The Last Vendée - Dumas Alexandre

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de Souday, an émigré of 1790, and the Baron de la Logerie, a noble of the Empire. Besides, Jean Oullier, in the few words he had exchanged with him, had shown plainly there was no disposition to make his acquaintance.

      But the young girls, they who had shown him such interest, masterful in Bertha, gentle in Mary, how could he reach the young girls? This indeed was difficult, for though they hunted two or three times a week, they were always in company of their father and Jean Oullier.

      Michel resolved to read all the novels in the library of the château, hoping to discover from them some ingenious method which, as he began to fear, his own mind, limited to its own inspirations, could never furnish. At this stage of his reflections a touch was laid upon his shoulder; looking round with a quiver he saw Courtin; the farmer's face expressed a satisfaction he did not take any pains to conceal.

      "Beg pardon, excuse me, Monsieur Michel," said the man; "seeing you as still as a milestone, I thought it was your statue instead of yourself."

      "Well, you see it is I, Courtin."

      "And I'm glad of it, Monsieur Michel; I was anxious to hear what passed between you and Madame la baronne."

      "She scolded me a little."

      "Oh! I was sure of that. Did you tell her anything about the hare?"

      "I took good care not to."

      "Or the wolves?"

      "What wolves?" asked the young man not ill-pleased to bring the conversation to this point.

      "The she-wolves of Machecoul; I told you that was the nickname for the young ladies at Souday."

      "Of course I did not tell her; you know that, Courtin. I don't think the Souday hounds and those of La Logerie can hunt together."

      "In any case," replied Courtin, in the sneering tone which, in spite of his best efforts, he was sometimes unable to conceal, "if your hounds won't hunt with the Souday pack you, as it seems, can hunt with theirs."

      "What do you mean by that?"

      "Look!" pulling toward him and, as it were, bringing on the stage two coupled hounds which he held in a leash.

      "What are they?" asked the young baron.

      "They? Why, Galon-d'Or and Allégro, to be sure."

      "I don't know who Galon-d'Or and Allégro are."

      "The dogs of that brigand Jean Oullier."

      "Why did you take his dogs?"

      "I didn't take them; I simply put them in the pound."

      "By what right?"

      "By two rights: land-owner's rights, and mayor's rights."

      Courtin was mayor of the village of La Logerie, which contained about a score of houses, and he was very proud of the title.

      "Please explain those rights, Courtin."

      "Well, in the first place, Monsieur Michel, I confiscate them as mayor because they hunt at an illegal season."

      "I did not know there was an illegal season for hunting wolves; besides as Monsieur de Souday is Master of wolves-"

      "That's very true; as Master of wolves he can hunt wolves in the forest of Machecoul, but not on the plain. Besides, as you know yourself," continued Courtin, with a sneering smile, "as you saw yourself, he was not hunting a wolf at all, but a hare-and moreover, that hare was shot by one of his own cubs."

      The young man was on the point of telling Courtin that the word cub applied to the Demoiselles de Souday was offensive to him, and of requesting him not to use it again, but he dared not make so firm a remonstrance.

      "It was Mademoiselle Bertha who killed it, Courtin," he said, "but I had previously wounded it; so I am the guilty person."

      "Pshaw! what do you mean by that? Would you have fired on the hare if the hounds were not already coursing it? No, of course not. It is the fault of the dogs that you fired, and that Mademoiselle Bertha killed the game; and it is therefore the dogs that I punish as mayor for pursuing hares under pretence of hunting wolves. But that's not all; after punishing them as mayor I punish them as-proprietor. Do you suppose I gave Monsieur le marquis' dogs the right to hunt over my land?"

      "Your land, Courtin!" said Michel, laughing; "you are a trifle mistaken; it was over my land, or rather my mother's, that they were trespassing."

      "That's no matter, Monsieur le baron, inasmuch as I farm it. You must remember that we are no longer in 1789, when the great lords had a right to ride with their hounds over the harvests of the poor peasants and trample everything down without paying for it; no, no, no, indeed! this is the year 1832, Monsieur Michel; every man is master of the soil he lives on, and game belongs to him who supports it. The hare coursed by the dogs of the marquis is my hare, for it has fed on the wheat in the fields I hire from Madame la baronne, and it is I alone who have the right to eat that hare which you wounded and the she-wolf killed."

      Michel made an impatient movement which Courtin detected out of the corner of his eye; but the youth did not dare to further express his displeasure.

      "There is one thing that surprises me," he said, "and that is why those dogs that are straining so at the leash ever allowed you to catch them."

      "Oh!" said Courtin, "that did not give me any trouble. After I left you and Madame la baronne at the bars, I came back and found these gentlemen at dinner."

      "At dinner?"

      "Yes, in the hedge, where I left the hare; they found it and they were dining. It seems they are not properly fed at the château de Souday. Just see the state my hare is in."

      So saying, Courtin took from the huge pocket of his jacket the hindquarters of the hare, which formed the incriminating proof of the misdemeanor; the head and shoulders were eaten off.

      "And to think," said Courtin, "that they did it in just that minute of time while I was with you and madame! Ah! you scamps, you'll have to help me kill a good many to make me forget that."

      "Courtin, let me tell you something," said the young baron.

      "Tell away, don't be backward, Monsieur Michel."

      "It is that as you are a mayor you ought to respect the laws."

      "Laws! I wear them on my heart. Liberty! Public order! Don't you know those words are posted over the door of the mayor's office, Monsieur Michel?"

      "Well, so much the more reason why I should tell you that what you are doing is not legal, and threatens liberty and public order."

      "What!" exclaimed Courtin. "Shall the hounds of those she-wolves hunt over my land at a prohibited season, and I not be allowed to put them in the pound?"

      "They were not disturbing public order, Courtin; they were simply injuring private interests; you have the right to lodge a complaint against them, but not to put them in the pound."

      "Oh! that's too round-about a way; if hounds are to be allowed to run where they like and we can only lodge complaints against them, then it isn't men who have liberty, but dogs."

      "Courtin," said the youth, with, a touch of the assumption observable in men who get a smattering of the Code, "you make the mistake that a great many persons make; you confound liberty with independence; independence is the liberty of men who are not free, my friend."

      "Then what is liberty, Monsieur Michel?"

      "Liberty, my dear Courtin, is the sacrifice that each man makes of his personal independence for the good of all. It is from the general fund of independence that each man draws his liberty; we are free, Courtin, but not independent."

      "Oh, as for me," said Courtin, "I don't know anything about all that. I am a mayor and the holder of land; and I have captured the best hounds of the Marquis de Souday's pack, Galon-d'Or and Allégro, and I shall not give them up. Let him come after them, and when he does I shall ask him what he has been doing in certain meetings at Torfou and Montaigu."

      "What do you mean?"

      "Oh, I know what I mean."

      "Yes, but I don't."

      "There

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