And now that he was past fifty, he was well, robust, stout and vigorous,
though rather bald, and he kept his moustache cut quite short, so that it
might not cover his lips, and interfere with his blowing the horn.

He was never called by anything but his first Christian name, Monsieur
Hector, but his full name was Baron Hector Gontran de Coutelier, and he
lived in a small manor house which he had inherited, in the middle of the
woods; and though he knew all the nobility of the department, and met its
male representatives out shooting and hunting, he only regularly visited
one family, the Courvilles, who were very pleasant neighbors, and had
been allied to his race for centuries, and in their house he was liked,
and taken the greatest care of, and he used to say: "If I were not a
sportsman, I should like to be here always."

Monsieur de Courville had been his friend and comrade from childhood,
and lived quietly as a gentleman farmer with his wife, daughter and
son-in-law, Monsieur de Darnetot, who did nothing, under the pretext of
being devoted to historical studies.

Baron de Coutelier often went and dined with his friends, as much with
the object of telling them of the shots he had made, as of anything else.
He had long stories about dogs and ferrets, of which he spoke as if they
were persons of note, whom he knew very well. He analyzed them, and
explained their thoughts and intentions:

"When Medor saw that the corn-crake was leading him such a dance, he said
to himself: 'Wait a bit, my friend, we will have a joke.' And then, with
a jerk of the head to me, to make me go into the corner of the clover
field, he began to quarter the sloping ground, noisily brushing through
the clover to drive the bird into a corner from which it could not