The Companions of Jehu, Alexandre Dumas [romance book recommendations TXT] 📗

The hunt was over, darkness was falling, and it was now a question of returning to the château. The horses were nearby; they could hear them neighing impatiently. They seemed to be asking if their courage was so doubted that they were not allowed to share in the exciting drama.

Edouard was bent upon dragging the boar after them, fastening it to the saddle-bow, and so carrying it back to the château; but Roland pointed out that it was simpler to send a couple of men for it with a barrow. Sir John being of the same opinion, Edouard—who never ceased pointing to the wound in the head, and saying, “That’s my shot; that’s where I aimed”—Edouard, we say, was forced to yield to the majority. The three hunters soon reached the spot where their horses were tethered, mounted, and in less than ten minutes were at the Château des Noires-Fontaines.

Madame de Montrevel was watching for them on the portico. The poor mother had waited there nearly an hour, trembling lest an accident had befallen one or the other of her sons. The moment Edouard espied her he put his pony to a gallop, shouting from the gate: “Mother, mother! We killed a boar as big as a donkey. I shot him in the head; you’ll see the hole my ball, made; Roland stuck his hunting knife into the boar’s belly up to the hilt, and Sir John fired at him twice. Quick, quick! Send the men for the carcass. Don’t be frightened when you see Roland. He’s all covered with blood—but it’s from the boar, and he hasn’t a scratch.”

This was delivered with Edouard’s accustomed volubility while Madame de Montrevel was crossing the clearing between the portico and the road to open the gate. She intended to take Edouard in her arms, but he jumped from his saddle and flung himself upon her neck. Roland and Sir John came up just then, and Amélie appeared on the portico at the same instant.

Edouard left his mother to worry over Roland, who, covered as he was with blood, looked very terrifying, and rushed to his sister with the tale he had rattled off to his mother. Amélie listened in an abstracted manner that probably hurt Edouard’s vanity, for he dashed off to the kitchen to describe the affair to Michel, who was certain to listen to him.

Michel was indeed interested; but when, after telling him where the carcass lay, Edouard gave him Roland’s order to send a couple of men after the beast, he shook his head.

“What!” demanded Edouard, “are you going to refuse to obey my brother?”

“Heaven forbid! Master Edouard. Jacques shall start this instant for Montagnac.”

“Are you afraid he won’t find any body?”

“Goodness, no; he could get a dozen. But the trouble is the time of night. You say the boar lies close to the pavilion of the Chartreuse?”

“Not twenty yards from it.”

“I’d rather it was three miles,” replied Michel scratching his head; “but never mind. I’ll send for them anyway without telling them what they’re wanted for. Once here, it’s for your brother to make them go.”

“Good! Good! Only get them here and I’ll see to that myself.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Michel, “if I hadn’t this beastly sprain I’d go myself. But to-day’s doings have made it worse. Jacques! Jacques!”

Jacques came, and Edouard not only waited to hear the order given, but until he had started. Then he ran upstairs to do what Roland and Sir John were already doing, that is, dress for dinner.

The whole talk at table, as may be easily imagined, centred upon the day’s prowess. Edouard asked nothing better than to talk about it, and Sir John, astounded by Roland’s skill, courage, and good luck, improved upon the child’s narrative. Madame de Montrevel shuddered at each detail, and yet she made them repeat it twenty times. That which seemed most clear to her in all this was that Roland had saved Edouard’s life.

“Did you thank him for it?” she asked the boy. “Thank whom?”

“Your brother.”

“Why should I thank him?” retorted Edouard. “I should have done the same thing.”

“Ah, madame, what can you expect!” said Sir John; “you are a gazelle who has unwittingly given birth to a race of lions.”

Amélie had also paid the closest attention to the account, especially when the hunters spoke of their proximity to the Chartreuse. From that time on she listened with anxious eyes, and seemed scarcely to breathe, until they told of leaving the woods after the killing.

After dinner, word was brought that Jacques had returned with two peasants from Montagnac. They wanted exact directions as to where the hunters had left the animal. Roland rose, intending to go to them, but Madame de Montrevel, who could never see enough of her son, turned to the messenger and said: “Bring these worthy men in here. It is not necessary to disturb M. Roland for that.”

Five minutes later the two peasants entered, twirling their hats in their hands.

“My sons,” said Roland, “I want you to fetch the boar we killed in the forest of Seillon.”

“That can be done,” said one of the peasants, consulting his companion with a look.

“Yes, it can be done,” answered the other.

“Don’t be alarmed,” said Roland. “You shall lose nothing by your trouble.”

“Oh! we’re not,” interrupted one of the peasants. “We know you, Monsieur