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Updated: June 18, 2025
Blaireau rose, turned his back to the fire and sat down between my legs, as if he thought that something strange and unexpected was going to happen. I then realized that this place was none other than my grandfather Tristan's bed-room, afterward occupied for several years by his eldest son, the detestable John, my cruelest oppressor, the most crafty and cowardly of the Hamstringers.
When, by dint of blowing the brand, the servant had filled the room with dense smoke, she went off to fetch some embers and left me alone. Marcasse had remained in the stable to attend to our horses. Blaireau had followed me; lying down by the hearth, he glanced at me from time to time with a dissatisfied air, as if to ask me the reason of such wretched lodging and such a poor fire.
Blaireau, here!" "I understand," I said, "Blaireau is dead, and you cannot accustom yourself to the idea that you will never see him at your heels again." "Dead!" he exclaimed, with an expression of horror. "No, thank God! Friend Patience, great friend! Blaireau quite well off, but sad like his master; his master alone!"
Trembling with old age and delight, he stretched out his pointed nose towards the long nose of his master; but his master did not respond with the customary "Down, Blaireau!" Marcasse had fainted. This loving soul, no more able than Blaireau to express itself in words, had sunk beneath the weight of his own happiness.
"If Blaireau is with Patience," said Arthur, "he is well off, as you say; for Patience wants nothing. Patience will love him because he loves his master, and you are certain to see your good friend and faithful dog again."
"What is the matter, Blaireau?" said Marcasse, stopping on the threshold and thrusting out the point of his sword, gloriously rusted by the blood of the rodent tribe. Blaireau did not stir, and if he had not been born dumb, as his master said, he would have barked. But he gave warning as usual by a sort of dry cough. This was his most emphatic sign of anger and uneasiness.
The blaireau only hesitated long enough to select one of the burrows into which he was sure a marmot had entered; and then, setting himself to his work, he commenced throwing out the mould like a terrier. In a few seconds he was half buried, and his hindquarters and tail alone remained above ground.
A desperate struggle ensued, which ended by the bloodhound doubling his vast black muzzle upon the throat of the blaireau, and choking him to death in less than a dozen seconds; and then his hide the only part which was deemed of any value was taken off and carried to the camp.
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