original short stories-3-第8部分

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over　together　the　principal　inhabitants　of　your　district。〃

The　mayor　got　up。　　He　rang　for　his　shaving　water　and　said：

〃With　pleasure；　but　it　will　take　some　time；　and　we　may　begin　at　once。〃

M。　Putoin　sat　astride　a　chair。

Renardet　covered　his　chin　with　a　white　lather　while　he　looked　at　himself
in　the　glass。　　Then　he　sharpened　his　razor　on　the　strop　and　continued：

〃The　principal　inhabitant　of　Carvelin　bears　the　name　of　Joseph　Renardet；
mayor；　a　rich　landowner；　a　rough　man　who　beats　guards　and　coachmen〃

The　examining　magistrate　burst　out　laughing。

〃That's　enough。　　Let　us　pass　on　to　the　next。〃

〃The　second　in　importance　is　Pelledent；　his　deputy；　a　cattle　breeder；　an
equally　rich　landowner；　a　crafty　peasant；　very　sly；　very　close…fisted　on
every　question　of　money；　but　incapable　in　my　opinion　of　having
perpetrated　such　a　crime。〃

〃Continue；〃　said　M。　Putoin。

Renardet；　while　proceeding　with　his　toilet；　reviewed　the　characters　of
all　the　inhabitants　of　Carvelin。　　After　two　hours'　discussion　their
suspicions　were　fixed　on　three　individuals　who　had　hitherto　borne　a　shady
reputationa　poacher　named　Cavalle；　a　fisherman　named　Paquet；　who　caught
trout　and　crabs；　and　a　cattle　drover　named　Clovis。



II

The　search　for　the　perpetrator　of　the　crime　lasted　all　summer；　but　he　was
not　discovered。　　Those　who　were　suspected　and　arrested　easily　proved
their　innocence；　and　the　authorities　were　compelled　to　abandon　the
attempt　to　capture　the　criminal。

But　this　murder　seemed　to　have　moved　the　entire　country　in　a　singular
manner。　　There　remained　in　every　one's　mind　a　disquietude；　a　vague　fear；
a　sensation　of　mysterious　terror；　springing　not　merely　from　the
impossibility　of　discovering　any　trace　of　the　assassin；　but　also　and
above　all　from　that　strange　finding　of　the　wooden　shoes　in　front　of　La
Roque's　door　the　day　after　the　crime。　　The　certainty　that　the　murderer
had　assisted　at　the　investigation；　that　he　was　still；　doubtless；　living
in　the　village；　possessed　all　minds　and　seemed　to　brood　over　the
neighborhood　like　a　constant　menace。

The　wood　had　also　become　a　dreaded　spot；　a　place　to　be　avoided　and
supposed　to　be　haunted。

Formerly　the　inhabitants　went　there　to　spend　every　Sunday　afternoon。
They　used　to　sit　down　on　the　moss　at　the　feet　of　the　huge　tall　trees　or
walk　along　the　water's　edge　watching　the　trout　gliding　among　the　weeds。
The　boy's　used　to　play　bowls；　hide…and…seek　and　other　games　where　the
ground　had　been　cleared　and　levelled；　and　the　girls；　in　rows　of　four　or
five；　would　trip　along；　holding　one　another　by　the　arms　and　screaming
songs　with　their　shrill　voices。　　Now　nobody　ventured　there　for　fear　of
finding　some　corpse　lying　on　the　ground。

Autumn　arrived；　the　leaves　began　to　fall　from　the　tall　trees；　whirling
round　and　round　to　the　ground；　and　the　sky　could　be　seen　through　the　bare
branches。　　Sometimes；　when　a　gust　of　wind　swept　over　the　tree　tops；　the
slow；　continuous　rain　suddenly　grew　heavier　and　became　a　rough　storm　that
covered　the　moss　with　a　thick　yellow　carpet　that　made　a　kind　of　creaking
sound　beneath　one's　feet。

And　the　sound　of　the　falling　leaves　seemed　like　a　wail　and　the　leaves
themselves　like　tears　shed　by　these　great；　sorrowful　trees；　that　wept　in
the　silence　of　the　bare　and　empty　wood；　this　dreaded　and　deserted　wood
where　wandered　lonely　the　soul；　the　little　soul　of　little　Louise　Roque。

The　Brindille；　swollen　by　the　storms；　rushed　on　more　quickly；　yellow　and
angry；　between　its　dry　banks；　bordered　by　two　thin；　bare；　willow　hedges。

And　here　was　Renardet　suddenly　resuming　his　walks　under　the　trees。　　Every
day；　at　sunset；　he　came　out　of　his　house；　descended　the　front　steps
slowly　and　entered　the　wood　in　a　dreamy　fashion；　with　his　hands　in　his
pockets；　and　paced　over　the　damp　soft　moss；　while　a　legion　of　rooks　from
all　the　neighboring　haunts　came　thither　to　rest　in　the　tall　trees　and
then　flew　off　like　a　black　cloud　uttering　loud；　discordant　cries。

Night　came　on；　and　Renardet　was　still　strolling　slowly　under　the　trees；
then；　when　the　darkness　prevented　him　from　walking　any　longer；　he　would
go　back　to　the　house　and　sink　into　his　armchair　in　front　of　the　glowing
hearth；　stretching　his　damp　feet　toward　the　fire。

One　morning　an　important　bit　of　news　was　circulated　through　the　district；
the　mayor　was　having　his　wood　cut　down。

Twenty　woodcutters　were　already　at　work。　　They　had　commenced　at　the
corner　nearest　to　the　house　and　worked　rapidly　in　the　master's　presence。

And　each　day　the　wood　grew　thinner；　losing　its　trees；　which　fell　down　one
by　one；　as　an　army　loses　its　soldiers。

Renardet　no　longer　walked　up；　and　down。　　He　remained　from　morning　till
night；　contemplating；　motionless；　with　his　hands　behind　his　back；　the
slow　destruction　of　his　wood。　　When　a　tree　fell　he　placed　his　foot　on　it
as　if　it　were　a　corpse。　　Then　he　raised　his　eyes　to　the　next　with　a　kind
of　secret；　calm　impatience；　as　if　he　expected；　hoped　for　something　at　the
end　of　this　slaughter。

Meanwhile　they　were　approaching　the　place　where　little　Louise　Roque　had
been　found。　　They　came　to　it　one　evening　in　the　twilight。

As　it　was　dark；　the　sky　being　overcast；　the　woodcutters　wanted　to　stop
their　work；　putting　off　till　next　day　the　fall　of　an　enormous　beech　tree；
but　the　mayor　objected　to　this　and　insisted　that　they　should　at　once　lop
and　cut　down　this　giant；　which　had　sheltered　the　crime。

When　the　lopper　had　laid　it　bare　and　the　woodcutters　had　sapped　its　base；
five　men　commenced　hauling　at　the　rope　attached　to　the　top。

The　tree　resisted；　its　powerful　trunk；　although　notched　to　the　centre；
was　as　rigid　as　iron。　　The　workmen；　all　together；　with　a　sort　of
simultaneous　motion；'　strained　at　the　rope；　bending　backward　and　uttering
a　cry　which　timed　and　regulated　their　efforts。

Two　woodcutters　standing　close　to　the　giant　remained　with　axes　in　their
grip；　like　two　executioners　ready　to　strike　once　more；　and　Renardet；
motionless；　with　his　hand　on　the　trunk；　awaited　the　fall　with　an　uneasy；
nervous　feeling。

One　of　the　men　said　to　him：

〃You　are　too　near；　Monsieur　le　Maire。　　When　it　falls　it　may　hurt　you。〃

He　did　not　reply　and　did　not　move　away。　　He　seemed　ready　to　catch　the
beech　tree　in　his　open　arms　and　to　cast　it　on　the　ground　like　a　wrestler。

All　at　once；　at　the　base　of　the　tall　column　of　wood　there　was　a　rent
which　seemed　to　run　to　the　top；　like　a　painful　shock；　it　bent　slightly；
ready　to　fall；　but　still　resisting。　　The　men；　in　a　state　of　excitement；
stiffened　their　arms；　renewed　their　efforts　with　greater　vigor；　and；　just
as　the　tree　came　crashing　down；　Renardet　suddenly　made　a　forward　step；
then　stopped；　his　shoulders　raised　to　receive　the　irresistible　shock；　the
mortal　shock　which　would　crush　him　to　the　earth。

But　the　beech　tree；　having　deviated　a　little；　only　rubbed　against　his
loins；　throwing　him　on　his　face；　five　metres　away。

The　workmen　dashed　forward　to　lift　him　up。　　He　had　already　arisen　to　his
knees；　stupefied；　with　bewildered　eyes　and　passing　his　hand　across　his
forehead；　as　if　he　were　awaking　from　an　attack　of　madness。

When　he　had　got　to　his　feet　once　more　the　men；　astonished；　questioned
him；　not　being　able　to　understand　what　he　had　done。　　He　replied　in
faltering　tones　that　he　had　been　dazed　for　a　moment；　or；　rather；　he　had
been　thinking　of　his　childhood　days；　that　he　thought　he　would　have　time
to　run　under　the　tree；　just　as　street　boys　rush　in　front　of　vehicles
driving　rapidly　past；　that　he　had　played　at　danger；　that　for　the　past
eight　days　he　felt　this　desire　growing　stronger　within　him；　asking
himself　each　time　a　tree　began　to　fall　whether　he　could　pass　beneath　it
without　being　touched。　　It　was　a　piece　of　stupidity；　he　confessed；　but
every　one　has　these　moments　of　insanity　and　these　temptations　to　boyish
folly。

He　made　this　explanation　in　a　slow　tone；　searching　for　his　words；　and
speaking　in　a　colorless　tone。

Then　he　went　off；　saying：

〃Till　to…morrow；　my　friends…till　to…morrow。〃

As　soon　as　he　got　back　to　his　room　he　sat　down　at　his　table　which　his
lamp　lighted　up　brightly；　and；　burying　his　head　in　his　hands；　he　began　to
cry。

He　remained　thus　for　a　long　time；　then　wiped　his　eyes；　raised　his　head
and　looked　at　the　clock。　　It　was　not　yet　six　o'clock。

He　thought：

〃I　have　time　before　dinner。〃

And　he　went　to　the　door　and　locked　it。　　He　then　came　back；　and；　sitting
down　at　his　table；　pulled　out　the　middle　drawer。　　Taking　from　it　a
revolver；　he　laid　it　down　on　his　papers　in　full　view。　　The　barrel　of　the
firearm　glittered；　giving　out　gleams　of　light。

Renardet　gazed　at　it　for　some　time　with　the　uneasy　glance　of　a　drunken
man。　　Then　he　rose　and　began　to　pace　up　and　down　the　room。

He　walked　from　one　end　of　the　apartment　to　the　other；　stopping　from　time
to　time；　only　to　pace　up　and　down　again　a　moment　afterward。　　Suddenly　he
opened　the　door　of　his　dressing…room；　steeped　a　towel　in　the　water
pitcher　and　moistened　his　forehead；　as　he　had　done　on　the　morning　of　the
crime。

Then　he；　began　walking　up　and　down　again。　　Each　time　he　passed　the　table
the　gleaming　revolver　attracted　his　glance；　tempted　his　hand；　but　he　kept
watching　the　clock　and　reflected：

〃I　have　still　time。〃

It　struck　half…past　six。　　Then　he　took　up　the　revolver；　opened　　his　mouth
wide　with　a　frightful　grimace　and　stuck　the　barrel　into　it　as　if　he
wanted　to　swallow　it。　　He　remained　in　this　position　for　some　seconds
without　moving；　his　finger　on　the　trigger。　　Then；　suddenly　seized　with　a
shudder　of　horror；　he　dropped　the　pistol　on　the　carpet。

He　fell　back　on　his　armchair；　sobbing：

〃I　cannot。　　I　dare　not！　　My　God！　my　God！　　How　can　I　have　the　courage　to
kill　myself？'〃

There　was　a　knock　at　the　door。　　He　rose　up；　bewildered。　　A　servant　said：

〃Monsieur's　dinner　is　ready。〃

He　replied：

〃All　right。　　I'm　coming　down。〃

Then　he　picked　up　the　revolver；　locked　it　up　again　in　the　drawer　and
looked　at　himself　in　the　mirror　over　the　mantelpiece　to　see　whether　his
face　did　not　look　too　much　troubled。　　It　was　as　red　as　usual；　a　little
redder　perhaps。　　That　was　all。　　He　went　down　and　seated　himself　at　table。

He　ate　slowly；　like　a　man　who　wants　to　prolong　the　meal；　who　does　not
want　to　be　al