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by Corry Shores
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[Dumas. The Wolf-Leader (Le meneur de loups), entry directory]
[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.”
[The Countess’ Murder and Suicide]
[Thibault’s Capture and Escape]
Summary
[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)
[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)
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:
.
