Bewildered, distressed, moved by a mysterious and invincible shock, the old captain had risen from his bench. He was extraordinarily agitated. "Just say that again, and see!" he stammered. For the third time, violently, separating each word, I said: "I will bet that you would not eat your ferret." "I would not eat my ferret? What's that you say? You say that I would not eat it? Yes, you say that? Well, you shall see. I tell you that I eat everything." He seized the ferret. As one breaks a loaf of bread, he broke the little beast's back with a snap, and threw it, dead without a shock, without a spasm, on the sandy path, shouting to Rose: "Make me a stew out of that for dinner!" And, madly gesticulating, he ran to shut himself up in the house. For some minutes I felt a real and unspeakable horror. Still completely dazed by the abominable action that I had just committed, I rose to go. I was very pale. Rose accompanied me. With a smile she confided to me: "I am not sorry for what has just happened. He was too fond of his ferret. I do not wish him to love anything. He loves his flowers already too much to suit me." After a short silence, she added: "But he will never forgive you for that. He is not a man to be defied. An old soldier, you know!" Then, a few steps farther on: "Pay attention, my little one. They are beginning to gossip about you in the neighborhood. It seems that you were seen the other day, in the garden, with Monsieur Lanlaire. It is very imprudent, believe me. He will get you into trouble, if he hasn't already done so. You want to look out for yourself." And, as she closed the gate behind me: "Well, _au revoir!_ Now I must go to make my stew." All day long I saw before my eyes the body of the poor little ferret, lying there on the sandy path. This evening, at dinner, when dessert was being served, Madame said to me, very severely: "If you like prunes, you have only to ask me for them; I will see if I can give you any; but I forbid you to take them." I answered: "I am not a thief, Madame, and I do not like prunes." Madame insisted: "I tell you that you have taken some prunes." I replied: "If Madame thinks me a thief, Madame has only to pay me and let me go." Madame snatched the plate of prunes from my hand. "Monsieur ate five this morning; there were thirty-two; now there are but twenty-five; then you have taken two. Don't let that happen again." It was true. I had eaten two of them. She had counted them! Did you ever in your life? V _September 28._ My mother is dead. I received the news this morning, in a letter from home. Although I have never had anything but blows from her, the news has given me pain, and I have cried, and cried, and cried. Seeing me crying, Madame said: "Again these manners?" I answered: "My mother, my poor mother, is dead!" Then Madame, in her ordinary voice: "It is a pity, but I can do nothing about it. At any rate, the work must not suffer."