"We must look into this, Mocquet," my father had said; not that he believed in Mocquet's nightmare, not even that, admitting the existence of the nightmare, he believed it was mother Durand who had _nightmared_ his guardsman. Nothing of the kind; but my father knew the superstitious nature of our peasants; he knew that a belief in _spells_ was still largely prevalent in the countryside. He had heard some terrible tales of vengeance taken by folk who thought themselves bewitched, who had sought to break the spell by killing the person or persons who had _bewitched_ them. And when Mocquet denounced mother Durand to my father, there was such a threatening accent in his voice, and he had pressed the butt of his rifle with so much intention, that my father deemed it wise policy to appear to chime in with Mocquet's opinion in order to keep a hold on him, so that he should not do anything before first consulting him. "But before punishing her, my good Mocquet," my father said to him, "we must do our best to see if we cannot cure you of your nightmare." "You cannot, General." "Why not?" "No, I have done everything possible." "What have you done?" "First I drank a large bowl of warm wine before going to bed." "Who recommended you to do that? Was it M. Lécosse?" M. Lécosse was the leading doctor in Villers-Cotterets. "M. Lécosse?" said Mocquet with scorn. "He? what does he know about spells? Goodness! No, it wasn't M. Lécosse." "Who was it, then?" "The shepherd at Longpré." "A whole bowl of hot wine, you idiot! You would be dead drunk after you had taken it!" "The shepherd drank half." "Well, I understand the prescription; and the bowl of warm wine did no good?" "General, she stamped on my chest all night, just as though I had taken absolutely nothing." "And what did you do next?" "I did what I always do when I want to catch a _false_ beast (_une bête fausse._)" Mocquet had a vocabulary peculiar to himself. He could never be made to say a fallow deer (_une bête fauve._) Each time my father said _une bête fauve_ Mocquet took him up. "Yes, General, a _false_ beast--for, General, with all respect, you are wrong." "How am I wrong?" "It is not a fallow deer I mean, but a false beast." "Why?" "Because a fallow deer does not express what I mean." "And what do you mean by a false beast?" "I mean a beast that only walks by night, one that is deceitful--in short, a _false_ beast." It was such a logical definition that there was nothing further to be said; so my father did not answer, and Mocquet triumphantly continued to call fallow deer false beasts. So to my father's question, "What did you do next?" Mocquet replied, "I did what I always do when I want to catch a false beast." "What is that, Mocquet?" "I set a trap _(piège)._" Mocquet always pronounced _piège pierge._ "You set a trap to catch mother Durand?"