HUNTING DOWN THE WERE-WOLF
Thibault had got well ahead of the dogs, thanks to the precaution he had
taken of making good his escape at the first note of the bloodhound. For
some time he heard no further sound of pursuit; but, all at once, like
distant thunder, the baying of the hounds reached his ears, and he began
to feel some anxiety. He had been trotting, but he now went on at
greater speed, and did not pause till he had put a few more leagues
between himself and his enemies. Then he stood still and took his
bearings; he found himself on the heights at Montaigu. He bent his head
and listened--the dogs still seemed a long way off, somewhere near the
Tillet coppice.
It required a wolf’s ear to distinguish them so far off. Thibault went
down the hill again, as if to meet the dogs; then, leaving Erneville to
the left, he leaped into the little stream which rises there, waded down
its course as far as Grimancourt, dashed into the woods of
Lessart-l’Abbesse, and finally gained the forest of Compiègne. He was
somewhat reassured to find that, in spite of his three hours’ hard
running, the steel-like muscles of his wolf legs were not in the least
fatigued. He hesitated, however, to trust himself in a forest which was
not so familiar to him as that of Villers-Cotterets.
After another dash of a mile or so, he decided that by doubling boldly
he would be most likely to put the dogs off the scent. He crossed at a
gallop all the stretch of plain between Pierrefond and Mont-Gobert, took
to the woods at the Champ Meutard, came out again at Vauvaudrand,
regained the stream by the Sancères timber floatage, and once more
found himself in the forest near Long-Pont. Unfortunately for him, just
as he reached the end of the Route du Pendu, he came across another pack
of twenty dogs, which Monsieur de Montbreton’s huntsman was bringing up
as a relay, for the Baron had sent his neighbour news of the chase.
Instantly the hounds were uncoupled by the huntsman as he caught sight
of the wolf, for seeing that the latter kept its distance, he feared it
would get too far ahead if he waited for the others to come up before
loosing his dogs. And now began the struggle between the were-wolf and
the dogs in very earnest. It was a wild chase, which the horses, in
spite of their skilled riders, had great difficulty in following, a
chase over plains, through woods, across heaths, pursued at a headlong
pace. As the hunt flew by, it appeared and disappeared like a flash of
lightning across a cloud, leaving behind a whirlwind of dust, and a
sound of horns and cries which echo had hardly time to repeat. It rushed
over hill and dale, through torrents and bogs, and over precipices, as
if horses and dogs had been winged like Hippogriffs and Chimeras. The
Baron had come up with his huntsmen, riding at their head, and almost
riding on the tails of his dogs, his eye flashing, his nostrils dilated,
exciting the pack with wild shouts and furious blasts, digging his spurs
into his horse’s sides whenever an obstacle of any kind caused it to
hesitate for a single instant. The black wolf, on his side, still held
on at the same rapid pace; although sorely shaken at hearing the fresh
pack in full pursuit only a short way behind him, just as he had got
back to the forest, he had not lost an inch of ground. As he retained to
the full all his human consciousness, it seemed to him impossible, as he
still ran on, that he should not escape in safety from this ordeal; he
felt that it was not possible for him to die before he had taken
vengeance for all the agony that others made him suffer, before he had
known those pleasures that had been promised him, above all--for at this
critical moment his thoughts kept on running on this--before he had
gained Agnelette’s love. At moments he was possessed by terror, at
others by anger. He thought at times that he would turn and face this
yelling pack of dogs, and, forgetting his present form, scatter them
with stones and blows. Then, an instant after, feeling mad with rage,
deafened by the death-knell the hounds were ringing in his ears, he
fled, he leaped, he flew with the legs of a deer, with the wings of an
eagle. But his efforts were in vain; he might run, leap, almost fly, the
sounds of death still clung to him, and if for a moment they became more
distant, it was only to hear them a moment after nearer and more
threatening still. But still the instinct of self-preservation did not
fail him; and still his strength was undiminished; only, if by ill luck,
he were to come across other relays, he felt that it might give way. So
he determined to take a bold course so as to out-distance the dogs, and
to get back to his lairs, where he knew his ground and hoped to evade
the dogs. He therefore doubled for the second time. He first ran back to
Puiseux, then skirted past Viviers, regained the forest of Compiègne,
made a dash into the forest of Largue, returned and crossed the Aisne at
Attichy, and finally got back to the forest of Villers-Cotterets at the
low lands of Argent. He trusted in this way to baffle the strategical
plans of the Lord of Vez, who had, no doubt, posted his dogs at various
likely points.
Once back in his old quarters Thibault breathed more freely. He was now
on the banks of the Ourcq between Norroy and Trouennes, where the river
runs at the foot of deep rocks on either side; he leaped up on to a
sharp-pointed crag overhanging the water, and from this high vantage
ground he sprang into the waves below, then swam to a crevice at the
base of the rock from which he had leapt, which was situated rather
below the ordinary level of the water, and here, at the back of this
cave, he waited. He had gained at least three miles upon the dogs; and
yet, scarcely another ten minutes had elapsed, when the whole pack
arrived and stormed the crest of the rock. Those who were leading, mad
with excitement, did not see the gulf in front of them, or else, like
their quarry they thought they would leap safely into it, for they
plunged, and Thibault was splashed, far back as he was hidden, by the
water that was scattered in every direction as they fell into it one by
one. Less fortunate, however, and less vigorous than he was, they were
unable to fight against the current, and after vainly battling with it,
they were borne along out of sight before they had even got scent of
the were-wolf’s retreat. Overhead he could hear the tramping of the
horses’ feet, the baying of the dogs that were still left, the cries of
men, and above all these sounds, dominating the other voices, that of
the Baron as he cursed and swore. When the last dog had fallen into the
water, and been carried away like the others, he saw, thanks to a bend
in the river, that the huntsmen were going down it, and persuaded that
the Baron, whom he recognised at the head of his hunting-train, would
only do this with the intention of coming up it again, he determined not
to wait for this, and left his hiding-place. Now swimming, now leaping
with agility from one rock to the other, at times wading through the
water, he went up the river to the end of the Crêne coppice. Certain
that he had now made a considerable advance on his enemies, he resolved
to get to one of the villages near and run in and out among the houses,
feeling sure that they would not think of coming after him there. He
thought of Préciamont; if any village was well known to him, it was
that; and then, at Préciamont, he would be near Agnelette. He felt that
this neighbourhood would put fresh vigour into him, and would bring him
good fortune, and that the gentle image of the innocent girl would have
some influence on his fate. So he started off in that direction. It was
now six o’clock in the evening; the hunt had lasted nearly fifteen
hours, and wolf, dogs and huntsmen had covered fifty leagues at least.
When, at last, after circling round by Manereux and Oigny, the black
wolf reached the borders of the heath by the lane of Ham, the sun was
already beginning to sink, and shedding a dazzling light over the
flowery plain; the little white and pink flowers scented the breeze that
played caressingly around them; the grasshopper was singing in its
little house of moss, and the lark was soaring up towards heaven,
saluting the eve with its song, as twelve hours before it had saluted
the morn. The peaceful beauty of nature had a strange effect on
Thibault. It seemed enigmatical to him that nature could be so smiling
and beautiful, while anguish such as his was devouring his soul. He saw
the flowers, and heard the insects and the birds, and he compared the
quiet joy of this innocent world with the horrible pangs he was
enduring, and asked himself, whether after all, notwithstanding all the
new promises that had been made him by the devil’s envoy, he had acted
any more wisely in making this second compact than he had in making the
first. He began to doubt whether he might not find himself deceived in
the one as he had been in the other.
As he went along a little footpath nearly hidden under the golden broom,
he suddenly remembered that it was by this very path that he had taken
Agnelette home on the first day of their acquaintance; the day, when
inspired by his good angel, he had asked her to be his wife. The thought
that, thanks to this new compact, he might be able to recover
Agnelette’s love, revived his spirits, which had been saddened and
depressed by the sight of the universal happiness around him. He heard
the church bells at Préciamont ringing in the valley below; its solemn,
monotonous tones recalled the thought of his fellow men to the black
wolf, and of all he had to fear from them. So he ran boldly on, across
the fields, to the village, where he hoped to find a refuge in some
empty building. As he was skirting the little stone wall of the village
cemetery, he heard a sound of voices, approaching along the road he was
in. He could not fail to meet whoever they might be who were coming
towards him, if he himself went on; it was not safe to turn back, as he
would have to cross some rising ground whence he might easily be seen;
so there was nothing left for it but to jump over the wall of the
cemetery, and with a bound he was on the other side. This graveyard as
usual adjoined the church; it was uncared for, and overgrown with tall
grass, while brambles and thorns grew rankly in places. The wolf made
for the thickest of these bramble bushes; he found a sort of ruined
vault, whence he could look out without being seen, and he crept under
the branches and hid himself inside. A few yards away from him was a
newly-dug grave; within the church could be heard the chanting of the
priests, the more distinctly that the vault must at one time have
communicated by a passage with the crypt. Presently the chanting ceased,
and the black wolf, who did not feel quite at ease in the neighbourhood
of a church, and thought that the road must now be clear, decided that
it was time to start off again and to find a safer retreat than the one
he had fled to in his haste.
But he had scarcely got his nose outside the bramble bush when the gate
of the cemetery opened, and he quickly retreated again to his hole, in
great trepidation as to who might now be approaching. The first person
he saw was a child dressed in a white alb and carrying a vessel of holy
water; he was followed by a man in a surplice, bearing a silver cross,
and after the latter came a priest, chanting the psalms for the dead.
Behind these were four peasants carrying a bier covered with a white
pall over which were scattered green branches and flowers, and beneath
the sheet could be seen the outline of a coffin; a few villagers from
Préciamont wound up this little procession. Although there was nothing
unusual in such a sight as this, seeing that he was in a cemetery, and
that the newly-dug grave must have prepared him for it, Thibault,
nevertheless, felt strangely moved as he looked on. Although the
slightest movement might betray his presence and bring destruction upon
him, he anxiously watched every detail of the ceremony.
The priest having blessed the newly-made grave, the peasants laid down
their burden on an adjoining hillock. It is the custom in our country
when a young girl, or young married woman, dies in the fullness of her
youth and beauty, to carry her to the grave-yard in an open coffin, with
only a pall over her, so that her friends may bid her a last farewell,
her relations give her a last kiss. Then the coffin is nailed down, and
all is over. An old woman, led by some kind hand, for she was apparently
blind, went up to the coffin to give the dead one a last kiss; the
peasants lifted the pall from the still face, and there lay Agnelette. A
low groan escaped from Thibault’s agonised breast, and mingled with the
tears and sobs of those present. Agnelette, as she lay there so pale in
death, wrapped in an ineffable calm, appeared more beautiful than when
in life, beneath her wreath of forget-me-nots and daisies. As Thibault
looked upon the poor dead girl, his heart seemed suddenly to melt within
him. It was he, as he had truly realised, who had really killed her, and
he experienced a genuine and overpowering sorrow, the more poignant
since for the first time for many long months he forgot to think of
himself, and thought only of the dead woman, now lost to him for ever.
As he heard the blows of the hammer knocking the nails into the coffin,
as he heard the earth and stones being shovelled into the grave and
falling with a dull thud on to the body of the only woman he had ever
loved, a feeling of giddiness came over him. The hard stones he thought
must be bruising Agnelette’s tender flesh, so fresh and sweet but a few
days ago, and only yesterday still throbbing with life, and he made a
movement as if to rush out on the assailants and snatch away the body,
which dead, must surely belong to him, since, living, it had belonged to
another.
But the grief of the man overcame this instinct of the wild beast at
bay; a shudder passed through the body hidden beneath its wolf skin;
tears fell from the fierce blood-red eyes, and the unhappy man cried
out: “O God! take my life, I give it gladly, if only by my death I may
give back life to her whom I have killed!”
The words were followed by such an appalling howl, that all who were in
the cemetery fled, and the place was left utterly deserted. Almost at
the same moment, the hounds, having recovered the scent, came leaping in
over the wall, followed by the Baron, streaming with sweat as he rode
his horse, which was covered with foam and blood.
The dogs made straight for the bramble bush, and began worrying
something hidden there.
“Halloo! halloo!! halloo!!!” cried the Lord of Vez, in a voice of
thunder, as he leapt from his horse, not caring if there was anyone or
not to look after it, and drawing out his hunting-knife, he dashed
towards the vault, forcing his way through the hounds. He found them
fighting over a fresh and bleeding wolf-skin, but the body had
disappeared.
There was no mistake as to its being the skin of the were-wolf that they
had been hunting, for with the exception of one white hair, it was
entirely black.
What had become of the body? No one ever knew. Only as from this time
forth Thibault was never seen again, it was generally believed that the
former sabot-maker and no other was the were-wolf.
Furthermore, as the skin had been found without the body, and, as, from
the spot where it was found a peasant reported to have heard someone
speak the words: “O God! take my life! I give it gladly, if only by my
death I may give back life to her whom I have killed,” the priest
declared openly that Thibault, by reason of his sacrifice and
repentance, had been saved!
And what added to the consistency of belief in this tradition was, that
every year on the anniversary of Agnelette’s death, up to the time when
the Monasteries were all abolished at the Revolution, a monk from the
Abbey of the Premonstratensians at Bourg-Fontaine, which stands half a
league from Préciamont, was seen to come and pray beside her grave.
* * * * *
Such is the history of the black wolf, as it was told me by old Mocquet,
my father’s keeper.
THE END.
Printed by GILBERT & RIVINGTON, Ltd., St. John’s House, Clerkenwell,
London, E.C.
Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:
Abencerages=> Abencerrages {pg 14}
whip the exorcisims=> whip the exorcisms {pg 20}
earnest supplicacation=> earnest supplication {pg 23}
How should I know who your were=> How should I know who you were {pg 29}
In the the midst=> In the midst {pg 34}
Angelette’s=> Agnelette’s {pg 35, 114}
Angelette=> {pg 35}
Nethertheless=> Nevertheless {pg 39}
shook her her head=> shook her head {pg 46}
remainder of lis life=> remainder of his life {pg 58}
since he had been at tale=> since he had been at table {pg 58}
See arranged the folds of her dress=> She arranged the folds of her
dress {pg 65}
boat-spear in the bush=> boar-spear in the bush {pg 76}
similiar to that=> similar to that {pg 84}
gropped about=> groped about {pg 81}
king’s ramsom=> king’s ransom {pg 85}
from his legthargy=> from his lethargy {pg 89}
Thibaubt, pushed him away=> Thibault, pushed him away {pg 90}
the lord of Vex=> the lord of Vez {pg 91}
let us be of!=> let us be off! {pg 91}
and making for for=> and making for {pg 99}
less than the Barons’ profound knowledge=> less than the Baron’s
profound knowledge {pg 100}
the people of Péciamont=> the people of Préciamont {pg 107}
two unfortunate youg creatures=> two unfortunate young creatures {pg
107}
Grimaucourt=> Grimancourt {pg 111}
Lisart l’Abbesse=> Lessart-l’Abbesse {pg 111}