Showing posts with label animal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label animal. Show all posts

20 Jan 2019

Dumas (4) The Wolf-Leader (Le meneur de loups), Ch.4, “The Black Wolf”, summary

 

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

 

4

“Le loup noir”

“The Black Wolf”

 

(Image from archive.org)

 

 

Brief summary:

(4.1) (Recall from section 3 that Thibault the sabot-maker has taken Agnelette his potential fiancée to her home and is now returning to his own home.) Thibault was not able to kill the buck from the hunt (see sections 2.3, 3.1, and 3.3) so he instead feasts on black bread. Thibault then hears his goat bleating and goes to feed her. When he arrives to the shed where it dwells, it rushes out suddenly toward the house. Thibault chases after it, and only after great struggle was he able to pull it back into its shed. But even with its food, it continues crying. He returns to the shed and upon inspecting it finds “the animal that had so frightened the goat, the buck of the Lord of Vez; the same buck that he had followed, had failed to kill, that he had prayed for in the devil’s name [nom du diable], if he could not have it in God’s; the same that had thrown the hounds out; the very same in short which had cost him such hard blows.” But Thibault does not know how the buck could have entered the shed, because it was bolted closed quite securely; also, the buck “had been fastened up to the rack by a cord.” This made Thibault feel very uneasy: “now a cold sweat began to break out in large drops on his brow, a curious kind of a shiver ran through his body, and his teeth chattered violently.” He goes out of the shed to find the goat. Then “Thibault had a perfect remembrance of the unholy invocation [le vœu impie] he had addressed to Satan [Satan], and although his prayer had been miraculously answered, he still could not bring himself to believe that there was any diabolic intervention [diabolique intervention] in the matter. As the idea, however, of being under the protection of the spirit of darkness [l’esprit des ténèbres] filled him with an instinctive fear, he tried to pray; but when he wished to raise his hand to make the sign of the cross on his forehead, his arm refused to bend, and although up to that time he had never missed a day saying his Ave Maria, he could not remember a single word of it. These fruitless efforts were accompanied by a terrible turmoil in poor Thibault’s brain; evil thoughts [mauvaises pensées] came rushing in upon him, and he seemed to hear them whispering all around him, as one hears the murmur of the rising tide, or the laughing of the winter wind through the leafless branches of the trees.” Thibault realizes he cannot eat the buck, because it might be “food sent from the nether regions [viande d’enfer].” He reasons it is safest to sell it to a nearby Nunnery, where he can turn a profit on it all while “ ‘The atmosphere of that holy place will drive the evil out of it [la purifiera], and I shall run no risk to my soul in taking a handful of consecrated crown pieces. What days of sweating over my work, and turning my auger, it would take, to earn even the quarter of what I shall get by just leading the beast to its new fold! The devil [diable] who helps one is certainly better worth than the angel who forsakes one. If my lord Satan [messire Satan] wants to go too far with me, it will then be time enough to free myself from his claws: bless me! I am not a child, nor a young lamb like Georgine, and I am able to walk straight in front of me and go where I like.’ He had forgotten, unhappy man, as he boasted of being able to go where and how he liked, that only five minutes before he had tried in vain to lift his hand to his head.” He imagines that with the money this will earn, he can buy Agnelette a white dress: “his thoughts would keep returning towards Agnelette; and he seemed to see her clad in a long white dress with a crown of white lilies on her head and a long veil. If, he said to himself, he could have such a charming guardian angel in his house, no devil [diable], however strong and cunning he might be, would ever dare to cross the threshold. ‘So,’ he went on, ‘there is always that remedy at hand, and if my lord Satan [messire Satan] begins to be too troublesome, I shall be off to the grandmother to ask for Agnelette; I shall marry her, and if I cannot remember my prayers or am unable to make the sign of the cross, there will be a dear pretty little woman, who has had no traffic with Satan [Satan] who will do all that sort of thing for me’.” Thibault wanted to make sure the buck was in good condition for sale, so he feeds it and checks its bedding. “The remainder of the night passed without further incident, and without even a bad dream.” (4.2) The next day, Vez was hunting for the wolf that they tracked the day before (see section 1.2). It is a “genuine wolf,” and although “it must have seen many and many a year,” “it was black all over. Black or grey, however, it was a bold and enterprising beast, and promised some rough work to the Baron and his huntsmen.” It leads the hunting party on a long, complicated chase, eventually leading back to Thibault’s hut. Thibault hears the hunting horn and dogs, and so he piles heather in front of the shed door so that the party will not be able to learn of the buck inside. He then goes back inside to get intently to work, “applying to it an energy unknown even to himself before, bending over the shoe he was making with an intentness which prevented him from even lifting his eyes. All at once he thought he detected a sound like something scratching at the door; he was just going through from his lean-to to open it when the door fell back, and to Thibault’s great astonishment an immense black wolf entered the room, walking on its hind legs. On reaching the middle of the floor, it sat down after the fashion of wolves, and looked hard and fixedly at the sabot-maker.” Alarmed, Thibault brandishes a hatchet, but “A curious mocking expression passed over the face of the wolf, and then it began to laugh. [...] And what a laugh it was! If a man had laughed such a laugh, Thibault would verily and indeed have been scared out of his wits.” After Thibault lowers the hatchet, the wolf speaks to him in a human voice, saying “I send you the finest buck from His Royal Highness’s forests, and in return, you want to split my head open with your hatchet. [...] let us be sensible and talk together like two good friends. Yesterday you wanted the Baron’s buck, and I led it myself into your shed, and for fear it should escape, I tied it up myself to the rack. And for all this you take your hatchet to me! [...] what I want to know is, are you willing to make me some return for the service I have done you?” Thibault agrees but wants to know the price. The Wolf asks for water, and Thibault eagerly gets some from a nearby brook. The Wolf then asks Thibault to help him get the hounds off his trail. They then negotiate what the Wolf will do in return, and Thibault asks for endless granting of wishes: “yesterday I wanted the buck, and you gave it me, it is true; to-morrow, I shall want something else. For some time past I have been possessed by a kind of mania, and I do nothing but wish first for one thing and then for another, and you will not always be able to spare time to listen to my demands. So what I ask for is, that, as you are the devil [le diable] in person or someone very like it, you will grant me the fulfilment of every wish I may have from this day forth.” The Wolf says this is too much and that Thibault must assume that he the Wolf depends on Thibault’s help. To demonstrate otherwise, the Wolf then suddenly disappears. Thibault asks, “ ‘Where the devil [Où diable] are you?’ ‘If you put a question to me in my real name,’ said the wolf with a sneer in his voice, ‘I shall be obliged to answer you. I am still in the same place’.”  The Wolf then explains that in fact the dogs will be led to Thibault, and Vez will whip him even more this time. The Wolf says that Thibault should instead let the buck free in hopes that the dogs will give up on the Wolf and chase the buck instead. Thibault runs off to the shed, “unfastened the buck, which, as if propelled by some hidden force, leapt from the house, ran round it, crossing the track of the wolf, and plunged into the Baisemont coppice.” The dogs then come to be “on the scent of the buck, and had abandoned that of the wolf.” Relieved, Thibault returns to his hut. “He found the wolf lying composedly on the same spot as before, but how it had found its way in again was quite as impossible to discover as how it had found its way out.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Contents

 

4.1

[Thibault’s Decision to Sell the Buck to a Nunnery]

 

4.2

[The Wolf Devil’s Introduction to Thibault]

 

Bibliography

 

 

 

 

Summary

 

4.1

[Thibault’s Decision to Sell the Buck to a Nunnery]

 

[(Recall from section 3 that Thibault the sabot-maker has taken Agnelette his potential fiancée to her home and is now returning to his own home.) Thibault was not able to kill the buck from the hunt (see sections 2.3, 3.1, and 3.3) so he instead feasts on black bread. Thibault then hears his goat bleating and goes to feed her. When he arrives to the shed where it dwells, it rushes out suddenly toward the house. Thibault chases after it, and only after great struggle was he able to pull it back into its shed. But even with its food, it continues crying. He returns to the shed and upon inspecting it finds “the animal that had so frightened the goat, the buck of the Lord of Vez; the same buck that he had followed, had failed to kill, that he had prayed for in the devil’s name [nom du diable], if he could not have it in God’s; the same that had thrown the hounds out; the very same in short which had cost him such hard blows.” But Thibault does not know how the buck could have entered the shed, because it was bolted closed quite securely; also, the buck “had been fastened up to the rack by a cord.” This made Thibault feel very uneasy: “now a cold sweat began to break out in large drops on his brow, a curious kind of a shiver ran through his body, and his teeth chattered violently.” He goes out of the shed to find the goat. Then “Thibault had a perfect remembrance of the unholy invocation [le vœu impie] he had addressed to Satan [Satan], and although his prayer had been miraculously answered, he still could not bring himself to believe that there was any diabolic intervention [diabolique intervention] in the matter. As the idea, however, of being under the protection of the spirit of darkness [l’esprit des ténèbres] filled him with an instinctive fear, he tried to pray; but when he wished to raise his hand to make the sign of the cross on his forehead, his arm refused to bend, and although up to that time he had never missed a day saying his Ave Maria, he could not remember a single word of it. These fruitless efforts were accompanied by a terrible turmoil in poor Thibault’s brain; evil thoughts [mauvaises pensées] came rushing in upon him, and he seemed to hear them whispering all around him, as one hears the murmur of the rising tide, or the laughing of the winter wind through the leafless branches of the trees.” Thibault realizes he cannot eat the buck, because it might be “food sent from the nether regions [viande d’enfer].” He reasons it is safest to sell it to a nearby Nunnery, where he can turn a profit on it all while “ ‘The atmosphere of that holy place will drive the evil out of it [la purifiera], and I shall run no risk to my soul in taking a handful of consecrated crown pieces. What days of sweating over my work, and turning my auger, it would take, to earn even the quarter of what I shall get by just leading the beast to its new fold! The devil [diable] who helps one is certainly better worth than the angel who forsakes one. If my lord Satan [messire Satan] wants to go too far with me, it will then be time enough to free myself from his claws: bless me! I am not a child, nor a young lamb like Georgine, and I am able to walk straight in front of me and go where I like.’ He had forgotten, unhappy man, as he boasted of being able to go where and how he liked, that only five minutes before he had tried in vain to lift his hand to his head.” He imagines that with the money this will earn, he can buy Agnelette a white dress: “his thoughts would keep returning towards Agnelette; and he seemed to see her clad in a long white dress with a crown of white lilies on her head and a long veil. If, he said to himself, he could have such a charming guardian angel in his house, no devil [diable], however strong and cunning he might be, would ever dare to cross the threshold. ‘So,’ he went on, ‘there is always that remedy at hand, and if my lord Satan [messire Satan] begins to be too troublesome, I shall be off to the grandmother to ask for Agnelette; I shall marry her, and if I cannot remember my prayers or am unable to make the sign of the cross, there will be a dear pretty little woman, who has had no traffic with Satan [Satan] who will do all that sort of thing for me’.” Thibault wanted to make sure the buck was in good condition for sale, so he feeds it and checks its bedding. “The remainder of the night passed without further incident, and without even a bad dream.”]

 

[ditto]

Le premier soin de Thibault fut de souper ; car sa fatigue était grande.

La journée avait été accidentée, et il paraît qu’au nombre de ces accidents, il en était quelques-uns qui avaient le privilège de creuser l’estomac.

Ce souper n’était pas aussi savoureux que celui qu’il s’était promis en tuant le daim.

Mais le daim, comme nous l’avons dit, n’avait pas été tué par Thibault, et l’appétit féroce qui le galopait lui faisait trouver le goût du daim à son pain noir.

Ce frugal repas était à peine commencé, lorsque Thibault s’aperçut que sa chèvre – nous croyons avoir dit qu’il avait une chèvre – poussait des bêlements désespérés.

Il pensa qu’elle aussi bramait après son souper, et, prenant dans l’appentis une brassée d’herbes fraîches, il alla les lui porter.

Lorsqu’il ouvrit la petite porte de l’étable, la chèvre en sortit si brusquement, qu’elle faillit renverser son maître.

Puis, sans s’arrêter à la provende que lui apportait Thibault, elle courut à la maison.

Thibault jeta là son fardeau et s’en alla chercher l’animal pour le réintégrer dans son domicile. Mais ce fut chose impossible. Il lui fallut employer la force, et encore à la force la pauvre bête opposa-t-elle toute la résistance dont une chèvre est susceptible, se roidissant en arrière, s’arc-boutant sur ses jambes, tandis que le sabotier la tirait par les cornes.

Vaincue dans cette lutte, la chèvre finit par rentrer dans son étable.

Mais, malgré le copieux souper que lui avait laissé Thibault, elle continua de pousser des cris lamentables.

Impatienté et intrigué tout ensemble, le sabotier quitta une seconde fois son repas et ouvrit l’étable avec tant de précaution, que la chèvre ne put s’en échapper.

Puis, il se mit à chercher des mains dans tous les coins et recoins ce qui pouvait lui causer tant d’effroi.

Tout à coup ses doigts rencontrèrent la fourrure épaisse et chaude d’un animal étranger.

Thibault n’était pas poltron, il s’en fallait.

Cependant, il se retira précipitamment.

Il rentra chez lui, prit la lumière et revint à l’étable.

La lampe faillit lui tomber des mains quand il reconnut, dans l’animal qui avait tant effrayé sa chèvre, le daim du baron Jean ; celui-là même qu’il avait poursuivi, qu’il avait manqué, qu’il avait désiré avoir au nom du diable, ne pouvant l’avoir au nom de Dieu ; celui sur lequel les chiens avaient fait défaut ; celui, enfin, qui lui avait valu de si jolis horions.

Thibault s’approcha doucement de lui, après s’être assuré que la porte était bien fermée.

Le pauvre animal était, ou tellement fatigué, ou si singulièrement apprivoisé, qu’il ne fit pas un mouvement pour fuir, se contentant de regarder Thibault avec ses deux grands yeux de velours noir, rendus plus expressifs encore par la crainte qui l’agitait.

– J’aurai laissé la porte ouverte, murmura le sabotier se parlant à lui-même, et le daim, ne sachant plus où se fourrer, sera venu se réfugier ici.

Mais, en recueillant ses souvenirs, Thibault se rappela parfaitement que, lorsqu’il avait pour la première fois ouvert l’étable, dix minutes auparavant, le verrou de bois qui fermait la porte était si bien poussé, qu’il avait dû se servir d’un caillou pour le faire sortir de la gâche.

D’ailleurs, la chèvre, qui, ainsi qu’on l’a vu, ne paraissait pas tenir à la société du nouveau venu, eût profité pour fuir de l’ouverture de cette porte, si elle eût été ouverte.

Puis, en y regardant de plus près, Thibault s’aperçut que le daim était attaché au râtelier par une corde.

Quoique, nous l’avons déjà dit, le sabotier fût assez brave, une sueur froide commença de perler à grosses gouttes à la racine de ses cheveux, un frisson singulier parcourut tout son corps, et ses dents claquèrent en s’entrechoquant.

Il sortit de son étable, en ferma la porte et s’en alla retrouver sa chèvre, qui avait, pour fuir, profité du moment où le sabotier était venu chercher une lumière, et qui était couchée au coin de l’âtre, en apparence très décidée cette fois à ne plus quitter une place qu’elle paraissait, ce soir-là du moins, préférer de beaucoup à son gîte ordinaire.

Thibault se rappelait parfaitement le vœu impie qu’il avait adressé à Satan ; mais, tout en reconnaissant que ce vœu avait été miraculeusement exaucé, il ne pouvait croire à sa diabolique intervention.

Cependant, comme cette protection de l’esprit des ténèbres lui faisait instinctivement peur, il essaya de prier ; mais, lorsqu’il voulut porter la main à son front pour faire le signe de la croix, son bras refusa de plier, et, bien que jusqu’alors il l’eût récité tous les jours, il ne put se remettre en mémoire un seul mot de l’Ave Maria.

En même temps qu’il tentait ces deux efforts infructueux, il se faisait dans la cervelle du pauvre Thibault un effrayant remue-ménage.

Les mauvaises pensées lui revenaient si abondamment, qu’il lui semblait ouïr leur murmure à son oreille, comme on entend le murmure des flots quand monte la marée, ou le bruit des branches froissées quand le vent d’hiver passe dans les branches dépouillées de leurs feuilles.

– Après tout, murmura-t-il, le front pâle et l’œil fixe, que ce daim me vienne de Dieu ou du diable, c’est toujours une bonne aubaine, et bien fou serais-je de secouer mon sarrau lorsque la manne y tombe. Si je crains que cette bique ne soit viande d’enfer, rien ne m’oblige à la manger ; d’ailleurs, je ne la pourrai pas manger tout seul, et ceux que j’inviterais à la manger avec moi me dénonceraient ; mais je puis la conduire toute vivante au couvent des religieuses de Saint-Rémy, dont la dame abbesse me l’achètera bien cher pour divertir ses nonnes ; l’air d’un lieu saint la purifiera, et la poignée de bons écus bénits que je recevrai en paiement ne peut mettre mon âme en péril.

Combien de jours ne me faudra-t-il pas suer au travail et virer la tarière pour gagner le quart de ce que je recevrai sans prendre autre peine que de conduire la bête à son nouveau bercail ! Décidément, mieux vaut diable qui vous protège qu’ange du ciel qui vous abandonne. Si messire Satan veut me conduire trop loin, il sera toujours temps de me tirer de ses griffes ; je ne suis pas un enfant, de par Dieu ! ni un agnelet comme Georgine, et je sais marcher devant moi et aller où je veux.

Il oubliait, le malheureux, qui prétendait marcher devant lui et aller où il voulait, que, cinq minutes auparavant, il n’avait pu conduire sa main jusqu’à son front.

Thibault se donna à lui-même tant de raisons si bonnes et si concluantes, qu’il résolut de garder le daim, de quelque part qu’il lui fût venu, et décida même que le prix qu’il en recevrait serait consacré à acheter la robe de noce de sa fiancée.

Car, par un étrange retour de mémoire, son souvenir se fixait sur Agnelette.

Il la voyait vêtue d’une longue robe blanche avec une couronne de lis blancs au front et un grand voile.

Il lui semblait que, s’il avait dans sa maison un si gentil ange gardien, le diable, si fort ou si rusé qu’il fût, n’oserait jamais en franchir la porte.

– Bon ! dit-il, c’est encore un moyen : si messire Satan me tourmente par trop, je cours demander l’Agnelette à sa grand-mère, je l’épouse, et, si je ne me rappelle plus mes prières et ne puis plus faire le signe de la croix, j’aurai une belle petite femme qui ne sera pas engagée avec Satan et qui fera tout cela pour moi.

Et, sur cette espèce de compromis, pour que le daim ne perdît rien de sa valeur et restât digne des saintes dames auxquelles il comptait le vendre, Thibault, à peu près rassuré, alla garnir le râtelier de fourrage et s’assurer que la litière était assez épaisse pour que l’animal pût y reposer moelleusement.

La nuit se passa sans nouvel incident et même sans mauvais rêve.

(69-73)

 

THIBAULT’S first thought was to get himself some supper, for he was terribly tired. The past day had been an eventful one for him, and certain things which had happened to him had evidently been calculated to produce a craving for food. The supper, it must be said, was not quite such a savoury one as he had promised himself, when starting to kill the buck; but the animal, as we know, had not been killed by Thibault, and the ferocious hunger which now consumed him made his black bread taste almost as delicious as venison.

He had hardly, however, begun his frugal repast, when he became conscious that his goat—of which I think we have already spoken—was uttering the most plaintive bleatings. Thinking that she, too, was in want of her supper, he went into the lean-to for some fresh grass, which he then carried to her, but as he opened the little door of the shed, out she rushed with such precipitancy that she nearly knocked Thibault over, and without stopping to take the provender he had brought her, ran towards the house. Thibault threw down the bundle of grass and went after her, with the intention of re-installing her in her proper place; but he found that this was more than he was able to do. He had to use all his force to get her along, for the goat, with all the strength of which a beast of her kind is capable, resisted all his efforts to drag her back by the horns, arching her back, and stubbornly refusing to move. At last, however, being vanquished in the struggle, it ended by the goat being once more shut up in her shed, but, in spite of the plentiful supper which Thibault left her with, she continued to utter the most lamentable cries. Perplexed, and cross at the same time, the shoe-maker again rose from his supper and went to the shed, this time opening the door so cautiously that the goat could not escape. Once inside he began feeling about with his hands in all the nooks and corners to try and discover the cause of her alarm. Suddenly his fingers came in contact with the warm, thick coat of some other animal. Thibault was not a coward, far from it, none the less, he drew back hastily. He returned to the house and got a light, but it almost fell from his hand, when, on re-entering the shed, he recognised in the animal that had so frightened the goat, the buck of the Lord of Vez; the same buck that he had followed, had failed to kill, that he had prayed for in the devil’s name [nom du diable], if he could not have it in God’s; the same that had thrown the hounds out; the very same in short which had cost him such hard blows. Thibault, after assuring himself that the door was fastened, went gently up to the animal; the poor thing was either so tired, or so tame, that it did not make the slightest attempt to move, but merely gazed out at Thibault with its large dark velvety eyes, rendered more appealing than ever by the fear which agitated it.

“I must have left the door open,” muttered the shoe-maker to himself, “and the creature, not knowing where to hide itself, must have taken refuge here.” But on thinking further over the matter, it came back to him that when he had gone to open the door, only ten minutes before, for the first time, he had found the wooden bolt pushed so firmly into the staple that he had had to get a stone to hammer it back; and then, besides, the goat, which, as we have seen, did not at all relish the society of the new-comer, would certainly have run out of the shed before, if the door had been open. What was, however, still more surprising was that Thibault, looking more closely at the buck, saw that it had been fastened up to the rack by a cord.

Thibault, as we have said, was no coward, but now a cold sweat began to break out in large drops on his brow, a curious kind of a shiver ran through his body, and his teeth chattered violently. He went out of the shed, shutting the door after him, and began looking for his goat, which had taken advantage of the moment when the shoe-maker had gone to fetch a light, and ran again into the house, where she was now lying beside the hearth, having evidently quite made up her mind this time not to forsake a resting place, which, for that night at least, she found preferable to her usual abode.

Thibault had a perfect remembrance of the unholy invocation [le vœu impie] he had addressed to Satan [Satan], and although his prayer had been miraculously answered, he still could not bring himself to believe that there was any diabolic intervention [diabolique intervention] in the matter.

As the idea, however, of being under the protection of the spirit of darkness [l’esprit des ténèbres] filled him with an instinctive fear, he tried to pray; but when he wished to raise his hand to make the sign of the cross on his forehead, his arm refused to bend, and although up to that time he had never missed a day saying his Ave Maria, he could not remember a single word of it.

These fruitless efforts were accompanied by a terrible turmoil in poor Thibault’s brain; evil thoughts [mauvaises pensées] came rushing in upon him, and he seemed to hear them whispering all around him, as one hears the murmur of the rising tide, or the laughing of the winter wind through the leafless branches of the trees.

“After all,” he muttered to himself, as he sat pale, and staring before him, “the buck is a fine windfall, whether it comes from God or the Devil, and I should be a fool not to profit by it. If I am afraid of it as being food sent from the nether regions [viande d’enfer], I am in no way forced to eat it, and what is more, I could not eat it alone, and if I asked anyone to partake of it with me, I should be betrayed; the best thing I can do is to take the live beast over to the Nunnery of Saint-Rémy, where it will serve as a pet for the Nuns and where the Abbess will give me a good round sum for it. The atmosphere of that holy place will drive the evil out of it [la purifiera], and I shall run no risk to my soul in taking a handful of consecrated crown pieces.

“What days of sweating over my work, and turning my auger, it would take, to earn even the quarter of what I shall get by just leading the beast to its new fold! The devil [diable] who helps one is certainly better worth than the angel who forsakes one. If my lord Satan [messire Satan] wants to go too far with me, it will then be time enough to free myself from his claws: bless me! I am not a child, nor a young lamb like Georgine, and I am able to walk straight in front of me and go where I like.” He had forgotten, unhappy man, as he boasted of being able to go where and how he liked, that only five minutes before he had tried in vain to lift his hand to his head.

Thibault had such convincing and excellent reasons ready to hand, that he quite made up his mind to keep the buck, come whence it might, and even went so far as to decide that the money he received for it should be devoted to buying a wedding dress for his betrothed. For, strange to say, by some freak of memory, his thoughts would keep returning towards Agnelette; and he seemed to see her clad in a long white dress with a crown of white lilies on her head and a long veil. If, he said to himself, he could have such a charming guardian angel in his house, no devil [diable], however strong and cunning he might be, would ever dare to cross the threshold. “So,” he went on, “there is always that remedy at hand, and if my lord Satan [messire Satan] begins to be too troublesome, I shall be off to the grandmother to ask for Agnelette; I shall marry her, and if I cannot remember my prayers or am unable to make the sign of the cross, there will be a dear pretty little woman, who has had no traffic with Satan [Satan] who will do all that sort of thing for me.”

Having more or less re-assured himself with the idea of this compromise, Thibault, in order that the buck should not run down in value, and might be as fine an animal as possible to offer to the holy ladies, to whom he calculated to sell it, went and filled the rack with fodder and looked to see that the litter was soft and thick enough for the buck to rest fully at its ease. The remainder of the night passed without further incident, and without even a bad dream.

(27-28)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

4.2

[The Wolf Devil’s Introduction to Thibault]

 

[The next day, Vez was hunting for the wolf that they tracked the day before (see section 1.2). It is a “genuine wolf,” and although “it must have seen many and many a year,” “it was black all over. Black or grey, however, it was a bold and enterprising beast, and promised some rough work to the Baron and his huntsmen.” It leads the hunting party on a long, complicated chase, eventually leading back to Thibault’s hut. Thibault hears the hunting horn and dogs, and so he piles heather in front of the shed door so that the party will not be able to learn of the buck inside. He then goes back inside to get intently to work, “applying to it an energy unknown even to himself before, bending over the shoe he was making with an intentness which prevented him from even lifting his eyes. All at once he thought he detected a sound like something scratching at the door; he was just going through from his lean-to to open it when the door fell back, and to Thibault’s great astonishment an immense black wolf entered the room, walking on its hind legs. On reaching the middle of the floor, it sat down after the fashion of wolves, and looked hard and fixedly at the sabot-maker.” Alarmed, Thibault brandishes a hatchet, but “A curious mocking expression passed over the face of the wolf, and then it began to laugh. [...] And what a laugh it was! If a man had laughed such a laugh, Thibault would verily and indeed have been scared out of his wits.” After Thibault lowers the hatchet, the wolf speaks to him in a human voice, saying “I send you the finest buck from His Royal Highness’s forests, and in return, you want to split my head open with your hatchet. [...] let us be sensible and talk together like two good friends. Yesterday you wanted the Baron’s buck, and I led it myself into your shed, and for fear it should escape, I tied it up myself to the rack. And for all this you take your hatchet to me! [...] what I want to know is, are you willing to make me some return for the service I have done you?” Thibault agrees but wants to know the price. The Wolf asks for water, and Thibault eagerly gets some from a nearby brook. The Wolf then asks Thibault to help him get the hounds off his trail. They then negotiate what the Wolf will do in return, and Thibault asks for endless granting of wishes: “yesterday I wanted the buck, and you gave it me, it is true; to-morrow, I shall want something else. For some time past I have been possessed by a kind of mania, and I do nothing but wish first for one thing and then for another, and you will not always be able to spare time to listen to my demands. So what I ask for is, that, as you are the devil [le diable] in person or someone very like it, you will grant me the fulfilment of every wish I may have from this day forth.” The Wolf says this is too much and that Thibault must assume that he the Wolf depends on Thibault’s help. To demonstrate otherwise, the Wolf then suddenly disappears. Thibault asks, “ ‘Where the devil [Où diable] are you?’ ‘If you put a question to me in my real name,’ said the wolf with a sneer in his voice, ‘I shall be obliged to answer you. I am still in the same place’.”  The Wolf then explains that in fact the dogs will be led to Thibault, and Vez will whip him even more this time. The Wolf says that Thibault should instead let the buck free in hopes that the dogs will give up on the Wolf and chase the buck instead. Thibault runs off to the shed, “unfastened the buck, which, as if propelled by some hidden force, leapt from the house, ran round it, crossing the track of the wolf, and plunged into the Baisemont coppice.” The dogs then come to be “on the scent of the buck, and had abandoned that of the wolf.” Relieved, Thibault returns to his hut. “He found the wolf lying composedly on the same spot as before, but how it had found its way in again was quite as impossible to discover as how it had found its way out.”]

 

[ditto]

Le lendemain, le seigneur Jean chassait encore.

Seulement, cette fois, ce n’était point un daim timide qui conduisait les chiens ; c’était le loup dont Marcotte avait eu connaissance la veille et qu’il était parvenu à rembucher le matin même.

C’était un vrai loup que celui-là.

Il devait compter de nombreuses années, quoiqu’on l’eût entrevu au lancer, et que l’on se fût aperçu avec étonnement qu’il était tout noir.

Mais, noir ou gris, il était hardi, entreprenant, et promettait rude besogne à l’équipage du baron Jean.

Attaqué près de Vertefeuille, dans le fond Dargent, il avait traversé le champ Meutard, laissé Fleury et Dampleux à sa gauche, traverse la route de la Ferté-Milon, et était allé se faire battre dans les fonds d’Ivors.

Là, renonçant, à poursuivre la pointe commencée, il avait fait un hourvari, était rentré dans ses voies et revenu sur ses pas en suivant si exactement le chemin qu’il avait déjà parcouru, que le baron Jean retrouvait, tout en galopant, les empreintes que le sabot de son cheval avait laissées le matin.

Rentré dans le canton de Bourg-Fontaine, le loup l’avait battu dans tous les sens ; puis il avait amené les chasseurs juste à l’endroit où avaient commencé leurs mésaventures de la veille, précisément aux environs de la hutte du sabotier.

Thibault, qui, d’après les résolutions que nous avons dites, comptait dans la soirée aller rendre visite à l’Agnelette, s’était mis à la besogne de grand matin.

Vous me demanderez pourquoi, au lieu de se mettre à une besogne qui rapportait si peu à l’ouvrier, de son propre aveu, Thibault n’allait pas conduire son daim aux dames de Saint-Rémy.

Thibault s’en serait bien gardé !

Ce n’était point pendant le jour qu’il pouvait traverser la forêt de Villers-Cotterêts avec un daim en laisse.

Qu’eût-il dit au premier garde qui l’eût rencontré ?

Non, Thibault comptait partir un soir de chez lui à la brune, suivre la route de droite, puis la laie de la Sablonnière, puis déboucher par la route du Pendu dans la plaine de Saint-Rémy, à deux cents pas du couvent.

Lorsque Thibault, pour la première fois, entendit les sons du cor et l’aboi des chiens, il se hâta d’amonceler devant la porte de l’étable, où était enfermé son prisonnier, un énorme tas de bruyère sèche, de façon à dissimuler cette porte aux regards des piqueurs et de leur seigneur, si, par hasard, ce jour-là, comme la veille, ils venaient à s’arrêter devant la hutte.

Puis il avait repris sa besogne, et il travaillait avec une ardeur que lui-même ne s’était jamais vue, ne levant pas même les yeux de dessus la paire de sabots qu’il façonnait.

Tout à coup, il lui sembla entendre gratter à la porte de la hutte. Il s’apprêtait à quitter son appentis pour aller ouvrir, lorsque la porte céda, et, au grand étonnement de Thibault, un énorme loup noir entra dans la chambre, marchant sur ses deux pattes de derrière.

Arrivé au milieu de l’appartement, il s’assit à la manière des loups et regarda fixement le sabotier.

Thibault saisit une hache qui se trouvait à sa portée, afin de recevoir dignement l’étrange visiteur, et, pour l’effrayer, il brandit la hache au-dessus de sa tête.

Mais la physionomie du loup prit une singulière expression de raillerie.

Il se mit à rire.

C’était la première fois que Thibault entendait rire un loup.

Il avait entendu dire souvent que les loups aboyaient comme des chiens.

Mais il n’avait jamais entendu dire que les loups riaient comme des hommes.

Et de quel rire encore !

Un homme qui eût ri comme ce loup eût fort effrayé Thibault.

Il laissa retomber son bras déjà levé.

– Par le seigneur au pied fourchu, dit le loup d’une voix pleine et sonore, voilà un gaillard auquel, sur sa demande, j’envoie le plus beau daim des forêts de Son Altesse Royale, et qui, pour ma récompense, veut me fendre la tête d’un coup de hache ; reconnaissance humaine bien digne de hurler avec la reconnaissance des loups.

En entendant une voix pareille à la sienne sortir du corps de l’animal, les genoux de Thibault commencèrent à flageoler, et la hache lui tomba des mains.

– Voyons, continua le loup, soyons raisonnables et causons comme deux bons amis. Tu as désiré hier le daim du baron Jean, et je l’ai conduit moi-même dans ton étable ; et, de peur qu’il ne t’échappât, je l’ai attaché moi-même au râtelier ; cela vaut mieux qu’un coup de hache, il me semble.

– Sais-je qui vous êtes ? répondit Thibault.

– Ah ! tu ne m’avais pas reconnu ! voilà une raison.

– J’en appelle à vous-même : pouvais-je soupçonner un ami sous cette vilaine peau ?

– Vilaine ! dit le loup en lustrant son poil avec une langue rouge comme du sang ; peste ! tu es difficile. Mais il n’est point question de ma peau. Voyons, es-tu disposé à reconnaître le service que je t’ai rendu ?

– Certainement, dit le sabotier avec un certain embarras ; mais encore faudrait-il connaître vos exigences. De quoi s’agit-il ? que désirez-vous ? Parlez.

– D’abord, et avant tout, je désire un verre d’eau, car ces maudits chiens m’ont mis tout hors d’haleine.

– À l’instant, seigneur loup.

Et Thibault courut chercher une écuelle d’eau fraîche et limpide à la source qui coulait à dix pas de la hutte. Thibault prouvait, par cet empressement, combien il était heureux d’en être quitte à si bon marché. Il déposa l’écuelle devant le loup en lui faisant une profonde révérence. Le loup lapa le contenu de l’écuelle avec délices, puis s’étendit sur le sol, les pattes allongées à la manière des sphinx.

– Maintenant, dit-il, écoute-moi.

– Il y a donc autre chose ? demanda Thibault tout frissonnant.

– Pardieu ! et une chose très urgente, répondit le loup noir. Entends-tu les abois des chiens ?

– Par ma foi ! oui, je les entends, et, comme ils vont se rapprochant, dans cinq minutes ils seront ici.

– Eh bien, il s’agit de m’en débarrasser.

– De vous en débarrasser ! et comment ? s’écria Thibault, qui se rappelait ce qu’il lui en avait coûté pour s’être mêlé, la veille, de la chasse du baron Jean.

– Dame ! vois, cherche, ingénie-toi !

– C’est qu’en effet ce sont de rudes chiens que les chiens du baron Jean, et ce que vous me demandez là, seigneur loup, c’est tout simplement de vous sauver la vie ; car, je vous en préviens, s’ils vous rejoignent, et ils vous rejoindront selon toute probabilité, ils vous mettront de la première goulée en charpie. Or, si je vous épargne ce désagrément, ajouta Thibault croyant sentir qu’il prenait le dessus, quelle sera ma récompense ?

– Comment, ta récompense ? Et le daim ? dit le loup.

– Et la jatte d’eau ? dit Thibault. Nous sommes quittes, mon brave loup. Maintenant, faisons de nouvelles affaires, si vous voulez, je ne demande pas mieux.

– Soit ! Que veux-tu de moi ? Parle vite.

– Il y a, dit Thibault, des gens qui abuseraient de leur position et de la vôtre, et qui demanderaient des choses par-dessus les maisons : de les faire riches, puissants, nobles, que sais-je, moi ! Je ne les imiterai pas : hier, j’ai souhaité le daim, et vous me l’avez donné, c’est vrai ; mais, demain, je souhaiterai autre chose. Depuis quelque temps, c’est une folie qui s’est emparée de moi, je ne fais que souhaiter, et vous, vous n’aurez pas toujours du temps à perdre à m’écouter. Faites donc une chose : accordez-moi, puisque vous êtes le diable en personne ou quelque chose d’approchant, accordez-moi le don de voir se réaliser tout ce que je désirerai.

Le loup fit une grimace moqueuse.

– Rien que cela ? dit-il. La péroraison cadre mal avec l’exorde.

– Oh ! reprit Thibault, soyez tranquille, mes vœux sont honnêtes et mesurés, et tels qu’ils conviennent à un pauvre paysan comme moi : quelques misérables coins de terre, quelques méchants brins de bois, voilà tout ce que peut vouloir un homme de mon espèce.

– Je ferais avec grand plaisir ce que tu me demandes, dit le loup ; mais la chose m’est tout simplement impossible.

– Alors, il faut vous résigner à passer par ces terribles dogues.

– Tu crois cela, et tu fais l’exigeant parce que tu penses que j’ai besoin de toi ?

– Je ne crois pas, j’en suis sûr.

– Eh bien, regarde.

– Où ? demanda Thibault.

– À la place où j’étais, dit le loup.

Thibault recula de deux pas. À la place où était le loup, il n’y avait plus rien. Le loup avait disparu, on ne savait ni par où ni comment. La place où il était demeurait parfaitement intacte. Il n’y avait pas au plafond un trou où passer une aiguille ; il n’y avait pas au plancher une fente à laisser filtrer une goutte d’eau.

– Eh bien, crois-tu que je ne puisse pas me tirer d’affaire sans toi ? dit le loup.

Où diable êtes-vous donc ?

– Ah ! si tu m’interpelles par mon vrai nom, dit en ricanant la voix du loup, je vais être obligé de te répondre. Je suis toujours au même endroit.

– Mais je ne vous vois plus !

– Tout simplement parce que je suis invisible.

– Mais les chiens, mais le piqueur, mais le seigneur Jean vont venir vous chercher ici ?

– Sans doute ; seulement, ils ne m’y trouveront pas.

– Mais, s’ils ne vous y trouvent pas, ils vont s’en prendre à moi.

– Comme hier. Seulement, hier, tu étais condamné, pour avoir soustrait le daim, à trente-six coups de ceinturon ; aujourd’hui, pour avoir caché le loup, tu seras condamné à soixante et douze, et Agnelette ne sera plus là pour te tirer d’affaire avec un baiser.

– Ouf ! que dois-je faire ?

– Lâche le daim vivement ; les chiens se tromperont à la piste, et ce sont eux qui recevront les coups à ta place.

– Mais comment de si fins courants se tromperaient-ils au point de prendre les fumées d’un daim pour celles d’un loup ?

– Cela me regarde, répondit la voix ; seulement, ne perds pas de temps, ou les chiens seront ici avant que tu sois à l’étable ; ce qui serait désagréable, non pas pour moi, qu’ils ne trouveraient pas, mais pour toi, qu’ils trouveraient.

Thibault ne se le fit pas dire deux fois.

Il courut à l’étable.

Il détacha aussitôt le daim, qui, poussé comme par un ressort, s’élança hors de la maison, en fit le tour, croisant la voie du loup, et s’enfonça dans les taillis de Baisemont.

Les chiens n’étaient plus qu’à cent pas de la cabane.

Thibault écouta leurs abois avec anxiété.

Toute la meute vint rabâcher à la porte.

Puis, tout à coup, deux ou trois voix retentirent, s’éloignant du côté de Baisemont, et enlevèrent toute la meute.

Les chiens avaient pris le change.

Ils étaient partis sur la piste du daim.

Ils avaient abandonné celle du loup.

Thibault respira à pleine poitrine.

Voyant la meute s’éloigner de plus en plus, il rentra dans sa chambre au bruit d’un joyeux bien-aller que sonnait le baron à pleine trompe.

Le loup noir était tranquillement couché à la même place, et l’on ne voyait pas plus par où il était rentré que l’on n’avait pu voir par où il était sorti.

(73-80)

 

The next morning, my lord Baron again went hunting, but this time it was not a timid deer that headed the hounds, but the wolf which Marcotte had tracked the day before and had again that morning traced to his lair.

And this wolf was a genuine wolf, and no mistake; it must have seen many and many a year, although those who had that morning caught sight of it while on its track, had noted with astonishment that it was black all over. Black or grey, however, it was a bold and enterprising beast, and promised some rough work to the Baron and his huntsmen. First started near Vertefeuille, in the Dargent covert, it had made over the plain of Meutard, leaving Fleury and Dampleux to the left, crossed the road to Ferté-Milou, and finally begun to run cunning in the Ivors coppices. Then, instead of continuing in the same direction, it doubled, returning along the same track it had come, and so exactly retracing its own steps, that the Baron, as he galloped along, could actually distinguish the prints left by his horse’s hoofs that same morning.

Back again in the district of Bourg-Fontaine, he ranged the country, leading the hunt right to the very spot where the mis-adventures of the previous day had had their start, the vicinity of the shoe-maker’s hut.

Thibault, we know, had made up his mind what to do in regard to certain matters, and as he intended going over to see Agnelette in the evening, he had started work early.

You will naturally ask why, instead of sitting down to a work which brought in so little, as he himself acknowledged, Thibault did not start off at once to take his buck to the ladies of Saint-Rémy. Thibault took very good care to do nothing of the sort; the day was not the time to be leading a buck through the forest of Villers-Cotterets; the first keeper he met would have stopped him, and what explanation could he have given? No, Thibault had arranged in his own mind to leave home one evening about dusk, to follow the road to the right, then go down the sandpit lane which led into the Chemin du Pendu, and he would then be on the common of Saint-Rémy, only a hundred paces or so from the Convent.

Thibault no sooner caught the first sound of the horn and the dogs, than he immediately gathered together a huge bundle of dried heather, which he hastily piled up in front of the shed, where his prisoner was confined, so as to hide the door, in case the huntsmen and their master should halt in front of his hut, as they had the day before. He then sat down again to his work, applying to it an energy unknown even to himself before, bending over the shoe he was making with an intentness which prevented him from even lifting his eyes. All at once he thought he detected a sound like something scratching at the door; he was just going through from his lean-to to open it when the door fell back, and to Thibault’s great astonishment an immense black wolf entered the room, walking on its hind legs. On reaching the middle of the floor, it sat down after the fashion of wolves, and looked hard and fixedly at the sabot-maker.

Thibault seized a hatchet which was within reach, and in order to give a fit reception to his strange visitor, and to terrify him, he flourished the weapon above his head.

A curious mocking expression passed over the face of the wolf, and then it began to laugh.

It was the first time that Thibault had ever heard a wolf laugh. He had often heard tell that wolves barked like dogs, but never that they laughed like human beings. And what a laugh it was! If a man had laughed such a laugh, Thibault would verily and indeed have been scared out of his wits.

He brought his lifted arm down again.

“By my lord of the cloven foot,” said the wolf, in a full and sonorous voice, “you are a fine fellow! At your request, I send you the finest buck from His Royal Highness’s forests, and in return, you want to split my head open with your hatchet; human gratitude is worthy to rank with that of wolves.” On hearing a voice exactly like his own coming forth from a beast’s mouth, Thibault’s knees began to shake under him, and the hatchet fell out of his hand.

“Now then,” continued the wolf, “let us be sensible and talk together like two good friends. Yesterday you wanted the Baron’s buck, and I led it myself into your shed, and for fear it should escape, I tied it up myself to the rack. And for all this you take your hatchet to me!”

“How should I know who you were?” asked Thibault.

“I see, you did not recognise me! A nice sort of excuse to give.”

“Well, I ask you, was it likely I should take you for a friend under that ugly coat?”

“Ugly coat, indeed!” said the wolf, licking his fur with a long tongue as red as blood. “Confound you! You are hard to please. However, it’s not a matter of my coat; what I want to know is, are you willing to make me some return for the service I have done you?”

“Certainly,” said the shoe-maker, feeling rather uncomfortable! “but I ought to know what your demands are. What is it? What do you want? Speak!”

“First of all, and above all things, I should like a glass of water, for those confounded dogs have run me until I am out of breath.”

“You shall have it in a moment, my lord wolf.”

And Thibault ran and fetched a bowl of fresh, clear water from a brook which ran some ten paces from the hut. The eager readiness with which he complied with the wolf’s request betrayed his feeling of relief at getting out of the bargain so cheaply.

As he placed the bowl in front of the wolf, he made the animal a low bow. The wolf lapped up the contents with evident delight, and then stretched himself on the floor with his paws straight out in front of him, looking like a sphinx.

“Now,” he said, “listen to me.”

“There is something else you wish me to do,” asked Thibault, inwardly quaking.

“Yes, a very urgent something,” replied the wolf. “Do you hear the baying of the dogs?”

“Indeed I do, they are coming nearer and nearer, and in five minutes they will be here.”

“And what I want you to do is to get me out of their way.”

“Get you out of their way! and how?” cried Thibault, who but too well remembered what it had cost him to meddle with the Baron’s hunting the day before.

“Look about you, think, invent some way of delivering me!”

“The Baron’s dogs are rough customers to deal with, and you are asking neither more nor less than that I should save your life; for I warn you, if they once get hold of you, and they will probably scent you out, they will make short work of pulling you to pieces. And now supposing I spare you this disagreeable business,” continued Thibault, who imagined that he had now got the upper hand, “what will you do for me in return?”

“Do for you in return?” said the wolf, “and how about the buck?”

“And how about the bowl of water?” said Thibault.

“We are quits there, my good sir. Let us start a fresh business altogether; if you are agreeable to it, I am quite willing.”

“Let it be so then; tell me quickly what you want of me.”

“There are folks,” proceeded Thibault, “who might take advantage of the position you are now in, and ask for all kinds of extravagant things, riches, power, titles, and what not, but I am not going to do anything of the kind; yesterday I wanted the buck, and you gave it me, it is true; to-morrow, I shall want something else. For some time past I have been possessed by a kind of mania, and I do nothing but wish first for one thing and then for another, and you will not always be able to spare time to listen to my demands. So what I ask for is, that, as you are the devil [le diable] in person or someone very like it, you will grant me the fulfilment of every wish I may have from this day forth.”

The wolf put on a mocking expression of countenance. “Is that all?” he said, “Your peroration does not accord very well with your exordium.”

“Oh!” continued Thibault, “my wishes are honest and moderate ones, and such as become a poor peasant like myself. I want just a little corner of ground, and a few timbers, and planks; that’s all that a man of my sort can possibly desire.”

“I should have the greatest pleasure in doing what you ask,” said the wolf, “but it is simply impossible, you know.”

“Then I am afraid you must make up your mind to put up with what the dogs may do to you.”

“You think so, and you suppose I have need of your help, and so you can ask what you please?”

“I do not suppose it, I am sure of it.”

“Indeed! well then, look.”

“Look where,” asked Thibault.

“Look at the spot where I was,” said the wolf. Thibault drew back in horror. The place where the wolf had been lying was empty; the wolf had disappeared, where or how it was impossible to say. The room was intact, there was not a hole in the roof large enough to let a needle through, nor a crack in the floor through which a drop of water could have filtered.

“Well, do you still think that I require your assistance to get out of trouble,” said the wolf.

Where the devil [Où diable] are you?”

“If you put a question to me in my real name,” said the wolf with a sneer in his voice, “I shall be obliged to answer you. I am still in the same place.”

“But I can no longer see you!”

“Simply because I am invisible.”

“But the dogs, the huntsmen, the Baron, will come in here after you?”

“No doubt they will, but they will not find me.”

“But if they do not find you, they will set upon me.”

“As they did yesterday; only yesterday you were sentenced to thirty-six strokes of the strap, for having carried off the buck; to-day, you will be sentenced to seventy-two, for having hidden the wolf, and Agnelette will not be on the spot to buy you off with a kiss.”

“Phew! what am I to do?”

“Let the buck loose; the dogs will mistake the scent, and they will get the blows instead of you.”

“But is it likely such trained hounds will follow the scent of a deer in mistake for that of a wolf?”

“You can leave that to me,” replied the voice, “only do not lose any time, or the dogs will be here before you have reached the shed, and that would make matters unpleasant, not for me, whom they would not find, but for you, whom they would.”

Thibault did not wait to be warned a second time, but was off like a shot to the shed. He unfastened the buck, which, as if propelled by some hidden force, leapt from the house, ran round it, crossing the track of the wolf, and plunged into the Baisemont coppice. The dogs were within a hundred paces of the hut; Thibault heard them with trepidation; the whole pack came full force against the door, one hound after the other.

Then, all at once, two or three gave cry and went off in the direction of Baisemont, the rest of the hounds after them.

The dogs were on the wrong scent; they were on the scent of the buck, and had abandoned that of the wolf.

Thibault gave a deep sigh of relief; he watched the hunt gradually disappearing in the distance, and went back to his room to the full and joyous notes of the Baron’s horn.

He found the wolf lying composedly on the same spot as before, but how it had found its way in again was quite as impossible to discover as how it had found its way out.

(28-31)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bibliography:

 

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:

http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51054

http://www.gutenberg.org/files/51054/51054-h/51054-h.htm

 

Image from:

https://archive.org/details/thewolfleader51054gut

 

.

Dumas (3) The Wolf-Leader (Le meneur de loups), Ch.3, “Agnelette”, summary

 

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

 

3

“Agnelette”

 

(Image from archive.org)

 

 

 

 

 

Brief summary:

(3.1) (Recall from section 2 that the Chief Wolf Hunter, Baron Vez, was hunting a buck with his party. Thibault the sabot-maker, who has a hut in the woods, saw the buck, but resents the Baron’s privilege. Thibault refused to give information to help Vez locate the buck, and the Baron beat him down for his insolence. Thibault, wanting vengeance, hunted the wolf for himself but with no success. Before giving up completely, he called out to God or even the Devil, whoever would hear his plea, to help him catch the buck. After giving up, he threw his spear in the bushes, but thereby without his knowing hits the buck. Vez arrived with his hunting party and they discovered this fact.) Vez and the head keeper of the hounds Engoulevent inspect the boar-spear and see Thibault’s sabot marking on it. Vez then announces to Thibault that he has committed the crimes of poaching and perjury (for having lied about killing the buck. See section 2.3). Vez will now punish Thibault, calling for Marcotte the pricker to strip Thibault and tie him to a tree for a whipping. Thibault swears he did not kill the buck (which is true as far as he knows), but he is whipped mercilessly anyway by Marcotte.” (3.2) Vez turns away to leave so not to have to witness the full punishment, but “As he was on the point of doing this, a young girl suddenly emerged from the underwood, threw herself on her knees beside the horse, and lifting her large, beautiful eyes, all wet with tears, to the Baron, cried: ‘In the name of the God of mercy, my Lord, have pity on that man!’ ” The girl was beautiful and about 16 years old. “Ten thousand fiends [Mille charretées de diables verts] !” Vez exclaims and asks if she has any relation to Thibault. She says she has never seen him before. Vez bargains with her that if she kisses him, he will let Thibault go. She agrees, mounts on his horse with him, and offers him her cheek. He kisses her twice and calls for Thibault to be brought down. Marcotte gives one last, powerful blow, and Thibault is taken down. She tells Vez that her name is Georgine Agnelette. The Baron says it is an unlucky name, because “it makes you a prey for the wolf”. (Perhaps there is some relation of her name with agnus.) She further explains that she is from Préciamont and that she comes here to get grass for her three goats. Vez asks if she is ever afraid, and she says that sometimes she trembles, explaining: “I hear so many tales, during the winter evenings, about were-wolves [loups-garous], that when I find myself all alone among the trees, and can hear no sound but the west wind, and the branches creaking as it blows through them, I feel a kind of shiver run through me, and my hair seems to stand on end; but when I hear your hunting horn and the dogs crying, then I feel at once quite safe again.” Vez invites Agnelette to his castle, because there she would be protected from were-wolves. (“Come in future to the Castle of Vez; no were-wolf, or any other kind of wolf, has ever crossed the moat there, except when slung by a cord on to a hazel-pole.”) She declines, “Because I should find something worse there than the wolf.” (She is apparently referring to Vez.) Vez and his men all laugh, but when Marcotte indicates they have a long trip back, Vez and his party depart, leaving Agnelette with Thibault. (3.3) Agnelette and Thibault are now alone. Although Thibault should now feel grateful to Agnellete or appreciate her beauty, he is instead full of hatred for Vez. “Thibault, as you see, had, since the morning, been making rapid strides along the path of evil [la voie du mal].  ‘Ah! if the devil [le diable] will but hear my prayer this time,’ he cried, as he shook his fist, cursing the while, after the retiring huntsmen, who were just out of view, ‘if the devil will but hear me, you shall be paid back with usury for all you have made me suffer this day, that I swear’.” Agnelette says, “Oh, how wicked it is [que c’est mal] of you to behave like that!” She notes how gentle Vez is with women and reminds Thibault that he deserved his punishment. For, Thibault is hunting on Vez’s grounds. Agnelette says she saw him throw the spear at the buck. Agnelette also informs him that she knows him from the fête, where he was called “the beautiful dancer” and was watched by a crowd. He then remembers he danced with her, but she declined his request for a kiss. Thibault then compliments her beauty, and she blushes. He asks her if she has a lover. She says no and that she has no desire for one, because what she really wants is a husband. For, she needs to take care of her grandmother, and a husband could help her do that. Thibault asks if the husband would not get jealous from how much she loved her grandmother, and Agnelette assures him that she would give plenty of love to her husband: “Oh! how I should love the man who loved my grandmother! I promise you, that she, and my husband, and I, we should be three happy folks together.” Thibault notes that they would be very poor. Agnelette replies that the love they give each other would make them quite fortunate. Thibault then wonders to himself if it would not be better to be poor with Agnelette than to have a noblewoman. Thibault then proposes marriage to her. Agnelette does not agree yet but invites Thibault to see her grandmother, who will make the decision. He then helps her home with her burden, and when they depart he asks for and receives a kiss from her. But Thibault does not truly love her or feel fortunate for her but rather longs “for everything that belonged or might belong to another.” And “the farther he walked away from Agnelette ... the more urgently did his envious longings begin again as usual to torment his soul. It was dark when he reached home.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Contents

 

3.1

[Thibault’s Whipping]

 

3.2

[Agnelette’s Rescue of Thibault]

 

3.3

[Thibault’s Marriage Proposal to Agnelette]

 

Bibliography

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Summary

 

3.1

[Thibault’s Whipping]

 

[(Recall from section 2 that the Chief Wolf Hunter, Baron Vez, was hunting a buck with his party. Thibault the sabot-maker, who has a hut in the woods, saw the buck, but resents the Baron’s privilege. Thibault refused to give information to help Vez locate the buck, and the Baron beats him down for his insolence. Thibault, wanting vengeance, hunted the wolf for himself but with no success. Before giving up completely, he called out to God or even the Devil, whoever would hear his plea, to help him catch the buck. After giving up, he threw his spear in the bushes, but thereby without his knowing hits the buck. Vez arrived with his hunting party and they discovered this fact.) Vez and the head keeper of the hounds Engoulevent inspect the boar-spear and see Thibault’s sabot marking on it. Vez then announces to Thibault that he has committed the crimes of poaching and perjury (for having lied about killing the buck. See section 2.3). Vez will now punish Thibault, calling for Marcotte the pricker to strip Thibault and tie him to a tree for a whipping. Thibault swears he did not kill the buck (which is true as far as he knows), but he is whipped mercilessly anyway by Marcotte.”]

 

[ditto]

Le seigneur Jean prit l’arme des mains d’Engoulevent, considéra longtemps l’épieu depuis la pointe jusqu’au manche, et cela sans mot dire.

Puis il montra au sabotier l’image d’un petit sabot sculptée sur la poignée, laquelle image servait à Thibault pour reconnaître sa propriété.

Ce sabot, c’était son chiffre comme compagnon du tour de France.

– Ah ! ah ! monsieur le drôle ! fit le grand louvetier, voici qui témoigne terriblement contre vous ! Savez-vous que cet épieu-là sent la venaison en diable, hum ! Or, voici ce qui me reste à vous dire, mon maître : vous avez braconné, ce qui est un gros crime ; vous vous êtes parjuré, ce qui est un gros péché ; nous allons, pour le salut de votre âme, par lequel vous avez juré, vous faire expier tout cela.

Alors, se retournant vers le premier piqueur :

– Marcotte, lui dit-il, prends-moi deux couples et lie-moi ce drôle-là à un arbre après lui avoir ôté veste et chemise ; puis tu lui appliqueras sur l’échine trente-six coups de ton baudrier, une douzaine pour le parjure, deux douzaines pour le braconnage ; non ! je me trompe : une douzaine, au contraire, pour le braconnage et deux douzaines pour le parjure ; il faut faire large la part du Bon Dieu.

Cet ordre était une bonne fortune pour la valetaille, qui se trouvait bien joyeuse d’avoir un patient sur lequel elle pût se venger de sa déconvenue de la journée.

Malgré les protestations de Thibault, qui jurait par tous les saints du calendrier qu’il n’avait occis ni daim ni daine, ni bique, ni biquet, le braconnier fut dépouillé de sa veste et attaché solidement au tronc d’un arbre.

Puis l’exécution commença.

Le piqueur frappait si serré que, quoique Thibault se fût juré à lui-même de ne point pousser une plainte, et se mordît les lèvres pour tenir son serment, au troisième coup le patient desserra les dents et jeta un cri.

(57-58)

 

THE Baron took the weapon which Engoulevent handed him, and carefully and deliberately examined the boar-spear from point to handle, without saying a word. On the handle had been carved a little wooden shoe, which had served as Thibault’s device while making the tour of France, as thereby he was able to recognise his own weapon. The Baron now pointed to this, saying to Thibault as he did so:

“Ah, ah, Master Simpleton! there is something which witnesses terribly against you! I must confess this boar-spear smells to me uncommonly of venison, by the devil it does! However, all I have now to say to you is this: You have been poaching, which is a serious crime; you have perjured yourself, which is a great sin; I am going to enforce expiation from you for the one and for the other, to help towards the salvation of that soul by which you have sworn.”

Whereupon turning to the pricker, he continued: “Marcotte, strip off that rascal’s vest and shirt, and tie him up to a tree with a couple of the dog leashes—and then give him thirty-six strokes across the back with your shoulder belt, a dozen for his perjury, and two dozen for his poaching; no, I make a mistake, a dozen for poaching and two dozen for perjuring himself, God’s portion must be the largest.”

This order caused great rejoicing among the menials, who thought it good luck to have a culprit on whom they could avenge themselves for the mishaps of the day.

In spite of Thibault’s protestations, who swore by all the saints in the calender, that he had killed neither buck, nor doe, neither goat nor kidling, he was divested of his garments and firmly strapped to the trunk of a tree; then the execution commenced.

The pricker’s strokes were so heavy that Thibault, who had sworn not to utter a sound, and bit his lips to enable himself to keep his resolution, was forced at the third blow to open his mouth and cry out.

(22)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

3.2

[Agnelette’s Rescue of Thibault]

 

[Vez turns away to leave so not to have to witness the full punishment, but “As he was on the point of doing this, a young girl suddenly emerged from the underwood, threw herself on her knees beside the horse, and lifting her large, beautiful eyes, all wet with tears, to the Baron, cried: ‘In the name of the God of mercy, my Lord, have pity on that man!’ ” The girl was beautiful and about 16 years old. “Ten thousand fiends [Mille charretées de diables verts] !” Vez exclaims and asks if she has any relation to Thibault. She says she has never seen him before. Vez bargains with her that if she kisses him, he will let Thibault go. She agrees, mounts on his horse with him, and offers him her cheek. He kisses her twice and calls for Thibault to be brought down. Marcotte gives one last, powerful blow, and Thibault is taken down. She tells Vez that her name is Georgine Agnelette. The Baron says it is an unlucky name, because “it makes you a prey for the wolf”. (Perhaps there is some relation of her name with agnus.) She further explains that she is from Préciamont and that she comes here to get grass for her three goats. Vez asks if she is ever afraid, and she says that sometimes she trembles, explaining: “I hear so many tales, during the winter evenings, about were-wolves [loups-garous], that when I find myself all alone among the trees, and can hear no sound but the west wind, and the branches creaking as it blows through them, I feel a kind of shiver run through me, and my hair seems to stand on end; but when I hear your hunting horn and the dogs crying, then I feel at once quite safe again.” Vez invites Agnelette to his castle, because there she would be protected from were-wolves. (“Come in future to the Castle of Vez; no were-wolf, or any other kind of wolf, has ever crossed the moat there, except when slung by a cord on to a hazel-pole.”) She declines, “Because I should find something worse there than the wolf.” (She is apparently referring to Vez.) Vez and his men all laugh, but when Marcotte indicates they have a long trip back, Vez and his party depart, leaving Agnelette with Thibault.]

 

[ditto]

Le seigneur Jean était peut-être, comme on a pu s’en apercevoir, le seigneur le plus brutal qu’il y eût à dix lieues à la ronde, mais il n’avait pas le cœur dur ; les plaintes du coupable, qui allaient redoublant, lui firent peine à entendre.

Cependant, comme le braconnage devenait de plus en plus audacieux sur les domaines de Son Altesse Sérénissime, il était décidé à laisser le jugement s’exécuter.

Seulement, il résolut de se soustraire à ce spectacle et fit tourner bride à son cheval pour s’éloigner.

Au moment où il exécutait cette manœuvre, une jeune fille sortant du taillis se jeta à genoux au flanc de son cheval, et, levant sur le seigneur Jean ses beaux grands yeux tout humides de larmes :

– Monseigneur, dit-elle, au nom de Dieu miséricordieux, grâce pour cet homme !

Le seigneur Jean abaissa les yeux sur la jeune fille.

C’était en vérité une charmante enfant ; elle avait seize ans à peine, la taille fine et élancée, la figure rose et blanche, de grands yeux bleus doux et tendres, et une couronne de cheveux blonds si luxuriants, que le méchant bonnet de toile bise qui couvrait sa tête ne pouvait parvenir à les emprisonner, si bien qu’ils débordaient à flots de tous côtés.

Quoique le costume de la belle suppliante fût des plus humbles, étant fait de simple toile, le seigneur Jean remarqua tout cela, et, comme il ne haïssait pas les jolis minois, il répondit par un sourire à l’éloquence du regard de la charmante paysanne.

Mais, comme il la regardait sans lui répondre, et que, pendant ce temps-là, les coups allaient toujours, elle ajouta d’une voix et avec un geste plus suppliants encore :

– Grâce, au nom du Ciel, monseigneur ! Dites à vos gens de laisser aller ce pauvre homme, dont les cris me fendent le cœur.

– Mille charretées de diables verts ! répondit le louvetier ; tu t’intéresses bien à ce drôle, ma belle enfant ! Est-ce donc ton frère ?

– Non, monseigneur.

– Ton cousin ?

– Non, monseigneur.

– Ton amoureux ?

– Mon amoureux ! Monseigneur veut rire.

– Pourquoi pas ? Dans ce cas, ma belle fille, je t’avoue que j’envierais son sort.

L’enfant baissa les yeux.

– Je ne le connais pas, monseigneur, et je le vois aujourd’hui pour la première fois.

– Sans compter qu’elle le voit à l’envers, hasarda Engoulevent, qui crut que c’était le moment de placer une mauvaise plaisanterie.

– Silence, là-bas ! dit durement le baron.

Puis, revenant à la jeune fille avec son sourire :

– Vraiment ! dit le baron. Eh bien, s’il n’est ni ton parent ni ton amoureux, je veux voir jusqu’où tu pousseras l’amour de ton prochain : un marché, la jolie fille !

– Lequel, monseigneur ?

– La grâce de ce maraud contre un baiser.

– Oh ! de grand cœur ! s’écria la jeune fille. Racheter pour un baiser la vie d’un homme ! Je suis sûre que M. le curé lui-même dirait que ce n’est point pécher.

Et, sans attendre que le seigneur Jean se baissât pour prendre lui-même ce qu’il sollicitait, elle jeta son sabot loin d’elle, appuya son pied mignon sur l’extrémité de la botte du louvetier, prit en main la crinière du cheval, fit un effort, et, s’élevant à la hauteur du visage du rude veneur, elle présenta d’elle-même à ses lèvres ses joues rondes, fraîches et veloutées comme le duvet de la pêche au mois d’août.

Le seigneur Jean était convenu d’un baiser, mais il en prit deux ; puis, fidèle observateur de la foi jurée, il fit signe à Marcotte de suspendre l’exécution.

Marcotte comptait scrupuleusement les coups : le douzième était en l’air lorsqu’il reçut l’ordre de s’arrêter. Il ne jugea point à propos de le retenir ; peut-être même pensa-t-il qu’il serait convenable de lui donner la valeur de deux horions ordinaires, afin de faire bonne mesure et de donner le treizième ; toujours est-il que celui-là sillonna plus rudement encore que les autres les épaules de Thibault.

Il est vrai qu’on le détacha immédiatement après. Pendant ce temps, le baron Jean causait avec la jeune fille.

– Comment te nomme-t-on, ma mignonne ?

– Georgine Agnelet, monseigneur, du nom de ma mère : mais les gens du pays se contentent de m’appeler Agnelette.

– Diable ! voici un mauvais nom, mon enfant, dit le baron.

– Pourquoi cela, monseigneur ? demanda la jeune fille.

– Parce qu’il te promet au loup, la belle. Et de quel pays es-tu, Agnelette ?

– Je suis de Préciamont, monseigneur.

– Et tu viens ainsi seule en forêt, mon enfant ? C’est bien hardi pour une agnelette.

– Il le faut bien, monseigneur. Nous avons trois chèvres qui nous nourrissent, ma mère et moi.

– Alors tu viens à l’herbe pour les chèvres ?

– Oui, monseigneur.

– Et tu n’as pas peur ainsi, toute seule, jeune et jolie comme tu es ?

– Quelquefois, monseigneur, je ne puis m’empêcher de trembler.

– Et pourquoi trembles-tu ?

– Dame ! monseigneur, on raconte aux soirées d’hiver tant d’histoires de loups-garous, que, lorsque je me vois perdue au milieu des arbres, lorsque je n’entends plus que le vent de l’ouest qui fait craquer leurs branches, il me court une espèce de frisson le long du corps, et je sens mes cheveux qui se roidissent. Lorsque j’entends le bruit de votre trompe ou les cris de vos chiens, je suis tout de suite rassurée.

Cette réponse plut énormément au baron Jean, qui reprit, en caressant complaisamment sa barbe :

– Il est vrai que nous leur faisons une assez rude guerre, à messieurs les loups ; mais, par la mort-Dieu, ma belle, il est un moyen de t’épargner désormais ces inquiétudes.

– Lequel, monseigneur ?

– Viens-t’en à l’avenir au château de Vez : jamais loup, garou ou non garou, n’en a franchi le fossé ni la poterne, autrement que pendu par une hart à une perche de coudrier.

Agnelette secoua la tête.

– Non, tu ne veux pas ? Et pourquoi refuses-tu ?

– Parce que je trouverais là pis que le loup.

La réponse provoqua chez le baron Jean un joyeux éclat de rire, et toute la bande des veneurs, voyant rire le maître, fit chorus avec lui. En effet, la vue d’Agnelette avait rendu au seigneur de Vez toute sa bonne humeur, et peut-être serait-il resté un assez long temps à rire et à causer avec elle, si Marcotte, qui avait sonné la retraite manquée et accouplé les chiens, n’eût respectueusement rappelé à monseigneur qu’il lui restait un assez long trajet à faire pour regagner le château. Le seigneur Jean fit du doigt à la jeune fille un signe affectueusement menaçant et s’éloigna suivi de ses gens.

(58-62)

 

The Baron, as we have already seen, was about the roughest man of his class for a good thirty miles round, but he was not hard-hearted, and it was a distress to him to listen to the cries of the culprit as they became more and more frequent. As, however, the poachers on His Highness’s estate had of late grown bolder and more troublesome, he decided that he had better let the sentence be carried out to the full, but he turned his horse with the intention of riding away, determined no longer to remain as a spectator.

As he was on the point of doing this, a young girl suddenly emerged from the underwood, threw herself on her knees beside the horse, and lifting her large, beautiful eyes, all wet with tears, to the Baron, cried:

“In the name of the God of mercy, my Lord, have pity on that man!”

The Lord of Vez looked down at the young girl. She was indeed a lovely child; hardly sixteen years of age, of a slender and exquisite figure, with a pink and white complexion, large blue eyes, soft and tender in expression, and a crown of fair hair, which fell in luxuriant waves over neck and shoulders, escaping from underneath the shabby little grey linen cap, which endeavoured in vain to imprison them.

All this the Baron took in with a glance, in spite of the humble clothing of the beautiful suppliant, and as he had no dislike to a pretty face, he smiled down on the charming young peasant girl, in response to the pleading of her eloquent eyes.

But, as he looked without speaking, and all the while the blows were still falling, she cried again, with a voice and gesture of even more earnest supplication.

“Have pity, in the name of Heaven, my Lord! Tell your servants to let the poor man go, his cries pierce my heart.”

“Ten thousand fiends [Mille charretées de diables verts] !” cried the Grand Master; “you take a great interest in that rascal over there, my pretty child. Is he your brother?”

“No, my Lord.”

“Your cousin?”

“No, my Lord.”

“Your lover?”

“My lover! My Lord is laughing at me.”

“Why not? If it were so, my sweet girl, I must confess I should envy him his lot.”

The girl lowered her eyes.

“I do not know him, my Lord, and have never seen him before to-day.”

“Without counting that now she only sees him wrong side before,” Engoulevent ventured to put in, thinking that it was a suitable moment for a little pleasantry.

“Silence, sirrah!” said the Baron sternly. Then, once more turning to the girl with a smile.

“Really!” he said. “Well, if he is neither a relation nor a lover, I should like to see how far your love for your neighbour will let you go. Come, a bargain, pretty girl!”

“How, my Lord?”

“Grace for that scoundrel in return for a kiss.”

“Oh! with all my heart!” cried the young girl. “Save the life of a man with a kiss! I am sure that our good Curé himself would say there was no sin in that.”

And without waiting for the Baron to stoop and take himself what he had asked for, she threw off her wooden-shoe, placed her dainty little foot on the tip of the wolf-hunter’s boot, and taking hold of the horse’s mane, lifted herself up with a spring to the level of the face of the hardy huntsman, and there of her own accord offered him her round cheek, fresh, and velvety as the down of an August peach.

The Lord of Vez had bargained for one kiss, but he took two; then, true to his sworn word, he made a sign to Marcotte to stay the execution.

Marcotte was religiously counting his strokes; the twelfth was about to descend when he received the order to stop, and he did not think it expedient to stay it from falling. It is possible that he also thought it would be as well to give it the weight of two ordinary blows, so as to make up good measure and give a thirteenth in; however that may be, it is certain that it furrowed Thibault’s shoulders more cruelly than those that went before. It must be added, however, that he was unbound immediately after.

Meanwhile the Baron was conversing with the young girl.

“What is your name, my pretty one?”

“Georgine Agnelette, my Lord, my mother’s name! but the country people are content to call me simply Agnelette.”

“Ah, that’s an unlucky name, my child,” said the Baron.

“In what way my Lord?” asked the girl.

“Because it makes you a prey for the wolf, my beauty. And from what part of the country do you come, Agnelette?”

“From Préciamont, my Lord.”

“And you come alone like this into the forest, my child? that’s brave for a lambkin.”

“I am obliged to do it, my Lord, for my mother and I have three goats to feed.”

“So you come here to get grass for them?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“And you are not afraid, young and pretty as you are?”

“Sometimes, my Lord, I cannot help trembling.”

“And why do you tremble?”

“Well, my Lord, I hear so many tales, during the winter evenings, about were-wolves [loups-garous], that when I find myself all alone among the trees, and can hear no sound but the west wind, and the branches creaking as it blows through them, I feel a kind of shiver run through me, and my hair seems to stand on end; but when I hear your hunting horn and the dogs crying, then I feel at once quite safe again.”

The Baron was pleased beyond measure with this reply of the girl’s, and stroking his beard complaisantly, he said:

“Well, we give Master Wolf a pretty rough time of it; but, there is a way, my pretty one, whereby you may spare yourself all these fears and tremblings.”

“And how, my Lord?”

“Come in future to the Castle of Vez; no were-wolf, or any other kind of wolf, has ever crossed the moat there, except when slung by a cord on to a hazel-pole.”

Agnelette shook her head.

“You would not like to come? and why not?”

“Because I should find something worse there than the wolf.”

On hearing this, the Baron broke into a hearty fit of laughter, and, seeing their Master laugh, all the huntsmen followed suit and joined in the chorus. The fact was, that the sight of Agnelette had entirely restored the good humour of the Lord of Vez, and he would, no doubt, have continued for some time laughing and talking with Agnelette, if Marcotte, who had been recalling the dogs, and coupling them, had not respectfully reminded my Lord that they had some distance to go on their way back to the Castle. The Baron made a playful gesture of menace with his finger to the girl, and rode off followed by his train.

(22-24)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

3.3

[Thibault’s Marriage Proposal to Agnelette]

 

[Agnelette and Thibault are now alone. Although Thibault should now feel grateful to Agnellete or appreciate her beauty, he is instead full of hatred for Vez. “Thibault, as you see, had, since the morning, been making rapid strides along the path of evil [la voie du mal].  ‘Ah! if the devil [le diable] will but hear my prayer this time,’ he cried, as he shook his fist, cursing the while, after the retiring huntsmen, who were just out of view, ‘if the devil will but hear me, you shall be paid back with usury for all you have made me suffer this day, that I swear’.” Agnelette says, “Oh, how wicked it is [que c’est mal] of you to behave like that!” She notes how gentle Vez is with women and reminds Thibault that he deserved his punishment. For, Thibault is hunting on Vez’s grounds. Agnelette says she saw him throw the spear at the buck. Agnelette also informs him that she knows him from the fête, where he was called “the beautiful dancer” and was watched by a crowd. He then remembers he danced with her, but she declined his request for a kiss. Thibault then compliments her beauty, and she blushes. He asks her if she has a lover. She says no and that she has no desire for one, because what she really wants is a husband. For, she needs to take care of her grandmother, and a husband could help her do that. Thibault asks if the husband would not get jealous from how much she loved her grandmother, and Agnelette assures him that she would give plenty of love to her husband: “Oh! how I should love the man who loved my grandmother! I promise you, that she, and my husband, and I, we should be three happy folks together.” Thibault notes that they would be very poor. Agnelette replies that the love they give each other would make them quite fortunate. Thibault then wonders to himself if it would not be better to be poor with Agnelette than to have a noblewoman. Thibault then proposes marriage to her. Agnelette does not agree yet but invites Thibault to see her grandmother, who will make the decision. He then helps her home with her burden, and when they depart he asks for and receives a kiss from her. But Thibault does not truly love her or feel fortunate for her but rather longs “for everything that belonged or might belong to another.” And “the farther he walked away from Agnelette ... the more urgently did his envious longings begin again as usual to torment his soul. It was dark when he reached home.”]

 

[ditto]

Agnelette demeura seule avec Thibault.

Nous avons dit ce qu’Agnelette avait fait pour Thibault, et combien Agnelette était jolie.

Eh bien, cependant, la première pensée de Thibault, en se trouvant seul avec la jeune fille, ne fut point pour celle qui venait de le sauver ; sa première pensée fut pour la haine et la vengeance.

Comme on le voit, depuis le matin, Thibault marchait rondement dans la voie du mal.

– Ah ! si le diable cette fois m’exauce, seigneur maudit ! s’écria-t-il en montrant le poing à tout le cortège qui venait de disparaître ; si le diable m’exauce, je te rendrai avec usure tout ce que tu m’as fait souffrir aujourd’hui, va !

– Ah ! que c’est mal, ce que vous faites là ! dit Agnelette en s’approchant de Thibault. Le baron Jean est un bon seigneur, fort humain avec le pauvre monde, et toujours courtois avec les femmes.

– Bon ! vous allez voir que je lui devrai de la reconnaissance sur les coups qu’il m’a baillés.

– Allons, tout franc, compère ! dit en riant la fillette, avouez que ces coups-là, vous ne les aviez pas volés.

– Ah ! ah ! fit Thibault, il paraît que le baiser du seigneur Jean vous a tout affolée, la belle Agnelette ?

– Je n’eusse jamais pensé que ce baiser-là, ce serait vous qui me le reprocheriez, monsieur Thibault ; mais ce que j’ai dit, je le soutiens : le seigneur Jean était dans son droit.

– En me faisant rouer de coups ?

– Dame ! pourquoi chassez-vous sur les terres des grands seigneurs ?

– Est-ce que le gibier n’est pas à tout le monde, aussi bien aux paysans qu’aux grands seigneurs ?

– Non ; car le gibier se tient dans leurs bois, se nourrit de leur herbe, et vous n’avez pas le droit de lancer votre épieu sur un daim de monseigneur le duc d’Orléans.

– Qui donc vous a dit que j’eusse lancé mon épieu sur son daim ? répondit Thibault en s’avançant sur Agnelette d’un air presque menaçant.

– Qui me l’a dit ? Mes yeux, qui, je vous en préviens, monsieur Thibault, ne sont pas des menteurs. Oui, je vous ai vu lancer votre épieu, là, lorsque vous étiez caché derrière ce hêtre.

L’assurance avec laquelle la jeune fille opposait la vérité à son mensonge fit incontinent tomber la colère de Thibault.

– Eh bien, après tout, dit-il, quand une fois, par hasard, un pauvre diable ferait bonne chère avec le superflu d’un grand seigneur ! Êtes-vous aussi de l’avis des juges, mademoiselle Agnelette, qui disent que l’on doit pendre un homme pour un malheureux lapin ? Voyons, pensez-vous que le Bon Dieu avait créé ce daim plutôt pour le baron Jean que pour moi ?

– Le Bon Dieu, monsieur Thibault, nous a dit de ne pas convoiter le bien d’autrui ; suivez la loi du Bon Dieu, et vous ne vous en trouverez pas plus mal !

– Ah çà ! vous me connaissez donc, la belle Agnelette, que vous m’appelez comme ça tout couramment par mon nom ?

– Mais oui ; je me rappelle vous avoir vu un jour à la fête de Boursonnes ; on vous appelait le beau danseur, et l’on faisait cercle autour de vous.

Ce compliment acheva de désarmer Thibault.

– Oui, oui, dit-il ; moi aussi, à présent, je me rappelle vous avoir vue. Eh bien, mais, à cette même fête de Boursonnes, nous avons dansé ensemble ; seulement, vous étiez moins grande qu’à cette heure : voilà pourquoi je ne vous reconnaissais pas ; mais je vous reconnais maintenant. Oui, vous aviez une robe rose et un joli petit corsage blanc ; nous avons dansé dans la laiterie. J’ai voulu vous embrasser ; mais vous n’avez pas voulu, disant que l’on n’embrassait que son vis-à-vis et non sa danseuse.

– Ah ! vous avez bonne mémoire, monsieur Thibault !

– Savez-vous, Agnelette, que cette année, car il y a un an de cela, vous avez profité pour embellir en même temps que pour grandir ? Ah ! vous vous y entendez, vous, pour faire deux choses à la fois !

La jeune fille rougit et baissa les yeux. Sa rougeur et son embarras ajoutèrent au charme de sa physionomie. Thibault se prit à la considérer plus attentivement que jamais.

– Avez-vous un amoureux, Agnelette ? demanda-t-il à la belle fille d’une voix qui n’était point exempte d’une certaine émotion.

– Non, monsieur Thibault, dit-elle, je n’en ai point et ne peux ni ne veux en avoir.

– Et pourquoi cela ? L’amour est-il donc si mauvais garçon, qu’il vous fasse peur ?

– Non ; mais ce n’est point un amoureux qu’il me faut, à moi.

– Que vous faut-il donc ?

– Un mari.

Thibault fit un mouvement qu’Agnelette ne vit pas ou fit semblant de ne pas voir.

– Oui, répéta-t-elle, un mari. Grand-mère est vieille et infirme, et un amoureux me distrairait des soins que je lui donne ; au contraire, un mari, si je trouve un brave garçon qui veuille bien m’épouser, un mari m’aidera à la soulager dans son grand âge, et il partagera la tâche que le Bon Dieu m’a donnée d’adoucir ses derniers jours.

– Mais, dit Thibault, ce mari vous laissera-t-il aimer votre grand-mère plus que vous ne l’aimerez lui-même, et ne sera-t-il pas jaloux de la tendresse que vous témoignerez à la vieille femme ?

– Oh ! reprit Agnelette avec un adorable sourire, il n’y a point de danger à cela ; je m’arrangerai pour lui faire la part si large, qu’il ne sera pas tenté de se plaindre ; plus il sera doux et patient pour la bonne femme, plus je me dévouerai à lui, plus je travaillerai pour que notre petit ménage ne manque de rien. Vous me voyez chétive et frêle, et vous vous méfiez de ma force ; mais je suis brave et courageuse à l’ouvrage, allez ! Quand le cœur a dit son mot, nuit et jour on peut travailler sans fatigue ensuite. Je l’aimerai tant, celui qui aimera grand-mère ! Oh ! je vous en réponds, elle, mon mari et moi, nous serons bien heureux tous les trois.

– Tu veux dire que vous serez bien pauvres tous trois, Agnelette !

– Allons ! les amours et les amitiés des riches valent-elles une obole de plus que celles des pauvres ? Lorsque j’ai bien, bien câliné grand-mère, monsieur Thibault, qu’elle me prend sur ses genoux, m’enlace dans ses pauvres bras tremblants, que sa bonne vieille figure ridée s’appuie sur la mienne ; lorsque je me sens les joues humides des larmes d’attendrissement qui coulent de ses yeux, je me mets à pleurer aussi, et ces larmes-là, monsieur Thibault, elles sont si faciles et si douces, que jamais dame ou demoiselle, fût-elle reine ou fille de roi, n’a eu, j’en suis sûre, de joie plus vive dans ses plus heureux jours ; et bien certainement nous sommes cependant, ma grand-mère et moi, les deux créatures les plus dénuées qu’il y ait à la ronde.

Thibault écoutait tout cela sans répondre, restant rêveur, de cette rêverie particulière aux ambitieux.

Et cependant, au milieu de ses rêves d’ambition, il avait des moments d’affaissement et de dégoût.

Lui qui avait si souvent passé des heures entières à regarder les belles et nobles dames de la cour de monseigneur le duc d’Orléans monter et descendre les escaliers du perron ; lui qui avait si souvent passé des nuits entières à regarder les fenêtres ogivales du donjon de Vez, resplendissant dans la nuit de la lumière des festins, il se demandait si ce qu’il avait si souvent ambitionné, une noble dame et une riche demeure, vaudrait un toit de paille avec cette douce et belle enfant qu’on appelait Agnelette.

Il est vrai que cette brave petite femme était si gentille, que tous les comtes et tous les barons du pays la lui eussent bien certainement enviée à leur tour.

– Eh bien, par exemple, Agnelette, dit Thibault, si un homme comme moi s’offrait pour être votre mari, l’accepteriez-vous ?

Nous avons dit que Thibault était beau garçon, qu’il avait de beaux yeux et de beaux cheveux noirs, que ses voyages du tour de France en avaient fait plus qu’un simple ouvrier.

D’ailleurs, on s’attache vite aux gens par le bien qu’on leur a fait, et Agnelette, selon toute probabilité, avait sauvé la vie à Thibault ; car, à la façon dont Marcotte frappait, le patient serait mort avant le trente-sixième coup.

– Oui, dit-elle, s’il était bon pour ma grand-mère !

Thibault lui prit la main.

– Eh bien, Agnelette, dit-il, nous reparlerons de cela, et le plus tôt possible, mon enfant.

– Quand vous voudrez, monsieur Thibault.

– Et vous ferez serment de bien m’aimer si je vous épouse, Agnelette ?

– Est-ce qu’on peut aimer un autre homme que son mari ?

– N’importe, je voudrais bien un tout petit serment, quelque chose comme ceci, par exemple : « Monsieur Thibault, je vous jure de n’aimer jamais que vous. »

– À quoi bon un serment ? La promesse d’une brave fille doit suffire à un brave garçon.

– Et à quand la noce, Agnelette ? dit Thibault en essayant de passer son bras autour de la taille de la jeune fille.

Mais Agnelette se dégagea doucement.

– Venez voir ma grand-mère, dit-elle ; c’est à elle d’en décider ; pour ce soir, contentez-vous de m’aider à charger mon faix de bruyère ; car il se fait tard, et j’ai près d’une lieue à faire pour aller d’ici à Préciamont.

Thibault aida, en effet, la jeune fille à recharger la gerbe ; puis il la reconduisit jusqu’à la haie de Billemont, c’est-à-dire jusqu’à ce que l’on vît le clocher de son village.

Arrivé là, il pria tant la belle Agnelette, qu’elle lui laissa prendre un baiser à compte sur son bonheur futur.

Beaucoup plus émue de ce seul baiser qu’elle ne l’avait été de la double accolade du baron, Agnelette pressa le pas, malgré le fardeau qu’elle portait sur sa tête, et qui semblait bien lourd pour une si frêle et si chétive créature.

Thibault resta quelque temps à suivre des yeux Agnelette s’en allant par les bruyères.

Les jolis bras de la séduisante fille, en soutenant le fardeau dont était chargée sa tête, dégageaient sa taille et semblaient doubler sa flexibilité et sa grâce juvénile.

Sa fine silhouette se découpait d’une adorable façon sur le fond bleu de l’horizon.

Enfin, la jeune fille touchait presque aux premières maisons, lorsque tout à coup elle s’enfonça derrière un pli de terrain et disparut aux regards émerveillés de Thibault.

Celui-ci poussa un soupir et resta un instant abîmé dans ses réflexions.

Ce soupir, ce n’était point la satisfaction de songer que cette bonne et charmante créature pouvait être à lui qui l’avait tiré de la poitrine de Thibault.

Non ; il avait désiré Agnelette parce qu’Agnelette était jeune et belle, et qu’il était dans la malheureuse nature de Thibault de vouloir tout ce qui était ou pouvait être à autrui.

Il s’était abandonné à ce désir sous l’impression de la naïveté avec laquelle elle lui avait parlé.

Mais l’image d’Agnelette était dans son esprit et non dans son cœur.

Thibault était incapable d’aimer comme il faut aimer, alors que, pauvre soi-même, on aime une pauvre fille sans rien voir, sans rien ambitionner au-delà de voir son amour payé d’un amour égal.

Non, tout au contraire : au fur et à mesure qu’il s’éloignait d’Agnelette, comme s’il s’éloignait de son bon génie, il sentait renaître dans son âme les envieuses aspirations qui le tourmentaient si fréquemment.

Il était nuit lorsqu’il rentra chez lui.

(62-67)

 

Agnelette was left alone with Thibault. We have related what Agnelette had done for Thibault’s sake, and also said that she was pretty.

Nevertheless, for all that, Thibault’s first thoughts on finding himself alone with the girl, were not for the one who had saved his life, but were given up to hatred and the contemplation of vengeance.

Thibault, as you see, had, since the morning, been making rapid strides along the path of evil [la voie du mal].

“Ah! if the devil [le diable] will but hear my prayer this time,” he cried, as he shook his fist, cursing the while, after the retiring huntsmen, who were just out of view, “if the devil will but hear me, you shall be paid back with usury for all you have made me suffer this day, that I swear.”

“Oh, how wicked it is [que c’est mal] of you to behave like that!” said Agnelette, going up to him.

“The Baron is a kind Lord, very good to the poor, and always gently behaved with women.”

“Quite so, and you shall see with what gratitude I will repay him for the blows he has given me.”

“Come now, frankly, friend, confess that you deserved those blows,” said the girl, laughing.

“So, so!” answered Thibault, “the Baron’s kiss has turned your head, has it, my pretty Agnelette?”

“You, I should have thought, would have been the last person to reproach me with that kiss, Monsieur Thibault. But what I have said, I say again; my Lord Baron was within his rights.”

“What, in belabouring me with blows!”

“Well, why do you go hunting on the estates of these great lords?”

“Does not the game belong to everybody, to the peasant just as much as to the great lords?”

“No, certainly not; the game is in their woods, it is fed on their grass, and you have no right to throw your boar-spear at a buck which belongs to my lord the Duke of Orleans.”

“And who told you that I threw a boar-spear at his buck?” replied Thibault, advancing towards Agnelette in an almost threatening manner.

“Who told me? why, my own eyes, which, let me tell you, do not lie. Yes, I saw you throw your boar-spear, when you were hidden there, behind the beech-tree.”

Thibault’s anger subsided at once before the straightforward attitude of the girl, whose truthfulness was in such contrast to his falsehood.

“Well, after all,” he said, “supposing a poor devil does once in a way help himself to a good dinner from the super-abundance of some great lord! Are you of the same mind, Mademoiselle Agnelette, as the judges who say that a man ought to be hanged just for a wretched rabbit? Come now, do you think God created that buck for the Baron more than for me?”

“God, Monsieur Thibault, has told us not to covet other men’s goods; obey the law of God, and you will not find yourself any the worse off for it!”

“Ah, I see, my pretty Agnelette, you know me then, since you call me so glibly by my name?”

“Certainly I do; I remember seeing you at Boursonnes, on the day of the fête; they called you the beautiful dancer, and stood round in a circle to watch you.”

Thibault, pleased with this compliment, was now quite disarmed.

“Yes, yes, of course,” he answered, “I remember now having seen you; and I think we danced together, did we not? but you were not so tall then as you are now, that’s why I did not recognise you at first, but I recall you distinctly now. And I remember too that you wore a pink frock, with a pretty little white bodice, and that we danced in the dairy. I wanted to kiss you, but you would not let me, for you said that it was only proper to kiss one’s vis-á-vis, and not one’s partner.”

“You have a good memory, Monsieur Thibault!”

“And do you know, Agnelette, that during these last twelve months, for it is a year since that dance, you have not only grown taller, but grown prettier too; I see you are one of those people who understand how to do two things at once.”

The girl blushed and lowered her eyes, and the blush and the shy embarrassment only made her look more charming still.

Thibault’s eyes were now turned towards her with more marked attention than before, and, in a voice, not wholly free from a slight agitation, he asked:

“Have you a lover, Agnelette?”

“No, Monsieur Thibault,” she answered, “I have never had one, and do not wish to have one.”

“And why is that? Is Cupid such a bad lad that you are afraid of him?”

“No, not that, but a lover is not at all what I want.”

“And what do you want?”

“A husband.”

Thibault made a movement, which Agnelette either did not, or pretended not to see.

“Yes,” she repeated, “a husband. Grandmother is old and infirm, and a lover would distract my attention too much from the care which I now give her; whereas, a husband, if I found a nice fellow who would like to marry me,—a husband would help me to look after her in her old age, and would share with me the task which God has laid upon me, of making her happy and comfortable in her last years.”

“But do you think your husband,” said Thibault, “would be willing that you should love your grandmother more than you loved him? and do you not think he might be jealous at seeing you lavish so much tenderness upon her?”

“Oh,” replied Agnelette, with an adorable smile, “there is no fear of that, for I will manage so as to let him have such a large share of my love and attention that he will have no cause to complain; the kinder and the more patient he is for the dear old thing, the more I shall devote myself to him, the harder shall I work that there may be nothing wanting to our little household. You see me looking small and delicate, and you doubt that I should have strength for this; but I have plenty of spirit and energy for work, and then, when the heart gives consent, one can work day and night without fatigue. Oh! how I should love the man who loved my grandmother! I promise you, that she, and my husband, and I, we should be three happy folks together.”

“You mean that you would be three very poor folks together, Agnelette!”

“And do you think the loves and friendships of the rich are worth a farthing more than those of the poor? At times, when I have been loving and caressing my grandmother, Monsieur Thibault, and she takes me on her lap and clasps me in her poor weak trembling arms, and puts her dear old wrinkled face against mine, and I feel my cheek wet with the loving tears she sheds, I begin to cry myself, and, I tell you, Monsieur Thibault, so soft and sweet are my tears, that there is no woman or girl, be she queen or princess, who has ever, I am sure, even in her happiest days, known such a real joy as mine. And, yet, there is no one in all the country round who is so destitute as we two are.”

Thibault listened to what Agnelette was saying without answering; his mind was occupied with many thoughts, such thoughts as are indulged in by the ambitious; but his dreams of ambition were disturbed at moments by a passing sensation of depression and disillusionment.

He, the man who had spent hours at a time watching the beautiful and aristocratic dames belonging to the Court of the Duke of Orleans, as they swept up and down the wide entrance stairs; who had often passed whole nights gazing at the arched windows of the Keep at Vez, when the whole place was lit up for some festivity, he, that same man, now asked himself, if what he had so ambitiously desired to have, a lady of rank and a rich dwelling, would, after all, be so much worth possessing as a thatched roof and this sweet and gentle girl called Agnelette. And it was certain that if this dear and charming little woman were to become his, that he would be envied in turn by all the earls and barons in the countryside.

“Well, Agnelette,” said Thibault “and suppose a man like myself were to offer himself as your husband, would you accept him?”

It has been already stated that Thibault was a handsome young fellow, with fine eyes and black hair, and that his travels had left him something better than a mere workman. And it must further be borne in mind that we readily become attached to those on whom we have conferred a benefit, and Agnelette had, in all probability, saved Thibault’s life; for, under such strokes as Marcotte’s, the victim would certainly have been dead before the thirty-sixth had been given.

“Yes,” she said, “if it would be a good thing for my grandmother?”

Thibault took hold of her hand.

“Well then, Agnelette,” he said “we will speak again about this, dear child, and that as soon as may be.”

“Whenever you like, Monsieur Thibault.”

“And you will promise faithfully to love me if I marry you, Agnelette?”

“Do you think I should love any man besides my husband?”

“Never mind, I want you just to take a little oath, something of this kind, for instance; Monsieur Thibault, I swear that I will never love anyone but you.”

“What need is there to swear? the promise of an honest girl should be sufficient for an honest man.”

“And when shall we have the wedding, Agnelette?” and in saying this, Thibault tried to put his arm round her waist.

But Agnelette gently disengaged herself.

“Come and see my grandmother,” she said, “it is for her to decide about it; you must content yourself this evening with helping me up with my load of heath, for it is getting late, and it is nearly three miles from here to Préciamont.”

So Thibault helped her as desired, and then accompanied her on her way home as far as the Forest-fence of Billemont, that is until they came in sight of the village steeple. Before parting, he so begged of pretty Agnelette to give him one kiss as an earnest of his future happiness, that at last she consented, and then, far more agitated by this one kiss than she had been by the Baron’s double embrace, Agnelette hastened on her way, in spite of the load which she was carrying on her head, and which seemed far too heavy for so slender and delicate a creature.

Thibault stood for some time looking after her as she walked away across the moor. All the flexibility and grace of her youthful figure were brought into relief as the girl lifted her pretty rounded arms to support the burden upon her head, and thus silhouetted against the dark blue of the sky she made a delightful picture. At last, having reached the outskirts of the village, the land dipping at that point, she suddenly disappeared, passing out of sight of Thibault’s admiring eyes. He gave a sigh, and stood still, plunged in thought; but it was not the satisfaction of thinking that this sweet and good young creature might one day be his that had caused his sigh. Quite the contrary; he had wished for Agnelette, because Agnelette was young and pretty, and because it was part of his unfortunate disposition to long for everything that belonged or might belong to another. His desire to possess Agnelette had been quickened by the innocent frankness with which she had talked to him; but it had been a matter of fancy rather than of any deeper feeling, of the mind, and not of the heart. For Thibault was incapable of loving as a man ought to love, who, being poor himself, loves a poor girl; in such a case there should be no thought, no ambition on his part beyond the wish that his love may be returned. But it was not so with Thibault; on the contrary, I repeat, the farther he walked away from Agnelette, leaving it would seem his good genius farther behind him with every step, the more urgently did his envious longings begin again as usual to torment his soul. It was dark when he reached home.

(24-27)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bibliography:

 

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:

http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51054

http://www.gutenberg.org/files/51054/51054-h/51054-h.htm

 

 

Image from:

https://archive.org/details/thewolfleader51054gut

 

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