Werewolf Stories. Редьярд Джозеф Киплинг
air of command, holding his head high the while, and making his way with as much determination as if he were starting on the conquest of the Golden Fleece.
And in truth, Thibault, the bridegroom elect of Agnelette, the lover who had been so ignominiously expelled her house by the mistress of the mill, was thinking not only of all the pleasure he could enjoy, but of the proud position he would hold as the beloved of a bailiff’s wife, and of all the advantages to be drawn from the good fortune which had so unexpectedly befallen him, and which he had so long desired.
As on her side also, Madame Magloire was not only very much preoccupied with her own thoughts, but also paid very little attention to him, looking to right and left, first in front of her and then behind, as if in search of some one, the conversation would have lagged terribly as they walked along if their excellent little companion had not been at the expense of the best part of it, as he jogged along now beside Thibault and now beside Suzanne, waddling like a duck jogging home after a big feed.
And so with Thibault engaged in his calculations, and the Bailiff’s wife with her dreams, the Bailiff trotting beside them talking and wiping his forehead with a fine cambric pocket-handkerchief, they arrived at the village of Erneville, which is situated about a mile and a half from the Poudron ponds. It was here, in this charming village, which lies half-way between Haramont and Bonneuil, within a stone’s throw or two of the Castle of Vez, the dwelling of my lord the Baron, that Monsieur Magloire sat as magistrate.
CHAPTER XI
DAVID AND GOLIATH.
After walking the whole length of the village, they stopped before an imposing looking house at the junction of the roads leading to Longpré and Haramont. As they neared the house—the little host, with all the gallantry of a “preux chevalier” went on ahead, mounted the flight of five or six steps with an agility which one could not have expected, and, by dint of standing on tip-toe, managed to reach the bell with the tips of his fingers. It should be added, that having once got hold of it, he gave it a pull which unmistakeably announced the return of the master. It was, in short, no ordinary return, but a triumphal one, for the Bailiff was bringing home a guest.
A maid, neatly dressed in her best clothes, opened the door. The Bailiff gave her an order in a low voice, and Thibault, whose adoration of beautiful women did not prevent him from liking a good dinner, gathered that these few whispered words referred to the menu which Perrine was to prepare. Then turning round, his host addressed Thibault:
“Welcome, my dear guest, to the house of Bailiff Népomucène Magloire.”
Thibault politely allowed Madame to pass in before him, and was then introduced into the drawing-room.
But the shoe-maker now made a slip. Unaccustomed as yet to luxury, the man of the forest was not adroit enough to hide the admiration which he felt on beholding the bailiff’s home. For the first time in his life he found himself in the midst of damask curtains and gilt armchairs; he had not imagined that any one save the King, or at least his Highness the Duke of Orleans, had curtains and armchairs of this magnificence. He was unconscious that all the while Madame Magloire was closely watching him, and that his simple astonishment and delight did not escape her detective eye. However, she appeared now, after mature reflexion, to look with greater favour on the guest whom her husband had imposed upon her, and endeavoured to soften for him the glances of her dark eyes. But her affability did not go so far as to lead her to comply with the request of Monsieur Magloire, who begged her to add to the flavour and bouquet of the champagne by pouring it out herself for her guest. Notwithstanding the entreaties of her august husband, the Bailiff’s wife refused, and under the pretext of fatigue from her walk, she retired to her own room. Before leaving the room, however, she expressed a hope to Thibault, that, as she owed him some expiation, he would not forget the way to Erneville, ending her speech with a smile which displayed a row of charming teeth. Thibault responded with so much lively pleasure in his voice that it rendered any roughness of speech less noticeable, swearing that he would sooner lose the power to eat and drink than the remembrance of a lady who was as courteous as she was beautiful.
Madame Magloire gave him a curtsey which would have made her known as the Bailiff’s wife a mile off, and left the room.
She had hardly closed the door behind her, when Monsieur Magloire went through a pirouette in her honour, which though less light, was not less significant than the caper a school-boy executes when once he has got rid of his master.
“Ah! my dear friend,” he said, “now that we are no longer hampered by a woman’s presence, we will have a good go at the wine! Those women, they are delightful at mass or at a ball; but at table, heaven defend me, there is nobody like the men! What do you say, old fellow?”
Perrine now came in to receive her master’s orders as to what wine she was to bring up. But the gay little man was far too fastidious a judge of wines to trust a woman with such a commission as this. Indeed, women never show that reverential respect for certain old bottles which is their due, nor that delicacy of touch with which they love to be handled. He drew Perrine down as if to whisper something in her ear; instead of which he gave a good sound kiss to the cheek which was still young and fresh, and which did not blush sufficiently to lead to the belief that the kiss was a novelty to it.
“Well, sir,” said the girl laughing, “What is it?”
“This is it, Perrinette, my love,” said the Bailiff, “that I alone know the good brands, and as they are many in number, you might get lost among them, and so I am going to the cellar myself.” And the good man disappeared trundling off on his little legs, cheerful, alert and fantastic as those Nuremberg toys mounted on a stand, which you wind up with a key, and which, once set going, turn round and round, or go first one way and then the other, till the spring has run down; the only difference being, that this dear little man seemed wound up by the hand of God himself, and gave no sign of ever coming to a standstill.
Thibault was left alone. He rubbed his hands together, congratulating himself on having chanced upon such a well-to-do house, with such a beautiful wife, and such an amiable husband for host and hostess. Five minutes later the door again opened, and in came the bailiff, with a bottle in either hand, and one under each arm. The two under his arms were bottles of sparkling Sillery, of the first quality, which, not being injured by shaking, were safe to be carried in a horizontal position. The two which he carried in his hands, and which he held with a respectful care which was a pleasure to behold, were, one a bottle of very old Chambertin, the other a bottle of Hermitage.
The supper hour had now come; for it must be remembered, that at the period of which we are writing, dinner was at mid-day, and supper at six. Moreover, it had already been dark for some time before six o’clock, in this month of January, and whether it be six, or twelve o’clock at night, if one has to eat one’s meal by candle or lamp-light, it always seems to one like supper.
The Bailiff put the bottles tenderly down on the table and rang the bell. Perrinette came in.
“When will the table be ready for us, my pretty?” asked Magloire.
“Whenever Monsieur pleases,” replied Perrine. “I know Monsieur does not like waiting; so I always have everything ready in good time.”
“Go and ask Madame, then, if she is not coming; tell her, Perrine, that we do not wish to sit down without her.”
Perrine left the room.
“We may as well go into the dining-room to wait,” said the little host; “you must be hungry, my dear friend, and when I am hungry, I like to feed my eyes before I feed my stomach.”
“You seem to me to be a fine gourmand, you,” said Thibault.
“Epicure, epicure, not gourmand—you must not confuse the two things. I go first, but only in order to show you the way.”
And so saying, Monsieur Magloire led his guest into the dining-room.
“Ah!”