Читать книгу The Wolf-Leader - Alexandre Dumas - Страница 15

“But, Mocquet,” said the keepers, shuddering, “do you really think ...?”

“Think? Yes, I do! I could swear that we have had to do this morning with Thibault, the sabot-maker’s wolf.”

The huntsman and keepers looked at one another; two or three of them made the sign of the cross; and they all appeared to share Mocquet’s opinion, and to know quite well what he meant by Thibault’s wolf. I, alone, knew nothing about it, and therefore asked impatiently, “What is this wolf, and who is this Thibault, the sabot-maker?”

Mocquet hesitated before replying, then, “Ah! to be sure!” he exclaimed, “the General told me that I might let you know about it when you were fifteen. You are that age now, are you not?”

“I am sixteen,” I replied with some pride.

“Well, then, my dear Monsieur Alexandre, Thibault, the sabot-maker’s wolf, is the devil. You were asking me last night for a tale, were you not?”

“Yes.”

“Come back home with me this morning, then, and I will tell you a tale, and a fine one too.”

The keepers and huntsmen shook hands with one another in silence and separated, each going his own way; I went back with Mocquet, who then told me the tale which you shall now hear.

Perhaps you will ask me why, having heard it so long ago, I have not told it before. I can only answer you by saying it has remained hidden away in a drawer of my memory, which has remained closed ever since, and which I only opened again three days ago. I would tell you what induced me to do this, but you might, I fear, find the recital somewhat tedious, and as it would take time, I prefer starting at once upon my tale.

I say my tale; I ought perhaps to call it Mocquet’s tale—but, upon my word! when you have been sitting on an egg for thirty-eight years, you may be excused for coming to believe at last that you’ve laid it yourself!