THE CATASTROPHE
One Saturday evening, Courtecuisse, Bonnebault, Godain, Tonsard, his daughters, wife, and Pere Fourchon, also Vaudoyer and several mechanics were supping at the tavern.The moon was at half-full, the first snow had melted, and frost had just stiffened the ground so that a man's step left no traces.They were eating a stew of hare caught in a trap; all were drinking and laughing.It was the day after the wedding of Catherine and Godain, and the wedded pair were to be conducted to their new home, which was not far from that of Courtecuisse; for when Rigou sold an acre of land it was sure to be isolated and close to the woods.Courtecuisse and Vaudoyer had brought their guns to accompany the bride.The neighborhood was otherwise fast asleep; not a light was to be seen; none but the wedding party were awake, but they made noise enough.In the midst of it the old Bonnebault woman entered, and every one looked at her.
"I think she is going to lie-in," she whispered in Tonsard's ear."HE
has saddled his horse and is going for the doctor at Soulanges."
"Sit down," said Tonsard, giving her his place at the table, and going himself to lie on a bench.
Just then the gallop of a horse passing rapidly along the road was heard.Tonsard, Courtecuisse, and Vaudoyer went out hurriedly, and saw Michaud on his way to the village.
"He knows what he's about," said Courtecuisse; "he came down by the terrace and he means to go by Blangy and the road,--it's the safest way."
"Yes," said Tonsard, "but he will bring the doctor back with him."
"He won't find him," said Courtecuisse, "the doctor has been sent for to Conches for the postmistress."
"Then he'll go from Soulanges to Conches by the mail-road; that's shortest."
"And safest too, for us," said Courtecuisse, "there's a fine moon, and there are no keepers on the roads as there are in the woods; one can hear much farther; and down there, by the pavilions, behind the hedges, just where they join the little wood, one can aim at a man from behind, like a rabbit, at five hundred feet."
"It will be half-past eleven before he comes past there," said Tonsard, "it will take him half an hour to go to Soulanges and as much more to get back,--but look here! suppose Monsieur Gourdon were on the road?"
"Don't trouble about that," said Courtecuisse, "I'll stand ten minutes away from you to the right on the road towards Blangy, and Vaudoyer will be ten minutes away on your left towards Conches; if anything comes along, the mail, or the gendarmes, or whatever it is, we'll fire a shot into the ground,--a muffled sound, you'll know it."
"But suppose I miss him?" said Tonsard.
"He's right," said Courtecuisse, "I'm the best shot; Vaudoyer, I'll go with you; Bonnebault may watch in my place; he can give a cry; that's easier heard and less suspicious."
All three returned to the tavern and the wedding festivities went on;
but about eleven o'clock Vaudoyer, Courtecuisse, Tonsard, and Bonnebault went out, carrying their guns, though none of the women took any notice of them.They came back in about three-quarters of an hour, and sat drinking till past one o'clock.Tonsard's girls and their mother and the old Bonnebault woman had plied the miller, the mechanics, and the two peasants, as well as Fourchon, with so much drink that they were all on the ground and snoring when the four men left the tavern; on their return, the sleepers were shaken and roused, and every one seemed to them, as before, in his place.
While this orgy was going on Michaud's household was in a scene of mortal anxiety.Olympe had felt false pains, and her husband, thinking she was about to be delivered, rode off instantly in haste for the doctor.But the poor woman's pains ceased as soon as she realized that Michaud was gone; for her mind was so preoccupied by the danger her husband ran at that hour of the night, in a lawless region filled with determined foes, that the anguish of her soul was powerful enough to deaden and momentarily subdue those of the body.In vain her servant-
woman declared her fears were imaginary; she seemed not to comprehend a word that was said to her, and sat by the fire in her bed-chamber listening to every sound.In her terror, which increased every moment, she had the man wakened, meaning to give him some order which still she did not give.At last, the poor woman wandered up and down, coming and going in feverish agitation; she looked out of all the windows and opened them in spite of the cold; then she went downstairs and opened the door into the courtyard, looking out and listening."Nothing!
nothing!" she said.Then she went up again in despair.About a quarter past twelve, she cried out: "Here he is! I hear the horse!" Again she went down, followed by the man who went to open the iron gate of the courtyard."It is strange," she said, "that he should return by the Conches woods!"