The old nobleman seemed a little surprised to learn that another poacher had been arrested; but the steward, who quivered with anger while I was speaking, made haste to tell his master that the young man was a marquis, and that he had thought that he ought not to detain him.
“A marquis,” said the nobleman, taking a pinch of snuff, “a marquis! The devil! that’s so—of course we could not have him beaten; so the peasant must pay for both.”
“That is what I thought, monseigneur.”
“And you did well; send away this boy, who was awkward enough to tread on Castor’s paw.”
The steward did not wait for the order to be repeated; he took me by the arm; and I went unresistingly, unable to understand why monseigneur had not been angry with the rascally servant. On the way, the steward gave me a number of blows, and as many kicks; that was the only reward which I received at the château.
I returned home in a frenzy of rage, revolving in my brain a thousand schemes of revenge. My father, who then realized to what excess my animosity might lead me, tried, but in vain, to pacify me.
The next morning, a message from the steward informed my father that he was no longer monseigneur’s game-keeper. That was a result of my action of the day before; he suspected as much, but did not reproach me. We left our cabin with no idea of what was to become of us. As for me, my father’s misfortune confirmed me in a plan which I had conceived and which I was eager to execute.
During the night, while my father slept at the foot of a tree, I stole away with a dark lantern and the gun which he always carried with him.
I hurried in the direction of monseigneur’s château. When I arrived there, I made piles of sticks, and set fire to the four corners of the château, taking pains, lest the fire should not burn quickly enough, to throw blazing brands on the roofs of all the buildings, with particular attention to the stables.
I soon had the pleasure of seeing that my revenge was complete; the fire caught in several places and spread rapidly to all the wings of the château. They sounded the tocsin, the villagers hastened to the spot, and several of them had the complaisance to throw themselves into the flames, to save a nobleman who took pleasure in having them beaten. Amid the confusion and the tumult, I made my way to the private apartments and found the steward trying to escape, with a little casket which he held against his breast. I took my stand in front of him and said, aiming my gun at him: