BLUE TALES OF MY MOTHER-GRAND

BLUE TALES OF MY MOTHER-GRAND, illustrated by Henry Morin.
TALES ROSES OF MY MOTHER-GRAND, illustrated by Maurice Lalau.
CHARLES ROBERT DUMAS
TALES MAUVES
MY MOTHER-GRAND

DRAWINGS OF MAURITIUS LALAU

OLD LIBRARY IN RNE

Boivin & Cie, PUBLISHERS
THE GIRL WITH WOLVES
O ^ l was once a little girl who was named Anemone. She had
little rich mine, poor child: hollow cheeks, lips bleached
ches, the figure drawn by grief; a small body of sickly: the
slender legs, two arms slender, narrow chest in shoulder
gaunt.

It was painful to see when she went to the river, round back, stiffened on its
calves, with all the strength of his loins his basketful of laundry.

But when depositing its burden for breath, she raised her head,
then we could see neither his gaunt cheeks, nor his pale lips, but only


4 TALES OF PURPLE. MY MOTHER-GRAND.

both clear and if eyes they seemed to fill his face. She was smiling
Heaven, a sad smile as tears, and remained there all lost, probes
giant that was in it Up There diaphanous angels that remained. she
as she imagined children but pink, plump, blond as she was brown,
with clouds clothes made while she was in tatters. They played
hide and seek in the azure; at night they slept, their wings folded wisely, having
crib down the clouds and night lights for the stars.

- Well, should I help you gaping at?

Great God, the voice of her wicked stepmother! Anemone, a painful
effort of its small arms, threw his sack on his back, and bâtait to the river.

Old said at the vigil that small-behaved children who were dying,
ascended to heaven and angels devenai nt. And Anemone, broken in two under his
linen package, muttering between his teeth pocket:

"My sweet Jesus, do me die quickly, that I will soon be an angel, and
I go back to my mom. "

For Anemone had no mom upon this earth. His was there, near
the good God loves the humble and called to him when he has pity on their misery.
It was therefore part to heaven, a winter evening, killed by work and cold,
Anemone leaving behind, all alone with his father who was a poor
woodcutter.

They had, both, of grief; but far less than men
children, since few months after he returned from the city, one evening, leading
by an unknown hand.

It was a very beautiful woman with gleaming eyes as velvet, with black hair,
decided to chin, but known throughout the neighborhood for his wickedness and
cantankerous character. Anemone who knew this was not going to learn much delay.

- This is your second mother, my darling, kiss her, said the man.

The fdlette prohibited, allowed himself to kiss his forehead, and then, bursting into tears, fled
like a fool.

When she was far, far away, she lay down on the grass, calling for his long cries
real mother, the one who was dead and in Heaven, "Mom, mom! "This the heard
Dait, Anemone was sure, but the good Lord probably would not
she descended, as it did not appear and she let her daughter go alone.

The face smudged by tears, dug by grief, went to bed early without
supper. She clasped her hands, began his prayer, but sleep came over her
the first words she fell asleep.

In dream she saw angels fluttering and the touching of their've! Es, blowing him
THE GIRL WITH WOLVES.

ear: "We have not two mothers, Anemone, it has only one! "And their voices
enchanted like distant music.

Angels had not deceived, she noticed upon awakening,
when the fist of his stepmother shook it:

- Come on, get up!

Anemone, head still full sound of his dream, sat up,
rubbed his eyelids, eyes widened ...

- And it does not drag, huh!

A new thump woke altogether. With one bound she left her bed of leaves
dry, threw a skirt on her hips and hastened to take a finger cauldron
brutal designated him

- Come on, shoo, to the river to fetch water! And do not muse on the road, otherwise
station!

Anemone went out after sliding a glance at the bed of his father, he was
empty, the woodcutter having left early. She felt a big saisisse-
is lying. "So while today, one who could defend it! She was
delivered at the pleasure of the woman. "

She was afraid.

While going towards the stream, she promised to be very sweet, very good,
very docile. "It will perhaps be satisfied," she thought; and remembering
the evil eye and the threatening gesture of the stranger, she trembled:
"My God, provided it does not beat me! "

It was, however, beaten, and upon his return from the stream, "she dawdled;
the pot was not rinsed; the water was muddy ... "These were the reproaches
first, then a pinch in the arm, two floats. Anemone wept.

- Wait, I'll teach you to whine, me!

She shook like a plum tree, pulled her hair, ears. The child,
terrified, fell on his knees, his little top arms crossed in front of his head
to ward off the blows, sobbing swore she would never cry, never.

She was so humble that stopped hitting; the day passed without news
correction.

But that work she had to do! Ecurer the | oêlons, pots, furbish the
rack, clean the hearth, removing ash, soot scratch the fireplace.
Towards evening, she had some respite: the woodcutter went home.

- Scoured up, shouted the shrew, that your father does not see you with this face
slut. And try not to have red eyes as if he notices your tears,
you'll pay for expensive tomorrow!

TALES PURPLE FOR MY MOTHER-GRAND.

Anemone obeyed trembling: she even found a smile to greet
his father. He came in, put down his ax in a corner, kissed his wife, then his
girl :

- Ah, ah, he said, that my heart glad to see you. This is a good thing,
after a hard day's work than to find at home the little faces fu-
Nantes. So we got along both, the mother and daughter?

He patted the cheeks of Anemone, confused ^, the big heart to burst, tears
eye rims, concealed behind her back her swollen handcuffs sore.
He was good man, a bit simple, loving certainly good daughter, but perhaps
more tranquility.

11 ate his soup and a good piece of bacon, then went to bed

He had not noticed, nor blush games of his child nor his swollen hands,
nor thy weariness, nor his poor air beaten animal when his in-law
the mother was sickly, staring stealthily his venomous eye on her.

Anemone, soon spread on his bed, fell asleep, but not without having given
his sentence to his dear mother up there near God.

"Mother dear, who art in Heaven, you see, I was very unhappy today, E!

THE GIRL WITH WOLVES. 7

also shots and so much work; well my hands hurt me, and my arms,
legs, my whole body. Still, I'm glad dad did not see anything, and he
to sleep happy, thinking that I get along with his wicked ugly
wife. My real mom, my single mom, it's you, I will never have in the other,
will, do not worry. And I promise never to complain to my dad, for
do not grieve nor make him have words with that which claims to replace you
right here. Since you are close to God, and that you see probably every day
ask him to take pity on your little Anemone, so it does not lack
courage. Do not forget above all, my sweet mom. "

His Gris-Gris cat coddled it every night did not have this time his ration
caresses. He came out flat belly below the old trunk where he had kept hidden
all day, maddened by the bustle that overwhelmed the house so quiet
ordinary. He approached, purring and snoring, passed, repassed lout throughout
the sleeper, said the big back, slammed her cheek with the tip of his cold nose, nibbling
his hair tenderly; Finally, seeing that they did not respond to his advances,
he went to bed in a ball, wisely, on the feet of his young mistress.

It was a brave animal, leggy, all gray hair, with big eyes
emerald and huge mustache that gave him a terrible look; but
is not the mustache that makes the cat, and Gris-Gris was good, I assure you,
the best cat batter that was on earth.

Mild, obedient, faithful, he was adored Anemone. She was the mother;
the latter had told him, a winter evening, returning from the forest where she had
found, meowing, skinny and shivering.

Both had grown up together. Six years of camaraderie united the six
years without a bite, without griffade six years of perfect understanding, legs
velvet, capers, purring and caresses.

This is qu'Anémone the pointed ear of his childhood friend confided that waved
his soul. She knew the secret, that way there, so fine that it intended to
running a cricket on the hearth. Which entered it came out not as Gris-Gris
was discreet. He listened gravely joys and sorrows, all his emerald eyes
large rounded, impassive, as if he did not understand; but he had
understand, because from time to time, when the child's breath was coming to the
tickle, he shook the ear impatiently, as if to say: "Needless to
talk to me so closely, dear little mistress, I hear you, go, do not worry. "

When she was crying - and it often did - he wiped his tears with small
muzzle shots, then snuggled against his chest as to keep him warm
in the heart.


8 MAUVES TALES OF MY MOTHER-GRAND.

When she laughed, he showed a mad gaiety, capered, tumbling, playing with
everything and anything, was the beautiful juggling a fly, a straw,
then disappearing while Sudan is then amused jumping legs of ane-
mone to cause her fears.

That was the good old life.

The day the foreign entered the house, it was over for both laughing. Undermine-
ceive the girl and the cat were an inseparable pair of friends and draw
to wickedness material was venomous heart for the work of a moment.
She forgave Anemone or hostility from the first day, nor worship it
vowed to his late mother. When she saw her pensive look lost, she said
asked:

- Well, what do you think, instead of working, blockhead?

- I think my mom died, replied the child with beautiful eyes
quiet, which put the hag out of her.

- Insolent! she grumbled, walking on the fillitte, the high hand.
A slap, scratch, kick paid his left.

But Anemone would actually chop p'utôt than deny the memory of the

dead.

The poor woman, in revenge, determined to make life difficult for Gris-Gris.
She could see them together, s; ins send a pat the cat bouler
Devil. When she swept, she shot him through the ribs a sly but strong
sweep. S'd slipped through the half-open door, quickly, she pushed the door
to try to crush him against the doorframe. Fortunately Gris-Gris, nimble
and suspicious, opened the eye. A jump in the flexibility out of this mess.

Once, however, he drew only by letting stuck in a door
big clump of hair: a second longer, and tail pa-known there, cut net!

11 turned clawed his tormentor legs, then with a meow
hoarse, disappeared.

"Deuce, he thought, lurking under the roof between two stacked thatch and licking
his wound, deuce, this beautiful woman so mean did she want in your skin?
Thus leaving more of your mistress tail length, gray-Gr s friend, and opens
the eye, because it is daunting to pursue you even on his lap. "

For his part, she thought:

"What I will only clip one day dirty cat, my friend, and thou shalt say to me
new! "

However, she did not dare openly to avenge him, because she knew Gris-
Gray in the good graces of the woodcutter, and he did not his views



THE GIRL WITH WOLVES.

displease her husband. For the latter, it
was all honey and sugar. When worried
sometimes drawn features, the thinness of ane-
mone:

- Hey, Louise, it did not
too good-looking, the little one? 11 am SEM
ble it will always ainai-
grissant?

- That's it grows too
fast, my friend, she explained.

He nodded and questions
tionnait no more. Left
At dawn every day, do encounter
illustrating at dusk, he ignored
his honeyed half rouait
strokes her child and killed
working.

This one, though succumbing
the penalty, preferred to suffer without
sounding word. What good is plain-
dre indeed? to im-
ner de disputes, tower
his crease
Father





b



The man, infatuated with his wife,
believed his words as gospel truth; thereof,
throwing outcry would allegedly slandered ...
Anemone and would have all the wrongs.
In truth, it was better to be silent.

The child soon perceived that there was disagreement between his death and his stepmother
cat; they bourraient bad eyes "Dirty beast, she scolded. Specific to
nothing ! "He, ruffled his hair, beat down his ears stuck out the back, out his
claws and swore: "Fûûîiû ... t! fuuuu ... t! ... fuuuu t ... ...! "So hard that her
m ustaches shook.

"^ Ela end; ra bad, sooner or auire "thought Anemone. And she showed
inquièle strong.



10



TALES PURPLE FOR MY MOTHER-GRAND.



Gris-Gris to steal the evil designs of the enemy, she took her
with her everywhere. Docile as a dog, he followed her to the fountain, to the stake,
in the forest and to the creek where, twice a week, she went to
washing machine in the house.

While the machine was washing, Gris-Gris ascending the stream, chose the
bank a place where he lay flat abdomen, moving his head above water.

He remained for hours on the lookout. Beware the young trout to reckless pole
the bleak fool who ventured near the edge. In a sudden dive
its paw, the cat you harpooned them. A reverse claw threw them, wriggling,
on the grass where he munched them with a greedy sound of jaws.

In the evening, Anemone was returning to the cottage, curving the spine under its hood
which dripped water; Gris-Gris followed on his heels, shaking her hair with an air
angry every time a drop fell on his back.

Now it happened that one morning the cat with heavy stomach from eating too much
mice slept under the chest. Anemone vain to call "Gris-Gris ...
twink darling ... come, my Gris-Gris! ... come ... quickly! "He did not hear, and
this is what made his misfortune. Very anxious, she left the house. " Perhaps,
me he will be accelerated, she thought, I'll find the way. "The thought
reassured. Under the cabinet, Gris-Gris continued his nap.

But now the sun that previously hid, darted suddenly between two
a cloud ray wreath. One of them entered the cottage, splashed
Pink geraniums in the window, beaten gold sprinkled the ground and came to flourish
in a silver powder puff on a gray tail end sticking out a little nothing
the lower chest. The shrew span, sitting near the window entr'omerte; this ray of
spicy light right in the room made him look up; she looked machinale-
lying ... and suddenly she saw dilated her heart. "Underneath! ... It's LA-
below! "She stammered, trembling with joy.

Immediately she found her revenge.

Rising no more noise than a specter, she approached stealthily
the fireplace mantel, bowed to the rack and picked up the cauldron
where water was boiling for the soup.

She lifted it and, on the fly, threw its contents in the direction of the sleeper.

The poor animal scalded, sprang from his hiding place, the hair fuming mad
pain. 11 swirled a moment, the bloody eyes in the steam, then,
a fantastic leap across the room and disappeared through the window, tearing
like a horrible cry.

Behind him, the hag grinned, rubbing his hands, delighted face.



THE GIRL WITH WOLVES.



1 1



Hours later, as Anemone Wood returned, she saw coming was
she a dismal beast: a poor peeled cat that was lying on her with difficulty
forelegs his stiff hindquarters. She was seized with pity: "To say that
Gris-Gris my day become old and infirm as Celtic unfortunate beast. "
She thought so, when the animal gave a soft, sad meow.

The child stopped short, white, turned the heart: "My God, it's him,
is Gris-Gris, Gris-Gris my! "She ran, took him in his arms thousand
Precautions: it was only a wound. He looked at his Maitress .: of his great good
emerald eyes now the hideous and swollen eyelids. " My poor
cat, my cat re pau! "

She brought him home; he was shaking with fever.

Along the way, she racked his head to understand what had been her
arrive. She thought everything * First to her stepmother, but his soul could not net
imagine such baseness. She made a reprocbe this suspicion: "What right,
on what evidence do you accuse this ugly woman? Would you become as bad
and unjust it? "His mind sought elsewhere, without finding.

The shrew, seeing her come in tears, pretended
compassion.

- How God possible? what do you
Tales me there? The Gris-Gris poor, I saw on the roof
there is not an hour, so gay and alive! I do not
not like, you know, it is a truth, but would not
the split heart to do well suffer a poor creature
of God?

The child was so touched that she stood on her feet
to pay the mercy of a kiss. As his lips
brushed the cheek of the woman she felt ugly Gris-
Grey stiffen in his arms. Although half-dead,
darted its claws, meowed rage and threw his
enemy such a look of hatred qu'Anémone recoiled.

His heart clenched. She understood all of a sudden, "surely
ment, this is it! Gris-Gris accused;
he knows himself. "

Red as a rooster, the flame "
eyes, she wanted to shout her contempt;
but emotion choked: she fled,
silent, clenched. t penny cat against her.




II



fi




Care of strength and tenderness, the girl saved her cat.

But what was this poor animal now! His hind legs
having remained paralyzed, he crawled, supporting himself with difficulty on
those in front, while its rear end hanging out as a
foulbrood. His hair once flexible money, now rough, dull,
fell: the unfortunate cat, crusty, scabby, mangy, was a pity ambulance
lante.

- It would be better ten. Once it was punctured, the poor martyr, said one evening
the woodcutter.

- You are right, my man, that's what I kill myself repeating the small;
it is cruelty let live such miserable.

But Anemone begged:

- Let me my Gris-Gris; let him live with pity. See, I treat the
good; he never complains. Look at his good eye, he wants to live to see me,
he loves me, that's my only friend. Dad, my dad, let him die here his
died poor, in our house, where my dear mother was herself brought. Dad,
you remember, it was that night, so happy to please me. I loved it
so. Gris-Gris, that's all I have left of her ...

- Well, that's good, say no more; keep it, finally said the father.
But the hatred of the Shrew watched. When she was alone with her husband:

- You been weak towards your daughter, her she reproached. this wench
has to whine, to do his will. His cat, his "erty
vre Gris-Gris "! ... And if it disgusts me, that filthy animal? If he raises me
heart? Hast thou only asked for my opinion? I just wanted to ask you to me
rid of that hideous beast; I do not want her here.



THE GIRL WITH WOLVES. i3

The embarrassed lumberjack nodded, not knowing what to say. she insisted
and eventually turn weep. A ia end he cried impatiently:

- Here are many stories and whining for an ugly beast whose
skin is not worth a brass farthing, as it is trimming. Zounds, not me tara-
bustez not longer, the one and the other. Arrange whole; made of this
cat wastelands and loaves, but for God, talk to me about it! I do not have
enough !



The next day, after the departure of woodcutter, stepmother told Anemone:

- I do not want your dirty chat here. Arrange yourself to make it disappear;
otherwise, it's me who'll take care.

The child was useless to cry, wringing his hands, begging, she could not bend
his stepmother, "I do not want it, she repeated stubbornly, I do not want it. "

Anemone rose desperate.

It was his wash day; she perched as habitule Gris-Gris on top
his hood, then walked away toward the river.

She fell his work, without laughing or singing, although bed a beautiful day
bathed in sunshine and birds brightened. At dusk, she took in her arms
the animal impotent and carried him to the foot of a large beech that stood not
far from the place where she used to wash.

Two large roots formed a hollow that the child garnished with dry leaves,
tapissa foam. When the bed was finished, she lay Grey, then AGE-
nouillant near him:

- My Gris-Gris, she said crying, he does not have to come back home
we read understand, my good cat. It's not because I do not like you either
because you are infirm and ugly. No, my dear beast, I love you more tenderly
ment than before, just because you're miserable, and never have I found you
so gentle nor so good. But my fake mother does not want to see you. It would kill you, if read
was recovering legs at home. So are you going to obey me, my Gris-Gris. You do not
not follow me. Goodbye, darling cat-chat; Be wise. Tomorrow I will ap-
wear area and will walk you a little sun. You'll see, it will be
happy again will ... Yes, my good cat with sad eyes, courage. See you tomorrow,
my only friend, my (Iris Gris, will, be wise, am not!

She bent down, kissed her and fled to his ears.

The cat did not move, as if he had understood; he meowed such a low voice,
so plaintive it would have melted a rock. Fortunately qu'Anémone could
, 1'entendre.

The next day, as dawn was glowing, Anemone awoke with a start.



14



MAUVES TALES OF MY MOTHER-GRAND.




She listened:
yes, she had not
deceived, we scratched the
door, mewing
called soft. " It is
Gris-Gris, "she thought
immediately, the heart
jumping with excitement. She went
open: it was him.
She took in her
arm, transported
happiness. his small
retraver- barefoot
SERENT Room
noiseless ; she
down again, quickly, quickly.

In her hand she him
shut the mouth:

- Shut up, mo n

Gris-Gris; not especially meows. Just think, if she heard you! So, you're
returned? Poor cat, if you are dragged you away to me! You must be tired!
My heart told me so well! You love both your mistress? My poor Gris-
Grey ... sleep ... going ... I want to watch you, my good cat.

He stood four not purring, rubbing his nose against the cheeks
his mistress, the débarbouillait licks. But the animal was exhausted
fatigue, the child had not had its account of sleep, so that at the end
ten minutes, as they slept two blessed.

But what an awakening, divine goodness!

The shrew had seized Anemone arm she held her there in print
ten fingers, and she was shaking, she was shaking!

His mop half spread over his face purple with rage, she screamed thousand
insults, stamped with anger; Yet she dared not touch Gris-Gris, all of
giiffes outside, raised his chops, waiting, ready for the response.

She finally let go of the child, after having applied a final blow.

- Hois by, both, and fast! shouted Does ELLC. And make sure that this cat
misfortune never reappear here!

Anemone, Celtic times, carried Gris-Gris much further into the forest.



THE GIRL WITH WOLVES.



She separated from him with the same grief as the day before, and the evening began
the sad bed.

The next day, as she was drawing water from the fountain, and kneeled
to fill her pitcher, she caught suddenly in the bush two eyes
the emerald contemplated: Gris-Gris had crawled far, can not live
without his mistress.

She scolded him tenderly, but very strong and went lost the work, so far,
this third time. She crossed two villages and three hamlets and finally in
field, abandoned.

"Poor little she thought, he will not be back, it's too far. "
The next day, in fact, the cat did not return. Anemone, night, slept all
anguished: "What he has lived?" she asked painfully.

After completing his prayer, she recommended to her new Gris-Gris at its
mother: "Sweet Mother, grant him some compassionate soul who takes
pity there are not that bad on earth ... "

Three days passed.

One morning, the girl returned to the cottage, bringing a bundle:

- Slut, my dear, said the shrew who never spoke to him without
join an insult, your cat is back yet! I discovered in the cellar,
meowing hunger. So I felt sorry for him and you. This time he will not leave you any more,
I swear to you. Go see it, I let you, you will be pleased with me.

Entry, Anemone sank his bundle. In two bounds, she was in the cellar ...

Good people! To show she saw him, she let out a shriek and comprima
his heart with both hands: Gris-Gris was lying dead, his good gray head
to split emerald eyes of a sod.

A satisfied chuckle broke out behind the child; she turned: his stepmother
was there, contemplating his work.

Anemone picked up his word without cat say through clenched teeth. She sank back its
tears, devoured his tears, not wanting to give up in the presence of this
bad woman, curious about his pain.

She passed right in front of her, paused, looked at the hoof
cap, without reproach, without a complaint, but her look was so responsible
disregard the other turned pale and stepped back.

Anemone then walked away, slow, dumb, carrying in her skirt pulled the corpse
his cat.

She threw a spade on his shoulder and headed for the creek.

When she felt out of sight, she gave vent to her grief.



•



i6



TALES PURPLE FOR MY MOTHER-GRAND.



-t. <r 's



ro * "* o.



C ^ o



Oh, if the shrew could have seen and
hear, commeelle eûtété satisfied!

Reached the river, she climbed
slowly.

"I want to choose a place where he
it is sweet to rest near this
same river he loved TANL
chewable fish, a place that
I can see washing ... "

She came to where
she slept at night
she was compelled
to abandon it for the fi
rst time.

Her bed was still made
between two big raci-
nes; deeply moved, she decided she
bury him at the foot of this great beautiful
beech. She put himself to dig, then,
having completed the grave, it is des-
Cendit little body. Like her
filled her, a white stone
hit the edge of his spade.
She picked it up. It was
and a smooth grain
so tight we would have




THE GIRL WITH WOLVES.



'7



said marble; she slipped it in his pocket: "I will keep in memory
him, "she thought. When she threw the last shovelful, she gently trampled
ment the land she then filled foam plates.

Having finished, she sat at the foot of beech and dropped into your hands
his sweaty forehead.

She was overwhelmed, out of courage. Thinking back to the cottage
where awaited the sarcasm of his perfidious stepmother, in this life of beatings,
misery he would have to resume, without a friend now, no one
a father to the devotion of the one hated, she had a fit of despair.

It seemed that the little land that covered Gris-Gris separated at lout
never alone be able to suffer with it; she saw herself abandoned, the
even thought of his mother could no longer support the:

"My God, my God, how I would die! .my God, have mercy
me, my God, I would be dead! ... "

She moaned and, head down, and her tears fell on the moss.

Having finally looked up, here she Apr-RCUT standing before her, an old
little woman who watched silently. Where does it come from? Since when
tenait- it there? She was bent by age and poorly dressed; his Che
moon lit color like a beautiful face wrinkled. her looks
remained fixed on Anemone, imbued with sweetness and pity endless.

The child reached out to her.

■ - So you much grief, my sweet child?

The voice was young, fresh, fragrant like.

- Oh yes, ma'am!

Immediately she let his heart speak; she said simply its miseries,
such that the drawn off, without hatred or vengeance cries.

Touched by so much misfortune the little old woman with pure voice had sat
with Anemone, she took his hand, and then, pulling against her, kissed her
forehead; Finally, when the child finished his story, it rested on lap
the unknown. And she was there so well, so well that she spoke with a slow
calculated, neglecting no detail or made menu to lengthen its history and
leave longer rocking, stroking the cheeks, kiss. Thinking it was,
since the death of his mother, the first time a man showed her face
pitiable, listened, consoled the pampered.