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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
13
“Où il est prouvé qu’une femme ne parle jamais plus éloquemment que lorsqu’elle ne parle pas”
“Where It Is Demonstrated That a Woman Never Speaks More Eloquently Than When She Holds Her Tongue”
Brief summary:
__(13.1)__ (Recall from section 12 that Thibault the sorcerer spied Madame Suzanne Magloire having a tryst with the Baron of Vez and out of jealousy calls upon the Wolf-Devil to make her husband the Bailiff Monsieur Magloire enter to find the two illicit lovers.) Susanne whispers something to Vez, but Thibault does not hear it. What he does see is that Suzanne “appeared to totter, and then fell back into her lover’s arms, as if in a dead faint.” Vez and Monsieur Magloire have rather cordial greetings. Vez says they should attend to the seeming unconscious Suzanne. The Baron tells the lie that he saw her in her window making signs of distress. She did not call for Monsieur Magloire, because that would endanger his life. Vez continues to say that she was afraid of Thibault, who was secretly trying to romance her by touching her under the dinner table (which is coincidentally true, see section 12.2). Then, according to Vez’s false story, Susanne came to her room after putting Monsieur Magloire to bed. She then panicked and made her distress signals, which Vez noticed outside. She then told Vez to come because there is a man in her room. He entered, and that is when she fainted into his arms. They then burn a feather under Suzanne’s nose to make her wake from her spell, and she comes to life. She claims to have had a bad dream. They say it really happened. She asks Vez if he told her husband about Thibault fondling her knee under the dinner table. Vez confirms this, which angers Monsieur Magloire. She says Thibault also tried to kiss her against her will at the table while Monsieur Magloire’s eyes were shut. She continues to explain that when she came into her room, she thought she saw the window curtain move, and thinking Thibault to be hiding behind it, she called at the window for help. This enrages Monsieur Magloire: “ ‘Oh! the vile rascal!’ roared the Bailiff, taking hold of the Baron’s sword which the latter had laid on a chair, and drawing it out of the scabbard, then, running toward the window which his wife had indicated, ‘He had better not be behind these curtains, or I will spit him like a woodcock,’ and with this he gave one or two lunges with the sword against the window hangings.” He stops while doing so, upon seeing that hiding behind the curtain was Thibault, who had proven “himself a false friend.” After Monsieur Magloire lifts the curtain to reveal Thibault, “His wife and the Lord of Vez had both been participators in the unexpected vision, and both uttered a cry of surprise. In telling their tale so well, they had had no idea that they were so near the truth.” Vez is furthered surprised to see it is Thibault, whom he confronts and accuses of poaching on Monsieur Magloire’s grounds. He then exposes Thibault’s lie that he is a landowner (see section 11.2) and reveals that he is a lowly sabot-maker. “Madame Suzanne, on hearing Thibault thus classified, made a gesture of scorn and contempt, while Maître Magloire drew back a step, while the colour mounted to his face” upon realizing that “he had drunk in company with a liar and a traitor.” __(13.2)__ Thibault replies in a way that suggests he could expose Vez’s and Suzanne’s love affair. Suzanne tries to prevent that by saying Thibault will speak falsely about them out of his resentment for his unrequited love for her. Vez then goes to strike Thibault with his sword. Monsieur Magloire intervenes, stopping the blow from happening and thereby preventing Thibault from uttering “some terrible wish which would avert the danger from him.” Monsieur Magloire says he forgives Thibault. Then Suzanne begins to cry loudly. Monsieur Magloire responds by pledging his unbreakable love and loyalty to Suzanne, saying he would forgive anything about her no matter what. Suzanne responds to this speech by throwing herself at Monsieur Magloire’s feet, and Vez is also moved and tells Monsieur Magloire that “if I have ever had a thought of doing you wrong, may God forgive me for it! I can safely swear, whatever happens, that I shall never have such another again.” All the while, “Thibault’s heart was swelling with rage and hatred; himself unaware of the rapid growth of evil within him, he was fast growing, from a selfish and covetous man, into a wicked one. Suddenly, his eyes flashing, he cried aloud: ‘I do not know what holds me back from putting a terrible end to all this!’ On hearing this exclamation, which had all the character of a menace in it, the Baron and Suzanne understood it to mean that some great and unknown and unexpected danger was hanging over everybody’s heads.” Vez again tries to strike Thibault with his sword, and Monsieur Magloire intervenes, saying another sin will not take the first one away, and he asks Vez to allow Thibault to leave the house unharmed. Vez agrees but notes that Thibault is rumored to be a sorcerer and will have his hut destroyed if true: “ ‘So be it!’ answered the Baron, ‘I shall meet him again. All kinds of bad reports are about concerning him, and poaching is not the only harm reported of him; he has been seen and recognised running the forest along with a pack of wolves and astonishingly tame wolves at that [accompagné de loups singulièrement apprivoisés]—. It’s my opinion that the scoundrel [le drôle] does not always spend his midnights at home, but sits astride a broom-stick oftener than becomes a good Catholic; the owner of the mill at Croyolles has made complaint of his wizardries [ses maléfices]. However, we will not talk of it any more now; I shall have his hut searched, and if everything there is not as it should be, the wizard’s hole [ce bouge de sorcellerie] shall be destroyed, for I will not allow it to remain on his Highness’s territory. And now, take yourself off, and that quickly!’ ” Thibault leaves and enters the dark forest, plunging “into its depths,” “guided solely by chance.”
[The Exposure of Thibault’s Treachery by the Other Traitors]
[Accusations of Thibault’s Sorcery. His Departure.]
Summary
[The Exposure of Thibault’s Treachery by the Other Traitors]
[(Recall from section 12 that Thibault the sorcerer spied Madame Suzanne Magloire having a tryst with the Baron of Vez and out of jealousy calls upon the Wolf-Devil to make her husband the Bailiff Monsieur Magloire enter to find the two illicit lovers.) Susanne whispers something to Vez, but Thibault does not hear it. What he does see is that Suzanne “appeared to totter, and then fell back into her lover’s arms, as if in a dead faint.” Vez and Monsieur Magloire have rather cordial greetings. Vez says they should attend to the seeming unconscious Suzanne. The Baron tells the lie that he saw her in her window making signs of distress. She did not call for Monsieur Magloire, because that would endanger his life. Vez continues to say that she was afraid of Thibault, who was secretly trying to romance her by touching her under the dinner table (which is coincidentally true, see section 12.2). Then, according to Vez’s false story, Susanne came to her room after putting Monsieur Magloire to bed. She then panicked and made her distress signals, which Vez noticed outside. She then told Vez to come because there is a man in her room. He entered, and that is when she fainted into his arms. They then burn a feather under Suzanne’s nose to make her wake from her spell, and she comes to life. She claims to have had a bad dream. They say it really happened. She asks Vez if he told her husband about Thibault fondling her knee under the dinner table. Vez confirms this, which angers Monsieur Magloire. She says Thibault also tried to kiss her against her will at the table while Monsieur Magloire’s eyes were shut. She continues to explain that when she came into her room, she thought she saw the window curtain move, and thinking Thibault to be hiding behind it, she called at the window for help. This enrages Monsieur Magloire: “ ‘Oh! the vile rascal!’ roared the Bailiff, taking hold of the Baron’s sword which the latter had laid on a chair, and drawing it out of the scabbard, then, running toward the window which his wife had indicated, ‘He had better not be behind these curtains, or I will spit him like a woodcock,’ and with this he gave one or two lunges with the sword against the window hangings.” He stops while doing so, upon seeing that hiding behind the curtain was Thibault, who had proven “himself a false friend.” After Monsieur Magloire lifts the curtain to reveal Thibault, “His wife and the Lord of Vez had both been participators in the unexpected vision, and both uttered a cry of surprise. In telling their tale so well, they had had no idea that they were so near the truth.” Vez is furthered surprised to see it is Thibault, whom he confronts and accuses of poaching on Monsieur Magloire’s grounds. He then exposes Thibault’s lie that he is a landowner (see section 11.2) and reveals that he is a lowly sabot-maker. “Madame Suzanne, on hearing Thibault thus classified, made a gesture of scorn and contempt, while Maître Magloire drew back a step, while the colour mounted to his face” upon realizing that “he had drunk in company with a liar and a traitor.”]
[ditto]
Comme Thibault se parlait à lui-même, il n’entendit pas quelques mots que disait tout bas Suzanne au seigneur Jean.
Il vit seulement la dame s’affaisser sur ses genoux et entre les bras de son galant, comme si elle était évanouie.
Le bailli s’arrêta court devant le groupe étrange qu’éclairait son bougeoir.
Comme sa figure se trouvait faire face à Thibault, Thibault cherchait à lire sur la physionomie de maître Magloire ce qui se passait dans son esprit.
Mais la joviale figure du bailli était si peu disposée par la nature à rendre les émotions extrêmes, que Thibault ne sut lire autre chose sur la physionomie du débonnaire époux qu’un étonnement plein de bienveillance.
Sans doute, de son côté, le seigneur Jean n’y lut pas autre chose ; car, avec une aisance qui parut prodigieuse à Thibault :
– Eh bien, maître Magloire, dit le seigneur Jean adressant la parole au bailli, comment portons-nous ce soir la bouteille, mon compère ?
– Quoi ! c’est vous, monseigneur ? répondit le bailli en écarquillant ses gros yeux. Ah ! veuillez m’excuser et croire que, si j’eusse pensé avoir l’honneur de vous trouver ici, je ne me serais point permis de paraître dans un costume si peu convenable.
– Bah ! bah ! bah !
– Si fait, monseigneur ; souffrez que j’aille faire un peu de toilette.
– Point de gêne, notre ami, reprit le seigneur Jean ; après le couvre-feu, c’est bien le moins que l’on reçoive ses amis sans façon. Puis il y a quelque chose de plus pressé, compère.
– Qu’est-ce donc, monseigneur ?
– Mais c’est de faire revenir madame Magloire, que vous voyez évanouie dans mes bras.
– Évanouie ! Suzanne évanouie ! Oh ! mon Dieu ! s’écria le petit bonhomme posant son bougeoir sur la cheminée : comment un pareil malheur est-il donc arrivé ?
– Attendez, attendez, maître Magloire, dit le seigneur Jean ; il s’agit d’abord de mettre commodément votre femme dans un fauteuil ; rien n’ennuie les femmes comme de se trouver mal à l’aise quand elles ont le malheur de s’évanouir.
– Vous avez raison, monseigneur ; déposons d’abord madame Magloire dans un fauteuil… Ô Suzanne ! pauvre Suzanne ! Comment un pareil accident a-t-il pu lui arriver ?
– N’allez pas au moins, cher compère, penser à mal en me voyant ainsi et à pareille heure installé chez vous !
– Je n’aurais garde, monseigneur, reprit le bailli ; l’amitié dont vous m’honorez et la vertu de madame Magloire me sont des garanties suffisantes pour qu’à quelque heure que ce soit, mon pauvre logis se trouve honoré de vous recevoir.
– Ah ! triple sot ! murmura le sabotier ; à moins que ce ne soit, au contraire, double finaud qu’il me faille dire… Mais n’importe ! ajouta-t-il ; nous allons voir comment tu vas te tirer de là, monseigneur Jean.
– Néanmoins, continua maître Magloire en imbibant un mouchoir d’eau de mélisse et en frottant les tempes de sa femme, je serais curieux de savoir comment un si grand choc a pu être dirigé contre ma pauvre femme.
– Ah ! c’est bien simple, et je vais vous le dire, compère. Je revenais de dîner chez mon ami, le seigneur de Vivières, et je traversais Erneville pour me rendre à la tour de Vez, lorsque je vis une fenêtre ouverte, et à cette fenêtre ouverte une femme qui me faisait des signes de détresse.
– Ah ! mon Dieu !
– C’est ce que je me dis en reconnaissant que cette fenêtre appartenait à votre maison : « Ah ! mon Dieu ! est-ce que la femme de mon compère le bailli courrait quelque danger et aurait besoin de secours ? »
– Vous êtes bien bon, monseigneur, dit le bailli tout attendri ; j’espère qu’il n’en était rien ?
– Au contraire, compère.
– Comment ! au contraire ?
– Oui, ainsi que vous allez voir.
– Monseigneur, vous me faites frémir ! Comment ! ma femme avait besoin de secours et elle ne m’appelait pas ?
– Ç’avait été d’abord sa première pensée, mais elle s’en était abstenue, et cette abstention même va vous donner une preuve de sa délicatesse, puisqu’elle craignait, en vous appelant, de compromettre votre précieuse existence.
– Ouais ! demanda le bailli pâlissant, mon existence précieuse, comme vous êtes assez bon pour le dire, serait-elle compromise ?
– Plus maintenant, puisque me voilà.
– Mais enfin, monseigneur, que s’était-il passé ? Je le demanderais bien à ma femme, mais vous voyez qu’elle ne saurait encore me répondre.
– Eh ! mon Dieu ! ne suis-je point là pour vous répondre en son lieu et place ?
– Répondez, monseigneur, puisque vous avez cette bonté ; moi, j’écoute.
Le seigneur Jean fit un signe d’assentiment et continua :
– J’accourus donc, dit-il, et, la voyant tout effarée :
« Eh bien, madame Magloire, lui demandai-je, que se passe-t-il donc, et qui vous cause si grand-peur ? « – Ah ! monseigneur, me répondit-elle, imaginez donc que mon mari a reçu chez lui, avant-hier et aujourd’hui, un homme sur lequel j’ai les plus méchants soupçons. « – Bah ! « – Un homme qui s’introduit ici sous prétexte de faire amitié à mon cher Magloire, et qui me fait la cour, à moi… »
– Elle vous a dit cela ?
– Mot pour mot, compère ! D’ailleurs, elle ne peut entendre ce que nous disons, n’est-ce pas ?
– Non, puisqu’elle est évanouie.
– Eh bien, lorsqu’elle aura repris ses sens, interrogez-la, et, si elle ne vous répète point parole à parole ce que je vous dis, tenez-moi pour un mécréant, pour un Sarrasin, pour un Turc.
– Oh ! les hommes ! les hommes ! murmura le bailli.
– Oui, race de vipères ! continua le seigneur Jean. Vous plaît-il que je continue, compère ?
– Je crois bien ! dit le petit homme, oubliant l’exiguïté de son costume dans l’intérêt qu’il prenait au récit du seigneur Jean.
– Mais, madame, dis-je alors à ma commère madame Magloire, comment vous êtes-vous aperçue que le drôle avait l’audace de vous aimer ? »
– Oui, dit le bailli, comment s’en était-elle aperçue ? Je ne m’en étais pas aperçu, moi.
– Vous vous en fussiez aperçu, compère, si vous aviez regardé sous la table ; mais, gourmand que vous êtes, vous ne pouviez à la fois regarder dessus et dessous.
– Le fait est, monseigneur, que nous avions un souper parfait ! Imaginez-vous des côtelettes de marcassin…
– Eh bien, dit le seigneur Jean, voilà que vous allez me dire votre souper, au lieu d’écouter la suite de mon récit, d’un récit dans lequel la vie et l’honneur de votre femme sont compromis !
– Ah ! en effet, pauvre Suzanne ! Monseigneur, aidez-moi à lui ouvrir les mains, afin que je tape dedans.
Le seigneur Jean prêta aide et assistance au bailli, et leurs forces réunies parvinrent à contraindre dame Magloire à ouvrir la main.
Le bonhomme, un peu plus tranquille, se mit à taper avec sa main potelée dans la main de sa femme, tout en prêtant l’oreille à la suite de l’intéressant et véridique récit du seigneur Jean.
– Où en étais-je ? demanda le narrateur.
– Monseigneur, vous en étiez au moment où ma pauvre Suzanne, que l’on peut bien appeler la chaste Suzanne…
– Oh ! vous pouvez vous en vanter ! fit le seigneur Jean.
– Et je m’en vante ! Vous en étiez au moment où ma pauvre Suzanne s’aperçut…
– Oui, oui, que, pareil au berger Pâris, votre hôte voulait faire de vous un autre Ménélas ; alors elle se leva… Vous rappelez-vous qu’elle se soit levée ?
– Non, j’étais peut-être un peu… un peu… ému.
– C’est cela ! Alors elle se leva, et remarqua qu’il était l’heure de se retirer.
– Le fait est que la dernière heure que j’ai entendu sonner, dit le bailli jubilant, c’était onze heures.
– Alors, on se leva.
– Pas moi, je crois, dit le bailli.
– Non, mais madame Magloire et votre hôte. Elle lui indiqua sa chambre, où dame Perrine le conduisit ; après quoi, en tendre et fidèle épouse qu’elle est, madame Magloire vous borda dans votre lit, et rentra dans sa chambre.
– Chère Suzannette ! dit le bailli d’un ton attendri.
– Ce fut là, dans sa chambre, une fois rentrée, une fois seule, qu’elle prit peur ; elle alla à sa fenêtre et l’ouvrit ; le vent, en entrant dans la chambre, souffla sa bougie. Vous savez ce que c’est que la peur, compère ?
– Oui, je suis très peureux, répondit naïvement maître Magloire.
– Eh bien, à partir de ce moment la peur s’empara d’elle, et, n’osant vous réveiller, de crainte qu’il ne vous arrivât malheur, elle appela le premier cavalier qui passait ; ce cavalier, par bonheur, c’était moi.
– C’est bien heureux, monseigneur !
– N’est-ce pas ?… J’accourus, je me fis reconnaître. « Monseigneur, montez, me dit-elle, montez ! montez ! montez vite ! je crois qu’il y a un homme dans ma chambre. »
– Oh ! là là !… fit le bailli ; vous dûtes avoir grand-peur ?
– Point du tout ! Je pensai que c’était temps perdu que de sonner ; je fis tenir mon cheval par l’Éveillé, je montai sur la selle, puis de la selle sur le balcon, et, pour que l’homme qui était caché dans la chambre ne pût point se sauver, je fermai la fenêtre. Ce fut dans ce moment, qu’entendant le bruit de votre porte qui s’ouvrait, madame Magloire, succombant à tant d’émotions successives, s’évanouit entre mes bras.
– Ah ! monseigneur, dit le bailli, que voilà un effroyable récit !
– Et notez bien, compère, que je crois l’avoir adouci plutôt que chargé ; d’ailleurs, vous verrez ce que vous dira madame Magloire lorsqu’elle sera revenue à elle…
– Eh ! tenez, monseigneur, la voici qui bouge.
– Bon ! brûlez-lui une plume sous le nez, compère.
– Une plume ?
– Oui, c’est un antispasmodique souverain ; brûlez-lui une plume sous le nez, et elle reviendra.
– Mais où trouver une plume ? dit le bailli.
– Eh ! parbleu ! tenez, celle qui borde mon chapeau.
Et le seigneur Jean, brisant quelques franges de la plume d’autruche qui garnissait son chapeau, les donna à maître Magloire, qui les brûla à la bougie et en mit la fumée sous le nez de sa femme.
Le remède était souverain, à ce qu’avait dit le seigneur Jean.
L’effet en fut prompt.
Madame Magloire éternua.
– Ah ! s’écria le bailli tout joyeux, la voilà qui revient ! Ma femme ! ma chère femme ! ma chère petite femme !
Madame Magloire poussa un soupir.
– Monseigneur ! monseigneur ! s’écria le bailli, elle est sauvée !
Madame Magloire ouvrit les yeux, regarda alternativement et d’un air effaré le bailli et le seigneur Jean ; puis enfin, fixant son rayon visuel sur le bailli :
– Magloire ! mon cher Magloire ! dit-elle, c’est donc bien vous ! Oh ! que je suis heureuse de vous revoir au sortir d’un si mauvais rêve !
– Eh bien, murmura Thibault, en voilà une luronne ! Si je n’en arrive pas à mes fins avec les dames après lesquelles je cours, du moins, sur la route, me donnent-elles de bien bonnes leçons !
– Hélas ! ma belle Suzanne, dit le bailli, ce n’est pas un mauvais rêve, c’est une détestable réalité, à ce qu’il paraît.
– En effet, je me souviens, dit madame Magloire.
Puis, faisant semblant de s’apercevoir seulement au moment même que le seigneur Jean était là :
– Ah ! monseigneur, dit-elle, j’espère bien que vous n’avez rien dit à mon mari de toutes les folies que je vous ai contées ?
– Et pourquoi cela, chère dame ? fit le seigneur Jean.
– Parce qu’une honnête femme sait se défendre elle-même, et ne rebat pas les oreilles d’un mari de pareilles sornettes.
– Au contraire, madame, répliqua le seigneur Jean, et j’ai tout dit à mon compère.
– Comment ! vous lui avez dit que, pendant tout le souper, cet homme m’avait caressé le genou sous la table ?
– Je le lui ai dit.
– Oh ! le malheureux ! fit le bailli.
– Vous lui avez dit que, m’étant baissée pour ramasser ma serviette, ce ne fut point ma serviette que je rencontrai, mais sa main ?
– Je n’ai rien caché au compère Magloire.
– Oh ! le bandit ! s’écria le bailli.
– Vous lui avez dit que, M. Magloire ayant eu à table une défaillance qui lui avait fait fermer les yeux, son hôte avait profité de cette faiblesse pour m’embrasser par violence ?
– J’ai cru qu’un mari devait tout savoir.
– Oh ! le scélérat ! s’écria le bailli.
– Enfin, acheva la dame, vous lui avez dit qu’une fois rentrée dans ma chambre, et le vent ayant éteint ma bougie, il m’avait semblé voir remuer les rideaux de cette fenêtre ; si bien que je vous ai appelé à mon secours, croyant qu’il était caché derrière ces rideaux ?
– Non, je ne lui avais pas dit cela ; mais j’allais le lui dire lorsque madame a éternué.
– Oh ! le sacripant ! hurla le bailli en saisissant et en tirant hors du fourreau l’épée du seigneur Jean, que celui-ci avait déposée sur une chaise, et en s’élançant vers la fenêtre indiquée par sa femme ; que n’y est-il effectivement, derrière ces rideaux ! je le larderais comme un râble de lièvre.
Et, en effet, il allongea deux ou trois coups d’épée dans la garniture de la fenêtre.
Mais, tout à coup, le bailli resta fendu comme un écolier qui tire le mur.
Ses cheveux se dressèrent sous son bonnet de coton et agitèrent la coiffure conjugale d’un mouvement convulsif.
L’épée s’échappa de sa main tremblante et tomba en retentissant sur le parquet.
Il venait d’apercevoir Thibault caché derrière les rideaux, et, comme Hamlet tue Polonius croyant tuer le meurtrier de son père, il avait, lui, croyant ne frapper que le vide, failli tuer son ami de l’avant-veille, qui avait déjà eu le temps d’être un ami ingrat.
Au reste, comme avec la pointe de l’épée il avait soulevé le rideau, le bailli ne fut pas le seul qui vit Thibault.
La femme et le seigneur Jean participèrent à la vision et jetèrent chacun un cri de surprise.
En disant ce qu’ils avaient dit, ils ne croyaient pas avoir rencontré si juste.
Le seigneur Jean, non seulement avait reconnu un homme, mais encore il avait reconnu Thibault.
– Dieu me damne ! dit-il en allant à lui, je ne me trompe pas, et c’est ma vieille connaissance, l’homme à l’épieu !
– Comment ! l’homme à l’épieu ? demanda le bailli en claquant des mâchoires ; j’espère, en tout cas, qu’il n’a pas son épieu avec lui !
Et il alla chercher un refuge derrière sa femme.
– Non, non, tranquillisez-vous, dit le seigneur Jean ; d’ailleurs, s’il a son épieu, je me charge de le lui tirer des mains.
– Ah ! monsieur le braconnier, continua-t-il s’adressant à Thibault, vous ne vous contentez donc pas de chasser les chevreuils de monseigneur le duc d’Orléans dans la forêt de Villers-Cotterêts : vous faites des excursions dans la plaine et vous venez chasser sur les terres de mon compère le bailli Magloire ?
– Comment ! un braconnier ? demanda le bailli. Maître Thibault n’est-il donc pas un honnête propriétaire de métairies, vivant dans son logis champêtre du produit d’une centaine d’arpents de terre ?
– Lui ! dit le seigneur Jean en éclatant de rire ; il vous a fait accroire cela, à ce qu’il paraît. Ah ! le drôle a la langue dorée. Lui ! un propriétaire ! ce claque-dent ! Mais, ses propriétés, mes garçons d’écurie les ont aux pieds ; ce sont les sabots qu’il fabrique.
Dame Suzanne, en entendant spécifier la qualité de Thibault, fit une moue dédaigneuse.
Maître Magloire se recula d’un pas et rougit.
Ce n’était point que le brave petit bonhomme fût fier. Non, mais il haïssait la tromperie.
Ce n’était point d’avoir trinqué avec un sabotier qu’il rougissait : c’était d’avoir bu avec un menteur et un traître.
(178-187)
AS Thibault was talking to himself he did not catch the few hurried words which Suzanne whispered to the Baron; and all he saw was that she appeared to totter, and then fell back into her lover’s arms, as if in a dead faint.
The Bailiff stopped short as he caught sight of this curious group, lit up by his candle. He was facing Thibault, and the latter endeavoured to read in Monsieur Magloire’s face what was passing in his mind.
But the Bailiff’s jovial physiognomy was not made by nature to express any strong emotion, and Thibault could detect nothing in it but a benevolent astonishment on the part of the amiable husband.
The Baron, also, evidently detected nothing more, for with a coolness and ease of manner, which produced on Thibault a surprise beyond expression, he turned to the Bailiff, and asked:
“Well, friend Magloire, and how do you carry your wine this evening?”
“Why, is it you, my lord?” replied the Bailiff opening his fat little eyes.
“Ah! pray excuse me, and believe me, had I known I was to have the honour of seeing you here, I should not have allowed myself to appear in such an unsuitable costume.”
“Pooh-pooh! nonsense!”
“Yes, indeed, my lord; you must permit me to go and make a little toilette.”
“No ceremony, I pray!” rejoined the Baron. “After curfew, one is at least free to receive one’s friends in what costume one likes. Besides, my dear friend, there is something which requires more immediate attention.”
“What is that, my lord?”
“To restore Madame Magloire to her senses, who, you see, has fainted in my arms.”
“Fainted! Suzanne fainted! Ah! my God!” cried the little man, putting down his candle on the chimney-piece, “how ever did such a misfortune happen?”
“Wait, wait, Monsieur Magloire!” said my lord, “we must first get your wife into a more comfortable position in an armchair; nothing annoys women so much as not to be at their ease when they are unfortunate enough to faint.”
“You are right, my lord; let us first put her in the armchair.... Oh Suzanne! poor Suzanne! How can such a thing as this have happened?”
“I pray you at least, my dear fellow, not to think any ill of me at finding me in your house at such a time of night!”
“Far from it, my lord,” replied the Bailiff, “the friendship with which you honour us, and the virtue of Madame Magloire are sufficient guarantees for me to be glad at any hour to have my house honoured by your presence.”
“Triple dyed idiot!” murmured the shoe-maker, “unless I ought rather to call him a doubly clever dissembler.... No matter which, however! we have yet to see how my lord is going to get out of it.”
“Nevertheless,” continued Maître Magloire, dipping a handkerchief into some aromatic water, and bathing his wife’s temples with it, “nevertheless, I am curious to know how my poor wife can have received such a shock.”
“It’s a simple affair enough, as I will explain, my dear fellow. I was returning from dining with my friend, de Vivières, and passing through Erneville on my way to Vez, I caught sight of an open window, and a woman inside making signals of distress.”
“Ah! my God!”
“That is what I exclaimed, when I realised that the window belonged to your house; and can it be my friend the Bailiff’s wife, I thought, who is in danger and in need of help?”
“You are good indeed, my lord,” said the Bailiff quite overcome. “I trust it was nothing of the sort.”
“On the contrary, my dear man.”
“How! on the contrary?”
“Yes, as you will see.”
“You make me shudder, my lord! And do you mean that my wife was in need of help and did not call me?”
“It had been her first thought to call you, but she abstained from doing so, for, and here you see her delicacy of feeling, she was afraid that if you came, your precious life might be endangered.”
The Bailiff turned pale and gave an exclamation.
“My precious life, as you are good enough to call it, is in danger?”
“Not now, since I am here.”
“But tell me, I pray, my lord, what had happened? I would question my wife, but as you see she is not yet able to answer.”
“And am I not here to answer in her stead?”
“Answer then, my lord, as you are kind enough to offer to do so; I am listening.”
The Baron made a gesture of assent, and went on:
“So I ran to her, and seeing her all trembling and alarmed, I asked, ‘What is the matter, Madame Magloire, and what is causing you so much alarm?’ ‘Ah! my lord,’ she replied, ‘just think what I feel, when I tell you that yesterday and to-day, my husband has been entertaining a man about whom I have the worst suspicions. Ugh! A man who has introduced himself under the pretence of friendship to my dear Magloire, and actually makes love to me, to me....’ ”
“She told you that?”
“Word for word, my dear fellow! She cannot hear what we are saying, I hope?”
“How can she, when she is insensible?”
“Well, ask her yourself when she comes to, and if she does not tell you exactly to the letter what I have been telling you, call me a Turk, an infidel and a heretic.”
“Ah! these men! these men!” murmured the Bailiff.
“Yes, race of vipers!” continued my lord of Vez, “do you wish me to go on?”
“Yes, indeed!” said the little man, forgetting the scantiness of his attire in the interest excited in him by the Baron’s tale.
“ ‘But Madame,’ I said to my friend Madame Magloire, ‘How could you tell that he had the audacity to love you?’ ”
“Yes,” put in the Bailiff, “how did she find it out? I never noticed anything myself.”
“You would have been aware of it, my dear friend, if only you had looked under the table; but, fond of your dinner as you are, you were not likely to be looking at the dishes on the table and underneath it at the same time.”
“The truth is, my lord, we had the most perfect little supper! just you think now—cutlets of young wild-boar....”
“Very well,” said the Baron, “now you are going to tell me about your supper, instead of listening to the end of my tale, a tale which concerns the life and honour of your wife!”
“True, true, my poor Suzanne! My lord, help me to open her hands, that I may slap them on the palms.”
The Lord of Vez gave all the assistance in his power to Monsieur Magloire, and by dint of their united efforts they forced open Madame Magloire’s hands.
The good man, now easier in his mind, began slapping his wife’s palms with his chubby little hands, all the while giving his attention to the remainder of the Baron’s interesting and veracious story.
“Where had I got to?” he asked.
“You had got just to where my poor Suzanne, whom one may indeed call ‘the chaste Suzanna....’ ”
“Yes, you may well say that!” interrupted the lord of Vez.
“Indeed, I do! You had just got to where my poor Suzanne began to be aware....”
“Ah, yes—that your guest like Paris of old was wishing to make another Menelaus of you; well, then she rose from table.... You remember that she did so?”
“No.... I was perhaps a little—just a little—overcome.”
“Quite so! Well then she rose from table, and said it was time to retire.”
“The truth is, that the last hour I heard strike was eleven,” said the jovial Bailiff.
“Then the party broke up.”
“I don’t think I left the table,” said the Bailiff.
“No, but Madame Magloire and your guest did. She told him which was his room, and Perrine showed him to it; after which, kind and faithful wife as she is, Madame Magloire tucked you into bed, and went into her own room.”
“Dear little Suzanne!” said the bailiff in a voice of emotion.
“And it was then, when she found herself in her room, and all alone, that she got frightened; she went to the window and opened it; the wind, blowing into the room, put out her candle. You know what it is to have a sudden panic come over you, do you not?”
“Oh! yes,” replied the Bailiff naïvely, “I am very timid myself.”
“After that she was seized with panic, and not daring to wake you, for fear any harm should come to you, she called to the first horseman she saw go by—and luckily, that horseman was myself.”
“It was indeed fortunate, my lord.”
“Was it not?... I ran, I made myself known.”
“ ‘Come up, my lord, come up,’ she cried. ‘Come up quickly—I am sure there is a man in my room.’ ”
“Dear! dear!...” said the bailiff, “you must indeed have felt terribly frightened.”
“Not at all! I thought it was only losing time to stop and ring; I gave my horse to l’Eveillé, I stood up on the saddle, climbed from that to the balcony, and, so that the man who was in the room might not escape, I shut the window. It was just at that moment that Madame Magloire, hearing the sound of your door opening, and overcome by such a succession of painful feelings, fell fainting into my arms.”
“Ah! my lord!” said the Bailiff, “how frightful all this is that you tell me.”
“And be sure, my dear friend, that I have rather softened than added to its terror; anyhow, you will hear what Madame Magloire has to tell you when she comes to....”
“See, my lord, she is beginning to move.”
“That’s right! burn a feather under her nose.”
“A feather?”
“Yes, it is a sovereign anti-spasmodic; burn a feather under her nose, and she will revive instantly.”
“But where shall I find a feather?” asked the bailiff.
“Here! take this, the feather round my hat.” And the lord of Vez broke off a bit of the ostrich feather which ornamented his hat, gave it to Monsieur Magloire, who lighted it at the candle and held it smoking under his wife’s nose.
The remedy was a sovereign one, as the Baron had said; the effect of it was instantaneous; Madame Magloire sneezed.
“Ah!” cried the bailiff delightedly, “now she is coming to! my wife! my dear wife! my dear little wife!”
Madame Magloire gave a sigh.
“My lord! my lord!” cried the bailiff, “she is saved! saved!”
Madame Magloire opened her eyes, looked first at the Bailiff and then at the Baron, with a bewildered gaze, and then finally fixing them on the Bailiff:
“Magloire! dear Magloire!” she said, “is it really you? Oh! how glad I am to see you again after the bad dream I have had!”
“Well!” muttered Thibault, “she is a brazen-faced huzzy, if you like! if I do not get all that I want from the ladies I run after, they, at least, afford me some valuable object lessons by the way!”
“Alas! my beautiful Suzanne,” said the Bailiff, “it is no bad dream you have had, but, as it seems, a hideous reality.”
“Ah! I remember now,” responded Madame Magloire. Then, as if noticing for the first time that the lord of Vez was there:
“Ah! my lord,” she continued, “I hope you have repeated nothing to my husband of all those foolish things I told you?”
“And why not, dear lady?” asked the Baron.
“Because an honest woman knows how to protect herself, and has no need to keep on telling her husband a lot of nonsense like that.”
“On the contrary, Madame,” replied the Baron, “I have told my friend everything.”
“Do you mean that you have told him that during the whole of supper time that man was fondling my knee under the table?”
“I told him that, certainly.”
“Oh! the wretch!” exclaimed the Bailiff.
“And that when I stooped to pick up my table napkin, it was not that, but his hand, that I came across.”
“I have hidden nothing from my friend Magloire.”
“Oh! the ruffian!” cried the Bailiff.
“And that Monsieur Magloire having a passing giddiness which made him shut his eyes while at table, his guest took the opportunity to kiss me against my will?”
“I thought it was right for a husband to know everything.”
“Oh! the knave!” cried the Bailiff.
“And did you even go so far as to tell him that having come into my room, and the wind having blown out the candle, I fancied I saw the window curtains move, which made me call to you for help, believing that he was hidden behind them?”
“No, I did not tell him that! I was going to when you sneezed.”
“Oh! the vile rascal!” roared the Bailiff, taking hold of the Baron’s sword which the latter had laid on a chair, and drawing it out of the scabbard, then, running toward the window which his wife had indicated, “He had better not be behind these curtains, or I will spit him like a woodcock,” and with this he gave one or two lunges with the sword against the window hangings.
But all at once the Bailiff stayed his hand, and stood as if arrested like a school-boy caught trespassing out of bounds; his hair rose on end beneath his cotton night-cap, and this conjugal head-dress became agitated as by some convulsive movement. The sword dropped from his trembling hand, and fell with a clatter on the floor. He had caught sight of Thibault behind the curtains, and as Hamlet kills Polonius, thinking to slay his father’s murderer, so he, believing that he was thrusting at nothing, had nearly killed his crony of the night before, who had already had time enough to prove himself a false friend. Moreover as he had lifted the curtain with the point of the sword, the Bailiff was not the only one who had seen Thibault. His wife and the Lord of Vez had both been participators in the unexpected vision, and both uttered a cry of surprise. In telling their tale so well, they had had no idea that they were so near the truth. The Baron, too, had not only seen that there was a man, but had also recognised that the man was Thibault.
“Damn me!” he exclaimed, as he went nearer to him, “if I mistake not, this is my old acquaintance, the man with the boar-spear!”
“How! how! man with the boar-spear?” asked the Bailiff, his teeth chattering as he spoke. “Anyway I trust he has not his boar-spear with him now!” And he ran behind his wife for protection.
“No, no, do not be alarmed,” said the Lord of Vez, “even if he has got it with him, I promise you it shall not stay long in his hands. So, master poacher,” he went on, addressing himself to Thibault, “you are not content to hunt the game belonging to his Highness the Duke of Orleans, in the forest of Villers-Cotterets, but you must come and make excursions in the open and poach on the territory of my friend Maître Magloire?”
“A poacher! do you say?” exclaimed the Bailiff. “Is not Monsieur Thibault a landowner, the proprietor of farms, living in his country house on the income from his estate of a hundred acres?”
“What, he?” said the Baron, bursting into a loud guffaw, “so he made you believe all that stuff, did he? the rascal has got a clever tongue. He! a landowner! that poor starveling! why, the only property he possesses is what my stable-boys wear on their feet—the wooden shoes he gets his living by making.”
Madame Suzanne, on hearing Thibault thus classified, made a gesture of scorn and contempt, while Maître Magloire drew back a step, while the colour mounted to his face. Not that the good little man was proud, but he hated all kinds of deceit; it was not because he had clinked glasses with a shoe-maker that he turned red, but because he had drunk in company with a liar and a traitor.
(67-70)
[Accusations of Thibault’s Sorcery. His Departure.]
[Thibault replies in a way that suggests he could expose Vez’s and Suzanne’s love affair. Suzanne tries to prevent that by saying Thibault will speak falsely about them out of his resentment for his unrequited love for her. Vez then goes to strike Thibault with his sword. Monsieur Magloire intervenes, stopping the blow from happening and thereby preventing Thibault from uttering “some terrible wish which would avert the danger from him.” Monsieur Magloire says he forgives Thibault. Then Suzanne begins to cry loudly. Monsieur Magloire responds by pledging his unbreakable love and loyalty to Suzanne, saying he would forgive anything about her no matter what. Suzanne responds to this speech by throwing herself at Monsieur Magloire’s feet, and Vez is also moved and tells Monsieur Magloire that “if I have ever had a thought of doing you wrong, may God forgive me for it! I can safely swear, whatever happens, that I shall never have such another again.” All the while, “Thibault’s heart was swelling with rage and hatred; himself unaware of the rapid growth of evil within him, he was fast growing, from a selfish and covetous man, into a wicked one. Suddenly, his eyes flashing, he cried aloud: ‘I do not know what holds me back from putting a terrible end to all this!’ On hearing this exclamation, which had all the character of a menace in it, the Baron and Suzanne understood it to mean that some great and unknown and unexpected danger was hanging over everybody’s heads.” Vez again tries to strike Thibault with his sword, and Monsieur Magloire intervenes, saying another sin will not take the first one away, and he asks Vez to allow Thibault to leave the house unharmed. Vez agrees but notes that Thibault is rumored to be a sorcerer and will have his hut destroyed if true: “ ‘So be it!’ answered the Baron, ‘I shall meet him again. All kinds of bad reports are about concerning him, and poaching is not the only harm reported of him; he has been seen and recognised running the forest along with a pack of wolves and astonishingly tame wolves at that [accompagné de loups singulièrement apprivoisés]—. It’s my opinion that the scoundrel [le drôle] does not always spend his midnights at home, but sits astride a broom-stick oftener than becomes a good Catholic; the owner of the mill at Croyolles has made complaint of his wizardries [ses maléfices]. However, we will not talk of it any more now; I shall have his hut searched, and if everything there is not as it should be, the wizard’s hole [ce bouge de sorcellerie] shall be destroyed, for I will not allow it to remain on his Highness’s territory. And now, take yourself off, and that quickly!’ ” Thibault leaves and enters the dark forest, plunging “into its depths,” “guided solely by chance.”]
[ditto]
Thibault avait supporté toute cette avalanche d’injures les bras croisés et le sourire sur les lèvres.
Il croyait bien que, du moment où il parlerait à son tour, il prendrait facilement sa revanche.
Il pensa que le moment était venu.
D’un ton goguenard, – qui prouvait qu’il s’habituait peu à peu à dialoguer avec des gens d’une condition supérieure à la sienne –, il s’écria donc :
– Par les cornes du diable ! comme vous disiez il n’y a qu’un instant, monseigneur, savez-vous bien que vous jasez sans miséricorde, et que, si tout le monde faisait comme vous, je ne serais peut-être pas aussi embarrassé que je veux bien le paraître !
Le seigneur Jean répondit à cette menace de Thibault, fort claire pour lui et pour la baillive, en toisant le sabotier avec des regards gros de courroux.
– Oh ! dit un peu imprudemment madame Magloire, il va inventer, vous allez voir, quelque vilenie contre moi.
– Soyez tranquille, madame, dit Thibault, qui avait complètement repris son aplomb, en fait de vilenies, vous ne m’avez rien laissé à inventer.
– Oh ! le méchant esprit ! s’écria celle-ci ; vous le voyez, je ne me trompais pas : il a trouvé quelque calomnie à débiter sur mon compte ; il veut se venger du dédain que j’ai fait de ses doux yeux, me punir de ce que je n’ai point voulu avertir mon mari qu’il me courtisait.
Pendant que dame Suzanne parlait ainsi, le seigneur Jean avait ramassé son épée et s’avançait vers Thibault. Mais le bailli se jeta entre eux deux et retint le bras du seigneur Jean.
Ce fut heureux, car Thibault ne faisait pas un pas en arrière pour éviter le coup, et sans doute, par quelque souhait terrible, allait prévenir le danger qui le menaçait.
Mais, grâce à l’intervention du bailli, Thibault n’eut pas besoin de souhaiter.
– Tout doux, monseigneur ! dit maître Magloire, cet homme est indigne de notre courroux. Voyez, moi, je ne suis qu’un simple bourgeois, et cependant je méprise ses dires, comme aussi je lui pardonne l’abus qu’il a voulu faire de mon hospitalité.
Madame Magloire crut que le moment était venu de mouiller de larmes la situation.
Elle éclata en sanglots.
– Ne pleure pas, femme ! dit le bailli avec sa douce et naïve bonhomie. De quoi vous accuserait cet homme, en supposant qu’il vous accusât ? De me tromper ?
» Eh ! mon Dieu ! bâti comme je le suis, si déjà vous ne l’avez point fait, j’ai des grâces à vous rendre et des mercis à vous dire des bons jours que je vous dois.
» N’ayez donc point crainte que cette appréhension d’un mal imaginaire ne change mon humeur.
» Je resterai toujours bon et indulgent, Suzanne, et jamais, plus que je ne fermerai mon cœur à vous, je ne fermerai ma porte à mes amis.
» Quand on est humble et chétif, le mieux est de tendre le dos et d’avoir confiance ; on n’a plus alors à redouter que les lâches et les méchants, et j’ai le bonheur d’être convaincu qu’ils sont moins nombreux qu’on ne le pense.
» Eh ! après tout, ma foi ! si l’oiseau de malheur se glisse chez moi par la porte ou par la fenêtre, par saint Grégoire, le patron des buveurs ! je ferai si grand bruit de chansons, si grands cliquetis de verres, que force lui sera bien de s’en aller par où il sera venu ! »
Dame Suzanne s’était jetée aux pieds du bonhomme et lui baisait les mains.
Il était évident que le discours mélancolico-philosophique du bailli avait fait sur elle plus d’impression que n’eût fait le sermon du prédicateur le plus éloquent.
Il n’y avait point jusqu’au seigneur Jean qui ne parût touché.
Il essuya du bout du doigt une larme qui perlait au coin de son œil.
Puis, tendant la main au bailli :
– Par la corne de Belzébuth ! dit-il, vous êtes un esprit juste et un bon cœur, mon compère, et ce serait péché que vous charger le front d’un souci ; donc, si jamais méchante pensée m’est venue à votre endroit, que Dieu me la pardonne ! Mais je vous jure, en tout cas, de n’en plus avoir de pareille à l’avenir.
Pendant que ce pacte de repentir et de pardon réunissait les trois personnages secondaires de notre récit, la situation du quatrième personnage, c’est-à-dire du personnage principal, devenait de plus en plus embarrassante.
Aussi le cœur de Thibault se gonflait-il de rage et de haine.
Sans qu’il s’aperçût de la progression, d’égoïste et d’envieux qu’il était, il devint méchant.
– Je ne sais, s’écria-t-il tout à coup en lançant un éclair par chacun de ses yeux, je ne sais à quoi tient que je ne donne une fin terrible à tout ceci !
À cette exclamation qui ressemblait à une menace, et surtout à l’accent dont elle était faite, le seigneur Jean et dame Suzanne comprirent que quelque grand danger inconnu, inouï, planait sur la tête de tout le monde.
Le seigneur Jean n’était point facile à intimider. Pour la seconde fois, il fit, l’épée à la main, un pas vers Thibault.
Pour la seconde fois le bailli l’arrêta.
– Seigneur Jean ! seigneur Jean ! murmura Thibault, voilà la seconde fois qu’en désir tu me passes ton épée au travers du corps : c’est donc la seconde fois que tu es meurtrier en pensée ! Prends garde ! on ne pèche pas seulement par action.
– Mille diables ! s’écria le baron hors de lui, je crois que ce drôle-là me fait de la morale ! Compère, vous vouliez tout à l’heure le larder comme un lièvre : laissez-moi lui donner un seul coup comme le matador au taureau, et je vous réponds bien que de ce coup, il ne se relèvera point.
– En considération de votre pauvre serviteur, qui vous en supplie à genoux, dit le bailli, laissez-le aller en paix, monseigneur, et daignez vous souvenir qu’étant mon hôte, il ne doit lui être fait, dans ma pauvre maison, ni mal ni dommage.
– Soit ! répondit le seigneur Jean ; mais je le retrouverai. Il court de méchants bruits depuis quelque temps sur son compte, et le braconnage n’est pas le seul méfait qui lui soit imputé : il a été vu et reconnu courant les bois accompagné de loups singulièrement apprivoisés. M’est avis que le drôle ne couche pas chez lui toutes les nuits de sabbat, et qu’il enfourche plus souvent un manche à balai qu’il ne convient à un bon catholique ; la meunière de Coyolles s’est plainte, m’a-t-on dit, de ses maléfices… C’est bien, n’en parlons plus ; j’enverrai visiter son logis, et, si tout ne m’y paraît pas en règle, je ferai détruire ce bouge de sorcellerie, dont je ne veux plus dans les domaines de monseigneur le duc d’Orléans. Maintenant, déguerpis et vivement !
L’exaspération du sabotier était à son comble pendant cette menaçante admonestation du seigneur Jean.
Cependant il profita du chemin qui lui était ouvert pour sortir de la chambre.
Grâce à sa faculté de voir dans les ténèbres, il alla droit à la porte, l’ouvrit, et, franchissant le seuil de cette maison où il laissait de si douces espérances ensevelies à jamais, il referma la porte si violemment, que toute la maison en trembla.
Certes, il fallait qu’il se représentât l’inutile dépense de souhaits et de cheveux qu’il avait faite dans cette soirée, pour qu’il ne demandât point que cette maison s’abîmât dans les flammes avec ceux qu’elle contenait.
Ce ne fut qu’au bout de dix minutes que Thibault s’aperçut du temps qu’il faisait.
Il pleuvait à verse.
Mais d’abord cette pluie, quoiqu’elle fût glacée, et même parce qu’elle était glacée, sembla faire du bien à Thibault.
Comme l’avait dit naïvement le bon Magloire, sa tête flambait. En sortant de chez le bailli, Thibault s’était lancé au hasard par la campagne.
Il ne cherchait pas plus un endroit qu’un autre.
Il cherchait l’espace, la fraîcheur et le mouvement.
Sa course vagabonde le porta d’abord dans les fonds de Value.
Mais il ne s’aperçut lui-même où il était qu’en apercevant de loin le moulin de Coyolles.
Il jeta en passant une malédiction sourde à la belle meunière, passa comme un insensé entre Vauciennes et Coyolles, et, voyant une grande masse noire devant lui, il s’y précipita. Cette masse noire, c’était la forêt.
La route de la queue de Ham, qui conduit de Coyolles à Préciamont, se trouvait devant lui.
Il la prit au hasard.
(187-192)
During this avalanche of abuse Thibault had stood immovable with his arms folded and a smile on his lips. He had no fear but that when his turn came to speak, he would be able to take an easy revenge. And the moment to speak seemed now to have come. In a light, bantering tone of voice—which showed that he was gradually accustoming himself to conversing with people of a superior rank to his own—he then exclaimed; “By the Devil and his horns [Par les cornes du diable]! as you yourself remarked a little while ago, you can tell tales of other people, my lord, without much compunction, and I fancy if everyone followed your example, I should not be at such a loss what to say, as I choose to appear!”
The lord of Vez, perfectly aware, as was the bailiff’s wife, of the menace conveyed in these words, answered by looking Thibault up and down with eyes that were starting with anger.
“Oh!” said Madame Magloire, somewhat imprudently, “you will see, he is going to invent some scandalous tale about me.”
“Have no fear, Madame,” replied Thibault, who had quite recovered his self-possession, “you have left me nothing to invent on that score.”
“Oh! the vile wretch!” she cried, “you see, I was right; he has got some malicious slander to report about me; he is determined to revenge himself because I would not return his sheep’s-eyes, to punish me because I was not willing to warn my husband that he was paying court to me.” During this speech of Madame Suzanne’s the lord of Vez had picked up his sword and advanced threateningly towards Thibault. But the Bailiff threw himself between them, and held back the Baron’s arm. It was fortunate for Thibault that he did so, for the latter did not move an inch to avoid the blow, evidently prepared at the last moment to utter some terrible wish which would avert the danger from him; but the Bailiff interposing, Thibault had no need to resort to this means of help.
“Gently, my lord!” said the Maître Magloire, “this man is not worthy our anger. I am but a plain citizen myself, but you see, I have only contempt for what he says, and I readily forgive him the way in which he has endeavoured to abuse my hospitality.”
Madame Magloire now thought that her moment had come for moistening the situation of affairs with her tears, and burst into loud sobs.
“Do not weep, dear wife!” said the Bailiff, with his usual kind and simple good-nature. “Of what could this man accuse you, even suppose he had something to bring against you! Of having deceived me? Well, I can only say, that made as I am, I feel I still have favours to grant you and thanks to render you, for all the happy days which I owe to you. Do not fear for a moment that this apprehension of an imaginary evil will alter my behaviour towards you. I shall always be kind and indulgent to you, Suzanne, and as I shall never shut my heart against you, so will I never shut my door against my friends. When one is small and of little account it is best to submit quietly and to trust; one need have no fear then but of cowards and evil-doers, and I am convinced, I am happy to say, that they are not so plentiful as they are thought to be. And, after all, by my faith! if the bird of misfortune should fly in, by the door or by the window, by Saint Gregory, the patron of drinkers, there shall be such a noise of singing, such a clinking of glasses, that he will soon be obliged to fly out again by the way he came in!”
Before he had ended, Madame Suzanne had thrown herself at his feet, and was kissing his hands. His speech, with its mingling of sadness and philosophy, had made more impression upon her than would have a sermon from the most eloquent of preachers. Even the lord of Vez did not remain unmoved; a tear gathered in the corner of his eye, and he lifted his finger to wipe it away, before holding out his hand to the Bailiff, saying as he did so:
“By the horn of Beelzebub! my dear friend, you have an upright mind and a kind heart, and it would be a sin indeed to bring trouble upon you; and if I have ever had a thought of doing you wrong, may God forgive me for it! I can safely swear, whatever happens, that I shall never have such another again.”
While this reconciliation was taking place between the three secondary actors in this tale, the situation of the fourth, that is of the principal character in it, was becoming more and more embarrassing.
Thibault’s heart was swelling with rage and hatred; himself unaware of the rapid growth of evil within him, he was fast growing, from a selfish and covetous man, into a wicked one. Suddenly, his eyes flashing, he cried aloud: “I do not know what holds me back from putting a terrible end to all this!”
On hearing this exclamation, which had all the character of a menace in it, the Baron and Suzanne understood it to mean that some great and unknown and unexpected danger was hanging over everybody’s heads. But the Baron was not easily intimidated, and he drew his sword for the second time and made a movement towards Thibault. Again the Bailiff interposed.
“My lord Baron! my lord Baron!” said Thibault in a low voice, “this is the second time that you have, in wish at least, passed your sword through my body; twice therefore you have been a murderer in thought! Take care! one can sin in other ways besides sinning in deed.”
“Thousand devils!” cried the Baron, beside himself with anger, “the rascal is actually reading me a moral lesson! My friend, you were wanting a little while ago to spit him like a woodcock, allow me to give him one light touch, such as the matador gives the bull, and I will answer for it, that he won’t get up again in a hurry.”
“I beseech you on my knees, as a favour to your humble servant, my lord,” replied the Bailiff, “to let him go in peace; and deign to remember, that, being my guest, there should no hurt nor harm be done to him in this poor house of mine.”
“So be it!” answered the Baron, “I shall meet him again. All kinds of bad reports are about concerning him, and poaching is not the only harm reported of him; he has been seen and recognised running the forest along with a pack of wolves and astonishingly tame wolves at that [accompagné de loups singulièrement apprivoisés]—. It’s my opinion that the scoundrel [le drôle] does not always spend his midnights at home, but sits astride a broom-stick oftener than becomes a good Catholic; the owner of the mill at Croyolles has made complaint of his wizardries [ses maléfices]. However, we will not talk of it any more now; I shall have his hut searched, and if everything there is not as it should be, the wizard’s hole [ce bouge de sorcellerie] shall be destroyed, for I will not allow it to remain on his Highness’s territory. And now, take yourself off, and that quickly!”
The shoe-maker’s exasperation had come to a pitch during this menacing tirade from the Baron; but, nevertheless, he profited by the passage that was cleared for him, and went out of the room. Thanks to his faculty of being able to see in the dark, he walked straight to the door, opened it, and passed over the threshold of the house, where he had left behind so many fond hopes, now lost for ever, slamming the door after him with such violence that the whole house shook. He was obliged to call to mind the useless expenditure of wishes and hair of the preceding evening, to keep himself from asking that the whole house, and all within it, might be devoured by the flames. He walked on for ten minutes before he became conscious that it was pouring with rain—but the rain, frozen as it was, and even because it was so bitterly cold, seemed to do Thibault good. As the good Magloire had artlessly remarked, his head was on fire.
On leaving the Bailiffs house, Thibault had taken the first road he came to; he had no wish to go in one direction more than another, all he wanted was space, fresh air and movement. His desultory walking brought him first of all on to the Value lands; but even then he did not notice where he was until he saw the mill of Croyolles in the distance. He muttered a curse against its fair owner as he passed, rushed on like a madman between Vauciennes and Croyolles, and seeing a dark mass in front of him, plunged into its depths. This dark mass was the forest.
The forest-path to the rear of Ham, which leads from Croyolles to Préciamont, was now ahead of him, and into this he turned, guided solely by chance.
(70-72)
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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