"The girl you see there, young men, is Solange, the wolf-girl." And
our host, who had been detained by a consultation, came out to join
us. As we asked him who was this wolf-girl, and how she had come by
so strange a nickname, he told us this story,--
"This Solange, the wolf-girl, whose real name is Solange Tournier,
wife of Grillet, was the prettiest girl in the whole Tronsays
country about ten years ago. Now, of course, working in the fields
as she does, and having had five children, she looks hardened and
worn. Still, considering her thirty years, she is handsome enough, as
you see. At the time of the adventure whence she derived her strange
nickname she was living with her parents, who were farmers of the
Rein-du-Bois, some fifteen kilometres from here. Although very poor,
she was much sought by all the boys, even by the well-to-do; but she
accepted the addresses of only one,--a certain Laurent Grillet, on
whom she had set her heart when she was a wee bit of a girl, when the
two kept the sheep together in the neighborhood of Rein-du-Bois.
"Laurent Grillet was a foundling, who had nothing in the world but
his two arms for a fortune. Solange's parents felt no inclination to
add poverty to poverty, especially as the girl had so many wealthy
suitors.
"So Solange was forbidden to see her friend. Naturally, the girl
never failed at a tryst. Living in the same commune, with the forest
at hand, they never lost an opportunity of meeting there. When
the father and mother Tournier realized that scoldings and blows
were of no avail, they determined upon a radical step. Solange was
accordingly sent out to work at Ursay, on the model farm of M. Roger
Duflos, our deputy.
"Perhaps you think our two lovers ceased to see each other. Not in
the least. They now met at night; they slept no more. After nightfall
they both left the farms where they were employed and started toward
each other; and then they remained together until nearly dawn in the
maternal forest, the accomplice of their young love.
"This was in 1879. In this manner the summer and autumn went by.
Then came the winter, and a fierce winter it was. The Cher carried
ice-drifts, and finally froze from bank to bank. The Tronsays
forests, covered with snow, were bent like the weak supports of
an overladen roof. The roads were almost impassable. The forest,
deserted by man, was gradually being reconquered by beasts. It was
soon invaded by wolves, which had neither been seen nor heard of
since the Terrible year.
"Yes, sir, wolves! They haunted the isolated farms around Lurcy-Lévy
and Ursay. They even ventured into the streets of St. Bonnet le
Désert,--a little village in the heart of the forest on the banks of
a pond. It reached such a point that men were organized into bands to
beat the woods. A reward of fifty francs was offered for the head of
a wolf.
"Neither winter nor wolves, however, daunted Solange and Laurent,
or interfered with their nocturnal meetings. They continued their
expeditions in the face of a thousand dangers. This was the dead
season in the fields, the time when the land lies fallow. Every night
Laurent left Lurcy-Lévy, a gun over his shoulder, and penetrated with
a lively step into the black and white forest. Solange, on the other
hand, started from Ursay at about nine o'clock, and they met near a
glade some three kilometres from here, traversed by a road, and known
as the Découverte.
"It so happened that one night, which, by the way, was Christmas
Eve, Laurent Grillet, as he reached the rendezvous, slipped on the
hardened snow and fell, breaking his right leg and spraining his
right wrist. Solange tried to raise him, but could only drag him to a
great elm, against which she propped him, after wrapping him in her
own cloak.
"'Wait for me here, my poor Laurent,' said she; 'I will run to Ursay
for the doctor, and get him to come for you in his carryall.'
"She started off, but had not reached the first turn in the road when
she heard a report and the cry, 'Help!'
"She ran back and found her friend in an agony of pain and fear, his
trembling hand on the gun which lay beside him. She said, 'What is
it, Laurent? Was it you who fired?'
"He answered, 'It was I. I saw a beast about the size of a large dog,
and with great red eyes. I believe, on my word, it was a wolf.'
"'Was it at him you fired?'
"'No. I cannot lift my gun on account of my arm. I fired on the
ground to scare him. He has gone now.'
"Solange reflected for a moment. 'Will he come back?'
"'I am afraid he will,' answered the lad. 'Solange, you will have to
stay, or that beast will eat me.'
"'Well,' she said, 'I will stay. Let me have the gun.'
"She took it, put in a fresh cartridge, and they both waited.
"An hour passed. The moon, as yet invisible, had risen, however,
above the horizon, for the zenith reflected a confused light, which
was gradually growing more intense. Laurent felt the fever coming
upon him. He shivered and moaned. Solange, half frozen, as she stood
leaning against the tree, was beginning to feel drowsy. Suddenly
a bark--a sort of howl like that of a dog at night when it is
tied--made her start. In the faint light she saw two red eyes fixed
upon her. It was the wolf. Laurent tried to rise and take his gun,
but the pain flung him back with a cry.
"'Load, Solange,' said he. 'Do not fire too soon, and aim between the
eyes.'
"She shouldered, aimed, and fired, but the gun recoiled and missed
aim. The beast was untouched. It ran off a short way down the road.
Then it was heard howling at a distance, and other howls came in
answer.
"The moon was climbing the sky. It suddenly passed the dark mass of
the thickets and flooded the entire forest as the footlights illumine
the scenery on the stage. Then Solange and Laurent saw this horrible
sight: at a few feet from them five wolves were seated on their
haunches, drawn in line across the road, while another, bolder than
the rest, was walking slowly toward them.
"'Listen,' said Laurent. 'Aim at that one that is coming. If you
bring him down, the others will eat him, and they will leave us in
peace in the mean time.'
"The wolf continued to advance with short, cautious steps. They could
now see his bloodshot eyeballs distinctly, the protruding rings of
his spine, the sharp bones of his carcass, his dull hair and his open
jaw, with the long tongue hanging out. 'Hold the butt-end well in the
hollow of your shoulder. Now fire.'
"There was a report; the beast leaped to one side and fell dead
without a groan. The whole band galloped off and disappeared in the
copse.
"'Run, Solange!' cried Laurent; 'drag him as far as you can along the
road. There is no danger; the others will not come back for a while
yet.'
"She had started, when he called her back. 'It might be just as well
to cut off that beast's head on account of the reward.'
"'Have you a knife?' asked Solange.
"'Yes; in my belt.'
"It was a short-handled, broad-bladed hunter's knife. She took it and
ran to the dead wolf. She made a great effort and drove it in his
throat, the warm blood trickling down her hands and along her skirt;
she turned her knife around, cut deep, then hacked, and finally
severed the head from the trunk, which she dragged by one leg over
the slippery snow as far as she could. Then she returned to her lover
with the bloody, bristly head of the beast in her hand.
"What Laurent had foreseen occurred. The wolves, at first frightened
by the death of their leader, were soon brought back by the smell
of the blood. In the white light of the moon, reflected by the snow
like the fantastic light of a fairy scene, the two young people saw
the group of lean, ravenous beasts rubbing their backs against one
another, crowding around the fresh prey, tearing it limb from limb,
growling and snarling over it, wrenching off the flesh, until nothing
was left of it, not even a tuft of hair.
"Meanwhile the boy was suffering greatly from his injuries. Solange,
whose nerves were beginning to relax, struggled vainly against
exhaustion and sleep. Twice her gun fell from her hands. The wolves,
having finished their meal, began to draw nearer. The girl fired
twice in the lot, but her benumbed fingers trembled and she missed
her aim. At each report the band turned tail, trotted about a hundred
metres down the road, waited a moment and came back.
"Then the two poor children were convinced that it was all over with
them, and that they must die. Solange dropped her gun. It never
once occurred to her that she might save herself. She threw herself
down beside her lover, clasped her arms around him, laid her cheek
against his, and there under the same cloak they awaited death, half
frozen with the cold, half burning with fever. Their confused brains
conjured strange visions. Now they thought they had gone back to the
balmy nights of June when the forest, clad in deep green, sheltered
their peaceful meetings, then suddenly the wood was bare, lighted
with a weird snowy light, peopled with shifting forms, eyes like
burning embers, great open jaws that multiplied, and came nearer,
ever nearer.
"But neither Solange nor Laurent was destined to die so horrible a
death. Providence--yes, young men, I believe in a Providence--had
decreed that I, on that Christmas morning, should find myself on that
particular road on my way home in my carryall from St. Bonnet le
Désert. I managed the lines; my man held the gun and inspected the
road. No doubt our sleigh-bells frightened away the wolves, for we
saw none. As we drove near the elm at the foot of which the lovers
lay, my mare shied, and so drew our attention to them. I jumped down
from the seat. My man and I settled them in the carryall as best
as we could, covering them with what wraps we had along. They were
unconscious and almost frozen. We took the bloody head of the wolf
with us too.
"It was about seven o'clock in the morning when we reached Ursay. The
day was breaking over a landscape of spun glass and white velvet. M.
Roger Duflos' farmers and at least one half of the inhabitants of the
borough, having heard of Solange's disappearance, came out to meet
us; and in the very kitchen where we dined this evening, in front
of a great fire of crackling heather, Laurent and his friend warmed
themselves and told us the story of their terrible Christmas."