“Now you know the characters and the setting. Here is the story.
“It was in 1854, the fifteenth of October: I remember the date, and I shall never forget it.
“I left Rouen on horseback, followed by my dog, a big Dalmatian from Poitou, broad-chested and heavy-jowled, who rummaged about in the bushes like a Pont Audemer spaniel.
“My bag was slung on the saddle behind me, and I carried my gun by the sling. It was a cold day, with a high and mournful wind, and dark clouds rode in the sky.
“While ascending the slope of Canteleu I gazed at the broad valley of the Seine, through which the river meandered with serpentine twists as far as the horizon. On the left all the steeples of Rouen lifted to the sky, and on the right the view was blocked by the far-off tree-clad hills. I passed through the forest of Roumare, going now at a trot, now at a walking pace, and at about five o’clock I arrived at the Pavilion, where old Cavalier and Céleste were waiting for me.
“For the last ten years, at the same season, I had been presenting myself in the same way, and the same mouths welcomed me with the same words:
“ ‘Good day, your honour. Your honour’s health is good?’
“Cavalier had scarcely altered at all. He stood up to the passage of time like an old tree; but Céleste, especially in the last four years, was becoming almost unrecognisable.
“She was bent nearly double, and although still active, she walked with the upper part of her body so bowed that it formed almost a right angle with her legs.
“The old woman was very devoted to me; she always seemed much affected at seeing me again, and whenever I left she used to say:
“ ‘Think, this is maybe the last time, your honour.’
“And the poor servant’s heartbroken, frightened farewell, her desperate resignation to inevitable death, so surely close upon her, stirred my heart strangely each year.
“I dismounted, and while Cavalier, with whom I had shaken hands, was leading my horse to the little shed which did duty for a stable, I entered the kitchen, which also served as the dining room, followed by Céleste.
“Then the keeper joined us again. Right from the first I saw that his face had not its customary expression. He seemed preoccupied, ill at ease, worried.
“ ‘Well, Cavalier,’ I said to him, ‘is everything going on all right?’
“ ‘Yes and no,’ he murmured. ‘There’s something that isn’t at all all right.’
“ ‘Well, what is it, man?’ I asked. ‘Tell me all about it.’
“But he shook his head.
“ ‘No, monsieur, not yet. I don’t want to pester you with my worries like this, when you’ve only just arrived.’
“I insisted, but he absolutely refused to tell me about it before dinner. His expression, however, told me that it was serious.
“Not knowing what to say to him, I asked:
“ ‘And what about the game? Have we plenty?’
“ ‘Oh, yes, there’s plenty of game, plenty. I kept my eyes open, thanks be to God.’
“He said this with such desperate seriousness that it was positively comical. His large grey moustaches looked ready to fall off his lips.
“Suddenly I realised that I had not yet seen his nephew.
“ ‘And Marius, where has he gone to? Why hasn’t he shown up?’
“The keeper started; he wheeled sharply and faced me.
“ ‘Well, monsieur, I’d sooner tell you the story straight out; yes, I’d sooner do that. It’s about him that this thing’s on my mind.’
“ ‘Ah. Well, where is he?’
“ ‘In the stable, monsieur; I’m expecting him to turn up any moment.’
“ ‘Well, what has he been doing?’
“ ‘This is the story, monsieur …’
“But the keeper hesitated none the less, his voice was changed and shook, his face was suddenly graven with deep wrinkles, the wrinkles of old age.
“Slowly he continued:
“ ‘Here it is. I noticed this winter that someone was laying snares in the wood of Roseraies, but I couldn’t catch the man. I spent night after night there, monsieur; but no good. And during that time snares began to appear on the Écorcheville side. I grew thin with rage. But as for catching the thief, impossible! You would have said the scoundrel was warned beforehand of my visits and my plans.
“ ‘But one day, while brushing Marius’s breeches, his Sunday breeches, I found forty sous in his pocket. Now where had the boy got that from?
“ ‘I thought it over for a week, and I noticed that he was in the habit of going out; he used to go out just when I came back to bed, monsieur.
“ ‘Then I watched him, but I hadn’t a doubt of the truth, oh, not a doubt of it. And one morning, when I had gone to bed just before he went off, I promptly got up again, and tracked him. And as for tracking, there’s no one to touch me, monsieur.
“ ‘And I caught him, monsieur, setting snares on your land—Marius, my nephew, your keeper’s nephew!
“ ‘My blood rushed through my body in one flood, and I nearly killed him on the spot. I gave him such a thrashing—oh, Lord! how I did beat him; and I promised him that when you came he would have another from me in your presence, for the sake of the lesson.
“ ‘That’s all. I’ve gone thin with grief. You know what it means to be crossed like that. But what would you have done, now? He’s got no father or mother. I’m the only one of his own blood the boy’s got; I’ve brought him up; I couldn’t turn him out, could I?
“ ‘But I’ve told him that if he does it again, it’s the end, the end, more’s the pity. There! Was I right, monsieur?’
“I held out my hand to
