A week later, as the affair had made much stir, Lecacheur, on going into the mairie to consult the schoolmaster, was told that the shepherd Severin had been waiting for him for more than an hour, and he found him sitting on a chair in a corner, with his stick between his legs. When he saw the mayor, he got up, took off his cap, and said:
“Good-morning, Maitre Cacheux”; and then he remained standing, timid and embarrassed.
“What do you want?” the former said.
“This is it, monsieur. Is it true that somebody stole one of your rabbits last week?”
“Yes, it is quite true, Severin.”
“Who stole the rabbit?”
“Polyte Ancas, the laborer.”
“Right! right! And is it also true that it was found under my bed?”
“What do you mean, the rabbit?”
“The rabbit and then Polyte.”