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Werewolf Stories. Редьярд Джозеф Киплинг
Читать онлайн.Название Werewolf Stories
Год выпуска 0
isbn 4064066382070
Автор произведения Редьярд Джозеф Киплинг
Жанр Языкознание
Издательство Bookwire
“Agnelette!” cried Thibault throwing himself down with his face to the ground, and holding his head between his hands, “I could not tell any human creature, not even a priest what has happened to me since then; but to Agnelette, all I can say is: Agnelette! Agnelette! have pity on me, for I have been most unhappy!”
Agnelette went up to him and took his hands in hers.
“You did love me then? You did love me?” he cried.
“What can I do, Thibault!” said the girl with the same sweetness and innocence as before. “I took you at your word, and every time I heard someone knocking at our hut door, I thought it was you come to say to the old grandmother, ‘Mother, I love Agnelette, Agnelette loves me; will you give her to me for my wife?’ ”
“Then when I went and opened the door, and found that it was not you, I used to go into a corner and cry.”
“And now, Agnelette, now?”
“Now,” she answered. “Now, Thibault, it may seem strange, but in spite of all the terrible tales that are told about you, I have not been really frightened; I was sure that you could not wish any harm to me, and I was walking boldly through the forest, when that dreadful beast from which you saved me, suddenly sprang upon me.”
“But how is it that you are near your old home? do you not live with your husband?”
“We lived together for a while at Vez, but there was no room there for the grandmother; and so I said to my husband, ‘the grandmother must be thought of first; I must go back to her; when you wish to see me you will come.’ ”
“And he consented to that arrangement?”
“Not at first, but I pointed out to him that the grandmother is seventy years of age; that if she were only to live another two or three years, God grant it may be more! it would only be two or three years of some extra trouble for us, whereas, in all probability we had long years of life before us. Then he understood that it was right to give to those that had least.”
But all the while that Agnelette was giving this explanation, Thibault could think of nothing but that the love she once had for him was not yet dead.
“So,” said Thibault, “you loved me? and so, Agnelette you could love me again...?”
“That is impossible now because I belong to another.”
“Agnelette, Agnelette! only say that you love me!”
“No, Thibault, if I loved you, I should do everything in the world to hide it from you.”
“And why?” cried Thibault. “Why? you do not know my power. I know that I have only a wish or two left, but with your help, by combining these wishes together, I could make you as rich as a queen.... We could leave the country, leave France, Europe; there are large countries, of which you do not even know the names, Agnelette, called America and India. They are paradises, with blue skies, tall trees and birds of every kind. Agnelette, say that you will come with me; nobody will know that we have gone off together, nobody will know where we are, nobody will know that we love one another, nobody will know even that we are alive.”
“Fly with you, Thibault!” said Agnelette, looking at the wolf-leader as if she had but half understood what he said, “do you forget that I no longer belong to myself? do you not know that I am married?”
“What does that matter,” said Thibault, “if it is I whom you love, and if we can live happily together!”
“Oh! Thibault! Thibault! what are you saying!”
“Listen,” went on Thibault, “I am going to speak to you in the name of this world and the next. Do you wish to save me, Agnelette, body and soul? If so, do not resist my pleading, have pity on me, come with me; let us go somewhere together, where we shall no longer hear these howlings, or breathe this atmosphere of reeking flesh; and, if it scares you to think of being a rich, grand lady, somewhere then where I can again be Thibault the workman, Thibault, poor but beloved, and, therefore, Thibault happy in his hard work, some place where Agnelette will have no other husband but me.”
“Ah! Thibault! I was ready to become your wife, and you scorned me!”
“Do not remember my sins, Agnelette, which have been so cruelly punished.”
“Thibault, another has done what you were not willing to do. He took the poor young girl; he burdened himself with the poor old blind woman; he gave a name to the one and bread to the other; he had no ambition beyond that of gaining my love; he desired no dowry beyond my marriage vow; can you think of asking me to return evil for good? Do you dare to suggest that I should leave the one who has given me such proof of his love for the one who has given me proof only of his indifference?”
“But what matter still, Agnelette, since you do not love him and since you do love me?”
“Thibault, do not turn and twist my words to make them appear to say what they do not. I said that I still preserved my friendship for you, I never said that I did not love my husband. I should like to see you happy, my friend; above all I should like to see you abjure your evil ways and repent of your sins; and last of all, I wish that God may have mercy upon you, and that you may be delivered from that spirit of evil, of which you spoke just now. For this I pray night and morning on my knees; but even that I may be able to pray for you, I must keep myself pure; if the voice that supplicates for mercy is to rise to God’s throne, it must be an innocent one; above all, I must scrupulously keep the oath which I swore at His altar.”
On hearing these decisive words from Agnelette, Thibault again became fierce and morose.
“Do you not know, Agnelette, that it is very imprudent of you to speak to me here like that?”
“And why, Thibault?” asked the young woman.
“We are alone here together; it is dark, and not a man of the open would dare to come into the forest at this hour; and know, the King is not more master in his kingdom than I am here?”
“I do not understand you, Thibault?”
“I mean that having prayed, implored, and conjured, I can now threaten.”
“You, threaten?”
“What I mean is,” continued Thibault, paying no heed to Agnelette’s words, “that every word you speak does not excite my love for you more than it rouses my hatred towards him; in short, I mean that it is imprudent of the lamb to irritate the wolf when the lamb is in the power of the wolf.”
“I told you, Thibault, before, that I started to walk through the forest without any feeling of fear at meeting you. As I was coming to, I felt a momentary terror, remembering involuntarily what I had heard said about you; but at this moment, Thibault, you will try in vain to make me turn pale.”
Thibault flung both hands up to his head.
“Do not talk like that,” he said, “you cannot think what the devil is whispering to me, and what an effort I have to make to resist his voice.”
“You may kill me if you like,” replied Agnelette, “but I will not be guilty of the cowardice which you ask of me; you may kill me, but I shall remain faithful to my husband; you may kill me, but I shall pray to God to help him as I die.”
“Do not speak his name, Agnelette; do not make me think about that man.”
“You can threaten me as much as you like, Thibault, for I am in your hands; but, happily, he is far from you, and you have no power over him.”
“And who told you that, Agnelette? do you not know that, thanks to the diabolical power I possess and which I can hardly fight against, I am able to strike as well far as near?”
“And if I should become a widow, Thibault, do you imagine that I should be vile enough to accept your hand when it was stained with the