EMOTIONS OF A RED PARTRIDGE 103

ing, his little rose-coloured tongue hung
out of his mouth as if to lick some-
thing.

And the sportsmen were there lean-
ing over this butchery, counting and
drawing towards the heap the bleeding
paws and torn wings without any care
for the fresh wounds. The dogs,
leashed for the road, still wrinkled their
chops, pointing, as though making
ready for a fresh plunge into the
copse.

Oh, while the great sun sank down,
and they all trudged off wearily, casting
their long shadows over the hillocks of
earth and the paths wet with evening
dew, how I cursed them, how I hated
them, men and brutes, all the lot of
them! Neither I nor my companion
had the courage to sound as usual a
little note of adieu when the day
closed.

On our way we met unhappy little
animals knocked over by some stray
shot and left there abandoned to the