Cesaire Horlaville himself, whip in hand, had come in to observe the
proceedings.

Suddenly, at the bottom of the bowl appeared a little brown spot, no
bigger than a tiny seed. However, it was moving. It was a flea! First
there were cries of astonishment and then shouts of laughter. A flea!
Well, that was a good joke, a mighty good one! Caniveau was slapping his
thigh, Cesaire Horlaville snapped his whip, the priest laughed like a
braying donkey, the teacher cackled as though he were sneezing, and the
two women were giving little screams of joy, like the clucking of hens.

Belhomme had seated himself on the table and had taken the bowl between
his knees; he was observing, with serious attention and a vengeful anger
in his eye, the conquered insect which was twisting round in the water.
He grunted, "You rotten little beast!" and he spat on it.

The driver, wild with joy, kept repeating: "A flea, a flea, ah! there you
are, damned little flea, damned little flea, damned little flea!" Then
having calmed down a little, he cried: "Well, back to the coach! We've
lost enough time."




DISCOVERY

The steamer was crowded with people and the crossing promised to be good.
I was going from Havre to Trouville.