Hautot Senior and Hautot Junior

I.

In front of the building, half farmhouse, half manor-house, one of those
rural habitations of a mixed character which were all but seigneurial,
and which are at the present time occupied by large cultivators, the
dogs, lashed beside the apple-trees in the orchard near the house, kept
barking and howling at the sight of the shooting-bags carried by the
gamekeepers and the boys. In the spacious dining-room kitchen, Hautot
Senior and Hautot Junior, M. Bermont, the tax-collector, and M. Mondaru,
the notary, were taking a bite and drinking some wine before going out
to shoot, for it was the opening day.

Hautot Senior, proud of all his possessions, talked boastfully
beforehand of the game which his guests were going to find on his lands.
He was a big Norman, one of those powerful, ruddy, bony men, who can
lift wagonloads of apples on their shoulders. Half peasant, half
gentleman, rich, respected, influential, invested with authority, he
made his son César go as far as the third form at school, so that he
might be an educated man, and there he had brought his studies to a stop
for fear of his becoming a fine gentleman and paying no attention to the
land.

César Hautot, almost as tall as his father, but thinner, was a good son,
docile, content with everything, full of admiration, respect, and
deference for the wishes and opinions of his sire.

M. Bermont, the tax-collector, a stout little man, who showed on his red
cheeks a thin network of violet veins resembling the tributaries and the
winding courses of rivers on maps, asked:

"And hares--are there any hares on it?"

Hautot Senior answered: "As many as you like, especially in the
Puysatier lands."

"Which direction shall we begin in?" asked the notary, a jolly notary,
fat and pale, big-paunched too, and strapped up in an entirely new
hunting costume bought at Rouen.

"Well, that way, through these grounds. We will drive the partridges
into the plain, and we will beat there again."

And Hautot Senior rose up. They all followed his example, took their
guns out of the corners, examined the locks, stamped with their feet in
order to feel themselves firmer in their boots which were rather hard,
not having as yet been rendered flexible by the heat of the blood. Then
they went out; and the dogs, standing erect at the ends of their
leashes, gave vent to piercing howls while beating the air with their
paws.

They set forth for the lands referred to. These consisted of a little
glen, or rather a long undulating stretch of inferior soil, which had on
that account remained uncultivated, furrowed with mountain-torrents,
covered with ferns, an excellent preserve