It was the day before a large wild-boar hunt, and in the evening Madame Berthe said to the baron with a laugh:  “Baron, if you kill the brute, I shall have something to say to you.”  And so, at dawn he was up and out, to try and discover where the solitary animal had its lair.  He accompanied his huntsmen, settled the places for the relays, and organized everything personally to insure his triumph, and when the horns gave the signal for setting out, he appeared in a closely fitting coat of scarlet and gold, with his waist drawn in tight, his chest expanded, his eyes radiant, and as fresh and strong as if he had just got out of bed.  They set off, and the wild boar set off through the underwood as soon as he was dislodged, followed by the hounds in full cry, while the horses set off at a gallop through the narrow sides cut in the forest, while the carriage which followed the chase at a distance, drove noiselessly along the soft roads.

From mischief, Madame d’Avancelles kept the baron by her side, and lagging behind at a walk in an interminably long and straight drive, over which four rows of oaks hung, so as to form almost an arch, while he, trembling with love and anxiety, listened with one ear to the young woman’s bantering chatter, while with the other he listened to the blast of the horns and to the cry of the hounds as they receded in the distance.

“So you do not love me any longer?” she observed.  “How can you say such things?” he replied.  And she continued:  “But you seem to be paying more attention to the sport than to me.”  He groaned, and said:  “Did you not order me to kill the animal myself?” And she replied gravely:  “Of course I reckon upon it.  You must kill it under my eyes.”

Then he trembled in his saddle, spurred his horse until it reared, and, losing all patience, exclaimed:  “But, by Jove, Madame, that is impossible if we remain here.”  Then she spoke tenderly to him, laying her hand on his arm, or stroking his horse’s mane, as if from abstraction, and said with a laugh:  “But you must do it ... or else ... so much the worse for you.”

Just then they turned to the right, into a narrow path which was overhung by trees, and suddenly, to avoid a branch which barred their way, she leaned towards him so closely, that he felt her hair tickling his neck, and he suddenly threw his arms brutally round her, and putting his thick moustache onto her forehead, he gave her a furious kiss.

At first she did not move, and remained motionless under that mad caress; then she turned her head with a jerk, and either by accident or design her little lips met his, under their wealth of light hair, and a moment afterwards, either from confusion or remorse, she struck her horse with her riding-whip, and went off at full gallop, and they rode on like that for some time, without exchanging a look.

The noise of the hunt came nearer, the thickets seemed to tremble, and suddenly the wild boar broke through the bushes, covered with blood, and trying to shake off the hounds who had fastened onto him, and the baron, uttering a shout of triumph, exclaimed:  “Let him who loves me, follow me!” And he disappeared in the copse, as if the wood had swallowed him up.