And the sow looked at him with little languishing eyes, and licked his fingers; she ended by screaming abominably when he went away.
And Brother Simeon showed off other pupils, pigs with ears like the mouth of a trumpet and corkscrew tails, sows whose stomachs trailed and whose feet seemed hardly outside their bodies, new-born pigs which sucked ravenously at the teats, larger ones, who delighted in chasing each other about and rolled in the mud, snorting.
Durtal complimented him on the beasts, and the old man was jubilant, wiping his face with his great hand; then, on the oblate inquiring about the litter of some sow, he felt his fingers in a row; replying to the observation that the animals were very greedy, by stretching his arms to heaven, showing the empty troughs, lifting ends of wood, tearing up tufts of grass which he carried to his lips, grunting as if he had his muzzle full.
Then he took them into the courtyard, placed them against the wall, opened a door beyond, and hid himself. A formidable boar passed like a waterspout, upset a wheelbarrow, scattering everything round him with a noise like a shell bursting; then he broke into a gallop all round the courtyard, and ended by taking a header into a sea of liquid manure. He wallowed, turned head over heels, kicked about with his four feet in the air, and got up black and disgusting as the inside of a chimney.
After this he halted, grunted a cheerful note, and wished to fawn on the monk, who checked him with a gesture.
"Your boar is splendid!" said Durtal.
And the lay brother looked on Durtal with moist eyes as he rubbed his neck with his hand, sighing.
"That means they are going to kill him soon," said the oblate.
And the old man acquiesced with a melancholy shake of his head.
They left him, thanking him for his kindness.