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
12
“Deux loups dans la bergerie”
“Wolves in the Sheep Fold”
Brief summary:
__(12.1)__ (Recall from section 11 that Thibault the sorcerer made friends with the Bailiff Monsieur Népomucène Magloire and his beautiful wife Madame Suzanne Magloire. He drank wine and dined with Monsieur Magloire and will probably see them again soon. On the way home, by chance he enters into a fist fight with a stranger, ending with the other man falling dead or unconscious.) Thibault walks home through the woods, accompanied by his wolf companions. Thibault thinks to himself that it would be great if Monsieur Magloire died and he could marry Madame Magloire. But Thibault does not want to kill Monsieur Magloire, because he treated him so well. He thinks instead that Monsieur Magloire’s glutenous eating habits will kill him before long, and all the while he will have “already acquired some rights over Madame Suzanne”. He says (perhaps as a wish for the Wolf-Devil): “no illness, no death! but just those ordinary disagreeables which happen to everybody; only, as it is to be to my advantage, I should like rather more than the usual share to fall to him; one cannot at his age set up for a smart young buck; no, every one according to their dues ... and when these things come to pass, I will give you more than a thank you, Cousin Wolf’.” The next day, “He was hatching a plot.” He will gain the best game possible for his new friend and rival Monsieur Magloire. “He tracked the deer to its lair, the wild boar to its soil, the hare to its form; and followed their traces to discover where they went at night.” That night, Thibault “explained that he expected a more than usually fine night’s hunting from his friends, and as an encouragement to them, announced his intention of going with them himself and giving his help in the chase. It was in very truth a hunt beyond the power of words to describe. The whole night through did the sombre glades of the forest resound with hideous cries. Here, a roebuck pursued by a wolf, fell, caught by the throat by another wolf hidden in ambush; there, Thibault, knife in hand like a butcher, was running to the assistance of three or four of his ferocious companions, that had already fastened on a fine young boar of four years old, which he now finished off.” They also catch hare and partridges. “In a couple of hours’ time the wolves had heaped up a perfect cart-load of game in front of Thibault’s hut. Thibault selected what he wanted for his own purposes, and left over sufficient to provide them a sumptuous repast.” Thibault sells some of the meat to a gamedealer, reserving the best for his gift. He pays a peasant to deliver the gift first, and Thibault will arrive as they dine on it later. __(12.2)__ When Thibault arrives, Monsieur Magloire is overjoyed seeing the table full of such great game food. Monsieur Magloire tells his wife Madame Suzanne to thank Thibault by for this wonderous gift by shaking his hands and embracing him, which she did, also allowing Thibault to kiss her. To show her gratitude, Madame Suzanne says Thibault should not go home until they finished with all this food he brought them. This delights Thibault. They then have some vermouth to ready their appetite. Madame Suzanne changes her clothes, returning in a dazzling dress. During the meal, “Not only did he cast frequent and unmistakable sheep’s eyes at his fair hostess, but he gradually brought his knee nearer to hers, and finally went so far as to give it a gentle pressure.” Suddenly Madame Suzanne “went off into such a violent fit of laughter, that she almost choked, and nearly went into hysterics.” Monsieur Magloire then notices Thibault’s streaks of brilliantly colored red hair, and, thinking his hair is on fire, gets ready to throw water on it. Thibault realizes that he forgot to fix his hair to hide the alarming red locks. In fact, “he had during this short period given vent to so many little wishes, one here, and one there, all more or less to the detriment of his neighbour, that the flame-coloured hairs had multiplied to an alarming extent, and at this moment, any one of them could vie in brilliancy with the light from the two wax candles which lit the room.” Thibault explains the red hair with a lie: “it came from a fright my mother had with a pan of hot coals, that nearly set her hair on fire before I was born.” Madame Suzanne must control her laughter and notes it is strange she did not notice the hair until now, thinking his hair was just “as black as my velvet mantle.” After a little more conversation, Monsieur Magloire returns them to their feast. While eating, Madame Suzanne keeps noticing Thibault’s red hair with a mocking look. “He was very much annoyed at this, and, in spite of himself, he kept putting up his hand to try and hide the unfortunate lock under the rest of his hair. But the hairs were not only unusual in colour, but also of a phenomenal stiffness—it was no longer human hair, but horse-hair [Ce n’étaient plus des cheveux, – c’était du crin]. In vain Thibault endeavoured to hide the devil’s hairs [les cheveux du diable] beneath his own, nothing, not even the hair-dresser’s tongs could have induced them to lie otherwise than in the way which seemed natural to them. But although so occupied with thinking of his hair, Thibault’s legs still continued their tender manœuvres; and although Madame Magloire made no response to their solicitations, she apparently had no wish to escape from them, and Thibault was presumptuously led to believe that he had achieved a conquest.” __(12.3)__ The dining continues with Monsieur Magloire getting very drunk. Thibault decides he should “declare his love to the Bailiff’s wife without delay, judging it a good opportunity to speak while the husband was heavy with drink.” He announces that he would like to retire. They all leave the table, and the maid Perrine takes Thibault to his room. On the walk there, he asks where his room is, where Monsieur Magloire’s is, and also where Madame Magloire’s is. “The Bailiff’s room, and his wife’s, communicated with one another by an inner door; Thibault’s room had access to the corridor only.” While Madame Suzanne helps Monsieur Magloire into bed in his room, Thibault sneaks into Suzanne’s room. “The door opened; the room was in total darkness. But having for so long consorted with wolves, Thibault had acquired some of their characteristics, and, among others, that of being able to see in the dark.” He hides behind a window curtain. “After waiting a quarter of an hour, during which time Thibault’s heart beat so violently that the sound of it, fatal omen! reminded him of the click-clack of the mill-wheel at Croyolles, Madame Suzanne entered the room.” Out of fear of surprising her and making her call out, he decides to “wait until Monsieur Magloire was asleep beyond all power of being awakened”. But instead of going into bed, Madame Suzanne “had taken up her position before the mirror of her Pompadour table, and was decking herself out as if she were going to a festival or preparing to make one of a procession. She tried on ten veils before making choice of one. She arranged the folds of her dress. She fastened a triple row of pearls round her neck. Then she loaded her arms with all the bracelets she possessed. Finally she dressed her hair with the minutest care.” Just then, a large man climbs through her window. This reminds Thibault of the man he fought who was leaving by a window after his last visit, using Thibault as a ladder (see section 11.3). Thibault recognizes the man’s voice as that very man he fought. She says that she did not want to leave him waiting out in the cold, but they had a guest. They kiss. He goes to warm up by the fire, and she joins him. The man asks about the guest, and she says it was the same drunken man he encountered the night before. The man begins to vow to harm Thibault next chance he gets, but Suzanne tries to calm him: “ ‘My lord,’ responded Suzanne, in a voice as soft as music, ‘you must not harbour evil designs against your enemies; on the contrary, you must forgive them as we are taught to do by our Holy Religion’.” The man then says that actually Thibault is the reason for their love affair, because she saw him faint and had him brought into their home: “And so, this good-for-nothing fellow, this contemptible scamp, is after all the source of all good, for all the good of life for me is in your love; nevertheless if ever he comes within reach of my whip, he will not have a very pleasant time of it.” Madame Suzanne then says that Thibault is trying to woo her. The man becomes enraged: “What! that boor, that low rascal! Where is he? Where does he hide himself? By Beelzebub [Par Belzébuth]! I’ll throw him to my dogs to eat!” Thibault then recognizes the man’s voice. It is the Baron of Vez. Madame Suzanne calms him by saying, “your lordship is the only person whom I love, and even were it not so, a man with a lock of red hair right in the middle of his forehead is not the one to whom I should give away my heart.” This reminds Thibault of Madame Suzanne’s laughter over the red hair at dinner and drives him to call upon the Wolf-Devil’s aid: “ ‘Ah! traitress!’ he exclaimed to himself, ‘what would I not give for your husband, your good, upright husband, to walk in at this moment and surprise you.’ Scarcely was the wish uttered, when the door of communication between Suzanne’s room and that of Monsieur Magloire was thrown wide open, and in walked her husband with an enormous night-cap on his head, which made him look nearly five feet high, and holding a lighted candle in his hand. ‘Ah! ah!’ muttered Thibault. ‘Well done! It’s my turn to laugh now, Madame Magloire’.”
[Thibault’s Great Hunt, a Fantastic Gift for the Magliore’s]
[The Magloire’s Sudden Discovery of Thibault’s Red Hair]
[Thibault’s Discovery of Vez as Madame Suzanne’s Secret Lover, and His Calling for the Wolf-Devil to Make Monsieur Magloire Find Them Together]
Summary
[Thibault’s Great Hunt, a Fantastic Gift for the Magliore’s]
[(Recall from section 11 that Thibault the sorcerer made friends with the Bailiff Monsieur Népomucène Magloire and his beautiful wife Madame Suzanne Magloire. He drank wine and dined with Monsieur Magloire and will probably see them again soon. On the way home, by chance he enters into a fist fight with a stranger, ending with the other man falling dead or unconscious.) Thibault walks home through the woods, accompanied by his wolf companions. Thibault thinks to himself that it would be great if Monsieur Magloire died and he could marry Madame Magloire. But Thibault does not want to kill Monsieur Magloire, because he treated him so well. He thinks instead that Monsieur Magloire’s glutenous eating habits will kill him before long, and all the while he will have “already acquired some rights over Madame Suzanne”. He says (perhaps as a wish for the Wolf-Devil): “no illness, no death! but just those ordinary disagreeables which happen to everybody; only, as it is to be to my advantage, I should like rather more than the usual share to fall to him; one cannot at his age set up for a smart young buck; no, every one according to their dues ... and when these things come to pass, I will give you more than a thank you, Cousin Wolf’.” The next day, “He was hatching a plot.” He will gain the best game possible for his new friend and rival Monsieur Magloire. “He tracked the deer to its lair, the wild boar to its soil, the hare to its form; and followed their traces to discover where they went at night.” That night, Thibault “explained that he expected a more than usually fine night’s hunting from his friends, and as an encouragement to them, announced his intention of going with them himself and giving his help in the chase. It was in very truth a hunt beyond the power of words to describe. The whole night through did the sombre glades of the forest resound with hideous cries. Here, a roebuck pursued by a wolf, fell, caught by the throat by another wolf hidden in ambush; there, Thibault, knife in hand like a butcher, was running to the assistance of three or four of his ferocious companions, that had already fastened on a fine young boar of four years old, which he now finished off.” They also catch hare and partridges. “In a couple of hours’ time the wolves had heaped up a perfect cart-load of game in front of Thibault’s hut. Thibault selected what he wanted for his own purposes, and left over sufficient to provide them a sumptuous repast.” Thibault sells some of the meat to a gamedealer, reserving the best for his gift. He pays a peasant to deliver the gift first, and Thibault will arrive as they dine on it later.]
[ditto]
Il n’y avait pas loin de la maison du bailli à la forêt.
En deux bonds, Thibault fut donc de l’autre côté du petit château les Fossés, à la laie de la Briqueterie.
À peine eut-il fait cent pas dans le bois, qu’il se vit accompagné de son escorte ordinaire.
Tout cela le câlinait en clignotant de l’œil et en remuant la queue pour exprimer son contentement.
Au reste, Thibault, qui s’était si fort inquiété de ses étranges gardes du corps la première fois qu’il s’était trouvé en contact avec eux, n’y faisait pas plus attention maintenant qu’il n’eût fait à une meute de caniches.
Il leur adressa quelques paroles d’amitié, gratta doucement entre les deux oreilles celui qui se trouvait le plus à sa portée, et continua son chemin en pensant à son double triomphe.
Il avait vaincu son hôte à la bouteille.
Il avait vaincu son adversaire au pugilat.
Aussi, dans sa joyeuse humeur, disait-il tout haut et tout en marchant :
– Il faut convenir, mon ami Thibault, que tu es un heureux coquin ! Dame Suzanne est en tout point ce qu’il te faut. Femme de bailli ! peste ! voilà une conquête ! et, en cas de survivance, voilà une femme ! mais dans l’un ou l’autre cas, lorsqu’elle marchera à mes côtés et appuyée à mon bras, soit comme femme, soit comme maîtresse, du diable si l’on me prend pour autre chose qu’un gentilhomme ! Et quand on pense que tout cela s’arrangera, à moins que je ne fasse quelque sottise pour brouiller les cartes ! car, enfin, je n’ai pas été dupe de sa retraite ; qui n’a pas peur ne prend point la fuite. Elle aura craint d’en trop montrer pour la première fois ; mais quelle insistance en rentrant chez elle ! Allons, allons, je vois que tout cela s’arrange ; je n’ai qu’à donner un coup d’épaule ; qu’elle se trouve un beau matin débarrassée de son gros petit vieux bonhomme, et la chose est faite. Cependant je ne peux pas et surtout je ne veux pas souhaiter le trépas de ce pauvre maître Magloire. Prendre sa place quand il n’y sera plus, soit ; mais tuer un homme qui m’a fait boire de si bon vin ! le tuer quand j’ai encore ce vin dans l’estomac, ce serait là un procédé dont mon compère le loup lui-même rougirait pour moi.
Puis, souriant de son sourire le plus coquin :
– D’ailleurs, continua-t-il, ne vaut-il pas mieux que j’aie déjà acquis des droits sur dame Suzanne quand maître Magloire s’en ira tout naturellement dans l’autre monde, ce qui ne peut tarder à la manière dont le drôle mange et boit ?
Puis, sans doute, comme les bonnes qualités tant vantées de la baillive lui revenaient à l’esprit :
– Non, non, dit-il, pas de maladie, pas de mort, pas de trépas ! rien que de ces simples désagréments qui arrivent à tout le monde ; seulement, comme c’est à mon profit, je désire qu’il lui en arrive, à lui, un peu plus qu’à tout le monde ; ce n’est point à son âge qu’on peut avoir la prétention d’être une jeune tête ou un daguet ; non, il faut servir les gens selon leur mérite… Quand cela sera, je vous dirai un beau merci, monsieur le loup, mon cousin.
Et Thibault, d’un autre avis sans doute que nos lecteurs, et trouvant la plaisanterie du meilleur goût, se frottait les mains en souriant à cette idée, et il en était si joyeux, qu’il se trouva arrivé à la ville, et au bout de la rue de Largny, croyant être encore à cinq cents pas de la maison du digne bailli.
Là, il fit un signe à ses loups.
Il eût été imprudent de traverser Villers-Cotterêts dans toute sa longueur, avec douze loups en manière de garde d’honneur ; il pouvait se trouver des chiens sur sa route et les chiens pouvaient donner l’éveil. Six loups prirent donc à droite et six loups à gauche, et, quoique le chemin ne fût pas précisément le même, ceux-ci allant plus vite, ceux-là plus lentement, la douzaine se retrouva complète au bout de la rue de Lormet.
À la porte de la chaumière de Thibault, les loups prirent congé de lui et disparurent.
Mais, avant que chacun d’eux tirât de son côté, Thibault les invita à se trouver bien exactement au même endroit, le lendemain, à la tombée de la nuit.
Quoique rentré chez lui à deux heures du matin, Thibault se leva avec le jour.
Il est vrai qu’au mois de janvier, le jour se lève tard.
Thibault couvait un projet.
Il n’avait point oublié la promesse faite par lui au bailli de lui envoyer du gibier de sa garenne.
Or, sa garenne, à lui, c’étaient toutes les forêts de Son Altesse Sérénissime monseigneur le duc d’Orléans.
C’était pour cela qu’il s’était levé de si bonne heure.
Il avait neigé de deux à quatre heures du matin.
Il explora la forêt dans tous les sens, avec la prudence et l’adresse d’un limier.
Il chercha les reposées des cerfs et des chevreuils, les bauge des sangliers, les gîtes des lièvres : il observa les passages que suivaient les animaux pour aller faire leurs nuits.
Puis, lorsque les ténèbres furent répandues sur la forêt, il poussa un hurlement (on apprend à hurler avec les loups), il poussa un hurlement qui fit venir à lui le ban et l’arrière-ban des loups conviés par lui la veille.
Tout arriva, jusqu’aux louvards de l’année.
Thibault alors leur expliqua qu’il attendait d’eux une chasse merveilleuse.
Pour les encourager, il leur annonça qu’il se mettait de la partie et les appuyait.
Ce fut vraiment une chasse merveilleuse.
Pendant toute la nuit, la voûte sombre de la forêt retentit d’affreux hurlements.
Ici, un chevreuil poursuivi par un loup tombait, saisi à la gorge par un autre loup placé en embuscade.
Là, Thibault, le couteau à la main comme un boucher, venait en aide à trois ou quatre de ses féroces compagnons, et portait bas un beau quartanier que ceux-ci avaient coiffé.
Une vieille louve revenait avec une demi-douzaine de lièvres qu’elle avait surpris au milieu de leurs ébats amoureux, et elle avait grand-peine à empêcher ses louvards de céder à leur irrespectueuse gourmandise en avalant, sans attendre que le seigneur des loups eût prélevé ses droits, toute une famille de perdrix rouges que ces jeunes maraudeurs avaient saisies la tête sous l’aile.
Madame Suzanne Magloire était bien loin de se douter en ce moment de ce qui se passait dans la forêt de Villers-Cotterêts à son intention.
Au bout de deux heures, les loups avaient rassemblé en face de la cabane de Thibault une véritable charretée de gibier.
Thibault fit son choix, puis leur abandonna de quoi faire une fastueuse ripaille.
Enfin, il chargea le reste sur deux mulets qu’il emprunta à un charbonnier, sous prétexte de porter ses sabots à la ville, et se mit en route pour Villers-Cotterêts, où il vendit au giboyeur une partie de son butin, réservant, pour les offrir à madame Magloire, les pièces les plus fines et les moins mutilées par la griffe des loups.
Il avait eu l’idée d’abord de présenter tout cela lui-même au bailli.
Mais Thibault commençait à prendre quelque teinture du monde.
Il jugea qu’il était plus convenable de se faire précéder par son cadeau, chargea un paysan de tout ce gibier, lui donna une pièce de trente sous, et l’expédia au bailli d’Erneville avec un simple papier sur lequel il y avait :
« De la part de M. Thibault. »
Quant à lui, il devait suivre de près son message.
Il le suivit de si près, en effet, qu’il arriva comme maître Magloire faisait étaler sur une table le gibier qu’il venait de recevoir.
(160-164)
THE forest was not far from the Bailiff’s house, and in two bounds Thibault found himself on the further side of Les Fossés, and in the wooded path leading to the brickyard. He had no sooner entered the forest than his usual escort surrounded him, fawning and blinking with their eyes and wagging their tails to show their pleasure. Thibault, who had been so alarmed the first time he found himself in company with this strange body guard, took no more notice of them now than if they had been a pack of poodles. He gave them a word or two of caress, softly scratched the head of the one that was nearest him, and continued on his way, thinking over his double triumph.
He had beaten his host at the bottle, he had vanquished his adversary at fisticuffs, and in this joyous frame of mind, he walked along, saying aloud to himself:
“You must acknowledge, friend Thibault, that you are a lucky rascal! Madame Suzanne is in every possible respect just what you want! A Bailiff’s wife! my word! that’s a conquest worth making! and if he dies first, what a wife to get! But in either case, when she is walking beside me, and taking my arm, whether as wife or mistress, the devil take it, if I am mistaken for anything but a gentleman! And to think that unless I am fool enough to play my cards badly, all this will be mine! For she did not deceive me by the way she went off: those who have nothing to fear have no need to take flight. She was afraid to show her feelings too plainly at first meeting; but how kind she was after she got home! Well, well, it is all working itself out, as I can see; I have only got to push matters a bit; and some fine morning she will find herself rid of her fat little old man, and then the thing is done. Not that I do, or can, wish for the death of poor Monsieur Magloire. If I take his place after he is no more, well and good; but to kill a man who has given you such good wine to drink! to kill him with his good wine still hot in your mouth! why, even my friend the wolf would blush for me if I were guilty of such a deed.”
Then with one of his most roguish smiles, he went on:
“And besides, would it not be as well to have already acquired some rights over Madame Suzanne, by the time Monsieur Magloire passes, in the course of nature, into the other world, which, considering the way in which the old scamp eats and drinks, cannot be a matter of long delay?”
And then, no doubt because the good qualities of the Bailiff’s wife which had been so highly extolled to him came back to his mind:
“No, no,” he continued, “no illness, no death! but just those ordinary disagreeables which happen to everybody; only, as it is to be to my advantage, I should like rather more than the usual share to fall to him; one cannot at his age set up for a smart young buck; no, every one according to their dues ... and when these things come to pass, I will give you more than a thank you, Cousin Wolf.”
My readers will doubtless not be of the same way of thinking as Thibault, who saw nothing offensive in this pleasantry of his, but on the contrary, rubbed his hands together smiling at his own thoughts, and indeed so pleased with them that he had reached the town, and found himself at the end of the Rue de Largny before he was aware that he had left the Bailiff’s house more than a few hundred paces behind him.
He now made a sign to his wolves, for it was not quite prudent to traverse the whole town of Villers-Cotterets with a dozen wolves walking alongside as a guard of honour; not only might they meet dogs by the way, but the dogs might wake up the inhabitants.
Six of his wolves, therefore, went off to the right, and six to the left, and although the paths they took were not exactly of the same length, and although some of them went more quickly than the others, the whole dozen nevertheless managed to meet, without one missing, at the end of the Rue de Lormet. As soon as Thibault had reached the door of his hut, they took leave of him and disappeared; but, before they dispersed, Thibault requested them to be at the same spot on the morrow, as soon as night fell.
Although it was two o’clock before Thibault got home, he was up with the dawn; it is true, however, that the day does not rise very early in the month of January.
He was hatching a plot. He had not forgotten the promise he had made to the Bailiff to send him some game from his warren; his warren being, in fact, the whole of the forest-land which belonged to his most serene Highness the Duke of Orleans. This was why he had got up in such good time. It had snowed for two hours before day-break; and he now went and explored the forest in all directions, with the skill and cunning of a bloodhound.
He tracked the deer to its lair, the wild boar to its soil, the hare to its form; and followed their traces to discover where they went at night.
And then, when darkness again fell on the Forest, he gave a howl,—a regular wolf’s howl, in answer to which came crowding to him the wolves that he had invited the night before, followed by old and young recruits, even to the very cubs of a year old.
Thibault then explained that he expected a more than usually fine night’s hunting from his friends, and as an encouragement to them, announced his intention of going with them himself and giving his help in the chase.
It was in very truth a hunt beyond the power of words to describe. The whole night through did the sombre glades of the forest resound with hideous cries.
Here, a roebuck pursued by a wolf, fell, caught by the throat by another wolf hidden in ambush; there, Thibault, knife in hand like a butcher, was running to the assistance of three or four of his ferocious companions, that had already fastened on a fine young boar of four years old, which he now finished off.
An old she-wolf came along bringing with her half-a-dozen hares which she had surprised in their love frolics, and she had great difficulty in preventing her cubs from swallowing a whole covey of young partridges which the young marauders had come across with their heads under their wings, without first waiting for the wolf-master to levy his dues.
Madame Suzanne Magloire little thought what was taking place at this moment in the forest of Villers-Cotterets, and on her account.
In a couple of hours’ time the wolves had heaped up a perfect cart-load of game in front of Thibault’s hut.
Thibault selected what he wanted for his own purposes, and left over sufficient to provide them a sumptuous repast. Borrowing a mule from a charcoal-burner, on the pretext that he wanted to convey his shoes to town, he loaded it up with the game and started for Villers-Cotterets. There he sold a part of this booty to the gamedealer, reserving the best pieces and those which had been least mutilated by the wolves’ claws, to present to Madame Magloire.
His first intention had been to go in person with his gift to the Bailiff; but Thibault was beginning to have a smattering of the ways of the world, and thought it would, therefore, be more becoming to allow his offering of game to precede him. To this end he employed a peasant on payment of a few coppers, to carry the game to the Bailiff of Erneville, merely accompanying it with a slip of paper, on which he wrote: “From Monsieur Thibault.” He, himself, was to follow closely on the message; and, indeed, so closely did he do so, that he arrived just as Maître Magloire was having the game he had received spread out on a table.
(60-62)
[The Magloire’s Sudden Discovery of Thibault’s Red Hair]
[When Thibault arrives, Monsieur Magloire is overjoyed seeing the table full of such great game food. Monsieur Magloire tells his wife Madame Suzanne to thank Thibault by for this wonderous gift by shaking his hands and embracing him, which she did, also allowing Thibault to kiss her. To show her gratitude, Madame Suzanne says Thibault should not go home until they finished with all this food he brought them. This delights Thibault. They then have some vermouth to ready their appetite. Madame Suzanne changes her clothes, returning in a dazzling dress. During the meal, “Not only did he cast frequent and unmistakable sheep’s eyes at his fair hostess, but he gradually brought his knee nearer to hers, and finally went so far as to give it a gentle pressure.” Suddenly Madame Suzanne “went off into such a violent fit of laughter, that she almost choked, and nearly went into hysterics.” Monsieur Magloire then notices Thibault’s streaks of brilliantly colored red hair, and, thinking his hair is on fire, gets ready to throw water on it. Thibault realizes that he forgot to fix his hair to hide the alarming red locks. In fact, “he had during this short period given vent to so many little wishes, one here, and one there, all more or less to the detriment of his neighbour, that the flame-coloured hairs had multiplied to an alarming extent, and at this moment, any one of them could vie in brilliancy with the light from the two wax candles which lit the room.” Thibault explains the red hair with a lie: “it came from a fright my mother had with a pan of hot coals, that nearly set her hair on fire before I was born.” Madame Suzanne must control her laughter and notes it is strange she did not notice the hair until now, thinking his hair was just “as black as my velvet mantle.” After a little more conversation, Monsieur Magloire returns them to their feast. While eating, Madame Suzanne keeps noticing Thibault’s red hair with a mocking look. “He was very much annoyed at this, and, in spite of himself, he kept putting up his hand to try and hide the unfortunate lock under the rest of his hair. But the hairs were not only unusual in colour, but also of a phenomenal stiffness—it was no longer human hair, but horse-hair [Ce n’étaient plus des cheveux, – c’était du crin]. In vain Thibault endeavoured to hide the devil’s hairs [les cheveux du diable] beneath his own, nothing, not even the hair-dresser’s tongs could have induced them to lie otherwise than in the way which seemed natural to them. But although so occupied with thinking of his hair, Thibault’s legs still continued their tender manœuvres; and although Madame Magloire made no response to their solicitations, she apparently had no wish to escape from them, and Thibault was presumptuously led to believe that he had achieved a conquest.”]
[ditto]
Et, comme le bailli était dans toute la chaleur de sa reconnaissance, il tendit ses petits bras à son ami de l’avant-veille, et essaya de le serrer sur son cœur, en poussant de grands cris de joie.
Nous disons essaya, attendu que deux choses s’opposaient à ce désir : l’exiguïté de ses bras et la rotondité de son abdomen.
Mais il pensa que, là où il était insuffisant, madame Magloire pouvait l’aider.
Il courut à la porte et appela de toutes ses forces :
– Suzanne ! Suzanne !
Il y avait une expression si extraordinaire dans la voix du bailli, que sa femme jugea qu’il était arrivé quelque chose de nouveau, sans pouvoir reconnaître cependant si c’était en bien ou en mal.
Elle descendit donc précipitamment, afin de pouvoir juger de la chose par elle-même.
Elle trouva son mari fou de joie, trottinant tout autour de la table, laquelle présentait, il faut bien le dire, le plus réjouissant spectacle qui se pût offrir à l’œil d’un gourmand.
Dès que Suzanne parut :
– Tenez, tenez, madame ! lui cria son mari en frappant ses mains l’une contre l’autre, voyez ce que nous apporte notre ami Thibault, et remerciez-le. Vive Dieu ! en voilà un qui tient ses engagements ! Il nous promet une bourriche de gibier de sa garenne, et il nous en envoie une charretée… Donne-lui la main, embrasse-le vite, et regarde-moi cela.
Madame Magloire obéit de la meilleure grâce du monde aux ordres de son mari : elle donna la main à Thibault, se laissa embrasser par lui, et abaissa ses beaux yeux sur cette collection de victuailles qui faisait l’admiration du bailli.
Et cette collection, qui allait apporter un si agréable confort à leur ordinaire habituel, était bien digne d’admiration, en effet.
C’étaient d’abord, et comme pièces principales, une hure et un cuissot de sanglier, à la chair ferme et savoureuse ; c’était une belle chevrette de trois ans, laquelle devait être tendre comme la rosée qui, la veille encore, perlait sur l’herbe broutée par elle ; c’étaient des lièvres au râble épais et charnu, de vrais lièvres des bruyères de Gondreville, nourris de thym et de serpolet ; enfin des faisans si parfumés, des perdrix rouges si délicates, qu’une fois en broche, on oubliait, au fumet de leur chair, la magnificence de leur plumage.
Or, l’imagination du gros petit bonhomme dévorait tout cela d’avance : elle mettait le sanglier en carbonnade, la chevrette à la sauce piquante, les lièvres en pâté, les faisans aux truffes, les perdrix rouges à la Vaupalière, et cela avec tant de feu et d’expression, que, rien qu’à l’entendre, l’eau fût venue à la bouche de tout gourmand.
L’enthousiasme du digne bailli fit comparativement paraître dame Suzanne un peu froide.
Cependant elle fit acte d’initiative et de gracieuseté lorsqu’elle déclara à Thibault qu’elle ne le laisserait point retourner à ses métairies avant que toutes les provisions dont, grâce à lui, le garde-manger allait regorger, fussent entièrement consommées.
On juge si Thibault fut aise de voir la dame aller ainsi au-devant de ses plus chers désirs.
Il se promit monts et merveilles de ce séjour à Erneville, et fut le premier, tant son humeur était joyeuse, à inviter M. Magloire à lui offrir quelque boisson apéritive qui préparât leurs estomacs à recevoir dignement les mets savoureux qu’allait leur brasser mademoiselle Perrine.
Maître Magloire fut tout réjoui de voir que Thibault n’avait rien oublié, pas même le nom de la cuisinière.
On fit monter du vermouth.
C’était une boisson encore fort inconnue en France, que monseigneur le duc d’Orléans faisait venir de Hollande et dont le maître d’hôtel de Son Altesse Sérénissime dotait gracieusement son prédécesseur.
Thibault fit la grimace.
Il trouvait que la boisson exotique ne valait pas un joli petit chablis national.
Mais, quand maître Magloire lui eut dit que, grâce à ce miraculeux breuvage, il aurait dans une heure un appétit féroce, il ne fit plus aucune observation et aida complaisamment le bailli à finir sa bouteille.
Quant à dame Suzanne, elle était remontée à son appartement pour faire ce que les femmes appellent un bout de toilette, et ce qui consiste, en général, en un changement complet de décoration.
Bientôt vint l’heure de se mettre à table.
Dame Suzanne descendit de son appartement.
Elle était éblouissante avec sa belle robe de damas gris brodée de cannetille, et les transports amoureux qu’elle excita chez Thibault empêchèrent le sabotier de songer à l’embarras dans lequel il devait nécessairement se trouver en festoyant pour la première fois en si belle et si aristocratique compagnie.
Thibault, disons-le à sa louange, ne s’en tirait pas trop mal.
Non seulement il envoyait à ciel ouvert œillade sur œillade à sa belle hôtesse, mais encore il avait peu à peu rapproché son genou du sien, et se permettait de lui imprimer une douce pression.
Tout à coup, et au moment où Thibault se livrait à cette occupation, dame Suzanne, qui le regardait tendrement, resta tout à coup les yeux fixes.
Elle ouvrit ensuite la bouche et partit d’un éclat de rire si violent, qu’il dégénéra en crise nerveuse, et peu s’en fallut qu’elle n’étranglât.
Sans s’arrêter aux conséquences, maître Magloire remonta directement aux causes.
Il porta à son tour son regard sur Thibault, s’inquiétant beaucoup plus de ce qu’il croyait apercevoir d’alarmant dans son ami que de l’état d’excitation nerveuse dans lequel l’hilarité avait mis sa femme.
– Ah ! mon compère ! s’écria-t-il en tendant vers Thibault ses deux petits bras effarés, vous flambez, mon compère, vous flambez !
Thibault se leva précipitamment.
– Qu’y a-t-il donc ? demanda-t-il.
– Il y a que vous avez le feu dans votre chevelure, répondit naïvement le bailli en saisissant, tant sa frayeur était réelle, la carafe placée devant sa femme, pour éteindre l’incendie allumé dans les cheveux de Thibault.
Le sabotier porta instinctivement la main à sa tête.
Mais, ne sentant aucune chaleur, il devina ce dont il était question, pâlit horriblement et se laissa retomber sur son siège.
Sa préoccupation avait été si grande depuis deux jours, qu’il avait complètement oublié la précaution prise à l’endroit de la meunière, c’est-à-dire de donner à sa coiffure ce tour particulier à l’aide duquel il cachait sous les autres les cheveux dont le loup noir avait acquis la propriété.
Il est vrai que, pendant ce temps, grâce à une foule de petits souhaits échappés à Thibault, et qui, par-ci par-là, avaient porté préjudice à son prochain, la multiplication des cheveux couleur de flamme avait fait un progrès effrayant, et, dans ce moment, le malheureux avait des cheveux dont chacun pouvait lutter comme éclat avec les deux chandelles de cire jaune qui éclairaient l’appartement.
– Par le diable ! maître Magloire, reprit Thibault en essayant de dominer son émotion, vous m’avez fait une effroyable peur.
– Mais… dit le bailli en montrant toujours avec un certain effroi la mèche flamboyante de Thibault.
– Bon ! reprit celui-ci, ne faites point attention, messire, à ce qu’une portion de ma chevelure peut avoir d’inusité ; cela provient d’une peur que ma mère eut d’un brasier qui pensa la dévorer étant enceinte de moi.
– Ce qui est plus étrange encore, dit dame Suzanne, qui avait avalé un grand verre d’eau pour éteindre son rire, c’est que, pour la première fois aujourd’hui, je m’aperçois de cette resplendissante bizarrerie.
– Ah ! vraiment !… fit Thibault ne sachant trop que répondre.
– Il m’avait semblé l’autre jour, continua dame Suzanne, que vos cheveux étaient aussi noirs que mon mantelet de velours ; et cependant je vous prie de croire que je ne laissai pas que de vous considérer avec grande attention, monsieur Thibault.
Cette dernière phrase, en lui rendant ses espérances, rendit Thibault à sa belle humeur.
– Ventre-gai ! madame, répliqua-t-il, « dans un rousseau, dit le proverbe, gît un cœur chaud » ; tandis qu’un autre proverbe dit : « Sabot bien fin et bien paré, parfois cache fente et morceaux. »
Madame Magloire fit la grimace à ce proverbe de saboterie. Mais, comme cela arrivait souvent au bailli, il ne fut point, en cette occasion, de l’avis de sa femme.
– Mon compère Thibault parle d’or, dit-il, et je n’irai pas bien loin pour trouver à appointer ses proverbes… Voici, sur ma parole, une soupe lyonnaise qui, certes, ne payait pas de mine, et cependant jamais oignon et pain frit à la graisse d’oie ne réjouirent davantage mes entrailles.
À partir de ce moment, il ne fut plus question de la mèche flamboyante de Thibault.
Cependant les grands yeux de dame Suzanne semblaient invinciblement attirés vers cette diablesse de mèche, et, chaque fois que le regard railleur de la baillive croisait le sien, Thibault croyait surprendre sur ses lèvres une réminiscence du rire qui naguère l’avait mis si mal à l’aise.
Cela l’agaçait.
Malgré lui, à chaque instant, il portait la main à ses cheveux, essayant de dissimuler la mèche fatale sous les autres cheveux.
Mais la mèche était non seulement d’une couleur inusitée, mais aussi d’une roideur inouïe.
Ce n’étaient plus des cheveux, – c’était du crin.
Thibault avait beau courber et cacher les cheveux du diable sous les siens, rien, pas même le fer du coiffeur, n’eût été capable de leur faire prendre un autre pli que celui qui semblait leur être naturel.
Au milieu de toutes ces préoccupations, les genoux de Thibault redoublaient de tendresse.
En outre, comme, tout en ne répondant pas à ses provocations amoureuses, madame Magloire ne paraissait avoir aucunement l’intention de s’y soustraire, le présomptueux Thibault ne doutait guère de cette conquête.
(164-170)
The Bailiff, in the warmth of his gratitude, extended his arms towards his friend of the previous night, and tried to embrace him, uttering loud cries of joy. I say tried, for two things prevented him from carrying out his wish; one, the shortness of his arms, the other, the rotundity of his person.
But thinking that where his capacities were insufficient, Madame Magloire might be of assistance, he ran to the door, calling at the top of his voice: “Suzanne, Suzanne!”
There was so unusual a tone in the Bailiff’s voice that his wife felt sure something extraordinary had happened, but whether for good or ill she was unable to make sure: and downstairs she came, therefore, in great haste, to see for herself what was taking place.
She found her husband, wild with delight, trotting round to look on all sides at the game spread on the table, and it must be confessed, that no sight could have more greatly rejoiced a gourmand’s eye. As soon as he caught sight of Suzanne, “Look, look, Madame!” he cried, clapping his hands together. “See what our friend Thibault has brought us, and thank him for it. Praise be to God! there is one person who knows how to keep his promises! He tells us he will send a hamper of game, and he sends us a cart-load. Shake hands with him, embrace him at once, and just look here at this.”
Madame Magloire graciously followed out her husband’s orders; she gave Thibault her hand, allowed him to kiss her, and cast her beautiful eyes over the supply of food which elicited such exclamations of admiration from the Bailiff. And as a supply, which was to make such an acceptable addition to the ordinary daily fare, it was certainly worthy of all admiration.
First, as prime pieces, came a boar’s head and ham, firm and savoury morsels; then a fine three year old kid, which should have been as tender as the dew that only the evening before beaded the grass at which it was nibbling; next came hares, fine fleshy hares from the heath of Gondreville, full fed on wild thyme; and then such scented pheasants, and such delicious red-legged partridges, that once on the spit, the magnificence of their plumage was forgotten in the perfume of their flesh. And all these good things the fat little man enjoyed in advance in his imagination; he already saw the boar broiled on the coals, the kid dressed with sauce piquante, the hares made into a pasty, the pheasants stuffed with truffles, the partridges dressed with cabbage, and he put so much fervour and feeling into his orders and directions, that merely to hear him was enough to set a gourmand’s mouth watering.
It was this enthusiasm on the part of the Bailiff which no doubt made Madame Suzanne appear somewhat cold and unappreciative in comparison. Nevertheless she took the initiative, and with much graciousness assured Thibault that she would on no account allow him to return to his farms until all the provisions, with which, thanks to him, the larder would now overflow, had been consumed. You may guess how delighted Thibault was at having his cherished wishes thus met by Madame herself. He promised himself no end of grand things from this stay at Erneville, and his spirits rose to the point of himself proposing to Maître Magloire that they should indulge in a preparatory whack of liquor to prepare their digestions for the savoury dishes that Mademoiselle Perrine was preparing for them.
Maître Magloire was quite gratified to see that Thibault had forgotten nothing, not even the cook’s name. He sent for some vermouth, a liqueur as yet but little known in France, having been imported from Holland by the Duke of Orleans and of which a present had been made by his Highness’s head cook to his predecessor.
Thibault made a face over it; he did not think this foreign drink was equal to a nice little glass of native Châblis; but when assured by the Bailiff that, thanks to the beverage, he would in an hour’s time have a ferocious appetite, he made no further remark, and affably assisted his host to finish the bottle. Madame Suzanne, meanwhile, had returned to her own room to smarten herself up a bit, as women say, which generally means an entire change of raiment.
It was not long before the dinner-hour sounded, and Madame Suzanne came down stairs again. She was perfectly dazzling in a splendid dress of grey damask trimmed with pearl, and the transports of amorous admiration into which Thibault was thrown by the sight of her prevented the shoe-maker from thinking of the awkwardness of the position in which he now unavoidably found himself, dining as he was for the first time with such handsome and distinguished company. To his credit, be it said, he did not make bad use of his opportunities. Not only did he cast frequent and unmistakable sheep’s eyes at his fair hostess, but he gradually brought his knee nearer to hers, and finally went so far as to give it a gentle pressure. Suddenly, and while Thibault was engaged in this performance, Madame Suzanne, who was looking sweetly towards him, opened her eyes and stared fixedly a moment. Then she opened her mouth, and went off into such a violent fit of laughter, that she almost choked, and nearly went into hysterics. Maître Magloire, taking no notice of the effect, turned straight to the cause, and he now looked at Thibault, and was much more concerned and alarmed with what he thought to see, than with the nervous state of excitement into which his wife had been thrown by her hilarity.
“Ah! my dear fellow!” he cried, stretching two little agitated arms towards Thibault, “you are in flames, you are in flames!”
Thibault sprang up hastily.
“Where? How?” he asked.
“Your hair is on fire,” answered the Bailiff, in all sincerity; and so genuine was his terror, that he seized the water bottle that was in front of his wife in order to put out the conflagration blazing among Thibault’s locks.
The shoe-maker involuntarily put up his hand to his head, but feeling no heat, he at once guessed what was the matter, and fell back into his chair, turning horribly pale. He had been so preoccupied during the last two days, that he had quite forgotten to take the same precaution he had done before visiting the owner of the mill, and had omitted to give his hair that particular twist whereby he was able to hide the hairs of which the black wolf had acquired the proprietorship under his others. Added to this, he had during this short period given vent to so many little wishes, one here, and one there, all more or less to the detriment of his neighbour, that the flame-coloured hairs had multiplied to an alarming extent, and at this moment, any one of them could vie in brilliancy with the light from the two wax candles which lit the room.
“Well, you did give me a dreadful fright, Monsieur Magloire,” said Thibault, trying to conceal his agitation.
“But, but ...” responded the Bailiff, still pointing with a certain remains of fear at Thibault’s flaming lock of hair.
“That is nothing,” continued Thibault, “do not be uneasy about the unusual colour of some of my hair; it came from a fright my mother had with a pan of hot coals, that nearly set her hair on fire before I was born.”
“But what is more strange still,” said Madame Suzanne, who had swallowed a whole glassful of water in the effort to control her laughter, “that I have remarked this dazzling peculiarity for the first time to-day.”
“Ah! really!” said Thibault, scarcely knowing what to say in answer.
“The other day,” continued Madame Suzanne, “it seemed to me that your hair was as black as my velvet mantle, and yet, believe me, I did not fail to study you most attentively, Monsieur Thibault.”
This last sentence, reviving Thibault’s hopes, restored him once more to good humour.
“Ah! Madame,” he replied, “you know the proverb: ‘Red hair, warm heart,’ and the other: ‘Some folks are like ill-made sabots,—smooth outside, but rough to wear?’ ”
Madame Magloire made a face at this low proverb about wooden shoes, but, as was often the case with the Bailiff, he did not agree with his wife on this point.
“My friend Thibault utters words of gold,” he said, “and I need not go far to be able to point the truth of his proverbs.... See for example, this soup we have here, which has nothing much in its appearance to commend it, but never have I found onion and bread fried in goose-fat more to my taste.”
And after this there was no further talk of Thibault’s fiery head. Nevertheless, it seemed as if Madame Suzanne’s eyes were irresistibly attracted to this unfortunate lock, and every time that Thibault’s eyes met the mocking look in hers, he thought he detected on her face a reminiscence of the laugh which had not long since made him feel so uncomfortable. He was very much annoyed at this, and, in spite of himself, he kept putting up his hand to try and hide the unfortunate lock under the rest of his hair. But the hairs were not only unusual in colour, but also of a phenomenal stiffness—it was no longer human hair, but horse-hair [Ce n’étaient plus des cheveux, – c’était du crin]. In vain Thibault endeavoured to hide the devil’s hairs [les cheveux du diable] beneath his own, nothing, not even the hair-dresser’s tongs could have induced them to lie otherwise than in the way which seemed natural to them. But although so occupied with thinking of his hair, Thibault’s legs still continued their tender manœuvres; and although Madame Magloire made no response to their solicitations, she apparently had no wish to escape from them, and Thibault was presumptuously led to believe that he had achieved a conquest.
(62-64)
[Thibault’s Discovery of Vez as Madame Suzanne’s Secret Lover, and His Calling for the Wolf-Devil to Make Monsieur Magloire Find Them Together]
[The dining continues with Monsieur Magloire getting very drunk. Thibault decides he should “declare his love to the Bailiff’s wife without delay, judging it a good opportunity to speak while the husband was heavy with drink.” He announces that he would like to retire. They all leave the table, and the maid Perrine takes Thibault to his room. On the walk there, he asks where his room is, where Monsieur Magloire’s is, and also where Madame Magloire’s is. “The Bailiff’s room, and his wife’s, communicated with one another by an inner door; Thibault’s room had access to the corridor only.” While Madame Suzanne helps Monsieur Magloire into bed in his room, Thibault sneaks into Suzanne’s room. “The door opened; the room was in total darkness. But having for so long consorted with wolves, Thibault had acquired some of their characteristics, and, among others, that of being able to see in the dark.” He hides behind a window curtain. “After waiting a quarter of an hour, during which time Thibault’s heart beat so violently that the sound of it, fatal omen! reminded him of the click-clack of the mill-wheel at Croyolles, Madame Suzanne entered the room.” Out of fear of surprising her and making her call out, he decides to “wait until Monsieur Magloire was asleep beyond all power of being awakened”. But instead of going into bed, Madame Suzanne “had taken up her position before the mirror of her Pompadour table, and was decking herself out as if she were going to a festival or preparing to make one of a procession. She tried on ten veils before making choice of one. She arranged the folds of her dress. She fastened a triple row of pearls round her neck. Then she loaded her arms with all the bracelets she possessed. Finally she dressed her hair with the minutest care.” Just then, a large man climbs through her window. This reminds Thibault of the man he fought who was leaving by a window after his last visit, using Thibault as a ladder (see section 11.3). Thibault recognizes the man’s voice as that very man he fought. She says that she did not want to leave him waiting out in the cold, but they had a guest. They kiss. He goes to warm up by the fire, and she joins him. The man asks about the guest, and she says it was the same drunken man he encountered the night before. The man begins to vow to harm Thibault next chance he gets, but Suzanne tries to calm him: “ ‘My lord,’ responded Suzanne, in a voice as soft as music, ‘you must not harbour evil designs against your enemies; on the contrary, you must forgive them as we are taught to do by our Holy Religion’.” The man then says that actually Thibault is the reason for their love affair, because she saw him faint and had him brought into their home: “And so, this good-for-nothing fellow, this contemptible scamp, is after all the source of all good, for all the good of life for me is in your love; nevertheless if ever he comes within reach of my whip, he will not have a very pleasant time of it.” Madame Suzanne then says that Thibault is trying to woo her. The man becomes enraged: “What! that boor, that low rascal! Where is he? Where does he hide himself? By Beelzebub [Par Belzébuth]! I’ll throw him to my dogs to eat!” Thibault then recognizes the man’s voice. It is the Baron of Vez. Madame Suzanne calms him by saying, “your lordship is the only person whom I love, and even were it not so, a man with a lock of red hair right in the middle of his forehead is not the one to whom I should give away my heart.” This reminds Thibault of Madame Suzanne’s laughter over the red hair at dinner and drives him to call upon the Wolf-Devil’s aid: “ ‘Ah! traitress!’ he exclaimed to himself, ‘what would I not give for your husband, your good, upright husband, to walk in at this moment and surprise you.’ Scarcely was the wish uttered, when the door of communication between Suzanne’s room and that of Monsieur Magloire was thrown wide open, and in walked her husband with an enormous night-cap on his head, which made him look nearly five feet high, and holding a lighted candle in his hand. ‘Ah! ah!’ muttered Thibault. ‘Well done! It’s my turn to laugh now, Madame Magloire’.”]
[ditto]
La veillée se prolongea assez avant dans la nuit.
Et, comme dame Suzanne, qui semblait trouver la veillée longue, se levait souvent de table et allait et venait dans la maison, maître Magloire profitait des absences de sa femme pour faire de fréquentes visites au cellier.
Il dissimula tant de flacons dans les doublures de son pourpoint ; une fois apportés sur la table, il vida ces flacons si lestement, que peu à peu sa tête alourdie, s’inclinant sur son estomac, indiqua que, pour qu’il ne passât point de sa chaise sous la table, il était temps de faire trêve à la humerie.
Thibault, de son côté, décidé à profiter de la circonstance pour déclarer son amour à la baillive, et croyant que cet alourdissement de son époux était une bonne occasion de parler, déclara qu’il ne serait point fâché de prendre du repos.
Sur cette déclaration, on se leva de table.
Perrine, appelée, fut chargée d’indiquer à l’hôte de maître Magloire la chambre qui lui était destinée.
En traversant le corridor, Thibault se fit renseigner par la chambrière.
La chambre n° 1 du corridor était celle de maître Magloire.
La chambre n° 2 était celle de sa femme.
Enfin, la chambre n° 3 était la sienne.
Seulement, de la chambre du bailli à celle de sa femme, on communiquait par une porte intérieure ; tandis que sa chambre à lui, Thibault, n’avait d’autre porte que celle du corridor.
En outre, il avait remarqué que dame Suzanne était entrée dans la chambre de son époux.
Il pensa justement qu’un pieux devoir de conjugalité la conduisait là.
Le bon bailli était dans un état qui approchait fort de celui où était Noé quand il fut insulté par ses fils : dame Suzanne dut lui prêter assistance pour qu’il rentrât dans sa chambre.
Thibault sortit de la sienne sur la pointe du pied, referma la porte avec soin, alla écoute à la porte de la baillive, n’entendit aucun bruit dans la chambre, chercha de la main la clef, la trouva sur la serrure, respira un instant, puis essaya d’un tour.
La porte s’ouvrit.
La chambre était dans une obscurité complète.
Mais Thibault, à force de fréquenter les loups, avait acquis quelques-unes de leurs qualités, et, entre autres, celle d’y voir la nuit.
Il jeta donc un regard rapide autour de la chambre, vit à sa droite la cheminée ; en face de la cheminée, un canapé avec une grande glace ; derrière lui, du côté de la cheminée, le lit tout drapé de lampas ; devant lui, du côté du canapé, une toilette toute ruisselante de dentelles, et, enfin, deux grandes croisées drapées.
Il se cacha derrière les rideaux de l’une des fenêtres, et choisit instinctivement, pour se cacher, celle qui était la plus éloignée de la chambre de l’époux.
Au bout d’un quart d’heure, pendant lequel le cœur de Thibault battit si fort, que ce bruit, fâcheux augure ! lui rappelait le tic-tac du moulin de Coyolles, dame Suzanne entra dans sa chambre.
Le premier plan de Thibault avait été, aussitôt dame Suzanne entrée et la porte fermée derrière elle, de sortir de sa cachette, de se précipiter à ses genoux et de lui déclarer son amour.
Mais il réfléchit qu’il était possible que, dans sa surprise, et avant de l’avoir reconnu, dame Magloire ne pût étouffer quelque cri révélateur, et qu’il était préférable, pour faire connaître sa présence, d’attendre que maître Magloire fût irrévocablement endormi.
Puis aussi, ce qui le détermina à ce sursis, ce fut peut-être ce sentiment, que l’homme, si résolu qu’il soit, cherche toujours à retarder l’instant suprême, quand cet instant est aussi hasardeux que celui dont allait dépendre le bonheur ou le malheur du sabotier.
Car Thibault, à force de se dire qu’il était amoureux fou de dame Magloire, avait fini par le croire lui-même, et il avait, malgré la protection du loup noir, ce côté timide qu’ont en eux tous les amoureux.
Il se tint donc coi derrière ses rideaux.
Cependant la baillive s’était assise devant le miroir de sa toilette Pompadour, mais c’était pour s’attifer comme si elle devait aller à une fête ou suivre une procession.
Elle essaya dix voiles avant d’en choisir un.
Elle ajusta les plis de sa robe.
Elle entoura son cou d’un triple rang de perles.
Puis elle chargea ses bras de tout ce qu’elle avait de bracelets.
Enfin, elle arrangea sa coiffure avec un soin minutieux.
Thibault se perdait en conjectures sur le but de cette coquetterie, lorsque tout à coup un bruit sec et vibrant comme celui d’un corps dur qui frappe une vitre le fit tressaillir.
Dame Suzanne, à ce bruit, tressaillit aussi de son côté.
Puis elle éteignit immédiatement la lumière, et le sabotier l’entendit qui s’approchait de la fenêtre sur la pointe du pied et qui l’ouvrait avec toute la discrétion imaginable.
À cette fenêtre se murmurèrent quelques paroles que Thibault ne put entendre.
Mais, en entrebâillant le rideau, il distingua dans l’obscurité la forme d’une espèce de géant qui paraissait escalader la fenêtre.
Le souvenir de son aventure avec l’inconnu dont il n’avait pas voulu lâcher le manteau, et dont il s’était si heureusement débarrassé en lui envoyant une pierre au milieu du front, lui revint alors à l’esprit.
Il lui sembla, en s’orientant, que c’était de cette même fenêtre que descendait le géant lorsqu’il lui avait posé les pieds sur les deux épaules.
Au reste, le soupçon était logique.
Puisqu’un homme montait à cette fenêtre, un homme avait bien pu en descendre.
Et, si un homme en était descendu, à moins de supposer à madame Magloire des connaissances bien étendues et des goûts bien variés, – si un homme en était descendu, disons-nous, c’était probablement l’homme qui y montait à cette heure.
En somme, quel que fût ce nocturne visiteur, dame Suzanne tendit la main à l’apparition, laquelle sauta si lourdement dans la chambre, que le plancher en trembla et que tous les meubles en vacillèrent.
Il était évident que l’apparition n’était point un esprit, mais un corps, et que ce corps appartenait à la catégorie des corps pesants.
– Oh ! prenez garde, monseigneur, fit la voix de dame Suzanne ; si bien que dorme mon mari, si vous faites un pareil bruit, vous allez le réveiller.
– Par la corne du diable ! ma belle amie, répondit l’inconnu, dont Thibault reconnut la voix pour être celle avec laquelle il avait dialogué l’autre nuit, je ne suis pas un oiseau ! Cependant, lorsque j’étais en bas de votre fenêtre, attendant l’heure du berger et le cœur tout endolori par l’attente, il me semblait qu’il allait me pousser des ailes pour me porter dans cette tant souhaitée petite chambrette.
– Oh ! répondit dame Magloire en minaudant, de mon côté, j’étais bien triste aussi, monseigneur, de vous laisser vous morfondre au vent d’hiver… Mais ce convive que nous avions ce soir nous a quittés il n’y a pas plus d’une demi-heure.
– Et, depuis cette demi-heure, qu’avez-vous fait, ma belle amie ?
– Il a fallu assister M. Magloire, monseigneur, et s’assurer qu’il ne viendrait pas nous déranger.
– Vous avez toujours raison, Suzanne de mon cœur !
– Monseigneur est trop bon, répondit la baillive.
Nous devrions dire : « voulut répondre », car ces derniers mots furent écrasés comme si un corps étranger venait se poser sur les lèvres de la dame et l’empêchait de continuer. En même temps, Thibault entendit un bruit qui lui parut ressembler fort à celui d’un baiser. Le malheureux comprit toute l’étendue de la nouvelle déception à laquelle il semblait réservé.
Ses réflexions furent interrompues par la voix du nouveau venu, qui toussa deux ou trois fois.
– Si nous fermions la fenêtre, ma mie ? dit cette voix, dont la toux n’avait été que le prélude.
– Oh ! monseigneur, excusez-moi, dit dame Magloire, mais ce devrait déjà être fait.
Et elle alla à la fenêtre, qu’elle ferma hermétiquement d’abord, et plus hermétiquement encore en tirant les rideaux par-dessus.
Pendant ce temps, l’étranger, agissant exactement comme chez lui, avait tiré une bergère devant le feu, s’y était étendu et se chauffait les pieds de la plus voluptueuse façon.
Dame Suzanne réfléchit sans doute que, pour un homme gelé, le plus pressé est de se réchauffer ; car, sans chercher le moins du monde à son aristocratique galant une querelle dans le genre de celle que Cléanthis cherche à Sosie, elle se rapprocha de la bergère et s’y accouda gracieusement.
Thibault voyait de dos le groupe, qui se dessinait en vigueur sur la lueur du foyer, et il enrageait. L’étranger parut d’abord tout préoccupé du soin de se réchauffer. Puis enfin, la chaleur ayant fini par opérer sa réaction :
– Et cet étranger, ce convive, demanda-t-il, quel est-il donc ?
– Oh ! monseigneur, fit dame Magloire, il me semble que vous ne le connaissez que trop.
– Comment ! demanda l’amant favorisé, serait-ce donc encore le croquant de l’autre soir ?
– Lui-même, monseigneur.
– Ah ! si jamais celui-là me tombe sous la main !…
– Monseigneur, dit dame Suzanne d’une voix douce comme une musique, il ne faut pas faire de mauvais projets contre ses ennemis, et, tout au contraire, notre sainte religion catholique enseigne qu’il est bon de leur pardonner.
– Il est encore une autre religion qui enseigne cela, ma belle amie, et c’est celle dont vous êtes la déesse toute-puissante et dont je ne suis, moi, que l’humble néophyte… Oui, j’ai tort, je l’avoue, de vouloir tant de mal à ce maroufle ; car, enfin, c’est parce qu’il m’a si traîtreusement déconfit et si vilainement accommodé que j’ai trouvé cette occasion de m’introduire ici que je cherchais depuis si longtemps ; c’est parce qu’il m’a porté ce bienheureux coup de pierre que je me suis évanoui ; c’est parce que vous m’avez vu évanoui que vous avez appelé votre mari ; c’est parce que votre mari m’a trouvé sans connaissance sous vos fenêtres et a cru que j’avais été mis dans ce piteux état par des malfaiteurs, qu’il m’a fait transporter chez lui ; enfin, c’est parce que vous avez été émue de pitié de ce que j’avais souffert pour vous, que vous avez bien voulu me permettre de venir ici ; donc, c’est ce gredin, ce pleutre, ce maroufle, qui est pour moi la source de tout bien, puisque tout bien est pour moi dans votre amour ; ce qui n’empêche pas que, s’il se présente jamais à la portée de ma houssine, le drôle passera un mauvais quart d’heure.
– Ventre-gai ! murmura Thibault, il paraît que, cette fois encore, mon souhait a profité à un autre ! Ah ! loup noir, mon ami, je suis à l’école ! mais, mordienne ! je réfléchirai tant désormais avant de souhaiter, que l’écolier deviendra maître… Mais, continua Thibault s’interrogeant lui-même, à qui donc peut appartenir cette voix que je connais ? Car je la connais, cette voix-là, il n’y a pas à dire !
– Vous seriez encore bien plus courroucé contre le pauvre diable, monseigneur, si je vous avouais une chose.
– Laquelle, ma mie ?
– C’est que le drôle, comme vous l’appelez, me fait la cour.
– Ouais !
– C’est comme cela, monseigneur, dit en riant dame Suzanne.
– Qui ? ce rustre, ce maraud, ce bélître ! Où est-il ? où se cache-t-il ? Par Belzébuth ! je le ferai manger à mes chiens !
Pour le coup, Thibault reconnut l’homme.
– Ah ! monseigneur Jean, murmura-t-il, c’est vous !
– Mais soyez donc tranquille, monseigneur, dit dame Suzanne en appuyant ses deux mains sur les épaules de son amoureux et en le forçant à se rasseoir, on n’aime que Votre Seigneurie, et, ne vous aimât-on point, ce n’est pas à un homme qui a une mèche de cheveux rouges au beau milieu du front que je donnerais mon cœur.
Et, en souvenir de cette malencontreuse mèche qui l’avait tant fait rire pendant le dîner, dame Magloire tomba dans un nouvel accès d’hilarité.
Thibault fut pris de rage féroce contre la femme du bailli.
– Ah ! traîtresse femelle ! dit-il ; je ne sais pas ce que je donnerais pour que ton mari, ton honnête mari, ton brave homme de mari, entrât et te surprît.
Thibault n’avait pas plutôt achevé ce souhait, que la porte de communication qui menait de la chambre de Suzanne à celle de son mari s’ouvrit toute grande, et que maître Magloire, coiffé d’un immense bonnet de nuit qui lui donnait près de cinq pieds de haut, tenant un bougeoir allumé à la main, faisait son entrée dans l’appartement.
– Ah ! ah ! murmura Thibault, vertuchou ! je crois à présent que c’est à moi de rire.
(170-177)
They sat on pretty late into the night, and Madame Suzanne, who appeared to find the evening drag, rose several times from the table and went backwards and forwards to other parts of the house, which afforded the Bailiff opportunities of frequent visits to the cellar.
He hid so many bottles in the lining of his waistcoat, and once on the table, he emptied them so rapidly, that little by little his head sank lower and lower on to his chest, and it was evidently high time to put an end to the bout, if he was to be saved from falling under the table.
Thibault decided to profit by this condition of things, and to declare his love to the Bailiff’s wife without delay, judging it a good opportunity to speak while the husband was heavy with drink; he therefore expressed a wish to retire for the night. Whereupon they rose from table, and Perrine was called and bidden to show the guest to his room. As he followed her along the corridor, he made enquiries of her concerning the different rooms.
Number one was Maître Magloire’s, number two that of his wife, and number three was his. The Bailiff’s room, and his wife’s, communicated with one another by an inner door; Thibault’s room had access to the corridor only.
He also noticed that Madame Suzanne was in her husband’s room; no doubt some pious sense of conjugal duty had taken her there. The good man was in a condition approaching to that of Noah when his sons took occasion to insult him, and Madame Suzanne’s assistance would seem to have been needed to get him into his room.
Thibault left his own room on tiptoe, carefully shut his door behind him, listened for a moment at the door of Madame Suzanne’s room, heard no sound within, felt for the key, found it in the lock, paused a second, and then turned it.
The door opened; the room was in total darkness. But having for so long consorted with wolves, Thibault had acquired some of their characteristics, and, among others, that of being able to see in the dark.
He cast a rapid glance round the room; to the right was the fireplace; facing it a couch with a large mirror above it; behind him, on the side of the fire-place, a large bed, hung with figured silk; in front of him, near the couch, a dressing-table covered with a profusion of lace, and, last of all, two large draped windows. He hid himself behind the curtains of one of these, instinctively choosing the window that was farthest removed from the husband’s room. After waiting a quarter of an hour, during which time Thibault’s heart beat so violently that the sound of it, fatal omen! reminded him of the click-clack of the mill-wheel at Croyolles, Madame Suzanne entered the room.
Thibault’s original plan had been to leave his hiding place as soon as Madame Suzanne came in and the door was safely shut behind her, and there and then to make avowal of his love. But on consideration, fearing that in her surprise, and before she recognised who it was, she might not be able to suppress a cry which would betray them, he decided that it would be better to wait until Monsieur Magloire was asleep beyond all power of being awakened.
Perhaps, also, this procrastination may have been partly due to that feeling which all men have, however resolute of purpose they may be, of wishing to put off the critical moment, when on this moment depend such chances as hung on the one which was to decide for or against the happiness of the shoe-maker. For Thibault, by dint of telling himself that he was madly in love with Madame Magloire, had ended by believing that he really was so, and, in spite of being under the protection of the black wolf, he experienced all the timidity of the genuine lover. So he kept himself concealed behind the curtains.
The Bailiff’s wife, however, had taken up her position before the mirror of her Pompadour table, and was decking herself out as if she were going to a festival or preparing to make one of a procession.
She tried on ten veils before making choice of one.
She arranged the folds of her dress.
She fastened a triple row of pearls round her neck.
Then she loaded her arms with all the bracelets she possessed.
Finally she dressed her hair with the minutest care.
Thibault was lost in conjectures as to the meaning of all this coquetry, when all of a sudden a dry, grating noise, as if some hard body coming in contact with a pane of glass, made him start. Madame Suzanne started too, and immediately put out the lights. The shoe-maker then heard her step softly to the window, and cautiously open it; whereupon there followed some whisperings, of which Thibault could not catch the words, but, by drawing the curtain a little aside, he was able to distinguish in the darkness the figure of a man of gigantic stature, who appeared to be climbing through the window.
Thibault instantly recalled his adventure with the unknown combatant, whose mantle he had clung to, and whom he had so triumphantly disposed of by hitting him on the forehead with a stone. As far as he could make out, this would be the same window from which the giant had descended when he made use of Thibault’s two shoulders as a ladder. The surmise of identity was, undoubtedly, founded on a logical conclusion. As a man was now climbing in at the window, a man could very well have been climbing down from it; and if a man did climb down from it—unless, of course, Madam Magloire’s acquaintances were many in number, and she had a great variety of tastes—if a man did climb down from it, in all probability, it was the same man who, at this moment was climbing in.
But whoever this nocturnal visitor might be, Madame Suzanne held out her hand to the intruder, who took a heavy jump into the room, which made the floor tremble and set all the furniture shaking. The apparition was certainly not a spirit, but a corporeal body, and moreover one that came under the category of heavy bodies.
“Oh! take care, my lord,” Madame Suzanne’s voice was heard to say, “heavily as my husband sleeps, if you make such a noise as that, you will wake him up.”
“By the devil and his horns! my fair friend,” replied the stranger. “I cannot alight like a bird!” and Thibault recognised the voice as that of the man with whom he had had the altercation a night or two before. “Although while I was waiting under your window for the happy moment, my heart was so sick with longing that I felt as if wings must grow ere long, to bear me up into this dear wished-for little room.”
“And I too, my lord,” replied Madame Magloire with a simper, “I too was troubled to leave you outside to freeze in the cold wind, but the guest who was with us this evening only left us half an hour ago.”
“And what have you been doing, my dear one, during this last half hour?”
“I was obliged to help Monsieur Magloire, my lord, and to make sure that he would not come and interrupt us.”
“You were right as you always are, my heart’s love.”
“My lord is too kind,” replied Suzanne—or, more correctly, tried to reply, for her last words were interrupted as if by some foreign body being placed upon her lips, which prevented her from finishing the sentence; and at the same moment, Thibault heard a sound which was remarkably like that of a kiss. The wretched man was beginning to understand the extent of the disappointment of which he was again the victim. His reflections were interrupted by the voice of the new-comer, who coughed two or three times.
“Suppose we shut the window, my love,” said the voice, after this preliminary coughing.
“Oh! my lord, forgive me,” said Madame Magloire, “it ought to have been closed before.” And so saying she went to the window, which she first shut close, and then closed even more hermetically by drawing the curtains across it. The stranger meanwhile, who made himself thoroughly at home, had drawn an easy chair up to the fire, and sat with his legs stretched out, warming his feet in the most luxurious fashion. Reflecting no doubt, that for a man half frozen, the most immediate necessity is to thaw himself, Madame Suzanne seemed to find no cause of offence in this behaviour on the part of her aristocratic lover, but came up to his chair and leant her pretty arms over the back in the most fascinating posture. Thibault had a good view of the group from behind, well thrown up by the light of the fire, and he was overcome with inward rage. The stranger appeared for a while to have no thought beyond that of warming himself; but at last the fire having performed its appointed task, he asked:
“And this stranger, this guest of yours, who was he?”
“Ah! my lord!” answered Madame Magloire, “you already know him I think only too well.”
“What!” said the favoured lover, “do you mean to say it was that drunken lout of the other night, again?”
“The very same, my lord.”
“Well, all I can say is,—if ever I get him into my grip again!...”
“My lord,” responded Suzanne, in a voice as soft as music, “you must not harbour evil designs against your enemies; on the contrary, you must forgive them as we are taught to do by our Holy Religion.”
“There is also another religion which teaches that, my dearest love, one of which you are the all-supreme goddess, and I but a humble neophyte.... And I am wrong in wishing evil to the scoundrel, for it was owing to the treacherous and cowardly way in which he attacked and did for me, that I had the opportunity I had so long wished for, of being introduced into this house. The lucky blow on my forehead with his stone, made me faint; and because you saw I had fainted, you called your husband; it was on account of your husband finding me without consciousness beneath your window, and believing I had been set upon by thieves, that he had me carried indoors; and lastly, because you were so moved by pity at the thought of what I had suffered for you, that you were willing to let me in here. And so, this good-for-nothing fellow, this contemptible scamp, is after all the source of all good, for all the good of life for me is in your love; nevertheless if ever he comes within reach of my whip, he will not have a very pleasant time of it.”
“It seems then,” muttered Thibault, swearing to himself, “that my wish has again turned to the advantage of someone else! Ah! my friend, black wolf, I have still something to learn, but, confound it all! I will in future think so well over my wishes before expressing them that the pupil will become master ... but to whom does that voice, that I seem to know, belong?” Thibault continued, trying to recall it, “for the voice is familiar to me, of that I am certain!”
“You would be even more incensed against him, poor wretch, if I were to tell you something.”
“And what is that, my love?”
“Well, that good-for-nothing fellow, as you call him, is making love to me.”
“Phew!”
“That is so, my lord,” said Madame Suzanne, laughing.
“What! that boor, that low rascal! Where is he? Where does he hide himself? By Beelzebub [Par Belzébuth]! I’ll throw him to my dogs to eat!”
And then, all at once, Thibault recognised his man. “Ah! my lord Baron,” he muttered, “it’s you, is it?”
“Pray do not trouble yourself about it, my lord,” said Madame Suzanne, laying her two hands on her lover’s shoulders, and obliging him to sit down again, “your lordship is the only person whom I love, and even were it not so, a man with a lock of red hair right in the middle of his forehead is not the one to whom I should give away my heart.” And as the recollection of this lock of hair, which had made her laugh so at dinner, came back to her, she again gave way to her amusement.
A violent feeling of anger towards the Bailiff’s wife took possession of Thibault.
“Ah! traitress!” he exclaimed to himself, “what would I not give for your husband, your good, upright husband, to walk in at this moment and surprise you.”
Scarcely was the wish uttered, when the door of communication between Suzanne’s room and that of Monsieur Magloire was thrown wide open, and in walked her husband with an enormous night-cap on his head, which made him look nearly five feet high, and holding a lighted candle in his hand.
“Ah! ah!” muttered Thibault. “Well done! It’s my turn to laugh now, Madame Magloire.”
(64-67)
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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