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by Corry Shores
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[Alexandre Dumas, entry directory]
[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
10
“Le bailli Magloire”
“Maitre Magloire”
Brief summary:
__(10.1)__ (Recall from section 9 that Thibault the sabot-maker, who made a pact with the devil, became a leader of the wolves in the forest, who do his bidding, and he vows to use his pact to rise to nobility.) Thibault begins the new year by charging more for the meat his wolves catch for him, and thus his material conditions have improved. He always has money in his pocket, and he dresses better, looking no longer “like a wooden shoe-maker’s apprentice, but like some well-to-do farmer, or even a comfortable citizen, carrying on a trade maybe, but simply for his own pleasure.” But although his “body might seem in good plight, the soul was already alarmingly compromised.” __(10.2)__ Thibault, now in his new attire, attends a village fête where they drain two ponds in such a way that a net captures all the fish as the water runs out of the pond. Spectators crowd around the pond to watch the fish get caught as the water drains (but there is the inconvenience of inhaling the marsh-gas that is released in the process). The draining water begins clear, then darkens, and when it runs black, the fish finally come out into the net. “Each fish, according to its power of resistance, struggles against the current which is bearing it along in this unusual manner. Instinctively they feel there is danger, and each strives its hardest to swim in an opposite direction; the pike struggles beside the carp which it was yesterday pursuing so hard; the perch is reconciled to the tench, and as they swim side by side, does not so much as think of taking a bite out of the flesh he finds so palatable at other times. So the Arabs at times find huddled together in the pits they dig to catch game, gazelles and jackals, antelopes and hyenas, the jackals and hyenas having grown as gentle and as timid as the gazelles and antelopes.” The fish are then gathered by pickers-up, who put them into baskets or tanks, depending on whether the fish will be sold alive or dead or otherwise keep alive for restocking. The capture of each fish brings delight to the onlookers. “As in a well-ordered review, the troops file past in order, according to their weight, if we may use the expression, first the fight sharp-shooters, then the somewhat heavier dragoons, and finally the ponderous cuirassiers and heavy artillery to bring up the rear, so the fish sweep by according to their several species; the smallest, that is the weakest, first, the heaviest, that is the strongest, last. At last the moment comes when the water ceases to flow; the passage is literally obstructed by the remainder of the fish, the big-wigs of the pond, and the pickers-up have veritable monsters to fight with. This is the supreme moment. Now comes the climax of applause, the last vociferous bravos. Then, the play being over, everyone goes to examine the actors; the latter are mostly lying gasping to death on the grass of the field, while a certain number are recovering themselves in the water.” The eels burrow into the mud but days later surface and are caught. __(10.3)__ People from all around were invited to the fête. Thibault no longer needs to make shoes and instead has the wolves work for him by hunting game that he sells. So he attends and pushes his way to the front of the crowd. In doing so, “he happened to rumple the dress of a tall, fine woman” who then calls Thibault a lout. But in admiration of her beauty, Thibault merely tries to apologize to her. She is accompanied by a short plump man serving as her protector (who we later learn is her husband). He says to her, “Gently, Madame Magloire! gently, Madame Bailiff! [...] those were ugly words to use to the poor fellow, who is more sorry than you are for the accident.” She defends her actions to this other man, whom she calls “Monsieur Magloire.” Thibault apologizes to her more directly and graciously, saying, “when you turned your face towards me, its wonderful beauty dazzled me like a ray of May sunshine, so that I could not see where I was treading.” The lady “only responded with a haughty little pouting of the mouth,” because she “detected at once to what class he belonged.” Her husband however is quite pleased by Thibault’s complementary attitude and remarks, and he invites Thibault to accompany them home for wine. Madame Magloire notes that Monsieur Magloire (whom she also calls Master Népomucène) will take any opportunity to drink, although the doctor forbids him from drinking between meals. Monsieur Magloire says to her (whom he also calls Suzanne) that they should make an exception for the “agreeable young fellow” Thibault and that if she agrees, he will buy her “that figured silk dress, which you have been wishing for so long.” She eagerly accepts and takes Thibault’s arm. Monsieur Magloire is a magistrate (a bailiff), and the crowd parts deferentially before him as they exit. Thibault thinks about this new companionship and “all the advantages to be drawn from the good fortune which had so unexpectedly befallen him, and which he had so long desired.” The three arrive at “the village of Erneville, which is situated about a mile and a half from the Poudron ponds. It was here, in this charming village, which lies half-way between Haramont and Bonneuil, within a stone’s throw or two of the Castle of Vez, the dwelling of my lord the Baron, that Monsieur Magloire sat as magistrate.”
[Thibault’s Improved Material Conditions]
[The Drawing of the Ponds, Fish Catch Spectacle]
[Thibault’s Fortuitous Encounter with Monsieur and Madame Magloire]
Summary
[Thibault’s Improved Material Conditions]
[(Recall from section 9 that Thibault the sabot-maker, who made a pact with the devil, became a leader of the wolves in the forest, who do his bidding, and he vows to use his pact to rise to nobility.) Thibault begins the new year by charging more for the meat his wolves catch for him, and thus his material conditions have improved. He always has money in his pocket, and he dresses better, looking no longer “like a wooden shoe-maker’s apprentice, but like some well-to-do farmer, or even a comfortable citizen, carrying on a trade maybe, but simply for his own pleasure.” But although his “body might seem in good plight, the soul was already alarmingly compromised.”]
[ditto]
Ce fut dans ces dispositions aventureuses que Thibault, sans s’être encore arrêté à rien, passa les derniers jours de l’année et entra dans l’année nouvelle.
Seulement, songeant sans doute aux dépenses qu’amène pour chacun le bienheureux jour de l’an, il avait, au fur et à mesure qu’il s’était approché de ce terrible passage d’une année à l’autre, exigé de ses pourvoyeurs double ration de gibier, dont naturellement il avait tiré double profit chez l’aubergiste de la Boule-d’or.
De sorte que, à part une mèche de cheveux rouges d’un volume assez inquiétant, Thibault entrait matériellement dans l’année en meilleures conditions qu’il n’avait jamais été.
Remarquez que nous disons matériellement et non spirituellement ; car, si le corps paraissait en bon état, l’âme était cruellement compromise.
Mais le corps était bien couvert, et dans les poches de la veste sonnaient gaillardement une dizaine d’écus.
Thibault, ainsi costumé et accompagné de cette musique argentine, avait l’air, non plus d’un ouvrier sabotier, mais d’un métayer à son aise, ou même d’un bon bourgeois qui exerce un état peut-être, mais pour son plaisir.
(135)
IN this reckless state of mind Thibault, who had not as yet decided on any special course of action, spent the last days of the old year and the first of the new. Still, remembering the heavy expenses entailed on each and all by New Year’s Day, he had exacted double rations from his usual purveyor’s, as the trying time drew nearer and nearer, simultaneously, drawing double profits from the landlord of the Boule-d’Or.
Thus it came about that, apart from the disquieting fact that his mesh of red hair was getting larger and larger almost every day, Thibault entered upon the New Year in a better condition as to material matters than he had ever known before. Observe, I say, as to material matters, and material matters only; for albeit the body might seem in good plight, the soul was already alarmingly compromised. The body, at any rate was well clothed, and ten crowns or more made a merry jingling in his waistcoat pocket; and so dressed, and so accompanied by this silvery music, Thibault no longer appeared like a wooden shoe-maker’s apprentice, but like some well-to-do farmer, or even a comfortable citizen, carrying on a trade maybe, but simply for his own pleasure.
(51)
[The Drawing of the Ponds, Fish Catch Spectacle]
[Thibault, now in his new attire, attends a village fête where they drain two ponds in such a way that a net captures all the fish as the water runs out of the pond. Spectators crowd around the pond to watch the fish get caught as the water drains (but there is the inconvenience of inhaling the marsh-gas that is released in the process). The draining water begins clear, then darkens, and when it runs black, the fish finally come out into the net. “Each fish, according to its power of resistance, struggles against the current which is bearing it along in this unusual manner. Instinctively they feel there is danger, and each strives its hardest to swim in an opposite direction; the pike struggles beside the carp which it was yesterday pursuing so hard; the perch is reconciled to the tench, and as they swim side by side, does not so much as think of taking a bite out of the flesh he finds so palatable at other times. So the Arabs at times find huddled together in the pits they dig to catch game, gazelles and jackals, antelopes and hyenas, the jackals and hyenas having grown as gentle and as timid as the gazelles and antelopes.” The fish are then gathered by pickers-up, who put them into baskets or tanks, depending on whether the fish will be sold alive or dead or otherwise keep alive for restocking. The capture of each fish brings delight to the onlookers. “As in a well-ordered review, the troops file past in order, according to their weight, if we may use the expression, first the fight sharp-shooters, then the somewhat heavier dragoons, and finally the ponderous cuirassiers and heavy artillery to bring up the rear, so the fish sweep by according to their several species; the smallest, that is the weakest, first, the heaviest, that is the strongest, last. At last the moment comes when the water ceases to flow; the passage is literally obstructed by the remainder of the fish, the big-wigs of the pond, and the pickers-up have veritable monsters to fight with. This is the supreme moment. Now comes the climax of applause, the last vociferous bravos. Then, the play being over, everyone goes to examine the actors; the latter are mostly lying gasping to death on the grass of the field, while a certain number are recovering themselves in the water.” The eels burrow into the mud but days later surface and are caught.]
[ditto]
C’était avec cette apparence que Thibault s’était rendu à une de ces solennités villageoises qui sont les fêtes de la province.
On pêchait les magnifiques étangs du Berval et de Poudron.
La pêche d’un étang est une grande affaire pour le propriétaire ou le fermier, sans compter que c’est un grand plaisir pour les spectateurs.
Aussi les pêches sont-elles affichées un mois à l’avance, et vient-on à une belle pêche de dix lieues à la ronde.
Et, par ce mot pêche, que ceux de nos lecteurs non habitués aux us et coutumes de la province n’aillent pas croire qu’il s’agit d’une pêche à la ligne avec l’asticot, le ver rouge ou le blé parfumé, ou d’une pêche à la ligne de fond, à l’épervier ou au verveux ; non pas, il s’agit de vider parfois un étang de trois quarts de lieue ou d’une lieue de long, et cela depuis le plus gros brochet jusqu’à la plus petite ablette.
Voici comment la chose se pratique.
Il n’y a, selon toute probabilité, pas un de nos lecteurs qui n’ait vu un étang.
Tout étang a deux issues : celle par laquelle l’eau entre, et celle par laquelle l’eau sort.
Celle par laquelle l’eau entre n’a pas de nom ; celle par laquelle elle sort s’appelle la bonde. C’est à la bonde que se fait la pêche.
L’eau, en sortant de la bonde, tombe dans un vaste réservoir d’où elle s’échappe à travers les mailles d’un vigoureux filet. L’eau sort, mais le poisson reste.
On sait combien de jours il faut pour vider un étang.
On ne convoque donc les curieux et les amateurs que pour le deuxième, troisième ou quatrième jour, selon le volume d’eau que l’étang doit dégorger avant d’arriver au dénouement.
Le dénouement, c’est l’apparition du poisson à la bonde.
À l’heure de la convocation à la pêche d’un étang il y a, selon l’étendue et l’importance de cet étang, une foule comparativement aussi considérable et, comparativement toujours, aussi élégante qu’aux courses du Champ-de-Mars ou de Chantilly, quand doivent courir les chevaux et les jockeys de renom.
Seulement, on n’assiste pas au spectacle dans des tribunes ou en voiture.
Non, chacun vient comme il veut ou comme il peut, en cabriolet, en char à bancs, en phaéton, en charrette, à cheval, à âne ; puis, une fois arrivé – à part le respect qu’on a toujours dans les pays les moins civilisés pour les autorités –, chacun se place selon le moment de son arrivée ou selon la force de ses coudes, et le mouvement plus ou moins accentué de ses hanches.
Seulement, une espèce de treillage solidement établi empêche les spectateurs de tomber dans le réservoir.
On comprend, à la teinte et à l’odeur de l’eau, si le poisson approche.
Tout spectacle a son inconvénient. À l’Opéra, plus la réunion est belle et nombreuse, plus on respire d’acide carbonique. À la pêche d’un étang, plus le moment intéressant approche, plus on respire d’azote.
D’abord, au moment où l’on ouvre la bonde, l’eau vient belle, pure et légèrement teintée de vert, comme l’eau d’un ruisseau.
C’est la couche supérieure qui, entraînée par son poids, se présente la première.
Puis l’eau, peu à peu, perd de sa transparence et se teinte de gris.
C’est la seconde couche qui se vide à son tour, et, de temps en temps, au milieu de cette seconde couche et à mesure que la teinte se fonce, apparaît un éclair d’argent.
C’est un poisson de trop petite taille qui, n’ayant pas su résister au courant, apparaît en éclaireur.
Celui-là, on ne se donne pas même la peine de le ramasser, on le laisse tranquillement faire, à nu, et en cherchant quelques-unes des petites flaques d’eau qui stagnent au fond du réservoir, ces sortes de cabrioles que les saltimbanques appellent pittoresquement des sauts de carpe.
Puis vient l’eau noire :
C’est le quatrième acte, c’est-à-dire la péripétie.
Instinctivement, le poisson, selon ses forces, résiste à ce courant inusité qui l’entraîne ; rien ne lui a dit que le courant est un danger, mais il le devine.
Aussi, chacun remonte de son mieux le courant.
Le brochet nage côte à côte avec la carpe qu’il poursuivait la veille et qu’il empêchait de trop engraisser ; sans lui chercher dispute, la perche chemine avec la tanche, et ne songe même pas à mordre dans cette chair dont elle est si friande.
C’est ainsi que, dans une même fosse creusée pour prendre du gibier, des Arabes trouvent parfois confondus gazelles et chacals, antilopes et hyènes, et les hyènes et les chacals sont devenus aussi doux et aussi tremblants que les gazelles et les antilopes.
Mais enfin les forces des lutteurs s’épuisent.
Les éclaireurs que nous avons signalés tout à l’heure deviennent plus fréquents ; la taille des poissons commence à devenir respectable, et la preuve leur est donnée par les ramasseurs du cas qu’on fait d’eux.
Ces ramasseurs sont des hommes en simple pantalon de toile et en simple chemise de coton.
Les jambes du pantalon sont relevées jusqu’au haut des cuisses, les manches de la chemise sont retroussées jusqu’au haut de l’épaule.
Ils entassent le poisson dans des corbeilles.
Celui qui doit être vendu vivant ou conservé pour le repeuplement de l’étang est transvasé dans des réservoirs.
Celui qui est condamné à mort est tout simplement étendu sur la prairie.
Le même jour, il sera vendu.
Au fur et à mesure que le poisson abonde, les cris de joie des spectateurs augmentent.
Car ces spectateurs-là ne sont pas comme les spectateurs de nos théâtres.
Ils ne viennent point pour refouler leurs sensations et avoir le bon goût de paraître indifférents.
Non, ils viennent pour s’amuser, et, à chaque belle tanche, à chaque belle carpe, à chaque beau brochet, ils applaudissent bravement, franchement, joyeusement.
De même que, dans une revue bien ordonnée, chaque corps défile l’un après l’autre et se présente selon son poids, si la chose peut se dire, légers tirailleurs en tête, dragons respectables au centre, pesants cuirassiers et lourds artilleurs en queue, ainsi défilent les différentes espèces de poissons.
Les plus petits, c’est-à-dire les plus faibles, les premiers.
Les plus gros, c’est-à-dire les plus forts, les derniers.
Enfin, à un moment donné, l’eau semble se tarir.
Le passage est littéralement obstrué par la réserve, c’est-à-dire par tous les gros bonnets de l’étang.
Les ramasseurs luttent avec de véritables monstres.
C’est le dénouement.
C’est l’heure des applaudissements, c’est le moment des bravos !
Enfin, le spectacle terminé, on va voir les acteurs.
Les acteurs sont en train de se pâmer sur l’herbe de la prairie.
Une partie reprend ses forces dans des courants d’eau.
Vous cherchez les anguilles ; vous demandez où sont les anguilles.
On vous montre alors trois ou quatre anguilles grosses comme le pouce et longues comme la moitié du bras.
C’est que les anguilles, grâce à leur structure, ont, momentanément du moins, échappé au carnage universel.
Les anguilles ont piqué une tête dans la vase et ont disparu.
C’est pour cela que vous voyez des hommes armés de fusils se promener sur les rives de l’étang, et que, de temps en temps, vous entendez une détonation.
Si vous demandez :
– Qu’est-ce que ce coup de fusil ?
On vous répond :
– C’est pour faire sortir les anguilles.
Maintenant, pourquoi les anguilles sortent-elles de la vase aux coups de fusil ? Pourquoi gagnent-elles les ruisseaux qui continuent de sillonner le fond de l’étang ? Pourquoi, enfin, étant en sûreté au fond de la vase, comme tant de gens de notre connaissance qui ont le bon esprit d’y rester, pourquoi n’y restent-elles pas au lieu d’aller regagner ce ruisseau qui les entraîne avec son cours et finit par les reconduire au réservoir, c’est-à-dire à la fosse commune.
Rien de plus facile au Collège de France que de répondre à cette question, maintenant qu’il est en relation directe avec les poissons.
Je pose donc la question aux savants. Les coups de fusil ne seraient-ils pas un préjugé, et n’arrive-t-il point tout simplement ceci :
C’est que la boue, liquide d’abord, dans laquelle s’est réfugiée l’anguille, se séchant peu à peu, comme une éponge que l’on presse, devient peu à peu inhabitable pour elle, et qu’elle est, au bout du compte, obligée de chercher son élément naturel, l’eau.
Une fois l’eau trouvée, elle est perdue.
Ce n’est que le cinquième ou sixième jour, après l’étang vidé, que l’on met la main sur les anguilles.
(135-141)
IN this reckless state of mind Thibault, who had not as yet decided on any special course of action, spent the last days of the old year and the first of the new. Still, remembering the heavy expenses entailed on each and all by New Year’s Day, he had exacted double rations from his usual purveyor’s, as the trying time drew nearer and nearer, simultaneously, drawing double profits from the landlord of the Boule-d’Or.
Thus it came about that, apart from the disquieting fact that his mesh of red hair was getting larger and larger almost every day, Thibault entered upon the New Year in a better condition as to material matters than he had ever known before. Observe, I say, as to material matters, and material matters only; for albeit the body might seem in good plight, the soul was already alarmingly compromised. The body, at any rate was well clothed, and ten crowns or more made a merry jingling in his waistcoat pocket; and so dressed, and so accompanied by this silvery music, Thibault no longer appeared like a wooden shoe-maker’s apprentice, but like some well-to-do farmer, or even a comfortable citizen, carrying on a trade maybe, but simply for his own pleasure. Looking such as he now did, Thibault went to one of those village functions, which are fête-days for the whole province. The magnificent ponds of Berval and Poudron were to be drawn. Now the drawing of a pond is a grand affair for the owner, or for the one who farms it, not to mention the great pleasure it affords to the spectators. Such an event therefore is advertised a month in advance, and people come from thirty miles round to enjoy this fine entertainment. And to those of my readers who are not accustomed to the manners and customs of the provinces, let me explain that the fishing which takes place is not a fishing with the line, baited with worms, or scented wheat, or with the cast-net, or the sweep-net, nothing of the kind; this fishing consists in emptying a pond, sometimes nearly a mile, or even three miles long, of every fish from the largest pike to the smallest minnow. This is how the thing is managed. In all probability, not a single one of my readers has ever seen the kind of pond to which I refer. I will describe it; to begin with, it always has two issues, that by which the water flows in, that by which the water flows out; that by which the water enters has no particular name, that by which it is let out is called the sluice. The water as it leaves the sluice falls into a large reservoir whence it escapes through the meshes of a strong net; the water flows away, but the fish remain. Everyone knows that it takes several days to empty a pond, therefore those who wish to take a share in the fishing, and the onlookers, are not summoned to attend before the second, third, or fourth day, according to the volume of water which the pond has to disgorge before it is ready for the final act, and this takes place as soon as the fish appear at the sluice.
At the hour announced for the fishing, a crowd assembles, varying in number according to the size and the celebrity of the pond, but comparatively as large and as fashionable as that to be seen at the Champ de Mars or Chantilly on race days when favourite horses are to run and favourite jockeys to ride. Only here the spectators do not look on from grand stands and carriages; on the contrary, they come as they can, or as they like, in gigs, pleasure vans, phaëtons, carts, on horse-back, on donkey-back, but once on the spot everyone rushes to find a place, stationing him or herself either in order of arrival, or according to the amount of elbowing and pushing of which each is capable, always, however, with that due respect for authority which is observed even in the least civilised districts. A sort of stout trellis-work, however, firmly sunk into the ground, prevents the onlookers from falling into the reservoir.
The colour and the smell of the water betoken the arrival of the fish. Every kind of show has its drawbacks: the larger and grander the audience at the opera house, the more carbonic acid is there to draw into the lungs; at the drawing of a pond, the nearer the supreme moment approaches, the more marsh-gas is there to inhale.
When the sluice is first opened, the water that pours through is beautifully clear, and slightly green in colour, like the water of a brook; this is the upper layer, which, carried along by its weight, is the first to appear. By degrees the water becomes less transparent, and takes on a greyish hue; this is the second layer, emptying itself in turn, and every now and then, more frequently as the water becomes muddier, a ray of silver is seen to dart through it; it is some fish, too small and weak to resist the current, which flashes past as if acting as scout for its stronger brethren. Nobody troubles to pick it up; it is allowed to lie gasping, and trying to find some little stagnant puddle of water at the bottom of the pond, flapping, floundering and capering like an acrobat going through his antics.
Then the black water comes pouring through; this is the last act, the final catastrophe.
Each fish, according to its power of resistance, struggles against the current which is bearing it along in this unusual manner. Instinctively they feel there is danger, and each strives its hardest to swim in an opposite direction; the pike struggles beside the carp which it was yesterday pursuing so hard; the perch is reconciled to the tench, and as they swim side by side, does not so much as think of taking a bite out of the flesh he finds so palatable at other times. So the Arabs at times find huddled together in the pits they dig to catch game, gazelles and jackals, antelopes and hyenas, the jackals and hyenas having grown as gentle and as timid as the gazelles and antelopes.
But the strength of the struggling and dying fish begins at last to fail. The scouts that we noticed a few minutes ago become more numerous; the size of the fish becomes more respectable, which is proved to them by the attention they receive from the pickers-up. These pickers-up are men, clad in plain linen trousers and cotton shirts; the trousers are rolled up to above the knee, and the shirt sleeves turned up to the shoulders. The fish are gathered up in baskets; those destined to be sold alive, or kept for re-stocking the pond, are poured off into tanks; those condemned to death are simply spread out on the grass, and will be sold before the day is out. As the fish grow more and more abundant the cries of delight from the spectators become louder and more frequent; for these onlookers are not like the audiences in our theatres; they have no idea of stifling their feelings, or showing good taste by appearing indifferent. No, they come to amuse themselves, and every fine tench, or fine carp, or fine pike, calls forth loud, undisguised and delighted applause. As in a well-ordered review, the troops file past in order, according to their weight, if we may use the expression, first the fight sharp-shooters, then the somewhat heavier dragoons, and finally the ponderous cuirassiers and heavy artillery to bring up the rear, so the fish sweep by according to their several species; the smallest, that is the weakest, first, the heaviest, that is the strongest, last.
At last the moment comes when the water ceases to flow; the passage is literally obstructed by the remainder of the fish, the big-wigs of the pond, and the pickers-up have veritable monsters to fight with. This is the supreme moment. Now comes the climax of applause, the last vociferous bravos. Then, the play being over, everyone goes to examine the actors; the latter are mostly lying gasping to death on the grass of the field, while a certain number are recovering themselves in the water. You look about for the eels; where are the eels you ask? Then three or four eels, about as big round as your thumb and half the length of your arm, are pointed out to you; for the eels, thanks to their peculiar organization, have momentarily at least, escaped the general carnage. The eels have taken a header into the mud and disappeared; and this is the reason why you may see men with guns walking up and down at the edge of the pond, and hear a report from time to time. If you ask the reason for this shooting, you will be told that it is to bring the eels out of their hiding-places. But why do eels come out of the mud when they hear the report of a gun? Why do they make for the water which still runs in little rivulets at the bottom of the pond? Why, in short, being safe at the bottom of the mud, like other good friends of our acquaintance who have the good sense to remain there, do the eels not stay there, instead of wriggling back into a stream of water, which carries them along with it, and finally lands them in the reservoir, that is in the common grave? The Collège de France would find nothing easier than to answer this question, under existing circumstances; so I put this question to its learned members: Is not the idea of the gun a pure superstition, and is not the following solution the right and simple one? The mud in which the eel takes refuge is at first liquid, but gradually becomes drier and drier, like a sponge when squeezed, and so becomes more and more uninhabitable for it, and so, in the long run, it is obliged to get back to its natural element—the water. The water once reached, the eel is lost; but it is not till the fifth or sixth day after the emptying of the pond, that the eels are caught.
(51-53)
[Thibault’s Fortuitous Encounter with Monsieur and Madame Magloire]
[People from all around were invited to the fête. Thibault no longer needs to make shoes and instead has the wolves work for him by hunting game that he sells. So he attends and pushes his way to the front of the crowd. In doing so, “he happened to rumple the dress of a tall, fine woman” who then calls Thibault a lout. But in admiration of her beauty, Thibault merely tries to apologize to her. She is accompanied by a short plump man serving as her protector (who we later learn is her husband). He says to her, “Gently, Madame Magloire! gently, Madame Bailiff! [...] those were ugly words to use to the poor fellow, who is more sorry than you are for the accident.” She defends her actions to this other man, whom she calls “Monsieur Magloire.” Thibault apologizes to her more directly and graciously, saying, “when you turned your face towards me, its wonderful beauty dazzled me like a ray of May sunshine, so that I could not see where I was treading.” The lady “only responded with a haughty little pouting of the mouth,” because she “detected at once to what class he belonged.” Her husband however is quite pleased by Thibault’s complementary attitude and remarks, and he invites Thibault to accompany them home for wine. Madame Magloire notes that Monsieur Magloire (whom she also calls Master Népomucène) will take any opportunity to drink, although the doctor forbids him from drinking between meals. Monsieur Magloire says to her (whom he also calls Suzanne) that they should make an exception for the “agreeable young fellow” Thibault and that if she agrees, he will buy her “that figured silk dress, which you have been wishing for so long.” She eagerly accepts and takes Thibault’s arm. Monsieur Magloire is a magistrate (a bailiff), and the crowd parts deferentially before him as they exit. Thibault thinks about this new companionship and “all the advantages to be drawn from the good fortune which had so unexpectedly befallen him, and which he had so long desired.” The three arrive at “the village of Erneville, which is situated about a mile and a half from the Poudron ponds. It was here, in this charming village, which lies half-way between Haramont and Bonneuil, within a stone’s throw or two of the Castle of Vez, the dwelling of my lord the Baron, that Monsieur Magloire sat as magistrate.”]
[ditto]
C’était donc à une fête semblable qu’était conviée toute la société de Villers-Cotterêts, de Crespy, de Mont-Gobert et des villages environnants. Thibault s’y rendit comme les autres.
Thibault ne travaillait plus ; il trouvait plus simple de faire travailler ses loups pour lui.
D’ouvrier, Thibault s’était fait bourgeois.
Il ne lui restait plus qu’à se faire, de bourgeois, gentilhomme. Il y comptait bien.
Thibault n’était pas homme à se tenir derrière les autres.
Aussi commença-t-il à jouer des bras et des jambes pour se faire une place au premier rang.
En exécutant cette manœuvre, il froissa la robe d’une grande et belle femme près de laquelle il essayait de s’installer.
La dame tenait à ses hardes ; puis sans doute avait-elle l’habitude du commandement, ce qui donne naturellement celle du dédain ; car, se retournant et voyant qui la froissait, elle laissa échapper le mot manant.
Mais, malgré sa grossièreté, le mot était dit par une si belle bouche, la dame était si jolie, sa colère momentanée contrastait si vilainement avec le charme de ses traits, que Thibault, au lieu de répondre par quelque épithète de même calibre et même d’un calibre supérieur, se contenta de se reculer en balbutiant une manière d’excuse.
On a beau dire, de toutes les aristocraties, la première est encore celle de la beauté.
Supposez la femme vieille et laide ; eût-elle été marquise, Thibault l’eût tout au moins appelée drôlesse.
Puis, aussi, peut-être l’esprit de Thibault fut-il distrait par l’aspect de l’étrange personnage qui servait de cavalier à la dame.
C’était un gros bonhomme d’une soixantaine d’années, tout vêtu de noir et d’une propreté éblouissante ; mais si petit, si petit, qu’à peine sa tête allait-elle au coude de la dame, et que, comme elle n’eût pu prendre son bras sans se mettre à la torture, elle se contentait de s’appuyer majestueusement sur son épaule.
On eût dit, à la voir ainsi, une Cybèle antique appuyée sur un poussah moderne.
Mais quel charmant poussah avec ses courtes jambes, son abdomen crevant ses chausses et retombant sur ses genoux, ses petits bras gros et rondelets, ses mains blanches sous la dentelle, sa tête rubiconde et grassouillette, bien peignée, bien poudrée, bien frisée, avec sa petite queue qui, à chaque mouvement qu’elle faisait, jouait dans son catogan sur le collet de son habit !
On eût dit un de ces scarabées noirs dont la carapace est si peu en harmonie avec les jambes, qu’ils semblent rouler plutôt que marcher.
Et, avec tout cela, sa figure était si joviale, ses yeux à fleur de tête respiraient une telle bonté, que l’on se sentait sympathiquement entraîné vers lui ; car l’on devinait que le cher petit bonhomme était trop occupé à se donner, par tous les moyens possibles, du temps agréable à lui-même, pour chercher noise à cet être vague et indéterminé qu’on appelle le prochain.
Aussi, en entendant sa compagne malmener si cavalièrement Thibault, le gros petit bonhomme sembla-t-il au désespoir.
– Tout beau, madame Magloire ! tout beau, madame la baillive ! dit-il, trouvant moyen, en ce peu de mots, d’apprendre à ses voisins son nom et sa qualité ; tout beau ! car vous venez de dire un bien vilain mot à un pauvre garçon qui est plus chagrin que vous de cet accident.
– Eh bien, mais, monsieur Magloire, répondit la dame, ne faudrait-il pas que je le remerciasse de ce qu’il a si bien fripé mon bel ajustement de damas bleu, que le voici maintenant tout gâté, sans compter qu’il m’a marché sur le petit doigt.
– Je vous prie de me pardonner ma maladresse, noble dame, répliqua Thibault. Lorsque vous vous êtes retournée, votre miraculeux visage m’a ébloui comme un rayon de soleil de mai, et je n’ai plus vu où je mettais le pied.
C’était là un compliment assez coquettement tourné pour un homme qui, depuis trois mois, faisait d’une douzaine de loups sa société habituelle.
Et cependant il ne produisit qu’un médiocre effet sur la belle dame, car elle ne répondit que par une petite moue dédaigneuse.
C’est que, malgré la décence du costume de Thibault, elle avait jugé sa qualité avec le tact étrange que possèdent à cet endroit les femmes de toutes conditions.
Le gros petit bonhomme fut plus indulgent, car il frappa bruyamment l’une contre l’autre ses mains bouffies, que la pose prise par sa femme lui laissait complètement libres.
– Ah ! bravo ! dit-il, bravo ! voilà qui est touché juste, monsieur ; vous êtes un garçon d’esprit, et me semblez avoir étudié la façon dont on parle aux femmes. Ma mie, j’espère que vous avez apprécié comme moi le compliment, et que, pour prouver à monsieur qu’en vrais chrétiens que nous sommes, nous ne lui gardons pas rancune, s’il est des environs, et si cela ne le dérange pas trop de sa route, il nous accompagnera au logis, où nous humerons ensemble une vieille bouteille que Perrine ira chercher derrière les fagots.
– Oh ! je vous reconnais bien là, maître Népomucène ; tous moyens vous sont bons pour choquer les gobelets, et, lorsque les occasions vous manquent, vous êtes fort habile à les dénicher, n’importe où. Vous savez cependant, monsieur Magloire, que le docteur vous a expressément défendu de boire entre vos repas.
– C’est vrai, madame la baillive, fit maître Népomucène ; mais il ne m’a pas défendu de faire une politesse à un charmant garçon tel que monsieur me paraît être. Soyez donc clémente, Suzanne ; quittez cette mine bourrue qui vous va si mal. Par le sang-diable ! madame, qui ne vous connaît pas croirait, à vous entendre, que nous en sommes à une robe près. Eh bien, pour prouver à monsieur le contraire, si vous obtenez de lui qu’il nous accompagne au logis, je vais vous bailler, en rentrant, de quoi acheter ce bel accoutrement de lampas que vous souhaitez depuis si longtemps.
Cette promesse eut un effet magique. Elle adoucit subitement la colère de dame Magloire, et, comme la pêche tirait vers sa fin, elle accepta d’un air moins revêche le bras que Thibault lui présentait fort gauchement, nous devons l’avouer.
Quant à celui-ci, tout émerveillé de la beauté de la dame, jugeant, d’après les quelques mots qui étaient échappés à elle et son mari, qu’elle était la femme d’un magistrat, il fendit fièrement la foule, marchant la tête haute et d’un air aussi déterminé que s’il allait à la conquête de la Toison d’or.
En effet, il songeait, lui, le fiancé de la pauvre Agnelette, lui, l’amoureux éconduit de la belle meunière, il songeait non seulement à tout le plaisir, mais encore à tout l’orgueil qui lui reviendrait d’être aimé d’une baillive, et tout le parti qu’il y aurait à tirer d’une bonne fortune si désirée et si inattendue.
Or, comme, de son côté, dame Magloire était non seulement fort rêveuse, mais fort distraite, regardant à droite et à gauche, devant et derrière, comme si elle cherchait quelqu’un, la conversation eût été assez languissante durant tout le chemin, si l’excellent petit bonhomme, en trottinant tantôt du côté de Thibault, tantôt du côté de Suzanne, et en se dodelinant comme un canard qui revient des champs la panse pleine, n’en eût fait à peu près tous les frais.
Thibault calculant, la baillive rêvant, le bailli trottinant, parlant et s’essuyant le front avec un fin mouchoir de batiste, on arriva au village d’Erneville, distant d’un peu plus d’une demi-lieue des étangs de Poudron.
C’était dans ce charmant petit village, situé entre Haramont et Bonneuil, à quatre ou cinq portées de fusil seulement du château de Vez, demeure du seigneur Jean, que maître Magloire avait le siège de sa magistrature.
(141-145)
It was to a fête of this kind that everyone at Villers-Cotterets, at Crespy, at Mont-Gobert, and in the surrounding villages had been invited. Thibault went like everybody else; he had now no need to work, finding it simpler to allow the wolves to work for him. From a workman he had risen to be a man at ease, it now only remained to make himself a gentleman, and Thibault counted upon being able to do this. He was not a man to allow himself to remain in the rear, and he therefore made good use of his arms and legs so as to secure a place in the front row. In the course of this manœuvre he happened to rumple the dress of a tall, fine woman, next to whom he was trying to instal himself. The lady was fond of her clothes, and no doubt, also, she was in the habit of commanding, which naturally produces an attitude of disdain, for, turning to see who had brushed past her, she let fall the uncompromising word, “lout!” Notwithstanding the rudeness of the remark, the mouth that uttered the words was so beautiful, the lady so pretty, and her momentary anger in such ugly contrast to the charming expression of her face, that Thibault, instead of retorting in similar, or even more objectionable style, only drew back, stammering some sort of excuse.
There is no need to remind the reader that of all aristocracies, beauty is still the chief. If the woman had been old and ugly, she might have been a Marquise, but Thibault would certainly have called her by some opprobrious title. It is possible also that Thibault’s ideas were somewhat distracted by the strange appearance of the man who served as knight to this lady, He was a stout man of about sixty years of age, dressed entirely in black, and of a perfectly dazzling exactness of toilet; but therewith, so extremely short, that his head scarcely reached the lady’s elbow, and as she would have been unable to take his arm, without positive torture to herself, she was content to lean majestically upon his shoulder. Seeing them thus together, one might have taken her for an ancient Cybele leaning on one of those grotesque little modern figures of Chinese idols. And what a fascinating idol it was with those short legs, that bulgy stomach, those little fat podgy arms, those white hands under the lace ruffles, that plump, rubicund head and face, that well-combed, well-powdered, well-curled head of hair, and that tiny pigtail, which with every movement of its wearer’s, went bobbing up and down with its neat bow of ribbon against the coat collar. It reminded one of those black beetles of which the legs seem so little in harmony with the body, that the insects seem rather to roll than to walk. And with it all, the face was so jovial, the little eyes level with the forehead, were so full of kindness, that one felt involuntarily drawn towards him; one could be sure that the pleasant little man was too intent on giving himself a good time, by every means in his power, to think of quarrelling with that vague and indefinite person known as one’s neighbour. Wherefore, on hearing his companion speak so cavalierly to Thibault, the good fat little man appeared to be in despair.
“Gently, Madame Magloire! gently, Madame Bailiff!” he said, contriving in these few words to let his neighbours know what and who he was; “gently! those were ugly words to use to the poor fellow, who is more sorry than you are for the accident.”
“And may I ask, Monsieur Magloire,” replied the lady, “if I am not at liberty to thank him for so nicely crumpling my beautiful blue damask dress, which is now entirely spoilt, not taking into consideration that he also trod on my little toe?”
“I beg you, Madame, to pardon my clumsiness,” replied Thibault; “when you turned your face towards me, its wonderful beauty dazzled me like a ray of May sunshine, so that I could not see where I was treading.”
It was not a badly turned compliment for a man who for three months past had been in the daily society of a pack of wolves; nevertheless it did not produce any great effect upon the lady, who only responded with a haughty little pouting of the mouth. The truth was, that in spite of Thibault being so decently dressed, she had, with the curious insight which women of all ranks possess in these matters, detected at once to what class he belonged.
Her stout little companion however, was more indulgent, for he clapped loudly with his podgy hands, which the pose adopted by his wife left him free to use as he liked.
“Ah! bravo, bravo!” he said, “you have hit the mark, Monsieur; you are a clever young fellow, and seem to have studied the style to address women in. My love, I hope you appreciated the compliment as I did, and to prove to this gentlemen that we are good Christians and bear no ill-will towards him, he will, I hope, if he is living in this neighbourhood and it would not be too far out of his way, accompany us home, and we will drink a bottle of old wine together, if Perrine will get one out for us from the back of the wood shed.”
“Ah! there I know you, Master Népomucène; any excuse serves you to be clinking glasses with somebody, and when no genuine occasion offers, you are very clever at ferreting out one, it does not matter where. But you know, Monsieur Magloire, that the doctor has expressly forbidden you to drink between meals.”
“True, Madame Bailiff, true,” replied her husband, “but he did not forbid me to show politeness to an agreeable young fellow such as Monsieur appears to me to be. Be lenient, I pray, Suzanne; give up this surly manner, which suits you so ill. Why, Madame, those who do not know you, would think, to hear you, that we had nearly got to quarrelling over a gown. However, to prove the contrary to Monsieur, I promise that if you can get him to go back with us, I will, the very minute we get home, give you the money to buy that figured silk dress, which you have been wishing for so long.”
The effect of this promise was like magic. Madame Magloire was instantly mollified, and as the fishing was now drawing to a close, she accepted with less ungraciousness the arm which Thibault, somewhat awkwardly we must confess, now offered her.
As to Thibault himself, struck with the beauty of the lady, and gathering from words which had fallen from her and her husband, that she was the wife of a magistrate, he parted the crowd before him with an air of command, holding his head high the while, and making his way with as much determination as if he were starting on the conquest of the Golden Fleece.
And in truth, Thibault, the bridegroom elect of Agnelette, the lover who had been so ignominiously expelled her house by the mistress of the mill, was thinking not only of all the pleasure he could enjoy, but of the proud position he would hold as the beloved of a bailiff’s wife, and of all the advantages to be drawn from the good fortune which had so unexpectedly befallen him, and which he had so long desired.
As on her side also, Madame Magloire was not only very much preoccupied with her own thoughts, but also paid very little attention to him, looking to right and left, first in front of her and then behind, as if in search of some one, the conversation would have lagged terribly as they walked along if their excellent little companion had not been at the expense of the best part of it, as he jogged along now beside Thibault and now beside Suzanne, waddling like a duck jogging home after a big feed.
And so with Thibault engaged in his calculations, and the Bailiff’s wife with her dreams, the Bailiff trotting beside them talking and wiping his forehead with a fine cambric pocket-handkerchief, they arrived at the village of Erneville, which is situated about a mile and a half from the Poudron ponds. It was here, in this charming village, which lies half-way between Haramont and Bonneuil, within a stone’s throw or two of the Castle of Vez, the dwelling of my lord the Baron, that Monsieur Magloire sat as magistrate.
(53-5)
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:
.
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