The postman still went on without giving any answer.
Renardet went on:
“I’ll make your fortune, you understand—whatever
you wish—fifty thousand francs—fifty
thousand francs for that letter! What does it
matter to you? You won’t? Well, a hundred
thousand—I say—a hundred thousand
francs. Do you understand? A hundred thousand
francs—a hundred thousand francs.”
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 toward his house, running
like a hunted animal.
Then, in his turn, Mederic stopped and watched his
flight with stupefaction. He saw the mayor reenter
his house, and he waited still, as if something astonishing
were about to happen.
In fact, presently the tall form of Renardet appeared
on the summit of the Fox’s tower. He ran
round the platform like a madman. Then he seized
the flagstaff and shook it furiously without succeeding
in breaking it; then, all of a sudden, like a diver,
with his two hands before him, he plunged into space.
Mederic rushed forward to his assistance. He
saw the woodcutters going to work and called out to
them, telling them an accident had occurred. At
the foot of the walls they found a bleeding body, its
head crushed on a rock. The Brindille surrounded
this rock, and over its clear, calm waters could be
seen a long red thread of mingled brains and blood.
There was not a breath of air stirring; a heavy mist
was lying over the river. It was like a layer
of cotton placed on the water. The banks themselves
were indistinct, hidden behind strange fogs. But
day was breaking and the hill was becoming visible.
In the dawning light of day the plaster houses began
to appear like white spots. Cocks were crowing
in the barnyard.
On the other side of the river, hidden behind the
fogs, just opposite Frette, a slight noise from time
to time broke the dead silence of the quiet morning.
At times it was an indistinct plashing, like the cautious
advance of a boat, then again a sharp noise like the
rattle of an oar and then the sound of something dropping
in the water. Then silence.
Sometimes whispered words, coming perhaps from a distance,
perhaps from quite near, pierced through these opaque
mists. They passed by like wild birds which have
slept in the rushes and which fly away at the first
light of day, crossing the mist and uttering a low
and timid sound which wakes their brothers along the
shores.
Suddenly along the bank, near the village, a barely
perceptible shadow appeared on the water. Then
it grew, became more distinct and, coming out of the
foggy curtain which hung over the river, a flatboat,
manned by two men, pushed up on the grass.
