And he knew how to worm out information like an examining lawyer.

On sunny days he had his large reclining chair, similar to a bed, wheeled
to the hall door. A man servant behind him held his guns, loaded them and
handed them to his master. Another valet, hidden in the bushes, let fly a
pigeon from time to time at irregular intervals, so that the baron should
be unprepared and be always on the watch.

And from morning till night he fired at the birds, much annoyed if he
were taken by surprise and laughing till he cried when the animal fell
straight to the earth or, turned over in some comical and unexpected
manner. He would turn to the man who was loading the gun and say, almost
choking with laughter:

"Did that get him, Joseph? Did you see how he fell?" Joseph invariably
replied:

"Oh, monsieur le baron never misses them."

In autumn, when the shooting season opened, he invited his friends as he
had done formerly, and loved to hear them firing in the distance. He
counted the shots and was pleased when they followed each other rapidly.
And in the evening he made each guest give a faithful account of his day.
They remained three hours at table telling about their sport.

They were strange and improbable adventures in which the romancing spirit
of the sportsmen delighted. Some of them were memorable stories and were
repeated regularly. The story of a rabbit that little Vicomte de Bourril
had missed in his vestibule convulsed them with laughter each year anew.