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PROPERTY   OF
A/   7
A R T E S SCI ENTIA VERITAS












I




I








"Suddenly I began to see myself in the depths of the mirror,
as through a mist."
After the original drawing by Julien Damazy.
(See page 32.)




I                        - -, -~`   rllr 11r l l   -  -- -  -   - --


SHORT STORIES
OF THE
TRAGEDY AND COMEDY OF LIFE
BY


GUY DE MAUPASSANT
VOL. II


rrlllRCn*rrsriFE3"X(~~I~b~R~II


ST. DUNSTAN SOCIETY
AKRON, OHIO
t


LPaaraq Illlrrr L —e -- le - — _ —, — J
'- 7 LI IC~CL_ I - - I ~ ~I - -~I II I I 1 -,,I II 1 I




8118
14 14,51
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COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY
M. WALTER DUNNE
Entered at Stationers' Hall, London




BedJ 4 p4;. A
TABLE OF CONTENTS*
PAG!
i, THE HORLA......          I
MISS HARRIET.....           36.  THE HOLE......           65
4. * LOVE.......           74
5.  THE  INN..........  82
(  A FAMILY............  100
7.  BELLFLOWER........      08
8.  IN THE WOOD.....          115
9. ' THE MARQUIS DE FUMEROL..   122
10. SAVED.............       32
II. WHO KNOWS?..,.....        140
12.  THE SIGNAL........      159
13.  THE  DEVIL........... 67
14.  THE VENUS OF BRANIZA...1..  77
15.  THE  RABBIT........   8
I6.  A DIVORCE CASE..........  192
17. LA MORILLONNE.......  202
18. THE TWENTY-FIVE FRANCS OF THE MOTHER
SUPERIOR.....           207
19.  EPIPHANY............  215
*At the close of the last Volume will be found a complete list of
the French Titles of De Maupassant's writings, with their English
equivalents.
(x)




X             TABLE OF CONTENTS
PAGE
20.  SIMON'S PAPA..........  231
21. WAITER, A "BOCK"........      244
22.  PAUL'S MISTRESS.........  254
23. THE SEQUEL TO A DIVORCE......    280
24. THE CLOWN........289
25. THE MAD WOMAN..........       296
26.  MADEMOISELLE............ 30
27. THE MAN WITH THE DOGS.....      308




ILLUSTRATIONS
"SUDDENLY I BEGAN TO SEE MYSELF IN THE DEPTHS OF
THE MIRROR, AS THROUGH A MIST".. Frontispiece
" ' NOW IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO GO OUT,' SHE SAID ". 130




I




THE HORLA
M.  M       [/fAr 8. What a lovely day! I
/   have spent all the morning lying
on the grass in front of my house,
under the enormous plantain tree
which covers and shades and shelters the whole of it.   I like this
part of the country; I am fond of
DJU       _, living here because I am attached to it
~-,s      by deep roots, the profound and delicate
roots which attach a man to the soil on
which his ancestors were born and died, to
their traditions, their usages, their food, the,cS=> local expressions, the peculiar language of the
-  peasants, the smell of the soil, the hamlets, and
to the atmosphere itself.
I love the house in which I grew up. From my
windows I can see the Seine, which flows by the side
of my garden, on the other side of the road, almost
through my grounds, the great and wide Seine, which
goes to Rouen and Havre, and which is covered with
boats passing to and fro.
"' On the left, down yonder, lies Rouen, populous
Rouen with its blue roofs massing under pointed,
2 G.deM.-I                   (1)




2


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


Gothic towers.  Innumerable are they, delicate or
broad, dominated by the spire of the cathedral, full of
bells which sound through the blue air on fine mornings, sending their sweet and distant iron clang to
me, their metallic sounds, now stronger and now
weaker, according as the wind is strong or light.
What a delicious morning it was! About eleven
o'clock, a long line of boats drawn by a steam-tug,
as big a fly, and which scarcely puffed while emitting
its thick smoke, passed my gate.
After two English schooners, whose red flags
fluttered toward the sky, there came a magnificent
Brazilian three-master; it was perfectly white and
wonderfully clean and shining. I saluted it, I hardly
know why, except that the sight of the vessel gave
me great pleasure.
May 12. I have had a slight feverish attack for
the last few days, and I feel ill, or rather I feel lowspirited.
Whence come those mysterious influences which
change our happiness into discouragement, and our
self-confidence into diffidence? One might almost
say that the air, the invisible air, is full of unknowable Forces, whose mysterious presence we have to
endure. I wake up in the best of spirits, with an inclination to sing in my heart. Why? I go down by
the side of the water, and suddenly, after walking a
short distance, I return home wretched, as if some
misfortune were awaiting me there. Why? Is it a
cold shiver which, passing over my skin, has upset
my nerves and given me a fit of low spirits? Is it
the form of the clouds, or the tints of the sky, or the
colors of the surrounding objects which are so change



THE HORLA


3


able, which have troubled my thoughts as they passed
before my eyes? Who can tell? Everything that
surrounds us, everything that we see without looking
at it, everything that we touch without knowing it,
everything that we handle without feeling it, everything that we meet without clearly distinguishing it,
has a rapid, surprising, and inexplicable effect upon
us and upon our organs, and through them on our
ideas and on our being itself.
How profound that mystery of the Invisible isl
We cannot fathom it with our miserable senses: our
eyes are unable to perceive what is either too small
or too great, too near to or too far from us; we can
see neither the inhabitants of a star nor of a drop of
water; our ears deceive us, for they transmit to us
the vibrations of the air in sonorous notes.  Our
senses are fairies who work the miracle of changing
that movement into noise, and by that metamorphosis
give birth to music, which makes the mute agitation
of nature a harmony. So with our sense of smell,
which is weaker than that of a dog, and so with our
sense of taste, which can scarcely distinguish the age
of a wine!
Oh   If we only had other organs which could
work other miracles in our favor, what a number of
fresh things we might discover around us I
May i6. I am ill, decidedly! I was so well last
monthl I am feverish, horribly feverish, or rather I
am In a state of feverish enervation, which makes my
mind suffer as much as my body. I have without
ceasing the horrible sensation of some danger threatening me, the apprehension of some coming misfortune or of approaching death, a presentiment which




4


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


is, no doubt, an attack of some illness still unnamed,
which germinates in the flesh and in the blood.
May I8. I have just come from consulting my
medical man, for I can no longer get any sleep.
He found that my pulse was high, my eyes dilated,
my nerves highly strung, but no alarming symptoms.
I must have a course of shower baths and of bromide
of potassium.
May 25. No change! My state is really very
peculiar. As the evening comes on, an incomprehensible feeling of disquietude seizes me, just as if
night concealed some terrible menace toward me. I
dine quickly, and then try to read, but I do not understand the words, and can scarcely distinguish the
letters. Then I walk up and down my drawingroom, oppressed by a feeling of confused and irresistible fear, a fear of sleep and a fear of my bed.
About ten o'clock I go up to my room. As soon
as I have entered I lock and bolt the door. I am
frightened-of what? Up till the present time I have
been frightened of nothing. I open my cupboards,
and look under my bed; I listen-I listen-to what?
How strange it is that a simple feeling of discomfort,
of impeded or heightened circulation, perhaps the
irritation of a nervous center, a slight congestion, a
small disturbance in the imperfect and delicate functions of our living machinery, can turn the most
light-hearted of men into a melancholy one, and make
a coward of the bravest? Then, I go to bed, and I
wait for sleep as a man might wait for the executioner. I wait for its coming with dread, and my
heart beats and my legs tremble, while my whole
body shivers beneath the warmth of the bedclothes,




THE HORLA


5


until the moment when I suddenly fall asleep, as a
man throws himself into a pool of stagnant water in
order to drown. I do not feel this perfidious sleep
coming over me as I used to, but a sleep which is
close to me and watching me, which is going to
seize me by the head, to close my eyes and annihilate me.
I sleep-a long time-two or three hours perhaps-then a dream-no-a nightmare lays hold on
me. I feel that I am in bed and asleep-I feel it and
I know it-and I feel also that somebody is coming
close to me, is looking at me, touching me, is getting on to my bed, is kneeling on my chest, is taking my neck between his hands and squeezing itsqueezing it with all his might in order to strangle
me.
I struggle, bound by that terrible powerlessness
which paralyzes us in our dreams; I try to cry outbut I cannot; I want to move-I cannot; I try, with
the most violent efforts and out of breath, to turn
over and throw off this being which is crushing and
suffocating me-I cannot!
And then suddenly I wake up, shaken and bathed
in perspiration; I light a candle and find that I am
alone, and after that crisis, which occurs every night,
I at length fall asleep and slumber tranquilly till
morning.
June 2. My state has grown worse. What is the
matter with me? The bromide does me no good,
and the shower-baths have no effect whatever.
Sometimes, in order to tire myself out, though I am
fatigued enough already, I go for a walk in the forest
of Roumare. I used to think at first that the fresh




6


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


light and soft air, impregnated with the odor of
herbs and leaves, would instill new life into my veins
and impart fresh energy to my heart. One day I
turned into a broad ride in the wood, and then I
diverged toward La Bouille, through a narrow path,
between two rows of exceedingly tall trees, which
placed a thick, green, almost black roof between the
sky and me.
A sudden shiver ran through me, not a cold
shie-~r, but a shiver of agony, and so I hastened my
steps, uneasy at being alone in the wood, frightened
stupidly and without reason, at the profound solitude.
Suddenly it seemed as if I were being followed, that
somebody was walking at my heels, close, quite close
to me, near enough to touch me.
I turned round suddenly, but I was alone. I saw
nothing behind me except the straight, broad ride,
empty and bordered by high trees, horribly empty;
on the other side also it extended until it was lost
in the distance, and looked just the same-terrible.
I closed my eyes. Why? And then I began to
turn round on one heel very quickly, just like a top.
I nearly fell down, and opened my eyes; the trees
were dancing round me and the earth heaved; I was
obliged to sit down. Then, ah! I no longer remembered how I had come! What a strange idea! What
a strange, strange idea! I did not the least know.
I started off to the right, and got back into the
avenue which had led me into the middle of the
forest.
June 3. I have had a terrible night. I shall go
away for a few weeks, for no doubt a journey will
set me up again.




THE HORLA


7


July 2. I have come back, quite cured, and have
had a most delightful trip into the bargain. I have
been to Mont Saint-Michel, which I had not seen before.
What a sight, when one arrives as I did, at
Avranches toward the end of the day! The town
stands on a hill, and I was taken into the public
garden at the extremity of the town. I uttered a cry
of astonishment. An extraordinarily large bay lay
extended before me, as far as my eyes could reach,
between two hills which were lost to sight in the
mist; and in the middle of this immense yellow bay,
under a clear, golden sky, a peculiar hill rose up,
somber and pointed in the midst of the sand. The
sun had just disappeared, and under the still flaming
sky stood out the outline of that fantastic rock,
which bears on its summit a picturesque monument.
At daybreak I went to it. The tide was low, as
it had been the night before, and I saw that wonderful abbey rise up before me as I approached it.
After several hours' walking, I reached the enormous
mass of rock which supports the little town, dominated by the great church. Having climbed the steep
and narrow street, I entered the most wonderful
Gothic building that has ever been erected to God on
earth, large as a town, and full of low rooms which
seem buried beneath vaulted roofs, and of lofty galleries supported by delicate columns.
I entered this gigantic granite jewel, which is as
light in its effect as a bit of lace and is covered with
towers, with slender belfries to which spiral staircases
ascend. The flying buttresses raise strange heads that
bristle with chimeras, with devils, with fantastic ani



8


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


mals, with monstrous flowers, are joined together by
finely carved arches, to the blue sky by day, and to
the black sky by night.
When I had reached the summit, I said to the
monk who accompanied me: "Father, how happy
you must be here!" And he replied: "It is very
windy, Monsieur"; and so we began to talk while
watching the rising tide, which ran over the sand
and covered it with a steel cuirass.
And then the monk told me stories, all the old
stories belonging to the place-legends, nothing but
legends.
One of them struck me forcibly. The country
people, those belonging to the Mornet, declare that at
night one can hear talking going on in the sand, and
also that two goats bleat, one with a strong, the other
with a weak voice. Incredulous people declare that
it is nothing but the screaming of the sea birds,
which occasionally resembles bleatings, and occasionally human lamentations; but belated fishermen swear
that they have met an old shepherd, whose cloakcovered head they can never see, wandering on the
sand, between two tides, round the little town
placed so far out of the world. They declare he is
guiding and walking before a he-goat with a man's
face and a she-goat with a woman's face, both with
white hair, who talk incessantly, quarreling in a
strange language, and then suddenly cease talking in
order to bleat with all their might.
"Do you believe it?" I asked the monk. "I
scarcely know," he replied; and I continued: "If
there are other beings besides ourselves on this earth,
how comes it that we have not known it for so long




THE HORLA  -


9


a time, or why have you not seen them? How is it
that I have not seen them?"
He replied: "Do we see the hundred-thousandth
part of what exists? Look here; there is the wind,
which is the strongest force in nature. It knocks
down men, and blows down buildings, uproots trees,
raises the sea into mountains of water, destroys cliffs
and casts great ships on to the breakers; it kills, it
whistles, it sighs, it roars. But have you ever seen
it, and can you see it? Yet it exists for all that."
I was silent before this simple reasoning. That
man was a philosopher, or perhaps a fool; I could
not say which exactly, so I held my tongue. What
he had said had often been in my own thoughts.
July 3. I have slept badly; certainly there is some
feverish influence here, for my coachman is suffering
in the same way as I am. When I went back home
yesterday, I noticed his singular paleness, and I
asked him: "What is the matter with you, Jean?"
"The matter is that I never get any rest, and my
nights devour my days. Since your departure, Monsieur, there has been a spell over me."
However, the other servants are all well, but I am
very frightened of having another attack, myself.
July 4. I am decidedly taken again; for my old
nightmares have returned. Last night I felt somebody leaning on me who was sucking my life from
between my lips with his mouth. Yes, he was sucking it out of my neck like a leech would have done.
Then he got up, satiated, and I woke up, so beaten,
crushed, and annihilated that I could not move. If
this continues for a few days, I shall certainly go
away again.




10


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


July 5. Have I lost my reason? What has happened? What I saw last night is so strange that
my head wanders when I think of it!
As I do now every evening, I had locked my door;
then, being thirsty, I drank half a glass of water, and
I accidentally noticed that the water-bottle was full
up to the cut-glass stopper.
Then I went to bed and fell into one of my terrible sleeps, from which I was aroused in about two
hours by a still more terrible shock.
Picture to yourself a sleeping man who is being
murdered, who wakes up with a knife in his chest,
a gurgling in his throat, is covered with blood, can
no longer breathe, is going to die and does not understand anything at all about it-there you have It.
Having recovered my senses, I was thirsty again,
so I lighted a candle and went to the table on which
my water-bottle was. I lifted it up and tilted it over
my glass, but nothing came out. It was empty! It
was completely empty! At first I could not understand it at all; then suddenly I was seized by such a
terrible feeling that I had to sit down, or rather fall
into a chair! Then I sprang up with a bound to
look about me; then I sat down again, overcome by
astonishment and fear, in front of the transparent
crystal bottle! I looked at it with fixed eyes, trying
to solve the puzzle, and my hands trembled! Somebody had drunk the water, but who? I? I without
any doubt. It could surely only be I? In that case.
I was a somnambulist-was living, without knowing
it, that double, mysterious life which makes us doubt
whether there are not two beings in us-whether a
strange, unknowable, and invisible being does not,




THE HORLA


I I


during our moments of mental and physical torpor,
animate the inert body, forcing it to a more willing
obedience than it yields to ourselves.
Oh! Who will understand my horrible agony?
Who will understand the emotion of a man sound in
mind, wide-awake, full of sense, who looks in horror
at the disappearance of a little water while he was
asleep, through the glass of a water-bottle! And I
remained sitting until it was daylight, without venturing to go to bed again.
July 6. I am going mad. Again all the contents
of my water-bottle have been drunk during the night;
or rather I have drunk it!
But is it I? Is it I? Who could it be? Who?
Oh! God! Am I going mad? Who will save me?
July io. I have just been through some surprising ordeals. Undoubtedly I must be mad! And yet!
On July 6, before going to bed, I put some wine,
milk, water, bread, and strawberries on my table.
Somebody drank - I drank - all the water and a little of the milk, but neither the wine, nor the bread,
nor the strawberries were touched.
On the seventh of July I renewed the same experiment, with the same results, and on July 8 I left out
the water and the milk and nothing was touched.
Lastly, on July 9 I put only water and milk on
my table, taking care to wrap up the bottles in white
muslin and to tie down the stoppers. Then I rubbed
my lips, my beard, and my hands with pencil lead,
and went to bed.
D^eep slumber seized me, soon followed by a terrible awakening. I had not moved, and my sheets
were not marked. I rushed to the table. The must




12


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


lin round the bottles remained intact; I undid the
string, trembling with fear. All the water had been
drunk, and so had the milk! Ah! Great God! I must
start for Paris immediately.
July 12. Paris. I must have lost my head during
the last few days! I must be the plaything of my
enervated imagination, unless I am really a somnambulist, or I have been brought under the power of
one of those influences-hypnotic suggestion, for
example-which are known to exist, but have hitherto been inexplicable. In any case, my mental state
bordered on madness, and twenty-four hours of Paris
sufficed to restore me to my equilibrium.
Yesterday after doing some business and paying
some visits, which instilled fresh and invigorating
mental air into me, I wound up my evening at the
Theatre Frangais. A drama by Alexander Dumas the
Younger was being acted, and his brilliant and powerful play completed my cure.  Certainly solitude is
dangerous for active minds. We need men who can
think and can talk, around us. When we are alone
for a long time, we people space with phantoms.
I returned along the boulevards to my hotel in
excellent spirits. Amid the jostling of the crowd I
thought, not without irony, of my terrors and surmises of the previous week, because I believed, yes,
I believed, that an invisible being lived beneath my
roof. How weak our mind is; how quickly it is terrified and unbalanced as soon as we are confronted
with a small, incomprehensible fact. Instead of dismissing the problem with: "We do not understand
because we cannot find the cause," we immediately
imagine terrible mysteries and supernatural powers.




THE HORLA


13


July 14. Fete of the Republic. I walked through
the streets, and the crackers and flags amused me
like a child. Still, it is very foolish to make merry
on a set date, by Government decree. People are
like a flock of sheep, now steadily patient, now in
ferocious revolt. Say to it: "Amuse yourself," and
it amuses itself. Say to it: "Go and fight with
your neighbor," and it goes and fights. Say to it:
"Vote for the Emperor," and it votes for the Emperor; then say to it: "Vote for the Republic," and
it votes for the Republic.
Those who direct it are stupid, too; but instead of
obeying men they obey principles, a course which
can only be foolish, ineffective, and false, for the very
reason that principles are ideas which are considered
as certain and unchangeable, whereas in this world
one is certain of nothing, since light is an illusion
and noise is deception.
July 16. I saw some things yesterday that troubled
me very much.
I was dining at my cousin's, Madame Sable, whose
husband is colonel of the Seventy-sixth Chasseurs at
Limoges. There were two young women there, one
of whom had married a medical man, Dr. Parent,
who devotes himself a great deal to nervous diseases
and to the extraordinary manifestations which just
now experiments in hypnotism and suggestion are
producing.
He related to us at some length the enormous results obtained by English scientists and the doctors
of the medical school at Nancy, and the facts which
he adduced appeared to me so strange, that I declared that I was altogether incredulous.




14


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"We are," he declared, "on the point of discovering one of the most important secrets of nature, I
mean to say, one of its most important secrets on
this earth, for assuredly there are some up in the
stars, yonder, of a different kind of importance. Ever
since man has thought, since he has been able to express and write down his thoughts, he has felt himself close to a mystery which is impenetrable,to his
coarse and imperfect senses, and he endeavors to supplement the feeble penetration of his organs by the
efforts of his intellect. As long as that intellect remained in its elementary stage, this intercourse with
invisible spirits assumed forms which were commonplace though terrifying. Thence sprang the popular
belief in the supernatural, the legends of wandering
spirits, of fairies, of gnomes, of ghosts, I might even
say the conception of God, for our ideas of the
Workman-Creator, fromf whatever religion they may
have come down to us, are certainly the most mediocre, the stupidest, and the most unacceptable inventions that ever sprang from the frightened brain of
any human creature. Nothing is truer than what
Voltaire says: 'If God made man in His own image,
man has certainly paid Him back again.'
"But for rather more than a century, men seem
to have had a presentiment of something new. Mesmer and some others have put us on an unexpected
track, and within the last two or three years especially, we have arrived at results really surprising."
My cousin, who is also very incredulous, smiled,
and Dr. Parent said to her: "Would you like me to
try and send you to sleep, Madame?"
"Yes, certainly."




THE HORLA


I5


She sat down in an easy-chair, and he began to
look at her fixedly, as if to fascinate her. I suddenly
felt myself somewhat discomposed; my heart beat
rapidly and I had a choking feeling in my throat. I
saw that Madame Sable's eyes were growing heavy,
her mouth twitched, and her bosom heaved, and at
the end of ten minutes she was asleep.
"Go behind her," the doctor said to me; so I
took a seat behind her. He put a visiting-card into
her hands, and said to her: "This is a looking-glass;
what do you see in it?"
She replied: "I see my cousin."
"What is he doing?"
"He is twisting his mustache."
"And now?"
"He is taking a photograph out of his pocket."
"Whose photograph is it?"
"His own."
That was true, for the photograph had been given
me that same evening at the hotel.
"What is his attitude in this portrait?"
"He is standing up with his hat in his hand."
She saw these things in that card, in that piece
of white pasteboard, as if she had seen them in a
looking-glass.
The young women were frightened, and exclaimed:
"That is quite enough! Quite, quite enoughl"
But the doctor said to her authoritatively: "You
will get up at eight o'clock to-morrow morning; then
you will go and call on your cousin at his hotel and
ask him to lend you the five thousand francs which
your husband asks of you, and which he will ask for
when he sets out on his coming journey."




WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


Then he woke her up.
On returning to my hotel, I thought over this
curious stance and I was assailed by doubts, not as
to my cousin's absolute and undoubted good faith,
for I had known her as well as if she had been my
own sister ever since she was a child, but as to a
possible trick on the doctor's part. Had not he, perhaps, kept a glass hidden in his hand, which he
showed to the young woman in her sleep at the
same time as he did the card? Professional conjurers do things which are just as singular.
However, I went to bed, and this morning, at
about half past eight, I was awakened by my footman, who said to me: "Madame Sable has asked to
see you immediately, Monsieur." I dressed hastily and
went to her.
She sat down in some agitation, with her eyes on
the floor, and without raising her veil said to me: "My
dear cousin, I am going to ask a great favor of you."
"What is it, cousin?"
"I do not like to tell you, and yet I must. I am
in absolute want of five thousand francs."
"What, you?"
"Yes, I, or rather my husband, who has asked
me to procure them for him."
I was so stupefied that I hesitated to answer. I
asked myself whether she had not really been
making fun of me with Dr. Parent, if it were not
merely a very well-acted farce which had been got
up beforehand. On looking at her attentively, however, my doubts disappeared. She was trembling
with grief, so painful was this step to her, and I
was sure that her throat was full of sobs.




THE HORLA


I7


I knew that she was very rich and so I continued: "What! Has not your husband five thousand
francs at his disposal? Come, think. Are you sure
that he commissioned you to ask me for them?"
She hesitated for a few seconds, as if she were
making a great effort to search her memory, and then
she replied: "Yes-yes, I am quite sure of it."
"He has written to you?"
She hesitated again and reflected, and I guessed
the torture of her thoughts. She did not know.
She only knew that she was to borrow five thousand francs of me for her husband.   So she told
a lie.
"Yes, he has written to me."
"When, pray? You did not mention it to me
yesterday."
"I received his letter this morning."
"Can you show it to me?"
"No; no -no - it contained private matters, things
too personal to ourselves. I burned it."
"So your husband runs into debt?"
She hesitated again, and then murmured: "I do
not know."
Thereupon I said bluntly: "I have not five thousand francs at my disposal at this moment, my dear
cousin."
She uttered a cry, as if she were in pain and said:
"Oh! oh! I beseech you, I beseech you to get them
for me."
She got excited and clasped her hands as if she
were praying to me! I heard her voice change its
tone; she wept and sobbed, harassed and dominated
by the irresistible order that she had received.
G. dM. —




WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"Oh! oh! I beg you to-if you knew what I am
suffering-I want them to-day."
I had pity on her: "You shall have them by and
by, I swear to you."
"Oh! thank you! thank you! How      kind you
are."
I continued: "Do you remember what took place
at your house last night?"
"Yes."
"Do you remember that Dr. Parent sent you to
sleep?"
"Yes."
"Oh! Very well then; he ordered you to come
to me this morning to borrow five thousand francs,
and at this moment you are obeying that suggestion."
She considered for a few moments, and then
replied: "But as it is my husband who wants
them -"
For a whole hour I tried to convince her, but
could not succeed, and when she had gone I went to
the doctor. He was just going out, and he listened
to me with a smile, and said: "Do you believe
now?"
"Yes, I cannot help it."
"Let us go to your cousin's."
She was already resting on a couch, overcome
with fatigue. The doctor felt her pulse, looked at
her for some time with one hand raised toward her
eyes, which she closed by degrees under the irresistible power of this magnetic influence. When she was
asleep, he said:
"Your husband does not require the five thousand




THE HORLA


19


francs any longer! You must, therefore, forget that
you asked your cousin to lend them to you, and, if
he speaks to you about it, you will not understand
him."
Then he woke her up, and I took out a pocketbook and said: "Here is what you asked me for
this morning, my dear cousin." But she was so surprised, that I did not venture to persist; nevertheless,
I tried to recall the circumstance to her, but she
denied it vigorously, thought that I was making fun
of her, and in the end, very nearly lost her temper.
There! I have just come back, and I have not been
able to eat any lunch, for this experiment has altogether upset me.
July 19. Many people to whom I have told the
adventure have laughed at me. 1 no longer know
what to think. The wise man says: Perhaps?
July 21. I dined at Bougival, and then I spent
the evening at a boatmen's ball. Decidedly everything depends on place and surroundings. It would
be the height of folly to believe in the supernatural
on the lie de la Grenouilliere.* But on the top of
Mont Saint-Michel or in India, we are terribly under
the influence of our surroundings. I shall return home
next week.
July 30. I came back to my own house yesterday. Everything is going on well.
August 2. Nothing fresh; it is splendid weather,
and I spend my days in watching the Seine flow
past.
* Frog-island.




20


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


August 4. Quarrels among my servants. They
declare that the glasses are broken in the cupboards
at night. The footman accuses the cook, she accuses
the needlewoman, and the latter accuses the other
two. Who is the culprit? It would take a clever
person to tell.
August 6. This time, I am not mad. I have seen
-I have seen-I have seen!-I can doubt no longer
-I have seen it!
I was walking at two o'clock among my rosetrees, in the full sunlight-in the walk bordered by
autumn roses which are beginning to fall. As I
stopped to look at a Geant de Bataille, which had
three splendid blooms, I distinctly saw the stalk of
one of the roses bend close to me, as if an invisible
hand had bent it, and then break, as if that hand had
picked it! Then the flower raised itself, following
the curve which a hand would have described in
carrying it toward a mouth, and remained suspended
in the transparent air, alone and motionless, a terrible
red spot. three yards from  my eyes. In desperation
I rushed at it to take it! I found nothing; it had
disappeared. Then I was seized with furious rage
against myself, for it is not wholesome for a reasonable and serious man to have such hallucinations.
But was it a hallucination? I turned to look for
the stalk, and I found it immediately under the bush,
freshly broken, between the two other roses which
remained on the branch. I returned home, then,
with a much disturbed mind; for I am certain now,
certain as I am of the alternation of day and night,
that there exists close to me an invisible being who
lives on milk and on water, who can touch objects,




THE HORLA


21


take them and change their places; who is, consequently, endowed with a material nature, although
imperceptible to sense, and who lives as I do, under
my roofAzugust 7. I slept tranquilly. He drank the water
out of my decanter, but did not disturb my sleep.
I ask myself whether I am mad. As I was walking just now in the sun by the riverside, doubts as
to my own sanity arose in me; not vague doubts
such as I have had hitherto, but precise and absolute
doubts. I have seen mad people, and I have known
some who were quite intelligent, lucid, even clearsighted in every concern of life, except on one point.
They could speak clearly, readily, profoundly on everything; till their thoughts were caught in the breakers
of their delusions and went to pieces there, were
dispersed and swamped in that furious and terrible
sea of fogs and squalls which is called madness.
I certainly should think that I was mad, absolutely mad, if I were not conscious that I knew my
state, if I could not fathom it and analyze it with the
most complete lucidity. 1 should, in fact, be a reasonable man laboring under a hallucination. Some
unknown disturbance must have been excited in my
brain, one of those disturbances which physiologists
of the present day try to note and to fix precisely,
and that disturbance must have caused a profound
gulf in my mind and in the order and logic of my
ideas. Similar phenomena occur in dreams, and lead
us through the most unlikely phantasmagoria, without
causing  us any  surprise, because  our verifying
apparatus and our sense of control have gone to
sleep, while our imaginative faculty wakes and works.




22


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


Was it not possible that one of the imperceptible
keys of the cerebral finger-board had been paralyzed
in me? Some men lose the recollection of proper
names, or of verbs, or of numbers, or merely of dates,
in consequence of an accident. The localization of
all the avenues of thought has been accomplished
nowadays; what, then, would there be surprising in
the fact that my faculty of controlling the unreality of
certain hallucinations should be destroyed for the
time being?
I thought of all this as I walked by the side of the
water. The sun was shining brightly on the river
and made earth delightful, while it filled me with
love for life, for the swallows, whose swift agility is
always delightful in my eyes, for the plants by the
riverside, whose rustling is a pleasure to my ears.
By degrees, however, an inexplicable feeling of
discomfort seized me. It seemed to me as if some
unknown force were numbing and stopping me, were
preventing me from going further and were calling
me back. I felt that painful wish to return which
comes on you when you have left a beloved invalid
at home, and are seized by a presentiment that he is
worse.
I, therefore, returned despite of myself, feeling certain that I should find some bad news awaiting me,
a letter or a telegram. There was nothing, however,
and I was surprised and uneasy, more so than if I
had had another fantastic vision.
August 8. I spent a terrible evening, yesterday.
He does not show himself any more, but I feel that
He is near me, watching me, looking at me, penetrating me, dominating me, and more terrible to me




THE HORLA                 23
when He hides himself thus than if He were to
manifest his constant and invisible presence by supernatural phenomena. However, I slept.
August 9. Nothing, but I am afraid.
August to. Nothing; but what will happen tomorrow?
August ii. Still nothing. I cannot stop at home
with this fear hanging over me and these thoughts in
my mind; I shall go away.
August 12. Ten o'clock at night. All day long I
have been trying to get away, and have not been
able. I contemplated a simple and easy act of liberty,
a carriage ride to Rouen-and I have not been able
to do it. What is the reason?
August 13. When one is attacked by certain
maladies, the springs of our physical being seem
broken, our energies destroyed, our muscles relaxed,
our bones to be as soft as our flesh, and our blood
as liquid as water. I am experiencing the same in
my moral being, in a strange and distressing manner. I have no longer any strength, any courage,
any self-control, nor even any power to set my own
will in motion. I have no power left to will anything, but some one does it for me and I obey.
August 14. I am lost! Somebody possesses my
soul and governs it! Somebody orders all my acts, all
my movements, all my thoughts. I am no longer
master of myself, nothing except an enslaved and
terrified spectator of the things which I do. I wish
to go out; I cannot. He does not wish to; and so I
remain, trembling and distracted in the armchair in
which he keeps me sitting. I merely wish to get up
and to rouse myself, so as to think that I am still




24


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


master of myself: I cannot! I am riveted to my
chair, and my chair adheres to the floor in such a
manner that no force of mine can move us.
Then suddenly, I must, I must go to the foot of
my garden to pick some strawberries and eat them
-and I go there. I pick the strawberries and I eat
them! Oh! my God! my God! Is there a God? If
there be one, deliver me! save me! succor me! Pardon! Pity! Mercy! Save me! Oh! what sufferings!
what torture! what horror!
August 15. Certainly this is the way in which
my poor cousin was possessed and swayed, when she
came to borrow five thousand francs of me. She
was under the power of a strange will which had
entered into her, like another soul, a parasitic and
ruling soul. Is the world coming to an end?
But who is he, this invisible being that rules me,
this unknowable being, this rover of a supernatural
race?
Invisible beings exist, then! How is it then, that
since the beginning of the world they have never
manifested themselves in such a manner as they do to
me? I have never read anything that resembles what
goes on in my house. Oh! If I could only leave it,
if I could only go away and flee, and never return, I
should be saved; but I cannot.
August 16. I managed to escape to-day for two
hours, like a prisoner who finds the door of his dungeon accidentally open. I suddenly felt that I was
free and that He was far away, and so I gave orders
to put the horses in as quickly as possible, and I
drove to Rouen. Oh! how delightful to be able to
say to my coachman: "Go to Rouenl"




THE HORLA


25


I made him pull up before the library, and I
begged them to lend me Dr. Herrmann Herestauss's
treatise on the unknown inhabitants of the ancient
and modern world.
Then, as I was getting into my carriage, I intended
to say: "To the railway station!" but instead of
this I shouted-I did not speak, but I shouted-in
such a loud voice that all the passers-by turned
round: "Home!" and I fell back on to the cushion
of my carriage, overcome by mental agony. He had
found me out and regained possession of me.
Auguzst 17. Oh! What a night! what a night!
And yet it seems to me that I ought to rejoice. I
read until one o'clock in the morning! Herestauss,
Doctor of Philosophy and Theogony, wrote the history and the manifestation of all those invisible beings
which hover around man, or of whom he dreams.
He describes their origin, their domains, their power;
but none of them resembles the one which haunts
me. One might say that man, ever since he has
thought, has had a foreboding and a fear of a new
being, stronger than himself, his successor in this
world, and that, feeling him near, and not being able
to foretell the nature of the unseen one, he has, in
his terror, created the whole race of hidden beings,
vague phantoms born of fear.
Having, therefore, read until one o'clock in the
morning, I went and sat down at the open window,
in order to cool my forehead and my thoughts in the
calm  night air. It was very pleasant and warm!
How I should have enjoyed such a night formerlyl
There was no moon, but the stars darted out their
rays in the dark heavens. Who inhabits those worlds?




26


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


What forms, what living beings, what animals are
there yonder? Do those who are thinkers in those
distant worlds know more than we do? What can
they do more than we? What do they see which we
do not? Will not one of them, some day or other,
traversing space, appear on our earth to conquer it,
just as formerly the Norsemen crossed the sea in
order to subjugate nations feebler than themselves?
We are so weak, so powerless, sc ignorant, so
small-we who live on this particle of mud which
revolves in liquid air.
I fell asleep, dreaming thus in the cool night air,
and then, having slept for about three quarters of an
hour, I opened my eyes without moving, awakened
by an indescribably confused and strange sensation.
At first I saw nothing, and then suddenly it appeared
to me as if a page of the book, which had remained
open on my table, turned over of its own accord.
Not a breath of air had come in at my window, and
I was surprised and waited. In about four minutes,
I saw, I saw-yes I saw with my own eyes-another page lift itself up and fall down on the others,
as if a finger had turned it over. My armchair was
empty, appeared empty, but I knew that He was there,
He, and sitting in my place, and that He was reading.
With a furious bound, the bound of an enraged wild
beast that wishes to disembowel its tamer, I crossed
my room to seize him, to strangle him, to kill him!
But before I could reach it, my chair fell over as if
somebody had run away from me. My table rocked,
my lamp fell and went out, and my window closed
as if some thief had been surprised and had fled out
into the night, shutting it behind him.




i HE HORLA


a7


So He had run away; He had been afraid; He,
afraid of me!
So to-morrow, or later-some day or other, I
should be able to hold him in my clutches and crush
him against the ground! Do not dogs occasionally
bite and strangle their masters?
August 18. I have been thinking the whole day
long. Oh! yes, I will obey Him, follow His impulses,
fulfill all His wishes, show myself humble, submissive,
a coward. He is the stronger; but an hour will
come.
August /9. I know, I know, I know all! I have
just read the following in the "Revue du Monde
Scientifique": "A  curious piece of news comes to
ds from Rio de Janeiro. Madness, an epidemic of
madness, which may be compared to that contagious
madness which attacked the people of Europe in the
Middle Ages, is at this moment raging in the Province
of San-Paulo. The frightened inhabitants are leaving
their houses, deserting their villages, abandoning their
land, saying that they are pursued, possessed, governed like human cattle by invisible, though tangible
beings, by a species of vampire, which feeds on their
life while they are asleep, and which, besides, drinks
water and milk without appearing to touch any other
nourishment.
"Professor Don Pedro Henriques, accompanied by
several medical savants, has gone to the Province of
San-Paulo, in order to study the origin and the mani
festations of this surprising madness on the spot, and
to propose such measures to the Emperor as may
appear to him to be most fitted to restore the mad
population to reason."




28


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


Ah I Ah I I remember now that fine Brazilian
three-master which passed in front of my windows
as it was going up the Seine, on the eighth of last
May I I thought it looked so pretty, so white and
bright! That Being was on board of her, coming
from there, where Its race sprang from. And it saw
me    It saw my house, which was also white, and
He sprang from the ship on to the land. Oh! Good
heavens!
Now I know, I can divine. The reign of man is
over, and He has come. He whom disquieted priests
exorcised, whom sorcerers evoked on dark nights,
without seeing him appear, lie to whom the imaginations of the transient masters of the world lent all the
monstrous or graceful forms of gnomes, spirits, genii,
fairies, and familiar spirits. After the coarse conceptions of primitive fear, men more enlightened gave
him a truer form. Mesmer divined him, and ten years
ago physicians accurately discovered the nature of his
power, even before He exercised it himself.  They
played with that weapon of their new Lord, the sway
of a mysterious will over the human soul, which had
become enslaved. They called it mesmerism, hypnotism, suggestion, I know not what? I have seen
them diverting themselves iiKe rash children with this
horrible power! Woe to us! Woe to man! He has
come, the-the-what does He call himself-theI fancy that he is shouting out his name to me and
I do not hear him-the-yes-He is shouting it
out- I am listening-I cannot- repeat- it- HorlaI have heard-the Horla-it is He-the Horla-He
has come!Ahl the vulture has eaten the pigeon, the wolf




THE HORLA


29


has eaten the lamb; the lion has devoured the sharphorned buffalo; man has killed the lion with an arrow, with a spear, with gunpowder; but the Horla
will make of man what man has made of the horse
and of the ox: his chattel, his slave, and his food, by
the mere power of his will. Woe to usl
But, nevertheless, sometimes the animal rebels and
kills the man who has subjugated it. 1 should also
like-I shall be able to-but I must know Him,
touch Him, see Him! Learned men say that eyes of
animals, as they differ from ours, do not distinguish
as ours do. And my eye cannot distinguish this
newcomer who is oppressing me.
Why? Oh! Now I remember the words of the
monk at Mont Saint-Michel: "Can we see the hundred-thousandth part of what exists?  Listen; there
is the wind which is the strongest force in nature;
it knocks men down, blows down buildings, uproots trees, raises the sea into mountains of water,
destroys cliffs, and casts great ships on to the breakers;
it kills, it whistles, it sighs, it roars,-have you ever
seen it, and can you see it? It exists for all that,
however!"
And I went on thinking: my eyes are so weak, so
imperfect, that they do not even distinguish hard
bodies, if they are as transparent as glass! If a
glass without quicksilver behind it were to bar my
way, I should run into it, just like a bird which
has flown into a room breaks its head against the
windowpanes.   A thousand things, moreover, deceive a man and lead him astray. How then is it
surprising that he cannot perceive a new body which
is penetrated and pervaded by the light?




30


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


A new being! Why not? It was assuredly bound
to come! Why should we be the last? We do not
distinguish it, like all the others created before us?
The reason is, that its nature is more delicate, its
body finer and more finished than ours. Our makeup is so weak, so awkwardly conceived; our body is
encumbered with organs that are always tired, always
being strained like locks that are too complicated;
it lives like a plant and like an animal nourishing
itself with difficulty on air, herbs, and flesh; it is a
brute machine which is a prey to maladies, to malformations, to decay; it is broken-winded, badly
regulated, simple and  eccentric, ingeniously  yet
badly made, a coarse and yet a delicate mechanism,
in brief,the outline of a being which might become
intelligent and great.
There are only a few-so few-stages of development in this world, from the oyster up to man.
Why should there not be one more, when once that
period is accomplished which separates the successive
products one from the other?
Why not one more? Why not, also, other trees
with immense, splendid flowers, perfuming whole
regions? Why not other elements beside fire, air,
earth, and water? There are four, only four, nursing
fathers of various beings! What a pity! Why should
not there be forty, four hundred, four thousand!
How poor everything is, how mean and wretchedgrudgingly given, poorly invented, clumsily made!
Ah! the elephant and the hippopotamus, what powerl
And the camel, what suppleness!
But the butterfly, you will say, a flying flower!
I dream of one that should be as large as a hundred




THE HORLA


31


worlds, with wings whose shape, beauty, colors, and
motion I cannot even express. But I see it-it flutters from star to star, refreshing them and perfuming
them with the light and harmonious breath of its
flight! And the people up there gaze at it as it
passes in an ecstasy of delight
What is the matter with me? It is He, the Horla
who haunts me, and who makes me think of these
foolish things! He is within me, He is becoming my
soul; I shall kill him!
August 20. I shall kill Him. I have seen Him!
Yesterday I sat down at my table and pretended to
write very assiduously. I knew quite well that He
would come prowling round me, quite close to me,
so close that I might perhaps be able to touch him,
to seize him. And then-then I should have the
strength of desperation; I should have my hands, my
knees, my chest, my forehead, my teeth to strangle
him, to crush him, to bite him, to tear him to pieces.
And I watched for him with all my overexcited
nerves.
I had lighted my two lamps and the eight wax
candles on my mantelpiece, as if, by this light I should
discover Him.
My bed, my old oak bed with its columns, was
opposite to me; on my right was the fireplace; on
my left the door, which was carefully closed, after I
had left it open for some time, in order to attract
Him; behind me was a very high wardrobe with a
looking-glass in it, which served me to dress by every
day, and in which I was in the habit of inspecting
myself from head to foot every time I passed it.




33


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


So I pretended to be writing in order to deceive
Him, for He also was watching me, and suddenly I
felt, I was certain, that He was reading over my
shoulder, that He was there, almost touching my ear.
I got up so quickly, with my hands extended, that
I almost fell. Horror! It was as bright as at midday, but I did not see myself in the glass! It was
empty, clear, profound, full of light! But my figure
was not reflected in it-and I, 1 was opposite to itl
I saw the large, clear glass from top to bottom, and
I looked at it with unsteady eyes. I did not dare
advance; I did not venture to make a movement;
feeling certain, nevertheless, that He was there, but
that He would escape me again, He whose irperceptible body had absorbed my reflection.
How frightened I was! And then suddenly I began to see myself through a mist in the depths of
the looking-glass, in a mist as it were, or through a
veil of water; and it seemed to me as if this water
were flowing slowly from left to right, and making
my figure clearer every moment. It was like the end
of an eclipse. Whatever hid me did not appear to
possess any clearly defined outlines, but was a sort
of opaque transparency, which gradually grew clearer.
At last I was able to distinguish myself completely,
as I do every day when 1 look at myself.
I had seen Him! And the horror of it remained with
me, and makes me shudder even now.
August 21. How could I kill Him, since I could not
get hold of Him? Poison? But He would see me mix
it with the water; and then, would our poisons have
any effect on His impalpable body? No —rn, —no
doubt about the matter. Then?-then




THB HORLA


33


August 22. I sent for a blacksmith from Rouen
and ordered iron shutters of him for my room,
such as some private hotels in Paris have on the
ground floor, for fear of thieves, and he is going to
make me a similar door as well. I have made myself out a coward, but I do not care about that!
September io. Rouen, Hotel Continental. It is
done; it is done-but is He dead? My mind is
thoroughly upset by what I have seen.
Well then, yesterday, the locksmith having put on
the iron shutters and door, I left everything open
until midnight, although it was getting cold.
Suddenly I felt that He was there, and joy, mad
joy took possession of me. I got up softly, and I
walked to the right and left for some time, so that He
might not guess anything; then I took off my boots
and put on my slippers carelessly; then I fastened the
iron shutters and going back to the door quickly I
double-locked it with a padlock, putting the key into
my pocket.
Suddenly I noticed that He was moving restlessly
round me, that in his turn He was frightened and
was ordering me to let Him out. I nearly yielded,
though I did not quite, but putting my back to the
door, I half opened it, just enough to allow me to go
out backward, and as I am very tall, my head touched
the lintel. I was sure that He had not been able to
escape, and I shut Him up quite alone, quite alone.
What happinessl I had Him fast. Then I ran downstairs into the drawing-room which was under my
bedroom. I took the two lamps and poured all the
oil on to the carpet, the furniture, everywhere; then
2 G. deM.-3




34        WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT
I set fire to it and made my escape, after having
carefully double-locked the door.
I went and hid myself at the bottom of the garden, in a clump of laurel bushes. How long it was!
how long it was! Everything was dark, silent, motionless, not a breath of air and not a star, but heavy
banks of clouds which one could not see, but which
weighed, oh! so heavily on my soul.
I looked at my house and waited. How long it
was! I already began to think that the fire had gone
out of its own accord, or that He had extinguished
it, when one of the lower windows gave way under
the violence of the flames, and a long, soft, caressing
sheet of red flame mounted up the white wall, and
kissed it as high as the roof. The light fell on to the
trees, the branches, and the leaves, and a shiver of
fear pervaded them also! The birds awoke; a dog
began to howl, and it seemed to me as if the day
were breaking! Almost immediately two other windows flew into fragments, and I saw that the whole
of the lower part of my house was nothing but a
terrible furnace. But a cry, a horrible, shrill, heartrending cry, a woman's cry, sounded through the
night, and two garret windows were opened! I had
forgotten the servants! 1 saw the terror-struck faces,
and the frantic waving of their arms!
Then, overwhelmed with horror, I ran off to the
village, shouting: "Help! help! fire! fire!" Meeting
some people who were already coming on to the
scene, I went back with them to see!
By this time the house was nothing but a horrible
and magnificent funeral pile, a monstrous pyre which
lit up the whole country, a pyre where men were




THE HORLA


35


burning, and where He was burning also, He, He,
my prisoner, that new Being, the new Master, the
Horla!
Suddenly the whole roof fell in between the walls,
and a volcano of flames darted up to the sky.
Through all the windows which opened on to that
furnace, I saw the flames darting, and I reflected that
He was there, in that kiln, dead.
Dead? Perhaps? His body? Was not his body,
which was transparent, indestructible by such means
as would kill ours?
If He were not dead? Perhaps time alone has
power over that Invisible and Redoubtable Being.
Why this transparent, unrecognizable body, this body
belonging to a spirit, if it also had to fear ills, intirmities, and premature destruction?
Premature destruction? All human terror springs
from that! After man the Horla. After him who can
die every day, at any hour, at any moment, by any
accident, He came, He who was only to die at his
own proper hour and minute, because He had touched
the limits of his existence!
No-no —there is no doubt about it-He is not
dead. Then-then-I suppose I must kill myself!




MISS HARRIET
| T       HERE were seven of us in a fourin-hand, four women and three
L T  men, one of whom   was on the
ha     box seat beside the coachman. We
'    were following, at a foot pace, the
broad    highway   which serpentines.^  along the coast.
Setting out from Etretat at break of
r    'y  day, in order to visit the ruins of TanIt   carville, we were still asleep, chilled by
the fresh air of the morning. The women,
h'ea    especially, who were but little accustomed
to these early excursions, let their eyelids fall
K      and rise every moment, nodding their heads
or yawning, quite insensible to the glory of the
dawn.
It was autumn. On both sides of the road the
bare fields stretched out, yellowed by the corn and
wheat stubble which covered the soil like a bristling
growth of beard. The spongy earth seemed to smoke.
Larks were singing high up in the air, while other
birds piped in the bushes.
(36)




MISS HARRIET


37


At length the sun rose in front of us, a bright
red on the plane of the horizon; and as it ascended,
growing clearer from minute to minute, the country
seemed to awake, to smile, to shake and stretch
itself, like a young girl who is leaving her bed in
her white airy chemise. The Count d'Etraille, who
was seated on the box, cried:
"Look! look! a hare!" and he pointed toward the
left, indicating a piece ot hedge. The leveret threaded
its way along, almost concealed by the field, only its
large ears visible. Then it swerved across a deep
rut, stopped, again pursued its easy course, changed
its direction, stopped anew, disturbed, spying out
every danger, and undecided as to the route it should
take. Suddenly it began to run, with great bounds
from  its hind legs, disappearing finally in a large
patch of beet-root. All the men had woke up to
watch the course of the beast.
Ren6 Lemanoir then exclaimed:
"We are not at all gallant this morning," and
looking at his neighbor, the little Baroness of Serennes,
who was struggling with drowsiness, he said to her
in a subdued voice: "You are thinking of your husband, Baroness. Reassure yourself; he will not return before Saturday, so you have still four days."
She responded to him with a sleepy smile:
"How rude you are." Then, shaking off her torpor, she added: "Now, let somebody say something
that will make us all laugh. You, Monsieur Chenal,
who have the reputation of possessing a larger fortune than the Duke of Richelieu, tell us a love story
in which you have been mixed up, anything you
like."




38


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


Leon Chenal, an old painter, who had once been
very handsome, very strong, who was very proud of
his physique and very amiable, took his long white
beard in his hand and smiled; then, after a few
moments' reflection, he became suddenly grave.
"Ladies, it will not be an amusing tale; for I am
going to relate to you the most lamentable love affair
of my life, and I sincerely hope that none of my
friends has ever passed through a similar experience.
I.
"At that time I was twenty-five years old, and was
making daubs along the coast of Normandy. I call
'making daubs' that wandering about, with a bag on
one's back, from  mountain to mountain, under the
pretext of studying and of sketching nature. I know
nothing more enjoyable than that happy-go-lucky
wandering life, in which you are perfectly free, without shackles of any kind, without care, without preoccupation, without thought even of to-morrow. You
go in any direction you please, without any guide
save your fancy, without any counselor save your
eyes. You pull up, because a running brook seduces
you, or because you are attracted, in front of an inn,
by the smell of potatoes frying. Sometimes it is the
perfume of clematis which decides you in your choice,
or the naive glance of the servant at an inn. Do not
despise me for my affection for these rustics. These
girls have soul as well as feeling, not to mention firm
cheeks and fresh lips; while their hearty and willing
kisses have the flavor of wild fruit. Love always has




MISS HARRIET


39


its price, come whence it may. A heart that beats
when you make your appearance, an eye that weeps
when you go away, these are things so rare, so
sweet, so precious, that they must never be despised.
"I have had rendezvous in ditches in which cattle
repose, and in barns among the straw, still steamirng
from the heat of the day. I have recollections of
canvas spread on rude and creaky benches, and of
hearty, fresh, free kisses, more delicate, free from
affectation, and sincere than the subtle attractions of
charming and distinguished women.
"But what you love most amid all these varied
adventures are the country, the woods, the risings of
the sun, the twilight, the light of the moon. For
the painter these are honeymoon trips with Nature.
You are alone with her in that long and tranquil
rendezvous.  You go to bed in the fields amid marguerites and wild poppies, and, with eyes wide open,
you watch the going down of the sun, and descry in
the distance the little village, with its pointed clocktower, which sounds the hour of midnight.
"You sit down by the side of a spring which
gushes out from the foot of an oak, amid a covering
of fragile herbs, growing and redolent of life. You
go down on your knees, bend forward, and drink
the cold and pellucid water, wetting your mustache
and nose; you drink it with a physical pleasure, as
though you were kissing the spring, lip to lip. Sometimes, when you encounter a deep hole, along the
course of these tiny brooks, you plunge into it, quite
naked, and on your skin, from head to foot, like an
icy and delicious caress, you feel the lovely and
gentle quivering of the current.




40


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"You are gay on the hills, melancholy on the
verge of pools, exalted when the sun is crowned in
an ocean of blood-red shadows, and when it casts on
the rivers its red reflection. And at night, under the
moon, as it passes across the vault of heaven, you
thlnk of things, singular things, which would never
have occurred to your mind under the brilliant light
of day.
"So, in wandering through the same country we
are in this year, I came to the little village of Benouville, on the Falaise, between Yport and Etretat.
I came from Fecamp, following the coast, a high
coast, perpendicular as a wall, with projecting and
rugged rocks falling sheer down into the sea. I
had walked since the morning on the close clipped
grass, as smooth and as yielding as a carpet. Singing lustily, I walked with long strides, looking sometimes at the slow and lazy flight of a gull, with its
short, white wings, sailing in the blue heavens,
sometimes at the green sea, or at the brown sails of
a fishing bark. In short, I had passed a happy day,
a day of listlessness and of liberty.
"I was shown a little farmhouse, where travelers
were put up, a kind of inn, kept by a peasant, which
stood in the center of a Norman court, surrounded
by a double row of beeches.
"Quitting the Falaise. I gained the hamlet, which
was hemmed in by great trees, and I presented myself at the house of Mother Lecacheur.
"She was an old, wrinkled, and austere rustic,
who always seemed to yield to the pressure of new
customs with a kind of contempt.
"It was the month of May: the spreading apple



MISS HARRIET


41


trees covered the court with a whirling shower of
blossoms which rained unceasingly both upon people
and upon the grass.
"I said"'Well, Madame Lecacheur, have ycu a room for
me?'
"Astonished to find that I knew her name, she
answered:
"'That depends; everything is let; but, all the
same, there will be no harm in looking.'
"In five minutes we were in perfect accord, and I
deposited my bag upon the bare floor of a rustic
room, furnished with a bed, two chairs, a table, and
a washstand. The room opened into the large and
smoky kitchen, where the lodgers took their meals
with the people of the farm and with the farmer
himself, who was a widower.
"I washed my hands, after which I went out.
The old woman was fricasseeing a chicken for dinner
in a large fireplace, in which hung the stew-pot,
black with smoke.
"'You have travelers, then, at the present time?'
said I to her.
"She answered in an offended tone of voice:
"'I have a lady, an English lady, who has attained to years of maturity. She is occupying my
other room.'
"By means of an extra five sous a day, I obtained the privilege of dining out in the court when
the weather was fine.
" My cover was then placed in front of the door,
and I commenced to gnaw with hunger the lean
members of the Normandy chicken, to drink the clear




42


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


cider, and to munch the hunk of white bread, which,
though four days old, was excellent.
"Suddenly, the wooden barrier which opened on
to the highway was opened, and a strange person
directed her steps toward the house. She was very
slender, very tall, enveloped in a Scotch shawl with
red borders. You would have believed that she had
no arms, if you had not seen a long hand appear just
above the hips, holding a white tourist umbrella.
The face of a mummy, surrounded with sausage rolls
of plaited gray hair, which bounded at every step she
took, made me think, I know not why, of a sour
herring adorned with curling papers. Lowering her
eyes, she passed quickly in front of me, and entered
the house.
"This singular apparition made me curious. She
undoubtedly was my neighbor, the aged English lady
of whom our hostess had spoken.
"I did not see her again that day. The next
day, when I had begun to paint at the end of that
beautiful valley, which you know extends as far as
Etretat, lifting my eyes suddenly, I perceived something singularly attired standing on the crest of the
declivity; it looked like a pole decked out with flags.
It was she. On seeing me, she suddenly disappeared.
I re-entered the house at midday for lunch, and took
my seat at the common table, so as to make the acquaintance of this old and original creature. But she
did not respond to my polite advances, was insensible even to my little attentions. I poured water out
for her with great alacrity, I passed her the dishes
with great eagerness. A slight, almost imperceptible
movement of the head, and an English word, mur



MISS HARRIET


43


mured so low that I did not understand it, were her
only acknowledgments.
"I ceased occupying myself with her, although
she had disturbed my thoughts. At the end of three
days, I knew as much about her as did Madame
Lecacheur herself.
"She was called Miss Harriet. Seeking out a secluded village in which to pass the summer, she had
been attracted to Benouville, some six months before,
and did not seem  disposed to quit it. She never
spoke at table, ate rapidly, reading all the while a
small book, treating of some Protestant propaganda.
She gave a copy of it to everybody. The cure himself had received no less than four copies, at the hands
of an urchin to whom she had paid two sous' commission. She said sometimes to our hostess, abruptly,
without preparing her in the least for the declaration:
"'I love the Saviour more than all; I worship him
in all creation; I adore him in all nature; I carry him
always in my heart.'
"And she would immediately present the old
woman with one of her brochures which were destined to convert the universe.
"In the village she was not liked. In fact, the
schoolmaster had declared that she was an atheist,
and that a sort of reproach attached to her. The
cure, who had been consulted by Madame Lecacheur,
responded:
"'She is a heretic, but God does not wish the
death of the sinner, and I believe her to be a person
of pure morals.'
"These words, 'atheist,' 'heretic,' words which no
one can precisely define, threw doubts into some




44


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


minds. It was asserted, however, that this Englishwoman was rich, and that she had passed her life in
traveling through every country in the world, because
her family had thrown her off. Why had her family
thrown her off? Because of her natural impiety?
"She was, in fact, one of those people of exalted
principles, one of those opinionated puritans of whom
England produces so many, one of those good and
insupportable old women who haunt the tables d'hote
of every hotel in Europe, who spoil Italy, poison
Switzerland, render the charming cities of the Mediterranean uninhabitable, carry everywhere their fantastic manias, their petrified vestal manners, their
indescribable toilettes, and a certain odor of indiarubber, which makes one believe that at night they
slip themselves into a case of that material. When I
meet one of these people in a hotel, I act like birds
which see a manikin in a field.
"This woman, however, appeared so singular that
she did not displease me.
"Madame Lecacheur, hostile by instinct to everything that was not rustic, felt in her narrow soul a
kind of hatred for the ecstatic extravagances of the
old girl.  She had found a phrase by which to
describe her, I know not how, but a phrase assuredly
contemptuous, which had sprung to her lips, invented
probably by some confused and mysterious travail of
soul. She said: 'That woman is a demoniac.' This
phrase, as uttered by that austere and sentimental
creature, seemed to me irresistibly comic. I, myself,
never called her now anything else but 'the demoniac.' feeling a singular pleasure in pronouncing this
word on seeing her.




MISS HARRIET


45


"I would ask Mother Lecacheur: 'Well, what is
our demoniac about to-day?' To which my rustic
friend would respond, with an air of having been
scandalized:
"'What do you think, sir? She has picked up a
toad which has had its leg battered, and carried it to
her room, and has put it in her washstand, and
dressed it up like a man. If that is not profanation,
I should like to know what is!'
"On another occasion, when walking along the
Falaise, she had bought a large fish which had just been
caught, simply to throw it back into the sea again.
The sailor, from whom she had bought it, though
paid handsomely, was greatly provoked at this actmore exasperated, indeed, than if she had put her
hand into his pocket and taken his money. For a
whole month he could not speak of the circumstance
without getting into a fury and denouncing it as an.
outrage. Oh yes! She was indeed a demoniac, this
Miss Harriet, and Mother Lecacheur must have had
an inspiration of genius in thus christening her.
"The stable-boy, who was called Sapeur, because
he had served in Africa in his youth, entertained
other aversions. He said, with a roguish air: 'She
is an old hag who has lived her days.' If the poor
woman had but known!
"Little kind-hearted Celeste did not wait upon her
willingly, but I was never able to understand why.
Probably her only reason was that she was a stranger,
of another race, of a different tongue, and of another
religion. She was in good truth a demoniac!
"She passed her tinie wandering about the country, adoring ana searching for God in nature.  I




46


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


found her one evening on her knees in a cluster of
bushes.  Having discovered something red through
the leaves, I brushed aside the branches, and Miss
Harriet at once rose to her feet, confused at having
been found thus, looking at me with eyes as terrible
as those of a wild cat surprised in open day.
"Sometimes, when I was working among the
rocks, I would suddenly descry her on the banks of
the Falaise standing like a semaphore signal. She
gazed passionately at the vast sea, glittering in the
sunlight, and the boundless sky empurpled with fire.
Sometimes I would distinguish her at the bottom of
a valley, walking quickly, with her elastic English
step; and I would go toward her, attracted by I
know not what, simply to see her illuminated visage,
her dried-up features, which seemed to glow with an
ineffable, inward, and profound happiness.
"Often I would encounter her in the corner of a
field sitting on the grass, under the shadow of an
apple-tree, with her little Bible lying open on her knee,
while she looked meditatively into the distance.
"I could no longer tear myself away from that
quiet country neighborhood, bound to it as I was by
a thousand links of love for its soft and sweeping
landscapes. At this farm I was out of the world, far
removed from everything, but in close proximity to
the soil, the good, healthy, beautiful green soil.
And, must I avow it, there was something besides
curiosity which retained me at the residence of
Mother Lecacheur. I wished to become acquainted
a little with this strange Miss Harriet, and to learn
what passes in the solitary souls of those wandering
old, English dames.




MISS HARRIET


47


II.
"We became acquainted in a rather singular manner. I had just finished a study which appeared to
me to display genius and power; as it must have,
since it was sold for ten thousand francs, fifteen
years later. It was as simple, however, as that two
and two make four, and had nothing to do with
academic rules. The whole of the right side of my
canvas represented a rock, an enormous rock,. covered with sea-wrack, brown, yellow, and red, across
which the sun poured like a stream of oil. The
light, without which one could see the stars concealed in the background, fell upon the stone, and
gilded it as if with fire. That was all. A first stupid
attempt at dealing with light, with burning rays,
with the sublime.
"On the left was the sea, not the blue sea, the
slate-colored sea, but a sea of jade, as greenish,
milky, and thick as the overcast sky.
"I was so pleased with my work that I danced
from sheer delight as I carried it back to the inn. I
wished that the whole world could have seen it at
one and the same moment. I can remember that I
showed it to a cow, which was browsing by the
wayside, exclaiming, at the same time: 'Look at
that, my old beauty; you will not often see its like
again.'
"When I had reached the front of the house, I
immediately called out to Mother Lecacheur, shouting
with all my might:




48


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"'Ohe! Oh6! my mistress, come here and look at
this.'
"The rustic advanced and looked at my work
with stupid eyes, which distinguished nothing, and
did not even recognize whether the picture was the
representation of an ox or a house.
"Miss Harriet came into the house, and passed in
rear of me just at the moment when, holding out my
canvas at arm's length, I was exhibiting it to the
female innkeeper.  The 'demoniac' could not help
but see it, for I took care to exhibit the thing in such
a way that it could not escape her notice. She
stopped abruptly and stood motionless, stupefied. It
was her rock which was depicted, the one which she
usually climbed to dream away her time undisturbed.
"She uttered a British 'Oh,' which was at once
so accentuated and so flattering, that I turned round
to her, smiling, and said:
''This is my last work, Mademoiselle.'
"She murmured ecstatically, comically, and ten.
derly:
"'Oh! Monsieur, you must understand what it is
to have a palpitation.'
"I colored up, of course, and was more excited
by that compliment than if it had come from a queen.
I was seduced, conquered, vanquished. I could have
embraced her-upon my honor.
"I took my seat at the table beside her, as I had
always done. For the first time, she spoke, drawling
out in a loud voice:
"'Oh! 1 love nature so much.'
"I offered her some bread, some water, some
wine. She now accepted these with the vacant smile




MISS HARRIET


49


of a mummy. I then began to converse with her
about the scenery.
"After the meal, we rose from the table together
and walked leisurely across the court; then, attracted
by the fiery glow which the setting sun cast over the
surface of the sea, I opened the outside gate which
faced in the direction of the Falaise, and we walked
on side by side, as satisfied as any two persons could
be who have just learned to understand and penetrate
each other's motives and feelings.
"It was a misty, relaxing evening, one of those
enjoyable evenings which impart happiness to mind
and body alike. All is joy, all is charm. The luscious and balmy air, loaded with the perfumes of
herbs, with the perfumes of grass-wrack, with the odor
of the wild flowers, caresses the soul with a penetrating sweetness. We were going to the brink of
the abyss which overlooked the vast sea and rolled
past us at the distance of less than a hundred meters.
"We drank with open mouth and expanded chest,
that fresh breeze from the ocean which glides slowly
over the skin, salted as it is by long contact with,
the waves.
"Wrapped up in her square shawl, inspired by
the balmy air and with teeth firmly set, the Englishwoman gazed fixedly at the great sun-ball, as it descended toward the sea. Soon its rim touched the
waters, just in rear of a ship which had appeared
on the horizon, until, by degrees, it was swallowed
up by the ocean. We watched it plunge, diminish,
and finally disappear.
"Miss Harriet, contemplated with passionate regard the last glimmer of the flaming orb of day.
a G. de M.-4




50


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"She muttered:  'Oh! I love-I love-' I saw
a tear start in her eye. She continued: 'I wish I
were a little bird, so that I could mount up into the
firmament.'
"She remained standing as I had often before seen
her, perched on the river bank, her face as red as
her flaming shawl.  I should have liked to have
sketched her in my album. It would have been an
ecstatic caricature. I turned my face away from her
so as to be able to laugh.
"I then spoke to her of painting, as I would have
done to a fellow-artist, using the technical terms
common among the devotees of the profession. She
listened attentively to me, eagerly seeking to divine
the sense of the obscure words, so as to penetrate
my thoughts. From time to time, she would exclaim: 'Oh! I understand, I understand. This is very
interesting.' We returned home.
"The next day, on seeing me, she approached me
eagerly, holding out her hand; and we became firm
friends immediately.
"She was a brave creature, with an elastic sort of
a soul, which became enthusiastic at a bound. She
lacked equilibrium, like all women who are spinsters
at the age of fifty. She seemed to be pickled in vinegary innocence, though her heart still retained something of youth and of girlish effervescence. She
loved both nature and animals with a fervent ardor, a
love like old wine, mellow through age, with a sensual love that she had never bestowed on men.
"One thing is certain: a mare roaming in a
meadow with a foal at its side, a bird's nest full of
young ones, squeaking, with their open mouths and




MISS HARRIET


51


enormous heads, made her quiver with the most violent emotion.
"Poor solitary beings! Sad wanderers from table
d'hote to table d'hote, poor beings, ridiculous and
lamentable, I love you ever since I became acquainted
with Miss Harriet!
"I soon discovered that she had something she
would like to tell me, but dared not, and I was
amused at her timidity. When I started out in the
morning with my box on my back, she would accompany me as far as the end of the village, silent,
but evidently struggling inwardly to find words with
which to begin a conversation. Then she would
leave me abruptly, and, with jaunty step, walk away
quickly.
"One day, however, she plucked up courage:
"'I would like to see how you paint pictures?
Will you show me? I have been very curious.'
"And she colored up as though she had given
utterance to words extremely audacious.
"I conducted her to the bottom  of the Petit-Val,
where I had commenced a large picture.
"'She remained standing near me, following all
my gestures with concentrated attention. Then, suddenly, fearing, perhaps, that she was disturbing me,
she said to me: 'Thank you,' and walked away.
"But in a short time she became more familiar,
and accompanied me every day, her countenance exhibiting visible pleasure. She carried her folding stool
under her arm, would not consent to my carrying it,
and she sat always by my side. She would remain
there for hours immovable and mute, following with
her eye the point of my brush in its every move



WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


ment. When I would obtain, by a large splatch of
color spread on with a knife, a striking and unexpected effect, she would, in spite of herself, give
vent to a half-suppressed 'Ohl' of astonishment, of
joy, of admiration. She had the most tender respect
for my canvases, an almost religious respect for that
human reproduction of a part of nature's work divine.
My studies appeared to her to be pictures of sanctity,
and sometimes she spoke to me of God, with the
idea of converting me.
"Oh I He was a queer good-natured being, this
God of hers. He was a sort of village philosopher
without any great resources, and without great power;
for she always figured him to herself as a being
quivering over injustices committed under his eyes,
and helpless to prevent them.
"She was, however, on excellent terms with him,
affecting even to be the confidant of his secrets and
of his whims. She said:
"'God wills, or God does not will,' just like a
sergeant announcing to a recruit: 'The colonel has
commanded.'
"At the bottom of her heart she deplored my
ignorance of the intentions of the Eternal, which she
strove, nay, felt herself compelled, to impart to me.
"Almost every day, I found in my pockets, in my
hat when I lifted it from the ground, in my box of
colors, in my polished shoes, standing in the mornings in front of my door, those little pious brochures,
which she, no doubt, received directly from Paradise.
"I treated her as one would an old friend, with
unaffected cordiality. But I soon perceived that she




MISS HARRIET


5


had changed somewhat in her manner; but, for a
while, I paid little attention to it.
"When I walked about, whether to the bottom
of the valley, or through some country lanes, I would
see her suddenly appear, as though she were returning from a rapid walk. She would then sit down
abruptly, out of breath, as though she had been
running or overcome by some profound emotion.
Her face would be red, that English red which is
denied to the people of all other countries; then,
without any reason, she would grow pale, become
the color of the ground, and seem ready to faint
away. Gradually, however, I would see her regain
her ordinary color, whereupon she would begin to
speak.
"Then, without warning, she would break off in
the middle of a sentence, spring up from her seat,
and march off so rapidly and so strangely, that it
would, sometimes, put me to my wits' end to try
and discover whether I had done or said anything to
displease or offend her.
"I finally came to the conclusion that this arose
from her early habits and training, somewhat modi-l
fled, no doubt, in honor of me, since the first days
of our acquaintanceship.
"When she returned to the farm, after walking
for hours on the wind-beaten coast, her long curled
hair would be shaken out and hanging loose, as
though it had broken away from its bearings. It was
seldom that this gave her any concern; though sometimes she looked as though she had been dining sans
cdrdmonie; her locks having become disheveled by
the breezes.




54


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"She would then go up to her room in order to
adjust what I called her glass lamps. When I would
say to her, in familiar gallantry, which, however,
always offended her:
"'You are as beautiful as a planet to-day, Miss
Harriet,' a little blood would immediately mount into
her cheeks, the blood of a young maiden, the blood
of sweet fifteen.
"Then she would become abruptly savage and
cease coming to watch me paint. But I always
thought:
"'This is only a fit of temper she is passing
through.'
" But it did not always pass away. When I spoke
to her sometimes, she would answer me, either with
an air of affected indifference, or in sullen anger; and
she became by turns rude, impatient, and nervous.
For a time I never saw her except at meals, and we
spoke but little. I concluded, at length, that I must
have offended her in something: and, accordingly, I
said to her one evening:
"'Miss Harriet, why is it that you do not act
toward me as formerly? What have I done to displease you? You are causing me much pain!'
"She responded, in an angry tone, in a manner
altogether sui generis:
"'I am always with you the same as formerly.
It is not true, not true,' and she ran upstairs and
shut herself up in her room.
"At times she would look upon me with strange
eyes. Since that time I have often said to myself
that those condemned to death must look thus when
informed that their last day has come. In her eye




MISS HARRIET


55


there lurked a species of folly, a folly at once mysterious and violent-even more, a fever, an exasperated desire, impatient, at once incapable of being
realized and unrealizable!
"Nay, it seemed to me that there was also going
on within her a combat, in which her heart struggled
against an unknown force that she wished to overcome-perhaps, even, something else. But what
could I know? What could I know?
III.
"This was indeed a singular revelation.
"For some time I had commenced to work, as
soon as daylight appeared, on a picture, the subject
of which was as follows:
"A deep ravine, steep banks dominated by two
declivities, lined with brambles and long rows of
trees, hidden, drowned in milky vapor, clad in that
misty robe which sometimes floats over valleys atbreak of day. At the extreme end of that thick and
transparent fog, you see coming, or rather already
come, a human couple, a stripling and a maiden
embraced, interlaced, she, with head leaning on him,
he, inclined toward her, and lip to lip.
"A ray of the sun, glistening through the branches,
has traversed the fog of dawn and illuminated it with
a rosy reflection, just behind the rustic lovers, whose
vague shadows are reflected on it in clear silver. It
was well done, yes, indeed, well done.




WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"I was working on the declivity which led to the
Val d'Etretat.  This particular morning, I had, by
chance, the sort of floating vapor which was necessary for my purpose. Suddenly, an object appeared
in front of me, a kind of phantom; it was Miss Harriet. On seeing me, she took to flight. But I called
after her saying: 'Come here, come here, Mademoiselle, I have a nice little picture for you.'
"She came forward, though with seeming reluctance. I handed her my sketch. She said nothing,
but stood for a long time motionless, looking at it.
Suddenly she burst into tears. She wept spasmodically, like men who have been struggling hard against
shedding tears, but who can do so no longer, and
abandon themselves to grief, though unwillingly. I
got up, trembling, moved myself by the sight of a
sorrow I did not comprehend, and I took her by the
hand with a gesture of brusque affection, a true
French impulse which impels one quicker than one
thinks.
"She let her hands rest in mine for a few seconds,
and I felt them quiver, as if her whole nervous system was twisting and turning. Then she withdrew
her hands abruptly, or, rather, tore them out of mine.
"I recognized that shiver as soon as I had felt it;
I was deceived in nothing. Ahl the love shudder of
a woman, whether she is fifteen or fifty years of age,
whether she is one of the people or one of the
monde, goes so straight to my heart that I never had
any difficulty in understanding itl
"Her whole frail being trembled, vibrated, yielded.
I knew it. She walked away before I had time to
say a word, leaving me as surprised as if 1 had wit



MISS HARRIET


57


nessed a miracle, and as troubled as if I had committed a crime.
"1 did not go in to bieakfast. I took a walk on
the banks of the Falaise. feeling that I could just as
soon weep as laugh, looking on the adventure as
both comic and deplorable, and my position as ridiculous, fain to believe that I had lost my head.
"I asked myself what I ought to do. I debated
whether I ought not to take my leave of the place
and almost immediately my resolution was formed.
"Somewhat sad and perplexed, I wandered about
until dinner time, and entered the farmhouse just when
the soup had been served up.
"I sat down at the table, as usual. Miss Harriet
was there, munching away solemnly, without speaking to anyone, without even lifting her eyes. She
wore, however, her usual expression, both of countenance and manner.
"I waited, patiently, till the meal had been finished. Then, turning toward the landlady, I said:
'Madame Lecacheur, it will not be long now before I
shall have to take my leave of you.'
"The good woman, at once surprised and troubled,'
replied in a quivering voice: 'My dear sir, what is
it I have just heard you say? Are you going to
leave us, after I have become so much accustomed to
you?'
"I looked at Miss Harriet from the corner of my
eye. Her countenance did not change in the least;
but the under-servant came toward me with eyes
wide open. She was a fat girl, of about eighteen
years of age, rosy, fresh, strong as a horse, yet possessing a rare attribute in one in her position-she




WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


was very neat and clean. I had kissed her at odd
times, in out of the way corners, in the manner of a
mountain guide, nothing more.
"The dinner being over, I went to smoke my
pipe under the apple-trees, walking up and down at
my ease, from one end of the court to the other.
All the reflections which I had made during the day,
the strange discovery of the morning, that grotesque
and passionate attachment for me, the recollections
which that revelation had suddenly called up, recollections at once charming and perplexing, perhaps,
also, that look which the servant had cast on me at
the announcement of my departure-all these things,
mixed up and combined, put me now in an excited
bodily state, with the tickling sensation of kisses
on my lips, and in my veins something which urged
me on to commit some folly.
"Night having come on, casting its dark shadows
under the trees, I descried Celeste, who had gone to
shut the hen-coops, at the other end of the inclosure.
I darted toward her, running so noiselessly that she
heard nothing, and as she got up from closing the
small traps by which the chickens went in and out, I
clasped her in my arms and rained on her coarse, fat
face a shower of kisses. She made a struggle, laughing all the same, as she was accustomed to do in
such circumstances. What made me suddenly loose
my grip of her? Why did I at once experience a
shock? What was it that I heard behind me?
"It was Miss Harriet who had come upon us,
who had seen us, and who stood in front of us, as
motionless as a specter. Then she disappeared in the
darkness.




MISS HARRIET


59


"I was ashamed,.embarrassed, more annoyed at
having been surprised by her than if she had caught
me committing some criminal act.
"I slept badly that night; I was worried and
haunted by sad thoughts.  I seemed to hear loud
weeping; but in this I was no doubt deceived. Moreover, I thought several times that I heard some one
walking up and down in the house, and that some
one opened my door from the outside.
"Toward morning, I was overcome by fatigue,
and sleep seized on me. I got up late and did not
go downstairs until breakfast time, being still, in a
bewildered state, not knowing what kind of face to
put on.
"No one had seen Miss Harriet. We waited for
her at table, but she did not appear. At length,
Mother Lecacheur went to her room. The Englishwoman had gone out. She must have set out at
break of day, as she was wont to do, in order to see
the sun rise.
"Nobody seemed astonished at this and we began
to eat in silence.
"The weather was hot, very hot, one of those
still sultry days when not a leaf stirs. The table
had been placed out of doors, under an apple-tree;
and from time to time Sapeur had gone to the cellar
to draw a jug of cider, everybody was so thirsty.
Celeste brought the dishes from the kitchen, a ragout
of mutton with potatoes, a cold rabbit, and a salad.
Afterward she placed before us a dish of strawberries,
the first of the season.
"As I wanted to wash and freshen these, I begged
the servant to go and bring a pitcher of cold water.




60


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"In about five minutes she returned, declaring that
the well was dry. She had lowered the pitcher to
the full extent of the cord, and had touched the bottom, but on drawing the pitcher up again, it was
empty. Mother Lecacheur, anxious to examine the
thing for herself, went and looked down the hole.
She returned announcing that one could see clearly
something in the well, something altogether unusual.
But this, no doubt, was pottles of straw, which, out
of spite, had been cast down it by a neighbor.
"I wished also to look down the well, hoping to
clear up the mystery, and perched myself close to its
brink.  I perceived, indistinctly, a white object.
What could it be? I then conceived the idea of lowering a lantern at the end of a cord. When I did so,
the yellow flame danced on the layers of stone
and gradually became clearer. All four of us were
leaning over the opening, Sapeur and Cleste having
now joined us. The lantern rested on a black and
white, indistinct mass, singular, incomprehensible.
Sapeur exclaimed:
"'It is a horse. I see the hoofs. It must have
escaped from the meadow, during the night, and
tallen in headlong.'
"But, suddenly, a cold shiver attacked my spine,
I first recognized a foot, then a clothed limb; the
body was entire, but the other limb had disappeared
under the water.
"I groaned and trembled so violently that the
light of the lamp danced hither and thither over the
object, discovering a slipper.
"'It is a woman! who -who-can it be? It is
Miss Harriet.'




MISS HARRIET


6i


"Sapeur alone did not manifest horror. He had
witnessed many such scenes in Africa.
"Mother Lecacheur and Celeste began to scream
and to shriek, and ran away.
"But it was necessary to recover the corpse of
the dead. I attached the boy securely by the loins
to the end of the pulley-rope; then I lowered him
slowly, and watched him disappear in the darkness.
In the one hand he had a lantern, and held on to the
rope with the other. Soon I recognized his voice,
which seemed to come from the center of the earth,
crying:
"'Stop.'
"I then saw him fish something out of the water.
It was the other limb. He bound the two feet together, and shouted anew:
"'Haul up.'
"I commenced to wind him up, but I felt my
arms strain, my muscles twitch, and was in terror
lest I should let the boy fall to the bottom. When
his head appeared over the brink, I asked:
"'What is it?' as though I only expected that he
would tell me what he had discovered at the bottom.
"We both got on to the stone slab at the edge
of the well, and, face to face, hoisted the body.
"Mother Lecacheur and Celeste watched us from a
distance, concealed behind the wall of the house.
When they saw, issuing from the well, the black
slippers and white stockings of the drowned person,
they disappeared.
"Sapeur seized the ankles of the poor chaste
woman, and we drew it up, inclined, as it was, in
the most immodest posture. The head was in a




62


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


shocking state, bruised and black; and the long, gray
hair, hanging down, was tangled and disordered.
"'In the name of all that is holy, how lean she
is!' exclaimed Sapeur, in a contemptuous tone.
" We carried her into the room, and as the
women did not put in an appearance, I, with the assistance of the lad, dressed the corpse for burial.
"I washed her disfigured face. By the touch of
my hand an eye was slightly opened; it seemed to
scan me with that pale stare, with that cold, that
terrible look which corpses have, a look which seems
to come from the beyond. I plaited up, as well as I
could, her disheveled hair, and I adjusted on her
forehead a novel and singularly formed lock. Then I
took off her dripping wet garments, baring, not
without a feeling of shame, as though I had been
guilty of some profanation, her shoulders and her
chest, and her long arms, slim as the twigs of
branches.
" I next went to fetch some flowers, corn poppies, blue beetles, marguerites, and fresh and perfumed herbs, with which to strew her funeral couch.
"Being the only person near her, it was necessary
for me to perform the usual ceremonies. In a letter
found in her pocket, written at the last moment, she
asked that her body be buried in the village in which
she had passed the last days of her life. A frightful
thought then oppressed my heart. Was it not on my
account that she wished to be laid at rest in this
place?
" Toward the evening, all the female gossips of
the locality came to view the remains of the defunct;
but I would not allow a single person to enter; I




MISS HARRIET


63


wanted to be alone; and I watched by the corpse the
whole night.
"By the flickering light of the candles, I looked
at the body of this miserable woman, wholly unknown, who had died so lamentably and so far away
from  home. Had she left no friends, no relatives
behind her? What had her infancy been? What had
been her life? Whence had she come thither, all
alone, a wanderer, like a dog driven from home?
What secrets of suffering and of despair were sealed
up in that disagreeable body, in that spent and withered body, that impenetrable hiding place of a mystery
which had driven her far away from affection and
from love?
"How many unhappy beings there are! I felt
that upon that human creature weighed the eternal
injustice of implacable nature! Life was over with
her, without her ever having experienced, perhaps, that
which sustains the most miserable of us all-to wit,
the hope of being once loved! Otherwise, why
should she thus have concealed herself, have fled from
the face of others? Why did she love everything so
tenderly and so passionately, everything living that
was not a man?
"I recognized, also, that she believed in a God,
and that she hoped for compensation from him for
the miseries she had endured. She had now begun
to decompose, and to become, in turn, a plant. She
who had blossomed in the sun was now to be eaten
up by the cattle, carried away in herbs, and in the
flesh of beasts, again to become human flesh. But
that which is called the soul had been extinguished
at the bottom of the dark well. She suffered no




64


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


longer. She had changed her life for that of others
yet to be born.
"Hours passed away in this silent and sinister
communion with the dead. A pale light at length
announced the dawn of a new day, and a bright ray
glistened on the bed, shedding a dash of fire on the
bedclothes and on her hands.  This was the hour
she had so much loved, when the waking birds began to sing in the trees.
"I opened the window to its fullest extent, I drew
back the curtains, so that the whole heavens might
look in upon us. Then bending toward the glassy
corpse, I took in my hands the mutilated head, and
slowly, without terror or disgust, imprinted a long,
long kiss upon those lips which had never before
received the salute of love."
Leon Chenal remained silent. The women wept.
We heard on the box seat Count d'Etraille blow his
nose, from time to time. The coachman alone had
gone to sleep. The horses, which felt no longer the
sting of the whip, had slackened their pace and
dragged softly along. And the four-in-hand, hardly
moving at all, became suddenly torpid, as if laden
with sorrow.




THE HOLE
A   c       UTS AND WOUNDS WHICH CAUSED DEATH.
V/    (      That was the heading of the charge
7F        V       -J  which brought Leopold Renard, up-; holsterer, before the Assize Court.
\  t    \S     x Round him  were the principal
)\\itt, '/  ~witnesses, Madame Flameche, widow
s4    /   ~of the victim, Louis Ladureau, cabi\i,{     netmaker, and Jean Durdent, plumber.
n li  //     Near the criminal was his wife,
| t/K   <dressed in black, a little ugly woman,
who looked like a monkey dressed as a
\t      lady.
ao     ~This is how Renard described the drama:
S     "Good heavens, it is a misfortune of which
I am the first and last victim, and with which my will
has nothing to do. The facts are their own commentary, Monsieur le President. I am an honest man, a
hard-working man, an upholsterer in the same street
for the last sixteen years, known, liked, respected, and
esteemed by all, as my neighbors have testified, even
the porter, who is not foldtre every day. I am fond
of work, I am fond of saving, I like honest men, and
2 G.deM.-5                   (65)




66


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


respectable pleasures. That is what has ruined me,
so much the worse for me; but as my will had nothing to do with it, I continue to respect myself.
"Every Sunday for the last five years, my wife
and I have spent the day at Passy. We get fresh
air, not to say that we are fond of fishing-as fond
of it as we are of small onions. Melie inspired me
with that passion, the jade; she is more enthusiastic
than I am, the scold, and all the mischief in this
business is her fault, as you will see immediately.
"I am strong and mild-tempered, without a
pennyworth of malice in me. But she! oh! la! la
she looks insignificant, she is short and thin, but she
does more mischief than a weasel. I do not deny
that she has some good qualities; she has some, and
those very important to a man in business.   But
her character! Just ask about it in the neighborhood; even the porter's wife, who has just sent
me about my business-she will tell you something
about it.
"Every day she used to find fault with my mild
temper: 'I would not put up with this! I would
not put up with that.' If I had listened to her,
Monsieur le President, I should have had at least
three bouts of fisticuffs a month."
Madame Renard interrupted him: "And for good
reasons too; they laugh best who laugh last."
He turned toward her frankly: "Oh! very well,
I can blame you, since you were the cause of it."
Then, facing the President again he said:
"I will continue. We used to go to Passy every
Saturday evening, so as to be able to begin fishing
at daybreak the next morning. It is a habit which




THE HOLE


67


has become second nature with us, as the saying is.
Three years ago this summer I discovered a place,
oh! such a spot! There, in the shade, were eight
feet of water at least and perhaps ten, a hole with a
retour under the bank, a regular retreat for fish and
a paradise for any fisherman. I might look upon
that hole as my property, Monsieur le President, as I
was its Christopher Columbus.   Everybody in the
neighborhood knew it, without making any opposition. They used to say: 'That is Renard's place';
and nobody would have gone to it, not even Monsieur
Plumsay, who is renowned, be it said without any
offense, for appropriating other people's places.
"Well, I went as usual to that place, of which I
felt as certain as if I had owned it. I had scarcely
got there on Saturday, when I got into 'Delila,'
with  my wife. 'Delila' is my Norwegian boat,
which I had built by Fourmaise, and which is light
and safe. Well, as I said, we got into the boat and
we were going to bait, and for baiting there is nobody to be compared with me, and they all know it.
You want to know with what I bait? I cannot an.
swer that question; it has nothing to do with -the
accident; I cannot answer, that is my secret. There
are more than three hundred people who have asked
me; I have been offered glasses of brandy and liquors,
fried fish, matelots,* to make me tell! But just go
and try whether the chub will come. Ah! they have
patted my stomach to get at my secret, my recipe.
Only my wife knows, and she will not tell it, any
more than I shall! Is not that so, Milie?"
*A preparation of several kinds of fish, with a sharp saue




68


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


The President of the Court interrupted him:
"Just get to the facts as soon as you can."
The accused continued: "I am getting to them; I
am getting to them. Well, on Saturday, July 8, we left
by the five twenty-five train, and before dinner we
went to ground-bait as usual. The weather promised
to keep fine, and I said to Melie: 'All right for tomorrow!' And she replied: 'It looks like it.' We
never talk more than that together.
"And then we returned to dinner. I was happy
and thirsty, and that was the cause of everything.
I said to Melie: 'Look here Melie, it is fine weather,
so suppose I drink a bottle of Casque d meche. That
is a little white wine which we have christened so,
because if you drink too much of it it prevents you
from sleeping and is the opposite of a nightcap. Do
you understand me?
"She replied: 'You can do as you please, but you
will be ill again, and will not be able to get up tomorrow.' That was true, sensible, prudent, and clearsighted, I must confess. Nevertheless, I could not
withstand it, and I drank my bottle. It all comes
from that.
"Well, I could not sleep. By Jove! It kept me
awake till two o'clock in the morning, and then I
went to sleep so soundly that I should not have
heard the angel shouting at the Last Judgment.
"In short, my wife woke me at six o'clock and I
jumped out of bed, hastily put on my trousers and
jersey, washed my face and jumped on board 'Delila.' But it was too late, for when I arrived at my
hole it was already taken! Such a thing had never
happened to me in three years, and it made me feel




THE HOLE


69


%B rr I were being robbed under my own eyes. I
said to myself, 'Confound it all! confound it!' And
then my wife began to nag at me. 'Eh! What
about your Casque a meche! Get along, you drunkard! Are you satisfied, you great fool?' I could say
nothing, because it was all quite true, and so I
landed all the same near the spot and tried to profit
by what was left. Perhaps after all the fellow might
catch nothing, and go away.
"He was a little thin man, in white linen coat
and waistcoat, and with a large straw hat, and his
wife, a fat woman who was doing embroidery, was
behind him.
"When she saw us take up our position close
to their place, she murmured: 'I suppose there are
no other places on the riverl' And my wife, who
was furious, replied: 'People who know how to behave make inquiries about the habits of the neighborhood before occupying reserved spots.'
"As I did not want a fuss, I said to her: 'Hold
your tongue, Melie. Let them  go on, let them go
on; we shall see.'
"Well, we had fastened 'Delila' under the willowtrees, and had landed and were fishing side by side
Melie and I, close to the two others; but here,
Monsieur, I must enter into details.
"We had only been there about five minutes
when our male neighbor's float began to go down
two or three times, and then he pulled out a chub
as thick as my thigh, rather less, perhaps, but nearly
as big! My heart beat, and the perspiration stood on
my forehead, and Mdlie said to me: 'Well, you sot,
did you see that?'




70


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


" Just then, Monsieur Bru, the grocer of Poissy,
who was fond of gudgeon fishing, passed in a boat,
and called out to me: 'So somebody has taken your
usual place, Monsieur Renard?' And I replied: 'Yes,
Monsieur Bru, there are some people in this world
who do not know the usages of common politeness.'
"The little man in linen pretended not to hear,
nor his fat lump of a wife, either."
Here the President interrupted him a second time:
"Take care, you are insulting the widow, Madame
Flameche, who is present."
Renard made his excuses: "I beg your pardon,
I beg your pardon, my anger carried me away. Well,
not a quarter of an hour had passed when the little
man caught another chub and another almost immediately, and another five minutes later.
"The tears were in my eyes, and then I knew
that Madame Renard was boiling with rage, for she
kept on nagging at me: 'Oh! how horrid! Don't
you see that he is robbing you of your fish? Do you
think that you will catch anything? Not even a frog,
nothing whatever. Why, my hands are burning, just
to think of it.'
"But I said to myself: 'Let us wait until twelve
o'clock. Then this poaching fellow will go to lunch,
and I shall get my place again.' As for me, Monsieur
le President, I lunch on the spot every Sunday; we
bring our provisions in 'Delila.' But there! At
twelve o'clock, the wretch produced a fowl out of a
newspaper, and while he was eating, actually he
caught another chub!
" Mlie and I had a morsel also, just a mouthful, a
mere nothing, for our heart was not in it.




THE HOLE


71


" Then I took up my newspaper, to aid my
digestion. Every Sunday I read the 'Gil Blas' in the
shade like that, by the side of the water. It is Columbine's day, you know, Columbine who writes the
articles in the 'Gil Blas.' I generally put Madame
Renard into a passion by pretending to know this
Columbine. It is not true, for I do not know her,
and have never seen her, but that does not matter;
she writes very well, and then she says things straight
out for a woman. She suits me, and there are not
many of her sort.
" Well, I began to tease my wife, but she got
angry immediately, and very angry, and so I held my
tongue. At that moment our two witnesses, who are
present here, Monsieur Ladureau and Monsieur Durdent, appeared on the other side of the river. We
knew each other by sight. The little man began to
fish again, and he caught so many that I trembled
with vexation, and his wife said: 'It is an uncommonly good spot, and we will come here always,
Desire.' As for me, a cold shiver ran down my back,
and Madame Renard kept repeating: 'You are not a
man; you have the blood of a chicken in your veins';
and suddenly I said to her: 'Look here, I would
rather go away, or I shall only be doing something
foolish.'
"And she whispered to me as if she had put a
red-hot iron under my nose: 'You are not a man.
Now you are going to run away, and surrender your
place I Off you go, Bazaine!'
"Well, I felt that, but yet I did not move, while
the other fellow pulled out a bream, Oh! I never
saw such a large one before, never! And then my




72


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


wife began to talk aloud, as if she were thinking,
and you can see her trickery. She said: 'That is
what one might call stolen fish, seeing that we baited
the place ourselves. At any rate, they ought to give
us back the money we have spent on bait.'
"Then the fat woman in the cotton dress said in
turn: 'Do you mean to call us thieves, Madame?'
And they began to explain, and then they came to
words. Oh! Lord! those creatures know some good
ones. They shouted so loud, that our two witnesses,
who were on the other bank, began to call out by
way of a joke: 'Less noise over there; you will prevent your husbands from fishing.'
"The fact is that neither of us moved any more
than if we had been two tree-stumps. We remained
there, with our noses over the water, as if we had
heard nothing, but by Jove, we heard all the same.
'You are a mere liar.'
"'You are nothing better than a street-walker.'
"'You are only a trollop.'
"'You are a regular strumpet.'
"And so on, and so on; a sailor could not have
said more.
"Suddenly I heard a noise behind me, and turned
round. It was the other one, the fat woman who
had fallen on to my wife with her parasol. Whack!
whack! Melie got two of them, but she was furious,
and she hits hard when she is in a rage, so she
caught the fat woman by the hair and then, thump,
thump. Slaps in the face rained down like ripe
plums.  I should have let them  go on-women
among themselves, men among themselves-it does
not do to mix the blows, but the little man in the




THE HOLE


73


linen jacket jumped up like a devil and was going to
rush at my wife. Ah! no, no, not that, my friend!
I caught the gentleman with the end of my fist,
crash, crash, one on the nose, the other in the
stomach. He threw up his arms and legs and fell on
his back into the river, just into the hole.
"I should have fished him out most certainly,
Monsieur le President, if I had had the time. But unfortunately the fat woman got the better of it, and she
was drubbing Melie terribly. I know that I ought not
to have assisted her while the man was drinking his
fill, but I never thought that he would drown, and
said to myself: 'Bah, it will cool him.'
"I therefore ran up to the women to separate
them, and all I received was scratches and bites.
Good Lord, what creatures! Well, it took me five
minutes, and perhaps ten, to separate those two viragoes. When I turned round, there was nothing to
be seen, and the water was as smooth as a lake.
The others yonder kept shouting: 'Fish him out!'
It was all very well to say that, but I cannot swim
and still less dive!
"At last the man from the dam came, and two
gentlemen with boat-hooks, but it had taken over a
quarter of an hour. He was found at the bottom of
the hole in eight feet of water, as I have said, but he
was dead, the poor little man in his linen suit! There
are the facts, such as I have sworn to. I am innocent, on my honor."
The witnesses having deposed to the same effect,
the accused was acquitted.




LOVE
'I [REEH PAGES FROM A SPORTSMAN'S BOOK
oa:     T  HAVE just read among the general
news in one of the papers a drama
of passion. He killed her and then
C.  he killed himself, so he must have; "   loved her. What matters He or She?
Their love alone matters to me; and
j    it does not interest me because   it
(      A.i moves me or astonishes me, or because
it softens me or makes me think, but because it recalls to my mind a remembrance
of my youth, a strange recollection of a hunting adventure where  Love appeared to me,
as the Cross appeared to the early Christians, in
' the midst of the heavens.
I was born with all the instincts and the senses of
primitive man, tempered by the arguments and the
restraints of a civilized being. I am passionately fond
of shooting, yet the sight of the wounded animal, of
the blood on its feathers and on my hands, affects
my heart so as almost to make it stop.
That year the cold weather set in suddenly toward the end of autumn, and I was invited by one
(74)




LOVE


75


of my cousins, Karl de Rauville, to go with him and
shoot ducks on the marshes, at daybreak.
My cousin was a jolly fellow of forty, with red
hair, very stout and bearded, a country gentleman,
an amiable semi-brute, of a happy disposition and
endowed with that Gallic wit which makes even
mediocrity agreeable. He lived in a house, half farmhouse, half chateau, situated in a broad valley through
which a river ran. The hills right and left were covered with woods, old manorial woods where magnificent trees still remained, and where the rarest
feathered game in that part of France was to be
found. Eagles were shot there occasionally, and birds of
passage, such as rarely venture into our over-populated
part of the country, invariably lighted amid these giant
oaks, as if they knew or recognized some little corner
of a primeval forest which had remained there to serve
them as a shelter during their short nocturnal halt.
In the valley there were large meadows watered
by trenches and separated by hedges; then, further
on, the river, which up to that point had been kept
between banks, expanded into a vast marsh. That
marsh was the best shooting ground I ever saw. It
was my cousin's chief care, and he kept it as a
preserve.  Through the rushes that covered it, and
made it rustling and rough, narrow passages had been
cut, through which the flat-bottomed boats, impelled
and steered by poles, passed along silently over dead
water, brushing up against the reeds and making the
swift fish take refuge in the weeds, and the wild fowl,
with their pointed, black heads, dive suddenly.
I am passionately fond of the water: of the sea,
though it is too vast, too full of movement, impossi



76


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


ble to hold; of the rivers which are so beautiful, but
which pass on, and flee away; and above all of the
marshes, where the whole unknown existence of
aquatic animals palpitates. The marsh is an entire
world in itself on the world of earth  a different
world, which has its own life, its settled inhabitants
and its passing travelers, its voices, its noises, and
above all its mystery. Nothing is more impressive,
nothing more disquieting, more terrifying occasionally, than a fen. Why should a vague terror hang
over these low plains covered with water? Is it the
low rustling of the rushes, the strange will-o'-thewisp lights, the silence which prevails on calm nights,
the still mists which hang over the surface like a
shroud; or is it the almost inaudible splashing, so
slight and so gentle, yet sometimes more terrifying
than the cannons of men or the thunders of the
skies, which make these marshes resemble countries one has dreamed of, terrible countries holding an
unknown and dangerous secret?
No, something else belongs to it-another mystery, profounder and graver, floats amid these thick
mists, perhaps the mystery of the creation itself! For
was it not in stagnant and muddy water, amid the
heavy humidity of moist land under the heat of the
sun, that the first germ of life pulsated and expanded
to the day?
I arrived at my cousin's in the evening. It was
freezing hard enough to split the stones.
During dinner, in the large room whose sideboards, walls, and ceiling were covered with stuffed
birds, with wings extended or perched on branches




LOVE


77


to which they were nailed,- hawks, herons, owls,
nightjars, buzzards, tiercels, vultures, falcons,- my
cousin who, dressed In a sealskin jacket, himself resembled some strange animal from a cold country,
told me what preparations he had made for that same
night.
We were to start at half past three in the morning, so as to arrive at the place which he had chosen
for our watching-place at about half past four. On
that spot a hut had been built of lumps of ice, so as
to shelter us somewhat from the trying wind which
precedes daybreak, a wind so cold as to tear the flesh
like a saw, cut it like the blade of a knife, prick
it like a poisoned sting, twist it like a pair of pincers,
and burn it like fire.
My cousin rubbed his hands: "I have never known
such a frost," he said; "it is already twelve degrees
below zero at six o'clock in the evening."
I threw myself on to my bed immediately after we
had finished our meal, and went to sleep by the light
of a bright fire burning in the grate.
At three o'clock he woke me. In my turn, I put
on a sheepskin, and found my cousin Karl, covered
with a bearskin. After having each swallowed two
cups of scalding coffee, followed by glasses of liqueur
brandy, we started, accompanied by a gamekeeper
and our dogs, Plongeon and Pierrot.
From the first moment that I got outside, I felt
chilled to the very marrow. It was one of those
nights on which the earth seems dead with cold.
The frozen air becomes resisting and palpable, such
pain does it cause; no breath of wind moves it,
it is fixed and mcUtnloss; it bites yoli pierces




78


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


through you, dries you, kills the trees, the plants, the
insects, the small birds themselves, who fall from the
branches on to the hard ground, and become stiff
themselves under the grip of the cold.
The moon, which was in her last quarter and
was inclining all to one side, seemed fainting in the
midst of space, so weak that she was unable to
wane, forced to stay up yonder, seized and paralyzed
by the severity of the weather.  She shed a cold,
mournful light over the world, that dying and wan
light which she gives us every month, at the end of
her period.
Karl and I walked side by side, our backs bent, our
hands in our pockets and our guns under our arms.
Our boots, which were wrapped in wool so that we
might be able to walk without slipping on the frozen
river, made no sound, and I looked at the white vapor
which our dogs' breath made.
We were soon on the edge of the marsh, and
entered one of the lanes of dry rushes which ran
through the low forest.
Our elbows, which touched the long, ribbonlike
leaves, left a slight noise behind us, and I was seized,
as I had never been before, by the powerful and singular emotion which marshes cause in me. This one
was dead, dead from cold, since we were walking on
it, in the middle of its population of dried rushes.
Suddenly, at the turn of one of the lanes, I perceived the ice-hut which had been constructed to
shelter us. I went in, and as we had nearly an hour
to wait before the wandering birds would awake, I
rolled myself up in my rug in order to try and get
warm. Then, lying on my back, I began to look at




LOVE


79


the misshapen moon, which had four horns through
the vaguely transparent walls of this polar house.
But the frost of the frozen marshes, the cold of these
walls, the cold from the firmament penetrated me so
terribly that I began to cough. My cousin Karl became uneasy.
"No matter if we do not kill much to-day," he
zaid: "I do not want you to catch cold; we will light
a fire." And he told the gamekeeper to cut some
rushes.
We made a pile in the middle of our hut which
had a hole in the middle of the roof to let out the
smoke, and when the red flames rose up to the clear,
crystal blocks they began to melt, gently, imperceptibly, as if they were sweating. Karl, who had remained outside, called out to me: "Come and look
here!" I went out of the hut and remained struck
with astonishment. Our hut, in the shape of a cone,
looked like an enormous diamond with a heart of fire,
which had been suddenly planted there in the midst
of the frozen water of the marsh. And inside, we
saw two fantastic forms, those of our dogs, who were
warming themselves at the fire.
But a peculiar cry, a lost, a wandering cry, passed
over our heads, and the light from our hearth showed
us the wild birds. Nothing moves one so much as
the first clamor of a life which one does not see,
which passes through the somber air so quickly and
so far off, just before the first streak of a winter's day
appears on the horizon. It seems to me, at this glacial
hour of dawn, as if that passing cry which is carried
away by the wings of a bird is the sigh of a soul
from the world!




80


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"Put out the fire," said Karl, "it is getting daylight."
The sky was, in fact, beginning to grow pale, and
the flights of ducks made long, rapid streaks which
were soon obliterated on the sky.
A stream of light burst out into the night; Karl
had fired, and the two dogs ran forward.
And then, nearly every minute, now he, now I,
aimed rapidly as soon as the shadow of a flying flock
appeared above the rushes. And Pierrot and Plongeon, out of breath but happy, retrieved the bleeding
birds, whose eyes still, occasionally, looked at us.
The sun had risen, and it was a bright day with
a blue sky, and we were thinking of taking our departure, when two birds with extended necks and
outstretched wings, glided rapidly over our heads. I
fired, and one of them fell almost at my feet. It was
a teal, with a silver breast, and then, in the blue
space above me, I heard a voice, the voice of a bird.
It was a short, repeated, heart-rending lament; and the
bird, the little animal that had been spared began to
turn round in the blue sky, over our heads, looking
at its dead companion which I was holding in my
hand.
Karl was on his knees, his gun to his shoulder
watching it eagerly, until it should be within shot.
"You have killed the duck," he said, "and the drake
will not fly away."
He certainly did not fly away; he circled over
our heads continually, and continued his cries. Never
have any groans of suffering pained me so much as
that desolate appeal, as that lamentable reproach of
this poor bird which was lost in space.




LOVE                        81
Occasionally he took flight under the menace of
the gun which followed his movements, and seemed
ready to continue his flight alone, but as he could
not make up his mind to this, he returned to find
his mate.
"Leave her on the ground," Karl said to me, "he
will come within shot by and by." And he did indeed come near us, careless of danger, infatuated by
his animal love, by his affection for his mate, which
I had just killed.
Karl fired, and it was as if somebody had cut the
string which held the bird suspended. I saw something black descend, and I heard the noise of a fall
among the rushes. And Pierrot brought it to me.
I put them-they were already cold-into the
same game-bag, and I returned to Paris the same
evening.
2 G.deM.-6




THE INN
~         T'  IKE all the little wooden inns in the
|          higher Alps, tiny auberges situated
t  l      in the bare and rocky gorges which
(           intersect the white summits of the
^g_^^        mountains, the inn of Schwarenbach
A   -\   1   is a refuge for travelers who are cross-   Y/f ing the Gemmi.
\  1        It is open six months in the year,.  -     and is inhabited by the family of Jean
q-     Hauser. As soon as the snow begins to
-~   5   fall, and fills the valley so as to make the
road down to Loeche impassable, the father,
with mother, daughter, and the three sons depart, leaving the house in charge of the old
guide, Gaspard Hari, with the young guide, Ulrich
Kunsi, and Sam, the great mountain dog.
The two men and the dog remain till spring in
their snowy prison, with nothing before their eyes
except immense, white slopes of the Balmhorn, surrounded by light, glistening summits, and shut up,
blocked up, 'and buried by the snow which rises
around them, enveloping and almost burying the
little house up to the eaves.
(82)




-THE INN


83


It was the day on which the Hauser family were
going to return to Loeche, as winter was approaching, and the descent was becoming dangerous. Three
mules started first, laden with baggage and led by
the three sons. Then the mother, Jeanne Hauser, and
her daughter Louise mounted a fourth mule, and set
off in their turn.  The father followed them, accompanied by the two men in charge, who were
to escort the family as far as the brow of the
descent. First of all they skirted the small lake, now
frozen over, at the foot of the mass of rocks which
stretched in front of the inn; then they followed the
valley, which was dominated on all sides by snowcovered peaks.
A ray of sunlight glinted into that little white,
glistening, frozen desert, illuminating it with a cold
and dazzling flame. No living thing appeared among
this ocean of hills; there was no stir in that immeasurable solitude, no noise disturbed the profound silence.
By degrees the young guide, Ulrich Kunsi, a tall,
long-legged Swiss, left daddy Hauser and old Gaspard behind, in order to catch up with the mule
which carried the two women. The younger one
looked at him as he approached, as if she would call
him with her sad eyes. She was a young, lighthaired peasant girl, whose milk-white cheeks and
pale hair seemed to have lost their color by long
dwelling amid the ice. When Ulrich had caught up
with the animal which carried the women, he put
his hand on the crupper, and relaxed his speed.
Mother Hauser began to talk to him, and enumerated
with minutest detail all that he would have to attend
to during the winter. It was the first winter he




84


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


would spend up there, while old Hari had already
spent fourteen winters amid the snow, at the inn of
Schwarenbach.
Ulrich Kunsi listened, without appearing to understand, and looked incessantly at the girl. From
time to time he replied: "Yes, Madame Hauser"; but
his thoughts seemed far away, and his calm features
remained unmoved.
They reached Lake Daube, whose broad, frozen
surface reached to the bottom of the valley. On the
right, the Daubenhorn showed its black mass, rising
up in a peak above the enormous moraines of the
Lommeon glacier, which soared above the Wildstrubel. As they approached the neck of the Gemmi,
where the descent to Loeche begins, the immense
horizon of the Alps of the Valais, from which the
broad, deep valley of the Rhone separated them, came
in view.
In the distance, there was a group of white, un,
equal, flat or pointed mountain summits, which glistened in the sun; the Mischabel with its twin peaks,
the huge group of the Weisshorn, the heavy Brunegghorn, the lofty and formidable pyramid of Mont
Cervin, slayer of men, and the Dent Blanche, that
terrible coquette.
Then beneath them, as at the bottom of a terrible
abyss, they saw Loeche, its houses looking like grains
of sand which had been thrown into that enormous
crevice which finishes and closes the Gemmi, and
which opens, down below, on to the Rh6ne.
The mule stopped at the edge of the path, which
turns and twists continually, zigzagging fantastically
and strangely along the steep side of the mountain,




THE INN


as far as the almost invisible little village at its feet.
The women jumped into the snow, and the two old
men joined them.
"Well," father Hauser said, "good-bye, and keep
up your spirits till next year, my friends," and old
Hari replied: "Till next year."
They embraced   each other, and then Madame
Hauser in her turn, offered her cheek, and the girl
did the same. When Ulrich Kunsi's turn came, he
whispered in Louise's ear:
"Do not forget those up yonder," and she replied: "No," in such a low voice, that he guessed
what she had said, without hearing it.
"Well, adieu," Jean Hauser repeated, "and don't
fall ill." Then, going before the two women, he
commenced the descent, and soon all three disappeared at the first turn in the road, while the two
men returned to the inn at Schwarenbach.
They walked slowly side by side, without speaking. The parting was over, and they would be alone
together for four or five months. Then Gaspard Hari
began to relate his life last winter. He had remained
with Michael Canol, who was too old nowy to stand
it; for an accident might happen during that long
solitude. They had not been dull, however; the only
thing was to be resigned to it from the first, and in
the end one would find plenty of distraction, games
and other means of whiling away the time.
Ulrich Kunsi listened to him with his eyes on the
ground, for in thought he was with those who were
descending to the village. They soon came in sight
of the inn, which was scarcely visible, so small did it
look, a mere black speck at the foot of that enormous




86


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


billow of snow. When they opened the door, Sam,
the grcat curly dog, began to romp round them.
"Come, my boy," old Gaspard said, "we have no
wo    Rcen now, so we must get our own dinner ready.
Go and peel the potatoes." And they both sat down
on wooden stools, and began to put the bread into
the soup.
The next morning seemed very long to Kunsi.
Old Hari smoked and smoked beside the hearth,
while the young man looked out of the window at
the snow-covered mountain opposite the house. In
the afternoon he went out, and going over the previous day's ground again, he looked for the traces of
the mule that had carried the two women; then when
he had reached the neck of the Gemmi, he laid himself down on his stomach, and looked at Loeche.
The village, in its rocky pit, was not yet buried
under the snow, although the white masses came
quite close to it, balked, however, of their prey by the
pine woods which protected the hamlet. From his
vantage point the low houses looked like pavingstones in a large meadow. Hauser's little daughter
was there now in one of those gray-colored houses.
In which? Ulrich Kunsi was too far away to be able
to make them out separately. How he would have
liked to go down while he was yet able!
But the sun had disappeared behind the lofty crest
of the Wildstrubel, and the young man returned to
the chalet. Daddy Hari was smoking, and, when he
saw his mate come in, proposed a game of cards to
him. They sat down opposite each other for a long
time and played the simple game called brisque; then
they had supper and went to bed.




THE INN


87


The following days were like the first, bright and
cold, without any more snow. Old Gaspard spent
his afternoons in watching the eagles and other rare
birds which ventured on to those frozen heights,
while Ulrich journeyed regularly to the neck of the
Gemmi to look at the village.  In the evening they
played at cards, dice, or dominoes, and lost and
won trifling sums, just to create an interest in the
game.
One morning Hari, who was up first, called his
companion. A moving cloud of white spray, deep
and light, was falling on them noiselessly, and
burying them by degrees under a dark, thick coverlet
of foam.  This lasted four days and four nights.
It was necessary to free the door and the windows,
to dig out a passage, and to cut steps to get over
this frozen powder, which a twelve-h1ours' frost had
made as hard as the granite of the moraines.
They lived like prisoners, not venturing outside
their abode. They had divided their duties and performed them regularly. Ulrich Kunsi undertook the
scouring, washing, and everything that belonged to
cleanliness. He also chopped up the wood, while
Gaspard Hari did the cooking and attended to the
fire. Their regular and monotonous work was relieved by long games at cards or dice, but they never
quarreled, and were always calm and placid. They
were never even impatient or ill-humored, nor did
they ever use hard words, for they had laid in a
stock of patience for this wintering on the top of the
mountain.
Sometimes old Gaspard took his rifle and went
after chamois, and occasionally killed one.  Then




88


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


there was a feast in the inn at Schwarenbach, and
they reveled in fresh meat. One morning he went
out as usual.  The thermometer outside marked
eighteen degrees of frost, and as the sun had not yet
risen, the hunter hoped to surprise the animals at
the approaches to the Wildstrubel.  Ulrich, being
alone, remained in bed until ten o'clock. He was of
a sleepy nature, but would not have dared to give
way like that to his inclination in the presence of
the old guide, who was ever an early riser.  He
breakfasted leisurely with Sam, who also spent his
days and nights in sleeping in front of the fire;
then he felt low-spirited and even frightened at
the solitude, and was seized by a longing for his
daily game of cards, as one is by the domination of
an invincible habit. So he went out to meet his
companion, who was to return at four o'clock.
The snow had leveled the whole deep valley,
filled up the crevasses, obliterated all signs of the
two lakes and covered the rocks, so that between the
high summits there was nothing but an immense,
white, regular, dazzling, and frozen surface.  For
three weeks, Ulrich had not been to the edge of the
precipice, from which he had looked down on to the
village, and he wanted to go there before climbing
the slopes which led to the Wildstrubel. Loeche was
now covered by the snow, and the houses could
scarcely be distinguished, hidden as they were by
that white cloak.
Turning to the right, Ulrich reached the Lammern
glacier. He strode along with a mountaineer's long
swinging pace, striking the snow, which was as hard
as a rock, with his iron-shod stick, and with piercing




THE INN               8


89


eyes looking for the little black, moving speck in the
distance, on that enormous, white expanse.
When he reached the end of the glacier he
stopped, and asked himself whether the old man had
taken that road, and then he began to walk along
the moraines with rapid and uneasy steps. The day
was declining; the snow was assuming * a rosy tint.,
and a dry, frozen wind blew in rough gusts over its
crystal surface. Ulrich uttered a long, shrill, vibra-.
ting call. His voice sped through the deathlike silence
in which the mountains were sleeping; it reached
into the distance, over the profound and motionless
waves of glacial foam, like the cry of a bird over
the waves of the sea; then it died away and nothing
answered him.
He started off again. The sun had sunk behind
the mountain tops, which still were purpled with the
reflection from the heavens; but the depths of the
valley were becoming gray, and suddenly the young
man felt frightened. It seemed to him as if the si-.
lence, the cold, the solitude, the wintry death of these
mountains were taking possession of him, were stop-.
ping and freezing his blood, making his limbs grow
stiff, and turning him into a motionless ardd frozen
object; and he began to run rapidly toward the dwel.ling. The old man, he thought, would have returned
during his absence. He had probably taken another
road; and would, no doubt, be sitting before the fire,
with a dead chamois at his feet.
He soon came in sight of the inn, but no smoke
rose from it. Ulrich ran faster. Opening the door
he met Sam who ran up to him to greet him, but
Gaspard Hani had not returned. Kunsi, in his alarm,




90


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


turned round suddenly, as if he had expected to find
his comrade hidden in a corner. Then he relighted
the fire and made the soup; hoping every moment to
see the old man come in. From time to time he
went out to see if Gaspard were not in sight. It
was night now, that wan night of the mountain, a
livid night, with the crescent moon, yellow and dim,
just disappearing behind the mountain tops, and
shining faintly on the edge of the horizon.
Then the young man went in and sat down to
warm his hands and feet, while he pictured to himself every possible sort of accident. Gaspard might
have broken a leg, have fallen into a crevasse, have
taken a false step and dislocated his ankle. Perhaps
he was lying on the snow, overcome and stiff with
the cold, in agony of mind, lost and perhaps shouting for help, calling with all his might, in the silence
of the night.
But where? The mountain was so vast, so rugged,
so dangerous in places, especially at that time of the
year, that it would have required ten or twenty
guides walking for a week in all directions, to find a
man in that immense space. Ulrich Kunsi, however,
made up his mind to set out with Sam, if Gaspard
did not return by one in the morning; and he made
his preparations.
He put provisions for two days into a bag, took
his steel climbing-irons, tied a long, thin, strong rope
round his waist and looked to see that his ironshod stick and his ax, which served to cut steps
in the ice, were in order. Then he waited.  The
fire was burning on the hearth, the great dog was
snoring in front of it, and the clock was ticking in




THE INN


91


its case of resounding wood, as regularly as a heart
beating.
He waited, his ears on the alert for distant sounds,
and shivered when the wind blew against the roof
and the walls. It struck twelve, and he trembled.
Then, as he felt frightened and shivery, he put some
water on the fire, so that he might have hot coffee
before starting. When the clock struck one he got
up, woke Sam, opened the door and went off in the
direction of the Wildstrubel.  For five hours he
ascended, scaling the rocks by means of his climbingirons, cutting into the ice, advancing continually, and
occasionally hauling up the dog, who remained below
at the foot of some slope that was too steep for him,
by means of the rope. About six o'clock he reached
one of the summits to which old Gaspard often came
after chamois, and he waited till it should be daylight.
The sky was growing pale overhead, and suddenly a strange light, springing, nobody could tell
whence, suddenly illuminated the immense ocean of
pale mountain peaks, which stretched for many leagues
around him. It seemed as if this vague brightness
arose from the snow itself, in order to spread itself
into space. By degrees the highest and most distant
summits assumed a delicate, fleshlike rose color, and
the red sun appeared behind the ponderous giants of
the Bernese Alps.
Ulrich Kunsi set off again, walking like a hunter,
stooping and looking for any traces, and saying to his
dog: "Seek old fellow, seek!"
He was descending the mountain now, scanning
the depths closely, and from time to time shouting,




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WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


uttering a loud, prolonged familiar cry which soon
died away in that silent vastness. Then, he put his
ear to the ground, to listen. He thought he could
distinguish a voice, and so he began to run and shout
again. But he heard nothing more and sat down,
worn out and in despair. Toward midday he breakfasted and gave Sam, who was as tired as himself,
something to eat also; then he recommenced his
search.
When evening came he was still walking, having
traveled more than thirty miles over the mountains.
As he was too far away to return home, and too
tired to drag himself along any further, he dug a hole
in the snow and crouched in it with his dog, under
a blanket which he had brought with him. The man
and the dog lay side by side, warming themselves
one against the other, but frozen to the marrow,
nevertheless. Ulrich scarcely slept, his mind haunted
by visions and his limbs shaking with cold.
Day was breaking when he got up. His legs
were as stiff as iron bars, and his spirits so low that
he was ready to weep, while his heart was beating
so that he almost fell with excitement whenever he
thought he heard a noise.
Suddenly he imagined that he also was going to
die of cold in the midst of this vast solitude. The
terror of such a death roused his energies and gave
him renewed vigor. He was descending toward the
inn, falling down and getting up again, and followed
at a distance by Sam, who was limping on three legs.
They did not reach Schwarenbach until four o'clock
In the afternoon. The house was empty, and the
young man made a fire, had something to eat, and




THE INN


93


went to sleep, so worn-out that he did not think of
anything more.
He slept for a long time, for a very long time, the
unconquerable sleep of exhaustion. But suddenly a
voice, a cry, a name: "Ulrich," aroused him from
his profound slumber, and made him sit up in bed.
Had he been dreaming? Was it one of those strange
appeals which cross the dreams of disquieted minds?
No, he heard it still, that reverberating cry,-which
had entered at his ears and remained in his brain,thrilling him to the tips of his sinewy fingers. Certainly, somebody had cried out, and called: " Ulrich! "
There was somebody there, near the house, there
could be no doubt of that, and he opened the door
and shouted:  "Is it you, Gaspard?" with all the
strength of his lungs. But there was no reply, no
murmur, no groan, nothing. It was quite dark, and
the snow looked wan.
The wind had risen, that icy wind which cracks
the rocks, and leaves nothing alive on those deserted
heights. It came in sudden gusts, more parching and
more deadly than the burning wind of the desert,
and again Ulrich shouted: "Gaspard! GaspArd! Gaspard! "  Then  he waited again.  Everything was
silent on the mountain! Then he shook with terror,
and with a bound he was inside the inn. He shut
and bolted the door, and then fell into a chair,
trembling all over, for he felt certain that his comrade
had called him at the moment of dissolution.
He was certain of that, as certain as one is of conscious life or of taste when eating. Old Gaspard Hari
had been dying for two days and three nights somewhere, in some hole, in one of those deep, untrodden




94


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


ravines whose whiteness is more sinister than subterranean darkness. He had been dying for two days
and three nights and he had just then died, thinking
of his comrade. His soul, almost before it was released, had taken its flight to the inn where Ulrich
was sleeping, and it had called him by that terrible
and mysterious power which the spirits of the dead
possess. That voiceless soul had cried to the wornout soul of the sleeper; it had uttered its last farewell, or its reproach, or its curse on the man who
had not searched carefully enough.
And Ulrich felt that it was there, quite close to
him, behind the wall, behind the door which he had
just fastened. It was wandering about, like a night
bird which skims a lighted window with his wings,
and the terrified young man was ready to scream
with horror. He wanted to run away, but did not
dare go out; he did not dare, and would never dare
in the future, for that phantom would remain there
day and night, round the inn, as long as the old
man's body was not recovered and deposited in the
consecrated earth of a churchyard.
Daylight came, and Kunsi recovered some of his
courage with the return of the bright sun. He prepared his meal, gave his dog some food, and then
remained motionless on a chair, tortured at heart as
he thought of the old man lying on the snow. Then,
as soon as night once more covered the mountains,
new terrors assailed him. He now walked up and
down the dark kitchen, which was scarcely lighted
by the flame of one candle. He walked from one
end of it to the other with great strides, listening,
listening to hear the terrible cry of the preceding night




THE INN


95


again break the dreary silence outside. He felt himself alone, unhappy man, as no man had ever been
alone before! Alone in this immense desert of snow,
alone five thousand feet above the inhabited earth,
above human habitations, above that stirring,.noisy,
palpitating life, alone under an icy sky! A mad
longing impelled him to run away, no matter where,
to get down to Loeche by flinging himself over the
precipice; but he did not even dare to open the door,
as he felt sure that the other, the dead, man would
bar his road, so that he might not be obliged to
remain up there alone.
Toward midnight, tired with walking, worn-out
by grief and fear, he fell into a doze in his chair, for
he was afraid of his bed, as one is of a haunted
spot. But suddenly the strident cry of the preceding
evening pierced his ears, so shrill that Ulrich stretched
out his arms to repulse the ghost, and he fell on to
his back with his chair.
Sam, who was awakened by the noise, began to
howl as frightened dogs do, and trotted all about the
house trying to find out where the danger came
from. When he got to the door, he sniffed beneath
it, smelling vigorously, with his coat bristling and
his tail stiff while he growled angrily. Kunsi, who
was terrified, jumped up, and holding his chair by
one leg, cried:  "Don't come in, don't come in,
or I shall kill you." And the dog, excited by this
threat, barked angrily at that invisible enemy who
defied his master's voice. By degrees, however, he
quieted dcwn, came back and stretched himself in
front of the fire. But he was uneasy, and kept his
head up, and growled between his teeth.




96


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


a


Ulrich, in turn, recovered his senses, but as he
felt faint with terror, he went and got a bottle of
brandy out of the sideboard, and drank off several
glasses, one after another, at a gulp. His ideas became
vague, his courage revived, and a feverish glow ran
through his veins.
He ate scarcely anything the next day, and limited
himself to alcohol; so he lived for several days, like
a drunken brute. As soon as he thought of Gaspard
Hari he began to drink again, and went on drinking
until he fell on to the floor, overcome by intoxication.  And there he remained on his face, dead
drunk, his limbs benumbed, and snoring with his
face to the ground. But scarcely had he digested the
maddening and burning liquor, than the same cry,
"Ulrich," woke him like a bullet piercing his brain,
and he got up, still staggering, stretching out his
hands to save himself from falling, and calling to
Sam to help him. And the dog, who appeared to
be going mad like his master, rushed to the door,
scratched it with his claws, and gnawed it with his
long white teeth, while the young man, his neck
thrown back, and his head in the air, drank the
brandy in gulps, as if it were cold water, so that it
might by and by send his thoughts, his frantic terror,
and his memory, to sleep again.
In three weeks he had consumed all his stock of
ardent spirits.  But his continual drunkenness only
lulled his terror, which awoke more furiously than
ever, as soon as it was impossible for him to calm
it by drinking. His fixed idea, which had been intensified by a month of drunkenness, and which was
continually increasing in his absolute solitude, pene



THE INN


97


trated him like a gimlet. He now walked about his
house like a wild beast in its cage, putting his ear to
the door to listen if the other were there, and defying
him through the wall. Then as soon as he dozed,
overcome by fatigue, he heard the voice which made
him leap to his feet.
At last one night, as cowards do when driven to
extremity, he sprang to the door and opened it, to
see who was calling him, and to force him to keep
quiet. But such a gust of cold wind blew into his
face that it chilled him to the bone. He closed and
bolted the door again immediately, without noticing that
Sam had rushed out. Then, as he was shivering with
cold, he threw some wood on the fire, and sat down
in front of it to warm  himself.  But suddenly he
started, for somebody was scratching at the wall,
and crying. In desperation  he called out: "Go
away!" but was answered by another long, sorrowful wail.
Then all his remaining senses forsook him, from
sheer fright. He repeated: "Go awayl" and turned
round to find some corner in which to hide, while
the other person went round the house still crying,
and rubbing against the wall. Ulrich went to the
oak sideboard, which was full of plates and dishes
and of provisions, and lifting it up with superhuman
strength, he dragged it to the door, so as to form a
barricade. Then piling up all the rest of the furniture, the mattresses, paillasses, and chairs, he stopped
up the windows as men do when assailed by an
enemy.
But the person outside now uttered long, plaintive,
mournful groans, to which the young man replied
2 G. de M.-7




98


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


by similar groans, and thus days and nights passed
without their ceasing to howl at each other. The
one was continually walking round the house and
scraped the walls with his nails so vigorously that it
seemed as if he wished to destroy them, while the
other, inside, followed all his movements, stooping
down, and holding his ear to the walls, and replying
to all his appeals with terrible cries. One evening,
however, Ulrich heard nothing more, and he sat
down, so overcome by fatigue that he went to sleep
immediately, and awoke in the morning without a
thought, without any recollection of what had happened, just as if his head had been emptied during
his heavy sleep. But he felt hungry, and he ate.
The winter was over, and the Gemmi pass was
practicable again, so the Hauser family started off to
return to their inn. As soon as they had reached
the top of the ascent, the women mounted their
mule, and spoke about the two men who they would
meet again shortly.  They were, indeed, rather surprised that neither of them had come down a few
days before, as soon as the road became passable, in
order to tell them all about their long winter sojourn.
At last, however, they saw the inn, stilJ covered with
snow, like a quilt. The door and the windows were
closed, but a little smoke was coming out of the
chimney, which reassured old Hauser; on going up
to the door, however, he saw the skeleton of an
animal which had been torn to pieces by the eagles,
a large skeleton lying on its side.
They all looked closely at it, and the mother said:
"That must be Sam." Then she shouted: "1Hi I




THE INN


99


Gaspard " A cry from the interior of the house
answered her, so sharp a cry that one might have
thought some animal uttered it. Old Hauser repeated:
"Hi! Gaspard!" and they heard another cry, similar to the first.
Then the three men, the father and the two sons,
tried to open the door, but it resisted their efforts.
From the empty cow-stall they took a beam to serve
as a battering-ram, and hurled it against the door
with all their might. The wood gave way, and the
boards flew into splinters; then the house was shaken
by a loud voice, and inside, behind the sideboard
which was overturned, they saw  a man standing
upright, his hair falling on to his shoulders and a
beard descending to his breast, with shining eyes
and nothing but rags to cover him. They did not
recognize him, but Louise Hauser exclaimed: "It is
Ulrich, mother." And her mother declared that it
was Ulrich, although his hair was white.
He allowed them to go up to him, and to touch
him, but he did not reply to any of their questions,
and they were obliged to take him to Loeche, where
the doctors found that he was mad. Nobody ever
knew what had become of his companion.
Little Louise Hauser nearly died that summer of
decline, which the medical men attributed to the cold
air of the mountains.




A FAMILY
5 'J TWAS going to see my friend Simon Radevin once more, for I had not seen
him for fifteen years. Formerly he was
my most intimate friend, and I used to
1     spend long, quiet, and happy evenings
with him. He was one of those men
to whom   one tells the most intimate
O e    affairs of the heart, and in whom  one
it, ~   finds, when quietly talking, rare, clever,
ingenious, and refined thoughts-thoughts
which stimulate and capture the mind.
$ G/     For years we had scarcely been separated:
we had lived, traveled, thought, and dreamed
together; had liked the same things with the
same liking, admired the same books, comprehended
the same works, shivered with the same sensations,
and very often laughed at the same individuals, whom
we understood completely, by merely exchanging a
glance.
Then he married-quite unexpectedly married a
little girl from the provinces, who had come to Paris
in search of a husband. How ever could that little,.        (wo1




A FAMILY


I01


thin, insipidly fair girl, with her weak hands, her
light, vacant eyes, and her clear, silly voice, who was
exactly like a hundred thousand marriageable dolls,
have picked up that intelligent, clever young fellow?
Can anyone understand these things? No doubt he
had hoped for happiness, simple, quiet, and longenduring happiness, in the arms of a good, tender,
and faithful woman; he had seen all that in the
transparent looks of that schoolgirl with light hair.
He had not dreamed of the fact that an active,
living, and vibrating man grows tired as soon as he
has comprehended the stupid reality of a commonplace life, unless indeed, he becomes so brutalized
as to be callous to externals.
What would he be like when I met him again?
Still lively, witty, light-hearted, and enthusiastic, or in
a state of mental torpor through provincial life? A
man can change a great deal in the course of fifteen
years I
The train stopped at a small station, and as I got
out of the carriage, a stout, a very stout man with
red cheeks and a big stomach rushed up -to me with
open arms. exclaiming: "Georgel"
I embraced him, but I had not recognized him,
and then I said, in astonishment: "By Jove I You
have not grown thin!"
And he replied with a laugh: "What did you
expect? Good living, a good table, and good nights!
Eating and sleeping, that is my existence 1"
I looked at him closely, trying to find the features
I held so dear in that broad face. His eyes alone
had not altered, but I no longer saw the same looks




102


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


in them, and I said to myself: "If looks be the
reflection of the mind, the thoughts in that head are
not what they used to be-those thoughts which
I knew so well."
Yet his eyes were bright, full of pleasure and
friendship, but they had not that clear, intelligent
expression which tells better than do words the value
of the mind. Suddenly he said to me:
"Here are my two eldest children." A girl of
fourteen, who was almost a woman, and a boy of
thirteen, in the dress of a pupil from a lycee, came
forward in a hesitating and awkward manner, and I
said in a low voice: "Are they yours?"
"Of course they are," he replied laughing.
"How many have you?"
"Five! There are three more indoors."
He said that in a proud, self-satisfied, almost
triumphant manner, and I felt profound pity, mingled
with a feeling of vague contempt for this vainglorious
and simple reproducer of his species, who spent his
nights in his country house in uxorious pleasures.
I got into a carriage, which he drove himself, and
we set off through the town, a dull, sleepy, gloomy
town where nothing was moving in the streets save
a few dogs and two or three maidservants. Here
and there a shopkeeper standing at his door took off
his hat, and Simon returned the salute and told me
the man's name-no doubt to show     me that he
knew  all the inhabitants personally.  The thought
struck me that he was thinking of becoming a candidate for the Chamber of Deputies, that dream of all
who have buried themselves in the provinces.
We were soon out of the town; the carriage




A FAMILY


103


turned into a garden which had some pretensions to
a park, and stopped in front of a turreted house,
which tried to pass for a chateau.
"That is my den," Simon said, so that he might
be complimented on it, and I replied that it was delightful.
A lady appeared on the steps, dressed up for a
visitor, her hair done for a visitor, and with phrases
ready prepared for a visitor. She was no longer the
light-haired, insipid girl I had seen in church fifteen
years previously, but a stout lady in curls and flounces,
one of those ladies of uncertain age, without intellect,
without any of those things which constitute a woman.
In short she was a mother, a stout, commonplace
mother, a human layer and brood mare, a machine of
flesh which procreates, without mental care save for
her children and her housekeeping book.
She welcomed me, and I went into the hall, where
three children, ranged according to their height, were
ranked for review, like firemen before a mayor. "Ahl
ah! so there are the others? " said I. And Simon,
who was radiant with pleasure, named them: "Jean,
Sophie, and Gontran."
The door of the drawing-room was open. I went
in, and in the depths of an easy-chair I saw something trembling, a man, an old, paralyzed man.
Madame Radevin came forward and said: "This is
my grandfather, Monsieur; he is eighty-seven." And
then she shouted into the shaking old man's ears:
"This is a friend of Simon's, grandpapa."
The old gentleman tried to say "Good day" to
me, and he muttered: "Oua, oua, oua," and waved
his hand.




104


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


I took a seat saying: "You are very kind, Monsieur."
Simon had just come in, and he said with a laugh:
"Sol You have made grandpapa's acquaintance. He
is priceless, is that old man. He is the delight of the
children, and he is so greedy that he almost kills himself at every meal. You have no idea what he would
eat if he were allowed to do as he pleased. But you
will see, you will see.  He looks all the sweets over
as if they were so many girls. You have never seen
anything funnier; you will see it presently."
I was then shown to my room to change my
dress for dinner, and hearing a great clatter behind
me on the stairs, I turned round and saw that all the
children were following me behind their father-to do
me honor, no doubt.
My windows looked out on to a plain, a bare,
interminable plain, an ocean of grass, of wheat, and of
oats, without a clump of trees or any rising ground,
a striking and melancholy picture of the life which
they must be leading in that house.
A bell rang; it was for dinner, and so I went
downstairs. Madame Radevin took my arm in a
ceremonious manner, and we went into the diningroom. A footman wheeled in the old man's armchair, who gave a greedy and curious look at the
dessert, as with difficulty he turned his shaking head
from one dish to the other.
Simon rubbed his hands, saying: "You will be
amused." All the children understood that I was
going to be indulged with the sight of their greedy
grandfather and they began to laugh accordingly,
while their mother merely smiled and shrugged her




A FAMILY


Io5


shoulders. Simon, making a speaking trumpet of his
hands, shouted at the old man: "This evening there
is sweet rice-cream," and the wrinkled face of the
grandfather brightened, he trembled violently all over,
showing that he had understood and was very
pleased. The dinner began.
"Just look!" Simon whispered. The grandfather
did not like the soup, and refused to eat it; but he
was made to, on account of his health. The footman
forced the spoon into his mouth, while the old man
blew energetically, so as not to swallow the soup,
which was thus scattered like a stream of water on
to the table and over his neighbors. The children
shook with delight at the spectacle, while their father,
who was also amused, said: "Isn't the old man
funny?"
During the whole meal they were all taken up
solely with him. With his eyes he devoured the
dishes which were put on the table, and with trembling hands tried to seize them and pull them to
him. They put them almost within his reach to see
his useless efforts, his trembling clutches at them,
the piteous appeal of his whole nature, of his eyes,
of his mouth, and of his nose as he smelled them. He
slobbered on to his table napkin with eagerness,
while uttering inarticulate grunts, and the whole
family was highly amused at this horrible and gro.
tesque scene.
Then they put a tiny morsel on to his plate,
which he ate with feverish gluttony, in order to get
something more as soon as possible. When the ricecream was brought in, he nearly had a fit, and
groaned with greediness.  Gontran called out to




io6


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


him: "You have eaten too much already; you will
have no more." And they pretended not to give him
any. Then he began to cry -cry and tremble more
violently than ever, while all the children laughed.
At last, however, they gave him his helping, a very
small piece. As he ate the first mouthful of the pudding, he made a comical and greedy noise in his throat,
and a movement with his neck like ducks do, when
they swallow too large a morsel, and then, when he
had done, he began to stamp his feet, so as to get
more.
I was seized with pity for this pitiable and ridiculous Tantalus, and interposed on his behalf: "Please,
will you not give him a little more rice?"
But Simon replied: "OhI no my dear fellow, if
he were to eat too much, it might harm him at his
age."
I held my tongue, and thought over these words.
Oh! ethics! Oh! logic! Oh! wisdom! At his age!
So they deprived him of his only remaining pleasure
out of regard for his health!  His health! What
would he do with it, inert and trembling wreck that
he was? They were taking care of his life, so they
said. His life? How many days? Ten, twenty, fifty,
or a hundred? Why? For his own sake? Or to
preserve for some time longer, the spectacle of his
impotent greediness in the family.
There was nothing left for him to do in this life,
nothing whatever. He had one single wish left, one
sole pleasure; why not grant him that last solace
constantly, until he died?
After playing cards for a long time, I went up to
my room and to bed; I was low-spirited and sad,




A FAMILY                 107
sad, sad! I sat at my window, but I heard nothing
but the beautiful warbling of a bird in a tree, somewhere in the distance. No doubt the bird was singing thus in a low voice during the night, to lull his
mate, who was sleeping on her eggs.
And I thought of my poor friend's five children,
and to myself pictured him snoring by the side of
his ugly wife.




BELLFLOWER*,;.           T   T - ow  strange are those old recol-: -   n    ~lections which haunt us, without
our being able to get rid of them!
This one is so very old that I
cannot understand how it has clung
_ -       J      so vividly and tenaciously to my,_         memory. Since then I have seen so
X      _    many sinister things, either affecting
{>i/     or terrible, that I am astonished at not
v//)/        being able to pass a single day without
I^".    the face of Mother Bellflower recurring to. —.      my mind's eye, just as I knew    her forc  F:. merly, long, long ago, when I was ten or
twelve years old.
She was an old seamstress who came to my
parents' house once a week, every Thursday, to mend
the linen. My parents lived in one of those country
houses called chateaux, which are merely old houses
with pointed roofs, to which are attached three or
four adjacent farms.
*Clochette.
(108)




BELLPLOWER


109


The village, a large village, almost a small market
town, was a few hundred yards off, and nestled
round the church, a red brick church, which had become black with age.
Well, every Thursday Mother Bellflower came between half past six and seven in the morning, and
went immediately into the linen-room and began to
work. She was a tall, thin, bearded or rather hairy
woman, for she had a beard all over her face, a surw.
prising, an unexpected beard, growing in improbable
tufts, in curly bunches which looked as if they had
been sown by a madman over that great face, the
face of a gendarme in petticoats. She had them on
her nose, under her nose, round her nose, on her
chin, on her cheeks; and her eyebrows, which were
extraordinarily thick and long, and quite gray, bushy
and bristling, looked exactly like a pair of mustaches
stuck on there by mistake.
She limped, but not like lame people generally do,
but like a ship pitching. When she planted her
great, bony, vibrant body on her sound leg, she
seemed to be preparing to mount some enormous
wave, and then suddenly she dipped as if to disappear in an abyss, and buried herself in the ground.
Her walk reminded one of a ship in a storm, and her
head, which was always covered with an enormous
white cap, whose ribbons fluttered down her back,
seemed to traverse the horizon from North to South
and from South to North, at each limp.
I adored Mother Bellflower. As soon as I was up
I used to go into the linen-room, where I found her
installed at work, with a foot-warmer under her feet.
As soon as I arrived, she made me take the foot



I IO


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


warmer and sit upon it, so that I might not catch
cold in that large, chilly room under the roof.
"That draws the blood from your head," she would
say to me.
She told me stories, while mending the linen with
her long, crooked, nimble fingers; behind her magnifying spectacles, for age had impaired her sight, her
eyes appeared enormous to me, strangely profound,
double.
As far as I can remember from the things which
she told me and by which my childish heart was
moved, she had the large heart of a poor wcman.
She told me what had happened in the village, how a
cow had escaped from the cowhouse and had been
found the next morning in front of Prosper Malet's
mill, looking at the sails turning, or about a hen's
egg which had been found in the church belfry without anyone being able to understand what creature
had been there to lay it, or the queer story of Jean
Pila's dog, who had gone ten leagues to bring back
his master's breeches which a tramp had stolen while
they were hanging up to dry out of doors, after he
had been caught in the rain. She told me these simple adventures in such a manner that in my mind
they assumed the proportions of never-to-be-forgotten
dramas, of grand and mysterious poems; and the
ingenious stories invented by the poets, which my
mother told me in the evening, had none of the
flavor, none of the fullness or of the vigor of the
peasant woman's narratives.
Well, one Thursday when I had spent all the morning in listening to Mother Clochette, I wanted to go
upstais to her again during the day, after picking




BELIFLOWER                III
hazelnuts with the manservant in the wood behind
the farm. I remember it all as clearly as what happened only yesterday.
On opening the door of the linen-room, I saw the
old seamstress lying on the floor by the side of her
chair, her face turned down and her arms stretched
out, but still holding her needle in one hand and
one of my shirts in the other.  One of her legs
in a blue stocking, the longer one no doubt, was
extended under her chair, and her spectacles glistened by the wall, where they had rolled away from
her.
I ran away uttering shrill cries. They all came
running, and in a few minutes I was told that Mother
Clochette was dead.
I cannot describe the profound, poignant, terrible
emotion which stirred my childish heart. I went
slowly down into the drawing-room and hid myself
in a dark corner, in the depths of a great, old armchair, where I knelt and wept. I remained there for
a long time no doubt, for night came on. Suddenly
some one came in with a lamp-without seeing me,
however -and I heard my father and mother talking
with the medical man, whose voice I recognized.
He had been sent for immediately, and he was
explaining the cause of the accident, of which I understood nothing, however. Then he sat down and
had a glass of liqueur and a biscuit.
He went on talking, and what he then said will
remain engraved on my mind until I die! I think
that I can give the exact words which he used.
"Ahl" said he, "the poor woman! she broke her
leg the day of my arrival here. I had not even had




112      WORKS OP GUY DE MAUPASSANT


time to wash my hands after getting off the diligence before I was sent for in all haste, for it was a
bad case, very bad.
"She was seventeen, and a pretty girl, very
pretty! Would anyone believe it? I have never told
her story before, in fact no one but myself and one
other person, who is no longer living in this part of
the country, ever knew it. Now that she is dead, I
may be less discreet.
"A young assistant teacher had just come to live
in the village; he was good-looking and had the bearing of a soldier. All the girls ran after him, but he
was disdainful.  Besides that, he was very much
afraid of his superior, the schoolmaster, old Grabu,
who occasionally got out of bed the wrong foot
first.
"Old Grabu already employed pretty Hortense,
who has just died here, and who was afterward
nicknamed Clochette.  The assistant master singled
out the pretty young girl, who was no doubt flattered at being chosen by this disdainful conqueror;
at any rate, she fell in love with him, and he succeeded in persuading her to give him a first meeting
in the hayloft behind the school, at night, after she
had done her day's sewing.
"She pretended to go home, but instead of going
downstairs when she left the Grabus', she went upstairs and hid among the hay, to wait for her lover.
He soon joined her, and he was beginning to say
pretty things to her, when the door of the hayloft
opened and the schoolmaster appeared, and asked:
'What are you doing up there, Sigisbert?' Feeling
sure that he would be caught. the young school



BELLFLOWER


I I_3


master lost his presence of mind and replied stupidly:
'I came up here to rest a little among the bundles of
hay, Monsieur Grabu.'
" The loft was very large and absolutely dark.
Sigisbert pushed the frightened girl to the further end
and said: 'Go there and hide yourself. I shall lose
my situation, so get away and hide yourself.'
"When the schoolmaster heard the whispering, he
continued: 'Why, you are not by yourself?'
"'Yes I am, Monsieur Grabu!'
"'But you are not, for you are talking.'
"'I swear I am, Monsieur Grabu.'
" 'I will soon find out,' the old man replied, and
double-locking the door, he went down to get a
light.
"Then the young man, who was a coward such
as one sometimes meets, lost his head, and he repeated, having grown furious all of a sudden: 'Hide
yourself, so that he may not find you. You will deprive me of my bread for my whole life; you will
ruin my whole careerl Do hide yourself!'
"They could hear the key turning in the lock
again, and Hortense ran to the window which looked
out on to the street, opened it quickly, and then in
a low and determined voice said: 'You will come
and pick me up when he is gone,' and she jumped
out.
"Old Grabu found nobody, and went down again
in great surprise. A quarter of an hour later, Monsieur Sigisbert came to me and related his adventure.
The girl had remained at the foot of the wall unable
to get up, as she had fallen from the second story,
and I went with him to fetch her. It was raining in
2 G. deM.-8




114       WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


torrents, and I brought the unfortunate girl home
with me, for the right leg was broken in three places,
and the bones had come out through the flesh. She
did not complain, and merely said, with admirable
resignation: 'I am punished, well punished!'
"I sent for assistance and for the workgirl's
friends and told them a made-up story of a runaway
carriage which had knocked her down and lamed
her, outside my door. They believed me, and the
gendarmes for a whole month tried in vain to find
the author of this accident.
"That is all! Now I say that this woman was a
heroine, and had the fiber of those who accomplish
the grandest deeds in history.
"That was her only love affair, and she died a
virgin. She was a martyr, a noble soul, a sublimely
devoted woman! And if I did not absolutely admire
her, I should not have told you this story, which I
would never tell anyone during her life: you understand why."
The doctor ceased; mamma cried and papa said
some words which I did not catch; then they left the
room, and I remained on my knees in the armchair
and sobbed, while I heard a strange noise of heavy
footsteps and something knocking against the side of
the staircase.
They were carrying away Clochette's body.




IN THE WOOD
-         k. ie HE mayor was just going to sit
d z —            down to breakfast, when he was
f[  -      t told that the rural policeman was
y        ~waiting for him at the mairie with:li           two prisoners. He went there imy   ) j   mediately, and found  old Hochedur
/?'-^'    standing up and watching a middle-class,:         couple of mature years with stern looks.
The man, a fat old fellow with a red:,    nose and white hair, seemed utterly dejected; while the woman, a little roundabout,
stout creature, with shining cheekslooked at
5   the agent who had arrested them    with de> fiant eyes.
"What is it? What is it, Hochedur?"
The rural policeman made his deposition. He had
gone out that morning at his usual time, in order to
patrol his beat from the forest of Champioux as far
as the boundaries of Argenteuil. He had not noticed
anything unusual in the country except that it was a
fine day, and that the wheat was doing well, when
the son of old Bredel, Who Was going over his Vines
(115)




ti6


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


a second time, called out to him: "Here, daddy
Hochedur, go and have a look into the skirts of the
wood, in the first thicket, and you will catch a pair
of pigeons there who must be a hundred and thirty
years old between them!"
He went in the direction that had been indicated
to him, and had gone into the thicket. There he
heard words and gasps, which made him suspect a
flagrant breach of morality. Advancing, therefore, on
his hands and knees as if to surprise a poacher, he
had arrested this couple, at the very moment when
they were going to abandon themselves to their natural instincts.
The mayor looked at the culprits in astonishment,
for the man was certainly sixty, and the woman
fifty-five at least. So he began to question them, beginning with the man, who replied in such a weak
voice, that he could scarcely be heard.
"What is your name?"
"Nicolas Beaurain."
"Your occupation?"
"Haberdasher, in the Rue des Martyrs, in Paris."
"What were you doing in the wood?"
The haberdasher remained silent, with his eyes on
his fat stomach, and his hand resting on his thighs,
and the mayor continued:
"Do you deny what the officer of the municipal
authorities states?"
"No, Monsieur."
"So you confess it?"
"Yes, Monsieur."
"What have you to say in your defense?"
"Nothing, Monsieur."




IN THE WOOD


I17


"Where did you meet the partner in your misdemeanor?"
"She is my wife, Monsieur."
"Your wife?"
"Yes, Monsieur."
"Then-then-you     do  not live together in
Paris?"
"I beg your pardon, Monsieur, but we are living
together!"
"But in that case you must be mad, altogether
mad, my dear sir, to get caught like that in the
country at ten o'clock in the morning."
The haberdasher seemed ready to cry with shame,
and he murmured: "It was she who enticed me! I
told her it was very stupid, but when a woman has
got a thing into her head, you know, you cannot get
it out."
The mayor, who liked open speaking, smiled and
replied:
"In your case, the contrary ought to have happened. You would not be here, if she had had the
idea only in her head."
Then Monsieur Beaurain was seized with rage, and
turning to his wife, he said: "Do you see to what
you have brought us with your poetry? And now
we shall have to go before the Courts, at our age, for
a breach of morals! And we shall have to shut up
the shop, sell our good-will, and go to some other
neighborhood! That's what it has come to!"
Madame Beaurain got up, and without looking at
her husband, explained herself without any embarrassment, without useless modesty, and almost without
hesitation.




WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"Of course, Monsieur, I know that we have made
ourselves ridiculous. Will you allow me to plead my
cause like an advocate, or rather like a poor woman;
and I hope that you will be kind enough to send us
home, and to spare us the disgrace of a prosecution.
"Years ago, when I was young, I made Monsieur
Beaurain's acquaintance on Sunday in this neighborhood. He was employed in a draper's shop, and I
was a saleswoman in a ready-made clothing establishment. I remember it, as if it were yesterday. I
used to come and spend Sundays here occasionally
with a friend of mine, Rose Leveque, with whom I
lived in the Rue Pigalle, and Rose had a sweetheart,
while I had not. He used to bring us here, and one
Saturday, he told me laughing, that he should bring
a friend with him the next day. I quite understood
what he meant, but I replied that it would be no
good; for I was virtuous, Monsieur.
"The next day we met Monsieur Beaurain at the
railway station. In those days he was good-looking,
but I had made up my mind not to yield to him, and
I did not yield. Well, we arrived at Bezons. It was
a lovely day, the sort of day that tickles your heart.
When it is fine even now, just as it used to be formerly, I grow quite foolish, and when I am in the
country, I utterly lose my head. The verdure, the
swallows flying so swiftly, the smell of the grass,
the scarlet poppies, the daisies, all that makes me
quite excited! It is like champagne when one is not
used to it!
"Well, It was lovely weather, warm and bright,
and it seemed to penetrate into your body by your
eyes when you looked, and by your mouth when




IN THE WOOD


I I9


you breathed. Rose and Simon hugged and kissed
each other every minute, and that gave me something
to look at! Monsieur Beaurain and I walked behind
them, without speaking much, for when people do
not know each other well, they cannot find much to
talk about. He looked timid, and I liked to see his
embarrassment. At last we got to the little wood;
it was as cool as in a bath there, and we all four sat
down. Rose and her lover joked me because I looked
rather stern, but you will understand that I could not
be otherwise. And then they began to kiss and hug
again, without putting any more restraint upon themselves than if we had not been there. Then they
whispered together, and got up and went off among
the trees without saying a word. You may fancy
how I felt, alone with this young fellow whom I saw
for the first time. I felt so confused at seeing them
go that it gave me courage and I began to talk. I
asked him what his business was, and he said he was
a linen draper's assistant, as I told you just now.
We talked for a few minutes and that made him bold,
and he wanted to take liberties with me, but I told
him sharply to keep his own place. Is not that true,
Monsieur Beaurain?"
Monsieur Beaurain, who was looking at his feet in
confusion, did not reply, and she continued: "Then
he saw that I was virtuous, and he began to make
love to me nicely, like an honorable man, and from
that time he came every Sunday, for he was very
much in love with me. I was very fond of him also,
very fond of him! He was a good-looking fellow, formerly, and in short he married me the next September, and we started business in the Rue des Martyrs.




120


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"It was a hard struggle for some years, Monsieur.
Business did not prosper, and we could not afford
many country excursions, and then we became unaccustomed to them. One has other things in one's
head and thinks more of the cash box than of pretty
speeches when one is in business. We were growing old by degrees Without perceiving it, like quiet
people who do not think much about love. But one
does not regret anything as long as one does not
notice what one has lost.
"And after that, Monsieur, business went better,
and we became tranquil as to the future! Then, you
see, I do not exactly know what passed within meno, I really do not know, but I began to dream like
a little boarding-school girl. The sight of the little
carts full of flowers which are peddled about the
streets made me cry; the smell of violets sought me
out in my easy-chair, behind my cash box, and made
my heart beat! Then I used to get up and go on to
the doorstep to look at the blue sky between the
roofs. When one looks at the sky from a street, it
seems like a river flowing over Paris, winding as
it goes, and the swallows pass to and fro in it like
fish. These sort of things are very stupid at my age!
But what can one do, Monsieur, when one has
worked all one's life? A moment comes in which
one perceives that one could have done something
else, and then, one regrets, oh! yes, one feels great
regret! Just think that for twenty years I might have
gone and had kisses in the woods, like other women.
I used to think how delightful it would be to lie
under the trees, loving some one! And I thought of
it every day and every night l I dreamed of the moon



IN THE WOOD


121


light on the water, until I felt inclined to drown
myself.
"1 did not venture to speak to Monsieur Beaurain
about this at first. I knew that he would make fun
of me, and send me back to sell my needles and cotton! And then, to speak the truth, Monsieur Beaurain
never said much to me, but when I looked in the
glass, I also understood quite well that I also no
longer appealed to anyone!
"Well, I made up my mind, and I proposed an
excursion into the country to him, to the place where
we had first become acquainted. He agreed without
any distrust, and we arrived here this morning, about
nine o'clock.
"I felt quite young again when I got among the
corn, for a woman's heart never grows old! And
really, I no longer saw my husband as he is at present, but just like he was formerly! That I will swear
to you, Monsieur. As true as I am standing here, I
was intoxicated. I began to kiss him, and he was
more surprised than if I had tried to murder him.
He kept saying to me: 'Why, you must be mad
this morningl What is the matter with you-' I
did not listen to him, I only listened to my own
heart, and I made him come into the wood with me.
There is the story. I have spoken the truth, Monsieur
le Maire, the whole truth."
The mayor was a sensible man. He rose from
his chair, smiled, and said: "Go in peace, Madame,
and sin no more-under the trees."




THE MARQ.UIS DE FUMEROL
2        astride a chair in the midst of his
1fri. friends and talking; he held a,   cigar in his hand, and from time
to time took a whiff and blew out
a small cloud of smoke.
"We were at dinner when a letter
o         was brought in, and my father opened
-       it. You know my father, who thinks that
-- -     he is king of France ad interim. I call
-   him Don Quixote, because for twelve years
he has been running a tilt against the windmill' of the Republic, without quite knowing
whether it was in the name of Bourbon or of
Orleans. At present he is holding the lance in the
name of Orleans alone, because there is nobody else
left. In any case, he thinks himself the first gentleman in France, the best known, the most influential,
the head of the party; and as he is an irremovable
senator, he thinks that the neighboring kings' thrones
are very insecure.
"As for my mother, she is my father's inspiration, the soul of the kingdom and of religion, the
(I 22 )




THE MARQUIS DE FUMEROL


123


right arm of God on earth, and the scourge of evilthinkers.
"Well, this letter was brought in while we were
at dinner. My father opened and read it, and then he
said to my mother: 'Your brother is dying.' She
grew very pale. My uncle was scarcely ever mentioned in the house, and I did not know him at all;
all I knew from public talk was that he had led, and
was still leading, the life of a buffoon. After having
spent his fortune with an incalculable number of
women, he had only retained two mistresses, with
whom he was living in small apartments in the Rue
des Martyrs.
"An ex-peer of France and ex-colonel of cav,alry, it was said that he believed in neither God nor
devil. Having no faith, therefore, in a future life he
had abused this present life in every way, and had
become a living wound to my mother's heart.
"'Give me that letter, Paul,' she said, and when
she had read it, I asked for it in my turn. Here it is:
" ' MONSIEUR LE COMTE: I think I ought to let you know that
your brother-in-law, Count Fumerol, is going to die. Perhaps you would
make preparations and not forget that I told you.
" ' Your servant, MELANI.'
"'We must think,' my father murmured.     'In my
position, I ought to watch over your brother's last
moments.'
"My mother continued: 'I will send for Abbe Poivron and ask his advice, and then I will go to my
brother's with him and Roger. Stop here, Paul, for you
must not compromise yourself; but a woman can, and
ought, to do these things. For a politician in your




124


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


position, it is another matter. It would be a fine
thing for one of your opponents to be able to bring
one of your most laudable actions up against you.'
"'You are right,' my father said. 'Do as you
think best, my dear wife.'
"A quarter of an hour later, the Abbe Poivron
came into the drawing-room, and the situation was
explained to him, analyzed, and discussed in all its
bearings. If the Marquis de Fumerol, one of the
greatest names in France, were to die without the
succor of religion, it would assuredly be a terrible
blow to the nobility in general, to the Count de
Toumeville in particular, and the freethinkers would
be triumphant. The evilly disposed newspapers would
sing songs of victory for six months; my mother's
name would be dragged through the mire and brought
into the slander of Socialistic journals, and my father's
would be bespattered. It was impossible that such a
thing should occur.
"A crusade was therefore immediately decided
upon, which was to be led by the Abbe Poivron, a
little fat, clean, slightly-scented priest, the faithful vicar
of a large church in a rich and noble quarter.
"The landau was ordered and we three started,
my mother, the cur6, and I, to administer the last
sacraments to my uncle.
"It had been decided that first. of all we should
see Madame Melani who had written the letter, and
who was most likely the porter's wife, or my uncle's
servant, and I got down as a scout in front of a
seven-storied house and went into a dark passage,
where I had great difficulty in finding the porter's
den. He looked at me distrustfully, and I said:




THE MARQUIS DE FUMEROL


135


"'Madame Melani, if you please.'
"'Don't know herl'
"'But I have received a letter from her.'
"'That may be, but I don't know her. Are you
asking for some kept woman?'
"'No, a servant probably. She wrote me about a
place.'
"'A servant-a servant? Perhaps it is the Marquis's. Go and see, the fifth story on the left.'
"As soon as he found I was not asking for a kept
woman, he became more friendly and came as far as
the passage with me. He was a tall, thin man with
white whiskers, the manners of a beadle, and majestic in movement.
"I climbed up a long spiral staircase, whose
balusters I did not venture to touch, and I gave three
discreet knocks at the left-hand door on the fifth
story. It opened immediately, and an enormous dirty
woman appeared before me, who barred the entrance
with her open arms, which she placed upon the two
doorposts, and grumbled out:
"'What do you want?'
"'Are you Madame Melani?'
"'Yes.'
"'I am the Viscount de Toumeville.'
"'Ah! All right  Come in.'
"'Well, the fact is, my mother is downstairs with
a priest.'
"'Oh! All right; go and bring them   up; but
take care of the porter.'
"I went downstairs and came up again with my
mother, who was followed by the abbe, and I fancied
that I heard other footsteps behind us. - As soon as




126


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


we were in the kitchen, Melani offered us chairs, and
we all four sat down to deliberate.
"'Is he very ill?' my mother asked.
"'Oh! yes, Madame; he will not be here long.'
"'Does he seem disposed to receive a visit from
a priest?'
"'Oh! I do not think so.'
"'Can I see him?'
"' Well-yes-Madame-only-only-those young
ladies are with him.'
"'What young ladies?'
"'Why-why-his lady friends, of course.'
"'Oh!' Mamma had grown scarlet, and the Abbe
Poivron had lowered his eyes.
"The affair began to amuse me, and I said:
'Suppose I go in first? I shall see how he receives
me, and perhaps I shall be able to prepare his heart
for you.'
"My mother, who did not suspect any trick, replied: 'Yes, go my dear.'
"But a woman's voice cried out: 'Melani!'
"The fat servant ran out and said: 'What do
you want, Mademoiselle Claire?'
"'The omelet, quickly.'
"'In a minute, Mademoiselle.' And coming back
to us, she explained this summons.
"'They ordered a cheese omelet at two o'clock
as a slight collation.' And immediately she began to
break the eggs into a salad bowl, and began to whip
them vigorously, while I went out on to the landing
and pulled the bell, so as to announce my official atrival. Melani opened the door to me, and made me
sit dovwn in an antertomi While she went to tell my




THE MARQUIS DE FUMEROL


127


uncle that I had come. Then she came back and
asked me to go in, while the abbe hid behind the
door, so that.he might appear at the first sign.
"I was certainly very much surprised at seeing
my uncle, for he was very handsome, very solemn,
and very elegant-the old rake.
"Sitting, almost lying in a large armchair, his legs
wrapped in blankets, with his hands, his long, white
hands over the arms of the chair, he was waiting for
death with Biblical dignity. His white beard fell on
to his chest, and his hair, which was also white,
mingled with it on his cheeks.
"Standing behind his armchair, as if to defend
him against me, were two young women, two stout
young women, who looked at me with the bold eyes
of prostitutes. In their petticoats and morning wrappers, with bare arms, with coal-black hair twisted up
on to the napes of their necks, with embroidered
Oriental slippers which showed their ankles and silk
stockings, they looked like the immoral figures of
some symbolical painting, by the side of the dying
man. Between the easy-chair and the bed, there was
a table covered with a white cloth, on which two
plates, two glasses, two forks, and two knives, were
waiting for the cheese omelet which had been
ordered some time before of Melani.
"My uncle said in a weak, almost breathless, but
clear voice: 'Good morning, my child: it is rather
late in the day to come and see me; our acquaintanceship will not last long.'
"I stammered out: 'It was not my fault, uncle';
and he replied: 'No; I know that. It is your father's
and mother's fault more than yours. How are they?'




128


WORKS OP GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"'Pretty well, thank you. When they heard that
you were ill, they sent me to ask after you.'
"'Ah! Why did they not come themselves?'
"I looked up at the two girls and said gently:
'It is not their fault if they could not come, uncle.
But it would be difficult for my father, and impossible
for my mother to come in here.' The old man did
not reply, but raised his hand toward mine, and I
took the pale, cold hand and kept it in my own.
"The door opened, Melani came in with the omelet and put it on the table, and the two girls immediately sat down in front of their plates and began to
eat without taking their eyes off me.
"Then I said: 'Uncle, it would be a great pleas,
ure for my mother to embrace you.'
"'I also-' he murmured, 'should like-' He
said no more, and I could think of nothing to propose to him, and nothing more was heard except the
noise of the plates and the slight sound of eating
mouths.
"Now the abbe, who was listening behind the
door, seeing our embarrassment, and thinking we had
won the game, thought the time had come to interpose, and showed himself. My uncle was so stupefied
at that apparition, that at first he remained motionless; then he opened his mouth as if he meant to
swallow up the priest, and cried out in a strong,
deep, furious voice: 'What are you doing here?'
"The abbe, who was used to difficult situations,
came forward, murmuring: 'I have come in your
sister's name, Monsieur le Marquis; she has sent me
-she would be so happy, Monsieur-'
"But the Marquis was not listening. Raising one




THE MARQUIS DE FUMEROL


129


hand, he pointed to the door with a proud and tragic
gesture, and said angrily and gasping for breath:
'Leave this room-go out-robber of souls. Go out
from here, you violator of consciences! Go out from
here, you picklock of dying men's doors!'
"The abbe went backward, and I too, went to the
door, beating a retreat with him; and the two little
women, who were avenged, got up, leaving their
omelet half eaten, and stood on either side of my
uncle's armchair, putting their hands on his arms to
calm him, and to protect him against the criminal
enterprises of the Family and of Religion.
"The abbe and I rejoined my mother in the
kitchen, and Melani again offered us chairs. 'I knew
quite well that you would fail that way; we must
try some other means, otherwise he will escape us.'
And we began deliberating afresh, my mother being
of one opinion and the abbe of another, while I held
a third.
"We had been discussing the matter in a low
voice for half an hour, perhaps, when a great noise
of furniture being moved and of cries uttered by my
uncle, more vehement and terrible even than the former had been, made us all jump up.
"Through the doors and walls we could hear him
shouting:  'Go out-out-rascals -humbugs; get
out, scoundrels-get out-get out!'
"Melani rushed in, but came back immediately to
call me to help her, and I hastened in. Opposite to
my uncle who was terribly excited by anger, almost
standing up and vociferating, two men, one behind
the other, seemed to be waiting till he should be
dead with rage.
a G. deM.-9




130


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"By his long, ridiculous coat, his pointed English
shoes, by his manners,- like those of a tutor out of
a situation,-by his high collar, white necktie and
straight hair, by his humble face, I immediately
recognized the first as a Protestant minister.
"The second was the porter of the house, who
belonged to the Reformed religion and had followed
us. Having known of our defeat he had gone to fetch
his own pastor, in hope of a better fate. My uncle
seemed mad with rage! If the sight of the Catholic
priest, of the priest of his ancestors, had irritated the
Marquis de Fumerol, who had become a freethinker,
the sight of his porter's minister made him altogether
beside himself. I therefore took the two men by the
arm and threw them out of the room so violently
that they fell up against each other twice, between
the two doors which led to the staircase; then I disappeared in my turn and returned to the kitchen,
which was our headquarters, in order to take counsel
with my mother and the abbe.
"But Melani came back in terror, sobbing out:
'He is dying-he is dying-come immediately he
is dying.'
"My mother rushed out. My uncle had fallen on
to the carpet, full length along the floor, and did not
move. I fancy he was already dead. My mother
was superb at that moment! She went straight up
to the two girls who were kneeling by the body and
trying to raise it up, and pointing to the door with
irresistible authority, dignity, and majesty, she said:
'Now it is for you to go out.'
"And they went out without a protest, and without saying a word. I must add that I was getting




"'Now    it is time for you to go out,' she said."
After the original drawing by William Lincoln Hudson.
(See page 130.)




I




THE MARQUIS DE FUMEROL


131


ready to turn them out as unceremoniously as I had
done the parson and the porter.
"Then the Abbe Poivron administered extreme
unction to my uncle with all the customary prayers
and remitted all his sins, while my mother sobbed,
kneeling near her brother.  Suddenly, however, she
exclaimed: 'He recognized me; he. pressed my hand;
I am sure he recognized me and thanked me! Oh,
God, what happiness!'
"Poor mamma! If she had known or guessed to
whom those thanks ought to have been addressed!
"They laid my uncle on his bed; he was certainly dead that time.
"'Madame,' M61ani said, ' we have no sheets to
bury him in; all the linen belongs to those two young
ladies,' and when I looked at the omelet which
they had not finished, I felt inclined to laugh and to cry
at the same time. There are some strange moments
and some strange sensations in life, occasionally!
"We gave my uncle a magnificent funeral, with
five speeches at the grave. Baron de Croiselles, the
Senator, showed in admirable terms, that God always
returns victorious into well-born souls which have
gone astray for a moment. All the members of the
Royalist and Catholic party followed the funeral procession with triumphant enthusiasm, speaking of that
beautiful death, after a somewhat restless life."
Viscount Roger ceased speaking, and those around
him laughed. Then somebody said: "Bahl That is
the story of all conversions in extremis."




SAVED
T          HE little Marquise de Rennedon
/         | _came    rushing  in like a ball
F  t   through the window. She ber \       gan to laugh before she spoke, to
\   "    -    laugh till she cried, like she had
\\[' [ B"   done a month    previously, when
t_-)^T     she had told her friend that she
^      /~/  ^had betrayed the Marquis in order
to have her revenge, but only once,
/     just because he was really too stupid.        and too jealous., The little Baroness de Grangerie had.. )    thrown the book which she was reading
on to the sofa, and looked at Annette, curiously. She was already laughing herself, and at last
she asked:
"What have you been doing now?"
"Oh! my dear!-my dear! it is too funny-too
funny. Just fancy-I am saved!-saved!-saved!"
"How do you mean, saved?"
"Yes, saved!"
"From what?"
( 132)




SAVED                  133
From my husband, my dear, saved   Delivered!
free! free! free!"
"How free? In what?"
"In what? Divorce! yes a divorce! I have my
divorce!"
"You are divorced?"
"No, not yet; how  stupid you are! One does
not get divorced in three hours! But I have my
proofs that he has deceived me-caught in the very
act-just think!-in the very act. I have got him
tight."
" Oh! do tell me all about it! So he deceived you?"
"Yes, that is to say no-yes and no-I do not
know. At any rate, I have proofs, and that is the
chief thing."
"How did you manage it?"
"How did I manage it? This is howl I have
been energetic, very energetic. For the last three
months he has been odious, altogether odious, brutal,
coarse, a despot-in one word, vile. So I said to
myself: This cannot last, I must have a divorce!
But how?-for it is not very easy. I tried to make
him beat me, but he would not. He vexed me from
morning till night, made me go out when I did not
wish to, and to remain at home when I wanted to
dine out; he made my life unbearable for me from
one week's end to the other, but he never struck
me.
"Then I tried to find out whether he had a mistress. Yes, he had one, but he took a thousand precautions in going to see her, and they could never
be caught together. Guess what I did then?"
"1 cannot guess."




134


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"Oh! you could never guess. I asked my brother
to procure me a photograph of the creature."
"Of your husband's mistress?"
"Yes. It cost Jacques fifteen louis,* the price of
an evening, from seven o'clock till midnight, including a dinner, at three louis an hour, and he obtained
the photograph into the bargain."
"It appears to me that he might have obtained it
anyhow by means of some artifice and withoutwithout-without being obliged to take the original
at the same time."
"Oh! she is pretty, and Jacques did not mind the
least. And then, I wanted some details about her,
physical details about her figure, her breast, her complexion, a thousand things, in fact."
"I do not understand you."
"You shall see. When I had learned all that I
wanted to know, I went to a-how shall I put itto a man of business-you know-one of those men
who transact business of all sorts-agents of-ofof publicity and complicity-one of those men
well, you understand what I mean."
"Pretty nearly, I think. And what did you say
to him? "
"I said to him, showing the photograph of
Clarisse (her name is Clarisse): 'Monsieur, I want a
lady's maid who resembles this photograph. I require one who is pretty, elegant, neat, and sharp. I
will pay her whatever is necessary, and if it costs
me-ten thousand francst so much the worse. I shall
not require her for more than three months.'
* $6o               t$2000.




SAVED


135


"The man looked extremely astonished, and said:
'Do you require a maid of an irreproachable character,
Madame?' I blushed, and stammered: 'Yes of course,
for honesty.' He continued: 'And-then-as regards
morals?' I did not venture to reply, so I only made
a sign with my head which signified No. Then suddenly, I comprehended that he had a horrible suspicion and losing my presence of mind, I exclaimed:
'Oh! Monsieur,-it is for my husband, in order that
I may surprise him.'
"Then the man began to laugh, and from his
looks I gathered that I had regained his esteem. He
even thought I was brave, and I would willingly have
made a bet that at that moment he was longing to
shake hands with me. However, he said to me: 'In
a week, Madame, I shall have what you require; I will
answer for my success, and you shall not pay me
until I have succeeded. So this is a photograph of
your husband's mistress?'
"'Yes, Monsieur.'
"'A handsome woman, and not too stout. And
what scent?'   *
"I did not understand, and repeated: 'What scent?'
"He smiled: 'Yes, Madame, perfume is essential
in tempting a man, for it unconsciously brings to his
mind certain reminiscences which dispose him to action; the perfume creates an obscure confusion in his
mind, and- disturbs and energizes him by recalling
his pleasures to him. You must also try to find out
what your husband is in the habit of eating when he
dines with his lady, and you might give him the
same dishes the day you catch him. Oh! we have
got him, Madame, we have got him.'




i 36


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"I went away delighted, for here I had lighted on
a very intelligent man.
"Three days later, I saw a tall, dark girl arrive at
my house; she was very handsome, and her looks
were modest and bold at the same time, the peculiar
look of a female rake. She behaved very properly
toward me, and as I did not exactly know what she
was, I called her Mademoiselle, but she said immediately: 'Oh! pray, Madame, only call me Rose.' And
she began to talk.
" 'Well, Rose, you know why you have come
here?'
"'I can guess it, Madame.'
"'Very good, my girl -and that will not be too
much bother for you?'
"'Oh! Madame, this will be the eighth divorce
that I shall have caused; I am used to it.'
" 'Why, that is capital. Will it take you long to
succeed?'
" ' Oh? Madame, that depends entirely on Monsieur's
temperament. When I have seen Monsieur for five
minutes alone, I shall be able to teN you exactly.'
" 'You will see him soon, my child, but I must tell
you that he is not handsome.'
"'That does not matter to me, Madame. I have
already separated some very ugly ones. But I must
ask you, Madame, whether you have discovered his
favorite perfume?'
"'Yes, Rose -verbena.'
-" 'So much the better, Madame, for I am also very
fond of that scent! Can you also tell me, Madame,
whether Monsieur's mistress wears silk underclothing
and nightdresses?'




SAVED


137


"'No, my child, cambric and lace.'
"'Oh! then she is altogether of superior station,
for silk underclothing is getting quite common.'
"'What you say is quite true!'
"'Well, Madame, I will enter your service.' And
so as a matter of fact she did immediately, and as if
she had done nothing else all her life.
"An hour later my husband came home. Rose
did not even raise her eyes to him, but he raised his
eyes to her. She already smelled strongly of verbena.
In five minutes she left the room, and he immediately
asked me: 'Who is that girl?'
"'Why-my new lady's maid.'
"'Where did you pick her up?'
"'Baroness de Grangerie got her for me with the
best references.'
"'Ah! she is rather prettyI'
"'Do you think so?'
"'Why, yes-for a lady's maid.'
"I was delighted, for I felt that he was already
biting, and that same evening Rose said to me: 'I
can now promise you that it will not take more than
a fortnight, Monsieur is very easily caughtl'
"'Ah! you, have tried already?'
"'No, Madame, he only asked what my name was,
so that he might hear what my voice was like.'
"'Very well, my dear Rose. Get on as quick as
you can.'
"'Do not be alarmed, Madame; I shall only resist
long enough not to make myself depreciated.'
"At the end of a week, my husband scarcely ever
went out; I saw him roaming about the house the
whole afternoon, and what was most significant in




I38


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


the matter was that he no longer prevented me from
going out. And I, I was out of doors nearly the
whole day long-in order -in order to leave him at
liberty.
"On the ninth day, while Rose was undressing
me, she said to me with a timid air: 'It happened
this morning, Madame.'
"I was rather surprised, or rather overcome even,
not at the part itself, but at the way in which she
told me, and I stammered out: 'And - and - it went
off well?'
" ' Oh! yes, very well, Madame. For the last three
days he has been pressing me, but I did not wish
matters to proceed too quickly. You will tell me
when you want us to be caught, Madame.'
"'Yes, certainly. Here! let us say Thursday.'
"'Very well, Madame, I shall grant nothing more
till then, so as to keep Monsieur on the alert.'
" 'You are sure not to fail?'
"'Oh! quite sure, Madame. I will excite him, so
as to make him be there at the very moment which
you may appoint.'
"'Let us say five o'clock then.'
"'Very well, Madame, and where?'
"'Well-in my bedroom.'
"'Very good, Madame,. in your bedroom.'
"'You will understand what I did then, my dear.
I went and fetched mamma and papa first of all, and
then my uncle d'Orvelin, the President, and Monsieur
Raplet, the Judge, my husband's friend. I had not told
them what I was going to show them, but I made
them all go on tiptoe as far as the door of my
room.  I waited till five o'clock exactly, and ohl




SAVED


I39


how my heart beat! I had made the porter come upstairs as well, so as to have an additional witness!
And then-and then at the moment when the clock
began to strike, I opened the door wide. Ah! ah!
ah! Here he was evidently —it was quite evident, my
dear. Oh! what a head! If you had only seen his
head! And he turned round, the idiot! Oh! how
funny he looked-I laughed, I laughed. And papa
was angry and wanted to give my husband a beating. And the porter, a good servant helped him to
dress himself before us-before us. He buttoned his
braces for him-what a joke it was! As for Rose,
she was perfect, absolutely perfect. She cried-oh!
she cried very well. She is an invaluable girl. If
you ever want her, don't forget!
"And here I am. I came immediately to tell you
of the affair directly. I am free. Long live divorce!"
And she began to dance in the middle of the
drawing-room, while the little Baroness, who was
thoughtful and put out, said:
'Why did you not invite me to see it?"




WHO KNOWS?
iY GOD! My God! I am going to
write down at last what has hapj Hwpened to me. But how can I?
How   dare I?  The thing is SO.R,            bizarre, so inexplicable, so incomprehensible, so silly!
If I were not perfectly sure of
what I have seen, sure that there was
not in my reasoning any defect, any;        error in my declarations, any lacuna in
the inflexible sequence of my observations, I should believe myself to be the
",    dupe of a simple hallucination, the sport of
a singular vision. After all, who knows?
Yesterday I was in a private asylum, but I went
there voluntarily, out of prudence and fear. Only one
single human being knows my history, and that is
the doctor of the said asylum. I am going to write
to -him. I really do not know why? To disembarrass
myself? Yea, I feel as though weighed down by an
intolerable nightmare.
Let me explain.
( 140)




WHO KNOWS?


14l


I have always been a recluse, a dreamer, a kind of
Isolated philosopher, easy-going, content with but little, harboring ill-feeling against no man, and without
even a grudge against heaven. I have constantly
lived alone; consequently, a kind of torture takes hold
of me when I find myself in the presence of others.
How is this to be explained? I do not know. I am
not averse to going out into the world, to conversation, to dining with friends, but when they are near
me for any length of time, even the most intimate of
them, they bore me, fatigue me, enervate me, and I
experience an overwhelming, torturing desire to see
them get up and go, to take themselves away, and to
leave me by myself.
That desire is more than a craving; it is an irresistible necessity. And if the presence of people
with whom I find myself were to be continued; if I
were compelled, not only to listen, but also to follow,
for any length of time, their conversation, a serious
accident would assuredly take place. What kind of
accident? Ah! who knows? Perhaps a slight paralytic stroke? Probably!
I like solitude so much that I cannot even endure
the vicinage of other beings sleeping under the same
roof. I cannot live in Paris, because there I suffer
the most acute agony. I lead a moral life, and am
therefore tortured in body and in nerves by that immense crowd which swarms and lives even when it
sleeps. Ah! the sleeping of others is more painful
still than their conversation. And I can never find
repose when I know and feel that on the other side
of a wall several existences are undergoing these regular eclipses of reason.




142


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


Why am I thus? Who knows? The cause of it
is very simple perhaps. I get tired very soon of
everything that does not emanate from  me.  And
there are many people in similar case.
We are, on earth, two distinct races. Those who
have need of others, whom others amuse, engage,
soothe, whom solitude harasses, pains, stupefies, like
the movement of a terrible glacier or the traversing
of the desert; and those, on the contrary, whom
others weary, tire, bore, silently torture, whom isolation calms and bathes in the repose of independency,
and plunges into the humors of their own thoughts.
In fine, there is here a normal, physical phenomenon.
Some are constituted to live a life outside of themselves, others, to live a life within themselves. As
for me, my exterior associations are abruptly and
painfully short-lived, and, as they reach their limits, I
experience in my whole body and in my whole intelligence an intolerable uneasiness.
As a result of this, I became attached, or rather
had become much    attached, to inanimate objects,
which have for me the importance of beings, and my
house has or had become a world in which I lived
an active and solitary life, surrounded by all manner
of things, furniture, familiar knickknacks, as sympathetic in my eyes as the visages of human beings. I
had filled my mansion with them; little by little, I had
adorned it with them, and I felt an inward content
and satisfaction, was more happy than if I had been
in the arms of a beloved girl, whose wonted caresses
had become a soothing and delightful necessity.
I had had this house constructed in the center of
a beautiful garden, which hid it from the public high



WHO KNOWS?


143


ways, and which was near the entrance to a city
where I could find, on occasion, the resources of
society, for which, at moments, I had a longing.
All my domestics slept in a separate building, which
was situated at some considerable distance from my
house, at the far end of the kitchen garden, which
in turn was surrounded by a high wall. The obscure envelopment of night, in the silence of my
concealed habitation, buried under the leaves of great
trees, was so reposeful and so delicious, that before
retiring to my couch I lingered every evening for
several hours in order to enjoy the solitude a little
longer.
One day "Signad" had been played at one of the
city theaters. It was the first time that I had listened
to that beautiful, musical, and fairy-like drama, and I
had derived from it the liveliest pleasures.
I returned home on foot with a light step, my head
full of sonorous phrases, and my mind haunted by
delightful visions. It was night, the dead of night,
and so dark that I could hardly distinguish the broad
highway, and consequently I stumbled into the ditch
more than once. From the custom-house, at the barriers, to my house, was about a mile, perhaps a little
more-a leisurely walk of about twenty minutes. It
was one o'clock in the morning, one o'clock or maybe
half-past one; the sky had by this time cleared somewhat and the crescent appeared, the gloomy crescent
of the last quarter of the moon. The crescent of the
first quarter is that which rises about five or six
o'clock in the evening and is clear, gay, and fretted with
silver; but the one which rises after midnight is reddish, sad, and desolating-it is the true Sabbath cres



144


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


cent. Every prowler by night has made the same
observation. The first, though slender as a thread,
throws a faint, joyous light which rejoices the heart
and lines the ground with distinct shadows; the last
sheds hardly a dying glimmer, and is so wan that it
occasions hardly any shadows.
In the distance, I perceived the somber mass of
my garden, and, I know not why, was seized with
a feeling of uneasiness at the idea of going inside. I
slackened my pace, and walked very softly, the thick
cluster of trees having the appearance of a tomb in
which my house was buried.
I opened my outer gate and entered the long
avenue of sycamores which ran in the direction of
the house, arranged vault-wise like a high tunnel,
traversing opaque masses, and winding round the turf
lawns, on which baskets of flowers, in the pale darkness, could be indistinctly discerned.
While approaching the house, I was seized by a
strange feeling. I could hear nothing, I stood still.
Through the trees there was not even a breath of air
stirring. "What is the matter with me?" I said to
myself. For ten years I had entered and re-entered
in the same way, without ever experiencing the least
inquietude.  I never had any fear at nights. The
sight of a man, a marauder, or a thief would have
thrown me into a fit of anger, and I would have
rushed at him without any hesitation. Moreover, I
was armed-I had my revolver. But I did not touch
it, for I was anxious to resist that feeling of dread
with which I was seized.
What was it? Was it a presentiment-that mysterious presentiment which takes hold of the senses




WHO KNOWS?


145


of men who have witnessed something which, to
them, is inexplicable? Perhaps? Who knows?
In proportion as I advanced, I felt my skin quiver
more and more, and when I was close to the wall,
near the outhouses of my large residence, I felt that
it would be necessary for me to wait a. few minutes
before opening the door and going inside. I sat
down, then, on a bench, under the windows of my
drawing —room. I rested there, a little disturbed, with
my head leaning against the wall, my eyes wide open,
under the shade of the foliage. For the first few
minutes, I did not observe anything unusual around
me; I had a humming noise in my ears, but that has
happened often to me. Sometimes it seemed to me
that I heard trains passing, that I heard clocks striking, that I heard a multitude on the march.
Very soon, those humming noises became more
distinct, more concentrated, more determinable, I was
deceiving myself. It was not the ordinary tingling of
my arteries which transmitted to my ears these rumbling sounds, but it was a very distinct, though confused, noise which came, without any doubt whatever,
from the interior of my house. Through the walls X
distinguished this continued noise,-l should rather
say agitation than noise,-an indistinct moving about
of a pile of things, as if people were tossing about,
displacing, and carrying away surreptitiously all my
furniture.
I doubted, however, for some considerable time
yet, the evidence of my ears. But having placed my
ear against one of the outhouses, the better to discover what this strange disturbance was, inside my
house, I became convinced, certain, that something
2 C de M.-lo




146


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


was taking place in my residence which was altogether abnormal and incomprehensible.  I had no
fear, but I was-how shall I express it-paralyzed
by astonishment.  I did  not draw   my revolver,
knowing very well that there was no need of my
doing so.
I listened a long time, but could come to no resolution, my mind being quite clear, though in myself
I was naturally anxious. I got up and waited, listening always to the noise, which gradually increased,
and at intervals grew very loud, and which seemed
to become an impatient, angry disturbance, a mysterious commotion.
Then, suddenly, ashamed of my timidity, I seized
my bunch of keys. I selected the one I wanted,
guided it into the lock, turned it twice, and pushing
the door with all my might, sent it banging against
the partition.
The collision sounded like the report of a gun, and
there responded to that explosive noise, from roof to
basement ot my residence, a formidable tumult. It
was so sudden, so terrible, so deafening, that I recoiled a few steps, and though I knew it to be
wholly useless, I pulled my revolver out of its
case.
I continued to listen for some time longer. I could
distinguish now an extraordinary pattering upon the
steps of my grand staircase, on the waxed floors, on
the carpets, not of boots, or of naked feet, but of
iron and wooden crutches, which resounded like
cymbals. Then I suddenly discerned, on the threshold of my door, an armchair, my large reading
easy-chair, which set off waddling.  It went away




WHO KNOWSr


147


through my garden. Others followed it, those of my
drawing-room, then my sofas, dragging themselves
along like crocodiles on their short paws; then all
my chairs, bounding like goats, and the little footstools, hopping like rabbits.
Oh! what a sensation! I slunk back. into a clump
of bushes where I remained crouched up, watching,
meanwhile, my furniture defile past-for everything
walked away, the one behind the other, briskly or
slowly, according to its weight or size. My piano,
my grand piano, bounded past with the gallop of a
horse and a murmur of music in its sides; the
smaller articles slid along the gravel like snails, my
brushes, crystal, cups and saucers, which glistened
in the moonlight. I saw my writing desk appear, a
rare curiosity of the last century, which contained all
the letters I had ever received, all the history of my
heart, an old history from which I have suffered so
much! Besides, there were inside of it a great many
cherished photographs.
Suddenly-1 no longer had any fear-I threw
myself on it, seized it as one would seize a thief, as
one would seize a wife about to run away; but it
pursued its irresistible course, and despite my efforts
and despite my anger, I could not even retard its
pace. As I was resisting in desperation that insuperable force, I was thrown to the ground. It then
rolled me over, trailed me along the gravel, and the
rest of my furniture, which followed it, began to
march over me, tramping on my legs and injuring
them. When I loosed my hold, other articles had passed
over my body, just as a charge of cavalry does over
the body of a dismounted' soldier.




148


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


Seized at last with terror, I succeeded in dragging myself out of the main avenue, and in concealing myself again among the shrubbery, so as to
watch the disappearance of the most cherished objects, the smallest, the least striking, the least unknown
which had once belonged to me.
I then heard, in the distance, noises which came
from my apartments, which sounded now as if the
house were empty, a loud noise of shutting of doors.
They were being slammed from top to bottom of my
dwelling, even the door which I had just opened
myself unconsciously, and which had closed of itself,
when the last thing had taken its departure. I took
flight also, running toward the city, and only regained my self-composure, on reaching the boulevards,
where I met belated people. I rang the bell of a
hotel were I was known. I had knocked the dust
off my clothes with my hands, and I told the porter
that I had lost my bunch of keys, which included
also that to the kitchen garden, where my servants
slept in a house standing by itself, on the other side
of the wall of the inclosure which protected my
fruits and vegetables from the raids of marauders.
I covered myself up to the eyes in the bed which
was assigned to me, but could not sleep; and I
waited for the dawn listening to the throbbing of my
heart. I had given orders that my servants were to
be summoned to the hotel at daybreak, and my valet
de chambre knocked at my door at seven o'clock in
the morning.
His countenance bore a woeful look.
"A great misfortune has happened during the
night, Monsieur," said he.




WHO KNOWS?


I49


"What is it?"
" Somebody has stolen the whole of Monsieur's
t'urniture, all, everything, even to the smallest articles."
This news pleased me. Why? Who knows? I
was complete master of myself, bent *on dissimulating, on telling no one of anything I had seen; determined on concealing and in burying in my heart of
hearts a terrible secret. I responded:
"They must then be the same people who have
stolen my keys. The police must be informed imrmediately. I am going to get up, and I will join
you in a few moments."
The investigation into the circumstances under
which the robbery might have been committed lasted
for five months. Nothing was found, not even the
smallest of my knickknacks, nor the least trace of the
thieves.  Good gracious! If I had only told them
what I knew- If I had said-I should have been
locked up-I, not the thieves-for I was the only
person who had seen everything from the first.
Yes! but I knew how to keep silence. I shall
never refurnish my house. That were indeed useless.
The same thing would happen again. I had no
desire even to re-enter the house, and I did not
re-enter it; I never visited it again. I moved to Paris,
to the hotel, and consulted doctors in regard to the
condition of my nerves, which had disquieted me a
good deal ever since that awful night.
They advised me to travel, and I followed their
counsel.




150


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


IX.
I began by making an excursion into Italy. The
sunshine did me much good. For six months I wandered about from Genoa to Venice, from Venice to
Florence, from Florence to Rome, from Rome to
Naples. Then I traveled over Sicily, a country celebrated for its scenery and its monuments, relics left
by the Greeks and the Normans. Passing over into
Africa, I traversed at my ease that immense desert,
yellow and tranquil, in which camels, gazelles, and
Arab vagabonds roam about-where, in the rare and
transparent atmosphere, there hover no vague hauntings, where there is never any night, but always day.
I returned to France by Marseilles, and in spite of
all its Proven~al gaiety, the diminished clearness of
the sky made me sad. I experienced, in returning to
the Continent, the peculiar sensation of an illness
which I believed had been cured, and a dull pain
which predicted that the seeds of the disease had
not been eradicated.
I then returned to Paris. At the end of a month
I was very dejected. It was in the autumn, and I
determined to make, before winter came, an excursion
through Normandy, a country with which I was unt
acquainted.
I began my journey, in the best of spirits, at
Rouen, and for eight days I wandered about, passive,
ravished, and enthusiastic, in that ancient city, that
astonishing museum of extraordinary Gothic monuments.




WHO KNOWS?


151


But one afternoon, about four o'clock, as I was
sauntering slowly through a seemingly unattractive
street, by which there ran a stream as black as the
ink called "Eau de Robec," my attention, fixed for
the moment on the quaint, antique appearance of
some of the houses, was suddenly attracted by the
view of a series of second-hand furniture shops,
which followed one another, door after door.
Ah! they had carefully chosen their locality, these
sordid traffickers in antiquities, in that quaint little
street, overlooking the sinister stream of water, under
those tile and slate-pointed roofs on which still
grinned the vanes of bygone days.
At the end of these grim storehouses you saw
piled up sculptured chests, Rouen, Sevres, and
Moustier's pottery, painted statues, others of oak,
Christs, Virgins, Saints, church ornaments, chasubles,
capes, even sacred vases, and an old gilded wooden
tabernacle, where a god had hidden himself away.
What singular caverns there are in those lofty houses,
crowded with objects of every description, where the
existence of things seems to be ended, things which
have survived their original possessors, their century,
their times, their fashions, in order to be bought as
curiosities by new generations.
My affection for antiques was awakened in that
city of antiquaries. I went from shop to shop, crossing in two strides, the rotten four plank bridges
thrown over the nauseous current of the "Eau de
Robec."
Heaven protect me! What a shock    At the end
of a vault, which was crowded with articles of every
description and which seemed to be the entrance to




152


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


the catacombs of a cemetery of ancient furniture, I
suddenly descried one of my most beautiful wardrobes. I approached it, trembling in every limb,
trembling to such an extent that I dared not touch it.
I put forth my hand, I hesitated.  Nevertheless it
was indeed my wardrobe; a unique wardrobe of the
time of Louis XIII., recognizable by anyone who had
seen it only once. Casting my eyes suddenly a little
farther, toward the more somber depths of the gallery, I perceived three of my tapestry covered chairs;
and farther on still, my two Henry II. tables, such
rare treasures that people came all the way from
Paris to see them.
Think! only think in what a state of mind I now
was! I advanced, haltingly, quivering with emotion,
but I advanced, for I am brave-I advanced like a
knight of the dark ages.
At every step I found something that belonged to
me; my brushes, my books, my tables, my silks, my
arms, everything, except the bureau full of my letters,
and that I could not discover.
I walked on, descending to the dark galleries, in
order to ascend next to the floors above.  I was
alone; I called out, nobody answered, I was alone;
there was no one in that house-a house as vast
and tortuous as a labyrinth.
Night came on, and I was compelled to sit down
in the darkness on one of my own chairs, for I had
no desire to go away. From time to time I shouted,
"Hallo, hallo, somebody."
I had sat there, certainly, for more than an hour
when I heard steps, steps soft and slow, I knew not
where. I was unable to locate them, but bracing




WHO KNOWS?'5


153


myself up, I called out anew, whereupon I perceived
a glimmer of light in the next chamber.
"Who is there?" said a voice.
"A buyer," I responded.
"It is too late to enter thus into a shop."
"I have been waiting for you for more than an
hour," I answered.
'You can come back to-morrow."~
"To-morrow I must quit Rouen."
I dared not advance, and he did not come to me.
I saw always the glimmer of his light, which was
shining on a tapestry on which were two angels fly..
ing over the dead on a field of battle. It belonged
to me also. I said:
"Well, come here."
"I am at your service," he answered.
I got up and went toward him.
Standing in the center of a large. room, was a
little man, very short, and very fat, phenomenally
fat, a hideous phenomenon.
He had a singular straggling beard, white and
yellow, and not a hair on his head-not a hair!
As he held his candle aloft at arm's length in
order to see me, his cranium appeared to me to re-.
semble a little moon, in that vast chamber encumbered with old furniture. His features were wrinkled
and blown, and his eyes could not be seen.
I bought three chairs which belonged to myself,
and paid at once a large sum for them, giving him
merely the number of my room at the hotel. They
were to be delivered the next day before nine o'clock.
I then started off. He conducted me, with much
politeness, as far as the door.




154


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


I immediately repaired to the commissaire's office
at the central police depot, and told the commissaire
of the robbery which had been perpetrated and of
the discovery I had just made. He required time to
communicate by telegraph with the authorities who
had originally charge of the case, for information,
and he begged me to wait in his office until an answer came back. An hour later, an answer came
back, which was in accord with my statements.
"I am going to arrest and interrogate this man,
at once," he said to me, "for he may have conceived
some sort of suspicion, and smuggled away out of
sight what belongs to you. Will you Spo and dine
and return in two hours: I shall then have the man
here, and I shall subject him to a fresh interrogation
in your presence."
"Most gladly, Monsieur. I thank you with my
whole heart."
I went to dine at my hotel and I ate better than
I could have believed. I was quite happy now,
thinking that man was in the hands of the police.
Two hours later I returned to the office of the
police functionary, who was waiting for me.
"Well, Monsieur," said he, on perceiving me,
"we have not been able to find your man.    My
agents cannot put their hands on him."
Ah! I felt my heart sinking.
"But you have at least found his house?" I
asked.
- "Yes, certainly; and what is more, it is now being watched and guarded until his return. As for
him, he has disappeared."
"Disappeared?"




WHO KNOWS?


155


"Yes, disappeared. He ordinarily passes his evenings at the house of a female neighbor, who is also
a furniture broker, a queer sort of sorceress, the
widow Bidoin. She has not seen him this evening
and cannot give any information in regard to him.
We must wait until to-morrow."
I went away. Ah! how sinister the streets of
Rouen seemed to me, now troubled and haunted!
I slept so badly that I had a fit of nightmare
every time I went off to sleep.
As I did not wish to appear too restless or eager,
I waited till ten o'clock the next day before reporting
myself to the police.
The merchant had not reappeared. His shop remained closed.
The commissary said to me:
"I have taken all the necessary steps. The court
has been made acquainted with the affair. We shall
go together to that shop and have it opened, and you
shall point out to me all that belongs to you."
We drove there in a cab.    Police agents were
stationed round the building; there was a locksmith,
too, and the door of the shop was soon opened.
On entering, I could not discover my wardrobes,
my chairs, my tables; I saw nothing, nothing of that
which had furnished my house, no, nothing, although
on the previous evening, I could not take a step without encountering something that belonged to me.
The chief commissary, much astonished, regarded
me at first with suspicion.
-My God, Monsieur," said I to him, "the disapgearance of these articles of furniture coincides
strangely with that of the merchant."




156


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


He laughed.
" That is true. You did wrong in buying and
paying for the articles which were your own property, yesterday.    It was that which      gave   him   the
cue."
"What seems to me incomprehensible," I replied,
"is that all the places that were occupied by my
furniture are now filled by other furniture."
"Oh!" responded the commissary, "he has had all
night, and has no doubt been assisted by accomplices.
This house must communicate with its neighbors.
But have no fear, Monsieur; I will have the affair
promptly and thoroughly investigated. The brigand
shall not escape us for long, seeing that we are in
charge of the den."
*       *      *       *      *       *      *
Ah!   My heart, my heart, my poor heart, how          it
beats!
I remained a fortnight at Rouen.         The man did
not return. Heavensl good heavens! That man, what
was it that could have frightened and surprised him!
But, on the sixteenth    day, early in the morning, I
received from my gardener, now the keeper of my
empty and pillaged house, the following strange letter:
"MONSIEUR:
"I have the honor to inform Monsieur that something happened,
the evening befoxe last, which nobody can understand, and the police
no more than the rest of us. The whole of the furniture has been
returned, not one piece is missing- everything is in its place, up to
the very smallest article. The house is now the same in every respect as it was before the robbery took place. It is enough to make
one lose one's head. The thing took place during the night FridaySaturday. The roads are dug up as though the whole fence had




WHO KNOWS?


157


been dragged from its place up to the door. The same thing was
observed the day after the disappearance of the furniture.
"We are anxiously expecting Monsieur, whose very humble and
obedient servant, I am,               PHILLIPE RAUDIN. "
" Ah! no, no, ah! never, never, ah! no.      I shall
never return there!"
I took the letter to the commissary of police.
"It is a very clever restitution," said he. "Let
us bury the hatchet. We shall nip the man one of
these days."
*      *      *      *      *      *      *
But he has never been nipped.      No.   They have
not nipped him, and I am     afraid of him  now, as of
some ferocious animal that has been let loose behind
me.
Inexplicable!  It is inexplicable, this chimera of
a moon-struck skull! We shall never solve or comprehend it. I shall not return to my former residence.
What does it matter to me? I am afraid of encountering that man again, and I shall not run the risk.
And even if he returns, if he takes possession of
his shop, who is to prove that my furniture was on
his premises? There is only my testimony against
him; and I feel that that is not above suspicion.
Ah! no! This kind of existence has become unendurable. I have not been able to guard the secret
of what I have seen. I could not continue to live
like the rest of the world, with the fear upon me
that those scenes might be re-enacted.
So I have come to consult the doctor who directs
this lunatic asylum, and I have told him everything.
After questioning me for a long time, he said to
me:




158


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"Will you consent, Monsieur, to remain here for
some time?"
"Most willingly, Monsieur."
"You have some means?"
"Yes, Monsieur."
"Will you have isolated apartments?"
"Yes, Monsieur."
"Would you care to receive any friends?"
"No, Monsieur, no, nobody.   The man from
Rouen might take it into his head to pursue me
here, to be revenged on me."
*     *     *     *     *     *     *
I have been alone, alone, all, all alone, for three
months. I am growing tranquil by degrees. I have
no longer any fears. If the antiquary should become
mad... and if he should be brought into this
asylum l Even prisons themselves are not places of
security.




THE SIGNAL.           | "HE little Marchioness de Rennedon
was still asleep in her dark and
Jf             perfumed bedroom.
t          In her soft, low  bed, between
sheets of delicate cambric, fine as
~    _lace and caressing as a kiss, she was
r:;  sleeping alone and tranquil, the happy
f  and profound sleep of divorced women.
She was awakened by loud voices in
'   the little blue drawing-room, and she rec~>>      ognized her dear friend, the little Baroness
't      de Grangerie, who was disputing with the
J*.    lady's maid, because the latter would not
allow her to go into the Marchioness's room.
So the little Marchioness got up, opened the door,
drew back the door-hangings and showed her head,
nothing but her fair head, hidden under a cloud of hair.
"What is the matter with you, that you have come
so early?" she asked. "It is not nine o'clock yet."
The little Baroness, who was very pale, nervous,
and feverish, replied: "I must speak to you. Something horrible has happened to me."
"Come in, my dear."


(159)




i6o


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


She went in, they kissed each other -and the little
Marchioness got back into her bed, while the lady's
maid opened the windows to let in light and air.
Then when she had left the room, Madame de Rennedon went on: "Well, tell me what it is."
Madame de Grangerie begin to cry, shedding those.
pretty bright tears which make women more charming. She sobbed out, without wiping her eyes, so as
not to make them red: " Oh! my dear, what has
happened to me is abominable, abominable.  I have
not slept all night, not a minute; do you hear, not a
minute. Here, just feel my heart, how it is beating."
And taking her friend's hand, she put it on her
breast, on that firm, round covering of women's
hearts which often suffices men, and prevents them
from seeking beneath. But her heart was really beating violently.
She continued: "It happened to me yesterday
during the day, at about four o'clock-or half past
four; I cannot say exactly. You know my apartments, and you know that my little drawing-room,
where I always sit, looks on to the Rue Saint-Lazare,
and that I have a mania for sitting at the window to
look at the people passing. The neighborhood of the
railway station is very gay; so full of motion and
lively-just what I like! So, yesterday, I was sitting
in the low chair which I have placed in my window
recess; the window was open and I was not thinking of anything, simply breathing the fresh air. You
remember how fine it was yesterday!
" Suddenly, I remarked a woman sitting at the
window opposite-a woman in red. I was in mauve,
you know, my pretty mauve costume. I did not




THE SIGNAL


Know the woman, a new lodger, who had been
there a month, and as it has been raining for a
month, I had not yet seen her, but I saw immediately
that she was a bad girl. At first I was very much
shocked and disgusted that she should be at the window just as I was; and then by degrees, it amused
me to watch her. She was resting her elbows on
the window ledge, and looking at the men, and the
men looked at her also, all or nearly all. One might
have said that they knew of her presence by some
means as they got near the house, that they scented
her, as dogs scent game, for they suddenly raised
their heads, and exchanged a swift look with her, a
sort of freemason's look.  Hers said: 'Will you?'
Theirs replied: 'I have no time,' or else: 'Another
day'; or else: 'I have not got a sou'; or else: 'Hide
yourself, you wretch!'
"You cannot imagine how funny it was to see
her carrying on such a piece of work, though after
all it is her regular business.
"Occasionally she shut the window suddenly, and I
saw a gentleman go in. She had caught him like a
fisherman hooks a gudgeon. Then I looked at my
watch, and I found that they never stopped longer
than from twelve to twenty minutes. In the end she
really infatuated me, the spider! And then the creature is so ugly.
"I asked myself: 'How does she manage to make
herself understood so quickly, so well and so completely? Does she add a sign of the head or a
motion of the hands to her looks?' And I took my
opera-glasses to watch her proceedings. Oh! they
were very simple: first of all a glance, then a smile,
a G.deM.-ii




162


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


then a slight sign with the head which meant: 'Are
you coming up?' But it was so slight, so vague, so
discreet, that it required a great deal of knack to
succeed as she did. And I asked myself: 'I wonder
if I could do that little movement, from below upward, which was at the same time bold and pretty,
as well as she does,' for her gesture was very pretty.
"I went and tried it before the looking-glass, and
my dear, I did it better than she, a great deal better I
I was enchanted, and resumed my place at the window.
"She caught nobody more then, poor girl, nobody.
She certainly had no luck. It must really be very
terrible to earn one's bread in that way, terrible and
amusing occasionally, for really some of these men
one meets in the street are rather nice.
"After that they all came on my side of the road
and none on hers; the sun had turned. They came
one after the other, young, old, dark, fair, gray,
white. I saw some who looked very nice, really very
nice, my dear, far better than my husband or than
yours-I mean than your late husband, as you have
got a divorce. Now you can choose.
"I said to myself: 'If I give them the sign,
will they understand me, who am a respectable
woman?' And I was seized with a mad longing to
make that sign to them. I had a longing, a terrible
longing; you know, one of those longings which one
cannot resist! I have some like that occasionally.
How silly such things are, don't you think so? I
believe that we women have the souls of monkeys.
I have been told (and it was a physician who told
me) that the brain of a monkey is very like ours.
Of course we must imitate some one or other. We




THE SIGNAL               6


i 63


imitate our husbands when we love them, during the
first months after our marriage, and then our lovers,
our female friends, our confessors when they are nice.
We assume their ways of thought, their manners of
speech, their words, their gestures, everything. It is
very foolish.
"However, as for me, when I am much tempted
to do a thing I always do it, and so I said to my-.
self: 'I will try it once, on one man only, just to
see. What can happen to me? Nothing whatever!
We shall exchange a smile and that will be all and I
shall deny it, most certainly.'
" So I began to make my choice, I wanted some
one nice., very nice, and suddenly I saw a tall, fair,
very good-looking fellow coming along. I like fair
men, as you know. I looked at him, he looked at
me; I smiled, he smiled, I made the movement, oh
so faintly; he replied yes with his head, and there he
was,. my dear!I He came in at the large door of the
house.
"1You cannot imagine what passed through my
mind then!I I thought I should go mad. Oh! how
frightened I was. Just think, he will speak to the
servants!I To Joseph, who is devoted to my husband!I Joseph would certainly think that I had known
that gentleman for a long time.
" What could I do, just tell me? And he would
ring in a moment. What could I do, tell me? I
thought I would go and meet him, and tell him he
had made a mistake, and beg him to go away. He
would have pity on a woman, on a poor woman:
So I rushed to the door and opened it, just at the
moment when ne was going to ring the bell, and I




164


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


stammered out, quite stupidly: 'Go away, Monsieur,
go away; you have made a mistake, a terrible mistake; I took you for one of my friends whom you
are very like. Have pity on me, Monsieur.'
"But he only began to laugh, my dear, and replied: 'Good morning, my dear, I know all about
your little story, you may be sure. You are married,
and so you want forty francs instead of twenty, and
you shall have them, so just show the way.'
"And he pushed me in, closed the door, and as
I remained standing before him, horror-struck, he
kissed me, put his arm round my waist and made
me go back into the drawing-room the door of which
had remained open. Then he began to look at everything like an auctioneer, and continued: 'By Jove, it
is very nice in your rooms, very nice. You must be
very down on your luck just now, to do the window business!'
"Then I began to beg him again: 'Oh! Monsieur,
go away, please go away! My husband will be
coming in soon, it is just his time. I swear that
you have made a mistake!' But he answered quite
coolly: 'Come, my beauty, I have had enough of this
nonsense, and if your husband comes in, I will give
him five francs to go and have a drink at the cafe
opposite.' And then seeing Raoul's photograph on
the chimney-piece, he asked me: 'Is that your-your
husband?'
"'Yes, that is he.'
"'He looks like a nice, disagreeable sort of fellow.
And who is this? One of your friends?'
"It was your photograph, my dear, you know,
the one in ball dress. I did not know any longer




THE SIGNAL


i65


what I was saying and I stammered: 'Yes, it is one
of my friends.'
"'She is very nice; you shall introduce me to her.'
"Just then the clock struck five, and Raoul comes
home every day at half past! Suppose he were to
come home before the other had gone, just fancy
what would have happened! Then-then-I completely lost my head-altogether-I thought- I
thought-that-that-the best thing would be-to
get rid-of-of this man-as quickly as possibleThe sooner it was over-you understand."
*      *     *     *      *     *     *
The little Marchioness de Rennedon had begun to
laugh, to laugh madly, with her head buried in her
pillow, so that the whole bed shook, and when she
was a little calmer she asked:
"And-and-was he good-looking?"
"Yes."
"And yet you complain?"
"But-but-don't you see, my dear, he saidhe said —he should come again to-morrow-at the
same time-and I —I am terribly frightened-   You
have no idea how tenacious he is and obstinateWhat can I do   tell me-what can I do?"
The little Marchioness sat up in bed to reflect, and
then she suddenly said: "Have him arrested!"
The little Baroness looked stupefied, and stammered
out: "What do you say? What are you thinking
of? Have him arrested? Under what pretext?"
"That is very simple. Go to the Commissary of
Police and say that a gentleman has been following
you about for three months; that he had the insolence to go up to your apartments yesterday; that




I66


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


he has threatened you with another visit to-morrow,
and that you demand the protection of the law, and
they will give you two police officers who will arrest him."
"But, my dear, suppose he tells-"
"They will not believe him, you silly thing, if
you have told your tale cleverly to the commissary,
but they will believe you, who are an irreproachable
woman, and in society."
"Oh! I shall never dare to do it."
"You must dare, my dear, or you are lost."
"But think that he will-he will insult me if he
is arrested."
"Very well, you will have witnesses, and he will
be sentenced."
"Sentenced to what?"
"To pay damages. In such cases, one must be
pitiless!"
"Ah! speaking of damages-there is one thing
that worries me very much-very much indeed. He
left me two twenty-franc pieces on the mantelpiece."
"Two twenty-franc pieces?"
"Yes."
"No more?"
"No."
"That is very little. It would have humiliated
me. Well?"
"Well! What am I to do with that money?"
The little Marchioness hesitated for a few seconds,
and then she replied in a serious voice:
"My dear -you must make-you must make
your husband a little present with it. That will be
only fairl"




THE DEVIL
HE peasant was standing oppoEl.:   Y      T     site the doctor, by the bedside: E,       of the dying old woman, and
c    Ax    she, calmly resigned and quite lucid,
lo looked at them  and listened to their, talking. She was going to die, and she
' did not rebel at it, for her life was
~    ~   over-she was ninety-two.
'-.   The July sun streamed in at the window and through the open door and cast
its hot flames on to the uneven brown clay
floor, which had been stamped down by four
generations of clodhoppers.  The smell of the
' fields came in also, driven by the brisk wind,
and parched by the noontide heat. The grasshoppers
chirped themselves hoarse, filling the air with their
shrill noise, like that of the wooden crickets which
are sold to children at fair time.
The doctor raised his voice and said: "Honord,
you cannot leave your mother in this state; she may
die at any moment." And 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
(167)




168


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


it, mother?" And the dying woman, still possessed
by her Norman avariciousness, replied yes with her
eyes and her forehead, and so urged her son to get
in his wheat, and to leave her to die alone. But the
doctor got 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. Do you understand?
And if you must get in your wheat to-day, go and
fetch Rapet's wife and make her look after your
mother. I will have it. And if you do not obey me,
I will let you die like a dog, when you are ill in
your turn; do you hear me?"
The peasant, a tall, thin fellow with slow movements, who was tormented by indecision, by his fear
of the doctor and his keen love of saving, hesitated,
calculated, and stammered out: "How much does La
Rapet charge for attending sick people?"
"How should I know?" the doctor cried. "That
depends upon how long she is wanted for. Settle it
with her, by Jove! But I want her to be here within
an hour, do you hear."
So the man made up his mind. "I will go for
her," he replied; "don't get angry, doctor."' And
the latter left, calling out as he went: "Take care,
you know, for I do not joke when I am angry!"
And as soon as they were alone, the peasant turned
to his mother, and said in a resigned voice: "I will
go and fetch La Rapet, as the man will have it.
Don't go off while I am away."
And he went out in his turn.
La Rapet, who was an old washerwoman, watched
the dead and the dying of the neighborhood, and then,




THE DEVIL


i6q


as soon as she had sewn her customers into that
linen cloth from which they would emerge no more,
she went and took up her irons to smooth the linen
of the living. Wrinkled like a last year's apple,
spiteful, envious, avaricious with a phenomenal avarice,
bent double, as if she had been broken in half across
the loins, by the constant movement of the iron over
the linen, one might have said that she had a kind of
monstrous and cynical affection for a death struggle.
She never spoke of anything but of the people she
had seen die, of the various kinds of deaths at which
she had been present, and she related, with the
greatest minuteness, details which were always the
same, just like a sportsman talks of his shots.
When Honore Bontemps entered her cottage, he
found her preparing the starch for the collars of the
village women, and he said: "Good evening; I hope
you are pretty well, Mother Rapet."
She turned her head round to look at him and
said: "Fairly well, fairly well, and you?"
"Oh! as for me, I am as well as I could wish,
but my mother is very sick."
"Your mother?"
"Yes, my mother!"
"What's the matter with her?"
"She is going to turn up her toes, that's what's
the matter with her I"
The old woman took her hands out of the water
and asked with sudden sympathy: "Is she as bad
as all that?"
"The doctor says she will not last till morning."
" Then  she certainly is very bad "   Honore
hesitated, for he wanted to make a few preliminary




170


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


remarks before coming to his proposal, but as he
could hit upon nothing, he made up his mind suddenly.
"How much are you going to ask to stop with
her till the end? You know that I am not rich, and
I cannot even afford to keep a servant-girl. It is just
that which has brought my poor mother to this state,
too much work and fatigue 1 She used to work for
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. He knew,
too, that 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 until 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 me, but if she holds out till to-morrow or longer,
so much the better for me and so much the worse
for you!"
The nurse looked at the man in astonishment, for
she had never treated a death as a speculative job,
and she hesitated, tempted by the idea of the possible
gain. But almost immediately she suspected that he
wanted to juggle her. "I can say nothing until I have
seen your mother," she replied.
"Then come with me and see her."




THE DEVIL


171


She washed her hands, and went with him imme.
diatelyr. 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 asli them for
some green grass.
When they got near the house, Honor6 Bontemps
murmured: "Suppose it is all over?" And the unconscious wish 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 wretched bed, her hands covered with a pink cotton counterpane, horribly thin,
knotty paws, like some strange animal's, or like
crabs' claws, hands closed by rheumatism, fatigue,
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 questions, so
as to hear her speak: then, having looked at her for
some time longer, she went out of the room, followed
by Honore. His decided opinion was., that the old
woman would not last out the night, and he asked:
" Well?" And the sick-nurse replied: " Well, she
may last two days, perhaps three. You will have to
give me six francs, everything included."
" ISix francs! six francs! " he shouted. "Are you
out of your mind? I tell you that she cannot last
more than five or six hours! " And they disputed
angrily for some time, but as the nurse said she would




172


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


go home, as the time was slipping away, and as his
wheat would not come to the farmyard of its own
accord, he agreed to her terms at last:
"Very well, then, that is settled; six francs including 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 which ripens the grain, while the sick-nurse returned to the house.
She had brought some work with her, for she
worked without stopping by the side of the dead
and dying, sometimes for herself, sometimes for the
family, who employed her as seamstress also, paying her rather more in that capacity.  Suddenly she
asked:
"Have you received the last sacrament, Mothet
Bontemps?"
The old peasant woman said "No" with her
head, and La Rapet, who was very devout, got up
quickly: "Good heavens, is it possible? I will go
and fetch the cure"; and she rushed off to the parsonage so quickly, that the urchins in the street
thought some accident had happened, when they saw
her trotting off like that.
The priest came immediately in his surplice, preceded by a choir-boy, who rang a bell to announce
the passage of the Host through the parched and
quiet country. Some men, working at a distance,
took off their large hats and remained motionless
until the white vestment had disappeared behind some
farm buildings; the women who were making up the




THE DEVIL


173


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 foal, which was tied
up in a meadow, took fright at the sight of the surplice and began to gallop round at the length of its
rope, kicking violently. The choir-boy, in his red
cassock, walked quickly, and the priest, the square
biretta on his bowed head, followed him, muttering
some prayers. Last of all came La Rapet, bent almost double, as if she wished to prostrate herself;
she walked with folded hands, as if she were in
church.
Honor6 saw them pass in the distance, and he
asked: "Where is our priest going to?" And his
man, who was more acute, replied: "He is taking
the sacrament to your mother, of course!"
The peasant was not surprised and said: "That is
quite possible," and went on with his work.
Mother Bontemps confessed, received absolution
and extreme unction, and the priest took his departure, leaving the two women alone in the suffocating
cottage. La Rapet began to look at the dying
woman, and to ask herself whether it could last
much longer.
The day was on the wane, and a cooler air came
in stronger puffs, making a view of Epinal, which
was fastened to the wall by two pins, flap up and
down. The scanty window curtains, which had
formerly been white, but were now yellow and covered with fly-specks, looked as if they were going to
fly off, and seemed to struggle to get away, like the
old woman's soul.




174


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


Lying motionless, with her eyes open, the old
mother seemed to await the death which was so near,
and which yet delayed its coming, with perfect indifference. Her short breath whistled in her throat.
It would stop altogether soon, and there would be
one woman less in the world, one whom nobody
would regret.
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 sick. Then he sent La
Rapet away, saying to her: "To-morrow morning
at five o'clock, without fail." And she replied: "Tomorrow at five o'clock."
She came at daybreak, and found Honore eating
his soup, which he had made himself, before going
to work.
"Well, is your mother dead?" asked the nurse.
"She is rather better, on the contrary," he replied,
with a malignant look out of the corner of his eyes.
Then he went out.
La Rapet was seized with anxiety, and went up
to the dying woman, who was in the same state,
lethargic and impassive, her eyes open and her hands
clutching the counterpane. The nurse perceived that
this might go on thus for two days, four days, eight
days, even, and her avaricious mind was seized with
fear. She was excited to fury against the cunning
fellow who had tricked her, and against the woman
who would not die.
Nevertheless, she began to sew and waited with
her eyes fixed on the wrinkled face of Mother Bontemps. When Honor6 returned to breakfast he seemed




THE DEVIL


175


quite satisfied, and even in a bantering humor, for he
was carrying in his wheat under very favorable circumstances.
La Rapet was getting exasperated; every passing'
minute now seemed to her so much time and money
stolen from her. She felt a mad inclination to choke
this old ass, this headstrong old fool, this obstinate
old wretch -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 to her:
"Have you ever seen the Devil?"
Mother Bontemps whispered: "No."
Then the sick-nurse began to talk and to tell her
tales likely to terrify her weak and dying mind.
"Some minutes before one dies the Devil appears,"
she said, "to all.  He has a broom in his hand, a
saucepan on his head and he utters loud cries.
When anybody had seen him, all was over, and that
person had only a few moments longer to live"; and
she enumerated all those to whom the Devil had appeared that year: Josephine Loisel, Eulalie Ratier,
Sophie Padagnau, Seraphine Grospied.
Mother Bontemps, who was at last most disturbed
in mind, moved about, wrung her hands, and tried
to turn her head to look at the other 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; then she put the iron pot
on to her head, so that its three short bent feet rose
up like horns, took a broom in her right hand and a




176


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


tin pail in her left, which she threw up suddenly, so
that it might fall to the ground noisily.
Certainly when it came down, it made a terrible
noise.  Then, climbing on to a chair, the nurse
showed herself, gesticulating and uttering shrill cries
into the pot which covered her face, while she menaced the old peasant woman, who was nearly dead,
with her broom.
Terrified, with a mad look on her face, the dying
woman made a superhuman effort to get up and
escape; she even got her shoulders and chest out of
bed; then she fell back with a deep sigh. 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 pot on to the hearth,
the pail on to the floor, and the chair against the wall.
Then with a professional air, she closed the dead
woman's enormous eyes, put a plate on the bed and
poured some holy water into it, dipped the twig of
boxwood into it, and kneeling down, she fervently
repeated the prayers for the dead, which she knew
by heart, as a matter of business.
When Honore returned in the evening, he found
her praying. He calculated immediately that she had
made twenty sous out of him, for she had only spent
three days and one night there, which made five
francs altogether, instead of the six which he owed
her.




THE VENUS OF BRANIZA
0    v          OME years ago there lived in Braniza
".               a celebrated Talmudist, renowned
%    no less on account of his beautiful
(.         wife, than for his wisdom, his learn'?"    ~I ing, and his fear of God. The Venus
l? \d       of Braniza deserved that name thor(t     d   oughly; she deserved it for herself, on
\jtl account of her singular beauty, and
'\G  %even more as the wife of a man deeply
versed in the Talmud, for the wives of
d    — ~  the  Jewish  philosophers are, as a rule,
ugly or possess some bodily defect.
The Talmud explains this in the following
K   manner: It is well known that marriages are
made in heaven, and at the birth of a boy a divine
voice calls out the name of his future wife, and vice
versd. But just as a good father tries to get rid of
his good wares out of doors, and only uses the
damaged stuff at home for his children, so God bestows on the Talmudists those women whom other
men would not care to have.
Well, God made an exception in the case of our
Talmudist, and had bestowed a Venus on him, per.
2 G.de M.-ia                 (177)




178


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


haps only in order to confirm the rule by means of
this exception, and to make it appear less hard.
This philosopher's wife was a woman who would
have done honor to any king's throne, or to a pedestal in any sculpture gallery. Tall, and with a
wonderfully voluptuous figure, she carried a strikingly
beautiful head, surmounted by thick, black plaits, on
her proud shoulders. Two large, dark eyes languished
and glowed beneath long lashes, and her beautiful
hands looked as if they were carved out of ivory.
This glorious woman, who seemed to have been
designed by nature to rule, to see slaves at her feet,
to provide occupation for the painter's brush, the
sculptor's chisel, and the poet's pen, lived the life of a
rare and beautiful flower shut up in a hothouse.
She would sit the whole day long wrapped up in
her costly furs looking down dreamily into the street.
She had no children; her husband, the philosopher, studied and prayed and studied again from
early morning until late at night; his mistress was
"the Veiled Beauty," as the Talmudists call the Kabbalah. She paid no attention to her house, for she
was rich,and everything went of its own accord like
a clock which has only to be wound up once a
week; nobody came to see her, and she never went
out of the house; she sat and dreamed and brooded
and -yawned.
One day when a terrible storm of thunder and
lightning had spent its fury over the town, and all
windows had been opened in order to let the Messias
in, the Jewish Venus was sitting as usual in her comfortable easy-chair, shivering in spite of her furs, and




THE VENUS OF BRANIZA


I79


thinking. Suddenly she fixed her glowing eyes on her
husband who was sitting before the Talmud, swaying
his body backward and forward, and said suddenly:
"Just tell me, when will Messias, the son of
David, come?"
"He will come," the philosopher replied, "when
all the Jews have become either altogether virtuous
or altogether vicious, says the Talmud."
"Do you believe that all the Jews will ever become virtuous?" the Venus continued.
"How am I to believe that?"
"So Messias will come when all the Jews have
become vicious?"
The philosopher shrugged his shoulders, and lost
himself again in the labyrinth of the Talmud, out of
which, so it is said, only one man returned in perfect sanity. The beautiful woman at the window
again looked dreamily out into the heavy rain, while
her white fingers played unconsciously with the dark
furs of her splendid robe.
*     *     *     *     *     *     *
One day the Jewish philosopher had gone to a
neighboring town, where an important question of
ritual was to be decided. Thanks to his learning,
the question was settled sooner than he had expected,
and instead of returning the next morning, as he
had intended, he came back the same evening with
a friend who was no less learned than himself. He
got out of the carriage at his friend's house and
went home on foot. He was not a little surprised
when he saw his windows brilliantly illuminated, and
found an officer's servant comfortably smoking his
pipe in front of his house.




i8o


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"What are you doing here?" he asked in a friendly
manner, but with some curiosity, nevertheless.
"I am on guard, lest the husband of the beautiful
Jewess should come home unexpectedly."
"Indeed? Well, mind and keep a good lookout."
Saying this, the philosopher pretended to go away,
but went into the house through the garden entrance
at the back. When he got into the first room, he
found a table laid for two, which had evidently only
been left a short time previously. His wife was sitting as usual at her bedroom window wrapped in her
furs, but her cheeks were suspiciously red, and her dark
eyes had not their usual languishing look, but now
rested on her husband with a gaze which expressed
at the same time satisfaction and mockery. At that
moment his foot struck against an object on the floor,
which gave out a strange sound. He picked it up
and examined it in the light. It was a pair of spurs.
"Who has been here with you?" asked the Talmudist.
The Jewish Venus shrugged her shoulders contemptuously, but did not reply.
"Shall I tell you? The Captain of Hussars has
been with you."
"And why should he not have been here with
me?" she said, smoothing the fur on her jacket with
her white hand.
"Woman! are you out of your mind?"
"I am in full possession of my senses," she replied, and a knowing smile hovered round her red
voluptuous lips. "But must I not also do my part,
in order that Messias may come and redeem us poor
Jews?"




THE RABBIT
*.S^       ^   LD Lecacheur appeared at the door
of his house at his usual hour, between five and a quarter past five
in the morning, to look after his men
who were going to work.
With a red face, only half awake,
his right eye open and the left nearly
closed, he was buttoning his braces over
r  his fat stomach with some difficulty, all
\ the time looking into every corner of the
J  farmyard with a searching glance. The sun
/  was darting  his oblique rays through the
beech-trees by the side of the ditch and the
apple-trees outside, making the cocks crow  on
the dung-hill, and the pigeons coo on the roof. The
smell of the cow stalls came through the open door,
mingling in the fresh morning air with the pungent
odor of the stable where the horses were neighing,
with their heads turned toward the light.
As soon as his trousers were properly fastened,
Lecacheur came out, and went first of all toward the
hen-house to count the morning's eggs, for he had
(181)




182


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


been suspecting thefts for some time. But the servant
girl ran up to him with lifted arms and cried:
"Mastel! Master! they have stolen a rabbit during the night."
"A rabbit?"
"Yes, Master, the big gray rabbit, from the hutch
on the left." Whereupon the farmer quite opened his
left eye, and said, simply:
"I must see that."
And off he went to inspect it. The hutch had
been broken open and the rabbit was gone. Then
he became thoughtful, closed his left eye again,
scratched his nose, and after a little consideration,
said to the frightened girl, who was standing stupidly
before him:
"Go and fetch the gendarmes; say I expect them
as soon as possible."
Lecacheur was mayor of the village, Pairgry-le
Gras, and ruled it like a tyrant, on account of his
money and position. As soon as the servant had
disappeared in the direction of the village, which was
only about five hundred yards off, he went into the
house to have his morning coffee and to discuss the
matter with his wife. He found her on her knees in
front of the fire, trying to get it to burn up quickly.
As soon as he got to the door, he said:
"Somebody has stolen the gray rabbit."
She turned round so quickly that she found herself sitting on the floor, and looking at her husband
with distressed eyes, she said:
"What is it, Cacheuxl Somebody has stolen a
rabbit?"
"The big gray one."




THE RABBIT


I83


She sighed: "How sad! Who can have done
it?"
She was a little, thin, active, neat woman, who
knew  all about farming.  But Lecacheur had his
own ideas about the matter.
"It must be that fellow Polyte."
His wife got up suddenly and said in a furious
voice:
"He did it! he did it! You need not look for any
one else. He did it! You have said it, CacheuxI"
All her peasant's fury, all her avarice, all the rage
of a saving woman against the man of whom she
had always been suspicious, and against the girl
whom she had always suspected, could be seen in
the contraction of her mouth, in the wrinkles in her
cheeks, and in the forehead of her thin, exasperated
face.
"And what have you done?" she asked.
"I have sent for the gendarmes."
This Polyte was a laborer, who had been employed on the farm for a few days, and had been
dismissed by Lecacheur for an insolent answer. He
was an old soldier, and was supposed to have retained his habits of marauding and debauchery from
his campaigns in Africa. He did anything for a livelihood, but whether working as a mason, a navvy, a
reaper, whether he broke stones or lopped trees, he
was always lazy.  So he remained in no position
long, and had, at times, to change his neighborhood
to obtain work.
From the first day that he came to the farm, Lecacheur's wife had detested him, and now she was
sure that he had committed the robbery.




184


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


In about half an hour the two gendarmes arrived.
Brigadier Senateur was very tall and thin, and Gendarme Lenient, short and fat. Lecacheur made them
sit down and told them the affair, and then they
went and saw the scene of the theft, in order to
verify the fact that the hutch had been broken open,
and to collect all the proofs they could. When they
got back to the kitchen, the mistress brought in some
wine, filled their glasses and asked with a distrustful
look:
"Shall you catch him?"
The brigadier, who had his sword between his
legs, appeared thoughtful. Certainly, he was sure of
taking him, if he was pointed out to him, but if not,
he could not himself answer for being able to discover him. After reflecting for a long time, he put
this simple question:
"Do you know the thief?"
And Lecacheur replied, with a look of Normandy
slyness in his eyes:
"As for knowing him, I do not, as I did not see
him commit the robbery. If I had seen him, I should
have made him eat it raw, skin and flesh, without a
drop of cider to wash it down. As for saying who
it is, I cannot, although I believe it is that good-fornothing Polyte."
Then he related at length his troubles with Polyte,
his leaving his service, his bad reputation, things
which had been told him, accumulating insignificant
and minute proofs. Then the brigadier, who had been
listening very attentively while he emptied his glass
and filled it again, turned to his gendarme with an
indifferent air, and said:




THE RABBIT


i85


"We must go and look in the cottage of Severin's
wife." At which the gendarme smiled and nodded
three times.
Then Madame Lecacheur came to them, and very
quietly, with all a peasant's cunning, questioned the
brigadier in her turn. The shepherd Severin, a simpleton, a sort of brute who had been brought up from
youth among his bleating flocks, and who knew of
scarcely anything besides them in the world, had
nevertheless preserved the peasant's instinct for saving, at the bottom of his heart. For years and years
he had hidden in hollow trees and crevices in the
rocks, all that he earned, either as shepherd, or by
curing the fractures of animals (for the bonesetter's
secret had been handed down to him by the old
shepherd whose place he took), by touch or advice,
for one day he bought a small property consisting of
a cottage and a field, for three thousand francs.
A few months later it became known that he was
going to marry a servant notorious for her bad
morals, the innkeeper's servant. The young fellows
said that the girl, knowing that he was pretty well
off, had been to his cottage every night, and had
taken him, bewitched him, led him on to matrimony,
little by little, night by night.
And then, having been to the mayor's office and
to church, she lived in the house which her man had
bought, while he continued to tend his flocks, day
and night, on the plains.
And the brigadier added:
"Polyte has been sleeping with her for three
weeks, for the thief has no place of his own to go
to "




186


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


The gendarme made a little joke:
"He takes the shepherd's blankets."
Madame Lecacheur, seized by a fresh access ol
rage, of rage increased by a married woman s angel
against debauchery, exclaimed:
"It is she, I am sure. Go there. Ahl the black
guard thieves!"
But the brigadier was quite unmoved.
"A minute," he said. "Let us wait until twelve
o'clock; as Polyte goes and dines there every day
I shall catch them with it under their noses."
The gendarme smiled, pleased at his chiefs idea,
and Lecacheur also smiled now, for the affair of the
shepherd struck him as very funny: deceived hus,
bands are always amusing.
*     *     *     *     *     *     *
Twelve o'clock has just struck when the brigadier, followed by his man, knocked gently three
times at the door of a small lonely house, situated at
the corner of a wood, some five hundred yards from
the village.
They stood close against the wall, so as not
to be seen from within, and waited. As nobody
answered, the brigadier knocked again in a minute
or two. It was so quiet that the house seemed uninhabited; but Lenient, the gendarme, who had very
quick ears, said that he heard somebody moving
about inside. S6nateur got angry. He would not
allow anyone to resist the authority of the law for
a moment, and, knocking at the door with the hilt
of his sword, he cried out:
"Open the door, in the name of the law."
As this order had no effect, he roared out:




THE RABBIT


I87


"If you do not obey, I shall smash the lock. I
am the brigadier of the gendarmerie, by G-d! Here,
Lenient."
He had not finished speaking when the door
opened and S6nateur saw before him a fat girl, with
a very red color, blowsy, with pendent breasts, big
stomach, and broad hips, a sort of sanguine and sensual female, the wife of the shepherd Severin. He
entered the cottage.
"I have come to pay you a visit, as I want to
make a little search," he said, and he looked about
him. On the table there was a plate, a jug of cider
and a glass half full, which proved that a meal had
been going on. Two knives were lying side by side,
and the shrewd gendarme winked at his superior
officer.
"It smells good," the latter said.
"One might swear that it was stewed rabbit,;'
Lenient added, much amused.
"Will you have a glass of brandy?" the peasant
woman asked.
"No, thank you; I only want the skin of the rabbit that you are eating."
She pretended not to understand, but she was
trembling.
"What rabbit?"
The brigadier had taken a seat, and was calmly
wiping his forehead.
"Come, come, you are not going to try and make
us believe that you live on couch grass. What were
you eating there all by yourself for your dinner?"
"I?  Nothing whatever, I swear to you. A mite
of butter on my bread."




I88      WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"You are a novice, my good woman-a mite of
butter on your bread. You are mistaken; you ought
to have said: a mite of butter on the rabbit. By
G-d, your butter smells good! It is special butter,
extra good butter, butter fit for a wedding; certainly
not household butter!"
The gendarme was shaking with laughter, and repeated:
"Not household butter, certainly."
As Brigadier S6nateur was a joker, all the
gendarmes had grown facetious, and the officer continued:
"Where is your butter?"
"My butter?"
"Yes, your butter."
"In the jar."
"Then where is the butter jar?"
"Here it is."
She brought out an old cup, at the bottom of
which there was a layer of rancid, salt butter. The
brigadier smelled it, and said, with a shake of his
head:
"It is not the same. I want the butter that
smells of the rabbit. Come, Lenient, open your eyes;
look under the sideboard, my good fellow, and I will
look under the bed."
Having shut the door, he went up to the bed and
tried to move it; but it was fixed to the wall, and
had not been moved for more than half a century,
apparently. Then the brigadier stooped, and made
his uniform crack. A button had flown off,
"Lenient," he said.
"Yes, brigadier?"




1 HE RABBIT


I89


"Come here, my lad, and look under the bed; I
am too tall. I will look after the sideboard."
He got up and waited while his man executed his
orders.
Lenient, who was short and stout, took off his
kepi, laid himself on his stomach, and putting his
face on the floor looked at the black cavity under the
bed. Then, suddenly, he exclaimed:
"All right, here we are!"
"What have you got? The rabbit?"
"No, the thief."
"The thief! Pull him out, pull him out!"
The gendarme had put his arms under the bed and
laid hold of something. He pulled with all his might,
and at last a foot, shod in a thick boot, appeared,
which he was holding in his right hand. The brigadier grabbed it, crying:
"Pull! pull!"
And Lenient, who was on his knees by that time,
was pulling at the other leg. But it was a hard job,
for the prisoner kicked out hard, and arched up his
back across the bed.
"Courage! courage! pull! pull!" Senateur cried,
and they pulled with all their strength -so hard that
the wooden bar gave way, and the victim came out
as far as his head. At last they got that out also,
and saw the terrified and furious face of Polyte, whose
arms remained stretched out under the bed.
"Pull away!" the brigadier kept on exclaiming.
Then they heard a strange noise as the arms followed
the shoulders and the hands the arms. In the hands
was the handle of a saucepan, and at the end of the
handle the pan itself, which contained stewed rabbit.




190


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"Good Lord! good Lord!" the brigadier shouted
in his delight, while Lenient took charge of the man.
The rabbit's skin, an overwhelming proof, was discovered under the mattress, and the gendarmes returned in triumph to the village with their prisoner
and their booty.
A week later, as the affair had made much stir,
Lecacheur, on going into the mairie to consult the
schoolmaster, was told that the shepherd Severin had
been waiting for him for more than an hour. He
found him sitting on a chair in a corner with his
stick between his legs. When he saw the mayor,
he got up, took off his cap, and said:
"Good morning, Maitre Cacheux"; and then he
remained standing, timid and embarrassed.
"What do you want?" the former said.
"This is it, Monsieur. Is it true that somebody
stole one of your rabbits last week?"
"Yes, it is quite true, Severin."
"Who stole the rabbit?"
"Polyte Ancas, the laborer."
"Right! right! And is it also true that it was
found under my bed?"
"What do you mean, the rabbit?"
"The rabbit and then Polyte."
"Yes, my poor Severin, quite true, but who told
you?"
"Pretty well everybody. I understand! And I
suppose you know all about marriages, as you marry*
people?"


*In France, the civil marriage is compulsory.




THE RABBIT


i91


"What about marriage?"
"With regard to one's rights."
"What rights?"
"The husband's rights and then the wife's rights."
"Of course I do."
"Oh! Then just tell me, M'sieu Cacheux, has
my wife the right to go to bed with Polyte?"
"What do you mean by going to bed with Polyte?"
"Yes, has she any right before the law, and seeing that she is my wife, to go to bed with Polyte?"
"Why of course not, of course not."
"If I catch him there again, shall I have the right
to thrash him and her also?"
"Why-why-why, yes."
"Very well, then; I will tell you why I want to
know. One night last week, as I had my suspicions,
I came in suddenly, and they were not behaving
properly. I chucked Polyte out, to go and sleep
somewhere else; but that was all, as I did not know
what my rights were. This time I did not see them;
I only heard of it from  others. That is over, and
we will not say any more about it; but if I catch
them again, by G-dl if I catch them again, I will
make them lose all taste for such nonsense, Maitre
Cacheux, as sure as my name is Severin."




A DIVORCE CASE
— '        M       CHASSEL, advocate, rises  to.^:'~     1. V I. Mr. President and gentle[ '-\         men of the jury. The cause that
I am charged to plead before you
-~ '     ~requires medicine rather than justice;.:[   A- and is much more a case of pathology
K  - >?  than a case of ordinary law. At first
T7.   'blush the facts seem  very simple.
Jy      /;j    "A   young man, very rich, with a
',        noble and cultivated mind, and a gener^_.  ous heart, becomes enamored of a young
_^        H.  lady, who is the perfection of beauty, more
'       than beautiful, in fact; she is adorable, besides
being as gracious as she is charming, as good and
true as she is tender and pretty, and he marries her.
For some time, he compcrts himself toward her not
only as a devoted husband, but as a man full of
solicitude and tenderness.  Then he neglects her,
misuses her, seems to entertain for her an insurmountable aversion, an irresistible disgust. One day
he even strikes her, not only without any cause, but
(192)




A DIVORCE CASE


I93


also without the faintest pretext. I am not going,
gentlemen, to draw a picture of silly allurements,
which no one would comprehend. I shall not paint
to you the wretched life of those two beings, and
the horrible grief of this young woman. It will be
sufficient to convince you, if I read some fragments
from a journal written up every day by that poor
young man, by that poor fool! For it is in presence
of a fool, gentlemen, that we now find ourselves,
and the case is all the more curious, all the more
interesting, seeing that, in many points, it recalls the
insanity of the unfortunate prince who recently died,
of the witless king who reigned platonically over
Bavaria. I shall hence designate this case-poetic
folly.
"You will readily call to mind all that has been
told of that most singular prince. He erected veritable fairy castles amid the most magnificent scenery
his kingdom afforded. Even the reality of the beauty
of the castles themselves, as well as of the sites, did
not satisfy him. He invented, he created, in these
extraordinary manors factitious horizons, obtained by
means of theatrical artifices, changes of view, painted
forests, in which the leaves of the trees became precious stones. He had the Alps and their glaciers;
steppes, deserts of sand made hot by a blazing sun;
and at nights, under the rays of the real moon, lakes
which sparkled from below by means of fantastic
electric lights. Swans floated on the lakes which
glistened with skiffs, while an orchestra, composed of
the finest executants in the world, inebriated with
poetry the soul of the royal fool. That man was
chaste, that man was a virgin. He lived only to
a G. de M.-3




194


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


dream his dream divine. One evening he took out
with him in his boat a lady, young and beautiful, a
great artiste, and he begged her to sing. Intoxicated
herself by the magnificent scenery, by the languid
softness of the air, by the perfume of flowers, and by
the ecstasy of that prince, both young and handsome,
she sang, she sang, as women sing who have been
touched by love; then, overcome, trembling, she fell
on the bosom of the king in order to seek out his
lips. But he threw her into the lake, and seizing his
oars, rowed back to the shore, without concerning
himself as to whether anybody saved her or not.
"Gentlemen of the jury, we find ourselves in
presence of a case similar in every way to that. I
shall say no more now, except to read some passages
from the journal which we unexpectedly came upon
in the drawer of an old secretary.
*     *     *     *     *     *     *
"'How sad and weary is everything; always the
same, always hateful. How I dream of a land more
beautiful, more noble, more varied. What a poor
conception they have of their God, if their God exists,
as if he had not created other things, elsewhere. Always woods, little woods, waves which resemble
waves, plains which resemble plains, everything is
sameness and monotony. And Man? Man? What a
horrible animal! wicked, haughty, and repugnantl
"'It is essential to love, to love to perdition, without seeing that which one loves. For to see is to
comprehend, and to comprehend is to embrace. It
is necessary to love, to become intoxicated by it,
just as one gets drunk with wine, even to the extent




A DIVORCE CASE


195


that one knows no longer what one is drinking.
And to drink, to drink, to drink,. without drawing
breath, day and night!
"'I have found her, I believe. She has about her
something ideal which does not belong to this world,
and which furnishes wings to my dream. Ah! my
dream! How it reveals to me beings different from
what they really are! She is a blonde, a delicate
blonde, with hair whose delicate shade is inexpressible. Her eyes are blue! Only blue eyes can penetrate my soul. The woman who lives in my heart,
in fact, all women, reveal themselves to me in the
eyes, only in the eyes. Oh! what a mystery, what a
mystery is the eye! The whole universe lives in it,
inasmuch as it sees, inasmuch as it reflects. It contains the universe, both things and beings, forests
and oceans, men and beasts, the settings of the sun,
the stars, the arts-all, all it sees; it collects and
absorbs all. And there is still more in it; the eye of
itself has a soul; it has in it the man who thinks,
the man who loves, the man who laughs, the man
who suffers! Oh! look at the blue eyes of women,
those eyes that are as deep as the sea, as changeful
as the sky, so sweet, so soft-soft as the breezes,
sweet as music, luscious as kisses; so transparent, so
clear that one sees behind them, discerns the soul,
the blue soul which colors them, which animates
them, which electrifies them. Yes, the soul has the
color of the look. The blue soul alone contains in
itself that which dreams; it bears its azure to the
floods and into space. The eye! Think of it, the
eyel It imbibes the visible life in order to nourish




I96


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


thought. It drinks in the world-color, movement,
books, pictures, all that is beautiful, all that is ugly,
and weaves ideas out of them. And when it glances
at us, it gives us the sensation of a happiness that is
not of this earth. It informs us of that of which we
have always been ignorant; it makes us comprehend
that the realities of our dreams are but noisome things.
*     *     *     *     *     *      *
"'I love her, too, for her walk. "Even when the
bird walks one feels that it has wings," the poet has
said. When she passes one feels that she is of a
race apart from ordinary women, of a race more
delicate and more divine. I shall marry her to-morrow.
But I am afraid, I am afraid of so many things!
*     *     *     *     *      *     *
"'Two beasts, two dogs, two wolves, two foxes,
thread their way through the plantation and encounter
one another. One of each two is male, the other
female. They couple. They couple in consequence
of an animal instinct, which forces them to continue
the race, their race, the one from which they have
sprung, the hairy coat, the form, movements and
ways of life. The whole of the animal creation do
the same without knowing why.
"'We human beings, also.
"'It is for this that I have married; I have obeyed
that insane passion which throws us in the direction
of the female.
"'She is my wife. In accordance with my ideal
desires, she comes very nearly realizing my unrealizable dream. But in separating from her, even for a




A DIVORCE CASE


I97


second, after I have held her in my arms, she becomes
no more than the being whom nature had made use
of to disappoint all my hopes.
"'Has she disappointed them? No. And why
have I grown weary of her, become loath even to
touch her; she cannot graze even the palm of my
hand, or the skin of my lips, but my heart throbs
with unutterable disgust-not perhaps disgust of her,
but a disgust more potent, more widespread, more
loathsome; the disgust, in a word, of carnal love so
vile in itself that it has become for all refined beings
a shameful thing, which it is necessary to conceal,
which one never speaks of save in a whisper, nor
without blushing.
*     *     *     *     *     *     *
"'I can no longer bear the idea of my wife coming near me, calling me by name, with a smile; I
cannot look at her, or touch even her arm-I cannot
do it any more. At one time I thought to be kissed
by her would be to transport me to Mohammed's
seventh heaven. One day, she was suffering from
a transient fever, and I smelled in her breath a subtle,
slight, almost imperceptible puff of human putridity.
I was completely overthrown.
"'Ohl the flesh, with its seductive and eager
smell, a putrefaction which walks, which thinks,
which speaks, which looks, which laughs, in which
nourishment ferments and rots, which, nevertheless,
is rose-colored, pretty, tempting, deceitful as the soul
itself.
"'Why is it that flowers alone, which smell so
sweet, those large flowers, glittering or pale, in their




I98


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


tones and shades, make my heart tremble and trouble
my eyes? They are so beautiful, their structure is so
finished, so varied, and so sensual, semi-open like
human organs, more tempting than mouths, with
turned-up lips, teeth, flesh, sown with life powders
which, in each, give forth a distinct perfume.
"'They reproduce themselves, and they alone in
the world, without polluting their inviolable race,
shedding around them the divine influence of their
love, the odoriferous incense of their caresses, the
essence of their incomparable body, adorned with
every grace, with every elegance of shape and form,
with the coquetry of every hue of color, and the inebriating seductiveness of every variety of perfume.'
*     *     *      *     *     *     *
"FRAGMENTS WHICH WERE SELECTED SIX MONTHS
LATER:
"'I love flowers, not as flowers, but as material
and delicious beings; I pass my days and my nights
in beds of flowers, where they have been concealed
from public view like the women of a harem.
"'Who knows, except myself, the sweetness, the
infatuation, the quivering, carnal, ideal, superhuman
ecstasy of these tendernesses; and those kisses upon
the bare flesh of a rose, upon the blushing flesh, upon
the white skin, so miraculously different, delicate, rare,
subtle, unctuous, of these adorable flowers!
"'I have flower-beds that no one has seen except
myself, and which I tend myself.
"'I enter there as one would glide into a place of
secret pleasure. In the lofty glass gallery, I pass first
through a collection of inclosed corollas, half open or




A DIVORCE CASE


I99


in full bloom, which incline toward the ground, or
toward the roof. This is the first kiss they have
given me.
"'These flowers I have just mentioned, these
flowers which adorn the vestibule of my mysterious
passions, are my servants and not my.favorites.
"'They salute me by the change of their color
and by their first inhalations. They are darlings,
coquettes, arranged in eight rows to the right, eight
rows to the left, and so laid out that they look like
two gardens springing up from under my feet.
"'My heart palpitates, my eyes flash at the sight
of them; my blood rushes through my veins, my soul
is elated, and my hands tremble from desire as soon
as I touch them. I pass on. There are three closed
doors at the bottom of that gallery. I can make my
choice of them. I have three harems.
"'But I enter most often the habitation of the
orchids, my little wheedlers, by preference. Their
chamber is low and suffocating. The humid and hot
air makes the skin moist, takes away the breath and
causes the fingers to quiver.  They come, these
strange girls, from a country marsh, burning and
unhealthy. They draw you toward them as do the
sirens, are as deadly as poison, admirably fantastic,
enervating, dreadful. The butterflies here would also
seem to have enormous wings, tiny feet, and eyes!
Yes! they have also eyes! They look at me, they
see me, prodigious, incomparable beings, fairies,
daughters of the sacred earth, of the impalpable air,
and of hot sun's rays, that mother bountiful of the
universe. Yes, they have wings, they have eyes, and
nuances that no painter could imitate, every charm,




200


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


every grace, every form that one could dream of.
These wombs are transverse, odoriferous, and transparent, ever open for love and more tempting than
all the flesh of women. The unimaginable designs of
their little bodies inebriate the soul, and transport it
to a paradise of images and of voluptuous ideals.
They tremble upon their stems as though they would
fly. When they do fly do they come to me? No, it
is my heart that hovers o'er them, like a mystic male,
tortured by love.
"'No wing of any animal can keep pace with
them. We are alone, they and I, in the lighted prison
which I have had constructed for them. I worship
them, I contemplate them, I admire them, I adore
them, the one after the other.
"'How   healthy, strong, and rosy, a rosiness that
moistens the lips of desire! How I love them! The
border is frizzled, paler than their throat, where the
corolla hides itself away; a mysterious mouth, seductive sugar under the tongue, exhibiting and unveiling
the delicate, admirable, and sacred organs of these
divine little creatures which smell so exquisitely and
do not speak.
"'I sometimes have a passion for some of them
that lasts as long as their existence, which only embraces a few days and nights. I then have them
taken away from the common gallery and inclosed
in a pretty glass cabin, in which there murmurs a jet
of water over against a tropical gazon, which has
been brought from one of the Pacific Islands. And!
remain close to it, ardent, feverish, and tormented,
knowing that its death is near, and watch it fading
away, while in thought I possess it, aspire to its love,




A DIVORCE CASE


20!


drink it in, and then end its short life with an inexpressible caress.'"
*     *     *     *     *     *     *
When he had finished the reading of these fragments, the advocate continued:
"Decency, gentlemen of the jury, hinders me from
communicating to you the extraordinary avowals of
this shameless, idealistic fool..The fragments that I
have just submitted to you will be sufficient, in my
opinion, to enable you to appreciate this instance of
mental malady, less rare in our epoch of hysterical
insanity and of corrupt decadence than most of us
believe.
"I think, then, that my client is more entitled
than any woman whatever to claim a divorce, in view
of the exceptional circumstances in which the disordered senses of her husband have placed her."




LA MORILLONNE
H T             HEY called her "La Morillonne,"*
not only on account of her black
hair and of a complexion which
resembled autumnal leaves, but because of her thick purple lips which
were   like  blackberries, when  she
8Qk  curled them.
That she should be as dark as this
K      in a district where everybody was fair,
and born of parents who had tow-colored
hair and butter-like complexions was one of
the mysteries of atavism. A female ancestor
must have had   intimacy with one of those
traveling tinkers who have gone about the country
from time immemorial, with faces the color of bister
and indigo, crowned by a wisp of light hair.
From that ancestor she derived not only her dark
complexion, but also her dark soul and her deceitful
eyes, whose depths were at times illuminated by
flashes of every vice, the eyes of an obstinate and
malicious animal.
*A sort ol black grape. -EDITOR.
(202)




LA MORILLONNE


203


Handsome? Certainly not, nor even pretty. Ugly,
with an absolute ugliness! Such a false look! Her
nose was flat, having been smashed by a blow,
while her unwholesome-looking mouth was always
slobbering with greediness, or uttering something vile.
Her hair was thick and untidy, a regular nest for
vermin, and she had a thin, feverish body, with a
limping walk. In short, she was a perfect monster,
and yet all the young men of the neighborhood had
made love to her, and whoever had been so honored
longed for her society again.
From the time that she was twelve, she had been
the mistress of every fellow in the village. She had
corrupted boys of her own age in every conceivable
manner and place.
Young men at the risk of imprisonment, and even
steady, old, notable, and venerable men, such as the
firmer at Eclausiaux, Monsieur Martin, the ex-mayor,
and other highly respectable citizens, had been taken
by the manners of that slut. The reason why the
rural policeman was not severe upon them, in spite
of his love for summoning people before the magistrates, was, so people said, that he would have been
obliged to take out a summons against himself.
The consequence was that she had grown up
without being interfered with, and was the mistress
of every fellow in the village, as said the schoolmaster, who had himself been one of the fellows.
But the most curious part of the business was that
no one was jealous. They handed her on from one
to the other, and when some one expressed his astonishment at this to her one day, she said to this unIntelligent stranger:




204


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"Is everybody not satisfied?"
And then, how could any one of them, even if he
had been jealous, have monopolized her? They had
no hold on her. She was not selfish, and though she
accepted all gifts, whether in kind or in money, she
never asked for anything, and she even appeared to
prefer paying herself after her own fashion, by stealing. All she seemed to care about as her reward was
pilfering, and a crown put into her hand gave her
less pleasure than a half penny which she had stolen.
Neither was it any use to dream of ruling her, of
being the sole male, or proud master of the henroost, for none of them, no matter how broad-shouldered he was, would have been capable of it. Some
had tried to vanquish her, but in vain.
How, then, could any of them claim to be her
master? It would have been the same as wishing to
have the sole right of baking bread in the common
oven, in which the whole village baked.
But there was one exception, and that was Bru,
the shepherd.
He lived in the fields in a movable hut, feeding
on cakes made of unleavened dough, which he
kneaded on a stone and baked in the hot ashes, now
here, now there, in a hole dug out in the ground,
and heated with dead wood. Potatoes, milk, hard
cheese, blackberries, and a small cask of old gin distilled by himself, were his daily food. He knew
nothing about love, although he was accused of all
sorts of horrible things.  But nobody dared abuse
him to his face; in the first place, because Bru was a
spare and sinewy man, who handled his shepherd's
crook like a drum-major does his staff; secondly,




LA MORILLONNE


205


because of his three sheep dogs, who had teeth like
wolves, and obeyed nobody but their master; and
lastly, for fear of the evil eye. For Bru, it appeared,
knew spells which would blight the corn, give the
sheep foot-rot, cattle the rinderpest, make cows die
in calving, and set fire to the ricks and stacks.
But as Bru was the only one who did not thirst
after La Morillonne, naturally one day she began to
think of him, and declared that she, at any rate, was
not afraid of his evil eye. So she went after him.
"What do you want?" he said, and she replied
boldly:
"What do I want? I want you."
"Very well," he said, "but then you must belong
to me alone."
"All right," was her answer, "if you think you
can please me."
He smiled and took her into his arms, and she
was away from the village for a whole week. She
had, in fact, become Bru's exclusive property.
The village grew excited. They were not jealous
of one another, but they were of him.    What!
Could she not resist him? Of course he had charms
and spells against every imaginable thing. Then they
grew furious; next they grew bold, and watched from
behind a tree. She was still as lively as ever, but he,
poor fellow, seemed to have suddenly fallen ill, and
required nursing at her hands. The villagers, however, felt no compassion for the poor shepherd, and
one of them, more courageous than the rest, advanced
toward the hut with his gun in his hand:
"Tie up your dogs," he cried out from a distance;
"fasten them up, Bru, or I shall shoot them."




206


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


" You need not be frightened of the dogs," La
Morillonne replied; "1 will be answerable for it that
they will not hurt you"; and she smiled as the
young man with the gun went toward her.
"What do you want?" the shepherd said.
"I can tell you," she replied. "He wants me and
I am very willing. There!"
Bru began to cry, and she continued:
"You are a good-for-nothing."
And she went off with the lad. Bru seized his
crook, seeing which the young fellow raised his gun.
"Seize him! seize him!" the shepherd shouted,
urging on his dogs, while the other had already got
his finger on the trigger to fire at them. But La
Morillonne pushed down the muzzle and called out:
"Here, dogs! here! Prr, prr, my beauties!"
And the three dogs rushed up to her, licked her
hands and frisked about as they followed her, while
she called to the shepherd from the distance:
"You see, Bru, they are not at all jealous!"
And then, with a short and evil laugh, she added:
"They are my property now."




THE TWENTY-FIVE FRANCS
OF THE MOTHER
SUPERIOR
V~ id.     T    E CERTAINLY looked very droll, did. I    daddy Pavilly, with  his great,
",   s           spider legs and little body, his
}/X,      long arms and pointed head, sur.~~' t      grounded by a flame of red hair on
yjY tj      the top of the crown.
r. *           He was a clown, a peasant clown
-^         by nature, born to play tricks, to act
— %,%  parts, simple parts, a peasant's son who
- _ -    could scarcely read. Yes! God had certainly created him to amuse others, the
poor country yokels who have neither the-  aters nor fetes, and he amused them conscientiously. In the cafe people treated him to drink
in order to keep him there, and he drank copiously,
laughing and joking, hoaxing everybody without vexing anyone, while people laughed heartily around hinl.
He was so droll that the very girls could not resist him, ugly as he was, because he made them
laugh. He would drag them about joking all the
(207)




2o8


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


while, would tickle and squeeze them, saying such
funny things that their sides shook while they pushed
him away.
Toward the end of June he engaged himself for
the harvest to farmer Le Harivan, near Rouville. For
three whole weeks he amused the harvesters, male
and female, with his jokes, by day and night. During the day, when he was in the fields, he wore an
old straw hat which hid his red shock head. You
could see him gathering up the yellow grain and
tying it into bundles with his long, thin arms; and
then suddenly stop to make a funny gesture which
made the laborers, who always kept their eyes on
him, laugh all over the field. At night he would
creep, like some animal, in among the straw in the
barn where the women slept, causing screams and
exciting a disturbance. Driven off by their wooden
clogs, he would escape on all fours, like a grimacing
monkey, amid volleys of laughter from the whole
place.
On the last day, as the wagon, full of reapers
decked with ribbons and playing bagpipes, shouting
and elated with pleasure and drink, went along the
white highroad, slowly drawn by six dapple-gray
horses and driven by a lad in a blouse with a rosette
in his cap, Pavilly, in the midst of the sprawling:
women, danced like a drunken satyr, keeping the little dirty-faced boys and astonished peasants staring
at him open-mouthed on the way to the farm.
Suddenly, when they got to the gate of Le Harivan's farmyard, he gave a leap as he was lifting up
his arms. Unfortunately, as he came down, he knocked
against the side of the long wagon, fell over it on toc




THE TWENTY-FIVE FRANCS


209


the wheel, and rebounded into the road. His companions jumped out, but he did not move; one eye
was closed, while the other was open, and he was
pale with fear. His long limbs were stretched out in
the dust, and when they touched his right leg he began to scream, and when they tried to make him
stand up, he immediately fell down.
"I think one of his legs is broken," one of the
men said.
And so it really was. Harivan, therefore, had him
laid on a table and sent off a man on horseback to
Rouville to fetch the doctor, who came an hour later.
The farmer generously said that he would pay for
the man's treatment in the hospital, so the doctor
carried Pavilly off in his carriage to the hospital, and
had him put into a whitewashed ward, where the
fracture was reduced.
As soon as he knew that it would not kill him,
and that he would be taken care of, cuddled, cured,
and fed without having anything to do except to lie
on his back between the sheets, Pavilly's joy was
unbounded, and he began to laugh silently and continuously, so as to show his decayed teeth.
Whenever one of the Sisters of Mercy came near
his bed he would make grimaces of satisfaction,
winking, twisting his mouth awry and moving his
nose, which was very long and mobile. His neighbors in the ward, ill as they were, could not help
laughing, and the Mother Superior often came to his
bedside, to be amused for a quarter of an hour. He
invented all kinds of jokes and stories for her, and as
he had the makings of a strolling actor in him, he
would be devout in order to please her, speaking of
2 G. de M.-14




210


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


religion with the serious air of a man who knows
that there are times when jokes are out of place.
One day, he took it into his head to sing to her.
She was delighted and came to see him more frequently; then she brought him a hymn-book so as to
utilize his voice. Then he might be seen sitting up
in bed, for he was beginning to be able to move,
singing the praises of the Almighty and of Mary in
a falsetto voice, while the kind, stout sister stood by
him and beat time with her finger. When he could
walk, the Superior offered to keep him for some time
longer to sing in chapel, to serve at Mass, and to
fulfill the duties of sacristan. He accepted, and for a
whole month he might be seen in his surplice, limping and singing the psalms and the responses, with
such movements of his head that the number of the
faithful increased, and people deserted the parish
church to attend vespers at the hospital.
But as everything must come to an end in this
world, they were obliged to discharge him when he
was quite cured, and the Superior gave him twentyfive francs in return for his services.
As soon as Pavilly found himself in the street
with all that money in his pocket, he asked himself
what he was going to do. Should he return to the
village? Certainly not before having a drink, for he
had not had one for a long time, and so he went into
a cafe. He had never visited town more than two or
three times a year, and had a confused and intoxicating recollection of a particular orgy on one of those
visits. So he asked for a glass of the best brandy,
which he swallowed at a gulp to grease the passage,
and then he had another to see how it tasted.




THE TWENTY-FIVE FRANCS


211


As soon as the strong and fiery liquor had touched
his palate and tongue, awakening more vividly than
ever the sensation of which he was so fond, and for
which he craved, that feeling which caresses, and
stings, and burns the mouth, he knew that he could
drink a whole bottle of it. So he asked immediately
what it cost, so as to spare himself expense. They
charged him three francs, which he paid, and then he
began quietly to get drunk.
However, he was methodical in it, as he wished
to keep sober enough for other pleasures. So, as
soon as he felt that he was on the point of seeing
the fireplace bow to him, he got up and went out
with unsteady steps, with his bottle under his arm,
in search of a house where girls of easy virtue lived.
He found one, with some difficulty, after having
asked a carter, who did not know of one; a postman, who directed him wrong; a baker, who began
to swear and called him an old pig; and lastly, a
soldier, who was obliging enough to take him to it,
advised him to choose La Reine.
Although it was barely twelve o'clock, Pavilly went
into that palace of delight, where he was received by
a servant, who wanted to turn him out again. But
he made her laugh by making a grimace, showed her
three francs, the usual price of the special luxuries of
the place, and followed her with difficulty up a dark
staircase, which led to the first floor.
When he had been shown into a room, he asked
for La Reine, and had another drink out of the bottle,
while waiting. Very shortly the door opened and a
girl came in.  She was tall, fat, red-faced-enormous. She looked at the drunken fellow who had




212


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


fallen into a seat with the eye of a judge of such
matters, and said:
"Are you not ashamed of yourself, at this time of
day?"
"Ashamed of what, Princess?" he stammered.
"Why, of disturbing a lady, before she has even
had time to eat her dinner."
He wanted to have a joke, so he said:
"There is no such thing as time for the brave."
"And there ought to be no time for getting drunk
either, old guzzler."
At this, he got angry:
"I am not a guzzler, and I am not drunk."
"Not drunk?"
"No, I am not."
"Not drunk?   Why you cannot     even  stand
straight"; and she looked at him angrily, thinking
that all this time her companions were having their
dinner.
"1-I could dance a polka," he replied, getting
up, and to prove his stability he got on to the chair,
made a pirouette, and jumped on to the bed, where
his thick, muddy shoes made two great marks.
"Oh! you dirty brute!" the girl cried, and rushing at him, she struck him a blow with her fist in
the stomach, such a blow that Pavilly lost his balance, fell, struck the foot of the bed, and making a
complete somersault tumbled on to the washstand
and then rolled on to the ground, dragging the jug and
basin with him.
The noise was so loud, and his cries so piercing,
that everybody in the house rushed in, master, mistress, servant, and staff.




THE TWENTY-FIVE FRANCS


213


The master picked him up, but as soon as he had
put him on his legs, the peasant lost his balance
again, and began to call out that his leg was broken,
the other leg, the sound one.
It was true, so they sent for a doctor, who happened to be the same one who had attended him at
Le Harivan's.
"What! Is it you again?" said the surgeon.
"Yes, M'sieu."
"What is the matter with you?"
"Somebody has broken my other leg for me,
M'sieu."
"Who did it, boy?"
"Why, a female."
Everybody was listening.  The girls in their
dressing-gowns, with their mouths still greasy from
their interrupted dinner, the mistress of the house
furious, the master nervous.
"This will be a bad job," the doctor said: "You
know that the municipal authorities look upon you
with very unfavorable eyes, so we must try and
hush the matter up."
"How can it be managed?" the master of the
place asked.
"Why the best way would be to send him back
to the hospital, out of which he has just come, and
to pay for him there."
"I would rather do that," the master of the house
replied, "than have any fuss made about the mat-;er."
So half an hour later, Pavilly returned drunk and
groaning to the ward which he had left an hour before. The Superior lifted up her hands in sorrow,




214       WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT
for she liked him, and with a smile, for she was
glad to have him back.
"Well, my good fellow, what is the matter with
you now?"
"The other leg is broken, Madame."
"So you have been getting on to another load of
straw, you old joker?"
And Pavilly, in great confusion, but still sly, said,
with hesitation:
"No-no-not this time, no-not this time. It
was not my fault, not my fault. A mattress caused
this."
She could get no other explanation out of him,
and never knew 1 hat his relapse was due to her
twenty-five francs.




EPIPHANY
" A HI" SAID Captain the Count de
I..1Ls Garens, "I should rather think
1 \that I do remember that Epiph-.
any  supper, during  the war!
" At the time I was quarter.
\,    |, j     master of cavalry, and for a fortnight, I had been lurking about as
a scout in front of the German advanced guard.  The evening before
we had cut down a few Uhlans and
had lost three men, one of whom was
that poor little Raudeville. You remember Joseph de Raudeville well, of course.
"Well, on that day my captain ordered me
to take six troopers and occupy the village of Porterin,
where there had been five fights in three weeks, and
to hold it all night. There were not twenty houses
left standing, nay, not a dozen, in that wasp's nest.
So I took ten troopers, and set out at about four
o'clock; at five o'clock, while it was still pitch dark,
we reached the first houses of Porterin. I halted
and ordered Marchas-you know Pierre de Marchas,
(215)




236


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


who afterward married little Martel-Auvelin, the
daughter of the Marquis de Martel-Auvelin-to go
alone into the village and to report to me what he
saw.
"I had chosen nothing but volunteers, and all of
good family. When on service it is pleasant not to
be forced into intimacy with unpleasant fellows.
This Marchas was as sharp as possible, as cunning
as a fox, and as supple as a serpent. He could scent
the Prussians as well as a dog can scent a hare,
could find victuals where we should have died of
hunger without him, and could obtain information
from everybody —information which was always reliable-with incredible cleverness.
"In ten minutes he returned. 'All right,' he said;
'there have been no Prussians here for three days.
It is a sinister place, is this village. I have been
talking to a Sister of Mercy, who is attending to four
or five wounded men in an abandoned convent.'
"I ordered them to ride on, and we penetrated
into the principal street. On the right and left we
could vaguely see roofless walls, hardly visible in the
profound darkness. Here and there a light was burning in a room; some family had remained to keep its
house standing as long as they were able; a family of
brave, or of poor, people. The rain began to fall, a
fine, icy-cold rain, which froze us before it wetted
us through, by merely touching our cloaks. The
horses stumbled against stones, against beams, against
furniture. Marchas guided us, going before us on
foot, and leading his horse by the bridle.
"'Where are you taking us to?' I asked him.
And he replied: 'I have a place for us to lodge in,




EPIPHANY


2I7


and a rare good one.' And soon we stopped before
a small house, evidently belonging to some person of
the middle class, completely shut up, built on to the
street with a garden in the rear.
"Marchas broke open the lock by means of a big
stone, which he picked up near the garden gate;
then he mounted the steps, smashed in the front door
with his feet and shoulders, lighted a bit of wax candle, which he was never without, and preceded us
into the comfortable apartments of some rich private
individual, guiding us with admirable assurance, just
as if he had lived in this house which he now saw
for the first time.
"Two troopers remained outside to take care of
our horses; then Marchas said to stout Ponderel, who
followed him: 'The stables must be on the left; I
saw that as we came in; go and put the animals up
there, for we do not want them,' and then turning
to me he said: 'Give your orders, confound it all!'
"Marchas always astonished me, and I replied
with a laugh: 'I shall post my sentinels at the country approaches and I will return to you here.'
"'How many men are you going to take?'
"'Five. The others will relieve them at five o'clock
in the evening.'
"'Very well. Leave me four to look after provisions, to do the cooking, and to set the table. I
will go and find out where the wine is hidden away.'
"I went off to reconnoiter the deserted streets,
until they ended in the open country, so as to post
my sentries there.
"Half an hour later I was back, and found Marchas lounging in a great armchair, the covering of




2i8


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


which he had taken off, from love of luxury as he
said. He was warming his feet at the fire and smoking an excellent cigar, whose perfume filled the room.
He was alone, his elbows resting on the arms of the
chair, his cheeks flushed, his eyes bright, and looking
delighted.
"I heard the noise of plates and dishes in the
next room, and Marchas said to me, smiling in a
beatific manner: 'This is famous; I found the champagne under the flight of steps outside, the brandyfifty bottles of the very finest-in the kitchen garden
under a pear-tree, which did not look to me to be
quite straight, when I looked at it by the light of my
lantern. As for solids, we have two fowls, a goose,
a duck, and three pigeons. They are being cooked
at this moment. It is a delightful part of the country.'
"I had sat down opposite to him, and the fire inl
the grate was burning my nose and cheeks.
"'Where did you find this wood?' I asked.
"'Splendid wood,' he replied. 'The owner's carriage. It is the paint which is causing all this flame,
an essence of alcohol and varnish. A capital house!'
"I laughed, for I found the creature was funny,
and he went on: 'Fancy this being the Epiphany!
I have had a bean put into the goose, but there is no
queen; it is really very annoying!' And I repeated
like an echo: 'It is annoying, but what do you want
me to do in the matter?'
"'To find some, of course.'
"'Some women. Women?-you must be madl'
"'I managed to find the brandy under the peartree, and the champagne under the steps; and yet




EPIPHANY


219


there was nothing to guide me, while as for you, a
petticoat is a sure sign. Go and look, old fellow.'
"He looked so grave, so convinced, that I could
not tell whether he was joking or not. So I replied:
'Look here, Marchas, are you having a joke with
me?'
"'I never joke on duty.'
"'But where the devil do you expect me to find
any women?'
"'Where you like; there must be two or three
remaining in the neighborhood, so ferret them out
and bring them here.'
"I got up, for it was too hot in front of the fire,
and Marchas went on: 'Do you want an idea?'
" 'Yes.'
"'Go and see the priest.'
"'The priest? What for?'
"'Ask him to supper, and beg him to bring a
woman with him.'
"'The priest! A woman! Ha! ha! ha!'
"But Marchas continued with extraordinary gravity: 'I am not laughing; go and find the priest and
tell him how we are situated, and, as he must be
horribly dull, he will come. But tell him that we
want one woman at least, a lady, of course, since we
are all men of the world. He is sure to have the
names of his female parishioners on the tips of his
fingers, and if there is one to suit us, and you manage it well, he will indicate her to you.'
"'Come, come, Marchas, what are you thinking
of?'
"'My dear Garens, you can do this quite well. It
will be very funny. We are well bred, by Jovel




220


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


and we will put on our most distinguished manners
and our grandest style. Tell the abbe who we are,
make him laugh, soften him, seduce him, and persuade him!'
"'No, it is impossible.'
"He drew his chair close to mine, and as he knew
my weak side, the scamp continued:   'Just think
what a swagger thing it will be to do, and how
amusing to tell about; the whole army will talk about
it, and it will give you a famous reputation.'
"I hesitated, for the adventure rather tempted me.
He persisted: 'Come, my little Garens.  You are
in command of this detachment, and you alone can
go and call on the head of the church in this neighborhood. I beg of you to go, and I promise you
that after the war, I will relate the whole affair in
verse in the "Revue des Deux Mondes." You owe
this much to your men, for you have made them
march enough during the last month.'
"I got up at last and asked: 'Where is the parsonage?'
"'Take the second turning at the end of the
street; you will then see an avenue, and at the end
of the avenue you will find the church. The parsonage is beside it.' As I departed he called out: 'Tell
him the bill of fare, to make him hungry!'
"I discovered the ecclesiastic's little house without any difficulty; it was by the side of a large, ugly,
brick church. As there was neither bell nor knocker,
I knocked at the door with my fist, and a loud voice
from inside asked: 'Who is there?' to which I replied: 'A quartermaster of hussars.'




EPIPHANY


22t


"I heard the noise of bolts, and of a key being
turned. Then I found myself face to face with a tall
priest with a large stomach, the chest of a prize-fighter,
formidable hands projecting from turned-up sleeves, a
red face, and the looks of a kind man. I gave him
a military salute and said: 'Good day, Monsieur le
Cure.'
"He had feared a surprise, some marauders' ambush, and he smiled as he replied: 'Good day,
my friend; come in.' I followed him into a small
room, with a red tiled floor, in which a small fire was
burning, very different to Marchas's furnace. He gave
me a chair and said: 'What can I do for you?'
"'Monsieur, allow me first of all to introduce myself'; and I gave him my card, which he took and
read half aloud: 'The Comte de Garens.'
"I continued: 'There are eleven of us here Monsieur l'Abb6, five on grand guard, and six installed at
the house of an unknown inhabitant. The names of
the six are, Garens (that is I), Pierre de Marchas,
Ludovic de Ponderel, Baron d'Etreillis, Karl Massouligny, the painter's son, and Joseph Herbon, a young
musician. I have come to ask you, in their name
and my own, to do us the honor of supping with us.
It is an Epiphany supper, Monsieur le Cure, and we
should like to make it a little cheerful.'
"The priest smiled and murmured: 'It seems to
me to be hardly a suitable occasion for amusing oneself.'
" I replied: 'We are fighting every day, Monsieur. Fourteen of our comrades have been killed in
a month, and three fell as late as yesterday. That is
war. We stake our life every moment: have we not,




222


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


therefore, the right to amuse ourselves freely? We
are Frenchmen, we like to laugh, and we can laugh
everywhere. Our fathers laughed on the scaffold!
This evening we should like to brighten ourselves
up a little, like gentlemen, and not like soldiers; you
understand me, I hope. Are we wrong?'
"He replied quickly: 'You are quite right, my
friend, and I accept your invitation with great pleasure.' Then he called out: 'Hermancel'
"An old, bent, wrinkled, horrible, peasant woman
appeared and said: 'What do you want?'
"'I shall not dine at home, my daughter.'
"'Where are you going to dine then?'
"'With some gentlemen, hussars.'
"I felt inclined to say: 'Bring your servant with
you,' just to see Marchas's face, but I did not venture
to, and continued: 'Do you know anyone among
your parishioners, male or female, whom I could
invite as well?' He hesitated, reflected, and then said:
'No, I do not know anybody!'
"I persisted: 'Nobody? Come, Monsieur, think;
it would be very nice to have some ladies, I mean to
say, some married couples! I know nothing about
your parishioners.  The baker and his wife, the
grocer, the - the - the - watchmaker - the - shoemaker-the-the chemist with his wife. We have a
good spread, and plenty of wine, and we should be
enchanted to leave pleasant recollections of ourselves
behind us with the people here.'
"The priest thought again for a long time and
then said resolutely: 'No, there is nobody.'
"I began to laugh. 'By Jove, Monsieur le Cure,
it is very vexing not to have an Epiphany queen, for




EPIPHANY


223


we have the bean. Come, think. Is there not a
married mayor, or a married deputy-mayor, or a married municipal councilor, or schoolmaster?'
"'No, all the ladies have gone away.'
"'What, is there not in the whole place some
good tradesman's wife with her good tradesman, to
whom we might give this pleasure, for it would be
a pleasure to them, a great pleasure under present
circumstances?'
"But suddenly the cur6 began to laugh, and he
laughed so violently that he fairly shook, and exclaimed: 'Ha! ha! ha! I have got what you want,
yes.  I have got what you want! Ha! ha! ha! We
will laugh and enjoy ourselves, my children, we will
have some fun. How pleased the ladies will be, I
say, how delighted they will be. Ha! ha! Where
are you staying?'
"I described the house, and he understood where
it was. 'Very good,' he said. 'It belongs to Monsieur Bertin-Lavaille. I will be there in half an hour,
with four ladies. Ha! ha! ha! four ladies!'
"He went out with me, still laughing, and left
me, repeating: 'That is capital; in half an hour at
Bertin-Lavaille's house.'
"I returned quickly, very much astonished and
very much puzzled. 'Covers for how many?' Marchas asked, as soon as he saw me.
" ' Eleven. There are six of us hussars besides the
priest and four ladies.'
"He was thunderstruck, and I triumphant, and he
repeated: 'Four ladies! Did you say, four ladies?'
I'II said four women.'
"'Real women?'




224


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"'Real women.'
"'Well, accept my compliments!'
"'I will, for I deserve them.'
"He got out of his armchair, opened the door,
and I saw a beautiful, white tablecloth on a long
table, round which three hussars in blue aprons were
setting out the plates and glasses. 'There are some
women coming!' Marchas cried. And the three men
began to dance and to cheer with all their might.
"Everything was ready, and we were waiting.
We waited for nearly an hour, while a delicious smell
of roast poultry pervaded the whole house. At last,
however, a knock against the shutters made us all
jump up at the same moment. Stout Ponderel ran to
open the door, and in less than a minute a little Sister of Mercy appeared in the doorway.  She was
thin, wrinkled, and timid, and successively saluted the
four bewildered hussars who saw her enter. Behind
her, the noise of sticks sounded on the tiled floor in
the vestibule. As soon as she had come into the
drawing-room I saw three old heads in white caps,
following each other one by one, balancing themselves
with different movements, one canting to the right,
while the other canted to the left. Then three worthy
women showed themselves, limping, dragging their
legs behind them, crippled by illness and deformed
through old age, three infirm old women, past service, the only three pensioners who were able to walk
in the establishment which Sister Saint-Benedict managed.
"She had turned round to her invalids, full of
anxiety for them, and then seeing my quartermaster's
stripes, she said to me: 'I am much obliged to you




EPIPHANY


225


for thinking of these poor women. They have very
little pleasure in life, and you are at the same time
giving them a great treat and doing them a great
honor.'
"I saw the priest, who had remained in the obscurity of the passage, and who was laughing heartily,
and I began to laugh in my turn, especially when I
saw Marchas's face. Then, motioning the nun to the
seats, I said: 'Sit down, Sister: we are very proud
and very happy that you have accepted our unpretentious invitation.'
"She took three chairs which stood against the wall,
set them before the fire, led her three old women
to them, settled them  on them, took their sticks
and shawls which she put into a corner, and then,
pointing to the first, a thin woman with an enormous
stomach, who was evidently suffering from the dropsy,
she said: 'This is Mother Paumelle, whose husband
was killed by falling from a roof, and whose son died
in Africa; she is sixty years old.' Then she pointed
to another, a tall woman, whose head shook unceasingly: 'This is Mother Jean-Jean, who is sixty-seven.
She is nearly blind, for her face was terribly singed
in a fire, and her right leg was half burned off.'
"Then she pointed to the third, a sort of dwarf,
with protruding, round, stupid eyes, which she rolled
incessantly in all directions. 'This is La Putois, an
idiot. She is only forty-four.'
"I bowed to the three women as if I were being
presented to some Royal Highness, and turning to
the priest I said: 'You are an excellent man, Monsieur l'Abb6, and we all owe you a debt of gratitude.'
a G. de M.-i5




226


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"Everybody was laughing, in fact, except Marchas,
who seemed furious, and just then Karl Massouligny
cried: 'Sister Saint-Benedict, supper is on the table!'
"I made her go first with the priest, then I
helped up Mother Paumelle, whose arm  I took and
dragged her into the next room, which was no easy
task, for her swollen stomach seemed heavier than a
lump of iron.
"Stout Ponderel gave his arm to Mother JeanJean, who bemoaned her crutch, and little Joseph
Herbon took the idiot, La Putois, to the diningroom, which was filled with the odor of the viands.
"As soon as we were opposite our plates, the
Sister clapped her hands three times, and, with the
precision of soldiers presenting arms, the women
made a rapid sign of the cross, and then the priest
slowly repeated the 'Benedictus' in Latin. Then we
sat down, and the two fowls appeared, brought in
by Marchas, who chose to wait rather than to sit
down as a guest at this ridiculous repast.
"But I cried: 'Bring the champagne at once!'
and a cork flew out with the noise of a pistol, and
in spite of the resistance of the priest and the kind
Sister, the three hussars sitting by the side of the
three invalids, emptied their three full glasses down
their throats by force.
"Massouligny, who possessed the faculty of making himself at home, and of being on good terms
with everyone, wherever he was, made love to
Mother Paumelle, in the drollest manner. The dropsical woman, who had retained her cheerfulness in
spite of her misfortunes, answered him banteringly in
a high falsetto voice which seemed to be assumed,




EPIPHANY


227


and she laughed so heartily at her neighbor's jokes
that her large stomach looked as if it were going to
rise up and get on to the table. Little Herbon had
seriously undertaken the task of making the idiot
drunk, and Baron d'Etreillis whose wits were not always particularly sharp, was questioning old JeanJean about the life, the habits, and the rules in the
hospital.
"The nun said to Massouligny in consternation:
'Oh! oh! you will make her ill; pray do not make
her laugh like that, Monsieur. Oh! Monsieur.' Then
she got up and rushed at Herbon to take a full glass
out of his hands which he was hastily emptying
down La Putois's throat, while the priest shook with
laughter, and said to the Sister: 'Never mind, just
this once, it will not hurt her. Do leave them alone.'
"After the two fowls they ate the duck, which
was flanked by the three pigeons and a blackbird,
and then the goose appeared, smoking, goldencolored, and diffusing a warm odor of hot, browned
fat meat. La Paumelle who was getting lively, clapped
her hands; La Jean-Jean left off answering the Baron's
numerous questions, and La Putois uttered grunts of
pleasure, half cries and half sighs, like little children
do when one shows them sweets. 'Allow me to
carve this bird,' the cure said. 'I understand these
sort of operations better than most people.'
"'Certainly, Monsieur l'Abb6,' and the Sister said:
'How would it be to open the window a little; they
are too warm, and I am afraid they will be ill.'
"I turned to Marchas: 'Open the window for a
minute.' He did so; the cold outer air as it came in
made the candles flare, and the smoke from the




228


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


goose- which the cure was scientifically carving, with
a table napkin round his neck-whirl about. We
watched him doing it, without speaking now, for we
were interested in his attractive handiwork, and also
seized with renewed appetite at the sight of that
enormous golden-colored bird, whose limbs fell one
after another into the brown gravy at the bottom of
the dish. At that moment, in the midst of greedy
silence which kept us all attentive, the distant report
of a shot came in at the open window.
"I started to my feet so quickly that my chair
fell down behind me, and I shouted: 'Mount, all of
you! You, Marchas, will take two men and go and
see what it is. I shall expect you back here in five
minutes.' And while the three riders went off at full
gallop through the night, I got into the saddle with
my three remaining hussars, in front of the steps of
the villa, while the cure, the Sister, and the three old
women showed their frightened faces at the window.
"We heard nothing more, except the barking of
a dog in the distance. The rain had ceased, and it
was cold, very cold. Soon I heard the gallop of a
horse, of a single horse, coming back. It was Marchas, and I called out to him: 'Well?'
"'It is nothing; Frangois has wounded an old
peasant who refused to answer his challenge and who
continued to advance in spite of the order to keep
off. They are bringing him here, and we shall see
what is the matter.'
"I gave orders for the horses to be put back into
the stable, and I sent my two soldiers to meet the
others, and returned to the house. Then the cure,




EPIPHANY


229


Marchas and I took a mattress into the room to put
the wounded man on; the Sister tore up a table
napkin in order to make lint, while the three frightened women remained huddled up in a corner.
"Soon I heard the rattle of sabers on the road,
and I took a candle to show a light to the men who
were returning. They soon appeared, carrying that
inert, soft, long, and sinister object which a human
body becomes when life no longer sustains it.
"'They put the wounded man on the mattress
that had been prepared for him, and I saw at the
first glance that he was dying. He had the death
rattle, and was spitting up blood which ran out of
the corners of his mouth, forced out of his lungs by
his gasps.  The man was covered with it! His
cheeks, his beard, his hair, his neck, and his clothes
seemed to have been rubbed, to have been dipped in
a red tub; the blood had congealed on him, and had
become a dull color which was horrible to look at.
"The old man, wrapped up in a large shepherd's
cloak, occasionally opened his dull, vacant eyes.
They seemed stupid with astonishment, like the eyes
of hunted animals which fall at the sportsman's feet,
half dead before the shot, stupefied with fear and
surprise.
"The cure exclaimed: 'Ah! there is old Placide, the
shepherd from Les Marlins. He is deaf, poor man,
and heard nothing. Ah! Oh, God! they have killed
the unhappy man!' The Sister had opened his blouse
and shirt, and was looking at a little blue hole in
the middle of his chest, which was not bleeding any
more. 'There is nothing to be done,' she said.




230


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"The shepherd was gasping terribly and bringing
up blood with every breath. In his throat to the
very depth of his lungs, they could hear an ominous
and continued gurgling. The cure, standing in front
of him, raised his right hand, made the sign of the
cross, and in a slow and solemn voice pronounced
the Latin words which purify men's souls. But before they were finished, the old man was shaken by
a rapid shudder, as if something had broken inside
him; he no longer breathed. He was dead.
"When I turned round I saw a sight which was
even more horrible than the death struggle of this
unfortunate man. The three old women were standing up huddled close together, hideous, and grimacing with fear and horror. I went up to them, and
they began to utter shrill screams, while La Jean-Jean,
whose leg had been burned and could not longer support her, fell to the ground at full length.
"Sister Saint-Benedict left the dead man, ran up
to her infirm old women, and without a word or a
look for me wrapped their shawls round them, gave
them their crutches, pushed them to the door, made
them go out, and disappeared with them into the dark
night.
"I saw that I could not even let a hussar accompany them, for the mere rattle of a sword would
have sent them mad with fear.
"The cure was still looking at the dead man; but
at last he turned to me and said:
"'Oh! What a horrible thing'"




SIMON'S PAPA. l i  rOON had just struck.  The school\  door opened  and the youngsters
   __    [ L  streamed  out tumbling  over one
^       another in their haste to get out
^/  Y ^         quickly. But instead of promptly
' V         dispersing and going home to dinner
_         ~as was their daily wont, they stopped:         a few paces off, broke up into knots
a~\__':     and set to whispering.
f          The fact was that that morning Simon,
the son of La Blanchotte, had, for the
d'/     first time, attended school.
L       They had all of them  in their families,      heard of La Blanchotte; and although  in
public she was welcome enough, the mothers among
themselves treated her with compassion of a somewhat disdainful kind, which the children had caught
without in the least knowing why.
As for Simon himself, they did not know him, for
he never went abroad, and did not play around with
them through the streets of the village or along the
banks of the river. So they loved him but little; and it
was with a certain delight, mingled with astonishment,
(231)




232


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


that they gathered in groups this morning, repeating
to each other this sentence, concocted by a lad of
fourteen or fifteen who appeared to know all about
it, so sagaciously did he wink: "You know Simon
-well, he has no papa."
La Blanchotte's son appeared in his turn upon the
threshold of the school.
He was seven or eight years old, rather pale, very
neat, with a timid and almost awkward manner.
He was making his way back to his mother's
house when the various groups of his schoolfellows,
perpetually whispering, and watching him with the
mischievous and heartless eyes of children bent upon
playing a nasty trick, gradually surrounded him and
ended by inclosing him altogether. There he stood
amid them, surprised and embarrassed, not understanding what they were going to do with him. But
the lad who had brought the news, puffed up with
the success he had met with, demanded:
"What do you call yourself?"
He answered: "'Simon."
"Simon what?" retorted the other.
The   child,  altogether  bewildered,  repeated:
"'Simon."
The lad shouted at him: "You must be named
Simon something! That is not a name-Simon indeed! "
And he, on the brink of tears, replied for the third
time:
"I am named Simon."
The urchins began laughing. The lad triumphantly
lifted up his voice: "You can see plainly that he
has no papa."




SIMON'S PAPA              233
A deep silence ensued. The children were dumfounded by this extraordinary, impossibly monstrous
thing-a boy who had not a papa; they looked upon
him as a phenomenon, an unnatural being, and they
felt rising in them the hitherto inexplicable pity of
their mothers for La Blanchotte. As for Simon, he
had propped himself against a tree to avoid falling,
and he stood there as if paralyzed by an irreparable
disaster. He sought to explain, but he could think
of no answer for them, no way to deny this horrible
charge that he had no papa. At last he shouted at
them quite recklessly: "Yes, I have one."
"Where is he?" demanded the boy.
Simon was silent, he did not know. The children
shrieked, tremendously excited. These sons of toil,
nearly related to animals, experienced the cruel craving which makes the fowls of a farmyard destroy one
of their own kind as soon as it is wounded. Simon
suddenly spied a little neighbor, the son of a widow,
whom he had always seen, as he himself was to be
seen, quite alone with his mother.
"And no more have you," he said, "no more
have you a papa."
"Yes," replied the other, "I have one."
"Where is he?" rejoined Simon.
"He is dead," declared the brat with superb dignity, "he is in the cemetery, is my papa."
A murmur of approval rose amid the scapegraces, as if the fact of possessing a papa dead in a
cemetery made their comrade big enough to crush
the other one who had no papa at all. And these
rogues, whose fathers were for the most part evildoers, drunkards, thieves, and ill-treaters of their




234


WORKS OF:GUY DE MAUPASSANT


wives hustled each other as they pressed closer and
closer to Simon as though they, the legitimate ones,
would stifle in their pressure one who was beyond
the law.
The lad next Simon suddenly put his tongue out
at him with a waggish air and shouted at him:
"No papa! No papa!"
Simon seized him by the hair with both hands
and set to work to demolish his legs with kicks,
while he bit his cheek ferociously. A tremendous
struggle ensued between the two boys, and Simon
found himself beaten, torn, bruised, rolled on the
ground in the middle of the ring of applauding little
vagabonds. As he arose, mechanically brushing his
little blouse all covered with dust with his hand,
some one shouted at him:
"Go and tell your papa."
He then felt a great sinking in his heart. They
were stronger than he, they had beaten him and he
had no answer to give them, for he knew it was
true that he had no papa. Full of pride he tried for
some moments to struggle against the tears which
were suffocating him.  He had a choking fit, and
then without cries he began to weep with great sobs
which shook him incessantly. Then a ferocious joy
broke out among his enemies, and, just like savages
in fearful festivals, they took one another by the hand
and danced in a circle about him as they repeated in
refrain:
"No papa! No papa!"
But suddenly Simon ceased sobbing. Frenzy overtook him. There were stones under his feet; he
picked them up and with all his strength hurled




SIMON'S PAPA


235


them at his tormentors. Two or three were struck
and ran away yelling, and so formidable did he appear that the rest became panic-stricken. Cowards,
like a jeering crowd in the presence of an exasperated man, they broke up and fled. Left alone, the
little thing without a father set off 'running toward
the fields, for a recollection had been awakened which
nerved his soul to a great determination. He made
up his mind to drown himself in the river.
He remembered, in fact, that eight days ago a poor
devil who begged for his livelihood hadothrown himself into the water because he had no more money.
Simon had been there when they fished him out again;
and the sight of the fellow, who had seemed to him
so miserable and ugly, had then impressed him -his
pale cheeks, his long drenched beard, and his open
eyes being full of calm. The bystanders had said:
"He is dead."
And some one had added:
"He is quite happy now."
So Simon wished to drown himself also because
he had no father, just as the wretched being did who
had no money.
He reached the water and watched it flowing.
Some fishes were rising briskly in the clear stream
and occasionally made little leaps and caught the flies
on the surface. He stopped crying in order to watch
them, for their feeding interested him vastly. But, at
intervals, as in the lulls of a tempest, when tremendous gusts of wind snap off trees and then die away,
this thought would return to him with intense pain:
"I am about to drown myself because I have no
papa."




236


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


It was very warm and fine weather. The pleasant
sunshine warmed the grass; the water shone like a
mirror; and Simon enjoyed for some minutes the happiness of that languor which follows weeping, desirous even of falling asleep there upon the grass in
the warmth of noon.
A little green frog leaped from under his feet. He
endeavored to catch it. It escaped him. He pursued
it and lost it three times following. 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 large legs and then with a
violent spring suddenly stretched them out as stiff as
two bars.
Its eyes stared wide open in their round, golden
circle, and it beat the air with its front limbs, using
them as though they were hands. It reminded him
of a toy made with straight slips of wood nailed zigzag one on the other, which by a similar movement
regulated the exercise of the little soldiers fastened
thereon. Then he thought of his home and of his
mother, and overcome by great sorrow he again began to weep. His limbs trembled; and he placed
himself on his knees and said his prayers as before
going to bed. But he was unable to finish them, for
such hurried and violent sobs overtook him that he
was completely overwhelmed. He thought no more,
he no longer heeded anything around him but was
wholly given up to tears.
Suddenly a heavy hand was placed upon his shoulder, and a rough voice asked him:
"What is it that causes you so much grief, my
fine fellow?"




SIMON'S PAPA


2:27


Simon turned round.   A tall workman, with a
black beard and hair all curled, was staring at him
good-naturedly.  He answered with his eyes and
throat full of tears:
"They have beaten me because-I-I have no
papa -no papa.
" What! " said the man smiling, " why, everybody
has one."
The child answered painfully amid his spasms of
grief:
"But I-I-I have none."
Then the workman became serious. He had recognized La Blanchotte's son, and although a recent
arrival to 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. She will give
you a papa."
And so they started on the way, the big one
holding the little one by the hand. The man smiled
afresh, for he was not sorry to see this Blanchotte,
who by popular report was one of the prettiest girls
in the country-side -and, perhaps, he said to himself, at the bottom of his heart, that a lass who had
erred once might very well err again.
They arrived in front of a very 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 at once perceived that there
was no more fooling to be done with the tall pale
girl, who stood austerely at her door as though to




238


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


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 redness covered the young woman's
cheeks, and, hurt to the quick, she embraced her child
passionately, while the tears coursed 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, her
hands upon her heart. The child, seeing that no answer was made him, replied:
"If you do not wish it, I shall return to drown
myself."
The workman took the matter as a jest and answered laughing:
"Why, yes, I wish it certainly."
"What is your name, then," went on the child,
"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 memory; then he stretched
out his arms, quite consoled, and said:




SIMON'S PAPA


239


"Well, then, Philip, you are my papa."
The workman, lifting him from the ground, kissed
him hastily on both cheeks, and then strode away
quickly.
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 recommencing, Simon threw these words at their heads as
he would have done a stone:  "He is named Philip,
my papa."
Yells of delight burst out from all sides.
"Philip who? Philip what? What on earth is
Philip? Where did you pick up your Philip?"
Simon answered nothing; and immovable in faith
he defied them with his eye, ready to be martyred
rather than fly before them. The schoolmaster came
to his rescue and he returned home to his mother.
For a space of three months, the tall workman,
Philip, frequently passed by La Blanchotte's house,
and sometimes made bold to speak to her when he
saw her sewing near the window. She answered
him civilly, always sedately, never joking with him,
nor permitting him to enter her house. Notwithstanding this, being, like all men, a bit of a coxcomb,
he imagined that she was often rosier than usual
when she chatted with him.
But a fallen reputation is so difficult to recover,
and always remains so fragile that, in spite of the
shy reserve La Blanchotte naintained, they already
gossiped in the neighborhood.
As for Simon, he loved his new papa much, and
walked with him nearly every evening when the day's
work was done. He went regularly to school and




240


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


mixed in a dignified way with his schoolfellows
without ever answering them back.
One day, however, the lad who had first attacked
him said to him:
" You have lied. You have not a papa named
Philip."
"Why do you say that?" demanded Simon, much
disturbed.
The youth rubbed his hands. He replied:
" Because if you had one he would be your
mamma's husband."
Simon was confused by the truth of this reasoning; nevertheless he retorted:
"He is my papa all the same."
" That can very well be," exclaimed the urchin
with a sneer, "but that is not being your papa altogether."
La Blanchotte's little one bowed his head and went
off dreaming in the direction of the forge belonging
to old Loizon, where Philip worked.
This forge was entombed in trees. It was very dark
there, the red glare of a formidable furnace alone lit
up with great flashes five blacksmiths, who hammered
upon their anvils with a terrible din. Standing enveloped in flame, they worked like demons, their eyes
fixed on the red-hot iron they were pounding; and
their dull ideas rising and falling with their hammers.
Simon entered without being noticed and quietly
plucked his friend by the sleeve.  Philip turned
round. All at once the work came to a standstill
and the men looked on very attentively. Then, in
the midst of this unaccustomed silence, rose the little
slender pipe of Simon:




SIMON'S PAPA


241


"Philip, explain to  me what the   lad at La
Michande has just told 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, leaning his forehead upon the back of his great hands,
which held the handle of his hammer upright upon
the anvil. He mused. His four companions watched
him, and, like a tiny mite among these giants, Simon
anxiously waited. Suddenly, one of the smiths, voicing the sentiment of all, said to Philip:
"All the same La Blanchotte is a good and honest
girl, stalwart and steady in spite of her misfortune,
and one who would make a worthy wife for an
honest man."
"That is true," remarked the three others.
The smith continued:
"Is it the girl's fault if she has fallen?  She had
been promised marriage, and I know more than one
who is much respected to-day and has sinned every
bit as much."
"That is true," responded the three men in chorus.
He resumed:
"How hard she has toiled, poor thing, to educate
her lad all alone, and how much she has wept since
she no longer goes out, save to church, God only
knows."
"That also is true," said the others.
Then no more was heard save the roar of the bellows which fanned the fire of the furnace. Philip
hastily bent himself down to Simon:
a G. de M.-i6




242


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"Go and tell your mamma that I shall come to
speak to her."
Then he pushed the child out by the shoulders.
He returned to his work and in unison the five hammers again fell upon their anvils. Thus they wrought
the iron until nightfall, strong, powerful, happy, like
Vulcans satisfied. But as the great bell of a cathedral
resounds upon feast days above the jingling of the
other bells, so Philip's hammer, dominating the noise
of the others, clanged second after second with a
deafening uproar. His eye on the fire, he plied his
trade vigorously, erect amid the sparks.
The sky was full of stars as he knocked at La
Blanchotte's door. He had his Sunday blouse on, a
fresh shirt, and his beard was trimmed. The young
woman showed herself upon the threshold and said
in a grieved tone:
"It is ill to come thus when night has fallen, Mr.
Philip."
He wished to answer, but stammered and stood
confused before her.
She resumed:
"And you understand quite well that it will not
do that I should be talked about any more."
Then he said all at once:
"What does that matter to me, if you will be my
wife "
No voice replied to him, but he believed that he
heard in the shadow of the room  the sound of a
body falling. He entered very quickly; and Simon, who
had gone to his bed, distinguished the sound of a
kiss and some words that his mother said very softly.
Then he suddenly found himself lifted up by the




SIMON'S PAPA              243
hands of his friend, who, holding him at the length
of his herculean arms, exclaimed to him:
"You will tell your school-fellows that your papa
is Philip Remy, the blacksmith, and that he will pull
the ears of all who do you any harm."
On the morrow, when the school* was full and
lessons 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 box
the ears of all who do me any harm."
This time no one laughed any longer, for he was
very well known, was Philip Remy, the blacksmith,
and he was a papa of whom anyone in the world
would be proud.




WAITER, A "BOCK"*
T,       HY on this particular evening,
/\/      did I enter a certain beer
s V     shop? I cannot explain it.
It was bitterly cold. A fine rain, a
watery mist floated about, veiling the
gas jets in a transparent fog, making
the pavements under the shadow of
the shop fronts glitter, which revealed
the soft slush and the soiled feet of the,   passers-by.
s      I was going nowhere in particular; was
>t    simply having a short walk after dinner.
I had passed the Credit Lyonnais, the Rue
Vivienne, and several other streets. Suddenly
I descried a large caf6, which was more than half
full. I walked inside, with no object in mind. I was
not the least thirsty.
By a searching glance I detected a place where I
would not be too much crowded. So I went and sat
down by the side of a man who seemed to me to be
old, and who smoked a half-penny clay pipe, which
*Bavarian beer.
(244)




WAITER, A "BOCK"


245


had become as black as coal. From six to eight beer
saucers were piled up on the table in front of him,
indicating the number of "bocks" he had already
absorbed. With that same glance I had recognized
in him a "regular toper," one of those frequenters of
beer-houses, who come in the morning as soon as
the place is open, and only go away in the evening
when it is about to close. He was dirty, bald to
about the middle of the cranium, while his long
gray hail fell over the neck of his frock coat. His
clothes, much too large for him, appeared to have
been made for him at a time when he was very stout.
One could guess that his pantaloons were not held
up by braces, and that this man could not take ten
paces without having to pull them up and readjust
them. Did he wear a vest? The mere thought of
his boots and the feet they enveloped filled me with
horror. The frayed cuffs were as black at the edges
as were his nails.
As soon as I had sat down near him, this queer
creature said to me in a tranquil tone of voice:
"How goes it with you?"
I turned sharply round to him and closely scanned
his features, whereupon he continued:
"'I see you do not recognize me."
"No, I do not."
" Des Barrets."
I was stupefied. It was Count Jean des Barrets,
my old college chum.
I seized him by the hand, so dumfounded that I
could find nothing to say. 1, at length, managed to
stammer out:
"And you, how goes it with you?"




246


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


He responded placidly:
"With me? Just as I like."
He became silent. I wanted to be friendly, and I
selected this phrase:
"What are you doing now?"
"You see what I am doing," he answered, quite
resignedly.
I felt my face getting red. I insisted:
"But every day?"
"Every day is alike to me," was his response, accompanied with a thick puff of tobacco smoke.
He then tapped on the top of the marble table
with a sou, to attract the attention of the waiter, and
called out:
"Waiter, two 'bocks."'
A voice in the distance repeated:
"Two 'bocks,' instead of four."
Another voice, more distant still, shouted out: ~
"Here they are, sir, here they are."
Immediately there appeared a man with a white
apron, carrying two "bocks," which he set down
foaming on the table, the foam running over the
edge, on to the sandy floor.
Des Barrets emptied his glass at a single draught
and replaced it on the table, sucking in the drops of
beer that had been left on his mustache. He next
asked:
"What is there new?"
"I know of nothing new, worth mentioning,
really," I stammered: "But nothing has grown old
for me; I am a commercial man."
In an equable tone of voice, he said:
"Indeed-does that amuse you?"




WAITER, A "BOCK"


247


'No, but what do you mean by that? Surely you
must do something!"
"What do you mean by that?"
"I only mean, how do you pass your timel"
"What's the use of occupying myself with anything. For my part, I do nothing at all, as you see,
never anything. When one has not got a sou one
can understand why one has to go to work. What
is the good of working? Do you work for yourself, or for others? If you work for yourself you do
it for your own amusement, which is all right; if
you work for others, you reap nothing but ingratitude."
Then sticking his pipe into his mouth, he called
out anew:
"Waiter, a 'bock.' It makes me thirsty to keep
calling so. I am not accustomed to that sort of thing.
Yes, I do nothing; I let things slide, and I am growing old. In dying I shall have nothing to regret. If so,
I should remember nothing, outside this public-house.
I have no wife, no children, no cares, no sorrows,
nothing. That is the very best thing that could happen to one."
He then emptied the glass which had been brought
him, passed his tongue over his lips, and resumed his
pipe.
I looked at him stupefied and asked him:
"But you have not always been like that?"
"Pardon me, sir; ever since I left college."
"It is not a proper life to lead, my dear sir; it is
simply horrible. Come, you must indeed have done
something, you must have loved something, you must
have friends."




248


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"No; I get up at noon, I come here, I have my
breakfast, 1 drink my 'bock'; I remain until the evening, I have my dinner, I drink 'bock.' Then about
one in the morning, I return to my couch, because
the place closes up. And it is this latter that embitters me more than anything. For the last ten years,
I have passed six-tenths of my time on this bench,
in my corner; and the other four-tenths in my bed,
never changing. I talk sometimes with the habi/uds."
" But on arriving in Paris what did you do at
first?"
"I paid my devoirs to the Cafe de Medicis."
"What next?"
"Next? I crossed the water and came here."
"Why did you take even that trouble?"
"What do you mean? One cannot remain all
one's life in the Latin Quarter. The students make
too much noise. But I do not move about any
longer. Waiter, a 'bock."'
I now began to think that he was making fun of
me, and I continued:
" Come now, be frank. You have been the victim
of some great sorrow; despair in love, no doubt! It
is easy to see that you are a man whom misfortune
has hit hard. What age are you?"
"I am thirty years of age, but I look to be fortyfive at least."
I looked him straight in the face. His shrunken
figure, badly cared for, gave one the impression that
he was an old man. On the summit of his cranium,
a few long hairs shot straight up from a skin of
doubtful cleanness. He had enormous eyelashes, a
large mustache, and a thick beard. Suddenly I had




WAITER, A "BOCK"


249


a kind of vision, I know not why-the vision of a
basin filled with noisome water, the water which
should have been applied to that poll. I said to him:
"Verily, you look to be more than that age. Of
a certainty you must have experienced some great
disappointment."
He replied:
"I tell you that I have not. I am old because I
never take air. There is nothing that vitiates the life
of a man more than the atmosphere of a cafe."
I could not believe him.
"You must surely have been married as well?
One could not get as baldheaded as you are without
having been much in love."
He shook his head, sending down his back little
hairs from the scalp:
"No, I have always been virtuous."
And raising his eyes toward the luster, which beat
down on our heads, he said:
"If I am baldheaded, it is the fault of the gas.
It is the enemy of hair. Waiter, a 'bock.' You
must be thirsty also?"
"No, thank you. But you certainly interest me.
When did you have your first discouragement?
Your life is not normal, is not natural. There is
something under it all."
"Yes, and it dates from my infancy. I received
a heavy blow when I was very young. It turned
my life into darkness, which will last to the end."
"How did it come about?"
"You wish to know about it? Well, then, listen. You recall, of course, the castle in which I was
brought up, seeing that you used to visit it for five




250


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


or six months during the vacations? You remember
that large, gray building in the middle of a great
park, and the long avenues of oaks, which opened
toward the four cardinal points! You remember my
father and my mother, both of whom were ceremonious, solemn, and severe.
"I worshiped my mother; I was suspicious of
my father; but I respected both, accustomed always
as I was to see everyone bow before them. In the
country, they were Monsieur le Comte and Madame
la Comtesse; and our neighbors, the Tannemares, the
Ravelets, the Brennevilles, showed the utmost consideration for them.
"I was then thirteen years old, happy, satisfied
with everything, as one is at that age, and full of
joy and vivacity.
"Now toward the end of September, a few days
before entering the Lycee, while I was enjoying myself in the mazes of the park, climbing the trees
and swinging on the branches, I saw crossing an
avenue my father and mother, who were walking together.
"I recall the thing as though it were yesterday.
It was a very windy day. The whole line of trees
bent under the pressure of the wind, moaned and
seemed to utter cries-cries dull, yet deep-so that
the whole forest groaned under the gale.
"Evening had come on, and it was dark in the
thickets. The agitation of the wind and the branches
excited me, made me skip about like an idiot, and
howl in imitation of the wolves.
"As soon as I perceived my parents, I crept furtively toward them, under the branches, in order to




WAITER, A " BOCK"


25 1


surprise them, as though I had been a veritable wolf.
But suddenly seized with fear, I stopped a few paces
from them. My father, a prey to the most violent
passion, cried:
"'Your mother is a fool; moreover, it is not your
mother that is the question, it is you.  I tell you
that I want money, and I will make you sign this.'
"My mother responded in a firm voice:
"'I will not sign it. ft is Jean's fortune, I shall
guard it for him and I will not allow you to devour
it with strange women, as you have your own heritage.'
"Then my father, full of rage, wheeled round and
seized his wife by the throat, and began to slap her
full in the face with the disengaged hand.
"My mother's hat fell off, her hair became disheveled and fell down her back: she essayed to parry
the blows, but could not escape from them. And mv
father, like a madman, banged and banged at her.
My mother rolled over on the ground, covering her
face in both her hands. Then he turned her over on
her back in order to batter her still more, pulling
away the hands which were covering her face.
"As for me, my friend, it seemed as though the
world had come to an end, that the eternal laws
had changed. I experienced the overwhelming dread
that one has in presence of things supernatural, in
presence of irreparable disaster.  My boyish head
whirled round and soared. I began to cry with all
my might, without knowing why, a prey to terror,
to grief, to a dreadful bewilderment.  My father
heard me, turned round, and, on seeing me, made as
though he would rush at me. I believed that he




252


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


wanted to kill me, and I fled like a hunted animal,
running straight in front of me through the woods.
"I ran perhaps for an hour, perhaps for two, I
know not. Darkness had set in, I tumbled over
some thick herbs, exhausted, and I lay there lost,
devoured by terror, eaten up by a sorrow capable
of breaking forever the heart of a child. I became
cold, I became hungry. At length day broke. I
dared neither get up, walk, return home, nor save
myself, fearing to encounter my father whom I did
not wish to see again.
"I should probably have died of misery and of
hunger at the foot of a tree if the guard had not
discovered me and led me away by force.
"I found my parents wearing their ordinary aspect.
My mother alone spoke to me:
"'How you have frightened me, you naughty boy;
I have been the whole night sleepless.'
"I did not answer, but began to weep.    My
father did not utter a single word.
"Eight days later I entered the Lycee.
"Well, my friend, it was all over with me. I had
witnessed the other side of things, the bad side; I
have not been able to perceive the good side since
that day. What things have passed in my mind,
what strange phenomena have warped my ideas, I do
not know. But I no longer have a taste for anything,
a wish for anything, a love for anybody, a desire for
anything whatever, no ambition, no hope. And I can
always see my poor mother lying on the ground, in
the avenue, while my father was maltreating her.
My mother died a few years after; my father lives
stil. I have not seen him since. Waiter, a 'bock."'




WAITER, A " BOCK"           253
A waiter brought him his " bock," which he swal.
lowed at a gulp. But, in taking up his pipe again,
trembling as he was, he broke it. Then he made a
violent gesture:
"Zounds! This is indeed a grief, a real grief. I
have had it for a month, and it was coloring so
beautifully! "
Then he went off through the vast saloon, which
was now full of smoke and of people drinking, call.
ing out:
"Waiter, a 'bock'-and a new pipe."




PAUL'S MISTRESS
O",w t        HE Restaurant Grillon, a small corntmonwealth                 of boatmen, was
yslowly emptying. In front of
^.   the door all was tumult-cries and,5l         calls-and jolly rowers in white flan-          nels gesticulated with oars on their
shoulders..[AX.    The ladies in bright spring toilettes
^-' stepped aboard the skiffs with care, and
J      seating  themselves astern, arranged their
"?    dresses, while the landlord of the establish- ment, a mighty, red-bearded, self-possessed in-.",~ dividual of renowned strength, offered his hand
' to the pretty creatures, and kept the frail crafts
steady.
The rowers, bare-armed, with bulging chests, took
their places in their turn, posing for their gallery as
they did so-a gallery consisting of middle-class
people dressed in their Sunday clothes, of workmen
and soldiers leaning upon their elbows on the parapet
of the bridge, all taking a great interest in the sight.
One by one the boats cast off from the landing
stage. The oarsmen bent forward and then threw
(254)




PAUL'S MISTRESS


themselves backward with even swing, and under
the impetus of the long curved oars, the swift skiffs
glided along the river, grew smaller in the distance,
and finally disappeared under the railway bridge, as
they descended the stream toward La Grenouillere.
One couple only remained behind. The young man,
still almost beardless, slender, with a pale countenance,
held his mistress, a thin little brunette with the gait
of a grasshopper, by the waist; and occasionally they
gazed into each other's eyes. The landlord shouted:
"Come, Mr. Paul, make haste," and they drew
near.
Of all the guests of the house, Mr. Paul was the
most liked and most respected. He paid well and
punctually, while the others hung back for a long
time if indeed they did not vanish without paying.
Besides which he was a sort of walking advertisement for the establishment, inasmuch as his father
was a senator. When a stranger would inquire:
"Who on earth is that little chap who thinks so
much of himself because of his girl?" some habitud
would reply, half-aloud, with a mysterious and important air: "Don't you know? That is Paul Baron,
a senator's son."
And invariably the other would exclaim:
"Poor devil! He is not half-grown."
Mother Grillon, a good and worthy business woman,
described the young man and his companion as
"her two turtledoves," and appeared quite touched
by this passion, which was profitable for her house.
The couple advanced at a slow pace. The skiff
"Madeleine" was ready, and at the moment of embarking they kissed each other, which caused the




256


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


public collected on the bridge to laugh. Mr. Paul
took the oars, and rowed away for La Grenouillere.
When they arrived it was just upon three o'clock
and the large floating caf6 overflowed with people.
The immense raft, sheltered by a tarpaulin roof,
is joined to the charming island of Croissy by two
narrow  footbridges, one of which  leads into the
center of the aquatic establishment, while the other
unites with a tiny islet, planted with a tree and
called "The Flower Pot," and thence leads to land
near the bath office.
Mr. Paul made fast his boat alongside the establishment, climbed over the railing of the cafe, and
then, grasping his mistress's hands, assisted her out
of the boat. They both seated themselves at the end
of a table opposite each other.
On the opposite side of the river along the
market road, a long string of vehicles was drawn
up. Cabs alternated with the fine carriages of the
swells; the first, clumsy, with enormous bodies crushing the springs, drawn by broken-down hacks with
hanging heads and broken knees; the second, slightly
built on light wheels, with horses slender and
straight, their heads well up, their bits snowy with
foam, and with coachmen solemn in livery, heads
erect in high collars, waiting bolt upright, with whips
resting on their knees.
The bank was covered with people who came off
in families, or in parties, or in couples, or alone. They
plucked at the blades of grass, went down to the
water, ascended the path, and having reached the
spot, stood still awaiting the ferryman. The clumsy
punt plied incessantly from bank to bank, discharg



PAUL'S MISTRESS


257


ing its passengers upon the island. The arm of the
river (called the Dead Arm) upon which this refreshment wharf lay, seemed asleep, so feeble was the
current. Fleets of yawls, of skiffs, of canoes, of podoscaphs (a light boat propelled by wheels set in
motion by a treadle), of gigs, of craft 'of all forms
and of all kinds, crept about upon the motionless
stream, crossing each other, intermingling, running
foul of one another, stopping abruptly under a jerk of
the arms only to shoot off afresh under a sudden
strain of the muscles and gliding swiftly along like
great yellow or red fishes.
Others arrived continually; some from Chaton up
the stream; others from Bougival down it; laughter
crossed the water from one boat to another, calls,
admonitions, or imprecations.  The boatmen exposed
the bronzed and knotted muscles of their biceps to the
heat of the day; and like strange floating flowers, the
silk parasols, red, green, blue, or yellow, of the ladies
bloomed in the sterns of the boats.
A July sun flamed high in the heavens; the at-.
mosphere seemed full of burning merriment; not a
breath of air stirred the leaves of the willows or poplars.
Down there Mont-Valerien reared its fortified ramparts, tier above tier, in the intense light; while on
the right the divine slopes of Louviennes, following
the bend of the river, disposed themselves in a semicircle, displaying in turn across the rich and shady
lawns of large gardens the white walls of country
seats.
Upon the outskirts of La Grenouillere a crowd of
promenaders moved about beneath the giant trees
2 G. de M.-17




258


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


which make this corner of the island one of the most
delightful parks in the world.
Women and girls with breasts developed beyond
all measurement, with exaggerated bustles, their complexions plastered with rouge, their eyes daubed with
charcoal, their lips blood-red, laced up, rigged out in
outrageous dresses, trailed the crying bad taste of
their toilettes over the fresh green sward; while beside them young men posed in their fashion-plate
garments with light gloves, varnished boots, canes
the size of a thread, and single eyeglasses emphasizing the insipidity of their smiles.
Opposite La Grenouillere the island is narrow, and
on its other side, where also a ferryboat plies, bringing people unceasingly across from Croissy, the rapid
branch of the river, full of whirlpools and eddies and
foam, rushes along with the strength of a torrent.
A detachment of pontoon-builders, in the uniform
of artillerymen, was encamped upon this bank, and
the soldiers seated in a row on a long beam watched
the water flowing.
In the floating establishment there was a boisterous
and uproarious crowd. The wooden tables upon which
the spilt refreshments made little sticky streams were
covered with half-empty glasses and surrounded by
falf-tipsy individuals. The crowd shouted, sang, and
brawled. The men, their hats at the backs of their
heads, their faces red, with the shining eyes of
drunkards, moved about vociferating and evidently
looking for the quarrels natural to brutes.  The
women, seeking their prey for the night, sought for
free liquor in the meantime; and in the unoccupied
space between the tables, the ordinary local public




PAUL'S MISTRESS


259


outnumbered a whole regiment of boatmen, Rowkickers-up, with their companions in short flannel
petticoats.
One of them performed on the piano and appeared
to play with his feet as well as his hands; four
couples glided through a quadrille, and some young
men watched them, polished and correct, men who
would have looked demure even if vice itself had appeared.
For there you see in full the pomp and vanity of
the world, all its well-bred debauchery, all the seamy
side of Parisian society-a mixture of counter-jumpers, of strolling players, of low journalists, of gentlemen in tutelage, of rotten stock-jobbers, of ill-famed
debauchees, of old, used-up fast men; a doubtful crowd
of suspicious characters, half-known, half-sunk, halfrecognized, half-criminal, pickpockets, rogues, procurers
of women, sharpers with dignified manners, and a
bragging,air which seems to say: "I shall kill the
first who treats me as a scoundrel."
The place reeks of folly, and stinks of the scum
and the gallantry of the shops. Male and female there
give themselves airs. There dwells an odor of socalled love, and there one fights for a yes, or for a
no, in order to sustain a worm-eaten reputation, which
a thrust of the sword or a pistol bullet would destroy
further.
Some of the neighboring inhabitants looked in out
of curiosity every Sunday; some young men, very
young, appeared there every year to learn how to
live, some promenaders lounging about showed themselves there; some greenhorns wandered thither. With
good reason is it named La Grenouillare, At the side




,260


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


of the covered wharf where they drank, and quite
close to the Flower Pot, people bathed. Those among
the women who possessed the requisite roundness of
form came there to display their wares and to make
clients. The rest, scornful, although well filled out
with wadding, shored up with springs, corrected here
and altered there, watched their dabbling sisters with
disdain.
The swimmers crowded on to a little platform to
dive thence headforemost.  Straight like vine poles,
or round like pumpkins, gnarled like olive branches,
bowed over in front, or thrown backward by the size
of their stomachs, and invariably ugly, they leaped into
the water splashing it almost over the drinkers in the
cafe.
Notwithstanding the great trees which overhang
the floating-house, and notwithstanding the vicinity
of the water a suffocating heat filled the place. The
fumes of the spilt liquors mingled with the effluvia of
the bodies and with the strong perfumes with which
the skin of the trader in love is saturated and which
evaporate in this furnace. But beneath all these diverse scents a slight aroma of rice-powder lingered, disappearing and reappearing, and perpetually encountered
as though some concealed hand had shaken an invisible powder-puff in the air. The show was upon the
river, whither the perpetual coming and going of the
boats attracted the eyes. The boatwomen sprawled
upon their seats opposite their strong-wristed males,
and scornfully contemplated the dinner hunters prowling about the island.
Sometimes when a succession of boats, just started,
passed at full speed, the friends who stayed ashore




PAUL'S MISTRESS


26i


gave vent to shouts, and all the people as if suddenly
seized with madness set to work yelling.
At the bend of the river toward Chaton fresh boats
continually appeared.  They came nearer and grew
larger, and if only faces were recognized, the vociferations broke out anew.
A canoe covered with an awning and manned by
four women came slowly down the current. She
who rowed was petite, thin, faded, in a cabin-boy's
costume, her hair drawn up under an oilskin cap.
Opposite her, a lusty blonde, dressed as a man, with
a white flannel jacket, lay upon her back at the bottom of the boat, her legs in the air, resting on the
seat at each side of the rower. She smoked a cigarette, while at each stroke of the oars, her chest and
her stomach quivered, shaken by the stroke.  At the
back, under the awning, two handsome girls, tall and
slender, one dark and the other fair, held each other
by the waist as they watched their companions.
A cry arose from La Grenouillere, "There is Lesbos," and all at once a furious clamor, a terrifying
scramble, took place; the glasses were knocked down;
people clambered on to the tables; all in a frenzy of
noise bawled: " Lesbos! Lesbos! Lesbos! "   The
shout rolled along, became indistinct, was no longer
more than a kind of deafening howl, and then suddenly it seemed to start anew, to rise into space, to
cover the plain, to fill the foliage of the great trees,
to extend to the distant slopes, and reach even to
the sun.
The rower, in the face of this ovation, had quietly
stopped. The handsome blonde, stretched out upon
the bottom of the boat, turned her head with a care



262


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


less air, as she raised herself upon her elbows; and
the two girls at the back commenced laughing as
they saluted the crowd.
Then the hullabaloo was doubled, making the
floating establishment tremble. The men took off
their hats, the women waved their handkerchiefs, and
all voices, shrill or deep, together cried:
"Lesbos."
It was as if these people, this collection of the
corrupt, saluted their chiefs like the war-ships which
fire guns when an admiral passes along the line.
The numerous fleet of boats also saluted the women's boat, which pushed along more quickly to land
farther off.
Mr. Paul, contrary to the others, had drawn a key
froIn his pocket and whistled with all his might.
His nervous mistress grew paler, caught him by the
arm to make him be quiet, and upon this occasion
she looked at him with fury in her eyes. But he
appeared exasperated, as though borne away by jealousy of some man or by deep anger, instinctive and
ungovernable. He stammered, his lips quivering with
indignation:
"It is shameful! They ought to be drowned like
puppies with a stone about the neck."
But Madeleine instantly flew into a rage; her small
and shrill voice became a hiss, and she spoke volubly, as though pleading her own cause:
"And whet has it to do with you-you indeed?
Are they not at liberty to do what they wish since
they owe nobody anything? A truce to your airs,
and mind your own business."
But he cut her speech short:




PAUL'S MISTRESS


261


"It is the police whom it concerns, and I will
h.:ve them marched off to St. Lazare; indeed I will."
She gave a start:
"You?"
"Yes, I! And in the meantime I forbid you to
speak to them-you understand, I forbid you to do so."
Then she shrugged her shoulders and grew calm
in d moment:
"My friend, I shall do as I please; if you are not
satisfied, be off, and instantly. I am not your wife,
anm I? Very well then, hold your tongue."
He made no reply and they stood face to face,
their lips tigh'ly closed and their breathing rapid.
At the other end of the great wooden cafe the
fodr women made their entry. The two in men's
costumes marched in front: the one thin like an
oldish tomboy, with yellow lines on her temples; the
other filling out her white flannel garments with her
rat, swelling out her big trousers with her buttocks
and swaying about like a fat goose with enormous
legs and yielding knees. Their two friends followed
them, and the crowd of boatmen thronged about to
shake their hands.
The four had hired a small cottage close to the
water's edge, and lived there as two households
would have lived.
Their vice was public, recognized, patent to all.
People talked of it as a natural thing, which almost
excited their sympathy, and whispered in very low
tones strange stories of dramas begotten of furious
feminine jealousies, of the stealthy visit of well-known
women and of actresses to the little house close to
the water's edge.




264


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


A neighbor, horrified by these scandalous rumors,
apprised the police, and the inspector, accompanied
by a man, had come to make inquiry. The mission
was a delicate one; it was impossible, in short, to
accuse these women, who did not abandon themselves to prostitution, of any tangible crime. The
inspector, very much puzzled, and, indeed, ignorant
of the nature of the offenses suspected, had asked
questions at random, and made a lofty report conclusive of their innocence.
They laughed about it all the way to St. Germain.
They walked about the Grenouillere establishment
with stately steps like queens; and seemed to glory
in their fame, rejoicing in the gaze that was fixed on
them, so superior to this crowd, to this mob, to these
plebeians.
Madeleine and her lover watched them approach,
and the girl's eyes lightened.
When the first two had reached the end of the
table, Madeleine cried:
"Pauline "
The large woman turned and stopped, continuing all
the time to hold the arm of her feminine cabin-boy:
"Good gracious, Madeleine! Do come and talk
to me, my dear."
Paul squeezed his fingers upon his mistress's wrist,
but she said to him, with such an air: "You know,
my fine fellow, you can be off," that he said
nothing and remained alone.
Then they chatted in low voices, all three of them
standing. Many pleasant jests passed their lips, they
spoke quickly; and Pauline now and then looked at
Paul, by stealth, with a shrewd and malicious smile.




PAUL'S MISTRESS


265


At last, putting up with it no longer, he suddenly
rose and in a single bound was at their side, trembling in every limb. He seized Madeleine by the
shoulders.
"Come, I wish it," said he; "'I have forbidden
you to speak to these scoundrels."
Whereupon Pauline raised her voice and set to
work blackguarding him with her Billingsgate vocabulary. All the bystanders laughed; they drew near
him; they raised themselves on tiptoe in order the
better to see him. He remained dumb under this
downpour of filthy abuse. It appeared to him that
the words which came from that mouth and fell
upon him defiled him like dirt, and, in presence of
the row which was beginning, he fell back, retraced
his steps, and rested his elbows on the railing toward
the river, turning his back upon the victorious women.
There he stayed watching the water, and sometimes with rapid gesture as though he could pluck it
out, he removed with his sinewy fingers the tear
formed in his eye.
The fact was that he was hopelessly in love,
without knowing why, notwithstanding his refined
instincts, in spite of his reason, in spite, indeed, of
his will. He had fallen into this love as one falls
into a sloughy hole. Of a tender and delicate disposition, he had dreamed of liaisons, exquisite, ideal, and
impassioned, and there that little bit of a woman,
stupid, like all girls, with an exasperating stupidity,
not even pretty, but thin and a spitfire, had taken
him prisoner, possessing him from head to foot,
body and soul. He had submitted to this feminine
witchery, mysterious and all powerful, this unknown




266


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


power, this prodigious domination- arising no one
knows whence, but from the demon of the fleshwhich casts the most sensible man at the feet of
some girl or other without there being anything in
her to explain her fatal and sovereign power.
And there at his back he felt that some infamous
thing was brewing. Shouts of laughter cut him to
the heart. What should he do? He knew well, but
he could not do it.
He steadily watched an angler upon the bank opposite him, and his motionless line.
Suddenly, the worthy man jerked a little silver
fish, which wriggled at the end of his line, out of the
river.  Then he endeavored to extract his hook,
pulled and turned it, but in vain. At last, losing
patience, he commenced to tear it out, and all the
bleeding gullet of the fish, with a portion of its intestines came out. Paul shuddered, rent to his heartstrings. It seemed to him that the hook was his
love, and that if he should pluck it out, all that he
had in his breast would come out in the same way
at the end of a curved iron, fixed in the depths of
his being, to which Madeleine held the line.
A hand was placed upon his shoulder; he started
and turned; his mistress was at his side. They did
not speak to each other; and like him she rested her
elbows upon the railing, and fixed her eyes upon the
river.
He sought for what he ought to say to her and
could find nothing. He could not even disentangle
his own emotions; all that he was sensible of was
joy at feeling her there close to him, come back
again, as well as shameful cowardice, a craving to




PAUL'S MISTRESS


267


pardon everything, to permit everything, provided
she never left him.
At last, at the end of some minutes, he asked her
in a very gentle voice:
"Do you wish that we should leave? It will be
nicer in the boat."
She answered: "Yes, my dear."
And he assisted her into the skiff, pressing her
hands, all softened, with some tears still in his eyes.
Then she looked at him with a smile and they kissed
each other anew.
They reascended the river very slowly, skirting
the willow-bordered, grass-covered bank, bathed and
still in the afternoon warmth. When they had returned to the Restaurant Grillon, it was barely six
o'clock. Then leaving their boat they set off on foot
toward Bezons, across the fields and along the high
poplars which bordered the river. The long grass
ready to be mowed was full of flowers. The sinking
sun glowed from beneath a sheet of red light, and in
the tempered heat of the closing day the floating exhalations from the grass, mingled with the damp
scents from  the river, filled the air with a soft
languor, with a happy light, with an atmosphere of
blessing.
A soft weakness overtook his heart, a species of
communion with this splendid calm of evening, witi
this vague and mysterious chilliness of unhidden life,
with the keen and melancholy poetry which seems
to arise from flowers and things, and reveals itself to
the senses at this sweet and pensive time.
Paul felt all that; but for her part she did not
understand anything of it. They walked side by side;




268


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


and, suddenly, tired of being silent, she sang. She
sang in her shrill and false voice some street song,
some catchy air, which jarred upon the profound
and serene harmony of the evening.
Then he looked at her and felt an impassable
abyss between them. She beat the grass with her
parasol, her head slightly inclined, admiring her feet
and singing, spinning out the notes, attempting
trills, and venturing on shakes.  Her smooth little
brow, of which he was so fond, was at that time
absolutely empty! empty! There was nothing therein
but this music of a bird-organ; and the ideas which
formed there by chance were like this music. She
did not understand anything of him; they were now
as separated as if they did not live together. Did his
kisses never go any further than her lips?
Then she raised her eyes to him and laughed again.
He was moved to the quick and, extending his arms
in a paroxysm of love, he embraced her passionately.
As he was rumpling her dress she ended by disengaging herself, murmuring by way of compensation
as she did so:
"That's enough. You know I love you!"
But he clasped her round the waist and seized by
madness, carried her rapidly away. He kissed her on
the cheek, on the temple, on the neck, all the while
dancing with joy. They threw themselves down
panting at the edge of a thicket, lit up by the rays
of the setting sun, and before they had recovered
breath they were friends again without her understanding his transport.
They returned, holding each other by the hand,
when, suddenly, through the trees, they perceived on




PAUL'S MISTRESS


269


the river the skiff manned by the four women. Fat
Pauline also saw them, for she drew herself up and
blew kisses to Madeleine. And then she cried:
"Until to-night!"
Madeleine replied: "Until to-night!"
Paul felt as if his heart had suddenly been frozen.
They re-entered the house for dinner and installed
themselves in one of the arbors, close to the water.
They set about eating in silence. When night arrived, the waiter brought a candle inclosed in a glass
globe, which gave a feeble and glimmering light; and
they heard every moment the bursting out of the
shouts of the boatmen in the great saloon on the
first floor.
Toward dessert, Paul, taking Madeleine's hand,
tenderly said to her:
"I feel very tired, my darling; unless you have
any objection, we will go to bed early."
She, however, understood the ruse, and shot an
enigmatical glance at him -that glance of treachery
which so readily appears in the depth of a woman's
eyes. Having reflected she answered:
" You can go to bed if you wish, but I have
promised to go to the ball at La Grenouillere."
He smiled in a piteous manner, one of those
smiles with which one veils the most horrible suffering, and replied in a coaxing but agonized tone:
"If you were very kind, we should remain here,
both of us."
She indicated no with her head, without opening
her mouth.
He insisted:
"I beg of you, my darling."




270


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


Then she roughly broke out:
"You know what I said to you. If you are not
satisfied, the door is open. No one wishes to keep
you. As for myself, I have promised; I shall go."
He placed his two elbows upon the table, covered
his face with his hands and remained there pondering sorrowfully.
The boat people came down again, shouting as
usual, and set off in their vessels for the ball at La
Grenouillere.
Madeleine said to Paul:
"If you are not coming, say so, and I will ask one
of these gentlemen to take me."
Paul rose:
"Let us go!" murmured he.
And they left.
The night was black, the sky full of stars, but the
air was heat-laden by oppressive breaths of wind,
burdened with emanations, and with living germs,
which destroyed the freshness of the night. It offered
a heated caress, made one breathe more quickly, gasp
a little, so thick and heavy did it seem. The boats
started on their way, bearing Venetian lanterns at the
prow. It was not possible to distinguish the craft,
but only the little colored lights, swift and dancing
up and down like glowworms in a fit, while voices
sounded from  all sides in the shade.  The young
people's skiff glided gently along. Now and then,
when a fast boat passed near them, they could, for a
moment, see the white back of the rower, lit up by
his lantern.
When they turned the elbow of the river, La
Grenouillere appeared to them in the distance. The




PAUL'S MISTRESS


271


establishment, en fete, was decorated with sconces and
with colored garlands draped with clusters of lights.
On the Seine some great barges moved about slowly,
representing domes, pyramids, and elaborate erections
in fires of all colors. Illuminated festoons hung right
down to the water, and sometimes a red or blue lantern, at the end of an immense invisible fishing-?od,
seemed like a great swinging star.
All this illumination spread a light around the cafe,
lit up the great trees on the bank, from top to bottom, the trunks standing out in pale gray and the
leaves in milky green upon the deep black of the fields
and the heavens. The orchestra, composed of five
suburban artists, flung far its public-house dancemusic, poor of its kind and jerky, inciting Madeleine
to sing anew.
She desired to enter at once. Paul desired first to
take a stroll on the island, but he was obliged to
give way. The attendance was now more select.
The boatmen, always alone, remained, with here and
there some citizens, and some young men escorted
by girls. The director and organizer of this majestic
cancan, in a jaded black suit, walked about in every
direction, baldheaded and worn by his old trade of
purveyor of cheap public amusements.
Fat Pauline and her companions were not there;
and Paul breathed again.
They danced; couples opposite each other capered
in the maddest fashion, throwing their legs in the air,
until they were upon a level with the noses of their
partners.
The women, whose thighs seemed disjointed,
kicked their feet up above their heads with astound



272


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


ing facility, balanced their bodies, wagged their backs
and shook their sides, shedding around them the enticing scent of womanhood.
The men squatted like toads, some making signs;
some twisted and distorted themselves, grimacing and
hideous; some turned cart-wheels on their hands, or,
perhaps, trying to make themselves funny, sketched
the manners of the day with exaggerated gracefulness.
A fat servant-maid and two waiters served refreshments.
The cafe boat being only covered with a roof and
having no wall whatever to shut it in, this harebrained dance was open to the face of the peaceful
night and of the firmament powdered with stars.
Suddenly, Mont-Valerien, opposite, appeared, illumined, as if some conflagration had arisen behind it.  The radiance spread itself and deepened
upon the sky, describing a large luminous circle of
white, wan light. Then something or other red appeared, grew greater, shining with a burning crimson,
like that of hot metal upon the anvil. It gradually
developed into a round body rising from the earth;
and the moon, freeing herself from the horizon, rose
slowly into space. As she ascended, the purple tint
faded and became yellow, a shining bright yellow,
and the satellite grew smaller in proportion as her
distance increased.
Paul watched the moon for some time, lost in contemplation, forgetting his mistress; when he returned
to himself the latter had vanished.
He sought for her, but could not find her. He
threw his anxious eye over table after table, going to




PAUL'S MISTRESS


273


and fro unceasingly, inquiring after her from this one
and that one. No one had seen her. He was tormented with disquietude, when one of the waiters
said to him:
"You are looking for Madame Madeleine, are you
not? She left but a few   moments ago, in company with Madame Pauline." And at the same instant, Paul perceived the cabin-boy and the two
pretty girls standing at the other end of the cafe, all
three holding each others' waists and lying in wait
for him, whispering to one another. He understood,
and, like a madman, dashed off into the island.
He first ran toward Chaton, but having reached
the plain, retraced his steps.  Then he began to
search the dense coppices, occasionally roaming about
distractedly, or halting to listen.
The toads all about him poured out their short
metallic notes.
From the direction of Bougival, some unknown
bird warbled a song which reached him from the distance.
Over the large lawns the moon shed a soft light,
resembling powdered wool; it penetrated the foliage,
silvered the bark of the poplars, and riddled with its
brilliant rays the waving tops of the great trees.
The entrancing poetry of this summer night had, in
spite of himself, entered into Paul, athwart his infatuated anguish, stirring his heart with a ferocious
irony, and increasing even to madness his craving for
an ideal tenderness, for passionate outpourings on the
bosom of an adored and faithful woman. He was
compelled to stop, choked by hurried and rending sobs.
The convulsion over, he started anew.
a G. de M.-18




274


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


Suddenly, he received what resembled the stab of
a poniard. There, behind that bush, some people
were kissing. He ran thither; and found an amorous
couple whose faces were united in an endless kiss.
He dared not call, knowing well that she would
not respond, and he had a frightful dread of discovering them all at once.
The flourishes of the quadrilles, with the earsplitting solos of the cornet, the false shriek of the
flute, the shrill squeaking of the violin, irritated his
feelings, and increased his suffering. Wild and limping music was floating under the trees, now feeble,
now stronger, wafted hither and thither by the breeze.
Suddenly he thought that possibly she had returned. Yes, she had returned! Why not? He had
stupidly lost his head, without cause, carried away
by his fears, by the inordinate suspicions which had
for some time overwhelmed him. Seized by one of
those singular calms which will sometimes occur in
cases of the greatest despair, he returned toward the
ball-room.
With a single glance of the eye, he took in the
whole room. He made the round of the tables, and
abruptly again found himself face to face with the
three women. He must have had a doleful and queer
expression of countenance, for all three burst into
laughter.
He made off, returned to the island, and threw
himself into the coppice panting. He listened again,
listened a long time, for his ears were singing. At
last, however, he believed he heard farther.off a
little, sharp laugh, which he recognized at once; ane.
he advanced very quietly, on his knees, removing the




PAUL'S MISTRESS


275


branches from his path, his heart beating so rapidly,
that he could no longer breathe.
Two voices murmured some words, the meaning
of which he did not understand, and then they
were silent.
Next, he was possessed by a frightful longing to
fly, to save himself, forever, from this furious passion which threatened his existence. He was about
to return to Chaton and take the train, resolved never
to come back again, never again to see her. But her
likeness suddenly rushed in upon him, and he mentally
pictured the moment in the morning when she would
awake in their warm bed, and would press coaxingly
against him, throwing her arms around his neck,
her hair disheveled, and a little entangled on the
forehead, her eyes still shut and her lips apart ready
to receive the first kiss. The sudden recollection of
this morning caress filled him with frantic recollections and the maddest desire.
The couple began to speak again; and he approached, stooping low. Then a faint cry rose from
under the branches quite close to him. He advanced
again, always in spite of himself, invincibly attracted,
without being conscious of anything-and he saw
them.
He stood there astounded and speechless, as if he
had suddenly stumbled upon a corpse, dead and mutilated. Then, in an involuntary flash of thought, he
remembered the little fish whose entrails he had felt
being torn out! But Madeleine spoke to her companion in the same tone in which she had often
called him by name, and he was seized by such a
fit of anguish that he turned and fled.




276


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


He struck against two trees, fell over a root, set
off again, and suddenly found himself near the rapid
branch of the river, which was lit up by the moon.
The torrent-like current made great eddies where the
light played upon it. The high bank dominated the
stream like a cliff, leaving a wide obscure zone at its
foot where the eddies could be heard swirling in the
darkness.
On the other bank, the country seats of Croissy
could be plainly seen.
Paul saw all this as though in a dream; he thought
of nothing, understood nothing, and all things, even
his very existence, appeared vague, far-off, forgotten,
done with.
The river was there. Did he know what he was
doing? Did he wish to die? He was mad. He
turned, however, toward the island, toward her, and
in the still air of the night, in which the faint and
persistent burden of the music was borne up and
down, he uttered, in a voice frantic with despair,
bitter beyond measure, and superhumanly low, a
frightful cry:
"Madeleine!"
His heartrending call shot across the great silence
of the sky, and sped around the horizon. Then with
a tremendous leap, with the bound of a wild animal,
he jumped into the river. The water rushed on,
closed over him, and from the place where he had disappeared a series of great circles started, enlarging
their brilliant undulations, until they finally reached
the other bank. The two women had heard the
noise of the plunge. Madeleine drew herself up and
exclaimed:




PAUL'S MISTRESS


277


" It is Paul,"- a suspicion having arisen in her
soul,-" he has drowned himself"; and she rushed
toward the bank, where Pauline rejoined her.
A clumsy punt, propelled by two men, turned and
returned on the spot. One of the men rowed, the
other plunged into the water a great pole and appeared to be looking for something. Pauline cried:
"What are you doing? What is the matter?"
An unknown voice answered:
"It is a man who has just drowned himself."
The two ghastly women, squeezing each other
tightly, followed the maneuvers of the boat. The
music of La Grenouillere continued to sound in the
distance, seeming with its cadences to accompany
the movements of the somber fishermen; and the
river which now concealed a corpse, whirled round
and round, illuminated. The search was prolonged.
The horrible suspense made Madeleine shiver all over.
At last, after at least half an hour, one of the men
announced:
"I have got it."
And he pulled up his long pole very gently, very
gently. Then something large appeared upon the
surface.
The other mariner left his oars, and by uniting
their strength and hauling upon the inert weight, they
succeeded in getting it into their boat.
Then they made for land, seeking a place well
lighted and low. At the moment they landed, the
women also arrived. The moment she saw him,
Madeleine fell back with horror. In the moonlight he
already appeared green, with his mouth, his eyes, his
nose, his clothes full of slime. His fingers, closed and




278


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


stiff, were hideous. A kind of black and liquid plaster covered his whole body.   The face appeared
swollen, and from his hair, glued up by the ooze,
there ran a stream of dirty water.
"Do you know him?" asked one.
The other, the Croissy ferryman, hesitated:
"Yes, it certainly seems to me that I have seen
that head; but you know when a body is in that
state one cannot recognize it easily." And then, suddenly:
"Why, it's Mr. Paul!"
"Who is Mr. Paul?" inquired his comrade.
The first answered:
"Why, Mr. Paul Baron, the son of the senator, the
little chap who was so amorous."
The other added, philosophically:
"Well, his fun is ended now; it is a pity, all the
same, when one is rich!"
Madeleine sobbed and fell fainting. Pauline approached the body and asked:
"Is he indeed quite dead?"
The men shrugged their shoulders.
"Oh! after that length of time, certainly."
Then one of them asked:
"Was it not at the Grillon that he lodged?"
"Yes," answered the other; "we had better take
him back there, there will be something to be made
of it.
They embarked again in their boat and set out,
moving off slowly on account of the rapid current.
For a long time after they were out of sight of the
place where the women remained, the regular splash
of the oars in the water could be heard.




PAUL'S MISTRESS            279
Then Pauline took the poor weeping Madeleine in
her arms, petted her, embraced her for a long while,
and consoled her.
"What would you have; it is not your fault, is
it? It is impossible to prevent men committing folly.
He wished it; so much the worse for him, after all!"
And then lifting her up:
"Come, my dear, come and sleep at the house;
it is impossible for you to go back to the Grillon tonight."
And she embraced her again, saying: "Come, we
will cure you."
Madeleine arose, and weeping all the while but
with fainter sobs, laid her head upon Pauline's shoulder, as though it had found a refuge in a closer and
more certain affection, more familiar and more confiding, and set off with very slow steps.




THE
SEQ.UEL TO A DIVORCE
Em               > ERTAINLY, although he had been en"f            gaged in the most extraordinary,
'v     J          most unlikely, most extravagant,
'( and funniest cases, and had won
'l legal games without a trump in his
'\,       / hand-although he had worked out
-k, /  the obscure law of divorce, as if it had
\\t      been a Californian gold mine, Maitre*
p\X/ Garrulier, the celebrated, the only Garrulier,
" could not check a movement of surprise,
nor a disheartening shake of the head, nor
a smile, when the Countess de Baudemont explained her affairs to him for the first time.
He had just opened his correspondence, and
his slender hands, on which he bestowed the greatest
attention, buried themselves in a heap of female letters, and one might have thought oneself in the confessional of a fashionable preacher, so impregnated
was the atmosphere with delicate perfumes.
*Title given to advocates in France.
(280)




THE SEQUEL TO A DIVORCE


281


Immediately-even before she had said a word —
with the sharp glance of a practised man of the
world, that look which made beautiful Madame de
Serpenoise say: "He strips your heart barel" the
lawyer had classed her in the third category. Those
who suffer came into his first category, those who
love, into the second, and those who are bored, into
the third-and she belonged to the latter.
She was a pretty windmill, whose sails turned and
flew round, and fretted the blue sky with a delicious
shiver of joy, as it were, and had the brain of a bird,
in which four correct and healthy ideas cannot exist
side by side, and in which all dreams and every kind
of folly are engulfed, like a great kaleidoscope.
Incapable of hurting a fly, emotional, charitable,
with a feeling of tenderness for the street girl who
sells bunches of violets for a penny, for a cab horse
which a driver is ill-using, for a melancholy pauper's
funeral, when the body, without friends or relations
to follow it, is being conveyed to the common grave,
doing anything that might afford five minutes'
amusement, not caring if she made men miserable for
the rest of their days, and taking pleasure in kindling
passions which consumed men's whole being, looking upon life as too short to be anything else than
one uninterrupted round of gaiety and enjoyment, she
thought that people might find plenty of time for
being serious and reasonable in the evening of life,
when they are at the bottom of the hill, and their
looking-glasses reveal a wrinkled face, surrounded
with white hair.
A thorough-bred Parisian, whom one would follow
to the end of the world, like a poodle; a woman




282


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


whom one adores with the head, the heart, and the
senses until one is nearly driven mad, as soon as one
has inhaled the delicate perfume that emanates from
her dress and hair, or touched her skin, and heard
her laugh; a woman for whom one would fight a
duel and risk one's life without a thought; for whom
a man would remove mountains, and sell his soul to
the devil several times over, if the devil were still in
the habit of frequenting the places of bad repute on
this earth.
She had perhaps come to see this Garrulier, whom
she had so often heard mentioned at five o'clock teas,
so as to be able to describe him to her female
friends subsequently in droll phrases, imitating ' his
gestures and the unctuous inflections of his voice,
in order, perhaps, to experience some new sensation,
or, perhaps, for the sake of dressing like a woman
who was going to try for a divorce; and, certainly,
the whole effect was perfect. She wore a splendid
cloak embroidered with jet-which gave an almost
serious effect to her golden hair, to her small slightly
turned-up nose, with its quivering nostrils, and to her
large eyes, full of enigma and fun-over a dark stuff
dress, which was fastened at the neck by a sapphire
and a diamond pin.
The barrister did not interrupt her, but allowed
her to get excited and to chatter, to enumerate her
causes for complaint against poor Count de Baud6 -mont, who certainly had no suspicion of his wife's
escapade, and who would have been very much
surprised if anyone had told him of it at that moment, when he was taking his fencing lesson at
the club.




THE SEQUEL TO A DIVORCE


283


When she had quite finished, he said coolly, as it
he were throwing a pail of water on some burning
straw:
"But, Madame, there is not the slightest pretext
for a divorce in anything that you have told me
here. The judges would ask me whether I took the
Law Courts for a theater, and intended to make fun
of them."
And seeing how disheartened she was,-that she
looked like a child whose favorite toy had been
broken, that she was so pretty that he would have
liked to kiss her hands in his devotion, and as she
seemed to be witty, and very amusing, and as, moreover, he had no objection to such visits being prolonged, when papers had to be looked over, while
sitting close together,-Maitre Garrulier appeared to be
considering. Taking his chin in his hand, he said:
"However, I will think it over; there is sure to
be some dark spot that can be made out worse.
Write to me, and come and see me again."
In the course of her visits, that black spot had
increased so much, and Madame de Baud6mont had
followed her lawyer's advice so punctually, and had
played on the various strings so skillfully that a few
months later, after a lawsuit, which is still spoken of in
the Courts of Justice, and during the course of which
the President had to take off his spectacles, and to
use his pocket-handkerchief noisily, the divorce was
pronounced in favor of the Countess Marie Anne
Nicole Bournet. de Baudemont, nee de Tanchart de
Peothus.
The Count, who was nonplussed at such an adventure turning out 5o seriously, first of all flew into




'284


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


a terrible rage, rushed off to the lawyer's office and
threatened to cut off his knavish ears for him. But
when his access of fury was over, and he thought
of it, he shrugged his shoulders and said:
"All the better for her, if it amuses herl"
Then he bought Baron Silberstein's yacht, and with
some friends, got up a cruise to Ceylon and India.
Marie Anne began by triumphing, and felt as
happy as a schoolgirl going home for the holidays;
she committed every possible folly, and soon, tired,
satiated, and disgusted, began to yawn, cried, and
found out that she had sacrificed her happiness, like
a millionaire who has gone mad and has cast his
banknotes and shares into the river, and that she
was nothing more than a disabled waif and stray.
Consequently, she now married again, as the solitude
of her home made her morose from morning till
night; and then, besides, she found a woman requires
a mansion when she goes into society, to race meetings, or to the theater.
And so, while she became a marchioness, and pronounced her second "Yes," before a very few friends,
at the office of the mayor of the English urban district, malicious people in the Faubourg were making
fun of the whole affair, and affirming this and that,
whether rightly or wrongly, and comparing the present husband to the former one, even declaring that
he had partially been the cause of the former divorce.
Meanwhile Monsieur de Baud6mont was wandering
over the four quarters of the globe trying to overcome
his homesickness, and to deaden his longing for love,
which had taken possession of his heart and of his
body, like a slow poison.




THE SEQUEL TO A DIVORCE


285


He traveled through the most out-of-the-way places,
and the most lovely countries, and spent months and
months at sea, and plunged into every kind of dissipation and debauchery.  But neither the supple
forms nor the luxurious gestures of the bayaderes,
nor the large passive eyes of the Creoles, nor flirtations with English girls with hair the color of new
cider, nor nights of waking dreams, when he saw
new constellations in the sky, nor dangers during
which a man thinks it is all over with him, and mutters a few words of prayer in spite of himself, when
the waves are high, and the sky black, nothing was
able to make him forget that little Parisian woman
who smelled so sweet that she might have been taken
for a bouquet of rare flowers; who was so coaxing,
so curious, so funny; who never had the same caprice, the same smile, or the same look twice, and
who, at bottom, was worth more than many others,
either saints or sinners.
He thought of her constantly, during long hours
of sleeplessness. He carried her portrait about with
him in the breast pocket of his pea-jacket-a charming portrait in which she was smiling, and showing
her white teeth between her half-open lips.  Her
gentle eyes with their magnetic look had a happy,
frank expression, and from the mere arrangement of
her hair, one could see that she was fair among the
fair.
He used to kiss that portrait of the woman who
had been his wife as if he wished to efface it,
would look at it for hours, and then throw himself
down on the netting and sob like a child as he
looked at the infinite expanse before him, seeming to




286


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


see their lost happiness, the joys of their perished
affections, and the divine remembrance of their love,
in the monotonous waste of green waters. And he
tried to accuse himself for all that had occurred, and
not to be angry with her, to think that his grievances
were imaginary, and to adore her in spite of everything and always.
And so he roamed about the world, tossed to and
fro, suffering and hoping he knew  not what.  He
ventured into the greatest dangers, and sought for
death just as a man seeks for his mistress, and death
passed close to him without touching him, perhaps
amused at his grief and misery.
For he was as wretched as a stone-breaker, as
one of those poor devils who work and nearly break
their backs over the hard flints the whole day long,
under the scorching sun or the cold rain; and Marie
Anne herself was not happy, for she was pining for
the past and remembered their former love.
At last, however, he returned to France, changed,
tanned by exposure, sun, and rain, and transformed
as if by some witch's philter.
Nobody would have recognized the elegant and
effeminate clubman, in this corsair with broad shoulders, a skin the color of tan, with very red lips,
who rolled a little in his walk; who seemed to be
stifled in his black dress-coat, but who still retained
the distinguished manners and bearing of a nobleman
of the last century, one of those who, when he was
ruined, fitted out a privateer, and fell upon the English wherever he met them, from St. Malo to Calcutta. And wherever he showed himself his friends
exclaimed:




THE SEQUEL TO A DIVORCE


287


"Why! Is that you? I should never have known
you again!"
He was very nearly starting off again immediately;
he even telegraphed orders to Havre to get the
steam-yacht ready for sea directly, when he heard
that Marie Anne had married again.
He saw her in the distance, at the Theatre Franqais one Tuesday, and when he noticed how pretty,
how fair, how desirable she was,-looking so melancholy, with all the appearance of an unhappy soul that
regrets something,-his determination grew weaker,
and he delayed his departure from week to week,
and waited, without knowing why, until, at last,
worn out with the struggle, watching her wherever
she went, more in love with her than he had ever
been before, he wrote her long, mad, ardent letters
in which his passion overflowed like a stream of lava.
He altered his handwriting, as he remembered
her restless brain, and her many whims. He sent
her the flowers which he knew she liked best, and
told her that she was his life, that he was dying of
waiting for her, of longing for her, for her his idol.
At last, very much puzzled and surprised, guessing —who knows?-from the instinctive beating of
her heart, and her general emotion, that it must be he
this time, he whose soul she had tortured with such
cold cruelty, and knowing that she could make amends
for the past and bring back their former love, she
replied to him, and granted him the meeting that he
asked for. She fell into his arms, and they both
sobbed with joy and ecstasy. Their kisses were those
which lips give only when they have lost each other
and found each other again at last, when they meet




288       WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT
and exhaust themselves in each other's looks, thirsting for tenderness, love, and enjoyment.
Last week Count de Baudemont carried off Marie
Anne quietly and coolly, just like one resumes possession of one's house on returning from a journey,
and drives out the intruders. And when Mattre
Garrulier was told of this unheard of scandal, he
rubbed his hands-the long, delicate hands of a sensual prelate-and exclaimed:
"That is absolutely logical, and I should like to
be in their place."




THE CLOWN
S     HE hawkers' cottage stood at the end
of the Esplanade, on the little prom/          ontory where the jetty is, and where
all the winds, all the rain, and all the
y ~    spray met. The hut, both walls and
roof, was built of old planks, more or
less covered with tar; its chinks were
stopped with oakum, and dry wreckage
IV  ~   was heaped up against it. In the middle
\  of the room an iron pot stood on two
bricks, and served as a stove, when they had
/   any coal, but as there was no chimney, it filled
the room, which was ventilated only by a low
door, with acrid smoke, and there the whole
crew lived, eighteen men and one woman. Some had
undergone various terms of imprisonment, and nobody
knew what the others had done, but though they were
all, more or less, suffering from some physical defect
and were virtually old men, they were still all strong
enough for hauling.  For the "Chamber of Commerce" tolerated them there, and allowed them that
2 G. de M. —9              (289)




290       WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT
hovel to live in, on condition that they should be
ready to haul, by day and by night.
For every vessel they hauled, each got a penny by
day, and twopence by night. It was not certain,
however, on account of the competition of retired
sailors, fishermen's wives, laborers who had nothing
to do, people who were all stronger than those halfstarved wretches in the hut.
And yet they lived there, those eighteen men and
one woman. Were they happy? Certainly not. Hopeless? Not that, either; for they occasionally got a
little besides their scanty pay, and then they stole
occasionally, fish, lumps of coal, things without any
value to those who lost them, but of great value to
the poor, beggarly thieves.
The eighteen supported the woman, and there was
no jealousy on her account! She had no special favorite
among them.
She was a fat woman of about forty, chubbyfaced and puffy, of whom daddy La Bretagne, who
was one of the eighteen, used to say: "She does us
honor."
If she had had a favorite among them, daddy La
Bretagne would certainly have had the greatest right
to that privilege, for although he was one of the
most crippled among them, being partially paralyzed
in his legs, he showed himself as skillful and strongarmed as any of them, and in spite of his infirmities,
he always managed to secure a good place in the
row of haulers. None of them knew as well as he
how to inspire visitors with pity during the season,
and to make them put their hands into their pockets.




THE CLOWN


291


He was a past master at cadging, so that among
those empty stomachs and penniless rascals he had
wind-falls of victuals and coppers more frequently
than fell rightly to his share. But he did not make
use of them in order to monopolize their common
mistress.
"I am just," he used to say. "Let each of us
have his spoonful in turn, and no more, when we
are all eating out of the same dish."
With the coal he picked up, he used to make a
good fire for the whole band in the iron pot, over
which he cooked whatever he brought home with
him, without anyone complaining about it, for he
used to say:
"It gives you a good fire at which to warm yourselves, for nothing, and the smell of my stew into
the bargain."
As for his money, he spent it in drink with the
trollop, and afterward, what was left of it, with the
others.
"You see," he used to say, "I am just, and more
than just. I give her up to you, because it is your
right."
The consequence was, that they all liked daddy
La Bretagne, so that he gloried in it, and said
proudly:
"What a pity that we are living under the Republicl These fellows would think nothing of making me king."
And one day, when he said this, his trollop replied: "The king is here, old fellow!" And at the
same time she presented a new comrade to them,




292


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


who was no less ragged or wretched looking than
the eighteen, but quite young by the side of him.
He was a tall, thin fellow of about forty, and without a gray streak in his long hair. He was dressed
only in a pair of trousers and a shirt, which he wore
outside them, like a blouse, and the trollop said:
"Here, daddy La Bretagne, you have two knitted
vests on, so just give him one."
"Why should I?" the hauler asked.
"Because I choose you to," the woman replied.
"I have been living with you set of old men for a
long time, so now I want to have a young one; there
he is, so you must give him a vest, and keep him
here, or I shall throw you up. You may take it or
leave it, as you like; do you understand me?"
The eighteen looked at each other open-mouthed,
and good daddy La Bretagne scratched his head, and
then said:
"What she asks is quite right, and we must give
way," he replied.
Then they explained themselves, and came to an
understanding. The poor devil did not come like a
conqueror, for he was a wretched clown who had just
been released from prison, where he had undergone
three years' hard labor for an attempted outrage on a
girl, but with one exception, the best fellow in the
world, so people declared.
"And something nice for me," the trollop added,
"for I can assure you that I mean him to reward me
for anything I may do for him."
From that time, the household of eighteen persons
was increased to nineteen, and at first all went well




THE CLOWN


293'


The clown was very humble, and tried not to be
burdensome to them. Fed, clothed, and supplied with
tobacco, he tried not to be too exacting in the other
matter, and if needful, he would have hauled like the
others, but the woman would not allow it.
"You shall not fatigue yourself,. my little man,"
she said. "You must reserve yourself entirely for
home."
And he did as she wished.
And soon the eighteen, who had never been jealous of each other, grew jealous of the favored lover.
Some tried to pick a quarrel with him. He resisted.
The best fellow in the world, no doubt, but he was
not going to be taken for a mussel shut up in its
shell, for all that. Let them call him as lazy as a
priest if they liked; he did not mind that, but when
they put hairs into his coffee, armfuls of rushes
among his wreckage, and filth into his soup, they had
better look out!
"None of that, all the lot of you, or you will see
what I can do," he used to say.
They repeated their practical jokes, however, and
he thrashed them. He did not try to find out who
the culprits were, but attacked the first one he met,
so much the worse for him. With a kick from his
wooden clog (it was his speciality) he smashed their
noses into a pulp, and having thus acquired the
knowledge of his strength, and urged on by his trollop, he soon became a tyrant. The eighteen felt that
they were slaves, and their former paradise, where
concord and perfect equality had reigned, became a
hell, and that state of things could not last.




294


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"AhI" daddy La Bretagne growled, "if only I
were twenty years younger, I would nearly kill him!
I have my Breton's hot head still, but my confounded
legs are no good any longer."
And he boldly challenged the clown to a duel, in
which the latter was to have his legs tied, and then
both of them were to sit on the ground and hack at
each other with knives.
"Such a duel," he said, "would be perfectly
fair!" he replied, kicking him in the side with one
of his clogs, and the woman burst out laughing, and
said:
"At any rate you cannot compete with him on
equal terms as regards myself, so do not worry
yourself about it."
Daddy La Bretagne was lying in his corner and
spitting blood, and none of the rest spoke. What
could the others do, when he, the blusterer of them
all, had been served so? The jade had been right
when she had brought in the intruder, and said:
"The king is here, old fellow."
Only, she ought to have remembered that, after all,
she alone kept his subjects in check, and as daddy La
Bretagne said, by a right object. With her to console them, they would no doubt have borne anything,
but she was foolish enough to cut down their food,
and not to fill their common dish as full as it used
to be. She wanted to keep everything for her lover,
and that raised the exasperation of the eighteen to its
height. So one night when she and the clown were
asleep, among all these fasting men, the eighteen
threw themselves on them. They wrapped the des



THE CLOWN                295
pot's arms and legs up in tarpaulin, and in the
presence of the woman who was firmly bound, they
flogged him till he was black and blue.
"Yes," old Bretagne said to me himself. "Yes,
Monsieur, that was our revenge. The king was guillotined in I793, and so we guillotined our king also."
And he concluded with a sneer, saying: "But we
wished to be just, and as it was not his head that
had made him our king, by Jove, we settled him."




THE MAD WOMAN
CAN tell you a terrible story about,.-      1   the Franco-Prussian war," Monsieur
SRu      I   d'Endolin  said to  some friends
l[, [\     assembled in the smoking-room of
K  |/i.    T     Baron de Ravot's chateau.  "You
S     ~     know my house in the Faubourg de
Cormeil. I was living there when
[ ~   o y   the Prussians came, and I had for a
neighbor a kind of mad woman, who
j     ]     had lost her senses in consequence of a
aJ          series of misfortunes. At the age of seven.' s and twenty she had lost her father, her
c.o-.     husband, and her newly born child, all in the
space of a month.
"When death has once entered into a house, it
almost invariably returns immediately, as if it knew
the way, and the young woman, overwhelmed with
grief, took to her bed and was delirious for six weeks.
Then a species of calm lassitude succeeded that violent crisis, and she remained motionless, eating next to
nothing, and only moving her eyes. Every time they
tried to make her get up, she screamed as if they were
(296)




THE MAD WOMAN


297


about to kill her, and so they ended by leaving her
continually in bed, and only taking her out to wash
her, to change her linen, and to turn her mattress.
"An old servant remained with her, to give her
something to drink, or a little cold meat, from time
to time. What passed in that despairing mind? No
one ever knew, for she did not speak at all now.
Was she thinking of the dead? Was she dreaming
sadly, without any precise recollection of anything
that had happened? Or was her memory as stagnant
as water without any current? But however this
may have been, for fifteen years she remained thus
inert and secluded.
"The war broke out, and in the beginning of December the Germans came to Cormeil. I can remember it as if it were but yesterday. It was freezing
hard enough to split the stones, and I myself was
lying back in an armchair, being unable to move on
account of the gout, when I heard their heavy and
regular tread, and could see them pass from my
window.
"They defiled past interminably, with that peculiar
motion of a puppet on wires, which belongs to them.
Then the officers billeted their men on the inhabitants, and I had seventeen of them. My neighbor,
the crazy woman, had a dozen, one of whom was
the Commandant, a regular violent, surly swashbuckler.
"During the first few days, everything went on as
usual. The officers next door had been told that the
lady was ill, and they did not trouble themselves
about that in the least, but soon that woman whom
they never saw irritated them. They asked what




298       WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT
her illness was, and were told that she had been in
bed for fifteen years, in consequence of terrible grief.
No doubt they did not believe it, and thought that
the poor mad creature would not leave her bed out
of pride, so that she might not come near the Prussians, or speak to them or even see them.
"The Commandant insisted upon her receiving
him. He was shown into the room and said to her
roughly: 'I must beg you to get up, Madame, and
to come downstairs so that we may all see you.'
But she merely turned her vague eyes on him, without replying, and so he continued: 'I do not intend
to tolerate any insolence, and if you do not get up of
your own accord, I can easily find means to make
you walk without any assistance.'
"But she did not give any signs of having heard
him, and remained quite motionless. Then he got
furious, taking that calm silence for a mark of supreme contempt; so he added: 'If you do not come
downstairs to-morrow-' And then he left the room,
"The next day the terrified old servant wished to
dress her, but the mad woman began to scream violently, and resisted with all her might. The officer
ran upstairs quickly, and the servant threw herself at
his feet and cried: 'She will not come down, Monsieur, she will not.  Forgive her, for she is so unhappy.'
"The soldier was embarrassed, as in spite of his
anger, he did not venture to order his soldiers to
drag her out. But suddenly he began to laugh, and
gave some orders in German, and soon a party of
soldiers was seen coming out supporting a mattress




THE MAD WOMAN


299


as if they were carrying a wounded man. On that
bed, which had not been unmade, the mad woman,
who was still silent, was lying quite quietly, for she
was quite indifferent to anything that went on, as
long as they let her lie. Behind her, a soldier was
carrying a parcel of feminine attire, and the officer
said, rubbing his hands: 'We will just see whether
you cannot dress yourself alone, and take a little walk.'
"And then the procession went off in the direction of the forest of Imauville; in two hours the soldiers
came back alone, and nothing more was seen of the
mad woman. What had they done with her? Where
had they taken her to? No one knew.
"The snow was falling day and night, and enveloped the plain and the woods in a shroud of frozen
foam, and the wolves came and howled at our very
doors.
"The thought of that poor lost woman haunted
me, and I made several applications to the Prussian
authorities in order to obtain some information, and
was nearly shot for doing so. When spring returned,
the army of occupation withdrew, but my neighbor's
house remained closed, and the grass grew thick in
the garden walks. The old servant had died during
the winter, and nobody troubled any longer about
the occurrence; I alone thought about it constantly.
What had they done with the woman? Had she
escaped through the forest? Had somebody found
her, and taken her to a hospital, without being able
to obtain any information from her? Nothing happened to relieve my doubts; but by degrees, time
assuaged my fears.




300


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"Well, in the following autumn the woodcock were
very plentiful, and as my gout had left me for a time,
I dragged myself as far as the forest. I had already
killed four or five of the long-billed birds, when I
knocked over one which fell into a ditch full of
branches, and I was obliged to get into it, in order to
pick it up, and I found that it had fallen close to a
dead, human body. Immediately the recollection of
the mad woman struck me like a blow in the chest.
Many other people had perhaps died in the wood
during that disastrous year, but though I do not know
why, I was sure, sure, I tell you, that I should see the
head of that wretched maniac.
"And suddenly I understood, I guessed everything.
They had abandoned her on that mattress in the cold,
deserted wood; and, faithful to her fixed idea, she had
allowed herself to perish under that thick and light
counterpane of snow, without moving either arms or
legs.
"Then the wolves had devoured her, and the birds
had built their nests with the wool from her torn
bed, and I took charge of her bones. I only pray
that our sons may never see any wars again."




MADEMOISELLE
1         T IE HAD been registered under the
/              names of Jean Marie Mathieu
/l   t         Valot, but he was never called
'     \        anything  but "Mademoiselle."
I\~          He was the idiot of the district,
\ \ t       but not one of those wretched,,.    /,    ragged idiots who live on public
i   l f(/  ncharity. He lived comfortably on a
11 I/ small income which his mother had
iJ y   left him, and which his guardian paid:      -him  regularly, and so he was rather
envied than pitied.     And then, he was
))  not one of those idiots with wild looks and
X    the manners of an animal, for he was by no
means an unpleasing object, with his half-open lips
and smiling eyes, and especially in his constant makeup in female dress. For he dressed like a girl, and
showed by that how little he objected to being
called Mademoiselle.
And why should he not like the nickname which
his mother had given him affectionately, when he
was a mere child, so delicate and weak, and with a
(301)




302


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


fair complexion- a poor little diminutive lad not as
tall as many girls of the same age? It was in pure
love that, in his earlier years, his mother whispered
that tender Mademoiselle to him, while his old grandmother used to say jokingly:
"The fact is, that as for the male element in him
it is really not worth mentioning in a Christian-no
offense to God in saying so." And his grandfather,
who was equally fond of a joke, used to add: "I
only hope it will not disappear as he grows up."
And they treated him as if he had really been a
girl and coddled him, the more so as they were very
prosperous and did not require to toil to keep things
together.
When his mother and grandparents were dead,
Mademoiselle was almost as happy with his paternal
uncle, an unmarried man, who had carefully attended
the idiot, and who had grown more and more attached to him by dint of looking after him; and the
worthy man continued to call Jean Marie Mathieu
Valot, Mademoiselle.
He was called so in all the country round as well,
not with the slightest intention of hurting his feelings, but, on the contrary, because all thought they
would please the poor gentle creature who harmed
nobody in doing so.
The very street boys meant no harm by it, accustomed as they were to call the tall idiot in a frock
and cap by the nickname; but it would have struck
them as very extraordinary, and would have led them
to rude fun, if they had seen him dressed like a boy.
Mademoiselle, however, took care of that, for his
dress was as dear to him as his nickname.    He




MADEMOISELLE


3o3


delighted in wearing it, and, in fact, cared for nothing
else, and what gave it a particular zest was that he
knew that he was not a girl, and that he was living
in disguise. And this was evident by the exaggerated
feminine bearing and walk he put on, as if to show
that it was not natural to him. His enormous,carefully filled cap was adorned with large variegated ribbons.  His petticoat, with numerous flounces, was
distended behind by many hoops. He walked with
short steps, and with exaggerated swaying of the
hips, while his folded arms and crossed hands were
distorted into pretensions of comical coquetry.
On such occasions, if anybody wished to make
friends with him, it was necessary to say:
"Ah   Mademoiselle, what a nice girl you make."
That put him into a good humor, and he used to
reply, much pleased:
"Don't 1? But people can see I only do it for a
joke."
But, nevertheless, when they were dancing at village festivals in the neighborhood, he would always
be invited to dance as Mademoiselle, and would never
ask any of the girls to dance with him; and one
evening when somebody asked him the reason for
this, he opened his eyes wide, laughed as if the man
had said something very stupid, and replied:
"I cannot ask the girls, because I am not dressed
like a lad. Just look at my dress, you fool!"
As his interrogator was a judicious man, he said
to him:
"Then dress like one, Mademoiselle."
He thought for a moment, and then said with a
cunning look:




304


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"But if I dress like a lad, I shall no longer be a
girl; and then, I am a girl"; and he shrugged his
shoulders as he said it.
But the remark seemed to make him think.
For some time afterward, when he met the same
person, he would ask him abruptly:
"If I dress like a lad, will you still call me Mad.
emoiselle?"
"Of course, I shall," the other replied. "You
will always be called so."
The idiot appeared delighted, for there was no
doubt that he thought more of his nickname than he
did of his dress, and the next day he made his
appearance in the village square, without his petticoats and dressed as a man. He had taken a pair
of trousers, a coat, and a hat from his guardian's
clothespress. This created quite a revolution in the
neighborhood, for the people who had been in the
habit of smiling at him kindly when he was dressed
as a woman, looked at him in astonishment and
almost in fear, while the indulgent could not help
laughing, and visibly making fun of him.
The involuntary hostility of some, and the too evident ridicule of others, the disagreeable surprise of all,
were too palpable for him not to see it, and to be hurt
by it, and it was still worse when a street urchin said
to him in a jeering voice, as he danced round him:
"Oh! oh 1 Mademoiselle, you wear trousers I Oh 1
oh I Mademoiselle 1"
And it grew worse and worse, when a whole
band of these vagabonds were on his heels, hooting
and yelling after him, as if he had been somebody in
a masquerading dress during the Carnival.




MADEMOISELLE


305


It was quite certain that the unfortunate creature
looked more in disguise now than he had formerly.
By dint of living like a girl, and by even exaggerating the feminine walk and manners, he had
totally lost all masculine looks and ways. His smooth
face, his long flax-like hair, required a cap with ribbons, and became a caricature under the high
chimney-pot hat of the old doctor, his grandfather.
Mademoiselle's shoulders, and especially her swelling stern, danced about wildly in this old-fashioned
coat and wide trousers. And nothing was as funny
as the contrast between his quiet dress and slow
trotting pace, the winning way he used his head, and
the conceited movements of his hands, with which
he fanned himself like a girl.
Soon the older lads and the girls, the old women,
men of ripe age and even the Judicial Councilor,
joined the little brats, and hooted Mademoiselle, while
the astonished idiot ran away, and rushed into the
house with terror. There he took his poor head between both hands, and tried to comprehend the matter. Why were they angry with him? For it was
quite evident that they were angry with him. What
wrong had he done, and whom had he injured, by
dressing as a boy? Was he not a boy, after all?
For the first time in his life, he felt a horror for
his nickname, for had he not been insulted through
it? But immediately he was seized with a horrible
doubt.
"Suppose that, after all, I am a girl?"
He would have liked to ask his guardian about it
but he did not like to, for he somehow felt, although
only obscurely. that he, worthy man, might not tell
2 G. de M.-2




306


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


him the truth, out of kindness. And, besides, he
preferred to find out for himself, without asking anyone.
All his idiot's cunning, which had been lying
latent up till then, because he never had any occasion
to make use of it, now came out and urged him to
a solitary and dark action.
The next day he dressed himself as a girl again,
and made his appearance as if he had perfectly forgotten his escapade of the day before, but the people,
especially the street boys, had not forgotten it. They
looked at him sideways, and, even the best of them,
could not help smiling, while the little blackguards
ran after him and said:
"Oh! oh   Mademoiselle, you had on a pair of
breeches I"
But he pretended not to hear, or even to guess to
what they were alluding. He seemed as happy and
glad to look about him as he usually did, with halfopen lips and smiling eyes. As usual, he wore an
enormous cap with variegated ribbons, and the same
large petticoats; he walked with short, mincing steps,
swaying and wriggling his hips and gesticulating like
a coquette, and licked his lips when they called him
Mademoiselle, while really he would have liked to
have jumped at the throat of those who called him so.
Days and months passed, and by degrees those
about him forgot all about his strange escapade. But
he had never left off thinking about it, or trying to
find out-for which he was ever on the alert-how
he could ascertain his qualities as a boy, and how to
assert them victoriously. Really innocent, he had
reached the age of twenty without knowing anything




MADEMOISELLE


307


or without ever having any natural impulse, but being
tenacious of purpose, curious and dissembling, he
asked no questions, but observed all that was said
and done.
Often at their village dances, he had heard young
fellows boasting about girls whom they had seduced,
and girls praising such and such a young fellow, and
often, also, after a dance, he saw the couples go
away together, with their arms round each other's
waists. They had no suspicions of him, and he
listened and watched, until, at last, he discovered
what was going on.
And then, one night, when dancing was over, and
the couples were going away with their arms round
each other's waists, a terrible screaming was heard
at the corner of the woods through which those going to the next village had to pass. It was Josephine, pretty Josephine, and when her screams were
heard, they ran to her assistance, and arrived only
just in time to rescue her, half strangled, from
Mademoiselle's clutches.
The idiot had watched her and had thrown himself upon her in order to treat her as the other
young fellows did the girls, but she resisted him so
stoutly that he took her by the throat and squeezed
it with all his might until she could not breathe,
and was nearly dead.
In rescuing Josephine from him, they had thrown
him on the ground, but he jumped up again immediately, foaniing at the mouth and slobbering, and
exclaimed:
"I am not a girl any longer, I am a young man,
I am a young man, I tell you."




THE MAN WITH THE DOGS
J  s       T  TM Is wife, even when talking to him,
sTP             always called him Monsieur Bisi taud, but in all the country round,
within a radius of ten leagues, in
w'.           France and Belgium, he was known
as Cet homme aux chiens.* It was not
c —,   a very valuable reputation, however, and,'  X/P  "That man with the dogs," became a sort
'"     of pariah..>      In Thierache they are not very fond of.   the custom-house  officers, for everybody,
t     high or low, profits by smuggling; thanks to
which many articles, and especially coffee, gunpowder, and tobacco, are to be had cheap. It may
here be stated that on that wooded, broken country,
where the meadows are surrounded by brushwood,
and the lanes are dark and narrow, smuggling is
carried on chiefly by means of sporting dogs, who
are broken in to become smuggling dogs. Scarcely
an evening passes without some of them being seen,
*That man with the dogs
(308)




THE MAN WITH THE DOGS


309


loaded with contraband, trotting silently along, pushing their nose through a hole in a hedge, with furtive
and uneasy looks, and sniffing the air to scent the
custom-house officers and their dogs. These dogs also
are specially trained, and are very ferocious, and can
easily kill their unfortunate congeners, who become
the game instead of hunting for it.
Now, nobody was capable of imparting this unnatural education to them so well as the man with
the dogs, whose business consisted in breaking in
dogs for the custom-house authorities. Everybody
looked upon it as a dirty business, a business which
could only be performed by a man without any
proper feeling.
"He is a men's robber," the women said, "to
take honest dogs in to nurse, and to make a lot of
traitors out of them."
While the boys shouted insulting verses behind
his back, and the men and the women abused him,
no one ventured to do it to his face, for he was not
very patient, and was always accompanied by one of
his huge dogs, and that served to make him respected.
Certainly without that bodyguard, he would have
had'a bad time of it, especially at the hands of the.
smugglers, who had a deadly hatred for him. iy
himself, and in spite of his quarrelsome looks, he did
not appear very formidable. He was short and thin,
his back was round, his legs were bandy, and his
arms were as long and as thin as spiders' legs, and
he could easily have been knocked down by a backhanded blow or a kick. But then, he had those
confounded dogs, which intimidated even the bravest




3Io


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


smugglers. How could they risk even a blow when
he had those huge brutes, with their fierce and
bloodshot eyes, and their square heads, with jaws
like a vise, and enormous white teeth, sharp as daggers, and with huge molars which crunched up beefbones to a pulp? They were wonderfully broken in,
were always by him, obeyed him by signs, and
were taught not only to worry the smugglers' dogs,
but also to fly at the throats of the smugglers themselves.
The consequence was that both he and his dogs
were left alone, and people were satisfied with calling
them names and sending them all to Coventry. No
peasant ever set foot in his cottage, although Bistaud's wife kept a small shop and was a handsome
woman, and the only persons who went there were
the custom-house officers. The others took their revenge on them all by saying that the man with the
dogs sold his wife to the custom-house officers, like
he did his dogs.
"He keeps her for them, as well as his dogs,"
they said jeeringly. "You can see that he is a born
cuckold with his yellow beard and eyebrows, which
stick up like a pair of horns."
His hair was certainly red or rather yellow, his
thick eyebrows were turned up in two points on his
temples, and he used to twirl them mechanically as
if they had been a pair of mustaches. And certainly,
with hair like that, and with his long beard and
shaggy eyebrows, with his sallow face, blinking
eyes, and dull looks, with his dogged mouth, thin
lips, and his miserable, deformed body, he was not
a pleasing object.




THE MAN WITH THE DOGS


311


But he assuredly was not a complaisant cuckold,
and those who said that of him had never seen him
at home. On the contrary, he was always jealous,
and kept as sharp a lookout on his wife as he did
on his dogs, and if he had broken her in at all, it
was to be as faithful to him as they were.
She was a handsome and, what they call in the
country, a fine body of a woman; tall, well-built,
with a full bust and broad hips, and she certainly
made more than one exciseman squint at her. But
it was no use for them to come and sniff round her
too closely, or else there would have been blows. At
least, that is what the custom-house officers said,
when anybody joked with them and said to them:
"That does not matter; no doubt, you and she have
hunted for your fleas together."
It was no use for them to defend Madame Bistaud's fierce virtue; nobody believed them, and the
only answer they got, was: "You are hiding your
game, and are ashamed of going to seduce a woman
who belongs to such a wretched creature."
And, certainly, nobody would have believed that
such a buxom woman, who must have liked to be
well attended to, could be satisfied with such a puny
husband, with such an ugly, weak, red-headed fellow,
who smelled of his dogs, and of the mustiness of
the carrion which he gave to his hounds.
But they did not know that the man with the
dogs had some years before given her, once for all,
a lesson in fidelity, and that for a mere trifle, a venial
sin! He had surprised her for allowing herself to be
kissed by some gallant, that was all! He had not
taken any notice, but when the man was gone,




312


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


he brought two of his hounds into the room, and
said:
"If you do not want them to tear your inside out
as they would a rabbit's, go down on your knees so
that I may thrash you!"
She obeyed in terror, and the man with the dogs
had beaten her with a whip until his arm dropped
with fatigue. And she did not venture to scream,
although she was bleeding under the blows of the
thong, which tore her dress, and cut into the flesh;
all she dared to do was to utter low, hoarse groans;
for while beating her, he kept on saying:
"Don't make a noise, by; don't make a noise,
or I will let the dogs fly at you."
From that time she had been faithful to Bistaud,
though she had naturally not told anyone the reason for it, or for her hatred either, not even Bistaud himself, who thought that she was subdued for
all time, and always found her very submissive and
respectful. But for six years she had nourished her
hatred in her heart, feeding it on silent hopes and
promises of revenge. And it was that flame of hope
and that longing for revenge, which made her so
coquettish with the custom-house officers, for she
hoped to find a possible avenger among her inflammable admirers.
At last she came across the right man. He was
a splendid sub-officer of the customs, built like a
Hercules, with fists like a butcher's, and had long
leased four of his ferocious dogs from her husband.
As soon as they had grown accustomed to their
new master, and especially after they had tasted the
flesh of the smugglers' dogs, they had, by degrees




THE MAN WITH THE DOGS


313


become detached from their former master, who had
reared them. No doubt they still recognized him a
little, and would not have sprung at his throat, as if
he were a perfect stranger, but still, they did not
hesitate between his voice and that of their new
master, and they obeyed the latter only.
Although the woman had often noticed this, she
had not hitherto been able to make much use of the
circumstance. A custom-house officer, as a rule, only
keeps one dog, and Bistaud always had half-a-dozen,
at least, in training, without reckoning a personal
guard which he kept for himself, which was the
fiercest of all. Consequently, any duel between some
lover assisted by only one dog, and the dog-breaker
defended by his pack, was impossible.
But on that occasion, the chances were more equal.
Just then he had only five dogs in the kennel, and
two of them were quite young, though certainly old
Bourreau* counted for several.  After all they could
risk a battle against him and the other three, with
the two couples of the custom-house officer, and they
must profit by the occasion.
So one fine evening, as the brigadier of the custom-house officers was alone in the shop with Bistaud's wife and was squeezing her waist, she said to
him abruptly:
"Do you really want to have something to do
with me, Mossieut Fernand?"
He kissed her on the lips as he replied: "Do I
really want to? I would give my stripes for it; so
you see."
* Executioner, hangman.
Vulgar for Monsieur.




3I4


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


"Very wellI" she replied, "do as I tell you, and
upon my wold, as an honest woman, I will be your
commodity to do what you like with."
And laying a stress on that word commodity,
which in that part of the country means strumpet,
she whispered hotly into his ear:
"A commodity who knows her business, I can
tell you, for my beast of a husband has trained me
up in such a way that I am now absolutely disgusted
with him."
Fernand, who was much excited, promised her
everything that she wished, and feverishly, malignantly
she told him how shamefully her husband had treated
her a short time before, how her fair skin had been
cut, and of her hatred and thirst for revenge. The
brigadier acquiesced, and that same evening came to
the cottage accompanied by his four hounds, with
their spiked collars on.
"What are you going to do with them?" the
man with the dogs asked.
"I have come to see whether you did not rob
me, when you leased them to me," the brigadier replied.
"What do you mean by 'robbed you?"'
"Well, robbedl I have been told that they could
not tackle a dog like your Bourreau, and that many
smugglers have dogs who are as good as he is."
"Impossible."
"Well, in case any of them should have one, I
should like to see how the dogs that you sold me
could tackle them."
The woman laughed an evil laugh, and her husband grew suspicious, when he saw that the brigadier




THE MAN WITH THE DOGS.315


replied to it by a wink. But his suspicions came too
late. The breaker had no time to go to the kennel
to let out his pack, for Bourreau had been seized by
the custom-house officer's four dogs.  At the same
time, the woman locked the door; already her husband was lying motionless on the floor, while Bourreau could not go to his assistance, as he had enough
to do to defend himself against the furious attack of
the other dogs, who were almost tearing him to
pieces, in spite of his strength and courage. Five
minutes later two of the attacking hounds were
totally disabled, with their bowels protruding, but
Bourreau himself was dying, with his throat gaping.
Then the woman and the custom-house officer
kissed each other before the breaker, whom they
bound firmly. The two dogs of the custom-house
officer that were still on their legs were panting for
breath, and the other three were wallowing in their
blood. And now the amorous couple were carrying
on all sorts of capers, still further excited by the
rage of the dog-breaker, who was forced to look at
them, and who shouted in his despair:
"You wretches! you shall pay for this!" And the
woman's only reply was, to say: "Cuckoldl cuckoldl
cuckold!"
When she was tired of larking, her hatred was
not yet satisfied, and she said to the brigadier:
"Fernand, go to the kennels and shoot the five
other brutes, otherwise he will make them kill me
to-morrow. Off you go, old fellow!"
The brigadier obeyed, and immediately five shots
were heard in the darkness; it did not take long,
but that short time had been enough for the man




316


WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT


with the dogs to show what he could do. While
he was tied, the two dogs of the custom-house officer had gradually recognized him, and came and
fondled him, and as soon as he was alone with his
wife, as she was insulting him, he said in his usual
voice of command to the dogs:
"At her, Flanbard! at her, Garou!"  The two
dogs sprang at the wretched woman, and one seized
her by the throat, while the other caught her by the
side.
When the brigadier came back, she was dying on
the ground in a pool of blood, and the man with
the dogs said with a laugh: "There you see, that
is the way I break in my dogs!"
The custom-house officer rushed out in horror,
followed by his hounds, who licked his hands as
they ran, and made them quite red.
The next morning the man with the dogs was
found still bound, but chuckling, in his hovel that
was turned into a slaughter-house.
They were both arrested and tried; the man with
the dogs was acquitted, and the brigadier sentenced to a term of imprisonment. The matter gave
much food for talk in the district, and is indeed still
talked about, for the man with the dogs returned there,
and is more celebrated than ever under his nickname.
But his celebrity is not of a bad kind, for he is now
just as much respected and liked as he was despised
and hated formerly. He is still, as a matter of fact,
the man with the dogs, as he is rightly called, for
he has not his equal as a dog-breaker, for leagues
round. But now he no longer breaks in mastiffs, as
he has given up teaching honest dogs to "act the




THE MAN WITH THE DOGS           317
part of Judas," as he says, for those dirty customhouse officers. He only devotes himself to dogs to
be used for smuggling, and he is worth listening to,
when he says:
"You may depend upon it, that I know how to
punish such commodities as she, when they have
sinned I I was glad to see my dogs tearing that
strumpet's skin and her lying mouth."




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