From that time she had been faithful to Bistaud, though she had naturally not told anyone the reason for it, nor for her hatred either, not even Bistaud himself, who thought that she was subdued for all time, and who always found her very submissive and respectful.  But for six years she had nourished her hatred in her heart, feeding it on silent hopes and promises of revenge.  And it was that flame of hope and that longing for revenge which made her so coquettish with the custom-house officers, for she hoped to find a possible avenger among her inflammable admirers.

At last she came across the right man.  He was a splendid sub-officer of the customs, built like a Hercules, with fists like a butcher’s, and who had long leased four of his ferocious dogs from her husband.

As soon as they had grown accustomed to their new master, and especially after they had tasted flesh of the smugglers’ dogs, they had, by degrees, become detached from their former master, who had reared them.  No doubt they still recognized him a little, and would not have sprung at his throat as if he had been a perfect stranger, but still, they did not hesitate between his voice and that of their new master, and they obeyed the latter only.

Although the woman had often noticed this, she had not hitherto been able to make much use of the circumstance.  A custom-house officer, as a rule, only keeps one dog, and this fellow always had half-a-dozen, at least, in training, without reckoning a personal guard which he kept for himself and which was the fiercest of all.  Consequently, any duel between some lover assisted by only one dog, and the dog-breaker defended by his pack, was impossible.

But on that occasion, the chances were more equal.  Just then he had only five dogs in the kennel, and two of them were quite young, though certainly old Bourreau[6] counted for several, but after all, they could risk a battle against him and the other three, with the two couples of the custom-house officer, and they must profit by the occasion.

[Footnote 6:  Executioner, hangman.]

And one fine evening, as the brigadier of the custom-house officers was alone in the shop with Bistaud’s wife and was squeezing her waist, she said to him abruptly: 

“Do you really want to have something to do with me, Mossieu[7] Fernand?”

[Footnote 7:  Vulgar for Monsieur.]

He kissed her on the lips as he replied:  “Do I really want to?  I would give my stripes for it; so you see....”

“Very well,” she replied, “do as I tell you, and upon my word, as an honest woman, I will be your commodity to do what you like with.”

And laying a stress on that word commodity, which in that part of the country means mistress, she whispered hotly into his ear: 

“A commodity who knows her business, I can tell you, for my beast of a husband has trained me up in such a way that I am now absolutely disgusted with him.”