THE RED DRAGON

"I understand it that way."

"Very well. Now, as it is late and I have much to tell you, go to sleep peacefully. Tomorrow at nightfall, you will come to find me on the mountain and I will teach you what you must do."

Simounen set off again and Claude returned to the farm, his heart heavy and deeply moved by the audacious undertaking he was about to attempt.

The following day, after supper, while the boys and girls of the farm resumed their evening gathering, still animated by cheerful conversation or rustic songs, Claude slipped away unnoticed and made for Simounen's hut at a run.

The old man was waiting for him, seated before a small table and reading, by the light of a tallow candle, a filthy, half-torn book.

The interior of the hut corresponded perfectly to the character that public opinion attributed to the shepherd.

On the whitewashed walls were nailed birds of prey and bats, and mixed in a strange disorder were old weapons, iron-tipped hazel wands original: "baguettes de coudrier", branches of dried mistletoe, and two or three small copper cauldrons. From the ceiling hung a stuffed iguana—a sort of large lizard with a terrible appearance—and a serpent whose open mouth still allowed a fine tongue, dried by time and pointed like a sting, to protrude.

On roughly squared wooden benches, aromatic plants were drying. Other plants were macerating in a tub placed near the table, and vials of various shapes were lined up on the mantelpiece, next to a few dusty volumes.