with tears, to the Baron, cried:
“In the name of the God of mercy, my Lord, have pity on that man!”
The Lord of Vez looked down at the young girl. She was indeed a lovely child; hardly sixteen years of age, of a slender and exquisite figure, with a pink and white complexion, large blue eyes, soft and tender in expression, and a crown of fair hair, which fell in luxuriant waves over neck and shoulders, escaping from underneath the shabby little grey linen cap, which endeavoured in vain to imprison them.
All this the Baron took in with a glance, in spite of the humble clothing of the beautiful suppliant, and as he had no dislike to a pretty face, he smiled down on the charming young peasant girl, in response to the pleading of her eloquent eyes.
But, as he looked without speaking, and all the while the blows were still falling, she cried again, with a voice and gesture of even more earnest supplication.
“Have pity, in the name of Heaven, my Lord! Tell your servants to let the poor man go, his cries pierce my heart.”
“Ten thousand fiends!” cried the Grand Master; “you take a great interest in that rascal over there, my pretty child. Is he your brother?”
“No, my Lord.”
“Your cousin?”
“No, my Lord.”
“Your lover?”
“My lover! My Lord is laughing at me.”
“Why not? If it were so, my sweet girl, I must confess I should envy him his lot.”
The girl lowered her eyes.
“I do not know him, my Lord, and have never seen him before to-day.”
“Without counting that now she only sees him wrong side before,” Engoulevent ventured to put in, thinking that it was a suitable moment for a little pleasantry.
“Silence, sirrah!” said the Baron sternly. Then, once more turning to the girl with a smile.
“Really!” he said. “Well, if he is neither a relation nor a lover, I should like to see how far your love for your neighbour will let you go. Come, a bargain, pretty girl!”
“How, my Lord?”
“Grace for that scoundrel in return for a kiss.”
“Oh! with all my heart!” cried the young girl. “Save the life of a man with a kiss! I am sure that our good Curé himself would say there was no sin in that.”
And without waiting for the Baron to stoop and take himself what he had asked for, she threw off her wooden-shoe, placed her dainty little foot on the tip of the wolf-hunter’s boot, and taking hold of the horse’s mane, lifted herself up with a spring to the level of the face of the hardy huntsman, and there of her own accord offered him her round cheek, fresh, and velvety as the down of an August peach.
The Lord of Vez had bargained for one kiss, but he took two; then, true to his sworn word, he made a sign to Marcotte to stay the execution.
Marcotte was religiously counting his strokes; the twelfth was about to descend when he received the order to stop, and he did not think it expedient to stay it from falling. It is possible that he also thought it would be as well to give it the weight of two ordinary blows, so as to make up good measure and give a thirteenth in; however that may be, it is certain that it furrowed Thibault’s shoulders more cruelly than those that went before. It must be added, however, that he was unbound immediately after.
Meanwhile the Baron was conversing with the young girl.
“What is your name, my pretty one?”
“Georgine Agnelette, my Lord, my mother’s name! but the country people are content to call me simply Agnelette.”
“Ah, that’s an unlucky name, my child,” said the Baron.
“In what way my Lord?” asked the girl.
“Because it makes you a prey for the wolf, my beauty. And from what part of the country do you come, Agnelette?”
“From Préciamont, my Lord.”
“And you come alone like this into the forest, my child? that’s brave for a lambkin.”
“I am obliged to do it, my Lord, for my mother and I have three goats to feed.”
“So you come here to get grass for them?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“And you are not afraid, young and pretty as you are?”
“Sometimes, my Lord, I cannot help trembling.”
“And why do you tremble?”
“Well, my Lord, I hear so many tales, during the winter evenings, about were-wolves, that when I find myself all alone among the trees, and can hear no sound but the west wind, and the branches creaking as it blows through them, I feel a kind of shiver run through me, and my hair seems to stand on end; but when I hear your hunting horn and the dogs crying, then I feel at once quite safe again.”
The Baron was pleased beyond measure with this reply of the girl’s, and stroking his beard complaisantly, he said:
“Well, we give Master Wolf a pretty rough time of it; but, there is a way, my pretty one, whereby you may spare yourself all these fears and tremblings.”
“And how, my Lord?”
“Come in future to the Castle of Vez; no were-wolf, or any other kind of wolf, has ever crossed the moat there, except when slung by a cord on to a hazel-pole.”
Agnelette shook her head.
“You would not like to come? and why not?”
“Because I should find something worse there than the wolf.”
On hearing this, the Baron broke into a hearty fit of laughter, and, seeing their Master laugh, all the huntsmen followed suit and joined in the chorus. The fact was, that the sight of Agnelette had entirely restored the good humour of the Lord of Vez, and he would, no doubt, have continued for some time laughing and talking with Agnelette, if Marcotte, who had been recalling the dogs, and coupling them, had not respectfully reminded my Lord that they had some distance to go on their way back to the Castle. The Baron made a playful gesture of menace with his finger to the girl, and rode off followed by his train.
Agnelette was left alone with Thibault. We have related what Agnelette had done for Thibault’s sake, and also said that she was pretty.
Nevertheless, for all that, Thibault’s first thoughts on finding himself alone with the girl, were not for the one who had saved his life, but were given up to hatred and the contemplation of vengeance.
Thibault, as you see, had, since the morning, been making rapid strides along the path of evil.
“Ah! if the devil will but hear my prayer this time,” he cried, as he shook his fist, cursing the while, after the retiring huntsmen, who were just out of view, “if the devil will but hear me, you shall be paid back with usury for all you have made me suffer this day, that I swear.”
“Oh,
