At night, those awoken by roars sat bolt upright in bed. It was only the children who enjoyed that. To them, the low growls provided night-time entertainment; the roars rolling down from the rocks gave the darkness a feeling of mystery. On those nights, the kids played a sort of hide-and-seek. Their bedrooms became like bivouacs or hidden encampments in a wild jungle and the growling of the predators prompted dreams of daring. But when the windows had to be open at night, as they looked up past the houses, sometimes some of them were frightened. The slightest stirring of the leaves or movement of the curtains made them think they saw the back of a lion, or a tiger, or God knows what animal … And they imagined they could feel the rough tongues of the felines licking their feet and they started to howl and call their mothers. La Bûche heard none of this. Years of banging his hammer on the anvil had damaged his hearing. But when others told of their fear, he vowed in one way or another to put an end to it, in the hope of winning Joséphine’s favour.