title: Mauprat.
text: \xxsr „ ^ * > K V _ V * * * 0 f si >> s -> u? y<> * - 1 / * v ^ ^ ^ ^ V, <3, ' o , x * ,0 " ? o ,-NV . 0 * C fi °' . 0 ° ^ §> ; ■'o 0 N ® ^ x ^0 v^ S S A V V * fy r * <f' “ ' \\ ^ ,G ^ ^ - t 0 NC 1^ A _ /V>2-, *» O S» * r-t-SNN * a. ^ z ffi® ; » a V. i v|pv & . ^ ^ ^ -V ■\ V *5 ■/ « . . * .1 A N 0 5 ^ V * * 8 l A * J? * A «\ v «= v- , % V % > 1 *><» * % IiSpr ° A V </> * <« ^ o x “ %. ~v : a ++ > 10* ~ v*wv A -v \ ^/- * 9 N 0 ' \^ v * . ^*- * 8 I A “ TV * C‘ V > A 9 k A <“ <f> . r a ^ ^ , 0 ^ A 1 * <P r *Y> * nf\ Xj&'Al -*■ | - ** «$? . A\H/%, • •%. % s ' , 0 * \ v ^ v* ' £:A / / 4ni 1 /■' 0- p^'f^ v ,; x 0 °,. t, Vi~' ✓ g^V ✓* ^SU\ N o ✓ ^ Y y <x r, ■> s s 9 * >- 0 // M 0 ^ V c 3 ^ ,0> <C n X- <* V '■</* vV </> ,^v c> ^ £ ■%. ’ * 8 I VV> -7 \v r~* y NK > S '^ « or . . °U * 0 N 0 ^ ^ ■r ^ a\ + Vr <* V * „ \° * 2, ^ , '-zsjjf'* 1 ' * c\ **&■ *■ > , r 0 ' *o ' » „ . 0 , *•" , 0 ^ s>"'* '%. ’ N * - A* V ^ ■%<^- . •- % ,^ v * *f , * * u '/( S\ n 1 * rJ } r* > <* ‘ _, ... ’ V« - - - % * < " 1 T o rA-‘ « ' V / i * ^ ^ ° y & -&’ ± .o,v .vn t ^ y ° * X * c 0 s c ( % 0 ° * C _ c ^ * + * ^ ev vnNkx '. , v I ** *: o' : ^ S* ° s , ^mi > \V C\ c> y * cl > d* t~ ° *-\oV </> .< v , 0 o 7 X aO J n 9 °*<- V > 8 ’ 4 0 °s-^V 3 n 0 7 ' /o % / /j ? !' aV <p_ o ^ " * ^ >- w ■/, i ! >* J /& * \ ^ ^ u 0 /• > . 9 * A *0 jtfV <V ° Wf * -v* ^ * ^ "* “ * o> * y O y o * x * j ,0 * ^ A * <• 0 <i * <* fs A ' '% S a\ a V I 8 p 't \ ^ y o ; n, o' : . , ° $’*+*.% << m 0 * „ ^ °yU * 5 K 0 v # ^/. / s m yyy** ^ > y^ s * \ V* -Vi /jA^^/), ^ <i^ ^ r'b y yHP ° ^/> ° ' w* H#fcllp iH m ?§SS2 §SsLs . *■ 'iJ -^ / • y /. &&~*i !$ THE LIBRARY OF CHOICE FICTION MAUPRAT TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH BY Henrietta E. Miller % '+0 WITH TEN ILLUSTRATIONS BY LE BLANT CHICA Laird & Lee Publi 1891 r OF CO/VqTS cOPYRIGHr APR /iv-W ^sh.mSTO''*' y ) cs* ■ Entered according to act of Congress in the year eighteen hundred and ninety-one by Laird & Lee in the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington INTRODUCTION In the most secluded and wooded portion of that district on the confines of Marche and Berry, called La Varenne, nestles in a ravine a ruined castle, the impaired turrets of which one can not discern until within a hundred feet of the principal portcullis. The venerable trees which surround it and the overhanging rocks enshroud it in such perpetual darkness that at noonday one can scarcely cross the neglected approach without coming in contact with the gnarled trunks and rubbish, which obstruct the way at every step. This somber ravine and gloomy castle are called La Roche-Mauprat. It is not long since the last of the Mauprats to whom this estate fell, had the roofing removed and cut down all the timber; then, as if to insult the memory of his ancestors, he razed to the ground the portal, the north tower, and the surrounding walls, and departed with his workmen, shaking the dust from his feet and abandoning his property to foxes, osprays, and adders. From that time when the woodmen and colliers who inhabited the scattered huts in the neighborhood, passed during 5 6 INTRODUCTION the day along the summit of the ravine, they whistled with a defiant air, or muttered a maledic- tion; but when the day was drawing in, woodmen and colliers passed along hastily and in silence, from time to time making the sign of the cross, as if to exercise the evil spirits which reigned over those ruins. I confess that I never passed this ravine at night without experiencing a sense of uneasiness; and I dare not state upon oath that on certain stormy nights I did not put spur to my horse, in order to leave it, as quickly as possible, behind me. In my childhood even I ranked the name of Mau- prat with those of Cartouche and Blue-beard. Often at the hunt, when my comrades and I stopped to warm ourselves at the lighted embers, by which the workmen watched all night, I heard that fatal name die away upon their lips at our ap- proach. But when they recognized us, and were thoroughly convinced that no specter lurked amongst us, they told us stories which would make one’s hair stand upon end, and which I will refrain from communicating to you. I do not mean to infer that the narrative which I am to relate is precisely pleasant and cheerful. I ask your pardon, on the contrary, for sending you to-day a story so gloomy; but with the impres- sion which it made upon me, is mingled something INTRODUCTION 7 so comforting, that you will forgive me, I hope for the sake of the conclusions. Moreover, this story has just been told me; you demand one, the occa- sion is favorable to my indolence or my sterility. Last week I met Bernard Mauprat, the last of his line; he who proved by the demolition of his manor the horror with which the memories of his child- hood inspired him. This Bernard is one of the most respected men in the country; he lives in a pretty house near Chateauroux. Being in his vicinity with one of my friends who knew him, I expressed the desire to see him, and my friend promising me a cordial welcome, conducted me to him at once. I knew much of the remarkable history of this old man, but I had always wished to learn the de- tails and above all to receive them from himself. It was quite a philosophical problem for me to solve, that strange destiny. I therefore observed his appearance, his manners, and his home, with particular interest. Bernard Mauprat was not less than eighty years of age, although his robust health, his erect form, his steady step, and the absence of all infirmity made him appear fifteen or twenty years younger. His face would have seemed to me extremely hand- some had it not been for an expression of harsh- ness which involuntarily called before me the shades of his ancestors. I strongly believe he did not 8 INTRODUCTION resemble them physically. He alone could have told us, for neither my friend nor myself ever knew any of the Mauprats; but it was that which we re- frained particularly from inquiring into. It seemed to us that his servants served him with exceptional promptitude and precision. However, at the slightest sign of delay, he raised his voice, frowned, and muttered several impatient words which gave wings to the laziest. At first I was almost shocked; I thought that style savored some- what of the Mauprats. But by the kind, almost paternal manner in which he addressed them a moment later, and by their zeal, which differed from fear, I was very soon reconciled to him. To- ward us he was extremely courteous, and expressed himself in the choicest terms. Unfortunately, at the conclusion of the meal, a door, which had been carelessly left open, drew from him an oath so ter- rible that my friend and I exchanged glances of sur- prise. He noticed our discomfiture. “Pardon, gentlemen, ” he said to us; “I see you consider me somewhat irritable; I am an old branch, yet knotty and rude, happily detached from a sorry trunk, and transplanted in good soil. I have had much trouble in arriving at the state of mildness in which you find me. Alas! I would reproach Providence, did I dare, for having meted out to me a life as short as that of other mortals. When tQ INTRODUCTION 9 transform oneself from a wolf to a man, it requires a struggle of forty or fifty years, one should live a hundred years more to enjoy the victory. But of what benefit would that be to me?” he added with an accent of sadness. “The fairy who transformed me, is no longer here to enjoy her work. Bah! it is time to have done!” Then, turning toward me and looking at me with a strange expression in his glorious black eyes: “Young man,” said he, “I know what brought you; you are curious as to my history. Come nearer the fire, and make yourself comfortable. You cannot please me better than by listening to me. Still, your friend can tell you that I do not speak of myself readily. I too often have to deal with blockheads; but I have heard of you, I know your character and your profession; you are an observer and narrator — that is to say, excuse me — curious, and a scribbler.” He began to laugh, and I endeavored to smile, too, fearing that he was mocking us as I recalled the tricks his grandfather amused himself with by playing upon the imprudent and curious people who came to see him. But he amicably drew his arm through mine, and seated me before the fire, near a table laden with cups. “Do not be offended,” said he to me; “I cannot at my age be cured of hereditary sarcasm; mine 10 INTRODUCTION has, however, no trace of ferocity in it. Seriously, I am charmed to receive you, and to confide to you the story of my life. A man, as unfortunate as I have been, deserves a faithful historian who will clear his memory of all reproach. Listen to me, then, and drink your coffee.” I offered him a cup in silence; he refused it with a gesture and a smile which seemed to say: “That is very well for your effeminate generation.” Then he commenced his recital in these words: MAUPRAT I You do not live very far from La Roche-Mau- prat; you have often had occasion to pass by those ruins; there is, therefore, no need for me to describe them to you. All that I shall say is that the place has never been as pleasant as it is at the present time. Upon the day when I had the roofing re- moved, the sun shone for the first time upon the damp walls within which I passed my childhood, and the lizards to which I have ceded them are much better quartered than was I of yore. They can at least see the light of day, and warm their cold limbs in the noon-day rays. There was a senior and junior branch of the Mauprats. I am of the senior branch. My grand- father was old Tristan de Mauprat, who squandered his fortune, dishonored his name, and was so wicked that his memory is regarded with superstition. The peasants fancy they have seen his ghost appear alternately in the form of a sorcerer and of a white hare, which appears to people meditating some evil II MAUPRAT 12 deed. The junior branch was represented, when I came into the world, by M. Hubert de Mauprat, called the chevalier, because he was a Knight of Malta, who was as noble as his cousin was con- temptible. The youngest in the family, he had taken vows of celibacy; but being left without brothers or sisters, he renounced his vows and mar- ried the year after my birth. Before he contem- plated taking a wife he had, they said, endeavored to find in the senior branch an heir worthy of the tarnished name, and capable of caring for the fort- une which had accumulated in his hands He had tried to settle his cousin Tristan’s affairs, and several times paid his creditors. But seeing that his kind- ness only served to increase his vices, and that in place of respect and gratitude, he found secret ha- tred and jealousy, he discontinued his favors; and notwithstanding his advanced age (he was more than sixty), he married in order to have heirs. He had one daughter, and there ended his hopes of issue, for his wife died shortly afterward. He then left the country, and rarely returned to his estates, which are six leagues from La Roche-Mauprat. He was an intelligent and upright man, for his father had educated him in accordance with the spirit of his age. He was bold and daring, and like his forefathers, proudly bore the chivalrous title of Casse-tete. The senior branch had behaved so MAUPRAT 18 shamefully, or, rather, had retained such habits of feudal brigandage, that it had been surnamed Mau- prat Coup-jairet (cut-throat). My father, who was Tristan’s eldest son, was the only one who married. I was his sole issue. Hubert Mauprat, upon learn- ing of my birth, asked my parents for me, promis- ing, if they would intrust my education entirely to him, that he would constitute me his heir. About that time my father was killed in an accident on the hunting-field, and my grandfather refused the knight’s request. Thereupon Hubert married. But when, seven years later, his wife died, leaving him a daughter, the desire which the nobles of the epoch had to perpetuate their name, induced him to renew his offer to my mother. I do not know how she replied; she fell ill and died. My grand- father was with her the last two days she spent in this world. Pour me out a glass of Spanish wine, for I feel cold. It is nothing — it is the effect which these remembrances produce, when I begin to unfold them. It will soon pass. He drank a glass of wine, and we did the same, for we too felt chilly as we looked upon his austere face and listened to his abrupt tones. He con- tinued: I was left an orphan at seven years of age. My grandfather took from my mother’s house all the 14 MAUPRAT money and clothes he could carry, then, leaving the rest, and saying that he did not wish to have any dealings with the officers of the law, he did not wait until the corpse was buried, but taking me by the collar he swung me up behind him in the saddle, saying: “Come, my ward, go home with me, and try not to cry very much, for I have no patience with brats.” Indeed, in a few moments he gave me so vigorous a lash with his whip that I ceased weeping, and, retreating within myself like a tortoise into his shell, I made the journey without daring to breathe. That night left an indelible imprint upon my memory. At midnight we came to an abrupt halt. My grandfather seized me, bathed as I was in cold perspiration, and tossed me over to a hideous cripple who bore me into the house. That was my Uncle Jean, and I was at La Roche-Mauprat. My grand- father lived there with his eight sons. Civilization rapidly advancing toward revolution was wiping out, more and more, all organized brigandage; the sentiments of social equality were overcoming bar- baric customs. In spite of this, my grandfather had for a long time held his ground in the country without meeting with resistance. But having a large family endowed like him, with a fair share of vices, he was finally tormented and beset by MAUPRAT 15 creditors, who were no longer to be intimidated by threats, but who themselves threatened to do him harm. Then Tristan, rallying his people, withdrew to his castle, and shut himself in with ten or twelve rus- tics, his servants, all poachers or deserters, who, like him, had an object in retiring from the world (as he termed it) to place themselves behind stout wails for safety. From that time Mauprat and his children broke the civil as they had broken the moral laws. They had no difficulty in persuading their followers that servitude was about to be re-established, and that the refractory would be ill-used. The peasants hesitated, listened uneasily to those amongst them who advocated independence, and reflected upon it. The Mauprats promised to all aid and protection, and up to a certain point they kept their word. They received and concealed deserters, they helped to defraud the state by intimidating tax-collectors. It was an easy matter for the Mauprats to pervert the lower classes, for they popularized themselves by contrast with the other nobles of the province who preserved their haughty manners and their ancient dignity. My grandfather did not lose an opportunity of prejudicing the peasants against his cousin, Hubert de Mauprat. While the latter gave audiences to his vassals, he seated in an easy-chair, Mauprat — 2 16 MAUPRAT they standing with heads uncovered before him, Tristan de Mauprat placed them at his table, and drank with them the wine which they brought him, until the air rang with their drunken revelry. This libertinism achieved the demoralization of the masses. It is unnecessary to tell you what bonds of infamy were established between master and slave; debauchery and bankruptcy were the ex- ample and precept of my youth. My companions scoffed at justice, they paid their creditors neither interest nor capital, they thrashed the officers of the law who ventured to serve a summons upon them, they shot at the marshal when he came too near the turret. In the face of all this, my grand- father boasted of his descent and of the prowess of his ancestors; he sighed for the times when the lords of the manors had in their houses instruments of torture, secret cells, and, above all, guns. As for us, we only had pitchforks, cudgels, and one miserable culverin, which my uncle Jean could handle very skillfully. MAUPRAT 17 II It is time, however, that I should tell you some- thing of myself, and of the development of my mind in the slough in which it pleased Providence to plunge me on leaving my cradle. I am wrong perhaps to force you to follow me through the first years of my life; I might have said that l was born with a noble organization, with a pure and incorruptible soul. Perhaps there are, and perhaps there are not, incorruptible souls. Neither you nor anyone else will ever know. It is a great question to determine: Are there within us invincible tendencies, and does education modify or destroy them? I dare not say; I am neither metaphysician, psychologist, nor philosopher; but I have had a hard life, gentlemen, and were I a legislator, I should pluck out the tongue or cut off the arm of him who would venture to declare or write that the organization of individuals is fatal, and that one can no more restrain a man’s char- acter than a tiger’s appetite. My mother endeavored to instill into my mind noble qualities, although I was too young to derive 18 MAUPRAT much good from her teachings; still, when I was taken to La Roche-Mauprat, I was instinctively re- pelled by the wickedness around me. I thank Heaven from the depths of my heart, however, for the ill-treatment heaped upon me, and, above all, for the hatred which my uncle Jean conceived for me. My misfortune rendered me in- different in the face of evil. That Jean was cer- tainly the most despicable of his race; since a fall from his horse had crippled him, his temper had grown more violent, owing to his inability to do as much mischief as his companions. Compelled to remain at home when the others went on their expeditions, for he could not mount a horse, his only pleasure was to repel those petty, unsuccess- ful assaults in which the marshal occasionally in- dulged, as if to ease his conscience. Owing to my youth, I was unable to follow my uncles to the hunt; so Jean naturally became my guardian and instructor, that is to say, my jailor and my tormentor. I will not go into details, but for almost ten years, I suffered cold, hunger, insults, imprisonment, and blows, according to the caprice of that monster; his hatred of me sprang from the fact that he could not deprave me — I was proof against his vile se- ductions. You probably think that, brought up behind the walls of La Roche-Mauprat, and living MAUPRAT 19 in a state of perpetual siege, I had the ideas of the times of feudal barbarism. That which, beyond our walls, was called by other men, assassination, pillage, and torture, they taught me to be combat, victory, and submission. When my grandfather had time to think, he would repeat to me, as a part of my education, legends and ballads of chivalry; and when I questioned him as to the state of affairs at that time, he replied that times had changed greatly; that all the French had become traitors and felons; that the kings had abandoned the no- bility who, in their turn, had in a cowardly man- ner renounced their rights, and allowed the people to make the laws. I listened with surprise, almost with indignation, to the description of the epoch in which I lived, an epoch to me unaccountable. No books found their way into La Roche-Mauprat, except those brought from the country fairs by our servants. The names only floated in the chaos of my ignorance, Charlemagne, Louis XI. and'lLouis XIV. , because my grandfather often mentioned them in his comments on the disregarded rights of the nobility. I, in truth, was not quite sure that my grandfather had not seen Charlemagne, for he spoke of him more frequently than of the others. Although I admired my uncle’s bold deeds and 20 MAUPRAT felt inclined to participate in them, the absence of all principles of morality, the affronts offered to prisoners, women and children, seemed to me only to be explained by their sanguinary appetites. If Jean saw me turn pale he would say to me with a jeering air: “That is what I shall do to you if you disobey.” My blood curdled in my veins, my throat contracted and I fled in order not to ce echo the cries which reached my ears. The women under my uncle’s roof were objects of scorn to those about me; but they caused me strange uneasiness, for I often gazed covetously, at my then age, upon that portion of my uncle’s booty, while my heart was divided between a feel- ing of contempt and delight. My brain was con- fused, and my nerves unstrung, giving a morbid tinge to my thoughts. My disposition, too, was on a par with the dispositions of my companions, though my heart was better disposed, my man- ners were not less arrogant, nor my jests in better taste. The consequences of one of my youthful escapades influenced the rest of my life. M /I UP RAT 21 III On the road to Fromenthal, three leagues from Roche-Mauprat, you must have seen, in the heart of the woods, an old tower; at the period of which I am speaking, the Gazean tower, for such was its name, threatened decay; it was the property of the state, which had tolerated there, more from neglect than kindness, a needy old man, living en- tirely alone, and known in the country by the name of Patience. — “I have heard my nurse’s grandmother speak of him,” I replied; “she held him to be a sorcerer.” Precisely; and since we have touched upon that subject, I may as well tell you what sort of a man this Patience was: for I shall more than once have occasion to mention him in the course of my story. Patience was a rustic philosopher. Nature had en- dowed him with great powers; but he had had no education, and by a kind of strange fatality, his brain had rebelled against the small amount of in- struction he was enabled to receive. He had at- tended a Carmelite school, but instead of display- ing any aptitude, he played truant with more relish 22 MAUPRAT than did any of his comrades. He was eminently contemplative, gentle, and indolent, yet was he proud, while he was independent almost to unsocia- bleness; religious, but opposed to all rules; some- what of a caviler, mistrustful, implacable to hypo- crites. For having expressed his opinion once or twice to the monks, he was expelled from the school. From that time he declared himself openly for the priest of Briantes, who was accused of being a Jansenist. But the priest succeeded no better than the monks in instructing Patience; the young peasant, although endowed with Herculean strength and a thirst for science, exhibited an aversion for all kinds of labor, whether physical or mental. He advocated a philosophy to which it was exceedingly difficult for the priest to reply. One need not work, he said, when one needed no money, and one needed no money, if one only had moderate •wants. Patience was an example of his own philosophy. At the age when love stirs the heart, his code of morals was rigid; he only drank water, never en- tered a tavern, did not know how to dance, and was always shy and awkward with women, whom, more- over, his quaint character, his stern face, and mock- ing manner did not please. He had many enemies, and was looked upon by many as a sorcerer. When I said that Patience MAUPRAT 23 lacked education, I did not express myself well. He was by nature and principle a stoic; the priest did not own the superiority of this uncultivated mind, but he was surprised to pass many a winter evening at his fireside, without experiencing a feel- ing of weariness or fatigue, while the village school- master and the prior, although knowing Greek and Latin, seemed to him, the one a bore, the other, erroneous. He was aware of the purity of Pa- tience’s morals, and attributed the ascendency of his mind to the power and charm which virtue exer- cises and diffuses. He humbly excused himself each evening before his Maker for not having talked with his pupil from a more Christian-like stand-point; he con- fessed to his patron saint that his love of science and the pleasure he had felt as he found himself listened to so religiously, had carried him beyond the limits of religious precepts; he often cited pro- fane authors; he had even taken dangerous pleas- ure in wandering with his listener through the fields of past ages, there to gather pagan flowers, which the baptismal waters had not sprinkled. On his side, Patience loved the priest. He was his only friend — his sole bond with society. One morning he embraced him in tears and said: “I love you alone, in the world; therefore, I do not wish you to suffer persecution on my account. 24 MAUPRAT As, besides you, I love no one, I am going to lead the life of primitive man in the forest.” The priest in vain sought to change his deter- mination. Patience set out, taking with him as luggage only the coat upon his back and an abridg- ment of the doctrine of Epictetus. The rustic an- chorite’s destination was the desert, but beset by wolves, he took refuge in a lower room of the Ga- zean tower, where with a bed of moss and some tree- trunks, he established himself. Before bringing my character of Patience upon the scene, I must tell you that in the space of thirty years, the priest’s mind took another turn. The new sun, which rose in the political horizon and which overthrew all opinions, melted his, as does the first breath of spring the light snow. The sight of Patience’s strange, yet poetical life, which gave him an inspired air, the romantic turn which their mysterious relations took, all seized so strongly upon the priest, that in 1770 he was already far from Jansenism and sought vainly, among all the religious heresies, a loop-hole by which to secure himself, before falling into the abyss of philosophy, so often opened before him by Patience, so often closed in vain by the exorcisms of Roman theology. M/4UHRAT 25 IV It was on a summer’s evening, when returning from a bird-catching expedition, upon which several of my young peasant-comrades had accompanied me, that I passed the Gazean tower for the first time. I was about thirteen years old, the tallest and strongest of all, and I exercised upon my com- panions my seignioral prerogative. It was growing dark, and we walked gaily along, whistling and imitating the cries of the birds, when he who was ahead of us suddenly halted, and, re- tracing his steps, declared that he would not take the path leading to the Gazean tower, but that through the wood. His motion was seconded by two others. A third feared we might lose our way on quitting the path, and wolves were numerous in that district. “Go on, rascal!” I cried in a commanding tone, giving our guide a push; “follow the path, and do not annoy us with your folly.” “Oh,” said the boy, “I shall see the sorcerer, and I do not wish to have the fever all the year.” “Bah!” said another; “he is not unkind to every- 26 MAUPRAT one; he will not harm children, and, besides, if we pass along quietly without addressing him, what do you think he will do to us?” “Oh! it would be all right,” replied the first speaker, “if we were alone. But Monsieur Bernard is with us; we are sure to have a spell.” “ What do you mean, idiot!” I cried, raising my hand. “It is not my fault, sir,” replied the boy. “This old reprobate does not like gentlemen. He has said that he would like to see Monsieur Tristan and all his sons hung on the same tree.” “He said that? Very well,” I returned; “ad- vance and we shall see; he who loves me will fol- low me; he who deserts me is a coward.” Two of my comrades agreed to accompany me, and the others followed their example; but before we had taken four steps, they fled through the un- derwood, and I proudly continued on my way, sup- ported by my two acolytes. Little Sylvain, who was in advance, pulled off his hat when he perceived Patience in the distance, and when we were opposite him, although his head was bent, and he seemed not to heed us, the child, terror-stricken, said in a faltering voice: “Good evening, Master Patience!” The sorcerer, aroused from his reverie, started, and I saw a sunburnt face, partly covered with a MAUPRAT 27 heavy gray beard. He was a short man, but broad of chest, and built like a gladiator. A feeling of hatred possessed me, and, determined to avenge the affront offered by him to my name, I put a stone in my sling, and without any preliminaries hurled it with vigor. At that moment Patience was replying thus to the child’s salutation: “Good evening, children; God be with you!” when the stone hissed past his ear, and struck a tame owl, a pet of Pa- tience’s. The owl uttered a shrill cry and fell bleeding at the feet of his master, who stood mo- tionless with surprise and rage, for several seconds. Then, suddenly seizing the palpitating victim and coming toward us, he cried, in a voice of thunder: “Which of you rascals threw that stone?” Sylvain, grasped by the sorcerer’s large hand, fell upon his knees on the ground, swearing by the Holy Virgin and by Saint Solange, the patron of Berry, that he was innocent of the bird’s death. I was, I avow, strongly tempted to let him get out of the scrape as well as he could, and to pene- trate the thicket. I had expected to see an old, decrepit juggler — not to fall into the hands of a robust enemy; but pride restrained me. “If it be you,” said Patience to my trembling companion, “alas for you, for you are a bad boy, and will become a dishonest man! You have 28 MAUPRAT committed a wicked deed; you have pleased your- self by causing pain to an old man, who has never wronged you, and you have done it perfidiously, in a cowardly manner, by dissimulating and wishing him good evening, politely. You are a liar, an in- famous wretch! You have robbed me of my only companion, my only possession, and you glory in my misfortune. May God preserve you, if you are going to continue thus!” “Oh, Master Patience!” cried the boy, clasping his hands; “do not curse me! do not charm me! do not make me ill! It was not I! May God de- stroy me if it be I!” “If it was not you, who was it, then?” asked Patience, taking me by the collar of my coat and shaking me. “Yes, it was I,” I replied haughtily; “and if you wish to know my name, it is Bernard Mauprat, and learn, too, that the villian who lays hands upon a gentleman deserves — death!” “Death! You would kill me, Mauprat!” cried the old man, petrified with surprise and indig- nation. “What right has a brat like you to threaten a man of my age with death? Death! Ah! you are truly a Mauprat! You hunt men, miserable dog! Death! you wolf’s cub; do you know that it is you who merit death, not alone for what you have just done, but for being the son of your father, MAUPRAT 29 and the nephew of your uncles! Ah! I am content to hold a Mauprat in the hollow of my hand, and to know that a knave of a gentleman weighs as much as a Christian.” At the same time he lifted me from the ground as he would a hare. “Little one,” he said to my companoin, “go home, and do not fear. Patience never is vexed with his equals, and he pardons his brothers, because his brothers are ignorant, like him, and know not what they do! But a Mauprat, you see, knows how to read and write. Go; but no — stay. I wish for once in your life to have you see a gentleman receive a flog- ging from the hands of a villain ! You shall see it, and I beg of you not to forget it, little one, and to tell it to your parents.” I was pale with rage. I offered a desperate re- sistance. Patience with terrible composure fastened me to a tree; he had only to touch me with his large, heavy hand to bend me like a reed, although I was remarkably strong for my age. He hung the owl in a branch above my head, and the bird’s blood dripping upon me, filled me with horror. “Mauprat,” said he to me, crossing his arms on his breast and looking fixedly at me; “you have been chastised — you have been insulted, my gentle- man; I am satisfied. You see that I could have prevented you from ever annoying me again; who would have thought of searching for a noble youth in Patience’s retreat? But you perceive that I do not enjoy vengeance, for at the first cry of pain that escaped you I ceased. I do not like to cause suffering. I am not a Mauprat. It was only right, however, that you should yourself experience what it is to be the victim. Good evening; go your way, I no longer want you; justice has been done. ,, He took up his dead pet and looked at it sadly. “A peasant’s child would not have done this,” said he. “This was a gentleman' s caprice.” Then entering his door he uttered the word which escaped him on solemn occasions, and which had given him the name he bore: “Patience, Patience!” According to popular superstition, this was a cabalistic formula in his mouth, and every time that he had been heard to pronounce it some misfortune MAUPRAT 31 had come to the person who had offended him. Sylvain crossed himself; he was in such haste to fly that he almost forgot to set me free. When he had done so: -“The sign of the cross!” cried he, “for God’s sake! the sign of the cross! If you do not make the sign you will be bewitched; we shall be de- voured by the wolves on the way home.” “Idiot,” said I; “listen: if you ever speak of what happened this evening, I will strangle you.” “Alas, sir! what shall I do?” replied he with a mixture of simplicity and malice. “The sorcerer has commanded me to tell my parents.” I raised my arm to strike him, but my strength failed me. Choked with rage, I almost fainted, and Sylvain took advantage of my condition to make good his escape. When I came to my senses I was alone, two leagues from Roche-Mauprat. It was morning when I reached home; my absence had not been discovered. Mauprat — J 32 MAUPRAT V I had vowed vengeance against Patience in my anger at the indignity put upon me; at a word from me all the Mauprats would have mounted their steeds ready to maltreat the recluse. But I felt an unconquerable repugnance to inciting eight men against one. I was restrained by an instinct of loyalty for which I could not account. Patience’s words had, perhaps, unknown to me, awakened within me a sense of justice; however that may have been, I maintained silence. I contented my- self with thrashing Sylvain, in order to punish him for having finally deserted me, and to force him to keep secret my misadventure. One day when we were snaring larks, my page came toward me cry- ing: “I see the wolf-catcher with the mole-catcher !” That announcement made me shudder. Then I felt a reaction, and walked straight on to meet my sorcerer, somewhat reassured, perhaps, by the presence of his companion, who was a frequent visitor at Roche-Mauprat, and who, I thought, MAUPRAT 33 would treat me respectfully, and render me assist- ance if necessary. Marcasse, called the mole-catcher, made his pro- fession that of clearing the houses and fields of the country of martens, weasels, rats, and other ob- noxious animals. He did not limit the benefits of his industry to Berry; every year he made the cir- cuit of Marche, Nivernais, Limousin and Saintonge. As regularly as the earth revolved upon its axis he reappeared at certain times in the same places he had visited the preceding year, always accompanied by the same dog and the same long sword. This personage was as odd in his way as the sorcerer was in his. He was a choleric, melancholy man, tall, thin, angular, very slow, and majestic in his manners. He disliked conversation so much that he answered all questions in monosyllables. The attraction he seemed to have for Patience gave rise to the report that there was sorcery beneath his mysterious air and that it was not owing to his dog and sword alone that the moles and weasels disap- peared. When I saw that trusty friend, I thought I might brave the sorcerer, and approached him boldly, addressing some remark to Marcasse. Patience, gently pushing aside the mole-catcher, placed his heavy hand on my head and said qui- etly: “You have grown, my fine sir ! 34 MAUPRAT The color rushed to my face, and, drawing back disdainfully, I said to him: “Beware, clown! You should remember that if you still have two ears, you owe them to my kind- ness!” “My two ears!” said Patience, laughing bitterly. 