11
"a
UM.VtRSlVf OF
CALIFORNIA
SAN DIEGO
Sister Eulalie, her eyes dry now, was still standing
near the bed. The Letters.
Selected Stories
BY
Guy De Maupassant
Translated and Edited by
Dora Knowlton Ranous
VOLUME I
Ball-of-Suet, A Family Matter, The
Diamond Necklace, The Clock
The Wedding Night, Wom-
an's Love, Duchoux
The False Jewels
Checkmate !
Etc.
The Leslie- Judge Company
New York
Copyright. 1912, by
THE NEW WERNER COMPANY
Akron, Ohio
CONTENTS
PAGfi
PREFACE . ... . . . . v
Ball-of-Suet . . . ..:,... 1
A Family Matter . . . . . 63
The Artist's Model . . . . . . 105
The Letters n . : . . . . . . 115
Cemetery Sirens . >* ... . ; 121
The Dying Peasant . . . : w . . . *> 132
A Madman's Journal ...... , . 143
Checkmate! . . T . . . . . 151
The Shepherd's Leap . .... . 162
A Husband's Confession . . . , . 168
Madame Parisse . i . . . . . 178
The Wedding Night . . . .... 189
Father and Son . . . . . . . 198
The False Jewels 219
That Umbrella! . . . .... 229
The Clock . 242
The Dowry 256
The Lancer's Wife . . , . . 265
Prisoners of War . . . ... . 285
Woman's Love . 303
The Devil's Visit . . . . . . 312
Was it a Dream? 323
Simon's Papa ... . . . . 331
The Diamond Necklace . . . . . 345
Duchoux 358
Timbuctoo . 370
Denis . . 381
111.
PREFACE
HENRI Rene Albert Guy de Maupassant was born in
France, August 5, 1850, at the Chateau de Miromesnil,
Department of the Lower Seine. He was educated
chiefly at the Rouen Lycee, and later was employed about
fifteen years in the Admiralty Office in Paris. He became
a friend and disciple of Gustave Flaubert, with whom he
was connected by marriage. That great stylist encouraged
his brilliant pupil to write, and the youth was a frequent
visitor and keen observer at the -famous gatherings held
in Flaubert's little house at Croisset, meeting such master
spirits as Daudet, Zola, Heredia, the Freres De Goncourt,
and George Sand. De Maupassant called Flaubert his
literary godfather, and when his first real success came,
rvith the publication of that vivid little sketch "Boule de
Suif" ("Ball-of-Suet"), his severe but kindly mentor wrote
to him: "You have produced a masterpiece, young man.
Decidedly, if you keep on in this way, you will become a
great writer."
The young romancer took an active part in the Franco-
Prussian War, and his experiences during that period sug-
gested to him some of the most powerful of his stones.
In his brief but brilliant career, De Maupassant suc-
ceeded in making himself known as the master of short-
story writing: merciless in his analysis of the life of the
higher classes, photographic in his presentation of the
vi PREFACE
simple-minded country folk and the prosaic bourgeoisie
whom he understood so well. Although his novels rank
high as pictures of French society life, it is his short
stories that make the strongest appeal to all tastes.
In the flush of his success, and eager to win fresh
triumphs, De Maupassant urged his genius too far, and
sacrificed his health to his desire for fame. In order to
counteract the effects of overwork, he dallied with drugs,
which, while stimulating him to the production of some
of his finest tales, brought on intense nervousness and
finally a lesion of the brain, for which he was treated in
a sanatorium for two years before his death, which oc-
curred July 6, 1893.
The writings of De Maupassant are well fitted^ to play
an important part in the work of civilization. They do
not recommend any virtue, it is true; they do not dwell
upon any; they neither assume nor fulfil any high instruc-
tive office; but they are clear, exact, precise, satiric pic-
tures of realities, and surely exactitude and truth, pointed
with wholesome satire, should serve a useful purpose. It
is a strange fact that, while a clergyman is praised for
drawing in his sermons the liveliest pictures of human
error and weakness, the same persons that applaud these
efforts hesitate to approve when a romancer paints the
same pictures in his own colors. But De Maupassant
never feared to hold the mirror up to weakness and folly;
vanity, egotism, moral feebleness, lack of idealism, stu-
pidity, selfishness all these traits he has presented in a
way possibly unflattering to the race in general, but one
not unworthy the study of the strictest moralist. The
world's great satirists Rabelais, Moliere, Flaubert, De
Maupassant are the real salt of society, which certainly
not eradicate the taint of worldly corruption, but
PREFACE vii
'\thout which society would probably be much worse
<\an it is. In his wonderful pictures of life, and of human
^perfections, the care De Maupassant took not to over-
step the truth was prompted by genuine moral instinct
quite as much as by literary tact. The world owes him
a debt of gratitude, not only as a prince of entertainers,
but as a writer in whose work the admixture of beneficial
bitterness acts as a salutary draught to regulate the con-
science and the vanity of mankind.
BALL-OF-SUET
(Boule de Suif)
DETACHMENTS of a defeated army had been
passing through the town for several days.
They were only disorganized bands, not dis-
ciplined troops. The men wore long, dirty beards
and ragged uniforms; they marched listlessly,
without flag or leader. All appeared exhausted, in-
capable of thought or resolve, marching merely
through force of habit, and falling to the ground
with fatigue the moment they halted. In particular,
one saw many enlisted men, peaceful citizens, men
who had lived quietly on their income, stooping un-
der the weight of their rifles ; and little active volun-
teers, easily frightened but full of enthusiasm, as
eager to attack as they were .eady to run away;
and among these, a sprinkling of soldiers in red
breeches, the pitiful remnant of a division cut
down in a great battle; somber artillerymen side
by side with nondescript foot-soldiers; and here
and there the bright helmet of a heavy-footed dra-
goon who had difficulty in keeping up with the
quicker pace of the soldiers of the line.
2 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
Legions of irregulars with high-sounding names
"Avengers of Defeat," "Citizens of the Tomb,"
"Brethren in Death" passed in their turn, look-
ing like banditti.
Their leaders, former drapers or grain mer-
chants, or tallow or soap chandlers soldiers by
force of circumstance, officers by reason of their
moustaches or their money loaded with weapons,
flannel and braid and lace, spoke impressively,
discussed plans of campaign, and behaved as if
they alone bore the fortunes of dying France on
their braggart shoulders; though, in truth, they
frequently were afraid of their own men scoun-
drels often brave without limit, but dishonest and
debauched.
Rumor said that the Prussians were about to
enter Rouen.
The members of the National Guard, who for
two months had been reconnoitering with the ut-
most caution in the neighboring woods, occasion-
ally shooting their own sentinels, and making
ready for fight whenever a rabbit rustled in the
undergrowth, had now returned to their homes.
Their arms, their uniforms, all the death-dealing
paraphernalia with which they had terrified all
the milestones along the highroad for eight miles
round, had suddenly and marvelously disappeared.
The last of the French soldiers had just crossed
the Seine on their way to Pont-Audemer, through
Saint-Sever and Bourg-Archard, and in their rear
BALL-OF-SUET 3
the vanquished general, powerless to do anything
with the forlorn remnants of his army, himself
dismayed at the final overthrow of a nation accus-
tomed to victory, and disastrously defeated despite
its legendary bravery, walked between two orderlies.
Then a profound calm, a shuddering silent dread,
settled on the city. Many a round-bellied citizen,
emasculated by years devoted to business, anx-
iously awaited the conquerors, trembling lest his
roasting-jacks or kitchen knives should be looked
upon as weapons.
Life seemed to have stopped short; the shops
were shut, the streets deserted. Now and then an
inhabitant, awed by the silence, glided swiftly by in
the shadow of the walls. The agony of suspense
made men even desire the arrival of the enemy.
In the afternoon of the day following the de-
parture of the French troops, a number of uhlans,
coming no one knew whence, passed rapidly
through the town. A little later, a black mass de-
scended St. Catherine's Hill, while two other in-
vading bodies appeared respectively on the Dar-
netal and the Bois-guillaume roads. The advance
guards of the three corps arrived at precisely the
same moment at the Place de 1'Hotel de Ville, and
the German army poured through all the adjacent
streets, its battalions making the pavement ring
with their firm, measured tread.
Orders shouted in an unknown guttural tongue
rose to the windows of the seemingly dead, de-
4 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
serted houses ; while behind the tightly-closed shut-
ters eager eyes peered forth at the victors masters
now of the city, its fortunes, and its lives, by "right
of war." The inhabitants, in their darkened rooms,
were possessed by that terror which follows in the
wake of cataclysms, of deadly upheavals of the
earth, against which all human skill and strength
are vain. For the same thing happens whenever
the established order of things is disturbed, when
security no longer exists, when all those rights
usually protected by the laws of man or of Na-
ture are at the mercy of unreasoning, savage force.
The earthquake crushing a whole people under fall-
ing roofs; the floor let loose, and engulfing in its
swirling depths the corpses of drowned peasants
along with dead oxen and beams torn from shattered
houses ; or the army, covered with glory, murdering
those who defend themselves, making prisoners of
the rest, pillaging in the name of the Sword, and
giving thanks to God to the thunder of cannon all
these are appalling scourges, which destroy all belief
in eternal justice, all that confidence we have been
taught to feel in the protection of Heaven and the
reason of man.
Small detachments of soldiers knocked at each
door, and then entered the houses; for the van-
quished saw they must be civil to their conquerors.
After a short time, when the first terror had sub-
sided, calm was again restored. In many houses
the Prussian officer ate at the same table with the
BALL-OF-SUET 5
family. He was often well-bred, and, out of cour-
tesy, expressed sympathy with France and repug-
nance at being compelled to take part in the war.
This sentiment was received with gratitude ; besides,
his protection might be necessary some day. By
the exercise of tact the number of men quartered
in one's house might be reduced; and why should
one provoke the hostility of a person on whom
one's whole welfare depended? Such conduct
would look less like bravery than like foolhardi-
ness. And foolhardiness is no longer a failing of
the citizens of Rouen, as it was in the days when
their city earned renown by its heroic defenses.
Last of all final argument based on the national
politeness the citizens of Rouen said to one an-
other that it was only right to be civil in one's own
house, provided there was no public exhibition of
familiarity with the foreigner. Out of doors, there-
fore, citizen and soldier did not know each other;
but in the house both chatted freely, and every even-
ing the German remained a little longer warming
himself at the hospitable hearth.
By degrees even the town itself resumed its ordi-
nary aspect. The French seldom walked abroad,
but the streets swarmed with Prussian soldiers.
Moreover, the officers of the Blue Hussars, who
arrogantly dragged their instruments of death along
the pavements, seemed to hold the simple towns-
men in but little more contempt than did the French
cavalry officers who had drunk at the same cafes
the year before.
6 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
But there was something in the air, a something
strange and subtle, an intolerable foreign atmos-
phere like a penetrating odor the odor of inva-
sion. It permeated dwellings and places of public
resort, changed the taste of food, made one imagine
oneself in far-distant lands, amid dangerous bar-
baric tribes.
The conquerors demanded money, a great deal of
money. The inhabitants paid what was asked ; they
were rich. But the wealthier a Norman tribesman
becomes the more he suffers at having to part with
anything that belongs to him, or to see any por-
tion of his substance pass into the hands of an-
other.
Nevertheless, within six or seven miles of the
town, along the course of the river as it flows on-
ward to Croisset, Dieppedalle, and Biessart, boat-
men and fishermen often hauled to the surface of
the water the body of a German, bloated in his uni-
form, killed by a blow from knife or club, his head
crushed by a stone, or perhaps he had been pushed
from some bridge into the stream below. The
mud of the river-bed swallowed up these obscure
acts of vengeance savage, yet legitimate ; these un-
recorded deeds of bravery; these silent attacks
fraught with greater danger than battles fought in
broad day, and surrounded with no halo of ro-
mance. For hatred of the foreigner always arms
some intrepid souls, ready to die for an idea.
At last as the invaders, though subjecting the
BALL-OF-SUET 7
town to the strictest discipline, had not committed
any of the deeds of horror with which they had
been credited while on their triumphal march, the
people grew bolder, and the necessities of business
again animated the breasts of the local merchants.
Some of these had important commercial interests
at Havre occupied at present by the French army
and wished to attempt to reach that port by over-
land route to Dieppe, taking the boat from that
point.
Through the influence of the German officers
whose acquaintance they had made, they obtained
permission to leave town from the general in com-
mand.
A large four-horse coach having, therefore, been
engaged for the journey, and ten passengers hav-
ing registered their names with the proprietor, they
decided to set out on a certain Tuesday morning be-
fore daybreak, to avoid attracting a crowd.
The ground had been frozen hard for some time
and about three o'clock on Monday afternoon large
black clouds from the north shed their burden of
snow uninterruptedly all through that evening and
night.
At half -past four in the morning the travelers
met in the courtyard of the Hotel de Normandie,
where they were to take their seats in the coach.
They were still half asleep, and shivering with
cold under their wraps. They could see one another
only indistinctly in the darkness, and the mountain
8 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
of heavy winter wraps in which each was swathed
made them look like a gathering of fat priests in
their long cassocks. But two men recognized each
other, a third accosted them, and the three began
to talk. "I am taking my wife," said one. "So
ami." "And I." The first speaker added : "We
shall not return to Rouen, and if the Prussians
approach Havre we shall go over to England." It
turned out that all had made the same plans, being
of similar disposition and temperament.
Still the horses were not harnessed. A small
lantern carried by a stable-boy emerged now and
then from one dark doorway to disappear immedi-
ately in another. The stamping of horses' hoofs,
deadened by the dung and straw of the stable, was
heard from time to time, and from inside the build-
ing issued a man's voice, talking to the animals and
cursing them. A faint tinkle of bells showed that
the harness was being put on; this tinkle soon de-
veloped into a continuous jingling, louder or softer
according to the movements of the horse, sometimes
stopping altogether, then breaking out in a sudden
peal, accompanied by a pawing of the ground by an
iron-shod hoof.
The door suddenly closed. All noise ceased. The
half-frozen townsmen were silent; they remained
motionless, stiff with cold.
A thick veil of glistening white flakes fell cease-
lessly to the ground ; it obliterated all outlines, en-
veloped all objects in an icy mantle of foam.:
BALL-OF-SUET 9
nothing was to be heard throughout the length and
breadth of the silent, winter-bound city save the
soft, nameless rustle of falling snow a sensation
rather than a sound the gentle mingling of light
atoms which seemed to fill all space, to cover the
whole "world.
The man reappeared with his lantern, leading by
a rope a melancholy-looking horse, evidently led
out against his will. The hostler placed him beside
the pole, fastened the traces, and spent some time
in walking round him to make sure that the har-
ness was all right ; for he could use only one hand,
the other holding the lantern. As he was about
to bring out the second horse he noticed the mo-
tionless group of travelers, already white with snow,
and said to them: "Why don't you get inside the
coach? You would be under cover, at least."
This did not seem to have occurred to them, and
they at once took his advice. The three men seated
their wives at the far end of the coach, then got in
themselves; lastly the other vague, snow-shrouded
forms mounted to the remaining places without a
word.
The floor was covered with straw, into which the
feet sank. The ladies at the far end, having brought
with them little copper foot-warmers heated by
means of a kind of chemical fuel, proceeded to light
these, and spent some time in talking in low tones
on their advantages, saying over and over again
things they had all known for a long time.
Vol. 12
10 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
At last, six horses instead of four having been
harnessed to the diligence, because of the heavy
roads, a voice outside asked: "Is everyone there?"
To which a voice from the interior replied: "Yes,"
and they set out.
The vehicle moved slowly, slowly, at snail's pace ;
the wheels sank into the snow ; the entire body of
the coach creaked and groaned ; the horses slipped,
panted, steamed, and the coachman's long whip
cracked incessantly, flying here and there, coiling
up, then flinging out its length like a slender ser-
pent, as it lashed some rounded flank, which in-
stantly grew tense as it strained in further effort.
Light came on. Those light flakes which one
traveler, a native of Rouen, had compared to a
rain of cotton, fell no longer. A 'dull light filtered
through dark, heavy clouds, which made the coun-
try more dazzlingly white by contrast, a whiteness
broken sometimes by a row of tall trees spangled
with hoarfrost, or by a cottage roof hooded in
snow.
Within the coach the passengers eyed one an-
other curiously in the dim light of dawn.
At the back, in the best seats, Monsieur and
Madame Loiseau, wholesale wine merchants of the
Rue Grand-Font, slept opposite each other. For-
merly clerk to a merchant who had failed in busi-
ness, Loiseau had bought his master's interest, and
made a fortune for himself. He sold very bad
wine at a very low price to the retail dealers in
BALL-OF-SUET 11
the country, and had the reputation, among his
friends and acquaintances, of being a cunning
rogue, a true Norman, full of tricks and wiles. So
well established was his character as a cheat that,
in the mouths of the citizens of Rouen, the very
name of Loiseau became a byword for trickery.
Besides this, Loiseau was noted for his practi-
cal jokes of every description, good or ill-natured ;
and no one could mention his name without add-
ing at once: "He's an extraordinary man
Loiseau." He was undersized and pot-bellied, and
had a florid face with a grayish beard.
His wife tall, strong, determined, with a loud
voice and decided manner represented the spirit of
order and arithmetic in the business house which
Loiseau enlivened by his jovial activity.
Beside them, dignified in bearing, belonging to
a superior caste, sat Monsieur Carre-Lamadon, a
man of considerable importance, a king in the cot-
ton trade, proprietor of three spinning-mills, officer
of the Legion of Honor, and member of the Gen-
eral Council. During the whole time the Empire
was in the ascendency he remained the chief of the
well-disposed Opposition, merely in order to com-
mand a higher value for his devotion when he
should rally to the cause which he meanwhile op-
posed with "courteous weapons," to use his own
expression.
Madame Carre-Lamadon, much younger than her
husband, was the consolation of all the officers of
12 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
good family quartered at Rouen. Pretty, slender,
graceful, she sat opposite her husband, nestling in
her furs, and gazing mournfully at the forlorn in-
terior of the coach.
Her neighbors, the Comte and Comtesse Hubert
de Breville, bore one of the noblest and most an-
cient names in Normandy. The Count, a nobleman
advanced in years and of aristocratic bearing, strove
to enhance, by every artifice of the toilet, his nat-
ural resemblance to King Henry IV, who, according
to a legend of which the family were inordinately
proud, had been the favored lover of a De Bre-
ville lady, and father of her child the frail one's
husband, in recognition of this fact, having been
made a count and governor of a province.
A colleague of Monsieur Carre-Lamadon in the
General Council, Count Hubert represented the
Orleanist party in his department. The story of
his marriage with the daughter of a small ship-
owner at Nantes had always remained something
of a mystery. But as the Countess had an air of
unmistakable good breeding, entertained faultlessly.
and was even supposed to have been loved by a son
of Louis-Philippe, the nobility vied with one an-
other in doing her honor, and her drawing-room re-
mained the choicest in the whole countryside the
only one that retained the old spirit of gallantry,
and to which access was not easy.
It was said the fortune of the Brevilles, all in
real estate, amounted to five hundred thousand
francs a year.
BALL-OF-SUET 13
These six persons occupied the farther end of the
coach, and represented Society with an income
the strong, established society of good people with
religion and principle, with whom life passed hap-
pily and easily.
It happened by chance that all the women were
seated on the same side; and the Countess had
also for neighbors two nuns, who spent the time
in fingering their long rosaries and murmuring
paternosters and aves. One of them was old, and
so deeply pitted with smallpox that she looked as
if she had received a charge of bird-shot full in
the face. The other, of sickly appearance, had a
pretty but wasted countenance, and a narrow, con-
sumptive chest; she was sapped by that devouring
faith which is the making of martyrs and vision-
aries.
Sitting opposite the two nuns were a man and a
woman, who attracted all eyes. The man a well-
known character was Cornudet, the democrat, the
terror of all respectable persons. For twenty
years his big red beard had been on terms of in-
timate acquaintance with the tankards of all the
republican cafes. With the help of his comrades
and brethren he had dissipated a respectable for-
tune left him by his father, a long-established con-
fectioner, and he now impatiently awaited the Re-
public, that he might at last be rewarded with the
office he had earned by his revolutionary orgies.
On the fourth of September possibly as the re-
14 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
suit of a practical joke he was led to believe that
he had been appointed prefect; but when he at-
tempted to take up the duties of the office the clerks
in charge refused to recognize his authority, and
he was compelled in consequence to retire. A good
sort of fellow in other respects, inoffensive and
obliging, he had thrown himself zealously into the
work of making an organized defense of the town.
He had had pits dug in the level country, young
forest trees felled, and traps set on all the roads;
then at the approach of the enemy, thoroughly sat-
isfied with his preparations, he had hastily returned
to the town. He thought he might now do more
good at Havre, where new intrenchments would
soon be necessary.
The woman, who belonged to the courtesan class,
was celebrated for stoutness of figure unusual for
her age, which had obtained for her the nickname
of "Boule de Suif" (Ball-of-Suet). Short and
round, fat as a pig, with puffy fingers constricted at
the joints, looking like rows of short sausages; with
a shining, tight-stretched skin and an enormous bust
filling out her bodice, she was nevertheless attrac-
tive and was much sought after, owing to her
fresh and pleasing appearance. Her face was like
a crimson apple, a peony-bud just bursting into
bloom ; she had magnificent dark eyes, fringed with
thick, heavy lashes, which cast a shadow into their
depths; her mouth was small, ripe, kissable, and
was furnished with the tiniest of white teeth.
BALL-OF-SUET 15
As soon as she was recognized the respectable
matrons of the party began to whisper among them-
selves, and the words "hussy" and "public scan-
dal" were spoken so loudly that Boule de Suif
raised her head. She cast such a challenging, bold
look at her neighbors that sudden silence fell on the
company, and all lowered their eyes, with the ex-
ception of Loiseau, who watched her with evident
interest.
Conversation was soon resumed among the three
ladies, whom the presence of this girl had sud-
denly drawn together in the bonds of friendship
one might almost say in those of intimacy. They
decided that they ought to combine, as it were, in
their dignity as wives in face of this shameless
hussy ; for legitimized love always despises its easy-
going brother.
The three men, also, brought together by a cer-
tain conservative instinct awakened by the pres-
ence of Cornudet, spoke of money matters in a tone
expressive of contempt for the poor. Count Hubert
related the losses he had sustained at the hands of
the Prussians, spoke of the cattle that had been
stolen from him, of crops that had been ruined,
with the easy manner of a nobleman who was also
a tenfold millionaire, and whom such reverses
would hardly inconvenience for a single year.
Monsieur Carre-Lamadon, a man of wide experi-
ence in the cotton industry, had taken care to send
six hundred thousand francs to England as pro-
16 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
vision against the rainy day he was always antici-
pating. As for Loiseau, he had managed to sell to
the French commissariat department all the wines
he had in stock, so that the State now owed him
a considerable sum, which he hoped to receive at
Havre.
The three men eyed one another in friendly, well-
disposed fashion. Although of varying social status,
they were united in the brotherhood of money in
that vast freemasonry made up of those who pos-
sess, who can jingle gold whenever they choose to
put their hands into their breeches' pockets.
The coach went so slowly that at ten o'clock
in the morning it had not covered twelve miles.
Three times the men of the party got out and
climbed the hills on foot. The passengers were
becoming uneasy, for they had counted on lunching
at Totes, and it appeared now as if they would
hardly arrive there before nightfall. Every one was
eagerly looking out for an inn by the roadside,
when suddenly the coach stuck fast in a snowdrift,
and it took two hours to extricate it.
As appetites increased, their spirits fell; no inn,
no wine-shop could be discovered, the approach of
the Prussians and the transit of the starving French
troops having frightened away all business for some
time.
The men asked for food in the farmhouses beside
the road, but could not find so much as a crust of
bread ; for the suspicious peasant invariably hid his
BALL-OF-SUET 17
stores for fear of being robbed by the soldiers,
who, being entirely without food, would take vio-
lent possession of everything they found.
About one o'clock Loiseau announced that he
positively had a great hollow in his stomach. They
had all been suffering in the same way for some
time, and the increasing pangs of hunger had put
an end to all conversation.
Now and then some one yawned, another fol-
lowed his example, and each in turn, according to
his character, breeding, and social station, yawned
either quietly or noisily, placing his hand before the
gaping void whence issued breath condensed into
vapor.
Several times Boule de Suif bent over, as if
searching for something under her skirts. She
would hesitate a moment, look at her neighbors, and
then quietly sit upright again. All faces were pale
and drawn. Loiseau declared he would give a
thousand francs for a knuckle of ham. His wife
made an involuntary and quickly checked gesture of
protest. It always hurt her to hear of money being
squandered, and she could not even understand
jokes on such a subject.
"Really, I don't feel at all well," said the Count.
"Why did I not think of bringing some food?"
Each one reproached himself in similar terms.
Cornudet, however, had a bottle of rum, which he
offered to his neighbors. They all coldly refused
except Loiseau, who took a sip, and returned the
18 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
bottle with thanks, saying: "That's good; it warms
one up, and cheats the appetite." The alcohol put
him in good humor, and he proposed they should
do as the sailors did in the song: eat the fattest
of the passengers. This indirect allusion to Boule
de Suif shocked the respectable members of the
party. No one replied ; only Cornudet smiled. The
two good sisters had ceased to mumble their rosary,
and, with hands enfolded in their wide sleeves, sat
motionless, their eyes steadfastly cast down, doubt-
less offering up as a sacrifice to Heaven the suffer-
ing it had sent them.
At last, at three o'clock, as they were in the
midst of an apparently boundless plain, with not a
single village in sight, Boule de Suif stooped quickly,
and drew from under the seat a large basket cov-
ered with a white napkin.
From this she extracted first a small earthen-
ware plate and a silver drinking-cup, then an enor-
mous dish containing two whole chickens cut into
joints and imbedded in jelly. The basket contained
other good things : pies, fruit, dainties of all sorts
provisions, in short, for a three days' journey,
rendering their owner independent of wayside inns.
The necks of four bottles protruded from the
midst of the food. She took a chicken wing, and
began to eat it daintily, with one of those rolls
called in Normandy "regence."
All eyes were directed toward her. An odor
of food filled the air, causing nostrils to dilate,
BALL-OF-SUET 19
mouths to water, and jaws to contract painfully.
The scorn of the ladies for this disreputable female
grew positively ferocious ; they would have liked to
kill her, or throw her and her drinking-cup, her
basket, and her provisions, out of the coach into
the snowy road.
But Loiseau's gaze was fixed greedily on the
chickens.
"Well, well, this lady had more forethought than
the rest of us," he said. "Some people think of
everything."
Boule de Suif looked up at him.
"Would you like some, Monsieur? It is hard to
go on fasting all day."
He bowed.
"Upon my soul, I can't refuse; I cannot hold out
another minute. All is fair in war time, is it not,
Madame?" And, casting a glance on those around,
he added : "At times like this it is very pleasant to
meet with obliging persons."
He spread a newspaper over his knees to avoid
soiling his trousers, and, with a pocket-knife he
always carried, helped himself to a chicken-leg,
covered with jelly, which he thereupon proceeded to
devour.
Then Boule de Suif, in low, humble tones, invited
the nuns to partake of her repast. Both accepted
the offer unhesitatingly, and after a few stam-
mered words of thanks began to eat quickly, with-
out looking up. Neither did Cornudet refuse his
20 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
neighbor's offer, and, in combination with the nuns,
a sort of table was formed by opening out the news-
paper over the four pairs of knees.
Mouths kept opening and shutting, ferociously
masticating and devouring the food. Loiseau, in
his corner, was very busy, and in low tones urged
his wife to follow his example. She held out for a
long time, but overstrained nature gave way at last.
Her husband, assuming his politest manner, asked
their "charming companion" if he might be allowed
to offer Madame Loiseau a small helping.
"Certainly, Monsieur," she replied, with an ami-
able smile, holding out the dish.
When the first bottle of claret was opened some
embarrassment was caused by the fact that there
was only one drinking-cup, but this was passed
from one to another, after being wiped. Cornudet
alone, doubtless in a spirit of gallantry, raised to
his own lips that part of the rim which was still
moist from those of his fair neighbor.
Then, surrounded by people who were eating, and
almost suffocated by the odor of food, the Comte
and Comtesse de Breville and Monsieur and
Madame Carre-Lamadon endured that hateful form
of torture which has perpetuated the name of Tan-
talus. All at once the manufacturer's young wife
heaved a sigh which made every one turn and look
at her; she was as white as the snow without; her
eyes closed, her head fell forward ; she had fainted.
Her husband, beside himself, implored the help of
BALL-OF-SUET 21
his neighbors. No one seemed to know what to do
until the elder of the two nuns, raising the patient's
head, held Boule de Suif's drinking-cup to her
lips, and made her swallow a few drops of wine,
The pretty invalid moved, opened her eyes, smiled,
and declared in a feeble voice that she was herself
again. But, to prevent a recurrence of the catas-
trophe, the nun made her drink a cupful of claret,
adding: "It's only hunger that's what is wrong
with you."
Then Boule de Suif, blushing and embarrassed,
stammered, looking at the four passengers who were
still fasting:
"Mon Dieu, if I might offer these ladies and gen-
tlemen "
She stopped short, fearing a snub. But Loiseau
continued :
"Hang it all, in such a case as this we are all
brothers and sisters and ought to assist each other.
Come, come, ladies, don't stand on ceremony, for
goodness' sake! Do we even know whether we
shall find a house in which to pass the night? At
our present rate we shan't be at Totes till midday
to-morrow."
They hesitated, no one daring to be the first to
accept. But the Count settled the question. He
turned toward the abashed girl, and in his most dis-
tinguished manner said:
"We accept gratefully, Madame."
As usual, it was only the first step that cost. The
22 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
Rubicon once crossed, they set to work with a will.
The basket was emptied. It still contained a pate
de foie gras, a lark pie, a piece of smoked tongue,
Crassane pears, Pont-Leveque gingerbread, fancy
cakes, and a cup full of pickled gherkins and onions
Boul de Suif, like all women, being very fond
of indigestible things.
Of course, they could not eat this girl's food
without speaking to her. So they began to talk,
stiffly at first; then, as she seemed by no means
forward, with greater freedom. Mesdames de
Breville and Carre-Lamadon, who were accom-
plished women of the world, were gracious and tact-
ful. The Countess especially displayed that ami-
able condescension characteristic of great ladies
whom no contact with baser mortals can sully, and
was absolutely charming. But the sturdy Madame
Loiseau, who had the soul of a gendarme, con-
tinued morose, speaking little and eating much.
Conversation naturally turned on the war. Ter-
rible stories were told about the Prussians, deeds of
bravery were recounted of the French; and all
these people who were fleeing themselves were ready
to pay homage to the courage of their compatriots.
Personal experiences soon followed, and Boule de
Suif related with genuine emotion, and with that
warmth of language not uncommon in women of
her class and temperament, how it happened that
she had left Rouen.
"I thought at first that I should be able to stay,"
BALL-OF-STJET 23
she said. "My house was well stocked with pro-
visions, and it seemed better to put up with feeding
a few soldiers than to banish myself heaven knows
where. But when I saw these Prussians it was too
much for me ! My blood boiled with rage ; I wept
the whole day for very shame. Oh, if only I had
been a man ! I looked at them from my window
the fat pigs, with their pointed helmets! and my
maid held my hands to keep me from throwing my
furniture down on them. Then some of them were
quartered in my house; I flew at the throat of the
first one who entered. They are as easy to strangle
as other men! I should have been the death of
that one if I hadn't been dragged away from him by
my hair. I had to hide after that. As soon as I
could find an opportunity I left the place, and here
I am."
They warmly congratulated her. She rose in the
estimation of her companions, who had not been
so brave; and Corudet listened to her with the
approving and benevolent smile of an apostle, the
smile a priest might wear in listening to a disciple
praising God; for long-bearded democrats of his
type have a monopoly of patriotism, as priests have
a monopoly of religion. He held forth in turn,
with dogmatic self-assurance, in the style of the
proclamations daily pasted on the walls of the town,
winding up with a specimen of stump oratory in
which he reviled "that besotted fool of a Louis
Napoleon."
24 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
But Boule de Suif was indignant, for she was an
ardent Bonapartist. She turned as red as a cherry,
and stammered in her anger : "I'd like to have seen
you in his place you and your kind. There would
have been some sense in that. It was you who be-
trayed that man. It would be impossible to live in
France if we were governed by such rascals as
you !"
Cornudet, unmoved by this tirade, still smiled a
superior, contemptuous smile; and one felt that
high words were impending, when the Count inter-
posed, and, not without difficulty, succeeded in
calming the exasperated woman, saying that all
sincere opinions should be respected. But the
Countess and the manufacturer's wife, imbued with
the unreasoning hatred of the upper classes for
the Republic, and instinct, moreover, with the af-
fection felt by all women for the pomp and cir-
cumstance of despotic government, were drawn, in
spite of themselves towards this dignified young
woman, whose opinions coincided so closely with
their own.
The basket was empty. The ten persons had fin-
ished its contents without difficulty amid general
regret that it did not hold more. Conversation
went on a little longer, though it flagged somewhat
after the passengers had finished eating.
Night fell, the darkness grew more intense, and
the cold made Boule de Suif shiver, in spite of
her plumpness. So Madame de Breville offered
BALL-OF-SUET 25
her her foot-warmer, the fuel of which had been
several times renewed since the morning, and she
accepted the offer at once, for her feet were icy
cold. Mesdames Carre-Lamadon and Loiseau gave
theirs to the nuns.
The driver lighted his lanterns. They cast a
bright gleam on a cloud of vapor which hovered
over the sweating flanks of the horses and on the
roadside snow, which seemed to unroll as they went
along in the changing light of the lamps.
All was now indistinguishable in the coach; but
suddenly a movement occurred in the corner occu-
pied by Boule de Suif and Cornudet; and Loiseau,
peering into the gloom, fancied he saw the big,
bearded democrat move hastily to one side, as if
he had received a well-directed, though noiseless,
blow in the darkness.
Tiny lights glimmered ahead. It was Totes. The
coach had been on the road eleven hours, which,
with the three hours allotted the horses in four
periods for feeding and breathing, made fourteen.
It entered the town, and stopped before the Hotel
du Commerce.
The coach door opened ; a well-known noise made
all the travelers start; it was the clanging of a
scabbard on the pavement; then a voice called out
something in German.
Although the coach had come to a standstill, no
one got out; it looked as if they were afraid of
being murdered the moment they left their seats.
Vol. 13
26 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
Thereupon the driver appeared, holding in his hand
one of his lanterns, which cast a sudden glow on
the interior of the coach, lighting up the double
row of startled faces, mouths wide open.
Beside the driver stood in the full light a German
officer, a tall young man, fair and slender, tightly
encased in his uniform like a woman in her corset,
his flat cap, tilted to one side of his head, making
him look like an English hotel runner. His ex-
aggerated moustache, long and straight and taper-
ing to a point at both ends in a single blond hair that
could hardly be seen, seemed to weigh down the
corners of his mouth and give a droop to his lips.
In Alsatian French he requested the travelers to
alight, saying stiffly:
"Please get out, ladies and gentlemen."
The two nuns were the first to obey, manifesting
the docility of holy women accustomed to submis-
sion on every occasion. Next appeared the Count
and Countess, followed by the manufacturer and
his wife, after whom came Loiseau, pushing his
larger and better half before him.
"Good-evening, Monsieur," he said to the officer
as he put his foot to the ground, acting on an im-
pulse born of prudence rather than of politeness.
The other, insolent like all in authority, only stared
without replying.
Boule de Suif and Cornudet, though near the
door, were the last to alight, grave and dignified
before the enemy. The stout girl tried to control
BALL-OF-SUET 27
herself and appear calm; the democrat stroked his
long sandy beard with a somewhat shaky hand.
Both tried to maintain their dignity, knowing well
that at such a time each individual is always looked
upon as more or less typical of his nation ; and, also,
resenting the complaisant attitude of their com-
panions, Boule de Suif tried to wear a bolder front
than her neighbors, the virtuous women, while he,
feeling that it was incumbent on him to set a good
example, kept up the attitude of resistance which
he had first assumed when he undertook to mine
the highroads round Rouen.
They entered the spacious kitchen of the inn, and
the German, having demanded the passports signed
by the general in command, in which were men-
tioned the name, description, and profession of each
traveler, inspected them all minutely, comparing
their appearance with the written particulars.
Then he said brusquely: "Very well," and turned
away.
They breathed freely. They were still hungry ; so
supper was ordered. Half an hour was required
for its preparation, and while two servants were
apparently engaged in getting it ready the travelers
went to look at their rooms. These opened off a
long corridor, at the end of which was a glazed
door with a number on it.
They were about to take their seats at table when
the innkeeper appeared in person. He was a
former horse-dealer, a large, asthmatic person, al-
28 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
ways wheezing, coughing, and clearing his throat.
Follenvie was his name.
"Mademoiselle Elizabeth Rousset?" he said.
Boul de Suif started, and turned around.
"That is my name."
"Mademoiselle, the Prussian officer wishes to
speak to you immediately."
"To me?"
"Yes; if you are Mademoiselle Rousset."
She hesitated, reflected a moment, and then de-
clared roundly:
"That may be; but I'm not going."
Her companions moved restlessly around her;
everyone wondered and speculated as to the cause
of this order. The Count approached:
"You are wrong, Madame, for your refusal may
bring trouble not only on yourself, but also on all
your companions. It is never wise to resist those
in authority. Your compliance with this request
cannot possibly be fraught with any danger ; it has
probably been made because some formality or
other was forgotten."
All added their voices to that of the Count;
Boule de Suif was begged, urged, lectured, and at
last convinced; everyone was afraid of the compli-
cations that might result from headstrong action on
her part. She said finally :
"I am doing it for your sakes, remember that!"
The Countess took her hand. "And we are grate-
ful to you."
BALL-OF-SUET 29
She left the room. All waited for her return be-
fore beginning to eat. Each was distressed that
he or she had not been sent for rather than this
impulsive, quick-tempered girl, and dach mentally
rehearsed platitudes in case of being summoned
also.
But at the end of ten minutes she reappeared,
breathing hard, crimson with indignation.
"Oh! the scoundrel! the scoundrel!" she stam-
mered.
All were anxious to know what had happened;
but she declined to enlighten them, and when the
Count pressed the point she silenced him with much
dignity, saying:
"No; the matter has nothing to do with you, and
I cannot speak of it."
Then they took their places round a high soup
tureen, from which issued an odor of cabbage. In
spite of this strange incident, the supper was cheer-
ful. The cider was good ; the Loiseaus and the nuns
drank it from motives of economy. The others
ordered wine; Cornudet demanded beer. He had
his own fashion of uncorking the bottle and making
the beer foam, gazing at it as he inclined his glass
and then raised it to a position between the lamp
and his eye that he might judge of its color. When
he drank, his great beard, which matched the color
of his favorite beverage, seemed to tremble with
affection ; his eyes positively squinted in the en-
<teavor not to lose sight of the beloved glass, and
30 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
he looked for all the world as if he were fulfilling
the only function for which he was born. He
seemed to have established in his mind an affinity
between the two great passions of his life pale ale
and revolution and assuredly he could not taste
the one without dreaming of the other.
Monsieur and Madame Follenvie dined at the
end of the table. The man, wheezing like a broken-
down locomotive, was too short-winded to talk when
he was eating. But his wife was not silent a mo-
ment; she told how the Prussians had impressed
her on their arrival, what they did, what they said ;
execrating them in the first place because they cost
her money, and in the second because she had
two sons in the army. She addressed herself prin-
cipally to the Countess, flattered at the opportunity
of talking to a lady of quality.
Then she lowered her voice, and began to broach
delicate subjects. Her husband interrupted her.
"You would do well to hold your tongue, Ma-
dame Follenvie."
But she took no notice of him, and went on :
"Yes, Madame, these Germans do nothing but
eat potatoes and pork, and then pork and potatoes.
And don't imagine for a moment that they are
clean! No, indeed! And if only you saw them
drilling for hours, indeed for days, together; they
all collect in a field, then they do nothing but march
backward and forward, and wheel this way and
that. If only they would cultivate the land, or
BALL-OF-SUET 31
stay at home and work on their roads! Really,
Madame, these soldiers are of no earthly use!
Poor people have to feed and keep them, only in
order that they may learn how to kill ! True, I am
only an old woman with no education, but when
I see them wearing themselves out marching about
from morning till night I say to myself: When
there are people who make discoveries that are of'
use to people, why should others take so much
trouble to do harm ? Really, now, isn't it a terrible
thing to kill people, whether they are Prussians, or
English, or Poles, or French? If we revenge our-
selves on any one who injures us we do wrong, and
are punished for it; but when our sons are shot
down like partridges that is all right, and decora-
tions are given to the man who kills the most. No,
indeed, I never shall be able to understand it."
Cormidet raised his voice:
"War is a barbarous proceeding when we attack
a peaceful neighbor, but it is a sacred duty when
undertaken in defense of one's country."
The old woman looked down.
"Yes; it's another matter when one acts in self-
defense; but would it not be better to kill all the
kings, seeing that they make war only to amuse
themselves?"
Cornudet's eyes kindled.
"Bravo, citizens!" he said.
Monsieur Carre-Lamadon was reflecting pro-
foundly. Although an ardent admirer of great gen-
32 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
erals the peasant woman's sturdy common-sense
made him reflect on the wealth that might accrue
to a country by the employment of so many idle
hands now maintained at a great expense, of so
much unproductive force, if they were employed in
those great industrial enterprises which it will take
centuries to complete.
But Loiseau, leaving his seat, went over to the
innkeeper and began chatting in a low voice. The
big man chuckled, coughed, sputtered ; his enormous
body shook with merriment at the jokes of the
other; and he ended by buying six casks of claret
from Loiseau to be delivered in spring, after the
departure of the Prussians.
The moment supper was over every one went to
bed, exhausted.
But Loiseau, who had been making quiet observa-
tions, sent his wife to bed, and amused himself
by placing first his ear, then his eye, to the bed-
room keyhole, in order to discover what he called
"the mysteries of the corridor."
At the end of about an hour he heard a rustling,
peeped out quickly, and caught sight of Boule de
Suif, looking rounder and fatter than ever in a
dressing-gown of blue cashmere trimmed with white
lace. She held a candle in her hand and directed
her steps to the numbered door at the end of the
corridor. But one of the side doors was partly
open, and when, after a few minutes, she returned,
Cornudet, in his shirt sleeves, followed her. They
BALL-OF-SUET 33
spoke in low tones, then stopped short. Boule de
Suif seemed to be firmly denying him admission to
her room. Unfortunately, Loiseau could not at
first hear what they said ; but toward the end of the
conversation they raised their voices, and he caught
a few words. Cornudet was loudly insistent.
"How silly you are! What does it matter to
you?" he said.
She seemed indignant, and replied:
"No, my good man, there are times when one
does not do that sort of thing ; besides, in this place
it would be shameful."
Apparently he did not understand, and asked the
reason. Then she lost her temper and her caution,
and, speaking still louder, said:
"Why? Can't you understand why? When
there are Prussians in the house ! Perhaps even in
the very next room!"
He was silent. The patriotic shame of this wan-
ton, who would not allow herself to be caressed in
the neighborhood of the enemy, must have roused
his dormant dignity, for after bestowing on her a
simple kiss he crept quietly back to his room. Loi-
seau, much edified, capered around the bedroom be-
fore taking his place beside his sleeping spouse.
Then silence reigned throughout the house. But
presently from some remote part it might easily
have been either cellar or attic arose a stertorous,
monotonous, regular snoring, a dull, prolonged rum-
bling, varied by tremors like those of a boiler under
34 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
pressure of steam. Monsieur Follenvie had gone to
sleep, and was announcing that fact in his usual
manner.
As they had decided on setting out at eight o'clock
the next morning, everyone was in the kitchen at
that hour; but the coach, its roof covered with
snow, stood by itself in the middle of the yard, with-
out either horses or driver. They sought the latter
in the stables, coach-houses, and barns but in vain.
So the men of the party resolved to search every-
where for him, and sallied forth. They found them-
selves in the square, with the church at the farther
side, and to right and left low-roofed houses where
there were some Prussian soldiers. The first sol-
dier they saw was peeling potatoes. The second
was washing out a barber's shop. Another, bearded
to the eyes, was fondling a crying baby, and dand-
ling it on his knees to quiet it ; and the stout peasant
women, whose men- folk were for the most part
at the war, were, by means of signs, telling their
obedient conquerors what work they were to do:
chop wood, prepare soup, grind coffee ; one of them
was doing the washing for his hostess, an infirm
old grandmother.
The Count, astonished at what he saw, questioned
the beadle, who was coming out of the presbytery.
The old man answered :
"Oh, those men are not at all a bad sort; they
are not Prussians, I am told ; they come from some-
where farther off, I don't exactly know where.
BALL-OF-SUET 35
And they have all left wives and children be-
hind them; they are not fond of war either, you
may be sure! I am sure they are mourning for
the men where they came from, just as we do here;
and the war causes them as much unhappiness as it
causes us. As a matter of fact, things are not so
very bad here just now, because the soldiers do no
harm, and work as if they were in their own
houses. You see, sir, poor folk always help one
another; it is the great ones of this world who
make war."
Cornudet, indignant at the friendly understand-
ing established between conquerors and conquered,
withdrew, preferring to shut himself up in the inn.
"They are repeopling the country," jested Loi-
seau.
"They are undoing the harm they have done,"
said Monsieur Carre-Lamadon gravely.
But they could not find the coach-driver. At
last he was discovered in the village cafe, fraterniz-
ing cordially with the officer's orderly.
"Were you not told to harness the horses at
eight o'clock ?" demanded the Count.
"Oh, yes; but I've had different orders since."
"What orders?"
"Not to harness at all."
"Who gave you such orders?"
"Why, the Prussian officer."
"But why?"
"I don't know. Go and ask him. I am forbidden
36 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
to harness the horses, so I don't harness them
that's all."
"Did he tell you so himself?"
"No, sir; the innkeeper gave me the order from
him."
"When?"
"Last night, just as I was going to bed."
The three men returned in a very uneasy frame
of mind.
They asked for Monsieur Follenvie, but the serv-
ant replied that on account of his asthma he never
got up before ten o'clock. They were strictly for-
bidden to rouse him earlier, except in case of fire.
They wished to see the officer, but that also was
impossible, although he slept in the inn. Mon-
sieur Follenvie alone was authorized to interview
him on civil matters. So they waited. The women
returned to their rooms, and occupied themselves
with trivial matters.
Cornudet settled down beside the tall kitchen
fireplace, before a blazing fire. He had a small table
and a jug of beer placed beside him, and he smoked
his pipe a pipe which enjoyed among democrats a
consideration almost equal to his own, as though it
had served its country in serving Cornudet. It was
a fine meerschaum, admirably colored to a black
the shade of its owner's teeth, but sweet-smelling,
gracefully curved, at home in its master's hand and
completing his physiognomy. And Cornudet sat mo-
tionless, his eyes fixed now on the dancing flames,
BALL-OF-SUET 37
now on the froth that crowned his beer; and after
each draught he passed his long, thin fingers with
an air of satisfaction through his long, greasy hair,
as he sucked the foam from his moustache.
Loiseau, under pretense of stretching his legs,
went out to see whether he could sell wine to the
country dealers. The Count and the manufacturer
began to talk politics. They forecast the future of
France. One believed in the Orleans dynasty, the
other in an unknown savior a hero who should
rise up in the last extremity: a Du Guesclin, per-
haps a Joan of Arc? or another Napoleon the First?
Ah! if only the Prince Imperial were not so young!
Cornudet, listening to them, smiled like a man who
holds the keys of destiny in his hands. His pipe
perfumed the whole kitchen.
As the clock struck ten, Monsieur Follenvie ap-
peared. He was immediately surrounded and ques-
tioned, but could only repeat, three or four times in
succession, and without variation, the words:
"The officer said to me, like this: 'Monsieur
Follenvie, you will forbid them to harness the
horses for those travelers tomorrow. They are not
to go without an order from me. You hear? That
is sufficient.' "
Then they asked to see the officer. The Count
sent him his card, on which Monsieur Carre-Lama-
don also inscribed his name and titles. The Prus-
sian sent word that the two men would be admitted
to see him after his luncheon about one o'clock.
38 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
The ladies reappeared, and they all ate a little,
in spite of their anxiety. Boule de Suif appeared
ill and very much worried.
They were finishing their coffee when the orderly
came to fetch the gentlemen.
Loiseau joined the other two; but when they
tried to get Cornudet to accompany them, by way
of adding greater solemnity to the occasion, he de-
clared proudly that he never would have anything
to do with the Germans, and, resuming his seat in
the chimney corner, he called for another jug of
beer.
The three men went upstairs, and were ushered
into the best room in the inn, where the officer re-
ceived them lolling at his ease in an armchair, his
feet on the mantelpiece, smoking a long porcelain
pipe, and enveloped in a gorgeous dressing-gown,
probably stolen from the deserted dwelling of some
citizen destitute of taste in dress. He neither rose,
greeted them, nor even glanced in their direction.
He gave a fine example of that insolence of bear-
ing which seems natural to the victorious soldier.
After the lapse of a few moments he said in his
halting French :
"What do you want?"
"We wish to start on our journey," said the
Count.
"No."
"May I ask the reason of your refusal?"
"Because I don't choose."
BALL-OF-SUET 39
"I would respectfully call your attention, Mon-
sieur, to the fact that your general in command
gave us a permit to proceed to Dieppe; and I do
not think we have done anything to deserve this
harshness at your hands."
"I don't choose that's all. You may go."
They bowed, and retired.
The afternoon was wretched. They could not
understand the caprice of this German, and the
strangest ideas came into their heads. They all con-
gregated in the kitchen, and talked over the subject,
imagining all kinds of unlikely things. Perhaps
they were to be kept as hostages but for what
reason? or to be extradited as prisoners of war? or
possibly they were to be held for ransom? They
were panic-stricken at this last supposition. The
richest among them were the most alarmed, seeing
themselves forced to empty bags of gold into the
insolent soldier's hands in order to purchase their
lives. They racked their brains for plausible lies
whereby they might conceal the fact that they were
rich, and pass themselves off as poor very poor.
Loiseau took off his watch-chain, and put it in his
pocket. The approach of night increased their ap-
prehensions. The lamp was lighted, and as it
lacked yet two hours before dinner Madame Loi-
seau proposed a game of trente-et-un. It would
distract their thoughts. The rest agreed, and Cornu-
det himself joined the party, first putting out his
pipe.
40 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
The Count shuffled the cards dealt and Boule
de Suif had thirty-one to begin with ; soon the inter-
est of the game assuaged the anxiety of the players.
But Cornudet noticed that Loiseau and his wife
were in league to cheat.
They were about to sit down to dinner when
Monsieur Follenvie appeared, and in his grating
voice announced :
"The Prussian officer sends to ask Mademoiselle
Elizabeth Rousset whether she has changed her
mind yet."
Boule de Suif stood still, pale as death. Then,
suddenly turning scarlet with anger, she gasped :
"Please tell that scoundrel, that cur, that car-
rion of a Prussian, that I never will consent you
understand? never, never, never!"
The fat innkeeper left the room. Then Boule de
Suif was surrounded, questioned, entreated on all
sides to reveal the mystery of her visit to the officer.
She refused at first; but her wrath soon got the
better of her.
"What does he want? He wants to make me his
mistress !" she cried.
No one was shocked at the word, so great was
the general indignation. Cornudet broke his jug as
he banged it down on the table. A loud outcry arose
against this base soldier. All were furious. They
drew together in common resistance against the foe,
as if some part of the sacrifice exacted of Boule de
Suif had been demanded of each. The Count de-
BALL-OF-SUET 41
clared, with supreme disgust, that these people be-
haved like ancient barbarians. The women, above
all, manifested a lively and tender sympathy for
Boule de Suif. The nuns, who appeared only at
meals, cast down their eyes, and said nothing.
They dined, however, as soon as the first indig-
nant outburst had subsided; but they spoke little,
and thought much.
The ladies went to bed early ; and the men, hav-
ing lighted their pipes, proposed a game of ecarte,
in which Monsieur Follenvie was invited to join, the
travelers hoping to question him skilfully as to the
best means of vanquishing the officer's obduracy.
But he thought of nothing but his cards, would lis-
ten to nothing, reply to nothing, and repeated, time
after time: "Attend to the game, gentlemen! at-
tend to the game !" So absorbed was his attention
that he even forgot to expectorate. The conse-
quence was that his chest gave forth rumbling
sounds like those of an organ. His wheezing lungs
struck every note of the asthmatic scale, from deep,
hollow tones to a shrill, hoarse piping resembling
that of a young cock trying to crow.
He refused to go to bed when his wife, over-
come with sleep, came to fetch him. So she went
off alone, for she was an early bird, always up with
the sun ; while he was addicted to late hours, ever
ready to spend the night with friends. He merely
said: "Put my eggnogg by the fire," and went on
with the game. When the other men saw tha*
Vol. 14
42 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
nothing was to be got out of him they declared it
was time to retire, and each sought his bed.
They rose early the next morning, with a vague
hope of being allowed to start, a greater desire
than ever to do so, and a terror at having to spend
another day in this wretched little inn.
Alas ! the horses remained in the stable, the driver
was invisible. They spent their time, for want of
something better to do, in wandering round the
coach.
Luncheon was a gloomy affair; and there was a
general coolness toward Boule de Suif, for night,
which brings counsel, had somewhat modified the
judgment of her companions. In the cold light of
the morning they almost bore a grudge against the
girl for not having secretly sought out the Prus-
sian, that the rest of the party might receive a joy-
ful surprise when they awoke. What could be more
simple ? Besides, who would have been the wiser ?
She might have saved appearances by telling the
officer that she had taken pity on their distress.
Such a step would be of little consequence to her.
But no one as yet confessed to such thoughts.
In the afternoon, seeing that they were all bored
to death, the Count proposed a walk in the neigh-
borhood of the village. Each one wrapped himself
up well, and the little party set out, leaving behind
only Cornudet, who preferred to sit over the fire,
and the two nuns, who were in the habit of spending
their day in the church or at the presbytery.
BALL-OF-SUET 43
The cold, which grew more intense each day, al-
most froze the noses and ears of the pedestrians,
their feet began to ache so that each step was a
penance, and when they reached the open country
it looked so mournful and depressing in its limitless
mantle of white that they all hastily retraced their
steps, with bodies benumbed and heavy hearts.
The four women walked in front, and the three
men followed a little in the rear.
Loiseau, who saw perfectly well how matters
stood, asked suddenly whether that trollop were
going to keep them waiting much longer in this
God- forsaken spot. The Count, always courteous,
replied that they could not exact so painful a
sacrifice from any woman, and that the first move
must come from herself. Monsieur Carre-Lama-
don remarked that if the French, as they talked of
doing, made a counter attack by way of Dieppe,
their encounter with the enemy must inevitably
take place at Totes. This reflection made the other
two anxious.
" Supposing we escape on foot ?" said Loiseau.
The Count shrugged his shoulders.
"How can you think of such a thing, in this
snow? And with our wives? Besides, we should
be pursued at once, overtaken in ten minutes, and
brought back as prisoners at the mercy of the sol-
diery."
This was true enough ; they were silent.
The ladies talked of dress, but a certain constraint
44 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
seemed to prevail among them, embarrassing every-
body.
Suddenly, at the end of the street, the officer ap-
peared. His tall, wasplike, uniformed figure was
outlined against the snow which bounded the hori-
zon, and he walked, knees apart, with that motion
peculiar to soldiers, who are always careful not to
soil their polished boots.
He bowed as he passed the ladies, then glanced
scornfully at the men, who had sufficient dignity
not to raise their hats, though Loiseau made a
movement to do so.
Boule de Suif flushed crimson to the ears, and
the three married women felt unutterably humili-
ated at being met thus by the soldier in company
with the girl whom he had treated with such scant
ceremony.
Then they began to talk about him, his figure, and
his face. Madame Carre-Lamadon, who had known
many officers and judged them as a connoisseur,
thought him not at all bad-looking; she even re-
gretted that he was not a Frenchman, because in
that case he would have made a very handsome hus-
sar, with whom all the women would assuredly have
fallen in love.
When they were once more within doors they
did not know what to do with themselves. Sharp
words were exchanged apropos of the merest trifles.
The silent dinner was soon over, and each one went
to bed early in the hope of sleeping, and thus killing
time.
BALL-OF-SUET 45
They came down next morning with tired faces
and irritable tempers; the women barely spoke to
Boule de Suif.
A church bell summoned the faithful to a bap-
tism. Boule de Suif had a child being brought up
by peasants at Yvetot. She did not see him once a
year, and never thought of him ; but the idea of the
child who was about to be baptized brought a sud-
den wave of tenderness for her own, and she in-
sisted on being present at the ceremony.
As soon as she had gone out, the rest of the com-
pany looked at one another and then drew their
chairs together; for they realized that they must
decide on some course of action. Loiseau had an
inspiration; he proposed that they should ask the
officer to detain Boule de Suif only, and to let the
rest go on their way.
Monsieur Follenvie was intrusted with this com-
mission, but he returned to them almost immedi-
ately. The German, who knew human nature, had
shown him the door. He intended to keep all the
travelers until his condition had been complied
with.
Whereupon Madame Loiseau's vulgar tempera-
ment broke bounds.
"We're not going to die of old age here!" she
cried. "Since it's that trollop's trade to behave so
with men I don't see that she has any right to re-
fuse one more than another. I may as well tell you
she took any lovers she could get at Rouen even
coachmen! Yes, indeed, Madame the coachman
46 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
at the prefecture ! I know it for a fact, for he buys
his wine of us. And now that it is a question of
getting us out of a difficulty she puts on virtuous
airs, the hussy ! For my part, I think this officer has
behaved very well. Why, there were three others
of us, any one of whom he would undoubtedly have
preferred. But no, he contents himself with the
girl who is common property. He respects married
women. Only think. He is master here. He had
only to say: 'I wish it!' and he might have taken
us by force, with the help of his soldiers."
The two other women shuddered; the eyes of
pretty Madame Carre-Lamadon glistened, and she
grew pale, as if the officer were indeed in the act of
laying violent hands on her.
The men, who had been discussing the subject
among themselves, drew near. Loiseau, in a state
of furious resentment, was for delivering up "that
miserable woman," bound hand and foot, into the
enemy's power. But the Count, descended from
three generations of ambassadors, and endowed,
moreover, with the lineaments of a diplomat, was
in favor of more tactful measures.
"We must persuade her,' he said.
TrTen they laid their plans.
The women drew together; they lowered their
voices, and the discussion became general, each giv-
ing his or her opinion. But the conversation was
not in the least coarse. The ladies, in particular,
were adepts at delicate phrases and charming sub-
BALL-OF-SUET 47
tleties of expression to describe the most improper
things. A stranger would have understood none of
their allusions, so guarded was the language they
employed. But, seeing that the thin veneer of mod-
esty with which every woman of the world is fur-
nished goes but a very little way below the surface,
they began rather to enjoy this scandalous episode,
and really were hugely delighted feeling them-
selves in their element, furthering the schemes of
lawless love with the gusto of a gourmand cook
who prepares supper for another.
Their gayety returned of itself, so amusing at last
did the whole affair seem to them. The Count
uttered several rather risky witticisms, but so tact-
fully were they said that his audience could not help
smiling. Loiseau in turn made some considerably
broader jokes; but no one took offense; and the
thought expressed with such brutal directness by
his wife was uppermost in the minds of all : "Since
it's the girl's trade why should she refuse this man
more than another?" Dainty Madame Carre-
Lamadon even seemed to think that in Boule de
Suif's place she would be less inclined to refuse him
than another.
The blockade was as carefully arranged as if they
were investing a fortress. Each agreed on the role
which he or she was to play, the arguments to be
used, the maneuvers to be executed. They decided
on the plan of campaign, the stratagems they were
to employ, and the surprise attacks which were to
48 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
reduce this human citadel and force it to receive the
enemy within its walls.
But Cornudet remained apart from the rest, tak-
ing no share in the riot.
So absorbed was the attention of all that Boule de
Suif's entrance was almost unnoticed. But the
Count whispered a gentle "Hush!" which made
the others look up. She was there. They suddenly
stopped talking, and a vague embarrassment pre-
vented them for a few moments from addressing
her. But the Countess, more practised than the
others in the wiles of the drawing-room, asked her :
"Was the baptism interesting?"
The girl, still under the stress of emotion, told
what she had seen and heard, described the faces,
the attitudes of those present, and even the appear-
ance of the church. She concluded with the words :
"It does one good to pray sometimes."
Until luncheon the ladies contented themselves
with being pleasant to her, so as to increase her
confidence and make her yield to their advice.
As soon as they took their seats at table the at-
tack began. First they opened a vague conversa-
tion on the subject of self-sacrifice. Ancient exam-
ples were quoted: Judith and Holof ernes; then, ir-
rationally enough, Lucrece and Sextus; Cleopatra
and the hostile generals whom she reduced to abject
slavery by a surrender of her charms. Next was
recounted an extraordinary story, born of the im-
agination of these ignorant millionaires, which told
BALL-OF-SUET 49
how the matrons of Rome seduced Hannibal, his
lieutenants, and all his mercenaries at Capua. They
held up to admiration all those women who from
time to time have arrested the victorious progress
of conquerors, made of their bodies a field of bat-
tle, a means of ruling, a weapon; who have van-
quished by their heroic caresses hideous or detested
beings, and sacrificed their chastity to vengeance
and devotion.
All was said with due restraint and regard for
propriety, the effect heightened now and then by an
outburst of forced enthusiasm calculated to excite
emulation.
A listener would have thought at last that the
grandest role of woman on earth was a perpetual
sacrifice of her person, a continual abandonment of
herself to the caprices of a hostile soldiery.
The two nuns seemed to hear nothing, and to be
lost in thought. Boule de Suif also was silent.
During the whole afternoon she was left to her
reflections. But instead of calling her "Madame"
as they had done hitherto, her companions ad-
dressed her simply as "Mademoiselle," without ex-
actly knowing why, but as if desirous of making her
descend a step in the esteem she had won, and
forcing her to realize her degraded position.
Just as soup was served, Monsieur Follenvie re-
appeared, repeating his phrase of the evening be-
fore:
"The Prussian officer sends to ask whether Made-
50 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
moiselle Elizabeth Rousset has changed her mind."
Boule de Suif answered briefly:
"No, Monsieur."
But at dinner the coalition weakened. Loiseau
made three unfortunate remarks. Each was rack-
ing his brains for further examples of self-sacri-
fice, and could find none, when the Countess, pos-
sibly without ulterior motive, and moved simply by
a vague desire to do homage to religion, began to
question the elder of the two nuns on the most strik-
ing facts in -the lives of the saints. Now, it fell out
that many of these had committed acts which would
be crimes in our eyes, but the Church readily par-
dons such deeds when they are accomplished for the
glory of God or the good of mankind. This was a
powerful argument, and the Countess made the
most of it. Then, whether by reason of a tacit un-
derstanding, a thinly veiled act of complaisance such
as those who wear the ecclesiastical habit excel in,
or whether merely as the result of sheer stupidity
a stupidity admirably adapted to further their de-
signs the old nun rendered formidable aid to the
conspirators. They had thought her timid; she
proved herself bold, talkative, bigoted. She was
not troubled by the niceties of casuistry; her doc-
trines were as iron bars ; her faith knew no doubt ;
her conscience no scruples. She looked on Abra-
ham's sacrifice as natural enough, for she herself
would not have hesitated to kill both father and
mother if she had received a divine order to that ef-
BALL-OF-SUET 51
feet; and nothing, in her opinion, could displease
our Lord, provided the motive were praiseworthy.
The Countess, putting to good use the consecrated
authority of her unexpected ally, led her on to
make a lengthy and edifying paraphrase of that
axiom enunciated by a certain school of moralists:
"The end justifies the means."
"Then, sister," she asked, "you think God ac-
cepts all methods, and pardons the act when the
motive is pure ?"
"Undoubtedly, Madame. An action reprehen-
sible in itself often derives merit from the thought
which inspires it."
And in this wise they talked on, fathoming the
wishes of God, predicting His Judgments, describ-
ing Him as interested in matters which certainly
must concern Him but little.
All was said with the utmost care and discretion,
but every word uttered by the holy woman in her
nun's garb weakened the indignant resistance of the
courtesan. Then the conversation drifted some-
what, and the nun began to talk of the convents of
her order, of her Superior, of herself, and of her
fragile little neighbor, Sister St. Nicephore. They
had been sent for from Havre to nurse the hundreds
of soldiers who were in hospitals, stricken with
smallpox. She described these wretched invalids
and their malady. And, while they themselves were
detained on their way by the caprices of the Prus-
sian officer, scores of Frenchmen might by dying,
52 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
whom they would otherwise have saved! For the
nursing of soldiers was the old nun's specialty ; she
had been in the Crimea, in Italy, in Austria; and
as she told the story of her campaigns she revealed
herself as one of those holy sisters of the fife and
drum who seem designed by nature to follow camps,
to snatch the wounded from amid the strife of bat-
tle, and to quell with a word, more effectually than
any general, the rough and insubordinate troopers
a masterful woman, her seamed and pitted face
itself an image of the devastations of war.
No one spoke when she had finished for fear of
spoiling the excellent effect of her words.
As soon as the meal was over the travelers re-
tired to their rooms, whence they emerged the fol-
lowing day at a late hour of the morning.
Luncheon passed off quietly. The seed sown the
preceding evening was being given time to germi-
nate and bring forth fruit.
In the afternoon the Countess proposed a walk;
then the Count, as had been arranged beforehand,
took Boule de Suif's arm, and walked with her at
some distance behind the rest.
He began talking to her in that familiar, pater-
nal, slightly contemptuous tone which men of his
class adopt in speaking to women like her, calling
her "my dear child," and talking down to her from
the height of his exalted social position and stain-
less reputation. He came straight to the point: ;
"So you prefer to leave us here, exposed like
BALL-OF-SUET 53
yourself to all the violence which would follow on a
repulse of the Prussian troops, rather than consent
to surrender yourself, as you have done so many
times in your life?"
The girl made no answer.
He tried kindness, argument, sentiment. He still
bore himself as Count, even while adopting, when
desirable, an attitude of gallantry, and making
pretty nay, even tender speeches. He exalted the
service she would render them, spoke of their grati-
tude; then, suddenly, using the familiar "thou":
"And you know, my dear, he could boast then
of having made a conquest of a pretty girl such as
he will not often find in his own country."
Boule de Suif did not answer, and joined the rest
of the party.
As soon as they returned she went to her room,
and was seen no more. The general anxiety was at
its height. What would she do? If she still re-
sisted, how awkward for them all!
The dinner hour struck; they waited for her in
vain. At last Monsieur Follenvie entered, announ-
cing that Mademoiselle Rousset was not well, and
that they might sit down to table. They all pricked
up their ears. The Count drew near the innkeeper,
and whispered:
"Is it all right?"
"Yes."
Out of regard for propriety he said nothing to
his companions, but merely nodded slightly toward
54 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
them. A great sigh of relief went up from all
breasts; every face was lighted up with joy.
"Good!" shouted Loiseau, "I'll stand champagne
all round if there's any to be found in this place."
And great was Madame Loiseau's dismay when the
proprietor came back with four bottles in his hands.
They had all suddenly become talkative and merry ;
a lively joy filled all hearts. The Count seemed to
perceive for the first time that Madame Carre-
Lamadon was charming; the manufacturer paid
compliments to the Countess. The conversation was
animated, sprightly, witty, and, although many of
the jokes were in the worst possible taste, all the
company were amused by them, and none offended
indignation being dependent, like other emotions,
on surroundings. And the mental atmosphere had
gradually become filled with gross imaginings and
unclean thoughts.
At dessert even the women indulged in discreetly
worded allusions. Their glances were full of mean-
ing; they had drunk much. The Count, who even
in his moments of relaxation preserved a dignified
demeanor, hit on a much-appreciated comparison
of the condition of things with the termination of
a winter spent in the icy solitude of the North Pole
and the joy of shipwrecked mariners who at last
perceive a southward track opening out before
their eyes.
Loiseau, fairly in his element, rose to his feet,
holding a glass of champagne.
BALL-OF-SUET 55
"I drink to our deliverance!" he shouted.
All rose, and greeted the toast with applause.
Even the two good sisters yielded to the solicitations
of the ladies, and consented to moisten their lips
with the foaming wine, which they had never before
tasted. They declared it was like effervescent lem-
onade, but with a pleasanter flavor.
"It is a pity," said Loiseau, "that we have no
piano; we might have had a quadrille."
Cornudet had not spoken a word or made a
movement; he seemed plunged in serious thought,
and now and then tugged furiously at his great
beard, as if trying to add to its length. At last,
toward midnight, when they were about to separate,
Loiseau, whose gait was far from steady, suddenly
slapped him on the back, saying thickly :
"You're not jolly to-night; why are you so silent,
old man?"
Cornudet threw back his head, cast one swift
and scornful glance over the assemblage, and an-
swered :
"I tell you all, you have done an infamous thing!"
He rose, reached the door, and repeating: "In-
famous!" disappeared.
A chill fell on the company. Loiseau himself
looked foolish and disconcerted for a moment, but
soon recovered his coolness, and, writhing with
laughter, exclaimed:
"Really, you're all too green for anything!"
Pressed for an explanation, he related the "mys-
56 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
teries of the corridor," whereat his listeners were
highly amused. The ladies could hardly contain
their delight. The Count and Monsieur Carre-
Lamadon laughed till they cried. They could
hardly believe their ears.
"What! you are sure? He wanted "
"I tell you I saw it with my own eyes."
"And she refused?"
"Because the Prussian was in the next room!"
"Surely you are mistaken?"
"I swear I'm telling you the truth."
The Count was choking with laughter. The man-
ufacturer held his sides. Loiseau continued :
"So you may well imagine he doesn't think this
evening's business at all amusing."
And all three began to laugh again, choking,
coughing, almost ill with merriment.
Then they separated. But Madame Loiseau, who
was nothing if not spiteful, remarked to her hus-
band as they were on the way to bed that "that
stuck-up little minx of a Carre-Lamadon had
laughed on the wrong side of her mouth all the
evening."
"You know," she said, "when women run after
uniforms it's all the same to them whether the men
who wear them are French or Prussian. It's per-
fectly disgusting!"
The next morning the snow showed dazzling
white under a clear winter sun. The coach, ready
at last, waited before the door; while a flock of
BALL-OF-SUET 57
white pigeons, with pink eyes spotted in the centers
with black, puffed out their white feathers and
walked sedately between the legs of the six horses,
picking at the steaming manure.
The driver, muffled in his sheepskin coat, was
smoking a pipe on the box, and all the passengers,
radiant with joy at their approaching departure,
were putting up food for the remainder of the
journey.
They were waiting only for Boule de Suif. At
last she appeared.
She seemed rather shamefaced and embarrassed,
and advanced with timid step toward her compan-
ions, who with one accord turned aside as if they
had not seen her. The Count, with much dignity,
took his wife by the arm, and removed her from the
unclean contact.
The girl stood still, stupefied with astonishment;
then, plucking up courage, accosted the manufac-
turer's wife with a humble "Good morning, Ma-
dame," to which the other replied merely with a
slight and insolent nod accompanied by a look of
outraged virtue. Everyone suddenly appeared ex-
tremely busy, and kept as far from Boule de Suif
as if her skirts had been infected with some deadly
disease. Then they hurried to the coach, followed
by the despised courtesan, who, arriving last of all,
silently took the place she had occupied during the
first part of the journey.
The rest seemed neither to see nor to know her
Vol. 15
58 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
all save Madame Loiseau, who, glancing contemptu-
ously in her direction, remarked, half aloud, to her
husband :
"I am glad I am not sitting beside that creature !"
The lumbering vehicle started on its way.
At first no one spoke. Boule de Suif dared not
even raise her eyes. She felt at once indignant with
her neighbors and humiliated at having yielded to
the Prussian into whose arms they had so hypo-
critically cast her.
But the Countess, turning toward Madame Carre-
Lamadon, soon broke the embarrassing silence :
"I think you know Madame d'Etrelles?"
"Yes ; she is a friend of mine."
"Such a charming woman !"
"Delightful! Exceptionally talented, and an art-
ist to the finger-tips. She sings marvelously and
draws to perfection."
The manufacturer was chatting with the Count,
and amid the clatter of the window-panes a word of
their conversation was now and then distinguish-
able : "Shares maturity premium time-limit."
Loiseau, who had abstracted from the inn the
timeworn pack of cards, thick with the grease of
five years' contact with half-cleaned tables, began
a game of bezique with his wife.
The good sisters, taking up simultaneously the
long rosaries hanging from their waists, made the
sign of the cross, and began to mutter in unison in-
terminable prayers, their lips moving ever more and
BALL-OF-SUET 59
more swiftly, as if they sought which should out-
distance the other in the race of orisons; from
time to time they kissed a medal, and crossed them-
serves anew, then resumed their rapid and unin-
telligible murmur.
Cornudet sat still, deep in thought.
At the end of three hours Loiseau gathered up
the cards, and remarked that he was hungry.
His wife thereupon produced a parcel tied with
string, from which she took out a piece of cold
veal. This she cut into neat thin slices, and both
began to eat.
"We may as well lunch, too," said the Count-
ess. The rest agreed, and she unpacked the food
that had been prepared for herself, the Count and
the Carre-Lamadons. In one of those oval dishes,
the lids of which are decorated with an earthen-
ware hare, by way of showing that a game pie lies
within, was a succulent delicacy consisting of the
brown flesh of the game, larded with streaks of
bacon and flavored with other meats chopped fine,
A solid wedge of Gruyere cheese, which had been
wrapped in a newspaper, bore the imprint: "Items
of News," on its rich, oily surface.
The two good sisters brought to light a piece of
sausage smelling strongly of garlic; and Cornudet,
plunging both hands at once into the capacious
pockets of his loose topcoat, produced from one
four hard-boiled eggs and from the other a crust of
bread. He removed the shells, threw them into
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the straw beneath his feet, and began to devour the
eggs, letting morsels of the bright yellow yolk fall
on his mighty beard, where they looked like stars.
Boule de Suif, in the haste and confusion of her
departure, had not thought of anything, and, chok-
ing with rage, she watched all these people placidly
eating. At first, ill-suppressed wrath shook her
whole person, and she opened her lips to shriek the
truth at them, to overwhelm them with a volley of
insults; but she could not utter a word, so choked
was she with indignation.
No one looked at her, no one thought of her. She
felt herself swallowed up in the scorn of these virtu-
ous creatures, who had first sacrificed, then rejected
her as a thing useless and unclean. Then she re-
membered her big basket full of the good things
they had so greedily devoured: the two chickens
coated in jelly, the pies, the pears, the four bottles
of claret; and her emotion broke forth like a cord
that is overstrained, and she was on the verge of
tears. She made terrible efforts at self-control,
drew herself up, swallowed the sobs which choked
her; but the tears rose nevertheless, shone at the
edges of her eyelids, and soon two heavy drops
flowed slowly down her cheeks. Others followed
more quickly, like water filtering from a rock, and
fell, one after another, on her rounded bosom. She
sat upright, with a fixed expression, her face pale
and rigid, hoping desperately that no one saw her
give way.
BALL-OF-SUET 61
But the Countess noticed that she was weeping,
and with a sign drew her husband's attention to
the fact He shrugged his shoulders, as if to
say:
"Well, what of it? It's not my fault." Madame
Loiseau chuckled triumphantly, and murmured:
"She's crying for shame."
The two nuns had betaken themselves once more
to their prayers, first wrapping the remainder of
their sausage in paper.
Then Cornudet, who was digesting his eggs,
stretched his long legs under the opposite seat,
threw himself back, folded his arms, smiled like a
man who has just thought of a good joke, and be-
gan to whistle the Marseillaise.
The faces of his neighbors clouded; the popular
air evidently did not find favor with them; they
grew nervous and irritable, and seemed ready to
howl as a dog does at the sound of a street-organ.
Cornudet saw the discomfort he was creating, and
whistled louder; sometimes he even hummed the
words :
Amour sacri de la patrie,
Conduis, soutiens, nos bras vengeurs,
Liberte, liberte, cherie,
Combats avec tes defenseurs!
The coach went more swiftly, the snow being
harder now ; and all the way to Dieppe, during the
long, dreary hours of the journey, first in the gath-
62 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
ering twilight, then in the thick darkness, raising
his voice above the rumbling of the vehicle, Cornu-
det continued with fierce obstinacy his vengeance
and his monotonous whistling, forcing his weary
and exasperated hearers to follow the song from
end to end, to recall every word of every line, as
each was repeated over and over again with un-
tiring persistence.
And Boule de Suif still wept, and sometimes a
sob she could not restrain was heard in the darkness
between two stanzas of the song,
A FAMILY AFFAIR
AS the small engine attached to the Neuilly train
passed the Porte Maillot it whistled to warn
all obstacles to clear the way and puffed like
a man out of breath as it emitted its steam, its pis-
tons moving rapidly with a noise like iron legs run-
ning. The train was going through the broad ave-
nue that ends at the Seine. The oppressive heat of
a July day lay over the whole city, and from the
road, although not a breath of wind was stirring,
a white, chalky, suffocating, warm dust arose, which
clung to the moist skin, filled the eyes, and got into
the lungs. People stood in their doorways trying to
get a breath of air.
The windows of the train were open and the
curtains fluttered in the wind. Very few passengers
were inside, because on warm days people preferred
the outside or the platforms. They consisted of
stout women in odd costumes, of shopkeepers' wives
from the suburbs, who tried to make up for the
distinguished looks they did not possess by ill-as-
sumed dignity ; of men tired from office-work, with
63
64 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
sallow faces, bent shoulders, often having one
shoulder higher than the other, in consequence of
long hours of writing at a desk. Their uneasy and
melancholy faces spoke of domestic troubles, also
of continual want of money and disappointed hopes ;
for they all belonged to the army of poor, thread-
bare devils who vegetate economically in cheap,
plastered houses, with a tiny piece of neglected gar-
den, in the outskirts of Paris, near those fields
where nightsoil is deposited.
A short, corpulent man, with bloated face, dressed
in black and wearing a decoration in his button-
hole, was talking to a tall, thin man, dressed in a
soiled white linen suit, with his coat all unbuttoned
and a white Panama hat on his head. The former
spoke so slowly and hesitatingly that it occasionally
almost seemed as if he stammered; he was Mon-
sieur Caravan, chief clerk in the Admiralty. The
other, who had formerly been surgeon on board a
merchant ship, had set up in practice in Courbevoie,
where he applied to the wretched population of that
district the vague remnants of medical knowledge
which he had retained after an adventurous life.
His name was Chenet, and gossip was current as
to his morality.
Monsieur Caravan had always led the normal life
of a man in a government office. For thirty years
he had invariably gone the same way to his office
every morning, and had met the same men going to
business at the same time and almost on the same
A FAMILY AFFAIR 65
spot; and he returned home every evening by the
same road, and again met the same faces which he
had seen grow old. Every morning, after buying
his penny newspaper at the corner of the Faubourg
St. Honore, he bought two rolls, and then he went
into his office, like a culprit who is giving himself
up to justice, and went to his desk as quickly as
possible, feeling uneasy, as if he were expecting a
rebuke for some possible neglect of duty.
Nothing ever had occurred to change the monoto-
nous order of his existence, for no event affected
him except the work of his office, perquisites, gratu-
ities, and promotion. He never spoke of anything
but of his duties, either at the Admiralty or at
home, for he had married the portionless daughter
of one of his colleagues. His mind, which was
in a state of atrophy from his depressing daily
work, had no other thoughts, hopes, or dreams than
such as related to the office, and there was a con-
stant source of bitterness which spoiled eveiy pleas-
ure he might have had, and that was the employ-
ment of so many naval officials "tinsmiths," as
they were called because of their silver-lace as first-
grade clerks; and every evening at dinner he dis-
cussed the matter hotly with his wife, who shared
his angry feelings, and proved to their own satis-
faction that it was in every way unjust to give
places in Paris to men who should properly have
been employed in the navy.
Caravan was old now, and had hardly noticed
66 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
how his life was passing, for school had merely been
exchanged for the office without any intermediate
transition, and the ushers, at whom he had for-
merly trembled, were replaced by his chiefs, of
whom he was terribly afraid. When he had to go
into the rooms of these official despots, he trembled
from head to foot, and that continual fear had
given him a very awkward manner in their pres-
ence, a humble demeanor, and a kind of nervous
stammering.
He knew no more about Paris than a blind man
might know who was led to the same spot by his
dog every day; and if he read the account of any
uncommon events, or scandals, in his penny journal,
they appeared to him like fantastic tales, which
some reporter had made up out of his own head,
in order to amuse the inferior employes. He did
not read political news, which his paper frequently
altered, as the cause which subsidized it might re-
quire, for he was not fond of innovations, and
when he went through the Avenue of the Champs-
Elysees every evening, he looked at the surging
crowd of pedestrians, and at the stream of car-
riages, as a traveler might who has lost his way
in a strange country.
As he had completed his thirty years of obliga-
tory service that year, on the first of January, he
had had the cross of the Legion of Honor bestowed
upon him, which, in the semi-military public offices,
is a recompense for the miserable slavery the offi-
A FAMILY AFFAIR 67
cial phrase is "loyal services" of the unfortunate
convicts who are riveted to their desk. That unex-
pected dignity gave him a high and new idea of his
own capacities, and altogether changed him. He
immediately left off wearing light trousers and
fancy waistcoats, and wore black trousers and long
coats, on which his ribbon, which was very broad,
showed off better. He shaved every morning, mani-
cured his nails more carefully, changed his linen
every two days, from a legitimate sense of what
was proper, and out of respect to the national
Order, of which he formed a part; and from that
day he was another Caravan, scrupulously clean,
majestic, and condescending.
At home, he said, "my cross," continually, and
he had become so proud of it that he could not bear
to see men wearing any other ribbon in their but-
tonholes. He was especially angry on seeing strange
orders "which nobody should be allowed to wear
in France ;" and he bore Chenet a particular grudge,
as he met him on a train every evening, wearing a
decoration of one kind or another, white, blue,
orange, or green.
The conversation of the two men, from the Arc
de Triomphe to Neuilly, was always the same, and
on that day they discussed, first of all, various local
abuses, which disgusted them both, and the Mayor
of Neuilly received his full share of their censure.
Then, as invariably happens in the company of a
medical man, Caravan began to enlarge on the sub-
68 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
ject of illness, as, in that way, he hoped to obtain
a little gratuitous advice, if he was careful not to
show his hand. His mother had been causing him
no little anxiety for some time; she had frequent
and prolonged fainting fits, and, although she was
ninety, she would not take care of herself.
Caravan became quite affected when he men-
tioned her great age, and more than once asked
Dr. Chenet, emphasizing the word doctor although
he was not fully qualified, being only an officier de
sante whether he had often met anyone as old as
that. And he rubbed his hands with pleasure; not,
perhaps, that he cared very much about seeing the
good woman last forever here on earth, but because
the length of his mother's life was, as it were, an
earnest of old age for himself, and he continued :
"In my family we live long, and I am sure that,
unless I meet with an accident, I shall not die until
I am very old."
The doctor looked at him with pity, and glanced
for a moment at his neighbor's red face, his short,
thick neck, his "corporation," as Chenet called it
to himself, his two fat, flabby legs, and the apoplec-
tic rotundity of the old official; and, raising the
white Panama hat from his head, he said with a
chuckle :
"I am not so sure of that, old fellow. Your
mother is as tough as nails, but I should say that
your life is not a very good one."
This rather disturbed Caravan, who did not speak
A FAMILY AFFAIR 69
again until they arrived at their destination, where
the two friends got out. Chenet asked his friend to
have a glass of vermouth at the Cafe du Globe, op-
posite, which both were in the habit of frequenting.
The proprietor, who was a friend of theirs, held
out to them two fingers which they shook across the
bottles on the counter; and then they joined three
of their friends, who were playing dominoes, and
who had been there since mid-day. They exchanged
cordial greetings, with the usual question: "Any-
thing new?" And then the three players continued
their game, and held out their hands without looking
up, when the others said "Good-night;" after
which both went home to dinner.
Caravan lived in a small two-story house in Cour-
bevoie, near where the roads meet; the first floor
was occupied by a hairdresser. Two bedrooms, a
dining-room, and a kitchen formed the whole of
their apartments, and Madame Caravan spent
nearly all her time in cleaning them, while her
daughter, Marie-Louise, who was twelve, and her
son, Philippe-Auguste, were running about with all
the dirty little mischievous children of the neighbor-
hood, and playing in the gutter.
Caravan had installed his mother, whose avarice
was notorious in the neighborhood, and who was
terribly thin, in the room above them. She was
always cross, and she never passed a day without
quarreling and flying into furious rages. She would
apostrophize the neighbors who were standing at
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their own doors, the costermongers, the street-
sweepers, and the street-boys, in the most violent
language ; and the latter, for revenge, would follow
her at a distance when she went out, and call out
rude things after her.
A little servant from Normandy, who was incred-
ibly silly and thoughtless, performed the house-
hold work, and slept on the second floor in the same
room with the old woman, for fear of anything
happening to her in the night.
When Caravan entered, his wife, who suffered
from a chronic passion for cleaning, was polishing
with a piece of flannel, the mahogany chairs that
stood about the room. She always wore cotton
gloves, and adorned her head with a cap ornamented
with many colored ribbons, which was always tilted
over one ear ; and whenever anyone caught her pol-
ishing, sweeping, or washing, she would say:
" I am not rich ; everything is very simple in my
house, but cleanliness is my luxury, and that is
worth quite as much as any other."
As she was gifted with good, obstinate, prac-
tical common-sense, she led her husband in every-
thing. Every evening during dinner, and after-
ward, when they were in their room, they talked
over the business of the office for a long time, and
although she was twenty years younger than he,
Caravan confided everything to her as if she took
the lead, and followed her advice in every matter.
She never had been pretty, and now she had
A FAMILY AFFAIR 71
grown ugly; in addition to that, she was short and
thin, while her careless and tasteless way of dress-
ing herself concealed her few small feminine attrac-
tions, which might have been brought out if she
had possessed any taste in dress. Her skirts were
always awry, and she frequently scratched herself,
no matter on what part of her person, totally indif-
ferent as to who might see her, and so persistently
that anyone who saw her might think that she was
suffering from something like the itch. The only
adornments that she allowed herself were silk rib-
bons, which she wore in great profusion, and of
various colors mixed together, in the pretentious
caps which she wore at home.
As soon as she saw her husband she rose and
said, as she kissed his whiskers :
"Did you remember Potin, my dear?"
He fell into a chair, in consternation, for that
was the fourth time on which he had forgotten a
commission that he had promised to do for her.
"It is a fatality," he said; "it is of no use for
me to think of it all day long, for I am sure to for-
get it in the evening."
But as he seemed so very sorry she merely said :
"You will think of it to-morrow, I am sure. Any-
thing new at the office?"
"Yes, a great piece of news; another tinsmith
has been appointed second chief clerk." She be-
came very serious, and said :
" So he succeeds Ramon ; that was the very place
72 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
that I wanted you to have. And what about
Ramon ?"
"He retires on his pension."
She became furious, her cap slid down on her
shoulder, and she continued :
"There is nothing more to be done in that shop
now. And what is the name of the new commis-
sioner?"
"Bonassot."
She took up the Naval Year Book, which she
always kept close at hand, and looked for his record.
" 'Bonassot Toulon. Born in 1851. Student-
Commissioner in 1871. Sub-Commissioner in 1875.'
Has he been to sea?" she continued. At that ques-
tion Caravan's looks brightened, and he laughed
until his sides shook.
"As much as Balin as much as Balin, his chief."
And he added an old office joke, and laughed more
than ever :
"It would not even do to send them by water to
inspect the Point-du-Jour, for they would be sick
on the penny steamboats on the Seine."
But she remained as serious as if she had not
heard him, and then she said in a low voice, as she
scratched her chin :
"If we only had a deputy to fall back upon.
When the Chamber hears everything that is going
on at the Admiralty, the Minister will be turned
out. ..."
She was interrupted by a terrible noise on the
A FAMILY AFFAIR 73
stairs. Marie-Louise and Philippe- Auguste, who
had just come in from the gutter, were slapping
each other all the way upstairs. Their mother
rushed at them furiously, and taking each of them
by an arm, she dragged them into the room, shak-
ing them vigorously; but as soon as they saw their
father, they rushed up to him, and he kissed them
affectionately, and taking one on each knee, began
to talk to them.
Philippe-Auguste was an ugly, ill-kempt little
imp, dirty from head to foot, with the face of an
idiot, and Marie-Louise was already like her
mother spoke like her, repeated her words, and
even imitated her movements. She also asked him
whether there was anything fresh at the office, and
he replied merrily :
" Your friend, Ramon, who comes and dines here
every Sunday, is about to leave us, little one. There
is a new second head clerk."
She looked at her father, and with a precocious
child's pity, she said :
"Another man has been put over your head
again !"
He stopped laughing, and did not reply, and in
order to create a diversion, he said, addressing his
wife, who was cleaning the windows :
"How is mamma, upstairs?"
Madame Caravan left off polishing, turned, pulled
her cap up, and said, with trembling lips:
"Ah! yes; let us talk about your mother, for she
Vol. 1-6
74 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
has made a pretty scene. Just imagine; a short
time ago Madame Lebaudin, the hairdresser's wife,
came upstairs to borrow a packet of starch of me,
and, as I was not at home, your mother chased her
out as if she were a beggar; but I gave it to
the old woman. She pretended not to hear, as she
always does when one tells her unpleasant truths,
but she is no more deaf than I am, as you know.
It is all a sham, and the proof of it is that she
went up to her own room immediately, without
saying a word."
Caravan, embarrassed, did not utter a word, and
at that moment the little servant came in to an-
nounce dinner. In order to let his mother know,
he took a broom-handle, which always stood in a
corner, and rapped loudly on the ceiling three times,
and then they went into the dining-room. Madame
Caravan, junior, served the soup, and waited for
the old woman, but she did not come, and as the
soup was getting cold, they began to eat slowly, and
when their plates were empty, they waited again,
and Madame Caravan, who was furious, attacked
her husband:
"She does it on purpose, you know that as well
as I do. But you always defend her."
Not knowing which side to take, he sent Marie-
Louise to fetch her grandmother, and he sat motion-
less, with his eyes cast down, while his wife tapped
her glass angrily with her knife. In about a min-
ute, the door flew open suddenly, and the child came
A FAMILY AFFAIR 75
in again, out of breath and very pale, and said:
"Grandmamma has fallen on the floor."
Caravan jumped up, threw his napkin down, and
rushed upstairs, while his wife, who thought it was
some trick of her mother-in-law's, followed more
slowly, shrugging her shoulders, as if to express her
doubt. When they got upstairs, however, they
found the old woman lying at full length in the
middle of the room, and when they turned her
over, they saw that she was insensible and motion-
less, while her skin looked more wrinkled and yel-
low than usual, her eyes were closed, her teeth
clenched, and her thin body was stiff.
Caravan knelt down by her, and began to moan :
"Poor mother! my poor mother!" he said. But
the other Madame Caravan said:
"Bah! She has only fainted again, that is all,
and she has done it to prevent us from dining com-
fortably, you may be sure of that."
They put her on the bed, undressed her com-
pletely, and Caravan, his wife, and the servant be-
gan to rub her; but, in spite of their efforts, she
did not recover consciousness, so they sent Rosalie,
the servant, to fetch Dr. Chenet. He lived a long
way off, on the quay leading toward Suresnes, and
so it was some time before he arrived. He came
at last, and, after looking at the old woman, he felt
her pulse, listened for a heart-beat, and said: "It
is all over."
Caravan threw himself on the body, sobbing vio-
76 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
lently; he kissed his mother's rigid face, and wept
so that great tears fell on the dead woman's face,
like drops of water, and, naturally, Madame Cara-
van, junior, showed a decorous amount of grief, and
uttered feeble moans as she stood behind her hus-
band, while she rubbed her eyes vigorously.
But, suddenly, Caravan raised himself, his thin
hair in disorder, and, looking very ugly in his grief,
said:
" But . . . are you sure, doctor ? . . . Are you
sure? ..."
The doctor stooped over the body, and, handling
it with professional dexterity, as a shopkeeper
might when showing off his goods, he said :
"See, my dear friend, look at her eye."
He raised the eyelid, and the old woman's eye
appeared altogether unaltered, unless, perhaps, the
pupil was rather larger, and Caravan felt a severe
shock at the sight. Then Dr. Chenet took her thin
arm, forced the fingers open, and said, angrily, as
if he had been contradicted :
"Just look at her hand ; I never make a mistake,
you may be quite sure of that."
Caravan fell on the bed, and almost bellowed,
while his wife, still whimpering, did what was
necessary.
She brought the night-table, on which she spread
a towel and placed four wax candles on it, which
she lighted ; then she took a sprig of box, which was
hanging over the chimney-glass, and put it between
A FAMILY AFFAIR 77
the four candles, in a plate, which she filled with
clean water, as she had no holy water. But, after a
moment's rapid reflection, she threw a pinch of salt
into the water, no doubt, thinking she was perform-
ing some sort of act of consecration by doing that.
When she had finished she remained standing mo-
tionless, and the doctor, who had been helping her,
whispered to her:
"We must take Caravan away."
She nodded assent, and, going up to her husband,
who was still on his knees, sobbing, she raised him
by one arm, while Chenet took him by the other.
They put him into a chair, and his wife kissed his
forehead, and then began to lecture him. Chenet
enforced her words, and preached firmness, cour-
age, and resignation the very things that are al-
ways wanting in such overwhelming misfortunes
and then both took him by the arms again and led
him out.
He was crying like a great child, with convulsive
sobs; his arms hanging down, and his legs weak,
and he went downstairs without knowing what he
was doing, moving his feet mechanically. They
put him into the chair he always occupied at dinner,
in front of his empty soup plate. And there he sat,
without moving, his eyes fixed on his glass, and
so stupefied with grief that he could not even think.
In a corner, Madame Caravan was talking with
the doctor and asking what the necessary formali-
ties were, as she wanted to obtain practical in forma-
78 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
Jion. At last Dr. Chenet, who appeared to be
waiting for something, took up his hat and prepared
to go, saying that he had not dined yet; where-
upon she exclaimed:
"What! you have not dined? Why, stay here,
doctor; don't go. You shall have whatever we
have, for, of course, you understand that we do not
live sumptuously." He made excuses and refused,
but she persisted, and said:
"You really must stay; at times like this people
like to have friends near them, and, besides that,
perhaps you will be able to persuade my husband
to take some nourishment; he must keep up his
strength."
The doctor bowed, and, putting down his hat, he
said:
"In that case, I will accept your invitation,
Madame."
She gave some orders to Rosalie, who seemed to
have lost her head, and then sat down, "to pretend
to eat," as she said, "to keep the doctor company."
The soup was brought in again, and Dr. Chenet
took two helpings. Then came a dish of tripe,
which exhaled a smell of onions, and which
Madame Caravan made up her mind to taste.
"It is excellent," the doctor said, at which she
smiled, and, turning to her husband, she said :
"Do take a little, my poor Alfred, only just to
put something into your stomach. Remember that
you have to pass all the night watching beside heri"
A FAMILY AFFAIR 79
He held out his plate, docilely, just as he would
have gone to bed, if he had been told to, obeying
her in everything, without resistance and without
reflection, and he ate; the doctor helped himself
three times, while Madame Caravan, from time to
time, fished out a large piece at the end of her fork,
and swallowed it with a sort of studied indifference.
When a salad bowl full of macaroni was brought
in, the doctor said:
"Good! That is something I am very fond of."
And this time Madame Caravan helped everybody.
She even filled the saucers that were being scraped
by the children, who, left to themselves, had been
drinking wine without any water, and were now
kicking each other under the table.
Chenet remembered that Rossini, the composer,
had been very fond of that Italian dish, and sud-
denly exclaimed :
"Why! that rhymes, and one could begin some
lines likes this:
"'The Maestro Rossini
Was fond of macaroni.' "
Nobody listened to him, however. Madame Cara-
van, who had suddenly grown thoughtful, was
thinking of all the probable consequences of the
death, while her husband made bread pellets, which
he laid on the tablecloth and looked at with a fixed,
idiotic, stare. As he was devoured by thirst, he was
continually raising his glass full of wine to his lips,
and the consequence was that his mind, which had
80 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
been upset by the shock and grief, seemed to be-
come vague, and his ideas danced about as diges-
tion began.
The doctor, who, meanwhile, had been drinking
steadily, was getting visibly intoxicated, and Ma-
dame Caravan herself felt the reaction that follows
all nervous shocks, and was agitated and excited,
and although she had drunk nothing but water she
felt her head rather confused.
Presently, Chenet began to relate stories of
deaths that appeared amusing to him. For in that
suburb of Paris, that is full of people from the
provinces, one finds that indifference toward death
which all peasants show, were it even their own
father or mother ; that want of respect, that uncon-
scious brutality which is so common in the country,
and so rare in Paris, and he said :
"Why, I was sent for last week to the Rue du
Puteaux, and when I went, I found the patient
dead, and the whole family calmly sitting beside the
bed finishing a bottle of aniseed cordial, which had
been bought the night before to satisfy the dying
man's fancy."
But Madame Caravan was not listening ; she was
continually thinking of the inheritance, and Cara-
van was incapable of understanding anything fur-
ther.
Coffee was presently served, and it had been
made very strong to give them courage. As every
cup was well flavored with cognac, it made all their
A FAMILY AFFAIR 81
faces red, and confused their ideas still more. To
make matters still worse, Chenet suddenly seized
the brandy bottle and poured out "a drop for each
of them just to rinse their mouths with," as he
termed it, and then, without speaking any more,
overcome in spite of themselves, by that feeling, of
animal comfort which alcohol affords after dinner,
they slowly sipped the sweet cognac, which formed
a yellowish sirup at the bottom of their cups.
The children had fallen asleep, and Rosalie car-
ried them off to bed. Caravan, mechanically obey-
ing that wish to forget oneself which possesses all
unhappy persons, helped himself to brandy again
several times, and his dull eyes grew bright. At
last the doctor rose to go, and seizing his friend's
arm, he said :
"Come with me; a little fresh air will do you
good. When one is in trouble, one must not remain
in one spot."
The other obeyed mechanically, put on his hat,
took his stick, and went out, and both of them
walked arm-in-arm toward the Seine, in the star-
light night.
The air was warm and sweet, for all the gardens
in the neighborhood were full of flowers at that
season of the year, and their fragrance, which is
hardly perceptible during the day, seemed to awaken
at the approach of night, and mingled with the light
breezes which blew upon them in the darkness.
The broad avenue, with its two rows of gas
82 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
lamps, that extended as far as the Arc de Triomphe,
was deserted and silent, but there was the distant
roar of Paris, which seemed to have a reddish
mist hanging over it. It was a kind of continual
rumbling, which was at times answered by the
whistle of a train at full speed, in the distance, trav-
eling through the provinces to the ocean.
The fresh air on the faces of the two men rather
overcame them at first, made the doctor lose his
equilibrium a little, and increased Caravan's dizzi-
ness, from which he had suffered since dinner. He
walked as if in a dream; his thoughts were para-
lyzed, although he felt no great grief, for he was
in a state of mental torpor that prevented him
from suffering, and he even felt a sense of relief
which was increased by the mildness of the night.
When they reached the bridge, they turned to the
right, and got the fresh breeze from the river, which
rolled along, calm and melancholy, bordered by tall
poplar trees, while the stars looked as if they were
floating on the water and were moving with the
current. A light, white mist that floated over the
opposite banks filled their lungs with a sensation
of cold, and Caravan stopped suddenly, for he was
struck by that smell from the water, which brought
back old memories to his mind. For, in his mind,
he suddenly saw his mother again, in Picardy, as
he had seen* her years before, kneeling in front of
their door, and washing the heaps of linen at her
side, in the stream that ran through their garden.
A FAMILY AFFAIR 83
He almost fancied that he could hear the sound of
the wooden paddle with which she beat the linen in
the calm silence of the country, and her voice, as
she called out to him: "Alfred, bring me some
soap." And he smelled that odor of running water,
of the mist rising from the wet ground, that
marshy smell which he should never forget, and
which came back to him on this very evening on
which his mother died.
He stopped, seized with a feeling of despair. A
sudden flash seemed to reveal to him the extent of
his calamity, and that breath from the river plunged
him into an abyss of hopeless grief. His life
seemed cut in half, his youth disappeared, swal-
lowed up by that death. All the former days were
over and done with, all the recollections of his youth
had been swept away; for the future, there would
be nobody to talk to him of what had happened in
days gone by, of the people he had known of old,
of his own part of the country, and of his past life ;
that was a part of his existence which existed no
longer, and the rest might as well end now.
Then he saw "the mother" as she was when
young, wearing well-worn dresses, which he remem-
bered for such a long time that they seemed in-
separable from her; he recollected her movements,
the different tones of her voice, her habits, her
predilections, her fits of anger, the wrinkles on
her face, the movements of her thin fingers and all
her well-known attitudes, which she would never
84 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
take again, and clutching hold of the doctor, he
began to moan and weep. His thin legs began to
tremble, his whole stout body was shaken by his
sobs, all he could say was :
"My mother, my poor mother, my poor
mother 1"
But his companion, who was still drunk, and who
intended to finish the evening in certain places of
bad repute that he frequented secretly, made him
sit down on the grass by the riverside, and left him
almost immediately, under the pretext that he had
to see a patient.
Caravan went on crying for some time, and when
he had got to the end of his tears, when his grief
had, so to say, run out, he again felt relief, re-
pose, and sudden tranquillity.
The moon had risen, and bathed the horizon in
its soft light.
The tall poplar trees showed a silvery sheen, and
the mist on the plain looked like drifting snow ; the
river, in which the stars were reflected, and which
had a sheen as of mother-of-pearl, was gently
rippled by the wind. The air was soft and sweet, and
Caravan inhaled it almost greedily, and thought
that he could perceive a feeling of freshness, of
calm and of superhuman consolation pervading
him.
He actually resisted that feeling of comfort and
relief, and kept on saying to himself: "My mother,
my poor mother!" . . . and tried to make him-
A FAMILY AFFAIR 85
self cry, from a kind of conscientious feeling; but
he could not succeed in doing so any longer and
those sad thoughts, which had made him sob so
bitterly a short time before, had almost passed
away. In a few moments, he rose to go home, and
returned slowly, under the influence of that serene
night, and with a heart soothed in spite of himself.
When he reached the bridge, he saw that the
last car was ready to start, and behind it were the
brightly lighted windows of the Cafe du Globe.
He felt a longing to tell somebody of his loss, to
excite pity, to make himself interesting. He put
on a sad face, pushed open the door, and went
up to the counter, where the landlord still was. He
had counted on creating a sensation, and had hoped
that everybody would get up and come to him with
outstretched hands, and say: "Why, what is the
matter with you?" But nobody noticed his dis-
consolate face, so he rested his two elbows on the
counter, and burying his face in his hands, he mur-
mured: "Good heavens! Good heavens!"
The landlord looked at him and said: "Are you
ill, Monsieur Caravan?"
"No, my friend," he replied, "but my mother has
just died."
"Ah!" the other exclaimed, and as a customer
at the other end of the establishment asked for a
glass of Bavarian beer, he went to attend to him,
leaving Caravan almost stupefied at his lack of
sympathy.
86 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
The three domino players were sitting at the
same table which they had occupied before dinner,
totally absorbed in their game, and Caravan went
up to them in search of pity, but as none of them
appeared to notice him, he made up his mind to
speak.
"A great misfortune has happened to me since
I was here," he said.
All three slightly raised their heads at the same
instant, but kept their eyes fixed on the pieces
which they held in their hands.
"What do you say?"
"My mother has just died;" whereupon one of
them said:
"Oh! the devil!" with that false air of sorrow
which indifferent people assume. Another, who
could not find anything to say, emitted a sort of
sympathetic whistle, shaking his head at the same
time, and the third turned to the game again, as if
he were saying to himself: "Is that all?"
Caravan had expected some of those expressions
that are said to "come from the heart," and when
he saw how his news was received, he left the table,
indignant at their calmness at their friend's sorrow,
although this sorrow had stupefied him so that he
scarcely felt it any longer. When he got home his
wife was waiting for him in her nightgown, and sit-
ting in a low chair by the open window, still think-
ing of the inheritance.
"Undress yourself," she said; "we can talk."
A FAMILY AFFAIR 87
He raised his head, and looking at the ceiling,
said:
"But . . . there is nobody upstairs."
"I beg your pardon, Rosalie is with her, and you
can go and take her place at three o'clock in the
morning, after you have had some sleep."
He only partially undressed, however, so as to be
ready for anything that might happen, and after
tying a silk handkerchief around his head lay
down to rest, and for some time neither spoke.
Madame Caravan was thinking.
Her nightcap was adorned with a red bow, and
was pushed rather over one ear, as was the way
with all the caps she wore, and presently she turned
towards him and said :
"Do you know whether your mother made a
will?"
He hesitated for a moment, and then replied :
" I . . . I do not think so. ... No, I am sure
that she did not."
His wife looked at him, and she said, in a low,
angry tone :
"I call that infamous; here we have been wear-
ing ourselves out for ten years in looking after her,
and have boarded and lodged her! Your sister
would not have done so much for her, nor I either,
if I had known how I was to be rewarded ! Yes, it
is a disgrace to her memory! I daresay you will
tell me that she paid us, but one cannot pay one's
children in ready money for what they do; that
88 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
obligation is recognized after death; at any rate,
that is how honorable people act. So I have had
all my worry and trouble for nothing! Oh, that is
fine ! that is very fine !"
Poor Caravan, who was almost distracted, kept
on repeating:
"My dear, my dear, please be quiet."
She grew calmer by degrees, and, resuming her
usual voice and manner, she continued :
"We must let your sister know to-morrow."
He started, and said:
"Of course, we must; I had forgotten all about
it ; I will send her a telegram the first thing in the
morning."
"No," she replied, like a woman who had fore-
seen everything; "no, do not send it before ten or
eleven o'clock, so that we may have time to do
things before she comes. It does not take more
than two hours to get here from Charenton, and we
can say that you lost your wits from grief. If we
let her know in the course of the day, that will be
soon enough, and will give us time to look around."
Caravan put his hand to his forehead, and, in the
same timid voice in which he always spoke of his
chief, the very thought of whom made him tremble,
he said:
"I must let them know at the office."
"Why?" she replied. "On occasions like this,
it is always excusable to forget. Take my advice,
and don't let him know ; your chief will not be able
A FAMILY AFFAIR 89
to say anything to you, and you will put him in a
nice fix."
"Oh! yes, that I shall, and he will be in a terrible
rage, too, when he notices my absence. Yes, you
are right; it is a capital idea, and when I tell him
that my mother is dead he will be obliged to hold
his tongue."
And he rubbed his hands in delight at the joke,
when he thought of his chief's face ; while upstairs
lay the body of the dead woman, with the servant
asleep beside it.
But Madame Caravan grew thoughtful, as if she
were preoccupied by something she did not care
to mention, and at last she said :
"Your mother had given you her clock, had she
not ; the girl playing at cup and ball ?"
He thought for a moment, and then replied:
"Yes, yes; she said to me, but it was a long
time ago, when she first came here: 'I shall
leave the clock to you, if you look after me well.' ' :
Madame Caravan was reassured, and regained
her serenity and said:
"Well, then, you must go and fetch it out of her
room, for if we get your sister here she will pre-
vent us from taking it."
He hesitated.
"Do you think so? . . ."
That made her angry.
"I certainly think so; once it is in our posses-
sion, she will know nothing at all about where it
Vol. 17
90 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
came from; it belongs to us. It is just the same
with the chest of drawers with the marble top that
is in her room ; she gave it to me one day when she
was in a good temper. We will bring it down at
the same time."
Caravan, however, seemed incredulous, and said :
"But, my dear, this is a great responsibility to
assume !"
She turned on him furiously.
"Oh! Indeed! Will you never change? You
would let your children die of hunger rather than
make a move. Does not that chest of drawers be-
long to us, since she gave it to me? And if your
sister is not satisfied, let her tell me so, me! I
don't care a straw for your sister. Come, get up,
and we will bring down what your mother gave us
immediately."
Trembling and vanquished, he got out of bed, and
began to put on his trousers, but she stopped him :
"It is not worth while to dress yourself; your
underclothes are quite enough; I mean to go as I
am."
They both left the room in their night clothes,
went upstairs quite noiselessly, opened the door and
went into the room, where the four lighted candles
and 'the plate with the sprig of box alone seemed
to be watching the old woman in her rigid repose ;
for Rosalie, who was lying back in the easy-chair
with her legs stretched out, her hands folded in her
lap, and her head on one side, was also quite mo-
A FAMILY AFFAIR 91
tionless, and was snoring with her mouth wide open.
Caravan took the clock, which was one of those
grotesque objects that were produced so plentifully
under the Empire. A girl in gilt bronze was hold-
ing a cup and ball, and the ball formed the pen-
dulum.
"Give that to me," his wife said, "and take the
marble slab off the chest of drawers."
He put the marble slab on his shoulder with con-
siderable effort, and they left the room. Caravan
had to stoop in the doorway, and trembled as he
went downstairs, while his wife walked backward,
so as to light him, and held the candlestick in
one hand, carrying the clock under the other arm.
When they were in their own room, she heaved a
sigh.
"We have got over the worst part of the job,"
she said; "so now let us go and fetch the other
things."
But the bureau drawers were full of the old
woman's clothes, which they must manage to hide
somewhere, and Madame Caravan soon thought
of a plan.
"Go and get that wooden packing-case in the
vestibule ; it is worth hardly anything, and we may
just as well put it here."
And when he had brought it upstairs, they began
to fill it. One by one, they took out all the collars,
cuffs, chemises, caps, all the well-worn things that
had belonged to the poor woman lying there behind
them, and arranged them methodically in the
92 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
wooden box, in such a manner as to deceive Ma-
dame Braux, the deceased woman's other child, who
would arrive the next day.
When they had finished, they first of all carried
the bureau drawers downstairs, and the remaining
portion afterward, each of them holding an end,
and it was some time before they could make up
their minds where it would stand best; but at last
they decided upon their own room, opposite the bed,
between the two windows, and as soon as it was
in its place, Madame Caravan filled it with her own
belongings. The clock was placed on the chimney-
piece in the dining-room; they looked to see what
the effect was, and were delighted with it, agreeing
that nothing could be better. Then they retired, she
blew out the candle, and soon everybody in the
house was asleep.
It was broad daylight when Caravan opened his
eyes again. His mind was rather confused when
he woke up, and he did not clearly remember what
had happened, for a few moments ; when he did, he
felt a weight at his heart, and jumped out of bed,
almost ready to cry again.
He hastened to the room overhead, where Rosalie
was still sleeping in the same position as the night
before, not having awakened once. He sent her to
her work, put fresh tapers in the place of those
that had burned out, and then he looked at his
mother, revolving in his brain those apparently pro-
found thoughts, those religious and philosophical
A FAMILY AFFAIR 93
commonplaces, which trouble people of mediocre
intelligence in the presence of death.
But as his wife was calling him, he went down-
stairs. She had written out a list of what had to be
done during the morning, and he was horrified
when he saw the memorandum :
1. Report the death at the Mayor's office.
2. See the doctor who had attended her.
3. Order the coffin.
4. Give notice at the church.
5. Go to the undertaker.
6. Order the notices of her death at the printer's.
7. Go to the lawyer.
8. Telegraph the news to all the family.
Besides all this, there were a number of small
commissions ; so he took his hat and went out. As
the news had spread abroad, Madame Caravan's
female friends and neighbors soon began to come
in, and begged to be allowed to see the body. There
had been a scene between husband and wife at the
hairdresser's on the ground floor, about the mat-
ter, while a customer was being shaved. The wife,
who was knitting steadily, said: "Well, there's
one less, and as great a miser as one ever meets
with. I certainly did not care for her, but never-
theless, I must go and have a look at her."
The husband, while lathering his customer's chin,
said: "That is another queer fancy! Nobody but
a woman would think of such a thing. It is not
enough for them to worry you during life, but they
94 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
cannot even leave you in peace when you are dead."
But his wife, without being in the least discon-
certed, replied: "The feeling is stronger than I
am, and I must go. It has been on me since the
morning. If I were not to see her I should think
about it all my life; but when I have had a good
look at her I shall be satisfied."
The knight of the razor shrugged his shoulders,
and remarked in a low voice to the gentleman
whose cheek he was scraping: "I just ask you,
what sort of ideas do you think these confounded
women have ? I should not amuse myself by going
to see a corpse !" His wife had heard him, and re-
plied very quietly: "But it is so, it is so." And
then, putting her knitting on the counter, she
went upstairs, to the first floor, where she met two
other neighbors, who had just come, and who were
discussing the event with Madame Caravan, who
was giving them the details; and they all went to-
gether to the death chamber. The four women
went in softly, and, one after the other, sprinkled
the bedclothes with holy water, knelt, and made the
sign of the cross while they mumbled a prayer.
Then they rose from their knees, and looked for
some time at the corpse, with round, wide-open eyes
and mouths partly open, while the daughter-in-law
of the dead woman, with her handkerchief to her
face, pretended to be sobbing piteously.
When she turned about to walk away, whom
should she perceive standing close to the door but
A FAMILY AFFAIR 95
Marie-Louise and Philippe-Auguste, who were curi-
ously taking note of all that was going on. Then
forgetting her pretended grief, she threw herself
upon them with uplifted hands, crying out in a furi-
ous voice, "Will you get out of this, you dirty
brats?"
Ten minutes later, going upstairs again with an-
other contingent of neighbors, she prayed, wept
profusely, performed all her duties, and found once
more her two children, who had followed her up-
stairs. She again boxed their ears soundly ; but the
next time she paid no heed to them, and at each
fresh arrival of visitors the two children always
followed in the wake, kneeling down in a corner,
and imitating slavishly everything they saw their
mother do.
When the afternoon came, the crowds of inquisi-
tive ones began to diminish, and soon there were
no more visitors. Madame Caravan, returning to
her own apartments, began to make the necessary
preparations for the funeral, and the dead woman
was left alone.
The window of the room was open. A torrid
heat entered along with clouds of dust; the flames
of the four candles were flickering beside the im-
mobile corpse; and upon the cloth which covered
the face, the closed eyes, the two stretched-out
hands, small flies alighted, came, went, and careered
up and down incessantly, being the only companions
of the old woman for the time being.
96 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
Marie-Louise and Philippe-Auguste, however, had
now left the house, and were running up and down
the street. They were soon surrounded by their
playmates, by little girls, especially, who were older
and who were much more interested in all the mys-
teries of life, asking grown-up questions.
"Then your grandmother is dead?"
"Yes, she died yesterday evening."
"What does a dead person look like?"
Then Marie began to explain, telling all about
the candles, the sprig of box, and the face of the
corpse. It was not long before great curiosity was
aroused in the minds of all the children, and they
asked to be allowed to go upstairs to look at the
departed.
Marie-Louise at once organized a first expedi-
tion, consisting of five girls and two boys the big-
gest and the most courageous. She made them take
off their shoes so that they might not be discov-
ered. The troop filed into the house and went up
the stairs as stealthily as an army of mice.
Once in the chamber, the little girl, imitating her
mother, regulated the ceremony. She solemnly
walked in advance of her comrades, went down on
her knees, made the sign of the cross, moved her
lips as in prayer, rose, sprinkled the holy water, and
while the children, all crowded together, were ap-
proaching frightened and curious, and eager to
look at the face and hands of the deceased she
began suddenly to simulate sobbing, and to bury her
A FAMILY AFFAIR 97
eyes in her little handkerchief. Then, becoming
instantly consoled, on thinking of the other children
who were downstairs waiting at the door, she ran
downstairs followed by the rest, returning in a min-
ute with another group, then a third; for all the
little ragamuffins of the countryside, even to the
little beggars in rags, had congregated in order to
participate in this new pleasure; and each time she
repeated her mother's grimaces with absolute per-
fection.
At length, however she became tired. Some
game or other drew the children away from the
house, and the old grandmother was left alone, for-
gotten suddenly by everybody.
The room was growing dark, and upon the dry
and rigid features of the corpse the fitful flames of
the candles cast patches of light.
Toward eight o'clock, Caravan went to the cham-
ber of death, closed the windows, and renewed the
candles. He was now quite composed on entering
the room, accustomed already to regard the corpse
as if it had been there for months. He even went
the length of declaring that, as yet, there were no
signs of decomposition, making this remark just at
the moment when he and his wife were about to
sit down at table. "Pshaw!" she responded, "she
is now in wood ; she will keep for a year."
The soup was eaten in silence. The children,
who had been left to themselves all day, now worn
out by fatigue, were sleeping soundly on their
98 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
chairs, and nobody ventured to break the silence.
Suddenly the flame of the lamp went down.
Madame Caravan immediately turned up the wick,
a hollow sound ensued, and the light went out.
They had forgotten to buy oil. To send for it now
to the grocer's would keep back the dinner, and they
began to look for candles ; but none were to be
found except the tapers which had been placed upon
the table upstairs, in the death chamber.
Madame Caravan, always prompt in her deci-
sions, quickly despatched Marie-Louise to fetch two,
and her return was awaited in total darkness.
The footsteps of the girl who had ascended the
stairs were distinctly heard. There was silence for
a few seconds, and then the child descended pre-
cipitately. She threw open the door, and in a chok-
ing voice murmured: "Oh! papa, grandmother is
dressing herself!"
Caravan bounded to his feet with such precipi-
tance that hischair fell over against the wall. He
stammered out: "You say? . . . What are
you saying?"
But Marie-Louise, gasping with emotion, re-
peated: "Grand . . . grand . . . grand-
mother is putting on her clothes; she is coming
downstairs."
Caravan rushed boldly up the staircase, followed
by his wife, dumf ounded ; but he came to a stand-
still before the door of the second floor, overcome
with terror, not daring to enter. What was he
A FAMILY AFFAIR 99
about to see? Madame Caravan, more courageous,
turned the handle of the door and stepped forward
into the room.
The room seemed to have become darker, and in
the middle of it a tall emaciated figure moved
about. The old woman was standing up, and in
awakening from her lethargic sleep, before even re-
gaining full consciousness, in turning upon her side,
and raising herself on her elbow, she had extin-
guished three of the candles which burned near the
bed. Then, gaining strength, she got off the bed
and began to look for her clothes. The absence of
her chest of drawers had at first worried her, but,
after a little, she had succeeded in finding her gar-
ments at the bottom of the wooden box, and was
now quietly dressing. She emptied the plateful of
water, replaced the sprig of box behind the looking-
glass, and arranged the chairs in their places, and
was ready to go downstairs when her son and
daughter-in-law appeared before her.
Caravan rushed forward, seized her by the hands,
embraced her with tears in his eyes, while his wife,
who was behind him, repeated in a hypocritical tone
of voice: "Oh, what a blessing! What a blessing!"
But the old woman, without being at all moved,
without even appearing to understand, rigid as a
statue, and with glazed eyes, simply asked: "Will
dinner soon be ready ?"
He stammered out, not knowing what he said :
"Oh, yes, mother, we have been waiting for you."
100 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
And, with an alacrity unusual in him, he took her
arm, while Madame Caravan, the younger, seized
the candle and lighted them downstairs, walking
backward in front of them, step by step, just as she
had done the previous night for her husband, who
was carrying the marble.
On reaching the first floor, she almost ran against
people who were ascending the stairs. It was the
Charenton family, Madame Braux, followed by her
husband.
The wife, tall and stout, with a prominent stom-
ach, opened wide her terrified eyes, and was ready
to make her escape. The husband, a socialist shoe-
maker, a little hairy man, the perfect image of a
monkey, murmured, quite unconcerned: "Well,
what next? Is she resurrected ? J>
As soon as Madame Caravan recognized them,
she made despairing signs to them, then, speaking
aloud, she said: "Why, here you are! What a
pleasant surprise !"
But Madame Braux, dumbfounded, understood
nothing; she responded in a low voice: "It was
your telegram that brought us ; we thought that all
was over."
Her husband, who was behind her, pinched her
to make her keep silent. He added with a sly
laugh, which his thick beard concealed: "It was
very kind of you to invite us here. We set out
post haste;" which remark showed the hostility
which had for a long time reigned between the
A FAMILY AFFAIR 101
households. Then, just as the old woman reached
the last steps, he pushed forward quickly and
rubbed his hairy face against her cheeks, shouting in
her ear, because of her deafness: "How well you
look, mother ; strong as usual, eh ?"
Madame Braux, in her stupefaction at seeing
alive the old woman whom they all believed to be
dead, dared not even embrace her; and her enor-
mous bulk blocked up the passage and hindered the
others from advancing. The old woman, uneasy
and suspicious, but without speaking, looked at
everyone around her ; and her little gray eyes, pierc-
ing and hard, fixed themselves now on one and now
on the other, and they were so full of meaning that
the children became frightened.
Caravan, to explain matters said : " She has been
somewhat ill, but she is better now ; quite well, in-
deed, are you not, mother?"
Then the good woman, continuing to walk, re-
plied in a husky voice, as if it came from a dis-
tance: "It was syncope. I heard you all the
while."
An embarrassing silence followed. They entered
the dining-room, and in a few minutes all sat down
to an improvised dinner.
Only M. Braux retained his self-possession; his
gorilla features grinned wickedly, while he let fall
some words of double meaning which painfully dis-
concerted every one.
But the doorbell kept ringing every second; and
102 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
Rosalie, distracted, came to call Caravan, who
rushed out, throwing down his napkin. His broth-
er-in-law even asked him whether it was not one of
his reception days, to which he stammered out, in
answer: "No, only a few packages ; nothing more."
A parcel was brought in, which he began to open
carelessly, and the mourning announcements witl
black borders appeared unexpectedly. Reddening
up to the very eyes, he closed the package hurriedly,
and pushed it under his waistcoat.
His mother had not seen it! She was looking
intently at her clock which stood on the mantel-
piece, and the embarrassment increased in midst of
a dead silence. Turning her wrinkled face toward
her daughter, the old woman, in whose eyes
gleamed malice, said: "On Monday you must take
me away from here, so that I can see your little
girl. I want so much to see her." Madame Braux,
her features illuminated, exclaimed: "Yes, mother,
that I will," while Madame Caravan, the younger,
who had turned pale, endured the most excruciat-
ing agony. The two men, however, gradually
drifted into conversation, and soon became em-
broiled in a political discussion. Braux maintained
the most revolutionary and communistic doctrines,
his eyes glowing, and gesticulating and throwing
about his arms. "Property, sir," he said, "is a
robbery perpetrated on the working classes; the
land is the common property of every man ; heredi-
tary rights are an infamy and a disgrace." But
A FAMILY AFFAIR 103
here he suddenly stopped, looking as if he had
just said something foolish; then added, in softer
tones: "But this is not the proper moment to dis-
cuss such things."
The door opened, and Dr. Chenet appeared. For
a moment he seemed bewildered, but, regaining his
usual smirking expression of countenance, he jaun-
tily approached the old woman, and said: "Aha!
mamma, you are better today. Oh! I never had
any doubt but you would come round again ; in fact,
I said to myself as I was mounting the staircase,
'I have an idea that I shall find the old lady on
her feet once more';" and as he patted her gently
on the back: "Ah! she is as solid as the Pont-
Neuf ; she will bury us all ; see if she does not."
He sat down, accepted the coffee that was offered
him, and soon began to join in the conversation of
the two men, backing up Braux, for he himself
had been mixed up in the Commune.
The old woman, now feeling herself fatigued,
wished to retire. Caravan rushed forward. She
looked him steadily in the eye and said: "You,
you must carry my clock and chest of drawers up-
stairs again without a moment's delay." "Yes,
mamma," he replied, gasping; "yes, I will do so."
The old woman then took the arm of her daughter
and withdrew from the room. The two Caravans
remained astounded, silent, plunged in the deepest
despair, while Braux rubbed his hands and sipped
his coffee, gleefully.
104 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
Suddenly Madame Caravan, consumed with rage,
rushed at him, exclaiming: "You are a thief, a
footpad, a cur. I would spit in your face, if ...
I would . . .1 . .would . . ." She
could find nothing further to say, suffocating as she
was, with rage, while he went on sipping his coffee,
with a smile.
His wife returning just then, Madame Caravan
attacked her sister-in-law, and the two women the
one with her enormous bulk, the other epileptic and
spare, with changed voices and trembling hands
flew at each other with words of abuse.
Chenet and Braux interposed, and the latter tak-
ing his wife by the shoulders pushed her out of
the door before him, shouting: "Go on, you fool!
you talk too much;" and the two were heard in
the street quarreling until they disappeared.
Dr. Chenet also took his departure, leaving the
Caravans alone, face to face. The husband fell back
on his chair, and with the cold sweat standing out
in beads on his temples, murmured: "What shall
I say to my chief to-morrow?"
THE ARTIST'S MODEL
THE sun was shining on a beautiful July day
on the little crescent-shaped town of Etretat,
with its white cliffs, shining pebbles and blue
sea. At the ends of the crescent were two points of
land; the smaller one to the right, the larger to
the left, stretching out into the quiet water.
On the beach a crowd was watching the bathers.
On the porch of the Casino another crowd, some
resting, some walking, was displaying under the
bright sky a wonderful garden of beautiful gowns
set off by red and blue parasols, on which were em-
broidered large silk flowers.
Along the promenade, at the end of the porch,
other persons of quiet taste, were walking slowly,
far from the elegant throng.
A famous young painter, Jean Summer, was
strolling sadly beside an invalid's chair, in which a
young woman was resting, his wife. A servant was
slowly pushing this rolling armchair and the cripple
was sadly contemplating the bright sky, the beauti-
ful day, and the joy of others.
Vol. 18 105
106 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
They neither spoke to nor looked at each other.
"Let us stop a minute," said the woman.
They stopped, and the artist sat on a little camp-
chair, offered him by the servant.
Those passing near the silent and motionless
couple looked at them pityingly. There was a
romantic story concerning his devotion, to the effect
that, moved by her love, he had married her not-
withstanding her infirmity.
Not far away two young men, seated on a cap-
stan with their gaze lost in the distance, were talk-
ing.
"No, that is not true; I tell you I know Jean
Summer very well."
"But then why did he marry her? She was
already crippled at the time of the marriage, wasn't
she?"
"Certainly. He married her . . .well . . .
foolishly, of course !"
"Well? ..."
"There is no 'well,' my friend, there is no
'well.' A man is a fool because he is a fool. And
then, you know very well that artists have a fancy
for contracting ridiculous marriages; almost all
of them marry models, former sweethearts, wrecks
of every description. Why? Who knows? One
would think that constant intercourse with the
genus model would disgust them forever with this
class of females. Not at all. After having them
pose for them they marry them. Just read that
THE ARTIST'S MODEL 107
little book by Alphonse Daudet: Artists' Wives.
"As to the couple you see there, the accident
occurred in a peculiar and terrible manner. The
little woman played a comedy, or rather a frightful
tragedy. She risked all for everything. Was she
sincere? Wid she love Jean? How can one tell?
Who can ever tell exactly how much ruse and how
much sincerity there is in the actions of a woman?
They are always sincere in an eternal mobility of
impressions. They are hot-tempered, criminal, de-
voted, admirable, and base, in obedience to incom-
prehensible emotions. They lie continually, with-
out wishing to, without knowing it, without un-
derstanding it and, notwithstanding all that, they
have an absolute frankness of sensations and of
sentiments which they express by violent, unex-
pected, incomprehensible resolutions which set at
naught our habits of thought and all our selfish
combinations. The unexpectedness and rapidity
of their decisions are the reason why they remain
for us hopeless puzzles. We always ask ourselves :
'Are they sincere? Are they false?'
"But, my friend, they are simultaneously sin-
cere and false, because it is in their nature to
be both in extremes, and neither one nor the other.
"Observe the methods which the best of them
use in order to obtain something which they de-
sire. They are at once complex and simple ; so com-
plicated that we never can guess them beforehand,
so simple that after being made victims, we can-
108 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
not help being surprised and saying to ourselves:
'What! Was I as gullible as that?'
"And they always succeed, especially when mar-
riage is the object.
"But here is the story of Jean Summer:
"The little woman was, naturally, a model. She
used to pose for him. She was pretty, extremely
elegant, and blessed, so they say, with a divine fig-
ure. He fell in love with her, as one falls in love
with any seductive woman whom one sees very
often. He imagined that he loved her with all
his heart. That is a singular phenomenon. As
soon as you desire a woman you sincerely believe
that you could not go through life without her.
You know perfectly well that the same thing has
happened to you before; that disgust has always
followed possession; that in order to live out one's
life beside another being, not a quickly extinguished,
brutal, physical appetite is needed, but a harmony
of temperament, of soul, and of character. You
must know how to distinguish in this seduction
which one feels, whether it is caused by physical
attraction, by a certain sensuous intoxication, or
by a sweet charm of the mind.
"He thought that he loved her; he made her
many promises of faithfulness, and he lived en-
tirely with her.
"She was really charming, gifted with the ele-
gant simplicity which the Parisian woman so eas-
ily acquires. She chatted, she gossiped, she said
THE ARTIST'S MODEL 109
foolish little things that seemed witty because of
her quaint little ways. Her gestures were always
graceful, well made and pleasing to the eye of an
artist. Whether she was lifting her arms or lean-
ing over, whether she was getting into a carriage
or holding out her hand to you, her movements
were always exactly right.
"For three months Jean did not notice that she
was like all other models. They hired, for the
summer, a little house at Andressy.
"I was there one evening when the first doubts
dawned upon my friend.
"As the night was glorious we wished to take
a walk beside the river. The moon cast a shimmer-
ing light across the water which was reflected back
in silver beams by the eddies of the swirling cur-
rent.
"We were walking along the banks, slightly in-
toxicated by this vague exaltation which is cast
over us on these dream-evenings. We felt like
accomplishing superhuman things, like loving un-
known, beautifully poetic beings. We felt within
us strange raptures, desires, and aspirations. We
were silent, carried away by the freshness of the
beautiful night, and by this mystic moonlight which
seems to shine through the body, to penetrate it,
to bathe and perfume our minds and to fill them
with joy.
"Suddenly Josephine (her name is Josephine)
exclaimed :
110 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
" 'Oh! did you see the big fish jump over
there?'
"He answered without looking, without even
knowing :
" 'Yes, dearie.'
"She grew angry.
" 'No, you didn't see it, your back was turned."
"He smiled:
" 'I know it. It's such a beautiful evening that
I wasn't thinking of anything.'
"She was silent for a minute, and then asked:
" 'Are you going to Paris to-morrow?'
"He answered:
" 'I don't know.'
"And once more she grew angry.
" 'If you think it's amusing to walk without
saying anything, you're mistaken. Anybody but a
fool would say something!'
"He did not answer. Then, with her perverse
woman's instinct, realizing that she would exasper-
ate him, she began to hum a tune which she knew
he detested.
"He murmured:
" 'Please stop !'
"Furious, she cried:
" 'Why do you wish me to stop?'
"He answered:
" 'You are spoiling the scenery !'
"Then came the odious, foolish scene, with its
unexpected reproaches, its tempestuous recrimina-
THE ARTIST'S MODEL 111
tions, and then tears. She went through the whole
programme. They went home. He had let her run
on without answering, deadened by this divine
evening and thunderstruck by this storm of abuse.
"Three months later they were hopelessly strug-
gling with these invincible and invisible bonds with
which custom surrounds our life. She held him,
oppressed and tortured him. They quarreled from
morning till night, insulting and wounding each
other.
"Finally he decided to break off at any price.
He sold all his canvases, borrowed money from
his friends, scraped together twenty thousand
francs (he was not yet famous), and one morn-
ing he left them on the mantelpiece with a fare-
well letter.
"He sought shelter with me.
"At about three o'clock in the afternoon the
doorbell rang. I opened the door. A woman
jumped at me, pushed me aside and rushed into
my studio; it was she!
"He rose on seeing her enter.
"She threw the envelope containing the money
at his feet with a gesture that was really noble and
said dryly:
" 'Here is your money ! I don't want it.'
"She was very pale, trembling, and undoubt-
edly prepared to do anything. As for him, I saw
him also grow pale, pale from anger and exas-
peration, and ready to commit any act of violence.
112 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
" 'What do you wish ?' he asked.
" 'I do not wish to be treated like any common
woman,' she answered. 'You sought me out; you
took me. I asked nothing of you. Keep me!'
" He stamped his foot :
" 'No, this is too much ! If you think that
you . . .'
"I had taken him by the arm.
" 'Quiet, Jean. Let me handle this.'
"I went to her, and quietly, little by little, 1
talked reason to her. I used all the arguments com-
monly employed on these occasions. She listened
to me, motionless, obstinate and dumb.
"At last, no longer knowing what to do, and
seeing that the affair might end badly, I resorted
to a last stratagem. I said :
" 'He still loves you, little one, but his family
wish him to marry, and you understand ! . . . '
"She jumped up:
" 'Ah ... Ah ! ... I understand. . . .
"Turning toward him:
" 'You . . . you . . . are going to be mar-
ried?'
"He answered firmly:
" 'Yes.'
"She stepped forward:
" 'If you marry, I will kill myself ... do you
understand ?'
"Shrugging his shoulders he answered:
" 'Well ... go ahead . . . kill yourself !'
THE ARTIST'S MODEL 113
"She gasped two or three times, her throat con-
tracted by terrible agony :
"'What? . . . What? . . . What? ... say
that again !'
"He repeated:
" 'Go ahead, and kill yourself if it will give you
any pleasure !'
"She continued, still terribly pale:
" 'You had better not dare me. I will throw
myself out of the window.'
" He began to laugh, went to the window, opened
it, and bowing, like a person who does not wish to
pass first, he said:
" 'Here is the way. After you!'
"She looked at him for a minute with a terrible
wild look; then, gathering speed as if to jump a
fence in the field, she rushed past me, past him,
over the railing and out of sight. . . .
"I never shall forget the effect this open win-
*ow produced on me, after seeing it traversed by
the body that was falling; for a second it seemed
to me to be as large as the sky and as empty as
space. Instinctively I fell back, not daring to look,
as if I were about to fall myself.
"Jean, dazed, stood motionless.
"The poor girl was brought back with both legs
broken. She never will walk again.
"Her lover, crazed by remorse, and perhaps also
moved by gratitude, took her back and married
her.
114 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
"There is the story."
Night was approaching. The young woman, feel-
ing cool, wished to go; and the servant began to
roll the cripple's chair toward the village. The
artist walked beside his wife. Neither of them had
spoken a word for an hour.
THE LETTERS
THE woman had died painlessly, quietly, as a
woman should whose life has been blame-
less. Now she was resting in her bed, lying
on her back, her eyes closed, her features calm,
her long white hair carefully arranged as if she
had arranged it ten minutes before dying; the whole
pale countenance of the dead woman was so col-
lected, so calm, so resigned, that one could feel
what a sweet soul had lived in that body, what
a quiet existence this old soul had led, how easy
and pure the death of this ancestor had been.
Kneeling beside the bed, her son, a magistrate
with inflexible principles, and her daughter, Mar-
guerite, known as Sister Eulalie, were weeping as
if their hearts would break. From their childhood
the mother had armed them with a strict moral
code, teaching them religion without weakness and
duty without compromise. He, the man, had be-
come a judge, and handled the law as a weapon
with which he smote the weak ones without pity.
She, the girl, influenced by the virtue which had
115
116 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
bathed her in this austere family, had become the
bride of Heaven through her loathing for man.
They had hardly known their father, knowing
only that he had made their mother unhappy, with-
out being told any of the details.
The nun was wildly kissing the dead woman's
hand, an ivory hand as white as the large figure of
Christ lying across the bed. On the other side of the
long body, the other hand seemed still to be clutch-
ing the sheet in the death grasp ; and the sheet had
preserved the little creases as a memory of those
last movements that precede eternal immobility.
A few light taps on the door caused the two
mourners to look up, and the priest, who had just
come from dinner, returned. He was red and out
of breath from his interrupted digestion, for he had
made himself a strong mixture of coffee and brandy
in order to combat the fatigue of the last few nights
and of the wake.
He looked sad, with that assumed sadness of the
priest for whom death is a bread-winner. He
crossed himself, and approaching with his profes-
sional gesture: "Well, my poor children! I have
come to help you pass these last sad hours." But
Sister Eulalie rose suddenly. "Thank you, father,
but my brother and I prefer to remain alone with
her. This is our last chance to see her, and we wish
to be together, all three of us, as we we used to
be when we were small and our poor mo mother
" Grief stopped her; she could not continue.
THE LETTERS 117
Once more serene, the priest bowed, thinking of
his bed. "As you wish, my children." He kneeled,
crossed himself, prayed, arose, and went out quietly,
murmuring: "She was a saint!"
They remained alone, the dead woman and her
children. The ticking of the clock, hidden in the
shadow, could be heard distinctly, and through the
open window drifted in with the soft moonlight
the sweet smell of hay and of woods. No other
noise could be heard except the occasional croak-
ing of a frog or the chirping of some belated insect.
An infinite peace, a divine melancholy, a silent
serenity surrounded this dead woman, seeming to
emanate from her and to appease nature itself.
Then the judge, still kneeling, his head buried
in the bedclothes, cried in a voice altered by
grief and stifled by the sheets and blankets:
:i Mamma, mamma, mamma!" And his sister,
frantically striking her forehead against the wood-
work, convulsed, twitching and trembling as in an
epileptic fit, moaned: "Jesus, Jesus, mamma,
Jesus!" And both, shaken by a storm of grief,
sobbed and choked.
The crisis slowly calmed down and they wept
quietly, as when a calm spell follows a squall on
the sea.
Some time passed, and they arose and looked at
their dear dead. And memories, those distant mem-
ories, yesterday so dear, today so torturing, came to
their minds with all the little forgotten details, those
118 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
little intimate familiar details that bring back to
life the one who has gone. They recalled to each
other circumstances, words, smiles, intonations of
the mother who was no longer to speak to them.
They saw her again happy and calm ; they remem-
bered things she had said, and a little motion of her
hand, as if, beating time, which she often used when
emphasizing her words.
They loved her as they never had loved her
before. They measured the depth of their grief,
and thus discovered how lonely they would find
themselves.
It was their prop, their guide, their whole youth,
all the best part of their lives that was disappear-
ing ; it was their bond with life, their mother, their
mamma, the connecting link with their forefathers,
which they would thenceforth miss. They now be-
came solitary, lonely beings; they could no longer
look back.
The nun said to her brother: "You remember
how mamma used often to read over her old letters ;
they are all in that drawer. Let us, in turn, read
them, let us live her whole life tonight beside her!
It would be like a road to the cross, like making
the acquaintance of her mother, of our grandpar-
ents, whom we never knew, but whose letters are
there and of whom she so often spoke, do you
remember ?"
From the drawer they took about ten little pack-
ages of yellow paper, tied with care and arranged
THE LETTERS 119
one beside another. They laid these relics on the
bed and chose one of them on which the word
"Father" was written; they opened and read it.
It was one of those old-fashioned letters that
one finds in old family desks, those epistles that
smell of another century. The first began: "My
dear," another one: "My beautiful little girl,"
others: "My dear child," or: "My dear daugh-
ter." And suddenly the nun began to read aloud,
to read over to the dead woman her whole history,
all her tender memories. The judge, resting his
elbow on the bed, listened with his eyes fixed on
his mother. The motionless body seemed happy.
Sister Eulalie, interrupting herself, said sud-
denly: "These should be put in the grave with
her; they ought to be used as a shroud and she
should be buried in it." She took another pack-
age, on which no revealing name was written. She
began to read in a firm voice: "My adored one, I
love you wildly. Since yesterday I have been suf-
fering the tortures of the damned, haunted by your
memory. I feel your lips against mine, your eyes
in mine, your breast against mine. I love you, I
love you! You have driven me mad. My arms
open, I gasp, moved by a wild desire to have you
again. My soul and body cry out for you, want
you. I have kept on my lips the taste of your
kisses. ..."
The judge straightened himself ; the nun stopped
reading; he snatched the letter from her hand and
120 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
looked for the signature. There was none, but only
under the words : "The man who adores you," the
name "Henri." Their father's name was Rene!
Therefore this was not from him. The son then
quickly rummaged through the package of letters,
took one out and read : " I can no longer live with-
out your caresses . . . . " Standing, severe as when
sitting on the bench, he looked unmoved at the dead
woman. The nun, straight as a statue, with tears
in the corners of her eyes, watched her brother,
waiting. He crossed the room slowly, went to the
window and with his looks lost in the darkness
without, he stood still.
When he turned around, Sister Eulalie, her eyes
dry now, was still standing near the bed, her head
hanging.
He stepped forward, gathered up the letters
quickly, and threw them pell-mell back into the
drawer; then he closed the curtains of the bed.
When daylight made the candles on the table
turn pale, the son left his armchair, and without
looking again at the mother upon whom he had
passed sentence, severing the tie that united her
to son and daughter, he said slowly: "Let us now
retire, sister."
CEMETERY SIRENS
FIVE friends, middle-aged men of the world,
had finished dinner; all were rich, three of
them were married, the other two bachelors.
They met thus every month, in memory of their
youth, and, after dinner, they chatted away until
early morning. Friends since early youth, they
enjoyed being together, and perhaps these were
the pleasantest evenings of their lives.
One of the gayest was Joseph de Bardon, a
bachelor who lived and enjoyed Parisian life to
its fullest. He was neither a reveler nor a degen-
erate, but he was curious and still enjoyed the
vigor of youth, for he had not yet reached two-
score years. A man of the world in the broadest
and best sense of the word, endowed with great wit
without much depth, possessing a varied knowledge
without serious insight, he drew from his observa-
tions, from his adventures, from everything he
saw, met, and found, comic and philosophic anec-
dotes and witty remarks which gave him through-
out the town a reputation for unusual intelligence.
He was the orator of the evening. At every
meeting he had his story, on which the others
Vol. 19 121
122 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
counted. He began to tell it without even being
asked.
Smoking, his elbows resting on the table, half
a glass of brandy setting before his plate, in the
smoky atmosphere filled with the aroma of coffee,
he seemed completely at ease, as some beings seem
absolutely at home in certain places and at certain
times, as, for instance, a nun in a chapel, or a gold-
fish in a bowl of water.
Slowly exhaling the fragrant smoke of his after-
dinner cigar, he said :
"A rather peculiar adventure happened to me
a short time ago."
In one voice, they all exclaimed: "Tell us
about it."
"With pleasure. You know that I have a habit
of walking around Paris, like book collectors in
search of rare editions. I take notice of what oc-
curs, of the people, of all who pass, and of every-
thing that happens.
"Well, one afternoon, toward the middle of
September, when the weather was at its best, I left
home, without caring in which direction I went.
We often feel a vague desire to call on some
pretty woman. We run over our mental index of
acquaintances, weigh the interest and charm with
which they inspire us, and decide according to the
favorite of the day. But when the sun is beauti-
ful and the air is warm, we often lose all desire
for visits.
CEMETERY SIRENS 123
"The sun was bright and the air was warm;
I lighted a cigar and strolled aimlessly in the direc-
tion of the Outer Boulevard. As I walked along, the
idea came to me to go to the Montmartre Cemetery.
"I like cemeteries; they rest me and make me
sad. And then, there are so many good friends
there, whom we shall never see again; I go there
from time to time.
"It happens that in this Montmartre Cemetery
I have a sweetheart, a charming little woman whom
I really loved and the memory of whom makes
me sad and gives me regrets regrets of every
kind. I go and dream over her last resting-place
all is over for her.
"Again, I like cemeteries because they are enor-
mous cities with a great population. Only think
of the number of bodies that lie in this little en-
closure, of the generations of Parisians who will
stay there forever, closed up in their little vaults,
or buried under the earth with a stone placed at
their heads to identify their last home, while the
living ones take up so much room and make so
much noise.
"In the cemeteries, too, there are monuments
almost as interesting as those to be found in muse-
ums. Although it cannot be compared to it, the
tomb of Cavaignac reminded me, I must admit,
of that masterpiece of Jean Goujon: the body of
Louis de Breze, in the underground chapel of the
Cathedral of Rouen ; all so called modern and real-
124 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
istic art has come from there, gentlemen. The dead
Louis de Breze is more real, more terrible, more
convulsed by agony than all the statuary put on
modern tombs.
"But in the cemetery of Montmartre one can
still admire the monument of Baudin, which has a
certain amount of grandeur, that of Gautier, that
of Miirger, where, the other day, I saw one soli-
tary wreath, put there by whom? By his last
sweetheart, now old and perhaps a janitress in
the neighborhood? It is a pretty little statue by
Millet, but neglect and dirt are spoiling it. Sing
of Youth, oh, Miirger !
"I entered the cemetery of Montmartre, and was
overcome by a grief which was not very disagree-
able, the kind which, when you feel well, makes
you think : 'This place is none too gay, but, thank
heaven, my time has not yet come!'
"The impression of autumn, of that moist
warmth, which smells of dead leaves, and the
weak, tired, lifeless sun enhanced the poetry of the
sensation of solitude which hangs over this last
resting-place of man.
"I sauntered slowly through these streets of
tombs, where neighbors do not gossip, do not quar-
rel, and do not read the papers. I began to read
the epitaphs. Really, that's the most amusing thing
in the world. Never could Labiche or Meilhac
make me laugh as does the comical prose on the
tombstones. For random reading, those marble
CEMETERY SIRENS 125
slabs and those crosses, where relatives of the dead
have poured out their grief, their wishes for the
future happiness of the deceased and their hopes
to join them, are superior to anything by De Kock.
"But the spot I love in this cemetery is the aban-
doned section, solitary, full of large yew and cypress
trees, the old quarter of ancient dead which will
soon become a new quarter, whose great green trees,
nourished by human bodies, will be cut down in
order to lay out new corpses under little marble
slabs.
"After I had wandered around there for a while,
I felt that it was dull and that I would have to
bring to the last resting-place of my little friend
my sincere tribute to her memory. On arriving
near her, I felt quite sad. Poor darling, she was
so gentle, so loving, so white and fresh and now
if that place were to be opened
"Bending over the iron railing, I whispered my
regrets to her, which she doubtless did not hear,
and I was about to leave when I saw a woman
dressed in deep mourning, kneeling at the neighbor-
ing plot. Her crape veil had been lifted and showed
a pretty blond head, whose golden tresses under the
dark headgear seemed tinged with the first light of
dawn. I stood there.
"Suddenly she seemed to be suffering from a
deep grief. She had buried her face in her hands,
and, as rigid as a statue, lost in her regrets, telling
over her rosary, she seemed herself a dead woman
126 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
thinking of the deceased. Then I guessed that she
was about to weep I guessed it by a little move-
ment of her back like a shiver. At first she wept
silently, then stronger and stronger, with a quick
twitching of neck and shoulders. Suddenly she
uncovered her eyes. They were full of tears and
charming, wild eyes which looked around as if
awakening from a nightmare. She saw me looking
at her, seemed ashamed, and once more hid hei
face in her hands. Then her sobs became convul-
sive, and her head slowly drooped toward the mar-
ble. She leaned her forehead against it, and the
folds of her veil, spreading around her, covered
the white angles of the beloved monument like a
new wreath of mourning. I heard her moan, then
she sank down, her cheek against the slab, and re-
mained motionless, unconscious.
"Instinctively I started toward her, I slapped
the palms of her hands, blew on her eyes, and, at
the same time, read this simple epitaph : 'Here lies
Louis Theodore Carrel, captain of marines, killed
by the ensmy in Tonkin. Pray for him.'
"This death was only a few months old. I was
moved to tears, and I redoubled my attentions.
They were successful; she regained consciousness.
I seemed very sad. I understood from her first look
that she would be polite and grateful. She was;
and with more tears, her story c ime out ;>y frag-
ments: the death of the officer in Tonkin at the
end of a year of married life, after a love match,
CEMETERY Si T RENS 127
for, having neither father nor mother, she had
only the regulation dowry.
"I consoled and comforted her, \nd raised her to
her feet. Then I said :
" 'Do not stay here. Come.'
"She murmured:
" 'I feel unable to walk.'
" 'I will support you.'
" 'Thank you, sir, you are very kind. Were you
also mourning for a deceased one?'
" 'Yes, Madame/
" 'A woman?'
" 'Yes, Madame.'
" 'Your wife?'
" 'A friend.'
" 'One can love a friend as much as a wife. .Vas-
sion knows no law.'
" 'Yes, Madame.'
"She took my arm, and we set off together. I
almost carried her through the paths of the ceme-
tery. When we were outside, she murmured in a
weak voice:
" 'I am feeling very faint.'
" 'Would you like to go somewhere and take
something?'
" 'Yes, Monsieur.'
"I noticed a restaurant, one of those places
where the friends of the dead go to recuperate
from their exertions. We entered. I ordered for
her a cup of hot tea, which seemed to revive her.
A vague smile appeared on her lips. She spoke to
128 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
me of herself. It was so sad, so lonely being all
alone at home, day and night, having no one to
love or confide in, no intimacy with anyone.
"She looked sincere. The words sounded so
sweet from her lips. I grew tender. She was very
young, perhaps twenty. I paid her some compli-
ments, which she accepted very well. Then, as time
was passing, I offered to take her home in a car-
riage. She accepted ; and in the carriage we sat so
close to each other, shoulder to shoulder, that the
warmth of our bodies mingled through our clothes,
which is one of the most distracting things in the
world.
"When the carriage had stopped at her house,
she murmured: 'I really feel unable to go up-
stairs alone, for I live on the fourth floor. You
have already been so kind, would you mind giving
me your arm up to my apartment?'
"I hastened to comply. She went up slowly,
breathing with difficulty. Then, at her door, she
added :
" 'Wouldn't you like to step inside for a minute,
in order that I may thank you?'
"Of course I accepted this invitation.
"The apartment was very modest, even a little
poor, but simply and tastefully arranged.
"We sat down side by side on a little sofa, and
once more she spoke to me of her loneliness.
"She rang for the servant, in order to offer me
something to drink. The girl did not come. I was
CEMETERY SIRENS 129
delighted, hoping that this maid might be one of
those women who only come in the morning to
clear up and then depart.
"She had taken off her hat. She was really
charming with her bright eyes fastened on me, so
charming that I had a terrible temptation, and I
yielded to it. I seized her in my arms, and on her
eyes, which suddenly closed, I rained kisses
kisses kisses.
" She resisted, pushing me away, repeating :
" 'Stop stop end it !'
"What could she mean by this word? In such
c^ses 'end' may have at least two meanings. In
crder to quiet her, I passed from her eyes to her
lips, and I imparted to the word 'end' the meaning
i preferred. She did not resist too much, and
when we once more looked at each other, after this
outrage to the memory of the captain killed in
Tonkin, she had a languishing, tender, resigned look
which dispelled all my fears.
"Then I was gallant, eager, and grateful. After
another conversation, which lasted about an hour,
I asked:
" 'Where do you dine?'
" 'In a little restaurant in the neighborhood.'
"'All alone?'
" 'Yes, of course.'
" 'Will you dine with me?'
" 'Where?'
" 'In a good restaurant on the Boulevard.'
130 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
"She resisted a little. I insisted. She gave in,
calming herself with the following argument: ; I
am so terribly, terribly lonely;' then she added:
'But I must put on a less gloomy dress.'
"She went into her bedroom.
"When she came out again, she was wearing a
delightful gray, a second-mourning costume, neat
and simple. She evidently had cemetery gowns and
street gowns.
"The dinner was very pleasant. She drank
champagne, grew bright and lively, and I went home
with her.
"This friendship begun on the graves, lasted
about three weeks. But one tires of everything and
especially of women. I left her on the pretext of
an indispensable journey. I was very generous at
my departure, and she thanked me warmly. She
made me promise, swear, to come back after my
return, for she seemed really to care for me.
"I went in search of new love, and about a
month went by without my feeling any desire to
visit this little cemetery sweetheart. However, I
did not forget her. Her memory haunted me like
a mystery, like a psychological problem, like one
of those inexplicable questions the solution of which
worries us.
"I don't know why, but one day I imagined that
I might see her in the Montmartre Cemetery, and
I went there.
"For a long time I walked around without meet-
CEMETERY SIRENS 131
ing any others than the ordinary visitors, those
who have not yet severed all bonds with their dead.
"But as I wandered away in another section of
this great city of the dead, I noticed suddenly,
at the end of a narrow walk, a couple in deep
mourning approaching in my direction. Oh, aston-
ishment ! When they had come up to me, I recog-
nized the woman. It was she !
"She saw me, blushed, and, as I passed beside
her, she gave me an imperceptible wink which
seemed to mean : 'Do not recognize me/ but which
also meant: 'Come back to see me, darling.'
"The man was distinguished-looking, an officer
of the Legion of Honor, about fifty years of age.
"He was supporting her as I myself had done,
under similar conditions.
"I left, bewildered, wondering at what I had
seen. To what race might this sepulchral huntress
belong? Was she an ordinary common girl who
went to pluck from the graves sad men, haunted by
the memories of their wives or sweethearts, and
still agitated by the remembrance of vanished
caresses ? Was she alone ? Are there many like her ?
Is it a profession? Do they walk the cemetery
the same as they do the streets ? Cemetery sirens !
Or had she alone had this admirable idea, from a
deep philosophy, of taking advantage of the regrets
of love which these funereal places inspire?
"I would have given much to know whose widow
she was that day !"
THE DYING PEASANT
THE glowing sun of autumn was pouring h.9
rays down on the farmyard. Under the grass,
which had been cropped close by the cows,
the earth, soaked by recent rain, was soft, and sank
under the feet with a soggy sound, and the trees,
laden with fruit, were dropping pale green apples
in the dark green grass.
Four young heifers, tethered in a row, were graz-
ing, and at times looking toward the house and
lowing. The fowls made a spot of color on the
dung-heap before the stable, scratching, moving
around, and cackling, while two cocks crowed con-
tinually, digging worms for their hens, which they
called with a loud clucking.
The wooden gate opened and a man entered. He
might have been forty years old, but he looked at
least sixty, wrinkled, bent, walking slowly, im-
peded by the weight of heavy wooden shoes, full
of straw. His long arms hung limply from his
body. When he was near the farm, a little yellow
pug dog, tied to the foot of an enormous pear-tree,
132
THE DYING PEASANT 133
beside a barrel which served as his kennel, began
to wag his tail and bark for joy. The man cried:
"Down, Finot!"
The dog was quiet.
A i :asant woman came out of the house. Her
large, flat, bony body was outlined under a long
jacket whicl was tied in at the waist. A gray
skirt, too short, fell to the middle of her calves,
which were covered with blue stockings. She, too,
wore wooden shoes, full of straw. The white cap,
turned yellow, covered a few hairs plastered to the
scalp, and her brown, thin, ugly, toothless face
had that brutal and savage expression often found
on the faces of peasants.
"How is he getting along?" inquired the man.
"The priest said it's the end that he will not
live through the night."
Both entered the house.
After passing through the kitchen, they went
into a low, dark room, barely lighted by one win-
dow, in front of which a rag was hanging. The
heavy beams, turned brown with time and smoke,
crossed the room from one side to the other, sup-
porting the thin floor of the garret where an army
of rats raced about day and night.
The damp, lumpy, earth floor looked greasy, and,
at the back of the room, the bed made an indistinct
white spot. A harsh, regular noise, a difficult,
hoarse, wheezing breathing, like the gurgling of
water from a broken pump, came from the dark-
134 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
ened bed where an old man, the father of the
woman, lay dying.
The man and the woman approached the dying
man and looked at him with calm, resigned eyes.
The son-in-law said :
"I think it's all over with him this time; he will
not live through the night."
The woman answered :
"He's been breathing like that ever since mid-
day."
They kept silent. The father's eyes were closed,
his face was the color of the earth, and so dry that
it looked like wood. Through his open mouth
came his harsh, rattling breath ; and the gray canvas
sheet rose and fell with each respiration.
The son-in-law, after a long silence, said :
"There's nothing more to do; I can't help him.
It's a bother, too, because the weather is good and
we have much work to do."
His wife seemed annoyed at this. She thought
for a short time, and then declared :
"He won't be buried till Saturday, and that will
give you all day to-morrow."
The peasant thought the matter over and an-
swered :
"Yes, but to-morrow I must invite the people to
the funeral. That means five or six hours to go
to Tourville and Manetot, and to see everybody."
After meditating, the woman declared :
"It isn't three o'clock yet; you could go out
THE DYING PEASANT 135
toward Tourville and begin. You can just as well
say that he's dead, seeing as he is almost gone
now."
The man stood perplexed for a while, weighing
the pros and cons of the idea. At last he declared :
"I will do that."
"He set off, but came back after a minute's hesi-
tation :
"As you haven't anything to do, you might cut
up some apples, and make four dozen dumplings
to entertain those who come to the funeral. You
can light the fire with the wood that's under the
shed. It's dry."
He left the room, returned to the kitchen, opened
the cupboard, took out a six-pound loaf of bread,
cut off a slice, and carefully gathered the crumbs
in the palm of his hand and threw them into his
mouth, so as not to lose anything. Then, with the
end of his knife, he scraped out a little salt butter
from the bottom of an earthen jar, spread it on his
bread and began to eat slowly, as he did everything.
He recrossed the farmyard, quieted the dog,
which had begun to bark again, went out on the
road bordered by a ditch, and disappeared in the
direction of Tourville.
As soon as she was alone, the woman began to
work. She got the meal-trough, and prepared the
dough for the dumplings. She kneaded it for a
long time, turning it over and over again, punch-
ing, pressing, crushing it. Finally she made a big,
136 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
round, yellow-white ball, which she placed on the
corner of the table.
Then she went to get her apples, and, in order
not to injure the tree with a pole, she climbed up
by means of a ladder. She chose the fruit care-
fully, taking only the ripe apples, and gathering
them in her apron.
A voice called from the road :
"Hey! Madame Chicot!"
She turned around. It was a neighbor, Osime
Faver, the mayor, who was on his way to fertilize
his fields, seated on the dung-wagon, with his feet
hanging over the side. She turned around and
answered :
"What can I do for you, Maitre Osime?"
"How is the father?"
"He is as good as dead," she cried. "The funeral
is Saturday at seven, because there is so much work
to be done."
"So! Good luck, to you! Take care of your-
self," the neighbor answered.
To his kind remarks she answered: "Thanks;
the same to you."
And she continued picking her apples.
When she returned to the house, she went to
look at her father, expecting to find him dead. But
as soon as she reached the door she heard the mono-
tonous, noisy rattle, and, thinking it needless to go
to him, not to lose any time she began to prepare her
dumplings. She wrapped up the apples, one by
THE DYING PEASANT 137
one, in a thin layer of paste, then she laid them in
a row on the edge of the table. When she had
made forty-eight balls, arranged by dozens, one in
front of another, she began to think of preparing
supper, and she hung her kettle over the fire to cook
potatoes; for she judged it useless to heat the oven
that day; as she had all the next day in which to
finish her preparations.
Her husband returned about five o'clock. As soon
as he had crossed the threshold, he asked :
"Is it over?"
"Not yet; he's still gurgling," she answered.
They went to look at him. The old man was in
exactly the same condition. His harsh breathing,
as regular as the ticking of the clock ; was neither
quicker nor slower. It returned every second, the
key varying a little, as the air entered or left his
lungs.
His son-in-law looked at him and said:
"He'll pass away without our noticing it, like a
candle going out."
They returned to the kitchen and began to eat,
without saying a word. When they had swallowed
their soup, they ate more bread and butter; then,
as soon as the dishes were washed, they returned
to the dying man.
The woman carrying a little lamp with a smoky
wick, held it in front of her father's face. If he
had not been breathing, one woul<' certainly have
thought him dead.
Vol. 110
138 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
The bed of the married pair was hidden in a little
recess at the other end of the room. Silent, they
went to bed, put out the light, closed their eyes;
and soon two unequal snores, one deep and the
other shriller, accompanied the uninterrupted rattle
of the dying man.
The rats ran wildly about the garret.
The husband awoke at the first streaks of dawn.
His father-in-law was still alive. He shook his
wife, worried by the tenacity of the old man.
"Phemie, he doesn't mean to die. What would
you do?"
He knew that she gave good advice.
"You needn't be afraid," she answered; "he
can't live through the day. And the mayor won't
stop our burying him tomorrow, because he allowed
it for Maitre Remard's father, who died just during
the plowing season."
He was convinced by this argument, and departed
for the fields.
His wife baked the dumplings, and then attended
to her housework.
At noon the old man was not yet dead. The
people hired for the day's work came by groups to
look at him. Each one had his say, then they left
again for the fields.
At six o'clock, when work was over, the father
was still breathing. At last his son-in-law was
frightened.
"What would you do now, Phemie?"
THE DYING PEASANT 139
She no longer knew how to solve the problem.
They went to the mayor. He promised that he
would close his eyes, and authorize the funeral for
the following day. They also went to the health
officer, who likewise promised, in order to oblige
Maitre Chicot, to antedate the death certificate. The
man and the woman returned, feeling more at ease.
They went to bed and to sleep, as they did the
night before, their healthy breathing mingling with
the feeble breath of the old man.
When they awoke, he was not yet dead.
Then they were really alarmed. They stood by
their father, watching him with distrust, as if he
wished to play them a mean trick, to deceive them,,
to annoy them on purpose, and they were vexed
at him for the time which he was making them lose.
"What am I going to do?" the son-in-law asked.
She did not know, so she answered: "It certainly
is vexing!"
The guests who were expected could not be
warned away. They decided to wait, and explain
the case to them.
Toward a quarter before seven, the first persons
arrived. The women in black, their heads covered
with large veils, looked very sad. The men, ill at
ease in their homespun coats, came forward more
slowly, in couples, talking business.
Maitie Chicot and his wife, bewildered, received
them in despair; and suddenly, both began to cry
as they approached the first group. They explained
140 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
the matter, related their difficulty, offered chairs,
bustled around, tried to make excuses, attempting
to prove that everybody would have done as they
had, talking continually and giving nobody a chance
to answer.
They went from one person to another saying: "I
never would have thought it ; it's incredible how he
can last this long!"
The guests, taken aback, a little disappointed, as
if they had missed an expected entertainment, did
not know what to do, some remaining seated, others
standing. Several wished to leave. Maitre Chicot
held them back :
"You must eat something, anyhow! We made
some dumplings and we might as well make use of
them."
The faces brightened at this idea. The yard was
filling little by little; the early arrivals were telling
the news to those who had arrived later. Every-
body was whispering. The idea of the dumplings
seemed to cheer everyone.
The women went in to take a look at the dying
man. They crossed themselves near the bed, mut-
tered a prayer and came out again. The men, less
anxious for this spectacle, cast a look through the
window, which had been left open.
Madame Chicot explained her distress :
"That's how he's been for two days, neither bet-
ter nor worse. Doesn't he sound like a pump with-
out any water?"
THE DYING PEASANT 141
When everybody had had a look at the dying
man, they thought of the refreshments ; but as there
were too many people for the kitchen to hold, the
table was moved out in front of the door. The
four dozen golden dumplings, tempting and appetiz-
ing, arranged in two large dishes, attracted all eyes.
Each person reached out to take one, fearing there
would not be enough. But four were left.
Maitre Chicot, with full mouth, said :
"Father would feel sad if he were to see these.
He loved dumplings so much when he was alive."
A big, jovial peasant declared :
"He won't eat any more now. Each one in his
turn."
This remark, instead of making the guests sad,
seemed to enliven them. It was their turn at pres-
ent to eat dumplings.
Madame Chicot, distressed at the expense, kept
running down to the cellar, all the time, after cider.
The pitchers followed one another in quick suc-
cession. The company was laughing and talking
loud now ; they were beginning to shout as they do
during meals.
Suddenly an old peasant woman who had stayed
near the dying man, held there by a morbid fear of
that which would soon happen to her, appeared at
the window and cried in a shrill voice:
"He's dead! he's dead!"
Everybody was silent. The women arose quickly
to see.
142 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
He was indeed dead. The rattle had ceased.
The men looked at each other, ill at ease. They
hadn't finished eating the dumplings. Certainly the
rascal had not chosen a propitious moment.
The Chicots were no longer weeping. It was
over ; they were relieved. They kept repeating :
"I knew it couldn't last. If he could only have
done it last night, it would have saved us all this
trouble."
But it was all over. They would bury him on
Monday, that was all, and they would eat some
more dumplings for the occasion.
The guests went away, talking the matter over,
pleased at having had the chance to see everything
and getting something to eat.
And when the man and the woman were atone,
face to face, she said, her face contracted with
anguish :
"We'll have to bake four dozen more dump-
lings! Why couldn't he have made up his mind
last night?"
The husband, more resigned, answered:
"Well, we shall not have to do this every day."
A MADMAN'S JOURNAL
HE was dead the head of a high tribunal, the
upright magistrate, whose irreproachable life
was a proverb in all the courts of France.
Advocates, young counsellors, judges had saluted at
sight of his large, thin, pale face and sparkling
deep-set eyes, bowing low in token of respect.
He had passed his life in pursuing crime and in
protecting the weak. Swindlers and murderers had
no more redoubtable enemy, for he seemed to read
their most secret thoughts.
He was dead, now, at the age of eighty-two, hon-
ored by the homage and followed by the regrets
of a whole people. Soldiers in red trousers had
escorted him to the tomb, and men in white cravats
had spoken words and shed tears that were appar-
ently sincere beside his grave.
But here is the strange paper found by this dis-
mayed notary in the desk where he had kept the
records of ereat criminals! It was entitled:
1-43
144 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
June 20, 1851. I have just left court. I have
condemned Blondel to death! Why did this man
kill his five children? Frequently one meets with
people to whom destruction of life is a pleasure.
Yes, it should be a pleasure, the greatest of all,
perhaps, for is not killing the next thing to creat-
ing? To make and to destroy! These words con-
tain the history of the universe, all the history of
worlds, all that is, all! Why is it not intoxicating
to kill?
June 25. To think that a being is there who lives,
who walks, who runs. A being? What is a being?
The animated thing that bears in itself the princi-
ple of motion, and a will ruling that motion. It is
attached to nothing, this thing. Its feet do not
belong to the ground. It is a grain of life that
moves on the earth, and this grain of life, coming
I know not whence, one can destroy at will. Then
nothing more. It perishes, it is finished.
June 26. Why, then, is it a crime to kill? Yes,
why ? On the contrary, it is the law of nature. The
mission of every being is to kill; he kills to live,
and he lives to kill. The beast kills without ceas-
ing, all day, every instant of his existence. Man
kills without Ceasing, to nourish himself; but since
he needs also to kill for pleasure, he has invented
hunting. The child kills the insects he finds, the
little birds, all the little animals that come in his
way. But this does not suffice for our irresistible
need to massacre. It is not enough to kill beasts;
A MADMAN'S JOURNAL 145
we must kill man, too. Long ago this need was
satisfied by human sacrifices. Now the necessity
of social life has made murder a crime. We con-
demn and punish the assassin. But, as we cannot
live without yielding to this natural and imperious
instinct, we relieve ourselves, from time to time,
by wars. Then a whole nation slaughters another
nation. It is a feast of blood, a feast that maddens
armies, and intoxicates civilians, women and chil
dren, who read by lamplight, the feverish stor5
of massacre.
One might suppose that those destined to accom-
plish these butcheries of men would be despised!
No, they are loaded with honors. They are clad in
gold and in resplendent garments ; they wear plumes
on their heads and ornaments on their breasts ; and
to them are given crosses, rewards, titles of every
kind. They are proud, respected, loved by women,
cheered by the crowd, solely because their mission
is to shed human blood! They drag through the
streets their instruments of death, and the passer-by
clad in black, looks on with envy. For to kill is
the great law set by nature in the heart of existence !
There is nothing more beautiful and honorable
than killing.
June jo. To kill is the law, because nature
loves eternal youth. She seems to cry in all her
unconscious acts: "Quick! quick! quick!" The
more she destroys, the more she renews herself.
July 2. A human being what is a human be-
146 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
ing? Through thought it is a reflection of all that
is; through memory and science it is an abridged
edition of the universe, whose history it represents ;
each human being becomes a microcosm in the
macrocosm.
July j. It must be a pleasure, unique and full
of zest, to kill ; to have there before one the living,
thinking being; to make therein a little hope, noth-
ing but a little hole, to see that red thing flow which
is the blood, which makes life; and to have before
one only a heap of limp flesh, cold, inert, void of
thought.
Aug. 5. I, who have passed my life in judg-
ing, condemning, killing by the spoken word, killing
by the guillotine those who had killed by the knife,
I, if I should do as all the assassins have done,
whom I have smitten, I who would know it?
Aug. 10. Who would ever know? Who would
ever suspect me, me, me, especially if I should
choose a being I had no interest in doing away
with?
Aug. 15. The temptation has come. It pervades
my whole being; my hands tremble with a desire
to kill.
Aug. 22. I could resist no longer. I killed a
little creature as an experiment, for a beginning.
Jean, my servant, had a goldfinch in a cage hung
in the office window. I sent him on an errand, and
I took the little bird in my hand. I felt its heart
beat. It was warm. I went up to my room. From
A MADMAN'S JOURNAL 147
time to time I squeezed it tighter; its heart beat
faster; this was atrocious and delicious. I was
near choking it. But I could not see the blood.
Then I took scissors, short nail-scissors, and I
cut its throat with three slits, quite gently. It opened
its bill, it struggled to escape me, but I held it,
oh! I held it I could have held a mad dog and
I saw the blood trickle.
And then I did as assassins do real ones. I
washed the scissors, I washed my hands, I sprinkled
water, and took the body, the corpse, to the garden
to hide it. I buried it under a strawberry-plant.
It never will be found. Every day I shall eat a
strawberry from that plant. How one can enjoy
life, when one knows how !
My servant cried; he thought his bird had flown.
How could he suspect me?
Aug. 25. I must kill a man ! I must !
Aug. jo. It is done. But what a little thing!
I had gone for a walk in the forest of Vernes. I
was thinking of nothing, literally nothing. A child
was in the road, a little child eating a slice of bread
and butter.
He stops to see me pass and says, "Good-day,
Monsieur President."
And the thought enters my head: "Shall I kill
him?"
I answer: "You are alone, my boy?"
"Yes, sir."
"All alone in the wood?"
148 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
"Yes, sir."
The wish to kill him intoxicated me like wine. I
approached him quite softly, persuaded that he was
going to run away. And, suddenly, I seized him
by the throat. He looked at me with terror in his
eyes such eyes! He held my wrists in his little
hands, and his body writhed like a feather over the
fire. Then he moved no more. I threw the body in
the ditch, and some weeds on top of it. I returned
home, and dined well. What a little thing it was !
In the evening I was very gay, light, rejuvenated;
I passed the evening at the Prefect's. They found
me witty. But I have not seen blood ! I am tran-
quil.
Aug. 31. The body has been discovered. They
are hunting for the assassin.
Sept. i. Two tramps have been arrested. Proofs
are lacking.
Sept. 2. The parents have been to see me. They
wept! Ah! ah!
Oct. 6. Nothing has been discovered. Some
strolling vagabond must have done the deed. Ah!
ah ! If I had seen the blood flow, it seems to me I
should be tranquil now ! The desire to kill is in my
blood ; it is like the passion of youth at twenty.
Oct. 20. Yet another. I was walking by the
river, after breakfast. And I saw under a willow
a fisherman asleep. It was noon. A spade was
standing in a potato-field near by, as if expressly
for me. I took it. I returned; I raised it like a
A MADMAN'S JOURNAL 149
club, and with one blow of the edge I cleft the
fisherman's head. Oh! he bled, this one! Rose-
colored blood. It flowed into the water, quite gently.
And I went away with a slow step. If I had been
seen ! Ah ! ah ! I should have made an excellent
assassin.
Oct. 25. The affair of the fisherman makes a
great stir. His nephew, who fished with him is,
charged with the murder.
Oct. 26. The examining magistrate affirms that
the nephew is guilty. Everybody in town believes
it. Ah! ah!
Oct. 27. The nephew makes a very poor wit-
ness. He had gone to the village to buy bread
and cheese, he declared. He swore that his uncle
had been killed in his absence. Who would believe
him?
Oct. 28. The nephew has all but confessed, they
have badgered him so. Ah! ah! Justice!
Nov. 75. There are overwhelming proofs against
the nephew, who was his uncle's heir. I shall pre-
side at the sessions.
Jan. 25. To death! to death! to death! I have
had him condemned to death ! Ah ! ah ! The advo-
cate-general spoke like an angel ! Ah ! ah ! Yet an-
other ! I shall go to see him executed !
Mar. 10. It is done. They guillotined him this
morning. He died very well ! very well ! That
gave me pleasure! How fine it is to see a man's
head cut off!
150' GUY DE MAUPASSANT
Now, I shall wait, I can wait. It would take such
a little thing to let myself be caught.
The manuscript contained other pages, but with-
out relating any new crime.
Alienist physicians to whom the awful story has
been submitted declare that there are in the world
many undiscovered madmen, as adroit and as much
to be feared as this monstrous lunatic.
CHECKMATE!
I WAS going to Turin by way of Corsica. At
Nice I took the boat for Bastia, and as soon
as we were started I noticed a rather pretty,
modest-looking young woman seated on the deck.
She was looking into the distance with a far-away
expression.
I seated myself opposite and looked at her, asking
myself the questions which come to one's mind on
seeing an unknown woman who interests him :
What was her condition, her age, her disposition?
Then through what you see you guess what you
do not know. You notice the length of the waist
when she is seated, you try to discover her ankle,
you observe the quality of the hand, which reveals
the refinement of all one's affections, and the ear,
which indicates origin better than a birth certificate.
You try to hear her speak in order to understand
the nature of her mind and the tendencies of her
heart through her intonations. For the quality of
the voice and the choice of words unfold to an
experienced observer the whole mysterious texture
of the soul.
151
152 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
I was therefore attentively observing my neigh-
bor, looking for signs, analyzing gestures, expecting
a revelation every minute.
She opened a little bag and drew out a news-
paper. I rubbed my hands: "Tell me what you
read, and I will tell you what you think."
She began to read with a look of pleasure. The
sheet was Echo de Paris. I was perplexed. She
was reading an article by Scholl. Was she a
Schollist ? She began to smile. Was she one of his
opponents? It was difficult to make her out.
I sat down beside her and began to read, with no
less attention, a volume of poetry that I had
bought, the "Song of Love," by Felix Frank.
I noticed that she took in the title with a rapid
glance, just as a flying bird snatches up a fly. Sev-
eral of the passengers passed by in order to look at
her. But she seemed only to be thinking of her
article. W 7 hen she had finished it, she laid the paper
down between us.
Bowing, I said to her:
"Madame, may I glance at this paper?"
"Certainly, Monsieur."
"In the meanwhile, allow me to offer you this
volume of verses."
"Thank you, Monsieur; is it amusing?"
I was a bit disturbed by this question. One does
not ask of a volume of verse whether it is amusing.
"It is better than that, it is charming, delicate
and very artistic," I answered.
CHECKMATE! 153
"Then let me see it."
She took the volume, opened it and began to
glance through it with a little surprised air which
showed that she was not in the habit of reading
verse.
At times she seemed moved, at other times she
smiled, but with a smile different from the one she
had when reading the newspaper.
Suddenly I asked her: "Does it please you?"
"Yes, but I like things that are merry, very
merry. I am not at all sentimental."
We began to talk. I learned that she was the
wife of a captain of dragoons, stationed at Ajaccio,
and that she was going to join her husband there.
In a few minutes I had found out that she did
not love him any too much. She loved him, never-
theless, but reservedly, as one loves a man who has
not lived up to what was expected before marriage.
He had trotted her from garrison to garrison,
through many sad little villages. Now he was
calling her to this dismal island. No, life was not
amusing for everybody. She would even have pre-
ferred remaining with her parents in Lyons, for
there she knew everybody. But now she had to go
to Corsica. Really, the Secretary of War was not
at all nice to her husband.
We spoke of the places in which she would have
preferred to live, and I asked :
"Do you like Paris?"
She exclaimed:
Vol. in
154 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
"Oh! Monsieur, do I love Paris? Is it possible
to ask such a question?" And she began to talk
to me of Paris with such ardor, such enthusiasm,
such envy, that I thought to myself: "That's the
string to play on."
She adored Paris from a distance with the ex-
asperated passion of a woman from the country,
with the wild impatience of a captive bird that is
watching a forest all day from the window where
his cage is hung.
She began to question me hurriedly; she wished
to learn everything in five minutes. She knew the
names of all the well-known people, and of many
others of whom I never had heard.
"How is Gounod? and Sardou? Oh! Mon-
sieur, I do so love Sardou's plays! They are so
gay and witty! Each time I see one of them I
dream of it for a week! I also read one of Dau-
det's books, which pleased me so much ! Sapho, do
you know it? Is Daudet handsome? Have you
seen Daudet? And Zola, what kind of man is he?
If you knew how Germinal made me cry ! Do you
remember where the little child dies in the dark-
ness? Isn't it terrible! I was almost sick after
reading it ! I also read a book by Monsieur Bour-
get, Cruelle Enigme. I have a girl cousin who went
so wild about that novel that she wrote to Bourget.
I found that book too poetic. I prefer funny things.
Do you know Monsieur Grevin? And Monsieur
Coquelin ? And Monsieur Damala ? And Monsieur
CHECKMATE! 155
Rochefort? They say he is so witty! . And Mon-
sieur de Cassagnac? I heard that he has a duel
every day !"
After about an hour, this rapid-fire questioning
began to slow down ; and having satisfied her curi-
osity to the full extent of my fantastical imagina-
tion, I was at liberty to pick my own subjects of
conversation.
I told her stories of the gay Parisian life. She
took them in with both eyes and ears. She must
certainly have conceived a strange idea of the great,
well-known ladies of Paris. They were all stories
of clandestine appointments, rapid victories and pas-
sionate defeats. From time to time she would ask
me:
"Oh! is that the way they live?"
I answered with a sly smile :
"Of course, the average middle-class families
lead an uneventful, monotonous life, respecting a
virtue which no one appreciates."
I began ironically to philosophize about virtue. I
talked carelessly of the poor fools who go through
life without ever having known the good, sweet
things, without ever having tasted the delicious
pleasures of stolen kisses, so passionate and fervid,
because they have married some stick of a husband
whose marital modesty has allowed them to spend
their lives in total ignorance of refined sensuousness
and delicate sentiment.
Then I began to tell her anecdotes, stories of little
156 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
private dinners, of intrigues which I declared were
known the world over. The refrain was always the
same, it was always discreet, veiled praise of sudden
and hidden love, of the sensation stolen like a fruit,
while passing by, and forgotten as soon as it is
over.
Night came on, calm and warm. The great ves-
sel, trembling under the impulse of its massive ma-
chinery, was gliding over the seas, under the star-
studded sky.
The little woman was silent. She was breathing
slowly and sometimes sighing. Suddenly she arose :
"I am going to bed," she said; "good night,
Monsieur."
She shook hands with me.
I knew that she expected to take, the next even-
ing, the coach which goes from Bastia to Ajaccio
through the mountains, and which stays over night
on the way.
I answered :
"Good night, Madame."
I then went to my cabin.
The next morning early I reserved all three seats
in the coach for myself, alone.
At nightfall, as I was climbing into the old wagon
which was about to leave Bastia, the driver asked
me whether I would be willing to give up a little
room to a lady. I asked gruffly :
"To what lady?"
"To an officer's wife who is going to Ajaccio."
CHECKMATE! 157
"Tell this person that I will willingly give her
a seat."
She arrived, having spent the day sleeping, as
she said. She excused herself, thanked me and
climbed in.
This coach was a kind of hermetically sealed
box, getting no light except through its two doors.
There we were, face-to-face in the interior. The
horses were going at a lively trot ; then we got into
the mountains. A fresh and penetrating odor of
aromatic herbs drifted in through the open win-
dows, that strong smell which Corsica spreads
around itself so far that the sailors can recognize it
on the sea, so subtle that it is hard to analyze it. I
began once more to speak of Paris, and she lis-
tened to me again with feverish attention. My
stories became bolder and full of those veiled words
which stir the blood.
Night had fallen completely. I could no longer
see anything, not even the white spot which, a min-
ute ago, the young woman's face made in the dark-
ness. The driver's lantern lighted only the four
horses, which were slowly climbing.
From time to time the sound of a mountain tor-
rent, rushing through the rocks, came to us mingled
with the noise of the bells on the horses, then it
was soon lost in the distance behind us.
Slowly I advanced my foot and met hers, which
she did not remove. Then I no longer moved, and
suddenly I began to talk of tenderness and of affec-
158 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
tion. I had advanced my hand and met hers. She
did not remove that either. I kept on talking,
nearer to her ear, very close to her mouth. I already
felt her heart beating against my breast. It was
beating fast and strong good sign ; then, slowly, I
placed my lips on her neck, sure that I held her, so
sure that I would have staked my life on it.
But suddenly she gave a start, as if she had
just waked up, such a start that I flew over to the
other side of the carriage. Then, before I had had
time to understand, to think of anything, I first
received five or six terrible slaps in the face, and
then a shower of punches, which came to me hard
and heavy, hitting me everywhere, without my be-
ing able to ward them off in the dense obscurity
which surrounded this struggle.
I stretched out my hands, trying vainly to seize
her arms. Then, no longer knowing what to do, I
turned around quickly, presenting to her furious
attack only my back, and hiding my head in a cor-
ner of the cushioned seats.
She seemed to understand, perhaps by the sound
of the blows, this ruse of a desperate man, and she
stopped hitting me.
After a few minutes she went back to her corner,
and for at least an hour kept sobbing as if her heart
would break.
I had sat down again, very uneasy and ashamed.
I would have liked to talk to her, but what could I
say? I could think of nothing! Make excuses?
CHECKMATE! 159
That would be stupid ! What would you have said?
Nothing, you may be sure.
She was heaving great sighs now, which affected
me and distressed me. I would have liked to con-
sole her, to kiss her, as one kisses a sorrowing child,
to beg her pardon, to throw myself at her feet, but
I did not dare.
Those situations are very annoying.
At last she became calmer, and we remained in
our own corners, motionless and speechless, while
the carriage kept on, stopping from time to time
for new relays. Then we would both quickly close
our eyes, so as not to see each other when the bright
rays of a stable lantern penetrated our Stygian
darkness. Then the coach would start again, and
the sweet perfumed air of the Corsican mountains
caressing my cheeks and lips intoxicated me like
wine.
By Jove! what a wonderful trip it would have
been if my companion had not been so foolish.
Slowly daylight began to creep into the carriage,
the pale light of early dawn. I looked at my neigh-
bor. She was pretending to sleep. Then the sun,
having risen behind the mountains, soon covered
with light an immense blue gulf, surrounded by
enormous granite-capped peaks.
My neighbor then pretended to awake. She
opened her eyes (they were red) ; she opened her
mouth as if to yawn, just as if she had slept for
a long time. Then she hesitated, and stammered:
160 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
"Shall we soon be there?"
"Yes, Madame, in less than an hour."
She continued, looking out in the distance:
"It's very tiresome to spend the night in a car-
riage."
"Yes, it makes one quite lame."
"Especially after a trip on the water."
"Oh! yes."
"Is that Ajaccio ahead of us?"
"Yes, Madame."
"I wish we were there."
"I understand that."
The sound of her voice was a little troubled, her
manner a little embarrassed, her eye a little shifty.
However, she seemed to have forgotten everything.
I admired her. How instinctively artful those
little minxes are! What diplomats!
In about an hour we arrived ; and a big dragoon,
built like a Hercules, standing before the office,
waved his handkerchief on discovering the carriage.
My neighbor threw her arms around his neck
and kissed him at least twenty times, repeating:
"How are you, dearest? I was so anxious to see
you!"
My trunk had been taken from the top of the
coach, and I was discreetly retreating when she
called me back:
"Oh, Monsieur, are you leaving without saying
good-by to me ?"
I stammered: "Madame, I was leaving you to
your joy."
CHECKMATE ! 161
Then she said to her husband: "Darling, thank
Monsieur; he was charming to me throughout the
trip. He even offered me a seat in the carriage
which he had reserved for himself. It is a pleas-
ure to meet such agreeable companions."
The big dragoon shook my hand, thanking me
effusively.
The young woman smiled as she watched us to-
gether. I must have looked like a fool !
THE SHEPHERD'S LEAP
HIGH perpendicular cliffs line the sea-front be-
tween, Dieppe and Havre. In a depression in
the cliffs, here and there one sees a little nar-
row gulch with steep sides covered with short grass
and gorse, which descends from the cultivated table-
land toward a shingly beach, where it ends in a de-
pression like the bed of a torrent. Nature made
those valleys ; the rainstorms created the depressions
in which they terminate, wearing away what re-
mained of the cliffs, and channeling as far as the
sea the bed of the stream.
Sometimes a village is concealed in these gulches,
into which the wind rushes straight from the open
sea.
I spent a summer in one of these valleys with a
peasant, from whose house, facing the waves, I
could see a huge triangular sweep of blue water
framed by the green slopes of the valley, and lighted
up in places by white sails passing in the sunlight.
The road leading toward the sea ran through
the farther end of the defile, abruptly passed be-
162
THE SHEPHERD'S LEAP 163
tween two chalk-cliffs and became a sort of deep
gulley before opening on a beautiful carpet of
smooth pebbles, rounded and polished by the im-
memorial caress of the waves.
This steep gorge was called the "Shepherd's
Leap." Here is the drama that originated this name.
The story goes that this village was at one
time ruled by an austere and violent young priest.
He left tfie seminary filled with hatred toward
those who lived according to natural laws and
did not follow the laws of his God. Inflexibly
severe on himself, he displayed merciless intoler-
ance towards others. One thing above all stirred
him with rage and disgust love. If he had lived
in cities in the midst of the civilized and the re-
fined, who conceal the brutal dictates of nature be-
hind delicate veils of sentiment and tenderness, if
he had heard the confessions of perfumed sinners in
some vast cathedral nave, in which their guilt was
softened by the grace of their fall and the ideal-
ism surrounding material kisses, perhaps he would
not have felt those fierce revolts, those inordinate
outbursts of anger, that took possession of him
when he witnessed the vulgar misconduct of some
rustic pair in a ditch or in a barn.
He likened them to brutes, these people who
knew nothing of love and who simply paired like
animals; and he hated them for the coarseness of
their souls, for the foul way in which they ap-
peased their instincts, for the repulsive merriment
164 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
exhibited even by old men when they happened to
talk about these unclean pleasures.
Perhaps, too, he was tortured, in spite of him-
self, by the pangs of appetites which he had re-
frained from satiating, and secretly troubled by the
struggle of his body in its revolt against a spirit
despotic and chaste. But everything that had ref-
erence to the flesh filled him with indignation, made
him furious; and his sermons, full of threats and
indignant allusions, caused the girls to titter and
the young fellows to cast sly glances at them across
the church ; while the farmers in their blue blouses
and their wives in their black mantles said to each
other on their way home from mass before enter-
ing their houses, from the chimney of each of which
ascended a thin blue film of smoke:
"He does not joke about the matter, Mo'sieu'
the Cure !"
On one occasion, and for very slight cause, he
flew into such a passion that he lost his reason.
He went to see a sick woman. As soon as he
reached the farm-yard, he saw a crowd of children,
staring curiously at something, standing there mo-
tionless, with concentrated silent attention. The
priest walked toward them. It was a dog and her
litter of puppies. In front of the kennel five little
puppies were swarming around their mother, af-
fectionately licking them, and at the moment when
the cure stretched forward his head above the heads
of the children, a sixth tiny pup was born. All the
THE SHEPHERD'S LEAP 165
brats, seized with joy at the sight of it, began to
bawl out, clapping their hands: "Here's another of
them ! Here's another of them !"
To them it was a pleasure, a natural pleasure,
into which nothing impure entered; they gazed
at the birth of the puppies just as they would have
looked at apples falling from trees. But the man
with the black robe was quivering with indigna-
tion, and, losing his head, he lifted up his big blue
umbrella and began to beat the youngsters, who re-
treated at full speed. Then, finding himself alone
with the animal, he proceeded to beat her also. As
in her -rendition she was unable to run away, she
moaned while she struggled against his attack, and,
jumping on top of her, he crushed her under his
feet, and with a few kicks finished her. Then he
left the body bleeding in the midst of the new-born
making efforts to get at the mother's teats.
He would take long walks, all alone, with a frown
on his face. One evening in May, when he was
returning from a place some distance away, and
going along by the cliff to get back to the village,
a hard shower of rain impeded his progress. He
could see no house, only the bare coast on every
side riddled by the pelting downpour.
The rough sea dashed against him in masses of
foam ; and thick black clouds gathering at the hori-
zon redoubled the rain. The wind whistled, blew
great guns, battered down the growing crops, and
assailed the dripping Abbe, filling his ears with
166 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
noises and exciting his heart with its tumultuous din.
He took off his hat, exposing his forehead to the
storm, and by degrees approached the descent
toward the lowland. But he had such a rattling in
his throat that he could not advance farther, and,
all of a sudden, he espied near a sheep pasture a
shepherd's hut, a kind of movable box on wheels,
which the shepherds can drag in summer from
pasture to pasture.
Above a wooden stool, a low door was open, af-
fording a view of the straw inside.
The priest was on the point of entering to take
shelter when he saw a loving couple embracing
each other in the shadow. Thereupon he abruptly
closed the door and fastened it; then, getting into
the shafts, he bent his lean back and dragged the
hut after him, like a horse. And thus he ran along
in his drenched cassock toward the steep incline,
the fatal incline, with the young couple he had
caught together, who were banging their fists
against the door of the hut, believing probably that
the whole thing was only the practical joke of a
passer-by.
When he got to the top of the descent, he let go
of the frail struct' ire, which began to roll over
the sloping side of ;hf cliff. It then rolled down pre-
cipitately, carried along blindly, ever increasing in
the speed of its course, leaping, stumbling like an
animal, striking the ground with its shafts.
An old beggar, cuddled up in a gap near the cliff,
THE SHEPHERD'S LEAP 167
saw it passing with a rush above his head, and he
heard dreadful cries coming from the interior of
the wooden box.
Suddenly a wheel fell off, from a collision with
a stone; and then the hut, falling on one side,
began to topple downward like a ball, like a house
torn from its foundation, and tumbling down from
the top of a mountain; and then, having reached
the edge of the last depression, it turned over, de-
scribing a curve in its fall, and at the bottom of the
cliff was broken like an egg.
The pair of lovers were picked up, bruised, bat-
tered, with all their limbs fractured, still clasped
in each other's arms, but now through terror.
The cure refused to admit their corpses into the
church or to pronounce a benediction over their
coffins. And on the following Sunday in his ser-
mon he spoke vehemently about the Seventh Com-
mandment, threatening the lovers with an avenging
and mysterious arm, and citing the terrible example
of the two wretches killed in the midst of their sin.
As he was leaving the church, two gendarmes ar-
rested him. A coast-guard who was in a sentry-box
had seen him. The priest was sentenced to a term
of penal servitude. And the peasant who told me
the story added gravely:
"I knew him, Monsieur. He was a rough man,
that's a fact, but he did not like fooling."
A HUSBAND'S CONFESSION
WHEN Capcain Hector-Marie de Fontenne
married Mademoiselle Laurine d'Estelle,
their relatives and friends thought it would
be an unhappy marriage.
Mademoiselle Laurine, pretty, slender, fair, and
bold, at twelve years of age had as much self-assur-
ance as a woman of thirty. She was one of those
little precocious Parisiennes who seem to be born
with all the worldly wisdom, all the little feminine
tricks, all the emancipation of ideas, with that as-
tuteness and suppleness of mind that seems to pre-
destinate certain individuals in whatever they do to
trick and deceive others. All their actions seem
premeditated, all their proceedings a matter of cal-
culation, all their words carefully weighed; their
existence is only their part in a drama.
She was also charming; laughed readily, so read-
ily that she could not restrain herself when anything
seemed amusing and humorous. She would laugh
right in a person's face in the most impudent man-
ner, but she did it so gracefully that no one ever
grew angry.
168
A HUSBAND'S CONFESSION 169
She was rich, very rich. A priest served as go-
between in arranging her marriage with Captain de
Fontenne. This officer, brought up in a monastery
in the most austere manner, had taken with him into
his regiment his monastic manners, rigid principles,
and absolute intolerance. He was one of those men
who invariably become either saints or nihilists;
men who are absolutely dominated by an ideal,
whose beliefs are inflexible.
He was a big, dark-haired young fellow, serious,
severe, with an ingenuous mind, decided and obsti-
nate, one of those men who pass through life with-
out ever understanding its hidden meaning, its
shadings and subtleties, who guess at nothing, sus-
pect nothing, and will not allow any one to think
differently, form a different opinion, believe or act
differently from themselves.
Mademoiselle Laurine saw him, read his charac-
ter at once, and accepted him as her husband.
They got along well together. She was yielding,
clever, and sensible, knowing how to act her part,
and always ready to assist in good works, and on
the occasion of festivals a constant attendant at
church and at the theater, worldly and strict, with a
little ironical look, a twinkle in her eye when she
chatted gravely with her husband. She told him
about her charitable undertakings in association
with all the priests of the parish and the environs,
and she took advantage of this pious occupation
to remain out of doors all day.
Vol. 112
170 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
But sometimes, in the midst of telling him about
an act of charity, she would suddenly go off into
an idiotic laugh, a nervous laugh that she could not
restrain. The Captain was surprised, perplexed, a
little shocked at seeing his wife suffocating with
laughter. When she quieted down a little he asked :
"What is the matter with you, Laurine?" She re-
plied: "Nothing! I just happened to remember
something funny that occurred."
In the summer of 1883, Captain Hector de Fon-
tenne took part in the grand maneuvers of the
Thirty-Second Army Corps.
One evening, when they were encamped on the
outskirts of a town, after ten days of tenting in the
field, ten days of fatigue and privations, the Cap-
tain's comrades determined to have a good dinner.
Monsieur de Fontenne refused at first to form
one of the party; but, as they seemed surprised at
his refusal, he consented.
His neighbor at table, Commandant de Favre,
while chatting about military operations, the onl)
thing that interested the Captain, kept filling up his
glass with wine. It had been a very warm day, a
heavy, dry heat that made one thirsty, and the cap-
tain drank without noticing that gradually he was
becoming filled with fresh vivacity, with a certain
ardent joy, a happiness full of awakened desires,
of unknown appetites, of vague hopes.
At dessert he was intoxicated. He talked,
laughed, became restless, noisily drunk, with the
A HUSBAND'S CONFESSION 171
mad drunkenness of a man who is habitually quiet
and sober.
It was proposed that they should finish the even-
ing at the theater. He accompanied his friends.
One of them recognized an actress whom he had
been in love with, and they arranged a supper at
which were present some of the women of the
company.
The following day the Captain awoke in a strange
room, and a little, fair woman said, as she saw him
open his eyes :
" Good morning, mon gros chat !" At first he did
not understand. Then, little by little, his memory
returned, although it was somewhat indistinct.
Then he got up without saying a word, dressed,
and left the room, after emptying his purse on the
mantelpiece.
He was filled with shame when he stood up in
his uniform, with his sword at his side, in this fur-
nished room with its rumpled curtains and shabby
couch, and he was afraid to leave and go down the
stairs, where he might meet the janitor, and, above
all, he hated to go into the street where the neigh-
bors and passers-by would see him.
The woman kept repeating: "What has hap-
pened to you? Have you lost your tongue? It
was hung on wires last night, however! What a
face !"
He bowed stiffly, and, having decided that he
would leave the house, he returned home at a rapid
172 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
pace, feeling convinced that every one could tell
from his manner, his behavior, his face, where he
had been.
He was filled with remorse, the tormenting re-
morse of an upright, scrupulous man.
He went to confession, and took communion ; but
he was ill at ease, haunted by the remembrance of
his fall and by the feeling of an indebtedness, a
sacred indebtedness contracted against his wife.
He did not see her for a month, as she had gone
to visit with her parents while the maneuvers lasted.
She came to him with open arms, a smile on her
lips. He welcomed her with an embarrassed and
guilty air, and avoided almost all conversation until
evening.
As soon as they were alone she said :
"What is the matter with you, mon ami? I
think you have changed very much."
"Nothing is the matter with me, my dear, abso-
lutely nothing."
"Excuse me, I know you well, and I am sure
there is something, some anxiety, some sorrow,
some annoyance, I know not what."
"Well, then, yes. I have some anxiety."
"Ah! what is it?"
"I cannot possibly tell you."
" Not tell me ! Why ? You make me uneasy."
"I can give you no reason. It is impossible for
me to tell you."
She had sat down on a causeuse, and he was
A HUSBAND'S CONFESSION 173
walking up and down the room, his hands behind
his back, and avoided looking at his wife. She con-
tinued :
"Well, then, I shall have to make you confess; it
is my duty, and I shall exact from you the truth ; it
is my right. You can no more have a secret from
me than I can have one from you."
He said, as he turned his back to her and stood
framed in the long window:
"My dear, there are certain things it is best
not to tell. This thing that worries me is one of
them."
She rose, walked across the room, and, taking
him by the arm, made him turn round facing her ;
then, putting her two hands on his shoulders and
smiling, she looked up in a caressing manner and
said :
"Come, Marie" (she called him Marie in mo-
ments of tenderness), "you cannot hide anything
from me. I shall imagine that you have done some-
thing wrong."
"I have done something very wrong," he mur-
mured.
"Oh, is it as bad as that?" she said gayly. "As
bad as that? I am very much astonished at you!"
"I will not tell you any more," he replied, with
annoyance; "it is useless to insist."
But she drew him down on the armchair and
made him sit down, while she sat on his right knee
and gave him a little light kiss, a quick, flying kiss,
on the curled tip of his moustache.
174 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
"If you will not tell me anything, we shall al-
ways be bad friends," she said.
Distracted with remorse and tortured with re-
gret, he murmured:
"If I should tell you what I have done you never
would forgive me."
"On the contrary, mon ami, I should forgive you
at once."
"No, that is not possible."
"I swear I will forgive you."
"No, my dear Laurine, you never could."
"How simple you are, mon ami, not to say silly!
In refusing to tell me what you have done you allow
me to believe all sorts of abominable things ; and I
shall always be thinking of it, and be as much an-
noyed at your silence as at your unknown guilt
But if you were to speak to me frankly I should
forget all about it by tomorrow."
"Well, then"
"What?"
He reddened up to his ears, and said in a serious
tone:
"I am going to confess to you as if I were con-
fessing to a priest, Laurine."
The fleeting smile with which she sometimes lis-
tened to him now came to her lips, and she said, in
a slightly mocking tone:
"I am all ears."
"You know, my dear," he resumed, "how sober
I am. I never drink anything but water colored
A HUSBAND'S CONFESSION 175
with wine, and never any liquors, as you well
know."
"Yes, I know."
"Well, then, just imagine that at the end of the
grand maneuvers I forgot myself and drank a
little one evening, as I was very thirsty, very tired,
very exhausted, and "
"You became intoxicated? Fie, that was very
bad !"
"Yes, I became intoxicated."
She had assumed a severe look.
"Come, now, quite drunk, acknowledge it; so
drunk you could not walk, tell the truth !"
" Oh, no ; not as bad as that. I had lost my rea-
son, but not my equilibrium. I chattered, I laughed,
I was crazy."
He was silent, and she said :
"Is that all?"
"No."
"Oh! And then?"
"And then I did something disgraceful."
She looked at him, uneasy, a little disturbed and
also touched.
"What was it, mon ami?"
"We had supper with some actresses and I
do not know how it happened, but I was untrue to
you, Laurine."
He said all this in a solemn, serious tone.
She was slightly amazed, but her eye lighted
up with sudden, intense, irresistible mirth. She
said: "You you you "
176 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
And a little, dry, nervous, spasmodic laugh es-
caped her lips, interrupting her speech.
She tried to be serious ; but each time she tried to
utter a word a laugh began in her throat, was
choked back, and came up again like the efferves-
cence in a bottle of champagne that is just uncorked.
She put her hand to her mouth to calm herself, to
keep back this untimely mirth ; but her laughter ran
through her fingers, shook her chest, and escaped
in spite of herself. She stuttered:
"You you deceived me! Ha! ha! ha! ha!"
And she looked at him in a peculiar manner, with
such a sneering expression that he was amazed,
astonished.
Then, all at once, no longer restraining herself,
she burst out laughing as if she had a nervous at-
tack. She uttered little, short screams, which
seemed to come from the bottom of her chest ; and,
placing her hands over her stomach, she gave way
to long spasms of laughter, till she almost choked,
just like spasms in whooping-cough. And each time
she tried to check them she laughed all the more,
each word she tried to utter giving her a fresh
spasm.
"My my my poor friend ha! ha! ha! ha!
ha! ha!"
He rose, leaving her seated in the chair, and
suddenly turning very pale, he said:
"Laurine, your behavior is more than unbecom-
ing."
A HUSBAND'S CONFESS. ON 177
She stuttered in the midst of her laughter:
" How how can I I I help it ho \v funny you
are ha ! ha ! ha ! ha !"
He became livid with anger, and looked at her
now with a steady gaze in which a strange thought
seemed to be awakened. All at once he opened
his mouth, as if to say something, but said nothing,
and, turning on his heel, he went out, shutting the
door behind him.
Laurine, bent double, exhausted and weak, was
still laughing, with a faint laugh that revived every
few moments like the embers of a hre that nas al-
most burned out.
MADAME PARISSE
I WAS sitting on the pier of the small port of
Obernon, near the village of Salis, looking at
Antibes, bathed in the setting sun. I never had
seen anything so surprising and so beautiful.
The small town, inclosed by its heavy, protective
walls, built by Monsieur de Vauban, reached out
into the open sea, in the middle of the immense
Gulf of Nice. The great waves, coming in from
the sea, broke at its feet, surrounding it with a
wreath of foam; and beyond the ramparts the
houses were climbing the hill, one over another,
as far as the two towers which rose up into the sky
like the horns of an ancient helmet. These two
towers were outlined against the milky whiteness of
the Alps, that enormous distant wall of snow which
closed in the entire horizon.
Between the white foam at the foot of the walls
and the white snow on the sky-line the little city,
resting brilliant against the bluish background of
the nearest mountain ranges, presented to the rays
of the setting sun a pyramid of red-roofed houses,
178
MADAME PARISSE 179
whose facades were also white, but so different one
from another that they seemed of all tints.
And the sky above the Alps was itself of a blue
that was almost white, as if the snow had tinted it ;
some oilvery clouds were floating over the pale sum-
mits, and on the other side of the Gulf of Nic<v
down by the water, unrolled like a white thread
between the sea and the mountain. Two great sails,
driven by a strong breeze, seemed to skim over the
waves.
This view was one of those things so sweet, so
rare, so delightful, that they penetrate you, and are
unforgettable, like the memories of a joy. One
sees, thinks, suffers, is moved, and loves with the
eyes. He who can feel with the eye experiences the
same keen, exquisite, and deep pleasure in looking
upon men and things as the man with the delicate
and sensitive ear, when music overwhelms his soul.
I turned to my companion, Monsieur Martini, a
pure-blooded Southerner.
"This certainly is one of the rarest sights that
it has been vouchsafed to me to admire.
"I have seen the Mont Saint-Michel, that mon-
strous granite jewel, rise out of the sand at sun-
rise.
"I have seen, in the Sahara, Lake Raianechergui,
fifty kilometers long, shining under a moon as bril-
liant as our sun and breathing up to it a white
cloud, like a mist of milk.
"I have seen, in the Ljoari Islands, the fantastic
180 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
sulfhur crater of the Volcanellc, a giant flower
which fumes and burns, an over-big yellow flower,
opening full on the sea, whose stem is a volcano.
"But I have seen nothing more surprising than
Antibes, standing against the Alps at the setting sun.
"And I know not how it is that memories of
antiquity haunt me ; verses of Homer come into my
mind; this is a city of the ancient East, a city out
of the Odyssey; this is Troy, though Troy was far
from the sea."
Monsieur Martini drew the guidebook out of his
pocket and read: "This city was originally a colony
founded by the Phocians of Marseilles, about 340
B. C. They gave it the Greek name of Antipolis,
meaning counter-city, city opposite another, because
it is in fact opposite to Nice, another colony from
Marseilles.
"After the Gauls were conquered, the Romans
turned Antibes into a municipal city, its inhabitants
receiving the rights of Roman citizenship.
"We know by an epigram of Martial that at his
time"
I interrupted him :
"I don't care what she was. I tell you I see
down there a city out of the Odyssey. The coast
of Asia and the coast of Europe resemble each
other in their shores, and no city on the other coast
of the Mediterranean awakens in me the memories
of the heroic times as this one does."
A footstep caused me to turn my head; a woman,
MADAME PARISSE 181
a large, dark woman, was walking along the road
that skirts the sea in going to the cape.
"That is Madame Parisse, you know," muttered
Monsieur Martini, dwelling on the final syllable.
No, I did not know, but that name, pronounced
nonchalantly, that name of the Trojan shepherd,
confirmed me in my dream.
Yet I asked: "Who is this Madame Parisse?"
He seemed astonished that I did not know the
story.
I assured him that I did not know it, and I looked
after the woman, who passed by without seeing us,
dreaming, walking with steady and slow step, as
doubtless the ladies of old walked.
She was perhaps thirty-five years of age, and still
very beautiful, though a trifle stout.
And Monsieur Martini told me the following
story:
Mademoiselle Combelombe was married, one
year before the war of 1870 to Monsieur Parisse, a
government official. She was then a handsome
young girl, as slender and lively as she has now be-
come stout and sad.
Unwillingly she had accepted Monsieur Parisse,
one of those little fat men with short legs who trip
along, with trousers always too large.
After the war Antibes was occupied by a single
battalion commanded by Monsieur Jean de Carme-
lin, a young officer decorated during the war, who
had just received his four stripes.
182 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
As he found life exceedingly tedious in this for-
tress, this stuffy mole-hole inclosed by the enor-
mous double walls, he often strolled out to the cape,
a kind of park or pine wood whipped by all the
winds from the sea.
There he met Madame Parisse, who came out in
summer evenings to get the fresh air under the
trees. How did they love each other ? Who knows ?
They met, they looked at each other, and when
out of sight they doubtless thought of each other.
The image of the young woman with the brown
eyes, the black hair, the pale skin, this fresh, hand-
some Southerner, who displayed her teeth in smil-
ing, was floating before the eyes of the officer as
he continued his promenade, biting his cigar instead
of smoking; and the image of the commanding
officer, in his close-fitting coat, covered with gold,
and his red trousers, with a little blond moustache,
would pass in the evening before the eyes of
Madame Parisse, when her husband, half-shaven
and ill-clad, short-legged and big-bellied, came home
to supper.
Meeting so often, they perhaps smiled at the
next meeting; then, seeing each other again and
again, they thought they knew each other. He
certainly bowed to her. And she, surprised, bowed
in return, but very, very slightly, just enough for
politeness. But after two weeks she returned his
salutation when away off, even before they were
side by side.
MADAME PARISSE 183
He spoke to her. Of what? Doubtless of the
setting sun. They admired it together, looking for
it in each other's eyes oftener than on the hori-
zon. And every evening for two weeks this was
the commonplace and persistent pretext for a few
minutes' chat.
Then they hazarded a few steps together, talking
of anything that came along, but their eyes were
already saying to each other a thousand more in-
timate things, those secret, charming things that
are reflected in the gentle emotion of the eye, and
that cause the heart to beat, for they are a better
confession of the soul than the spoken word.
And then he would take her hand, murmuring
those words which the woman divines without
seeming to hear them.
And it was agreed between them that they would
love each other without making proof of it by any-
thing sensual or brutal.
She would have remained indefinitely at this
stage of intimacy, but he wanted more. And every
day he urged her more hotly to give in to his vio-
lent desire.
She resisted, she did not want it, she seemed
determined not to give way.
Yet one evening she said to him, casually: "My
husband has just gone to Marseilles. He will be
away four days."
Jean de Carmelin threw himself at her feet, im-
ploring her to open her door to ium that very night
184 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
at eleven o'clock. But she would not listen to him,
and she went home with angry mien.
The commander was in bad humor all the eve-
ning, and the next morning at dawn he went out
on the ramparts in a rage, from one exercise field
to the other, dealing out punishments to the of-
ficers and men as one might fling stones into a
crowd.
On coming back for his breakfast, he found an
envelope under his napkin with these three words:
"To-night at ten." And he gave one hundred sous
off-hand to the waiter serving him.
The day seemed endless to him. He passed part
of it in curling his hair and perfuming himself.
As he was sitting down to the dinner-table, an-
other envelope was handed to him, and in it he
found the following telegram:
" MY LovE : Business done. I return this evening on
the nine o'clock train. PARISSE."
The commander swore such a big oath that the
waiter dropped the soup-tureen on the floor.
What should he do? He certainly wanted her,
that very evening, at whatever cost ; and he would
have her. He would resort to any means, even to
arresting and imprisoning the husband. Then a
mad thought struck him. Calling for paper, he
wrote the following note:
"MADAME: He will not come back this evening, I
swear it to you, and I shall be where you know at ten
MADAME PARISSE 185
o'clock. Fear nothing. I will answer for everything, on
my honor as an officer.
"JEAN DE CARMEUN."
And, having sent off this letter, he calmly dined.
Toward eight o'clock he sent for Captain Gn-
bois, the second in command, and he said, rolling
between his ringers the crumpled telegram of Mon-
sieur Parisse:
"Captain, I have just received a telegram of a
very singular nature, which it is impossible for me
to communicate to you. You will immediately have
all the gates of the city closed and guarded, so that
no one, mind me, no one, will either enter or leave
before six in the morning. You will also have men
patrol the streets, who will compel the inhabitants to
retire to their houses at nine o'clock. And one
found outside beyond that time will be conducted to
his home mann militari. If your men meet me to-
night they will quickly go out of my way, appear-
ing not to know me. You understand me?"
"Yes, Commander."
"Would you like to have a glass of Char-
treuse ?"
"With great pleasure, Commander."
They clinked glasses and drank the brown liquor,
and Captain Gribois left the room.
The train from Marseilles arrived at the station
at nine o'clock sharp, left two passengers on the
platform, and went on toward Nice.
One of them, tall and thin, was Monsieur Saribe,
Vol. 113
186 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
the oil merchant, and the other, short and fat, was
Monsieur Parisse.
Together they set out, with their valises, to reach
the city, one kilometer distant.
But when they arrived at the gate of the port
the guards crossed their bayonets, warning them to
retire.
Frightened, surprised, cowed with astonishment,
they retired to deliberate ; then, after taking counsel
one with the other, they came back cautiously to
parley, giving their names.
But the soldiers evidently had strict orders, for
they threatened to shoot; and the two scared trav-
elers ran off, throwing away their valises, which
impeded their flight.
Making the tour of the ramparts, they presented
themselves at the gate on the route to Cannes.
This likewise was closed and guarded by a men-
acing sentinel. The Messrs. Saribe and Parisse, like
the prudent men they were, desisted from their
efforts, and went back to the station for shelter, as
it was not safe to be near the fortification after sun-
set.
The station agent, surprised and somnolent, per-
mitted them to remain till morning in the waiting-
room.
And they sat there side by side, in the dark, on
the green velvet sofa, too frightened to think of
sleeping.
It was a long and weary night for them.
MADAME PARISSE 187
At half-past six in the morning they were in-
formed that the gates were open, and that people
could now enter Antibes.
They set out for the city, but they failed to find
their abandoned valises on the road.
When they passsed through the gates, still some-
what anxious, the Commandant de Carmelin, with
sly glance and moustache turned up, came himself
to look over and examine them.
Then he bowed to them politely, excusing him-
self for having caused them a bad night. But he
had to carry out orders.
The people of Antibes were scared to death.
Some spoke of a surprise planned by the Italians;
others, of the landing of the Prince Imperial ; and
others, again, believed that there was an Orleanistic
conspiracy. The truth was suspected only later,
when the battalion of the commandant was sent
very far away, and Monsieur de Carmelin had been
severely punished.
When Madame Parisse returned, her promenade
being terminated, she passed gravely near me, with
her eyes fixed on the Alps, whose summits were
now rosy in the last rays of the setting sun.
I felt like saluting her, this poor, sad woman,
who would ever be thinking of this night of love,
now far distant, and of the bold man who for the
sake of a kiss from her had dared to put a city
into a state of siege and to compromise his whole
future.
188 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
And to-day he had probably forgotten her, if he
did not relate this audacious, comical, and tender
farce to his comrades over the cups.
Had she seen him again? Did she still love him?
And I thought: Here is an instance of modern
love, grotesque and yet heroic. The Homer to sing
of this new Helena and the adventure of her Mene-
laus must be gifted with the soul of Paul de Kock.
And yet the h^ro of this deserted woman was brave,
daring, handsome, strong, like Achilles, and more
:uiming than Ulysses,
THE WEDDING NIGHT
JACQUES BOURDILLERE had sworn that he
never would marry; but he suddenly changed
his mind. It happened suddenly, one summer,
at the seashore.
One morning, as he lay stretched cut on the sand,
watching the women coming out of the water, a
little foot had struck him by its neatness and dainti-
ness. He looked higher and was delighted with
the whole person. By the way, he could see nothing
but the ankles and the head emerging from a
flannel bathrobe carefully held closed. He was
supposed to be sensual and a fast liver. It was,
therefore, only the graceful form that at first
captured him ; then he was held by the charm of
the young girl's sweet mind, so simple and good, as
fresh as her cheeks and lips.
He was presented to the family, and he pleased
them. He immediately fell madly in love. WheH
he saw Berthe Lannis in the distance, on the long
yellow stretch of sand, he would tingle to the roots
of his hair. When he was near her he would bfc-
189
190 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
come silent, unable to speak or even to think, with a
kind of bubbling in his heart, of buzzing in his ears,
and of bewilderment in his mind. Was that love?
He did not know or understand, but he had fully
decided to have this child for his wife.
Her parents hesitated for a long time, restrained
by the young man's bad reputation. It was said
that he had an old sweetheart, one of the binding
attachments which one always believes to be broken
off and yet which always hold.
Besides, for a shorter or longer period, he loved
every woman who came within reach of his lips.
Then he settled down and refused, even once, to
see the one with whom he had lived so long. A
friend tcok care of this woman's pension and as-
sured her an income. Jacques paid, but he did not
even wish to hear of her, pretending even to forget
her name. She wrote him letters, which he never
opened. Every week he recognized the clumsy writ-
ing of the abandoned woman, and every week a
greater anger surged within him against her, and he
would tear the envelope and the paper, without
opening it, without reading one single line, knowing
the reproaches and complaints which it contained.
As but little faith existed in his constancy, the
test was prolonged through the winter, and Berthe's
hand was not granted him until the spring. The
wedding took place in Paris at the beginning of
May.
Th*-. young couple had decided not to take the
THE WEDDING NIGHT 191
conventional wedding trip; but after a little dance
for the younger cousins, which would not be pro-
longed after eleven o'clock, in order that this day of
long ceremonies might not be too tiresome, the
young pair were to spend the first night in the pa-
rental home, and then, on the following morning, to
leave for the beach so dear to their hearts, where
they had known and loved each other.
Night had come, and the dance was going on in
the large parlor. The two had retired to a little
Japanese boudoir, hung with bright silks and dimly
lighted by the soft rays of a large colored lantern
hanging from the ceiling like a gigantic egg.
Through the open window the fresh air from out-
side passed over their faces like a caress, for the
night was warm and calm, with the odor of
spring.
They were saying nothing to each other; they
were holding each other's hands, and from time to
time squeezing them hard. She sat there with a
dreamy look, feeling a little lost by this great change
in her life, but smiling, moved, ready to cry, often,
also, ready almost to faint from joy, believing the
whole world to be changed by what had just hap-
pened to her, nervous she knew not why, and feel-
ing her whole body and soul filled by an indefinable
and delicious lassitude.
He was looking at her persistently with a fixed
smile. He wished to speak, but found nothing to
say, and so sat there, putting all his ardor into pres-
192 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
sures of the hand. From time to time he would
murmur: "Berthe!" And each time she would
raise her eyes to him with a look of tenderness;
they would look at each other for a second, and
then her look, pierced and fascinated by his, would
fall.
They found no thoughts to exchange. They had
been left alone, but occasionally some of the dancers
would cast a rapid glance at them, as if they were
the discreet and trusting witnesses of a mystery.
A door opened and a servant entered, with a
letter which a messenger had just brought. Jacques,
trembling, took this paper, overwhelmed by a vague
and sudden fear, the mysterious terror of swift
misfortune.
He looked for a long time at the envelope, the
writing on which he did not know, not daring to
open it, not wishing to read it, with a wild desire
to put it into his pocket and say to himself: "I'll
leave that till to-morrow, when I'm far away !" But
on one corner two words stared at him, "Very
urgent," filling him with terror. Saying: "Please
excuse me, my dear," he tore open the envelope.
He read the paper, grew frightfully pale, looked
over it again, and, slowly, he seemed to spell it out
word for word.
When he raised his head his whole face was up-
set. He Ftammered: "My dear, it it's from
my best friend, who has had a very great mis-
fortune. He has need of me immediately for a
THE WEDDING NIGHT 193
matter of life or death. Will you excuse me if I
leave you for half an hour? I'll be right back."
Trembling and dazed, she stammered: "Go,
my dear ;" not yet having been his wife long enough
to dare to question him, to demand to know. He
disappeared. She remained alone, listening to the
dancing in the neighboring parlor.
He had seized the first hat and coat he came
to, and jumped down the stairs three at a time. As
he was emerging into the street he stopped under
the gas-jet of the vestibule and re-read the letter.
This is what it said:
" SIR : A girl named Ravet, an old sweetheart of yours,
it seems, has just given birth to a child that she declares
is yours. The mother is about to die and is begging for
you. I take the liberty to write and ask you to grant this
last request to a woman who seems to be very unhappy
and worthy of pity. Yours truly,
"DR. BONNARD."
When he reached the sick-room the woman was
already at the point of death. He did not recog-
nize her at first. The doctor and two nurses were
taking care of her. And everywhere on the floor
were pails full of ice and rags covered with blood.
Water flooded the carpet; two candles were burn-
ing on a bureau ; behind the bed, in a little wicker
crib, the child was crying, and each time it moaned,
the mother, in torture, would try to move, shivering
under her ice bandages.
194 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
She was wounded to death by his birth. Her
life was flowing from her ; and, notwithstanding the
ice and the care, the merciless hemorrhage contin-
ued, hastening her last hour.
She recognized Jacques, and wished to raise her
arms. They were so weak that she could not, but
tears coursed down her pallid cheeks.
He dropped to his knees beside the bed, seized
one of her hands, and kissed it frantically; then,
little by little, he drew nearer to the thin face, which
started at the contact. One of the nurses was light-
ing them with a candle, and the doctor was watch-
ing them from the back of the room.
Then she said, in a voice that sounded as if
it came from a distance : " I am going to die, dear ;
promise to stay to the end. Oh! don't leave me
now. Don't leave me at the last minute !"
He kissed her face and her hair, and. weeping,
he murmured: "Never fear, I will stay."
It was several minutes before she could speak
again, she was so weak. She continued: "The little
one is yours. I swear it before God and on my
soul. 1 swear it as I am dying ! I never have loved
another man but you. Promise to take care of the
child."
He was trying to take this poor pain-racked body
in his arms. Maddened by remorse and sorrow, he
stammered: "I swear to you that I will bring him
up and love him. He never shall leave me."
Then she tried to kiss Jacques. Powerless to lift
THE WEDDING NIGHT 195
her head, she held out her white lips in an appeal
for a kiss. He approached his lips to pluck this
poor caress.
As soon as she f eit a little calmer, she murmured :
"Bring him here, and let me see whether you love
him."
He went and got the child, and placed him gently
on the bed between them, and the little one
stopped crying. She murmured : "Don't move any
more!" And he was quiet. And he stayed there,
holding in his burning hand this other one shaken
by the shivers of death, just as, a while ago, he had
been holding a hand trembling with love. From
time to time he cast a quick glance at the clock,
which marked midnight, then one o'clock, then two.
The physician had returned ; the two nurses, after
moving noiselessly around through the room for a
while, were now sleeping on chairs. The child was
sleeping, and the mother, with eyes shut, appeared
also to be resting.
Suddenly, just as the pale daylight was creeping
in behind the curtains, she stretched out her arms
with such a quick and violent motion that she almost
threw her baby on the floor. A kind of rattle was
heard in her throat, then she lay on her back mo-
tionless, dead.
The nurses sprang forward and declared: "All
is over!"
He looked once more at this woman whom he
had so loved, then at the clock, .which pointed to
196 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
four, and he ran away, forgetting his overcoat, in
evening dress, with the child in his arms.
After she had been left alone, the young wife
had waited, calmly enough at first, in the little Jap-
anese boudoir. Then, as she did not see him re-
turn, she went back to the parlor with an indiffer-
ent and calm appearance, but terribly anxious.
When her mother saw her alone she asked : "Where
is your husband?" and was answered: "In his
room ; he is coming right back. "
After an hour, when everybody had questioned
her, she told about the letter, Jacques's disturbed
appearance, and her fears of an accident.
Still they waited. The guests left; only the
nearest relatives remained. At midnight the bride
was put to bed, all shaken by tears. Her mother
and two aunts, sitting around the bed, were listen-
ing to her cry, silent and in despair. The father
had gone to the commissary of police to obtain
some news if possible.
At five o'clock a slight noise was heard in the
hall; a door was softly opened and closed; then
suddenly a little cry like the mewing of a cat was
heard through the silent house.
All the women started forward, and Berthe
sprang ahead of them all, pushing her way past
her aunts, wrapped in a bathrobe.
Jacques stood in the middle of the room, pale and
panting, holding an infant in his arms. The four
women looked at him, astonished; but Berth*, who
THE WEDDING NIGHT 197
had suddenly become courageous, rushed forward
with anguish in her heart, exclaiming: "What is
it? What's the matter?"
He looked around wildly and answered shortly:
"I I have a child, and the mother has just died."
And in his clumsy hands he held out the howling
infant.
Without saying a word, Berthe seized the child,
kissed it, and hugged it to her ; then she raised her
tear-filled eyes to him, asking: "Did you say that
the mother was dead?" He answered: "Yes in
\ny arms. I had broken with her last summer.
I knew nothing. The physician sent ?or me."
Then Berthe murmured: "Well, we will bring
up the little one."
FATHER AND SON
IN front of the building, half farmhouse, half
manor house, one of those rural habitations of
a mixed character which were all but seigneurial,
and which are now occupied by wealthy farmers,
the dogs lashed beside the apple-trees in the orchard
near the house kept barking and howling at sight of
the shooting-bags carried by the gamekeepers and
at the boys. In the spacious dining-room-kitchen,
Hautot Senior and Hautot Junior, M. Bermont, the
tax-collector, and M. Mondaru, the notary, were
eating and drinking before going out shooting, for
it was the first day of the season.
Hautot Senior, proud of all his possessions,
talked boastfully of the game his guests were go-
ing to find on his lands. He was a big Norman,
one of those powerful, ruddy men, with lange bones,
who lift wagon-loads of apples on their shoulders.
Half peasant, half gentleman, rich, respected, influ-
ential, autocratic, he obliged his son Cesar to go
through the third form at college so that he might
be an educated man, and there he had brought his
198
FATHER AND SON 199
studies to an end, for fear of his becoming a fine
gentleman and neglecting the land.
Cesar Hautot, almost as tall as his father, but
thinner, was a good son, docile, content with every-
thing, full of admiration, respect and deference for
the wishes and opinions of Hautot Senior.
M. Bermont, the tax-collector, a stout little man,
who showed on his red cheeks a thin network of
violet veins resembling the tributaries and the
winding courses of rivers on maps, asked:
"And hares are there any hares?"
Hautot Senior answered :
"As many as you wish, especially in the Puy-
satier lands."
"How shall we set out?" asked the notary, an
epicure of a notary, pale and corpulent, with a
brand-new hunting costume belted in, which he had
bought at Rouen.
"That way, through the bottoms. We will drive
the partridges into the plain, and we can get them
there."
And Hautot Senior rose. They all followed
his example, took their guns out of the corners, ex-
amined the locks, and stamped their feet in order to
adjust their boots, which were rather hard, not
having become flexible from wear. Then they went
out; and the dogs, standing on their hind legs at
the ends of their leashes, gave tongue while beating
the air with their paws.
They set out toward the bottoms referred to.
These consisted of a little valley, or, rather, a long,
200 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
undulating stretch of poor land, which on that ac-
count had remained uncultivated, furrowed with
ditches and covered with ferns, an excellent pre-
serve for game.
The sportsmen took up their positions at some
distance from each other, Hautot Senior at the
right, Hautot Junior at the left, and the two guests
in the middle. The gamekeeper, and others carry-
ing the game-bags, followed. It was the solemn
moment when the first shot is awaited, when the
heart beats a little, while the nervous finger keeps
feeling the trigger.
Suddenly a shot was heard. Hautot Senior had
fired. They all stopped, and saw a partridge sepa-
rate from a covey which had risen and fallen down
into a deep ditch under a thick growth of brush.
The sportsman, becoming excited, rushed forward
with rapid strides, thrusting aside the briars that
stood in his path, and in his turn disappeared in
the thicket, in quest of his game.
Almost at the same instant a second shot was
heard.
"Ha! ha! the rascal!" exclaimed M. Bermont;
"he must have started a hare down there."
They all waited, with their eyes riveted on the
mass of brush which their gaze failed to pene-
trate.
The notary, making a speaking trumpet of his
hands, shouted:
"Have you got them?"
Hautot Senior made no response.
FATHER AND SON 207
Then Cesar, turning to the gamekeeper, said :
"Just go and assist him, Joseph. We must keep
walking in line. We'll wait."
And Joseph, an old stump of a man, lean and
knotty, all of whose joints formed protuberances,
set off at an easy pace down into the ditch, search-
ing with the cautiousness of a fox every opening
through which a passage could be effected. Then,
suddenly, he cried:
"Oh! come! come! an accident has occurred."
They all hurried forward, plunging through the
briars.
The elder Hautot had fallen on his side, in a
faint, with both hands pressed to his abdomen, from
which blood trickled through his shooting- jacket,
torn by a bullet. Letting go of his gun, in order to
pick up the dead partridge, he had let the firearm
fall, and the second barrel, going off with the
shock, had torn open his entrails. They drew him
out of the trench, removed his clothes, and saw a
frightful wound, through which the intestines pro-
truded. Then, having ligatured him the best way
they could, they brought him to his own house,
and awaited the doctor, who had been sent for, as
well as the priest.
When the doctor arrived he gravely shook his
head, and, turning toward young Hautot, who was
sobbing on a chair, he said:
"My poor boy, this does not look at all favor-
able."
Vol. 114
202 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
But, when the wound was dressed, the wounded
man moved his fingers, opened his mouth, then his
eyes, cast around him troubled, haggard glances,
then appeared to be trying to recall, to understand,
and murmured:
"Ah! good God! this has finished me!"
The doctor held his hand.
"Why, no; some days of rest merely it will
be nothing."
Hautot replied :
"It has finished me! My abdomen is gashed! I
know it well."
Then, all of a sudden :
"I wish to talk to my son, if I have time."
Hautot Junior, in spite of himself, shed tears,
and kept repeating like a little boy:
"Papa, papa, poor papa!"
But the father, in a firm tone, said :
"Come! stop crying this is no time for it. I
have something to say to you. Sit down there,
quite close to me. It will not take long, and I shall
be more calm. As for the rest of you, kindly leave
us alone for a minute."
They all went out, leaving the father and son to-
gether.
As soon as they were alone:
"Listen, son!" he said, "you are twenty- four;
one can talk to you. And then there is not such
mystery about these matters as we attach to them.
You know, do you not, that your mother has been
dead seven years, and that I am not more than
FATHER AND SON 203
forty-five years myself, seeing that I was married
at nineteen. Is not that true?"
"Yes, it is true."
" So then your mother has been dead seven years,
and I have remained a widower. Well ! a man like
me cannot remain without a wife at thirty-seven,
isn't that true?"
The son replied :
"Yes, it is true."
The father, out of breath, very pale, and his
face contracted with suffering, continued:
"God! how I suffer! Well, you understand.
Man is not made to live alone, but I was unwilling
to take a successor to your mother, since I prom-
ised her not to do so. Therefore you under-
stand?"
"Yes, father."
"Well, I kept a young girl at Rouen, number
eighteen, Rue de 1'Eperlan, on the third floor, the
second door I am telling you all this, don't forget
a young girl, who has been very nice to me, lov-
ing, devoted, a true woman, eh? You understand,
my lad?"
"Yes, father."
"So then, if I am carried off, I owe something
to her, something substantial, that will place her
beyond the reach of want. You understand ?"
"Yes, father."
"I tell you that she is a good girl, and, but for
you, and the remembrance of your mother, and also
204 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
because we three lived together in this house, I
would have brought her here, and then married her.
Listen listen, my boy I might have made a will
I haven't done so. I did not wish to do so for it
is not necessary to write down things things of
this sort it is too damaging to the legitimate chil-
dren and then it makes confusion it ruins every
one ! Look you, lawyers, there's no need of them
never consult one. If I am rich, it is because I
never have employed one. You understand, my
son?"
"Yes, father."
"Listen again listen attentively! So then, I
have made no will I did not desire to do so and
then I knew you; you have a good heart, you are
not covetous, not stingy, and I said to myself that
when my end approached I would tell you all about
it, and that I would beg of you not to forget the
girl. And then listen again ! When I am gone, go
and see her at once and make such arrangements
that she may revere my memory. You have plenty
of means. You can spare it I leave you enough.
Listen! You won't find her at home every day
in the week. She works at Madame Moreau's in
the Rue Beauvoisine. Go there on a Thursday.
That is the day she expects me. It has been my
day for the past six years. Poor little girl ! she will
weep! I say all this to you, because I know you
so well, my son. One does not tell these things in
public, either to the notary or to the priest. They
FATHER AND SON 205
happen every one knows that but they are not
talked about, save in case of necessity. Then there
must be no outsider in the secret, nobody except
the family, because the family consists of one per-
son alone. You understand?"
"Yes, father."
"Do you promise?"
"Yes, father."
"Do you swear it?"
"Yes, father."
"I beg of you, I implore of you, son, do not for-
get. I insist on this."
"No, father."
"You will go yourself. I want you to make sure
of everything."
"Yes, father."
"And then, you will see you will see what she
will explain to you. As for me, I can say no more
to you. You have sworn to do it."
"Yes, father."
"That's good, my son. Embrace me. Farewell.
I am going to die, I'm sure. Tell them they may
come in."
Young Hautot embraced his father, groaning as
he did so; then, always docile, he opened the door,
and the priest appeared in a white surplice, carry-
ing the holy oils.
But the dying man had closed his eyes and re-
fused to open them again; he refused to answer,
and even to show by a sign that he understood.
206 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
He had talked enough, this man ; he could speak
no longer. Besides, he now felt his heart at ease
and wanted to die in peace. What need had he to
make a confession to the deputy of God, since he
had just confessed to his son, who constituted his
family?
Without any movement of his face indicating
that he still lived, he received the last rites, was
purified, and received absolution, surrounded by
his friends and his servants on their bended knees.
He expired about midnight, after four hours of
spasms, which showed that he must have suffered
dreadfully.
He was buried on Tuesday, the shooting-season
having opened on Sunday. On returning home
after the funeral Cesar Hautot spent the rest of the
day weeping. He hardly slept that night, and felt
so sad on awaking that he asked himself how he
could go on living.
However, he kept thinking that, in order to obey
his father's dying wish, he must go to Rouen the
following day, and see this girl Caroline Donet,
who lived at eighteen Rue de 1'Eperlan, the third
story, second door. He had muttered to himself
this name and address a countless number of times,
just as a child repeats a prayer, so that he might
not forget them, and he ended by repeating them
continually, without thinking, so impressed were
they on his mind.
Accordingly, on the following day, about eight
FATHER AND SON 207
o'clock, he ordered Graindorge to be harnessed to
the tilbury, and set forth, at the long, swinging pace
of the heavy Norman horse, along the highway
from Ainville to Rouen. He wore his black frock
coat, his tall silk hat, and his trousers strapped un-
der his shoes, and, being in mourning, did not put
on his blue dust-coat.
He entered Rouen at ten o'clock, put up, as he
had always done, at the Hotel des Bons-Enfants,
in the Rue des Trois-Mares, and submitted to the
embraces of the landlord and his wife and their
five children, for they had heard the melancholy
news; after that, he had to tell them all the par-
ticulars of the accident, which caused him to shed
tears; to repel all the attentions they sought to
thrust upon him merely because he was wealthy;
and to decline even the luncheon they offered him,
thus wounding their sensibilities.
Then, having wiped the dust off his hat, brushed
his coat, and removed the mud-stains from his
boots, he set forth in search of the Rue de 1'Eperlan,
without venturing to make inquiries, for fear of
being recognized and of arousing suspicion.
At last, unable to find the place, he met a priest,
and, trusting to the professional discretion of the
clergy, he questioned the ecclesiastic.
He had only a hundred steps farther to go; it
was the sacond street to the right.
Then he hesitated. Up to that moment he had
obeyed, like a mere animal, the expressed wish of
208 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
his father. Now he was agitated, confused, hu-
miliated, at the idea of finding himself the son
in the presence of this woman who had been his
father's sweetheart. All the morality we possess,
which lies buried at the bottom of our emotions
through centuries of hereditary instruction, all that
he had been taught since he lyw* learned his cate-
chism about creatures of evil life, the instinctive
contempt which every man entertains toward them,
even though he may marry one of them, all the
narrow honesty of the peasant in his character, was
stirred within him, and held him back, making him
grow red with shame.
But he said to himself :
" I promised father. I must not break my prom-
ise."
So he pushed open the partly opened door of
number eighteen, saw a gloomy-looking staircase,
ascended three flights, perceived a door, then a sec-
ond door, saw a bell-rope, and pulled it. The ring-
ing, which resounded in the apartment, sent a
shiver through his frame. The door was opened,
and he found himself face-to-face with a well-
dressed young lady, a brunette with rosy cheeks,
who gazed at him in astonishment.
He did not know what to say, and she, who sus-
pected nothing, and who was waiting for the father,
did not invite him to come in. They stood look-
ing thus at each other nearly half a minute, at
the end of which she said in a questioning tone :
FATHER AND SON 209
"Do you want anything, Monsieur?"
He falteringly replied:
"I am Monsieur Hautot's son."
She gave a start, turned pale, and stammered out,
as if she had known him for a long time:
"Monsieur Cesar!"
"Yes."
"And what then?"
"I have come with a message to you from my
father."
She exclaimed:
"Oh, my God!" and then drew back so that he
might enter. He shut the door and followed her
into the apartment. Then he perceived a little boy
of four or five years playing with a cat, seated on
the floor in front of a stove, from which rose an
odor of food being kept ho*.
"Take a seat," she said.
He sat down.
"Well?" she questioned.
He no longer ventured to speak, keeping his eyes
fixed on a table that stood in the center of the
room, with three covers laid on it, one of which was
for a child, and a bottle of claret that had been
opened, and one of white wine that had not been
uncorked. He glanced at the chair with its back
turned to the fire. That was his father's chair!
They were expecting him. That was his bread
which he saw at his place, for the crust had been
removed on account of Hautot's bad teeth. Then,
210 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
raising his eyes, he noticed on the wall his father's
portrait, the large photograph taken in Paris the
year of the exhibition, the same as that which hung
above the bed in the sleeping-apartment at Ainville.
The young woman again asked :
"Well, Monsieur Cesar?"
He kept staring at her. Her face was livid with
anxiety, and she waited, her hands trembling with
fear.
Then he took courage.
"Well, Mam'zelle, papa died on Sunday last, just
after he had opened the shooting-season."
She was so overwhelmed that she did not move.
After a silence of a few seconds, she faltered in an
almost inaudible tone:
"Oh, it is not possible!"
Then, on a sudden, tears came into her eyes, and
covering her face with her hands, she burst out sob-
bing.
At that point the little boy turned round, and,
seeing his mother weeping, began to roar. Then,
.realizing that this sudden trouble was brought
about by the stranger, he rushed at Cesar, caught
hold of his trousers with one hand and with the
other hit him with all his strength on the thigh.
And Cesar remained bewildered, deeply affected,
with this woman mourning for his father on the one
hand, and the little boy defending his mother on
the other. He felt their emotion taking possession
of him, and his eyes were beginning to fill with
FATHER AND SON 211
tears ; so, to recover his self-command, he began to
talk.
"Yes," he said, "the accident occurred on Sun-
day, at eight o'clock "
And he told all the facts as if she were listening
to him, without forgetting a single detail, mention-
ing the most trivial matters with the minuteness of
a countryman. And the child was still attacking
him, kicking his ankles.
When he came to what his father had said
about her she took her hands from her face and
said:
"Pardon me! I was not following you; I should
like to know Would you mind beginning over
again ?"
He repeated everything in the same words with
pauses and reflections of his own from time to time.
She listened eagerly now, perceiving with a
woman's keen sensibility all the sudden changes of
fortune which his narrative implied, and trembling
with horror, frequently exclaiming:
"Oh, my God!"
The little fellow, believing that she had calmed
down, ceased beating Cesar, in order to take his
mother's hand, and he listened, too, as if he under-
stood.
When the narrative was finished, young Hautot
continued :
"Now, we will settle matters together in accord-
ance with his wishes. I am well off, he has left
212 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
me plenty of means. I don't wish you to have any-
thing to complain about "
But she quickly interrupted him.
"Oh! Monsieur Cesar, Monsieur Cesar, not to-
day. I am cut to the heart another time another
day. No, not to-day. If I accept, listen it is not
for myself no, no, no, I swear to you, it is for
the child. Besides, this sum will be placed to his:
account."
Thereupon, Cesar, horrified, guessed the truth,
and stammered:
"So then it is his the child?''
"Why, yes," she said.
And Hautot Junior gazed at his brother with a
confused emotion, intense and painful.
After a long silence, for she was weeping afresh,
Cesar, embarrassed, continued:
"Well, then, Mam'zelle Donet, I am going. When
would you wish to talk this over with me?"
She exclaimed:
"Oh! no, don't go! don't go! Don't leave me
all alone with Emile. I should die of grief. I have
no longer any one, any one but my child. Oh!
what wretchedness, what wretchedness, Monsieur
Cesar! Come, sit down again. Tell me something
more. Tell me what he did at home all the week."
And Cesar, accustomed to obey, resumed his seat.
She drew over another chair for herself in front
of the stove, where the dishes had all this time
been heating, took Emile upon her knees, and asked
FATHER AND SON 213
Cesar a thousand questions about his father ques-
tions of an intimate nature, which made him feel,
without reasoning on the subject, that she had loved
Hautot with all the strength of her weak woman's
heart.
And, by the natural sequence of his ideas which
were rather limited in number he recurred once
more to the accident, and set about telling the story
over again with all the same details.
When he said:
"He had a hole in his stomach that you could
put your two fists into," she gave a sort of shriek,
and her eyes again filled with tears.
Then, seized by the contagion of her grief, Cesar
began to weep, too, and as tears always soften the
fibers of the heart, he bent over Emile, whose fore-
head was close to his own mouth, and kissed him.
The mother, recovering her breath, murmured :
"Poor child, he is an orphan now!"
"And so am I," said Cesar.
And they were silent.
But suddenly the practical instinct of the house-
wife, accustomed to think of everything, revived in
the young woman's breast.
"You perhaps have had nothing to eat all the
morning, Monsieur Cesar."
"No, Mam'zelle."
"You must be hungry. You will eat a morsel."
"Thank you," he said, "I am not hungry; I
have had too much sorrow."
She replied:
"In spite of sorrow, we must live. You will not
refuse to let me get something for you ! And then
you will remain a little longer. When you are
gone, I don't know what will become of me."
He yielded after some further resistance, and,
sitting down with his back to the fire, facing her,
he ate a plateful of tripe, which had been drying up
in the gravy, and drank a glass of red wine. But
he would not allow her to uncork the bottle of white
wine. He several times wiped the mouth of the
little boy, who had smeared his chin with gravy.
As he rose to take his leave, he asked:
"When would you like me to come back to talk
about this matter, Mam'zelle Donet?"
"If it is all the same to you, say next Thursday,
Monsieur Cesar. In that way I shall not waste my
time, as I always have my Thursdays free."
"That will suit me next Thursday."
"You will come to luncheon, won't you?"
"Oh! On that point I can't give you a prun,--
ise."
"The reason I suggested it is, that people can
chat better when they are eating. One has more
time, too."
"Well, be it so. About twelve o'clock then."
And he took his departure, after he had again
kissed little Emile, and pressed Mademoiselle Do-
net's hand.
The week appeared long to Cesar Hautot. He
FATHER AND SON 215
aever before had lived alone, and the isolation
seemed to him unendurable. Till now he had lived
at his father's side, like his shadow, followed him
into the fields, superintended the execution of his
orders, and, if they were separated for a short
time, they again met at dinner. They spent the
evenings smoking their pipes together, sitting op-
posite each other, chatting about horses, cows, or
sheep, and the grip of their hands when they rose
in the morning was a manifestation of deep family
affection.
Now Cesar was alone. He went mechanically
about his autumn duties on the farm, expecting any
moment to see his father's tall, energetic outline
rising at the end of a level field. To kill time,
he visited his neighbors, told about the accident to
all who had not heard of it, and sometimes repeated
it to the others. Then, having exhausted his occu-
pations and his reflections, he would sit down at the
side of the road, asking himself whether this kind
of life was going to last forever.
He frequently thought of Mademoiselle Donet.
He liked her. He considered her thoroughly re-
spectable, a gentle, good young woman, as his
father had said. Yes, undoubtedly she was a good
girl. He resolved to act handsomely toward her,
and to give her two thousand francs a year, settling
the principal on the child. He even experienced a
certain pleasure in thinking that he was going to
see her on the following Thursday and arrange this
216 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
matter. And then the thought of this brothel,
this little chap of five, who was his father's son.
worried him, annoyed him a little, and, at the
same time, pleased him. He had, as it were, a fam-
ily in this youngster, sprung from a clandestine alli-
ance, who never would bear the name of Hautot a
family which he might take or leave, as he pleased,
but which reminded him of his father.
And so, when he saw himself on the road to
Rouen Thursday morning, borne along by Grain-
dorge with his measured trot, he felt his heart
lighter, more at peace than it had been since his be-
reavement.
On entering Mademoiselle Donet's apartment, he
saw the table laid as on the previous Thursday,
with the sole difference that the crust had not been
removed from the bread. He pressed the young
woman's hand, kissed Emile on the cheeks, and sat
down, much as if he were in his own house, al-
though his heart was full. Mademoiselle Donet
seemed to him a little thinner and paler. She must
have grieved sorely. She now appeared con-
strained in his presence, as if she understood what
she had not felt the week before under the first
blow of her misfortune, and she exhibited an ex-
cessive deference toward him, a mournful humility,
and made efforts to please him, as if to repay his
kindness. They were a long time at luncheon, talk-
ing over the business that had brought him there.
She did not want so much money. It was too
FATHER AND SON 217
much. She earned enough to live on herself, and
she only wished that Emile might find a few sous
awaiting him when he grew up. Cesar was firn\
however, and even added a gift of a thousand
francs for the expenses of mourning.
When he had taken his coffee, she asked :
"Do you smoke?"
"Yes I have my pipe."
He felt in his pocket. Good heavens! He had
forgotten it! He was becoming quite distressed
about it when she offered him a pipe of his fa-
ther's that had been put away in a closet. He took
it up, recognized it, smelled it, spoke of its quality
in a tone of emotion, filled it with tobacco, and
lighted it. Then he set Emile astride his knee,
and gave him a ride, while she removed the table-
cloth and piled the soiled dishes under the side-
board, intending to wash them as soon as he was
gone.
About three o'clock he rose regretfully, annoyed
at the thought of having to go.
"Well! Mademoiselle Donet," he said, "I wish
you good evening, and am delighted to have found
you like this."
She remained standing before him, blushing,
much affected, and gazed at him while she thought
of the father.
"Shall we not see each other again?" she said.
He replied simply:
"Yes, Mademoiselle, if it gives you pleasure."
Vol. 115
218 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
"Certainly, Monsieur Cesar. Will next Thurs-
day suit you?"
"Yes, Mademoiselle Donet"
"You will come to luncheon, of course?"
"Well if you are so kind as to invite me, I can't
refuse."
"It is understood, then, Monsieur Cesar next
Thursday, at twelve, the same as today."
"Thursday at twelve, Mademoiselle Donet!"
THE FALSE JEWELS
MONSIEUR LANTIN met the young girl
at a reception at the house of the second
head of his department, and fell violently
in love with her.
She was the daughter of a deceased provincial
tax-collector. She and her mother came to live
in Paris, where the latter made the acquaintance of
families in her neighborhood and hoped to find a
husband for her daughter. They were in moderate
circumstances, and were honorable, gentle, and
quiet.
The young girl was a perfect type of the virtu-
ous woman to whom every sensible young man
dreams of one day intrusting his happiness. Her
simple beauty, her angelic modesty, and the hardly
perceptible smile which hovered about her nps
seemed to be the reflection of a lovely soul. Her
praises resounded on every side. People never tired
of saying: "Happy the man who wins her love!
He could not find a better wife."
Monsieur Lantin, then chief clerk in the Depart-
219
220 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
ment of the Interior, who enjoyed the comfortable
salary of three thousand five hundred francs, pro
posed to 'this model young girl, and was accepted,
He was unspeakably happy with her. She gov-
erned his household with economy and they seemed
to- live in luxury. She lavished the most delicate
attentions on her husband, coaxed and fondled him ;
and so great was her charm that six years after
their marriage Monsieur Lantin discovered that he
loved his wife even more than in their honeymoon.
He disliked only two of her tastes : her love for
the theater and her taste for imitation jewelry.
Her friends (the wives of petty officials) fre-
quently procured for her a box at the theater, often
for a " first night" ; and her husband was obliged to
accompany her to these entertainments, which bored
him excessively after his day's work at the office.
After a time, Monsieur Lantin begged his wife
to request some lady of her acquaintance to accom-
pany her and to bring her home after the theater.
She opposed this arrangement, at first; but finally
consented, to the great delight of her husband.
With her love for the theater, came also the
desire for ornaments. Her costumes remained as
before, simple, in good taste, and always modest;
but she soon began to adorn her ears with huge
rhinestones, which sparkled like real diamonds.
Around her neck she wore strings of false pearls,
on her arms bracelets of imitation gold, and in
tter hair combs set with glass jewels. Her hus-
THE FALSE JEWELS 221
band frequently remonstrated with her, saying:
"My dear, as you cannot afford to buy real jew-
elry, you ought to appear adorned only with your
beauty and modesty, the rarest ornaments of your
sex."
But she would smile sweetly, and say:
"What can I do? I am fond of jewelry; it is
my only weakness. We cannot change our na-
tures."
Then she would roll around her fingers the pearl
necklace, make the facets of the crystal gems spar-
kle, and say :
"Look! are they not lovely? One would sweai
they were real."
Monsieur Lantin would then answer, smilingly:
"You have Bohemian tastes, my dear."
Sometimes, of an evening, when they were en-
joying a tete-d-tete by the fireside, she would place
on the tea-table the morocco leather box containing
the "trash." as her husband called it. She would
examine the false gems with a passionate atten-
tion, as if they imparted some deep and secret joy,
and she often persisted in passing a necklace around
his n^ck. and, laughing heartily, exclaimed: "How
droll you look!" Then she would throw herself
into his arms, and kiss him affectionately.
Ore evening, in winter, she had been to the opera,
and returned home chilled through and through.
The next morning she coughed, and eight days
later she died of inflammation of the lungs.
222 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
Monsieur Lantin's despair was so great that his
hair became white in one month. He wept unceas-
ingly; his heart was broken as he remembered her
smile, her voice, every charm of his dead wife.
Time did not assuage his grief. Often, in office
hours, while his colleagues were discussing the
topics of the day, his eyes would suddenly fill
with tears, and he would give vent to his grief in
heartrending sobs. Everything in his wife's room
remained as it was during her lifetime; all her
furniture, even her clothing, being left as it was
on the day of her death. Here he was wont to
seclude himself daily and think of her who had
been his treasure, the joy of his existence.
But life soon became a struggle. His income,
which, in the hands of his wife, covered all house-
hold expenses, was now no longer sufficient for his
own immediate wants; and he wondered how she
could have managed to buy such excellent wine and
rare delicacies, which he could no longer procure
with his modest resources.
He incurred some debts, and was soon reduced
to absolute poverty. One morning, finding himself
without a sou in his pocket, he resolved to sel)
something, and immediately the thought occurred
to him of disposing of his wife's paste jewels, for
he cherished in his heart a sort of rancor against
these "deceptions," which had always irritated him.
The very sight of them spoiled, somewhat, the
memory of his lost darling.
THE FALSE JEWELS 223
To the last days of her life she had continued
to make purchases, bringing home new gems almost
every evening, and he turned them over some time
before deciding to sell the heavy necklace, which
she seemed to prefer, and which, he thought, ought
to be worth six or seven francs ; for it was of
very fine workmanship, though only imitation.
He put it in his pocket, and set out in search
of what seemed a reliable jeweler's shop. At last
he found one, and went in, feeling a little ashamed
to expose his misery, and also to offer such a worth-
less article for sale.
"Sir," said he to the merchant, "I should like to
know what this is worth."
The man took the necklace, examined it, called
his clerk, and made some remarks in an undertone ;
he then put the ornament back on the counter, and
looked at it from a distance to judge the effect.
Monsieur Lantin, annoyed at all these cere-
monies, was on the point of saying: "Oh! I know
well enough it is not worth anything," when the
jeweler said: "Sir, that necklace is worth from
twelve to fifteen thousand francs; but I could not
buy it unless you can tell me exactly where it came
from."
The widower opened his eyes wide and remained
gaping, not comprehending the merchant's meaning.
Finally he stammered: "You say are you sure?"
The other replied, dryly: "You may apply else-
where, and see whether any one will offer you
224 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
more. I consider it worth fifteen thousand at the
most. Come back here, if you cannot do better."
Monsieur Lantin, beside himself with astonish-
ment, took up the necklace and left the store. He
wished time for reflection.
Once outside, he felt inclined to laugh, and said
to himself: "The fool! Oh, the fool ! Had I only
taken him at his word! That jeweler cannot dis-
tinguish real diamonds from the imitation article."
A few minutes later, he entered another store,
in the Rue de la Paix. As soon as the proprietor
glanced at the necklace, he cried out :
"Ah, parbleu! I know it well; it was bought
here."
Monsieur Lantin, greatly disturbed, asked:
"How much is it worth?"
"Well, I sold it for twenty thousand francs. I
am willing to take it back for eighteen thousand,
when you inform me, according to our legal for-
mality, how it came to be in your possession."
This time, Monsieur Lantin was dumbfounded.
He replied:
"But examine it well. Until this moment 1
was under the impression that it was imitation/'*
The jeweler asked :
"What is your name, sir?"
"Lantin. I am in the employ of the Minister or
the Interior. I live at number sixteen Rue des Mar-
tyrs."
The merchant looked through his books, found
THE FALSE JEWELS 225
the entry, and said: "That necklace was sent to
Madame Lantin's address, sixteen Rue des Martyrs,
July 20, 1876."
The two men looked into each other's eyes, the
widower speechless with astonishment, the jeweler
scenting a thief. The latter broke the silence.
"Will you leave this necklace here for twenty-
four ho'jrs?" said he; "I will give you a receipt."
Monsieur Lantin answered hastily: "Yes, cer-
tainly." Then, putting the ticket into his pocket, he
left the store.
He wandered aimlessly through the streets, his
mind in a state of dreadful confusion. He tried to
reason, to understand. His wife could not afford
to purchase such a costly ornament. Certainly not.
But, then, it must have been a present ! a present !
a present from whom? Why was it given to her?
He stopped, and remained standing in the middle
of the street. A horrible doubt entered his mind.
She? Then, all the other jewels must have been
presents, too ! The earth seemed to tremble beneath
him; the tree before him to be falling; he threw
up his arms, and fell to the ground, unconscious.
He recovered his senses in a pharmacy into which
the passers-by had borne him. He asked to be
taken home, and, when he reached the honse he
shut himself up in his room and wept umil night-
fall. Finally, overcome with fatigue, he went to
hed, and fell into a heavy sleep.
The sun awoke him next morning, and he began
226 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
to dress slowly to go to the office. It was hard
to work after such an experience. He sent a letter
to his employer, requesting to be excused. Then he
remembered that he had to return to the jeweler's.
He did not like the idea; but he could not leave
the necklace with that man. He dressed and went
out.
It was a lovely day; a clear blue sky smiled on
the busy city. Men of leisure were strolling about
with their hands in their pockets.
Monsieur Lantin, observing them, said to him-
self : "The rich, indeed, are happy. With money,
it is possible to forget even the deepest sorrow. One
can go where one pleases, and in travel find that
distraction which is the surest cure for grief. Oh !
if I were only rich!"
He was hungry, but his pocket was empty. He
again remembered the necklace. Eighteen thou-
sand francs! What a sum!
He soon arrived in the Rue de la Paix, opposite
the jeweler's. Eighteen thousand francs! Twenty
times he resolved to go in, but shame kept him back.
He was hungry, however, very hungry, and not a
sou in his pocket. He decided quickly, ran across
the street, in order not to have time for reflection,
and rushed into the store.
The proprietor immediately came forward, and
politely offered him a chair; the clerks glanced at
him knowingly.
"I have made inclines, Monsieur Lantin," said
THE FALSE JEWELS 227
the jeweler, "and if you are still resolved to dis-
pose of the gems, I am ready to pay you the price
I offered."
"Certainly, sir," stammered Monsieur Lantia.
Whereupon the proprietor took from a drawer
eighteen large bills, counted them and handed them
to Monsieur Lantin, who signed a receipt, and, with
trembling hand, put the money into his pocket.
As he was about to leave the store, he turned
toward the merchant, who still wore the same know-
ing smile, and, lowering his eyes, said:
"I have I have other gems, which came from
the same source. Will you buy them, also?"
The merchant bowed: "Certainly, sir."
Monsieur Lantin said gravely: "I will bring
them to you." An hour later he returned with the
gems.
The large diamond earrings were worth twenty
thousand francs ; the bracelets, thirty-five thousand
the rings, sixteen thousand; a set of emeralds and
sapphires, fourteen thousand ; a gold chain with soh-
taire pendant, forty thousand making the sum of
one hundred and forty-three thousand francs.
The jeweler remarked, jestingly:
"There was a person who invested all her sav-
ings in precious stones."
Monsieur Lantin replied, seriously :
*Jt is only another way of investing one's
money."
That day he lunched at Voisin's, and drank wine
228 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
worth twenty francs a bottle. Then he hired a car-
riage and made a tour of the Bois. He gazed at
the various turnouts with a kind of disdain, and
could hardly refrain from crying out to the occu-
pants :
" I, too, am rich ! I am worth two hundred thou-
sand francs."
Suddenly he thought of his employer. He drove
up to the bureau, and entered gayly, saying:
"Sir, I have come to resign my place. I have
just inherited three hundred thousand francs."
He shook hands with his former colleagues, and
confided to them some of his projects for the fu-
ture ; he then went out to dine at the Cafe Anglais.
He seated himself beside a gentleman of aristo-
cratic bearing; and, during the meal, informed the
latter confidentially that he had just inherited a for-
tune of four hundred thousand francs.
For the first time in his life, he was not bored at
the theater, and he spent the remainder of the night
in a gay frolic.
Six months afterward he married again. His
second wife was a very virtuous woman ; but had 1
violent temper, and caused him much sorrow.
THAT UMBRELLA!
MADAME OREILLE was economical; she
knew the value of a centime, and had a
whole storehouse of strict principles with
regard to the multiplication of money, so that her
cook found the greatest difficulty in making what
the servants call their market-penny, and her hus-
band was hardly allowed any pocket-money at ail.
They were very comfortably off, and had no chil-
dren; but it really pained Madame Oreille to see
money spent ; it was like tearing at her heartstrings
when she had to take any of those nice crown-pieces
out of her pocket; and whenever she had to spend
anything, no matter how necessary it might be, she
slept badly the next night.
Oreille was continually saying to his wife:
"You really might be more liberal, as we have
no children, and never spend our income."
"You don't know what may happen," she used
to reply. "It is better to have too much than too
little."
She was small, about forty, very active, rather
hasty, wrinkled, very neat and tidy, and had a short
temper.
229
230 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
Her husband frequently complained of the priva-
tions she made him endure; some of them were
particularly painful to him, as they touched his
vanity.
He was one of the head clerks in the War
Office, and stayed on there only in obedience to his
wife's wish to increase their income, which they
did not nearly spend.
For two years he had always come to the office
with the same old patched umbrella, to the great
amusement of his fellow clerks. At last he got
tired of their jokes, and insisted upon his wife's
buying him a new one. She bought one for eight
francs and a half, one of those cheap articles which
large houses sell as an advertisement. When the
men in the office saw the article, which was being
sold in Paris by the thousand, they resumed their
jokes, and Oreille had a dreadful time of it. They
even made a song about it, which he heard from
morning till night all over the immense building.
Oreille was very angry, and peremptorily told his
wife to get him a new one, a good silk one, for
twenty francs, and to bring him the bill, so that he
might see that it was all right.
She bought him one for eighteen francs, and
said, getting red with anger as she gave it to him :
"This will last you five years at least."
Oreille felt quite triumphant, and received a
small ovation when he appeared at the office with
his new acquisition.
THAT UMBRELLA! 231
When he went home in the evening his wife said
to him, looking at the umbrella uneasily:
"You should not leave it fastened up with the
elastic; it will be likely to cut the silk. You must
take care of it, for I shall not buy you a new one in
a hurry."
She took it, unfastened it, and then stood dumb-
founded with astonishment and rage; in the mid-
dle of the silk there was a hole as big as a six-
penny-piece; it had been made with the end of a
cigar.
"What is that?" she screamed.
Her husband replied quietly, without looking at it :
"What is it? What do you mean?"
She was choking with rage, and could hardly
get out a word.
"You you have burned your new umbrella!
Why you must be mad! Do you wish to ruin
us outright?"
He turned round, and felt that he was growing
pale.
"What are you talking about?"
"I say that you have burned your umbrella. Just
look here!"
And rushing at him, as if she were going to beat
him, she violently thrust the little circular burned
hole under his nose.
He was utterly struck dumb at the sight of it
and could only stammer out :
"What what is it? How should I know? I have
232 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
done nothing, I will swear. I don't know what is
the matter with the umbrella."
"You have been playing tricks with it at the
office; you have been playing the fool and opening
it, to show it off !" she screamed.
"I opened it only once, to let them see what a nice
one it was ; that is all, I swear."
But she shook with rage, and got up one of those
conjugal scenes which make a peaceable man dread
the domestic hearth more than a battlefield where
bullets are flying.
She mended it with a piece of silk cut out of the
old umbrella, which was of a different color, and the
next day Oreille went off very humbly with the
mended article in his hand. He put it into a cup-
board, and dismissed it from his thoughts.
But he had scarcely got home that evening wher
his wife took the umbrella from him, opened it, and
nearly had a fit when she saw what had befallen it,
for the disaster was irreparable. It was covered
with small holes which evidently proceeded froir.
burns, just as if some erne had emptied the ashes
from a lighted pipe on to it. It was ruined ut-
terly.
She looked at it without a word, too enraged to
be able to say anything. He also, when he saw the
damage, remained dumbfounded, in a state of
frightened consternation.
They looked at each other, then he looked at the
floor; and the next moment she threw the useless
THAT UMBRELLA ! 233
article at his head, screaming out in a transport of
the most violent rage, for she had recovered her
voice by that time:
" Oh ! you brute ! you brute ! You did it on pur-
pose, but I will pay you out for it; you shall not
have another."
And then the scene began again, and after the
storm had raged for an hour, he at last was en-
abled to explain himself. He declared that he could
not understand it at all, and that it could only pro-
ceed from malice or from vengeance.
A ring at the bell saved him; it was a friend
whom they were expecting to dinner.
Madame Oreille stated the case to him. As for
buying a new umbrella, that was out of the ques-
tion; her husband should not have another.
The friend very sensibly said that in that case
his clothes would be spoiled, and they were certainly
worth more than the umbrella. But the little
woman, who was still in a rage, replied :
"Very well, then, when it rains he may have the
kitchen umbrella, for I will not give him a new silk
one."
Oreille utterly rebelled at such an idea.
"All right," he said ; "then I shall resign my post.
I am not going to the office with the kitchen um-
brella."
The friend interposed:
"Have this one re-covered ; it will not cost much."
But Madame Oreille, being still in a rage, said:
Vol. i in
234 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
"It will cost at least eight francs to re-cover it
Eight and eighteen are twenty-six. Just fancy,
twenty-six f ranrs for an umbrella ! It is utter mad-
ness !"
The friend, who was only a poor man of the mid-
dle classes, had an inspiration :
"Make your fire insurance pay for it. The com-
panies pay for all i rticles that are burned, as long as
the damage has been done in your own house."
On hearing this advice the little woman calmed
down immediately, and then, after a moment's re-
flection, she said to her husband :
"To-morrow, before going to your office, you will
go to the Maternelle Insurance Company, show
them the state your umbrella is in, and make them
pay for the damage. "
M. Oreille fairly jumped, he was so startled at
the proposal.
"I would not do it for my life! It is eighteen
francs lost, that is all. It would not ruin us."
The next morning he took a walking-stick when
he went out, and, luckily, it was a fine day.
Left at home Madame Oreille could not get over
the loss of her eighteen francs by any means. She
had put the umbrella on the dining-room table, and
she looked at it without being able to come to any
determination.
Every moment she thought of the insurance com-
pany, but she did not dare to encounter the quiz-
zical looks of the gentlemen who might receive her,
THAT UMBRELLA I 235
for she was very timid before people, blushed at a
mere nothing, and was embarrassed when she had
to speak to strangers.
But the regret at the loss of the eighteen francs
still pained her. She tried not to think of it any
more, and yet every moment the recollection of the
loss struck her painfully. What was she to do?
Time went on, and she could not decide; but sud-
denly, like all cowards, on making a resolve she
became determined.
"I will go, and we shall see what will happen."
But first of all she was obliged to prepare the
umbrella so that the disaster might be complete, and
the reason of it quite evident. She took a matcix
from the mantelpiece, and between the ribs she
burned a hole as big as the palm of her hand ; then
she delicately rolled it up, fastened it with the
elastic band, put on her bonnet and shawl, and went
quickly toward the Rue de Rivoli, where the insur-
ance office was.
But the nearer she got, che slower she walked.
What was she going to say, and what reply would
she get?
She looked at the numbers of the houses; there
were still twenty-eight. That was all right, so she
had time to consider, and she walked slower and
slower. Suddenly she saw a door on which was a
large brass plate with "La Maternelle Fire Insur-
ance Office" engraved on it. Already ! She waited
a moment, for she felt nervou and almost ashamed;
236 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
then she walked past, came back, walked past again,
and came back again.
At last she said to herself :
"I must go in, however, so I may as well do it
sooner as later."
She could not help noticing, however, how her
heart beat as she entered.
She went into an enormous room with grated
wicket openings all round, and a man behind each
of them, and as a gentleman carrying a handful
of paper passed her, she stopped him and said
timidly :
"I beg your pardon, Monsieur, but can you tell
me where I must apply for payment for anything
that has been accidentally burned?"
He replied in a sonorous voice:
"The first door on the left; that is the depart-
ment you want"
This frightened her still more, and she felt in-
clined to run away, to put in no claim, to sacrifice
her eighteen francs. But the idea of that sum re-
vived her courage, and she went upstairs, out of
breath, stopping at almost every other step.
She knocked at a door which she saw on the first
landing, and a clear voice said, in answer :
"Come in!"
She obeyed mechanically, and found herself in
a large room where three solemn gentlemen, all ivith
a decoration in their buttonholes, were talking.
One of them said : "What do you want, Madame?"
THAT UMBRELLA ! 237
She could hardly get out her words, but stam-
mered: "I have come I have come on account of
an accident, something "
He very politely pointed out a seat to her.
"If you will kindly sit down I will attend to you
in a moment."
And, returning to the other two, he continued:
"The company, gentlemen, does not consider that
it is under any obligation to you for more than four
hundred thousand francs, and we can pay no atten-
tion to your claim to the further sum of a hundred
thousand, which you wish to make us pay. Besides
that, the surveyor's valuation "
One of the others interrupted him :
"That is enough, Monsieur, the law courts will
decide between us, and we have nothing further to
do than to take our leave." And they went out after
mutual ceremonious bows.
Oh ! if she could only have gone away with them,
how gladly she would have done it ; she would have
run away and given up everything. But it was
too late, for the gentleman came back, and said,
bowing :
"What can I do for you, Madame?"
She could hardly speak, but at last she managed
to say:
"I have come for this."
The manager looked at the object which she held
out to him in mute astonishment.
With trembling fingers she tried to undo the
238 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
elastic, and succeeding, after several attempts, she
hastily opened the damaged remains of the um-
brella.
"It looks to me to be in a very bad state of
health," he said compassionately.
"It cost me twenty francs," she said, with some
hesitation.
He seemed astonished. "Really! As much as
that?"
"Yes, it was a capital article, and I wanted you
to see the condition it is in. "
"Yes, yes, I see; very well. But I really do not
understand what it can have to do with me."
She began to feel uncomfortable; perhaps this
company did not pay for such small articles, and
she said:
"But it is burned."
He could not deny it.
"I see that very well," he replied.
She remained open-mouthed, not knowing what
to say next ; then, suddenly recollecting that she had
left out the main thing, she said hastily:
"I am Madame Oreille; we are insured in La
Maternelle, and I have come to claim the value of
this damage.
"I only want you to have it re-covered," she
added quickly, fearing a positive refusal.
The manager was rather embarrassed, and said:
"But, really, Madame, we do not sell umbrel-
las; we cannot undertake that kind of repairs."
THAT UMBRELLA ! 239
The little woman felt her courage reviving; she
was not going to give up without a struggle; she
was not even afraid any more, and said :
"I only want you to pay me the cost of repair-
ing it; I can easily get it done myself."
The gentleman seemed rather confused.
"Really, Madame, it is such a very small matter!
We are never asked to give compensation for such
trivial losses. You must allow that we cannot make
good pocket-handkerchiefs, gloves, brooms, slippers,
all the small articles which are every day exposed to
the chances of being burned."
She got red in the face, and felt inclined to fly
into a rage.
"But, Monsieur, last December one of our chim-
neys caught fire, and caused at least five hundred
francs' damage ; my husband made no claim on the
company, and so it is only just that it should pay
for my umbrella now."
The manager, guessing that she was telling a lie,
said, with a smile :
"You must acknowledge, Madame, that it is sur-
prising that Monsieur Oreille should have asked no
compensation for damages amounting to five hun-
dred francs, and should now claim five or six francs
for mending an umbrella."
She was not the least put out, and replied :
"I beg your pardon, Monsieur, the five hundred
francs affected Monsieur Oreille's pocket ; this dam-
age, amounting to eighteen francs, concerns Ma-
240 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
dame Oreille's pocket, which is a totally different
matter."
As he saw that he had no chance of getting rid
of her, and that he would only be wasting his time,
he said resignedly:
"Will you kindly tell me how the damage was
done?"
She felt that she had won the victory, and said:
"This is how it happened, Monsieur: In our
hall there is a bronze stick and umbrella stand, and
the other day, when I came in, I put my umbrella
into it. I must tell you that just above there is a
shelf for the candlesticks and matches. I took three
or four matches, and struck one, but it missed fire,
so I struck another, which ignited, but went out im-
mediately, and a third did the same."
The manager interrupted her to make a joke.
"I suppose they were government matches,
then?"
She did not understand him, and continued :
"Very likely. At any rate, the fourth caught
fire, and I lighted my candle, and went to my room
to go to bed ; but in a quarter of an hour I fancied
that I smelled something burning, and I have always
been terribly afraid of fire. If ever we have an ac-
cident it will not be my fault, I assure you. I am
terribly nervous since our chimney was on fire, as
I told you; so I got up, and hunted about every-
where, sniffing like a dog after game, and at last I
noticed that my umbrella was burning. Most likely
THAT UMBRELLA! 241
a match had fallen between the folds and burned
it. You can see how it has damaged it."
The manager had taken his cue, and asked her:
"What do you estimate the damage at?"
She did not know what to say, as she was not
certain what amount to put on it, but she replied :
"Perhaps you had better get it done yourself.
I will leave it to you."
He, however, naturally refused.
"No, Madame, I cannot do that. Tell me the
amount of your claim, that is all I want to know."
"Well! I think that Look here, Monsieur,
I do not want to make any money out of you, so I
will tell you what we will do. I will take my um-
brella to the maker, who will re-cover it in good,
durable silk, and I will bring the bill to you. Will
that suit you, Monsieur?"
"Perfectly, Madame; we will settle it so. Here
is a note for the cashier, who will repay you what-
ever it costs you."
He gave a paper to Madame Oreille, who took
it, got up and went out, thanking him, for she
was in haste to go lest he should change his mind.
She went briskly through the streets, looking
out for a really good umbrella-maker, and when she
found a shop which appeared to be a first-class one,
she went in, and said, confidently :
"I want this umbrella re-covered in silk, a good
silk. Use the very best and strongest you have; I
don't mind what it costs."
THE CLOCK
MY old friend Dr. Bonnet (one may have
friends older than oneself) had often in-
vited me to spend some time with him at
Riom, and as I did not know Auvergne, I made up
my mind to visit him in the summer of 1876.
I arrived by the morning train, and the first per-
son I saw on the platform was the doctor. He was
dressed in a gray suit, and wore a soft, black, wide-
brimmed, high-crowned felt hat, narrow at the top
which hardly any one except an Auvergnat would
wear, and which reminded me of a charcoal-burner.
Dressed like that, the doctor had the appearance of
an old young man, with his spare body under his
thin coat, and his large head of white hair.
He embraced me with that evident pleasure
which country people feel on meeting long-ex-
pected friends, and, stretching out his arm, he said
proudly :
"This is Auvergne!" I saw nothing before me
but a range of mountains, whose summits, which
resembled truncated cones, must have been extinct
volcanoes.
242
THE CLOCK 243
Pointing to the name of the station, he said:
"Riom, the fatherland of magistrates, the pride
of the magistracy, which ought rather to be the
fatherland of doctors."
"Why?" I asked.
"Why?" he replied with a laugh. "If you trans-
pose the letters, you have the Latin word mori,
to die. That is the reason I settled here, my
young friend."
Delighted at his own joke, he carried me off,
rubbing his hands.
As soon as I had taken a cup of coffee, he took
me to see the town. I admired the druggist's house,
and other noted houses, which were all black, hut
as pretty as bric-a-brac, with their sculptured stone
fagades. I admired the statue of the Virgin, pa-
troness of butchers, and he told me an amusing
story about this, which I will relate some other
time. Then he said:
" I must beg you to excuse me for a few minutes
while I go and see a patient, and then I will take
you to Chatel-Guyon, so as to show you the general
aspect of the town, and all the mountain chain of
the Puy-de-D6me, before luncheon. You can wait
for me outside; I shall only go upstairs, and come
down immediately."
He left me outside one of those old, gloomy, si-
lent, melancholy houses which we see in the prov-
inces, and this one appeared to look unusually
sinister. I soon discovered the reason. The large
244 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
windows on the first floor were half boarded up
with wooden shutters. The upper part of them
alone could be opened, as if one had wished to pre-
vent people locked up in that huge stone trunk
from looking into the street.
When the doctor came down again, I told him
how it had struck me, and he replied:
"You are quite right; the poor creature who is
Hving there must never see what is going on out-
side. She is a madwoman, or rather an idiot, what
you Normans would call a Niente. It is a miserable
story, but a very singular pathological case at the
same time. Shall I tell you?"
I asked him to do so, and he continued :
"Twenty years ago the owners of this house,
who were my patients, had a daughter who was like
all other girls, but I soon discovered that while her
body became admirably developed, her intellect re-
mained stationary.
"She began to walk very early, but she could
not talk. At first I thought she was deaf, but I
soon discovered that, although she heard perfectly,
she did not understand anything that was said to
her. Violent noises frightened her, without her
understanding how they were caused.
"She grew up into a superb woman, but she was
dumb, from absolute want of intellect. I tried
all means to introduce a gleam of intelligence into
her brain, but without success. I thought I no-
ticed that she knew her nurse, though as soon as
THE CLOCK 245
she was weaned, she failed to recognize her mother.
She never could pronounce that word which is the
first that children utter and the last that soldiers
murmur when they are dying on the field of battle.
She sometimes tried to talk, but she produced only
incoherent sounds.
"When the weather was fine, she laughed con-
tinually, and emitted low cries which were like the
twittering of birds. When it rained she cried and
moaned in a mournful, terrifying manner, which
sounded like the howling of a dog when a death
occurs in a house.
"She was fond of rolling on the grass, as young
animals do, and of running about madly, and she
used to clap her hands every morning when the
sun shone into her room, and would jump out of
bed and insist, by signs, on being dressed as quickly
as possible, so that she might get out.
"She did not appear to distinguish between her
mother and her nurse, or between her father and
me, or between the coachman and the cook. I
particularly liked her parents, who were very un-
happy on her account, and I went to see them
nearly every day. I dined with them frequently,
which enabled me to remark that Bertha (they
had named her Bertha) seemed to recognize the
various dishes, and to prefer some to others. At
that time she was twelve years old, but as fully
formed in figure as a girl of eighteen, and taller
than I was. Then the idea struck me of develop-
246 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
ing her greediness, and by this means trying to pro-
duce some slight powers of distinguishing in her
mind, and to force her, by the diversity of flavors,
if not to reason, at least to arrive at instinctive
distinctions, which of themselves would constitute a
kind of process that was necessary to thought.
Afterward, by appealing to her passions, and care-
fully making use of those which could serve us, we
might hope to obtain a reaction on her intellect,
and by degrees increase the insensible action of
her brain.
"One day I put two plates before her, one of
soup, and the other of very sweet vanilla cream. I
made her taste each of them successively, and then
I let her choose for herself, and she ate the plate
of cream. In a short time I made her very greedy,
so greedy that it appeared as if her only idea was
the desire for eating. She easily recognized the
various dishes, stretched out her hands toward those
that she liked, and grasped them eagerly, and she
used to cry when they were taken from her. Then
I thought I would try to teach her to come to
the dining-room when the dinner-bell rang. It
took a long time, but I succeeded at last. In her
vacant intellect there was a fixed correlation be-
tween the sound and her taste, a correspondence
between two senses, an appeal from one to the
other, and consequently a sort of connection of
ideas (if one can call that kind of instinctive hyphen
between two organic functions an idea) and so I
THE CLOCK 247
carried my experiments further, and taught her,
with much difficulty, to recognize meal-times by the
clock.
"For a long time it was impossible to attract
her attention to the hands, but I succeeded in mak-
ing her remark the clockwork and the striking
apparatus. The means I employed were very sim-
ple; I asked them not to have the bell rung for
luncheon, and everybody got up and went into the
dining-room when the little brass hammer struck
twelve o'clock, but I found great difficulty in teach-
ing her to count the strokes. She ran to the door
each time she heard the clock strike, but by degrees
she learned that the strokes had not all the same
value as regarded meals, and she frequently fixed
her eyes, guided by her ears, on the dial.
"When I noticed that I took care every day at
twelve and at six o'clock to place my fingers on the
figures twelve and six, as soon as the moment she
was waiting for had arrived, and I soon noticed that
she attentively followed the motion of the small
brass hands, which I had often turned in her pres-
ence.
"She had understood! Perhaps I ought rather
to say she had grasped the idea. I had succeeded
in getting the knowledge, or, rather, the sensa-
tion, of time into her, just as is the case with
carp, which certainly have no clocks, when they are
fed every day exactly at the same time.
"When I had obtained that result all the clocks
248 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
and watches in the house occupied her attention
almost exclusively. She spent her time in looking
at them, in listening to them, and in waiting for
meal-time, and once something very funny hap-
pened. The striking apparatus of a pretty little
Louis XVI clock that hung at the head of her bed
having got out of order, she noticed it. She sat for
twenty minutes with her eyes on the hands, wait-
ing for it to strike ten, but when the hand passed
the figure she was astonished at not hearing any-
thing; so stupefied was she, indeed, that she sat
down, no doubt overwhelmed by a feeling of violent
emotion such as attacks us in the face of some ter-
rible catastrophe. And she had the wonderful pa-
tience to wait until eleven o'clock in order to see
what would happen, and as she then heard noth-
ing, she was suddenly either seized with a wild
fit of rage at having been deceived and imposed
upon by appearances, or else overcome by that fear
which a frightened creature feels at some terri-
ble mystery, and by the furious impatience of a
passionate individual who meets with an obstacle;
she took up the tongs from the fireplace and struck
the clock so violently that she broke it to pieces.
"It was evident, therefore, that her brain did
act and calculate, obscurely it is true, and within
very restricted limits, for I could never succeed in
making her distinguish persons as she distinguished
the time; and to stir her intellect it was necessary
to appeal to her passions, in the material sense of
THE CLOCK 249
the word, and we soon had another, and alas! a
very terrible, proof of this!
"She had grown up into a splendid girl, a per-
fect type of a race, a sort of lovely and stupid
Venus. She was sixteen, and I have rarely seen
such perfection of form, such suppleness and such
regular features. I said she was a Venus; yes, a
fair, stout, vigorous Venus, with large, bright, va-
cant eyes which were as blue as the flowers of the
flax plant ; she had a large mouth with full lips, the
mouth of a glutton, of a sensualist, a mouth made
for kisses. One morning her father came into
my consulting-room with a strange look on his face,
and, sitting down without even replying to my greet-
ing, he said :
" 'I want to speak to you about a very serious
matter. Would it be possible would it be possible
for Bertha to marry?'
" 'Bertha to marry ! Why, it is quite impossi-
ble!'
" 'Yes, I know, I know,' he replied very sadly.
" 'But reflect, doctor. Don't you think perhaps
we hoped if she had children it would be a great
shock to her, but a great happiness, and who
knows whether maternity might not rouse her in-
tellect/
"I was in a state of great perplexity. He was
right, and it was possible that such a new situa-
tion, and that wonderful instinct of maternity which
beats in the hearts of the lower animals, as it does
Vol. 117
250 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
in the heart of a woman, which makes the hen fly
at a dog's jaw to defend her chickens, might bring
about a revolution, an utter change in her vacant
mind, and set the motionless mechanism of her
thoughts into movement. And then, moreover, I
immediately remembered a personal instance. Some
years previously I had possessed a spaniel bitch
that was so stupid that I could do nothing with her,
but when she had had puppies she became, if not
exactly intelligent, yet almost like many other dogs
that have not been thoroughly broken.
"As soon as I foresaw the possibility of this the
wish to get Bertha married grew in me, not so
much out of friendship for her and her poor par-
ents as from scientific curiosity. What would hap-
pen? It was a singular problem, and I said to her
father :
" 'Perhaps you are right. You might make the
attempt But you will never find a man to con-
sent to marry her/
" 'I have found somebody/ he said, in a low
voice.
"I was dumbfounded, and said: 'Somebody
really suitable? Some one of your own rank and
position in society?'
*' 'Decidedly,' he replied.
" 'Oh! And may I ask his name?'
" 'I came on purpose to tell you, and to consult
you. It is Monsieur Gaston du Boys de Lucelles.'
"I felt inclined to exclaim: 'What a wretch! 1
THE CLOCK 251
but I held my tongue, and after a short silence, I
said:
" 'Oh ! Very good. I see nothing against it.'
"The poor man shook me heartily by the hand.
" 'She is to be married next month/ he said.
"Monsieur Gaston du Boys de Lucelles was a
scapegrace of good family, who, after spending
all that he had inherited from his father, and in-
curring debts by all kinds of doubtful means, had
been trying to discover some other way of obtain-
ing money, and he had discovered this method.
He was a good-looking young fellow, and in capital
health, but fast; one of that odious race of pro-
vincial fast men, and he appeared to me to be a
sufficient sort of husband, who could be got rid
of later by making him an allowance. He came to
the house to pay his addresses and to strut about be-
fore the idiot girl, who seemed to please him. He
brought her flowers, kissed her hands, sat at her
feet, and looked at her with affectionate eyes; but
she took no notice of any of his attentions, and
did not make any distinction between him and the
other persons who were about her.
" However, the marriage took place, and you may
guess how my curiosity was aroused. I went to
see Bertha the next day to discover if possible, from
her looks whether any feelings had been awakened
in her ; but I found her just the same that she was
every day, wholly taken up with the clock and din-
ner, while he, on the contrary, appeared really in
252 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
love, and tried to rouse his wife's spirits and affec-
tion by little endearments and such caresses as one
bestows on a kitten. He could think of nothing
better.
"I called upon the married couple pretty fre-
quently, and I soon perceived that the young
woman knew her husband, and gave him those
eager looks which she had hitherto only bestowed
on sweet dishes.
She followed his movements, knew his step on
the stairs or in the neighboring rooms, clapped
her hands when he came in, and her face was
changed and brightened by the flames of profound
happiness and of desire.
"She loved him with her whole body and with
all her soul, to the very depths of her poor, weak
spirit, and with all her heart, that poor heart of
some grateful animal. It was really a delightful
and innocent picture of simple passion, of carnal
and yet modest passion, such as nature had im-
planted in mankind before man had complicated
and disfigured it by all the various shades of senti-
ment. But he soon grew tired of this ardent, beau-
tiful, dumb creature, and did not spend more than
an hour a day with her, thinking it sufficient if he
came home at night, and she began to suffer in con-
sequence. She used to wait for him from morning
till night, with her eyes on the clock; she did not
even look at mealtime now, for he took all his
meals away from home, Clermont, Chatel-Guyon,
THE CLOCK 253
no matter where, so long as he was not obliged to
come home.
"She began to grow thin; every other thought,
every other wish, every other expectation, and every
confused hope disappeared from her mind, and the
hours during which she did not see him became
hours of terrible suffering. Soon he ceased to
come home regularly at night; he spent the nights
with women at the casino at Royal and did not
come home until daybreak. But she never went to
bed before he returned. She remained sitting mo-
tionless in an easy-chair, with her eyes fixed on the
hands of the clock, which turned slowly and reg-
ularly round the china face on which the hours
were painted.
She heard the trot of his horse in the distance,
and sat up with a start, and when he came into
the room she got up with the movements of an au-
tomaton and pointed to the clock, as if to say : 'See
how late it is!'
"And he began to be afraid of this amorous and
jealous half-witted woman, and flew into a rage,
as brutes do ; and one night he even went so far as
to strike her, so they sent for me. When I arrived
she was writhing and screaming in a terrible crisis
of pain, anger, passion, how do I know what? Can
one tell what goes on in such undeveloped brains?
"I calmed her by subcutaneous injections of mor-
phine, and forbade her to see that man again, for
I saw clearly that marriage would kill her by degrees.
254 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
"Then she went mad ! Yes, my dear friend, that
idiot has gone mad. She is always thinking of him
and waiting for him; she waits for him day and
night, awake or asleep, at this very moment, cease-
lessly. When I saw her getting thinner and thinner,
and as she persisted in never taking her eyes oft
the clocks, I had them removed from the house.
I thus made it impossible for her to count the hours,
and she tries to remember, from her vague remi-
niscences, at what time he used to come home for-
merly. I hope to destroy the recollection of it in
time, and to extinguish that ray of thought which
I kindled with so much difficulty.
"The other day I made an experiment. I offered
her my watch ; she took it and looked at it for some
time; then she began to scream terribly, as if the
sight of that little object had suddenly aroused her
recollection, which was beginning to grow more dis-
tinct. She is pitiably thin now, with hollow and
glittering eyes, and she walks up and down cease-
lessly, like a wild beast in its cage ; I have had bars
put to the windows, and have had the seats fixed
to the floor so as to prevent her from looking to see
whether he is coming.
"Oh! her poor parents! What a life they must
lead !"
We were now at the top of the hill, and the doc-
tor turned round and said to me:
"Look at Riom from here."
The gloomy town looked like some ancient city.
THE CLOCK 255
Behind it a green, wooded plain studded with towns
and villages, and bathed in a soft blue haze, ex-
tended until it was lost in the distance. Far away,
on my right, was a range of lofty mountains, some
with round summits, some cut off flat, as if with a
sword, and the doctor began to enumerate the vil-
lages, towns, and hills, and to give me the history
of all of them. But I did not listen to him ; I was
thinking of nothing but the mad woman, and I saw
her only. She seemed to be hovering over that vast
extent of country like a mournful ghost, and I
asked him abruptly :
' What has become of the husband?"
My friend seemed rather surprised, but after a
few moments' hesitation, he replied:
"He is living at Royat, on an allowance that
they made him, and is quite happy ; he leads a very
fast life."
As we were slowly going back, an English dog-
cart, drawn by a thoroughbred horse passed us
rapidly. The doctor took me by the arm :
"There he is," he said.
I saw nothing but a gray felt hat, cocked over
one ear, above a pair of broad shoulders, driving off
in a cloud of dust.
THE DOWRY
THE marriage of Maitre Simon Lebrument
with Mademoiselle Jeanne Cordier was a
surprise to no one. When Maitre Lebrument
bought out the practice of Maitre Papillon, he
needed money to pay for it; and Mademoiselle
Jeanne Cordier had three hundred thousand francs
clear in currency and in bonds.
Maitre Lebrument was handsome and stylish,
although in a provincial way; nevertheless, he was
stylish, a rare thing at Boutigny-le-Rebours.
Mademoiselle Cordier was graceful and fresh-
looking, though a little awkward; but she was a
handsome girl, and one to be desired.
The marriage ceremony turned Boutigny topsy-
turvy. Everybody admired the young couple, who
quickly returned home to domestic felicity, having
made simply a short trip to Paris, after a few
days of close intimacy.
This tete-a-tete was delightful. Maitre Lebru-
ment had shown just the proper amount of deli-
cacy. He had taken as his motto: "All things
256
THE DOWRY 257
come round to him who waits." He knew how to
be at once patient and energetic, and his success
was rapid and complete.
After four days, Madame Lebrument adored her
husband. She could not get along without him,
she must have him near her all the time, to caress
and kiss him, to run her hands through his hair
and beard, to play with his hands and nose. She
would sit on his knees, and taking him by the ears
would say: "Open your mouth and shut your
eyes." He would open his mouth wide and partly
close his eyes, and he would try to nip her fingers
as she slipped some dainty between his teeth. Then
she would give him a kiss, sweet and long, which
would make chills run up and down his spine. And
then, in his turn, he would not have enough
caresses, enough lips, enough hands, enough of him-
self to please his wife from morning to night and
from night to morning.
When the first week was over, he said to her :
"If you wish, we will leave for Paris next Tues-
day. We will be like two lovers who are not mar-
ried; we will go to the restaurants, the theaters,
the concert halls, everywhere!"
She was ready to dance for joy.
"Oh! yes, yes. Let us go as soon as possible."
He continued:
"And then, as we must forget nothing, ask your
faiHei' to hold your dowry in readiness ; I shall pay
Maitie Papillon on this trip."
2b GUY DE MAUPASSANT
"All right!" she answered. "I will tell him to-
morrow morning."
And he took her in his arms once more, to renew
those sweet games of love which she had so enjoyed
in the past week.
The following Tuesday, father-in-law and
mother-in-law went to the station with their daugh-
ter and their son-in-law, who were leaving for the
capital.
The father-in-law said:
"I tell you it is very imprudent to carry so much
money around in a pocketbook." And the young
lawyer smiled.
"Don't worry; I am accustomed to such things.
You understand that, in my profession, I sometimes
have as much as a million about me. In this man-
ner, at least, we avoid a great amount of red tape
and delays. You needn't worry."
The conductor cried: "All aboard for Paris!"
They scrambled into a car where two old ladies
were already seated.
Lebrument whispered in his wife's ear:
"What a bother! I shall not be able to smoke."
She answered in a low voice:
"It annoys me, too, but not on account of your
cigar."
The whistle blew, and the train started. The trip
lasted about an hour, during which time they did
not say much to each other, as the two old ladi
did not go to sleep.
THE DOWRY 259
As soon as they were in front of the Saint-La-
zare Station, Maitre Lebrument said:
"Dearie, let us first go over to the Boulevard
and get something to eat; then we can quietly re-
turn and get our trunk and bring it to the hotel."
She immediately assented.
"Oh, yes! Let us eat at the restaurant. Is it
far?"
He answered:
"Yes, it's quite a distance, but we will take the
omnibus."
She was surprised.
"Why don't we take a cab?"
He began to scold her smilingly:
"Is that the way you save money? A cab for
a five minutes' ride at six cents a minute! You
would deprive yourself of nothing."
"That is true," she said, a little embarrassed.
A large omnibus was passing by, drawn by three
big horses, which were trotting. Lebrument called
out:
" Conductor ! Conductor !"
The heavy carriage stopped. And the young
lawyer, pushing his wife, said to her quickly :
"Go inside; I'm going up on top, so that I may
smoke at least one cigarette before luncheon."
She had no time to answer. The conductor, who
had seized her by the arm to help her up the step,
pushed her inside, and she fell into a seat, bewil-
dered, looking through the back window at the feet
260 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
of her husband as he climbed up to the top of thf
vehicle.
And she sat there motionless, between a fat map
odorous of cheap tobacco and an old woman odo**
ous of garlic.
All the other passengers were lined up in silence
a grocer's boy, a young girl, a soldier, a gentle-
man with gold-rimmed spectacles and a large silk
hat, two ladies with a self-satisfied and crabbed
look, which seemed to say: "We are riding in
this thing, but we don't have to," two sisters of
charity, and an undertaker. They looked like a
collection of caricatures.
The jolting of the carriage made them wag their
heads, and the shaking of the wheels seemed to
deaden them. They all looked as if they were
asleep.
The young woman remained motionless. "Why
didn't he come inside with me?" she was saying to
herself. An unaccountable sadness seemed to be
hanging over her. He really need not have
acted so.
The sisters motioned to the conductor to stop,
and they got off one after the other, leaving in
their wake the pungent smell of camphor. The car
started up, and soon stopped again. And in got
a cook, red-faced and out of breath. She sat
down, and placed her basket of provisions on her
knees. A strong odor of dishwater filled the ve-
hicle.
THE DOWRY 261
"It's farther than I imagined," thought Jeanne.
The undertaker went out, and was replaced by
a coachman, who seemed to bring the atmosphere
of the stable with him. The young girl had as a
successor a messenger whose feet exhaled the odor
of his errands.
The lawyer's wife began to feel ill at ease, nau-
seated, ready to cry without knowing why.
Other persons left, and others entered. The
coach went on through interminable streets, stop-
ping at stations and starting again.
"How far it is!" thought Jeanne. "I hope he
hasn't gone to sleep ! He has been so tired the last
few days."
Little by little all the passengers left. She was
left alone.
The conductor cried :
"Vaugirard!"
Seeing that she did not move, he repeated:
"Vaugirard!"
She looked at him, understanding that he was
speaking to her, as no one else was there. For the
third time the man said :
"Vaugirard !"
Then she asked:
"Where are we?"
He answered gruffly :
"We're at Vaugirard, of course! I have been
yelling it for the last half-hour!"
"Is it far from the Boulevard?" she said.
262 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
"Which boulevard?"
"The Boulevard des Italiens."
"We passed that a long time ago!"
"Would you mind telling my husband?"
"Your husband? Where is he?"
"On the top of the 'bus."
"On the top! There hasn't been anybody there
for a long time."
She started, terrified.
"What? That's impossible! He got on with
me. Look well ! He must be there."
The conductor was becoming uncivil.
"Come on, little one, you've talked enough!
Tou can find ten men for every one that you lose.
Now run along. You'll find another in the street."
Tears were coming to her eyes. She insisted :
"But, Monsieur, you are mistaken; I assure you
that you must be mistaken. He had a big portfolio
under his arm."
The man began to laugh.
"A big portfolio! Oh! Yes! He got off at tne
Madeleine. He got rid of you, all right! Ha!
ha! ha!"
The stage had stopped. She got out and, in spite
of herself, she looked up to the roof of the 'bus.
It was absolutely deserted.
Then she began to cry, and, without thinking that
anybody was listening or watching her, she said
aloud :
"What is to become of me?"
THE DOWRY 263
An inspector approached.
"What's the matter?"
The conductor answered, in a bantering tone:
"It's a lady who got left by her husband during
the trip."
The other continued :
"Oh! that's nothing. You go about your busi-
ness."
Then he turned on his heels and walked away.
She began to walk straight ahead, too bewildered,
too crazed even to understand what had happened
to her. Where was she to go? What could she
do? What could have happened to him? How
could he have made such a mistake? How could
he have been so forgetful ?
She had two francs in her pocket. To whom
could she go? Suddenly she remembered her
cousin Barral, one of the assistants in the Navy
Department.
She had just enough to pay for a cab. She
drove to his house. He met her as he was leav-
ing for his office. He was carrying a large port-
folio under his arm, just like Lebrument.
She jumped out of the carriage.
"Henri!" she cried.
He stopped, astonished.
"Jeanne! Here all alone? What are you do-
ing? Wiiere have you come from?"
Her eyes were full of tears as she stammered :
"My husband has just got lost!"
264 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
"Lost! Where?"
"On an omnibus."
"On an omnibus?"
Weeping, she told him her whole adventure.
He listened, thought, and then asked:
"Was he calm this morning?"
"Yes."
"Good. Did he have much money with him?"
"Yes, he was carrying my dowry."
"Your dowry! The whole of it?"
"The whole of it, in order to pay for the prac-
tice which he bought."
"Well, my dear cousin, by this time your hus-
band must be well on his way to Belgium."
She could not understand. She kept repeating :
"My husband you say "
"I say that he has disapeared with your your
capital that's all!"
She stood there sobbing.
"Then he is he is he is a villain!"
And, faint from excitement, she leaned her head
on her cousin's shoulder and wept.
As people were stopping to look at them, he
pushed her gently into the vestibule of his house,
and, passing his arm around her waist, he led
her up the stairs, and as his astonished servant
opened the door, he ordered :
"Sophie, run to the restaurant and get a lunch-
eon for two. I am not going to the office to-day."
THE LANCER'S WIFE
THE affair occurred after Bourbaki's defeat in
Eastern France. The army, broken up, deci-
mated, and exhausted, had been obliged to re-
treat into Switzerland after that terrible campaign,
only the short duration of which saved a hundred
and fifty thousand men from certain death. Hun-
ger, the terrible cold, forced marches in the snow
without boots, over bad mountain roads, had caused
us francs-tireurs, especially, the greatest suffering,
for we had no tents, and were almost without food,
always in the van when we were marching toward
Belfort, and in the rear when returning by the
Jura. Of our little band, which had numbered
twelve hundred men on the first of January, only
twenty-two pale, thin, ragged wretches remained,
when we at last succeeded in reaching Swiss terri-
tory.
There we were safe, and could rest. Everybody
knows what sympathy was shown to the unfor-
tunate French army, and how well it was cared for.
We all gained fresh life, and those who had been
Vol. 118 265
266 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
rich and happy before the war declared that they
never had experienced a greater feeling of comfort
than at that time. Think of it! We actually had
something to eat every day, and could sleep every
night.
Meanwhile, the war continued in Eastern France,
which had been excluded from the armistice.
Besanc,on still held the enemy in check, and the
latter had their revenge by ravaging Franche
Comte. Sometimes we heard that they had ap-
proached close to the frontier, and we saw Swiss
troops, who were to form a line of observation
between us and them, set out on their march.
That exasperated us in the end, and, as we re-
gained health and strength, the longing to fight took
possession of us. It was disgraceful and irritating
to know that within two or three leagues of us the
Germans were victorious and insolent, to know that
we were protected by our captivity, and to feel that
on that account we were powerless against them.
One day our Captain took five or six of us aside,
and spoke to us about it, long and furiously. He
was a fine fellow, that captain. He had been a sub-
lieutenant in the zouaves, was tall and thin and as
hard as steel, and during the whole campaign he
had made things lively for the Germans. He
fretted in inactivity, and could not accustom him-
self to the idea of being an idle prisoner.
"Hang it!" he said to us, "does it not enrage
you to know that there is a number of uhlans
THE LANCER'S WIFE 267
within two hours of us ? Does it not almost drive
you mad to know that those beggarly wretches are
walking about as masters in our mountains, when
six determined men might kill a whole spitful any
day ? I cannot endure it any longer, and I must go
there."
"But how can you manage it, Captain?"
"How? It is not very difficult! Just as if we
had not done some risky things within the last six
months, and got out of woods that were guarded by
very different men from the Swiss. The day that
you wish to cross over into France, I will under-
take to get you there."
"That may be; but what shall we do in France
without any arms ?"
"Without arms? \Ve will get them over yon-
der, by heaven!"
"You are forgetting the treaty," another sol-
dier said; "we shall run the risk of doing the Swiss
an injury, if Manteuffel learns that they have al-
lowed prisoners to return to France."
"Come," said the Captain, "those are all bad rea-
sons. I mean to go and kill some Prussians; that
is all I care about. If you do not wish to do as I
do, very well; only say so at once. I can go by
myself; I do not need anybody's company."
Naturally we all protested, and, as it was quite
impossible to make the Captain change his mind, we
felt obliged to promise to go with him. We liked
him too much to leave him in the lurch, as he never
268 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
failed us in any extremity; and so the expedition
was decided on.
The Captain had a plan of his own that he had
been cogitating over for some time. A man in that
part of the country whom he knew was willing
to lend him a cart and six suits of peasants' clothes.
We could hide under some straw at the bottom of
the wagon, which would be loaded with Gruyere
cheese, which he was supposed to be going to sell in
France. The Captain told the sentinels that he was
taking two friends with him to protect his goods,
in case anyone should try to rob him, which did
not seem an extraordinary precaution. A Swiss
officer seemed to look at the wagon in a knowing
manner, but that was in order to impress his sol-
diers. In a word, neither officers nor men could
see anything amiss.
"Get along," the Captain said to the horses, as he
cracked his whip, while our three men quietly
smoked their pipes. I was half suffocated in my
box, which admitted the air only through some holes
in front, and at the same time I was nearly frozen,
for it was bitterly cold.
"Get up," the Captain said again, and the wagon
loaded with Gruyere cheese entered France.
The Prussian lines were very badly guarded, as
the enemy trusted to the watchfulness of the Swiss.
The sergeant spoke North German, while our Cap-
tain spoke the bad German of the Four Cantons,
and so they could not understand each other. The
THE LANCER'S WIFE 269
sergeant, however, pretended to be very intelligent ;
and, in order to make us believe that he understood
us, they allowed us to continue our journey; and,
after traveling for seven hours, being continually
stopped in the same way, at nightfall we arrived
at a small village of the Jura, in ruins.
What were we about to do? Our only arms
were the Captain's whip, our uniforms, the peas-
ants' blouses, and our food the Gruyere cheese. Our
sole wealth consisted in our ammunition, packages
of cartridges which we had stowed away inside
some of the huge cheeses. We had about a thou-
sand of them, just two hundred each, but we needed
rifles, and they must be chassepots. Luckily, how-
ever, the Captain was a bold man of an inventive
mind, and this was the plan that he proposed:
While three of us remained hidden in a cellar in
the abandoned village, he continued his journey as
far as Besancon with the empty wagon and one
man. The town was invested, but one can always
make one's way into a town among the hills by
crossing the tableland till within about ten miles of
the walls, and then following paths and ravines on
foot. They left their wagon at Omans, among the
Germans, and escaped out of it at night on foot, so
as to gain the heights which border the River
Doubs ; the next day they entered Besancpn, where
there were plenty of chassepots. There were nearly
forty thousand of them left in the arsenal, and Gen-
eral Roland, a brave marine, laughed at the Captain's
270 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
daring project, but let him have six rifles and
wished him good luck. There he had also found his
wife, who had been through all the war with us
before the campaign in the East, and who had been
only prevented by illness from continuing with
Bourbaki's army. She had recovered, however, in
spite of the cold, which was growing more and
more intense, and in spite of the numberless priva-
tions that awaited her, she persisted in accompany-
ing her husband. He was obliged to yield to her,
and all three, the Captain, his wife, and our com-
rade, set out on their expedition.
To go there was nothing in comparison to return-
ing. They were obliged to travel by night, to avoid
meeting anybody, as the possession of six rifles
would have made them liable to suspicion. But, in
spite of everything, a week after leaving us, the
Captain and his two men were back with us again.
The campaign was about to begin.
On the first night of his arrival he began it him-
self, and, under the pretext of examining the sur-
rounding country, he went along the highroad.
I must tell you that the little village which
served as our fortress was a small collection of
poor, badly built houses, which had been deserted
long before. It lay on a steep slope, which termi-
nated in a wooded plain. The country people sell
the wood; they send it down the slopes, which are
locally called coulees, and which lead down to the
plain, and there they stack it into piles, which they
THE LANCER'S WIFE 271
sell three times a year to the wood-merchant. The
spot where this market is held is indicated by two
small houses beside the highway, which serve for
public houses. The Captain had gone down there
by way of one of these coulees.
He had been gone about half an hour, and we
were on the lookout at the top of the ravine, when
we heard a shot. The Captain had ordered us not
to stir, and to come to him only when we heard him
blow his trumpet. It was made of a goat's horn,
and could be heard a league off; but it gave no
sound, and, in spite of our cruel anxiety, we were
obliged to wait in silence, with our rifles by our
side.
It is nothing to go down these coulees; one just
lets oneself slide; but it is more difficult to get
up again; one has to scramble up by catching
hold of the hanging branches of the trees, and
sometimes on all fours, by main strength. A whole
hour passed, and he did not come ; nothing moved
in the brushwood. The Captain's wife began to
grow impatient. What could he be doing? Why
did he not call us ? Did the shot that we had heard
proceed from an enemy, and had he killed or
wounded our leader, her husband? They did not
know what to think, but I myself fancied either that
he was dead or that his enterprise was successful ;
and I was merely anxious and curious to know what
he had done.
Suddenly we heard the sound of his trumpet, and
272 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
we were much surprised that instead of coming
from below, as we had expected, it came from the
village behind us. What did that mean? It was
a mystery to us, but the same idea struck us all,
that he had been killed, and that the Prussians were
blowing the trumpet to draw us into an ambush.
We therefore returned to the cottage, keeping a
careful lookout, with our ringers on the trigger, and
hiding under the branches ; but his wife, in spite of
our entreaties, rushed on, leaping like a tigress.
She thought that she had to avenge her husband,
and had fixed the bayonet to her rifle, and we lost
sight of her at that moment that we heard the trum-
pet again. A few moments later, we heard her
calling out to us :
"Come on! come on! He is alive! It is he!"
We hastened on, and saw the Captain smoking his
pipe at the entrance of the village, but strangely
enough he was on horseback.
"Ah!" he said, "you see that there is something
to be done here. Here I am on horseback already ;
I knocked over an uhlan yonder, and took his horse ;
I suppose they were guarding the wood, but it was
by drinking and eating in clover. One of them,
the sentry at the door, had not time to see me
before I gave him a sugarplum in his stomach, and
then, before the others could come out, I jumped
on the horse and was off like a shot. Eight or ten
of them followed me, I think ; but I took the cross-
roads through the woods. I have got scratched and
THE LANCER'S WIFE 273
torn a bit, but here I am, and now, my good fel-
lows, attention, and take care! Those brigands
will not rest until they have caught us, and we
must receive them with rifle bullets. Come on;
let us take up our posts !"
We set out. One of us took up his position a
good way from the village of the crossroads ; I was
posted at the entrance of the main street, where
the road from the level country enters the village,
while the two others, the Captain and his wife, w y ere
in the middle of the village, near the church, whose
tower served for an observatory and a citadel.
We had not been in our places long before we
heard a shot, followed by another, and then two,
then three. The first was evidently a chassepot
one recognized it by the sharp report, which sounds
like the crack of a whip while the other three came
from the lancers' carbines.
The Captain was furious. He had given orders
to the outpost to let the enemy pass and merely to
follow them at a distance if they marched toward
the village, and to join me when they had gone well
between the houses. Then they were to appear
suddenly, take the patrol beween two fires, and not
allow a single man to escape; for, posted as we
were, the six of us could have hemmed in ten Prus-
sians, if needful.
"That confounded Piedelot has roused them,"
the Captain said, "and they will not venture to
come on blindfolded any longer. I am quite sure
274 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
that he has managed to get a shot into himself
somewhere or other, for we hear nothing of him.
It serves him right; why did he not obey orders?"
And then, after a moment, he grumbled in his
beard : "After all, I am sorry for the poor fellow ;
he is so brave, and shoots so well !"
The Captain was right. We waited until evening,
without seeing the uhlans ; they had retreated after
the first attack ; but unfortunately we had not seen
Piedelot, either. Was he dead or a prisoner ? When
night came, the captain proposed that we should
go out and look for him, and so the three of us
started. At the crossroads we found a broken rifle
and some blood, while the ground was trampled
down; but we did not find either a wounded man
or a dead body, although we searched every thicket,
and at midnight we returned without having dis-
covered anything of our unfortunate comrade.
"It is very strange," the Captain growled. "They
must have killed him and thrown him into the
bushes somewhere ; they cannot possibly have taken
him prisoner, as he would have called out for help.
I cannot understand it all." Just as he said that,
bright red flames shot up in the direction of the
inn on the highroad, which illuminated the sky.
"Rascals! cowards!" he shouted. "I will bet
that they have set fire to the two houses in the
marketplace, in order to have their revenge, and
then they will scuttle off without saying a word.
They will be satisfied with having killed a man and
THE LANCER'S WIFE 275
set fire to two houses. But it shall not pass over
like that. We must go for them; they will not
like to leave their illuminations in order to fight."
"It would be a great stroke of luck if we could
set Piedelot free at the same time," some one said.
The five of us set off, full of rage and hope. In
twenty minutes we had reached the bottom of the
coulee, and had not yet seen anyone when we were
within a hundred yards of the inn. The fire was
behind the house, and all we saw of it was the
reflection above the roof. However, we were walk-
ing rather slowly, as we were afraid of an ambush,
when suddenly we heard Piedelot's well-known
voice. It had a strange sound, however ; for it was
at the same time dull and vibrating, stifled and clear,
as if he were calling out as loud as he could with a
rag stuffed into his mouth. He seemed to be
hoarse and panting, and the unlucky fellow kept
exclaiming : " Help ! Help !"
We sent all thought of prudence to the devil,
and in two bounds we were at the back of the inn,
where a terrible sight met our eyes.
Piedelot was being burned alive. He was writh-
ing in the midst of a heap of fagots, tied to a stake,
and the flames were lapping him with their burning
tongues. When he saw us, his tongue seemed to
stick in his throat ; he drooped his head, and seemed
as if he were about to die. It was only the affair of
a moment to upset the burning pile, to scatter the
embers, and to cut the ropes that fastened him.
276 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
Poor fellow, in what a terrible state we found
him ! The evening before he had had his left arm
broken, and it seemed as if he had been badly
beaten since then, for his whole body was covered
with wounds, bruises, and blood. The flames had
also begun their work on him, and he had two large
burns, one on his loins and the other on his right
thigh, and his beard and hair were scorched. Poor
Piedelot !
No one knows the terrible rage we felt at this
sight! We would have rushed headlong at a hun-
dred thousand Prussians ; our thirst for vengeance
was intense. But the cowards had run away, leav-
ing their crime behind them. Where could we find
them now ? Meanwhile, however, the Captain's wife
was looking after Piedelot, and dressing his wounds
as best she could, while the Captain himself shook
hands with him excitedly, and in a few minutes he
recovered himself.
"Good morning, Captain; good morning, all of
you," he said. "Ah! the scoundrels, the wretches!
Why, twenty of them came to surprise us."
"Twenty, do you say?"
"Yes; there was a whole band of them, and that
is why I disobeyed orders, Captain, and fired on
them, for they would have killed you all, and I pre-
ferred to stop them. That frightened them, and
they did not venture to go farther than the cross-
roads. They were such cowards. Four of them
shot at me at twenty yards, as if I had been a tar-
THE LANCER'S WIFE 277
get, and then they slashed me with their swords.
My arm was broken, so that I could only use my
bayonet with one hand."
" But why did you not call for help ?"
"I took good care not to do that, for you would
all have come; and you would neither have been
able to defend me nor yourselves, being only five
against twenty."
"You know that we should not have allowed you
to be taken, poor old fellow."
"I preferred to die by myself. I did not want
to bring you there, for it would have been a mere
ambush."
"Well, we will not talk about it any more. Do
you feel rather easier?"
"No, I am suffocating. I know that I cannot
live much longer. The brutes ! They tied me to a
tree, and beat me till I was half dead, and then they
shook my broken arm ; but I did not make a sound.
I would rather have bitten my tongue out than have
cried ont before them. . . . Now I can tell what
I am suffering and shed tears; it does one good.
Thank you, my kind friends."
"Poor Piedelot! But we will avenge you, you
may be sure !"
"Yes, yes; I want you to do that. There is, in
particular, a woman among them who passes as the
wife of the lancer whom the captain killed yester-
day. She is dressed like a lancer, and she tortured
me the most yesterday, and suggested burning me;
278 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
and it was she who set fire to the wood. Oh ! the
wretch, the beast. . . . Ah! how I suffer! My
loins, my arms!" and he fell back panting and
exhausted, writhing in his terrible agony, while the
captain's wife wiped the perspiration from his fore-
head, and we all shed tears of grief and rage, as if
we had been children. I will not describe the end ;
he died half an hour later, previously telling us
in which direction the enemy had gone. When he
was dead we gave ourselves time to bury him, and
then we set out in pursuit of them, with our
hearts full of fury and hatred.
"We will throw ourselves on the whole Prus-
sian army, if it be necessary," the Captain said;
"but we will avenge Piedelot. We must catch
those scoundrels. Let us swear to die, rather -than
not to find them ; and if I am killed first, these are
my orders: All the prisoners that you take are
to be shot immediately, and as for the lancer's wife,
she is to be tortured before she is put to death."
"She must not be shot, because she is a woman,"
the Captain's wife said. "If you survive, I am
sure that you would not shoot a woman. Torturing
her will be quite sufficient; but if you are killed in
this pursuit, I ask one thing, and that is to fight
with her; I will kill her with my own hands, and
the others can do what they like with her if she
kills me."
"We will dishonor her! We will burn her! We
will tear her to pieces ! Piedelot shall be avenged !
THE LANCER'S WIFE 2/9
An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth!"
Next morning we unexpectedly fell on an out-
post of uhlans four leagues away. Surprised by
our sudden attack, they were not able to mount their
horses, nor even to defend themselves; and in a
few moments we had five prisoners, corresponding
to our own number. The Captain questioned them,
and from their answers we felt sure that they
were the same whom we had encountered the day
before. Then a very curious operation took place.
One of us was told off to ascertain their sex, and
nothing can describe our joy when we discovered
what we were seeking among them, the female
executioner who had tortured our friend.
The four men were shot on the spot, with their
backs to us and close to the muzzles of our rifles;
and then we turned our attention to the woman.
What were we going to do with her? I must ac-
knowledge that we were all in favor of shooting
her. Hatred, and the wish to avenge Piedelot,
had extinguished all pity in us, and we had forgot-
ten that we wished to shoot a woman, but a woman
reminded us of it, the Captain's wife; at her en-
treaties, therefore, we determined to hold her a
prisoner.
, The Captain's poor wife was to be severely pun-
ished for this act of clemency.
The next day we heard that the armistice had
been extended to the eastern part of France, and
we had to put an tnd to our little campaign. Two
280 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
of us, who belonged to the neighborhood, returned
home, so there were only four of us, all told: the
captain, his wife, and two men. We belonged to
Besanc,on, which was still being besieged in spite of
the armistice.
"Let us stop here," said the captain. "I can-
not believe that the war is to end like this. The
devil take it! Surely there are men still left in
France; and now is the time to prove what they
are made of. The spring is coming on, and the
armistice is only a trap laid for the Prussians. Dur-
ing the time that it lasts, a new army will be raised,
and some fine morning we shall fall upon them
again. We shall be ready, and we have a hostage
let us remain here."
We fixed our quarters there. It was terribly
cold, and we did not go out much, and somebody
had always to keep the female prisoner in sight.
She was sullen, and never said anything, or else
spoke of her husband, whom the Captain had killed.
She looked at him continually with fierce eyes, and
we felt that she was tormented by a wild longing
for revenge. That seemed to us to be the most
suitable punishment for the terrible torments that
she had made Piedelot suffer, for impotent desire
for vengeance is such intense pain !
Alas ! we who know how to avenge our comrade
should have known that this woman would know
how to avenge her husband, and should have been
on our guard. It is true that one of us kept watch
THE LANCER'S WIFE 281
every night, and that at first we tied Her by a long
rope to the great oak bench that was fastened to
the wall. But, by and by, as she never tried to
escape, in spite of her hatred for us, we relaxed our
extreme prudence, and allowed her to sleep some-
where else except on the bench, and without being
tied. What had we to fear? She was at the end
of the room, a man was on guard at the door, and
between her and the sentinel the Captain's wife and
two other men used to lie. She was alone and
unarmed against four, so there could be no danger.
One night when we were asleep, and the Captain
was on guard, the lancer's wife was lying more
quietly in her corner than usual, and she had even
smiled during the evening, for the first time since
she had been our prisoner. Suddenly, however,
in the middle of the night, we were all awakened
by a terrible cry. We got up, groping about, and
at once stumbled over a furious couple who were
rolling about and fighting on the ground. It was
the Captain and the lancer's wife. We threw our-
selves on them, and separated them in a moment.
She was shouting and laughing, and he seemed to
be uttering the death rattle. All this took place
in the dark. Two of us held her, and when a light
was struck a terrible sight met our eyes. The cap-
tain was lying on the floor in a pool of blood, with
an enormous gash in his throat, and his bayonet,
which had been taken from his rifle, was sticking in
the red, gaping wound. A few minutes afterward
Vol. 119
282 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
he died, without having been able to utter a word.
His wife did not shed a tear. Her eyes were
dry, her throat was contracted, and she looked at
the lancer's wife steadfastly and ferociously.
"This woman belongs to me," she said to us
suddenly. "You swore to me not a week ago to let
me kill her as I chose, if she should kill my hus-
band ; and you must keep your oath. You must
fasten her securely to the fireplace, upright against
the back of it, and then you can go where you like,
but far from here. I will take my revenge on her
myself. Leave the Captain's body, and we three,
he, she, and I, will remain here."
We obeyed, and left her. She promised to write
to us at Geneva.
Two days later I received the following letter,
dated the day after we had left ; it had been written
at an inn on the highroad:
"My FRIEND : I am writing to you, according to my
promise. For the moment I am at the inn, where I have
just handed my prisoner over to a Prussian officer.
"I. must tell you, my friend, that this poor woman has
teft two children in Germany. She had followed her hus-
band, whom she adored, as she did not wish him to be
exposed to the risks of war by himself, and as her chil-
dren were with their grandparents. I have learned all this
since yesterday, and it has turned my ideas of vengeance
into more humane feelings. At the very moment when I
f".lt pleasure in insulting this woman, and in threatening
her with the most fearful torments, in recalling Piedelot,
who had been burned alive, and in threatening her with
a similar death, she looked at me coldly, and said :
"'What have you to reproach me with, Frenchwoman?
THE LANCER'S WIFE 283
You think that you will do right in avenging your hus-
band's death, is not that so?'
"'Yes,' I replied.
" 'Very well, then ; in killing him I did what you are
about to do in burning me. I avenged my husband, for
your husband killed him.'
"'Well,' I replied, 'as you approve of this vengeance,
prepare to endure it.'
" 'I do not fear it.'
"And in fact she did not seem to have lost courage.
Her face was calm, and she looked at me without trem-
bling, while I brought wood and dried leaves, and fever-
ishly threw on them the powder from some cartridges,
which was to make her funeral pile the more cruel.
"I hesitated in my thoughts of persecution for a mo-
ment. But the Captain was there, pale and covered with
blood, and he seemed to be looking at me with his large,
glassy eyes, and I applied myself to my work again after
kissing his pale lips. Suddenly, however, on raising my
head, I saw that she was weeping, and I felt rather sur-
prised.
'"So you are frightened?' I said to her.
" 'No, but when I saw you kiss your husband, I thought
of mine, and of all whom I love.'
"She continued to sob, but stopping suddenly, she said
to me in broken words and in a low voice :
" 'Have you any children ?'
"A shiver ran over me, for I guessed that this poor
woman had some She asked me to look in a pocketbook
which was in her bosom, and in it I saw two photographs
of quite young children, a boy and a girl, with those kind,
gentle, chubby faces that German children have. In it
there were also two locks of light hair and a letter in a
large, childish hand, and beginning with German words
which meant: 'My dear little mother.'
"I could not restrain my tears, my dear friend, and so I
untied her, and without venturing to look at the face of
my poor dead husband, who was not to be avenged, I
went with her as far as the inn. She is free; I have just
284 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
left her, and she kissed me with tears. I am going up-
stairs to my husband; come as soon as possible, my dear
friend, to look for our two bodies."
I set off with all speed, and when I arrived there
was a Prussian patrol at the cottage; and when I
asked what it all meant I was told that there was
a Captain of francs-tireurs and his wife inside, both
dead. I gave their names; they saw that I knew
them, and I begged to be allowed to arrange their
funeral.
"Somebody has already undertaken it," was the
reply. "Go in if you wish to, as you know them.
You can settle about their funeral with their
friend."
I went in. The Captain and his wife were lying
side by side on a bed, and were covered by a sheet.
I raised it, and saw that the woman had inflicted a
wound in her throat similar to that from which her
husband had died.
At the side of the bed there sat, watching and
weeping, the woman who had been mentioned to
me as their best friend. It was the lancer's wife.
PRISONERS OF WAR
NOT a sound was to be heard in the forest save
the indistinct, fluttering sound of the snow
falling on the trees. It had been snowing
since noon ; a fine snow, which covered the branches
as with frozen moss and spread a silvery mantle
over the dead leaves in the ditches, covered the
roads with a white, yielding carpet, and made still
more intense the boundless silence of this ocean
of trees.
Before the door of a forester's dwelling a young
woman, her arms bare to the elbow, was chopping
wood with a hatchet on a block of stone. She was
tall, slender, strong a true woman of the woods,
daughter and wife of a forester.
A voice called from within the house:
"We are alone tonight, Berthine; you must come
in. It is growing dark, and there may be Prus-
sians or wolves about."
"I've just finished, mother," replied the young
woman, splitting as she spoke an immense log of
wood with strong, deft blows, which expanded her
285
286 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
chest every time she raised her arms to strike.
"Here I am; there's no need to be afraid; it is
still light."
She gathered up her sticks and logs, piled them
in the chimney corner, went back to close the great
oaken shutters, and finally came in, drawing behind
her the heavy bolts of the door.
Her mother, a wrinkled old woman whom age
had rendered timid, was spinning by the fireside.
"I am uneasy," she said, "when your father is
not here. Two women are not much good."
"Oh," said the younger woman, "I'd cheerfully
kill a wolf or a Prussian if necessary."
And she glanced at a heavy revolver hanging
above the hearth.
Her husband had been called upon to serve in
the army at the beginning of the Prussian invasion,
and the two women had remained alone with the old
father, a keeper named Nicolas Pichon, sometimes
calkd Long-legs, who refused obstinately to leave
his home and take refuge in the town.
This town was Rethel, an ancient stronghold
built on a rock. Its inhabitants were patriotic, and
had made up their minds to resist the invaders, to
fortify their native place, and, if need be, to stand
a siege as in the good old days. Twice already,
under Henri IV and under Louis XIV, the people
of Rethel had distinguished themselves by their
heroic defense of their town. They would do as
much now, they said, or be killed in their own
houses.
PRISONERS OF WAR 287
They had, therefore, bought cannon and rifles,
organized a militia, and formed themselves into bat-
talions and companies, and now spent their time
drilling all day long in the square. Everyone
bakers, grocers, butchers, lawyers, carpenters, book-
sellers, chemists took his turn at military training,
at regular hours of the day, under the leadership of
Monsieur Lavigne, a former noncommissioned offi-
cer in the dragoons, now a draper, having married
the daughter and inherited the business of Monsieur
Ravaudan, Senior.
He had taken the rank of commanding officer
in Rethel, and, seeing that all the young men had
gone off to the war, he had enlisted all the others
who were in favor of resisting an attack. Fat men
now invariably walked the streets at a rapid pace,
to reduce their weight and improve their breathing,
and feeble men carried weights to strengthen their
muscles.
And they awaited the Prussians. But the Prus-
sians did not appear. They were not far off, how-
ever, for twice already their scouts had penetrated
as far as the forest dwelling of Nicolas Pichon,
called Long-legs.
The old keeper, who could run like a fox, had
come and warned the town. The guns had been got
ready, but the enemy had not shown them-
selves.
Long-legs's dwelling served as an outpost in the
Aveline forest. Twice a week the old man went to
288 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
the town for provisions and brought the citizens
news of the outlying district.
On this particular day he had gone to announce
the fact that a small detachment of German in-
fantry had stopped at his house the day before,
about two o'clock in the afternoon, and had left
again almost immediately. The noncommissioned
officer in charge spoke French.
When the old man set out like this he took with
him his dogs two powerful animals with the jaws
of lions as a safeguard against the wolves, which
were beginning to be fierce, and he left directions
with the two women to barricade themselves se-
curely within their dwelling as soon as night fell.
The younger feared nothing, but her mother was
always apprehensive, and repeated continually:
"We'll come to grief one of these days. You
see if we don't!"
This evening she was more nervous than ever.
"Do you know what time your father will be
back?" she asked.
"Oh, not before eleven. When he dines with the
commandant he's always late."
And Berthine was hanging her pot over the fire
to warm the soup when she suddenly stood still,
listening attentively to a sound that had reached
her through the chimney.
"There are people walking in the wood," she
said; "seven or eight men at least, and they are
coming this way."
PRISONERS OF WAR 289
The terrified old woman stopped her spinning-
wheel, and gasped:
"Oh, my God ! And your father not here !"
She had scarcely finished speaking when a suc-
cession of violent blows shook the door.
As the woman made no reply, a loud, guttural
voice shouted:
"Open the door!"
After a brief silence the same voice repeated:
"Open the door or I'll break it down!"
Berthine took the heavy revolver from its hook,
slipped it into the pocket of her skirt, and, putting
Jier ear to the door, asked :
"Who are you?"
"The detachment that came here yesterday," re-
plied the voice.
"What do you want?" demanded the young
woman.
"My men and I have lost our way in the forest
since morning. Open the door or I'll break it
down !"
The forester's daughter had no choice ; she drew
back the heavy bolts, threw open the ponderous
shutter, and perceived in the wan light of the snow
six men, Prussian soldiers, the same who had visited
the house the day before.
"What are you doing here at this time of
night?" she asked dauntlessly.
"I lost my bearings," replied the officer; "lost
290 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
them completely. Then I recognized this house.
I've eaten nothing since morning, and neither have
my men."
"But I'm quite alone with my mother this even-
ing," said Berthine.
"Never mind," replied the soldier, who seemed
a decent sort of fellow. "We won't do you any
harm, but you must give us something to eat. We
are nearly dead with hunger and fatigue."
Then the girl moved aside.
"Come in," she said.
They entered, covered with snow, their helmets
sprinkled with a creamy-looking froth, which gave
them the appearance of meringues. They seemed
completely exhausted.
The young woman pointed to the wooden benches
on either side of the large table.
"Sit down," she said, "and I'll make you some
soup. You certainly look tired, and no mistake."
Then she bolted the door again.
She put more water in the pot, added butter and
potatoes ; then, taking down a piece of bacon from
a hook in the chimney corner, cut it in two and
slipped half of it into the pot.
The six men watched her movements with hun-
gry eyes. They had placed their rifles and helmets
in a corner and waited for supper, as well behaved
as children on a school bench.
The old mother had resumed her spinning, cast-
ing from time to time a furtive and uneasy glance
PRISONERS OF WAR 291
at the soldiers. Nothing was to be heard save the
humming of the wheel, the crackling of the fire,
and the singing of the water in the pot.
But suddenly a strange noise a sound like the
harsh breathing of some wild animal sniffing
under the door startled the occupants of the
room.
The German officer sprang toward the rifles.
Berthine stopped him with a gesture, and said, smil-
ingly :
"It's only the wolves. They are like you
prowling through the forest."
The incredulous man wanted to see with his own
eyes, and as soon as the door was opened he per-
ceived two large grayish animals disappearing with
long, swinging trot into the darkness.
He returned to his seat, muttering:
"I wouldn't have believed it!"
And he waited quietly till supper was ready.
The men devoured their meal voraciously, with
mouths stretched to their ears that they might swal-
low the more. Their round eyes opened at the same
time as their jaws, and as the soup coursed down
their throats it made a noise like the gurgling of
water in a rainpipe.
The two women watched in silence the move-
ments of the big blond beards. The potatoes seemed
to be engulfed in these moving fleeces.
But, as they were thirsty, the forester's daugh-
ter went down to the cellar to draw them some
292 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
cider. She was gone some time. The cellar was
small, with an arched ceiling, and had served, so
people said, as both prison and hiding-place dur-
ing the Revolution. It was approached by means
of a narrow, winding staircase, closed by a trap-
door at the farther end of the kitchen.
When Berthine returned she was smiling mys-
teriously to herself. She gave the Germans her jug
of cider.
Then she and her mother ate apart, at the other
end of the kitchen.
The soldiers had finished eating, and were all six
falling asleep as they sat round the table. Every
now and then a forehead fell with a thud on the
board, and the man, awakened suddenly, sat up-
right again.
Berthine said to the officer :
"Go and lie down, all of you, round the fire.
There is plenty of room for six. I'm going up to
my room with my mother."
And the two women went upstairs. They could
be heard locking the door and walking about over-
head for a time; then they were silent.
The Prussians lay down on the floor, with their
feet to the fire and their heads resting on their
rolled-up cloaks. Soon all six snored loudly and
uninterruptedly in six different keys.
They had been sleeping for some time when a
shot rang out so loudly that it seemed directed
against the very walls of the house. The soldiers
PRISONERS OF WAR 293
rose hastily. Two then three more shots were
fired.
The door opened hastily, and Berthine appeared,
barefooted and only half dressed, with her candle
in her hand and a scared look on her face.
"There are the French," she stammered; "at
least two hundred of them. If they find you here
they'll burn the house down. For God's sake, hurry
down into the cellar, and don't make a sound, what-
ever you do. If you make any noise we are lost."
"We'll go, we'll go," replied the terrified officer.
"Which is the way?"
The young woman hurriedly raised the small,
square trap-door, and the six men disappeared one
after another down the narrow, winding staircase,
feeling their way as they went.
But as soon as the spike of the last helmet was
out of sight Berthine lowered the heavy oaken lid
thick as a wall, hard as steel, furnished with the
hinges and bolts of a prison cell shot the two
heavy bolts, and began to laugh long and silently,
possessed with a mad longing to dance above the
heads of her prisoners.
They made no sound, inclosed in the cellar as in
a strong box, obtaining air only from a small, iron-
barred vent-hole.
Berthine lighted her fire again, hung the pot over
it, and prepared more soup, saying to herself :
"Father will be tired to-night."
Then she sat and waited. The heavy pendulum
294 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
of the clock swung to and fro with a monotonous
tick.
At times the young woman cast an impatient
glance at the dial a glance which seemed to say:
"I wish he would be quick !"
But soon there was a sound of voices beneath her
feet. Low, confused words reached her through
the masonry which roofed the cellar. The Prus-
sians were beginning to suspect the trick she had
played them, and presently the officer came up the
narrow staircase, and knocked at the trapdoor.
"Open the door!" he cried.
"What do you want?" she said, rising from her
seat and approaching the cellarway.
"Open the door!"
"I will not!"
"Open it or I'll break it down!" shouted the
man angrily.
She laughed.
"Hammer away, my good man! Hammer away!"
He struck with the butt-end of his gun at the
closed oaken door. But it would have resisted a
battering-ram.
The forester's daughter heard him go down the
stairs again. Then the soldiers came one after an-
other and tried their strength against the trap-
door. But, finding their efforts useless, they all re-
turned to the cellar and began to talk among them-
selves.
The young woman heard them for a short time,
PRISONERS OF WAR 295
then she rose, opened the door of the house, looked
out into the night, and listened.
A sound of distant barking reached her ear. She
whistled just as a huntsman would, and almost im-
mediately two great dogs emerged from the dark-
ness, and bound to her side. She held them tight,
and shouted at the top of her voice:
"Hello, father!"
A far-off voice replied:
"Hello, Berthine!"
She waited a few seconds, then repeated :
"Hello, father!"
The voice, nearer now, replied:
"Hello, Berthine!"
"Don't go in front of the vent-hole!" shouted
his daughter. "There are Prussians in the cellar!"
Suddenly the man's tall figure could be seen to
the left, standing between two tree trunks.
"Prussians in the cellar?" he asked anxiously.
"What are they doing?"
The young woman laughed.
"They are the same that were here yesterday.
They lost their way, and I've given them free lodg-
ings in the cellar."
She told the story of how she had alarmed them
by firing the revolver, and had shut them up in the
cellar.
The man, still serious, asked :
"But what am I to do with them at this time of
night?"
296 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
"Go and fetch Monsieur Lavigne with his men,"
she replied. "He'll take them prisoners. He'll be
delighted."
Her father smiled.
"So he will delighted."
"Here's some soup for you," said his daugh-
ter. "Eat it quick, and then be off."
The old keeper sat down at the table, and began
to eat his soup, having first filled two plates and put
them on the floor for the dogs.
The Prussians, hearing voices, were silent.
"Long-legs set off a quarter of an hour later,
and Berthine, with her head between her hands,
waited.
The prisoners began to make themselves heard
again. They shouted, called, and beat furiously
with the butts of their muskets against the rigid
trap-door of the cellar.
Then they fired shots through the vent-hole, hop-
ing, no doubt, to be heard by any German detach-
ment which chanced to be passing that way.
The forester's daughter did not stir, but the
noise irritated and unnerved her. Blind anger rose
in her heart against the prisoners ; she would have
been only too glad to kill them all, and so silence
them.
Then, as her impatience grew, she watched the
clock, counting the minutes as they passed.
Her father had been gone an hour and a half.
He must have reached the town by now. She con-
PRISONERS OF WAR 297
jured up a vision of him telling the story to Mon-
sieur Lavigne, who grew pale with emotion, and
rang for his servant to bring him his arms and uni-
form. She fancied she could hear the drum as it
sounded the call to arms. Frightened faces ap-
peared at the windows. The citizen-soldiers
emerged from their houses half dressed, out of
breath, buckling on their belts, and hurrying to the
commandant's house.
Then the troop of soldiers, with Long-legs at
its head, set forth through the night and the snow
toward the forest.
She looked at the clock. "They may be here
in an hour."
A nervous impatience possessed her. The min-
utes seemed endless. Would the time never come?
At last the clock marked the moment she had
fixed on for their arrival.
And she opened the door to listen for their ap-
proach. She perceived a shadowy form creeping
toward the house. She was afraid, and cried out.
But it was her father.
"They have sent me," he said, "to see whether
there is any change in the state of affairs."
"No none."
Then he gave a shrill whistle. Soon a dark
mass loomed up under the trees : the advance guard,
composed of ten men.
"Don't go in front of the vent-hole!" repeated
Long-legs at intervals.
Vol. 120
298 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
And the first arrivals pointed out the much-
dreaded vent-hole to those who came after.
At last the main body of the troop arrived, in all
two hundred men, each carrying two hundred cart-
ridges.
Monsieur Lavigne, in a state intense excite-
ment, posted them in such a fashion as to surround
the whole house, save for a large space left vacant
in front of the little hole on a level with the ground,
through which the cellar derived its supply of air.
Monsieur Lavigne struck the trap-door a blow
with his foot, and called :
"I wish to speak to the Prussian officer!"
. The German did not reply.
"The Prussian officer!" again shouted the com-
mandant.
Still no response. For the space of twenty min-
utes Monsieur Lavigne called on this silent officer
to surrender, promising him that all lives should
be spared, and that he and his men should be ac-
corded military honors. But he could extort no sign,
either of consent or of defiance. The situation be-
came puzzling.
The citizen-soldiers kicked their heels in the
snow, slapping their arms across their chest, as cab-
drivers do, to warm themselves, and gazing at the
vent-hole with a growing and childish desire to pass
in front of it.
At last one of them took the risk a man named
Potdevin, who was fleet of limb. He ran like a deer
PRISONERS OF WAR 299
across the zone of danger. The experiment suc-
ceeded. The prisoners gave no sign of life.
A voice cried:
" No one is there ! "
Another soldier crossed the open space before
the dangerous vent-hole. Then this hazardous sport
developed into a game. Every minute a man ran
swiftly from one side to the other, like a boy play-
ing baseball, kicking up the snow behind him as
he ran. They had lighted big fires of dead wood
at which to warm themselves, and the figures of the
runners were illumined by the flames as they passed
rapidly from the camp on the right to that on the
left.
Some one shouted: "It's your turn now, Ma-
loison."
Maloison was a fat baker, whose corpulent per-
son served to point many a joke among his com-
rades.
He hesitated. They jeered at him. Then, nerving
himself to the effort, he set off at a little, waddling
gait, which shook his fat paunch and made the
whole detachment laugh till they cried.
"Bravo, bravo, Maloison 1" they shouted for his
encouragement.
He had accomplished about two thirds of his
journey when a long, crimson flame shot forth from
the vent-hole. A loud report followed, and the fat
baker fell face forward to the ground, uttering a
frightful scream.
300 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
No one went to his assistance. Then he was
seen to drag himself, groaning, on all fours through
the snow until he was beyond danger, when he
fainted.
He was shot in the upper part of the thigh.
After the first surprise and fright were over
they laughed at him again.
But Monsieur Lavigne appeared on the threshold
of the forester's dwelling. He had formed his
plan of attack. He called in a loud voice:
"I want Planchut, the plumber, and his work-
men."
Three men approached.
"Take the eaves-troughs from the roof."
In a quarter of an hour they brought the com-
mandant thirty yards of pipes.
Next, with infinite precaution, he had a small
round hole drilled in the trap-door ; then, making a
conduit with the troughs from the pump to this
opening, he said, with an air of extreme satisfac-
tion:
"Now we'll give these German gentlemen some-
thing to drink."
A shout of frenzied admiration, mingled with up-
roarious laughter, burst from his followers. And
the commandant organized relays of men, who were
to relieve one another every five minutes. Then he
commanded :
"Pump!"
And, the pump-handle having been set in motion,
PRISONERS OF WAR 301
a stream of water trickled throughout the length of
the piping, and flowed from step to step down the
cellar stairs with a gentle, gurgling sound.
They waited.
An hour passed, then two, then three.
The commandant, in a state of feverish agita-
tion, walked up and down the kitchen, putting his
ear to the ground every now and then to discover,
if possible, what the enemy were doing and whether
they would capitulate.
The enemy were astir now. They could be
heard moving the casks about, talking, splashing
through the water.
Then, after eight o'clock in the morning, a voice
said from the vent-hole:
"I want to speak to the French officer."
Lavigne replied from the window, taking care
not to put his head out too far :
"Do you surrender?"
"I surrender."
"Then put your rifles outside."
A rifle immediately protruded from the hole, and
fell into the snow, then another and another, until
all were disposed of. And the voice which had
spoken before said:
"I have no more. Be quick ! I am drowning."
"Stop pumping!" ordered the commandant.
The pump-handle hung motionless.
Then, having filled the kitchen with armed and
waiting soldiers, he slowly raised the oaken door.
302 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
Four heads appeared, soaking wet, four blond
heads with long, fair hair, and one after another
the six Germans emerged scared, shivering, and
dripping from head to foot.
They were seized and bound. Then, as the
French feared a surprise, they set off at once in two
convoys, one in charge of the prisoners, and the
other conducting Maloison on a mattress borne on
poles.
They made a triumphal entry into Rethel.
Monsieur Lavigne was decorated as a reward for
having captured a Prussian advance guard, and the
fat baker received the military metal for wounds
received at the hands of the enemy.
WOMAN'S LOVE
THE dinner that opened the hunt was at an
end. The Marquis de Bertrans sat with his
guests around a brightly lighted table, covered
with fruits and flowers. The conversation drifted
to the subject of love. Immediately an animated
discussion arose, the same eternal discussion as to
whether it is possible to love more than once. Ex-
amples were given of persons who had loved only
once ; these were offset by stories of those who had
loved violently many times. The men agreed that
passion, like illness, may attack the same person
several times, unless it strikes to kill. This con-
clusion seemed quite incontestable. But the women,
who based their opinion on poetry rather than on
practical observation, maintained that love, the
great passion, comes only once to mortals. Love
resembles powder, they said. A heart once touched
with it becomes forever so ravaged, so consumed,
that no other strong sentiment can find rest in it,
not even a dream.
The Marquis, who had indulged in many love af-
fairs, disputed this belief.
303
304 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
"I tell you it is possible to love several times
with all one's heart and soul. You quote examples
of persons who have killed themselves to prove the
impossibility of feeling a second passion. I wager
that if they had not foolishly committed suicide and
so destroyed the possibility of a second experience
they would have found a new love, and still an-
other and another till death. It is with love as with
drink. He that has once indulged is a slave forever.
It is a matter of temperament."
They chose the old Doctor as arbitrator. He
agreed with the Marquis, that it is a matter of tem-
perament.
"As for me," he said, "I once knew of a love
that lasted fifty-five years without one day's cessa-
tion, which ended only with death." The Marquis'
wife clasped her hands.
"How beautiful! Ah, what a dream to be loved
like that ! What bliss to live for fifty-five years en-
veloped in an unwavering, penetrating affection!
How this happy being must have blessed her life, to
be so adored!"
The Doctor smiled.
"You are mistaken, Madame, on that point the
loved one was a man. You even know him; it is
Monsieur Chonquet, the chemist. As to the woman,
you knew her also the old chair-mender, who
came every year to the Chateau." The enthusiasm
of the women faded. Some expressed their con-
tempt with "Pooh!" for the love of common per-
WOMAN'S LOVE 305
sons did not interest them. The Doctor continued :
"Three months ago I was called to the deathbed of
the old chair-mender. The priest had preceded
me. She wished to make us the executors of her
will. In* order that we might understand her con-
duct, she told us the story of her life. It was most
singular and touching. Her father and mother were
chair-menders. She never had lived long in any
one place. As a little child she wandered about with
them, dirty, neglected, and hungry. They visited
many towns, leaving their horse, wagon, and dog
outside the limits, where the child played in the
grass alone until her parents had mended all the
broken chairs in the place. They seldom spoke,
except to cry, 'Chairs ! Chairs 1 Have your chairs
mended !'
"When the little one strayed too far away, she
was called back by the harsh, angry voice of her
father. She never heard a word of affection. When
she grew older, she fetched and carried the broken
chairs. Then it was that she made friends with
the little street urchins, but their parents always
called them away and scolded them for speaking
to the barefooted mender. Often the boys threw
stones at her. Once a kind woman gave her a few
sous. She saved them carefully.
"One day she was then eleven years old as
she picked her way through a country town she met,
behind the cemetery, the little Chonquet, weeping
bitterly, because one of his playmates had stolen two
306 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
precious sous. The tears of the small villager, one
of those much-envied mortals who, she imagined,
never knew trouble, greatly disturbed her. She ap-
proached him and, bowing, asked the cause of his
grief, and put into his hands all her savings. He
took them without hesitation and dried his eyes.
Wild with joy, she kissed him. He was busy count-
ing his money, and did not object. Seeing that
she was not repulsed, she began again to kiss him
and even gave him a tremendous hug then she ran
away.
"What was passing in her poor little head? Was
it because she had sacrificed all her fortune that
she became madly fond of him, or was it because
she had given him her first tender kiss ? The mys-
tery is alike for children and for those of riper
years. For months she dreamed of that corner
near the cemetery and of the little village boy. She
stole small coins from her parents to give to him
at their next meeting. When she returned to the
spot near the cemetery, he was not there. Passing
his father's shop, she caught sight of him behind
the counter. He was sitting between a large red
globe and a blue one. She only loved him the
more, and wrought up to an ecstasy by the sight
of him surrounded by the brilliant-colored globes,
she nearly fainted with emotion. She cherished
forever in her heart this beautiful sight. The fol-
lowing year she met him near the school, playing
marbles. She threw herself on him, took him in
WOMAN'S LOVE 307
her arms, and kissed him so passionately that he
cried aloud. To quiet him, she gave him all her
money. Three francs! A veritable gold mine, at
which he gazed with staring eyes.
"After this he allowed her to caress him as
much as she wished. During the next four years
she put into his hands all her savings, which he
pocketed conscientiously in exchange for kisses. At
one time it was thirty sous, at another two francs.
Again, she only had twelve sous. She wept with
grief and shame, explaining brokenly that it had
been a bad year. The next time she brought five
francs, in one whole piece, which made her laugh
with delight. She no longer thought of anyone
but the boy, and he watched for her with impa-
tience ; sometimes he would run to meet her. This
made her heart throb with joy. Suddenly he dis-
appeared. He had gone to boarding-school. She
found this out by careful investigation. She soon
ingratiated herself with his parents and used her
diplomacy in order that they might call him home
for the holidays. After a year of intrigue she met
with success. She had not seen him for two years,
and hardly recognized him, he was so changed
tall, beautiful, and dignified in his uniform, with
its brass buttons. He pretended not to know her :
and passed by without a glance. She wept for two
days and after that she loved and suffered until the
end.
"Every year he returned and she passed him,
308 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
not daring to lift her eyes. He never condescended
to turn his head toward her. She loved him madly,
hopelessly. She said to me:
" 'He is the only man whom I have ever seen.
I don't even know whether another exists.' Her
parents died and she continued their work.
"One day, on entering the village, where her
heart always remained, she saw Chonquet coming
out of his pharmacy with a young lady leaning on
his arm. She was his bride. That night the chair-
mender threw herself into the river. A drunkard
passing the spot pulled her out and took her to the
pharmacy. Young Chonquet came down in his
dressing-gown to revive her. Without seeming to
know who she was, he undressed her and rubbed
her ; then he said, in a harsh voice :
" 'You are crazy ! People must not do stupid
things like that.' His voice brought her to life
again, and she was happy for a long time. He re-
fused remuneration for his trouble, although she
insisted on paying him.
"All her life passed in this way. She worked,
thinking always of him. She began to buy medi-
cines at his pharmacy; this gave her a chance to
talk to him and to see him closely. In a way, she
was still able to give him money.
"As I said before, she died this spring. When
she had finished her pathetic story she entreated me
to take her earnings to the man she loved. She had
worked only that she might leave him something to
WOMAN'S LOVE 309
remind him of her after death. I gave the priest
fifty francs for her funeral expenses. The next
morning I took the rest of the money to Monsieur
Chonquet as he was finishing his breakfast. His
wife sat at the table, fat and red, important and
self-satisfied. They welcomed me and offered me
some coffee, which I accepted. Then I began my
story in a trembling voice, sure that they would
be softened, even to tears. As soon as Chonquet
understood that he had been loved by 'that vaga-
bond! that chair-mender! that stroller!' he swore
with indignation, as if his reputation had been sul-
lied, the respect of decent people lost, his personal
honor, something precious and dearer to him than
life, gone. His exasperated wife kept repeating:
'That thing! That creature!'
"Seeming unable to find words suitable to the
enormity, he rose and began striding about. He
muttered: 'Can you understand anything so hor-
rible, Doctor? If I had only known it while she
was alive, I should nave had her thrown into prison.
I assure you, she would not have escaped.'
"I was dumbfounded; I hardly knew what to
think or say, but I had to finish my mission. 'She
commissioned me,' I said, 'to give you her savings,
which amount to three thousand five hundred
francs. As what I have just told you seems to be
very disagreeable, perhaps you would prefer to give
this money to the poor.'
"The man and the woman looked at me speech-
310 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
less with amazement. I took the few thousand
francs from my pocket. Wretched-looking money
from every country. Coppers and gold pieces were
mingled together.
" 'What is your decision?' I asked.
"Madame Chonquet spoke first. 'Well, since it
was the dying woman's wish, it seems to me impos-
sible to refuse it/
"Her husband said, in a shamefaced manner:
'We could purchase something for our children
with it/
" 'As you wish/ I answered dryly.
"He replied: 'Well, give it to us anyhow, since
she commissioned you to do so ; we will find a way
to use it for some good purpose/
"I gave them the money, bowed and departed.
"The next day Chonquet came to me and said
brusquely :
" 'That women left her wagon here what have
you done with it?'
" 'Nothing; take it if you wish/
" 'It's just what I wanted,' he said, and walked
off. I called him back and said:
" 'She left her old horse and two dogs also. Don't
you need them?'
"He stared at me, surprised: 'Well, no! Really,
what could I do with them?'
" 'Dispose of them as you like/
"He laughed and held out his hand to me. I
shook it. What could I do? The doctor and the
WOMAN'S LOVE 311
chemist must not be at enmity. I have kept the
dogs. The priest took the old horse. The wagon is
useful to Chonquet, and with the money he has
bought railroad stock. That is the only deep, un-
failing example of love that I have ever known in
my whole existence."
The Doctor looked up. The Marquise, whose eyes
were full of tears, sighed and said:
"There is no denying the fact, only women know
how to love."
THE DEVIL'S VISIT
ON opposite sides of the bed the peasant and
the doctor stood beside the dying old woman.
She was calm and resigned and her mind was
quite clear as she looked at them and listened to
their conversation. She was about to die, and she
did not rebel at it, for her time was come, as she
was ninety-two years old.
The July sun streamed in through the window
and the open door, and cast its hot flames on the
uneven brown mud floor, which had been stamped
upon by four generations of peasants. The smell
of fields came in also, driven by the brisk wind
and parched by the noontide heat. The grasshop-
pers chirped themselves hoarse, and filled the coun-
try with their shrill noise, which was like that of
the wooden toys sold to children at fair time.
The doctor said : "Honore, you cannot leave your
mother in this state ; she may die at any moment."
The peasant, in great distress, replied : " But I must
get in my wheat, for it has been lying on the
ground a long time, and the weather is just right
for it; what do you say about it, mother?" And
312
THE DEVIL'S VISIT 313
the dying old woman, still tormented by her Nor-
man avariciousness, assented with her eyes and
forehead, and thus urged her son to get in his
wheat, and to leave her to die alone.
But the doctor was angry, and, stamping his foot,
he said: "You are no better than a brute, do you
hear, and I will not allow you to do it, you under-
stand? And if you must get in your wheat to-
day, go and bring Rapet's wife and make her look
after your mother; I will have it, do you under-
stand me? If you do not obey me, I will let you
die like a dog when you are ill in your turn ; do you
hear?"
The peasant, a tall, thin fellow with slow move-
ments, who was tormented by indecision, by his
fear of the doctor and his fierce love of saving, hesi-
tated, calculated, and stammered: "How much does
La Rapet charge for attending sick people?" "How
should I know?" the doctor cried. "That depends
upon how long she is needed. Settle it with her!
But I want her to be here within an hour, do you
hear?"
So the man decided. "I will go for her," he re-
plied; "don't be angry, doctor." And the latter
departed, calling out as he went: "Be careful, be
very careful, you know, for I do not joke when
I am angry !" As soon as they were alone the peas-
ant turned to his mother and said in a resigned
voice : " I will go and fetch La Rapet, as the doctor
will have it. Don't worry till I get back."
Vol. 121
314 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
And he, too, departed.
La Rapet, who was an old laundress, watched
the dead and the dying of the neighborhood, and
as soon as she had sewn her customers into that
linen garment from which they would emerge no
more, she took up her irons to smooth out the
linen of the living. Wrinkled like a last year's
apple, spiteful, envious, avaricious with a phenom-
enal avarice, bent double, as if she had been
broken in half across the loins by the constant mo-
tion of passing the iron over the linen, one might
have said that she had a kind of abnormal and
cynical love of a death-struggle. She never spoke
of anything but the persons she had seen die, of
the various kinds of deaths at which she had been
present, and she related with the greatest minute-
ness details that were always similar, just as a
sportsman recounts his luck.
\Yhen Honore Bontemps entered her cottage, he
found her preparing the starch for the collars of
the women villagers, and he said: "Good evening;
I hope you are pretty well, Mother Rapet ?"
She turned her head round to look at him, and
said: "As usual, as usual, and you?" "Oh! as
for me, I am as well as I could wish, but my mother
is not well." "Your mother?" "Yes, my mother!"
"What's the matter with her?" "She is going to die,
that's what's the matter with her !"
The old woman took her hands out of the water
and asked with sudden sympathy: "Is she as bad
THE DEVIL'S VISIT 315
as all that?" "The doctor says she will not last
till morning." "Then she certainly is very bad!"
Honore hesitated, for he wished to make a few
preparatory remarks before coming to his proposi-
tion ; but as he could hit upon nothing, he made up
his mind suddenly.
"How much will you ask to stay with her till the
end? You know that I am not rich, and I cannot
even afford to keep a maid servant. It is just that
which has brought my poor mother to this state
too much worry and fatigue ! She did the work of
ten, in spite of her ninety-two years. You don't
find any made of that stuff nowadays !"
La Rapet answered gravely: "There are two
prices: Forty sous by day and three francs by
night for the rich, and twenty sous by day and forty
by night for the others. You shall pay me the
twenty and forty." But the peasant reflected, for
he knew his mother well. He knew how tenacious
of life, how vigorous and unyielding she was, and
she might last another week, in spite of the doctor's
opinion; and so he said resolutely: "No, I would
rather you would fix a price for the whole time un-
til the end. I will take my chance, one way or the
other. The doctor says she will die very soon. If
that happens, so much the better for you, and so
much the worse for her ; but if she holds out till to-
morrow or longer, so much the better for her and
so much the worse for you !"
The nurse looked at the man in astonishment,
316 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
for she had never treated a death as a speculation,
and she hesitated, tempted by the idea of the pos-
sible gain, but she suspected that he wanted to play
her a trick. "I can say nothing until I have seen
your mother," she replied.
"Then come with me and see her. "
She washed her hands, and went with him imme-
diately.
They did not speak on the road ; she walked with
short, hasty steps, while he strode on with his long
legs, as if he were crossing a brook at every step.
The cows lying down in the fields, overcome by
the heat, raised their heads heavily and lowed feebly
at the two passers-by, as if to ask them for some
green grass.
When they got near the house, Honore Bon-
temps murmured: "Suppose it is all over?" And
the unconscious wish which he had that it might be
so showed itself in the sound of his voice.
But the old woman was not dead. She was lying
on her back, on her miserable bed, her hands cov^
ered with a purple cotton counterpane horribly
thin, knotted hands, like the claws of strange ani-
mals, or like crabs, half closed by rheumatism, fa-
tigue, and the work of nearly a century which she
had accomplished.
La Rapet went up to the bed and looked at the
dying woman, felt her pulse, tapped her on the
chest, listened to her breathing, and asked her ques-
tions, so as to hear her speak; and then, having
THE DEVIL'S VISIT 317
looked at her for some time, she went out of the
room, followed by Honore. Her decided opinion
was that the old woman would not live through the
night. "Well?" said the son. And the sick-nurse
replied: "She may last two days, perhaps three.
You will have to give me six francs, everything in-
cluded."
"Six francs! six francs!" he shouted. "Are you
out of your mind? I tell you that she cannot last
more than five or six hours !" They disputed angrily
for some time, but as the nurse said she must go
home, for time was going by, and as his wheat
would not come to the farmyard of its own accord,
he finally agreed to her terms.
"Very well, then, that is settled; six francs, in-
cluding everything, until the corpse is taken out."
"That is settled, six francs."
And he went away, with long strides, to his
wheat which was lying on the ground under the hot
sun, while the nurse went into the house again.
She had brought some work with her, for she
worked without ceasing by the side of the dead and
dying, sometimes for herself, sometimes for the
family which employed her as seamstress and paid
her rather more in that capacity. Suddenly she
asked: "Have you received the last sacraments,
Mother Bontemps?"
The old peasant woman shook her head, and La
Rapet, who was very devout, got up quickly : " Good
heavens, is it possible? I will go and fetch the
318 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
cure;" and she rushed off to the parsonage s$
quickly that the urchins in the street thought som&
accident had happened, when they saw her running.
The priest came immediately in his surplice, pre-
ceded by a choir-boy who rang a bell to announce
the passage of the Host through the parched and
quiet country. Some men who were working at a
distance took off their large hats and remained mo-
tionless until the white vestment had disappeared
behind some farm buildings ; the women who were
making up the sheaves stood up to make the sign
of the cross; the frightened black hens ran away
along the ditch until they reached a well-known
hole, through which they suddenly disappeared,
while a colt which was tied in a meadow took
fright at the sight of the surplice and began to gal-
lop around and around, kicking out every now and
then. The acolyte, in his red cassock, walked
quickly, and the priest, with his head inclined
toward one shoulder and his square biretta on his
head, followed him, muttering some prayers ; while
last of all came La Rapet, bent almost double as if
she wished to prostrate herself, walking with folded
hands as they do in church.
Honore saw them pass in the distance, and he
asked: "Where is our priest going?" His man,
who was more intelligent, replied: "He is taking
the sacrament to your mother, of course!"
The peasant was not surprised, and said: "That
may be," and went on with his work.
THE DEVIL'S VISIT 319
Mother Bontemps confessed, received absolution
and communion, and the priest took his departure,
leaving the two women alone in the suffocating
room, while La Rapet began to look at the dying
woman, and to ask herself whether she could last
much longer.
The day was on the wane, and gusts of cooler
air began to blow, causing a picture of Epinal, which
was fastened to the wall by two pins, to flap up and
down; the scanty window curtains, which had for-
merly been white, but were now yellow and covered
with fly-specks, looked as if they were going to fly
off, as if they were struggling to get away, like the
old woman's soul.
Lying motionless, with her eyes open, she seemed
to await with indifference that death which was so
near and which yet delayed its coming. Her short
breath whistled in her constricted throat. It would
stop altogether soon, and there would be one
woman less in the world ; no one would regret her.
At nightfall Honore returned, and when he went
up to the bed and saw that his mother was still
alive, he asked: "How is she?" just as he had
done formerly when she had been ailing, and then
he sent La Rapet away, saying to her: "To-mor-
row morning at five o'clock, without fail." And she
replied : "To-morrow, at five o'clock."
She came at daybreak, and found Honore eating
his soup, which he had made himself before going
to work, and the nurse asked : "Well, is your mother
320 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
dead?" "She is rather better, on the contrary," he
replied, with a sly look out of the corner of his
eyes. And he went out.
La Rapet, seized with anxiety, went up to the
dying woman, who remained in the same state,
lethargic and impassive, with her eyes open and her
hands clutching the counterpane. The nurse per-
ceived that this might go on thus for two days#
four days, eight days, and her avaricious mind war
seized with fear, while she was furious at the slj
fellow who had tricked her, and at the woman who
would not die.
Nevertheless, she began to work, and waited,
looking intently at the wrinkled face of Mother
Bontemps. When Honore returned to breakfast he
seemed quite satisfied and even in a bantering
humor. He was decidedly getting in his wheat
under very favorable circumstances.
La Rapet was becoming exasperated ; every min-
ute now seemed to her so much time and money
stolen from her. She felt a mad inclination to take
this old woman, this headstrong old fool, this ob-
stinate old wretch, and to stop that short, rapid
breath, which was robbing her of her time and
money, by squeezing her throat a little. But then
she reflected on the danger of doing so, and other
thoughts came into her head; so she went up to
the bed and said : "Have you ever seen the Devil?"
Mother Bontemps murmured: "No."
Then the nurse began to talk and to tell her tales
THE DEVIL'S VISIT 321
vhich were likely to terrify the weak mind of the
<tying woman. Some minutes before one dies the
Devil appears, she said, to all who are in the death
throes. He has a broom in his hand, a saucepan
on his head, and he utters loud cries. When any-
body sees him, all is over, and that person has
only a few moments longer to live. She then enu-
merated all those to whom the Devil had appeared
that year: Josephine Loisel, Eulalie Ratier, Sophie
Padaknau, Seraphine Grospied.
Mother Bontemps, who had at last become dis-
turbed in mind, moved about, wrung her hands, and
tried to turn her head to look toward the end of the
room. Suddenly La Rapet disappeared at the foot
of the bed. She took a sheet out of the cupboard
and wrapped herself up in it; she put the iron
saucepan on her head, so that its three short bent
feet rose up like horns, and she took a broom in
her right hand and a tin pail in her left, which she
threw up suddenly, so that it might fall to the
ground noisily.
When it fell, it certainly made a terrible crash.
Then, climbing upon a chair, the nurse lifted the
curtain that hung at the foot of the bed, and showed
herself, gesticulating and uttering shrill cries inside
the iron saucepan which covered her face.
Terrified, with an insane expression on her face,
the dying woman made a superhuman effort to rise
and escape; she even got her shoulders and chest
out of bed; then she fell back with a deep sigh.
322 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
All was over, and La Rapet calmly put everything
back into its place; the broom into the corner by
the cupboard, the sheet inside it, the saucepan on
the hearth, the pail on the floor, and the chair against
the wall. Then, with professional movements, she
closed the dead woman's large eyes, put a plate on
the bed and poured some holy water into it, placing
in it the twig of boxwood that had been nailed to
the chest of drawers, and kneeling down, she fer-
vently repeated the prayers for the dead, which she
knew by heart, as a matter of business.
And when Honore returned in the evening he
found her praying, and he calculated immediately
that she had made twenty sous out of him, for she
had spent only three days and one night there,
which made five francs altogether, instead of the
six which he owed her.
WAS IT A DREAM?
Yr*.**,, 1 loved her wildly! Why do we love?
Why do we love? How strange it is to see
only one being in the world, to have only one
thought in the mind, one desire in the heart, and one
name on the lips ; a name that conies up continually,
rising from the depths of the soul like water from
a spring, and which one repeats over and over again,
and murmurs incessantly everywhere, like a prayer.
"I shall not tell you our story. Love is always
the same. I met her and loved her ; that is all. For
a whole year I lived in her tenderness, her caresses,
in her arms, hung on her words and looks, loved
her gowns, was so completely wrapped up, bound,
imprisoned in everything that pertained to her that
I no longer knew whether it was day or night,
whether I were dead or alive, on this old earth of
ours or elsewhere.
"Then she died. How? I do not know; I no
longer know. But one evening she came home with
her clothes wet, for it was raining heavily. The
next day she coughed, and she coughed for about a
323
324 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
week, and took to her bed. What happened I do
not remember now; but doctors came, wrote pre-
scriptions, and went away. Medicines were brought,
and a nurse made her take them. Her hands were
feverish, her forehead burned, and her eyes were
bright and sad. When I spoke to her she answered,
but I do not remember what we said. I have for-
gotten everything, everything, everything ! She died,
and I remember well her little faint sigh her last.
The nurse said: 'Ah!' and I understood, I under-
stood !
"I knew nothing more, nothing. I saw a priest,
who said : 'Your mistress ?' and it seemed to me as
if he were insulting her. As she was dead, nobody
had the right to know our relationship, and I turned
him out. Another came who was very kind and
tender, and I wept when he spoke to me about her.
"They consulted me about the funeral, but I do
not remember anything they said, though I dis-
tinctly recall the coffin and the strokes of the ham-
mer as they nailed her in it. Oh, my God, my God !
"She was buried! Buried! She! In that hole!
Some persons came women friends. I made my
escape, and fan away; I ran, and then I walked,
through the streets, and finally went home. The
next day I set out on a journey.
"Yesterday I returned to Paris, and when I saw
my room again our room, our bed, our furniture,
everything that remains of the life of a human be-
ing after death I was seized by such a violent re-
WAS IT A DREAM? 325
currence of grief that I came very near opening the
window and throwing myself into the street. As
I could no longer stay among these things, between
these walls which had enclosed and sheltered her,
and which retained a thousand atoms of her, of her
skin and her breath, in their imperceptible crevices,
I took up my hat to make my escape, and just as I
reached the door I passed the large mirror in the hall,
which she had put there so that she could look at
herself every day from head to foot as she went out,
to see whether her toilet was in order, and was
correct and pretty, from her little shoes to her
hat.
"I stopped short in front of that looking-glass
in which she had so often been reflected so often
that it too must have retained her reflection. I
was standing there, trembling, with my eyes fixed on
the glass on that flat, deep, empty glass which
had contained her entirely, and had possessed her
as much as I had, as my passionate looks had. I
felt as if I loved that glass. I touched it; it was
cold. Oh, the recollection ! Sorrowful mirror, burn-
ing mirror, live mirror, horrible mirror, which
makes us suffer such torments ! Happy is the man
whose heart is like a mirror where images glide
and pass away; that forgets all it has contained,
reflected, all that have basked in its love and af-
fection ! But I how I suffer !
"I went out and, without knowing it, without
wishing it, walked to the cemetery. I found her
326 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
simple grave, with its white marble cross, bearing
these few words :
" 'She loved, was beloved, and died.'
"She lay there, beneath the ground, decom-
posed ! How horrible ! I sobbed, with my forehead
resting on the ground. I remained there a long,
long time. Then I saw that it was growing dark,
and a strange, mad wish, the desire of a despairing
lover, seized me. I wished to pass the night, the
last night, in weeping on her grave. But I should
be seen and driven out. How was I to manage?
I was cunning, so I rose and began to roam about
that city of the dead. I walked and walked. How
small this city is, in comparison with the other
the city in which we live! And yet, how much
more numerous are the dead than the living! We
require high houses, wide streets, and much room
for the four generations who see daylight at the
same time, drink water from the spring, wine
from the vines, and eat the bread from the fields.
"And for all the generations of the dead, for all
that ladder of humanity that has descended to us,
there is hardly anything only a field! The earth
takes them back, oblivion effaces them. Farewell!
"At the end of this cemetery I suddenly, per-
ceived the old abandoned portion where the dead
have long since blended with the soil, where the
crosses themselves decay, where the latest comers
will be put to-morrow. It is full of untended roses,
WAS IT A DREAM? 327
of robust, dark cypress trees, a sad and beautiful
garden, nourished on human flesh.
"I was alone, absolutely alone. I hid in a leafy
tree, and concealed myself completely among the
thick and somber branches, and waited, clinging
to the trunk, as a shipwrecked man clings to a
plank.
"When it was quite dark I left my refuge and
began to walk softly, slowly, noiselessly through
that ground full of the dead, and I wandered about
a long time, but could not find her again. I went on
with extended arms, striking against the tombs with
my hands, my feet, my knees, my chest, even with
my head, without being able to find her. I touched
and felt about like a blind man groping his way. I
felt the stones, the crosses, the iron railings, the
metal wreaths, and the wreaths of faded flowers!
I read the names with my fingers, by passing them
over the letters. What a night! What a night!
I could not find her again !
"There was no moon. What a night! I was
afraid, horribly afraid in these narrow paths, be-
tween two rows of graves. Graves ! graves ! graves !
nothing but graves! On my right, on my left, in
front of me, around me, everywhere there were
graves! I sat down on one of them, for I could
not walk any longer, my knees were so weak. I
could hear my heart throb ! And I could hear some-
thing else as well. What? A confused, nameless
noise. Was the noise in my head, in the impene-
328 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
trable night, or beneath the mysterious earth, the
earth sown with human corpses? I looked about
me, but I cannot say how long I remained there; I
was paralyzed with terror, drunk with fright, ready
to cry out, ready to die.
"Suddenly it seemed to me as if the slab of mar-
ble on which I was sitting was moving. Certainly,
it was moving, as if it were being raised. With a
bound I sprang upon the neighboring tomb, and I
saw, yes, I distinctly saw the stone I had just left
standing upright, and the dead person appeared, a
naked skeleton, pushing the stone with its bent
back. I saw it quite clearly, although the night
was so dark. On the cross I could read:
" 'Here lies Jacques Olivant, who died at the age
of fifty-one. He loved his family, was kind and
honorable, and died in the peace of God'
"The dead man also read what was inscribed on
his tombstone; then he picked up a stone from the
path, a little, pointed stone, and began to scrape the
letters carefully. He slowly effaced them alto-
gether, and with the hollows of his eyes he looked
at the places where they had been engraved, and,
with the tip of the bone that had been his forefinger
he wrote in luminous letters, like those lines which
one traces on walls with the tip of a lucif er match :
" 'Here reposes Jacques Olivant, who died at the
age of fifty-one. He hastened his father's death by
WAS IT A DREAM? 329
hi* unkindness, as he wished to inherit his fortune;
he tortured his wife, tormented his children, de-
ceived his neighbors, robbed every one he could,
and died wretchedly unhappy.'
"When he had finished writing, the dead man
stood motionless, looking at his work, and on turn-
ing round I saw that all the graves were open, that
all the dead bodies had emerged from them, and
that all had effaced the lies inscribed on their grave-
stones by their relatives, and had substituted the
truth instead. And I saw that all had been the tor-
mentors of their neighbors malicious, dishonest,
hypocrites, liars, rascals, calumniators, envious ;
that they had stolen, deceived, performed every dis-
graceful, every abominable action, these good
fathers, these faithful wives, these devoted sons,
these chaste maidens, these honest tradesmen, these
men and women who were called irreproachable.
They were all writing at the same time, on the
threshold of their eternal abode, the truth, the cruel,
terrible, and holy truth of which everyone on earth
is ignorant, or pretends to ignore.
" I thought that she also must have written some-
thing on her tombstone, and now, running without
any fear among the half -open coffins, among the
corpses and skeletons, I went toward her, sure that
I should find her immediately. I recognized her at
once, without seeing her face, which was covered
by the winding-sheet, and on the marble cross,
Vol. 122
330 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
where shortly before I had read : 'She loved, was
beloved, and died,' I now read: 'Having gone out
one day, in order to deceive her lover, she caught
cold in the rain and died.'
"I heard that they found me at daybreak lying
unconscious on her grave."
SIMON'S PAPA
THE hour of noon had just struck. The school
door of the schoolhouse opened and the
children darted out, jostling each other in their
haste. But instead of dispersing promptly and go-
ing home to dinner as usual, they stopped a few
paces away, broke up into groups, and began whis-
pering.
The fact was that that morning Simon, the son
of La Blanchotte, had attended school for the first
time.
All the children had heard talk in their families
of La Blanchotte; and, although in public she was
welcome enough, the mothers among themselves
treated her with a somewhat disdainful compassion,
which the children had imitated without in the least
knowing the reason why.
As for Simon himself, they did not know him, for
he never went out, and did not play with them
in the village streets or along the banks of the river.
And they did not care for him; so it was with a
certain delight, mingled with considerable astonish-
331
332 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
ment, that they met and repeated to one another
what had been said by a lad of fourteen or fifteen,
who appeared to know all about it, so wisely did
he wink. "You know . . . Simon . . . well,
he has no papa."
La Blanchotte's son suddenly appeared in the
doorway of the schoolhouse.
He was seven or eight years old, rather pale, very
neat, with a timid and almost awkward manner.
He was about to go to his mother's house when
the groups of his schoolmates, whispering and
watching him with the mischievous and heartless
eyes of children bent upon playing a mean trick,
gradually closed in around him and ended by sur-
rounding him altogether. There he stood among
them, surprised and embarrassed, not understanding
what they intended to do with him. But the lad
who had brought the news, puffed up with the suc-
cess he had met with already, demanded :
"What is your name, you boy?"
"Simon," he answered.
"Simon what?" asked the other.
The child, altogether bewildered, repeated:
"Simon."
The lad shouted at him: "One is named Simon
something . . . that is not a name . . .Simon,
indeed !"
The boy, on the brink of tears, replied for the
third time:
<_"My name is Simon."
SIMON'S PAPA 333
The other boys began to laugh. The triumphant
tormentor cried: "You can see plainly that he has
no papa."
A deep silence followed. The children were dumb-
founded by this extraordinary, impossible, mon-
strous thing a boy who had not a father; they
looked upon him as a phenomenon, an unnatural
being, and they felt that hitherto inexplicable con-
tempt of their mothers for La Blanchotte growing
within them. As for Simon, he had leaned against
a tree to avoid falling, and he remained as if pros-
trated by an irreparable disaster. He sought to ex-
plain, but could think of nothing to say to refute
this terrible charge that he had no father. At last
he shouted at them quite recklessly: "Yes, I have
one."
"Where is he?" the boy demanded.
Simon was silent ; he did not know. The children
roared, tremendously excited; and those country
boys, little more than animals, experienced that
cruel craving with prompts the fowls of a farm-
yard to destroy one among themselves as soon as it
is wounded. Simon suddenly espied a little neigh-
bor, the son of a widow, whom he had seen, as he
himself was to be seen, always alone with his
mother.
"And neither have you," he said. "Neither have
you a papa."
"Yes," replied the other, "I have one."
"Where is he?" Simon asked.
334 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
"He is dead," declared the lad with superb dig-
nity. "He is in the cemetery, is my papa."
A murmur pf approval rose among the little
wretches, as if this fact of possessing a papa dead
in a cemetery had caused their comrade to grow big
enough to crush the other one who had no papa at
all. And these boys, whose fathers were for the
most part bad men, drunkards, thieves, and who
beat their wives, jostled one another to press closer
and closer, as if they, the legitimate ones, would
smother by their pressure one who was illegiti-
mate.
The boy who chanced to be next Simon suddenly
thrust his tongue out at him with a mocking air and
shouted at him:
"No papa! No papa!"
Simon seized him by the hair with both hands
and tried to disable his legs with kicks, while he
bit his cheek ferociously. A tremendous struggle
ensued between the two combatants, and Simon
found himself beaten, torn, bruised and rolled on
the ground in the midst of the ring of applauding
schoolboys. As he arose, mechanically brushing
with his hand his little blouse all covered with dust,
some one shouted:
"Go and tell your papa."
Simon felt a great sinking at his heart. They
were stronger than he was, they had beaten him,
and he had no answer to give them, for he knew
well that it was true that he had no father. Full of
SIMON'S PAPA 335
pride, he attempted for some moments to struggle
against the tears that were choking him. He had
a feeling of suffocation, and then without any sound
he began to weep, with heavy, shaking sobs. A
ferocious joy broke out among his enemies, and,
with one accord, like savages in their fearful fes-
tivals, they took one another by the hand and
danced around him in a circle, repeating:
"No papa! no papa!"
Suddenly Simon ceased sobbing. He became furi-
ous. There were stones under his feet; he picked
them up and with all his strength hurled them at
his tormentors. Two or three were struck and
rushed off yelling, and so formidable did he appear
that the rest became panic-stricken. Cowards, as
the mob always is in presence of an exasperated
man, they broke up and fled. Left alone, the little
fellow without a father set off running toward the
fields, for a recollection had been awakened in him
which determined his soul to a great resolve. He
made up his mind to drown himself in the river.
He remembered, in fact, that a week before a
poor beggar had thrown himself into the water be-
cause he had no more money. Simon had been
there when they fished him out again; and the
wretched man, who usually seemed to him so mis-
erable and ugly, had then struck him as being envi-
ably peaceful with his pale cheeks, his long drenched
beard, and his open eyes full of calm. The by-
standers had said:
336 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
"He is dead."
Some one added: "He is quite happy now."
And Simon wished to drown himself, too, be-
cause he had no father, like the wretched being who
had no money.
He reached the water and watched it flowing.
Some fish were sporting briskly in the clear stream
and occasionally made a little bound and caught
the flies flying on the surface. He stopped crying
in order to watch them, for their maneuvers inter-
ested him greatly. But, at intervals, as in a tempest
moments of calm alternate suddenly with tremen-
dous gusts of wind, which snap off branches and
then lose themselves in the horizon, this thought
would return to him with intense pain :
"I want to drown myself because I have no
papa."
The weather was very warm and fine. The pleas-
ant sunshine warmed the grass, and the water
shone like a mirror. Simon enjoyed some minutes
of happiness, of that languor which follows weep-
ing, and felt inclined to fall asleep there on the
grass in the bright sunshine.
A little green frog leaped from under his feet.
He tried to catch it. It escaped him. He followed
it and lost it three times in succession. At last he
caught it by one of its hind legs and began to laugh
as he saw the efforts the creature made to escape.
It gathered itself up on its hind legs and then with
a violent spring suddenly stretched them out as stiff
SIMON'S PAPA 337
as two bars; while it beat the air with its front
legs as if they were hands, its round eyes staring
in their circle of yellow. It reminded him of a
toy made of straight slips of wood nailed zigzag
one on the other, which by a similar movement
regulated the movements of the little soldiers fast-
ened thereon. Then he thought of his home, of
his mother, and, overcome by sorrow he again be-
gan to weep. A shiver passed over him. He knelt
down and said his prayers as before going to bed.
But he was unable to finish them, for tumultuous,
violent sobs shook his whole frame. He no longer
thought, no longer saw anything around him, and
was wholly absorbed in grief.
Suddenly a heavy hand was laid on his shoul-
der, and a rough voice asked :
"What is it that causes you so much grief, my
little man?"
Simon turned. A tall workman with a beard
and black curly hair was staring at him good-na-
turedly. He answered with his eyes and throat
full of tears:
"They beat me . . . because ... I ...
have no ... papa ... no papa."
"What!" said the man, smiling, "why, every-
body has one."
The child answered amid his spasms of weeping:
"But I . . . I . . . have none."
The workman became serious. He had recog-
nized La Blanchotte's son, and, although himself
338 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
a new arrivaKn the neighborhood, he had a vague
idea of her history.
"Well," said he, "console yourself, my boy, and
come with me home to your mother. They will
give you ... a papa."
And so they started on the way, the big fellow
holding the little fellow by the hand, and the man
smiled, for he was rather curious to see this Blan-
chotte, who was, it was said, one of the prettiest
girls of the countryside, and perhaps he was say-
ing to himself, at the bottom of his heart, a lass who
had erred once might very well err again.
They arrived in front of a neat little white house.
"There it is," exclaimed the child, and he cried,
"Mamma!"
A woman appeared, and the workman instantly
left off smiling, for he saw at once that no non-
sense could be expected with the tall pale girl who
stood austerely at her door as if to defend from
one man the threshold of that house where she
had already been betrayed by another. Intimidated,
his cap in his hand, he stammered out:
"See, Madame, I have brought you back your
little boy who had lost himself near the river."
But Simon flung his arms about his mother's
neck and told her, as he again began to cry :
"No, mamma, I wished to drown myself, because
the others had beaten me . . . had beaten me
. . . because I have no papa."
A burning blush covered the young woman's
SIMON'S PAPA 339
cheeks; and, hurt to the quick, she embraced her
child passionately, while the tears ran down her
face. The man, much moved, stood there, not
knowing how to get away. But Simon suddenly
ran to him and said:
"Will you be my papa?"
A deep silence ensued. La Blanchotte, dumb,
and tortured with shame, leaned against the wall,
both her hands pressed to her heart. The child,
seeing that no answer was made added firmly:
"If you will not, I shall go back and drown my-
self."
The workman took the matter as a jest and an-
swered, laughing:
"Oh, yes, certainly I will."
"What is your name," the child continued, "so
that I may tell the others when they wish to know
your name?"
"Philip," answered the man.
Simon was silent a moment so that he might get
the name well into his head ; then he stretched out
his arms, quite consoled, as he said :
"Well, then, Philip, you are my papa."
The workman, lifting him from the ground,
kissed him hastily on both cheeks, and then walked
away quickly with great strides.
When the child returned to school next day he
was received with a spiteful laugh, and at the end
of school, when the lads were on the point of re-
suming their taunts, Simon threw these words at
340 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
their heads as he would have thrown a stone: "He
is named Philip, my papa."
Cries of delight burst out from all sides.
"Philip who? . . . Philip what? Who is this
Philip? Where did you find your Philip?"
Simon did not answer; and, immovable in his
faith, he defied them with his eye, ready to be mar-
tyred rather than run before them. The schoolmas-
ter came to his rescue and he returned home to his
mother.
During three months, the tall workman, Philip,
frequently passed La Blanchotte's house, and some-
times he ventured to speak to her when he saw her
sewing near the window. She answered him civilly,
always sedately, never joking with him, nor permit-
ting him to enter her house. Notwithstanding,
being, like all men, rather conceited, he imagined
that her cheeks were often rosier than usual when
she chatted with him.
But a lost reputation is so difficult to regain and
always remains so fragile that, in spite of the cold
reserve of La Blanchotte, the women already gos-
siped in the neighborhood.
As for Simon, he loved his new papa very much,
and walked with him nearly every evening when
the day's work was done. He went regularly to
school, and mingled with great dignity with his
schoolfellows without ever answering them back.
One day, however, the lad who had first attacked
him said to him :
SIMON'S PAPA 341
"You have told a lie. You have not a papa
named Philip."
"Why do you say that?" demanded Simon, much
disturbed.
The youth rubbed his hands.
"Because if you had one he would be your
mamma's husband," he replied.
Simon was confused by the truth of this reason-
ing; nevertheless, he retorted:
"He is my papa, all the same."
"That may be," exclaimed the urchin with a
sneer, "but that is not being your papa altogether."
La Blanchotte's boy bowed his head and went
off dreaming in the direction of the forge belong-
ing to old Loizon, where Philip worked.
This forge seemed fairly buried beneath trees.
It was very dark there ; the red glare of a formid-
able furnace alone illumined with great flashes five
blacksmiths, who hammered upon their anvils with
a terrible clamor. They were standing enveloped in
flame, like demons, their eyes fixed on the red-hot
iron they were pounding; and their dull thoughts
rose and fell with their hammers.
Simon 'entered without being noticed, and went
quietly to pluck his friend by the sleeve. Philip
turned round. All at once the work came to a
standstill, and all the men looked on, very atten-
tive. Then, in the midst of this unaccustomed
silence, rose the little slender pipe of Simon:
"Philip, explain to me what the lad at La
342 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
Michande has just said to me, that you are not
altogether my papa."
"And why that?" asked the smith.
The child replied in all innocence:
"Because you are not my mamma's husband."
No one laughed. Philip remained standing, lean-
ing his forehead upon the back of his great hands,
xvhich supported the handle of his hammer standing
upright upon the anvil. He mused. His four com-
panions watched him, and Simon, a tiny mite among
these giants, anxiously waited. Suddenly, one of
the smiths, answering to the sentiment of all, said
to Philip:
"La Blanchotte is a good, honest girl, upright
and steady in spite of her misfortune, and would
make a good wife for an honest man."
"That is true," remarked the three others.
The smith continued :
"Is it the girl's fault if she went wrong? She
had been promised marriage; and I know more
than one who is much respected to-day, and who
sinned quite as much as she."
"That is true," repeated the three men.
He resumed:
"How hard she has toiled, poor thing, to bring
up her child all alone, and how she has wept all
these years that she never has gone out except to
church, God only knows."
"That is true also," said the others.
Nothing was heard but the bellows fanning the
SIMON'S PAPA 343
furnace fire. Philip hastily bent down to Simon:
"Go and tell your mother that I am coming to
speak to her this evening."
Then he pushed the boy out by the shoulders.
He returned to his work, and as with a single blow
the five hammers again fell upon their anvils. Thus
they wrought the iron until nightfall, strong, pow-
erful, happy, like contented hammers. But just as
the great bell of the cathedral resounds upon feast
days above the jingling of the other bells, so Philip's
hammer, sounding above the rest, clanged second
after second with a deafening uproar. And he
stood amid the flying sparks plying his trade vig-
orously.
The sky was sown with stars as he knocked at La
Blanchotte's door. He had on his Sunday blouse,
a clean shirt, and his beard was trimmed. The
young woman showed herself upon the threshold,
and said in a grieved tone:
"It is not well to come thus after night has fallen,
Monsieur Philip."
He wished to answer, but stammered and stood
confused before her.
She resumed:
"You understand, do you not, that it will not do
for me to be talked about again."
Then Philip said suddenly: "What does that
matter to me, if you will be my wife!"
No voice replied, but he believed that he heard in
the shadow of the room the sound of a falling body.
344 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
He entered quickly; and Simon, who had gone to
his bed, distinguished the sound of a kiss and some
words that his mother murmured softly. Then,
suddenly, he found himself lifted by the hands of
his friend, who, holding him at the length of his
herculean arms, exclaimed :
"You will tell them, your schoolmates, that your
papa is Philip Remy, the blacksmith, and that he
will pull the ears of all who do you any harm."
The next day, when the school was full and les-
sons were about to begin, little Simon stood up,
quite pale, with trembling lips:
"My papa," said he in a clear voice, "is Philip
Remy, the blacksmith, and he has promised to pull
the ears of all who do me any harm."
This time no one laughed, for Philip Remy, the
blacksmith, was very well known, and was a papa
of whom anyone in the w r orld might have been
proud.
THE DIAMOND NECKLACE
THE girl was one of those pretty and attractive
young creatures who sometimes are born,
as if by an error of destiny, in a family of
clerks. She had no dot, no expectations, no way
of being known, understood, loved and married,
by a rich and distinguished man; so she allowed
herself to be married to a humble clerk in the Min-
istry of Public Instruction.
She dressed plainly because she could not dress
handsomely, but she was as unhappy as if she had
really sunk from a higher station ; since with women
there is neither caste nor rank, for beauty, grace,
and charm take the place of family and high birth.
Natural delicacy, an instinct for what is elegant,
suppleness of wit, are the only hierarchy, and they
often make from women of the people the equals
of the greatest ladies.
Mathilde suffered continually, feeling that she
was born to enjoy all delicacies and all luxuries.
She suffered from the poverty of her home, from
the barrenness of the walls, the shabby chairs, the
Vol. 123 345
346 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
ugliness of the curtains. All those things, of which
another woman of her rank never would even have
been conscious, tortured her and made her angry.
The sight of the little Breton peasant-girl who
did her humble household tasks aroused in her
despairing regrets and distracted dreams. She
thought of silent antechambers hung with Oriental
tapestry, illumined by tall bronze candelabra, and
of two great footmen in knee-breeches who sleep
in big armchairs, made drowsy by the heavy warmth
of the stove. She thought of long salons hung
with ancient silk, of delicate furniture bearing
priceless curiosities, and of the coquettish perfumed
boudoirs made for little chats at five o'clock with
intimate friends, with men famous and sought after,
whom all women envy and whose attentions they
all desire.
When she sat down to dinner, before the round
table covered with a tablecloth three days used, op-
posite her husband, who uncovered the soup-tureen,
and declared with a delighted air, "Ah, the good
soup ! I don't know anything better than that," she
thought of dainty dinners, of shining silverware,
of tapestry that peopled the walls with ancient per-
sonages and with strange birds flying in the midst
of a fairy forest; and she thought of delicious
dishes served on marvelous plates, and of the whis-
pered gallantries to wnich you listen with a sphinx-
like smile, while you are eating the pink flesh of a
trout or the wings of a quail.
THE DIAMOND NECKLACE 347
She had no gowns, no jewels, nothing. And she
loved nothing but that ; she felt she was made for
that. She would have liked so much to please, to
be envied, to be charming, to be sought after.
She had a friend, a former schoolmate at the
convent, who was rich, and whom she did not like
to go to see any more, because she suffered so
much when she came home.
But, one evening her husband arrived home with
a triumphant air, holding out a large envelope.
"There," said he, "is something for you."
She opened the paper quickly, and drew out a
printed card, which bore these words :
"The Minister of Public Instruction and Madame
Georges Ramponneau request the honor of M. and Madame
Loisel's company at the palace of the Ministry on Mon-
day evening, January 18th."
Instead of being delighted, as her husband had
hoped, she threw the invitation on the table with
disdain, murmuring:
"What do you wish me to do with that?"
"Why, my dear, I thought you would be glad.
You never go out, and this is such a fine oppor-
tunity. I had great trouble to get it. Every one
desires to go ; it is very select, and they are not giv-
ing many invitations to clerks. The whole official
world will be there."
She looked at him with an irritated glance, and
said impatiently:
348 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
"And what do you wish me to put on my back?"
He had not thought of that; he stammered:
"Why, the gown you go to the theater in. It
looks very well to me."
He stopped, distracted, seeing that his wife was
weeping. Two great tears ran slowly from the cor-
ners of her eyes toward the corners of her mouth.
"What's the matter? What's the matter?" he
answered.
By a violent effort she conquered her grief, and
replied, with a calm voice, while she wiped her
cheeks :
"Nothing. Only I have no gown, and, therefore,
I can't go to this ball. Give your card to some col-
league whose wife is better equipped than I."
He was in despair. He resumed:
"Come, let us see, Mathilde. How much would
it cost, a suitable gown, which you could use on
other occasions something very simple?"
She reflected several seconds, making her calcu-
lations and wondering also what sum she could ask
without drawing on herself an immediate refusal
and a frightened exclamation from the economical
clerk.
Finally she replied hesitatingly:
"I don't know exactly, but I think I could man-
age it with four hundred francs."
He grew a little pale, because he was laying aside
just that amount to buy a gun and treat himself
to a little shooting next summer on the plain of
THE DIAMOND NECKLACE 349
Nanterre, with several friends who went to shoot
larks there of a Sunday. But he said :
"Very well. I will give you four hundred francs.
And try to have a pretty gown."
The day of the ball drew near, and Madame Loi-
sel seemed sad, uneasy, anxious. Her frock was
ready, however. Her husband said to her one
svening :
"What is the matter? Come, you have seemed
very queer these last three days."
And she answered :
"It annoys me not to have a single jewel, not a
single stone, nothing to put on. I shall look pover-
ty-stricken. I should almost rather not go at all."
"You might wear natural flowers," said her
husband. "They're very stylish at this time of
the year. For ten francs you can get two or three
magnificent roses."
She was not convinced.
"No; there's nothing more humiliating than to
look poor among other women who are rich."
"How stupid you are!" her husband cried.
"Go look up your friend Madame Forestier, and
ask her to lend you some jewels. You're intimate
enough with her to do that."
She uttered a cry of joy :
"True! I never thought of it."
The next day she went to her friend and told of
her distress.
Madame Forestier went to a wardrobe with a
350 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
glass door, took out a large jewel box, brought it
back, opened it, and said to Madame Loisel:
"Choose, my dear."
She saw first some bracelets ; then a pearl neck-
lace, then a Venetian cross of gold and precious
stones, of admirable workmanship. She tried on
the ornaments before the mirror, hesitated, but
could not make up her mind to part with them, to
give them back. She kept asking:
"Haven't you any more?"
"Why, yes. Look further; I don't know what
you like."
Suddenly she discovered, in a black satin box, a
superb diamond necklace, and her heart throbbed
with an immoderate desire. Her hands trembled as
she took it. She fastened it around her throat, out-
side her high-necked waist, and was lost in ecstasy
at sight of herself.
Then she asked, hesitatingly :
"Will you lend me this, only this?"
"Why, yes, certainly."
She threw her arms round her friend's neck,
kissed her passionately, then fled with her treasure.
The night of the ball arrived. Madame Loisel
made a great success. She was prettier than any
other woman present, elegant, graceful, smiling,
and intoxicated with joy. All the men looked at
her, asked her name, endeavored to be introduced.
All the attaches of the Cabinet wished to wnltz with
her. She was remarked by the Minister himself.
THE DIAMOND NECKLACE 351
She danced with rapture, with passion, made
drunk by pleasure, forgetting all, in the triumph of
her beauty, in the glory of her success, in a cloud
of happiness composed of all this homage, admira-
tion, awakened desires, and that sense of triumph
which is so sweet to woman's heart.
She left the ball about four o'clock in the morn-
ing. Her husband had been sleeping since mid-
night, in a little deserted anteroom, with three other
gentlemen whose wives were enjoying the ball.
He threw over her shoulders the wraps he had
brought, the modest wraps of common life, the
poverty of which contrasted with the elegance of
the ball-dress. She felt this, and wished to escape
so as not to be remarked by the other women, who
were enveloping themselves in costly furs.
Loisel held her back, saying: "Wait a bit. You
will take cold outside. I will call a cab."
But she did not listen to him, and rapidly de-
scended the stairs. When they reached the street
they could not find a carriage, and began to look
for one, shouting after the cabmen passing at a
distance.
They went toward the Seine, in despair, shiver-
ing with cold. At last they found on the quay one
of those ancient night cabs which, as if they were
ashamed to show their shabbiness during the day,
are never seen round Paris until after dark.
It took them to their dwelling in the Rue des
Martyrs, and sadly they climbed up homeward. All
352 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
was ended, for her. As to him, he reflected that
he must be at the Ministry at ten o'clock that
morning.
She removed her wraps before the glass so as to
see herself once more in all her glory. But sud-
denly she uttered a cry. She no longer had the
necklace round her neck !
"What is the matter with you?" demanded her
husband, already half undressed.
She turned madly toward him.
"I have I have I've lost Madame Forestier's
necklace," she cried.
He stood up, distracted.
what ! How ? Impossible !"
They looked among the folds of her skirt, of her
cloak, in her pockets, everywhere, but did not
find it.
"You're sure you had it on when you left the
ball?" he asked.
"Yes, I felt it in the vestibule of the palace."
"But if you had lost it in the street we should
have heard it fall. It must be in the cab."
"Yes, probably. Did you take his number?"
"No. And you didn't you notice it?"
"No."
They looked, thunderstruck, at each other. At
last Loisel put on his clothes.
"I shall go back on foot," said he, "over the
whole route, to see whether I can find it."
He went out. She sat waiting on a chair in her
THE DIAMOND NECKLACE 353
ball-dress, without strength to go to bed, over-
whelmed, without fire, without a thought.
Her husband returned about seven o'clock. He
had found nothing.
He went to police headquarters, to the newspaper
offices, to offer a reward; he went to the cab com-
panies everywhere, in fact, whither he was urged
by the least spark of hope.
She waited all day, in the same condition of mad
fear before this terrible calamity.
Loisel returned at night with a hollow, pale face ;
he had discovered nothing.
"You must write to your friend," said he, "that
you have broken the clasp of her necklace and that
you are having it mended. That will give us time
to turn round."
She wrote at his dictation.
At the end of a week they had lost all hope.
Loisel, who had aged five years, declared:
"We must consider how to replace the necklace."
The next day they took the box that had con-
tained it, and went to the jeweler whose name was
found within. He consulted his books.
"It was not I, Madame, who sold that necklace;
I must simply have furnished the case."
Then they went from jeweler to jeweler, searcn-
ing for a necklace like the other, consulting their
memories, both sick with chagrin and anguish.
They found, in a shop at the Palais Royal, a
string of diamonds that seemed to them exactly like
354 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
the one they had lost. It was worth forty thousand
francs. They could have it for thirty-six.
So they begged the jeweler not to sell it for
three days yet. And they made a bargain that he
should buy it back for thirty-four thousand francs,
in case they should find the lost necklace before the
end of February.
Loisel had eighteen thousand francs which his
father had left him. He would borrow the rest.
He did borrow, asking a thousand francs of one,
five hundred of another, five louis here, three louis
there. He gave notes, entered into ruinous obliga-
tions, dealt with usurers and all the race of lenders.
He compromised all the rest of his life, risked his
signature without even knowing whether he could
meet its promise ; and, frightened by the trouble yet
to come, by the black misery that was about to fall
upon him, by the prospect of all the physical priva-
tions and moral tortures that he was to suffer, he
went to get the new necklace, laying upon the
jeweler's counter thirty-six thousand francs.
When Madame Loisel took back the necklace,
Madame Forestier said to her, with a chilly man-
ner:
"You should have returned it sooner; I might
have needed it."
She did not open the case, as her friend had so
much feared. If she had detected the substitution,
what would she have thought, what would she have
said? Would she not have taken Madame Loisel
for a thief?
THE DIAMOND NECKLACE 355
Thereafter Madame Loisel knew the horrible ex-
istence of the needy. She bore her part, however,
with sudden heroism. That dreadful debt must be
paid. She would pay it. They dismissed their
servant ; they changed their lodgings ; they rented a
garret.
She came to know what heavy housework meant
and the odious cares of the kitchen. She washed
the dishes, using her dainty fingers and rosy nails
on greasy pots and pans. She washed the soiled
linen, the shirts, and the dishcloths, which she dried
upon a line; she carried the slops down to the
street every morning, and carried up the water,
stopping for breath at every landing. And, dressed
like a woman of the people, she went to the fruit-
erer, the grocer, the butcher, a basket on her arm,
bargaining, insulted, defending her pitiful money
sou by sou.
Every month they had to meet some notes, renew
others, obtain more time.
Her husband worked evenings, making a fair
copy of some tradesman's accounts, and late at
night he often copied manuscript for five sous a
page.
This life lasted ten years.
At the end of ten years they had paid every-
thing, everything, with the rates of usury and the
accumulations of compound interest.
Madame Loisel looked old now. She had be-
come the woman of impoverished households
356 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
strong and hard and rough. With frowsy hair,
skirts askew, and red hands, she talked loud while
washing a floor with great swishes of water. But
sometimes, when her husband was at the office, she
sat down near the window, and she thought of that
gay evening of long ago, of that ball where she
had been so beautiful and so admired.
What would have happened if she had not lost
that necklace? Who knows? How strange and
changeful is life! How little a thing is needed
for us to be lost or saved !
But, one Sunday, having gone to take a walk in
the Champs Elysees to refresh herself from the
labors of the week, she suddenly perceived a
woman who was leading a child. It was Madame
Forestier, still young, still beautiful, still charming.
Madame Loisel felt moved. Should she speak
to her? Yes, certainly. And now that she had
paid, she would tell her all about it. Why not?
She went up.
"Good day, Jeanne."
The other, astonished to be familiarly addressed
by this plain good-wife, did not recognize her at
all, and stammered:
"But Madame ! I do not know You must
have mistaken."
"No. I am Mathilde Loisel."
Her friend uttered a cry.
"Oh, my poor Mathilde! How you are
changed !"
THE DIAMOND NECKLACE 357
"Yes, I have had days hard enough, since I have
seen you, days wretched enough and that because
of you !"
"Of me! How so?"
"Do you remember that diamond necklace you
loaned me to wear at the ministerial ball?"
"Yes. Well?"
"Well, I lost it."
"What do you mean? You brought it back."
"I brought you back another exactly like it.
And for this we have been ten years paying. You
can understand that it was not easy for us, us
who had nothing. At last it is ended, and I am
glad."
Madame Forestier had stopped.
"You say that you bought a necklace of dia-
monds to replace mine?"
"Yes. You never noticed it, then! They were
very like."
And she smiled with a joy that was at once proud
and naive.
Madame Forestier, deeply moved, took her
hands.
" Oh, my poor Mathilde ! Why, my necklace was
paste! It was worth at most only five hundred
francs!"
DUCHOUX
BARON DE MORDIANE kept his fur coat un-
buttoned when he descended the wide stair-
case of the club, which was over-heated by a
stove, and when he reached the street a shiver
ran over him, one of those that come when the sys-
tem is depressed. For he had lost money and his
digestion had troubled him for some time, so that
he could not eat what he enjoyed.
He returned to his own residence; and suddenly
the thought of his great, empty apartment, of his
footman asleep in the ante-chamber, of the dres-
sing-room in which the water was kept warm for
his evening toilet on a gas stove, and the large, an-
tique, solemn-looking bed like a mortuary couch,
caused another chill to penetrate his whole being.
For some years past he had felt that load of
solitude which sometimes crushes old bachelors.
Formerly, he had been strong, lively, and gay, giv-
ing his days to sport and his nights to festive
gatherings. Now, he had grown dull, and no
longer took pleasure in anything. Exercise fa-
358
DUCHOUX 359
tigued him; suppers and even dinners made him
ill; women annoyed him as much as they had for-
merly amused him.
The monotony of evenings all alike, of always
meeting the same friends in the same place, at the
club, of the same game with a good hand and a run
of luck, of the same talk on the same topics, of the
same witty remarks by the same lips, of the same
jokes on the same themes, of the same scandals
about the same women, disgusted him and made
him feel at times a strong inclination to commit
suicide. He could not lead this regular, inane life,
commonplace, frivolous and dull, and he felt a
longing for something tranquil, restful, comfortable,
without knowing what.
He certainly did not think of marrying, for he
feared he had not sufficient fortitude to submit
to that melancholy conjugal servitude, to that hate-
ful existence of two beings who, always together,
know each other so well that one cannot utter a
word which the other would not anticipate, could
not make a single movement which would not be
foreseen, could not have any thought, desire, or
opinion that would not be divined. He considered
that a woman was interesting only when you knew
her but slightly, when there is something mysteri-
ous and unexplored about her, when she remains
an enigma, hidden behind a veil. What he would
desire would be a family without family life,
wherein he might spend only a portion of his exist-
360 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
ence. But he was also haunted by the recollection
of his son.
For the past year, he had been constantly think-
ing of this, feeling an irritating desire springing up
within him. He had become the father of this child
while still a young man, in the midst of dramatic
and touching incidents. The boy, sent to the South,
had been brought up near Marseilles without ever
hearing his father's name.
He had at first paid for the child from month
to month, for his nurture, education, and the ex-
pense of holidays, and finally had provided an al-
lowance for him on his making a sensible match.
A discreet notary had acted as intermediary, with-
out ever disclosing anything.
The Baron de Mordiane accordingly knew merely
that a child of his was living somewhere in the
neighborhood of Marseilles, that he was looked
upon as intelligent and well-educated, and that he
had married the daughter of an architect and con-
tractor to whose business he had succeeded. He
was also believed to be wealthy.
Why should he not go and see this unknown son
without telling his name, in order to form an opin-
ion about him, and to assure himself whether, in
case of necessity, he might find an agreeable refuge
in this family.
He had acted handsomely toward the young man,
had settled a good fortune on him, which had been
thankfully accepted. He was, therefore, certain
DUCHOUX 361
that he would not find himself clashing against any
inordinate sense of self-importance; and this de-
sire of setting out for the South, which was renewed
each day, acted like a kind of irritant. A strange,
selfish feeling of affection also attracted him as he
pictured this pleasant, warm abode by the seaside,
where he would meet his young and pretty daugh-
ter-in-law, his grandchildren with outstretched
arms, and his son, who would recall to his memory
the charming and short-lived adventure of bygone
years. He regretted only having given so much
money, and that this money had prospered in the
young man's hands, thus preventing him from any
longer presenting himself in the character of a
benefactor.
He hurried along with the collar of his fur coat
turned up, his mind full of all these thoughts. Sud-
denly he made up his mind. A cab was passing ; he
hailed it, drove home, and, when his valet, just
roused from a nap, had opened the door, he said :
"Louis, we set out to-morrow evening for Mar-
seilles. We shall remain there perhaps a fortnight.
You will make all the necessary preparations."
The train rushed on past the Rhone with its
sand-banks, then through yellow plains, bright vil-
lages, and a wide expanse of country, shut in by
bare mountains, which rose on the distant horizon.
The Baron de Mordiane, after a night spent in
a sleeping compartment, looked at himself, in a
melancholy fashion, in the little mirror of his dress-
Vol. 124
362 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
ing-case. The glaring sun of the South showed
him some wrinkles which he had not observed
before a condition of decrepitude unnoticed in
the imperfect light of Parisian rooms. He thought,
as he examined the corners of his eyes, and saw
the wrinkled lids, the temples, the skinny forehead :
"Damn it! not merely is the gloss taken off
I've become quite a regular fossil."
And his desire for rest suddenly increased, with
a vague yearning, born in him for the first time, to
take his grandchildren on his knees.
About one o'clock in the afternoon the Baron
arrived in a landau, which he had hired at Mar-
seilles, at the gate of one of those houses of South-
ern France so dazzlingly white, at the end of their
avenues of plane-trees, that they almost blind one
at first. He smiled as he pursued his way along the
avenue leading to the house, and reflected:
"Deuce take it! this is a nice place."
Suddenly, a young rogue of five or six darted out
of the shrubbery, and remained standing at the side
of the path, staring at the gentleman.
Mordiane went over to him.
"Good morning, my boy."
The child made no reply.
The Baron, stooping, took him up in his arms to
kiss him, but the smell of garlic with which the
child seemed impregnated almost suffocated him,
and he quickly put him down again, muttering:
"Oh! it is the gardener's son."
DUCHOUX 363
And he proceeded toward the house.
The linen was hanging out on a line before the
door shirts and chemises, napkins, dish-cloths,
aprons, and sheets, while a row of socks, hanging
from strings one above the other, filled up an entire
window, like sausages exposed for sale in front of
a pork-butcher's shop.
The Baron announced his arrival. A servant-
girl apeared, a true servant of the South, dirty
and untidy, with her hair hanging in wisps over her
face, while her petticoat, under the accumulation of
stains that had soiled it, retained only a certain
uncouth remnant of its former color, and might
have done for the particolored suit of a clown.
He asked :
"Is Monsieur Duchoux at home?"
Many years ago, in the mocking spirit of a cyni-
cal man of pleasure, he had given this name to the
foundling in order that it might not be forgotten
that he had been picked up under a cabbage.
The servant-girl asked:
"Do you want Monsieur Duchoux?"
"Yes."
"Well, he is in the big room, drawing some
plans."
"Tell him that Monsieur Merlin wishes to speak
to him."
She replied, in amazement:
"Hey! go inside then, if you want to see him."
And she bawled out:
364 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
"Mo'sieur Duchoux a caller."
The Baron entered, and in a spacious apartment,
darkened by the windows being half-closed, he in-
distinctly traced out persons and things that ap-
peared to him very slovenly.
Standing in front of a table laden with articles
of every sort, a little bald man was tracing lines on
a large sheet of paper.
He interrupted his work, and advanced two steps.
His waistcoat left open, his unbuttoned breeches,
and his turned-up shirt-sleeves, indicated that he
felt hot, and his muddy shoes showed that it had
been raining hard for some days. He asked with
a very broad Southern accent:
"Whom have I the honor of ?"
"Monsieur Merlin; I came to consult you about
the purchase of a building-lot."
"Ha! ha! that is good."
And Duchoux, turning toward his wife, who was
knitting in the shade, said :
"Clear off a chair, Josephine."
Mordiane then saw a young woman, who ap-
peared prematurely old, as women look old at
twenty-five in the provinces, for want of attention
to their persons, of regular baths, and all the little
cares bestowed on the feminine toilet that freshen
and preserve, till the age of fifty, the charm and
beauty of the sex. With a kerchief over her shoul-
ders, her hair clumsily braided though it was
lovely hair, thick and black, one could see that it
DUCHOUX 365
was badly brushed she stretched out hands like
those of a servant, and removed an infant's robe,
a knife, a fag-end of packthread, an empty flower-
pot, and a greasy plate left on the seat of a chair,
which she then moved over toward the visitor.
He sat down, and presently noticed that
Duchoux's work-table had on it, in addition to the
books and papers, two lettuces recently gathered, a
wash-basin, a hair-brush, a napkin, a revolver, and
cups that had not been washed.
The architect perceived this look, and said with a
smile:
"Excuse us! The room is rather untidy owing
to the children."
And he drew over his chair in order to chat with
his client.
"So you are looking out for a piece of ground
in the neighborhood of Marseilles ?"
His breath carried toward the Baron that odor-
of garlic which the people of the South exhale as
flowers shed their perfume.
Mordiane asked:
"Is it your son that I met under the plane-
trees?"
"Yes. Yes, the second."
"You have two of them?"
"Three, Monsieur, one a year."
And Duchoux looked full of pride.
The Baron was thinking to himself :
"If they all have the same perfume, their nursery
366 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
must be a real conservatory." Then he continued:
"Yes, I should like a nice piece of ground near
the sea, on a little solitary strip of beach "
Thereupon Duchoux proceeded to explain. He
had ten, twenty, fifty, a hundred, or more, pieces of
ground of the kind required, at different prices and
suited to different tastes. He talked as a fountain
flows, smiling, self-satisfied, wagging his bald
round head.
And Mordiane was reminded of a little woman,
fair-haired, slight, with a somewhat melancholy
look, and a tender fashion of murmuring, "My dar-
ling," the mere remembrance of which stirred the
blood in his veins. She had loved him passion-
ately, madly, for three months ; then, becoming en-
ceinte in the absence of her husband, who was gov-
ernor of a colony, she had run away and concealed
herself, distracted with despair and terror, till the
birth of the child, which Mordiane carried off one
summer evening, and which they had not seen after-
ward.
She died of consumption three years later, in the
colony of which her husband was governor, whither
she had gone to join him. And here before him
was their son, who was saying, in metallic tones,
as he rang out his closing words :
"This piece of ground, Monsieur, is a rare bar-
gain "
And Mordiane recalled the other voice, light as
the touch of a gentle b*eze, as it used to murmur :
DUCHOUX 367
My darling, we shall never part-
And he remembered the soft, deep, devoted glance
in those blue eyes, as he watched the round, vacant
eyes, though also blue, of this ridiculous little man,
who, in spite of all, bore a resemblance to his
mother.
Yes, he looked more like her every moment
like her in accent, in movement, in his entire de-
portment. He resembled her, but as an ape resem-
bles a man. Still he was hers ; he displayed a thou-
sand external characteristics peculiar to her, though
in a distorted, irritating, and revolting form.
The Baron was galled, haunted as he was all of a
sudden by this resemblance, horrible, each instant
growing stronger, exasperating, maddening, tortur-
ing him like a nightmare, like a weight of remorse.
He stammered out:
"When can we look at this piece of ground to-
gether?"
"Why, to-morrow, if you like."
"Well, yes, to-morrow. At what hour?"
"One o'clock."
"Very well."
The child he had met in the avenue appeared be-
fore the open door, exclaiming:
"Dada!"
There was no answer.
Mordiane had risen with a longing to run away,
which made his legs tremble. This "dada" had hit
him like a bullet. It was to him that it was ad-
368 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
dressed, it was intended for him, this "dada," smell-
ing of garlic, this "dada" of the South!
Oh ! how sweet had been the perfume exhaled by
her, his sweetheart of bygone days !
Duchoux saw him to the door.
"This house is your own?" said the Baron.
"Yes, Monsieur; I bought it recently. And I am
proud of it. I am a child of accident, Monsieur,
and I don't care to hide it. I am proud of it. I
owe nothing to any one; I am the son of my own
efforts; I owe everything to myself."
The little boy, who remained on the threshold
kept on exclaiming, though at some distance:
"Dada!"
Mordiane, shaking as with a chill, seized with
panic, fled as one flees from a great danger.
"He is about to guess who I am, to recognize
me," he thought. "He is about to take me in his
arms, and call out to me 'dada' while giving me a
kiss perfumed with garlic."
"To-morrow, Monsieur."
"To-morrow, at one o'clock."
The landau rolled over the white road.
"Coachman! to the railway-station!"
And he heard two voices, one far-away and
sweet, the faint, sad voice of the dead, saying:
"My darling," and the other sonorous, sing-song,
frightful, bawling out, "Dada," just as people bawl
out "Stop him!" when a thief is flying through
the street.
DUCHOUX 369
Next evening as he entered the club, the Count
d'Etreillis said to him :
"We have not seen you for the last three days.
Have you been ill?"
"Yes, a little indisposed. I get these headaches
from time to time."
TIMBUCTOO
THAT river of humanity, the boulevard, was
alive with people in the golden light of the
setting sun. The sky was red, blinding; and
behind the Madeleine a great bank of flaming clouds
cast a shower of light the whole length of the
boulevard, vibrant as the heat from a brazier.
The gay, animated crowd went by in this golden
mist, and appeared to be glorified. Their faces were
gilded, their black hats and clothes took on purple
tints, the patent leather on their shoes cast bright
reflections on the asphalt of the sidewalk.
Before the cafes a mass of men were drinking
opalescent liquids that looked like precious stones
dissolved in the glasses.
In the midst of them two officers in uniform
dazzled all eyes with their glittering gold lace. They
chatted, happy without asking why, in this glory
of life, in this radiant light of sunset, and they
looked at the crowd, the leisurely men and the
hurrying women, who left a bewildering odor of
perfume as they passed by.
All at once an enormous negro, dressed in black,
370
TIMBUCTOO 371
with a paunch beneath his jean waistcoat, which
was covered with charms, his face shining as if it
had been polished, passed before them with a tri-
umphant air. He laughed at the passers-by, at the
news vendors, at the dazzling sky, at all Paris.
He was so tall that he overtopped every one else,
and when he had passed all the loungers turned
round to look at his back.
But he suddenly perceived the officers, and darted
toward them, jostling the drinkers in his path. As
soon as he reached their table he fixed his delighted
eyes upon them, and his mouth expanded to his
ears, showing his dazzling white teeth like a crescent
moon in a black sky. The two men looked in aston-
ishment at this ebony giant, unable to understand
his delight.
With a voice that made the guests laugh, he said :
"Good day, my Lieutenant."
One of the officers was commander of a battalion,
the other was a colonel. The former said :
" I do not know you, sir ; I am at a loss to know
what you want of me."
"We like you much, Lieutenant VeMie, siege of
Bezi, much grapes, find me."
The officer, bewildered, looked at the man in-
tently, trying to refresh his memory; then he ex-
claimed abruptly:
"Timbuctoo?"
The negro, radiant, slapped his thigh as he ut-
tered a tremendous laugh and roared :
372 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
"Yes, yes, my Lieutenant, you remember Tim-
buctoo ! Ya, how do you do ?"
The commandant held out his hand, laughing
heartily. Then Timbuctoo became serious, seized
the officer's hand, and, before the other could pre-
vent it, he kissed it, according to negro and Arab
custom. The officer, embarrassed, said in a severe
tone:
"Come, now, Timbuctoo, we are not in Africa.
Sit down there and tell me how it is that I find
you here."
Timbuctoo swelled himself out and, his words
falling over one another, replied hurriedly :
"I make much money, much, big restaurant, good
food, Prussians, me much steal, much, French cook-
ing, Timbuctoo, cook to the Emperor, two thousand
francs mine. Ha! ha! ha!"
And he laughed, doubling himself up, roaring,
with wild delight in his glances.
When the officer, who understood his manner of
expressing himself, had questioned him, he said:
"Well, au revoir, Timbuctoo. I will see you
again."
The negro rose, this time shaking the hand that
was extended to him, and, smiling still, said:
"Good day, my Lieutenant!"
He went off, so happy that he gesticulated as he
walked, and people thought he was crazy.
"Who is that brute?" asked the Colonel.
"A fine fellow and a brave soldier. I will eeH
TIMBUCTOO 373
you what I know about him. It is funny enough.
"You know that at the beginning of the war of
1870 I was shut up in Bezieres, which this negro
called Bezi. We were not besieged, but blockaded.
The Prussian lines surrounded us, outside the reach
:>f cannon, not firing on us, but slowly starving us
DUt.
"I was then lieutenant. Our garrison consisted
of all descriptions of soldiers, fragments of slaugh-
tered regiments, some that had run away, and free-
booters separated from the main army. We had all
kinds in fact, even eleven Turcos (Algerian sol-
diers in the service of France), who arrived one
evening no one knew whence or how. They ap-
peared at the gates of the city, exhausted, in rags,
starving and dirty, and were handed over to me.
"I saw very soon that they were quite undisci-
plined, always in the street, and always drunk. I
tried putting them in the guard-house, even in
prison, but nothing was of any use. They would
disappear, sometimes for days at a time, as if they
had been swallowed up by the earth, and then come
back beastly drunk. They had no money. Where
did they buy drink? And how, and with what?
"This began to worry me greatly, all the more as
these savages interested me with their everlasting
laugh and the characteristics of overgrown, frolic-
some children.
"I then noticed that they implicitly obeyed the
largest among them, the one you have just seen.
374 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
He made them do as he pleased, and planned their
mysterious expeditions with the undisputed author-
ity of a leader. I sent for him and questioned him.
Our conversation lasted three hours, for it was
hard for me to understand his remarkable gibberish.
As for him, poor devil, he made strenuous efforts
to render himself intelligible, invented words, ges-
ticulated, perspired in his anxiety, mopping his
forehead, puffing, stopping, and abruptly beginning
again when he thought he had formed some new
method of explaining what he wanted to say.
"I understood, finally, that he was the son of a
big chief, a sort of negro king of the region around
Timbuctoo. I asked his name. He repeated some-
thing like Chavaharibouhalikranapotapolara. It
seemed simpler to me to give him the name of his
native place, Timbuctoo. And a week later he was
known by no other name in the garrison.
"But we were all wildly anxious to find out
where this African ex-prince procured his drinks.
I discovered it in a singular way.
"I was on the ramparts one morning, watching
the horizon, when I perceived something moving
about in a vineyard. It was near the time of
vintage, the grapes were ripe, but I was not think-
ing of that. I though a spy was approaching the
town, and I organized a complete expedition to
catch the prowler. I took command myself, after
obtaining permission from the general.
"I sent out by three different gates three little
TIMBUCTOO 375
companies, which were to meet at the suspected
vineyard and form a cordon round it. To cut off
the spy's retreat, one of these detachments had to
make at least an hour's march. A watch on the
walls signaled to me that the person I had seen
had not left the place. We went along in profound
silence, creeping along the paths. At last we
reached the spot assigned.
"I abruptly disbanded my soldiers, who darted
into the vineyard, and found Timbuctoo, on hands
and knees, traveling round among the vines and
eating grapes, or, rather, devouring them as a dog
eats his sop, snatching them in mouthfuls from the
vine with his teeth.
"I wanted him to get up, but he could not think
of it. I then understood why he was crawling on
his hands and knees. As soon as we stood him on
his feet he began to wabble, then stretched out his
arms and fell down on his nose. He was more
drunk than I have ever seen any one.
"They brought him home on two poles. He
never stopped laughing all the way back, gesticulat-
ing with his arms and legs.
"This explained the mystery. My men also
drank the juice of the grapes, and when they were
thoroughly intoxicated they went to sleep in the
vineyard. As for Timbuctoo, his love of the vine-
yard was beyond all belief and all bounds. He
lived in it as did the thrushes, which he hated with
the jealous hatred of a rival. He assured me:
376 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
" The thrushes eat all the grapes, Captain !'
"One evening I was sent for. Something had
been seen on the plain coming in our direction. I
had not brought my field-glass, and I could not dis-
tinguish things clearly. It looked like a great ser-
pent uncoiling itself a convoy, how could I tell ?
"I sent some men to meet this strange caravan,
which presently made its triumphal entry. Timbuc-
too and nine comrades were carrying, on a sort
of altar made of camp stools, eight grinning and
bleeding heads. The African was dragging along a
horse to whose tail another head was fastened, and
six other animals followed, adorned in the same
manner.
"This is what I learned. Having set out for the
vineyard, my Africans had suddenly perceived a
detachment of Prussians approaching a village. In-
stead of taking to their heels they hid themselves,
and as soon as the Prussian officers dismounted at
an inn to refresh themselves, the ten rascals rushed
on them, put to flight the lancers, who thought they
were being attacked by the main army, and killed
the two sentries, then the Colonel and the five
officers of his escort.
"That day I kissed Timbuctoo. I saw, however,
that he walked with difficulty, and I thought he wa's
wounded. He laughed and said :
" 'Me, provisions for my country.'
"Timbuctoo was not fighting for glory, but for
gain. Everything he found that seemed to him to
be of the slightest value, especially anything that
TIMBUCTOO 377
glistened, he put into his pocket. What a pocket!
An abyss that began at his hips and reached to his
ankles. He had retained an old term used by the
troopers, and called it his profonde, and it was his
profonde, in fact!
"He had taken the gold lace off the Prussian
uniforms, the brass off their helmets, detached their
buttons, and thrown them all into his profonde,
which was full to overflowing.
"Each day he pocketed every glistening object
that he saw: pieces of tin or pieces of silver, and
sometimes his contour was very comical.
"He intended to carry all that back to the land
of ostriches, whose brother he might have been, this
son of a king, tormented with the longing to gobble
up all objects that glistened. If he had not had his
profonde, what would he have done? Doubtless he
would have swallowed them.
"Every morning his pocket was empty. He had,
then, some general store where his riches were
hidden. But where? I could not discover it.
"The General, on being informed of Timbuctoo's
mighty act of valor, had the headless bodies that
had been left in the neighboring village interred at
once, that it might not be discovered that they were
decapitated. The Prussians returned thither the
following day. The Mayor and seven prominent
inhabitants were shot on the spot, by way of re-
prisal, as having denounced the Prussians.
"Winter arrived. We were exhausted and des-
Vol. 125
378 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
perate. There were skirmishes every day. The
famished men could no longer march. The eight
'Turcos' alone (three had been killed) remained
fat, shiny, vigorous, and always ready to fight.
Timbuctoo was even getting fatter. He said to me
one day:
" 'You much hungry, me good meat.'
"And he brought me an excellent filet. But of
what? We had no more cattle, nor sheep, nor
goats, nor donkeys, nor pigs. It was impossible to
find a horse. I thought of all this after I had de-
voured my meat. Then a horrible idea came to me.
These negroes were born close to a country where
human beings are eaten! And each day a number
of soldiers were killed around the town. I ques-
tioned Timbuctoo. He would not answer. I did
not insist, but from that time I declined his presents.
"He worshiped me. One night snow took us
by surprise at the outposts. We were seated on the
ground. I looked with pity at those poor negroes,
shivering beneath the white, frozen shower. I was
very cold and began to cough. At once I felt some-
thing fall on me, like a large warm quilt. It was
Timbuctoo's cape, which he had thrown over my
shoulders.
"I rose and returned his garment, saying:
" 'Keep it, my boy ; you need it more than I.'
" 'No, my Lieutenant, for you ; me no need, me
hot, hot!'
"And he looked at me entreatingly.
TIMBUCTOO 379
" 'Come, obey orders ! Keep your cape. I in-
sist/ I repeated.
"He stood up, drew his sword, which he had
sharpened to an edge like a scythe, and, holding in
his other hand the large cape which I had refused,
said:
" 'If you not keep cape, me cut; no one cape.'
"And he would have done it. So I yielded.
"Eight days later we capitulated. Some of us
had escaped. The rest were to march out of the
town and give themselves up to the conquerors.
"I went toward the parade ground, where we
were all to meet, when I was dumbfounded at the
sight of a gigantic negro dressed in white duck and
wearing a straw hat in front of a little shop where
two plates and two glasses were displayed. It was
Timbuctoo.
" 'What are you doing?' I asked.
" 'Me not go, me good cook, me make food for
(Lionel, Algeria; me eat Prussians, much steal,
much/
"There were ten degrees of frost. I shivered at
fight of this negro in white duck. He took me by
the arm and led me inside. I noticed a large flag
that he intended to place outside his door as soon
as we had left, for he had some shame. I read
this sign, traced by the hand of an accomplice:
" 'Army kitchen of M. Timbuctoo,
"'Formerly cook to H. M. the Emperor.
'"A Parisian Artist! Moderate Prices.'
380 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
"In spite of the despair that was gnawing at my
heart, I could not help laughing, and I left my negro
to his new enterprise.
"Was not that better than taking him prisoner?
"You have just seen that he made a success of
it, the rascal.
"Bezieres to-day belongs to the Germans, and the
Restaurant Timbuctoo is the beginning of a retalia-
tion."
DENIS
M ARAM EOT smiled when he opened the let-
ter that his servant Denis gave him. For
twenty years Denis had served in this house.
He was short, stocky and jovial, and was known
throughout the countryside as a model servant. He
asked :
"Is Monsieur pleased? Has Monsieur received
good news?"
M. Marambot was not rich. He was an old vil-
lage druggist, a bachelor, who lived on an income
acquired with difficulty by selling drugs to the
farmers. He answered :
"Yes, my boy. Old man Malois is afraid of
the lawsuit with which I have threatened him. I
shall get my money tomorrow. Five thousand
francs are not liable to harm the account of an
old bachelor."
M. Marambot rubbed his hands with satisfac-
tion. He was a man of a quiet temperament,
oftener sad than gay, incapable of any prolonged
effort, and careless in business.
381
382 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
Undoubtedly he could have amassed a greater
fortune had he taken advantage of the deaths of
colleagues established in more important centers,
by taking their places and carrying on their busi-
ness. But the trouble of moving and the thought
of the necessary preparations had always stopped
him. After thinking the matter over for a few
days, he would say :
"Bah! I'll wait until the next time. I'll not
lose anything by the delay. I may even find some-
thing better."
Denis, on the contrary, was always urging his
master to new enterprises. He would continually
repeat :
"Oh! If I had only had the capital to begin
with, I could have made a fortune ! One thousand
francs would do me."
M. Marambot would smile without answering
and go out into his little garden, where, with his
hands behind his back, he would walk around,
dreaming.
Denis sang the joyful refrains of the folk-songs
of the neighborhood all day long. He even showed
an unusual activity, for he cleaned all the win-
dows of the house, energetically rubbing the glass,
and singing at the top of his voice.
Several times, smiling, M. Marambot, surprised
at his zeal, told him :
"My boy, if you work like that nothing will be
left for you to do to-morrow."
DENIS 383
The next day, at about nine o'clock in the morn-
ing, the postman gave Denis four letters for his
master, one of them very heavy. M. Marambot
immediately shut himself up in his room until late
in the afternoon. He then handed his servant
four letters, for the mail. One of these, addressed
to M. Malois, was undoubtedly a receipt for the
money.
Denis asked no questions; he appeared to be as
sad and gloomy that day as he had seemed joyful
the day before.
Night came. M. Marambot went to bed as usual
and slept.
Awakened by a strange noise, he sat up in his
bed and listened. Suddenly the door opened, and
Denis appeared, having in one hand a candle and
in the other a carving-knife, his eyes staring, his
face contracted as if moved by some deep emotion.
He was as pale as a ghost.
M. Marambot, astonished, thought that he was
sleep-walking, and he was going to get out of bed
and assist him, when the servant blew out the light
and rushed for the bed. His master stretched out
his hands to receive the shock which knocked him
over on his back ; he was trying to seize the hands
of his servant, whom he now thought to be crazy,
in order to avoid the blows which the latter was
aiming at him.
He was struck by the knife, once in the shoul-
der, once in the forehead and a third time in the
384 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
chest. He fought wildly, waving his arms around
in the darkness, kicking and crying:
"Denis! Denis! Are you mad? Listen,
Denis!"
But Denis, gasping for breath, kept up his furious
attack, always striking, always repulsed, sometimes
with a kick, sometimes with a punch, and again
rushing forward furiously.
M. Marambot was wounded twice more, once
in the leg and once in the stomach. But suddenly
a thought flashed across his mind, and he began
to shriek:
"Stop, stop, Denis. I have not yet received my
money !"
The man immediately ceased, and his master
could hear his labored breathing in the darkness.
M. Marambot immediately continued :
"I have received nothing. M. Malois takes back
what he said, the lawsuit will take place; that is
the reason you carried the letters to the mail. Just
read those on my desk."
With a final effort, he reached for his matches
and lighted the candle.
He was covered with blood. His sheets, his
curtains, and even the walls, were spattered with
red. Denis, also standing in the center of the room,
was bloody from head to foot.
When he saw that, M. Marambot thought him-
self dead, and he fell unconscious. At break of
day he revived. It was some time, however, before
DENIS 385
he regained his senses and was able to understand
or remember. But suddenly the memory of the
attack and of his wounds returned to him, and he
was filled with such fright that he closed his eyes,
afraid to see anything. After a few minutes he
grew calmer and began to think. He had not died
immediately, therefore he might still recover. He
was very weak; but he had no real pain, although
he noticed an uncomfortable smarting sensation in
several parts of his body. He also felt icy cold,
and all wet, and as if wrapped up in bandages. He
thought this dampness came from the loss of blood ;
and he shivered at the dreadful thought of the red
liquid which had come from his veins and covered
his bed. The fear of seeing this terrible spectacle
again so upset him that he kept his eyes closed
tightly, as if they might open in spite of himself.
What had become of Denis? He had probably
escaped. But what could he, Marambot, do now?
Get up? Call for help? But if he should make the
slightest motion, his wounds would undoubtedly
open again and he would die from loss of blood.
Suddenly he heard the door of his room open.
His heart almost stopped. It was certainly Denis
who was coming to finish him. He held his breath,
in order to make the murderer think he had been
successful.
He felt his sheet being lifted up, and then some
one feeling his stomach. A sharp pain near his
hip made him start. He was being very gently
386 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
washed with cold water. Therefore, some one must
have discovered the misdeed and he was being
cared for. A wild joy seized him; but prudently,
he did not wish to show that he was conscious.
He opened one eye, just one, with the greatest pre-
caution.
He recognized Denis standing beside him, Denis
himself ! Mercy ! He hastily closed his eye again.
Denis ! What could he be doing ? What did he
want? What awful scheme could he now be carry-
ing out?
What was he doing ? Well, he was washing him
in order to hide the traces of his crime! And he
would now bury him in the garden, under ten feet
of earth, so that no one should discover him ! Or
perhaps under the wine-cellar! And M. Maram-
bot began to tremble like a leaf. He kept saying
to himself: "I am lost, lost!" He closed his
eyes, so as not to see the knife as it descended
for the final stroke. But it did not come. Denis
was now lifting him up and bandaging him. Then
he began carefully to dress the wound on his leg,
as his master had taught him to do.
There was no longer any doubt. His servant,
after wishing to kill him, was trying to save him.
Then M. Marambot, in a dying voice, gave him
this practical piece of advice:
"Wash the wounds in a dilute solution of car-
bolic acid!"
"That is what I am doing, Monsieur," said Denis.
DENIS 387
M. Marambot opened both eyes. There was no
sign of blood either on the bed, on the walls, or
on the murderer. The wounded man was stretched
out on clean white sheets.
The two men looked at each other.
Finally M. Marambot said calmly:
"You have been guilty of a great crime."
Denis answered :
"I am trying to make up for it, Monsieur. If
you will not tell of it, I will serve you as faith-
fully as in the past."
This was no time to anger his servant. M. Ma-
rambot murmured as he closed his eyes :
"I swear not to tell."
Denis saved his master. He spent days and
nights without sleep, never leaving the sick-room,
preparing drugs, broths, potions, feeling his pulse,
anxiously counting the beats, attending him with
the skill of a trained nurse and the devotion of
a son.
He was all the time asking :
"Well, Monsieur, how do you feel?"
And M. Marambot would answer in a weak
voice :
"A little better, my boy, thank you."
And when the sick man woke at night, he often
aw his servant seated in an arm-chair, weeping
silently.
Never had the old druggist been so cared for.
io fondled, so spoiled. At first he had said:
388 GUY DE MAUPASSANT
"As soon as I am well I shall get rid of this
rascal."
He was now convalescing, and from day to day
he put off dismissing his murderer. He thought
no one would ever have such care and attentions
for him, since he held this man through fear; and
he warned him that he had left a document with a
lawyer denouncing him to the law if any new acci-
dent should occur.
This precaution seemed to guarantee him against
any future attack; and he then asked himself
whether it would not be wiser to keep this man near
him, and watch him closely.
Just as formerly, when he hesitated about taking
some more important store, he could not make up
his mind to any decision.
"There is always time," he would say.
Denis continued to show himself an admirable
servant. M. Marambot was well. He kept him.
One morning, as he was finishing breakfast, he
suddenly heard a great noise in the kitchen. He
hastened in there. Denis was struggling with two
gendarmes. An officer was taking notes on his pad.
As soon as he saw his master, the servant be-
gan to sob, exclaiming:
"You told, Monsieur; that's not right, after what
you had promised me. You have broken your word
of honor, Monsieur Marambot; that's not right."
M. Marambot, bewildered and distressed at being
suspected, lifted his hand:
DENIS 389
"I swear to you before the Lord, my boy, that
I did not tell. I haven't the slightest idea hojv
the police could have found out about your attack
on me."
The officer started :
"You say that he attacked you, Monsieur?"
The bewildered druggist answered :
"Yes but I did not tell of it I haven't said
a word I swear it he has served me excellently
ever since "
The officer said severely:
"I will take down your testimony. The lawv
will take notice of this new action, of which it was
ignorant, Monsieur Marambot. I was commis-
sioned to arrest your servant for the theft of two
ducks lately stolen by him from Monsieur Du-
hamel, for which action there are witnesses. I
shall take notice of your information."
"Then, turning to his men, he said:
"Come on, bring him along!"
The two gendarmes dragged Denis out.
The lawyer used a plea of insanity, contrasting
the two misdeeds in order to strengthen his argu-
ment. He had clearly proved that the theft of the
two ducks came from the same mental condition is
the eight knife-wounds in the body of Marambot.
He had cunningly analyzed all the phases of this
transitory condition of mental aberration, which
doubtless, could be cured by a few months' treat-
ment in a reputable sanitarium. He had spoken
390 GUY DE 'MAUPASSANT
in enthusiastic terms of the continued devotion of
this faithful servant, of the care with which he
had protected his master, wounded by him in a
moment of alienation.
Touched by this memory, M. Marambot felt the
tears rising to his eyes.
The lawyer noticed it, opened his arms with a
broad gesture, spreading out the long black sleeves
of his robe like the wings of a bat, and exclaimed :
"Look, look, gentlemen of the jury, look at those
tears. What more can I say for my client? What
speech, what argument, what reasoning would be
worth these tears of his master? They speak
louder than I, louder than the law ; they cry : 'Mercy
for the poor wandering mind !' They implore, they
pardon, they bless!"
He v/as silent and sat down.
Then the judge, turning to Marambot, whose
testimony had been favorable for his servant, asked
him:
"But, Monsieur, even admitting that you con-
sider this man insane, that does not explain why
you should have kept him. He was none the less
dangerous."
Marambot, wiping his eyes, answered :
"Well, your honor, what can you expect? Now-
adays it's so hard to find good servants I never
could have found a better one."
Denis was acquitted and sent to a sanatorium, at
his master's expense.
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