That Devil's Madness

That Devil's Madness Read Free

Book: That Devil's Madness Read Free
Author: Dominique Wilson
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mussel shells out of the way so as not to miss a drop. He’d hesitated at first when the steaming bowl of mussels had been place in front of him, as he’d never eaten – never even seen – shellfish before, but the aroma of white wine, tomatoes and olive oil had soon allayed any doubts. When no more could be sopped up he sat back, a satisfied grin on his face.
    Marius took his pipe out of his pocket and lit it. He looked at his son and nodded. The boy will be all right , he thought. He’s proven himself on this journey. Never complained.
    â€˜So, Louis. Not missing Sablières?’
    â€˜I’ll never miss it.’
    â€˜Never?’
    â€˜Never. I hate that village.’
    â€˜Hate? But you never said. Never.’ Louis shrugged. ‘What did you hate?’
    â€˜Everything. The village, the way nothing ever changes. The way everybody works nonstop, yet still starves. I used to look at Gustave’s postcards sometimes, and wish I could see those places… How I envied Jean living in Nîmes! At least he’s free of Sablières. I wanted to be free too.’
    â€˜But you never said…’
    â€˜There was nothing I could do. I knew I’d have to wait till I was old enough to leave.’
    â€˜But—’
    â€˜Ah, freedom – it’s not always what you think it is, young man.’
    Louis turned to the man at the next table who’d just spoken those words.
    â€˜Monsieur?’
    â€˜Freedom. I said it’s not always what you imagine.’ The man puffed on his pipe before continuing. ‘Think of Monsieur Seguin’s goat. She wanted freedom, and look what happened to her…’
    â€˜I don’t understand.’
    â€˜Monsieur Seguin’s goat. You don’t know the story?’
    Louis shook his head.
    â€˜May I?’ the man asked Marius, indicating the vacant chair at their table with his pipe. Marius nodded. ‘A man called Daudet – Alphonse Daudet – wrote the story, about twenty… no, thirty years ago. But it’s as true today as it ever was. Shall I go on, young man?’
    Louis nodded.
    â€˜Well, Monsieur Seguin was a man who loved goats, but he never had any luck with them.’ He reached across to his table for the bottle of wine, along with his glass. ‘Monsieur?’ he asked Marius, indicating the wine. Marius nodded.
    He poured a glass for Marius and himself, and a small amount for Louis, which he topped up with water.
    â€˜Anyway, like I said, he had no luck with his goats. No matter what he did, no matter how he treated them, they always ran away. Monsieur Seguin was so upset he decided to never keep a goat again.’
    The man took a sip of his wine and shook his head, as if Monsieur Seguin’s problem was his problem. Then, with a sigh, continued. ‘Of course, he did get another goat. Only this time he made sure it was a young one, so she’d grow up used to him. And what a goat it was! A beautiful little goat with soft brown eyes and a gentle manner. Her hooves were jet black, and so shiny you’d swear they’d been polished. Her coat was pure white – so long that it formed a houpelande around her, and she had beautiful twisted horns. He called her Blanchette. You like the wine, Monsieur?’
    â€˜Yes. Thank you. The goat?’
    â€˜Ah yes, the goat. Well, Monsieur Seguin wanted to keep this one, so he put her in his best paddock, where the clover grew sweet and abundant, and where there were big shade trees to keep her cool in the middle of the day. He tethered her, of course, but made the rope long so she could wander at will. And every day he would visit her and talk to her so she wouldn’t get lonely. And at first the little goat was happy – happy, that is, until she noticed the mountains not far away and wondered what it would be like, up there…
    I see you’re smiling, young man, but that’s how it all starts, this want

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