began to relate their experiences among the fair sex, losing nothing of the point from the effect of the numerous empty bottles around.  All the scandalous cases in the courts of justice, all the coarse jokes and adventures of the district, were related over again.  Each tried to surpass his neighbor.  To hear these men of position boast of their gallantries with all classes, one would have thought that the entire canton underwent periodical changes and became one vast Saturnalia, where rustic satyrs courted their favorite nymphs.  But nothing came of it, after all; once the feast was digested, and they had returned to the conjugal abode, all these terrible gay Lotharios became once more chaste and worthy fathers of families.  Nevertheless, Julien, who was unaccustomed to such bibulous festivals and such unbridled license of language, took it all literally, and reproached himself more than ever with having yielded to Claudet’s entreaties.

At last the table was deserted, and the marking of the limits of the hunt began.

As they were following the course of the trenches, the notary stopped suddenly at the foot of an ash-tree, and took the arm of the collector, who was gently humming out of tune.

“Hush!  Collector,” he whispered, “do you see that fellow up there, on the fork of the tree?  He seems to be jeering at us.”

At the same time he pointed out a squirrel, sitting perched upon a branch, about halfway up the tree.  The animal’s tail stood up behind like a plume, his ears were upright, and he had his front paws in his mouth, as if cracking a nut.

“A squirrel!” cried the impetuous Boucheseiche, immediately falling into the snare; “let no one touch him, gentlemen—­I will settle his account for him.”

The rest of the hunters had drawn back in a circle, and were exchanging sly glances.  The collector loaded his gun, shouldered it, covered the squirrel, and then let go.

“Hit!” exclaimed he, triumphantly, as soon as the smoke had dispersed.

In fact, the animal had slid down the branch, head first, but, somehow, he did not fall to the ground.

“He has caught hold of something,” said the notary, facetiously.

“Ah! you will hold on, you rascal, will you?” shouted Boucheseiche, beside himself with excitement, and the next moment he sent a second shot, which sent the hair flying in all directions.

The creature remained in the same position.  Then there was a general roar.

“He is quite obstinate!” remarked the clerk, slyly.

Boucheseiche, astonished, looked attentively at the tree, then at the laughing crowd, and could not understand the situation.

“If I were in your place, Collector,” said Claudet, in an insinuating manner, “I should climb up there, to see—­”

But Justin Boucheseiche was not a climber.  He called a youngster, who followed the hunt as beater-up.

“I will give you ten sous,” said he; “to mount that tree and bring me my squirrel!”