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Dingo Publicly Shows Affection to Coquereux in Custody

Dingo

Dingo Publicly Shows Affection to Coquereux in Custody turns the public presentation of a despised prisoner into a test of judgment: while the crowd answers accusation with cries for death, Dingo approaches Joseph Coquereux as a friend. His unrestrained tenderness exposes a bond the prisoner does not acknowledge and scandalizes the spectators. The narrator, caught between protecting Dingo and avoiding entanglement with the gendarmes, claims the dog as his own and later privately condemns the crowd more harshly than the accused man.

The Prisoner Before the Crowd

The scene begins with news that the accused has confessed: his name is Joseph Coquereux, a tile-maker, and he is to be taken to Beauvais. Calls for his death rise and fade within the movement of the crowd. Yet the spectators remain decorous about the nature of the crime; their restraint in speech does not prevent the gathering from turning Coquereux’s arrival into a spectacle.

When he appears at the top of the steps between two gendarmes, the narrator recognizes him as the poor, limping man encountered on the road. Coquereux’s wrists are tied behind him. He is small, thin, shabby, and stooped; his narrow shoulders and hollowed chest, gray lined face, short beard, and unfocused eyes make him look less like the fearsome criminal the crowd had imagined than like an ordinary, bewildered old man. He stumbles on the steps, but is neither notably pale nor trembling. The contrast between the prisoner’s unimpressive appearance and the crowd’s expectation of a powerful, terrifying offender unsettles the spectators. Irma Pouillaud voices disbelief that this old man could have committed the crime, even while making a callous remark about the assault of a child.

Dingo’s Recognition and the Public Gesture

As the crowd turns its attention to the prisoner, Dingo recognizes him. The dog jerks his shoulders and head until he slips out of his collar, then reaches Coquereux in two bounds. He licks the prisoner’s bound hands, brushes against his legs, and rises toward his chin as if to kiss him. The affection is not discreet: Dingo gives Coquereux a conspicuous, repeated show of sympathy in front of the people assembled to see him condemned.

The gesture implies a history between the two that the public does not know. The narrator identifies Coquereux as the man Dingo had been with the previous day, but the prisoner does not recognize Dingo as his companion. When a gendarme asks whether the dog belongs to him, Coquereux says that he does not know. As Dingo continues to press close, Coquereux tries unsuccessfully to evade the caresses and shouts at the dog to go away. The dog’s recognition and the man’s rejection thus pull in opposite directions: Dingo behaves as though a bond persists, while Coquereux denies, or cannot place, the animal before him.

The gendarme grows suspicious at the mismatch. He jostles the prisoner and prepares to handle Dingo roughly. The narrator intervenes, waving the collar and chain and asserting his ownership of the dog. For a moment, he considers telling the gendarmes about the encounter of the previous day. He decides against it because the explanation could complicate matters or draw him into the case. His silence leaves Dingo’s conspicuous recognition unexplained to the crowd, even as the narrator understands why it matters.

The Narrator’s Intervention

The narrator’s reluctance to speak is shaped by his own history with the gendarmes. He had once bought manure from the gendarmerie, but believed they had cheated him over the mixture and its transport; after he stopped dealing with them, they ceased greeting him. He also recalls their twice issuing what he considered unjust traffic citations, which brought him before the justice of the peace. In one incident, a gendarme unable to stay on his horse fell when the horse shied at the narrator’s automobile, yet still wrote him a report. At the hearing, the narrator turned the episode into a joke at the gendarme’s expense. His distrust is therefore not abstract: in the tense present, he weighs the risk of involvement against the danger that the gendarmes will mistreat Dingo.

Irma Pouillaud stares at the narrator with undisguised contempt, but he does not deliver the denunciation he imagines. He privately judges that Coquereux is less criminal and less vile than the people gathered around him. Rather than address the crowd, he calls Dingo back in a gentler, approving voice. The restraint matters: the narrator’s moral outrage becomes a quiet effort to retrieve the dog, not a speech that might intensify the scene or expose him to further conflict with the authorities.

The Crowd and the Aftermath

Dingo refuses to leave Coquereux. The narrator has considerable difficulty taking hold of him as the gendarmes and their chained prisoner move into the crowd and disappear. Calls for death continue from somewhere among the people, but the narrator cannot tell whether they are directed at Dingo, at him, or at Coquereux. The uncertainty leaves the crowd’s hostility diffuse: its target is less clear than its appetite for punishment. Dingo, still pulling hard on his leash, has to be held back as the narrator withdraws with him into a deserted side street.

On the way home, the narrator cannot stop picturing Irma Pouillaud. His memory shifts from Coquereux’s pitiful figure to her imposing presence and the red-bowed hat bobbing above the crowd, which comes to symbolize her in his mind. The aftermath does not resolve what Dingo’s recognition meant to Coquereux, nor does it soften the villagers’ response to the accusation. Instead, the scene leaves the dog’s physical act of attachment set against the crowd’s public appetite for vengeance—and the narrator carrying that contrast away from the square.