The Guy de Maupassant MEGAPACK ®. Guy de Maupassant
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young scapegrace was long and lanky, with yellow hair, so light that it resembled the fluff of a plucked chicken, so thin that he seemed bald. Besides this, he had enormous feet and the hands of a giant.
“He was cross-eyed, and never looked at anyone. He struck me as being in the same relation to the human race as ill-smelling beasts are to the animal race. He reminded me of a polecat.
“He slept in a kind of hole at the top of the stairs which led to the two rooms.
“But during my short sojourns at the Pavilion—so I called the hut—Marius would give up his nook to an old woman from Ecorcheville, called Celeste, who used to come and cook for me, as old man Cavalier’s stews were not sufficient for my healthy appetite.
“You now know the characters and the locality. Here is the story:
“It was on the fifteenth of October, 1854—I shall remember that date as long as I live.
“I left Rouen on horseback, followed by my dog Bock, a big Dalmatian hound from Poitou, full-chested and with a heavy jaw, which could retrieve among the bushes like a Pont-Andemer spaniel.
“I was carrying my satchel slung across my back and my gun diagonally across my chest. It was a cold, windy, gloomy day, with clouds scurrying across the sky.
“As I went up the hill at Canteleu, I looked over the broad valley of the Seine, the river winding in and out along its course as far as the eye could see. To the right the towers of Rouen stood out against the sky, and to the left the landscape was bounded by the distant slopes covered with trees. Then I crossed the forest of Roumare and, toward five o’clock, reached the Pavilion, where Cavalier and Celeste were expecting me.
“For ten years I had appeared there at the same time, in the same manner; and for ten years the same faces had greeted me with the same words:
“‘Welcome, master! We hope your health is good.’
“Cavalier had hardly changed. He withstood time like an old tree; but Celeste, especially in the past four years, had become unrecognizable.
“She was bent almost double, and, although still active, when she walked her body was almost at right angles to her legs.
“The old woman, who was very devoted to me, always seemed affected at seeing me again, and each time, as I left, she would say:
“‘This may be the last time, master.’
“The sad, timid farewell of this old servant, this hopeless resignation to the inevitable fate which was not far off for her, moved me strangely each year.
“I dismounted, and while Cavalier, whom I had greeted, was leading my horse to the little shed which served as a stable, I entered the kitchen, which also served as dining-room, followed by Celeste.
“Here the gamekeeper joined us. I saw at first glance that something was the matter. He seemed preoccupied, ill at ease, worried.
“I said to him:
“‘Well, Cavalier, is everything all right?’
“He muttered:
“‘Yes and no. There are things I don’t like.’
“I asked:
“‘What? Tell me about it.’
“But he shook his head.
“‘No, not yet, monsieur. I do not wish to bother you with my little troubles so soon after your arrival.’
“I insisted, but he absolutely refused to give me any information before dinner. From his expression, I could tell that it was something very serious.
“Not knowing what to say to him, I asked:
“‘How about game? Much of it this year?’
“‘Oh, yes! You’ll find all you want. Thank heaven, I looked out for that.’
“He said this with so much seriousness, with such sad solemnity, that it was really almost funny. His big gray mustache seemed almost ready to drop from his lips.
“Suddenly I remembered that I had not yet seen his nephew.
“‘Where is Marius? Why does he not show himself?’
“The gamekeeper started, looking me suddenly in the face:
“Well, monsieur, I had rather tell you the whole business right away; it’s on account of him that I am worrying.’
“‘Ah! Well, where is he?’
“‘Over in the stable, monsieur. I was waiting for the right time to bring him out.’
“‘What has he done?’
“‘Well, monsieur—’
“The gamekeeper, however, hesitated, his voice altered and shaky, his face suddenly furrowed by the deep lines of an old man.
“He continued slowly:
“‘Well, I found out, last winter, that someone was poaching in the woods of Roseraies, but I couldn’t seem to catch the man. I spent night after night on the lookout for him. In vain. During that time they began poaching over by Ecorcheville. I was growing thin from vexation. But as for catching the trespasser, impossible! One might have thought that the rascal was forewarned of my plans.
“‘But one day, while I was brushing Marius’ Sunday trousers, I found forty cents in his pocket. Where did he get it?
“‘I thought the matter over for about a week, and I noticed that he used to go out; he would leave the house just as I was coming home to go to bed—yes, monsieur.
“‘Then I started to watch him, without the slightest suspicion of the real facts. One morning, just after I had gone to bed before him, I got right up again, and followed him. For shadowing a man, there is nobody like me, monsieur.
“‘And I caught him, Marius, poaching on your land, monsieur; he my nephew, I your keeper!
“‘The blood rushed to my head, and I almost killed him on the spot, I hit him so hard. Oh! yes, I thrashed him all right. And I promised him that he would get another beating from my hand, in your presence, as an example.
“‘There! I have grown thin from sorrow. You know how it is when one is worried like that. But tell me, what would you have done? The boy has no father or mother, and I am the last one of his blood; I kept him, I couldn’t drive him out, could I?
“‘I told him that if it happened again I would have no more pity for him, all would be over. There! Did I do right, monsieur?’
“I answered, holding out my hand:
“‘You did well, Cavalier; you are an honest man.’
“He rose.
“‘Thank you, monsieur. Now I am going to fetch him. I must give him his thrashing, as an example.’
“I knew that it was hopeless to try and turn the old man from his idea. I therefore let him have his own way.
“He got the rascal and brought him back by the ear.
“I was seated on a cane chair, with the solemn expression of a judge.
“Marius seemed to have grown; he was homelier even than the year before, with his evil, sneaking expression.
“His big hands seemed gigantic.
“His uncle pushed him up to me, and, in his soldierly voice, said:
“‘Beg the gentleman’s pardon.’
“The boy didn’t say a word.
“Then putting one arm round him, the former gendarme lifted him right off the ground, and began to whack him with such force that I rose to stop the blows.
“The boy was now howling: ‘Mercy! mercy! mercy! I