‘Ah well, what about my ducks, and geese, and turkeys?’ said she. ‘What would you do if you had all those to look after? Ducks are dirty, if you like. Do you hear them shaking their bills in the water? And when they dive, you can only see their tails sticking straight up like ninepins. Geese and turkeys, too, are not easy to manage. Isn’t it fun to see them walking along with their long necks, some quite white and others quite black? They look like ladies and gentlemen. And I wouldn’t advise you to trust your finger to them. They would swallow it at a gulp. But my fingers, they only kiss--see!’ Her words were cut short by a joyous bleat from the goat, which had at last forced the door of the stable open. Two bounds and the animal was close to her, bending its forelegs, and affectionately rubbing its horns against her. To the priest, with its pointed beard and obliquely set eyes, it seemed to wear a diabolical grin. But Desirée caught it round the neck, kissed its head, played and ran with it, and talked about how she liked to drink its milk. She often did so, she said, when she was thirsty in the stable. ‘See, it has plenty of milk,’ she added, pointing to the animal’s udder. The priest lowered his eyes. He could remember having once seen in the cloister of Saint-Saturnin at Plassans a horrible stone gargoyle, representing a goat and a monk; and ever since he had always looked on goats as dissolute creatures of hell. His sister had only been allowed to get one after weeks of begging. For his part, whenever he came to the yard, he shunned all contact with the animal’s long silky coat, and carefully guarded his cassock from the touch of its horns. ‘All right, I’ll let you go now,’ said Desirée, becoming aware of his growing discomfort. ‘But you must just let me show you something else first. Promise not to scold me, won’t you? I have not said anything to you about it, because you wouldn’t have allowed it.... But if you only knew how pleased I am!’ As she spoke she put on an entreating expression, clasped her hands, and laid her head upon her brother’s shoulder. ‘Another piece of folly, no doubt,’ he murmured, unable to refrain from smiling. ‘You won’t mind, will you?’ she continued, her eyes glistening with delight. ‘You won’t be angry?--He is so pretty!’ Thereupon she ran to open the low door under the shed, and forthwith a little pig bounded into the middle of the yard. ‘Oh! isn’t he a cherub?’ she exclaimed with a look of profound rapture as she saw him leap out.