Part 19 (1/2)

”_Tirez_! _Tirez_!” and he lifted the gun, an old-fas.h.i.+oned, single-barrelled piece, aimed and fired.

Then followed a horrid scene. The big shot with which he had loaded, mortally wounded but did not kill the fox, that with its forepaws broken, rolled, and bit, and made dreadful noises in its agony, its beautiful fur all stained with blood. G.o.dfrey did not know what to do; it was too big and strong to kill with Juliette's little stick, so he tried to batter it to death with the stock of the gun, but without success, and at last withdrew, looking at it horrified.

”What shall I do?” he asked faintly of Juliette.

”Load the gun and shoot it again,” replied that practical young woman.

So with some mistakes, for the emergency made him nervous, such as the dropping of the cap among the pine needles, he obeyed. At last the poor beast lay dead, a very disagreeable spectacle, with the cur-dog that had arrived, biting joyously at its quivering form.

G.o.dfrey put down the gun and retired behind a tree, whence presently he emerged, looking very pale, for to tell the truth, he had been ill.

”I do not think I like shooting foxes,” he said.

”How strange you are,” answered Juliette. ”Quite unlike other men. Now my Cousin Jules, there is nothing that he loves better. Go now and cut off his tail, to hang upon the wall. It is beautiful.”

”I can't,” said G.o.dfrey still more faintly.

”Then give me the knife, for I can.”

And she did!

Had Madame but known it, that fox did not die unavenged upon her family, for with it departed from the world all hopes of the alliance which she desired so earnestly.

CHAPTER X

G.o.dFREY BECOMES A HERO

The truth is that G.o.dfrey was no true sportsman, really he did not enjoy exterminating other and kindred life to promote his own amus.e.m.e.nt. Like most young men, he was delighted if he made a good shot; moreover, he had some apt.i.tude for shooting, but unlike most young men, to him afterwards came reflections. Who gave him the right to kill creatures as sentient, and much more beautiful in their way then himself, just because it was ”great fun”? Of course, he was familiar with the common answer, that day by day his body was nourished upon the flesh of other animals destroyed for that purpose. But then this was a matter of necessity, so arranged by a law, that personally, he thought dreadful, but over which he had no manner of control. It was part of the h.e.l.lish system of a world built upon the foundation stone of death.

Nature told him that he must live, and that to live, not being a vegetarian, which for most of us is difficult in a cold climate, he must kill, or allow others to kill for him. But to his fancy, perhaps meticulous, between such needful slaughter and that carried out for his own amus.e.m.e.nt, and not really for the purposes of obtaining food, there seemed to be a great gulf fixed. To get food he would have killed anything, and indeed, often did in later days, as he would and also often did in after days, have destroyed noxious animals, such as tigers.

But to inflict death merely to show his own skill or to gratify man's innate pa.s.sion for hunting, which descends to him from a more primitive period, well, that was another matter. It is true, that he was not logical, since always he remained an ardent fisherman, partly because he had convinced himself from various observations, that fish feel very little, and partly for the reason that there is high authority for fis.h.i.+ng, although, be it admitted, with a single exception, always in connection with the obtaining of needful food.

In these conclusions G.o.dfrey was strengthened by two circ.u.mstances; first, his reading, especially of Buddhistic literature, that enjoins them so strongly, and in which he found a great deal to admire, and secondly, by the entire concurrence of the Pasteur Boiset, whom he admired even more than he did Buddhistic literature.

”I am delighted, my young friend,” said the Pasteur, beaming at him through the blue spectacles, ”to find someone who agrees with me.

Personally, although you might not believe it, I love the chase with ardour; when I was young I have shot as many as twenty-five--no--twenty-seven blackbirds and thrushes in one day, to say nothing of thirty-one larks, and some other small game. Also, once I wounded a chamois, which a bold hunter with me killed. It was a glorious moment. But now, for the reasons that you mention, I have given up all this sport, which formerly to me was so great an excitement and relaxation. Yet I admit that I still fish. Only last year I caught a large hatful of perch and dace, of which I persuaded Madame to cook some that Juliette would not eat and gave to the cat.

Once, too, there was a big trout in the Lake Lucerne. He broke my line, but, my boy, we will go to fish for that trout. No doubt he is still there, for though I was then young, these fishy creatures live for many years, and to catch him would be a glory.”

After G.o.dfrey had given up his fox-shooting, not because in itself is a terrible crime, like fis.h.i.+ng for salmon with herring roe, but for reasons which most of his countrymen would consider effeminate and absurd, he took to making expeditions, still in company with Juliette, for Madame stretched Continental conventions in his case, in search of certain rare flowers which grew upon the lower slopes of these Alps. In connection with one of these flowers an incident occurred, rather absurd in itself, but which was not without effect upon his fortunes.

The search for a certain floral treasure was long and arduous.

”If only I could find that lovely white bloom,” exclaimed Juliette in exasperation at the close of a weary hour of climbing, ”why, I would kiss it.”

”So would I,” said G.o.dfrey, mopping himself with a pocket handkerchief, for the sun was hot, ”and with pleasure.”

”Hidden flower,” invoked Juliette with appropriate heroic gestures, ”white, secret, maiden flower, hear us! Discover thyself, O shrinking flower, and thou shalt be kissed by the one that first finds thee.”