Blondet now perceived on the other side of the river two bright eyes, like those of a cat, beneath a tuft of alders; then he saw the tanned forehead and tangled hair of a boy about ten years of age, who was lying on his stomach and making signs towards the otter to let his master know he kept it well in sight.  Blondet, completely mastered by the eagerness of the old man and boy, allowed the demon of the chase to get the better of him,—­that demon with the double claws of hope and curiosity, who carries you whithersoever he will.

“The hat-makers buy the skin,” continued the old man; “it’s so soft, so handsome!  They cover caps with it.”

“Do you really think so, my old man?” said Blondet, smiling.

“Well truly, my good gentleman, you ought to know more than I, though I am seventy years old,” replied the old fellow, very humbly and respectfully, falling into the attitude of a giver of holy water; “perhaps you can tell me why conductors and wine-merchants are so fond of it?”

Blondet, a master of irony, already on his guard from the word “scientific,” recollected the Marechal de Richelieu and began to suspect some jest on the part of the old man; but he was reassured by his artless attitude and the perfectly stupid expression of his face.

“In my young days we had lots of otters,” whispered the old fellow; “but they’ve hunted ’em so that if we see the tail of one in seven years it is as much as ever we do.  And the sub-prefect at Ville-aux-Fayes,—­doesn’t monsieur know him? though he be a Parisian, he’s a fine young man like you, and he loves curiosities,—­so, as I was saying, hearing of my talent for catching otters, for I know ’em as you know your alphabet, he says to me like this:  ‘Pere Fourchon,’ says he, ’when you find an otter bring it to me, and I’ll pay you well; and if it’s spotted white on the back,’ says he, ’I’ll give you thirty francs.’  That’s just what he did say to me as true as I believe in God the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.  And there’s a learned man at Soulanges, Monsieur Gourdon, our doctor, who is making, so they tell me, a collection of natural history which hasn’t its mate at Dijon even; indeed he is first among the learned men in these parts, and he’ll pay me a fine price, too; he stuffs men and beasts.  Now my boy there stands me out that that otter has got the white spots.  ’If that’s so,’ says I to him, ’then the good God wishes well to us this morning!’ Ha! didn’t you see the water bubble? yes, there it is! there it is!  Though it lives in a kind of a burrow, it sometimes stays whole days under water.  Ha, there! it heard you, my good gentleman; it’s on its guard now; for there’s not a more suspicious animal on earth; it’s worse than a woman.”

“So you call women suspicious, do you?” said Blondet.

“Faith, monsieur, if you come from Paris you ought to know about that better than I. But you’d have done better for me if you had stayed in your bed and slept all the morning; don’t you see that wake there? that’s where she’s gone under.  Get up, Mouche! the otter heard monsieur talking, and now she’s scary enough to keep us at her heels till midnight.  Come, let’s be off! and good-bye to our thirty francs!”