He wandered through the wood without a purpose, without an idea of
what he wanted to shoot; be only felt a vague desire to hear a shot
and to kill something; but nothing came before his gun. The birds had
already migrated. Only a squirrel was climbing about the branches of a
pine-tree, staring at him with brilliant eyes. He raised the gun and
pulled the trigger; but the nimble little beast was already on the
other side of the trunk when the shot hit the tree. But the sound
impressed his nerves pleasantly.
He left the footpath and went through the undergrowth. He stamped on
every fungus that grew on his way. He was in a destructive mood. He
looked for a snake so as to trample on it or kill it with a shot.
Suddenly he remembered that he ought to go home and that it was the
morning after his wedding day. The mere thought of the curious glances
to which he would be exposed had the effect of making him feel like a
criminal, about to be unmasked and shown up for having committed a
crime against good manners and, what was worse, against nature. Oh!
that he could have left this world behind him! But how was he to do
that?
His thoughts grew tired at last of revolving round and round the same
problem and he felt a craving for food.
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