His place in chapel was beside his parents; and however long the offices might be he remained on his knees at his faldstool, his bonnet on the ground and his hands clasped.
One day during Mass, on raising his head, he noticed a little white mouse which came out of a hole in the wall. It ran on to the first step of the altar, and, after two or three turns to right and left, made off the same way. Next Sunday the thought that he might see it again troubled him. It came back; and each Sunday he waited for it, was annoyed by it, and was seized by hatred of it, and resolved to make away with it.
So, having shut the door and scattered some crumbs of cake on the steps, he stationed himself before the hole with a switch in his hand.
After a very long time a pink muzzle appeared, then all the mouse. He struck a light blow and remained stupefied before the tiny body that no longer moved. A drop of blood stained the pavement. He wiped it off hastily with his sleeve, threw the mouse outside, and said nothing about it to any one.
All sorts of small birds picked at the seeds in the garden. He took it into his head to put peas into a hollow reed. When he heard a twittering in the garden, he approached softly, then raised his tube, puffed his cheeks, and the little creatures rained upon his shoulders so abundantly that he could not keep from laughing, overjoyed at his mischief.
One morning, as he was returning along the wall, he caught sight of a big pigeon on top of the rampart, pouting in the sun. Julian stopped to look at it; there was a gap in the wall just there, a splinter of stone came to his hand. He bent his arm, and the stone knocked down the bird, which fell in a heap into the moat.
He hurried down, tearing himself on the bushes, searching everywhere, more active than a young dog.
The pigeon was quivering with broken wings, hanging in the branches of a privet-bush.
Its persistence in life irritated the child. He set about wringing its neck, and the bird’s convulsions made his heart beat, and filled it with a savage and tumultuous pleasure. When it at last stiffened, he felt himself fainting.
That evening, at supper, his father declared that a boy of his age ought to learn venery; and he went to look for an old manuscript containing all the pastime of the chase in question and answer. In it a master showed his pupil the art of entering dogs and manning hawks, of setting snares, how to recognize the stag by his fumets, the fox by his footprints, the wolf by his pads; the best way to discover their tracks, how they are started, and where their refuges usually are; what are the most favourable winds, with an enumeration of the calls and rules of the quarry.