Explore "The Rabbit" by Guy De Maupassant on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
At the usual time between five and a quarter past five in the morning, old Lecacheur appeared at the door of his house to watch his men start work.
Red in the face and half asleep -- one eye open and the other nearly shut -- he had some difficulty in buttoning his braces over his fat stomach while he cast a keen glance round every important corner of the farm. The sun shed its oblique rays through the beech-trees by the ditch and the squat apple trees in the courtyard, making the cocks on the dunghill crow, and the pigeons on the roof coo. In the fresh morning air the smell of the cow-house drifted through the open door, mingled with the pungent odour from the stable where the neighing horses turned their heads towards the light.