The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1892-03-03
THE GRAY WOLF.

the Old Marquis OArVlile aICer d1nnef
at the house of the Baron des RaYels,
Eaint-Hubert.
We had started stag during the day.
The marquis was the only one of the
guests who had not taken part in the
pursuit. He never INDUCED in the chase.
During the entire time of the repast we
had talked of little else than the massa-
ere of animals. Even the women inter-
ested themselves in the sanguinary and
often incredible tales, and the speakers
mi1nicked the attacks and the combats
between men and beasts, testiculating
with their arms and conversing in ex-
cited tones.
NJ. d'Arville spoke well, with a GER
tain air of poetry, a trifle sonorous, but
full of effect. He had often repeated
this history, therefore he spoke fiuently,
not hesitating to find choice words in
which to depict his images.
'.Messieurs," he said, 81 have never
hunted, nor did my father, my grand
father or my great-grandfather. This
last was the son of a man who hunted
more than all of you. He died in 1854.
will tell you how.
"He was named Jean, was married
and was the father of this child, who
was my great-grandfather and he lived
with his younger brother, Francois
d'Arville, in our chateau in the midst of
a forest in Lorraine. Francois d'Ar-
vile had remained bachelor through
love of the chase. These two hunted
from one years end to the other, with
out repose, without stop, without lassi-
tude. They loved nothing else, under
stood nothing else, talked Of nothing
else, lived for nothing else than the
chase. This terrible, memorable passion
possessed them to the heart, had invaded
them entirely, leaving no place for any
thing else.
'sThey had prohibited any one from
interrupting them during the chase
for any purpose whatever. My great
grandfather was born while his father
was following fox, and Jean d'Arville
instead of interrupting the run, swore
In the name of the saints, the rascal
might better have waited until after the
hunt
Ellis brother Francois was even more
carried away by this passion than him
self. From the time he arose in the
morning he went to see the dogs, then
the horses, then the shot birds in the i'm
mediate vicinity of the chateau, up to the
time of leaving to start some larger
game. They were known throughout
the neighboring country as M. lie Mar
ouis and M. lie Cadet, the mobiles of that
day not endeavoring like those of our
own time to establish descending HER
archy in titles; because the son of a mar
quis is no more count, nor the son of
viscount a baron than the son of a gen.
eral is a colonel by birth; but the shah
by vanity Of our day finds profit in this
arrangement. l return to my ancestors.
"They were, it appears, huge, long,
hairy, violent and vigorous. The young
or, even taller than the elder, had a
voice SO strong that, according to a
legend of which he was the hero, all the
leaves Of the forest trembled when he
shouted. And when they leaped into
the saddle to depart for the chase it was
superb spectacle to see these two
giants bestriding their great horses.
'Now, toward the depth of the win
ter Of this year, 1894, the cold was exces-
sive and the wolves became ferocious.
They attacked the belated country peo-
pie, wandered around the houses at
night, bowling from the setting to the
rising of the sun, and depopulating the
stables.
''And soon a weird rumor circulated.
They talked of colossal wolf, with
gray hair, almost white, who had eaten
two children, devoured womans arm,
strangled all the watchdogs of the
country, and who penetrated without
fear into the Enclosures to snif under
the doors. All the inhabitants declared
that they had heard his shuttle, and that
it had made the flames of the lamps
flicker. And soon panic ran through
all the province Nobody dared go out
after nightfall. The darkness seemed
to be haunted by images of the beast.
s'The d'Arville brothers resolved to
find this animal and kill it, and they &C
cordingly summoned all the gentlemen
of the country to grand chase. It was
in vain. They hunted the forest over
and searched the thickets, but did not
encounter it. They killed plenty of
wolves, but not this one. And each
night, after the chase, the animal, as
though to avenge itself, attacked some
traveller or devoured some cattle, always
far from the place where they had been
searching for it. At last one night it
penetrated the pig stable of the Chateau
d'Arville and ate the two finest porkers.
The two brothers were infamed with
anger, considering this attack as bra
vado from the monster, direct injury, a
defiance. They took all their strong
bloodhounds, accustomed to the pursuit
of redoubtable beasts, and entered the
chase, their hearts provoked to fury.
"From dawn until the hour when the
purple sun descended behind the great,
bare trees, they beat the thickets with
out finding anything. Finally, both
furious and dcsolate, and astonished that
all their skill had been baf1ied by this
wolf, they were walking their horses
along a path bordered by bushes, when
they were suddenly seized by u sort of