. I would not sell him for a thousand francs,--no, not for two thousand francs. Here, Kléber." The animal lifted its head toward its master; then it climbed upon him, mounted his shoulders, and, after a thousand caresses and a thousand pretty tricks, rolled itself around the captain's neck, like a handkerchief. Rose said nothing. She seemed vexed. Then an infernal idea flashed into my mind. "I will bet you," I said, suddenly,--"I will bet you, Captain, that you would not eat your ferret." The captain looked at me with profound astonishment, and then with infinite sadness. His eyes became round, his lips quivered. "Kléber?" he stammered; "eat Kléber?" Evidently this question had never occurred to him, who had eaten everything. A sort of new world, strangely comestible, appeared before him. "I will bet," I repeated, ferociously, "that you would not eat your ferret."