He was shut up in the town jail. It did not occur
to the police that he might need food, and he was
left alone until the following day. But when
in the early morning they came to examine him he was
found dead on the floor. Such an astonishing
thing!
Old Lecacheur appeared at the door of his house between
five and a quarter past five in the morning, his usual
hour, to watch his men going to work.
He was only half awake, his face was red, and with
his right eye open and the left nearly closed, he
was buttoning his braces over his fat stomach with
some difficulty, at the same time looking into every
corner of the farmyard with a searching glance.
The sun darted its oblique rays through the beech
trees by the side of the ditch and athwart the apple
trees outside, and was making the cocks crow on the
dunghill, and the pigeons coo on the roof. The
smell of the cow stable came through the open door,
and blended in the fresh morning air with the pungent
odor of the stable, where the horses were neighing,
with their heads turned toward the light.
As soon as his trousers were properly fastened, Lecacheur
came out, and went, first of all, toward the hen house
to count the morning’s eggs, for he had been
afraid of thefts for some time; but the servant girl
ran up to him with lifted arms and cried:
“Master! master! they have stolen a rabbit during
the night.”
“A rabbit?”
“Yes, master, the big gray rabbit, from the
hutch on the left”; whereupon the farmer completely
opened his left eye, and said, simply:
“I must see about that.”
And off he went to inspect it. The hutch had
been broken open and the rabbit was gone. Then
he became thoughtful, closed his right eye again,
and scratched his nose, and after a little consideration,
he said to the frightened girl, who was standing stupidly
before her master:
“Go and fetch the gendarmes; say I expect them
as soon as possible.”
Lecacheur was mayor of the village, Pavigny-le-Gras,
and ruled it like a master, on account of his money
and position, and as soon as the servant had disappeared
in the direction of the village, which was only about
five hundred yards off, he went into the house to have
his morning coffee and to discuss the matter with
his wife, whom he found on her knees in front of the
fire, trying to make it burn quickly, and as soon as
he got to the door, he said:
“Somebody has stolen the gray rabbit.”
She turned round so suddenly that she found herself
sitting on the floor, and looking at her husband with
distressed eyes, she said:
“What is it, Cacheux? Somebody has stolen
a rabbit?”
“The big gray one.”
She sighed.
“What a shame! Who can have done it?”
She was a little, thin, active, neat woman, who knew
all about farming. Lecacheur had his own ideas
about the matter.
