"When I leave this," thought Durtal, "they will certainly speak of me as the gentleman who saw the otter."
While talking, they had arrived at the cross pond.
"Look," said the father, pointing out the swan, who rose in a fury, beat his wings, and hissed.
"What is the matter with him?"
"The matter is that the white hue of my habit infuriates him."
"Ah! and why?"
"I do not know; perhaps he wants to be the only one who is white here; he spares the lay brothers, while as for a father ... wait, you will see."
And the guest-master walked quietly towards the swan.
"Come," he said to the angry creature, who splashed him with water; and he held out his hand which the swan snapped.
"See," said the monk, showing the mark of a red pinch printed on the flesh.