Ange Pitou by Alexandre Dumas part one

Once installed at his aunt’s, and while the latter was ruminating as to the mode she should adopt whereby to make the most of her dear nephew, Pitou, who once more found himself in his forest, or very near to it, had already made his topographical observations in order to lead the same life at Villers-Cotterêts as at Haramont.

In fact, he had made a circuit of the neighborhood, in which he had convinced himself that the best pools were those on the road to Dampleux, that to Compiègne and that to Vivières, and that the best district for game was that of the Wolf’s Heath.

Pitou, having made this survey, took all the necessary measures for pursuing his juvenile sport.

The thing most easy to be procured, as it did not require any outlay of capital, was bird-lime; the bark of the holly, brayed in a mortar and steeped in water, gave the lime; and as to the twigs to be limed, they were to be found by thousands on every birch-tree in the neighborhood. Pitou therefore manufactured, without saying a word to any one on the subject, a thousand of limed twigs and a pot of glue of the first quality; and one fine morning, after having the previous evening taken on his aunt’s account at the baker’s a four-pound loaf, he set off at daybreak, remained out the whole day, and returned home when the evening had closed in.

Pitou had not formed such a resolution without duly calculating the effect it would produce. He had foreseen a tempest. Without possessing the wisdom of Socrates, he knew the temper of his Aunt Angélique as well as the illustrious tutor of Alcibiades knew that of his wife Xantippe.

Pitou had not deceived himself in his foresight, but he thought he would be able to brave the storm by presenting to the old devotee the produce of his day’s sport; only he had not been able to foretell from what spot the thunder would be hurled at him.

The thunderbolt struck him immediately on entering the house.

Mademoiselle Angélique had ensconced herself behind the door, that she might not miss her nephew as he entered, so that at the very moment he ventured to put his foot into the room, he received a cuff upon the occiput, and in which, without further information, he at once recognized the withered hand of the old devotee.

Fortunately, Pitou’s head was a tolerably hard one, and although the blow had scarcely staggered him, he pretended, in order to mollify his aunt, whose anger had increased, from having hurt her fingers in striking with such violence, to fall, stumbling as he went, at the opposite end of the room; there, seated on the floor, and seeing that his aunt was returning to the assault, her distaff in her hand, he hastened to draw from his pocket the talisman on which he had relied to allay the storm, and obtain pardon for his flight. And this was two dozen of birds, among which were a dozen redbreasts and half-a-dozen thrushes.

Mademoiselle Angélique, perfectly astounded, opened her eyes widely, continuing to scold for form’s sake; but although still scolding, she took possession of her nephew’s sport, retreating three paces towards the lamp.

“What is all this?” she asked.

“You must see clearly enough, my dear little Aunt Angélique,” replied Pitou, “that they are birds.”

“Good to eat?” eagerly inquired the old maid, who, in her quality of devotee, was naturally a great eater.

“Good to eat!” reiterated Pitou; “well, that is singular. Redbreasts and thrushes good to eat! I believe they are, indeed!”

“And where did you steal these birds, you little wretch?”

“I did not steal them; I caught them.”

“Caught them! how?”

“By lime-twigging them.”

“Lime-twigging,—what do you mean by that?”

Pitou looked at his aunt with an air of astonishment; he could not comprehend that the education of any person in existence could have been so neglected as not to know the meaning of lime-twigging.

“Lime-twigging?” said he; “why, zounds! ’tis lime-twigging.”

“Yes; but, saucy fellow, I do not understand what you mean by lime-twigging.”

As Pitou was full of compassion for the uninitiated, “Well, you see, Aunt,” said he, “in the forest here there are at least thirty small pools; you place the lime twigs around them, and when the birds go to drink there, as they do not—poor silly things!—know anything about them, they run their heads into them and are caught.”

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