by Corry Shores
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[The following is summary. Boldface, underlining, bracketed commentary, and section subdivisions are my own. Proofreading is incomplete, so please forgive my mistakes. Text is copied from online sources (see bibliography below).]
Summary of
Alexandre Dumas
Le meneur de loups
The Wolf-Leader
7
“Le garçon du moulin”
“The Boy at the Mill”
Brief summary:
_(7.1)_ (Recall from section 5 that Thibault the sabot-maker made use of his pact with the devil to get vengeance on his enemy Seigneur Jean, Baron of Vez, and recall from section 6.2 that in accordance with his agreement with the Wolf Devil, he paid the price for this deed (see section 5.1) by having one of the hairs on his head turn startlingly fire-red. No amount of force and no tool allowed him to remove the hair.) As Thibault cannot remove the “the accursed hair [le cheveu maudit],” he hides it by covering it over with his other black hairs. He then goes to visit Madame Polet the widow and successful miller (see section 6.1) to try to win her hand. On the way he encounters his cousin Landry, who is the head boy at Polet’s mill. Thibault hopes Landry will introduce him to Madame Polet. When he comes upon Landry, Thibault notices that he looks sad and troubled. Thibault figures out it is because he is in love with Madame Polet. She saw that he was in love with her, but, Landry explains: “I forgot that I had to do with someone above me in position, and I spoke. Then Madame Polet flew into a great rage; called me an insolent beggar, and threatened to turn me out of doors the very next week.” Yet he still works there and she cruelly torments him. Thibault suggests making her jealous by giving his affection to another woman. He says that would not work, because something else has happened, but he will not say what it was. Thibault does not see Landry as a competitor, because Madame Polet does not love him, and Thibault feels confident in his own chances. _(7.2)_ Thibault and Cousin Landry arrive at Madame Polet’s mill, which lies in a scenic green valley. The beautiful scenery delights Thibault as he thinks about someday owning this prosperous land. They come upon Madame Polet, and Thibault introduces himself. “The mistress of the Mill was extremely gracious, and invited the new comer to spend the day at the Mill, accompanying her invitation with a smile that Thibault took as a most favourable augury.” He offers her a gift of thrushes he caught. They have it prepared for dinner. While talking, Madame Polet is often distracted by the sight of Cousin Landry, working in the background. When Thibault notices this, she turns “red as a cherry.” She then asks Thibault to help Landry unload the donkeys, which angers Thibault: “ ‘Now, the devil!’ muttered Thibault, as he looked first after Madame Polet and then at Landry, ‘is the fellow after all more fortunate than he suspects himself, and shall I be forced to call the black wolf to my assistance to get rid of him?’ ” Thibault believes that Madame Polet can see them from the window, so he “put forth all his strength, and displayed to the full his athletic grace, in the accomplishment of the task in which he was sharing.” Then at dinner Madame Polet is very attentive and polite to Thibault, which raises his spirits. Landry all the while, rather than eating, is crying: “great tears were rolling down his cheeks, and falling into the untasted juniper sauce. This mute sorrow touched her heart; a look almost of tenderness came into her face, as she made a sign to him with her head, which seemed to say, so expressive was it, “Eat, Landry, I beg of you.” There was a whole world of loving promises in this little pantomime. Landry understood the gesture, for he nearly choked himself trying to swallow the bird at one mouthful, so eager was he to obey the orders of his fair mistress.” Thibault bitterly notices their affectionate interactions. “He swore to himself [Par la rate-Dieu ! murmura-t-il], using an oath [juron] that he had heard in the mouth of the Seigneur Jean, and which, now that he was the friend of the devil [l’ami du diable], he fancied he might use like any other great lord.” Thibault decides to call upon the Wolf Devil to get Landry out of the picture: “ ‘what am I to do with Cousin Landry? his love, it is true, upsets my arrangements; but I really cannot for so small a thing send him to join the wretched Marcotte in the other world. But what a fool I am to bother my brains about finding a way to help myself! It’s the wolf’s business, not mine?’ Then in a low voice: ‘Black wolf,’ he said, ‘arrange matters in such a way, that without any accident or harm happening to my Cousin Landry, I may get rid of him.’ The prayer was scarcely uttered, when he caught sight of a small body of four or five men in military uniform, walking down the hill-side and coming towards the mill. Landry also saw them; for he uttered a loud cry, got up as if to run away, and then fell back in his chair, as if all power of movement had forsaken him.”
[Thibault’s Trip to Madame Polet and His Encounter with His Cousin Landry on the Way]
[Madame Polet’s Affection for Cousin Landry and Thibault’s Evocation of the Wolf-Devil’s Help to Get Rid of Him]
Summary
[Thibault’s Trip to Madame Polet and His Encounter with His Cousin Landry on the Way]
[(Recall from section 5 that Thibault the sabot-maker made use of his pact with the devil to get vengeance on his enemy Seigneur Jean, Baron of Vez, and recall from section 6.2 that in accordance with his agreement with the Wolf Devil, he paid the price for this deed (see section 5.1) by having one of the hairs on his head turn startlingly fire-red. No amount of force and no tool allowed him to remove the hair.) As Thibault cannot remove the “the accursed hair [le cheveu maudit],” he hides it by covering it over with his other black hairs. He then goes to visit Madame Polet the widow and successful miller (see section 6.1) to try to win her hand. On the way he encounters his cousin Landry, who is the head boy at Polet’s mill. Thibault hopes Landry will introduce him to Madame Polet. When he comes upon Landry, Thibault notices that he looks sad and troubled. Thibault figures out it is because he is in love with Madame Polet. She saw that he was in love with her, but, Landry explains: “I forgot that I had to do with someone above me in position, and I spoke. Then Madame Polet flew into a great rage; called me an insolent beggar, and threatened to turn me out of doors the very next week.” Yet he still works there and she cruelly torments him. Thibault suggests making her jealous by giving his affection to another woman. He says that would not work, because something else has happened, but he will not say what it was. Thibault does not see Landry as a competitor, because Madame Polet does not love him, and Thibault feels confident in his own chances.]
[ditto]
Thibault, voyant qu’il lui était impossible de couper ou d’arracher le cheveu maudit, résolut de le cacher du mieux qu’il lui serait possible en l’enfouissant sous les autres.
Tout le monde n’aurait peut-être pas les yeux d’Agnelette.
Au reste, Thibault avait, comme nous l’avons dit, une fort belle chevelure noire, et, en faisant une raie sur le côté, en donnant une certaine tournure à sa touffe, il espérait que le cheveu passerait inaperçu.
Il envia fort les jeunes seigneurs qu’il avait vus à la cour de madame de Maintenon, et qui portaient de la poudre sous laquelle ils pouvaient cacher la couleur de leurs cheveux, quelle qu’elle fût.
Malheureusement, il n’y avait pas moyen de porter de la poudre ; les lois somptuaires du moment ne le permettaient pas.
Son cheveu rouge artistement caché sous les autres à l’aide d’un habile coup de peigne, Thibault résolut d’aller faire sa visite à la belle meunière.
Seulement, cette fois-ci, de peur de rencontrer Agnelette, il se garda bien de suivre le même chemin, et, au lieu d’appuyer à gauche, il appuya à droite.
Il en résulta qu’il déboucha à la route de la Ferté-Milon et prit à travers les champs un petit sentier qui le conduisit droit à Pisseleu.
Une fois à Pisseleu, il descendit dans la vallée qui conduit à Coyolles.
Il n’y était pas depuis cinq minutes, qu’il aperçut, marchant devant lui et conduisant deux ânes chargés de blé, un grand garçon qu’il reconnut pour un sien cousin, nommé Landry. Le cousin Landry était premier garçon de moulin chez la belle meunière.
Comme Thibault ne connaissait la veuve Polet qu’indirectement, il avait compté sur Landry pour être son introducteur au moulin.
C’était donc une bonne fortune que sa rencontre.
Thibault doubla le pas et rejoignit Landry.
En entendant le bruit des pas qui emboîtaient les siens, Landry se retourna et reconnut Thibault.
Thibault, qui avait toujours trouvé dans Landry un bon compagnon de joyeuse humeur, fut tout étonné de lui voir cette fois la physionomie triste et chagrine.
Landry s’arrêta, tandis que ses ânes continuaient leur route, et attendit Thibault.
Ce fut celui-ci qui, le premier, lui adressa la parole.
– Eh bien, demanda-t-il, cousin Landry, qu’est-ce que cela ? Je me dérange, je quitte mon atelier pour venir serrer la main à un parent et à un ami que je n’ai pas vu depuis plus de six semaines, et voilà la mine que tu me fais !
– Eh ! mon pauvre Thibault, répondit Landry, que veux-tu ! je te fais la mine que j’ai, et cependant, tu me croiras si tu veux, mais au fond je suis bien joyeux de te voir.
– Au fond, oui, mais pas à la surface.
– Comment cela ?
– Tu me dis que tu es joyeux d’un ton à porter le diable en terre. Jadis, mon cher Landry, tu étais gai et sautillant comme le tic-tac de ton moulin, que tes chansons accompagnaient toujours ; aujourd’hui, tu es morne comme les croix du cimetière. Ah çà ! l’eau ne fait donc plus tourner la meule ?
– Oh ! si fait, Thibault ! l’eau ne manque pas ; non, tout au contraire, l’eau vient mieux que jamais et l’écluse ne chôme pas ; mais, au lieu de froment, vois-tu, c’est mon cœur qui est sous la meule, et cette meule tourne tant et si bien que mon cœur est tout broyé et qu’il n’en reste que poudre.
– Bon ! Es-tu donc si malheureux que cela dans le moulin de la Polet ?
– Ah ! plût à Dieu que je fusse tombé sous sa roue le jour où j’y ai mis le pied pour la première fois !
– Ah çà ! mais tu m’effrayes, Landry !… Raconte-moi tes peines, mon garçon.
Landry poussa un gros soupir.
– Nous sommes fils de frère et de sœur, continua Thibault, et, que diable ! si je suis trop pauvre pour te bailler quelques écus si tu es dans un embarras d’argent, je puis au moins te donner quelque bon conseil si tu es pris par un chagrin de cœur.
– Merci, Thibault ; mais ce que j’ai, ni conseils ni argent n’y peuvent faire.
– Dis toujours ce que tu as ; cela soulage de raconter sa peine.
– Eh ! non ! tu auras beau faire, je ne parlerai pas.
Thibault se mit à rire.
– Tu ris ? lui demanda Landry d’un air étonné et fâché à la fois ; mon chagrin te fait rire ?
– Je ne ris pas de ton chagrin, Landry ; je ris de ce que tu espères m’en cacher la cause, quand rien n’est plus facile que de la deviner.
– Alors, devine.
– Eh bien, tu es amoureux, pardieu ! Ce n’est pas plus difficile que cela.
– Moi, amoureux ! s’écria Landry. Et qui est-ce qui t’a fait ce mensonge-là ?
– Ce n’est pas un mensonge, c’est une vérité.
Landry poussa un second soupir plus gros encore de désespoir que le premier.
– Eh bien, oui ! dit-il, là ! c’est vrai, je suis amoureux !
– Ah ! c’est bien heureux ! voilà le grand mot lâché ! dit Thibault avec un certain battement de cœur, car il pressentait un rival dans son cousin. Et de qui es-tu amoureux, Landry ?
– De qui je suis amoureux ?
– Oui, je te le demande.
– Quant à cela, cousin Thibault, tu m’arracheras plutôt le cœur de la poitrine que de me le faire dire.
– Tu me l’as dit.
– Comment ! je te l’ai dit ? s’écria Landry en fixant sur le sabotier des yeux stupéfaits.
– Sans doute.
– Ah ! par exemple !
– N’as-tu pas dit que mieux eût valu que tu tombasses sous la roue du moulin, le jour où tu es venu demander du service à la Polet, que d’être accepté par elle comme premier garçon ? Tu es malheureux dans le moulin, tu es amoureux ; donc, c’est de la meunière que tu es amoureux, et c’est cet amour qui cause ton malheur.
– Ah ! tais-toi donc, Thibault ! Si elle nous entendait !…
– Bon ! et comment pourrait-elle nous entendre ? Où veux-tu donc qu’elle soit, à moins qu’elle n’ait le don de se rendre invisible ou de se changer en papillon ou en fleur ?
– N’importe, Thibault, tais-toi !
– Elle est donc sévère, la meunière, elle n’a donc pas pitié de ton désespoir, pauvre garçon ? répliqua Thibault.
Il est vrai que ces paroles pleines de commisération en apparence étaient empreintes d’une certaine nuance de satisfaction et de raillerie.
– Ah ! je le crois bien qu’elle est sévère ! dit Landry. Dans le principe, je m’étais imaginé qu’elle ne repoussait pas mon amour… Toute la journée, je la dévorais des yeux, et, de temps en temps aussi, son regard, à elle, se fixait sur moi, et, après m’avoir regardé, elle souriait… Hélas ! mon pauvre Thibault, j’étais si heureux de ces regards et de ces sourires-là !… Mon Dieu ! pourquoi ne m’en suis-je pas toujours contenté ?
– Ah ! voilà, dit philosophiquement Thibault ; l’homme est insatiable !
– Hélas ! oui : j’ai oublié que j’avais affaire à plus huppé que moi, j’ai parlé. Alors madame Polet est entrée dans une grande colère ; elle m’a dit que j’étais un petit gueux et un grand insolent, et que, la semaine prochaine, elle me jetterait à la porte.
– Ouf ! fit Thibault ; et combien y a-t-il de cela ?
– Il y a trois semaines à peu près.
– Et la semaine prochaine est encore à venir ? demanda le sabotier, qui, connaissant mieux les femmes que son cousin Landry, sentait revenir ses inquiétudes un moment amorties.
Puis, après un instant de silence :
– Allons, allons, dit-il, tu n’es pas si malheureux que je le croyais.
– Pas si malheureux que tu croyais !
– Non.
– Ah ! si tu savais quelle vie est la mienne ! Plus de regards, plus de sourires ! Quand elle me rencontre, elle se détourne, et, lorsque je vais pour lui rendre compte de ce qui s’est passé au moulin, elle m’écoute d’un air si dédaigneux, qu’au lieu de lui parler de son, de blé, de seigle, d’orge ou d’avoine, de coupe et de recoupe, je me mets à pleurer, et alors elle m’adresse des Prenez garde ! si menaçants, que je me sauve et cours me mettre derrière mes blutoirs…
– Mais aussi pourquoi t’adresser à ta bourgeoise ? Il ne manque pas de filles dans le canton, qui ne demanderaient pas mieux que de t’avoir pour galant.
– Ah ! c’est bien malgré moi que je l’ai aimée, va !
– Prends une autre bonne amie, et ne pense plus à elle.
– Je ne saurais.
– Bon ! essaye toujours. D’abord, il se pourrait que de te voir donner ton cœur à une autre, cela rendît la meunière jalouse, et qu’alors elle courût après toi comme maintenant tu cours après elle. Les femmes sont si singulières !
– Oh ! si j’étais sûr de cela, j’essayerais tout de suite… quoique maintenant…
Et Landry secoua la tête.
– Eh bien, quoi… maintenant ?
– Quoique maintenant, après ce qui s’est passé ; tout est inutile.
– Que s’est-il donc passé ? demanda Thibault, qui tenait à tout savoir.
– Oh ! quant à cela, rien, répondit Landry, et je n’ose pas même en parler.
– Pourquoi ?
– Parce que, comme on dit chez nous, quand le malheur dort, il ne faut pas l’éveiller.
Thibault eût bien insisté pour savoir de quel malheur parlait Landry ; mais on approchait du moulin, et une explication, en supposant qu’elle eût eu son commencement, n’aurait pas eu sa fin.
D’ailleurs, Thibault, à son avis, en savait assez.
Landry aimait la belle meunière, mais la belle meunière n’aimait pas Landry.
Et, en effet, un tel rival lui semblait peu dangereux.
Il comparait avec un certain orgueil, suivi d’une satisfaction intérieure, la mine enfantine et chétive de son cousin, jeune gars de dix-huit ans, avec ses cinq pieds six pouces et sa taille bien prise ; ce qui l’amenait tout naturellement à penser que, pour peu que madame Polet fût une femme de goût, l’insuccès de Landry était une raison pour que sa réussite, à lui, fût infaillible.
(104-110)
FINDING it impossible either to cut off or pull out the accursed hair [le cheveu maudit], the only thing left for Thibault to do was to hide it as well as he could, by bringing the other hair over it; everybody would not, he hoped, have such eyes as Agnelette.
As we have already said, Thibault had a fine head of black hair, and by parting it down the side, and giving a certain turn to the front lock, he trusted that the one hair would pass unobserved.
He recalled with envy the young lords whom he had seen at the court of Madame de Maintenon, for, with their powdered wigs to cover it, the colour of their hair, whatever it might be, was of no moment. He, unfortunately, could not make use of powder to hide his, being prohibited from doing so by the sumptuary laws of the period.
However, having successfully managed, by an adroit turn of the comb, to hide his one red hair artistically under the others, Thibault decided to start again on his premeditated visit to the fair owner of the mill. He was careful this time, instead of inclining to the left, to verge towards the right, fearing to meet Agnelette if he followed the same path as he had taken that morning.
Emerging, therefore, on to the road leading to La Ferté-Milou, he then took the footpath which runs direct to Pisseleu across the fields. Arriving at Pisseleu, he continued along the valley in the direction of Croyolles, but had scarcely pursued this lower road for more than a few minutes, when, walking just ahead of him, he saw two donkeys being driven by a tall youth, whom he recognised as a cousin of his, named Landry. Cousin Landry was head boy at the mill, in the service of the owner whom Thibault was on his way to visit, and as the latter had but an indirect acquaintance with the widow Polet, he had counted on Landry to introduce him. It was a lucky chance therefore to come across his cousin like this, and Thibault hastened to overtake him.
Hearing footsteps behind him echoing his own, Landry turned and recognised Thibault. Thibault had always found Landry a pleasant and cheerful companion, and he was therefore very much astonished to see him looking sad and troubled. Landry waited for Thibault to come up to him, letting his donkeys go on alone. Thibault was the first to speak:
“Why, Cousin Landry,” he asked, “what’s the meaning of this? Here am I, putting myself out and leaving my work to come and shake hands with a friend and relation that I have not seen for more than six weeks, and you greet me with a face like that!”
“Ah, my dear Thibault,” replied Landry, “what would you have of me! I may greet you with a gloomy face, but, believe me or not as you will, I am truly delighted to see you.”
“That may be as you say, but you do not appear so.”
“What do you mean?”
“You tell me you are delighted to see me in a tone of voice fit to bring on the blue-devils. Why, my dear Landry, you are generally as bright and lively as the click-clack of your mill, and singing songs to accompany it, and to-day you are as melancholy as the crosses in the cemetery. How now then! has the mill stopped for want of water?”
“Oh! not that! there is no want of water; on the contrary, there is more than usual, and the sluice is kept constantly at work. But, you see, instead of corn, it is my heart that is in the mill, and the mill works so well and so incessantly, and my heart is so ground between the stones that there is nothing left of it but a little powder.”
“Indeed! Are you so miserable then at the mill?”
“Ah! would to God I had been dragged under the wheel the first day I put my foot inside it!”
“But what is it? you frighten me, Landry!... tell me all your troubles, my dear lad.”
Landry gave a deep sigh.
“We are cousins,” continued Thibault, “and if I am too poor to give you a few crowns to help you out of any money trouble you are in, well, I can at least give you some words of good advice if it is a matter of the heart that is causing you grief.”
“Thank you, Thibault; but neither money nor advice can do me any good.”
“Well, anyhow, tell me what is the matter; it eases trouble to speak of it.”
“No, no; it would be useless; I will say nothing.”
Thibault began to laugh.
“You laugh?” said Landry, both angry and astonished, “my trouble makes you laugh?”
“I am not laughing at your trouble, Landry, but at your thinking that you can hide the cause of it from me, when it is as easy as anything to guess what it is.”
“Guess then.”
“Why, you are in love; nothing more difficult than that to guess, I can swear.”
“I, in love!” exclaimed Landry; “why who has been telling you lies like that?”
“It is not a lie, it is the truth.”
Landry again drew a deep sigh, more laden with despair even than his former one.
“Well, yes!” he said, “it is so, I am in love!”
“Ah! that’s right! you have spoken out at last!” said Thibault, not without a certain quickening of the pulse, for he foresaw a rival in his cousin, “and with whom are you in love?”
“With whom?”
“Yes, I ask you with whom?”
“As to that, Cousin Thibault, you will have to drag the heart out of my breast before I tell you.”
“You have told me already.”
“What? I have told you who it is?” cried Landry, staring at Thibault with astonished eyes.
“Certainly you have.”
“Surely you cannot mean it!”
“Did you not say that it would have been better for you to have been dragged under by the mill wheel the first day you entered into the service of Madame Polet, than to have been taken on by her as chief hand? You are unhappy at the mill, and you are in love; therefore, you are in love with the mistress of the mill, and it is this love which is causing your unhappiness.”
“Ah, Thibault, pray hush! what if she were to overhear us!”
“How is it possible that she can overhear us; where do you imagine her to be, unless she is able to make herself invisible, or to change herself into a butterfly or a flower?”
“Never mind, Thibault, you keep quiet.”
“Your mistress of the mill is hard-hearted then, is she? and takes no pity on your despair, poor fellow?” was Thibault’s rejoinder; but his words, though seemingly expressive of great commiseration, had a shade of satisfaction and amusement in them.
“Hard-hearted! I should think so indeed!” said Landry. “In the beginning, I was foolish enough to fancy that she did not repulse my love.... All day long I was devouring her with my eyes, and now and then, she too would fix her eyes on me, and after looking at me a while, would smile.... Alas! my dear Thibault, what happiness those looks and smiles were to me!... Ah! why did I not content myself with them?”
“Well, there it is,” said Thibault philosophically. “Man is so insatiable.”
“Alas! yes; I forgot that I had to do with someone above me in position, and I spoke. Then Madame Polet flew into a great rage; called me an insolent beggar, and threatened to turn me out of doors the very next week.”
“Phew!” said Thibault, “and how long ago is that?”
“Nearly three weeks.”
“And the following week is still to come?” The shoe-maker as he put the question began to feel a revival of the uneasiness which had been momentarily allayed, for he understood women better than his cousin Landry. After a minute’s silence, he continued: “Well, well, you are not so unhappy after all as I thought you.”
“Not so unhappy as you thought me?”
“No.”
“Ah! if you only knew the life I lead! never a look, or a smile! When she meets me she turns away, when I speak to her on matters concerning the mill, she listens with such a disdainful air, that instead of talking of bran and wheat and rye, of barley and oats, of first and second crops, I begin to cry, and then she says to me, Take care! in such a menacing tone, that I run away and hide myself behind the bolters.”
“Well, but why do you pay your addresses to this mistress of yours? There are plenty of girls in the country round who would be glad to have you for their wooer.”
“Because I love her in spite of myself, I cannot help it, so there!”
“Take up with some one else; I’d think no more about her.”
“At any rate, you might try. It’s just possible that if she saw you transferring your affections to another, the mistress of the Mill might grow jealous, and might then run after you, as you are now running after her. Women are such curious creatures.”
“Oh, if I was sure of that, I would begin to try at once ... although now ...” and Landry shook his head.
“Well, what about ... now?”
“Although now, after all that has happened, it would be of no use.”
“What has happened then?” asked Thibault, who was anxious to ascertain all particulars.
“Oh! as to that, nothing,” replied Landry, “and I do not even dare speak of it.”
“Why?”
“Because, as they say with us, ‘Best let sleeping dogs lie.’ ”
Thibault would have continued to urge Landry to tell him what the trouble was to which he referred, but they were now near the Mill, and their explanation would have to remain unfinished, even if once begun. What was more, Thibault thought that he already knew enough; Landry was in love with the fair owner of the Mill, but the fair owner of the Mill was not in love with Landry. And, in truth, he feared no danger from a rival such as this. It was with a certain pride and self-complacency that he compared the timid, boyish looks of his cousin, a mere lad of eighteen, with his own five feet six and well-set figure, and he was naturally led into thinking, that, however little of a woman of taste Madame Polet might be, Landry’s failure was a good reason for believing that his own success was assured.
(40-42)
[Madame Polet’s Affection for Cousin Landry and Thibault’s Evocation of the Wolf-Devil’s Help to Get Rid of Him]
[Thibault and Cousin Landry arrive at Madame Polet’s mill, which lies in a scenic green valley. The beautiful scenery delights Thibault as he thinks about someday owning this prosperous land. They come upon Madame Polet, and Thibault introduces himself. “The mistress of the Mill was extremely gracious, and invited the new comer to spend the day at the Mill, accompanying her invitation with a smile that Thibault took as a most favourable augury.” He offers her a gift of thrushes he caught. They have it prepared for dinner. While talking, Madame Polet is often distracted by the sight of Cousin Landry, working in the background. When Thibault notices this, she turns “red as a cherry.” She then asks Thibault to help Landry unload the donkeys, which angers Thibault: “ ‘Now, the devil!’ muttered Thibault, as he looked first after Madame Polet and then at Landry, ‘is the fellow after all more fortunate than he suspects himself, and shall I be forced to call the black wolf to my assistance to get rid of him?’ ” Thibault believes that Madame Polet can see them from the window, so he “put forth all his strength, and displayed to the full his athletic grace, in the accomplishment of the task in which he was sharing.” Then at dinner Madame Polet is very attentive and polite to Thibault, which raises his spirits. Landry all the while, rather than eating, is crying: “great tears were rolling down his cheeks, and falling into the untasted juniper sauce. This mute sorrow touched her heart; a look almost of tenderness came into her face, as she made a sign to him with her head, which seemed to say, so expressive was it, “Eat, Landry, I beg of you.” There was a whole world of loving promises in this little pantomime. Landry understood the gesture, for he nearly choked himself trying to swallow the bird at one mouthful, so eager was he to obey the orders of his fair mistress.” Thibault bitterly notices their affectionate interactions. “He swore to himself [Par la rate-Dieu ! murmura-t-il], using an oath [juron] that he had heard in the mouth of the Seigneur Jean, and which, now that he was the friend of the devil [l’ami du diable], he fancied he might use like any other great lord.” Thibault decides to call upon the Wolf Devil to get Landry out of the picture: “ ‘what am I to do with Cousin Landry? his love, it is true, upsets my arrangements; but I really cannot for so small a thing send him to join the wretched Marcotte in the other world. But what a fool I am to bother my brains about finding a way to help myself! It’s the wolf’s business, not mine?’ Then in a low voice: ‘Black wolf,’ he said, ‘arrange matters in such a way, that without any accident or harm happening to my Cousin Landry, I may get rid of him.’ The prayer was scarcely uttered, when he caught sight of a small body of four or five men in military uniform, walking down the hill-side and coming towards the mill. Landry also saw them; for he uttered a loud cry, got up as if to run away, and then fell back in his chair, as if all power of movement had forsaken him.”]
[ditto]
Le moulin de Coyolles est situé dans une position charmante au fond d’une fraîche vallée ; l’eau qui l’alimente, et qui forme un petit étang, est ombragée par des saules aux têtes monstrueuses et par des peupliers élancés ; les arbres nains et les arbres géants sont reliés entre eux par de magnifiques aunes et par d’immenses noyers au feuillage odoriférant. Après avoir fait tourner la roue du moulin, l’eau écumeuse s’écoule par un petit ruisseau qui chante son hymne éternel en bondissant sur les cailloux de son lit et en constellant, des diamants liquides qui jaillissent de ses cascatelles, les fleurs qui se penchent coquettement pour se mirer dans les eaux.
Quant au moulin, il est si bien perdu dans un bouquet de plantes, de sycomores et de saules pleureurs, qu’à cent pas de distance on n’en aperçoit que la cheminée, d’où sort la fumée en montant à travers les arbres comme une colonne d’albâtre azurée.
Le site, quoique bien connu de Thibault, lui causa cette fois un enchantement qu’il n’avait jamais éprouvé.
C’est que jamais il ne l’avait regardé dans les conditions où il se trouvait ; il avait déjà en lui cette satisfaction égoïste du propriétaire qui visite un domaine qu’il a acquis par procuration.
Mais sa joie fut bien autre quand il entra dans la cour et que le tableau s’anima.
Les pigeons au cou d’azur et de pourpre roucoulaient sur les toits, les canards criaient en faisant mille évolutions dans le ruisseau, les poules gloussaient sur le fumier, les dindons se rengorgeaient en faisant la roue près de leurs femelles, de belles vaches brunes et blanches revenaient des champs les mamelles gonflées de lait ; ici, on déchargeait une charrette ; là, on ôtait le harnais à deux beaux chevaux du Perche, qui, en hennissant, tendaient vers leurs râteliers leurs bonnes têtes dégagées d’entraves ; un garçon montait un sac au grenier, une fille apportait un sac de croûtes et d’eau de vaisselle à un énorme porc qui se chauffait au soleil en attendant sa transformation en petit-salé, en saucisses, en boudin ; tous les animaux de l’arche, depuis l’âne brayant jusqu’au coq chantant, mêlaient leurs voix discordantes à ce concert champêtre, tandis que le tic-tac du moulin, en battant la mesure, semblait en régler le rythme.
Thibault en eut un éblouissement.
Il se vit d’avance le propriétaire de tout cela, et il se frotta si allègrement les mains, que bien certainement Landry eût remarqué cette joie que rien ne motivait, s’il n’eût pas été absorbé dans sa douleur, qui augmentait au fur et à mesure qu’il approchait du logis.
La veuve, de la salle à manger où elle se tenait, les apercevait au seuil de la porte.
Elle paraissait tout intriguée de savoir quel était l’étranger qui revenait avec son premier garçon.
Thibault traversa la cour, s’approcha des bâtiments d’habitation d’un air dégagé, se nomma, et expliqua à la meunière comment le désir de visiter Landry, son unique parent, l’avait décidé à se présenter chez elle.
La meunière se montra fort courtoise.
Elle engagea le nouveau venu à passer la journée au moulin, avec un sourire que celui-ci trouva du meilleur augure.
Thibault venait avec son cadeau.
Tout en traversant la forêt, il avait décroché quelques grives qu’il avait trouvées pendues à des collets amorcés de sorbiers.
La meunière les donna à plumer à l’instant même, en disant qu’elle espérait bien que Thibault en mangerait sa part.
Cependant Thibault remarqua que, tout en causant avec lui, la belle meunière semblait chercher des distractions par-dessus son épaule.
Il se retourna vivement, et reconnut que l’objet de la préoccupation de la belle meunière, c’était Landry, qui déchargeait les deux ânes.
Madame Polet, voyant que sa préoccupation n’avait pas échappé à Thibault, devint rouge comme une cerise.
Puis, se remettant aussitôt :
– Monsieur Thibault, dit-elle à sa nouvelle connaissance, il serait charitable à vous qui paraissez si vigoureux, d’assister votre cousin ; vous voyez bien qu’un tel ouvrage est trop fort pour lui tout seul.
Et elle rentra dans la maison.
– Diable ! diable ! fit Thibault en suivant la meunière du regard et en reportant ensuite les yeux sur Landry, ce gaillard-là serait-il plus heureux qu’il ne s’en doute lui-même, et faudra-t-il que, pour me débarrasser de lui, j’appelle le loup noir à mon aide ?
Thibault n’en fit pas moins ce dont l’avait prié la meunière. Comme il se doutait bien que, par quelque ouverture de rideau, la belle veuve le regardait, il employa toutes ses forces et développa toutes ses grâces dans l’accomplissement de la besogne à laquelle il coopérait.
L’ouvrage terminé, on se réunit dans la chambre, où une fille de charge était occupée à dresser la table.
La table mise, la veuve s’assit à la place d’honneur et fit asseoir Thibault à sa droite.
Madame Polet fut pleine de soins et d’attentions pour ce dernier ; si bien que Thibault, qui avait douté un instant, reprit cœur à la joie et à l’espérance.
La meunière, comme pour faire honneur au présent de Thibault, avait elle-même accommodé les grives avec des baies de genièvre, et, ainsi préparées, elles étaient bien devenues le meilleur manger qui pût chatouiller un palais.
Cependant, tout en riant aux drôleries que lui contait Thibault, elle jetait de temps en temps à la dérobée un coup d’œil sur Landry, et elle s’aperçut qu’il n’avait pas encore touché à ce qu’elle-même avait placé sur l’assiette du pauvre garçon.
Elle s’aperçut, en outre, que de grosses larmes roulaient le long de ses joues et venaient grossir la sauce au genièvre des grives, intactes dans son assiette.
Cette douleur muette la toucha.
Son regard devint presque tendre, et elle fit de la tête un geste qui voulait dire, tant elle y mit d’expression :
– Mangez, Landry, je vous en prie.
Il y avait tout un monde de promesses d’amour dans cette petite pantomime.
Landry comprit la belle meunière, car il faillit s’étrangler en avalant son oisillon d’une seule bouchée, tant il mit d’empressement à obéir aux ordres de sa maîtresse.
Rien de tout cela n’échappa à Thibault.
– Par la rate-Dieu ! murmura-t-il (c’était un juron qu’il avait entendu dire au prince Jean, et, maintenant qu’il était l’ami du diable, il croyait pouvoir parler la langue des grands seigneurs) ; par la rate-Dieu ! est-ce qu’elle serait décidément amoureuse du garçonnet ? Ce serait une preuve de bien mauvais goût, sans compter que cela ne ferait pas le moins du monde mon affaire. Non, non, ce qu’il vous faut, ma belle meunière, c’est un gaillard qui puisse facilement diriger les affaires du moulin, et ce gaillard, ce sera moi, ou le loup noir y perdra son latin.
Puis, remarquant presque immédiatement que la meunière avait repris les anciennes traditions d’yeux en coulisse et de sourires que Landry lui avait signalées :
– Allons, continua-t-il, je vois qu’il va falloir en venir aux grands moyens, car il est impossible que je la laisse échapper ; c’est dans tout le pays le seul parti qui me convienne. Oui, mais aussi que faire du cousin Landry ? Son amour dérange mes projets ; mais, en vérité, je ne puis réellement pour si peu l’envoyer rejoindre dans l’autre monde le pauvre Marcotte. Ah ! par ma foi, je suis bien bon de me détraquer le cerveau à chercher une invention ! Cela ne me regarde pas ; cela regarde le loup noir.
Puis, tout bas :
– Loup noir, dit-il, arrange-toi de manière, mon ami, à ce que, sans qu’il lui arrive accident ni malheur, je sois débarrassé de mon cousin Landry.
Il n’avait pas achevé cette prière, qu’il aperçut, descendant de la montagne et se dirigeant vers le moulin, une petite troupe de quatre ou cinq hommes vêtus de costumes militaires. Landry les aperçut aussi ; car il jeta un grand cri, se leva pour fuir, mais retomba sur sa chaise, comme si les forces lui manquaient.
(110-114)
The Mill at Croyolles is charmingly situated at the bottom of a cool green valley; the stream that works it forms a little pond, which is shaded by pollard willows, and slender poplars; and between these dwarfed and giant trees stand magnificent alders, and immense walnut trees with their fragrant foliage. After turning the wheel of the mill, the foaming water runs off in a little rivulet, which never ceases its hymn of joy as it goes leaping over the pebbles of its bed, starring the flowers that lean coquettishly over to look at themselves in its clear shallows with the liquid diamonds that are scattered by its tiny waterfalls.
The Mill itself lies so hidden in a bower of shrubs, behind the sycamores and weeping willows, that until one is within a short distance of it, nothing is to be seen but the chimney from which the smoke rises against the background of trees like a column of blue tinted alabaster. Although Thibault was familiar with the spot, the sight of it filled him, as he now looked upon it, with a feeling of delight which he had not hitherto experienced; but then he had never before gazed on it under the conditions in which he now found himself, for he was already conscious of that sense of personal satisfaction which the proprietor feels on visiting an estate which has been obtained for him by proxy. On entering the farm-yard, where the scene was more animated, he was moved to even greater ecstasy of enjoyment.
The blue and purple-throated pigeons were cooing on the roofs, the ducks quacking, and going through sundry evolutions in the stream, the hens were clucking on the dung-heap, and the turkey cocks bridling and strutting as they courted the turkey-hens, while the brown and white cows came slowly in from the fields, their udders full of milk. Here, on one side, a cart was being unloaded, there, as they were being unharnessed, two splendid horses neighed and stretched their necks, now freed from the collar, towards their mangers; a boy was carrying a sack up into the granary, and a girl was bringing another sack filled with crusts and the refuse water to an enormous pig, that lay basking in the sun waiting to be transformed into salt-pork, sausages, and black puddings; all the animals of the ark were there, from the braying donkey to the crowing cock, mingling their discordant voices in this rural concert, while the mill with its regular click-clack, seemed to be beating time.
Thibault felt quite dazzled; he saw himself the owner of all that he now looked upon, and he rubbed his hands together with such evident pleasure, that Landry, if he had not been so absorbed in his own trouble, which grew ever greater as they drew nearer to the house, would certainly have noticed this apparently causeless emotion of joy on his cousin’s part. As they entered the farm-yard, the widow, who was in the dining-room, became aware of their presence, and seemed very inquisitive to know who the stranger was who had returned with her head boy. Thibault, with an easy and confident sort of manner, went up to the dwelling-house, gave his name, and explained to her, that, having a great wish to see his cousin Landry, he had decided to come over and introduce himself to her.
The mistress of the Mill was extremely gracious, and invited the new comer to spend the day at the Mill, accompanying her invitation with a smile that Thibault took as a most favourable augury.
Thibault had not come unprovided with a present. He had unhooked some thrushes which he had found caught in a snare set with rowan-berries, as he came through the forest; and the widow sent them at once to be plucked, saying as she did so, that she hoped Thibault would stay to eat his share of them. But he could not help noticing that all the while she was speaking to him, she kept on looking over his shoulder at something which seemed to attract her attention, and turning quickly, he saw that the pre-occupation of the fair owner of the Mill had evidently been caused by watching Landry, who was unloading his asses. Becoming conscious that Thibault had noticed the wandering of her looks and attention, Madame Polet turned as red as a cherry, but, immediately recovering herself she said to her new acquaintance:
“Monsieur Thibault, it would be kind of you, who appear so robust, to go and help your cousin; you can see that the job is too heavy a one for him alone,” and so saying, she went back into the house.
“Now, the devil!” muttered Thibault, as he looked first after Madame Polet and then at Landry, “is the fellow after all more fortunate than he suspects himself, and shall I be forced to call the black wolf to my assistance to get rid of him?”
However, he went as the owner of the mill had asked him, and gave the required assistance. Feeling quite sure that the pretty widow was looking at him through some chink or other of the curtain, he put forth all his strength, and displayed to the full his athletic grace, in the accomplishment of the task in which he was sharing. The unloading finished, they all assembled in the dining-room where a waiting-maid was busy setting the table. As soon as dinner was served, Madame Polet took her place at the head of the table, with Thibault to her right. She was all attention and politeness to the latter, so much so indeed that Thibault, who had been temporarily crestfallen, took heart again, filled with hope. In order to do honour to Thibault’s present, she had herself dressed the birds with juniper-berries, and so prepared, no more delicate or appetising dish could well have been provided. While laughing at Thibault’s sallies, however, she cast stealthy glances now and again at Landry, who she saw had not touched what she herself had placed on the poor boy’s plate, and also that great tears were rolling down his cheeks, and falling into the untasted juniper sauce. This mute sorrow touched her heart; a look almost of tenderness came into her face, as she made a sign to him with her head, which seemed to say, so expressive was it, “Eat, Landry, I beg of you.” There was a whole world of loving promises in this little pantomime. Landry understood the gesture, for he nearly choked himself trying to swallow the bird at one mouthful, so eager was he to obey the orders of his fair mistress.
Nothing of all this escaped Thibault’s eye.
He swore to himself [Par la rate-Dieu ! murmura-t-il], using an oath [juron] that he had heard in the mouth of the Seigneur Jean, and which, now that he was the friend of the devil [l’ami du diable], he fancied he might use like any other great lord: “Can it be possible,” he thought, “that she is really in love with this slip of a youth? Well, if so, it does not say much for her taste, and more than that, it does not suit my plans at all. No, no, my fair mistress, what you need is a man who will know how to look well after the affairs of the mill, and that man will be myself or the black wolf will find himself in the wrong box.”
Noticing a minute later that Madame Polet had finally gone back to the earlier stage of side-long glances and smiles which Landry had described to him, he continued, “I see I shall have to resort to stronger measures, for lose her I will not; there is not another match in all the countryside that would suit me equally well. But then, what am I to do with Cousin Landry? his love, it is true, upsets my arrangements; but I really cannot for so small a thing send him to join the wretched Marcotte in the other world. But what a fool I am to bother my brains about finding a way to help myself! It’s the wolf’s business, not mine?” Then in a low voice: “Black wolf,” he said, “arrange matters in such a way, that without any accident or harm happening to my Cousin Landry, I may get rid of him.” The prayer was scarcely uttered, when he caught sight of a small body of four or five men in military uniform, walking down the hill-side and coming towards the mill. Landry also saw them; for he uttered a loud cry, got up as if to run away, and then fell back in his chair, as if all power of movement had forsaken him.
(42-44)
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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