“Why?”

The fear of the doctor seemed to cure Belhomme.  He straightened up without, however, dropping his handkerchief.

“What!  You have money for them, for those loafers?  He would have come once, twice, three times, four times, five times!  That means two five-franc pieces, two five-franc pieces, for sure.  And what would he have done, the loafer, tell me, what would he have done?  Can you tell me?”

Caniveau was laughing.

“No, I don’t know.  Where are you going?”

“I am going to Havre, to see Chambrelan.”

“Who is Chambrelan?”

“The healer, of course.”

“What healer?”

“The healer who cured my father.”

“Your father?”

“Yes, the healer who cured my father years ago.”

“What was the matter with your father?”

“A draught caught him in the back, so that he couldn’t move hand or foot.”

“Well, what did your friend Chambrelan do to him?”

“He kneaded his back with both hands as though he were making bread!  And he was all right in a couple of hours!”

Belhomme thought that Chambrelan must also have used some charm, but he did not dare say so before the priest.  Caniveau replied, laughing: 

“Are you sure it isn’t a rabbit that you have in your ear?  He might have taken that hole for his home.  Wait, I’ll make him run away.”

Whereupon Caniveau, making a megaphone of his hands, began to mimic the barking of hounds.  He snapped, howled, growled, barked.  And everybody in the carriage began to roar, even the schoolmaster, who, as a rule, never ever smiled.

However, as Belhomme seemed angry at their making fun of him, the priest changed the conversation and turning to Rabot’s big wife, said: 

“You have a large family, haven’t you?”

“Oh, yes, Monsieur le cure—­and it’s a pretty hard matter to bring them up!”

Rabot agreed, nodding his head as though to say:  “Oh, yes, it’s a hard thing to bring up!”

“How many children?”

She replied authoritatively in a strong, clear voice: 

“Sixteen children, Monsieur le cure, fifteen of them by my husband!”

And Rabot smiled broadly, nodding his head.  He was responsible for fifteen, he alone, Rabot!  His wife said so!  Therefore there could be no doubt about it.  And he was proud!

And whose was the sixteenth?  She didn’t tell.  It was doubtless the first. 
Perhaps everybody knew, for no one was surprised.  Even Caniveau kept mum.

But Belhomme began to moan again: 

“Oh-oh-oh!  It’s scratching about in the bottom of my ear!  Oh, dear, oh, dear!”

The coach just then stopped at the Cafe Polyto.  The priest said: 

“If someone were to pour a little water into your ear, it might perhaps drive it out.  Do you want to try?”

“Sure!  I am willing.”

And everybody got out in order to witness the operation.  The priest asked for a bowl, a napkin and a glass of water, then he told the teacher to hold the patient’s head over on one side, and, as soon as the liquid should have entered the ear, to turn his head over suddenly on the other side.