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Updated: June 11, 2025
The postman turned back, his face hard, his eye severe: "Enough of this, or else I'll repeat to the magistrate everything you have just said to me." Renardet stopped abruptly. It was all over. He turned back and rushed towards his house, running like a hunted animal. Then, in his turn, Mederic stopped, and watched this flight with stupefaction.
The wood, which belonged to M. Renardet, the Mayor of Carvelin, and the largest landowner in the district, consisted of a number of huge old trees, straight as pillars, and extending for about half a league along the left-bank of the stream which served as a boundary for this immense arch of foliage.
At the right, behind the stables, the outhouses, all the buildings connected with the property, might be seen the village, which was wealthy, being mainly inhabited by rearers of oxen. Renardet slowly descended the steps in front of his house, and turning to the left, gained the water's edge, which he followed at a slow pace, his hand behind his back.
Renardet was still strolling slowly under the trees; then, when the thick darkness prevented him from walking any longer, he went back to the house, sank all of a heap into his armchair in front of the glowing hearth, stretching towards the fire his damp feet from which for some time under the flames vapor emanated.
When they saw the body they stopped, not daring to advance, and speaking low. Then they grew bolder, went on a few steps, stopped again, advanced once more, and presently formed around the dead girl, her mother, the doctor and Renardet a close circle, restless and noisy, which crowded forward at the sudden impact of newcomers. And now they touched the corpse.
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.
I'll give you a hundred francs, you understand a hundred francs!" The postman turned on his heel and started on his journey. Renardet followed him, out of breath, faltering: "Mederic, Mederic, listen! I'll give you a thousand francs, you understand a thousand francs." The postman still went on without giving any answer.
Feeling that he was lost, Renardet suddenly became humble, gentle, appealing to him like a whimpering child: "Look here, look here, my friend, give me back that letter and I'll recompense you I'll give you money. Stop! stop! I'll give you a hundred francs, you understand a hundred francs!" The postman turned on his heel and started on his journey.
Renardet reached the tall trees and began to walk over the moss where the Brindille produced a slight freshness of the air beneath the immense roof of branches. But he felt ill at ease. It seemed to him that an unknown, invisible hand was strangling him, and he scarcely thought of anything, having usually few ideas in his head.
But she did not show herself any more; she remained there behind the curtain which quivered tremulously now and then. And Renardet, his fingers clinging to the bedclothes, squeezed them as he had squeezed the throat of little Louise Roqué. He heard the clock striking the hours; and in the stillness the pendulum kept ticking in time with the loud beatings of his heart.
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