31 Jan 2019

Dumas (20) The Wolf-Leader (Le meneur de loups), Ch.20, “True to Tryst”, summary

 

by Corry Shores

 

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[The following is summary. Boldface, underlining, bracketed commentary, and section subdivisions are my own. Proofreading is incomplete, so please forgive my mistakes. Text is copied from online sources (see bibliography below).]

 

 

 

 

Summary of

 

Alexandre Dumas

 

Le meneur de loups

The Wolf-Leader

 

20

“Fidèle au rendez-vous”

“True to Tryst”

 

 

 

 

 

Brief summary (collecting those below):

__(20.1)__ (Recall from section 19 that Thibault the sorcerer will make a deal with the Countess of Mont-Gobert to avenge her illicit lover Raoul the Lord of Vauparfond by killing his assassin). Thibault leaves the castle but has no where to go, because the Baron of Vez had his hut burned down (see section 19.1) and he has no friends. He goes to the forest. There he sees a “silver badge belonging to a huntsman’s shoulder-belt,” but the corpse it is on has been eaten to the bone. Thibault realizes it must have been eaten by his wolf friends after he gave them permission to hunt humans (see section 19.2). He checks the badge to see who it is and learns it is Lestocq (see the end of section 17.1). That night he returns to the castle, going first to Lisette, who says something cryptic about them not needing to worry about anyone seeing them, because “‘the eyes that could have seen us are all closed.’ Although he did not understand what the young girl meant by these words, the tone in which they were spoken made Thibault shiver.” When they arrive at the Countess’ room, she is lying still on the bed. Thibault goes to her and sees she is dead. In one hand is a little bottle (see section 19.3) and in the other is a piece of paper with the message, “True to tryst.” Lisette then informs Thibault that the Countess murdered the Count in his bed with a dagger (again see section 19.3). She then dressed herself exactly how she was when she last saw Raoul (which was actually when Thibault was in Raoul’s body) and then took the poison from the bottle. But before doing so, she instructed Lisette to bring Thibault to the room to show that she kept her bargain except she was the one to commit the murder. __(20.2)__ Thibault leaves the castle. “The sky was dark, and if it had not been January, you might have imagined a thunder storm was brewing; there was barely light enough to see the footpath, as he went along. Once or twice Thibault paused; he fancied he had detected the sound of the dry branches cracking under someone’s footsteps keeping pace with his, both to right and left.” At the breach in the wall, “Thibault distinctly heard a voice say: ‘that’s the man!’ and at the same moment, two gendarmes, concealed on the farther side of the wall, seized Thibault by the collar, while two others came up behind.” Cramoisi had seen a man prowling the area recently, and he reported this to the police. “When the recent serious events that had taken place at the Castle became generally known, orders were given to send four men and take up any suspicious looking person seen prowling about.” These four men overcome and capture Thibault. They then see for themselves that it is Thibault, who has earned a bad reputation. They bind his hands and fetter his feet and lead him away. Thibault decides to save the use of his powers until he really needs them. But for this reason, the gendarmes “made jokes and laughed at him, asking the wizard Thibault [sorcier Thibault], why, being possessed of such power, he had allowed himself to be taken.” They arrive at the forest. “The weather was growing more and more threatening; the dark clouds hung so low that the trees looked as if they were holding up a huge black veil, and it was impossible to see four steps ahead.” Thibault then sees “lights swiftly passing, and crossing one another, in the darkness” (the wolves’ eyes) and laughs. Thibault calls to them with a howl, and “Twenty or more howls responded, some from close at hand, some from farther off.” Thibault next tells the wolves to all howl at once, which they do. The wolves then draw up to the group, even making contact with Thibault. The horses start panicking. Thibault tries to negotiate with the gendarmes to let him go. After one gendarme cuts into a wolf with his sword, the other wolves feast on it. Thibault explains, “the wolves eat each other, whatever the proverb may say, and once having tasted blood, I do not know that even I shall have the power to hold them back.” Then “ There was a sudden sound as of an approaching hurricane—the whole pack was in pursuit, following them up at full gallop.” The horses take off to escape the pack. The gendarme who held the rope that was tied to Thibault lets go of it while trying to control his horse. Then “the wolves leaped on to the horses, clinging desperately to the cruppers and withers and throats of the terrified animals. No sooner had the latter felt the sharp teeth of their assailants, than they scattered, rushing in every direction.” The wolves chase the horses and their riders off in various directions, leaving Thibault all alone. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not get out of his restraints. “At last, tired of trying to wrest his hands free, he lifted them, bound as they were, to heaven, and cried: ‘Oh! black wolf! friend, let these cords that bind me be loosened; thou knowest well that it is only to do evil that I wish for my hands to be free.’ And at the same moment his fetters were broken and fell to the ground, and Thibault beat his hands together with another roar, this time of joy.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Contents

 

20.1

[The Countess’ Murder and Suicide]

 

20.2

[Thibault’s Capture and Escape]

 

Bibliography

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Summary

 

20.1

[The Countess’ Murder and Suicide]

 

[(Recall from section 19 that Thibault the sorcerer will make a deal with the Countess of Mont-Gobert to avenge her illicit lover Raoul the Lord of Vauparfond by killing his assassin). Thibault leaves the castle but has no where to go, because the Baron of Vez had his hut burned down (see section 19.1) and he has no friends. He goes to the forest. There he sees a “silver badge belonging to a huntsman’s shoulder-belt,” but the corpse it is on has been eaten to the bone. Thibault realizes it must have been eaten by his wolf friends after he gave them permission to hunt humans (see section 19.2). He checks the badge to see who it is and learns it is Lestocq (see the end of section 17.1). That night he returns to the castle, going first to Lisette, who says something cryptic about them not needing to worry about anyone seeing them, because “‘the eyes that could have seen us are all closed.’ Although he did not understand what the young girl meant by these words, the tone in which they were spoken made Thibault shiver.” When they arrive at the Countess’ room, she is lying still on the bed. Thibault goes to her and sees she is dead. In one hand is a little bottle (see section 19.3) and in the other is a piece of paper with the message, “True to tryst.” Lisette then informs Thibault that the Countess murdered the Count in his bed with a dagger (again see section 19.3). She then dressed herself exactly how she was when she last saw Raoul (which was actually when Thibault was in Raoul’s body) and then took the poison from the bottle. But before doing so, she instructed Lisette to bring Thibault to the room to show that she kept her bargain except she was the one to commit the murder.]

 

[ditto]

Thibault, en quittant la comtesse, avait suivi l’itinéraire indiqué par lui-même, et était, sans accident, sorti du château d’abord et ensuite du parc.

Mais, arrivé là, pour la première fois de sa vie, Thibault se trouva sans savoir où aller. Sa chaumière était brûlée ; il n’avait pas un ami ; comme Caïn, il ne savait plus où reposer la tête.

Il gagna la forêt, son éternel refuge.

Puis il erra jusqu’au fond de Chavigny, et, comme le jour commençait à paraître, il entra dans une maison isolée et demanda à acheter du pain.

Une femme, en l’absence de son mari, lui donna ce pain et ne voulut pas en recevoir le prix.

Thibault lui faisait peur.

Sûr de sa nourriture pour toute la journée, Thibault regagna la forêt.

Il connaissait, entre Fleury et Longpont, un endroit de la forêt extrêmement épais.

Il résolut d’y passer la journée.

En cherchant un abri derrière un rocher, il vit au fond d’un ravin quelque chose qui reluisait.

La curiosité lui inspira l’idée de descendre.

Ce quelque chose qui reluisait, c’était la plaque argentée du baudrier d’un garde.

Ce baudrier était passé en sautoir autour du cou d’un cadavre ou plutôt d’un squelette, car les chairs du cadavre avaient été rongées, et les os en avaient été nettoyés comme pour un cabinet d’anatomie ou un atelier de peinture.

Ce squelette était tout frais et semblait de la nuit même.

– Ah ! ah ! dit Thibault, voilà, selon toute probabilité, de l’ouvrage de mes amis les loups. Il paraît qu’ils ont profité de la permission que je leur ai donnée.

Il descendit dans le ravin, car il était curieux de savoir à qui avait appartenu le cadavre, et sa curiosité était facile à satisfaire.

La plaque, qui sans doute n’avait point paru à messieurs les loups d’aussi facile digestion que le reste, était toujours sur la poitrine du squelette comme une étiquette sur un ballot.

J.-B. Lestocq,
garde particulier de M. le comte de Mont-Gobert.

– Bon ! dit Thibault en riant, en voilà un qui n’a pas porté loin la peine de son assassinat !

Puis, le front soucieux, à voix basse et sans rire cette fois, Thibault ajouta comme en se parlant à lui-même.

– Est-ce que, par hasard, il y a une Providence ?

La mort de Lestocq n’était point difficile à comprendre.

En se rendant la nuit de Mont-Gobert à Longpont, sans doute pour exécuter quelque ordre de son maître, le garde du comte avait été attaqué par les loups. Il s’était défendu d’abord avec le même couteau de chasse dont il avait frappé le baron Raoul, car Thibault retrouva ce couteau à quelques pas du chemin, à un endroit où la terre, puissamment égratignée, indiquait une lutte ; puis, désarmé de son couteau de chasse, Lestocq avait été entraîné par les animaux féroces dans le ravin, et, là, dévoré par eux.

Thibault devenait tellement insoucieux à toute chose, qu’il n’eut de l’événement ni plaisir ni regret, ni satisfaction ni remords ; il songea seulement que cela simplifiait les desseins de la comtesse, qui n’aurait plus à se venger que de son mari.

Puis il s’établit entre les rochers le plus à l’abri du vent qu’il lui fut possible, afin d’y passer tranquillement la journée.

Vers midi, il entendit le cor du seigneur Jean et les abois de sa meute.

Le grand veneur chassait, mais la chasse passa assez loin de Thibault pour ne pas le déranger.

La nuit vint.

À neuf heures, Thibault se mit en route.

Il retrouva sa brèche, suivit son chemin et arriva au hangar où l’avait attendu Lisette le jour où il y venait sous les traits du baron Raoul.

La pauvre fille était toute tremblante.

Thibault voulut suivre les traditions et commença par l’embrasser.

Mais elle fit un bond en arrière avec un effroi visible.

– Oh ! dit-elle, ne me touchez pas ou j’appelle.

– Peste ! la belle fille, dit Thibault, vous n’étiez pas si revêche l’autre jour avec le baron Raoul.

– Oui, dit la suivante ; mais il s’est passé bien des choses depuis l’autre jour.

– Sans compter celles qui se passeront encore, dit allègrement Thibault.

– Oh ! répondit la chambrière d’un air sombre, je crois que maintenant le plus fort est fait.

Puis, marchant la première :

– Si vous voulez venir, dit-elle, suivez-moi.

Thibault la suivit.

Sans prendre aucune précaution, Lisette traversa tout l’espace libre qui séparait le massif du château.

– Oh ! oh ! dit Thibault, tu es bien brave aujourd’hui, la belle fille, et, si l’on nous voyait…

Mais elle, secouant la tête :

– Il n’y a plus de danger, dit-elle : tous les yeux qui pouvaient nous voir sont fermés.

Quoiqu’il ne comprît pas ce que voulait dire la jeune fille, l’accent dont elle prononça ces paroles fit tressaillir Thibault.

Il la suivit en silence, s’engagea avec elle dans l’escalier tournant et monta au premier étage.

Mais, au moment où Lisette mettait la main sur la clef de la chambre, il l’arrêta.

La solitude et le silence du château l’effrayaient. On eût dit d’un château maudit.

– Où allons-nous ? demanda Thibault sans trop savoir ce qu’il disait.

– Mais vous le savez bien.

– Dans la chambre de la comtesse ?

– Dans la chambre de la comtesse.

– Elle m’attend ?

– Elle vous attend.

Et Lisette ouvrit la porte.

– Entrez, dit-elle.

Thibault entra ; Lisette referma la porte et resta dans le corridor.

C’était bien la même chambre ravissante ; éclairée de la même façon, embaumée de la même odeur.

Thibault chercha des yeux la comtesse.

Il s’attendait à la voir paraître par la porte du cabinet de toilette.

La porte du cabinet de toilette restait fermée.

Aucun bruit ne se faisait entendre dans cette chambre, si ce n’est le tintement de la pendule en porcelaine de Sèvres et le battement du cœur de Thibault.

Il commença de regarder autour de lui avec un effroi dont il ne pouvait se rendre compte.

Ses yeux s’arrêtèrent sur le lit.

La comtesse était couchée.

Elle avait à la tête les mêmes épingles de diamant, au cou le même fil de perles, au corps la même robe de chambre de taffetas rose, aux pieds les mêmes mules de drap d’argent qu’elle avait pour recevoir le baron Raoul.

Thibault s’approcha.

La comtesse ne fit pas un mouvement à son approche.

– Vous dormez, belle comtesse ? dit-il en se penchant vers elle pour la regarder.

Mais tout à coup il se redressa, l’œil fixe, les cheveux hérissés, la sueur au front.

Il commençait de soupçonner la vérité terrible.

La comtesse dormait-elle du sommeil de ce monde ou du sommeil éternel ?

Thibault alla prendre un candélabre sur la cheminée, et, d’une main tremblante, l’approcha du visage de l’étrange dormeuse.

Le visage était pâle comme de l’ivoire et marbré aux tempes.

Les lèvres étaient violettes.

Une goutte de cire rose tomba toute brûlante sur ce masque de sommeil.

La comtesse ne se réveilla point.

– Oh ! oh ! qu’est-ce que cela ? dit Thibault.

Et il posa sur la table de nuit le candélabre, que ne pouvait plus soutenir sa main tremblante. Les deux bras de la comtesse étaient allongés contre son corps ; dans chacune de ses mains elle semblait enfermer quelque chose.

Thibault, avec effort, ouvrit la main gauche.

Il y trouva le flacon que la comtesse avait tiré la veille de son écrin.

Il ouvrit l’autre main.

Il y trouva un papier sur lequel étaient écrits ces seuls mots : Fidèle au rendez-vous.

Fidèle jusqu’après la mort, en effet.

La comtesse était morte.

Les illusions de Thibault lui échappaient les unes après les autres, comme les rêves du dormeur échappent à l’homme au fur et à mesure qu’il se réveille.

Seulement, dans les rêves des autres hommes, les morts se relèvent.

Les morts de Thibault, eux, restaient couchés.

Il s’essuya le front, alla à la porte du corridor, la rouvrit, et trouva Lisette agenouillée en priant.

– La comtesse est donc morte ? demanda Thibault.

– La comtesse est morte, et le comte est mort.

– Des suites des blessures qu’il avait reçues dans son combat avec le baron Raoul ?

– Non, du coup de poignard que lui a donné la comtesse.

– Oh ! oh ! fit Thibault essayant de grimacer le rire au milieu de ce sombre drame, c’est toute une histoire nouvelle et que je ne connais pas.

Cette histoire, la femme de chambre la lui raconta.

Elle était simple, mais terrible.

La comtesse était restée couchée une partie de la journée, écoutant sonner les cloches du village de Puiseux, qui annonçaient le départ du corps de Raoul pour le château de Vauparfond, où il devait être inhumé dans le caveau de ses ancêtres.

Vers quatre heures de l’après-midi, les cloches cessèrent de sonner.

Alors la comtesse s’était levée ; elle avait pris le poignard sous son oreiller, l’avait caché dans sa poitrine et s’était acheminée vers la chambre de son mari.

Elle trouva le valet de chambre tout joyeux.

Le médecin venait de sortir : il avait levé l’appareil et répondait de la vie du comte.

– Madame conviendra que c’est bien heureux ! dit le valet de chambre.

– Oui, c’est bien heureux, en effet.

Et la comtesse entra dans la chambre de son mari. Cinq minutes après elle en sortit.

– Le comte dort, dit-elle ; il faudra n’entrer chez lui que lorsqu’il appellera.

Le valet de chambre s’inclina en signe d’obéissance et s’assit dans l’antichambre afin d’être prêt au premier signal de son maître.

La comtesse rentra chez elle.

– Déshabillez-moi, Lisette, dit-elle à sa femme de chambre, et donnez-moi les vêtements que j’avais la dernière fois qu’il est venu.

La soubrette obéit. On a vu la fidélité avec laquelle elle avait revêtu ce costume dans ses moindres détails. Alors la comtesse écrivit quelques mots qu’elle plia et garda dans sa main droite. Puis elle se coucha sur son lit.

– Madame ne prendra-t-elle point quelque chose ? demanda la chambrière.

La comtesse ouvrit la main gauche et montra un flacon qu’elle y tenait enfermé.

– Si fait, Lisette, dit-elle, je vais prendre ce qu’il y a dans ce flacon.

– Comment ! dit Lisette, pas autre chose ?

– C’est assez, Lisette ; car, lorsque je l’aurai pris, je n’aurais plus besoin de rien.

Et, en effet, portant le flacon à sa bouche, la comtesse l’avait vidé d’un seul trait.

Puis elle avait dit :

– Vous avez vu l’homme qui nous a attendues sur la route, Lisette ; j’ai rendez-vous avec lui ce soir, de neuf à dix heures, dans ma chambre. Vous irez l’attendre où vous savez et le conduirez vers moi… Je ne veux point, ajouta-t-elle tout bas, que l’on dise que je n’ai pas été fidèle à ma parole, même après ma mort.

Thibault n’avait rien à dire : ce qui avait été arrêté avait été tenu.

Seulement, la comtesse s’était chargée seule de sa vengeance.

C’est ce que l’on sut lorsque le valet de chambre, inquiet du sort de son maître, entrouvrit la porte de la chambre, entra sur la pointe du pied, et trouva le comte couché sur le dos, un poignard dans le cœur.

Alors, on était accouru pour annoncer la nouvelle à madame, et l’on avait trouvé madame morte de son côté.

Le bruit de la double mort s’était aussitôt répandu dans la maison, et tous les domestiques avaient fui en disant que l’ange exterminateur était entré dans le château. Seule, la chambrière était restée pour accomplir les dernières volontés de sa maîtresse.

(254-261)

 

ON quitting the Countess’s room, Thibault had left the castle by the way which he had described to her, and soon found himself safe beyond its walls and outside the park. And now, for the first time in his life, Thibault had really nowhere to go. His hut was burnt, he was without a friend, and like Cain, he was a wanderer on the face of the earth. He turned to the unfailing shelter of the forest, and there made his way to the lower end of Chavigny; as the day was breaking he came across a solitary house, and asked if he could buy some bread. The woman belonging to it, her husband being away, gave him some, but refused to receive payment for it; his appearance frightened her. Having now food sufficient for the day, Thibault returned to the forest, with the intention of spending his time till evening in a part which he knew between Fleury and Longpont, where the trees were especially thick and tall. As he was looking for a resting place behind a rock, his eye was attracted by a shining object lying at the bottom of a slope, and his curiosity led him to climb down and see what it was. The shining object was the silver badge belonging to a huntsman’s shoulder-belt; the shoulder-belt was slung round the neck of a dead body, or rather of a skeleton, for the flesh had been entirely eaten off the bones, which were as clean as if prepared for an anatomist’s study or a painter’s studio. The skeleton looked as if it had only lain there since the preceding night.

“Ah! ah!” said Thibault, “this is probably the work of my friends, the wolves; they evidently profited by the permission which I gave them.”

Curious to know if possible who the victim was, he examined it more closely; his curiosity was soon satisfied, for the badge, which the wolves had no doubt rejected as less easily digestible than the rest, was lying on the chest of the skeleton, like a ticket on a bale of goods.

J. B. Lestocq,
Head Keeper to the Comte de Mont-Gobert.

“Well done!” laughed Thibault, “here is one at least who did not live long to enjoy the result of his murderous act.”

Then, contracting his brow, he muttered to himself, in a low voice, and this time without laughing:

“Is there perhaps, after all, what people call a Providence?”

Lestocq’s death was not difficult to account for. He had probably been executing some order for his master that night, and on the road between Mont-Gobert and Longpont, had been attacked by wolves. He had defended himself with the same knife with which he had wounded the Baron, for Thibault found the knife a few paces off, at a spot where the ground showed traces of a severe struggle; at last, being disarmed, the ferocious beasts had dragged him into the hollow, and there devoured him.

Thibault was becoming so indifferent to everything that he felt neither pleasure nor regret, neither satisfaction nor remorse, at Lestocq’s death; all he thought was, that it simplified matters for the Countess, as she would now only have her husband upon whom she need revenge herself. Then he went and found a place where the rocks afforded him the best shelter from the wind, and prepared to spend his day there in peace. Towards mid-day, he heard the horn of the Lord of Vez, and the cry of his hounds; the mighty huntsman was after game, but the chase did not pass near enough to Thibault to disturb him.

At last the night came. At nine o’clock Thibault rose and set out for the Castle of Mont-Gobert. He found the breach, followed the path he knew, and came to the little hut where Lisette had been awaiting him on the night when he had come in the guise of Raoul. The poor girl was there this evening, but alarmed and trembling. Thibault wished to carry out the old traditions and tried to kiss her, but she sprang back with visible signs of fear.

“Do not touch me,” she said, “or I shall call out.”

“Oh, indeed! my pretty one,” said Thibault, “you were not so sour-tempered the other day with the Baron Raoul.”

“May be not,” said the girl, “but a great many things have happened since the other day.”

“And many more to happen still,” said Thibault in a lively tone.

“I think,” said the waiting-maid in a mournful voice, “that the climax is already reached.”

Then, as she went on in front.

“If you wish to come,” she added, “follow me.”

Thibault followed her; Lisette, without the slightest effort at concealment, walked straight across the open space that lay between the trees and the castle.

“You are courageous to-day,” said Thibault, “and supposing some one were to see us....”

“There is no fear now,” she answered, “the eyes that could have seen us are all closed.”

Although he did not understand what the young girl meant by these words, the tone in which they were spoken made Thibault shiver.

He continued to follow her in silence as they went up the winding-stairs to the first floor. As Lisette laid her hand on the key of the door, Thibault suddenly stopped her. Something in the silence and solitude of the castle filled him with fear; it seemed as if a curse might have fallen on the place.

“Where are we going?” said Thibault, scarcely knowing himself what he said.

“You know well enough, surely.”

“Into the Countess’s room?”

“Into the Countess’s room.”

“She is waiting for me?”

“She is waiting for you.”

And Lisette opened the door. “Go in,” she said.

Thibault went in, and Lisette shut the door behind him and waited outside.

It was the same exquisite room, lighted in the same manner, filled with the same sweet scent. Thibault looked round for the Countess, he expected to see her appear at the dressing-room door, but the door remained closed. Not a sound was to be heard in the room, except the ticking of the Sèvres clock, and the beating of Thibault’s heart. He began to look about him with a feeling of shuddering fear for which he could not account; then his eyes fell on the bed; the Countess was lying asleep upon it. In her hair were the same diamond pins, round her neck the same pearls; she was dressed in the same pink silk dressing-gown, and had on the same little slippers of cloth of silver which she had worn to receive the Baron Raoul.

Thibault went up to her; the Countess did not stir.

“You are sleeping, fair Countess?” he said, leaning over to look at her.

But all at once, he started upright, staring before him, his hair standing on end, the sweat breaking out on his forehead. The terrible truth was beginning to dawn upon him; was the Countess sleeping the sleep of this world or of eternity?

He fetched a light from the mantel-piece, and with trembling hand, held it to the face of the mysterious sleeper. It was pale as ivory, with the delicate veins traced over the temples, and the lips still red. A drop of pink burning wax fell on this still face of sleep; it did not awake the Countess.

“Ah!” cried Thibault, “what is this?” and he put down the candle, which his shaking hand could no longer hold, on the night-table.

The Countess lay with her arms stretched out close to her sides; she appeared to be clasping something in either hand. With some effort, Thibault was able to open the left one; within it he found the little bottle, which she had taken from her dressing case the night before. He opened the other hand; within it lay a piece of paper on which were written these few words: “True to tryst,”—yes, true and faithful unto death, for the Countess was dead!

All Thibault’s illusions were fading one after the other, like the dreams of the night which gradually fade away, as the sleeper becomes more and more thoroughly awake. There was a difference, however, for other men find their dead alive again in their dreams; but with Thibault, his dead did not arise and walk, but remained lying for ever in their last sleep.

He wiped his forehead, went to the door leading into the corridor, and opened it, to find Lisette on her knees, praying.

“Is the Countess dead then?” asked Thibault.

“The Countess is dead, and the Count is dead.”

“From the effect of the wounds given him by the Baron Raoul?”

“No, from the blow with the dagger given him by the Countess.”

“Ah!” said Thibault, grimacing hideously, in his effort to force a laugh in the midst of this grim drama, “all this tale you hint at is new to me.”

Then Lisette told him the tale in full. It was a plain tale, but a terrible one.

The Countess had remained in bed part of the day, listening to the village bells of Puiseux, which were tolling as the Baron’s body was being borne from thence to Vauparfond, where he was to be laid in the family grave. Towards four o’clock the bells ceased; then the Countess rose, took the dagger from under her pillow, hid it in her breast, and went towards her husband’s room. She found the valet in attendance in good spirits; the doctor had just left, having examined the wound, and declared the Count’s life out of danger.

“Madame will agree that it is a thing to rejoice at!” said the valet.

“Yes, to rejoice at indeed.”

And the Countess went on into her husband’s room. Five minutes later she left it again.

“The Count is sleeping,” she said, “do not go in until he calls.”

The valet bowed and sat down in the ante-room to be in readiness at the first call from his master. The Countess went back to her room.

“Undress me, Lisette,” she said to her waiting maid, “and give me the clothes that I had on the last time he came.”

The maid obeyed; we have already seen how every detail of toilet was arranged exactly as it had been on that fatal night. Then the Countess wrote a few words on a piece of paper, which she folded and kept in her right hand. After that, she lay down on her bed.

“Will Madame not take anything,” asked the maid.

The Countess opened her left hand, and showed her a little bottle she was holding inside it.

“Yes, Lisette,” she said, “I am going to take what is in this bottle.”

“What, nothing but that!” said Lisette.

“It will be enough, Lisette; for after I have taken it, I shall have need of nothing more.”

And as she spoke, she put the bottle to her mouth and drank the contents at a draught. Then she said:

“You saw that man, Lisette, who waited for us in the road; I have a meeting with him this evening, here in my room, at half past nine. You know where to go and wait for him, and you will bring him here. I do not wish that anyone should be able to say that I was not true to my word, ever after I am dead.”

Thibault had nothing to say; the agreement made between them had been kept. Only the Countess had accomplished her revenge herself, single-handed, as everyone understood, when the valet feeling uneasy about his master, and going softly into his room to look at him, found him lying on his back with a dagger in his heart; and then hurrying to tell Madame what had happened, found the Countess dead also.

The news of this double death soon spread through the Castle, and all the servants had fled, saying that the exterminating Angel was in the Castle; the waiting-maid alone remained to carry out her dead mistress’s wishes.

(94-97)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

20.2

[Thibault’s Capture and Escape]

 

[Thibault leaves the castle. “The sky was dark, and if it had not been January, you might have imagined a thunder storm was brewing; there was barely light enough to see the footpath, as he went along. Once or twice Thibault paused; he fancied he had detected the sound of the dry branches cracking under someone’s footsteps keeping pace with his, both to right and left.” At the breach in the wall, “Thibault distinctly heard a voice say: ‘that’s the man!’ and at the same moment, two gendarmes, concealed on the farther side of the wall, seized Thibault by the collar, while two others came up behind.” Cramoisi had seen a man prowling the area recently, and he reported this to the police. “When the recent serious events that had taken place at the Castle became generally known, orders were given to send four men and take up any suspicious looking person seen prowling about.” These four men overcome and capture Thibault. They then see for themselves that it is Thibault, who has earned a bad reputation. They bind his hands and fetter his feet and lead him away. Thibault decides to save the use of his powers until he really needs them. But for this reason, the gendarmes “made jokes and laughed at him, asking the wizard Thibault [sorcier Thibault], why, being possessed of such power, he had allowed himself to be taken.” They arrive at the forest. “The weather was growing more and more threatening; the dark clouds hung so low that the trees looked as if they were holding up a huge black veil, and it was impossible to see four steps ahead.” Thibault then sees “lights swiftly passing, and crossing one another, in the darkness” (the wolves’ eyes) and laughs. Thibault calls to them with a howl, and “Twenty or more howls responded, some from close at hand, some from farther off.” Thibault next tells the wolves to all howl at once, which they do. The wolves then draw up to the group, even making contact with Thibault. The horses start panicking. Thibault tries to negotiate with the gendarmes to let him go. After one gendarme cuts into a wolf with his sword, the other wolves feast on it. Thibault explains, “the wolves eat each other, whatever the proverb may say, and once having tasted blood, I do not know that even I shall have the power to hold them back.” Then “ There was a sudden sound as of an approaching hurricane—the whole pack was in pursuit, following them up at full gallop.” The horses take off to escape the pack. The gendarme who held the rope that was tied to Thibault lets go of it while trying to control his horse. Then “the wolves leaped on to the horses, clinging desperately to the cruppers and withers and throats of the terrified animals. No sooner had the latter felt the sharp teeth of their assailants, than they scattered, rushing in every direction.” The wolves chase the horses and their riders off in various directions, leaving Thibault all alone. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not get out of his restraints. “At last, tired of trying to wrest his hands free, he lifted them, bound as they were, to heaven, and cried: ‘Oh! black wolf! friend, let these cords that bind me be loosened; thou knowest well that it is only to do evil that I wish for my hands to be free.’ And at the same moment his fetters were broken and fell to the ground, and Thibault beat his hands together with another roar, this time of joy.”]

 

[ditto]

 

Thibault n’avait plus rien à faire dans la maison. Il laissa la comtesse sur son lit, Lisette près d’elle, et descendit.

Comme l’avait dit la chambrière, il n’avait plus à craindre de rencontrer ni maîtres ni domestiques. Les domestiques s’étaient enfuis, les maîtres étaient morts.

Thibault reprit le chemin de la brèche. Le ciel était sombre, et, si l’on n’eût été au mois de janvier, on l’eût dit orageux.

À peine si l’on voyait dans le parc la trace du sentier.

Deux ou trois fois Thibault s’arrêta, prêtant l’oreille ; il lui semblait avoir entendu à sa droite et à sa gauche craquer les branches sous des pas qui semblaient se régler sur le sien.

Arrivé à la brèche, Thibault entendit distinctement une voix qui disait :

– C’est lui !

Au même instant, deux gendarmes embusqués en dehors de la brèche, sautèrent au collet de Thibault, tandis que deux autres l’attaquaient par-derrière. Cramoisi, qui, dans sa jalousie contre Lisette, veillait et rôdait une partie des nuits, avait vu, la veille, entrer et sortir par des chemins détournés un homme inconnu et l’avait dénoncé au brigadier de la gendarmerie.

La dénonciation devint encore plus grave lorsque l’on sut les nouveaux malheurs arrivés au château.

Le brigadier envoya quatre hommes avec ordre d’arrêter tout rôdeur suspect.

Deux des quatre hommes, guidés par Cramoisi, s’embusquèrent à la brèche ; les deux autres suivirent pas à pas Thibault dans le parc.

On a vu comment, au signal de Cramoisi, tous les quatre s’étaient jetés sur lui.

La lutte fut longue et opiniâtre.

Thibault n’était point un homme que quatre gendarmes pussent abattre ainsi sans difficulté.

Mais il n’avait pas d’armes ; sa résistance fut inutile.

Les gendarmes y avaient mis d’autant plus de persistance qu’ils avaient reconnu Thibault, et que Thibault, recommandé par les différents malheurs qu’il avait traînés à sa suite, commençait à avoir une détestable réputation dans la contrée. Thibault fut terrassé, garrotté et mis entre deux chevaux.

Les deux autres gendarmes marchèrent l’un devant, l’autre derrière.

C’était plutôt par amour-propre que pour autre chose que Thibault avait lutté.

Sa puissance pour faire le mal était, on le sait, indéfinie.

Il n’avait qu’à souhaiter la mort de ses quatre assaillants, et ses quatre assaillants fussent tombés morts.

Mais il serait toujours temps d’en arriver là. Fût-il au pied de l’échafaud, tant qu’il lui resterait un souhait à faire, il était sûr d’échapper à la justice des hommes.

Thibault garrotté, avec des cordes aux mains, des entraves aux pieds, marchait donc entre ses quatre gendarmes avec une résignation apparente.

Un des gendarmes tenait le bout de la corde qui le liait.

Eux plaisantaient et riaient, demandant au sorcier Thibault comment, ayant le pouvoir qu’il avait, il s’était laissé prendre.

Et Thibault répondait à leurs plaisanteries par le proverbe si connu : « Rira bien qui rira le dernier. »

Les gendarmes espéraient bien que ce seraient eux qui les derniers riraient.

On dépassa Puiseux et on entra dans la forêt.

Le temps était devenu de plus en plus sombre. On eût dit que les nuages, comme un immense voile noir, étaient supportés par la cime des arbres. On ne voyait point à quatre pas autour de soi.

Thibault voyait, lui.

Il voyait de tous côtés des lumières passer rapides dans les ténèbres et se croiser en tous sens.

Ces lumières se rapprochaient de plus en plus et étaient accompagnées d’un piétinement dans les feuilles sèches.

Les chevaux, inquiets, reculaient en aspirant le vent de la nuit et frissonnant sous leurs cavaliers.

Les gendarmes, qui riaient d’un gros rire, se taisaient peu à peu.

Thibault se mit à rire à son tour.

– De quoi ris-tu ? lui demanda un gendarme.

– De ce que vous ne riez plus, dit Thibault.

À la voix de Thibault, les lumières se rapprochèrent encore et les piétinements devinrent distincts.

Puis on entendit un bruit sinistre, un bruit de mâchoires dont les dents claquaient les unes contre les autres.

– Oui, oui, mes amis les loups, dit Thibault, vous avez goûté de la chair humaine, et cela vous a semblé bon !

Un petit grognement d’approbation, qui tenait à la fois du chien et de l’hyène, lui répondit.

– C’est cela, dit Thibault, je comprends : après avoir mangé du garde-chasse, vous ne seriez pas fâchés de goûter du gendarme.

– Oh ! oh ! dirent les cavaliers, qui commençaient à frissonner, à qui parles-tu donc ?

– À ceux qui me répondent, dit Thibault.

Et il poussa un hurlement. Vingt hurlements lui répondirent. Il y en avait qui n’étaient qu’à dix pas, il y en avait qui étaient fort loin.

– Hum ! fit un des gendarmes, quels sont donc ces animaux qui nous suivent ainsi, et dont ce misérable semble parler la langue ?

– Ah ! dit le sabotier, vous faites prisonnier Thibault le meneur de loups, vous le conduisez par les bois pendant la nuit, et vous demandez quels sont ces lumières et ces hurlements qui le suivent !… Entendez-vous, amis ? cria Thibault, ces messieurs demandent qui vous êtes. Répondez-leur tous ensemble, afin qu’ils n’aient plus aucun doute.

Les loups, obéissant à la voix de leur maître, poussèrent un hurlement unanime et prolongé. Le souffle des chevaux devint bruyant ; deux ou trois se cabrèrent. Les gendarmes firent ce qu’ils purent pour calmer leurs montures en les flattant de la main et de la voix.

– Oh ! dit Thibault, ce n’est rien ; il faudra voir cela tout à l’heure, quand chaque cheval aura deux loups en croupe et un à la gorge !

Les loups passèrent sous les jambes des chevaux et vinrent caresser Thibault.

L’un d’eux se dressa contre sa poitrine comme pour lui demander ses ordres.

– Tout à l’heure, tout à l’heure, dit Thibault ; nous avons le temps ; ne soyons pas égoïstes et donnons aux camarades le loisir d’arriver.

Les gendarmes n’étaient plus maîtres de leurs chevaux, qui se cabraient, faisaient des écarts, et, tout en marchant au pas, se couvraient de sueur et d’écume.

– N’est-ce pas, dit Thibault aux gendarmes, que vous feriez bien maintenant une affaire avec moi ? Ce serait de me rendre la liberté, à la condition que chacun de vous couchera cette nuit dans son lit.

– Au pas, dit un des gendarmes ; tant que nous marcherons au pas, nous n’avons rien à craindre.

Un autre tira son sabre.

Au bout de quelques secondes, on entendit un hurlement de douleur.

Un des loups avait saisi le gendarme à la botte, et celui-ci l’avait traversé d’outre en outre avec son sabre.

– Ah ! dit Thibault, voilà ce que j’appelle une imprudence gendarme ; les loups se mangent, quoi qu’en dise le proverbe, et, quand ils vont avoir goûté du sang, je ne sais pas si, moi-même, je pourrai les retenir.

Les loups se jetèrent tous ensemble sur leur camarade blessé. Au bout de cinq minutes, il n’en restait plus que les os.

Les gendarmes avaient profité de ces cinq minutes de répit pour gagner du chemin, ne lâchant pas Thibault et le forçant de courir avec eux. Mais ce qu’avait prédit Thibault arriva.

On entendit tout à coup comme un ouragan.

C’était la meute qui arrivait au grand galop.

Les chevaux, lancés au trot, refusèrent de reprendre le pas, effrayés par le piétinement, l’odeur et le hurlement des loups.

Ils se mirent au galop, malgré les efforts de leurs cavaliers.

Celui qui tenait Thibault par la corde n’ayant pas trop de ses deux mains pour maîtriser son cheval, lâcha le prisonnier.

Les loups bondirent les uns sur la croupe, les autres à la gorge des chevaux.

Dès que ceux-ci sentirent les dents aiguës de leurs adversaires, ils s’élancèrent dans toutes les directions.

– Hourra, les loups ! hourra ! cria Thibault.

Mais les terribles animaux n’avaient pas besoin d’être encouragés. Outre les deux ou trois qu’il avait après lui, chaque cheval en eut bientôt six ou sept à sa poursuite.

Chevaux et loups disparurent dans toutes les directions, et l’on entendit bientôt, s’affaiblissant dans l’éloignement les cris de détresse des hommes, les hennissements de douleur des chevaux et les hurlements de rage des loups.

Thibault était resté libre.

Seulement, il avait les mains garrottées par une corde et des entraves aux pieds. Il essaya d’abord de couper ses liens avec ses dents. Impossible.

Il essaya de les briser par la force des muscles. Ce fut inutile.

Les efforts qu’il tenta firent que les cordes lui entrèrent dans les chairs ; voilà tout.

Ce fut à lui à son tour de rugir de douleur, d’angoisse et de rage.

Enfin, las de tordre ses bras garrottés :

Oh ! loup, noir, mon ami, dit-il en levant au ciel ses deux poings fermés, fais tomber ces cordes qui me lient. Tu sais bien que c’est pour faire le mal que je veux avoir les mains libres.

Au même instant, les cordes rompues tombèrent aux pieds de Thibault, qui battit l’air de ses mains avec un rugissement de joie.

(261-267)

 

Thibault had nothing more to do at the castle, so he left the Countess on her bed, with Lisette near her, and went down stairs. As Lisette had said, there was no fear now of meeting either master or servants; the servants had run away, the master and mistress were dead. Thibault once more made for the breach in the wall. The sky was dark, and if it had not been January, you might have imagined a thunder storm was brewing; there was barely light enough to see the footpath, as he went along. Once or twice Thibault paused; he fancied he had detected the sound of the dry branches cracking under someone’s footsteps keeping pace with his, both to right and left.

Having come to the breach, Thibault distinctly heard a voice say: “that’s the man!” and at the same moment, two gendarmes, concealed on the farther side of the wall, seized Thibault by the collar, while two others came up behind.

It appeared that Cramoisi, jealous with regard to Lisette, had been prowling about at nights on the watch, and had, only the evening before, noticed a strange man come in and go out of the park along the more secluded paths, and he had reported the fact to the head of the police. When the recent serious events that had taken place at the Castle became generally known, orders were given to send four men and take up any suspicious looking person seen prowling about. Two of the men, with Cramoisi for guide, had ambushed on the farther side of the breach, and the two others had dogged Thibault through the park. Then as we have seen, at the signal given by Cramoisi, they had all four fallen upon him as he issued from the breach.

There was a long and obstinate struggle; Thibault was not a man that even four others could overcome without difficulty; but he had no weapon by him, and his resistance was therefore useless. The gendarmes had been more bent on securing him, on account of having recognised that it was Thibault, and Thibault was beginning to earn a very bad name, so many misfortunes having become associated with it; so Thibault was knocked down, and finally bound and led off between two mounted men. The other two gendarmes walked one in front, and one behind. Thibault had merely struggled out of a natural feeling of self-defence and pride, for his power to inflict evil was, as we know, unlimited, and he had but to wish his assailants dead, and they would have fallen lifeless at his feet. But he thought there was time enough for that; as long as there still remained a wish to him, he could escape from man’s justice, even though he were at the foot of the scaffold.

So, Thibault, securely bound, his hands tied, and fetters upon his feet, walked along between his four gendarmes, apparently in a state of resignation. One of the gendarmes held the end of the rope with which he was bound, and the four men made jokes and laughed at him, asking the wizard Thibault [sorcier Thibault], why, being possessed of such power, he had allowed himself to be taken. And Thibault replied to their scoffings with the well-known Proverb: “He laughs best who laughs last,” and the gendarmes expressed a wish that they might be the ones to do so.

On leaving Puiseux behind, they came to the forest. The weather was growing more and more threatening; the dark clouds hung so low that the trees looked as if they were holding up a huge black veil, and it was impossible to see four steps ahead. But he, Thibault saw; saw lights swiftly passing, and crossing one another, in the darkness on either side. Closer and closer drew the lights, and pattering footfalls were heard among the dry leaves. The horses became restive, shied and snorted, sniffing the air and trembling beneath their riders, while the coarse laughter of the men themselves died down. It was Thibault’s turn to laugh now.

“What are you laughing at?” asked one of the gendarmes. “I am laughing at your having left off laughing,” said Thibault.

The lights drew nearer, and the footfalls became more distinct, at the sound of Thibault’s voice. Then a more ominous sound was heard, a sound of teeth striking together, as jaws opened and shut.

“Yes, yes, my friends,” said Thibault, “you have tasted human flesh, and you found it good.”

He was answered by a low growl of approbation, half like a dog’s, and half like a hyena’s.

“Quite so,” said Thibault, “I understand; after having made a meal of a keeper, you would not mind tasting a gendarme.”

The gendarmes themselves were beginning to shudder with fear. “To whom are you talking?” they asked him.

“To those who can answer me,” said Thibault; and he gave a howl. Twenty or more howls responded, some from close at hand, some from farther off.

“H’m!” said one of the gendarmes, “what are these beasts that are following us? this good-for-nothing seems to understand their language?”

“What!” said the shoe-maker, “you take Thibault the wolf-master prisoner, you carry him through the forest at night, and then you ask what are the lights and the howls that follow him!... Do you hear, friends?” cried Thibault, “these gentlemen are asking who you are. Answer them, all of you together, that they may have no further doubt on the matter.”

The wolves, obedient to their master’s voice, gave one prolonged, unanimous howl. The horses panted and shivered, and one or two of them reared. The gendarmes endeavoured to calm their animals, patting and gentling them.

“That is nothing,” said Thibault, “wait till you see each horse with two wolves hanging on to its hind-quarters and another at its throat.”

The wolves now came in between the horses’ legs, and began caressing Thibault; one of them stood up, and put its front paws on Thibault’s chest, as if asking for orders.

“Presently, presently,” said Thibault, “there is plenty of time; do not be selfish, give your comrades time to come up.”

The men could no longer control their horses, which were rearing and shying, and although going at a foot’s pace, were streaming with sweat.

“Do you not think,” said Thibault, “you would do best now to come to terms with me? That is, if you were to let me free on condition that you all sleep in your beds to-night.”

“Go at a walking pace,” said one of the gendarmes, “as long as we do that, we have nothing to fear.”

Another one drew his sword. A second or two later there was a howl of pain; one of the wolves had seized hold of this gendarme’s boot, and the latter had pierced him through with his weapon.

“I call that a very imprudent thing to do,” said Thibault; “the wolves eat each other, whatever the proverb may say, and once having tasted blood, I do not know that even I shall have the power to hold them back.”

The wolves threw themselves in a body on their wounded comrade, and in five minutes there was nothing left of its carcase but the bare bones. The gendarmes had profited by this respite to get on ahead, but without releasing Thibault, whom they obliged to run alongside of them; what he had foreseen, however, happened. There was a sudden sound as of an approaching hurricane—the whole pack was in pursuit, following them up at full gallop. The horses, having once started trotting, refused to go at a walking pace again, and frightened by the stamping, the smell, and the howls, now set off galloping, in spite of their riders’ efforts to hold them in. The man who had hold of the rope, now requiring both hands to master his horse, let go of Thibault; and the wolves leaped on to the horses, clinging desperately to the cruppers and withers and throats of the terrified animals. No sooner had the latter felt the sharp teeth of their assailants, than they scattered, rushing in every direction.

“Hurrah, wolves! hurrah!” cried Thibault. But the fierce animals had no need of encouragement, and soon each horse had six or seven more wolves in pursuit of him.

Horses and wolves disappeared, some one way some the other, and the men’s cries of distress, the agonised neighings of the horses, and the furious howls of the wolves became gradually fainter and fainter as they travelled farther away.

Thibault was left free once more, and alone. His hands however were still bound, and his feet fettered. First he tried to undo the cord with his teeth, but this he found impossible. Then he tried to wrench his bonds apart by the power of his muscles, but that too was unavailing; the only result of his efforts was to make the cord cut into his flesh. It was his turn to bellow with pain and anger. At last, tired of trying to wrest his hands free, he lifted them, bound as they were, to heaven, and cried:

“Oh! black wolf! friend, let these cords that bind me be loosened; thou knowest well that it is only to do evil that I wish for my hands to be free.”

And at the same moment his fetters were broken and fell to the ground, and Thibault beat his hands together with another roar, this time of joy.

(97-99)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bibliography:

 

Dumas, Alexandre. 1868. Le meneur de loups. (Nouvelle édition). Paris: Lévy.

PDF at:

https://archive.org/det ails/bub_gb_BhlMAAAAMAAJ/page/n5

and:

https://beq.ebooksgratuits.com/vents/Dumas-meneur.pdf

Online text at:

https://fr.wikisource.org/wik i/Le_Meneur_de_loups

and

https://fr.wikisource.org/wiki/Livre:Dumas_- _Le_Meneur_de_loups_(1868).djvu

 

Dumas, Alexandre.  1921. The Wolf-Leader. Translated by Alfred Allinson. London: Methuen.

PDF at:

https://archive.org/details/wolfle ader00duma

or:

https://archive.org/details/wo lfleader00dumauoft

Online text at:

http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51054

http://www.gutenberg.org/files/51054/51054-h/51054-h.htm

 

.

Dumas (19) The Wolf-Leader (Le meneur de loups), Ch.19, “The Dead and the Living”, summary

 

by Corry Shores

 

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[The following is summary. Boldface, underlining, bracketed commentary, and section subdivisions are my own. Proofreading is incomplete, so please forgive my mistakes. Text is copied from online sources (see bibliography below).]

 

 

 

 

Summary of

 

Alexandre Dumas

 

Le meneur de loups

The Wolf-Leader

 

19

“Lequel était vivant, lequel était mort ?”

“The Dead and the Living”

 

 

 

 

 

Brief summary (collecting those below):

__(19.1)__ (Recall from section 18 that Thibault the sorcerer was temporarily in body of Raoul the Lord of Vauparfond and he just experienced his death.) Thibault awakes from his death experience in his hut, which is entirely in flames; “at first he thought it was a continuation of his nightmare, but then he heard cries of, ‘Death to the wizard! death to the sorcerer! death to the were-wolf!’ [« Mort au sorcier ! Mort au magicien ! Mort au loup-garou ! »] and he understood that some terrible attack was being made upon him.” Thibault runs out of his house with his boar spear. The attackers chase after him and shoot at him. From their dress he knows they are the Baron of Vez’s men, and he recalls the Baron’s promise of doing this (see section 13.2). “He was then beyond the pale of the law; he could be smoked out of his hole like a fox; he could be shot down like a buck.” __(19.2)__ He escapes and “sat down at the foot of a tree and buried his head in his hands. The events of the last forty-eight hours had succeeded each other with such rapidity, that there was no lack of matter to serve as subjects of reflection to the shoe-maker.” Thibault decides he should go see if Baron Raoul is really dead like how Thibault experienced it. Just then his pack of wolves gather around him. They head to town, but are seen: “The huntsmen of the Lord of Vez, who were poking up the remaining embers of the ruined hut, saw a man pass, as in a vision, running at the head of a dozen or more wolves. They crossed themselves, and became more convinced than ever that Thibault was a wizard [sorcier]. And anybody else who had seen Thibault, flying along as swiftly as his swiftest wolf, and covering the ground between Oigny and Puiseux in less than a quarter of an hour, would certainly have thought so too.” When he gets to town, he tells the wolves not to follow but rather to amuse themselves, including killing men. He goes to the Priest’s, making “a circuit so as to avoid passing in front of the Cross.” In the window he sees a corpse. He goes in to see that indeed it is Raoul. “At the first glance you might have thought he only slept; but on gazing longer you recognised in that immovable calm something more profound than sleep. The presence of one who carries a sickle for sceptre, and wears a shroud for mantle was unmistakeable, and you knew King Death was there.” A woman in black enters, all while another woman keeps lookout. It is Raoul’s illicit lover, the Countess of Mont-Gobert. She cries and asks the body to tell her his assassin so she can avenge his death. She then thinks she hears someone say, “I will!” and the curtain shakes, and she jumps backward. But when she looks behind the curtain, no one is there. She cuts herself a lock of Raoul’s hair. As she was leaving, the Priest enters and asks who she is. She replies, “I am Grief,” and the Priest lets her pass. __(19.3)__ The Countess leaves by foot. Down the road Thibault hides behind a willow tree, then jumps out in front of them. He says he is the one who said, “I will [tell the assassin's name and help avenge Raoul’s death]” just before. He says he will help her avenge Raoul’s death. They need to discuss this in secret. Thibault reveals that he knows Raoul’s secret entrance method: “I can go through the breach in the park wall: Mademoiselle Lisette can wait for me in the hut where Monsieur Raoul used to leave his horse, she can take me up the winding-stair and into your room. If you should be in your dressing-room, I will wait for you, as Monsieur Raoul waited the night before last” (see sections 16.2 and 16.3). The women are alarmed by this and ask how he knows it. Thibault says he will explain it later. Thibault disappears. Then later at the castle, Lisette brings Thibault to the Countess’ room, but she is disturbed by Thibault’s knowledge of how to get there: “he knew his way up as well as I did! And oh! Madame! if you knew what he said to me! That man is the devil [le démon], Madame, I feel sure!” When he presents himself to the Countess, “He gave the impression of a man who had once and for all made up his mind, but it was also easy to see that it was for no good purpose; a Satanic smile played about his mouth, and there was a demoniacal light in his eyes [la bouche était contractée par un rire satanique, l’œil brillait d’une lueur infernale]. He had made no attempt to hide his red hairs, but had left them defiantly uncovered, and they hung over his forehead like a plume of flame.” Thibault explains that the reason he knows the way is because he was here the night before. Thibault describes the events in perfect detail. In the middle of his recounting, the Countess says: “‘Lisette was right, you can be nothing less than the devil [le démon],’ said the Countess with a sinister laugh, ‘and I think we shall be able to do business together.... Finish your account.’ ” Thibault continues the narration all the way to Raoul’s death. To pay for Thibault’s services, she hand him pearls worth fifty thousand livres. He says it will cost more, but he will name the price when they meet again the next night here at her room. Thibault leaves. “The Countess went and replaced the pearls in her dressing case; lifted up a false bottom, and drew from underneath it a small bottle containing an opal-coloured liquid, and a little dagger with a jewelled handle and case, and a blade inlaid with gold. She hid both beneath her pillow, knelt at her prie-dieu, and, her prayer finished, threw herself dressed on to her bed....”]

 

 

 

 

 

 

Contents

 

19.1

[Thibault’s Persecution and Escape]

 

19.2

[Thibault’s Visit to Dead Raoul]

 

19.3

[The Countess’ Deal with Thibault]

 

Bibliography

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Summary

 

19.1

[Thibault’s Persecution and Escape]

 

[(Recall from section 18 that Thibault the sorcerer was temporarily in body of Raoul the Lord of Vauparfond and he just experienced his death.) Thibault awakes from his death experience in his hut, which is entirely in flames; “at first he thought it was a continuation of his nightmare, but then he heard cries of, ‘Death to the wizard! death to the sorcerer! death to the were-wolf!’ [« Mort au sorcier ! Mort au magicien ! Mort au loup-garou ! »] and he understood that some terrible attack was being made upon him.” Thibault runs out of his house with his boar spear. The attackers chase after him and shoot at him. From their dress he knows they are the Baron of Vez’s men, and he recalls the Baron’s promise of doing this (see section 13.2). “He was then beyond the pale of the law; he could be smoked out of his hole like a fox; he could be shot down like a buck.”]

 

[ditto]

Au même moment où l’âme frémissante du jeune gentilhomme s’envolait, Thibault, comme s’il sortait d’un sommeil agité par des rêves terribles, se soulevait sur son lit.

Il était tout entouré de flammes.

Le feu était aux quatre coins de sa cabane.

Il crut d’abord que c’était la continuation de son cauchemar.

Mais il entendit si distinctement crier : « Mort au sorcier ! Mort au magicien ! Mort au loup-garou ! » qu’il comprit qu’il se passait quelque chose de terrible contre lui.

Puis les flammes approchaient, gagnaient son lit ; il en sentait la chaleur.

Quelques secondes encore, il allait se trouver au centre d’un vaste bûcher.

Un instant d’hésitation, et toute retraite allait lui être fermée ; il ne pourrait plus fuir.

Thibault bondit à bas de sa couchette, s’empara d’un épieu, et s’élança par la porte de derrière de sa cabane.

Au moment où on le vit passer au milieu des flammes et déboucher à travers la fumée, les cris : « À mort ! À mort ! » redoublèrent.

Trois ou quatre coups de feu partirent.

Ces trois ou quatre coups de feu étaient bien destinés à Thibault.

Il avait entendu siffler les balles.

Les hommes qui avaient tiré sur lui étaient à la livrée du grand veneur.

Thibault se souvint de la menace que, deux jours auparavant, lui avait faite le baron de Vez.

Il était donc hors la loi.

On pouvait l’enfumer comme un renard dans son terrier ; on pouvait tirer sur lui comme sur une bête fauve.

Par bonheur pour Thibault, aucune balle ne l’atteignit.

La flamme de sa chaumière ne formait qu’un cercle étroit de lumière ; il fut bientôt hors de ce cercle.

Alors il se trouva dans l’obscurité des grands bois, et, sans les clameurs de la valetaille qui brûlait sa maison, le silence eût, à cette heure, été égal à l’obscurité.

(243-244)

 

AT the same moment that the trembling soul of the young Baron passed away, Thibault, awaking as if from an agitated sleep full of terrible dreams, sat up in his bed. He was surrounded by fire, every corner of his hut was in flames; at first he thought it was a continuation of his nightmare, but then he heard cries of, “Death to the wizard! death to the sorcerer! death to the were-wolf!” [« Mort au sorcier ! Mort au magicien ! Mort au loup-garou ! »] and he understood that some terrible attack was being made upon him.

The flames came nearer, they reached the bed, he felt their heat upon him; a few seconds more and he would be burned alive in the midst of the flaming pile. Thibault leaped from his bed, seized his boar-spear, and dashed out of the back door of his hut. No sooner did his enemies see him rush through the fire and emerge from the smoke than their cries of “death to him!” “death!” were redoubled. One or two shots were fired at him; Thibault heard the bullets whizz past; those who shot at him wore the livery of the Grand Master, and Thibault recalled the menace of the lord of Vez, uttered against him a few days before.

He was then beyond the pale of the law; he could be smoked out of his hole like a fox; he could be shot down like a buck. Luckily for Thibault, not one of the bullets struck him, and as the circle of fire made by the burning hut was not a large one, he was soon safely beyond it, and once again in shelter of the vast and gloomy forest, where, had it not been for the cries of the menials who were burning down his house, the silence would have been as complete as the darkness.

(90-91)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

19.2

[Thibault’s Visit to Dead Raoul]

 

[He escapes and “sat down at the foot of a tree and buried his head in his hands. The events of the last forty-eight hours had succeeded each other with such rapidity, that there was no lack of matter to serve as subjects of reflection to the shoe-maker.” Thibault decides he should go see if Baron Raoul is really dead like how Thibault experienced it. Just then his pack of wolves gather around him. They head to town, but are seen: “The huntsmen of the Lord of Vez, who were poking up the remaining embers of the ruined hut, saw a man pass, as in a vision, running at the head of a dozen or more wolves. They crossed themselves, and became more convinced than ever that Thibault was a wizard [sorcier]. And anybody else who had seen Thibault, flying along as swiftly as his swiftest wolf, and covering the ground between Oigny and Puiseux in less than a quarter of an hour, would certainly have thought so too.” When he gets to town, he tells the wolves not to follow but rather to amuse themselves, including killing men. He goes to the Priest’s, making “a circuit so as to avoid passing in front of the Cross.” In the window he sees a corpse. He goes in to see that indeed it is Raoul. “At the first glance you might have thought he only slept; but on gazing longer you recognised in that immovable calm something more profound than sleep. The presence of one who carries a sickle for sceptre, and wears a shroud for mantle was unmistakeable, and you knew King Death was there.” A woman in black enters, all while another woman keeps lookout. It is Raoul’s illicit lover, the Countess of Mont-Gobert. She cries and asks the body to tell her his assassin so she can avenge his death. She then thinks she hears someone say, “I will!” and the curtain shakes, and she jumps backward. But when she looks behind the curtain, no one is there. She cuts herself a lock of Raoul’s hair. As she was leaving, the Priest enters and asks who she is. She replies, “I am Grief,” and the Priest lets her pass.]

 

[ditto]

Il s’assit au pied d’un arbre et laissa tomber sa tête entre ses mains.

Les événements s’étaient, depuis quarante-huit heures écoulés avec une assez grande rapidité pour que les sujets de réflexion ne manquassent pas au sabotier.

Seulement, ces dernières vingt-quatre heures, où il avait vécu d’une autre vie que la sienne, lui semblaient un rêve.

Il n’aurait point osé jurer que toute cette histoire du baron Raoul, de la comtesse Jane et du seigneur de Mont-Gobert fût vraie.

Il releva la tête en entendant tinter l’heure à l’église d’Oigny.

C’étaient dix heures qui sonnaient.

Dix heures !

À neuf heures et demie, il était encore couché agonisant, sous la forme du baron Raoul, dans la chambre du curé de Puiseux.

– Ah ! pardieu ! dit-il, il faut que j’en aie le cœur net ! Il y a une lieue à peine d’ici à Puiseux : en une demi-heure j’y serai ; je veux m’assurer si le baron Raoul est vraiment bien mort.

Un lugubre hurlement répondit à cette question que Thibault se faisait à lui-même.

Il regarda autour de lui.

Ses fidèles gardes du corps étaient revenus.

Le meneur de loups avait retrouvé sa meute.

– Allons ! loups, mes seuls amis, allons ! dit-il, en route !

Et il piqua avec eux à travers bois, dans la direction de Puiseux. Les valets du seigneur Jean, qui remuaient les derniers restes de la cabane en flammes, virent passer comme une vision un homme qui courait à la tête d’une douzaine de loups.

Ils se signèrent.

Plus que jamais ils furent convaincus que Thibault était sorcier.

Tout le monde l’eût cru comme les valets du seigneur Jean, surtout en voyant Thibault, aussi rapide que le plus rapide de ses compagnons, faire cette lieue qui sépare Oigny de Puiseux en moins d’un quart d’heure. Arrivé aux premières maisons du village, il s’arrêta.

– Amis loups, dit-il, je n’ai plus besoin de vous cette nuit ; au contraire, je tiens à être seul. Amusez-vous avec les étables du voisinage ; je vous donne carte blanche. Et, si vous trouvez sur votre route quelques-uns de ces animaux à deux pieds qu’on appelle des hommes, amis loups, oubliez qu’ils prétendent être faits à l’image du Créateur, et ne vous en privez pas.

Les loups s’élancèrent dans toutes les directions en hurlant de joie.

Thibault continua son chemin.

Il entra dans le village.

La maison du curé touchait à l’église.

Thibault fit un détour pour ne point passer devant la croix.

Il arriva au presbytère.

À travers la vitre, il regarda et vit un cierge allumé près du lit.

Un drap était étendu sur le lit, et sous ce drap, se dessinait une forme humaine accusant la rigidité cadavérique.

La maison paraissait vide.

Sans doute le curé était allé faire sa déclaration de décès chez le maire du village.

Thibault entra. Il appela le curé. Personne ne répondit.

Thibault marcha droit au lit.

C’était bien un cadavre qui était couché sous le drap.

Il leva le drap. C’était bien le seigneur Raoul.

Il avait cette beauté calme et fatale que donne l’éternité.

Ses traits, de son vivant un peu féminins pour un homme, avaient acquis la sombre grandeur du trépas.

À la première vue, on eût pu croire qu’il dormait ; mais, avec plus d’attention, on reconnaissait dans son immobilité quelque chose de plus profond que le sommeil.

On reconnaissait la reine qui a une faux pour sceptre, un linceul pour manteau impérial.

On reconnaissait la Mort.

Thibault avait laissé la porte ouverte.

Il lui sembla entendre un léger bruit de pas.

Il se rangea derrière le rideau de serge verte qui retombait au fond de l’alcôve, devant une porte qui, en cas de surprise, lui offrait une retraite.

Une femme vêtue de noir, couverte d’un voile noir, s’arrêta avec hésitation devant la porte.

Une autre tête passa près de la sienne et plongea son regard dans l’intérieur de la chambre.

– Je crois que madame peut entrer ; il n’y a personne, et, d’ailleurs, moi, je veillerai.

La femme vêtue de noir entra, s’avança lentement vers le lit, s’arrêta pour essuyer la sueur qui coulait sur son front, puis, d’une main résolue, elle leva le drap que Thibault avait rejeté sur le visage du mort.

Thibault reconnut la comtesse.

– Hélas ! dit-elle, on ne m’avait pas trompée !

Puis elle se laissa tomber à genoux et pria, tout en pleurant à sanglots.

Sa prière finie, elle se releva, baisa le front pâle du mort et les lèvres violettes de la blessure par où l’âme s’était envolée.

– Ô mon bien-aimé Raoul ! murmura-t-elle, qui me nommera ton meurtrier ? Qui me secondera dans ma vengeance ?

La comtesse avait à peine achevé ces mots qu’elle poussa un cri et fit un bond en arrière. Il lui semblait qu’une voix avait répondu :

– Moi !

Et les rideaux de serge verte avaient tremblé.

Mais ce n’était point un cœur faible que la comtesse. Elle prit le cierge qui brûlait à la tête du lit et plongea son regard entre le rideau de serge verte et la muraille. Il n’y avait personne.

Elle vit une porte fermée, voilà tout.

Elle remit le cierge à sa place, prit dans un petit portefeuille une paire de ciseaux d’or, coupa une boucle de cheveux au cadavre, mit cette boucle de cheveux dans un sachet de velours noir pendu sur son cœur, baisa encore une fois le front du cadavre, lui rejeta son linceul sur la tête et sortit.

Au seuil de la porte, elle rencontra le prêtre et fit un pas en arrière en épaississant son voile.

– Qui êtes-vous ? demanda le prêtre.

– La douleur, répondit-elle.

Le prêtre se rangea et la laissa passer.

(244-248)

 

He sat down at the foot of a tree and buried his head in his hands. The events of the last forty-eight hours had succeeded each other with such rapidity, that there was no lack of matter to serve as subjects of reflection to the shoe-maker.

The twenty-four hours, during which he had lived another existence than his own, seemed to him like a dream, so much so, that he would not have dared to take his oath that all this recent affair between the Baron, and the Countess Jane, and the Comte de Mont-Gobert had really taken place. The church clock of Oigny struck ten, and he lifted his head. Ten o’clock! and only half-an-hour before he had been still in the body of the Baron Raoul, as he lay dying in the house of the Curé of Puiseux.

“Ah!” he exclaimed “I must find out for certain what has happened! It is not quite three miles to Puiseux and I shall be there in half-an-hour; I should like to ascertain if the Baron is really dead.” A melancholy howl made answer to his words; he looked round; his faithful body-guards were back again; he had his pack about him once more.

“Come, wolves! come, my only friends!” he cried, “let us be off!” And he started with them across the forest in the direction of Puiseux. The huntsmen of the Lord of Vez, who were poking up the remaining embers of the ruined hut, saw a man pass, as in a vision, running at the head of a dozen or more wolves. They crossed themselves, and became more convinced than ever that Thibault was a wizard [sorcier]. And anybody else who had seen Thibault, flying along as swiftly as his swiftest wolf, and covering the ground between Oigny and Puiseux in less than a quarter of an hour, would certainly have thought so too.

He stopped at the entrance to the village, and turning to his wolves, he said:

“Friend wolves, I have no further need of you to-night, and indeed, I wish to be alone. Amuse yourselves with the stables in the neighbourhood, I give you leave to do just what you like; and if you chance to come across one of those two-footed animals, called men, forget, friend wolves, that they claim to be made in the image of their Creator, and never fear to satisfy your appetite.” Whereupon the wolves rushed off in different directions, uttering howls of joy, while Thibault went on into the village. The Curé’s house adjoined the church, and Thibault made a circuit so as to avoid passing in front of the Cross. When he reached the presbytery, he looked in through one of the windows, and there he saw a bed with a lighted wax candle beside it; and over the bed itself was spread a sheet, and beneath the sheet could be seen the outlines of a figure lying rigid in death. There appeared to be no one in the house; the priest had no doubt gone to give notice of the death to the village authorities. Thibault went inside, and called the priest, but no one answered. He walked up to the bed, there could be no mistake about the body under the sheet being that of a dead man; he lifted the sheet, there could be no mistaking that the dead body was that of Raoul de Vauparfond. On his face lay the still, unearthly beauty which is born of eternity. His features, which in life had been somewhat too feminine for those of a man, had now assumed the sombre grandeur of death. At the first glance you might have thought he only slept; but on gazing longer you recognised in that immovable calm something more profound than sleep. The presence of one who carries a sickle for sceptre, and wears a shroud for mantle was unmistakeable, and you knew King Death was there.

Thibault had left the door open, and he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching; at the back of the alcove hung a serge curtain, which masked a door by which he could retreat, if necessary, and he now went and placed himself behind it. A woman dressed in black, and covered with a black veil, paused in some hesitation at the door. The head of another woman passed in front of her’s and looked carefully round the room.

“I think it is safe for Madame to go in; I see no one about, and besides, I will keep watch.”

The woman in black went in, walked slowly towards the bed, stopped a moment to wipe the perspiration from her forehead, then, without further hesitation, lifted the sheet which Thibault had thrown back over the face of the dead man; Thibault then saw that it was the Countess.

“Alas!” she said, “what they told me was true!”

Then she fell on her knees, praying and sobbing. Her prayer being ended, she rose again, kissed the pale forehead of the dead, and the blue marks of the wound through which the soul had fled.

“O my well-beloved, my Raoul;” she murmured, “who will tell me the name of your murderer? who will help me to avenge your death?” As the Countess finished speaking, she gave a cry and started back; she seemed to hear a voice that answered, “I will!” and something had shaken the green serge curtain.

The Countess however was no chicken-hearted woman; she took the candle that was burning at the head of the bed and went and looked behind the curtain; but no creature was to be seen, a closed door was all that met her eye. She put back the candle, took a pair of gold scissors from a little pocket case, cut off a curl of the dead man’s hair, placed the curl in a black velvet sachet which hung over her heart, gave one last kiss to her dead lover, laid the sheet over his face, and left the house. Just as she was crossing the threshold, she met the priest, and drawing back, drew her veil more closely over her face.

“Who are you?” asked the priest.

“I am Grief,” she answered, and the priest made way for her to pass.

(91-92)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

19.3

[The Countess’ Deal with Thibault]

 

[The Countess leaves by foot. Down the road Thibault hides behind a willow tree, then jumps out in front of them. He says he is the one who said, “I will [tell the assassin's name and help avenge Raoul’s death]” just before. He says he will help her avenge Raoul’s death. They need to discuss this in secret. Thibault reveals that he knows Raoul’s secret entrance method: “I can go through the breach in the park wall: Mademoiselle Lisette can wait for me in the hut where Monsieur Raoul used to leave his horse, she can take me up the winding-stair and into your room. If you should be in your dressing-room, I will wait for you, as Monsieur Raoul waited the night before last” (see sections 16.2 and 16.3). The women are alarmed by this and ask how he knows it. Thibault says he will explain it later. Thibault disappears. Then later at the castle, Lisette brings Thibault to the Countess’ room, but she is disturbed by Thibault’s knowledge of how to get there: “he knew his way up as well as I did! And oh! Madame! if you knew what he said to me! That man is the devil [le démon], Madame, I feel sure!” When he presents himself to the Countess, “He gave the impression of a man who had once and for all made up his mind, but it was also easy to see that it was for no good purpose; a Satanic smile played about his mouth, and there was a demoniacal light in his eyes [la bouche était contractée par un rire satanique, l’œil brillait d’une lueur infernale]. He had made no attempt to hide his red hairs, but had left them defiantly uncovered, and they hung over his forehead like a plume of flame.” Thibault explains that the reason he knows the way is because he was here the night before. Thibault describes the events in perfect detail. In the middle of his recounting, the Countess says: “‘Lisette was right, you can be nothing less than the devil [le démon],’ said the Countess with a sinister laugh, ‘and I think we shall be able to do business together.... Finish your account.’ ” Thibault continues the narration all the way to Raoul’s death. To pay for Thibault’s services, she hand him pearls worth fifty thousand livres. He says it will cost more, but he will name the price when they meet again the next night here at her room. Thibault leaves. “The Countess went and replaced the pearls in her dressing case; lifted up a false bottom, and drew from underneath it a small bottle containing an opal-coloured liquid, and a little dagger with a jewelled handle and case, and a blade inlaid with gold. She hid both beneath her pillow, knelt at her prie-dieu, and, her prayer finished, threw herself dressed on to her bed....”]

 

[ditto]

 

La comtesse et sa suivante étaient venues à pied.

Elles s’en retournèrent à pied.

Il n’y avait qu’un quart de lieue de Puiseux à Mont-Gobert.

À moitié route à peu près, un homme se détacha du tronc d’un saule derrière lequel il était caché et barra le passage aux deux femmes.

Lisette jeta un cri.

Mais, sans manifester aucune crainte, la comtesse s’avança vers cet homme.

– Qui êtes-vous ? demanda-t-elle.

– Celui qui vous a répondu : Moi ! tout à l’heure, quand vous avez demandé qui vous dénoncerait le meurtrier.

– Vous pouvez m’aider à me venger de lui ?

– Quand vous voudrez.

– Tout de suite ?

– Nous sommes mal ici.

– Où serions-nous mieux ?

– Dans votre chambre, par exemple.

– Nous ne pouvons rentrer ensemble.

– Non ; mais je puis passer par la brèche ; mademoiselle Lisette peut m’attendre dans la fabrique où M. Raoul enfermait son cheval ; elle peut me conduire par l’escalier tournant et m’ouvrir votre chambre. Si vous êtes dans votre cabinet de toilette, je vous attendrai, comme avant-hier a fait M. Raoul.

Les deux femmes frissonnèrent de la tête aux pieds.

– Qui êtes-vous pour connaître tous ces détails ? demanda la comtesse.

– Je vous le dirai quand il sera temps que je vous le dise.

La comtesse hésita un instant.

Mais, prenant sa résolution :

– C’est bien, dit-elle, passez par la brèche ; Lisette vous attendra dans l’écurie.

– Oh ! madame, s’écria la chambrière, je n’oserai jamais aller chercher cet homme !

– J’irai, moi, dit la comtesse.

– À la bonne heure ! dit Thibault, voilà une femme !

Et, se laissant glisser dans une espèce de ravin qui bordait la route, il disparut.

Lisette pensa s’évanouir.

– Appuyez-vous sur moi, mademoiselle, dit la comtesse, et marchons ; j’ai hâte de savoir ce que cet homme a à me dire.

Les deux femmes rentrèrent par la ferme.

Personne ne les avait vues sortir, personne ne les vit rentrer.

La comtesse regagna sa chambre, où elle attendit que Lisette lui amenât l’inconnu.

Dix minutes après, Lisette entra très pâle.

– Ah ! madame, dit-elle, ce n’était pas la peine de l’aller chercher.

– Pourquoi cela ? demanda la comtesse.

– Parce qu’il connaît le chemin aussi bien que moi ! Oh ! si madame savait ce qu’il m’a dit ! À coup sûr, madame, cet homme, c’est le démon !

– Faites-le entrer, dit la comtesse.

– Le voici ! dit Thibault.

– C’est bien, dit la comtesse à Lisette ; laissez-nous, mademoiselle.

Lisette se retira. La comtesse resta seule avec Thibault. L’aspect de Thibault n’avait rien de rassurant. On sentait dans l’homme la fermeté d’une résolution prise, et il était facile de voir que la résolution était mauvaise : la bouche était contractée par un rire satanique, l’œil brillait d’une lueur infernale.

Au lieu de cacher ses cheveux rouges, Thibault, cette fois, les avait étalés complaisamment.

Ils retombaient sur son front comme un panache de flamme.

Et cependant la comtesse fixa sans pâlir son regard sur Thibault.

– Cette fille disait que vous connaissiez le chemin de ma chambre ; y êtes-vous déjà venu ?

– Oui, madame, une fois.

– Quand cela ?

– Avant-hier.

– À quelle heure ?

– De dix heures et demie à minuit et demi.

La comtesse regarda Thibault en face.

– Ce n’est pas vrai ! dit-elle.

– Voulez-vous que je vous dise ce qui s’y est passé ?

– À l’heure que vous indiquez ?

– À l’heure que j’indique.

– Dites, fit laconiquement la comtesse.

Thibault fut aussi laconique que celle qui l’interrogeait.

– M. Raoul est entré par cette porte, dit-il en montrant celle du corridor, et Lisette l’a laissé seul. Vous êtes entrée par celle-ci, continua-t-il en montrant la porte du cabinet de toilette, et vous l’avez trouvé à genoux. Vous aviez les cheveux dénoués et retenus par trois épingles de diamant, une robe de chambre de taffetas rose garnie de guipure, des bas de soie roses, des mules de drap d’argent et un fil de perles autour du cou.

– La toilette est parfaitement exacte, dit la comtesse ; continuez.

– Vous avez cherché trois querelles à M. Raoul : la première, sur ce qu’il s’arrêtait dans les corridors à embrasser votre femme de chambre ; la seconde, sur ce qu’il avait été rencontré à minuit sur la route d’Erneville à Villers-Cotterêts ; la troisième, sur ce qu’au bal du château, où vous n’étiez pas, il avait dansé quatre contredanses avec madame de Bonneuil.

– Continuez.

– À chacune de ces querelles, votre amant vous a donné des raisons, bonnes ou mauvaises : vous les avez trouvées bonnes puisque vous lui pardonniez quand Lisette est entrée tout effarée en criant à votre amant de fuir, attendu que votre mari venait de rentrer.

– Allons, vous êtes véritablement le démon, comme disait Lisette, fit la comtesse avec un sinistre éclat de rire, et je vois que nous pourrons faire des affaires ensemble… Achevez.

– Alors, vous et votre femme de chambre, avez poussé M. Raoul, qui se défendait, dans le cabinet de toilette ; Lisette lui a fait franchir le corridor, deux ou trois chambres, descendre un escalier tournant qui dessert l’aile du château opposée à celle par laquelle il était entré. Au bas de l’escalier, les fugitifs ont trouvé la porte fermée ; alors ils se sont réfugiés dans une espèce d’office ; Lisette a ouvert la fenêtre, qui n’était qu’à sept ou huit pieds de terre : M. Raoul a sauté par cette fenêtre, a couru à l’écurie, y a retrouvé son cheval, mais avec le jarret coupé ; alors, il a fait le serment, s’il rencontrait le comte, de lui couper le jarret comme le comte l’avait coupé au cheval, tenant pour lâche de mutiler sans nécessité un noble animal ; puis il a repris à pied le chemin de la brèche ; à la brèche, et en dehors de la muraille, il a trouvé le comte, qui l’attendait l’épée à la main. Le baron avait son couteau de chasse ; il l’a tiré du fourreau, et le combat a commencé.

– Le comte était seul ?

– Attendez… Le comte paraissait seul ; à la quatrième ou cinquième passe, le comte a reçu un coup de couteau de chasse dans l’épaule ; il est tombé sur un genou en criant : « À moi, Lestocq ! » Alors le baron s’est rappelé son serment et lui a coupé le jarret, comme le comte avait coupé le jarret à son cheval ; mais, au moment où il se relevait, Lestocq l’a frappé par-derrière ; le fer est entré sous l’omoplate et est sorti par la poitrine… je n’ai pas besoin de vous dire à quel endroit : vous avez baisé la plaie.

– Après ?

– Le comte et son piqueur sont revenus au château, laissant le baron sans secours ; il est revenu à lui, a appelé des paysans qui l’ont mis sur un brancard et emporté ; leur intention était de le conduire à Villers-Cotterêts ; mais à Puiseux il souffrait tant, qu’il n’a pu aller plus loin : ils l’ont déposé sur le lit où vous l’avez vu, et où il a rendu le dernier soupir à neuf heures et demie et une seconde du soir.

La comtesse se leva.

Elle alla sans rien dire à son écrin et prit le fil de perles qu’elle portait la veille au cou.

Elle le présenta à Thibault.

– Qu’est-ce que cela ? demanda celui-ci.

– Prenez, dit la comtesse, il vaut cinquante mille livres.

– Comptez-vous vous venger ? demanda Thibault.

– Oui, répondit la comtesse.

– La vengeance vaut plus cher que cela.

– Combien vaut-elle ?

– Attendez-moi la nuit prochaine, dit Thibault, et je vous le dirai.

– Où voulez-vous que je vous attende ? demanda la comtesse.

– Ici, dit Thibault avec un sourire de bête fauve.

– Je vous y attendrai, dit la comtesse.

– À demain, alors ?

– À demain.

Thibault sortit.

La comtesse alla remettre le fil de perles dans son écrin, souleva un double fond, en tira un flacon qui contenait une liqueur couleur d’opale, et un petit poignard au manche et au fourreau garnis de pierreries et à la lame damasquinée d’or.

Elle cacha le flacon et le poignard sous son oreiller, s’agenouilla devant son prie-Dieu, fit sa prière et revint se jeter tout habillée sur son lit…

(248-253)

 

The Countess and her attendant had come on foot, and were returning in the same manner, for the distance between Puiseux and Mont-Gobert was not much more than half-a-mile. When about half way along their road, a man, who had been hiding behind a willow tree, stepped forward and barred their further passage. Lisette screamed, but the Countess, without the least sign of fear, went up to the man, and asked: “Who are you?”

“The man who answered ‘I will’ just now, when you were asking who would denounce the murderer to you.”

“And you can help me to revenge myself on him?”

“Whenever you like.”

“At once?”

“We cannot talk here very well.”

“Where can we find a better place?”

“In your own room for one.”

“We must not enter the castle together.”

“No; but I can go through the breach in the park wall: Mademoiselle Lisette can wait for me in the hut where Monsieur Raoul used to leave his horse, she can take me up the winding-stair and into your room. If you should be in your dressing-room, I will wait for you, as Monsieur Raoul waited the night before last.”

The two women shuddered from head to foot.

“Who are you to know all these details?” asked the Countess.

“I will tell you when the time comes for me to tell you.”

The Countess hesitated a moment, then, recovering her resolution, she said:

“Very well then; come through the breach; Lisette will wait for you in the stable.”

“Oh! Madame,” cried the maid, “I shall never dare to go and bring that man to you!”

“I will go myself then,” said the Countess.

“Well said!” put in Thibault, “there spoke a woman worth calling one!” And so saying he slid down into a kind of ravine beside the road, and disappeared. Lisette very nearly fainted.

“Lean on me, Mademoiselle,” said the Countess, “and let us walk on; I am anxious to hear what this man has to say to me.”

The two women entered the castle by way of the farm; no one had seen them go out, and no one saw them return. On reaching her room, the Countess waited for Lisette to bring up the stranger. Ten minutes had elapsed when the maid hurried in with a pale face.

“Ah! Madame,” she said, “there was no need for me to go to fetch him.”

“What do you mean?” asked the Countess.

“Because he knew his way up as well as I did! And oh! Madame! if you knew what he said to me! That man is the devil [le démon], Madame, I feel sure!”

“Show him in,” said the Countess.

“I am here!” said Thibault.

“You can leave us now, my girl,” said the Countess to Lisette. The latter quitted the room and the Countess remained alone with Thibault. Thibault’s appearance was not one to inspire confidence. He gave the impression of a man who had once and for all made up his mind, but it was also easy to see that it was for no good purpose; a Satanic smile played about his mouth, and there was a demoniacal light in his eyes [la bouche était contractée par un rire satanique, l’œil brillait d’une lueur infernale]. He had made no attempt to hide his red hairs, but had left them defiantly uncovered, and they hung over his forehead like a plume of flame. But still the Countess looked him full in the face without changing colour.

“My maid says that you know the way to my room; have you ever been here before?”

“Yes, Madame, once.”

“And when was that?”

“The day before yesterday.”

“At what time?”

“From half-past ten till half-past twelve at night.”

The Countess looked steadily at him and said:

“That is not true.”

“Would you like me to tell you what took place?”

“During the time you mention?”

“During the time I mention.”

“Say on,” replied the Countess, laconically.

Thibault was equally laconic.

“Monsieur Raoul came in by that door,” he said, pointing to the one leading into the corridor, “and Lisette left him here alone. You entered the room by that one,” he continued, indicating the dressing-room door, “and you found him on his knees. Your hair was unbound, only fastened back by three diamond pins, you wore a pink silk dressing-gown, trimmed with lace, pink silk stockings, cloth-of-silver slippers and a chain of pearls round your neck.”

“You describe my dress exactly,” said the Countess, “continue.”

“You tried to pick a quarrel with Monsieur Raoul, first because he loitered in the corridors to kiss your waiting-maid; secondly, because someone had met him late at night on the road between Erneville and Villers-Cotterets; thirdly, because, at the ball given at the Castle, at which you yourself were not present, he danced four times with Madame de Bonneuil.”

“Continue.”

“In answer to your accusations, your lover made excuses for himself, some good, some bad; you, however, were satisfied with them for you were just forgiving him when Lisette rushed in full of alarm calling to Monsieur Raoul to escape, as your husband had just returned.”

“Lisette was right, you can be nothing less than the devil [le démon],” said the Countess with a sinister laugh, “and I think we shall be able to do business together.... Finish your account.”

“Then you and your maid together pushed Monsieur Raoul, who resisted, into the dressing-room; Lisette forced him along the corridors and through two or three rooms; they then went down a winding staircase, in the wing of the Castle opposite to the one by which they had gone up. On arriving at the foot of the staircase, the fugitives found the door locked; then they ran into a kind of office where Lisette opened the window, which was about seven or eight feet above the ground. Monsieur Raoul leaped down out of this window, ran to the stable, found his horse still there, but hamstrung; then he swore that if he met the Count at any time he would hamstring him as the Count had hamstrung his horse, for he thought it a cowardly act to injure a poor beast so unnecessarily. Then he went on foot to the breach, climbed it, and found the Count awaiting him outside the park, with his sword drawn. The Baron had his hunting-knife with him; he drew it, and the duel began.”

“Was the Count alone?”

“Wait ... the Count appeared to be alone; after the fourth or fifth pass the Count was wounded in the shoulder, and sank on one knee, crying: ‘help, Lestocq!’ Then the Baron remembered his oath, and hamstrung the Count as he had hamstrung the horse; but as the Baron rose, Lestocq drove his knife into his back; it passed under the shoulder blade and out through the chest. I need not tell you where ... you kissed the wound yourself.”

“And after that?”

“The Count and his huntsman returned to the Castle, leaving the Baron lying helpless; when the latter came to, he made signs to some passing peasants, who put him on a litter, and bore him away, with the intention of taking him to Villers-Cotterets; but he was in such pain, that they could not carry him farther than Puiseux; there they laid him on the bed where you found him, and on which he breathed his last a second after the half hour after nine in the evening.”

The Countess rose, and without speaking, went to her jewel-case and took out the pearls she had worn two nights before. She handed them to Thibault.

“What are they for?” he asked.

“Take them,” said the Countess, “they are worth fifty thousand livres.”

“Are you still anxious for revenge?”

“Yes,” replied the Countess.

“Revenge will cost more than that.”

“How much will it cost?”

“Wait for me to-morrow night,” said Thibault, “and I will tell you.”

“Where shall I await you?” asked the Countess.

“Here,” said Thibault, with the leer of a wild animal.

“I will await you here,” said the Countess.

“Till to-morrow then.”

“Till to-morrow.”

Thibault went out. The Countess went and replaced the pearls in her dressing case; lifted up a false bottom, and drew from underneath it a small bottle containing an opal-coloured liquid, and a little dagger with a jewelled handle and case, and a blade inlaid with gold. She hid both beneath her pillow, knelt at her prie-dieu, and, her prayer finished, threw herself dressed on to her bed....

(92-94)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

Bibliography:

 

Dumas, Alexandre. 1868. Le meneur de loups. (Nouvelle édition). Paris: Lévy.

PDF at:

https://archive.org/det ails/bub_gb_BhlMAAAAMAAJ/page/n5

and:

https://beq.ebooksgratuits.com/vents/Dumas-meneur.pdf

Online text at:

https://fr.wikisource.org/wik i/Le_Meneur_de_loups

and

https://fr.wikisource.org/wiki/Livre:Dumas_- _Le_Meneur_de_loups_(1868).djvu

 

Dumas, Alexandre.  1921. The Wolf-Leader. Translated by Alfred Allinson. London: Methuen.

PDF at:

https://archive.org/details/wolfle ader00duma

or:

https://archive.org/details/wo lfleader00dumauoft

Online text at:

http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51054

http://www.gutenberg.org/files/51054/51054-h/51054-h.htm

 

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