“Nothing agreeable, you may be sure; she tramples all over my chest: thud, thud! thump, thump!” “Well, where _have_ you set your trap, then?” “The _trarp_, why, I put it on my own stomach.” “And what kind of a _trarp_ did you use?” “Oh! a first-rate _trarp_!” “What was it?” “The one I made to catch the grey wolf with, that used to kill M. Destournelles’ sheep.” “Not such a first-rate one, then, for the grey wolf ate up your bait, and then bolted.” “You know why he was not caught, General.” “No, I do not.” “Because it was the black wolf that belonged to old Thibault, the sabot-maker.” “It could not have been Thibault’s black wolf, for you said yourself just this moment that the wolf that used to come and kill M. Destournelles’ sheep was a grey one.” “He is grey now, General; but thirty years ago, when Thibault the sabot-maker was alive, he was black; and, to assure you of the truth of this, look at my hair, which was black as a raven’s thirty years ago, and now is as grey as the Doctor’s.” The Doctor was a cat, an animal of some fame, that you will find mentioned in my _Mémoires_ and known as the Doctor on account of the magnificent fur which nature had given it for a coat. “Yes,” replied my father, “I know your tale about Thibault, the sabot-maker; but, if the black wolf is the devil, Mocquet, as you say he is, he would not change colour.” “Not at all, General; only it takes him a hundred years to become quite white, and the last midnight of every hundred years, he turns black as a coal again.” “I give up the case, then, Mocquet: all I ask is, that you will not tell my son this fine tale of yours, until he is fifteen at least.” “And why, General?” “Because it is no use stuffing his mind with nonsense of that kind, until he is old enough to laugh at wolves, whether they are white, grey or black.” “It shall be as you say, General; he shall hear nothing of this matter.” “Go on, then.” “Where had we got to, General?” “We had got to your _trarp_, which you had put on your stomach, and you were saying that it was a first-rate _trarp_.” “By my faith, General, that was a first-rate _trarp_!” It weighed a good ten pounds. What am I saying! fifteen pounds at least with its chain! I put the chain over my wrist. “And what happened that night?” “That night? why, it was worse than ever! Generally, it was in her leather overshoes she came and kneaded my chest, but that night she came in her wooden _sabots_.” “And she comes like this...?” “Every blessed one of God’s nights, and it is making me quite thin; you can see for yourself, General, I am growing as thin as a lath. However, this morning I made up my mind.” “And what did you decide upon, Mocquet?” “Well, then, I made up my mind I would let fly at her with my gun.” “That was a wise decision to come to. And when do you think of carrying it out?” “This evening, or to-morrow at latest, General.” “Confound it! And just as I was wanting to send you over to Villers-Hellon.”