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By Root 1386 0

whose white coastline could be seen on a clear day. But it wasn't easy. He'd have to build a raft. Because several prisoners had already escaped that way, all the trees on the island had been chopped down so there would be no wood available. The island was so stripped and bare, so scorched by the broiling sun, that life on it had become even more dangerous and unbearable than before. That was when the man and two companions got the idea to use the tree trunks from which their huts were built. One night they put to sea on two rotting beams held together by dry branches. The wind carried them toward the coast. But as day was breaking the raft struck a sandbar with such violence that the two tree trunks broke away and were carried off by the waves. The three poor men were nearly swallowed up by the sand. Two were stuck up to their waists, and one up to his chin. The other two had to pull him out. At last they reached a boulder barely big enough for the three to sit on.

“When the sun came up, they could see the coast, a row of gray cliffs reaching to the horizon. Two of them, knowing how to swim, decided to go to the cliffs. It was better to drown quickly than starve to death slowly on a rock. They promised the third they would come back for him, when they reached the shore and could find a boat.”

“Oh, I've got it!” shouted little Pauline, clapping her hands happily. “Now comes the story of the man who was eaten by the wild animals!”

“They managed to reach the coast,” Florent continued. “But it was deserted, and it took them four full days to find a boat. When they got back to the rock, they found their companion lying on his back, his hands and feet eaten away, his face gnawed up, and his stomach full of a swarm of crabs that shook the skin along his sides, making it look as though a death rattle still shuddered the half-eaten corpse.”

A moan of revulsion slipped from Lisa and Augustine. Léon was preparing the casings for the blood sausage. Quenu stopped his work and looked at Augustine, who seemed overtaken by a bout of nausea. Only Pauline was laughing. The image of the belly crawling with crabs seemed to have strangely appeared in the middle of the kitchen, mixing its dubious odors with the perfume of lard and onions.

“Can I have the blood?” shouted Quenu, who was not paying attention to the story. Auguste brought the two jugs and slowly poured the blood into the skillet in thin red streams, while Quenu frantically stirred the thickening liquid in the pan. Once the jugs were emptied, Quenu reached up to one of the drawers above the stove and took some pinches of spice. He seasoned especially abundantly with pepper.

“They left him there, right?” asked Lisa. “And got back safely?”

“As they were going back,” Florent answered, “the wind shifted and they were blown out to sea. A wave carried off one of their oars, and they took on water so rapidly with each gust of wind that they were completely occupied with trying to bail out with their hands. They rolled around, carried off by the squall and then driven back by the tide, without anything to eat, having used up their meager provisions. It continued like that for three days.”

“Three days!” exclaimed the stupified Lisa. “Three days without eating anything!”

“Yes, three days without any food. When the east wind finally washed them to shore, one of them was so weak he remained on the beach all morning. He died that evening. His companion had tried in vain to feed him leaves from trees.”

At that point Augustine let out a little chuckle, but then, embarrassed and not wishing to appear heartless, she stammered, “No, no. I wasn't laughing about that. It was Mouton … Look at Mouton, Madame.”

Lisa too began to smile. Mouton, who had remained with his nose by the sausage meat, had probably decided all that meat was too much and had gotten up and was clawing the table with his paw as though trying to bury the platter, the way cats try to bury their mess. Then he turned away from the platter and lay on his side, stretching himself out, half closing his eyes, and rubbing his head