Selected Writings

by

Guy De Maupassant
Short Stories
of the
Tragedy and Comedy of Life
with a Critical Preface by Paul Bourget of the French Academy
and an introduction by Robert Arnot, M.A.

A Penn State Electronic Classics Series Publication

Selected Writings by Guy de Maupassant: Short Stories of the Tragedy and Comedy of Life with
acritical preface by Paul Bourget of the French Academy and an introduction by Robert Arnot,
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Selected Writings by Guy de Maupassant: Short Stories of the Tragedy and Comedy of Life with
acritical preface by Paul Bourget of the French Academy and an introduction by Robert Arnot,
M.A., the Pennsylvania State University, Electronic Classics Series, Jim Manis, Faculty Edi-
tor, Hazleton, PA 18201-1291 is a Portable Document File produced as part of an ongo-
ing student publication project to bring classical works of literature, in English, to free
and easy access of those wishing to make use of them.

Cover Design: Jim Manis

Copyright © 2001 The Pennsylvania State University

The Pennsylvania State University is an equal opportunity university.

 Contents
INTRODUCTION ....................................................................................................................................................... 15
MADEMOISELLE FIFI ................................................................................................................................................ 22
AN AFFAIR OF STATE ................................................................................................................................................ 36
THE ARTIST ................................................................................................................................................................. 46
THE HORLA ................................................................................................................................................................. 51
MISS HARRIET ............................................................................................................................................................ 80
THE HOLE .................................................................................................................................................................. 103
LOVE .......................................................................................................................................................................... 110
THE INN ..................................................................................................................................................................... 116
A FAMILY .................................................................................................................................................................. 130
BELLFLOWER ........................................................................................................................................................... 136
WHO KNOWS? ......................................................................................................................................................... 141
THE DEVIL ................................................................................................................................................................. 156
EPIPHANY ................................................................................................................................................................. 164
SIMON’S PAPA ......................................................................................................................................................... 176
WAITER, A “BOCK” .................................................................................................................................................. 186
SEQUEL TO A DIVORCE ......................................................................................................................................... 194
THE MAD WOMAN .................................................................................................................................................. 201
IN VARIOUS ROLES ................................................................................................................................................. 204
THE FALSE GEMS ..................................................................................................................................................... 210
COUNTESS SATAN .................................................................................................................................................. 217
THE COLONEL’S IDEAS .......................................................................................................................................... 223
TWO LITTLE SOLDIERS .......................................................................................................................................... 229
GHOSTS ..................................................................................................................................................................... 237
WAS IT A DREAM? ................................................................................................................................................... 243
THE DIARY OF A MADMAN ................................................................................................................................... 249
A COUNTRY EXCURSION ...................................................................................................................................... 257
 Selected Writings

Selected Writings preserved that reputation with more ease, not only
during life, but in death. None so completely hides
his personality in his glory. In an epoch of the
utmost publicity, in which the most insignificant
by deeds of a celebrated man are spied, recorded, and
commented on, the author of “Boule de Suif,” of
Guy De Maupassant “Pierre et Jean,” of “Notre Coeur,” found a way of
effacing his personality in his work.
Of De Maupassant we know that he was born in
Short Stories Normandy about 1850; that he was the favorite
of the pupil, if one may so express it, the literary pro-
tege, of Gustave Flaubert; that he made his debut
Tragedy and Comedy of Life late in 1880, with a novel inserted in a small col-
lection, published by Emile Zola and his young
with a Critical Preface by Paul Bourget friends, under the title: “The Soirees of Medan”;
of the French Academy that subsequently he did not fail to publish stories
and an introduction by Robert Arnot, M.A. and romances every year up to 1891, when a dis-
ease of the brain struck him down in the fullness
OF THE FRENCH WRITERS OF ROMANCE of the latter part of of production; and that he died, finally, in 1893,
the nineteenth century no one made a reputation without having recovered his reason.
as quickly as did Guy de Maupassant. Not one has We know, too, that he passionately loved a

5
 De Maupassant
strenuous physical life and long journeys, particu- dotes. I wish to indicate here how this work, illu-
larly long journeys upon the sea. He owned a little mined by the three or four positive data which I
sailing yacht, named after one of his books, “Bel- have given, appears to me to demand it.
Ami,” in which he used to sojourn for weeks and And first, what does that anxiety to conceal his
months. These meager details are almost the only personality prove, carried as it was to such an ex-
ones that have been gathered as food for the cu- treme degree? The answer rises spontaneously in
riosity of the public. the minds of those who have studied closely the
I leave the legendary side, which is always in evi- history of literature. The absolute silence about him-
dence in the case of a celebrated man,—that gossip, self, preserved by one whose position among us
for example, which avers that Maupassant was a was that of a Tourgenief, or of a Merimee, and of a
high liver and a worldling. The very number of his Moliere or a Shakespeare among the classic great,
volumes is a protest to the contrary. One could not reveals, to a person of instinct, a nervous sensibil-
write so large a number of pages in so small a num- ity of extreme depth. There are many chances for
ber of years without the virtue of industry, a virtue an artist of his kind, however timid, or for one who
incompatible with habits of has some grief, to show the depth of his emotion.
dissipation. This does not mean that the writer of To take up again only two of the names just cited,
these great romances had no love for pleasure and this was the case with the author of “Terres Vierges,”
had not tasted the world, but that for him these and with the writer of “Colomba.”
were secondary things. The psychology of his work A somewhat minute analysis of the novels and
ought, then, to find an interpretation other than romances of Maupassant would suffice to demon-
that afforded by wholly false or exaggerated anec- strate, even if we did not know the nature of the

6
 Selected Writings
incidents which prompted them, that he also suf- nomy of Maupassant, as it is the leading and most
fered from an excess of nervous emotionalism. profound trait in the psychology of his work, viz,
Nine times out of ten, what is the subject of these that human life is a snare laid by nature, where joy
stories to which freedom of style gives the appear- is always changed to misery, where noble words
ance of health? A tragic episode. I cite, at random, and the highest professions of faith serve the low-
“Mademoiselle Fifi,” “La Petite Roque,” “Inutile est plans and the most cruel egoism, where cha-
Beaute,” “Le Masque,” “Le Horla,” “L’Epreuve,” “Le grin, crime, and folly are forever on hand to pursue
Champ d’Oliviers,” among the novels, and among implacably our hopes, nullify our virtues, and anni-
the romances, “Une Vie,” “Pierre et Jean,” “Fort hilate our wisdom. But this is not the whole.
comme la Mort,” “Notre Coeur.” His imagination Maupassant has been called a literary nihilist—but
aims to represent the human being as imprisoned (and this is the second trait of his singular genius) in
in a situation at once insupportable and inevitable. him nihilism finds itself coexistent with an animal
The spell of this grief and trouble exerts such a energy so fresh and so intense that for a long time
power upon the writer that he ends stories com- it deceives the closest observer. In an eloquent dis-
menced in pleasantry with some sinister drama. course, pronounced over his premature grave, Emile
Let me instance “Saint-Antonin,” “A Midnight Revel,” Zola well defined this illusion: “We congratulated
“The Little Cask,” and “Old Amable.” You close the him,” said he, “upon that health which seemed un-
book at the end of these vigorous sketches, and breakable, and justly credited him with the sound-
feel how surely they point to constant suffering est constitution of our band, as well as with the
on the part of him who executed them. clearest mind and the sanest reason. It was then
This is the leading trait in the literary physiog- that this frightful thunderbolt destroyed him.”

7
 De Maupassant
It is not exact to say that the lofty genius of De noe parties upon the Seine, and in the description
Maupassant was that of an absolutely sane man. in “La Vie Errante” of a night spent on the sea,—”to
We comprehend it to-day, and, on re-reading him, be alone upon the water under the sky, through a
we find traces everywhere of his final malady. But warm night,”—in which he speaks of the happiness
it is exact to say that this wounded genius was, by of those “who receive sensations through the whole
a singular circumstance, the genius of a robust man. surface of their flesh, as they do through their eyes,
A physiologist would without doubt explain this their mouth, their ears, and sense of smell.”
anomaly by the coexistence of a nervous lesion, His unique and too scanty collection of verses,
light at first, with a muscular, athletic temperament. written in early youth, contains the two most fear-
Whatever the cause, the effect is undeniable. The less, I was going to say the most ingenuous, pae-
skilled and dainty pessimism of De Maupassant ans, perhaps, that have been written since the
was accompanied by a vigor and physique very Renaissance: “At the Water’s Edge” (Au Bord de
unusual. His sensations are in turn those of a hunter l’Eau) and the “Rustic Venus” (La Venus Rustique).
and of a sailor, who have, as the old French say- But here is a paganism whose ardor, by a contrast
ing expressively puts it, “swift foot, eagle eye,” and which brings up the ever present duality of his
who are attuned to all the whisperings of nature. nature, ends in an inexpressible shiver of scorn:
The only confidences that he has ever permitted
his pen to tell of the intoxication of a free, animal “We look at each other, astonished, immovable,
existence are in the opening pages of the story And both are so pale that it makes us fear.”
entitled “Mouche,” where he recalls, among the
sweetest memories of his youth, his rollicking ca- * * * * * * *

8
 Selected Writings
have contributed so much to his glory. It corre-
“Alas! through all our senses slips life itself away.” sponds to, those two contradictory tendencies in
This ending of the “Water’s Edge” is less sinister literary art, which seek always to render life in
than the murder and the vision of horror which motion with the most intense coloring, and still to
terminate the pantheistic hymn of the “Rustic Ve- make more and more subtle the impression of this
nus.” Considered as documents revealing the cast life. How is one ambition to be satisfied at the same
of mind of him who composed them, these two time as the other, since all gain in color and move-
lyrical essays are especially significant, since they ment brings about a diminution of sensibility, and
were spont aneous. They explain why De conversely? The paradox of his constitution per-
Maupassant, in the early years of production, vol- mitted to Maupassant this seemingly impossible
untarily chose, as the heroes of his stories, crea- accord, aided as he was by an intellect whose in-
tures very near to primitive existence, peasants, fluence was all powerful upon his development—
sailors, poachers, girls of the farm, and the source the writer I mention above, Gustave Flaubert.
of the vigor with which he describes these rude These meetings of a pupil and a master, both
figures. The robustness of his animalism permits great, are indeed rare. They present, in fact, some
him fully to imagine all the simple sensations of troublesome conditions, the first of which is a pro-
these beings, while his pessimism, which tinges found analogy between two types of thought.
these sketches of brutal customs with an element There must have been, besides, a reciprocity of
of delicate scorn, preserves him from coarseness. affection, which does not often obtain between a
It is this constant and involuntary antithesis which renowned senior who is growing old and an ob-
gives unique value to those Norman scenes which scure junior, whose renown is increasing. From

9
 De Maupassant
generation to generation, envy reascends no less desire for solitude. Both belonged to the extreme
than she redescends. For the honor of French men left of the literature of their epoch, but kept them-
of letters, let us add that this exceptional phenom- selves from excess and used with a judgment mar-
enon has manifested itself twice in the nineteenth velously sure the sounder principles of their school.
century. Merimee, whom I have also named, re- They knew how to remain lucid and classic, in taste
ceived from Stendhal, at twenty, the same ben- as much as in form—Merimee through all the au-
efits that Maupassant received from Flaubert. dacity of a fancy most exotic, and Maupassant in
The author of “Une Vie” and the writer of “Clara the realism of the most varied and exact observa-
Jozul” resemble each other, besides, in a singular tion. At a little distance they appear to be two pat-
and analogous circumstance. Both achieved re- terns, identical in certain traits, of the same family
nown at the first blow, and by a masterpiece which of minds, and Tourgenief, who knew and loved
they were able to equal but never surpass. Both the one and the other, never failed to class them
were misanthropes early in life, and practised to as brethren.
the end the ancient advice that the disciple of Beyle They are separated, however, by profound dif-
carried upon his seal:—”Remember to distrust.” And, ferences, which perhaps belong less to their na-
at the same time, both had delicate, tender hearts ture than to that of the masters from whom they
under this affectation of cynicism, both were ex- received their impulses: Stendhal, so alert, so mo-
cellent sons, irreproachable friends, indulgent mas- bile, after a youth passed in war and a ripe age
ters, and both were idolized by their inferiors. Both spent in vagabond journeys, rich in experiences,
were worldly, yet still loved a wanderer’s life; both immediate and personal; Flaubert so poor in di-
joined to a constant taste for luxury an irresistible rect impressions, so paralyzed by his health, by

10
 Selected Writings
his family, by his theories even, and so rich in re- rally wished to make the most scrupulous and
flections, for the most part solitary. detailed observation of the environment.
Among the theories of the anatomist of “Ma- Thus is explained the immense labor in prepara-
dame Bovary,” there are two which appear with- tion which his stories cost him—the story of “Ma-
out ceasing in his Correspondence, under one dame Bovary,” of “The Sentimental Education,” and
form or another, and these are the ones which “Bouvard and Pecuchet,” documents containing as
are most strongly evident in the art of De much minutiae as his historical stories. Beyond ev-
Maupassant. We now see the consequences which erything he tried to select details that were emi-
were inevitable by reason of them, endowed as nently significant. Consequently he was of the
Maupassant was with a double power of feeling opinion that the romance writer should discard all
life bitterly, and at the same time with so much of that lessened this significance, that is, extraordi-
animal force. The first theory bears upon the nary events and singular heroes. The exceptional
choice of personages and the story of the ro- personage, it seemed to him, should be suppressed,
mance, the second upon the character of the style. as should also high dramatic incident, since, pro-
The son of a physician, and brought up in the duced by causes less general, these have a range
rigors of scientific method, Flaubert believed this more restricted. The truly scientific romance writer,
method to be efficacious in art as in science. For proposing to paint a certain class, will attain his
instance, in the writing of a romance, he seemed end more effectively if he incarnate personages
to be as scientific as in the development of a his- of the middle order, and, consequently, paint traits
tory of customs, in which the essential is abso- common to that class. And not only middle-class
lute exactness and local color. He therefore natu- traits, but middle-class adventures.

11
 De Maupassant
From this point of view, examine the three great innate. The mid- dle-class personage, in wearisome
romances of the Master from Rouen, and you will society like ours, is always a caricature, and the
see that he has not lost sight of this first and great- happenings are nearly always vulgar. When one
est principle of his art, any more than he has of studies a great number of them, one finishes by
the second, which was that these documents looking at humanity from the angle of disgust and
should be drawn up in prose of absolutely perfect despair. The philosophy of the romances and nov-
technique. We know with what passionate care els of De Maupassant is so continuously and pro-
he worked at his phrases, and how indefatigably foundly surprising that one becomes overwhelmed
he changed them over and over again. Thus he by it. It reaches limitation; it seems to deny that
satisfied that instinct of beauty which was born of man is susceptible to grandeur, or that motives of
his romantic soul, while he gratified the demand a superior order can uplift and ennoble the soul,
of truth which inhered from his scientific training but it does so with a sorrow that is profound. All
by his minute and scrupulous exactness. that portion of the sentimental and moral world
The theory of the mean of truth on one side, as which in itself is the highest remains closed to it.
the foundation of the subject,—”the humble truth,” In revenge, this philosophy finds itself in a rela-
as he termed it at the beginning of “Une Vie,”—and tion cruelly exact with the half-civilization of our
of the agonizing of beauty on the other side, in day. By that I mean the poorly educated individual
composition, determines the whole use that who has rubbed against knowledge enough to
Maupassant made of his literary gifts. It helped to justify a certain egoism, but who is too poor in
make more intense and more systematic that faculty to conceive an ideal, and whose native
dainty yet dangerous pessimism which in him was grossness is corrupted beyond redemption. Under

12
 Selected Writings
his blouse, or under his coat—whether he calls him- be considered an irrefutable record of the social
self Renardet, as does the foul assassin in “Petite classes which he studied at a certain time and along
Roque,” or Duroy, as does the sly hero of “Bel- certain lines. The Norman peasant and the
Ami,” or Bretigny, as does the vile seducer of “Mont Provencal peasant, for example; also the small
Oriol,” or Cesaire, the son of Old Amable in the officeholder, the gentleman of the provinces, the
novel of that name,—this degraded type abounds country squire, the clubman of Paris, the journalist
in Maupassant’s stories, evoked with a ferocity of the boulevard, the doctor at the spa, the com-
almost jovial where it meets the robustness of tem- mercial artist, and, on the feminine side, the ser-
perament which I have pointed out, a ferocity vant girl, the working girl, the demigrisette, the
which gives them a reality more exact still because street girl, rich or poor, the gallant lady of the city
the half-civilized person is often impulsive and, in and of the provinces, and the society woman—
consequence, the physical easily predominates. these are some of the figures that he has painted
There, as elsewhere, the degenerate is everywhere at many sittings, and whom he used to such effect
a degenerate who gives the impression of being that the novels and romances in which they are
an ordinary man. painted have come to be history. Just as it is im-
There are quantities of men of this stamp in large possible to comprehend the Rome of the Caesars
cities. No writer has felt and expressed this com- without the work of Petronius, so is it impossible
plex temperament with more justice than De to fully comprehend the France of 1850-90 with-
Maupassant, and, as he was an infinitely careful out these stories of Maupassant. They are no more
observer of milieu and landscape and all that con- the whole image of the country than the “Satyricon”
stitutes a precise middle distance, his novels can was the whole image of Rome, but what their au-

13
 De Maupassant
thor has wished to paint, he has painted to the life ery motion reveals the intensity.
and with a brush that is graphic in the extreme. Maupassant, on the other hand, if he suffered
If Maupassant had only painted, in general fash- from a nervous lesion, gave no sign of it, except
ion, the characters and the phase of literature in his heart. His intelligence was bright and lively,
mentioned he would not be distinguished from and above all, his imagination, served by senses
other writers of the group called “naturalists.” His always on the alert, preserved for some years an
true glory is in the extraordinary superiority of his astonishing freshness of direct vision. If his art was
art. He did not invent it, and his method is not due to Flaubert, it is no more belittling to him than
alien to that of “Madame Bovary,” but he knew if one call Raphael an imitator of Perugini.
how to give it a suppleness, a variety, and a free- Like Flaubert, he excelled in composing a story,
dom which were always wanting in Flaubert. The in distributing the facts with subtle gradation, in
latter, in his best pages, is always strained. To use bringing in at the end of a familiar dialogue some-
the expressive metaphor of the Greek athletes, thing startlingly dramatic; but such composition,
he “smells of the oil.” When one recalls that when with him, seems easy, and while the descriptions
attacked by hysteric epilepsy, Flaubert postponed are marvelously well established in his stories, the
the crisis of the terrible malady by means of seda- reverse is true of Flaubert’s, which always appear
tives, this strained atmosphere of labor—I was go- a little veneered. Maupassant’s phrasing, however
ing to say of stupor—which pervades his work is dramatic it may be, remains easy and flowing.
explained. He is an athlete, a runner, but one who Maupassant always sought for large and harmo-
drags at his feet a terrible weight. He is in the race nious rhythm in his deliberate choice of terms, al-
only for the prize of effort, an effort of which ev- ways chose sound, wholesome language, with a

14
 Selected Writings
constant care for technical beauty. Inheriting from INTRODUCTION
his master an instrument already forged, he
wielded it with a surer skill. In the quality of his BORN IN THE MIDDLE YEAR of the nineteenth century,
style, at once so firm and lear, so gorgeous yet and fated unfortunately never to see its close, Guy
so sober, so supple and so firm, he equals the de Maupassant was probably the most versatile
writers of the seventeenth century. His method, and brilliant among the galaxy of novelists who
so deeply and simply French, succeeds in giving enriched French literature between the years 1800
an indescribable “tang” to his descriptions. If ob- and 1900. Poetry, drama, prose of short and sus-
servation from nature imprints upon his tales the tained effort, and volumes of travel and descrip-
strong accent of reality, the prose in which they tion, each sparkling with the same minuteness of
are shrined so conforms to the genius of the race detail and brilliancy of style, flowed from his pen
as to smack of the soil. during the twelve years of his literary life.
It is enough that the critics of to-day place Guy de Although his genius asserted itself in youth, he
Maupassant among our classic writers. He has his had the patience of the true artist, spending his
place in the ranks of pure French genius, with the early manhood in cutting and polishing the facets
Regniers, the La Fontaines, the Molieres. And those of his genius under the stern though paternal
signs of secret ill divined everywhere under this mentorship of Gustave Flaubert. Not until he had
wholesome prose surround it for those who knew attained the age of thirty did he venture on publi-
and loved him with a pathos that is inexpressible. cation, challenging criticism for the first time with
a volume of poems.
Many and various have been the judgments

15
 De Maupassant
passed upon Maupassant’s work. But now that the The school of romantic realism which was
perspective of time is lengthening, enabling us to founded by Merimee and Balzac found its culmi-
form a more deliberate, and therefore a juster, view nation in De Maupassant. He surpassed his men-
of his complete achievement, we are driven irre- tor, Flaubert, in the breadth and vividness of his
sistibly to the conclusion that the force that shaped work, and one of the greatest of modern French
and swayed Maupassant’s prose writings was the critics has recorded the deliberate opinion, that of
conviction that in life there could be no phase so all Taine’s pupils Maupassant had the greatest com-
noble or so mean, so honorable or so contempt- mand of language and the most finished and inci-
ible, so lofty or so low as to be unworthy of chroni- sive style. Robust in imagination and fired with
cling,—no groove of human virtue or fault, success natural passion, his psychological curiosity kept him
or failure, wisdom or folly that did not possess its true to human nature, while at the same time his
own peculiar psychological aspect and therefore mental eye, when fixed upon the most ordinary
demanded analysis. phases of human conduct, could see some new
To this analysis Maupassant brought a facile and motive or aspect of things hitherto unnoticed by
dramatic pen, a penetration as searching as a the careless crowd.
probe, and a power of psychological vision that in It has been said by casual critics that Maupassant
its minute detail, now pathetic, now ironical, in its lacked one quality indispensable to the produc-
merciless revelation of the hidden springs of the tion of truly artistic work, viz: an absolutely nor-
human heart, whether of aristocrat, bourgeois, mal, that is, moral, point of view. The answer to
peasant, or priest, allow one to call him a this criticism is obvious. No dissector of the gamut
Meissonier in words. of human pas- sion and folly in all its tones could

16
 Selected Writings
present aught that could be called new, if ungifted the grace, and the insight with which the writer
with a viewpoint totally out of the ordinary plane. treats the new aspects of human nature which he
Cold and merciless in the use of this point de vue finds in the life he describes.”
De Maupassant undoubtedly is, especially in such And as if gracefully to recall a former adverse
vivid depictions of love, both physical and mater- criticism, Tolstoi adds:
nal, as we find in “L’histoire d’une fille de ferme” “I find in the book, in almost equal strength, the
and “La femme de Paul.” But then the surgeon’s three cardinal qualities essential to great work, viz:
scalpel never hesitates at giving pain, and pain is moral purpose, perfect style, and absolute sincer-
often the road to health and ease. Some of ity. . . . Maupassant is a man whose vision has
Maupassant’s short stories are sermons more forc- penetrated the silent depths of human life, and
ible than any moral dissertation could ever be. from that vantage- ground interprets the struggle
Of De Maupassant’s sustained efforts “Une Vie” of humanity.”
may bear the palm. This romance has the distinc- “Bel-Ami” appeared almost two years after “Une
tion of having changed Tolstoi from an adverse Vie,” that is to say, about 1885. Discussed and
critic into a warm admirer of the author. To quote criticised as it has been, it is in reality a satire, an
the Russian moralist upon the book: indignant outburst against the corruption of soci-
“ ‘Une Vie’ is a romance of the best type, and in ety which in the story enables an ex-soldier, de-
my judgment the greatest that has been produced void of conscience, honor, even of the common-
by any French writer since Victor Hugo penned est regard for others, to gain wealth and rank.
‘Les Miserables.’ Passing over the force and direct- The purport of the story is clear to those who rec-
ness of the narrative, I am struck by the intensity, ognize the ideas that governed Maupassant’s work,

17
 De Maupassant
and even the hasty reader or critic, on reading toward life. Psychologically acute as ever, and as
“Mont Oriol,” which was published two years later perfect in style and sincerity as before, we miss
and is based on a combination of the motifs which the note of anger. Fatality is the keynote, and yet,
inspired “Une Vie” and “Bel-Ami,” will reconsider sounding low, we detect a genuine subtone of
former hasty judgments, and feel, too, that beneath sorrow. Was it a prescience of 1893? So much work
the triumph of evil which calls forth Maupassant’s to be done, so much work demanded of him, the
satiric anger there lies the substratum on which all world of Paris, in all its brilliant and attractive
his work is founded, viz: the persistent, ceaseless phases, at his feet, and yet—inevitable, ever ad-
questioning of a soul unable to reconcile or ex- vancing death, with the question of life still unan-
plain the contradiction between love in life and swered.
inevitable death. Who can read in “Bel-Ami” the This may account for some of the strained situa-
terribly graphic description of the consumptive tions we find in his later romances. Vigorous in
journalist’s demise, his frantic clinging to life, and frame and hearty as he was, the atmosphere of
his refusal to credit the slow and merciless ap- his mental processes must have been vitiated to
proach of death, without feeling that the question produce the dainty but dangerous pessimism that
asked at Naishapur many centuries ago is still pervades some of his later work. This was partly a
waiting for the solution that is always promised consequence of his honesty and partly of mental
but never comes? despair. He never accepted other people’s views
In the romances which followed, dating from on the questions of life. He looked into such prob-
1888 to 1890, a sort of calm despair seems to lems for himself, arriving at the truth, as it appeared
have settled down upon De Maupassant’s attitude to him, by the logic of events, often finding evil

18
 Selected Writings
where he wished to find good, but never hood- precipice to realize the depth of the abyss and feel
winking himself or his readers by adapting or dis- the terror of the fall.
torting the reality of things to suit a preconceived Closely allied to this phase of Maupassant’s na-
idea. ture was the peculiar feeling of loneliness that
Maupassant was essentially a worshiper of the every now and then breaks irresistibly forth in the
eternal feminine. He was persuaded that without course of some short story. Of kindly soul and
the continual presence of the gentler sex man’s genial heart, he suffered not only from the op-
existence would be an emotionally silent wilder- pression of spirit caused by the lack of humanity,
ness. No other French writer has described and kindliness, sanity, and harmony which he encoun-
analyzed so minutely and comprehensively the tered daily in the world at large, but he had an
many and various motives and moods that shape ever abiding sense of the invincible, unbanishable
the conduct of a woman in life. Take for instance solitariness of his own inmost self. I know of no
the wonderfully subtle analysis of a woman’s heart more poignant expression of such a feeling than
as wife and mother that we find in “Une Vie.” Could the cry of despair which rings out in the short story
aught be more delicately incisive? Sometimes in called “Solitude,” in which he describes the insur-
describing the apparently inexplicable conduct of mountable barrier which exists between man and
a certain woman he leads his readers to a point man, or man and woman, however intimate the
where a false step would destroy the spell and friendship between them. He could picture but one
bring the reproach of banality and ridicule upon way of destroying this terrible loneliness, the at-
the tale. But the catastrophe never occurs. It was tainment of a spiritual—a divine—state of love, a
necessary to stand poised upon the brink of the condition to which he would give no name utter-

19
 De Maupassant
able by human lips, lest it be profaned, but for which that reveal the influence of the senses. “As well,”
his whole being yearned. How acutely he felt his he says, “refrain from describing the effect of in-
failure to attain his deliverance may be drawn from toxicating perfumes upon man as omit the influ-
his wail that mankind has no universal measure of ence of beauty on the temperament of man.”
happiness. De Maupassant’s dramatic instinct was supremely
“Each one of us,” writes De Maupassant, “forms powerful. He seems to select unerringly the one
for himself an illusion through which he views the thing in which the soul of the scene is prisoned,
world, be it poetic, sentimental, joyous, melancholy, and, making that his keynote, gives a picture in
or dismal; an illusion of beauty, which is a human words which haunt the memory like a strain of
convention; of ugliness, which is a matter of opin- music. The description of the ride of Madame Tellier
ion; of truth, which, alas, is never immutable.” And and her companions in a country cart through a
he concludes by asserting that the happiest artist Norman landscape is an admirable example. You
is he who approaches most closely to the truth of smell the masses of the colza in blossom, you see
things as he sees them through his own particular the yellow carpets of ripe corn spotted here and
illusion. there by the blue coronets of the cornflower, and
Salient points in De Maupassant’s genius were rapt by the red blaze of the poppy beds and bathed
that he possessed the rare faculty of holding di- in the fresh greenery of the landscape, you share
rect communion with his gifts, and of writing from in the emotions felt by the happy party in the coun-
their dictation as it was interpreted by his senses. try cart. And yet with all his vividness of descrip-
He had no patience with writers who in striving to tion, De Maupassant is always sober and brief. He
present life as a whole purposely omit episodes had the genius of condensation and the reserve

20
 Selected Writings
which is innate in power, and to his reader could up the hope of interpreting his puzzles, and the
convey as much in a paragraph as could be ex- struggle between the falsity of the life which sur-
pressed in a page by many of his predecessors rounded him and the nobler visions which pos-
and contemporaries, Flaubert not excepted. sessed him was wearing him out. Doubtless he
Apart from his novels, De Maupassant’s tales may resorted to unwise methods for the dispelling of
be arranged under three heads: Those that con- physical lassitude or for surcease from troubling
cern themselves with Norman peasant life; those mental problems. To this period belong such weird
that deal with Government employees (Maupassant and horrible fancies as are contained in the short
himself had long been one) and the Paris middle stories known as “He” and “The Diary of a Mad-
classes, and those that represent the life of the man.” Here and there, we know, were rising in
fashionable world, as well as the weird and fan- him inklings of a finer and less sordid attitude ‘twixt
tastic ideas of the later years of his career. Of these man and woman throughout the world and of a
three groups the tales of the Norman peasantry purer constitution of existing things which no ex-
perhaps rank highest. He depicts the Norman terior force should blemish or destroy. But with
farmer in surprisingly free and bold strokes, re- these yearningly prophetic gleams came a period
vealing him in all his caution, astuteness, rough of mental death. Then the physical veil was torn
gaiety, and homely virtue. aside and for Guy de Maupassant the riddle of
The tragic stage of De Maupassant’s life may, I existence was answered.
think, be set down as beginning just before the
drama of “Musotte” was issued, in conjunction with
Jacques Normand, in 1891. He had almost given

21
 De Maupassant

MADEMOISELLE FIFI down the park in order to keep themselves warm—

he went to the window. The rain was descending
in torrents, a regular Normandy rain, which looked
THE MAJOR GRAF* VON FARLSBERG, the Prussian com-
as if it were being poured out by some furious hand,
mandant, was reading his newspaper, lying back
a slanting rain, which was as thick as a curtain,
in a great armchair, with his booted feet on the
and which formed a kind of wall with oblique
beautiful marble fireplace, where his spurs had
stripes, and which deluged everything, a regular
made two holes, which grew deeper every day,
rain, such as one frequently experiences in the
during the three months that he had been in the
neighborhood of Rouen, which is the watering-
chateau of Urville.
pot of France.
A cup of coffee was smoking on a small inlaid
For a long time the officer looked at the sodden
table, which was stained with liquors burnt by ci-
turf, and at the swollen Andelle beyond it, which
gars, notched by the penknife of the victorious
was overflowing its banks, and he was drumming
officer, who occasionally would stop while sharp-
a waltz from the Rhine on the window-panes, with
ening a pencil, to jot down figures, or to make a
his fingers, when a noise made him turn round; it
drawing on it, just as it took his fancy.
was his second in command, Captain Baron von
When he had read his letters and the German
Kelweinstein.
newspapers, which his baggage-master had
The major was a giant, with broad shoulders,
brought him, he got up, and after throwing three
and a long, fair beard, which hung like a cloth on
or four enormous pieces of green wood on to the
to his chest. His whole, solemn person suggested
fire—for these gentlemen were gradually cutting
the idea of a military peacock, a peacock who was
*Count.
22
 Selected Writings
carrying his tail spread out on to his breast. He very unpleasant outlook. The major, who was a
had cold, gentle, blue eyes, and the scar from a quiet man, with a wife at home, could accommo-
sword-cut, which he had received in the war with date himself to everything; but the captain, who
Austria; he was said to be an honorable man, as was rather fast, being in the habit of frequenting
well as a brave officer. low resorts, and much given to women, was mad
The captain, a short, red-faced man, who was at having been shut up for three months in the
tightly girthed in at the waist, had his red hair compulsory chastity of that wretched hole.
cropped quite close to his head, and in certain lights There was a knock at the door, and when the
almost looked as if he had been rubbed over with commandant said, “Come in,” one of their auto-
phosphorus. He had lost two front teeth one night, matic soldiers appeared, and by his mere presence
though he could not quite remember how. This announced that breakfast was ready. In the din-
defect made him speak so that he could not al- ing-room, they met three other officers of lower
ways be understood, and he had a bald patch on rank: a lieutenant, Otto von Grossling, and two
the top of his head, which made him look rather sub-lieutenants, Fritz Scheunebarg, and Count von
like a monk, with a fringe of curly, bright, golden Eyrick a very short, fair-haired man, who was proud
hair round the circle of bare skin. and brutal toward men, harsh toward prisoners,
The commandant shook hands with him, and and very violent.
drank his cup of coffee (the sixth that morning) at Since he had been in France, his comrades had
a draught, while he listened to his subordinate’s called him nothing but “Mademoiselle Fifi.” They
report of what had occurred; and then they both had given him that nickname on account of his
went to the window, and declared that it was a dandified style and small waist, which looked as if

23
 De Maupassant
he wore stays, from his pale face, on which his rain, and melancholy under its vanquished appear-
budding mustache scarcely showed, and on ac- ance, although its old, oak floor had become as
count of the habit he had acquired of employing solid as the stone floor of a public-house.
the French expression, fi, fi donc, which he pro- When they had finished eating, and were smok-
nounced with a slight whistle, when he wished to ing and drinking, they began, as usual, to talk about
express his sovereign contempt for persons or the dull life they were leading. The bottles of brandy
things. and of liquors passed from hand to hand, and all
The dining-room of the chateau was a magnifi- sat back in their chairs, taking repeated sips from
cent long room, whose fine old mirrors, now their glasses, and scarcely removing the long, bent
cracked by pistol bullets, and Flemish tapestry, now stems, which terminated in china bowls painted in
cut to ribbons and hanging in rags in places, from a manner to delight a Hottentot, from their mouths.
sword-cuts, told too well what Mademoiselle Fifi’s As soon as their glasses were empty, they filled
occupation was during his spare time. them again, with a gesture of resigned weariness,
There were three family portraits on the walls; a but Mademoiselle Fifi emptied his every minute,
steel-clad knight, a cardinal, and a judge, who were and a soldier immediately gave him another. They
all smoking long porcelain pipes, which had been were enveloped in a cloud of strong tobacco
inserted into holes in the canvas, while a lady in a smoke; they seemed to be sunk in a state of
long, pointed waist proudly exhibited an enormous drowsy, stupid intoxication, in that dull state of
pair of mustaches, drawn with a piece of charcoal. drunkenness of men who have nothing to do,
The officers ate their breakfast almost in silence when suddenly, the baron sat up, and said: “By
in that mutilated room, which looked dull in the heavens! This cannot go on; we must think of

24
 Selected Writings
something to do.” And on hearing this, Lieutenant replied, and the baron immediately sent for Le
Otto and Sub-lieutenant Fritz, who pre-eminently Devoir.
possessed the grave, heavy German countenance, The latter was an old corporal who had never
said: “What, Captain?” been seen to smile, but who carried out all the
He thought for a few moments, and then replied orders of his superiors to the letter, no matter what
“What? Well, we must get up some entertainment; they might be. He stood there, with an impassive
if the commandant will allow us.” face while he received the baron’s instructions, and
“What sort of an entertainment, captain?” the then went out; five minutes later a large wagon
major asked, taking his pipe out of his mouth. belonging to the military train, covered with a
“I will arrange all that, commandant,” the baron miller’s tilt, galloped off as fast as four horses could
said. “I will send Le Devoir to Rouen, who will bring take it, under the pouring rain, and the officers all
us some ladies. I know where they can be found. seemed to awaken from their lethargy, their looks
We will have supper here, as all the materials are brightened, and they began to talk.
at hand, and, at least, we shall have a jolly Although it was raining as hard as ever, the major
evening.” declared that it was not so dull, and Lieutenant
Graf von Farlsberg shrugged his shoulders with von Grossling said with conviction, that the sky
a smile: “You must surely be mad, my friend.” was clearing up, while Mademoiselle Fifi did not
But all the other officers got up, surrounded their seem to be able to keep in his place. He got up,
chief, and said: “Let the captain have his own way, and sat down again, and his bright eyes seemed
commandant; it is terribly dull here.” to be looking for something to destroy. Suddenly,
And the major ended by yielding. “Very well,” he looking at the lady with the mustaches, the young

25
 De Maupassant
fellow pulled out his revolver, and said: “You shall vases, statuettes, groups in Dresden china, gro-
not see it.” And without leaving his seat he aimed, tesque Chinese figures, old ivory, and Venetian
and with two successive bullets cut out both the glass, which filled the large room with their pre-
eyes of the portrait. cious and fantastical array.
“Let us make a mine!” he then exclaimed, and Scarcely anything was left now; not that the
the conversation was suddenly interrupted, as if things had been stolen, for the major would not
they had found some fresh and powerful subject have allowed that, but Mademoiselle Fifi would have
of interest. The mine was his invention, his method a mine, and on that occasion all the officers thor-
of destruction, and his favorite amusement. oughly enjoyed themselves for five minutes. The
When he left the chateau, the lawful owner, little marquis went into the drawing-room to get
Count Fernand d’Amoys d’Urville, had not had time what he wanted, and he brought back a small,
to carry away or to hide anything, except the plate, delicate china teapot, which he filled with gunpow-
which had been stowed away in a hole made in der, and carefully introduced a piece of German
one of the walls, so that, as he was very rich and tinder into it, through the spout. Then he lighted
had good taste, the large drawing-room, which it, and took this infernal machine into the next
opened into the dining-room, had looked like the room; but he came back immediately and shut the
gallery in a museum, before his precipitate flight. door. The Germans all stood expectantly, their faces
Expensive oil-paintings, water-colors, and draw- full of childish, smiling curiosity, and as soon as
ings hung upon the walls, while on the tables, on the explosion had shaken the chateau, they all
the hanging shelves, and in elegant glass cup- rushed in at once.
boards, there were a thousand knickknacks: small Mademoiselle Fifi, who got in first, clapped his

26
 Selected Writings
hands in delight at the sight of a terra-cotta Ve- The bells had not rung since their arrival. That
nus, whose head had been blown off, and each was the only resistance which the invaders had
picked up pieces of porcelain, and wondered at met with in the neighborhood. The parish priest
the strange shape of the fragments, while the had not refused to take in and to feed the Prus-
major was looking with a paternal eye at the large sian soldiers; he had several times even drunk a
drawing-room which had been wrecked in such a bottle of beer or claret with the hostile comman-
Neronic fashion, and which was strewn with the dant, who often employed him as a benevolent
fragments of works of art. He went out first, and intermediary; but it was no use to ask him for a
said, with a smile: “He managed that very well!” single stroke of the bells; he would sooner have
But there was such a cloud of smoke in the din- allowed himself to be shot. That was his way of
ing-room, mingled with the tobacco smoke, that protesting against the invasion, a peaceful and si-
they could not breathe, so the commandant opened lent protest, the only one, he said, which was suit-
the window, and all the officers, who had gone able to a priest, who was a man of mildness, and
into the room for a glass of cognac, went up to it. not of blood; and everyone, for twenty-five miles
The moist air blew into the room, and brought round, praised Abbe Chantavoine’s firmness and
a sort of spray with it, which powdered their heroism, in venturing to proclaim the public mourn-
beards. They looked at the tall trees which were ing by the obstinate silence of his church bells.
dripping with the rain, at the broad valley which The whole village grew enthusiastic over his re-
was covered with mist, and at the church spire in sistance, and was ready to back up their pastor
the distance, which rose up like a gray point in and to risk anything, as they looked upon that
the beating rain. silent protest as the safeguard of the national

27
 De Maupassant
honor. It seemed to the peasants that thus they yield, and to console herself, Mademoiselle Fifi
had deserved better of their country than Belfort made a mine in the chateau.
and Strassburg, that they had set an equally valu- The five men stood there together for some min-
able example, and that the name of their little vil- utes, inhaling the moist air, and at last, Lieutenant
lage would become immortalized by that; but with Fritz said, with a laugh: “The ladies will certainly
that exception, they refused their Prussian con- not have fine weather for their drive.” Then they
querors nothing. separated, each to his own duties, while the cap-
The commandant and his officers laughed among tain had plenty to do in seeing about the dinner.
themselves at that inoffensive courage, and as the When they met again, as it was growing dark,
people in the whole country round showed them- they began to laugh at seeing each other as dan-
selves obliging and compliant toward them, they dified and smart as on the day of a grand review.
willingly tolerated their silent patriotism. Only little The commandant’s hair did not look as gray as it
Count Wilhelm would have liked to have forced did in the morning, and the captain had shaved—
them to ring the bells. He was very angry at his had only kept his mustache on, which made him
superior’s politic compliance with the priest’s look as if he had a streak of fire under his nose.
scruples, and every day he begged the comman- In spite of the rain, they left the window open,
dant to allow him to sound “ding-dong, ding-dong,” and one of them went to listen from time to time.
just once, only just once, just by way of a joke. At a quarter past six the baron said he heard a
And he asked it like a wheedling woman, in the rumbling in the distance. They all rushed down,
tender voice of some mistress who wishes to ob- and soon the wagon drove up at a gallop with its
tain something, but the commandant would not four horses, splashed up to their backs, steaming

28
 Selected Writings
and panting. Five women got out at the bottom of women as if he were familiar with them; apprais-
the steps, five handsome girls whom a comrade ing them, kissing them, valuing them for what they
of the captain, to whom Le Dervoir had taken his were worth as ladies of pleasure; and when the
card, had selected with care. three young men wanted to appropriate one each,
They had not required much pressing, as they he opposed them authoritatively, reserving to him-
were sure of being well treated, for they had got self the right to apportion them justly, according
to know the Prussians in the three months during to their several ranks, so as not to wound the hi-
which they had had to do with them. So they re- erarchy. Therefore, so as to avoid all discussion,
signed themselves to the men as they did to the jarring, and suspicion of partiality, he placed them
state of affairs. “It is part of our business, so it must all in a line according to height, and addressing
be done,” they said as they drove along; no doubt the tallest, he said in a voice of command:
to allay some slight, secret scruples of conscience. “What is your name?”
They went into the dining-room immediately, “Pamela,” she replied, raising her voice.
which looked still more dismal in its dilapidated Then he said: “Number One, called Pamela, is
state, when it was lighted up; while the table cov- adjudged to the commandant.”
ered with choice dishes, the beautiful china and Then, having kissed Blondina, the second, as a
glass, and the plate, which had been found in the sign of proprietorship, he proffered stout Amanda
hole in the wall where its owner had hidden it, to Lieutenant Otto! Eva, “the Tomato,” to Sub-lieu-
gave to the place the look of a bandits’ resort, tenant Fritz, and Rachel, the shortest of them all, a
where they were supping after committing a rob- very young, dark girl, with eyes as black as ink, a
bery. The captain was radiant; he took hold of the Jewess, whose snub nose confirmed by exception

29
 De Maupassant
the rule which allots hooked noses to all her race, into her mouth. She did not fly into a rage, and did
to the youngest officer, frail Count Wilhelm von not say a word, but she looked at her possessor
Eyrick. with latent hatred in her dark eyes.
They were all pretty and plump, without any dis- They sat down to dinner. The commandant
tinctive features, and all were very much alike in seemed delighted; he made Pamela sit on his right,
look and person, from their daily dissipation, and and Blondina on his left, and said, as he unfolded
the life common to houses of public accommoda- his table napkin: “That was a delightful idea of
tion. yours, captain.”
The three younger men wished to carry off their Lieutenants Otto and Fritz, who were as polite as
women immediately, under the pretext of finding if they had been with fashionable ladies, rather
them brushes and soap; but the captain wisely intimidated their neighbors, but Baron von
opposed this, for he said they were quite fit to sit Kelweinstein gave the reins to all his vicious pro-
down to dinner, and that those who went up would pensities, beamed, made doubtful remarks, and
wish for a change when they came down, and so seemed on fire with his crown of red hair. He paid
would disturb the other couples, and his experi- them compliments in French from the other side
ence in such matters carried the day. There were of the Rhine, and sputtered out gallant remarks,
only many kisses; expectant kisses. only fit for a low pot-house, from between his two
Suddenly Rachel choked, and began to cough broken teeth.
until the tears came into her eyes, while smoke They did not understand him, however, and their
came through her nostrils. Under pretense of kiss- intelligence did not seem to be awakened until he
ing her, the count had blown a whiff of tobacco uttered nasty words and broad expressions, which

30
 Selected Writings
were mangled by his accent. Then all began to knees, and, getting excited, at one moment kissed
laugh at once, like mad women, and fell against the little black curls on her neck, inhaling the pleas-
each other, repeating the words, which the baron ant warmth of her body, and all the savor of her
then began to say all wrong, in order that he might person, through the slight space there was between
have the pleasure of hearing them say doubtful her dress and her skin, and at another pinched
things. They gave him as much of that stuff as he her furiously through the material, and made her
wanted, for they were drunk after the first bottle scream, for he was seized with a species of feroc-
of wine, and, becoming themselves once more, ity, and tormented by his desire to hurt her. He
and opening the door to their usual habits, they often held her close to him, as if to make her part
kissed the mustaches on the right and left of them, of himself, and put his lips in a long kiss on the
pinched their arms, uttered furious cries, drank out Jewess’s rosy mouth, until she lost her breath; and
of every glass, and sang French couplets, and bits at last he bit her until a stream of blood ran down
of German songs, which they had picked up in her chin and on to her bodice.
their daily intercourse with the enemy. For the second time, she looked him full in the
Soon the men themselves, intoxicated by that face, and as she bathed the wound, she said: “You
which was displayed to their sight and touch, grew will have to pay for that!”
very amorous, shouted and broke the plates and But he merely laughed a hard laugh, and said: “I
dishes, while the soldiers behind them waited on will pay.”
them stolidly. The commandant was the only one At dessert, champagne was served, and the com-
who put any restraint upon himself. mandant rose, and in the same voice in which he
Mademoiselle Fifi had taken Rachel on to his would have drunk to the health of the Empress

31
 De Maupassant
Augusta, he drank: “To our ladies!” Then a series presence you would not dare to say that.” But the
of toasts began, toasts worthy of the lowest sol- little count, still holding her on his knees, began
diers and of drunkards, mingled with filthy jokes, to laugh, for the wine had made him very merry,
which were made still more brutal by their igno- and said: “Ha! ha! ha! I have never met any of
rance of the language. They got up, one after the them, myself. As soon as we show ourselves, they
other, trying to say something witty, forcing them- run away!”
selves to be funny, and the women, who were so The girl, who was in a terrible rage, shouted into
drunk that they almost fell off their chairs, with his face: “You are lying, you dirty scoundrel!”
vacant looks and clammy tongues, applauded For a moment, he looked at her steadily, with
madly each time. his bright eyes upon her, as he had looked at the
The captain, who no doubt wished to impart an portrait before he destroyed it with revolver bul-
appearance of gallantry to the orgy, raised his glass lets, and then he began to laugh: “Ah! yes, talk
again, and said: “To our victories over hearts!” about them, my dear! Should we be here now, if
Thereupon Lieutenant Otto, who was a species of they were brave?” Then getting excited, he ex-
bear from the Black Forest, jumped up, inflamed claimed: “We are the masters! France belongs to
and saturated with drink, and seized by an access us!” She jumped off his knees with a bound, and
of alcoholic patriotism, cried: “To our victories over threw herself into her chair, while he rose, held
France!” out his glass over the table, and repeated: “France
Drunk as they were, the women were silent, and and the French, the woods, the fields, and the
Rachel turned round with a shudder, and said: houses of France belong to us!”
“Look here, I know some Frenchmen, in whose The others, who were quite drunk, and who were

32
 Selected Writings
suddenly seized by military enthusiasm, the en- accent, he said: “That is good, very good! Then
thusiasm of brutes, seized their glasses, and shout- what did you come here for, my dear?”
ing, “Long live Prussia!” emptied them at a draught. She was thunderstruck, and made no reply for a
The girls did not protest, for they were reduced moment, for in her agitation she did not under-
to silence, and were afraid. Even Rachel did not stand him at first; but as soon as she grasped his
say a word, as she had no reply to make, and meaning, she said to him indignantly and vehe-
then the little count put his champagne glass, which mently: “I! I! I am not a woman; I am only a strum-
had just been refilled, on to the head of the Jewess, pet, and that is all that Prussians want.”
and exclaimed: “All the women in France belong Almost before she had finished, he slapped her
to us, also!” full in her face; but as he was raising his hand
At that she got up so quickly that the glass upset, again as if he would strike her, she, almost mad
spilling the amber colored wine on to her black with passion, took up a small dessert knife from
hair as if to baptize her, and broke into a hundred the table, and stabbed him right in the neck, just
fragments as it fell on to the floor. With trembling above the breastbone. Something that he was
lips, she defied the looks of the officer, who was going to say, was cut short in his throat, and he
still laughing, and she stammered out, in a voice sat there, with his mouth half open, and a terrible
choked with rage: “That—that—that—is not true,— look in his eyes.
for you shall certainly not have any French All the officers shouted in horror, and leaped up
women.” tumultuously; but throwing her chair between Lieu-
He sat down again, so as to laugh at his ease, tenant Otto’s legs, who fell down at full length,
and trying ineffectually to speak in the Parisian she ran to the window, opened it before they could

33
 De Maupassant
seize her, and jumped out into the night and pour- words uttered as a call, in guttural voices.
ing rain. In the morning they all returned. Two soldiers
In two minutes, Mademoiselle Fifi was dead. Fritz had been killed and three others wounded by their
and Otto drew their swords and wanted to kill the comrades in the ardor of that chase, and in the
women, who threw themselves at their feet and confusion of such a nocturnal pursuit, but they had
clung to their knees. With some difficulty the ma- not caught Rachel.
jor stopped the slaughter, and had the four terri- Then the inhabitants of the district were terror-
fied girls locked up in a room under the care of ized, the houses were turned topsy-turvy, the coun-
two soldiers. Then he organized the pursuit of the try was scoured and beaten up, over and over
fugitive, as carefully as if he were about to engage again, but the Jewess did not seem to have left a
in a skirmish, feeling quite sure that she would be single trace of her passage behind her.
caught. When the general was told of it, he gave orders
The table, which had been cleared immediately, to hush up the affair, so as not to set a bad ex-
now served as a bed on which to lay Fifi out, and ample to the army, but he severely censured the
the four officers made for the window, rigid and commandant, who in turn punished his inferiors.
sobered, with the stern faces of soldiers on duty, The general had said: “One does not go to war in
and tried to pierce through the darkness of the order to amuse oneself, and to caress prostitutes.”
night, amid the steady torrent of rain. Suddenly, a And Graf von Farlsberg, in his exasperation, made
shot was heard, and then another, a long way off; up his mind to have his revenge on the district,
and for four hours they heard, from time to time, but as he required a pretext for showing severity,
near or distant reports and rallying cries, strange he sent for the priest and ordered him to have the

34
 Selected Writings
bell tolled at the funeral of Count von Eyrick. parted, and then one evening the priest borrowed
Contrary to all expectation, the priest showed the baker’s cart, and himself drove his prisoner to
himself humble and most respectful, and when Rouen. When they got there, he embraced her,
Mademoiselle Fifi’s body left the Chateau d’Urville and she quickly went back on foot to the estab-
on its way to the cemetery, carried by soldiers, lishment from which she had come, where the
preceded, surrounded, and followed by soldiers, proprietress, who thought that she was dead, was
who marched with loaded rifles, for the first time very glad to see her.
the bell sounded its funereal knell in a lively man- A short time afterward, a patriot who had no
ner, as if a friendly hand were caressing it. At night prejudices, who liked her because of her bold deed,
it sounded again, and the next day, and every day; and who afterward loved her for herself, married
it rang as much as anyone could desire. Some- her, and made a lady of her.
times even, it would start at night, and sound gen-
tly through the darkness, seized by strange joy,
awakened, one could not tell why. All the peas-
ants in the neighborhood declared that it was be-
witched, and nobody, except the priest and the
sacristan would now go near the church tower,
and they went because a poor girl was living there
in grief and solitude, secretly nourished by those
two men.
She remained there until the German troops de-

35
 De Maupassant

AN AFFAIR OF STATE cud in peace, or sick horses put out to pasture.

Each believed himself called upon to play a great
role in military affairs. The cafes of the smallest
PARIS HAD JUST HEARD of the disaster of Sedan. The
villages, full of tradesmen in uniform, resembled
Republic was proclaimed. All France was panting
barracks or field hospitals.
from a madness that lasted until the time of the
Now, the town of Canneville did not yet know
Commonwealth. Everybody was playing at soldier
the exciting news of the army and the Capital. It
from one end of the country to the other.
had, however, been greatly agitated for a month
Capmakers became colonels, assuming the du-
over an encounter between the rival political par-
ties of generals; revolvers and daggers were dis-
ties. The mayor, Viscount de Varnetot, a small, thin
played on large rotund bodies, enveloped in red
man, already old, remained true to the Empire, es-
sashes; common citizens turned warriors, com-
pecially since he saw rising up against him a pow-
manding battalions of noisy volunteers, and swear-
erful adversary, in the great, sanguine form of
ing like troopers to emphasize their importance.
Doctor Massarel, head of the Republican party in
The very fact of bearing arms and handling guns
the district, venerable chief of the Masonic lodge,
with a system excited a people who hitherto had
president of the Society of Agriculture and of the
only handled scales and measures, and made
Fire Department, and organizer of the rural militia
them formidable to the first comer, without rea-
designed to save the country.
son. They even executed a few innocent people
In two weeks he had induced sixty-three men to
to prove that they knew how to kill; and, in roam-
volunteer in defense of their country—married men,
ing through virgin fields still belonging to the
fathers of families, prudent farmers and merchants
Prussians, they shot stray dogs, cows chewing the
36
 Selected Writings
of the town. These he drilled every morning in all his might, in the face of the amazed rustics:
front of the mayor’s window. “Long live the Republic! Long live the Republic!
Whenever the mayor happened to appear, Com- Long live the Republic!”
mander Massarel, covered with pistols, passing Then he dropped into his armchair weak with
proudly up and down in front of his troops, would emotion.
make them shout, “Long live our country!” And When the peasant explained that this sickness
this, they noticed, disturbed the little viscount, who commenced with a feeling as if ants were running
no doubt heard in it menace and defiance, and up and down in his legs, the doctor exclaimed:
perhaps some odious recollection of the great “Hold your peace. I have spent too much time with
Revolution. you stupid people. The Republic is proclaimed! The
On the morning of the fifth of September, in uni- Emperor is a prisoner! France is saved! Long live
form, his revolver on the table, the doctor gave the Republic!” And, running to the door, he bel-
consultation to an old peasant couple. The hus- lowed: “Celeste! Quick! Celeste!”
band had suffered with a varicose vein for seven The frightened maid hastened in. He stuttered,
years, but had waited until his wife had one too, so rapidly did he try to speak: “My boots, my saber
so that they might go and hunt up a physician —my cartridge box—and—the Spanish dagger, which
together, guided by the postman when he should is on my night table. Hurry now!”
come with the newspaper. The obstinate peasant, taking advantage of the
Dr. Massarel opened the door, grew pale, straight- moment’s silence, began again: “This seemed like
ened himself abruptly and, raising his arms to some cysts that hurt me when I walked.”
heaven in a gesture of exaltation, cried out with The exasperated physician shouted: “Hold your

37
 De Maupassant
peace! For Heaven’s sake! If you had washed your expected to see them in uniform, had a fit of sur-
feet oftener, it would not have happened.” Then, prise.
seizing him by the neck, he hissed in his face: “Can “You know nothing, then? The Emperor has been
you not comprehend that we are living in a Re- taken prisoner. A Republic is proclaimed. My posi-
public, stupid?” tion is delicate, not to say perilous.”
But professional sentiment calmed him suddenly, He reflected for some minutes before the aston-
and he let the astonished old couple out of the ished faces of his subordinates and then contin-
house, repeating all the time: ued:
“Return to-morrow, return to-morrow, my friends; “It is necessary to act, not to hesitate. Minutes
I have no more time to-day.” now are worth hours at other times. Everything
While equipping himself from head to foot, he depends upon promptness of decision. You, Picard,
gave another series of urgent orders to the maid: go and find the curate and get him to ring the bell
“Run to Lieutenant Picard’s and to Sub-lieuten- to bring the people together, while I get ahead of
ant Pommel’s and say to them that I want them them. You, Torcheboeuf, beat the call to assemble
here immediately. Send Torcheboeuf to me, too, the militia in arms, in the square, from even as far
with his drum. Quick, now! Quick!” And when as the hamlets of Gerisaie and Salmare. You,
Celeste was gone, he collected his thoughts and Pommell put on your uniform at once, that is, the
prepared to surmount the difficulties of the situa- jacket and cap. We, together, are going to take
tion. possession of the mairie and summon M. de
The three men arrived together. They were in Varnetot to transfer his authority to me. Do you
their working clothes. The Commander, who had understand?”

38
 Selected Writings
“Yes.” On the other side of the square, opposite the
“Act, then, and promptly. I will accompany you to white, closed front of the mairie, the church, mute
your house, Pommel, since we are to work to- and black, showed its great oak door with the
gether.” wrought-iron trimmings.
Five minutes later, the Commander and his sub- Then, as the puzzled inhabitants put their noses
altern, armed to the teeth, appeared in the square, out of the windows, or came out upon the steps of
just at the moment when the little Viscount de their houses, the rolling of a drum was heard, and
Varnetot, with hunting gaiters on and his rifle on Torcheboeuf suddenly appeared, beating with fury
his shoulder, appeared by another street, walking the three quick strokes of the call to arms. He
rapidly and followed by three guards in green jack- crossed the square with disciplined step, and then
ets, each carrying a knife at his side and a gun disappeared on a road leading to the country.
over his shoulder. The Commander drew his sword, advanced alone
While the doctor stopped, half stupefied, the four to the middle distance between the two buildings
men entered the mayor’s house and the door where the enemy was barricaded and, waving his
closed behind them. weapon above his head, roared at the top of his
“We are forestalled,” murmured the doctor; “it will lungs: “Long live the Republic! Death to traitors!”
be necessary now to wait for re-enforcements; Then he fell back where his officers were. The
nothing can be done for a quarter of an hour.” butcher, the baker, and the apothecary, feeling a
Here Lieutenant Picard appeared: “The curate re- little uncertain, put up their shutters and closed
fuses to obey,” said he; “he has even shut himself their shops. The grocery alone remained open.
up in the church with the beadle and the porter.” Meanwhile the men of the militia were arriving,

39
 De Maupassant
little by little, variously clothed, but all wearing caps, you know that. No, thanks! Execute your commis-
the cap constituting the whole uniform of the corps. sions yourself!”
They were armed with their old, rusty guns, guns The Commander turned red: “I order you to go
that had hung on chimney-pieces in kitchens for in the name of discipline,” said he.
thirty years, and looked quite like a detachment “I am not spoiling my features without knowing
of country soldiers. why,” the lieutenant returned.
When there were about thirty around him, the Men of influence, in a group near by, were heard
Commander explained in a few words, the state laughing. One of them called out: “You are right,
of affairs. Then, turning toward his major, he said: Picard, it is not the proper time.” The doctor, under
“Now, we must act.” his breath, muttered: “Cowards!” And, placing his
While the inhabitants collected, talked over and sword and his revolver in the hands of a soldier,
discussed the matter, the doctor quickly formed he advanced with measured step, his eye fixed on
his plan of campaign: the windows, as if he expected to see a gun or a
“Lieutenant Picard, you advance to the windows cannon pointed at him.
of the mayor’s house and order M. de Varnetot to When he was within a few steps of the building
turn over the townhall to me, in the name of the the doors at the two extremities, affording an en-
Republic.” trance to two schools, opened, and a flood of little
But the lieutenant was a master-mason and re- creatures, boys on one side, girls on the other,
fused. poured out and began playing in the open space,
“You are a scamp, you are. Trying to make a tar- chattering around the doctor like a flock of birds.
get of me! Those fellows in there are good shots, He scarcely knew what to make of it.

40
 Selected Writings
As soon as the last were out, the doors closed. The Commander returned to his troops. But, be-
The greater part of the little monkeys finally scat- fore explaining anything, measuring Lieutenant
tered and then the Commander called out in a Picard from head to foot, he said:
loud voice “You are a numskull, you are,—a goose, the dis-
“Monsieur de Varnetot?” A window in the first grace of the army. I shall degrade you.”
story opened and M. de Varnetot appeared. The Lieutenant replied: “I’ll attend to that myself.”
The Commander began: “Monsieur, you are And he went over to a group of muttering civil-
aware of the great events which have changed ians.
the system of Government. The party you repre- Then the doctor hesitated. What should he do?
sent no longer exists. The side I represent now Make an assault? Would his men obey him? And
comes into power. Under these sad, but decisive then, was he surely in the right? An idea burst
circumstances, I come to demand you, in the name upon him. He ran to the telegraph office, on the
of the Republic, to put in my hand the authority other side of the square, and hurriedly sent three
vested in you by the outgoing power.” dispatches: “To the Members of the Republican
M. de Varnetot replied: “Doctor Massarel, I am Government, at Paris”; “To the New Republican
mayor of Canneville, so placed by the proper au- Prefect of the Lower Seine, at Rouen”; “To the New
thorities, and mayor of Canneville I shall remain Republican Sub-Prefect of Dieppe.”
until the title is revoked and replaced by an order He exposed the situation fully; told of the dan-
from my superiors. As mayor, I am at home in the ger run by the commonwealth from remaining in
mairie, and there I shall stay. Furthermore, just try the hands of the monarchistic mayor, offered his
to put me out.” And he closed the window. devout services, asked for orders and signed his

41
 De Maupassant
name, following it up with all his titles. Then he must be a traitor somewhere. They did not feel
returned to his army corps and, drawing ten francs sure of the revenue of a new Republic.
out of his pocket, said: Night came on. Toward nine o’clock, the doctor
“Now, my friends, go and eat and drink a little returned quietly and alone to the mayor’s resi-
something. Only leave here a detachment of ten dence, persuaded that his adversary had retired.
men, so that no one leaves the mayor’s house.” And, as he was trying to force an entrance with a
Ex-Lieutenant Picard chatting with the watch- few blows of a pickaxe, the loud voice of a guard
maker, overheard this. With a sneer he remarked: demanded suddenly: “Who goes there?” Monsieur
“Pardon me, but if they go out, there will be an Massarel beat a retreat at the top of his speed.
opportunity for you to go in. Otherwise, I can’t Another day dawned without any change in the
see how you are to get in there!” situation. The militia in arms occupied the square.
The doctor made no reply, but went away to lun- The inhabitants stood around awaiting the solution.
cheon. In the afternoon, he disposed of offices all People from neighboring villages came to look on.
about town, having the air of knowing of an im- Finally, the doctor, realizing that his reputation was
pending surprise. Many times he passed before the at stake, resolved to settle the thing in one way or
doors of the mairie and of the church, without another. He had just decided that it must be some-
noticing anything suspicious; one could have be- thing energetic, when the door of the telegraph
lieved the two buildings empty. office opened and the little servant of the directress
The butcher, the baker, and the apothecary re- appeared, holding in her hand two papers.
opened their shops, and stood gossiping on the She went directly to the Commander and gave
steps. If the Emperor had been taken prisoner, there him one of the dispatches; then, crossing the

42
 Selected Writings
square, intimidated by so many eyes fixed upon “That’s all right; but if the others in there won’t go
her, with lowered head and mincing steps, she out, your paper hasn’t a leg to stand on.” The doc-
rapped gently at the door of the barricaded house, tor grew a little pale. If they would not go out —in
as if ignorant that a part of the army was con- fact, he must go ahead now. It was not only his
cealed there. right, but his duty. And he looked anxiously at the
The door opened slightly; the hand of a man house of the mayoralty, hoping that he might see
received the message, and the girl returned, blush- the door open and his adversary show himself.
ing and ready to weep, from being stared at. But the door remained closed. What was to be
The doctor demanded, with stirring voice: “A little done? The crowd was increasing, surrounding the
silence, if you please.” And, after the populace be- militia. Some laughed.
came quiet, he continued proudly: One thought, especially, tortured the doctor. If
“Here is a communication which I have received he should make an assault, he must march at the
from the Government.” And raising the dispatch, head of his men; and as, with him dead, all con-
he read: test would cease, it would be at him, and at him
“Old mayor deposed. Advise us of what is most alone that M. de Varnetot and the three guards
necessary, Instructions later. would aim. And their aim was good, very good!
“For the Sub-Prefect, Picard had reminded him of that.
“Sapin, Counselor.” But an idea shone in upon him, and turning to
He had triumphed. His heart was beating with Pommel, he said: “Go, quickly, and ask the apoth-
joy. His hand trembled, when Picard, his old subal- ecary to send me a napkin and a pole.”
tern, cried out to him from a neighboring group: The Lieutenant hurried off. The doctor was go-

43
 De Maupassant
ing to make a political banner, a white one, that usurped the power.” And, biting off each word, he
would perhaps, rejoice the heart of that old legiti- declared: “I do not wish to have the appearance of
mist, the mayor. serving the Republic for a single day. That is all.”
Pommel returned with the required linen and a Massarel, amazed, made no reply; and M, de
broom handle. With some pieces of string, they Varnetot, walking off at a rapid pace, disappeared
improvised a standard, which Massarel seized in around the corner, followed closely by his escort.
both hands. Again, he advanced toward the house Then the doctors slightly dismayed, returned to
of mayoralty, bearing the standard before him. the crowd. When he was near enough to be heard,
When in front of the door, he called out: “Mon- he cried: “Hurrah! Hurrah! The Republic triumphs
sieur de Varnetot!” all along the line!”
The door opened suddenly, and M. de Varnetot But no emotion was manifested. The doctor tried
and the three guards appeared on the threshold. again. “The people are free! You are free and inde-
The doctor recoiled, instinctively. Then, he saluted pendent! Do you understand? Be proud of it!”
his enemy courteously, and announced, almost The listless villagers looked at him with eyes unlit
strangled by emotion: “I have come, sir, to com- by glory. In his turn, he looked at them, indignant at
municate to you the instructions I have just re- their indifference, seeking for some word that could
ceived.” make a grand impression, electrify this placid coun-
That gentleman, without any salutation what- try and make good his mission. The inspiration come,
ever, replied: “I am going to withdraw, sir, but you and turning to Pommel, he said: “Lieutenant, go and
must understand that it is not because of fear, or get the bust of the ex-Emperor, which is in the Coun-
in obedience to an odious government that has cil Hall, and bring it to me with a chair.”

44
 Selected Writings
And soon the man reappears, carrying on his They remained thus face to face, Napoleon on
right shoulder, Napoleon III. in plaster, and hold- the chair, the doctor in front of him about three
ing in his left hand a straw-bottomed chair. steps away. Suddenly the Commander grew an-
Massarel met him, took the chair, placed it on gry. What was to be done? What was there that
the ground, put the white image upon it, fell back would move this people, and bring about a defi-
a few steps and called out, in sonorous voice: nite victory in opinion? His hand happened to rest
“Tyrant! Tyrant! Here do you fall! Fall in the dust on his hip and to come in contact there with the
and in the mire. An expiring country groans un- butt end of his revolver, under his red sash. No
der your feet. Destiny has called you the Avenger. inspiration, no further word would come. But he
Defeat and shame cling to you. You fall conquered, drew his pistol, advanced two steps, and, taking
a prisoner to the Prussians, and upon the ruins of aim, fired at the late monarch. The ball entered
the crumbling Empire the young and radiant Re- the forehead, leaving a little, black hole, like a spot,
public arises, picking up your broken sword.” nothing more. There was no effect. Then he fired
He awaited applause. But there was no voice, no a second shot, which made a second hole, then, a
sound. The bewildered peasants remained silent. third; and then, without stopping, he emptied his
And the bust, with its pointed mustaches extend- revolver. The brow of Napoleon disappeared in
ing beyond the cheeks on each side, the bust, so white powder, but the eyes, the nose, and the fine
motionless and well groomed as to be fit for a points of the mustaches remained intact. Then,
hairdressers sign, seemed to be looking at M. exasperated, the doctor overturned the chair with
Massarel with a plaster smile, a smile ineffaceable a blow of his fist and, resting a foot on the re-
and mocking. mainder of the bust in a position of triumph, he

45
 De Maupassant
shouted: “So let all tyrants perish!”
Still no enthusiasm was manifest, and as the spec-
THE ARTIST
tators seemed to be in a kind of stupor from as-
“BAH! MONSIEUR,” the old mountebank said to me; “it
tonishment, the Commander called to the militia-
is a matter of exercise and habit, that is all! Of
men: “You may now go to your homes.” And he
course, one requires to be a little gifted that way
went toward his own house with great strides, as
and not to be butter-fingered, but what is chiefly
if he were pursued.
necessary is patience and daily practice for long,
His maid, when he appeared, told him that some
long years.”
patients had been waiting in his office for three
His modesty surprised me all the more, because
hours. He hastened in. There were the two vari-
of all performers who are generally infatuated with
cose-vein patients, who had returned at daybreak,
their own skill, he was the most wonderfully clever
obstinate but patient.
one I had met. Certainly I had frequently seen him,
The old man immediately began his explanation:
for everybody had seen him in some circus or
“This began by a feeling like ants running up and
other, or even in traveling shows, performing the
down the legs.”
trick that consists of putting a man or woman with
extended arms against a wooden target, and in
throwing knives between their fingers and round
their heads, from a distance. There is nothing very
extraordinary in it, after all, when one knows the
tricks of the trade, and that the knives are not the
least sharp, and stick into the wood at some dis-
46
 Selected Writings
tance from the flesh. It is the rapidity of the throws, into the bargain.
the glitter of the blades, and the curve which the “He must think us very stupid,” they said. “How
handles make toward their living object, which give could he possibly aim without having his eyes
an air of danger to an exhibition that has become open?”
commonplace, and only requires very middling skill. And they thought there must be imperceptible holes
But here there was no trick and no deception, in the oilcloth, a sort of latticework concealed in the
and no dust thrown into the eyes. It was done in material. It was useless for him to allow the public to
good earnest and in all sincerity. The knives were examine the mask for themselves before the exhibi-
as sharp as razors, and the old mountebank planted tion began. It was all very well that they could not
them close to the flesh, exactly in the angle be- discover any trick, but they were only all the more
tween the fingers. He surrounded the head with a convinced that they were being tricked. Did not the
perfect halo of knives, and the neck with a collar people know that they ought to be tricked?
from which nobody could have extricated himself I had recognized a great artist in the old moun-
without cutting his carotid artery, while, to increase tebank, and I was quite sure that he was altogether
the difficulty, the old fellow went through the per- incapable of any trickery. I told him so, while ex-
formance without seeing, his whole face being pressing my admiration to him; and he had been
covered with a close mask of thick oilcloth. touched by my open admiration and above all by
Naturally, like other great artists, he was not un- the justice I had done him. Thus we became good
derstood by the crowd, who confounded him with friends, and he explained to me, very modestly,
vulgar tricksters, and his mask only appeared to the real trick which the crowd do not understand,
them a trick the more, and a very common trick the eternal trick contained in these simple words:

47
 De Maupassant
“To be gifted by nature and to practice every day that is why I hate her so; even more on that ac-
for long, long years.” count, than for having deceived me. For that is a
He had been especially struck by the certainty natural fault, is it not, and may be pardoned? But
which I expressed that any trickery must become the other thing was a crime, a horrible crime.”
impossible to him. “Yes,” he said to me; “quite im- The woman, who stood against the wooden tar-
possible! Impossible to a degree which you can- get every night with her arms stretched out and
not imagine. If I were to tell you! But where would her finger extended, and whom the old mounte-
be the use?” bank fitted with gloves and with a halo formed of
His face clouded over, and his eyes filled with his knives, which were as sharp as razors and
tears. I did not venture to force myself into his which he planted close to her, was his wife. She
confidence. My looks, however, were not so dis- might have been a woman of forty, and must have
creet as my silence, and begged him to speak; so been fairly pretty, but with a perverse prettiness;
he responded to their mute appeal. she had an impudent mouth, a mouth that was at
“After all,” he said; “why should I not tell you about the same time sensual and bad, with the lower lip
it? You will understand me.” And he added, with a too thick for the thin, dry upper lip.
look of sudden ferocity: “She understood it, at any I had several times noticed that every time he
rate!” planted a knife in the board, she uttered a laugh,
“Who?” I asked. so low as scarcely to be heard, but which was very
“My strumpet of a wife,” he replied. “Ah! Monsieur, significant when one heard it, for it was a hard
what an abominable creature she was—if you only and very mocking laugh. I had always attributed
knew! Yes, she understood it too well, too well, and that sort of reply to an artifice which the occasion

48
 Selected Writings
required. It was intended, I thought, to accentuate have my revenge by cutting her throat, if I chose,
the danger she incurred and the contempt that without seeming to do it on purpose, as if it were
she felt for it, thanks to the sureness of the an accident, mere awkwardness—”
thrower’s hands, and so I was very much surprised “Oh! So you said that to her?”
when the mountebank said to me: “Of course I did, and I meant it. I thought I might
“Have you observed her laugh, I say? Her evil be able to do it, for you see I had the perfect right
laugh which makes fun of me, and her cowardly to do so. It was so simple, so easy, so tempting!
laugh which defies me? Yes, cowardly, because she Just think! A mistake of less than half an inch, and
knows that nothing can happen to her, nothing, her skin would be cut at the neck where the jugu-
in spite of all she deserves, in spite of all that I lar vein is, and the jugular would be severed. My
ought to do to her, in spite of all that I want to do knives cut very well! And when once the jugular is
to her.” cut—good-bye. The blood would spurt out, and one,
“What do you want to do?” two, three red jets, and all would be over; she
“Confound it! Cannot you guess? I want to kill would be dead, and I should have had my revenge!”
her.” “That is true, certainly, horribly true!”
“To kill her, because she has—” “And without any risk to me, eh? An accident,
“Because she has deceived me? No, no, not that, that is all; bad luck, one of those mistakes which
I tell you again. I have forgiven her for that a long happen every day in our business. What could they
time ago, and I am too much accustomed to it! But accuse me of? Whoever would think of accusing
the worst of it is that the first time I forgave her, me, even? Homicide through imprudence, that
when I told her that all the same I might some day would be all! They would even pity me, rather than

49
 De Maupassant
accuse me. ‘My wife! My poor wife!’ I should say, prove it to her, for she knows that I am capable of
sobbing. ‘My wife, who is so necessary to me, who a good many things; even of crime; especially of
is half the breadwinner, who takes part in my per- one crime.”
formance!’ You must acknowledge that I should “And she was not frightened?”
be pitied!” “No. She merely replied that I could not do what
“Certainly; there is not the least doubt about that.” I said; you understand. That I could not do it!”
“And you must allow that such a revenge would “Why not?”
he a very nice revenge, the best possible revenge “Ah! Monsieur, so you do not understand? Why
which I could have with assured impunity.” do you not? I have I not explained to you by what
“Evidently that is so.” constant, long, daily practice I have learned to plant
“Very well! But when I told her so, as I have told my knives without seeing what I am doing?”
you, and more forcibly still; threatening her as I “Yes, well, what then?”
was mad with rage and ready to do the deed that “Well! Cannot you understand what she has un-
I had dreamed of on the spot, what do you think derstood with such terrible results, that now my
she said?” hand would no longer obey me if I wished to make
“That you were a good fellow, and would cer- a mistake as I threw?”
tainly not have the atrocious courage to—” “Is it possible?”
“Tut! tut! tut! I am not such a good fellow as you “Nothing is truer, I am sorry to say. For I really
think. I am not frightened of blood, and that I have have wished to have the revenge which I have
proved already, though it would be useless to tell dreamed of, and which I thought so easy. Exas-
you how and where. But I had no necessity to perated by that bad woman’s insolence and confi-

50
 Selected Writings
dence in her own safety, I have several times made
up my mind to kill her, and have exerted all my
THE HORLA
energy and all my skill to make my knives fly aside
MAY 8. What a lovely day! I have spent all the
when I threw them to make a border round her
morning lying on the grass in front of my house,
neck. I have tried with all my might to make them
under the enormous plantain tree which covers
deviate half an inch, just enough to cut her throat.
and shades and shelters the whole of it. I like this
I wanted to, and I have never succeeded, never.
part of the country; I am fond of living here be-
And always the slut’s horrible laugh makes fun of
cause I am attached to it by deep roots, the pro-
me, always, always.”
found and delicate roots which attach a man to
And with a deluge of tears, with something like
the soil on which his ancestors were born and
a roar of unsatiated and muzzled rage, he ground
died, to their traditions, their usages, their food,
his teeth as he wound up: “She knows me, the
the local expressions, the peculiar language of the
jade; she is in the secret of my work, of my pa-
peasants, the smell of the soil, the hamlets, and to
tience, of my trick, routine, whatever you may call
the atmosphere itself.
it! She lives in my innermost being, and sees into
I love the house in which I grew up. From my
it more closely than you do, or than I do myself.
windows I can see the Seine, which flows by the
She knows what a faultless machine I have be-
side of my garden, on the other side of the road,
come, the machine of which she makes fun, the
almost through my grounds, the great and wide
machine which is too well wound up, the machine
Seine, which goes to Rouen and Havre, and which
which cannot get out of order—and she knows
is covered with boats passing to and fro.
that I cannot make a mistake.”
On the left, down yonder, lies Rouen, populous
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 De Maupassant
Rouen with its blue roofs massing under pointed, Whence come those mysterious influences which
Gothic towers. Innumerable are they, delicate or change our happiness into discouragement, and
broad, dominated by the spire of the cathedral, our self-confidence into diffidence? One might al-
full of bells which sound through the blue air on most say that the air, the invisible air, is full of
fine mornings, sending their sweet and distant iron unknowable Forces, whose mysterious presence
clang to me, their metallic sounds, now stronger we have to endure. I wake up in the best of spirits,
and now weaker, according as the wind is strong with an inclination to sing in my heart. Why? I go
or light. down by the side of the water, and suddenly, after
What a delicious morning it was! About eleven walking a short distance, I return home wretched,
o’clock, a long line of boats drawn by a steam-tug, as if some misfortune were awaiting me there.
as big a fly, and which scarcely puffed while emit- Why? Is it a cold shiver which, passing over my
ting its thick smoke, passed my gate. skin, has upset my nerves and given me a fit of
After two English schooners, whose red flags flut- low spirits? Is it the form of the clouds, or the tints
tered toward the sky, there came a magnificent of the sky, or the colors of the surrounding ob-
Brazilian three-master; it was perfectly white and jects which are so change-able, which have
wonderfully clean and shining. I saluted it, I hardly troubled my thoughts as they passed before my
know why, except that the sight of the vessel gave eyes? Who can tell? Everything that surrounds us,
me great pleasure. everything that we see without looking at it, ev-
May 12. I have had a slight feverish attack for erything that we touch without knowing it, every-
the last few days, and I feel ill, or rather I feel low- thing that we handle without feeling it, everything
spirited. that we meet without clearly distinguishing it, has

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 Selected Writings
a rapid, surprising, and inexplicable effect upon us month! I am feverish, horribly feverish, or rather I
and upon our organs, and through them on our am in a state of feverish enervation, which makes
ideas and on our being itself. my mind suffer as much as my body. I have with-
How profound that mystery of the Invisible is! out ceasing the horrible sensation of some dan-
We cannot fathom it with our miserable senses: ger threatening me, the apprehension of some
our eyes are unable to perceive what is either too coming misfortune or of approaching death, a pre-
small or too great, too near to or too far from us; sentiment which is no doubt, an attack of some
we can see neither the inhabitants of a star nor of illness still unnamed, which germinates in the flesh
a drop of water; our ears deceive us, for they trans- and in the blood.
mit to us the vibrations of the air in sonorous notes. May 18. I have just come from consulting my
Our senses are fairies who work the miracle of medical man, for I can no longer get any sleep. He
changing that movement into noise, and by that found that my pulse was high, my eyes dilated,
metamorphosis give birth to music, which makes my nerves highly strung, but no alarming symp-
the mute agitation of nature a harmony. So with toms. I must have a course of shower baths and of
our sense of smell, which is weaker than that of a bromide of potassium.
dog, and so with our sense of taste, which can May 25. No change! My state is really very pecu-
scarcely distinguish the age of a wine! liar. As the evening comes on, an incomprehen-
Oh! If we only had other organs which could work sible feeling of disquietude seizes me, just as if night
other miracles in our favor, what a number of fresh concealed some terrible menace toward me. I dine
things we might discover around us! quickly, and then try to read, but I do not under-
May 16. I am ill, decidedly! I was so well last stand the words, and can scarcely distinguish the

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 De Maupassant
letters. Then I walk up and down my drawing-room, stagnant water in order to drown. I do not feel
oppressed by a feeling of confused and irresistible this perfidious sleep coming over me as I used to,
fear, a fear of sleep and a fear of my bed. but a sleep which is close to me and watching me,
About ten o’clock I go up to my room. As soon which is going to seize me by the head, to close
as I have entered I lock and bolt the door. I am my eyes and annihilate me.
frightened—of what? Up till the present time I have I sleep—a long time—two or three hours perhaps—
been frightened of nothing. I open my cupboards, then a dream—no—a nightmare lays hold on me. I
and look under my bed; I listen—I listen—to what? feel that I am in bed and asleep—I feel it and I know
How strange it is that a simple feeling of discom- it—and I feel also that somebody is coming close to
fort, of impeded or heightened circulation, perhaps me, is looking at me, touching me, is getting on to
the irritation of a nervous center, a slight conges- my bed, is kneeling on my chest, is taking my neck
tion, a small disturbance in the imperfect and deli- between his hands and squeezing it—squeezing it
cate functions of our living machinery, can turn with all his might in order to strangle me.
the most light-hearted of men into a melancholy I struggle, bound by that terrible powerlessness
one, and make a coward of the bravest? Then, I which paralyzes us in our dreams; I try to cry out—
go to bed, and I wait for sleep as a man might wait but I cannot; I want to move—I cannot; I try, with
for the executioner. I wait for its coming with dread, the most violent efforts and out of breath, to turn
and my heart beats and my legs tremble, while over and throw off this being which is crushing
my whole body shivers beneath the warmth of and suffocating me—I cannot!
the bedclothes, until the moment when I suddenly And then suddenly I wake up, shaken and bathed
fall asleep, as a man throws himself into a pool of in perspiration; I light a candle and find that I am

54
 Selected Writings
alone, and after that crisis, which occurs every solitude. Suddenly it seemed as if I were being fol-
night, I at length fall asleep and slumber tranquilly lowed, that somebody was walking at my heels,
till morning. close, quite close to me, near enough to touch me.
June 2. My state has grown worse. What is the I turned round suddenly, but I was alone. I saw
matter with me? The bromide does me no good, nothing behind me except the straight, broad ride,
and the shower-baths have no effect whatever. empty and bordered by high trees, horribly empty;
Sometimes, in order to tire myself out, though I on the other side also it extended until it was lost
am fatigued enough already, I go for a walk in the in the distance, and looked just the same—terrible.
forest of Roumare. I used to think at first that the I closed my eyes. Why? And then I began to turn
fresh light and soft air, impregnated with the odor round on one heel very quickly, just like a top. I
of herbs and leaves, would instill new life into my nearly fell down, and opened my eyes; the trees
veins and impart fresh energy to my heart. One were dancing round me and the earth heaved; I
day I turned into a broad ride in the wood, and was obliged to sit down. Then, ah! I no longer
then I diverged toward La Bouille, through a nar- remembered how I had come! What a strange idea!
row path, between two rows of exceedingly tall What a strange, strange idea! I did not the least
trees, which placed a thick, green, almost black know. I started off to the right, and got back into
roof between the sky and me. the avenue which had led me into the middle of
A sudden shiver ran through me, not a cold the forest.
shiver, but a shiver of agony, and so I hastened
my steps, uneasy at being alone in the wood, fright- June 3. I have had a terrible night. I shall go away
ened stupidly and without reason, at the profound for a few weeks, for no doubt a journey will set

55
 De Maupassant
me up again. had been the night before, and I saw that won-
derful abbey rise up before me as I approached it.
July 2. I have come back, quite cured, and have After several hours’ walking, I reached the enor-
had a most delightful trip into the bargain. I have mous mass of rock which supports the little town,
been to Mont Saint-Michel, which I had not seen dominated by the great church. Having climbed
before. the steep and narrow street, I entered the most
What a sight, when one arrives as I did, at wonderful Gothic building that has ever been
Avranches toward the end of the day! The town erected to God on earth, large as a town, and full
stands on a hill, and I was taken into the public of low rooms which seem buried beneath vaulted
garden at the extremity of the town. I uttered a roofs, and of lofty galleries supported by delicate
cry of astonishment. An extraordinarily large bay columns.
lay extended before me, as far as my eyes could I entered this gigantic granite jewel, which is as
reach, between two hills which were lost to sight light in its effect as a bit of lace and is covered with
in the mist; and in the middle of this immense yel- towers, with slender belfries to which spiral stair-
low bay, under a clear, golden sky, a peculiar hill cases ascend. The flying buttresses raise strange
rose up, somber and pointed in the midst of the heads that bristle with chimeras. with devils, with
sand. The sun had just disappeared, and under the fantastic ani-mals, with monstrous flowers, are
still flaming sky stood out the outline of that fan- joined together by finely carved arches, to the blue
tastic rock which bears on its summit a picturesque sky by day, and to the black sky by night.
monument. When I had reached the summit. I said to the
At daybreak I went to it. The tide was low, as it monk who accompanied me: “Father, how happy

56
 Selected Writings
you must be here!” And he replied: “It is very windy, with a woman’s face, both with white hair, who
Monsieur”; and so we began to talk while watch- talk incessantly, quarreling in a strange language,
ing the rising tide, which ran over the sand and and then suddenly cease talking in order to bleat
covered it with a steel cuirass. with all their might.
And then the monk told me stories, all the old “Do you believe it?” I asked the monk. “I scarcely
stories belonging to the place—legends, nothing know,” he replied; and I continued: “If there are
but legends. other beings besides ourselves on this earth, how
One of them struck me forcibly. The country comes it that we have not known it for so long a
people, those belonging to the Mornet, declare time, or why have you not seen them? How is it
that at night one can hear talking going on in the that I have not seen them?”
sand, and also that two goats bleat, one with a He replied: “Do we see the hundred-thousandth
strong, the other with a weak voice. Incredulous part of what exists? Look here; there is the wind,
people declare that it is nothing but the screaming which is the strongest force in nature. It knocks
of the sea birds, which occasionally resembles down men, and blows down buildings, uproots
bleatings, and occasionally human lamentations; trees, raises the sea into mountains of water, de-
but belated fishermen swear that they have met stroys cliffs and casts great ships on to the break-
an old shepherd, whose cloak covered head they ers; it kills, it whistles, it sighs, it roars. But have
can never see, wandering on the sand, between you ever seen it, and can you see it? Yet it exists
two tides, round the little town placed so far out of for all that.”
the world. They declare he is guiding and walking I was silent before this simple reasoning. That
before a he-goat with a man’s face and a she-goat man was a philosopher, or perhaps a fool; I could

57
 De Maupassant
not say which exactly, so I held my tongue. What Then he got up, satiated, and I woke up, so beaten,
he had said had often been in my own thoughts. crushed, and annihilated that I could not move. If
this continues for a few days, I shall certainly go
July 3. I have slept badly; certainly there is some away again.
feverish influence here, for my coachman is suf-
fering in the same way as I am. When I went back July 5. Have I lost my reason? What has happened?
home yesterday, I noticed his singular paleness, What I saw last night is so strange that my head
and I asked him: “What is the matter with you, wanders when I think of it!
Jean?” As I do now every evening, I had locked my door;
“The matter is that I never get any rest, and my then, being thirsty, I drank half a glass of water,
nights devour my days. Since your departure, Mon- and I accidentally noticed that the water-bottle was
sieur, there has been a spell over me.” full up to the cut-glass stopper.
However, the other servants are all well, but I Then I went to bed and fell into one of my ter-
am very frightened of having another attack, my- rible sleeps, from which I was aroused in about
self. two hours by a still more terrible shock.
Picture to yourself a sleeping man who is being
July 4. I am decidedly taken again; for my old night- murdered, who wakes up with a knife in his chest,
mares have returned. Last night I felt somebody a gurgling in his throat, is covered with blood, can
leaning on me who was sucking my life from be- no longer breathe, is going to die and does not
tween my lips with his mouth. Yes, he was sucking understand anything at all about it—there you have
it out of my neck like a leech would have done. it.

58
 Selected Writings
Having recovered my senses, I was thirsty again, it yields to ourselves.
so I lighted a candle and went to the table on Oh! Who will understand my horrible agony?
which my water-bottle was. I lifted it up and tilted Who will understand the emotion of a man sound
it over my glass, but nothing came out. It was in mind, wide-awake, full of sense, who looks in
empty! It was completely empty! At first I could not horror at the disappearance of a little water while
understand it at all; then suddenly I was seized by he was asleep, through the glass of a water-bottle!
such a terrible feeling that I had to sit down, or And I remained sitting until it was daylight, with-
rather fall into a chair! Then I sprang up with a out venturing to go to bed again.
bound to look about me; then I sat down again,
overcome by astonishment and fear, in front of July 6. I am going mad. Again all the contents of
the transparent crystal bottle! I looked at it with my water-bottle have been drunk during the night;
fixed eyes, trying to solve the puzzle, and my hands or rather I have drunk it!
trembled! Some body had drunk the water, but But is it I? Is it I? Who could it be? Who? Oh! God!
who? I? I without any doubt. It could surely only Am I going mad? Who will save me?
be I? In that case I was a somnambulist—was liv-
ing, without knowing it, that double, mysterious July 10. I have just been through some surprising
life which makes us doubt whether there are not ordeals. Undoubtedly I must be mad! And yet!
two beings in us—whether a strange, unknowable, On July 6, before going to bed, I put some wine,
and invisible being does not, during our moments milk, water, bread, and strawberries on my table.
of mental and physical torpor, animate the inert Somebody drank—I drank—all the water and a little
body, forcing it to a more willing obedience than of the milk, but neither the wine, nor the bread,

59
 De Maupassant
nor the strawberries were touched. bulist, or I have been brought under the power of
On the seventh of July I renewed the same ex- one of those influences—hypnotic suggestion, for
periment, with the same results, and on July 8 I example—which are known to exist, but have hith-
left out the water and the milk and nothing was erto been inexplicable. In any case, my mental state
touched. bordered on madness, and twenty-four hours of
Lastly, on July 9 I put only water and milk on my Paris sufficed to restore me to my equilibrium.
table, taking care to wrap up the bottles in white Yesterday after doing some business and paying
muslin and to tie down the stoppers. Then I rubbed some visits, which instilled fresh and invigorating
my lips, my beard, and my hands with pencil lead, mental air into me, I wound up my evening at the
and went to bed. Theatre Francais. A drama by Alexander Dumas
Deep slumber seized me, soon followed by a ter- the Younger was being acted, and his brilliant and
rible awakening. I had not moved, and my sheets powerful play completed my cure. Certainly soli-
were not marked. I rushed to the table. The mus- tude is dangerous for active minds. We need men
lin round the bottles remained intact; I undid the who can think and can talk, around us. When we
string, trembling with fear. All the water had been are alone for a long time, we people space with
drunk, and so had the milk! Ah! Great God! I must phantoms.
start for Paris immediately. I returned along the boulevards to my hotel in
excellent spirits. Amid the jostling of the crowd I
July 12. Paris. I must have lost my head during the thought, not without irony, of my terrors and sur-
last few days! I must be the plaything of my ener- mises of the previous week, because I believed,
vated imagination, unless I am really a somnam- yes, I believed, that an invisible being lived be-

60
 Selected Writings
neath my roof. How weak our mind is; how quickly can only be foolish, ineffective, and false, for the
it is terrified and unbalanced as soon as we are very reason that principles are ideas which are
confronted with a small, incomprehensible fact. considered as certain and unchangeable, whereas
Instead of dismissing the problem with: “We do in this world one is certain of nothing, since light
not understand because we cannot find the cause,” is an illusion and noise is deception.
we immediately imagine terrible mysteries and
supernatural powers. July 16. I saw some things yesterday that troubled
me very much. I was dining at my cousin’s, Ma-
July 14. Fete of the Republic. I walked through the dame Sable, whose husband is colonel of the Sev-
streets, and the crackers and flags amused me like enty-sixth Chasseurs at Limoges. There were two
a child. Still, it is very foolish to make merry on a young women there, one of whom had married a
set date, by Government decree. People are like a medical man, Dr. Parent, who devotes himself a
flock of sheep, now steadily patient, now in fero- great deal to nervous diseases and to the extraor-
cious revolt. Say to it: “Amuse yourself,” and it dinary manifestations which just now experiments
amuses itself. Say to it: “Go and fight with your in hypnotism and suggestion are producing.
neighbor,” and it goes and fights. Say to it: “Vote He related to us at some length the enormous
for the Emperor,” and it votes for the Emperor; results obtained by English scientists and the doc-
then say to it: “Vote for the Republic,” and it votes tors of the medical school at Nancy, and the facts
for the Republic. which he adduced appeared to me so strange, that
Those who direct it are stupid, too; but instead of I declared that I was altogether incredulous.
obeying men they obey principles, a course which “We are,” he declared, “on the point of discover-

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 De Maupassant
ing one of the most important secrets of nature, I human creature. Nothing is truer than what
mean to say, one of its most important secrets on Voltaire says: ‘If God made man in His own image,
this earth, for assuredly there are some up in the man has certainly paid Him back again.’
stars, yonder, of a different kind of importance. “But for rather more than a century, men seem
Ever since man has thought, since he has been to have had a presentiment of something new.
able to express and write down his thoughts, he Mesmer and some others have put us on an un-
has felt himself close to a mystery which is impen- expected track, and within the last two or three
etrable to his coarse and imperfect senses, and he years especially, we have arrived at results really
endeavors to supplement the feeble penetration surprising.”
of his organs by the efforts of his intellect. As long My cousin, who is also very incredulous, smiled,
as that intellect remained in its elementary stage, and Dr. Parent said to her: “Would you like me to
this intercourse with invisible spirits assumed forms try and send you to sleep, Madame?”
which were commonplace though terrifying. “Yes, certainly.”
Thence sprang the popular belief in the supernatu- She sat down in an easy-chair, and he began to
ral, the legends of wandering spirits, of fairies, of look at her fixedly, as if to fascinate her. I sud-
gnomes, of ghosts, I might even say the concep- denly felt myself somewhat discomposed; my heart
tion of God, for our ideas of the Workman-Cre- beat rapidly and I had a choking feeling in my
ator, from whatever religion they may have come throat. I saw that Madame Sable’s eyes were grow-
down to us, are certainly the most mediocre, the ing heavy, her mouth twitched, and her bosom
stupidest, and the most unacceptable inventions heaved, and at the end of ten minutes she was
that ever sprang from the frightened brain of any asleep.

62
 Selected Writings
“Go behind her,” the doctor said to me; so I took will get up at eight o’clock to-morrow morning;
a seat behind her. He put a visiting-card into her then you will go and call on your cousin at his
hands, and said to her: “This is a looking-glass; hotel and ask him to lend you the five thousand
what do you see in it?” francs which your husband asks of you, and which
She replied: “I see my cousin.” he will ask for when he sets out on his coming
“What is he doing?” journey.”
“He is twisting his mustache.” Then he woke her up.
“And now?” On returning to my hotel, I thought over this cu-
“He is taking a photograph out of his pocket.” rious seance and I was assailed by doubts, not as
“Whose photograph is it?” to my cousin’s absolute and undoubted good faith,
“His own.” for I had known her as well as if she had been my
That was true, for the photograph had been given own sister ever since she was a child, but as to a
me that same evening at the hotel. possible trick on the doctor’s part. Had not he,
“What is his attitude in this portrait?” perhaps, kept a glass hidden in his hand, which
“He is standing up with his hat in his hand.” he showed to the young woman in her sleep at
She saw these things in that card, in that piece the same time as he did the card? Professional
of white pasteboard, as if she had seen them in a conjurers do things which are just as singular.
looking-glass. However, I went to bed, and this morning, at
The young women were frightened, and ex- about half past eight, I was awakened by my foot-
claimed: “That is quite enough! Quite, quite enough!” man, who said to me: “Madame Sable has asked
But the doctor said to her authoritatively: “You to see you immediately, Monsieur.” I dressed hast-

63
 De Maupassant
ily and went to her. francs at his disposal? Come, think. Are you sure
She sat down in some agitation, with her eyes that he commissioned you to ask me for them?”
on the floor, and without raising her veil said to She hesitated for a few seconds, as if she were
me: “My dear cousin, I am going to ask a great making a great effort to search her memory, and
favor of you.” then she replied: “Yes—yes, I am quite sure of it.”
“What is it, cousin?” “He has written to you?”
“I do not like to tell you, and yet I must. I am in She hesitated again and reflected, and I guessed
absolute want of five thousand francs.” the torture of her thoughts. She did not know. She
“What, you?” only knew that she was to borrow five thousand
“Yes, I, or rather my husband, who has asked me francs of me for her husband. So she told a lie.
to procure them for him.” “Yes, he has written to me.”
I was so stupefied that I hesitated to answer. I “When, pray? You did not mention it to me yes-
asked myself whether she had not really been terday.”
making fun of me with Dr. Parent, if it were not “I received his letter this morning.”
merely a very well-acted farce which had been “Can you show it to me?”
got up beforehand. On looking at her attentively, “No; no—no—it contained private matters, things
however, my doubts disappeared. She was trem- too personal to ourselves. I burned it.”
bling with grief, so painful was this step to her, “So your husband runs into debt?”
and I was sure that her throat was full of sobs. She hesitated again, and then murmured: “I do
I knew that she was very rich and so I contin- not know.”
ued: “What! Has not your husband five thousand Thereupon I said bluntly: “I have not five thou-

64
 Selected Writings
sand francs at my disposal at this moment, my dear me this morning to borrow five thousand francs,
cousin.” and at this moment you are obeying that sugges-
She uttered a cry, as if she were in pair; and said: tion.”
“Oh! oh! I beseech you, I beseech you to get them She considered for a few moments, and then re-
for me.” plied: “But as it is my husband who wants them—”
She got excited and clasped her hands as if she For a whole hour I tried to convince her, but could
were praying to me! I heard her voice change its not succeed, and when she had gone I went to
tone; she wept and sobbed, harassed and domi- the doctor. He was just going out, and he listened
nated by the irresistible order that she had received. to me with a smile, and said: “Do you believe now?”
“Oh! oh! I beg you to—if you knew what I am “Yes, I cannot help it.”
suffering—I want them to-day.” “Let us go to your cousin’s.”
I had pity on her: “You shall have them by and She was already resting on a couch, overcome
by, I swear to you.” with fatigue. The doctor felt her pulse, looked at
“Oh! thank you! thank you! How kind you are.” her for some time with one hand raised toward
I continued: “Do you remember what took place her eyes, which she closed by degrees under the
at your house last night?” irresistible power of this magnetic influence. When
“Yes.” she was asleep, he said:
“Do you remember that Dr. Parent sent you to “Your husband does not require the five thou-
sleep?” sand francs any longer! You must, therefore, for-
“Yes.” get that you asked your cousin to lend them to
“Oh! Very well then; he ordered you to come to you, and, if he speaks to you about it, you will not

65
 De Maupassant
understand him.” on the Ile de la Grenouilliere.* But on the top of
Then he woke her up, and I took out a pocket- Mont Saint-Michel or in India, we are terribly un-
book and said: “Here is what you asked me for der the influence of our surroundings. I shall re-
this morning, my dear cousin.” But she was so sur- turn home next week.
prised, that I did not venture to persist; neverthe-
less, I tried to recall the circumstance to her, but July 30. I came back to my own house yesterday.
she denied it vigorously, thought that I was mak- Everything is going on well.
ing fun of her, and in the end, very nearly lost her
temper. August 2. Nothing fresh; it is splendid weather, and
There! I have just come back, and I have not I spend my days in watching the Seine flow past.
been able to eat any lunch, for this experiment
has altogether upset me. August 4. Quarrels among my servants. They de-
clare that the glasses are broken in the cupboards
July 19. Many people to whom I have told the at night. The footman accuses the cook, she ac-
adventure have laughed at me. I no longer know cuses the needlewoman, and the latter accuses the
what to think. The wise man says: Perhaps? other two. Who is the culprit? It would take a clever
person to tell.
July 21. I dined at Bougival, and then I spent the
evening at a boatmen’s ball. Decidedly everything August 6. This time, I am not mad. I have seen —I
depends on place and surroundings. It would be have seen—I have seen!—I can doubt no longer —
the height of folly to believe in the supernatural
*Frog-island.
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 Selected Writings
I have seen it! remained on the branch. I returned home, then,
I was walking at two o’clock among my rose- with a much disturbed mind; for I am certain now,
trees, in the full sunlight—in the walk bordered by certain as I am of the alternation of day and night,
autumn roses which are beginning to fall. As I that there exists close to me an invisible being
stopped to look at a Geant de Bataille, which had who lives on milk and on water, who can touch
three splendid blooms, I distinctly saw the stalk of objects, take them and change their places; who
one of the roses bend close to me, as if an invis- is, consequently, endowed with a material nature,
ible hand had bent it, and then break, as if that although imperceptible to sense, and who lives as
hand had picked it! Then the flower raised itself, I do, under my roof—
following the curve which a hand would have
described in carrying it toward a mouth, and re- August 7. I slept tranquilly. He drank the water out
mained suspended in the transparent air, alone of my decanter, but did not disturb my sleep.
and motionless, a terrible red spot, three yards from I ask myself whether I am mad. As I was walking
my eyes. In desperation I rushed at it to take it! I just now in the sun by the riverside, doubts as to
found nothing; it had disappeared. Then I was my own sanity arose in me; not vague doubts such
seized with furious rage against myself, for it is as I have had hitherto, but precise and absolute
not wholesome for a reasonable and serious man doubts. I have seen mad people, and I have known
to have such hallucinations. some who were quite intelligent, lucid, even clear-
But was it a hallucination? I turned to look for sighted in every concern of life, except on one
the stalk, and I found it immediately under the bush, point. They could speak clearly, readily, profoundly
freshly broken, between the two other roses which on everything; till their thoughts were caught in

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 De Maupassant
the breakers of their delusions and went to pieces ger-board had been paralyzed in me? Some men
there, were dispersed and swamped in that furi- lose the recollection of proper names, or of verbs,
ous and terrible sea of fogs and squalls which is or of numbers, or merely of dates, in consequence
called madness. of an accident. The localization of all the avenues
I certainly should think that I was mad, abso- of thought has been accomplished nowadays;
lutely mad, if I were not conscious that I knew my what, then, would there be surprising in the fact
state, if I could not fathom it and analyze it with that my faculty of controlling the unreality of cer-
the most complete lucidity. I should, in fact, be a tain hallucinations should be destroyed for the time
reasonable man laboring under a hallucination. being?
Some unknown disturbance must have been ex- I thought of all this as I walked by the side of the
cited in my brain, one of those disturbances which water. The sun was shining brightly on the river
physiologists of the present day try to note and to and made earth delightful, while it filled me with
fix precisely, and that disturbance must have caused love for life, for the swallows, whose swift agility
a profound gulf in my mind and in the order and is always delightful in my eyes, for the plants by
logic of my ideas. Similar phenomena occur in the riverside, whose rustling is a pleasure to my
dreams, and lead us through the most unlikely ears.
phantasmagoria, without causing us any surprise, By degrees, however, an inexplicable feeling of
because our verifying apparatus and our sense of discomfort seized me. It seemed to me as if some
control have gone to sleep, while our imaginative unknown force were numbing and stopping me,
faculty wakes and works. Was it not possible that were preventing me from going further and were
one of the imperceptible keys of the cerebral fin- calling me back. I felt that painful wish to return

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 Selected Writings
which comes on you when you have left a be- August 11. Still nothing. I cannot stop at home with
loved invalid at home, and are seized by a presen- this fear hanging over me and these thoughts in
timent that he is worse. my mind; I shall go away.
I, therefore, returned despite of myself, feeling
certain that I should find some bad news awaiting August 12. Ten o’clock at night. All day long I have
me, a letter or a telegram. There was nothing, been trying to get away, and have not been able.
however, and I was surprised and uneasy, more I contemplated a simple and easy act of liberty, a
so than if I had had another fantastic vision. carriage ride to Rouen—and I have not been able
to do it. What is the reason?
August 8. I spent a terrible evening, yesterday. He
does not show himself any more, but I feel that He August 13. When one is attacked by certain mala-
is near me, watching me, looking at me, penetrat- dies, the springs of our physical being seem bro-
ing me, dominating me, and more terrible to me ken, our energies destroyed, our muscles relaxed,
when He hides himself thus than if He were to our bones to be as soft as our flesh, and our blood
manifest his constant and invisible presence by as liquid as water. I am experiencing the same in
supernatural phenomena. However, I slept. my moral being, in a strange and distressing man-
ner. I have no longer any strength, any courage,
August 9. Nothing, but I am afraid. any self-control, nor even any power to set my
own will in motion. I have no power left to will
August 10. Nothing; but what will happen to-mor- anything, but some one does it for me and I obey.
row?

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 De Maupassant
August 14. I am lost! Somebody possesses my soul poor cousin was possessed and swayed, when she
and governs it! Somebody orders all my acts, all came to borrow five thousand francs of me. She
my movements, all my thoughts. I am no longer was under the power of a strange will which had
master of myself, nothing except an enslaved and entered into her, like another soul, a parasitic and
terrified spectator of the things which I do. I wish ruling soul. Is the world coming to an end?
to go out; I cannot. He does not wish to; and so I But who is he, this invisible being that rules me,
remain, trembling and distracted in the armchair this unknowable being, this rover of a supernatu-
in which he keeps me sitting. I merely wish to get ral race?
up and to rouse myself, so as to think that I am Invisible beings exist, then! how is it, then, that
still master of myself: I cannot! I am riveted to my since the beginning of the world they have never
chair, and my chair adheres to the floor in such a manifested themselves in such a manner as they
manner that no force of mine can move us. do to me? I have never read anything that re-
Then suddenly, I must, I must go to the foot of sembles what goes on in my house. Oh! If I could
my garden to pick some strawberries and eat them only leave it, if I could only go away and flee, and
—and I go there. I pick the strawberries and I eat never return, I should be saved; but I cannot.
them! Oh! my God! my God! Is there a God? If there
be one, deliver me! save me! succor me! Pardon! August 16. I managed to escape to-day for two
Pity! Mercy! Save me! Oh! what sufferings! what hours, like a prisoner who finds the door of his
torture! what horror! dungeon accidentally open. I suddenly felt that I
was free and that He was far away, and so I gave
August 15. Certainly this is the way in which my orders to put the horses in as quickly as possible,

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 Selected Writings
and I drove to Rouen. Oh! how delightful to be their power; but none of them resembles the one
able to say to my coachman: “Go to Rouen!” which haunts me. One might say that man, ever
I made him pull up before the library, and I begged since he has thought, has had a foreboding and a
them to lend me Dr. Herrmann Herestauss’s trea- fear of a new being, stronger than himself, his
tise on the unknown inhabitants of the ancient successor in this world, and that, feeling him near,
and modern world. and not being able to foretell the nature of the
Then, as I was getting into my carriage, I intended unseen one, he has, in his terror, created the whole
to say: “To the railway station!” but instead of this race of hidden beings, vague phantoms born of
I shouted—I did not speak; but I shouted—in such a fear.
loud voice that all the passers-by turned round: Having, therefore, read until one o’clock in the
“Home!” and I fell back on to the cushion of my morning, I went and sat down at the open win-
carriage, overcome by mental agony. He had found dow, in order to cool my forehead and my thoughts
me out and regained possession of me. in the calm night air. It was very pleasant and warm!
How I should have enjoyed such a night formerly!
August 17. Oh! What a night! what a night! And There was no moon, but the stars darted out
yet it seems to me that I ought to rejoice. I read their rays in the dark heavens. Who inhabits those
until one o’clock in the morning! Herestauss, Doc- worlds? What forms, what living beings, what ani-
tor of Philosophy and Theogony, wrote the his- mals are there yonder? Do those who are think-
tory and the manifestation of all those invisible ers in those distant worlds know more than we
beings which hover around man, or of whom he do? What can they do more than we? What do
dreams. He describes their origin, their domains, they see which we do not? Will not one of them,

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 De Maupassant
some day or other, traversing space, appear on place, and that He was reading. With a furious
our earth to conquer it, just as formerly the bound, the bound of an enraged wild beast that
Norsemen crossed the sea in order to subjugate wishes to disembowel its tamer, I crossed my room
nations feebler than themselves? to seize him, to strangle him, to kill him! But be-
We are so weak, so powerless, so ignorant, so fore I could reach it, my chair fell over as if some-
small—we who live on this particle of mud which body had run away from me. My table rocked, my
revolves in liquid air. lamp fell and went out, and my window closed as
I fell asleep, dreaming thus in the cool night air, if some thief had been surprised and had fled out
and then, having slept for about three quarters of into the night, shutting it behind him.
an hour, I opened my eyes without moving, awak- So He had run away; He had been afraid; He,
ened by an indescribably confused and strange afraid of me!
sensation. At first I saw nothing, and then sud- So to-morrow, or later—some day or other, I
denly it appeared to me as if a page of the book, should be able to hold him in my clutches and
which had remained open on my table, turned over crush him against the ground! Do not dogs occa-
of its own accord. Not a breath of air had come in sionally bite and strangle their masters?
at my window, and I was surprised and waited. In
about four minutes, I saw, I saw—yes I saw with August 18. I have been thinking the whole day
my own eyes—another page lift itself up and fall long. Oh! yes, I will obey Him, follow His impulses,
down on the others, as if a finger had turned it fulfill all His wishes, show myself humble, submis-
over. My armchair was empty, appeared empty, sive, a coward. He is the stronger; but an hour will
but I knew that He was there, He, and sitting in my come.

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 Selected Writings
August 19. I know, I know, I know all! I have just Emperor as may appear to him to be most fitted to
read the following in the “Revue du Monde restore the mad population to reason.”
Scientifique”: “A curious piece of news comes to us Ah! Ah! I remember now that fine Brazilian three-
from Rio de Janeiro. Madness, an epidemic of master which passed in front of my windows as it
madness, which may be compared to that conta- was going up the Seine, on the eighth of last May!
gious madness which attacked the people of Eu- I thought it looked so pretty, so white and bright!
rope in the Middle Ages, is at this moment raging That Being was on board of her, coming from there,
in the Province of San-Paulo. The frightened in- where its race sprang from. And it saw me! It saw
habitants are leaving their houses, deserting their my house, which was also white, and He sprang
villages, abandoning their land, saying that they from the ship on to the land. Oh! Good heavens!
are pursued, possessed, governed like human cattle Now I know, I can divine. The reign of man is
by invisible, though tangible beings, by a species over, and he has come. He whom disquieted priests
of vampire, which feeds on their life while they exorcised, whom sorcerers evoked on dark nights,
are asleep, and which, besides, drinks water and without seeing him appear, He to whom the imagi-
milk without appearing to touch any other nour- nations of the transient masters of the world lent
ishment. all the monstrous or graceful forms of gnomes,
“Professor Don Pedro Henriques, accompanied spirits, genii, fairies, and familiar spirits. After the
by several medical savants, has gone to the Prov- coarse conceptions of primitive fear, men more
ince of San-Paulo, in order to study the origin and enlightened gave him a truer form. Mesmer di-
the manifestations of this surprising madness on vined him, and ten years ago physicians accurately
the spot, and to propose such measures to the discovered the nature of his power, even before

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 De Maupassant
He exercised it himself. They played with that and kills the man who has subjugated it. I should
weapon of their new Lord, the sway of a mysteri- also like—I shall be able to—but I must know Him,
ous will over the human soul, which had become touch Him, see Him! Learned men say that eyes of
enslaved. They called it mesmerism, hypnotism, animals, as they differ from ours, do not distin-
suggestion, I know not what? I have seen them guish as ours do. And my eye cannot distinguish
diverting themselves like rash children with this this newcomer who is oppressing me.
horrible power! Woe to us! Woe to man! He has Why? Oh! Now I remember the words of the
come, the—the—what does He call himself—the—I monk at Mont Saint-Michel: “Can we see the hun-
fancy that he is shouting out his name to me and dred-thousandth part of what exists? Listen; there
I do not hear him—the—yes—He is shouting it out— is the wind which is the strongest force in nature;
I am listening—I cannot—repeat—it—Horla—I have it knocks men down, blows down buildings, up-
heard—the Horla—it is He—the Horla—He has roots trees, raises the sea into mountains of wa-
come!— ter, destroys cliffs, and casts great ships on to the
Ah! the vulture has eaten the pigeon, the wolf breakers; it kills, it whistles, it sighs, it roars,—have
has eaten the lamb; the lion has devoured the you ever seen it, and can you see it? It exists for
sharp-horned buffalo; man has killed the lion with all that, however!”
an arrow, with a spear, with gunpowder; but the And I went on thinking: my eyes are so weak, so
Horla will make of man what man has made of imperfect, that they do not even distinguish hard
the horse and of the ox: his chattel, his slave, and bodies, if they are as transparent as glass! If a glass
his food, by the mere power of his will. Woe to us! without quicksilver behind it were to bar my way,
But, nevertheless, sometimes the animal rebels I should run into it, just like a bird which has flown

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 Selected Writings
into a room breaks its head against the window- There are only a few—so few—stages of devel-
panes. A thousand things, moreover, deceive a opment in this world, from the oyster up to man.
man and lead him astray. How then is it surprising Why should there not be one more, when once
that he cannot perceive a new body which is pen- that period is accomplished which separates the
etrated and pervaded by the light? successive products one from the other?
A new being! Why not? It was assuredly bound Why not one more? Why not, also, other trees
to come! Why should we be the last? We do not with immense, splendid flowers, perfuming whole
distinguish it, like all the others created before us? regions? Why not other elements beside fire, air,
The reason is, that its nature is more delicate, its earth, and water? There are four, only four, nurs-
body finer and more finished than ours. Our ing fathers of various beings! What a pity! Why
makeup is so weak, so awkwardly conceived; our should not there be forty, four hundred, four thou-
body is encumbered with organs that are always sand! How poor everything is, how mean and
tired, always being strained like locks that are too wretched—grudgingly given, poorly invented, clum-
complicated; it lives like a plant and like an animal sily made! Ah! the elephant and the hippopotamus,
nourishing itself with difficulty on air, herbs, and what power! And the camel, what suppleness!
flesh; it is a brute machine which is a prey to mala- But the butterfly, you will say, a flying flower! I
dies, to malformations, to decay; it is broken- dream of one that should be as large as a hun-
winded, badly regulated, simple and eccentric, in- dred worlds, with wings whose shape, beauty, col-
geniously yet badly made, a coarse and yet a deli- ors, and motion I cannot even express. But I see
cate mechanism, in brief, the outline of a being it—it flutters from star to star, refreshing them and
which might become intelligent and great. perfuming them with the light and harmonious

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 De Maupassant
breath of its flight! And the people up there gaze My bed, my old oak bed with its columns, was
at it as it passes in an ecstasy of delight! opposite to me; on my right was the fireplace; on
What is the matter with me? It is He, the Horla my left the door, which was carefully closed, after
who haunts me, and who makes me think of these I had left it open for some time, in order to attract
foolish things! He is within me, He is becoming my Him; behind me was a very high wardrobe with a
soul; I shall kill him! looking-glass in it, which served me to dress by
every day, and in which I was in the habit of in-
August 20. I shall kill Him. I have seen Him! Yester- specting myself from head to foot every time I
day I sat down at my table and pretended to write passed it.
very assiduously. I knew quite well that He would So I pretended to be writing in order to deceive
come prowling round me, quite close to me, so Him, for He also was watching me, and suddenly I
close that I might perhaps be able to touch him, to felt, I was certain, that He was reading over my
seize him. And then—then I should have the shoulder, that He was there, almost touching my
strength of desperation; I should have my hands, ear.
my knees, my chest, my forehead, my teeth to I got up so quickly, with my hands extended, that
strangle him, to crush him, to bite him, to tear him I almost fell. Horror! It was as bright as at midday,
to pieces. And I watched for him with all my over- but I did not see myself in the glass! It was empty,
excited nerves. clear, profound, full of light! But my figure was not
I had lighted my two lamps and the eight wax reflected in it—and I, I was opposite to it! I saw the
candles on my mantelpiece, as if, by this light I large, clear glass from top to bottom, and I looked
should discover Him. at it with unsteady eyes. I did not dare advance; I

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 Selected Writings
did not venture to make a movement; feeling cer- mix it with the water; and then, would our poi-
tain, nevertheless, that He was there, but that He sons have any effect on His impalpable body? No—
would escape me again, He whose imperceptible no—no doubt about the matter. Then?—then?
body had absorbed my reflection.
How frightened I was! And then suddenly I be- August 22. I sent for a blacksmith from Rouen and
gan to see myself through a mist in the depths of ordered iron shutters of him for my room, such as
the looking-glass, in a mist as it were, or through some private hotels in Paris have on the ground
a veil of water; and it seemed to me as if this wa- floor, for fear of thieves, and he is going to make
ter were flowing slowly from left to right, and me a similar door as well. I have made myself out
making my figure clearer every moment. It was a coward, but I do not care about that!
like the end of an eclipse. Whatever hid me did
not appear to possess any clearly defined outlines, September 10. Rouen, Hotel Continental. It is done;
but was a sort of opaque transparency, which it is done—but is He dead? My mind is thoroughly
gradually grew clearer. upset by what I have seen.
At last I was able to distinguish myself completely, Well then, yesterday, the locksmith having put
as I do every day when I look at myself. on the iron shutters and door, I left everything
I had seen Him! And the horror of it remained open until midnight, although it was getting cold.
with me, and makes me shudder even now. Suddenly I felt that He was there, and joy, mad
joy took possession of me. I got up softly, and I
August 21. How could I kill Him, since I could not walked to the right and left for some time, so that
get hold of Him? Poison? But He would see me He might not guess anything; then I took off my

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 De Maupassant
boots and put on my slippers carelessly; then I fas- tionless, not a breath of air and not a star, but
tened the iron shutters and going back to the door heavy banks of clouds which one could not see,
quickly I double-locked it with a padlock, putting but which weighed, oh! so heavily on my soul.
the key into my pocket. I looked at my house and waited. How long it
Suddenly I noticed that He was moving restlessly was! I already began to think that the fire had gone
round me, that in his turn He was frightened and out of its own accord, or that He had extinguished
was ordering me to let Him out. I nearly yielded, it, when one of the lower windows gave way un-
though I did not quite, but putting my back to the der the violence of the flames, and a long, soft,
door, I half opened it, just enough to allow me to caressing sheet of red flame mounted up the white
go out backward, and as I am very tall, my head wall, and kissed it as high as the roof. The light fell
touched the lintel. I was sure that He had not been on to the trees, the branches, and the leaves, and
able to escape, and I shut Him up quite alone, quite a shiver of fear pervaded them also! The birds
alone. What happiness! I had Him fast. Then I ran awoke; a dog began to howl, and it seemed to me
downstairs into the drawing-room which was un- as if the day were breaking! Almost immediately
der my bedroom. I took the two lamps and poured two other windows flew into fragments, and I saw
all the oil on to the carpet, the furniture, every- that the whole of the lower part of my house was
where; then I set fire to it and made my escape, nothing but a terrible furnace. But a cry, a hor-
after having carefully double locked the door. rible, shrill, heart-rending cry, a woman’s cry,
I went and hid myself at the bottom of the gar- sounded through the night, and two garret win-
den, in a clump of laurel bushes. How long it was! dows were opened! I had forgotten the servants! I
how long it was! Everything was dark, silent, mo- saw the terror-struck faces, and the frantic waving

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 Selected Writings
of their arms! Why this transparent, unrecognizable body, this
Then, overwhelmed with horror, I ran off to the body belonging to a spirit, if it also had to fear ills,
village, shouting: “Help! help! fire! fire!” Meeting infirmities, and premature destruction?
some people who were already coming on to the Premature destruction? All human terror springs
scene, I went back with them to see! from that! After man the Horla. After him who can
By this time the house was nothing but a hor- die every day, at any hour, at any moment, by
rible and magnificent funeral pile, a monstrous pyre any accident, He came, He who was only to die at
which lit up the whole country, a pyre where men his own proper hour and minute, because He had
were burning, and where He was burning also, touched the limits of his existence!
He, He, my prisoner, that new Being, the new No—no—there is no doubt about it—He is not
Master, the Horla! dead. Then—then—I suppose I must kill myself!
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.

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 De Maupassant

MISS HARRIET on the plane of the horizon; and as it ascended,

growing clearer from minute to minute, the coun-
try seemed to awake, to smile, to shake and stretch
THERE WERE SEVEN of us in a four-in-hand, four women
itself, like a young girl who is leaving her bed in
and three men, one of whom was on the box seat
her white airy chemise. The Count d’Etraille, who
beside the coachman. We were following, at a foot
was seated on the box, cried:
pace, broad highway which serpentines along the
“Look! look! a hare!” and he pointed toward the
coast.
left, indicating a piece of hedge. The leveret threaded
Setting out from Etretat at break of day, in order
its way along, almost concealed by the field, only
to visit the ruins of Tancarville, we were still asleep,
its large ears visible. Then it swerved across a deep
chilled by the fresh air of the morning. The women,
rut, stopped, again pursued its easy course, changed
especially, who were but little accustomed to these
its direction, stopped anew, disturbed, spying out
early excursions, let their eyelids fall and rise ev-
every danger, and undecided as to the route it
ery moment, nodding their heads or yawning, quite
should take. Suddenly it began to run, with great
insensible to the glory of the dawn.
bounds from its hind legs, disappearing finally in a
It was autumn. On both sides of the road the
large patch of beet-root. All the men had woke up
bare fields stretched out, yellowed by the corn and
to watch the course of the beast.
wheat stubble which covered the soil like a bris-
Rene Lemanoir then exclaimed, “We are not at
tling growth of beard. The spongy earth seemed
all gallant this morning,” and looking at his neigh-
to smoke. Larks were singing high up in the air,
bor, the little Baroness of Serennes, who was strug-
while other birds piped in the bushes.
gling with drowsiness, he said to her in a subdued
At length the sun rose in front of us, a bright red
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 Selected Writings
voice: “You are thinking of your husband, Baron- I.
ess. Reassure yourself; he will not return before
Saturday, so you have still four days.” “At that time I was twenty-five years old, and was
She responded to him with a sleepy smile. making daubs along the coast of Normandy. I call
“How rude you are.” Then, shaking off her tor- ‘making daubs’ that wandering about, with a bag
por, she added: “Now, let somebody say some- on one’s back, from mountain to mountain, under
thing that will make us all laugh. You, Monsieur the pretext of studying and of sketching nature. I
Chenal who have the reputation of possessing a know nothing more enjoyable than that happy-
larger fortune than the Duke of Richelieu, tell us a go-lucky wandering life, in which you are perfectly
love story in which you have been mixed up, any- free; without shackles of any kind, without care,
thing you like.” without preoccupation, without thought even of
Leon Chenal, an old painter, who had once keen to-morrow. You go in any direction you please,
very handsome, very strong, who was very proud without any guide save your fancy, without any
of his physique and very amiable, took his long counselor save your eyes. You pull up, because a
white beard in his hand and smiled; then, after a running brook seduces you, or because you are
few moments’ reflection, he became suddenly attracted, in front of an inn, by the smell of pota-
grave. toes frying. Sometimes it is the perfume of clema-
“Ladies, it will not be an amusing tale; for I am tis which decides you in your choice, or the naive
going to relate to you the most lamentable love af- glance of the servant at an inn. Do not despise
fair of my life, and I sincerely hope that none of my me for my affection for these rustics. These girls
friends has ever passed through a similar experience. have soul as well as feeling, not to mention firm

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 De Maupassant
cheeks and fresh lips; while their hearty and will- wide open, you watch the going down of the sun,
ing kisses have the flavor of wild fruit. Love al- and descry in the distance the little village, with its
ways has its price, come whence it may. A heart pointed clock-tower, which sounds the hour of
that beats when you make your appearance, an midnight.
eye that weeps when you go away, these are “You sit down by the side of a spring which gushes
things so rare, so sweet, so precious, that they out from the foot of an oak, amid a covering of
must never be despised. fragile herbs, growing and redolent of life. You go
“I have had rendezvous in ditches in which cattle down on your knees, bend forward, and drink the
repose, and in barns among the straw, still steam- cold and pellucid water, wetting your mustache and
ing from the heat of the day. I have recollections nose; you drink it with a physical pleasure, as
of canvas spread on rude and creaky benches, and though you were kissing the spring, lip to lip. Some-
of hearty, fresh, free kisses, more delicate, free times, when you encounter a deep hole, along
from affectation, and sincere than the subtle at- the course of these tiny brooks, you plunge into it,
tractions of charming and distinguished women. quite naked, and on your skin, from head to foot,
“But what you love most amid all these varied like an icy and delicious caress, you feel the lovely
adventures are the country, the woods, the ris- and gentle quivering of the current.
ings of the sun, the twilight, the light of the moon. “You are gay on the hills, melancholy on the
For the painter these are honeymoon trips with verge of pools, exalted when the sun is crowned
Nature. You are alone with her in that long and in an ocean of blood-red shadows, and when it
tranquil rendezvous. You go to bed in the fields casts on the rivers its red reflection. And at night,
amid marguerites and wild poppies, and, with eyes under the moon, as it passes across the vault of

82
 Selected Writings
heaven, you think of things, singular things, which “Quitting the Falaise. I gained the hamlet, which
would never have occurred to your mind under was hemmed in by great trees, and I presented
the brilliant light of day. myself at the house of Mother Lecacheur.
“So, in wandering through the same country we “She was an old, wrinkled, and austere rustic, who
are in this year, I came to the little village of always seemed to yield to the pressure of new
Benouville, on the Falaise, between Yport and customs with a kind of contempt.
Etretat. I came from Fecamp, following the coast, a “It was the month of May: the spreading apple-
high coast, perpendicular as a wall, with project- trees covered the court with a whirling shower of
ing and rugged rocks falling sheer down into the blossoms which rained unceasingly both upon
sea. I had walked since the morning on the close people and upon the grass.
clipped grass, as smooth and as yielding as a car- “I said:
pet. Singing lustily, I walked with long strides, look- “ ‘Well, Madame Lecacheur, have you a room
ing sometimes at the slow and lazy flight of a gull, for me?’
with its short, white wings, sailing in the blue heav- “Astonished to find that I knew her name, she
ens, sometimes at the green sea, or at the brown answered:
sails of a fishing bark. In short, I had passed a happy “ ‘That depends; everything is let; but, all the same,
day, a day of listlessness and of liberty. there will be no harm in looking.’
“I was shown a little farmhouse, where travelers “In five minutes we were in perfect accord, and I
were put up, a kind of inn, kept by a peasant, which deposited my bag upon the bare floor of a rustic
stood in the center of a Norman court, surrounded room, furnished with a bed, two chairs, a table,
by a double row of beeches. and a washstand. The room opened into the large

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and smoky kitchen, where the lodgers took their “Suddenly, the wooden barrier which opened on
meals with the people of the farm and with the to the highway was opened, and a strange per-
farmer himself, who was a widower. son directed her steps toward the house. She was
“I washed my hands, after which I went out. The very slender, very tall, enveloped in a Scotch shawl
old woman was fricasseeing a chicken for dinner with red borders. You would have believed that
in a large fireplace, in which hung the stew-pot, she had no arms, if you had not seen a long hand
black with smoke. appear just above the hips, holding a white tourist
“ ‘You have travelers, then, at the present time?’ umbrella. The face of a mummy, surrounded with
said I to her. sausage rolls of plaited gray hair, which bounded
“She answered in an offended tone of voice: at every step she took, made me think, I know
“ ‘I have a lady, an English lady, who has at- not why, of a sour herring adorned with curling
tained to years of maturity. She is occupying my papers. Lowering her eyes, she passed quickly in
other room.’ front of me, and entered the house.
“By means of an extra five sous a day, I obtained “This singular apparition made me curious. She
the privilege of dining out in the court when the undoubtedly was my neighbor, the aged English
weather was fine. lady of whom our hostess had spoken.
“My cover was then placed in front of the door, “I did not see her again that day. The next day,
and I commenced to gnaw with hunger the lean when I had begun to paint at the end of that beau-
members of the Normandy chicken, to drink the tiful valley, which you know extends as far as
clear cider, and to munch the hunk of white bread, Etretat, lifting my eyes suddenly, I perceived some-
which, though four days old, was excellent. thing singularly attired standing on the crest of

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 Selected Writings
the declivity; it looked like a pole decked out with never spoke at table, ate rapidly, reading all the
flags. It was she. On seeing me, she suddenly dis- while a small book, treating of some Protestant
appeared. I re-entered the house at midday for propaganda. She gave a copy of it to everybody.
lunch, and took my seat at the common table, so The cure himself had received no less than four
as to make the acquaintance of this old and origi- copies, at the hands of an urchin to whom she
nal creature. But she did not respond to my polite had paid two sous’ commission. She said some-
advances, was insensible even to my little atten- times to our hostess, abruptly, without preparing
tions. I poured water out for her with great alac- herin the least for the declaration:
rity, I passed her the dishes with great eagerness. “ ‘I love the Saviour more than all; I worship him
A slight, almost imperceptible movement of the in all creation; I adore him in all nature; I carry him
head, and an English word, murmured so low that always in my heart.’
I did not understand it, were her only acknowl- “And she would immediately present the old
edgments. woman with one of her brochures which were
“I ceased occupying myself with her, although destined to convert the universe.
she had disturbed my thoughts. At the end of three “In the village she was not liked. In fact, the
days, I knew as much about her as did Madame schoolmaster had declared that she was an athe-
Lecacheur herself. ist, and that a sort of reproach attached to her.
“She was called Miss Harriet. Seeking out a se- The cure, who had been consulted by Madame
cluded village in which to pass the summer, she Lecacheur, responded:
had been attracted to Benouville, some six months “ ‘She is a heretic, but God does not wish the
before, and did not seem disposed to quit it. She death of the sinner, and I believe her to be a per-

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 De Maupassant
son of pure morals.’ people in a hotel, I act like birds which see a mani-
“These words, ‘atheist,’ ‘heretic,’ words which no kin in a field.
one can precisely define, threw doubts into some “This woman, however, appeared so singular that
minds. It was asserted, however, that this English- she did not displease me.
woman was rich, and that she had passed her life “Madame Lecacheur, hostile by instinct to every-
in traveling through every country in the world, thing that was not rustic, felt in her narrow soul a
because her family had thrown her off. Why had kind of hatred for the ecstatic extravagances of
her family thrown her off? Because of her natural the old girl. She had found a phrase by which to
impiety? describe her, I know not how, but a phrase assur-
“She was, in fact, one of those people of exalted edly contemptuous, which had sprung to her lips,
principles, one of those opinionated puritans of invented probably by some confused and mysteri-
whom England produces so many, one of those ous travail of soul. She said: ‘That woman is a de-
good and insupportable old women who haunt moniac.’ This phrase, as uttered by that austere
the tables d’hote of every hotel in Europe, who and sentimental creature, seemed to me irresist-
spoil Italy, poison Switzerland, render the charm- ibly comic. I, myself, never called her now any-
ing cities of the Mediterranean uninhabitable, carry thing else but ‘the demoniac.’ feeling a singular
everywhere their fantastic manias, their petrified pleasure in pronouncing this word on seeing her.
vestal manners, their indescribable toilettes, and “I would ask Mother Lecacheur: ‘Well, what is
a certain odor of india-rubber, which makes one our demoniac about to-day?’ To which my rustic
believe that at night they slip themselves into a friend would respond, with an air of having been
case of that material. When I meet one of these scandalized:

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 Selected Writings
“ ‘What do you think, sir? She has picked up a an old hag who has lived her days.’ If the poor
toad which has had its leg battered, and carried it woman had but known!
to her room, and has put it in her washstand, and “Little kind-hearted Celeste did not wait upon her
dressed it up like a man. If that is not profanation, willingly, but I was never able to understand why.
I should like to know what is!’ Probably her only reason was that she was a
“On another occasion, when walking along the stranger, of another race, of a different tongue,
Falaise, she had bought a large fish which had just and of another religion. She was in good truth a
been caught, simply to throw it back into the sea demoniac!
again. The sailor, from whom she had bought it, “She passed her time wandering about the coun-
though paid handsomely, was greatly provoked try, adoring and searching for God in nature. I
at this act—more exasperated, indeed, than if she found her one evening on her knees in a cluster
had put her hand into his pocket and taken his of bushes. Having discovered something red
money. For a whole month he could not speak of through the leaves, I brushed aside the branches,
the circumstance without getting into a fury and and Miss Harriet at once rose to her feet, confused
denouncing it as an outrage. Oh yes! She was in- at having been found thus, looking at me with
deed a demoniac, this Miss Harriet, and Mother eyes as terrible as those of a wild cat surprised in
Lecacheur must have had an inspiration of genius open day.
in thus christening her. “Sometimes, when I was working among the
“The stable-boy, who was called Sapeur, because rocks, I would suddenly descry her on the banks
he had served in Africa in his youth, entertained of the Falaise standing like a semaphore signal.
other aversions. He said, with a roguish air: ‘She is She gazed passionately at the vast sea, glittering

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 De Maupassant
in the sunlight, and the boundless sky empurpled acquainted a little with this strange Miss Harriet,
with fire. Sometimes I would distinguish her at the and to learn what passes in the solitary souls of
bottom of a valley, walking quickly, with her elas- those wandering old, English dames.
tic English step; and I would go toward her, at-
tracted by I know not what, simply to see her illu- II.
minated visage, her dried-up features, which
seemed to glow with an ineffable, inward, and “We became acquainted in a rather singular man-
profound happiness. ner. I had just finished a study which appeared to
“Often I would encounter her in the corner of a me to display genius and power; as it must have,
field sitting on the grass, under the shadow of an since it was sold for ten thousand francs, fifteen
apple-tree, with her little Bible lying open on her years later. It was as simple, however, as that two
knee, while she looked meditatively into the distance. and two make four, and had nothing to do with
“I could no longer tear myself away from that academic rules. The whole of the right side of my
quiet country neighborhood, bound to it as I was canvas represented a rock, an enormous rock,
by a thousand links of love for its soft and sweep- covered with sea-wrack, brown, yellow, and red,
ing landscapes. At this farm I was out of the world, across which the sun poured like a stream of oil.
far removed from everything, but in close proxim- The light, without which one could see the stars
ity to the soil, the good, healthy, beautiful green concealed in the background, fell upon the stone,
soil. And, must I avow it, there was something and gilded it as if with fire. That was all. A first
besides curiosity which retained me at the resi- stupid attempt at dealing with light, with burning
dence of Mother Lecacheur. I wished to become rays, with the sublime.

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 Selected Writings
“On the left was the sea, not the blue sea, the rear of me just at the moment when, holding out
slate-colored sea, but a sea of jade, as greenish, my canvas at arm’s length, I was exhibiting it to
milky, and thick as the overcast sky. the female innkeeper. The ‘demoniac’ could not
“I was so pleased with my work that I danced help but see it, for I took care to exhibit the thing
from sheer delight as I carried it back to the inn. I in such a way that it could not escape her notice.
wished that the whole world could have seen it at She stopped abruptly and stood motionless, stu-
one and the same moment. I can remember that I pefied. It was her rock which was depicted, the
showed it to a cow, which was browsing by the one which she usually climbed to dream away her
wayside, exclaiming, at the same time: ‘Look at time undisturbed.
that, my old beauty; you will not often see its like “She uttered a British ‘Oh,’ which was at once so
again.’ accentuated and so flattering, that I turned round
“When I had reached the front of the house, I to her, smiling, and said:
immediately called out to Mother Lecacheur, shout- “This is my last work, Mademoiselle.’
ing with all my might: “She murmured ecstatically, comically, and ten-
“ ‘Ohe! Ohe! my mistress, come here and look at derly:
this.’ “ ‘Oh! Monsieur, you must understand what it is
“The rustic advanced and looked at my work with to have a palpitation.’
stupid eyes, which distinguished nothing, and did “I colored up, of course, and was more excited
not even recognize whether the picture was the by that compliment than if it had come from a
representation of an ox or a house. queen. I was seduced, conquered, vanquished. I
“Miss Harriet came into the house, and passed in could have embraced her—upon my honor.

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 De Maupassant
“I took my seat at the table beside her, as I had of herbs, with the perfumes of grass-wrack, with
always done. For the first time, she spoke, drawl- the odor of the wild flowers, caresses the soul with
ing out in a loud voice: a penetrating sweetness. We were going to the
“ ‘Oh! I love nature so much.’ brink of the abyss which overlooked the vast sea
“I offered her some bread, some water, some and rolled past us at the distance of less than a
wine. She now accepted these with the vacant hundred meters.
smile of a mummy. I then began to converse with “We drank with open mouth and expanded chest,
her about the scenery. that fresh breeze from the ocean which glides
“After the meal, we rose from the table together slowly over the skin, salted as it is by long contact
and walked leisurely across the court; then, at- with the waves.
tracted by the fiery glow which the setting sun “Wrapped up in her square shawl, inspired by
cast over the surface of the sea, I opened the out- the balmy air and with teeth firmly set, the En-
side gate which faced in the direction of the Falaise, glish-woman gazed fixedly at the great sun-ball,
and we walked on side by side, as satisfied as any as it descended toward the sea. Soon its rim
two persons could be who have just learned to touched the waters, just in rear of a ship which
understand and penetrate each other’s motives had appeared on the horizon, until, by degrees, it
and feelings. was swallowed up by the ocean. We watched it
“It was a misty, relaxing evening, one of those plunge, diminish, and finally disappear.
enjoyable evenings which impart happiness to “Miss Harriet contemplated with passionate re-
mind and body alike. All is joy, all is charm. The gard the last glimmer of the flaming orb of day.
luscious and balmy air, loaded with the perfumes “She muttered: ‘Oh! I love—I love—’ I saw a tear

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start in her eye. She continued: ‘I wish I were a a soul, which became enthusiastic at a bound. She
little bird, so that I could mount up into the firma- lacked equilibrium, like all women who are spin-
ment.’ sters at the age of fifty. She seemed to be pickled
“She remained standing as I had often before in vinegary innocence, though her heart still re-
seen her, perched on the river bank, her face as tained something of youth and of girlish efferves-
red as her flaming shawl. I should have liked to cence. She loved both nature and animals with a
have sketched her in my album. It would have been fervent ardor, a love like old wine, mellow through
an ecstatic caricature. I turned my face away from age, with a sensual love that she had never be-
her so as to be able to laugh. stowed on men.
“I then spoke to her of painting, as I would have “One thing is certain: a mare roaming in a
done to a fellow-artist, using the technical terms meadow with a foal at its side, a bird’s nest full of
common among the devotees of the profession. young ones, squeaking, with their open mouths
She listened attentively to me, eagerly seeking to and enormous heads, made her quiver with the
divine the sense of the obscure words, so as to most violent emotion.
penetrate my thoughts. From time to time, she “Poor solitary beings! Sad wanderers from table
would exclaim: ‘Oh! I understand, I understand. This d’hote to table d’hote, poor beings, ridiculous and
is very interesting.’ We returned home. lamentable, I love you ever since I became ac-
“The next day, on seeing me, she approached quainted with Miss Harriet!
me eagerly, holding out her hand; and we became “I soon discovered that she had something she
firm friends immediately. would like to tell me, but dared not, and I was
“She was a brave creature, with an elastic sort of amused at her timidity. When I started out in the

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morning with my box on my back, she would ac- stool under her arm; would not consent to my car-
company me as far as the end of the village, si- rying it, and she sat always by my side. She would
lent, but evidently struggling inwardly to find words remain there for hours immovable and mute, fol-
with which to begin a conversation. Then she lowing with her eye the point of my brush in its
would leave me abruptly, and, with jaunty step, every movement. When I would obtain, by a large
walk away quickly. splatch of color spread on with a knife, a striking
“One day, however, she plucked up courage: and unexpected effect, she would, in spite of her-
“ ‘I would like to see how you paint pictures? Will self, give vent to a half-suppressed ‘Oh!’ of aston-
you show me? I have been very curious.’ ishment, of joy, of admiration. She had the most
“And she colored up as though she had given tender respect for my canvases, an almost reli-
utterance to words extremely audacious. gious respect for that human reproduction of a
“I conducted her to the bottom of the Petit-Val, part of nature’s work divine. My studies appeared
where I had commenced a large picture. to her to be pictures of sanctity, and sometimes
“She remained standing near me, following all she spoke to me of God, with the idea of convert-
my gestures with concentrated attention. Then, ing me.
suddenly, fearing, perhaps, that she was disturb- “Oh! He was a queer good-natured being, this
ing me, she said to me: ‘Thank you,’ and walked God of hers. He was a sort of village philosopher
away. without any great resources, and without great
“But in a short time she became more familiar, power; for she always figured him to herself as a
and accompanied me every day, her countenance being quivering over injustices committed under
exhibiting visible pleasure. She carried her folding his eyes, and helpless to prevent them.

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 Selected Writings
“She was, however, on excellent terms with him, of the valley, or through some country lanes, I
affecting even to be the confidant of his secrets would see her suddenly appear, as though she
and of his whims. She said: were returning from a rapid walk. She would then
“ ‘God wills, or God does not will,’ just like a ser- sit down abruptly, out of breath, as though she
geant announcing to a recruit: ‘The colonel has had been running or overcome by some profound
commanded.’ emotion. Her face would be red, that English red
“At the bottom of her heart she deplored my ig- which is denied to the people of all other coun-
norance of the intentions of the Eternal, which tries; then, without any reason, she would grow
she strove, nay, felt herself compelled, to impart pale, become the color of the ground, and seem
to me. ready to faint away. Gradually, however, I would
“Almost every day, I found in my pockets, in my see her regain her ordinary color, whereupon she
hat when I lifted it from the ground, in my box of would begin to speak.
colors, in my polished shoes, standing in the morn- “Then, without warning, she would break off in
ings in front of my door, those little pious bro- the middle of a sentence, spring up from her seat,
chures, which she, no doubt, received directly from and march off so rapidly and so strangely, that it
Paradise. would, sometimes, put me to my wits’ end to try
“I treated her as one would an old friend, with and discover whether I had done or said anything
unaffected cordiality. But I soon perceived that she to displease or offend her.
had changed somewhat in her manner; but, for a “I finally came to the conclusion that this arose
while, I paid little attention to it. from her early habits and training, somewhat
“When I walked about, whether to the bottom modified, no doubt, in honor of me, since the first

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 De Maupassant
days of our acquaintanceship. “But it did not always pass away. When I spoke
“When she returned to the farm, after walking to her sometimes, she would answer me, either
for hours on the wind-beaten coast, her long curled with an air of affected indifference, or in sullen
hair would be shaken out and hanging loose, as anger; and she became by turns rude, impatient,
though it had broken away from its bearings. It and nervous. For a time I never saw her except at
was seldom that this gave her any concern; though meals, and we spoke but little. I concluded, at
sometimes she looked as though she had been length, that I must have offended her in some-
dining sans ceremonie; her locks having become thing: and, accordingly, I said to her one evening:
disheveled by the breezes. “ ‘Miss Harriet, why is it that you do not act to-
“She would then go up to her room in order to ward me as formerly? What have I done to dis-
adjust what I called her glass lamps. When I would please you? You are causing me much pain!’
say to her, in familiar gallantry, which, however, “She responded, in an angry tone, in a manner
always offended her: altogether sui generis:
“ ‘You are as beautiful as a planet to-day, Miss “ ‘I am always with you the same as formerly. It
Harriet,’ a little blood would immediately mount is not true, not true,’ and she ran upstairs and shut
into her cheeks, the blood of a young maiden, the herself up in her room.
blood of sweet fifteen. “At times she would look upon me with strange
“Then she would become abruptly savage and cease eyes. Since that time I have often said to myself
coming to watch me paint. But I always thought: that those condemned to death must look thus
“ ‘This is only a fit of temper she is passing when informed that their last day has come. In
through.’ her eye there lurked a species of folly, a folly at

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 Selected Writings
once mysterious and violent—even more, a fever, come, a human couple, a stripling and a maiden
an exasperated desire, impatient, at once incapable embraced, interlaced, she, with head leaning on
of being realized and unrealizable! him, he; inclined toward hers and lip to lip.
“Nay, it seemed to me that there was also going “A ray of the sun, glistening through the branches,
on within her a combat, in which her heart has traversed the fog of dawn and illuminated it
struggled against an unknown force that she with a rosy reflection, just behind the rustic lovers,
wished to overcome—perhaps, even, something whose vague shadows are reflected on it in clear
else. But what could I know? What could I know? silver. It was well done, yes, indeed, well done.
“I was working on the declivity which led to the
III. Val d’Etretat. This particular morning, I had, by
chance, the sort of floating vapor which was nec-
“This was indeed a singular revelation. essary for my purpose. Suddenly, an object ap-
“For some time I had commenced to work, as peared in front of me, a kind of phantom; it was
soon as daylight appeared, on a picture, the sub- Miss Harriet. On seeing me, she took to flight. But
ject of which was as follows: I called after her saying: ‘Come here, come here,
“A deep ravine, steep banks dominated by two d Mademoiselle, I have a nice little picture for you.’
eclivities, lined with brambles and long rows of “She came forward, though with seeming reluc-
trees, hidden, drowned in milky vapor, clad in that tance. I handed her my sketch. She said nothing,
misty robe which sometimes floats over valleys at but stood for a long time motionless, looking at it.
break of day. At the extreme end of that thick and Suddenly she burst into tears. She wept spasmodi-
transparent fog, you see coming, or rather already cally, like men who have been struggling hard

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against shedding tears, but who can do so no witnessed a miracle, and as troubled as if I had
longer, and abandon themselves to grief, though committed a crime.
unwillingly. I got up, trembling, moved myself by “I did not go in to breakfast. I took a walk on the
the sight of a sorrow I did not comprehend, and I banks of the Falaise, feeling that I could just as
took her by the hand with a gesture of brusque soon weep as laugh, looking on the adventure as
affection, a true French impulse which impels one both comic and deplorable, and my position as
quicker than one thinks. ridiculous, fain to believe that I had lost my head.
“She let her hands rest in mine for a few sec- “I asked myself what I ought to do. I debated
onds, and I felt them quiver, as if her whole ner- whether I ought not to take my leave of the place
vous system was twisting and turning. Then she and almost immediately my resolution was formed.
withdrew her hands abruptly, or, rather, tore them “Somewhat sad and perplexed, I wandered about
out of mine. until dinner time, and entered the farmhouse just
“I recognized that shiver as soon as I had felt it: I when the soup had been served up.
was deceived in nothing. Ah! the love shudder of “I sat down at the table, as usual. Miss Harriet
a woman, whether she is fifteen or fifty years of was there, munching away solemnly, without
age, whether she is one of the people or one of speaking to anyone, without even lifting her eyes.
the monde, goes so straight to my heart that I She wore, however, her usual expression, both of
never had any difficulty in understanding it! countenance and manner.
“Her whole frail being trembled, vibrated, yielded. “I waited, patiently, till the meal had been fin-
I knew it. She walked away before I had time to ished. Then, turning toward the landlady, I said:
say a word, leaving me as surprised as if I had ‘Madame Lecacheur, it will not be long now be-

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 Selected Writings
fore I shall have to take my leave of you.’ recollections which that revelation had suddenly
“The good woman, at once surprised and called up, recollections at once charming and per-
troubled, replied in a quivering voice: ‘My dear sir, plexing, perhaps, also, that look which the ser-
what is it I have just heard you say? Are you go- vant had cast on me at the announcement of my
ing to leave us, after I have become so much ac- departure—all these things, mixed up and com-
customed to you?’ bined, put me now in an excited bodily state, with
“I looked at Miss Harriet from the corner of my the tickling sensation of kisses on my lips, and in
eye. Her countenance did not change in the least; my veins something which urged me on to com-
but the under-servant came toward me with eyes mit some folly.
wide open. She was a fat girl, of about eighteen “Night having come on, casting its dark shadows
years of age, rosy, fresh, strong as a horse, yet under the trees, I descried Celeste, who had gone
possessing a rare attribute in one in her position— to shut the hen-coops, at the other end of the in-
she was very neat and clean. I had kissed her at closure. I darted toward her, running so noiselessly
odd times, in out of the way corners, in the man- that she heard nothing, and as she got up from
ner of a mountain guide, nothing more. closing the small traps by which the chickens went
“The dinner being over, I went to smoke my pipe in and out, I clasped her in my arms and rained on
under the apple-trees, walking up and down at her coarse, fat face a shower of kisses. She made
my ease, from one end of the court to the other. a struggle, laughing all the same, as she was ac-
All the reflections which I had made during the customed to do in such circumstances. What made
day, the strange discovery of the morning, that me suddenly loose my grip of her? Why did I at
grotesque and passionate attachment for me, the once experience a shock? What was it that I heard

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 De Maupassant
behind me? Mother Lecacheur went to her room. The English-
“It was Miss Harriet who had come upon us, who woman had gone out. She must have set out at
had seen us, and who stood in front of us, as break of day, as she was wont to do, in order to
motionless as a specter. Then she disappeared in see the sun rise.
the darkness. “Nobody seemed astonished at this and we be-
“I was ashamed, embarrassed, more annoyed at gan to eat in silence.
having been surprised by her than if she had “The weather was hot, very hot, one of those
caught me committing some criminal act. still sultry days when not a leaf stirs. The table had
“I slept badly that night; I was worried and been placed out of doors, under an apple-tree; and
haunted by sad thoughts. I seemed to hear loud from time to time Sapeur had gone to the cellar to
weeping; but in this I was no doubt deceived. More- draw a jug of cider, everybody was so thirsty.
over, I thought several times that I heard some Celeste brought the dishes from the kitchen, a ra-
one walking up and down in the house, and that gout of mutton with potatoes, a cold rabbit, and a
some one opened my door from the outside. salad. Afterward she placed before us a dish of
“Toward morning, I was overcome by fatigue, and strawberries, the first of the season.
sleep seized on me. I got up late and did not go “As I wanted to wash and freshen these, I begged
downstairs until breakfast time, being still in a be- the servant to go and bring a pitcher of cold water.”
wildered state, not knowing what kind of face to “In about five minutes she returned, declaring that
put on. the well was dry. She had lowered the pitcher to
“No one had seen Miss Harriet. We waited for the full extent of the cord, and had touched the
her at table, but she did not appear. At length, bottom, but on drawing the pitcher up again, it

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 Selected Writings
was empty. Mother Lecacheur, anxious to exam- “But, suddenly, a cold shiver attacked my spine, I
ine the thing for herself, went and looked down first recognized a foot, then a clothed limb; the
the hole. She returned announcing that one could body was entire, but the other limb had disap-
see clearly something in the well, something alto- peared under the water.
gether unusual. But this, no doubt, was pottles of “I groaned and trembled so violently that the light
straw, which, out of spite, had been cast down it of the lamp danced hither and thither over the
by a neighbor. object, discovering a slipper.
“I wished also to look down the well, hoping to “ ‘It is a woman! who—who—can it be? It is Miss
clear up the mystery, and perched myself close to Harriet.’
its brink. I perceived, indistinctly, a white object. “Sapeur alone did not manifest horror. He had
What could it be? I then conceived the idea of low- witnessed many such scenes in Africa.
ering a lantern at the end of a cord. When I did so, “Mother Lecacheur and Celeste began to scream
the yellow flame danced on the layers of stone and to shriek, and ran away.
and gradually became clearer. All four of us were “But it was necessary to recover the corpse of
leaning over the opening, Sapeur and Celeste hav- the dead. I attached the boy securely by the loins
ing now joined us. The lantern rested on a black to the end of the pulley-rope; then I lowered him
and white, indistinct mass, singular, incomprehen- slowly, and watched him disappear in the dark-
sible. Sapeur exclaimed: ness. In the one hand he had a lantern, and held
“ ‘It is a horse. I see the hoofs. It must have es- on to the rope with the other. Soon I recognized
caped from the meadow, during the night, and his voice, which seemed to come from the center
fallen in headlong.’ of the earth, crying:

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“ ‘Stop.’ the most immodest posture. The head was in a
“I then saw him fish something out of the water. shocking state, bruised and black; and the long,
It was the other limb. He bound the two feet to- gray hair, hanging down, was tangled and disor-
gether, and shouted anew: dered.
“ ‘Haul up.’ “ ‘In the name of all that is holy, how lean she
“I commenced to wind him up, but I felt my arms is!’ exclaimed Sapeur, in a contemptuous tone.
strain, my muscles twitch, and was in terror lest I “We carried her into the room, and as the women
should let the boy fall to the bottom. When his did not put in an appearance, I, with the assistance
head appeared over the brink, I asked: of the lad, dressed the corpse for burial.
“ ‘What is it?’ as though I only expected that he “I washed her disfigured face. By the touch of my
would tell me what he had discovered at the bot- hand an eye was slightly opened; it seemed to
tom. scan me with that pale stare, with that cold, that
“We both got on to the stone slab at the edge of terrible look which corpses have, a look which
the well, and, face to face, hoisted the body. seems to come from the beyond. I plaited up, as
“Mother Lecacheur and Celeste watched us from well as I could, her disheveled hair, and I adjusted
a distance, concealed behind the wall of the house. on her forehead a novel and singularly formed
When they saw, issuing from the well, the black lock. Then I took off her dripping wet garments,
slippers and white stockings of the drowned per- baring, not without a feeling of shame, as though
son, they disappeared. I had been guilty of some profanation, her shoul-
“Sapeur seized the ankles of the poor chaste ders and her chest, and her long arms, slim as the
woman, and we drew it up, inclined, as it was, in twigs of branches.

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“I next went to fetch some flowers, corn poppies, What had been her life? Whence had she come
blue beetles, marguerites, and fresh and perfumed thither, all alone, a wanderer, like a dog driven
herbs, with which to strew her funeral couch. from home? What secrets of suffering and of de-
“Being the only person near her, it was neces- spair were sealed up in that disagreeable body, in
sary for me to perform the usual ceremonies. In a that spent and withered body, that impenetrable
letter found in her pocket, written at the last mo- hiding place of a mystery which had driven her
ment, she asked that her body be buried in the far away from affection and from love?
village in which she had passed the last days of “How many unhappy beings there are! I felt that
her life. A frightful thought then oppressed my upon that human creature weighed the eternal
heart. Was it not on my account that she wished injustice of implacable nature! Life was over with
to be laid at rest in this place? her, without her ever having experienced, perhaps,
“Toward the evening, all the female gossips of that which sustains the most miserable of us all—
the locality came to view the remains of the de- to wit, the hope of being once loved! Otherwise,
funct; but I would not allow a single person to enter; why should she thus have concealed herself, have
I wanted to be alone; and I watched by the corpse fled from the face of others? Why did she love
the whole night. everything so tenderly and so passionately, ev-
“By the flickering light of the candles, I looked at erything living that was not a man?
the body of this miserable woman, wholly un- “I recognized, also, that she believed in a God,
known, who had died so lamentably and so far and that she hoped for compensation from him
away from home. Had she left no friends, no rela- for the miseries she had endured. She had now
tives behind her? What had her infancy been? begun to decompose, and to become, in turn, a

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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 hu- Leon Chenal remained silent. The women wept.
man flesh. But that which is called the soul had We heard on the box seat Count d’Etraille blow
been extinguished at the bottom of the dark well. his nose, from time to time. The coachman alone
She suffered no longer. She had changed her life had gone to sleep. The horses, which felt no longer
for that of others yet to be born. the sting of the whip, had slackened their pace
“Hours passed away in this silent and sinister com- and dragged softly along. And the four-in-hand,
munion with the dead. A pale light at length an- hardly moving at all, became suddenly torpid, as if
nounced the dawn of a new day, and a bright ray laden with sorrow.
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.”

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THE HOLE I like honest men, and 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
CUTS AND WOUNDS WHICH CAUSED DEATH. That was the head-
to respect myself.
ing of the charge which brought Leopold Renard,
“Every Sunday for the last five years, my wife
upholsterer, before the Assize Court.
and I have spent the day at Passy. We get fresh
Round him were the principal witnesses, Madame
air, not to say that we are fond of fishing—as fond
Flameche, widow of the victim, Louis Ladureau,
of it as we are of small onions. Melie inspired me
cabinetmaker, and Jean Durdent, plumber.
with that passion, the jade; she is more enthusias-
Near the criminal was his wife, dressed in black,
tic than I am, the scold, and all the mischief in this
a little ugly woman, who looked like a monkey
business is her fault, as you will see immediately.
dressed as a lady.
“I am strong and mild-tempered, without a
This is how Renard described the drama:
pennyworth of malice in me. But she! oh! la! la!
“Good heavens, it is a misfortune of which I am
she looks insignificant, she is short and thin, but
the first and last victim, and with which my will
she does more mischief than a weasel. I do not
has nothing to do. The facts are their own com-
deny that she has some good qualities; she has
mentary, Monsieur le President. I am an honest
some, and those very important to a man in busi-
man, a hard-working man, an upholsterer in the
ness. But her character! Just ask about it in the
same street for the last sixteen years, known, liked,
neighborhood; even the porter’s wife, who has
respected, and esteemed by all, as my neighbors
just sent me about my business—she will tell you
have testified, even the porter, who is not folatre
something about it.
every day. I am fond of work, I am fond of saving,
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“Every day she used to find fault with my mild in the neighborhood knew it, without making any
temper: ‘I would not put up with this! I would not opposition. They used to say: ‘That is Renard’s
put up with that.’ If I had listened to her, Monsieur place’; and nobody would have gone to it, not
le President, I should have had at least three bouts even Monsieur Plumsay, who is renowned, be it
of fisticuffs a month.” said without any offense, for appropriating other
Madame Renard interrupted him: “And for good people’s places.
reasons too; they laugh best who laugh last.” “Well, I went as usual to that place, of which I felt
He turned toward her frankly: “Oh! very well, I as certain as if I had owned it. I had scarcely got
can blame you, since you were the cause of it.” there on Saturday, when I got into ‘Delila,’ with
Then, facing the President again he said: my wife. ‘Delila’ is my Norwegian boat, which I
“I will continue. We used to go to Passy every had built by Fourmaise, and which is light and safe.
Saturday evening, so as to be able to begin fishing Well, as I said, we got into the boat and we were
at daybreak the next morning. It is a habit which going to bait, and for baiting there is nobody to
has become second nature with us, as the saying be compared with me, and they all know it. You
is. Three years ago this summer I discovered a want to know with what I bait? I cannot answer
place, oh! such a spot! There, in the shade, were that question; it has nothing to do with the acci-
eight feet of water at least and perhaps ten, a hole dent; I cannot answer, that is my secret. There are
with a retour under the bank, a regular retreat for more than three hundred people who have asked
fish and a paradise for any fisherman. I might look me; I have been offered glasses of brandy and
upon that hole as my property, Monsieur le Presi- liquors, fried fish, matelots,* to make me tell! But
dent, as I was its Christopher Columbus. Everybody *A preparation of several kinds of fish, with a sharp
sauce.
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just go and try whether the chub will come. Ah! “She replied: ‘You can do as you please, but you
they have patted my stomach to get at my secret, will be ill again, and will not be able to get up to-
my recipe. Only my wife knows, and she will not morrow.’ That was true, sensible, prudent, and
tell it, any more than I shall! Is not that so, Melie?” clear-sighted, I must confess. Nevertheless, I could
The President of the Court interrupted him: not withstand it, and I drank my bottle. It all comes
“Just get to the facts as soon as you can.” from that.
The accused continued: “I am getting to them; I “Well, I could not sleep. By Jove! It kept me awake
am getting to them. Well, on Saturday. July 8, we till two o’clock in the morning, and then I went to
left by the five twenty-five train, and before din- sleep so soundly that I should not have heard the
ner we went to ground-bait as usual. The weather angel shouting at the Last Judgment.
promised to keep fine, and I said to Melie: ‘All right “In short, my wife woke me at six o’clock and I
for to-morrow!’ And she replied: ‘It looks like it.’ jumped out of bed, hastily put on my trousers and
We never talk more than that together. jersey, washed my face and jumped on board
“And then we returned to dinner. I was happy ‘Delila.’ But it was too late, for when I arrived at
and thirsty, and that was the cause of everything. my hole it was already taken! Such a thing had
I said to Melie: ‘Look here Melie, it is fine weather, never happened to me in three years, and it made
so suppose I drink a bottle of Casque a meche. me feel as if I were being robbed under my own
That is a little white wine which we have chris- eyes. I said to myself, Confound it all! confound it!
tened so, because if you drink too much of it it And then my wife began to nag at me. ‘Eh! What
prevents you from sleeping and is the opposite of about your Casque a meche! Get along, you drunk-
a nightcap. Do you understand me? ard! Are you satisfied, you great fool?’ I could say

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nothing, because it was all quite true, and so I “We had only been there about five minutes
landed all the same near the spot and tried to profit when our male neighbor’s float began to go down
by what was left. Perhaps after all the fellow might two or three times, and then he pulled out a chub
catch nothing, and go away. as thick as my thigh, rather less, perhaps, but nearly
“He was a little thin man, in white linen coat and as big! My heart beat, and the perspiration stood
waistcoat, and with a large straw hat, and his wife, on my forehead, and Melie said to me: ‘Well, you
a fat woman who was doing embroidery, was be- sot, did you see that?’
hind him. “Just then, Monsieur Bru, the grocer of Poissy,
“When she saw us take up our position close to who was fond of gudgeon fishing, passed in a boat,
their place, she murmured: ‘I suppose there are no and called out to me: So somebody has taken your
other places on the river!’ And my wife, who was usual place, Monsieur Renard? And I replied: ‘Yes,
furious, replied: ‘People who know how to behave Monsieur Bru, there are some people in this world
make inquiries about the habits of the neighbor- who do not know the usages of common polite-
hood before occupying reserved spots.’ ness.’
“As I did not want a fuss, I said to her: ‘Hold your “The little man in linen pretended not to hear,
tongue, Melie. Let them go on, let them go on; we nor his fat lump of a wife, either.
shall see.’ Here the President interrupted him a second time:
“Well, we had fastened ‘Delila’ under the willow- “Take care, you are insulting the widow, Madame
trees, and had landed and were fishing side by Flameche, who is present.
side, Melie and I, close to the two others; but here, Renard made his excuses: “I beg your pardon, I
Monsieur, I must enter into details. beg your pardon, my anger carried me away. Well,

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not a quarter of an hour had passed when the tion. Every Sunday I read the ‘Gil Blas’ in the shade
little man caught another chub and another al- like that, by the side of the water. It is Columbine’s
most immediately, and another five minutes later. day, you know, Columbine who writes the articles
“The tears were in my eyes, and then I knew in the ‘Gil Blas.’ I generally put Madame Renard
that Madame Renard was boiling with rage, for into a passion by pretending to know this Colum-
she kept on nagging at me: ‘Oh! how horrid! Don’t bine. It is not true, for I do not know her, and have
you see that he is robbing you of your fish? Do never seen her, but that does not matter; she writes
you think that you will catch anything? Not even very well, and then she says things straight out
a frog, nothing whatever. Why, my hands are burn- for a woman. She suits me, and there are not many
ing, just to think of it.’ of her sort.
“But I said to myself: ‘Let us wait until twelve o “Well, I began to tease my wife, but she got an-
clock. Then this poaching fellow will go to lunch, gry immediately, and very angry, and so I held my
and I shall get my place again. As for me, Mon- tongue. At that moment our two witnesses, who
sieur le President, I lunch on the spot every Sun- are present here, Monsieur Ladureau and Mon-
day; we bring our provisions in ‘Delila.’ But there! sieur Durdent, appeared on the other side of the
At twelve o’clock, the wretch produced a fowl out river. We knew each other by sight. The little man
of a newspaper, and while he was eating, actually began to fish again, and he caught so many that I
he caught another chub! trembled with vexation, and his wife said: ‘It is an
“Melie and I had a morsel also, just a mouthful, a uncommonly good spot, and we will come here
mere nothing, for our heart was not in it. always, Desire.’ As for me, a cold shiver ran down
“Then I took up my newspaper, to aid my diges- my back, and Madame Renard kept repeating: ‘You

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are not a man; you have the blood of a chicken in witnesses, who were on the other bank, began to
your veins’; and suddenly I said to her: ‘Look here, call out by way of a joke: ‘Less noise over there;
I would rather go away, or I shall only be doing you will prevent your husbands from fishing.’
something foolish.’ “The fact is that neither of us moved any more
“And she whispered to me as if she had put a than if we had been two tree-stumps. We remained
red-hot iron under my nose: ‘You are not a man. there, with our noses over the water, as if we had
Now you are going to run away, and surrender heard nothing, but by Jove, we heard all the same.
your place! Off you go, Bazaine!’ ‘You are a mere liar.’
“Well, I felt that, but yet I did not move, while the “ ‘You are nothing better than a street-walker.’
other fellow pulled out a bream, Oh! I never saw “ ‘You are only a trollop.’
such a large one before, never! And then my wife “ ‘You are a regular strumpet.’
began to talk aloud, as if she were thinking, and “And so on, and so on; a sailor could not have
you can see her trickery. She said: ‘That is what said more.
one might call stolen fish, seeing that we baited “Suddenly I heard a noise behind me, and turned
the place ourselves. At any rate, they ought to give round. It was the other one, the fat woman who
us back the money we have spent on bait.’ had fallen on to my wife with her parasol. WHACK!
“Then the fat woman in the cotton dress said in WHACK! Melie got two of them, but she was furi-
turn: ‘Do you mean to call us thieves, Madame?’ ous, and she hits hard when she is in a rage, so
And they began to explain, and then they came she caught the fat woman by the hair and then,
to words. Oh! Lord! those creatures know some THUMP, THUMP. Slaps in the face rained down
good ones. They shouted so loud, that our two like ripe plums. I should have let them go on—

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women among themselves, men among them- to be seen, and the water was as smooth as a
selves—it does not do to mix the blows, but the lake. The others yonder kept shouting: ‘Fish him
little man in the linen jacket jumped up like a devil out!’ It was all very well to say that, but I cannot
and was going to rush at my wife. Ah! no, no, not swim and still less dive!
that, my friend! I caught the gentleman with the “At last the man from the dam came, and two
end of my fist, CRASH, CRASH, one on the nose, gentlemen with boat-hooks, but it had taken over
the other in the stomach. He threw up his arms a quarter of an hour. He was found at the bottom
and legs and fell on his back into the river, just of the hole in eight feet of water, as I have said,
into the hole. but he was dead, the poor little man in his linen
“I should have fished him out most certainly, Mon- suit! There are the facts, such as I have sworn to. I
sieur le President, if I had had the time. But unfor- am innocent, on my honor.”
tunately the fat woman got the better of it, and The witnesses having deposed to the same ef-
she was drubbing Melie terribly. I know that I ought fect, the accused was acquitted.
not to have assisted her while the man was drink-
ing 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

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 De Maupassant

LOVE make it stop.

That year the cold weather set in suddenly to-
ward the end of autumn, and I was invited by one
THREE PAGES FROM A SPORTSMAN’S BOOK
of my cousins, Karl de Rauville, to go with him and
shoot ducks on the marshes, at daybreak.
I HAVE JUST READ among the general news in one of
My cousin was a jolly fellow of forty, with red
the papers a drama of passion. He killed her and
hair, very stout and bearded, a country gentleman,
then he killed himself, so he must have loved her.
an amiable semi-brute, of a happy disposition and
What matters He or She? Their love alone matters
endowed with that Gallic wit which makes even
to me; and it does not interest me because it moves
mediocrity agreeable. He lived in a house, half
me or astonishes me, or because it softens me or
farmhouse, half chateau, situated in a broad val-
makes me think, but because it recalls to my mind
ley through which a river ran. The hills right and
a remembrance of my youth, a strange recollec-
left were covered with woods, old manorial woods
tion of a hunting adventure where Love appeared
where magnificent trees still remained, and where
to me, as the Cross appeared to the early Chris-
the rarest feathered game in that part of France
tians, in the midst of the heavens.
was to be found. Eagles were shot there occasion-
I was born with all the instincts and the senses
ally, and birds of passage, such as rarely venture
of primitive man, tempered by the arguments and
into our over-populated part of the country, in-
the restraints of a civilized being. I am passion-
variably lighted amid these giant oaks, as if they
ately fond of shooting, yet the sight of the
knew or recognized some little corner of a prime-
wounded animal, of the blood on its feathers and
val forest which had remained there to serve them
on my hands, affects my heart so as almost to
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 Selected Writings
as a shelter during their short nocturnal halt. tire world in itself on the world of earth—a differ-
In the valley there were large meadows watered ent world, which has its own life, its settled inhab-
by trenches and separated by hedges; then, fur- itants and its passing travelers, its voices, its noises,
ther on, the river, which up to that point had been and above all its mystery. Nothing is more impres-
kept between banks, expanded into a vast marsh. sive, nothing more disquieting, more terrifying
That marsh was the best shooting ground I ever occasionally, than a fen. Why should a vague ter-
saw. It was my cousin’s chief care, and he kept it ror hang over these low plains covered with wa-
as a preserve. Through the rushes that covered it, ter? Is it the low rustling of the rushes, the strange
and made it rustling and rough, narrow passages will-o’-the-wisp lights, the silence which prevails
had been cut, through which the flat-bottomed on calm nights, the still mists which hang over the
boats, impelled and steered by poles, passed along surface like a shroud; or is it the almost inaudible
silently over dead water, brushing up against the splashing, so slight and so gentle, yet sometimes
reeds and making the swift fish take refuge in the more terrifying than the cannons of men or the
weeds, and the wild fowl, with their pointed, black thunders of the skies, which make these marshes
heads, dive suddenly. resemble countries one has dreamed of, terrible
I am passionately fond of the water: of the sea, countries holding an unknown and dangerous
though it is too vast, too full of movement, impossi- secret?
ble to hold; of the rivers which are so beautiful, No, something else belongs to it—another mys-
but which pass on, and flee away and above all of tery, profounder and graver, floats amid these thick
the marshes, where the whole unknown existence mists, perhaps the mystery of the creation itself!
of aquatic animals palpitates. The marsh is an en- For was it not in stagnant and muddy water, amid

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the heavy humidity of moist land under the heat knife, prick it like a poisoned sting, twist it like a
of the sun, that the first germ of life pulsated and pair of pincers, and burn it like fire.
expanded to the day? My cousin rubbed his hands: “I have never known
I arrived at my cousin’s in the evening. It was such a frost,” he said; “it is already twelve degrees
freezing hard enough to split the stones. below zero at six o’clock in the evening.”
During dinner, in the large room whose side- I threw myself on to my bed immediately after
boards, walls, and ceiling were covered with stuffed we had finished our meal, and went to sleep by
birds, with wings extended or perched on branches the light of a bright fire burning in the grate.
to which they were nailed,—hawks, herons, owls, At three o’clock he woke me. In my turn, I put
nightjars, buzzards, tiercels, vultures, falcons,—my on a sheepskin, and found my cousin Karl cov-
cousin who, dressed in a sealskin jacket, himself ered with a bearskin. After having each swallowed
resembled some strange animal from a cold coun- two cups of scalding coffee, followed by glasses of
try, told me what preparations he had made for liqueur brandy, we started, accompanied by a
that same night. gamekeeper and our dogs, Plongeon and Pierrot.
We were to start at half past three in the morn- From the first moment that I got outside, I felt
ing, so as to arrive at the place which he had cho- chilled to the very marrow. It was one of those
sen for our watching-place at about half past four. nights on which the earth seems dead with cold.
On that spot a hut had been built of lumps of ice, The frozen air becomes resisting and palpable, such
so as to shelter us somewhat from the trying wind pain does it cause; no breath of wind moves it, it is
which precedes daybreak, a wind so cold as to fixed and motionless; it bites you, pierces through
tear the flesh like a saw, cut it like the blade of a you, dries you, kills the trees, the plants, the in-

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 Selected Writings
sects, the small birds themselves, who fall from leaves, left a slight noise behind us, and I was
the branches on to the hard ground, and become seized, as I had never been before, by the power-
stiff themselves under the grip of the-cold. ful and singular emotion which marshes cause in
The moon, which was in her last quarter and me. This one was dead, dead from cold, since we
was inclining all to one side, seemed fainting in were walking on it, in the middle of its population
the midst of space, so weak that she was unable of dried rushes.
to wane, forced to stay up yonder, seized and para- Suddenly, at the turn of one of the lanes, I per-
lyzed by the severity of the weather. She shed a ceived the ice-hut which had been constructed to
cold, mournful light over the world, that dying and shelter us. I went in, and as we had nearly an
wan light which she gives us every month, at the hour to wait before the wandering birds would
end of her period. awake, I rolled myself up in my rug in order to try
Karl and I walked side by side, our backs bent, and get warm. Then, lying on my back, I began to
our hands in our pockets and our guns under our look at the misshapen moon, which had four horns
arms. Our boots, which were wrapped in wool so through the vaguely transparent walls of this po-
that we might be able to walk without slipping on lar house. But the frost of the frozen marshes, the
the frozen river, made no sound, and I looked at cold of these walls, the cold from the firmament
the white vapor which our dogs’ breath made. penetrated me so terribly that I began to cough.
We were soon on the edge of the marsh, and My cousin Karl became uneasy.
entered one of the lanes of dry rushes which ran “No matter if we do not kill much to-day,” he said:
through the low forest. “I do not want you to catch cold; we will light a fire.”
Our elbows, which touched the long, ribbonlike And he told the gamekeeper to cut some rushes.

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 De Maupassant
We made a pile in the middle of our hut which cry which is carried away by the wings of a bird is
had a hole in the middle of the roof to let out the the sigh of a soul from the world!
smoke, and when the red flames rose up to the “Put out the fire,” said Karl, “it is getting daylight.”
clear, crystal blocks they began to melt, gently, im- The sky was, in fact, beginning to grow pale,
perceptibly, as if they were sweating. Karl, who had and the flights of ducks made long, rapid streaks
remained outside, called out to me: “Come and look which were soon obliterated on the sky.
here!” I went out of the hut and remained struck A stream of light burst out into the night; Karl
with astonishment. Our hut, in the shape of a cone, had fired, and the two dogs ran forward.
looked like an enormous diamond with a heart of And then, nearly every minute, now he, now I,
fire which had been suddenly planted there in the aimed rapidly as soon as the shadow of a flying
midst of the frozen water of the marsh. And inside, flock appeared above the rushes. And Pierrot and
we saw two fantastic forms, those of our dogs, who Plongeon, out of breath but happy, retrieved the
were warming themselves at the fire. bleeding birds, whose eyes still, occasionally,
But a peculiar cry, a lost, a wandering cry, passed looked at us.
over our heads, and the light from our hearth The sun had risen, and it was a bright day with a
showed us the wild birds. Nothing moves one so blue sky, and we were thinking of taking our de-
much as the first clamor of a life which one does parture, when two birds with extended necks and
not see, which passes through the somber air so outstretched wings, glided rapidly over our heads.
quickly and so far off, just before the first streak of I fired, and one of them fell almost at my feet. It
a winter’s day appears on the horizon. It seems to was a teal, with a silver breast, and then, in the
me, at this glacial hour of dawn, as if that passing blue space above me, I heard a voice, the voice of

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 Selected Writings
a bird. It was a short, repeated, heart-rending la- deed come near us, careless of danger, infatuated
ment; and the bird, the little animal that had been by his animal love, by his affection for his mate,
spared began to turn round in the blue sky, over which I had just killed.
our heads, looking at its dead companion which I Karl fired, and it was as if somebody had cut the
was holding in my hand. string which held the bird suspended. I saw some-
Karl was on his knees, his gun to his shoulder thing black descend, and I heard the noise of a fall
watching it eagerly, until it should be within shot. among the rushes. And Pierrot brought it to me.
“You have killed the duck,” he said, “and the drake I put them—they were already cold—into the same
will not fly away.” game-bag, and I returned to Paris the same
He certainly did not fly away; he circled over our evening.
heads continually, and continued his cries. Never
have any groans of suffering pained me so much
as that desolate appeal, as that lamentable re-
proach of this poor bird which was lost in space.
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 in-

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 De Maupassant

THE INN little house up to the eaves.

It was the day on which the Hauser family were
going to return to Loeche, as winter was approach-
LIKE ALL THE LITTLE WOODEN INNS in the higher Alps, tiny
ing, and the descent was becoming dangerous.
auberges situated in the bare and rocky gorges
Three mules started first, laden with baggage and
which intersect the white summits of the moun-
led by the three sons. Then the mother, Jeanne
tains, the inn of Schwarenbach is a refuge for trav-
Hauser, and her daughter Louise mounted a fourth
elers who are crossing the Gemmi.
mule, and set off in their turn. The father followed
It is open six months in the year, and is inhab-
them, accompanied by the two men in charge, who
ited by the family of Jean Hauser. As soon as the
were to escort the family as far as the brow of the
snow begins to fall, and fills the valley so as to
descent. First of all they skirted the small lake, now
make the road down to Loeche impassable, the
frozen over, at the foot of the mass of rocks which
father, with mother, daughter, and the three sons
stretched in front of the inn; then they followed
depart, leaving the house in charge of the old
the valley, which was dominated on all sides by
guide, Gaspard Hari, with the young guide, Ulrich
snow-covered peaks.
Kunsi, and Sam, the great mountain dog.
A ray of sunlight glinted into that little white,
The two men and the dog remain till spring in
glistening, frozen desert, illuminating it with a cold
their snowy prison, with nothing before their eyes
and dazzling flame. No living thing appeared
except immense, white slopes of the Balmhorn,
among this ocean of hills; there was no stir in that
surrounded by light, glistening summits, and shut
immeasurable solitude, no noise disturbed the pro-
up, blocked up, and buried by the snow which rises
found silence.
around them, enveloping and almost burying the
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 Selected Writings
By degrees the young guide, Ulrich Kunsi, a tall, tures remained unmoved.
long-legged Swiss, left daddy Hauser and old They reached Lake Daube, whose broad, frozen
Gaspard behind, in order to catch up with the mule surface reached to the bottom of the valley. On
which carried the two women. The younger one the right, the Daubenhorn showed its black mass,
looked at him as he approached, as if she would rising up in a peak above the enormous moraines
call him with her sad eyes. She was a young, light- of the Lommeon glacier, which soared above the
haired peasant girl, whose milk-white cheeks and Wildstrubel. As they approached the neck of the
pale hair seemed to have lost their color by long Gemmi, where the descent to Loeche begins, the
dwelling amid the ice. When Ulrich had caught up immense horizon of the Alps of the Valais, from
with the animal which carried the women, he put which the broad, deep valley of the Rhone sepa-
his hand on the crupper, and relaxed his speed. rated them, came in view.
Mother Hauser began to talk to him, and enumer- In the distance, there was a group of white, un-
ated with minutest detail all that he would have to equal, flat or pointed mountain summits, which
attend to during the winter. It was the first winter glistened in the sun; the Mischabel with its twin
he would spend up there, while old Hari had al- peaks, the huge group of the Weisshorn, the heavy
ready spent fourteen winters amid the snow, at Brunegghorn, the lofty and formidable pyramid of
the inn of Schwarenbach. Mont Cervin, slayer of men, and the Dent Blanche,
Ulrich Kunsi listened, without appearing to un- that terrible coquette.
derstand, and looked incessantly at the girl. From Then beneath them, as at the bottom of a ter-
time to time he replied: “Yes, Madame Hauser”; but rible abyss, they saw Loeche, its houses looking
his thoughts seemed far away, and his calm fea- like grains of sand which had been thrown into

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 De Maupassant
that enormous crevice which finishes and closes commenced the descent, and soon all three disap-
the Gemmi, and which opens, down below, on to peared at the first turn in the road, while the two
the Rhone. men returned to the inn at Schwarenbach.
The mule stopped at the edge of the path, which They walked slowly side by side, without speak-
turns and twists continually, zigzagging fantasti- ing. The parting was over, and they would be alone
cally and strangely along the steep side of the together for four or five months. Then Gaspard
mountain, as far as the almost invisible little vil- Hari began to relate his life last winter. He had
lage at its feet. The women jumped into the snow, remained with Michael Canol, who was too old
and the two old men joined them. now to stand it; for an accident might happen dur-
“Well,” father Hauser said, “good-bye, and keep ing that long solitude. They had not been dull,
up your spirits till next year, my friends,” and old however; the only thing was to be resigned to it
Hari replied: “Till next year.” from the first, and in the end one would find plenty
They embraced each other, and then Madame of distraction, games and other means of whiling
Hauser in her turn, offered her cheek, and the girl away the time.
did the same. When Ulrich Kunsi’s turn came, he Ulrich Kunsi listened to him with his eyes on the
whispered in Louise’s ear: ground, for in thought he was with those who
“Do not forget those up yonder,” and she replied: were descending to the village. They soon came
“No,” in such a low voice, that he guessed what in sight of the inn, which was scarcely visible, so
she had said, without hearing it. small did it look, a mere black speck at the foot of
“Well, adieu,” Jean Hauser repeated, “and don’t that enormous billow of snow. When they opened
fall ill.” Then, going before the two women, he the door, Sam, the great curly dog, began to romp

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 Selected Writings
round them. ing-stones in a large meadow. Hauser’s little daugh-
“Come, my boy,” old Gaspard said, “we have no ter was there now in one of those gray-colored
women now, so we must get our own dinner ready. houses. In which? Ulrich Kunsi was too far away
Go and peel the potatoes.” And they both sat down to be able to make them out separately. How he
on wooden stools, and began to put the bread would have liked to go down while he was yet
into the soup. able!
The next morning seemed very long to Kunsi. But the sun had disappeared behind the lofty crest
Old Hari smoked and smoked beside the hearth, of the Wildstrubel, and the young man returned
while the young man looked out of the window to the chalet. Daddy Hari was smoking, and, when
at the snow-covered mountain opposite the house. he saw his mate come in, proposed a game of
In the afternoon he went out, and going over the cards to him. They sat down opposite each other
previous day’s ground again, he looked for the for a long time and played the simple game called
traces of the mule that had carried the two women; brisque; then they had supper and went to bed.
then when he had reached the neck of the Gemmi, The following days were like the first, bright and
he laid himself down on his stomach, and looked cold, without any more snow. Old Gaspard spent
at Loeche. his afternoons in watching the eagles and other
The village, in its rocky pit, was not yet buried rare birds which ventured on to those frozen
under the snow, although the white masses came heights; while Ulrich journeyed regularly to the
quite close to it, balked, however, of their prey by neck of the Gemmi to look at the village. In the
the pine woods which protected the hamlet. From evening they played at cards, dice, or dominoes,
his vantage point the low houses looked like pav- and lost and won trifling sums, just to create an

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interest in the game. humored, nor did they ever use hard words, for
One morning Hari, who was up first, called his they had laid in a stock of patience for this winter-
companion. A moving cloud of white spray, deep ing on the top of the mountain.
and light, was falling on them noiselessly, and Sometimes old Gaspard took his rifle and went
burying them by degrees under a dark, thick cov- after chamois, and occasionally killed one. Then
erlet of foam. This lasted four days and four nights. there was a feast in the inn at Schwarenbach, and
It was necessary to free the door and the win- they reveled in fresh meat. One morning he went
dows, to dig out a passage, and to cut steps to get out as usual. The thermometer outside marked
over this frozen powder, which a twelve-hours’ eighteen degrees of frost, and as the sun had not
frost had made as hard as the granite of the mo- yet risen, the hunter hoped to surprise the ani-
raines. mals at the approaches to the Wildstrubel. Ulrich,
They lived like prisoners, not venturing outside being alone, remained in bed until ten o’clock. He
their abode. They had divided their duties and was of a sleepy nature, but would not have dared
performed them regularly. Ulrich Kunsi undertook to give way like that to his inclination in the pres-
the scouring, washing, and everything that be- ence of the old guide, who was ever an early riser.
longed to cleanliness. He also chopped up the He breakfasted leisurely with Sam, who also spent
wood, while Gaspard Hari did the cooking and at- his days and nights in sleeping in front of the fire;
tended to the fire. Their regular and monotonous then he felt low-spirited and even frightened at
work was relieved by long games at cards or dice, the solitude, and was seized by a longing for his
but they never quarreled, and were always calm daily game of cards, as one is by the domination
and placid. They were never even impatient or ill- of an invincible habit. So he went out to meet his

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 Selected Writings
companion, who was to return at four o’clock. stopped, and asked himself whether the old man
The snow had leveled the whole deep valley, had taken that road, and then he began to walk
filled up the crevasses, obliterated all signs of the along the moraines with rapid and uneasy steps.
two lakes and covered the rocks, so that between The day was declining; the snow was assuming a
the high summits there was nothing but an im- rosy tint, and a dry, frozen wind blew in rough
mense, white, regular, dazzling, and frozen sur- gusts over its crystal surface. Ulrich uttered a long,
face. For three weeks, Ulrich had not been to the shrill, vibrating call. His voice sped through the
edge of the precipice, from which he had looked deathlike silence in which the mountains were
down on to the village, and he wanted to go there sleeping; it reached into the distance, over the pro-
before climbing the slopes which led to the found and motionless waves of glacial foam, like
Wildstrubel. Loeche was now covered by the snow, the cry of a bird over the waves of the sea; then it
and the houses could scarcely be distinguished, died away and nothing answered him.
hidden as they were by that white cloak. He started off again. The sun had sunk behind
Turning to the right, Ulrich reached the Lammern the mountain tops, which still were purpled with
glacier. He strode along with a mountaineer’s long the reflection from the heavens; but the depths of
swinging pace, striking the snow, which was as the valley were becoming gray, and suddenly the
hard as a rock, with his iron-shod stick, and with young man felt frightened. It seemed to him as if
piercing eyes looking for the little black, moving the silence, the cold, the solitude, the wintry death
speck in the distance, on that enormous, white of these mountains were taking possession of him,
expanse. were stopping and freezing his blood, making his
When he reached the end of the glacier he limbs grow stiff, and turning him into a motionless

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and frozen object; and he began to run rapidly self every possible sort of accident. Gaspard might
toward the dwelling. The old man, he thought, have broken a leg, have fallen into a crevasse,
would have returned during his absence. He had have taken a false step and dislocated his ankle.
probably taken another road; and would, no doubt, Perhaps he was lying on the snow, overcome and
be sitting before the fire, with a dead chamois at stiff with the cold, in agony of mind, lost and per-
his feet. haps shouting for help, calling with all his might,
He soon came in sight of the inn, but no smoke in the silence of the night.
rose from it. Ulrich ran faster. Opening the door he But where? The mountain was so vast, so rug-
met Sam who ran up to him to greet him, but Gaspard ged, so dangerous in places, especially at that time
Hari had not returned. Kunsi, in his alarm, turned of the year, that it would have required ten or
round suddenly, as if he had expected to find his twenty guides walking for a week in all directions,
comrade hidden in a corner. Then he relighted the to find a man in that immense space. Ulrich Kunsi,
fire and made the soup; hoping every moment to however, made up his mind to set out with Sam, if
see the old man come in. From time to time he went Gaspard did not return by one in the morning;
out to see if Gaspard were not in sight. It was night and he made his preparations.
now, that wan night of the mountain, a livid night, He put provisions for two days into a bag, took
with the crescent moon, yellow and dim, just disap- his steel climbing-irons, tied a long, thin, strong
pearing behind the mountain tops, and shining faintly rope round his waist and looked to see that his
on the edge of the horizon. iron-shod stick and his ax, which served to cut steps
Then the young man went in and sat down to in the ice, were in order. Then he waited. The fire
warm his hands and feet, while he pictured to him- was burning on the hearth, the great dog was

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 Selected Writings
snoring in front of it, and the clock was ticking in whence, suddenly illuminated the immense ocean
its case of resounding wood, as regularly as a heart of pale mountain peaks, which stretched for many
beating. leagues around him. It seemed as if this vague
He waited, his ears on the alert for distant sounds, brightness arose from the snow itself, in order to
and shivered when the wind blew against the roof spread itself into space. By degrees the highest
and the walls. It struck twelve, and he trembled. and most distant summits assumed a delicate,
Then, as he felt frightened and shivery, he put fleshlike rose color, and the red sun appeared be-
some water on the fire, so that he might have hot hind the ponderous giants of the Bernese Alps.
coffee before starting. When the clock struck one Ulrich Kunsi set off again, walking like a hunter,
he got up, woke Sam, opened the door and went stooping and looking for any traces, and saying
off in the direction of the Wildstrubel. For five hours to his dog: “Seek old fellow, seek!”
he ascended, scaling the rocks by means of his He was descending the mountain now, scanning
climbing-irons, cutting into the ice, advancing con- the depths closely, and from time to time shout-
tinually, and occasionally hauling up the dog, who ing, uttering a loud, prolonged familiar cry which
remained below at the foot of some slope that soon died away in that silent vastness. Then, he
was too steep for him, by means of the rope. About put his ear to the ground, to listen. He thought he
six o’clock he reached one of the summits to which could distinguish a voice, and so he began to run
old Gaspard often came after chamois, and he and shout again. But he heard nothing more and
waited till it should be day-light. sat down, worn out and in despair. Toward mid-
The sky was growing pale overhead, and sud- day he breakfasted and gave Sam, who was as
denly a strange light, springing, nobody could tell tired as himself, something to eat also; then he

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recommenced his search. inn, falling down and getting up again, and fol-
When evening came he was still walking, hav- lowed at a distance by Sam, who was limping on
ing traveled more than thirty miles over the moun- three legs. They did not reach Schwarenbach until
tains. As he was too far away to return home, and four o’clock in the afternoon. The house was
too tired to drag himself along any further, he dug empty, and the young man made a fire, had some-
a hole in the snow and crouched in it with his thing to eat, and went to sleep, so worn-out that
dog, under a blanket which he had brought with he did not think of anything more.
him. The man and the dog lay side by side, warm- He slept for a long time, for a very long time, the
ing themselves one against the other, but frozen unconquerable sleep of exhaustion. But suddenly
to the marrow, nevertheless. Ulrich scarcely slept, a voice, a cry, a name: “Ulrich,” aroused him from
his mind haunted by visions and his limbs shaking his profound slumber, and made him sit up in bed.
with cold. Had he been dreaming? Was it one of those
Day was breaking when he got up. His legs were strange appeals which cross the dreams of disqui-
as stiff as iron bars, and his spirits so low that he eted minds? No, he heard it still, that reverberat-
was ready to weep, while his heart was beating ing cry,—which had entered at his ears and re-
so that he almost fell with excitement whenever mained in his brain,—thrilling him to the tips of his
he thought he heard a noise. sinewy fingers. Certainly, somebody had cried out,
Suddenly he imagined that he also was going to and called: “Ulrich!” There was somebody there,
die of cold in the midst of this vast solitude. The near the house, there could be no doubt of that,
terror of such a death roused his energies and gave and he opened the door and shouted: “Is it you,
him renewed vigor. He was descending toward the Gaspard?” with all the strength of his lungs. But

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 Selected Writings
there was no reply, no murmur, no groan, noth- then died, thinking of his comrade. His soul, almost
ing. It was quite dark, and the snow looked wan. before it was released, had taken its flight to the
The wind had risen, that icy wind which cracks inn where Ulrich was sleeping, and it had called
the rocks, and leaves nothing alive on those de- him by that terrible and mysterious power which
serted heights. It came in sudden gusts, more parch- the spirits of the dead possess. That voiceless soul
ing and more deadly than the burning wind of the had cried to the worn-out soul of the sleeper; it had
desert, and again Ulrich shouted: “Gaspard! uttered its last farewell, or its reproach, or its curse
Gaspard! Gaspard!” Then he waited again. Every- on the man who had not searched carefully enough.
thing was silent on the mountain! Then he shook And Ulrich felt that it was there, quite close to
with terror, and with a bound he was inside the him, behind the wall, behind the door which he
inn. He shut and bolted the door, and then fell had just fastened. It was wandering about, like a
into a chair, trembling all over, for he felt certain night bird which skims a lighted window with his
that his comrade had called him at the moment of wings, and the terrified young man was ready to
dissolution. scream with horror. He wanted to run away, but
He was certain of that, as certain as one is of did not dare go out; he did not dare, and would
conscious life or of taste when eating. Old Gaspard never dare in the future, for that phantom would
Hari had been dying for two days and three nights remain there day and night, round the inn, as long
somewhere, in some hole, in one of those deep, as the old man’s body was not recovered and de-
untrodden ravines whose whiteness is more sinis- posited in the consecrated earth of a churchyard.
ter than subterranean darkness. He had been dy- Daylight came, and Kunsi recovered some of his
ing for two days and three nights and he had just courage with the return of the bright sun. He pre-

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pared his meal, gave his dog some food, and then Toward midnight, tired with walking, worn-out
remained motionless on a chair, tortured at heart as by grief and fear, he fell into a doze in his chair,
he thought of the old man lying on the snow. Then, for he was afraid of his bed, as one is of a haunted
as soon as night once more covered the mountains, spot. But suddenly the strident cry of the preced-
new terrors assailed him. He now walked up and ing evening pierced his ears, so shrill that Ulrich
down the dark kitchen, which was scarcely lighted stretched out his arms to repulse the ghost, and
by the flame of one candle. He walked from one he fell on to his back with his chair.
end of it to the other with great strides, listening, Sam, who was awakened by the noise, began to
listening to hear the terrible cry of the preceding howl as frightened dogs do, and trotted all about
night again break the dreary silence outside. He felt the house trying to find out where the danger came
himself alone, unhappy man, as no man had ever from. When he got to the door, he sniffed beneath
been alone before! Alone in this immense desert of it, smelling vigorously, with his coat bristling and
snow, alone five thousand feet above the inhabited his tail stiff while he growled angrily. Kunsi, who
earth; above human habitations, above that stirring, was terrified, jumped up, and holding his chair by
noisy, palpitating life, alone under an icy sky! A mad one leg, cried: “Don’t come in, don’t come in, or I
longing impelled him to run away, no matter where, shall kill you.” And the dog, excited by this threat,
to get down to Loeche by flinging himself over the barked angrily at that invisible enemy who defied
precipice; but he did not even dare to open the door, his master’s voice. By degrees, however, he qui-
as he felt sure that the other, the dead, man would eted down, came back and stretched himself in
bar his road, so that he might not be obliged to re- front of the fire. But he was uneasy, and kept his
main up there alone. head up, and growled between his teeth.

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Ulrich, in turn, recovered his senses, but as he it with his long white teeth, while the young man,
felt faint with terror, he went and got a bottle of his neck thrown back, and his head in the air, drank
brandy out of the sideboard, and drank off sev- the brandy in gulps, as if it were cold water, so
eral glasses, one after another, at a gulp. His ideas that it might by and by send his thoughts, his fran-
became vague, his courage revived, and a fever- tic terror, and his memory, to sleep again.
ish glow ran through his veins. In three weeks he had consumed all his stock of
He ate scarcely anything the next day, and lim- ardent spirits. But his continual drunkenness only
ited himself to alcohol; so he lived for several days, lulled his terror, which awoke more furiously than
like a drunken brute. As soon as he thought of ever, as soon as it was impossible for him to calm
Gaspard Hari he began to drink again, and went it by drinking. His fixed idea, which had been in-
on drinking until he fell on to the floor, overcome tensified by a month of drunkenness, and which
by intoxication. And there he remained on his face, was continually increasing in his absolute solitude?
dead drunk, his limbs benumbed, and snoring with pene-trated him like a gimlet. He now walked about
his face to the ground. But scarcely had he digested his house like a wild beast in its cage, putting his
the maddening and burning liquor, than the same eat to the door to listen if the other were there,
cry, “Ulrich,” woke him like a bullet piercing his and defying him through the wall. Then as soon
brain, and he got up, still staggering, stretching as he dozed, overcome by fatigue, he heard the
out his hands to save himself from falling, and voice which made him leap to his feet.
calling to Sam to help him. And the dog, who ap- At last one night, as cowards do when driven to
peared to be going mad like his master, rushed to extremity, he sprang to the door and opened it, to
the door, scratched it with his claws, and gnawed see who was calling him, and to force him to keep

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quiet. But such a gust of cold wind blew into his assailed by an enemy.
face that it chilled him to the bone. He closed and But the person outside now uttered long, plain-
bolted the door again immediately, without notic- tive, mournful groans, to which the young man
ing that Sam had rushed out. Then, as he was shiv- replied by similar groans, and thus days and nights
ering with cold, he threw some wood on the fire, passed without their ceasing to howl at each other.
and sat down in front of it to warm himself. But The one was continually walking round the house
suddenly he started, for somebody was scratching and scraped the walls with his nails so vigorously
at the wall, and crying. In desperation he called that it seemed as if he wished to destroy them,
out: “Go away!” but was answered by another long, while the other, inside, followed all his movements,
sorrowful wail. stooping down, and holding his ear to the walls,
Then all his remaining senses forsook him, from and replying to all his appeals with terrible cries.
sheer fright. He repeated: “Go away!” and turned One evening, however, Ulrich heard nothing more,
round to find some corner in which to hide, while and he sat down, so overcome by fatigue that he
the other person went round the house still cry- went to sleep immediately, and awoke in the morn-
ing, and rubbing against the wall. Ulrich went to ing without a thought, without any recollection of
the oak sideboard, which was full of plates and what had happened, just as if his head had been
dishes and of provisions, and lifting it up with su- emptied during his heavy sleep. But he felt hun-
perhuman strength, he dragged it to the door, so gry, and he ate.
as to form a barricade. Then piling up all the rest The winter was over, and the Gemmi pass was
of the furniture, the mattresses, paillasses, and practicable again, so the Hauser family started off
chairs, he stopped up the windows as men do when to return to their inn. As soon as they had reached

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 Selected Writings
the top of the ascent, the women mounted their Then the three men, the father and the two sons,
mule, and spoke about the two men who they tried to open the door, but it resisted their efforts.
would meet again shortly. They were, indeed, From the empty cow-stall they took a beam to
rather surprised that neither of them had come serve as a battering-ram, and hurled it against the
down a few days before, as soon as the road be- door with all their might. The wood gave way,
came passable, in order to tell them all about their and the boards flew into splinters; then the house
long winter sojourn. At last, however, they saw was shaken by a loud voice, and inside, behind
the inn, still covered with snow, like a quilt. The the sideboard which was overturned, they saw a
door and the windows were closed, but a little man standing upright, his hair falling on to his
smoke was coming out of the chimney, which re- shoulders and a beard descending to his breast,
assured old Hauser; on going up to the door, how- with shining eyes and nothing but rags to cover
ever, he saw the skeleton of an animal which had him. They did not recognize him, but Louise Hauser
been torn to pieces by the eagles, a large skeleton exclaimed: “It is Ulrich, mother.” And her mother
lying on its side. declared that it was Ulrich, although his hair was
They all looked closely at it, and the mother said: white.
“That must be Sam.” Then she shouted: “Hi! He allowed them to go up to him, and to touch
Gaspard!” A cry from the interior of the house an- him, but he did not reply to any of their questions,
swered her, so sharp a cry that one might have and they were obliged to take him to Loeche,
thought some animal uttered it. Old Hauser re- where the doctors found that he was mad. No-
peated: “Hi! Gaspard!” and they heard another cry, body ever knew what had become of his compan-
similar to the first. ion.

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 De Maupassant
Little Louise Hauser nearly died that summer of
decline, which the medical men attributed to the
A FAMILY
cold air of the mountains.
I WAS GOING TO SEE my friend Simon Radevin once
more, for I had not seen him for fifteen years. For-
merly he was my most intimate friend, and I used
to spend long, quiet, and happy evenings with him.
He was one of those men to whom one tells the
most intimate affairs of the heart, and in whom
one finds, when quietly talking, rare, clever, inge-
nious, and refined thoughts—thoughts which stimu-
late and capture the mind.
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
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 Selected Writings
Paris in search of a husband. How ever could that The train stopped at a small station, and as I got
little, thin, insipidly fair girl, with her weak hands, out of the carriage, a stout, a very stout man with
her light, vacant eyes, and her clear, silly voice, red cheeks and a big stomach rushed up to me
who was exactly like a hundred thousand mar- with open arms, exclaiming: “George!”
riageable dolls, have picked up that intelligent, I embraced him, but I had not recognized him,
clever young fellow? Can anyone understand these and then I said, in astonishment: “By Jove! You
things? No doubt he had hoped for happiness, have not grown thin!”
simple, quiet, and long-enduring happiness, in the And he replied with a laugh: “What did you ex-
arms of a good, tender, and faithful woman; he pect? Good living, a good table, and good nights!
had seen all that in the transparent looks of that Eating and sleeping, that is my existence!”
schoolgirl with light hair. I looked at him closely, trying to find the fea-
He had not dreamed of the fact that an active, tures I held so dear in that broad face. His eyes
living, and vibrating man grows tired as soon as alone had not altered, but I no longer saw the
he has comprehended the stupid reality of a com- same looks in them, and I said to myself: “If looks
mon-place life, unless indeed, he becomes so bru- be the reflection of the mind, the thoughts in that
talized as to be callous to externals. head are not what they used to be—those thoughts
What would he be like when I met him again? which I knew so well.”
Still lively, witty, light-hearted, and enthusiastic, or Yet his eyes were bright, full of pleasure and
in a state of mental torpor through provincial life? friendship, but they had not that clear, intelligent
A man can change a great deal in the course of expression which tells better than do words the
fifteen years! value of the mind. Suddenly he said to me:

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 De Maupassant
“Here are my two eldest children.” A girl of four- show me that he knew all the inhabitants person-
teen, who was almost a woman, and a boy of ally. The thought struck me that he was thinking
thirteen, in the dress of a pupil from a lycee, came of becoming a candidate for the Chamber of Depu-
forward in a hesitating and awkward manner, and ties, that dream of all who have buried themselves
I said in a low voice: “Are they yours?” in the provinces.
“Of course they are,” he replied laughing. We were soon out of the town; the carriage
“How many have you?” turned into a garden which had some pretensions
“Five! There are three more indoors.” to a park, and stopped in front of a turreted house,
He said that in a proud, self-satisfied, almost tri- which tried to pass for a chateau.
umphant manner, and I felt profound pity, mingled “That is my den,” Simon said, so that he might be
with a feeling of vague contempt for this vainglo- complimented on it, and I replied that it was de-
rious and simple reproducer of his species, who lightful.
spent his nights in his country house in uxorious A lady appeared on the steps, dressed up for a
pleasures. visitor, her hair done for a visitor, and with phrases
I got into a carriage, which he drove himself, ready prepared for a visitor. She was no longer
and we set off through the town, a dull, sleepy, the light-haired, insipid girl I had seen in church
gloomy town where nothing was moving in the fifteen years previously, but a stout lady in curls
streets save a few dogs and two or three maidser- and flounces, one of those ladies of uncertain age,
vants. Here and there a shopkeeper standing at without intellect, without any of those things which
his door took off his hat, and Simon returned the constitute a woman. In short she was a mother, a
salute and told me the man’s name—no doubt to stout, commonplace mother, a human layer and

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brood mare, a machine of flesh which procreates, Simon had just come in, and he said with a laugh:
without mental care save for her children and her “So! You have made grandpapa’s acquaintance. He
housekeeping book. is priceless, is that old man. He is the delight of the
She welcomed me, and I went into the hall, where children, and he is so greedy that he almost kills
three children, ranged according to their height, himself at every meal. You have no idea what he
were ranked for review, like firemen before a would eat if he were allowed to do as he pleased.
mayor. “Ah! ah! so there are the others?” said I. But you will see, you will see. He looks all the
And Simon, who was radiant with pleasure, named sweets over as if they were so many girls. You
them: “Jean, Sophie, and Gontran.” have never seen anything funnier; you will see it
The door of the drawing-room was open. I went presently.”
in, and in the depths of an easy-chair I saw some- I was then shown to my room to change my
thing trembling, a man, an old, paralyzed man. dress for dinner, and hearing a great clatter be-
Madame Radevin came forward and said: “This is hind me on the stairs, I turned round and saw that
my grandfather, Monsieur; he is eighty-seven.” And all the children were following me behind their
then she shouted into the shaking old man’s ears: father—to do me honor, no doubt.
“This is a friend of Simon’s, grandpapa.” My windows looked out on to a plain, a bare,
The old gentleman tried to say “Good day” to interminable plain, an ocean of grass, of wheat,
me, and he muttered: “Oua, oua, oua,” and waved and of oats, without a clump of trees or any rising
his hand. ground, a striking and melancholy picture of the
I took a seat saying: “You are very kind, Mon- life which they must be leading in that house.
sieur.” A bell rang; it was for dinner, and so I went down-

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stairs. Madame Radevin took my arm in a ceremo- man blew energetically, so as not to swallow the
nious manner, and we went into the dining-room. soup, which was thus scattered like a stream of
A footman wheeled in the old man’s arm-chair, water on to the table and over his neighbors. The
who gave a greedy and curious look at the des- children shook with delight at the spectacle, while
sert, as with difficulty he turned his shaking head their father, who was also amused, said: “Isn’t the
from one dish to the other. old man funny?”
Simon rubbed his hands, saying: “You will be During the whole meal they were all taken up
amused.” All the children understood that I was solely with him. With his eyes he devoured the
going to be indulged with the sight of their greedy dishes which were put on the table, and with trem-
grandfather and they began to laugh accordingly, bling hands tried to seize them and pull them to
while their mother merely smiled and shrugged him. They put them almost within his reach to see
her shoulders. Simon, making a speaking trumpet his useless efforts. his trembling clutches at them,
of his hands, shouted at the old man: “This evening the piteous appeal of his whole nature, of his eyes,
there is sweet rice-cream,” and the wrinkled face of his mouth, and of his nose as he smelled them.
of the grandfather brightened, he trembled vio- He slobbered on to his table napkin with eager-
lently all over, showing that he had understood ness, while uttering inarticulate grunts, and the
and was very pleased. The dinner began. whole family was highly amused at this horrible
“Just look!” Simon whispered. The grandfather did and grotesque scene.
not like the soup, and refused to eat it; but he was Then they put a tiny morsel on to his plate, which
made to, on account of his health. The footman he ate with feverish gluttony, in order to get some-
forced the spoon into his mouth, while the old thing more as soon as possible. When the rice-

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cream was brought in, he nearly had a fit, and out of regard for his health! His health! What would
groaned with greediness. Gontran called out to he do with it, inert and trembling wreck that he
him: “You have eaten too much already; you will was? They were taking care of his life, so they
have no more.” And they pretended not to give said. His life? How many days? Ten, twenty, fifty,
him any. Then he began to cry—cry and tremble or a hundred? Why? For his own sake? Or to pre-
more violently than ever, while all the children serve for some time longer, the spectacle of his
laughed. At last, however, they gave him his help- impotent greediness in the family.
ing, a very small piece. As he ate the first mouthful There was nothing left for him to do in this life,
of the pudding, he made a comical and greedy nothing whatever. He had one single wish left,
noise in his throat, and a movement with his neck one sole pleasure; why not grant him that last
like ducks do, when they swallow too large a solace constantly, until he died?
morsel, and then, when he had done, he began After playing cards for a long time, I went up to
to stamp his feet, so as to get more. my room and to bed: I was low-spirited and sad,
I was seized with pity for this pitiable and ridicu- sad, sad! I sat at my window, but I heard nothing
lous Tantalus, and interposed on his behalf: “Please, but the beautiful warbling of a bird in a tree, some-
will you not give him a little more rice?” where in the distance. No doubt the bird was sing-
But Simon replied: “Oh! no my dear fellow, if he ing thus in a low voice during the night, to lull his
were to eat too much, it might harm him at his age.” mate, who was sleeping on her eggs.
I held my tongue, and thought over these words. And I thought of my poor friend’s five children,
Oh! ethics! Oh! logic! Oh! wisdom! At his age! So and to myself pictured him snoring by the side of
they deprived him of his only remaining pleasure his ugly wife.

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 De Maupassant

BELLFLOWER* round the church, a red brick church, which had

become black with age.
Well, every Thursday Mother Bellflower came be-
HOW STRANGE are those old recollections which haunt
tween half past six and seven in the morning, and
us, without our being able to get rid of them!
went immediately into the linen-room and began
This one is so very old that I cannot understand
to work. She was a tall, thin, bearded or rather hairy
how it has clung so vividly and tenaciously to my
woman, for she had a beard all over her face, a
memory. Since then I have seen so many sinister
surprising, an unexpected beard, growing in improb-
things, either affecting or terrible, that I am aston-
able tufts, in curly bunches which looked as if they
ished at not being able to pass a single day with-
had been sown by a madman over that great face,
out the face of Mother Bellflower recurring to my
the face of a gendarme in petticoats. She had them
mind’s eye, just as I knew her formerly, long, long
on her nose, under her nose, round her nose, on
ago, when I was ten or twelve years old.
her chin, on her cheeks; and her eyebrows, which
She was an old seamstress who came to my par-
were extraordinarily thick and long, and quite gray,
ents’ house once a week, every Thursday, to mend
bushy and bristling, looked exactly like a pair of
the linen. My parents lived in one of those coun-
mustaches stuck on there by mistake.
try houses called chateaux, which are merely old
She limped, but not like lame people generally
houses with pointed roofs, to which are attached
do, but like a ship pitching. When she planted her
three or four adjacent farms.
great, bony, vibrant body on her sound leg, she
The village, a large village, almost a small mar-
seemed to be preparing to mount some enormous
ket town, was a few hundred yards off, and nestled
wave, and then suddenly she dipped as if to disap-
*Clochette.
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 Selected Writings
pear in an abyss, and buried herself in the ground. she told me and by which my childish heart was
Her walk reminded one of a ship in a storm, and moved, she had the large heart of a poor woman.
her head, which was always covered with an enor- She told me what had happened in the village,
mous white cap, whose ribbons fluttered down her how a cow had escaped from the cowhouse and
back, seemed to traverse the horizon from North had been found the next morning in front of Pros-
to South and from South to North, at each limp. per Malet’s mill, looking at the sails turning, or
I adored Mother Bellflower. As soon as I was up about a hen’s egg which had been found in the
I used to go into the linen-room, where I found church belfry without anyone being able to un-
her installed at work, with a foot-warmer under derstand what creature had been there to lay it,
her feet. As soon as I arrived, she made me take or the queer story of Jean Pila’s dog, who had
the foot-warmer and sit upon it, so that I might gone ten leagues to bring back his master’s
not catch cold in that large, chilly room under the breeches which a tramp had stolen while they were
roof. hanging up to dry out of doors, after he had been
“That draws the blood from your head,” she would caught in the rain. She told me these simple ad-
say to me. ventures in such a manner that in my mind they
She told me stories, while mending the linen with assumed the proportions of never-to-be-forgotten
her long, crooked, nimble fingers; behind her dramas, of grand and mysterious poems; and the
magnifying spectacles, for age had impaired her ingenious stories invented by the poets, which my
sight, her eyes appeared enormous to me, mother told me in the evening, had none of the
strangely profound, double. flavor, none of the fullness or of the vigor of the
As far as I can remember from the things which peasant woman’s narratives.

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Well, one Thursday when I had spent all the self in a dark corner, in the depths of a great, old
morning in listening to Mother Clochette, I wanted arm-chair, where I knelt and wept. I remained there
to go upstairs to her again during the day, after for a long time no doubt, for night came on. Sud-
picking hazelnuts with the manservant in the wood denly some one came in with a lamp—without see-
behind the farm. I remember it all as clearly as ing me, however—and I heard my father and
what happened only yesterday. mother talking with the medical man, whose voice
On opening the door of the linen-room, I saw I recognized.
the old seamstress lying on the floor by the side He had been sent for immediately, and he was
of her chair, her face turned down and her arms explaining the cause of the accident, of which I
stretched out, but still holding her needle in one understood nothing, however. Then he sat down
hand and one of my shirts in the other. One of and had a glass of liqueur and a biscuit.
her legs in a blue stocking, the longer one no He went on talking, and what he then said will
doubt, was extended under her chair, and her spec- remain engraved on my mind until I die! I think
tacles glistened by the wall, where they had rolled that I can give the exact words which he used.
away from her. “Ah!” said he, “the poor woman! she broke her
I ran away uttering shrill cries. They all came run- leg the day of my arrival here. I had not even had
ning, and in a few minutes I was told that Mother time to wash my hands after getting off the dili-
Clochette was dead. gence before I was sent for in all haste, for it was
I cannot describe the profound, poignant, terrible a bad case, very bad.
emotion which stirred my childish heart. I went “She was seventeen, and a pretty girl, very pretty!
slowly down into the drawing-room and hid my- Would anyone believe it? I have never told her

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 Selected Writings
story before, in fact no one but myself and one downstairs when she left the Grabus’, she went
other person, who is no longer living in this part upstairs and hid among the hay, to wait for her
of the country, ever knew it. Now that she is dead, lover. He soon joined her, and he was beginning
I may be less discreet. to say pretty things to her, when the door of the
“A young assistant teacher had just come to live hayloft opened and the schoolmaster appeared,
in the village; he was good-looking and had the and asked: ‘What are you doing up there,
bearing of a soldier. All the girls ran after him, but Sigisbert?’ Feeling sure that he would be caught,
he was disdainful. Besides that, he was very much the young school-master lost his presence of mind
afraid of his superior, the schoolmaster, old Grabu, and replied stupidly: ‘I came up here to rest a little
who occasionally got out of bed the wrong foot among the bundles of hay, Monsieur Grabu.’
first. “The loft was very large and absolutely dark.
“Old Grabu already employed pretty Hortense, Sigisbert pushed the frightened girl to the further
who has just died here, and who was afterward end and said: ‘Go there and hide yourself. I shall
nicknamed Clochette. The assistant master singled lose my situation, so get away and hide yourself.’
out the pretty young girl, who was no doubt flat- “When the schoolmaster heard the whispering,
tered at being chosen by this disdainful conqueror; he continued: ‘Why, you are not by yourself?’
at any rate, she fell in love with him, and he suc- “ ‘Yes I am, Monsieur Grabu!’
ceeded in persuading her to give him a first meet- “ ‘But you are not, for you are talking.’
ing in the hayloft behind the school, at night, after “ ‘I swear I am, Monsieur Grabu.’
she had done her day’s sewing. “ ‘I will soon find out,’ the old man replied, and
“She pretended to go home, but instead of going double-locking the door, he went down to get a light.

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 De Maupassant
“Then the young man, who was a coward such the flesh. She did not complain, and merely said,
as one sometimes meets, lost his head, and he with admirable resignation: ‘I am punished, well
repeated, having grown furious all of a sudden: punished!’
‘Hide yourself, so that he may not find you. You “I sent for assistance and for the workgirl’s friends
will deprive me of my bread for my whole life; you and told them a made-up story of a runaway car-
will ruin my whole career! Do hide yourself!’ riage which had knocked her down and lamed
“They could hear the key turning in the lock her, outside my door. They believed me, and the
again, and Hortense ran to the window which gendarmes for a whole month tried in vain to find
looked out on to the street, opened it quickly, and the author of this accident.
then in a low and determined voice said: ‘You will “That is all! Now I say that this woman was a
come and pick me up when he is gone,’ and she heroine, and had the fiber of those who accom-
jumped out. plish the grandest deeds in history.
“Old Grabu found nobody, and went down again “That was her only love affair, and she died a
in great surprise. A quarter of an hour later, Mon- virgin. She was a martyr, a noble soul, a sublimely
sieur Sigisbert came to me and related his adven- devoted woman! And if I did not absolutely ad-
ture. The girl had remained at the foot of the wall mire her, I should not have told you this story,
unable to get up, as she had fallen from the sec- which I would never tell anyone during her life:
ond story, and I went with him to fetch her. It was you understand why.”
raining in torrents, and I brought the unfortunate The doctor ceased; mamma cried and papa said
girl home with me, for the right leg was broken in some words which I did not catch; then they left
three places, and the bones had come out through the room, and I remained on my knees in the arm-

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 Selected Writings
chair and sobbed, while I heard a strange noise of
heavy footsteps and something knocking against
WHO KNOWS?
the side of the staircase.
MY GOD! MY GOD! I am going to write down at last
They were carrying away Clochette’s body.
what has happened to me. But how can I? How
dare I? The thing is so 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 de-
fect, 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 halluci-
nation, 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 disem-
barrass myself? Yea, I feel as though weighed down
by an intolerable nightmare.
Let me explain.
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 De Maupassant
I have always been a recluse, a dreamer, a kind kind of accident? Ah! who knows? Perhaps a slight
of isolated philosopher, easy-going, content with paralytic stroke? Probably!
but little, harboring ill-feeling against no man, and I like solitude so much that I cannot even endure
without even a grudge against heaven. I have the vicinage of other beings sleeping under the
constantly lived alone; consequently, a kind of same roof. I cannot live in Paris, because there I
torture takes hold of me when I find myself in the suffer the most acute agony. I lead a moral life,
presence of others. How is this to be explained? I and am therefore tortured in body and in nerves
do not know. I am not averse to going out into by that immense crowd which swarms and lives
the world, to conversation, to dining with friends, even when it sleeps. Ah! the sleeping of others is
but when they are near me for any length of time, more painful still than their conversation. And I
even the most intimate of them, they bore me, can never find repose when I know and feel that
fatigue me, enervate me, and I experience an over- on the other side of a wall several existences are
whelming, torturing desire to see them get up and undergoing these regular eclipses of reason.
go, to take themselves away, and to leave me by Why am I thus? Who knows? The cause of it is
myself. very simple perhaps. I get tired very soon of ev-
That desire is more than a craving; it is an irre- erything that does not emanate from me. And
sistible necessity. And if the presence of people there are many people in similar case.
with whom I find myself were to be continued; if I We are, on earth, two distinct races. Those who
were compelled, not only to listen, but also to fol- have need of others, whom others amuse, engage
low, for any length of time, their conversation, a soothe, whom solitude harasses, pains, stupefies,
serious accident would assuredly take place. What like the movement of a terrible glacier or the tra-

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 Selected Writings
versing of the desert; and those, on the contrary, an inward content and satisfaction, was more
whom others weary, tire, bore, silently torture, happy than if I had been in the arms of a beloved
whom isolation calms and bathes in the repose of girl, whose wonted caresses had become a sooth-
independency, and plunges into the humors of ing and delightful necessity.
their own thoughts. In fine, there is here a nor- I had had this house constructed in the center of
mal, physical phenomenon. Some are constituted a beautiful garden, which hid it from the public
to live a life outside of themselves, others, to live high-ways, and which was near the entrance to a
a life within themselves. As for me, my exterior city where I could find, on occasion, the resources
associations are abruptly and painfully short-lived, of society, for which, at moments, I had a longing.
and, as they reach their limits, I experience in my All my domestics slept in a separate building, which
whole body and in my whole intelligence an in- was situated at some considerable distance from
tolerable uneasiness. my house, at the far end of the kitchen garden,
As a result of this, I became attached, or rather which in turn was surrounded by a high wall. The
had become much attached, to inanimate objects, obscure envelopment of night, in the silence of
which have for me the importance of beings, and my concealed habitation, buried under the leaves
my house has or had become a world in which I of great trees, was so reposeful and so delicious,
lived an active and solitary life, surrounded by all that before retiring to my couch I lingered every
manner of things, furniture, familiar knickknacks, evening for several hours in order to enjoy the
as sympathetic in my eyes as the visages of hu- solitude a little longer.
man beings. I had filled my mansion with them; One day “Signad” had been played at one of the
little by little, I had adorned it with them, and I felt city theaters. It was the first time that I had lis-

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 De Maupassant
tened to that beautiful, musical, and fairy-like observation. The first, though slender as a thread,
drama, and I had derived from it the liveliest plea- throws a faint, joyous light which rejoices the heart
sures. and lines the ground with distinct shadows; the
I returned home on foot with a light step, my last sheds hardly a dying glimmer, and is so wan
head full of sonorous phrases, and my mind that it occasions hardly any shadows.
haunted by delightful visions. It was night, the dead In the distance, I perceived the somber mass of
of night, and so dark that I could hardly distin- my garden, and, I know not why, was seized with
guish the broad highway, and consequently I a feeling of uneasiness at the idea of going inside.
stumbled into the ditch more than once. From the I slackened my pace, and walked very softly, the
custom-house, at the barriers, to my house, was thick cluster of trees having the appearance of a
about a mile, perhaps a little more—a leisurely walk tomb in which my house was buried.
of about twenty minutes. It was one o’clock in the I opened my outer gate and entered the long
morning, one o’clock or maybe half-past one; the avenue of sycamores which ran in the direction
sky had by this time cleared somewhat and the of the house, arranged vault-wise like a high tun-
crescent appeared, the gloomy crescent of the last nel, traversing opaque masses, and winding round
quarter of the moon. The crescent of the first quar- the turf lawns, on which baskets of flowers, in the
ter is that which rises about five or six o’clock in pale darkness, could be indistinctly discerned.
the evening and is clear, gay, and fretted with sil- While approaching the house, I was seized by a
ver; but the one which rises after midnight is red- strange feeling. I could hear nothing, I stood still.
dish, sad, and desolating—it is the true Sabbath cres- Through the trees there was not even a breath of
cent. Every prowler by night has made the same air stirring. “What is the matter with me?” I said to

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 Selected Writings
myself. For ten years I had entered and re-entered my eyes wide open, under the shade of the foli-
in the same way, without ever experiencing the age. For the first few minutes, I did not observe
least inquietude. I never had any fear at nights. anything unusual around me; I had a humming
The sight of a man, a marauder, or a thief would noise in my ears, but that has happened often to
have thrown me into a fit of anger, and I would me. Sometimes it seemed to me that I heard trains
have rushed at him without any hesitation. More- passing, that I heard clocks striking, that I heard a
over, I was armed—I had my revolver. But I did not multitude on the march.
touch it, for I was anxious to resist that feeling of Very soon, those humming noises became more
dread with which I was seized. distinct, more concentrated, more determinable, I
What was it? Was it a presentiment—that myste- was deceiving myself. It was not the ordinary tin-
rious presentiment which takes hold of the senses gling of my arteries which transmitted to my ears
of men who have witnessed something which, to these rumbling sounds, but it was a very distinct,
them, is inexplicable? Perhaps? Who knows? though confused, noise which came, without any
In proportion as I advanced, I felt my skin quiver doubt whatever, from the interior of my house.
more and more, and when I was close to the wall, Through the walls I distinguished this continued
near the outhouses of my large residence, I felt noise,—I should rather say agitation than noise,—
that it would be necessary for me to wait a few an indistinct moving about of a pile of things, as if
minutes before opening the door and going in- people were tossing about, displacing, and carry-
side. I sat down, then, on a bench, under the win- ing away surreptitiously all my furniture.
dows of my drawing-room. I rested there, a little I doubted, however, for some considerable time
disturbed, with my head leaning against the wall, yet, the evidence of my ears. But having placed

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 De Maupassant
my ear against one of the outhouses, the better to The collision sounded like the report of a gun,
discover what this strange disturbance was, inside and there responded to that explosive noise, from
my house, I became convinced, certain, that some- roof to basement of my residence, a formidable
thing was taking place in my residence which was tumult. It was so sudden, so terrible, so deafening,
altogether abnormal and incomprehensible. I had that I recoiled a few steps, and though I knew it to
no fear, but I was—how shall I express it—para- be wholly useless, I pulled my revolver out of its
lyzed by astonishment. I did not draw my revolver, case.
knowing very well that there was no need of my I continued to listen for some time longer. I could
doing so. distinguish now an extraordinary pattering upon
I listened a long time, but could come to no reso- the steps of my grand staircase, on the waxed
lution, my mind being quite clear, though in my- floors, on the carpets, not of boots, or of naked
self I was naturally anxious. I got up and waited, feet, but of iron and wooden crutches, which re-
listening always to the noise, which gradually in- sounded like cymbals. Then I suddenly discerned,
creased, and at intervals grew very loud, and which on the threshold of my door, an armchair, my large
seemed to become an impatient, angry disturbance, reading easy-chair, which set off waddling. It went
a mysterious commotion. away through my garden. Others followed it, those
Then, suddenly, ashamed of my timidity, I seized of my drawing-room, then my sofas, dragging
my bunch of keys. I selected the one I wanted, themselves along like crocodiles on their short
guided it into the lock, turned it twice, and pushing paws; then all my chairs, bounding like goats, and
the door with all my might, sent it banging against the little foot-stools, hopping like rabbits.
the partition. Oh! what a sensation! I slunk back into a clump

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 Selected Writings
of bushes where I remained crouched up, watch- then rolled me over, trailed me along the gravel,
ing, meanwhile, my furniture defile past—for ev- and the rest of my furniture, which followed it,
erything walked away, the one behind the other, began to march over me, tramping on my legs
briskly or slowly, according to its weight or size. and injuring them. When I loosed my hold, other
My piano, my grand piano, bounded past with the articles had passed over my body, just as a charge
gallop of a horse and a murmur of music in its of cavalry does over the body of a dismounted
sides; the smaller articles slid along the gravel like soldier.
snails, my brushes, crystal, cups and saucers, which Seized at last with terror, I succeeded in dragging
glistened in the moonlight. I saw my writing desk myself out of the main avenue, and in concealing
appear, a rare curiosity of the last century, which myself again among the shrubbery, so as to watch
contained all the letters I had ever received, all the disappearance of the most cherished objects,
the history of my heart, an old history from which the smallest, the least striking, the least unknown
I have suffered so much! Besides, there were in- which had once belonged to me.
side of it a great many cherished photographs. I then heard, in the distance, noises which came
Suddenly—I no longer had any fear—I threw my- from my apartments, which sounded now as if the
self on it, seized it as one would seize a thief, as house were empty, a loud noise of shutting of
one would seize a wife about to run away; but it doors. They were being slammed from top to bot-
pursued its irresistible course, and despite my ef- tom of my dwelling, even the door which I had
forts and despite my anger, I could not even re- just opened myself unconsciously, and which had
tard its pace. As I was resisting in desperation that closed of itself, when the last thing had taken its
insuperable force, I was thrown to the ground. It departure. I took flight also, running toward the

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city, and only regained my self-composure, on “Somebody has stolen the whole of Monsieur’s
reaching the boulevards, where I met belated furniture, all, everything, even to the smallest ar-
people. I rang the bell of a hotel were I was known. ticles.”
I had knocked the dust off my clothes with my This news pleased me. Why? Who knows? I was
hands, and I told the porter that I had lost my bunch complete master of myself, bent on dissimulating,
of keys, which included also that to the kitchen on telling no one of anything I had seen; deter-
garden, where my servants slept in a house stand- mined on concealing and in burying in my heart
ing by itself, on the other side of the wall of the of hearts a terrible secret. I responded:
inclosure which protected my fruits and vegetables “They must then be the same people who have
from the raids of marauders. stolen my keys. The police must be informed im-
I covered myself up to the eyes in the bed which mediately. I am going to get up, and I will join you
was assigned to me, but could not sleep; and I in a few moments.”
waited for the dawn listening to the throbbing of The investigation into the circumstances under
my heart. I had given orders that my servants were which the robbery might have been committed
to be summoned to the hotel at daybreak, and my lasted for five months. Nothing was found, not
valet de chambre knocked at my door at seven even the smallest of my knickknacks, nor the least
o’clock in the morning. trace of the thieves. Good gracious! If I had only
His countenance bore a woeful look. told them what I knew—If I had said—I should have
“A great misfortune has happened during the been locked up—I, not the thieves—for I was the
night, Monsieur,” said he. only person who had seen everything from the
“What is it?” first.

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Yes! but I knew how to keep silence. I shall never mense desert, yellow and tranquil, in which cam-
refurnish my house. That were indeed useless. The els, gazelles, and Arab vagabonds roam about—
same thing would happen again. I had no desire where, in the rare and transparent atmosphere,
even to re-enter the house, and I did not re-enter there hover no vague hauntings, where there is
it; I never visited it again. I moved to Paris, to the never any night, but always day.
hotel, and consulted doctors in regard to the con- I returned to France by Marseilles, and in spite of
dition of my nerves, which had disquieted me a all its Provencal gaiety, the diminished clearness
good deal ever since that awful night. of the sky made me sad. I experienced, in return-
They advised me to travel, and I followed their ing to the Continent, the peculiar sensation of an
counsel. illness which I believed had been cured, and a dull
pain which predicted that the seeds of the disease
II. had not been eradicated.
I then returned to Paris. At the end of a month I
I began by making an excursion into Italy. The was very dejected. It was in the autumn, and I de-
sunshine did me much good. For six months I wan- termined to make, before winter came, an excur-
dered about from Genoa to Venice, from Venice sion through Normandy, a country with which I
to Florence, from Florence to Rome, from Rome was unacquainted.
to Naples. Then I traveled over Sicily, a country I began my journey, in the best of spirits, at Rouen,
celebrated for its scenery and its monuments, rel- and for eight days I wandered about, passive, ravished,
ics left by the Greeks and the Normans. Passing and enthusiastic, in that ancient city, that astonishing
over into Africa, I traversed at my ease that im- museum of extraordinary Gothic monuments.

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But one afternoon, about four o’clock, as I was lofty houses, crowded with objects of every de-
sauntering slowly through a seemingly unattrac- scription, where the existence of things seems to
tive street, by which there ran a stream as black be ended, things which have survived their origi-
as the ink called “Eau de Robec,” my attention, fixed nal possessors, their century, their times, their fash-
for the moment on the quaint, antique appear- ions, in order to be bought as curiosities by new
ance of some of the houses, was suddenly attracted generations.
by the view of a series of second-hand furniture My affection for antiques was awakened in that
shops, which followed one another, door after city of antiquaries. I went from shop to shop, cross-
door. ing in two strides the rotten four plank bridges
Ah! they had carefully chosen their locality, these thrown over the nauseous current of the “Eau de
sordid traffickers in antiquities, in that quaint little Robec.”
street, overlooking the sinister stream of water, Heaven protect me! What a shock! At the end of
under those tile and slate-pointed roofs on which a vault, which was crowded with articles of every
still grinned the vanes of bygone days. description and which seemed to be the entrance
At the end of these grim storehouses you saw to the catacombs of a cemetery of ancient furni-
piled up sculptured chests, Rouen, Sevres, and ture, I suddenly descried one of my most beautiful
Moustier’s pottery, painted statues, others of oak, wardrobes. I approached it, trembling in every limb,
Christs, Virgins, Saints, church ornaments, cha- trembling to such an extent that I dared not touch
subles, capes, even sacred vases, and an old gilded it, I put forth my hand, I hesitated. Nevertheless it
wooden tabernacle, where a god had hidden him- was indeed my wardrobe; a unique wardrobe of
self away. What singular caverns there are in those the time of Louis XIII., recognizable by anyone who

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had seen it only once. Casting my eyes suddenly a had no desire to go away. From time to time I
little farther, toward the more somber depths of shouted, “Hallo, hallo, somebody.”
the gallery, I perceived three of my tapestry cov- I had sat there, certainly, for more than an hour
ered chairs; and farther on still, my two Henry II. when I heard steps, steps soft and slow, I knew
tables, such rare treasures that people came all not where. I was unable to locate them, but brac-
the way from Paris to see them. ing myself up, I called out anew, whereupon I per-
Think! only think in what a state of mind I now ceived a glimmer of light in the next chamber.
was! I advanced, haltingly, quivering with emotion, “Who is there?” said a voice.
but I advanced, for I am brave—I advanced like a “A buyer,” I responded.
knight of the dark ages. “It is too late to enter thus into a shop.”
At every step I found something that belonged “I have been waiting for you for more than an
to me; my brushes, my books, my tables, my silks, hour,” I answered.
my arms, everything, except the bureau full of my “You can come back to-morrow.”
letters, and that I could not discover. “To-morrow I must quit Rouen.”
I walked on, descending to the dark galleries, in I dared not advance, and he did not come to me.
order to ascend next to the floors above. I was I saw always the glimmer of his light, which was
alone; I called out, nobody answered, I was alone; shining on a tapestry on which were two angels
there was no one in that house—a house as vast flying over the dead on a field of battle. It belonged
and tortuous as a labyrinth. to me also. I said:
Night came on, and I was compelled to sit down “Well, come here.”
in the darkness on one of my own chairs, for I “I am at your service,” he answered.

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 De Maupassant
I got up and went toward him. commissaire of the robbery which had been per-
Standing in the center of a large room, was a petrated and of the discovery I had just made. He
little man, very short, and very fat, phenomenally required time to communicate by telegraph with
fat, a hideous phenomenon. the authorities who had originally charge of the
He had a singular straggling beard, white and case, for information, and he begged me to wait
yellow, and not a hair on his head—not a hair! in his office until an answer came back. An hour
As he held his candle aloft at arm’s length in later, an answer came back, which was in accord
order to see me, his cranium appeared to me to with my statements.
resemble a little moon, in that vast chamber en- “I am going to arrest and interrogate this man, at
cumbered with old furniture. His features were once,” he said to me, “for he may have conceived
wrinkled and blown, and his eyes could not be some sort of suspicion, and smuggled away out of
seen. sight what belongs to you. Will you go and dine
I bought three chairs which belonged to myself, and return in two hours: I shall then have the man
and paid at once a large sum for them, giving him here, and I shall subject him to a fresh interroga-
merely the number of my room at the hotel. They tion in your presence.”
were to be delivered the next day before nine “Most gladly, Monsieur. I thank you with my
o’clock. whole heart.”
I then started off. He conducted me, with much I went to dine at my hotel and I ate better than I
politeness, as far as the door. could have believed. I was quite happy now, think-
I immediately repaired to the commissaire’s of- ing that man was in the hands of the police.
fice at the central police depot, and told the Two hours later I returned to the office of the

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 Selected Writings
police functionary, who was waiting for me. I waited till ten o’clock the next day before report-
“Well, Monsieur,” said he, on perceiving me, “we ing myself to the police.
have not been able to find your man. My agents The merchant had not reappeared. His shop re-
cannot put their hands on him.” mained closed.
Ah! I felt my heart sinking. The commissary said to me:
“But you have at least found his house?” I asked. “I have taken all the necessary steps. The court
“Yes, certainly; and what is more, it is now being has been made acquainted with the affair. We shall
watched and guarded until his return. As for him, go together to that shop and have it opened, and
he has disappeared.” you shall point out to me all that belongs to you.”
“Disappeared?” We drove there in a cab. Police agents were sta-
“Yes, disappeared. He ordinarily passes his eve- tioned round the building; there was a locksmith,
nings at the house of a female neighbor, who is too, and the door of the shop was soon opened.
also a furniture broker, a queer sort of sorceress, On entering, I could not discover my wardrobes,
the widow Bidoin. She has not seen him this my chairs, my tables; I saw nothing, nothing of
evening and cannot give any information in re- that which had furnished my house, no, nothing,
gard to him. We must wait until to-morrow.” although on the previous evening, I could not take
I went away. Ah! how sinister the streets of Rouen a step without encountering something that be-
seemed to me, now troubled and haunted! longed to me.
I slept so badly that I had a fit of nightmare ev- The chief commissary, much astonished, regarded
ery time I went off to sleep. me at first with suspicion.
As I did not wish to appear too restless or eager, “My God, Monsieur,” said I to him, “the disap-

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 De Maupassant
pearance of these articles of furniture coincides I remained a fortnight at Rouen. The man did
strangely with that of the merchant.” not return. Heavens! good heavens! That man,
He laughed. what was it that could have frightened and sur-
“That is true. You did wrong in buying and paying prised him!
for the articles which were your own property, yes- But, on the sixteenth day, early in the morning,
terday. It was that which gave him the cue.” I received from my gardener, now the keeper of
“What seems to me incomprehensible,” I replied, my empty and pillaged house, the following
“is that all the places that were occupied by my strange letter:
furniture are now filled by other furniture.” “Monsieur:
“Oh!” responded the commissary, “he has had all “I have the honor to inform Monsieur that some-
night, and has no doubt been assisted by accom- thing happened, the evening before last, which
plices. This house must communicate with its neigh- nobody can understand, and the police no more
bors. But have no fear, Monsieur; I will have the than the rest of us. The whole of the furniture has
affair promptly and thoroughly investigated. The been returned, not one piece is missing—every-
brigand shall not escape us for long, seeing that thing is in its place, up to the very smallest article.
we are in charge of the den.” 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 Friday—Saturday. The roads are
Ah! My heart, my heart, my poor heart, how it dug up as though the whole fence had been
beats! dragged from its place up to the door. The same

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 Selected Writings
thing was observed the day after the disappear- prehend it. I shall not return to my former resi-
ance of the furniture. dence. What does it matter to me? I am afraid of
“We are anxiously expecting Monsieur, whose encountering that man again, and I shall not run
very humble and obedient servant, I am, the risk.
Phillipe Raudin.” And even if he returns, if he takes possession of
his shop, who is to prove that my furniture was on
“Ah! no, no, ah! never, never, ah! no. I shall never his premises? There is only my testimony against
return there!” him; and I feel that that is not above suspicion.
I took the letter to the commissary of police. Ah! no! This kind of existence has become unen-
“It is a very clever restitution,” said he. “Let us durable. I have not been able to guard the secret
bury the hatchet. We shall nip the man one of of what I have seen. I could not continue to live
these days.” 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.
But he has never been nipped. No. They have not After questioning me for a long time, he said to
nipped him, and I am afraid of him now, as of me:
some ferocious animal that has been let loose “Will you consent, Monsieur, to remain here for
behind me. some time?”
Inexplicable! It is inexplicable, this chimera of a “Most willingly, Monsieur.”
moon-struck skull! We shall never solve or com- “You have some means?”

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 De Maupassant
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“Will you have isolated apartments?”
THE DEVIL
“Yes, Monsieur.”
THE PEASANT was standing opposite the doctor, by
“Would you care to receive any friends?”
the bedside of the dying old woman, and she,
“No, Monsieur, no, nobody. The man from Rouen
calmly resigned and quite lucid, looked at them
might take it into his head to pursue me here, to
and listened to their talking. She was going to die,
be revenged on me.”
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
I have been alone, alone, all, all alone, for three
to the uneven brown clay floor, which had been
months. I am growing tranquil by degrees. I have
stamped down by four generations of clodhoppers.
no longer any fears. If the antiquary should be-
The smell of the fields came in also, driven by the
come mad . . . and if he should be brought into
brisk wind, and parched by the noontide heat. The
this asylum! Even prisons themselves are not places
grasshoppers chirped themselves hoarse, filling the
of security.
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: “Honore,
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
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 Selected Writings
has been lying on the ground a long time, and the pends upon how long she is wanted for. Settle it
weather is just right for it; what do you say about with her, by Jove! But I want her to be here within
it, mother?” And the dying woman, still possessed an hour, do you hear.”
by her Norman avariciousness, replied yes with So the man made up his mind. “I will go for her,”
her eyes and her forehead, and so urged her son he replied; “don’t get angry, doctor.” And the latter
to get in his wheat, and to leave her to die alone. left, calling out as he went: “Take care, you know,
But the doctor got angry, and stamping his foot for I do not joke when I am angry!” And as soon
he said: “You are no better than a brute, do you as they were alone, the peasant turned to his
hear, and I will not allow you to do it. Do you mother, and said in a resigned voice: “I will go and
understand? And if you must get in your wheat to- fetch La Rapet, as the man will have it. Don’t go
day, go and fetch Rapet’s wife and make her look off while I am away.”
after your mother. I will have it. And if you do not And he went out in his turn.
obey me, I will let you die like a dog, when you La Rapet, who was an old washerwoman,
are ill in your turn; do you hear me?” watched the dead and the dying of the neighbor-
The peasant, a tall, thin fellow with slow move- hood, and then, as soon as she had sewn her cus-
ments, who was tormented by indecision, by his tomers into that linen cloth from which they would
fear of the doctor and his keen love of saving, emerge no more, she went and took up her irons
hesitated, calculated, and stammered out: “How to smooth the linen of the living. Wrinkled like a
much does La Rapet charge for attending sick last year’s apple, spiteful, envious, avaricious with
people?” a phenomenal avarice, bent double, as if she had
“How should I know?” the doctor cried. “That de- been broken in half across the loins, by the con-

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 De Maupassant
stant movement of the iron over the linen, one The old woman took her hands out of the water
might have said that she had a kind of monstrous and asked with sudden sympathy: “Is she as bad
and cynical affection for a death struggle. She never as all that?”
spoke of anything but of the people she had seen “The doctor says she will not last till morning.”
die, of the various kinds of deaths at which she “Then she certainly is very bad!” Honore hesi-
had been present, and she related, with the great- tated, for he wanted to make a few preliminary
est minuteness, details which were always the remarks before coming to his proposal, but as he
same, just like a sportsman talks of his shots. could hit upon nothing, he made up his mind sud-
When Honore Bontemps entered her cottage, denly.
he found her preparing the starch for the collars “How much are you going to ask to stop with
of the village women, and he said: “Good evening; her till the end? You know that I am not rich, and
I hope you are pretty well, Mother Rapet.” I cannot even afford to keep a servant-girl. It is
She turned her head round to look at him and just that which has brought my poor mother to
said: “Fairly well, fairly well, and you?” this state, too much work and fatigue! She used to
“Oh I as for me, I am as well as I could wish, but work for ten, in spite of her ninety-two years. You
my mother is very sick.” don’t find any made of that stuff nowadays!”
“Your mother?” La Rapet answered gravely: “There are two prices.
“Yes, my mother!” Forty sous by day and three francs by night for
“What’s the matter with her?” the rich, and twenty sous by day, and forty by
“She is going to turn up her toes, that’s what’s night for the others. You shall pay me the twenty
the matter with her!” and forty.” But the peasant reflected, for he knew

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 Selected Writings
his mother well. He knew how tenacious of life, with his long legs, as if he were crossing a brook
how vigorous and unyielding she was. He knew, at every step. The cows lying down in the fields,
too, that she might last another week, in spite of overcome by the heat, raised their heads heavily
the doctor’s opinion, and so he said resolutely: and lowed feebly at the two passers-by, as if to
“No, I would rather you would fix a price until the ask them for some green grass.
end. I will take my chance, one way or the other. When they got near the house, Honore
The doctor says she will die very soon. If that hap- Bontemps murmured: “Suppose it is all over?” And
pens, so much the better for you, and so much the the unconscious wish that it might be so showed
worse for me, but if she holds out till to-morrow itself in the sound of his voice.
or longer, so much the better for me and so much But the old woman was not dead. She was lying
the worse for you!” on her back, on her wretched bed, her hands cov-
The nurse looked at the man in astonishment, for ered with a pink cotton counterpane, horribly thin,
she had never treated a death as a speculative job, knotty paws, like some strange animal’s, or like
and she hesitated, tempted by the idea of the pos- crabs’ claws, hands closed by rheumatism, fatigue,
sible gain. But almost immediately she suspected and the work of nearly a century which she had
that he wanted to juggle her. “I can say nothing accomplished.
until I have seen your mother,” she replied. La Rapet went up to the bed and looked at the
“Then come with me and see her.” dying woman, felt her pulse, tapped her on the
She washed her hands, and went with him im- chest, listened to her breathing, and asked her
mediately. They did not speak on the road; she questions, so as to hear her speak: then, having
walked with short, hasty steps, while he strode on looked at her for some time longer, she went out

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 De Maupassant
of the room, followed by Honore. His decided opin- worked without stopping by the side of the dead
ion was, that the old woman would not last out and dying, sometimes for herself, sometimes for
the night, and he asked: “Well?” And the sick-nurse the family, who employed her as seamstress also,
replied: “Well, she may last two days, perhaps three. paying her rather more in that capacity. Suddenly
You will have to give me six francs, everything she asked:
included.” “Have you received the last sacrament, Mother
“Six francs! six francs!” he shouted. “Are you out Bontemps?”
of your mind? I tell you that she cannot last more The old peasant woman said “No” with her head,
than five or six hours!” And they disputed angrily and La Rapet, who was very devout, got up quickly:
for some time, but as the nurse said she would go “Good heavens, is it possible? I will go and fetch
home, as the time was slipping away, and as his the cure”; and she rushed off to the parsonage so
wheat would not come to the farmyard of its own quickly, that the urchins in the street thought some
accord, he agreed to her terms at last: accident had happened, when they saw her trot-
“Very well, then, that is settled; six francs includ- ting off like that.
ing everything, until the corpse is taken out.” The priest came immediately in his surplice, pre-
“That is settled, six francs.” ceded by a choir-boy, who rang a bell to announce
And he went away, with long strides, to his the passage of the Host through the parched and
wheat, which was lying on the ground under the quiet country. Some men, working at a distance,
hot sun which ripens the grain, while the sick-nurse took off their large hats and remained motionless
returned to the house. until the white vestment had disappeared behind
She had brought some work with her, for she some farm buildings; the women who were mak-

160
 Selected Writings
ing up the sheaves stood up to make the sign of parture, leaving the two women alone in the suf-
the cross; the frightened black hens ran away along focating cottage. La Rapet began to look at the
the ditch until they reached a well-known hole dying woman, and to ask herself whether it could
through which they suddenly disappeared, while last much longer.
a foal, which was tied up in a meadow, took fright The day was on the wane, and a cooler air came
at the sight of the surplice and began to gallop in stronger puffs, making a view of Epinal, which
round at the length of its rope, kicking violently. was fastened to the wall by two pins, flap up and
The choir-boy, in his red cassock, walked quickly, down. The scanty window curtains, which had for-
and the priest, the square biretta on his bowed merly been white, but were now yellow and cov-
head, followed him, muttering some prayers. Last ered with fly-specks, looked as it they were going
of all came La Rapet, bent almost double, as if she to fly off, and seemed to struggle to get away, like
wished to prostrate herself; she walked with folded the old woman’s soul.
hands, as if she were in church. Lying motionless, with her eyes open, the old
Honore saw them pass in the distance, and he mother seemed to await the death which was so
asked: “Where is our priest going to?” And his man, near, and which yet delayed its coming; with per-
who was more acute, replied: “He is taking the fect indifference. Her short breath whistled in her
sacrament to your mother, of course!” throat. It would stop altogether soon, and there
The peasant was not surprised and said: “That is would be one woman less in the world, one whom
quite possible,” and went on with his work. nobody would regret.
Mother Bontemps confessed, received absolution At nightfall Honore returned, and when he went
and extreme unction, and the priest took his de- up to the bed and saw that his mother was still

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 De Maupassant
alive he asked: “How is she?” just as he had done Nevertheless, she began to sew and waited with
formerly, when she had been sick. Then he sent her eyes fixed on the wrinkled face of Mother
La Rapet away, saying to her: “To-morrow morn- Bontemps. When Honore returned to breakfast he
ing at five o’clock, without fail.” And she replied: seemed quite satisfied, and even in a bantering
“To-morrow at five o’clock.” humor, for he was carrying in his wheat under
She came at daybreak, and found Honore eat- very favorable circumstances.
ing his soup, which he had made himself, before La Rapet was getting exasperated; every passing
going to work. minute now seemed to her so much time and
“Well, is your mother dead?” asked the nurse. money stolen from her. She felt a mad inclination
“She is rather better, on the contrary,” he replied, to choke this old ass, this headstrong old fool, this
with a malignant look out of the corner of his eyes. obstinate old wretch—to stop that short, rapid breath,
Then he went out. which was robbing her of her time and money, by
La Rapet was seized with anxiety, and went up squeezing her throat a little. But then she reflected
to the dying woman, who was in the same state, on the danger of doing so, and other thoughts came
lethargic and impassive, her eyes open and her into her head, so she went up to the bed and said
hands clutching the counterpane. The nurse per- to her: “Have you ever seen the Devil?”
ceived that this might go on thus for two days, Mother Bontemps whispered: “No.”
four days, eight days, even, and her avaricious Then the sick-nurse began to talk and to tell her
mind was seized with fear. She was excited to fury tales likely to terrify her weak and dying mind. “Some
against the cunning fellow who had tricked her, minutes before one dies the Devil appears,” she said,
and against the woman who would not die. “to all. He has a broom in his hand, a saucepan on

162
 Selected Writings
his head and he utters loud cries. When anybody nearly dead, with her broom.
had seen him, all was over, and that person had Terrified, with a mad look on her face, the dying
only a few moments longer to live”; and she enu- woman made a superhuman effort to get up and
merated all those to whom the Devil had appeared escape; she even got her shoulders and chest out
that year: Josephine Loisel, Eulalie Ratier, Sophie of bed; then she fell back with a deep sigh. All was
Padagnau, Seraphine Grospied. over, and La Rapet calmly put everything back into
Mother Bontemps, who was at last most disturbed its place; the broom into the corner by the cup-
in mind, moved about, wrung her hands, and tried board, the sheet inside it, the pot on to the hearth,
to turn her head to look at the other end of the the pail on to the floor, and the chair against the
room. Suddenly La Rapet disappeared at the foot of wall. Then with a professional air, she closed the
the bed. She took a sheet out of the cupboard and dead woman’s enormous eyes, put a plate on the
wrapped herself up in it; then she put the iron pot bed and poured some holy water into it, dipped
on to her head, so that its three short bent feet the twig of boxwood into it, and kneeling down,
rose up like horns, took a broom in her right hand she fervently repeated the prayers for the dead,
and a tin pail in her left, which she threw up sud- which she knew by heart, as a matter of business.
denly, so that it might fall to the ground noisily. When Honore returned in the evening, he found
Certainly when it came down, it made a terrible her praying. He calculated immediately that she
noise. Then, climbing on to a chair, the nurse had made twenty sous out of him, for she had
showed herself, gesticulating and uttering shrill only spent three days and one night there, which
cries into the pot which covered her face, while made five francs altogether, instead of the six
she menaced the old peasant woman, who was which he owed her.

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 De Maupassant

EPIPHANY de Marchas, who afterward married little Martel-

Auvelin, the daughter of the Marquis de Martel-
Auvelin—to go alone into the village and to report
“AH!” SAID CAPTAIN THE COUNT DE GARENS, “I should rather
to me what he saw.
think that I do remember that Epiphany supper,
“I had chosen nothing but volunteers, and all of
during the war!
good family. When on service it is pleasant not to
“At the time I was quarter-master of cavalry, and
be forced into intimacy with unpleasant fellows.
for a fort night, I had been lurking about as a scout
This Marchas was as sharp as possible, as cunning
in front of the German advanced guard. The
as a fox, and as supple as a serpent. He could scent
evening before we had cut down a few Uhlans
the Prussians as well as a dog can scent a hare,
and had lost three men, one of whom was that
could find victuals where we should have died of
poor little Raudeville. You remember Joseph de
hunger without him, and could obtain information
Raudeville well, of course.
from everybody—information which was always
“Well, on that day my captain ordered me to take
reliable—with incredible cleverness.
six troopers and occupy the village of Porterin,
“In ten minutes he returned. ‘All right,’ he said;
where there had been five fights in three weeks,
‘there have been no Prussians here for three days.
and to hold it all night. There were not twenty
It is a sinister place, is this village. I have been talk-
houses left standing, nay, not a dozen, in that
ing to a Sister of Mercy, who is attending to four or
wasp’s nest. So I took ten troopers, and set out at
five wounded men in an abandoned convent.’
about four o’clock; at five o’clock, while it was still
“I ordered them to ride on, and we penetrated
pitch dark, we reached the first houses of Porterin.
into the principal street. On the right and left we
I halted and ordered Marchas—you know Pierre
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 Selected Writings
could vaguely see roofless walls, hardly visible in wax candle, which he was never without, and pre-
the profound darkness. Here and there a light was ceded us into the comfortable apartments of some
burning in a room; some family had remained to rich private individual, guiding us with admirable
keep its house standing as long as they were able; assurance, just as if he had lived in this house which
a family of brave, or of poor, people. The rain be- he now saw for the first time.
gan to fall, a fine, icy-cold rain, which froze us be- “Two troopers remained outside to take care of
fore it wetted us through, by merely touching our our horses; then Marchas said to stout Ponderel,
cloaks. The horses stumbled against stones, against who followed him: ‘The stables must be on the
beams, against furniture. Marchas guided us, go- left; I saw that as we came in; go and put the ani-
ing before us on foot, and leading his horse by mals up there, for we do not want them,’ and then
the bridle. turning to me he said: ‘Give your orders, confound
“ ‘Where are you taking us to?’ I asked him. And it all!’
he replied: ‘I have a place for us to lodge in, and a “Marchas always astonished me, and I replied
rare good one.’ And soon we stopped before a with a laugh: ‘I shall post my sentinels at the coun-
small house, evidently belonging to some person try approaches and I will return to you here.’
of the middle class, completely shut up, built on to “ ‘How many men are you going to take?’
the street with a garden in the rear. “ ‘Five. The others will relieve them at five o’clock
“Marchas broke open the lock by means of a big in the evening.’
stone, which he picked up near the garden gate; “ ‘Very well. Leave me four to look after provi-
then he mounted the steps, smashed in the front sions, to do the cooking, and to set the table. I will
door with his feet and shoulders, lighted a bit of go and find out where the wine is hidden away.’

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 De Maupassant
“I went off to reconnoiter the deserted streets, “I had sat down opposite to him, and the fire in
until they ended in the open country, so as to post the grate was burning my nose and cheeks.
my sentries there. “ ‘Where did you find this wood?’ I asked.
“Half an hour later I was back, and found Marchas “ ‘Splendid wood,’ he replied. ‘The owner’s car-
lounging in a great armchair, the covering of which riage. It is the paint which is causing all this flame,
he had taken off, from love of luxury as he said. an essence of alcohol and varnish. A capital house!’
He was warming his feet at the fire and smoking “I laughed, for I found the creature was funny,
an excellent cigar, whose perfume filled the room. and he went on: ‘Fancy this being the Epiphany! I
He was alone, his elbows resting on the arms of have had a bean put into the goose, but there is
the chair, his cheeks flushed, his eyes bright, and no queen; it is really very annoying!’ And I re-
looking delighted. peated like an echo: ‘It is annoying, but what do
“I heard the noise of plates and dishes in the next you want me to do in the matter?’
room, and Marchas said to me, smiling in a beatific “ ‘To find some, of course.’
manner: ‘This is famous; I found the champagne “ ‘Some women. Women?—you must be mad!’
under the flight of steps outside, the brandy—fifty “ ‘I managed to find the brandy under the pear-
bottles of the very finest—in the kitchen garden tree, and the champagne under the steps; and yet
under a pear-tree, which did not look to me to be there was nothing to guide me, while as for you, a
quite straight, when I looked at it by the light of my petticoat is a sure sign. Go and look, old fellow.’
lantern. As for solids, we have two fowls, a goose, “He looked so grave, so convinced, that I could not
a duck, and three pigeons. They are being cooked tell whether he was joking or not. So I replied: ‘Look
at this moment. It is a delightful part of the country.’ here, Marchas, are you having a joke with me?’

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“ ‘I never joke on duty.’ his fingers, and if there is one to suit us, and you
“ ‘But where the devil do you expect me to find manage it well, he will indicate her to you.’
any women?’ “ ‘Come, come, Marchas, what are you thinking
“ ‘Where you like; there must be two or three of?’
remaining in the neighborhood, so ferret them out “ ‘My dear Garens, you can do this quite well. It
and bring them here.’ will be very funny. We are well bred, by Jove! and
“I got up, for it was too hot in front of the fire, we will put on our most distinguished manners
and Marchas went on: ‘Do you want an idea?’ and our grandest style. Tell the abbe who we are,
“ ‘Yes.’ make him laugh, soften him, seduce him, and per-
“ ‘Go and see the priest.’ suade him!’
“ ‘The priest? What for?’ “ ‘No, it is impossible.’
“ ‘Ask him to supper, and beg him to bring a “He drew his chair close to mine, and as he knew
woman with him.’ my weak side, the scamp continued: ‘Just think
“ ‘The priest! A woman! Ha! ha! ha!’ what a swagger thing it will be to do, and how
“But Marchas continued with extraordinary grav- amusing to tell about; the whole army will talk
ity: ‘I am not laughing; go and find the priest and about it, and it will give you a famous reputation.’
tell him how we are situated, and, as he must be “I hesitated, for the adventure rather tempted me.
horribly dull, he will come. But tell him that we He persisted: ‘Come, my little Garens. You are in
want one woman at least, a lady, of course, since command of this detachment, and you alone can
we are all men of the world. He is sure to have the go and call on the head of the church in this neigh-
names of his female parishioners on the tips of borhood. I beg of you to go, and I promise you

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 De Maupassant
that after the war, I will relate the whole affair in up sleeves, a red face, and the looks of a kind
verse in the “Revue des Deux Mondes.” You owe man. I gave him a military salute and said: ‘Good
this much to your men, for you have made them day, Monsieur le Cure.’
march enough during the last month.’ “He had feared a surprise, some marauders’ am-
“I got up at last and asked: ‘Where is the parson- bush, and he smiled as he replied: ‘Good day, my
age?’ friend; come in.’ I followed him into a small room,
“ ‘Take the second turning at the end of the street; with a red tiled floor, in which a small fire was
you will then see an avenue, and at the end of burning, very different to Marchas’s furnace. He
the avenue you will find the church. The parson- gave me a chair and said: ‘What can I do for you?’
age is beside it.’ As I departed he called out: ‘Tell “ ‘Monsieur, allow me first of all to introduce my-
him the bill of fare, to make him hungry!’ self’; and I gave him my card, which he took and
“I discovered the ecclesiastic’s little house with- read half aloud: ‘The Comte de Garens.’
out any difficulty; it was by the side of a large, “I continued: ‘There are eleven of us here Mon-
ugly, brick church. As there was neither bell nor sieur l’Abbe, five on grand guard, and six installed
knocker, I knocked at the door with my fist, and a at the house of an unknown inhabitant. The names
loud voice from inside asked: ‘Who is there?’ to of the six are, Garens (that is I), Pierre de Marchas,
which I replied: ‘A quartermaster of hussars.’ Ludovic de Ponderel, Baron d’Etreillis, Karl
“I heard the noise of bolts, and of a key being Massouligny, the painter’s son, and Joseph Herbon,
turned. Then I found myself face to face with a tall a young musician. I have come to ask you, in their
priest with a large stomach, the chest of a prize- name and my own, to do us the honor of supping
fighter, formidable hands projecting from turned- with us. It is an Epiphany supper, Monsieur le Cure,

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and we should like to make it a little cheerful.’ “ ‘With some gentlemen, hussars.’
“The priest smiled and murmured: ‘It seems to “I felt inclined to say: ‘Bring your servant with
me to be hardly a suitable occasion for amusing you,’ just to see Marchas’s face, but I did not ven-
oneself.’ ture to, and continued: ‘Do you know anyone
“I replied: ‘We are fighting every day, Monsieur. among your parishioners, male or female, whom
Fourteen of our comrades have been killed in a I could invite as well?’ He hesitated, reflected, and
month, and three fell as late as yesterday. That is then said: ‘No, I do not know anybody!’
war. We stake our life every moment; have we “I persisted: ‘Nobody? Come, Monsieur, think; it
not, therefore, the right to amuse ourselves freely? would be very nice to have some ladies, I mean to
We are Frenchmen, we like to laugh, and we can say, some married couples! I know nothing about
laugh everywhere. Our fathers laughed on the scaf- your parishioners. The baker and his wife, the gro-
fold! This evening we should like to brighten our- cer, the—the—the—watchmaker—the—shoemaker —
selves up a little, like gentlemen, and not like sol- the—the chemist with his wife. We have a good
diers; you understand me, I hope. Are we wrong?’ spread, and plenty of wine, and we should be en-
“He replied quickly: ‘You are quite right, my friend, chanted to leave pleasant recollections of ourselves
and I accept your invitation with great pleasure.’ behind us with the people here.’
Then he called out: ‘Hermance!’ “The priest thought again for a long time and
“An old, bent, wrinkled, horrible, peasant woman then said resolutely: ‘No, there is nobody.’
appeared and said: ‘What do you want?’ “I began to laugh. ‘By Jove, Monsieur le Cure, it
“ ‘I shall not dine at home, my daughter.’ is very vexing not to have an Epiphany queen, for
“ ‘Where are you going to dine then?’ we have the bean. Come, think. Is there not a

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 De Maupassant
married mayor, or a married deputy-mayor, or a repeating: ‘That is capital; in half an hour at Bertin-
married municipal councilor, or schoolmaster?’ Lavaille’s house.’
“ ‘No all the ladies have gone away.’ “I returned quickly, very much astonished and
“ ‘What, is there not in the whole place some very much puzzled. ‘Covers for how many?’
good tradesman’s wife with her good tradesman, Marchas asked, as soon as he saw me.
to whom we might give this pleasure, for it would “ ‘Eleven. There are six of us hussars besides the
be a pleasure to them, a great pleasure under priest and four ladies.’
present circumstances?’ “He was thunderstruck, and I triumphant, and he
“But suddenly the cure began to laugh, and he repeated ‘Four ladies! Did you say, four ladies?’
laughed so violently that he fairly shook, and ex- “ ‘I said four women.’
claimed: ‘Ha! ha! ha! I have got what you want, “ ‘Real women?’
yes. I have got what you want! Ha! ha! ha! We will “ ‘Real women.’
laugh and enjoy ourselves, my children, we will “ ‘Well, accept my compliments!’
have some fun. How pleased the ladies will be, I “ ‘I will, for I deserve them.’
say, how delighted they will be. Ha! ha! Where “He got out of his armchair, opened the door,
are you staying?’ and I saw a beautiful, white tablecloth on a long
“I described the house, and he understood where table, round which three hussars in blue aprons
it was. ‘Very good,’ he said. ‘It belongs to Mon- were setting out the plates and glasses. ‘There are
sieur Bertin-Lavaille. I will be there in half an hour, some women coming!’ Marchas cried. And the
with four ladies. Ha! ha! ha! four ladies!’ three men began to dance and to cheer with all
“He went out with me, still laughing, and left me, their might.

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“Everything was ready, and we were waiting. We “She had turned round to her invalids, full of anxi-
waited for nearly an hour, while a delicious smell ety for them, and then seeing my quartermaster’s
of roast poultry pervaded the whole house. At last, stripes, she said to me: ‘I am much obliged to you
however, a knock against the shutters made us all for thinking of these poor women. They have very
jump up at the same moment. Stout Ponderel ran little pleasure in life, and you are at the same time
to open the door, and in less than a minute a little giving them a great treat and doing them a great
Sister of Mercy appeared in the doorway. She was honor.’
thin, wrinkled, and timid, and successively saluted “I saw the priest, who had remained in the ob-
the four bewildered hussars who saw her enter. scurity of the passage, and who was laughing
Behind her, the noise of sticks sounded on the heartily, and I began to laugh in my turn, espe-
tiled floor in the vestibule. As soon as she had cially when I saw Marchas’s face. Then, motioning
come into the drawing-room I saw three old heads the nun to the seats, I said: ‘Sit down, Sister: we
in white caps, following each other one by one, are very proud and very happy that you have ac-
balancing themselves with different movements, cepted our unpretentious invitation.’
one canting to the right, while the other canted to “She took three chairs which stood against the
the left. Then three worthy women showed them- wall, set them before the fire, led her three old
selves, limping, dragging their legs behind them, women to them, settled them on them, took their
crippled by illness and deformed through old age, sticks and shawls which she put into a corner, and
three infirm old women, past service, the only three then, pointing to the first, a thin woman with an
pensioners who were able to walk in the estab- enormous stomach, who was evidently suffering
lishment which Sister Saint-Benedict managed. from the dropsy, she said: ‘This is Mother Paumelle,

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 De Maupassant
whose husband was killed by falling from a roof, dragged her into the next room, which was no
and whose son died in Africa; she is sixty years easy task, for her swollen stomach seemed heavier
old.’ Then she pointed to another, a tall woman, than a lump of iron.
whose head shook unceasingly: ‘This is Mother “Stout Ponderel gave his arm to Mother Jean-Jean,
Jean-Jean, who is sixty-seven. She is nearly blind, who bemoaned her crutch, and little Joseph Herbon
for her face was terribly singed in a fire, and her took the idiot, La Putois, to the dining-room, which
right leg was half burned off.’ was filled with the odor of the viands.
“Then she pointed to the third, a sort of dwarf, “As soon as we were opposite our plates, the Sis-
with protruding, round, stupid eyes, which she ter clapped her hands three times, and, with the
rolled incessantly in all directions. ‘This is La Putois, precision of soldiers presenting arms, the women
an idiot. She is only forty-four.’ made a rapid sign of the cross, and then the priest
“I bowed to the three women as if I were being slowly repeated the ‘Benedictus’ in Latin. Then we
presented to some Royal Highness, and turning to sat down, and the two fowls appeared, brought in
the priest I said: ‘You are an excellent man, Monsieur by Marchas, who chose to wait rather than to sit
l’Abbe, and we all owe you a debt of gratitude.’ down as a guest at this ridiculous repast.
“Everybody was laughing, in fact, except Marchas, “But I cried: ‘Bring the champagne at once!’ and
who seemed furious, and just then Karl a cork flew out with the noise of a pistol, and in
Massouligny cried: ‘Sister Saint-Benedict, supper is spite of the resistance of the priest and the kind
on the table!’ Sister, the three hussars sitting by the side of the
“I made her go first with the priest, then I helped three invalids, emptied their three full glasses down
up Mother Paumelle, whose arm I took and their throats by force.

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“Massouligny, who possessed the faculty of mak- shook with laughter, and said to the Sister: ‘Never
ing himself at home, and of being on good terms mind, just this once, it will not hurt her. Do leave
with everyone, wherever he was, made love to them alone.’
Mother Paumelle, in the drollest manner. The drop- “After the two fowls they ate the duck, which
sical woman, who had retained her cheerfulness was flanked by the three pigeons and a blackbird,
in spite of her misfortunes, answered him banter- and then the goose appeared, smoking, golden-
ingly in a high falsetto voice which seemed to be colored, and diffusing a warm odor of hot, browned
assumed, and she laughed so heartily at her fat meat. La Paumelle who was getting lively,
neighbor’s jokes that her large stomach looked as clapped her hands; La Jean-Jean left off answer-
if it were going to rise up and get on to the table. ing the Baron’s numerous questions, and La Putois
Little Herbon had seriously undertaken the task of uttered grunts of pleasure, half cries and half sighs,
making the idiot drunk, and Baron d’Etreillis whose like little children do when one shows them sweets.
wits were not always particularly sharp, was ques- ‘Allow me to carve this bird,’ the cure said. ‘I un-
tioning old Jean-Jean about the life, the habits, derstand these sort of operations better than most
and the rules in the hospital. people.’
“The nun said to Massouligny in consternation: “ ‘Certainly, Monsieur l’Abbe,’ and the Sister said:
‘Oh! oh! you will make her ill; pray do not make ‘How would it be to open the window a little; they
her laugh like that, Monsieur. Oh! Monsieur.’ Then are too warm, and I am afraid they will be ill.’
she got up and rushed at Herbon to take a full “I turned to Marchas: ‘Open the window for a
glass out of his hands which he was hastily emp- minute.’ He did so; the cold outer air as it came in
tying down La Putois’s throat, while the priest made the candles flare, and the smoke from the

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 De Maupassant
goose—which the cure was scientifically carving, with was cold, very cold. Soon I heard the gallop of a
a table napkin round his neck—whirl about. We horse, of a single horse, coming back. It was
watched him doing it, without speaking now, for Marchas, and I called out to him: ‘Well?’
we were interested in his attractive handiwork, and “ ‘It is nothing; Francois has wounded an old peas-
also seized with renewed appetite at the sight of ant who refused to answer his challenge and who
that enormous golden-colored bird, whose limbs continued to advance in spite of the order to keep
fell one after another into the brown gravy at the off. They are bringing him here, and we shall see
bottom of the dish. At that moment, in the midst of what is the matter.’
greedy silence which kept us all attentive, the dis- “I gave orders for the horses to be put back into
tant report of a shot came in at the open window. the stable, and I sent my two soldiers to meet the
“I started to my feet so quickly that my chair fell others, and returned to the house. Then the cure,
down behind me, and I shouted: ‘Mount, all of you! Marchas and I took a mattress into the room to
You, Marchas, will take two men and go and see what put the wounded man on; the Sister tore up a table
it is. I shall expect you back here in five minutes.’ And napkin in order to make lint, while the three fright-
while the three riders went off at full gallop through ened women remained huddled up in a corner.
the night, I got into the saddle with my three remain- “Soon I heard the rattle of sabers on the road,
ing hussars, in front of the steps of the villa, while the and I took a candle to show a light to the men
cure, the Sister, and the three old women showed who were returning. They soon appeared, carry-
their frightened faces at the window. ing that inert, soft, long, and sinister object which
“We heard nothing more, except the barking of a human body becomes when life no longer sus-
a dog in the distance. The rain had ceased, and it tains it.

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 Selected Writings
“They put the wounded man on the mattress that hole in the middle of his chest, which was not
had been prepared for him, and I saw at the first bleeding any more. ‘There is nothing to be done,’
glance that he was dying. He had the death rattle, she said.
and was spitting up blood which ran out of the “The shepherd was gasping terribly and bringing
corners of his mouth, forced out of his lungs by up blood with every breath. In his throat to the
his gasps. The man was covered with it! His cheeks, very depth of his lungs, they could hear an omi-
his beard, his hair, his neck, and his clothes seemed nous and continued gurgling. The cure, standing
to have been rubbed, to have been dipped in a in front of him, raised his right hand, made the
red tub; the blood had congealed on him, and had sign of the cross, and in a slow and solemn voice
become a dull color which was horrible to look at. pronounced the Latin words which purify men’s
“The old man, wrapped up in a large shepherd’s souls. But before they were finished, the old man
cloak, occasionally opened his dull, vacant eyes. was shaken by a rapid shudder, as if something
They seemed stupid with astonishment, like the had broken inside him; he no longer breathed. He
eyes of hunted animals which fall at the was dead.
sportsman’s feet, half dead before the shot, stupe- “When I turned round I saw a sight which was
fied with fear and surprise. even more horrible than the death struggle of this
“The cure exclaimed: ‘Ah! there is old Placide, the unfortunate man. The three old women were
shepherd from Les Marlins. He is deaf, poor man, standing up huddled close together, hideous, and
and heard nothing. Ah! Oh, God! they have killed grimacing with fear and horror. I went up to them,
the unhappy man!’ The Sister had opened his and they began to utter shrill screams, while La
blouse and shirt and was looking at a little blue Jean-Jean, whose leg had been burned and could

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not longer support her, fell to the ground at full
length.
SIMON’S PAPA
“Sister Saint-Benedict left the dead man, ran up
NOON HAD JUST STRUCK. The school-door opened and
to her infirm old women, and without a word or a
the youngsters streamed out tumbling over one an-
look for me wrapped their shawls round them,
other in their haste to get out quickly. But instead of
gave them their crutches, pushed them to the door,
promptly dispersing and going home to dinner as
made them go out, and disappeared with them
was their daily wont, they stopped a few paces off,
into the dark night.
broke up into knots and set to whispering.
“I saw that I could not even let a hussar accom-
The fact was that that morning Simon, the son
pany them, for the mere rattle of a sword would
of La Blanchotte, had, for the first time, attended
have sent them mad with fear.
school.
“The cure was still looking at the dead man; but
They had all of them in their families heard of La
at last he turned to me and said:
Blanchotte; and although in public she was wel-
“ ‘Oh! What a horrible thing!’ “
come enough, the mothers among themselves
treated her with compassion of a some what dis-
dainful kind, which the children had caught with-
out 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
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 Selected Writings
but little; and it was with a certain delight, mingled had met with, demanded:
with astonishment that they gathered in groups “What do you call yourself?”
this morning, repeating to each other this sentence, He answered: “Simon.”
concocted by a lad of fourteen or fifteen who ap- “Simon what?” retorted the other.
peared to know all about it, so sagaciously did he The child, altogether bewildered, repeated:
wink: “You know Simon —well, he has no papa.” “Simon.”
La Blanchotte’s son appeared in his turn upon The lad shouted at him: “You must be named
the threshold of the school. Simon something! That is not a name—Simon in-
He was seven or eight years old, rather pale, deed!”
very neat, with a timid and almost awkward man- And he, on the brink of tears, replied for the
ner. third time:
He was making his way back to his mother’s “I am named Simon.”
house when the various g roups of his The urchins began laughing. The lad triumphantly
schoolfellows, perpetually whispering, and watch- lifted up his voice: “You can see plainly that he has
ing him with the mischievous and heartless eyes no papa.”
of children bent upon playing a nasty trick, gradu- A deep silence ensued. The children were dum-
ally surrounded him and ended by inclosing him founded by this extraordinary, impossibly mon-
altogether. There he stood amid them, surprised strous thing—a boy who had not a papa; they
and embarrassed, not understanding what they looked upon him as a phenomenon, an unnatural
were going to do with him. But the lad who had being, and they felt rising in them the hitherto
brought the news, puffed up with the success he inexplicable pity of their mothers for La Blanchotte.

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 De Maupassant
As for Simon, he had propped himself against a “He is dead,” declared the brat with superb dig-
tree to avoid falling, and he stood there as if para- nity, “he is in the cemetery, is my papa.”
lyzed by an irreparable disaster. He sought to ex- A murmur of approval rose amid the scape-
plain, but he could think of no answer for them, graces, as if the fact of possessing a papa dead in
no way to deny this horrible charge that he had a cemetery made their comrade big enough to
no papa. At last he shouted at them quite reck- crush the other one who had no papa at all. And
lessly: “Yes, I have one.” these rogues, whose fathers were for the most
“Where is he?” demanded the boy. part evil-doers, drunkards, thieves, and ill-treaters
Simon was silent, he did not know. The children of their wives hustled each other as they pressed
shrieked, tremendously excited. These sons of toil, closer and closer to Simon as though they, the
nearly related to animals, experienced the cruel legitimate ones, would stifle in their pressure one
craving which makes the fowls of a farmyard de- who was beyond the law.
stroy one of their own kind as soon as it is The lad next Simon suddenly put his tongue out
wounded. Simon suddenly spied a little neighbor, at him with a waggish air and shouted at him:
the son of a widow, whom he had always seen, “No papa! No papa!”
as he himself was to be seen, quite alone with his Simon seized him by the hair with both hands
mother. and set to work to demolish his legs with kicks,
“And no more have you,” he said, “no more have while he bit his cheek ferociously. A tremendous
you a papa.” struggle ensued between the two boys, and Simon
“Yes,” replied the other, “I have one.” found himself beaten, torn, bruised, rolled on the
“Where is he?” rejoined Simon. ground in the middle of the ring of applauding

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 Selected Writings
little vagabonds. As he arose, mechanically brush- and ran away yelling, and so formidable did he
ing his little blouse all covered with dust with his appear that the rest became panic-stricken. Cow-
hand, some one shouted at him: ards, like a jeering crowd in the presence of an
“Go and tell your papa.” exasperated man, they broke up and fled. Left
He then felt a great sinking in his heart. They alone, the little thing without a father set off run-
were stronger than he, they had beaten him and ning toward the fields, for a recollection had been
he had no answer to give them, for he knew it awakened which nerved his soul to a great deter-
was true that he had no papa. Full of pride he mination. He made up his mind to drown himself
tried for some moments to struggle against the in the river.
tears which were suffocating him. He had a chok- He remembered, in fact, that eight days ago a
ing fit, and then without cries he began to weep poor devil who begged for his livelihood had
with great sobs which shook him incessantly. Then thrown himself into the water because he had no
a ferocious joy broke out among his enemies, and, more money. Simon had been there when they
just like savages in fearful festivals, they took one fished him out again, and the sight of the fellow,
another by the hand and danced in a circle about who had seemed to him so miserable and ugly,
him as they repeated in refrain: had then impressed him—his pale cheeks, his long
“No papa! No papa!” drenched beard, and his open eyes being full of
But suddenly Simon ceased sobbing. Frenzy over- calm. The bystanders had said:
took him. There were stones under his feet; he “He is dead.”
picked them up and with all his strength hurled And some one had added:
them at his tormentors. Two or three were struck “He is quite happy now.”

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So Simon wished to drown himself also because endeavored to catch it. It escaped him. He pursued
he had no father, just as the wretched being did it and lost it three times following. At last he caught
who had no money. it by one of its hind legs and began to laugh as he
He reached the water and watched it flowing. saw the efforts the creature made to escape. It
Some fishes were rising briskly in the clear stream gathered itself up on its large legs and then with a
and occasionally made little leaps and caught the violent spring suddenly stretched them out as stiff
flies on the surface. He stopped crying in order to as two bars.
watch them, for their feeding interested him vastly. Its eyes stared wide open in their round, golden
But, at intervals, as in the lulls of a tempest, when circle, and it beat the air with its front limbs, using
tremendous gusts of wind snap off trees and then them as though they were hands. It reminded him
die away, this thought would return to him with of a toy made with straight slips of wood nailed
intense pain: zig-zag one on the other, which by a similar move-
“I am about to drown myself because I have no ment regulated the exercise of the little soldiers
papa.” fastened thereon. Then he thought of his home
It was very warm and fine weather. The pleas- and of his mother, and overcome by great sorrow
ant sunshine warmed the grass; the water shone he again began to weep. His limbs trembled; and
like a mirror; and Simon enjoyed for some min- he placed himself on his knees and said his prayers
utes the happiness of that languor which follows as before going to bed. But he was unable to fin-
weeping, desirous even of falling asleep there upon ish them, for such hurried and violent sobs over-
the grass in the warmth of noon. took him that he was completely overwhelmed.
A little green frog leaped from under his feet. He He thought no more, he no longer heeded any-

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 Selected Writings
thing around him but was wholly given up to tears. come with me home to your mother. She will give
Suddenly a heavy hand was placed upon his you a papa.”
shoulder, and a rough voice asked him: And so they started on the way, the big one
“What is it that causes you so much grief, my holding the little one by the hand. The man smiled
fine fellow?” afresh, for he was not sorry to see this Blanchotte,
Simon turned round. A tall workman, with a black who by popular report was one of the prettiest
beard and hair all curled, was staring at him good- girls in the country-side—and, perhaps, he said to
naturedly. He answered with his eyes and throat himself, at the bottom of his heart, that a lass who
full of tears: had erred once might very well err again.
“They have beaten me because—I—I have no They arrived in front of a very neat little white
papa—no papa. “ house.
“What!” said the man smiling, “why, everybody “There it is,” exclaimed the child, and he cried:
has one.” “Mamma.”
The child answered painfully amid his spasms of A woman appeared, and the workman instantly
grief: left off smiling, for he at once perceived that there
“But I—I—I have none.” was no more fooling to be done with the tall pale
Then the workman became serious. He had rec- girl, who stood austerely at her door as though to
ognized La Blanchotte’s son, and although a re- defend from one man the threshold of that house
cent arrival to the neighborhood he had a vague where she had already been betrayed by another.
idea of her history. Intimidated, his cap in his hand, he stammered out:
“Well,” said he, “console yourself, my boy, and “See, Madame, I have brought you back your little

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 De Maupassant
boy, who had lost himself near the river.” “Why, yes, I wish it certainly.”
But Simon flung his arms about his mother’s neck “What is your name, then,” went on the child,
and told her, as he again began to cry: “so that I may tell the others when they wish to
“No, mamma, I wished to drown myself, because know your name?”
the others had beaten me—had beaten me—be- “Philip,” answered the man.
cause I have no papa.” Simon was silent a moment so that he might get
A burning redness covered the young woman’s the name well into his memory; then he stretched
cheeks, and, hurt to the quick, she embraced her out his arms, quite consoled, and said:
child passionately, while the tears coursed down “Well, then, Philip, you are my papa.”
her face. The man, much moved, stood there, not The workman, lifting him from the ground, kissed
knowing how to get away. But Simon suddenly him hastily on both cheeks, and then strode away
ran to him and said: quickly.
“Will you be my papa?” When the child returned to school next day he
A deep silence ensued. La Blanchotte, dumb and was received with a spiteful laugh, and at the end
tortured with shame, leaned against the wall, her of school, when the lads were on the point of re-
hands upon her heart. The child, seeing that no commencing, Simon threw these words at their
answer was made him, replied: heads as he would have done a stone: “He is
“If you do not wish it, I shall return to drown named Philip, my papa.”
myself.” Yells of delight burst out from all sides.
The workman took the matter as a jest and an- “Philip who? Philip what? What on earth is Philip?
swered laughing: Where did you pick up your Philip?”

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 Selected Writings
Simon answered nothing; and immovable in faith and mixed in a dignified way with his schoolfellows
he defied them with his eye, ready to be martyred without ever answering them back.
rather than fly before them. The schoolmaster One day, however, the lad who had first attacked
came to his rescue and he returned home to his him said to him:
mother. “You have lied. You have not a papa named
For a space of three months, the tall workman, Philip.”
Philip, frequently passed by La Blanchotte’s house, “Why do you say that?” demanded Simon, much
and sometimes made bold to speak to her when disturbed.
he saw her sewing near the window. She answered The youth rubbed his hands. He replied:
him civilly, always sedately, never joking with him, “Because if you had one he would be your
nor permitting him to enter her house. Notwith- mamma’s husband.”
standing this, being, like all men, a bit of a cox- Simon was confused by the truth of this reason-
comb, he imagined that she was often rosier than ing; nevertheless he retorted:
usual when she chatted with him. “He is my papa all the same.”
But a fallen reputation is so difficult to recover, “That can very well be,” exclaimed the urchin with
and always remains so fragile that, in spite of the a sneer, “but that is not being your papa altogether.”
shy reserve La Blanchotte maintained, they already La Blanchotte’s little one bowed his head and
gossiped in the neighborhood. went off dreaming in the direction of the forge
As for Simon, he loved his new papa much, and belonging to old Loizon, where Philip worked.
walked with him nearly every evening when the This forge was entombed in trees. It was very
day’s work was done. He went regularly to school dark there, the red glare of a formidable furnace

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 De Maupassant
alone lit up with great flashes five blacksmiths, who the anvil. He mused. His four companions watched
hammered upon their anvils with a terrible din. him, and, like a tiny mite among these giants,
Standing enveloped in flame, they worked like Simon anxiously waited. Suddenly, one of the
demons, their eyes fixed on the red-hot iron they smiths, voicing the sentiment of all, said to Philip:
were pounding; and their dull ideas rising and fall- “All the same La Blanchotte is a good and honest
ing with their hammers. girl, stalwart and steady in spite of her misfortune,
Simon entered without being noticed and qui- and one who would make a worthy wife for an
etly plucked his friend by the sleeve. Philip turned honest man.”
round. All at once the work came to a standstill “That is true,” remarked the three others. The
and the men looked on very attentively. Then, in smith continued:
the midst of this unaccustomed silence, rose the “Is it the girl’s fault if she has fallen? She had
little slender pipe of Simon: been promised marriage, and I know more than
“Philip, explain to me what the lad at La Michande one who is much respected to-day and has sinned
has just told me, that you are not altogether my every bit as much.”
papa.” “That is true,” responded the three men in cho-
“And why that?” asked the smith. rus.
The child replied in all innocence: He resumed:
“Because you are not my mamma’s husband.” “How hard she has toiled, poor thing, to educate
No one laughed. Philip remained standing, lean- her lad all alone, and how much she has wept
ing his forehead upon the back of his great hands, since she no longer goes out, save to church, God
which held the handle of his hammer upright upon only knows.”

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

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 De Maupassant
the ears of all who do you any harm.”
On the morrow, when the school was full and
WAITER, A “BOCK”*
lessons were about to begin, little Simon stood up
WHY ON THIS PARTICULAR EVENING, did I enter a certain
quite pale with trembling lips:
beer shop? I cannot explain it. It was bitterly cold.
“My papa,” said he in a clear voice, “is Philip Remy,
A fine rain, a watery mist floated about, veiling
the blacksmith, and he has promised to box the
the gas jets in a transparent fog, making the pave-
ears of all who do me any harm.”
ments under the shadow of the shop fronts glitter,
This time no one laughed any longer, for he was
which revealed the soft slush and the soiled feet
very well known, was Philip Remy, the blacksmith,
of the passers-by.
and he was a papa of whom anyone in the world
I was going nowhere in particular; was simply
would be proud.
having a short walk after dinner. I had passed the
Credit Lyonnais, the Rue Vivienne, and several
other streets. Suddenly I descried a large cafe, 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 had become as black as coal. From six to
*Bavarian beer.
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 Selected Writings
eight beer saucers were piled up on the table in I turned sharply round to him and closely scanned
front of him, indicating the number of “bocks” he his features, whereupon he continued:
had already absorbed. With that same glance I had “I see you do not recognize me.”
recognized in him a “regular toper,” one of those “No, I do not.”
frequenters of beer-houses, who come in the morn- “Des Barrets.”
ing as soon as the place is open, and only go away I was stupefied. It was Count Jean des Barrets,
in the evening when it is about to close. He was my old college chum.
dirty, bald to about the middle of the cranium, while I seized him by the hand, so dumfounded that I
his long gray hair fell over the neck of his frock could find nothing to say. I, at length, managed to
coat. His clothes, much too large for him, appeared stammer out:
to have been made for him at a time when he “And you, how goes it with you?”
was very stout. One could guess that his panta- He responded placidly:
loons were not held up by braces, and that this “With me? Just as I like.”
man could not take ten paces without having to He became silent. I wanted to be friendly, and I
pull them up and readjust them. Did he wear a selected this phrase:
vest? The mere thought of his boots and the feet “What are you doing now?”
they enveloped filled me with horror. The frayed “You see what I am doing,” he answered, quite
cuffs were as black at the edges as were his nails. resignedly.
As soon as I had sat down near him, this queer I felt my face getting red. I insisted:
creature said to me in a tranquil tone of voice: “But every day?”
“How goes it with you?” “Every day is alike to me,” was his response, ac-

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 De Maupassant
companied with a thick puff of tobacco smoke. In an equable tone of voice, he said:
He then tapped on the top of the marble table “Indeed—does that amuse you?”
with a sou, to attract the attention of the waiter, “No, but what do you mean by that? Surely you
and called out: must do something!”
“Waiter, two ‘bocks.’ “ “What do you mean by that?”
A voice in the distance repeated: “I only mean, how do you pass your time!”
“Two ‘bocks,’ instead of four.” “What’s the use of occupying myself with any-
Another voice, more distant still, shouted out: thing. For my part, I do nothing at all, as you see,
“Here they are, sir, here they are.” never anything. When one has not got a sou one
Immediately there appeared a man with a white can understand why one has to go to work. What
apron, carrying two ‘bocks,’ which he set down is the good of working? Do you work for yourself,
foaming on the table, the foam running over the or for others? If you work for yourself you do it
edge, on to the sandy floor. for your own amusement, which is all right; if you
Des Barrets emptied his glass at a single draught work for others, you reap nothing but ingratitude.”
and replaced it on the table, sucking in the drops Then sticking his pipe into his mouth, he called
of beer that had been left on his mustache. He out anew:
next asked: “Waiter, a ‘bock.’ It makes me thirsty to keep call-
“What is there new?” ing so. I am not accustomed to that sort of thing.
“I know of nothing new, worth mentioning, re- Yes, I do nothing; I let things slide, and I am grow-
ally,” I stammered: “But nothing has grown old for ing old. In dying I shall have nothing to regret. If
me; I am a commercial man.” so, I should remember nothing, outside this pub-

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 Selected Writings
lic-house. I have no wife, no children, no cares, in my bed, never changing. I talk sometimes with
no sorrows, nothing. That is the very best thing the habitues.”
that could happen to one.” “But on arriving in Paris what did you do at first?”
He then emptied the glass which had been “I paid my devoirs to the Cafe de Medicis.”
brought him, passed his tongue over his lips, and “What next?”
resumed his pipe. “Next? I crossed the water and came here.”
I looked at him stupefied and asked him: “Why did you take even that trouble?”
“But you have not always been like that?” “What do you mean? One cannot remain all one’s
“Pardon me, sir; ever since I left college.” life in the Latin Quarter. The students make too
“It is not a proper life to lead, my dear sir; it is much noise. But I do not move about any longer.
simply horrible. Come, you must indeed have done Waiter, a ‘bock.’ “
something, you must have loved something, you I now began to think that he was making fun of
must have friends.” me, and I continued:
“No; I get up at noon, I come here, I have my “Come now, be frank. You have been the victim
breakfast, I drink my ‘bock’; I remain until the of some great sorrow; despair in love, no doubt! It
evening, I have my dinner, I drink ‘bock.’ Then is easy to see that you are a man whom misfor-
about one in the morning, I return to my couch, tune has hit hard. What age are you?”
because the place closes up. And it is this latter “I am thirty years of age, but I look to be forty-
that embitters me more than anything. For the last five at least.”
ten years, I have passed six-tenths of my time on I looked him straight in the face. His shrunken
this bench, in my corner; and the other four-tenths figure, badly cared for, gave one the impression

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 De Maupassant
that he was an old man. On the summit of his “No, I have always been virtuous.”
cranium, a few long hairs shot straight up from a And raising his eyes toward the luster, which beat
skin of doubtful cleanness. He had enormous eye- down on our heads, he said:
lashes, a large mustache, and a thick beard. Sud- “If I am baldheaded, it is the fault of the gas. It is
denly I had a kind of vision, I know not why—the the enemy of hair. Waiter, a ‘bock.’ You must be
vision of a basin filled with noisome water, the thirsty also?”
water which should have been applied to that poll. “No, thank you. But you certainly interest me.
I said to him: When did you have your first discouragement?
“Verily, you look to be more than that age. Of a Your life is not normal, is not natural. There is some-
certainty you must have experienced some great thing under it all.”
disappointment.” “Yes, and it dates from my infancy. I received a
He replied: heavy blow when I was very young. It turned my
“I tell you that I have not. I am old because I life into darkness, which will last to the end.”
never take air. There is nothing that vitiates the “How did it come about?”
life of a man more than the atmosphere of a cafe.” “You wish to know about it? Well, then, listen.
I could not believe him. You recall, of course, the castle in which I was
“You must surely have been married as well? One brought up, seeing that you used to visit it for five
could not get as baldheaded as you are without or six months during the vacations? You remem-
having been much in love.” ber that large, gray building in the middle of a
He shook his head, sending down his back little great park, and the long avenues of oaks, which
hairs from the scalp: opened toward the four cardinal points! You re-

190
 Selected Writings
member my father and my mother, both of whom seemed to utter cries—cries dull, yet deep—so that
were ceremonious, solemn, and severe. the whole forest groaned under the gale.
“I worshiped my mother; I was suspicious of my “Evening had come on, and it was dark in the
father; but I respected both, accustomed always as thickets. The agitation of the wind and the
I was to see everyone bow before them. In the branches excited me, made me skip about like an
country, they were Monsieur le Comte and Ma- idiot, and howl in imitation of the wolves.
dame la Comtesse; and our neighbors, the “As soon as I perceived my parents, I crept fur-
Tannemares, the Ravelets, the Brennevilles, tively toward them, under the branches, in order
showed the utmost consideration for them. to surprise them, as though I had been a veritable
“I was then thirteen years old, happy, satisfied wolf. But suddenly seized with fear, I stopped a
with everything, as one is at that age, and full of few paces from them. My father, a prey to the
joy and vivacity. most violent passion, cried:
“Now toward the end of September, a few days “ ‘Your mother is a fool; moreover, it is not your
before entering the Lycee, while I was enjoying mother that is the question, it is you. I tell you that
myself in the mazes of the park, climbing the trees I want money, and I will make you sign this.’
and swinging on the branches, I saw crossing an “My mother responded in a firm voice:
avenue my father and mother, who were walking “ ‘I will not sign it. It is Jean’s fortune, I shall guard
together. it for him and I will not allow you to devour it with
“I recall the thing as though it were yesterday. It strange women, as you have your own heritage.’
was a very windy day. The whole line of trees “Then my father, full of rage, wheeled round and
bent under the pressure of the wind, moaned and seized his wife by the throat, and began to slap

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 De Maupassant
her full in the face with the disengaged hand. hunted animal, running straight in front of me
“My mother’s hat fell off, her hair became di- through the woods.
sheveled and fell down her back: she essayed to “I ran perhaps for an hour, perhaps for two, I
parry the blows, but could not escape from them. know not. Darkness had set in, I tumbled over
And my father, like a madman, banged and banged some thick herbs, exhausted, and I lay there lost,
at her. My mother rolled over on the ground, cov- devoured by terror, eaten up by a sorrow capable
ering her face in both her hands. Then he turned of breaking forever the heart of a child. I became
her over on her back in order to batter her still cold, I became hungry. At length day broke. I dared
more, pulling away the hands which were cover- neither get up, walk, return home, nor save my-
ing her face. self, fearing to encounter my father whom I did
“As for me, my friend, it seemed as though the not wish to see again.
world had come to an end, that the eternal laws “I should probably have died of misery and of
had changed. I experienced the overwhelming hunger at the foot of a tree if the guard had not
dread that one has in presence of things super- discovered me and led me away by force.
natural, in presence of irreparable disaster. My “I found my parents wearing their ordinary as-
boyish head whirled round and soared. I began to pect. My mother alone spoke to me:
cry with all my might, without knowing why, a “ ‘How you have frightened me, you naughty
prey to terror, to grief, to a dreadful bewilderment. boy; I have been the whole night sleepless.’
My father heard me, turned round, and, on seeing “I did not answer, but began to weep. My father
me, made as though he would rush at me. I be- did not utter a single word.
lieved that he wanted to kill me, and I fled like a “Eight days later I entered the Lycee.

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 Selected Writings
“Well, my friend, it was all over with me. I had was now full of smoke and of people drinking,
witnessed the other side of things, the bad side; I calling out:
have not been able to perceive the good side since “Waiter, a ‘bock’—and a new pipe.”
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 still. I have not seen him since.
Waiter, a ‘bock.’ “
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 beauti-
fully!”
Then he went off through the vast saloon, which

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 De Maupassant

SEQUEL TO A DIVORCE 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
CERTAINLY, ALTHOUGH HE had been engaged in the most
de Serpenoise say: “He strips your heart bare!” the
extraordinary, most unlikely, most extravagant,
lawyer had classed her in the third category. Those
and funniest cases, and had won legal games with-
who suffer came into his first category, those who
out a trump in his hand—although he had worked
love, into the second, and those who are bored,
out the obscure law of divorce, as if it had been a
into the third—and she belonged to the latter.
Californian gold mine, Maitre* Garrulier, the cel-
She was a pretty windmill, whose sails turned
ebrated, the only Garrulier, could not check a move-
and flew round, and fretted the blue sky with a
ment of surprise, nor a disheartening shake of the
delicious shiver of joy, as it were, and had the brain
head, nor a smile, when the Countess de
of a bird, in which four correct and healthy ideas
Baudemont explained her affairs to him for the
cannot exist side by side, and in which all dreams
first time.
and every kind of folly are engulfed, like a great
He had just opened his correspondence, and his
kaleidoscope.
slender hands, on which he bestowed the great-
Incapable of hurting a fly, emotional, charitable,
est attention, buried themselves in a heap of fe-
with a feeling of tenderness for the street girl who
male letters, and one might have thought oneself
sells bunches of violets for a penny, for a cab horse
in the confessional of a fashionable preacher, so
which a driver is ill-using, for a melancholy pauper’s
impregnated was the atmosphere with delicate
funeral, when the body, without friends or rela-
perfumes.
tions to follow it, is being conveyed to the com-
*Title given to advocates in France.
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 Selected Writings
mon grave, doing anything that might afford five over, if the devil were still in the habit of frequent-
minutes’ amusement, not caring if she made men ing the places of bad repute on this earth.
miserable for the rest of their days, and taking She had perhaps come to see this Garrulier,
pleasure in kindling passions which consumed whom she had so often heard mentioned at five
men’s whole being, looking upon life as too short o’clock teas, so as to be able to describe him to
to be anything else than one uninterrupted round her female friends subsequently in droll phrases,
of gaiety and enjoyment, she thought that people imitating his gestures and the unctuous inflections
might find plenty of time for being serious and of his voice, in order, perhaps, to experience some
reasonable in the evening of life, when they are new sensation, or, perhaps, for the sake of dress-
at the bottom of the hill, and their looking-glasses ing like a woman who was going to try for a di-
reveal a wrinkled face, surrounded with white hair. vorce; and, certainly, the whole effect was per-
A thorough-bred Parisian, whom one would fol- fect. She wore a splendid cloak embroidered with
low to the end of the world, like a poodle; a woman jet—which gave an almost serious effect to her
whom one adores with the head, the heart, and golden hair, to her small slightly turned-up nose,
the senses until one is nearly driven mad, as soon with its quivering nostrils, and to her large eyes,
as one has inhaled the delicate perfume that ema- full of enigma and fun—over a dark stuff dress,
nates from her dress and hair, or touched her skin, which was fastened at the neck by a sapphire and
and heard her laugh; a woman for whom one a diamond pin.
would fight a duel and risk one’s life without a The barrister did not interrupt her, but allowed
thought; for whom a man would remove moun- her to get excited and to chatter; to enumerate
tains, and sell his soul to the devil several times her causes for complaint against poor Count de

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 De Maupassant
Baudemont, who certainly had no suspicion of his peared to be considering. Taking his chin in his
wife’s escapade, and who would have been very hand, he said:
much surprised if anyone had told him of it at that “However, I will think it over; there is sure to be
moment, when he was taking his fencing lesson some dark spot that can be made out worse. Write
at the club. to me, and come and see me again.”
When she had quite finished, he said coolly, as if In the course of her visits, that black spot had
he were throwing a pail of water on some burn- increased so much and Madame de Baudemont
ing straw: had followed her lawyer’s advice so punctually,
“But, Madame, there is not the slightest pretext and had played on the various strings so skillfully
for a divorce in anything that you have told me that a few months later, after a lawsuit, which is
here. The judges would ask me whether I took the still spoken of in the Courts of Justice, and during
Law Courts for a theater, and intended to make the course of which the President had to take off
fun of them.” his spectacles, and to use his pocket-handkerchief
And seeing how disheartened she was,—that she noisily, the divorce was pronounced in favor of
looked like a child whose favorite toy had been the Countess Marie Anne Nicole Bournet de
broken, that she was so pretty that he would have Baudemont, nee de Tanchart de Peothus.
liked to kiss her hands in his devotion, and as she The Count, who was nonplussed at such an ad-
seemed to be witty, and very amusing, and as, venture turning out so seriously, first of all flew
moreover, he had no objection to such visits be- into a terrible rage, rushed off to the lawyer’s of-
ing prolonged, when papers had to be looked over, fice and threatened to cut off his knavish ears for
while sitting close together,—Maitre Garrulier ap- him. But when his access of fury was over, and he

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 Selected Writings
thought of it, he shrugged his shoulders and said: urban district, malicious people in the Faubourg
“All the better for her, if it amuses her!” were making fun of the whole affair, and affirm-
Then he bought Baron Silberstein’s yacht, and ing this and that, whether rightly or wrongly, and
with some friends, got up a cruise to Ceylon and comparing the present husband to the former one,
India. even declaring that he had partially been the cause
Marie Anne began by triumphing, and felt as of the former divorce. Meanwhile Monsieur de
happy as a schoolgirl going home for the holidays; Baudemont was wandering over the four quarters
she committed every possible folly, and soon, tired, of the globe trying to overcome his homesickness,
satiated, and disgusted, began to yawn, cried, and and to deaden his longing for love, which had
found out that she had sacrificed her happiness, taken possession of his heart and of his body, like
like a millionaire who has gone mad and has cast a slow poison.
his banknotes and shares into the river, and that He traveled through the most out-of-the-way
she was nothing more than a disabled waif and places, and the most lovely countries, and spent
stray. Consequently, she now married again, as the months and months at sea, and plunged into ev-
solitude of her home made her morose from morn- ery kind of dissipation and debauchery. But nei-
ing till night; and then, besides, she found a woman ther the supple forms nor the luxurious gestures
requires a mansion when she goes into society, to of the bayaderes, nor the large passive eyes of
race meetings, or to the theater. the Creoles, nor flirtations with English girls with
And so, while she became a marchioness, and hair the color of new cider, nor nights of waking
pronounced her second “Yes,” before a very few dreams, when he saw new constellations in the
friends, at the office of the mayor of the English sky, nor dangers during which a man thinks it is

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all over with him, and mutters a few words of look at it for hours, and then throw himself down
prayer in spite of himself, when the waves are on the netting and sob like a child as he looked at
high, and the sky black, nothing was able to make the infinite expanse before him, seeming to see
him forget that little Parisian woman who smelled their lost happiness, the joys of their perished af-
so sweet that she might have been taken for a fections, and the divine remembrance of their love,
bouquet of rare flowers; who was so coaxing, so in the monotonous waste of green waters. And
curious, so funny; who never had the same ca- he tried to accuse himself for all that had occurred,
price, the same smile, or the same look twice, and and not to be angry with her, to think that his
who, at bottom, was worth more than many oth- grievances were imaginary, and to adore her in
ers, either saints or sinners. spite of everything and always.
He thought of her constantly, during long hours And so he roamed about the world, tossed to
of sleeplessness. He carried her portrait about with and fro, suffering and hoping he knew not what.
him in the breast pocket of his pea-jacket—a charm- He ventured into the greatest dangers, and sought
ing portrait in which she was smiling, and show- for death just as a man seeks for his mistress, and
ing her white teeth between her half-open lips. death passed close to him without touching him,
Her gentle eyes with their magnetic look had a perhaps amused at his grief and misery.
happy, frank expression, and from the mere ar- For he was as wretched as a stone-breaker, as
rangement of her hair, one could see that she was one of those poor devils who work and nearly
fair among the fair. break their backs over the hard flints the whole
He used to kiss that portrait of the woman who day long, under the scorching sun or the cold rain;
had been his wife as if he wished to efface it, would and Marie Anne herself was not happy, for she

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 Selected Writings
was pining for the past and remembered their heard that Marie Anne had married again.
former love. He saw her in the distance, at the Theatre Francais
At last, however, he returned to France, changed, one Tuesday, and when he noticed how pretty,
tanned by exposure, sun, and rain, and trans- how fair, how desirable she was,—looking so mel-
formed as if by some witch’s philter. ancholy, with all the appearance of an unhappy
Nobody would have recognized the elegant and soul that regrets something,—his determination
effeminate clubman, in this corsair with broad grew weaker, and he delayed his departure from
shoulders, a skin the color of tan, with very red week to week, and waited, without knowing why,
lips, who rolled a little in his walk; who seemed to until, at last, worn out with the struggle, watching
be stifled in his black dress-coat, but who still re- her wherever she went, more in love with her
tained the distinguished manners and bearing of than he had ever been before, he wrote her long,
a nobleman of the last century, one of those who, mad, ardent letters in which his passion overflowed
when he was ruined, fitted out a privateer, and like a stream of lava.
fell upon the English wherever he met them, from He altered his handwriting, as he remembered
St. Malo to Calcutta. And wherever he showed him- her restless brain, and her many whims. He sent
self his friends exclaimed: her the flowers which he knew she liked best, and
“Why! Is that you? I should never have known told her that she was his life, that he was dying of
you again!” waiting for her, of longing for her, for her his idol.
He was very nearly starting off again immedi- At last, very much puzzled and surprised, guess-
ately; he even telegraphed orders to Havre to get ing—who knows?—from the instinctive beating of
the steam-yacht ready for sea directly, when he her heart, and her general emotion, that it must

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 De Maupassant
be he this time, he whose soul she had tortured “That is absolutely logical, and I should like to be
with such cold cruelty, and knowing that she could in their place.”
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 and exhaust them-
selves in each other’s looks, thirsting for tender-
ness, 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
Maitre Garrulier was told of this unheard of scan-
dal, he rubbed his hands—the long, delicate hands
of a sensual prelate—and exclaimed:

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 Selected Writings

THE MAD WOMAN up, she screamed as if they were about to kill her,
and so they ended by leaving her continually in
bed, and only taking her out to wash her, to change
“I CAN TELL YOU A TERRIBLE STORY about the Franco-Prus-
her linen, and to turn her mattress.
sian war,” Monsieur d’Endolin said to some friends
“An old servant remained with her, to give her
assembled in the smoking-room of Baron de
something to drink, or a little cold meat, from time
Ravot’s chateau. “You know my house in the
to time. What passed in that despairing mind? No
Faubourg de Cormeil, I was living there when the
one ever knew, for she did not speak at all now.
Prussians came, and I had for a neighbor a kind of
Was she thinking of the dead? Was she dreaming
mad woman, who had lost her senses in conse-
sadly, without any precise recollection of anything
quence of a series of misfortunes. At the age of
that had happened? Or was her memory as stag-
seven and twenty she had lost her father, her
nant as water without any current? But however
husband, and her newly born child, all in the space
this may have been, for fifteen years she remained
of a month.
thus inert and secluded.
“When death has once entered into a house, it
“The war broke out, and in the beginning of De-
almost invariably returns immediately, as if it knew
cember the Germans came to Cormeil. I can re-
the way, and the young woman, overwhelmed
member it as if it were but yesterday. It was freez-
with grief, took to her bed and was delirious for
ing hard enough to split the stones, and I myself
six weeks. Then a species of calm lassitude suc-
was lying back in an armchair, being unable to
ceeded that violent crisis, and she remained mo-
move on account of the gout, when I heard their
tionless, eating next to nothing, and only moving
heavy and regular tread, and could see them pass
her eyes. Every time they tried to make her get
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 De Maupassant
from my window. him. He was shown into the room and said to her
“They defiled past interminably, with that pecu- roughly: ‘I must beg you to get up, Madame, and
liar motion of a puppet on wires, which belongs to to come downstairs so that we may all see you.’
them. Then the officers billeted their men on the But she merely turned her vague eyes on him,
inhabitants, and I had seventeen of them. My without replying, and so he continued: ‘I do not
neighbor, the crazy woman, had a dozen, one of intend to tolerate any insolence, and if you do not
whom was the Commandant, a regular violent, get up of your own accord, I can easily find means
surly swashbuckler. to make you walk without any assistance.’
“During the first few days, everything went on “But she did not give any signs of having heard
as usual. The officers next door had been told that him, and remained quite motionless. Then he got
the lady was ill, and they did not trouble them- furious, taking that calm silence for a mark of su-
selves about that in the least, but soon that woman preme contempt; so he added: ‘If you do not come
whom they never saw irritated them. They asked downstairs to-morrow—’ And then he left the room.
what her illness was, and were told that she had “The next day the terrified old servant wished to
been in bed for fifteen years, in consequence of dress her, but the mad woman began to scream
terrible grief. No doubt they did not believe it, and violently, and resisted with all her might. The of-
thought that the poor mad creature would not ficer ran upstairs quickly, and the servant threw
leave her bed out of pride, so that she might not herself at his feet and cried: ‘She will not come
come near the Prussians, or speak to them or even down, Monsieur, she will not. Forgive her, for she
see them. is so unhappy.’
“The Commandant insisted upon her receiving “The soldier was embarrassed, as in spite of his

202
 Selected Writings
anger, he did not venture to order his soldiers to zen foam, and the wolves came and howled at
drag her out. But suddenly he began to laugh, and our very doors.
gave some orders in German, and soon a party of “The thought of that poor lost woman haunted
soldiers was seen coming out supporting a mat- me, and I made several applications to the Prus-
tress as if they were carrying a wounded man. On sian authorities in order to obtain some informa-
that bed, which had not been unmade, the mad tion, and was nearly shot for doing so. When spring
woman, who was still silent, was lying quite qui- returned, the army of occupation withdrew, but
etly, for she was quite indifferent to anything that my neighbor’s house remained closed, and the
went on, as long as they let her lie. Behind her, a grass grew thick in the garden walks. The old ser-
soldier was carrying a parcel of feminine attire, vant had died during the winter, and nobody
and the officer said, rubbing his hands: ‘We will troubled any longer about the occurrence; I alone
just see whether you cannot dress yourself alone, thought about it constantly. What had they done
and take a little walk.’ with the woman? Had she escaped through the
“And then the procession went off in the direc- forest? Had somebody found her, and taken her
tion of the forest of Imauville; in two hours the to a hospital, without being able to obtain any
soldiers came back alone, and nothing more was information from her? Nothing happened to re-
seen of the mad woman. What had they done lieve my doubts; but by degrees, time assuaged
with her? Where had they taken her to? No one my fears.
knew. “Well, in the following autumn the woodcock
“The snow was falling day and night, and envel- were very plentiful, and as my gout had left me
oped the plain and the woods in a shroud of fro- for a time, I dragged myself as far as the forest. I

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 De Maupassant
had already killed four or five of the long-billed
birds, when I knocked over one which fell into a
IN VARIOUS ROLES
ditch full of branches, and I was obliged to get into
IN THE FOLLOWING reminiscences will frequently be
it, in order to pick it up, and I found that it had
mentioned a lady who played a great part in the
fallen close to a dead, human body. Immediately
annals of the police from 1848 to 1866. We will
the recollection of the mad woman struck me like
call her “Wanda von Chabert.” Born in Galicia of
a blow in the chest. Many other people had per-
German parents, and carefully brought up in ev-
haps died in the wood during that disastrous year,
ery way, when only sixteen she married, from love,
but though I do not know why, I was sure, sure, I
a rich and handsome officer of noble birth. The
tell you, that I should see the head of that wretched
young couple, however, lived beyond their means,
maniac.
and when the husband died suddenly, two years
“And suddenly I understood, I guessed everything.
after they were married, she was left anything but
They had abandoned her on that mattress in the
well off.
cold, deserted wood; and, faithful to her fixed idea,
As Wanda had grown accustomed to luxury and
she had allowed herself to perish under that thick
amusement, a quiet life in her parents’ house did
and light counterpane of snow, without moving
not suit her any longer. Even while she was still in
either arms or legs.
mourning for her husband, she allowed a Hungar-
“Then the wolves had devoured her, and the birds
ian magnate to make love to her. She went off
had built their nests with the wool from her torn
with him at a venture, and continued the same
bed, and I took charge of her bones. I only pray
extravagant life which she had led when her hus-
that our sons may never see any wars again.”
band was alive, of her own volition. At the end of
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 Selected Writings
two years, however, her lover left her in a town abode, according to what she had to do. Some-
in North Italy, almost without means. She was times she lived in Paris among the Polish emigrants,
thinking of going on the stage, when chance pro- in order to find out what they were doing, and
vided her with another resource, which enabled maintained intimate relations with the Tuileries and
her to reassert her position in society. She became the Palais Royal at the same time; sometimes she
a secret police agent, and soon was one of their went to London for a short time, or hurried off to
most valuable members. In addition to the prover- Italy to watch the Hungarian exiles, only to reap-
bial charm and wit of a Polish woman, she also pear suddenly in Switzerland, or at one of the fash-
possessed high linguistic attainments, and spoke ionable German watering-places.
Polish, Russian, French, German, English, and Ital- In revolutionary circles, she was looked upon as
ian, with almost equal fluency and correctness. an active member of the great League of Free-
Then she had that encyclopedic polish which im- dom, and diplomatists regarded her as an influen-
presses people much more than the most profound tial friend of Napoleon III.
learning of the specialist, She was very attractive She knew everyone, but especially those men
in appearance, and she knew how to set off her whose names were to be met with every day in
good looks by all the arts of dress and coquetry. the journals, and she counted Victor Emmanuel,
In addition to this, she was a woman of the world Rouher, Gladstone, and Gortschakoff among her
in the widest sense of the term; pleasure-loving, friends as well as Mazzini, Kossuth, Garibaldi,
faithless, unstable, and therefore never in any Mieroslawsky, and Bakunin.
danger of really losing her heart, and consequently In the spring of 185- she was at Vevey on the
her head. She used to change the place of her lovely lake of Geneva, and went into raptures

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 De Maupassant
when talking to an old German diplomatist about possessed a wonderful charm, and thick, auburn,
the beauties of nature, and about Calame, Stifter, curly hair, which completed the attractiveness and
and Turgenev, whose “Diary of a Hunter,” had just the strangeness of his appearance.
become fashionable. One day a man appeared at They soon became acquainted, through a Prus-
the table d’hote, who excited unusual attention, sian officer whom the Brazilian had asked for an
and hers especially, so that there was nothing introduction to the beautiful Polish lady—for Frau
strange in her asking the proprietor of the hotel von Chabert was taken for one in Vevey. She, cold
what his name was. She was told that he was a and designing as she was, blushed slightly when
wealthy Brazilian, and that his name was Don he stood before her for the first time; and when
Escovedo. he gave her his arm, he could feel her hand tremble
Whether it was an accident, or whether he re- slightly on it. The same evening they went out
sponded to the interest which the young woman riding together, the next he was lying at her feet,
felt for him, at any rate she constantly met him and on the third she was his. For four weeks the
whereever she went, whether taking a walk, or lovely Wanda and the Brazilian lived together as
on the lake or looking at the newspapers in the if they had been in Paradise, but he could not de-
reading-room. At last she was obliged to confess ceive her searching eyes any longer.
to herself that he was the handsomest man she Her sharp and practiced eye had already discov-
had ever seen. Tall slim, and yet muscular, the ered in him that indefinable something which
young, beardless Brazilian had a head which any makes a man appear a suspicious character. Any
woman might envy, features not only beautiful and other woman would have been pained and horri-
noble, but also extremely delicate, dark eyes which fied at such a discovery, but she found the strange

206
 Selected Writings
consolation in it that her handsome adorer prom- and looked at him steadily, but he glanced at her
ised also to become a very interesting object for quite indifferently; he did not choose to know her
pursuit, and so she began systematically to watch again.
the man who lay unsuspectingly at her feet. The next morning, however, his valet brought
She soon found out that he was no conspirator; her a letter from him, which contained the amount
but she asked herself in vain whether she was to of his debt in Italian hundred-lire notes, accompa-
look for a common swindler, an impudent adven- nied by a very cool excuse. Wanda was satisfied,
turer, or perhaps even a criminal in him. The day but she wished to find out who the lady was, in
that she had foreseen soon came; the Brazilian’s whose company she constantly saw Don Escovedo.
banker “unaccountably” had omitted to send him “Don Escovedo.”
any money, and so he borrowed some of her. “So An Austrian count, who had a loud and silly laugh,
he is a male courtesan,” she said to herself. The said:
handsome man soon required money again, and “Who has saddled you with that yarn? The lady
she lent it to him again. Then at last he left sud- is Lady Nitingsdale, and his name is Romanesco.”
denly and nobody knew where he had gone to; “Romanesco?”
only this much, that he had left Vevey as the com- “Yes, he is a rich Boyar from Moldavia, where he
panion of an old but wealthy Wallachian lady. So has extensive estates.”
this time clever Wanda was duped. Romanesco ran a faro bank in his apartments,
A year afterward she met the Brazilian unexpect- and certainly cheated, for he nearly always won;
edly at Lucca, with an insipid-looking, light-haired, it was not long, therefore, before other people in
thin Englishwoman on his arm. Wanda stood still good society at Lucca shared Madame von

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 De Maupassant
Chabert’s suspic ions, and, consequently, “For whom do you take me, pray?” he said with
Romanesco thought it advisable to vanish as sud- an insolent smile.
denly from Lucca as Escovedo had done from “For Don Escovedo.”
Vevey, and without leaving any more traces be- “I am Count Dembizki from Valkynia,” the former
hind him. Brazilian said with a bow; “perhaps you would like
Some time afterward, Madame von Chabert was to see my passport.”
on the Island of Heligoland, for the sea-bathing; “Well, perhaps—”
and one day she saw Escovedo-Romanesco sit- And he had the impudence to show her his false
ting opposite to her at the table d’hote, in very passport.
animated conversation with a Russian lady; only A year afterward Wanda met Count Dembizki in
his hair had turned black since she had seen him Baden, near Vienna. His hair was still black, but he
last. Evidently his light hair had become too com- had a magnificent, full, black beard; he had be-
promising for him. come a Greek prince, and his name was Anastasio
“The sea-water seems to have a very remark- Maurokordatos. She met him once in one of the
able effect upon your hair,” Wanda said to him side walks in the park, where he could not avoid
spitefully, in a whisper. her. “If it goes on like this,” she called out to him in
“Do you think so?” he replied, condescendingly. a mocking voice, “the next time I see you, you will
“I fancy that at one time your hair was fair.” be king, of some negro tribe or other.”
“You are mistaking me for somebody else,” the That time, however, the Brazilian did not deny
Brazilian replied, quietly. his identity; on the contrary, he surrendered at
“I am not.” discretion, and implored her not to betray him. As

208
 Selected Writings
she was not revengeful she pardoned him, after man.”
enjoying his terror for a time, and promised him “As long as I choose to permit it,” she said; “but
that she would hold her tongue, as long as he did what will you do if I bring her back to your arms?
nothing contrary to the laws. Will you still call me cruel?”
“First of all, I must beg you not to gamble.” “Can you do this?” the young officer asked, in
“You have only to command; and we do not great excitement.
know each other in the future” “Well, supposing I can do it, what shall I be then?”
“I must certainly insist on that,” she said mali- “An angel, whom I shall thank on my knees.”
ciously. A few days later, the rivals met at a coffee-house;
The “Exotic Prince” had, however, made a con- the Greek prince began to lie and boast, and the
quest of the charming daughter of a wealthy Aus- Austrian officer gave him the lie direct. In conse-
trian count, and had cut out an excellent young quence, it was arranged that they should fight a
officer, who was wooing her. The latter, in his de- duel with pistols next morning in a wood close to
spair, began to make love to Frau von Chabert, Baden. But as the officer was leaving the house
and at last told her he loved her. But she only with his seconds the next morning, a Police Com-
laughed at him. missary came up to him and begged him not to
“You are very cruel,” he stammered in confusion. trouble himself any further about the matter, but
“I? What are you thinking about?” Wanda replied, another time to be more careful before accepting
still smiling; “all I mean is that you have directed a challenge.
your love to the wrong address, for Countess—” “What does it mean?” the officer asked, in some
“Do not speak of her; she is engaged to another surprise.

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 De Maupassant
“It means that this Maurokordatos is a danger-
ous swindler and adventurer, whom we have just
THE FALSE GEMS
taken into custody.”
M. LANTIN HAD MET the young woman at a soiree, at
“He is not a prince?”
the home of the assistant chief of his bureau, and
“No; a circus rider.”
at first sight had fallen madly in love with her.
An hour later, the officer received a letter from
She was the daughter of a country physician who
the charming Countess, in which she humbly
had died some months previously. She had come
begged for pardon. The happy lover set off to go
to live in Paris, with her mother, who visited much
and see her immediately, but on the way a sud-
among her acquaintances, in the hope of making
den thought struck him, and so he turned back in
a favorable marriage for her daughter. They were
order to thank beautiful Wanda, as he had prom-
poor and honest, quiet and unaffected.
ised, on his knees.
The young girl was a perfect type of the virtuous
woman whom every sensible young man dreams
of one day winning for life. Her simple beauty had
the charm of angelic modesty, and the impercep-
tible smile which constantly hovered about her lips
seemed to be the reflection of a pure and lovely
soul. Her praises resounded on every side. People
were never tired of saying: “Happy the man who
wins her love! He could not find a better wife.”
Now M. Lantin enjoyed a snug little income of
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 Selected Writings
$700, and, thinking he could safely assume the After a time, M. Lantin begged his wife to get
responsibilities of matrimony, proposed to this some lady of her acquaintance to accompany her.
model young girl and was accepted. She was at first opposed to such an arrangement;
He was unspeakably happy with her; she gov- but, after much persuasion on his part, she finally
erned his household so cleverly and economically consented—to the infinite delight of her husband.
that they seemed to live in luxury. She lavished Now, with her love for the theater came also
the most delicate attentions on her husband, the desire to adorn her person. True, her costumes
coaxed and fondled him, and the charm of her remained as before, simple, and in the most cor-
presence was so great that six years after their rect taste; but she soon began to ornament her
marriage M. Lantin discovered that he loved his ears with huge rhinestones which glittered and
wife even more than during the first days of their sparkled like real diamonds. Around her neck she
honeymoon. wore strings of false pearls, and on her arms brace-
He only felt inclined to blame her for two things: lets of imitation gold.
her love of the theater, and a taste for false jew- Her husband frequently remonstrated with her,
elry. Her friends (she was acquainted with some saying:
officers’ wives) frequently procured for her a box “My dear, as you cannot afford to buy real dia-
at the theater, often for the first representations monds, you ought to appear adorned with your
of the new plays; and her husband was obliged to beauty and modesty alone, which are the rarest
accompany her, whether he willed or not, to these ornaments of your sex.”
amusements, though they bored him excessively But she would smile sweetly, and say:
after a day’s labor at the office. “What can I do? I am so fond of jewelry. It is my

211
 De Maupassant
only weakness. We cannot change our natures.” The next morning she coughed, and eight days
Then she would roll the pearl necklaces around later she died of inflammation of the lungs.
her fingers, and hold up the bright gems for her M. Lantin’s despair was so great that his hair be-
husband’s admiration, gently coaxing him: came white in one month. He wept unceasingly;
“Look! are they not lovely? One would swear his heart was torn with grief, and his mind was
they were real.” haunted by the remembrance, the smile, the voice—
M. Lantin would then answer, smilingly: by every charm of his beautiful, dead wife.
“You have Bohemian tastes, my dear.” Time, the healer, did not assuage his grief. Often
Often of an evening, when they were enjoying during office hours, while his colleagues were dis-
a tete-a-tete by the fireside, she would place on cussing the topics of the day, his eyes would sud-
the tea table the leather box containing the “trash,” denly fill with tears, and he would give vent to his
as M. Lantin called it. She would examine the false grief in heartrending sobs. Everything in his wife’s
gems with a passionate attention as though they room remained as before her decease; and here
were in some way connected with a deep and he was wont to seclude himself daily and think of
secret joy; and she often insisted on passing a her who had been his treasure—the joy of his ex-
necklace around her husband’s neck, and laugh- istence.
ing heartily would exclaim: “How droll you look!” But life soon became a struggle. His income,
Then she would throw herself into his arms and which in the hands of his wife had covered all
kiss him affectionately. household expenses, was now no longer sufficient
One evening in winter she attended the opera, for his own immediate wants; and he wondered
and on her return was chilled through and through. how she could have managed to buy such excel-

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 Selected Writings
lent wines, and such rare delicacies, things which saw—feeling a little ashamed to expose his mis-
he could no longer procure with his modest re- ery, and also to offer such a worthless article for
sources. sale.
He incurred some debts and was soon reduced “Sir,” said he to the merchant, “I would like to
to absolute poverty. One morning, finding himself know what this is worth.”
without a cent in his pocket, he resolved to sell The man took the necklace, examined it, called
something, and, immediately, the thought occurred his clerk and made some remarks in an under-
to him of disposing of his wife’s paste jewels. He tone; then he put the ornament back on the
cherished in his heart a sort of rancor against the counter, and looked at it from a distance to judge
false gems. They had always irritated him in the of the effect.
past, and the very sight of them spoiled some- M. Lantin was annoyed by all this detail and was
what the memory of his lost darling. on the point of saying: “Oh! I know well enough it
To the last days of her life, she had continued to is not worth anything,” when the jeweler said: “Sir,
make purchases; bringing home new gems almost that necklace is worth from twelve to fifteen thou-
every evening. He decided to sell the heavy neck- sand francs; but I could not buy it unless you tell
lace which she seemed to prefer, and which, he me now whence it comes.”
thought, ought to be worth about six or seven The widower opened his eyes wide and remained
francs; for although paste it was, nevertheless, of gaping, not comprehending the merchant’s mean-
very fine workmanship. ing. Finally he stammered:. “You say—are you sure?”
He put it in his pocket and started out in search The other replied dryly: “You can search elsewhere
of a jeweler’s shop. He entered the first one he and see if anyone will offer you more. I consider it

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 De Maupassant
worth fifteen thousand at the most. Come back was under the impression that it was paste.”
here if you cannot do better.” Said the jeweler:
M. Lantin, beside himself with astonishment, took “What is your name, sir?”
up the necklace and left the store. He wished time “Lantin—I am in the employ of the Minister of the
for reflection. Interior. I live at No. 16 Rue des Martyrs.”
Once outside, he felt inclined to laugh, and said The merchant looked through his books, found
to himself: “The fool! Had I only taken him at his the entry, and said: “That necklace was sent to
word! That jeweler cannot distinguish real dia- Mme. Lantin’s address, 16 Rue des Martyrs, July
monds from paste.” 20, 1876.”
A few minutes after, he entered another store in The two men looked into each other’s eyes—the
the Rue de la Paix. As soon as the proprietor widower speechless with astonishment, the jew-
glanced at the necklace, he cried out: eler scenting a thief. The latter broke the silence
“Ah, parbleu! I know it well; it was bought here.” by saying:
M. Lantin was disturbed, and asked: “Will you leave this necklace here for twenty-
“How much is it worth?” four hours? I will give you a receipt.”
“Well, I sold it for twenty thousand francs. I am “Certainly,” answered M. Lantin, hastily. Then, put-
willing to take it back for eighteen thousand when ting the ticket in his pocket, he left the store.
you inform me, according to our legal formality, He wandered aimlessly through the streets, his
how it comes to be in your possession.” mind in a state of dreadful confusion. He tried to
This time M. Lantin was dumfounded. He replied: reason, to understand. His wife could not afford to
“But—but—examine it well. Until this moment I purchase such a costly ornament. Certainly not.

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 Selected Writings
But, then, it must have been a present!—a present!— It was a lovely day; a clear blue sky smiled on
a present from whom? Why was it given her? the busy city below, and men of leisure were stroll-
He stopped and remained standing in the middle ing about with their hands in their pockets.
of the street. A horrible doubt entered his mind— Observing them, M. Lantin said to himself: “The
she? Then all the other gems must have been pre- rich, indeed, are happy. With money it is possible
sents, too! The earth seemed to tremble beneath to forget even the deepest sorrow. One can go
him,—the tree before him was falling—throwing up where one pleases, and in travel find that distrac-
his arms, he fell to the ground, unconscious. He tion which is the surest cure for grief. Oh! if I were
recovered his senses in a pharmacy into which only rich!”
the passers-by had taken him, and was then taken He began to feel hungry, but his pocket was
to his home. When he arrived he shut himself up empty. He again remembered the necklace. Eigh-
in his room and wept until nightfall. Finally, over- teen thousand francs! Eighteen thousand francs!
come with fatigue, he threw himself on the bed, What a sum!
where he passed an uneasy, restless night. He soon arrived in the Rue de la Paix, opposite
The following morning he arose and prepared the jeweler’s. Eighteen thousand francs! Twenty
to go to the office. It was hard to work after such times he resolved to go in, but shame kept him
a, shock. He sent a letter to his employer request- back. He was hungry, however,—very hungry, and
ing to be excused. Then he remembered that he had not a cent in his pocket. He decided quickly,
had to return to the jeweler’s. He did not like the ran across the street in order not to have time for
idea; but he could not leave the necklace with that reflection, and entered the store.
man. So he dressed and went out. The proprietor immediately came forward, and

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 De Maupassant
politely offered him a chair; the clerks glanced at sapphires, fourteen thousand; a gold chain with
him knowingly. solitaire pendant, forty thousand—making the sum
“I have made inquiries, M. Lantin,” said the jew- of one hundred and forty-three thousand francs.
eler, “and if you are still resolved to dispose of the The jeweler remarked, jokingly:
gems, I am ready to pay you the price I offered.” “There was a person who invested all her earn-
“Certainly, sir,” stammered M. Lantin. ings in precious stones.”
Whereupon the proprietor took from a drawer M. Lantin replied, seriously:
eighteen large bills, counted and handed them to “It is only another way of investing one’s money.”
M. Lantin, who signed a receipt and with a trem- That day he lunched at Voisin’s and drank wine
bling hand put the money into his pocket. worth twenty francs a bottle. Then he hired a car-
As he was about to leave the store, he turned riage and made a tour of the Bois, and as he
toward the merchant, who still wore the same scanned the various turn-outs with a contemptu-
knowing smile, and lowering his eyes, said: ous air he could hardly refrain from crying out to
“I have—I have other gems which I have received the occupants:
from the same source. Will you buy them also?” “I, too, am rich!—I am worth two hundred thou-
The merchant bowed: “Certainly, sir.” sand francs.”
M. Lantin said gravely: “I will bring them to you.” Suddenly he thought of his employer. He drove
An hour later he returned with the gems. up to the office, and entered gaily, saying:
The large diamond earrings were worth twenty “Sir, I have come to resign my position. I have
thousand francs; the bracelets thirty-five thousand; just inherited three hundred thousand francs.”
the rings, sixteen thousand; a set of emeralds and He shook hands with his former colleagues and

216
 Selected Writings
confided to them some of his projects for the fu-
ture; then he went off to dine at the Cafe Anglais.
COUNTESS SATAN
He seated himself beside a gentleman of aristo-
I.
cratic bearing, and during the meal informed the
latter confidentially that he had just inherited a
THEY WERE DISCUSSING DYNAMITE, the social revolution,
fortune of four hundred thousand francs.
Nihilism, and even those who cared least about
For the first time in his life he was not bored at
politics had something to say. Some were alarmed,
the theater, and spent the remainder of the night
others philosophized, and others again tried to
in a gay frolic.
smile.
Six months afterward he married again. His sec-
“Bah!” N——said, “when we are all blown up, we
ond wife was a very virtuous woman, with a vio-
shall see what it is like. Perhaps, after all, it may
lent temper. She caused him much sorrow.
be an amusing sensation, provided one goes high
enough.”
“But we shall not be blown up at all,” G——, the
optimist, said, interrupting him. “It is all a romance.”
“You are mistaken, my dear fellow,” Jules de C—
—replied. “It is like a romance, but with this con-
founded Nihilism, everything is the same; it would
be a mistake to trust to it. For instance, the man-
ner in which I made Bakounine’s acquaintance—”
They knew that he was a good narrator, and it
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 De Maupassant
was no secret that his life had been an adventur- she liked to sow the seeds of evil, in order to see
ous one, so they drew closer to him, and listened it flourish. And that, too, by fraud on an enormous
intently. This is what he told them: scale. It was not enough for her to corrupt indi-
viduals, she only did that to keep her hand in;
II what she wished to do was to corrupt the masses.
By slightly altering it after her own fashion, she
“I met Countess Nioska W——, that strange woman might have used Caligula’s famous wish. She also
who was usually called Countess Satan, in Naples. might have wished that the whole human race
I immediately attached myself to her out of curios- had but one head; not in order that she might cut
ity, and soon fell in love with her. Not that she it off, but that she might make the philosophy of
was beautiful, for she was a Russian with the bad Nihilism flourish there.
characteristics of the Russian type. She was thin “What a temptation to become the lord and mas-
and squat at the same time, while her face was ter of such a monster! I allowed myself to be
sallow and puffy, with high cheek-bones and a tempted, and undertook the adventure. The means
Cossack’s nose. But her conversation bewitched came unsought for by me, and the only thing that
everyone. I had to do was to show myself more perverted
“She was many-sided, learned, a philosopher, and satanic than she was herself. And so I played
scientifically depraved, satanic. Perhaps the word the devil.
is rather pretentious, but it exactly expresses what “ ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘we writers are the best workmen
I want to say, for in other words she loved evil for for doing evil, as our books may be bottles of poi-
the sake of evil. She rejoiced in other people’s vices; son. The so-called men of action only turn the

218
 Selected Writings
handle of the mitrailleuse which we have loaded. ing-vessel, and about his final arrival, by way of
Formulas will destroy the world, and it is we who Yokohama and San Francisco, in London, whence
invent them.’ he was directing all the operations of Nihilism.
“ ‘That is true,’ said she, ‘and that is what is want- “ ‘You see,’ she said, ‘he is a thorough adven-
ing in Bakounine, I am sorry to say.’ turer, and now all his adventures are over. He got
“That name was constantly in her mouth. So I married at Tobolsk and became a mere respect-
asked her for details, which she gave me, as she able, middle-class man. And then he has no indi-
knew the man intimately. vidual ideas. Herzen, the pamphleteer of “Kolokol,”
“ ‘After all,’ she said, with a contemptuous gri- inspired him with the only fertile phrase that he
mace, ‘he is only a kind of Garibaldi.’ ever uttered: “Land and Liberty!” But that is not yet
“She told me, although she made fun of him as the definite formula, the general formula—what I
she did so, about that ‘Odyssey’ of the barricades may call the dynamite formula. At best, Bakounine
and of the hulks which made up Bakounine’s his- would only become an incendiary, and burn down
tory, and which is, nevertheless, the exact truth; cities. And what is that, I ask you? Bah! A second-
about his adventures as chief of the insurgents at hand Rostoptchin! He wants a prompter, and I of-
Prague and then at Dresden; of his first death sen- fered to become his, but he did not take me seri-
tence; about his imprisonment at Olmutz, in the ously.’
casemates of the fortress of St. Peter and St. Paul,
and in a subterranean dungeon at Schusselburg; * * *
about his exile to Siberia and his wonderful es-
cape down the river Amour, on a Japanese coast- “It would be useless to enter into all the psycho-

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 De Maupassant
logical details which marked the course of my pas- adventure! What luck! A number of letters between
sion for the Countess, and to explain to you more the Countess and Bakounine prepared the way; I
fully the curious and daily growing attraction which was introduced to him at his house, and they dis-
she had for me. It was getting exasperating, and cussed me there. I became a sort of Western
the more so as she resisted me as stoutly as the prophet, a mystic charmer who was ready to
shyest of innocents could have done. At the end nihilize the Latin races, the Saint Paul of the new
of a month of mad Satanism, I saw what her game religion of nothingness, and at last a day was fixed
was. Do you know what she intended? She meant for us to meet in London. He lived in a small, one-
to make me Bakounine’s prompter, or, at any rate, storied house in Pimlico, with a tiny garden in front,
that is what she said. But no doubt she reserved and nothing noticeable about it.
the right to herself—at least that is how I under- “We were first of all shown into the common-
stood her—to prompt the prompter, and my pas- place parlor of all English homes, and then up-
sion for her, which she purposely left unsatisfied, stairs. The room where the Countess and I were
assured her that absolute power over me. left was small, and very badly furnished. It had a
“All this may appear madness to you, but it is, square table with writing materials on it, in the
nevertheless, the exact truth. In short, one morn- center of the room. This was his sanctuary. The
ing she bluntly made the offer: deity soon appeared, and I saw him in flesh and
“ ‘Become Bakounine’s soul, and you shall pos- bone—especially in flesh, for he was enormously
sess me.’ stout. His broad face, with prominent cheek-bones,
“Of course I accepted, for it was too fantastically in spite of fat; a nose like a double funnel; and
strange to refuse. Don’t you think so? What an small, sharp eyes, which had a magnetic lock, pro-

220
 Selected Writings
claimed the Tartar, the old Turanian blood which visable to reveal himself to her; but he revealed
produced the Attilas, the Genghis-Khans, the himself to me, and inspired me with terror.
Tamerlanes. The obesity which is characteristic of “A prophet? Oh! yes. He thought himself an Attila,
nomad races, who are always on horseback or and foresaw the consequences of his revolution;
driving, added to his Asiatic look. The man was it was not only from instinct but also from theory
certainly not a European, a slave, a descendant of that he urged a nation on to Nihilism. The phrase
the deistic Aryans, but a scion of the atheistic is not his, but Turgenieff’s, I believe, but the idea
hordes who had several times already almost over- certainly belonged to him. He got his programme
run Europe, and who, instead of ideas of progress, of agricultural communism from Herzen, and his
have Nihilism buried in their hearts. destructive radicalism from Pougatcheff, but he did
“I was astonished, for I had not expected that not stop there. I mean that he went on to evil for
the majesty of a whole race could be thus revived the sake of evil. Herzen wished for the happiness
in a man, and my stupefaction increased after an of the Slav peasant; Pougatcheff wanted to be
hour’s conversation. I could quite understand why elected Emperor, but all that Bakounine wanted
such a Colossus had not wished for the Countess was to overthrow the actual order of things, no
as his Egeria; she was a silly child to have dreamed matter by what means, and to replace social con-
of acting such a part to such a thinker. She had centration by a universal upheaval.
not felt the profoundness of that horrible, philoso- “It was the dream of a Tartar; it was true Nihilism
phy which was hidden under his material activity, pushed to extreme and practical conclusions. It was,
nor had she seen the prophet under this hero of in a word, the applied philosophy of chance, the
the barricades. Perhaps he had not thought it ad- indeterminate end of anarchy. Monstrous it may

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 De Maupassant
be, but grand in its monstrosity! which the other had dreamed. She had certainly
“And you must note that the typical man of ac- shown herself very silly, when she could not un-
tion so despised by the Countess was, in derstand that prodigious monster. And as she had
Bakounine, the gigantic dreamer whom I have just seduced me only by her intellect and her perver-
shown to you. His dream did not remain a dream, sity, I was disgusted as soon as she laid aside that
but began to be realized. It was by the care of mask. I left her without telling her of my intention,
Bakounine that the Nihilistic party became an en- and never saw her again, either.
tity; a party in which there is a little of everything, “No doubt they both took me for a spy from the
you know, but on the whole, a formidable party, ‘Third Section of the Imperial Chancellery.’ In that
the advanced guard of which is true Nihilism, case, they must have thought me very clever to
whose object is nothing less than to destroy the have escaped discovery, and all I have to do is to
Western world, to see it blossom from under the look out, lest any affiliated members of their soci-
ruins of a general dispersion, the last conception ety recognize me!”
of modern Tartarism. Then he smiled and, turning to the waiter who
“I never saw Bakounine again, for the Countess’s had just come in, said: “Open another bottle of
conquest would have been too dearly bought by champagne, and make the cork pop! It will, at any
any attempt to act a comedy with this ‘Old-Man- rate, remind us of the day when we ourselves shall
of-the-Mountain.’ And besides that, after this visit, be blown up with dynamite.”
poor Countess Satan appeared to me quite silly.
Her famous Satanism was nothing but the flicker
of a spirit-lamp, after the general conflagration of

222
 Selected Writings

THE COLONEL’S IDEAS “When I am in the presence of a woman, of a

pretty woman, I feel capable of anything. By Jove,
when I feel her looks penetrating me, those con-
“UPON MY WORD,” said Colonel Laporte, “I am old and
founded looks which set your blood on fire, I could
gouty, my legs are as stiff as two sticks, and yet if
do anything: fight a duel, have a row, smash the
a pretty woman were to tell me to go through the
furniture, anything just to show that I am the stron-
eye of a needle, I believe I should take a jump at
gest, the bravest, the most daring, and the most
it, like a clown through a hoop. I shall die like that;
devoted of men.
it is in the blood. I am an old beau, one of the old
“But I am not the only one—certainly not; the
regime, and the sight of a woman, a pretty woman,
whole French army is like me, that I will swear to.
stirs me to the tips of my toes. There!
From the common soldier to the general, we all
“And then we are all very much alike in France;
go forward, and to the very end, mark you, when
we remain cavaliers, cavaliers of love and fortune,
there is a woman in the case, a pretty woman.
since God has been abolished, whose bodyguard
Remember what Joan of Arc made us do formerly!
we really were. But nobody will ever get the
Come, I’d make a bet that if a pretty woman had
woman out of our hearts; there she is, and there
taken command of the army on the eve of Sedan,
she will remain; we love her, and shall continue
when Marshal MacMahon was wounded, we
to love her, and to commit all kinds of frolics on
should have broken through the Prussian lines,
her account, so long as there is a France on the
by Jove! and have had a drink out of their guns.
map of Europe. And even if France were to be
“It was not Trochu, but Saint Genevieve, who was
wiped off the map, there would always be French-
required in Paris, and I remember a little anecdote
men left.
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 De Maupassant
of the war which proves that we are capable of when you are worn out with fatigue.
everything in the presence of a woman. “It was dark by five o’clock, that wan darkness
“I was a captain, a simple captain, at the time, caused by the snow, and I shook up my men. Some
and was in command of a detachment of scouts of them would not get up; they were almost inca-
who were retreating through a district swarming pable of moving or of standing upright, and their
with Prussians. We were surrounded, pursued, tired joints were stiff from the cold and want of motion.
out, and half dead with fatigue and hunger, and “In front of us there was a large expanse of flat,
by the next day we had to reach Bar-sur-Tain; oth- bare country; the snow was still falling like a cur-
erwise we should be done for, cut off from the tain, in large, white flakes, which concealed ev-
main body and killed. I do not know how we man- erything under a heavy, thick, frozen mantle, a
aged to escape so far. However, we had ten leagues mattress of ice. You would have thought that it
to go during the night, ten leagues through the was the end of things.
snow, and upon empty stomachs. I thought to “ ‘Come, my lads, let us start.’
myself: “They looked at the thick, white dust which was
“ ‘It is all over; my poor fellows will never be able coming down, and seemed to think: ‘We have had
to do it.’ enough of this; we may just as well die here!’ Then
“We had eaten nothing since the day before, and I took out my revolver, and said:
the whole day long we remained hidden in a barn, “ ‘I will shoot the first man who flinches.’ And so
huddled close together, so as not to feel the cold they set off, but very slowly, like men whose legs
so much; we did not venture to speak or even were of very little use to them. I sent four of them
move, and we slept by fits and starts, like you sleep three hundred yards ahead, to scout, and the oth-

224
 Selected Writings
ers followed pellmell, walking at random and with- in front of them, and so I sent six men and a ser-
out any order. I put the strongest in the rear, with geant on ahead, and waited.
orders to quicken the pace of the sluggards with “All at once a shrill cry, a woman’s cry, pierced
the points of their bayonets in the back. through the heavy silence of the snow, and in a
“The snow seemed as if it were going to bury us few minutes they brought back two prisoners, an
alive; it powdered our kepis* and cloaks without old man and a girl, whom I questioned in a low
melting, and made phantoms of us, ghosts of worn- voice. They were escaping from the Prussians, who
out soldiers who were very tired, and I said to had occupied their house during the evening, and
myself: ‘We shall never get out of this, except by a who had got drunk. The father had become
miracle.’ alarmed on his daughter’s account, and, without
“Sometimes we had to stop for a few minutes, even telling their servants, they had made their
on account of those who could not follow us, hear- escape into the darkness. I saw immediately that
ing nothing but the falling snow, that vague, al- they belonged to the upper classes, and, as I should
most indiscernible sound which the flakes make, have done in any case, I invited them to come
as they come down together. Some of the men with us. So we started off together, and as the old
shook themselves, but others did not move, and man knew the road, he acted as our guide.
so I gave the order to set off again; they shoul- “It had ceased snowing; the stars appeared, and
dered their rifles, and with weary feet we set out the cold became intense. The girl, who was lean-
again, when suddenly the scouts fell back. Some- ing on her father’s arm, walked wearily and with
thing had alarmed them; they had heard voices jerks, and several times she murmured:
“ ‘I have no feeling at all in my feet.’ I suffered
*Forage-caps.
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 De Maupassant
more than she did, I believe, to see that poor little went into it, and soon came back with a bundle of
woman dragging herself like that through the branches twisted into a litter.
snow. But suddenly she stopped, and said: “ ‘Who will lend his cloak? It is for a pretty girl,
“ ‘Father, I am so tired that I cannot go any fur- comrades,’ Pratique said, and ten cloaks were
ther.’ thrown to him. In a moment, the girl was lying,
“The old man wanted to carry her, but he could warm and comfortable, among them, and was
not even lift her up, and she fell on the ground raised upon six shoulders. I placed myself at their
with a deep sigh. We all came round her, and as head, on the right, and very pleased I was with
for me, I stamped on the ground, not knowing my charge.
what to do, quite unable to make up my mind to “We started off much more briskly, as if we had
abandon that man and girl like that. Suddenly one been having a drink of wine, and I even heard a
of the soldiers, a Parisian, whom they had nick- few jokes. A woman is quite enough to electrify
named ‘Pratique,’ said: Frenchmen, you see. The soldiers, who were re-
“ ‘Come, comrades, we must carry the young lady, animated and warm, had almost reformed their
otherwise we shall not show ourselves French- ranks, and an old franc-tireur* who was following
men, confound it!’ the litter, waiting for his turn to replace the first of
“I really believe that I swore with pleasure, and his comrades who might give in, said to one of his
said: ‘That is very good of you, my children; I will neighbors, loud enough for me to hear:
take my share of the burden.’ *Volunteers, in the Franco-German war of 1870-
“We could indistinctly see the trees of a little wood 71, of whom the Germans often made short work
on the left, through the darkness. Several men when caught.

226
 Selected Writings
“ ‘I am not a young man, now; but by Jove, there and the creaking of the saddles, and so cried: ‘Fire!’
is nothing like a woman to make you feel queer “Fifty rifle-shots broke the stillness of the night;
from head to foot!’ then there were four or five reports, and at last
“We went on, almost without stopping, until three one single shot was heard. When the smoke had
o’clock in the morning, when suddenly our scouts cleared away we saw that the twelve men and
fell back again. Soon the whole detachment nine horses had fallen. Three of the animals were
showed nothing but a vague shadow on the galloping away at a furious pace. One of them was
ground, as the men lay on the snow, and I gave dragging the body of its rider behind it. His foot
my orders in a low voice, and heard the harsh, had caught in the stirrup, and his body rebounded
metallic sound of the cocking of rifles. There, in from the ground in a horrible way.
the middle of the plain, some strange object was “One of the soldiers behind me gave a harsh
moving about. It might have been taken for some laugh, and said: ‘There are a few more widows
enormous animal running about, which uncoiled now!’
itself like a serpent, or came together into a coil, “Perhaps he was married. And another added: ‘It
then suddenly went quickly to the right or left, did not take long!’
stopped, and then went on again. But presently “A head was put out of the litter:
the wandering shape came near, and I saw a dozen “ ‘What is the matter?’ she asked; ‘you are fight-
lancers, one behind the other, who were trying to ing?’
find their way, which they had lost. “ ‘It is nothing, Mademoiselle,’ I replied; ‘we have
“By this time they were so near that I could hear got rid of a dozen Prussians!’
the panting of the horses, the clink of the swords, “ ‘Poor fellows!’ she said. But as she was cold,

227
 De Maupassant
she quickly disappeared beneath the cloaks again, “Vive la France!’ And I felt really moved. I do not
and we started off once more. We marched on for know why, except that I thought it a pretty and
a long time, and at last the sky began to grow gallant thing to say.
pale. The snow became quite clear, luminous, and “It seemed to me as if we had just saved the whole
bright, and a rosy tint appeared in the east. Sud- of France, and had done something that other men
denly a voice in the distance cried: could not have done, something simple, and re-
“ ‘Who goes there?’ ally patriotic. I shall never forget that little face,
“The whole detachment halted, and I advanced you may be sure, and if I had to give my opinion
to say who we were. We had reached the French about abolishing drums, trumpets, and bugles, I
lines, and as my men defiled before the outpost, a should propose to replace them in every regiment
commandant on horseback, whom I had informed by a pretty girl, and that would be even better
of what had taken place, asked in a sonorous voice, than playing the ‘Marseillaise.’ By Jove! it would
as he saw the litter pass him: put some spirit into a trooper to have a Madonna
“ ‘What have you there?’ like that, a living Madonna, by the colonel’s side.”
“And immediately a small head, covered with light He was silent for a few moments, and then with
hair, appeared, disheveled and smiling, and replied: an air of conviction, and jerking his head, contin-
“ ‘It is I, Monsieur.’ ued:
“At this, the men raised a hearty laugh, and we “You see, we are very fond of women, we French-
felt quite light-hearted, while Pratique, who was men!”
walking by the side of the litter, waved his kepi,
and shouted:

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 Selected Writings

TWO LITTLE SOLDIERS his head. This thought atoned for the lack of con-
versation; it was this, that just inside the little wood
near Les Champioux they had found a place which
EVERY SUNDAY, the moment they were dismissed, the
reminded them of their own country, where they
two little soldiers made off. Once outside the bar-
could feel happy again.
racks, they struck out to the right through
When they arrived under the trees where the
Courbevoie, walking with long rapid strides, as
roads from Colombes and from Chatou cross, they
though they were on a march.
would take off their heavy helmets and wipe their
When they were beyond the last of the houses,
foreheads. They always halted on the Bezons
they slackened pace along the bare, dusty road-
bridge to look at the Seine, and would remain there
way which goes toward Bezons.
two or three minutes, bent double, leaning on the
They were both small and thin, and looked quite
parapet.
lost in their coats, which were too big and too
Sometimes they would gaze out over the great
long. Their sleeves hung down over their hands,
basin of Argenteuil, where the skiffs might be seen
and they found their enormous red breeches,
scudding, with their white, careening sails, recall-
which compelled them to waddle, very much in
ing perhaps the look of the Breton waters, the
the way. Under their stiff, high helmets their faces
harbor of Vanne, near which they lived, and the
had little character—two poor, sallow Breton faces,
fishing-boats standing out across the Morbihan to
simple with an almost animal simplicity, and with
the open sea.
gentle and quiet blue eyes.
Just beyond the Seine they bought their provi-
They never conversed during these walks, but
sions from a sausage merchant, a baker, and a
went straight on, each with the same thought in
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 De Maupassant
wine-seller. A piece of blood-pudding, four sous’ stop beside a certain landmark, a great stone, be-
worth of bread, and a liter of “petit bleu” consti- cause it looked something like the cromlech at
tuted the provisions, which they carried off in their Locneuven.
handkerchiefs. After they had left Bezons they trav- Every Sunday on arriving at the first clump of
eled slowly and began to talk. trees Luc le Ganidec would cut a switch, a hazel
In front of them a barren plain studded with switch, and begin gently to peel off the bark, think-
clumps of trees led to the wood, to the little wood ing meanwhile of the folk at home. Jean Kerderen
which had seemed to them to resemble the one carried the provisions.
at Kermarivan. Grainfields and hayfields bordered From time to time Luc would mention a name,
the narrow path, which lost itself in the young or recall some deed of their childhood in a few
greenness of the crops, and Jean Kerderen would brief words, which caused long thoughts. And their
always say to Luc le Ganidec: own country, their dear, distant country, recaptured
“It looks like it does near Plounivon.” them little by little, seizing on their imaginations,
“Yes; exactly.” and sending to them from afar her shapes, her
Side by side they strolled, their souls filled with sounds, her well-known prospects, her odors—
vague memories of their own country, with awak- odors of the green lands where the salt sea-air
ened images as naive as the pictures on the col- was blowing.
ored broadsheets which you buy for a penny. They No longer conscious of the exhalations of the
kept on recognizing, as it were, now a corner of a Parisian stables, on which the earth of the banlieue
field, a hedge, a bit of moorland, now a crossroad, fattens, they scented the perfume of the flowering
now a granite cross. Then, too, they would always broom, which the salt breeze of the open sea plucks

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 Selected Writings
and bears away. And the sails of the boats from their eyelids drooping, their fingers crossed as at
the river banks seemed like the white wings of mass, their red legs stretched out beside the pop-
the coasting vessels seen beyond the great plain pies of the field. And the leather of their helmets
which extended from their homes to the very and the brass of their buttons glittered in the ar-
margin of the sea. dent sun, making the larks, which sang and hov-
They walked with short steps, Luc le Ganidec and ered above their heads, cease in mid-song.
Jean Kerderen, content and sad, haunted by a Toward noon they began to turn their eyes from
sweet melancholy, by the lingering, ever-present time to time in the direction of the village of Bezons,
sorrow of a caged animal who remembers his lib- because the girl with the cow was coming. She
erty. passed by them every Sunday on her way to milk
By the time that Luc had stripped the slender and change the pasture of her cow—the only cow
wand of its bark they reached the corner of the in this district which ever went out of the stable to
wood where every Sunday they took breakfast. grass. It was pastured in a narrow field along the
They found the two bricks which they kept hidden edge of the wood a little farther on.
in the thicket, and kindled a little fire of twigs, over They soon perceived the girl, the only human
which to roast the blood-pudding at the end of a being within vision, and were gladdened by the
bayonet. brilliant reflections thrown off by the tin milk-pail
When they had breakfasted, eaten their bread under the rays of the sun. They never talked about
to the last crumb, and drunk their wine to the last her. They were simply glad to see her, without
drop, they remained seated side by side upon the understanding why.
grass, saying nothing, their eyes on the distance, She was a big strong wench with red hair, burned

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 De Maupassant
by the heat of sunny days, a sturdy product of the “Would you like a little? It will taste like home.”
environs of Paris. With the instinctive feeling that they were of the
Once, finding them seated in the same place, she same peasant race as she, being herself perhaps
said: also far away from home, she had divined and
“Good morning. You two are always here, aren’t touched the spot.
you?” They were both touched. Then with some diffi-
Luc le Ganidec, the bolder, stammered: culty, she managed to make a little milk run into
“Yes, we come to rest.” the neck of the glass bottle in which they carried
That was all. But the next Sunday she laughed their wine. And Luc drank first, with little swallows,
on seeing them, laughed with a protecting benevo- stopping every minute to see whether he had
lence and a feminine keenness which knew well drunk more than his half. Then he handed the
enough that they were bashful. And she asked: bottle to Jean.
“What are you doing there? Are you trying to She stood upright before them, her hands on
see the grass grow?” her hips, her pail on the ground at her feet, glad
Luc was cheered up by this, and smiled likewise: at the pleasure which she had given.
“Maybe we are.” Then she departed, shouting: “Allons, adieu! Till
“That’s pretty slow work,” said she. next Sunday!”
He answered, still laughing: “Well, yes, it is.” And as long as they could see her at all, they
She went on. But coming back with a milk-pail followed with their eyes her tall silhouette, which
full of milk, she stopped again before them, and faded, growing smaller and smaller, seeming to
said: sink into the verdure of the fields.

232
 Selected Writings
When they were leaving the barracks the week things in which they felt an interest—of the
after, Jean said to Luc: weather, of the crops, and of her master.
“Oughtn’t we to buy her something good?” They were afraid to offer her the candies, which
They were in great embarrassment before the were slowly melting away in Jean’s pocket.
problem of the choice of a delicacy for the girl At last Luc grew bold, and murmured:
with the cow. Luc was of the opinion that a little “We have brought you something.”
tripe would be the best, but Jean preferred some She demanded, “What is it? Tell me!”
berlingots because he was fond of sweets. His Then Jean, blushing up to his ears, managed to
choice fairly made him enthusiastic, and they get at the little paper cornucopia, and held it out.
bought at a grocer’s two sous’ worth of white and She began to eat the little bonbons, rolling them
red candies. from one cheek to the other where they made
They ate their breakfast more rapidly than usual, little round lumps. The two soldiers, seated before
being nervous with expectation. her, gazed at her with emotion and delight.
Jean saw her first. “There she is!” he cried. Luc Then she went to milk her cow, and once more
added: “Yes, there she is.” gave them some milk on coming back.
While yet some distance off she laughed at see- They thought of her all the week; several times
ing them. Then she cried: they even spoke of her. The next Sunday she sat
“Is everything going as you like it?” down with them for a little longer talk; and all
And in unison they asked: three, seated side by side, their eyes lost in the
“Are you getting on all right?” distance, clasping their knees with their hands, told
Then she conversed, talked to them of simple the small doings, the minute details of life in the

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 De Maupassant
villages where they had been born, while over changed. Kerderen did not understand, but he
there the cow, seeing that the milkmaid had vaguely suspected something without divining
stopped on her way, stretched out toward her its what it could be.
heavy head with its dripping nostrils, and gave a They did not say a word to one another until
long low to call her. they reached their usual halting-place, where, from
Soon the girl consented to eat a bit of bread with their constant sitting in the same spot the grass
them and drink a mouthful of wine. She often was quite worn away. They ate their breakfast
brought them plums in her pocket, for the season slowly. Neither of them felt hungry.
of plums had come. Her presence sharpened the Before long the girl appeared. As on every Sun-
wits of the two little Breton soldiers, and they chat- day, they watched her coming. When she was quite
tered like two birds. near, Luc rose and made two steps forward. She
But, one Tuesday, Luc le Ganidec asked for leave— put her milk-pail on the ground and kissed him.
a thing which had never happened before—and She kissed him passionately, throwing her arms
he did not return until ten o’clock at night. Jean about his neck, without noticing Jean, without re-
racked his brains uneasily for a reason for his membering that he was there, without even see-
comrade’s going out in this way. ing him.
The next Thursday Luc, having borrowed ten sous And he sat there desperate, poor Jean, so des-
from his bedfellow, again asked and obtained per- perate that he did not understand, his soul quite
mission to leave the barracks for several hours. overwhelmed, his heart bursting, but not yet un-
When he set off with Jean on their Sunday walk derstanding himself. Then the girl seated herself
his manner was very queer, quite restless, and quite beside Luc, and they began to chatter.

234
 Selected Writings
Jean did not look at them. He now divined why simple but deep. He wanted to cry, to run away, to
his comrade had gone out twice during the week, hide himself, never to see anybody any more.
and he felt within him a burning grief, a kind of Soon he saw them issuing from the thicket. They
wound, that sense of rending which is caused by returned slowly, holding each other’s hands as in
treason. the villages do those who are promised. It was Luc
Luc and the girl went off together to change the who carried the pail.
position of the cow. Jean followed them with his They kissed one another again before they sepa-
eyes. He saw them departing side by side. The red rated, and the girl went off after having thrown
breeches of his comrade made a bright spot on Jean a friendly “Good evening” and a smile which
the road. It was Luc who picked up the mallet and was full of meaning. To-day she no longer thought
hammered down the stake to which they tied the of offering him any milk.
beast. The two little soldiers sat side by side, motion-
The girl stooped to milk her, while he stroked less as usual, silent and calm, their placid faces
the cow’s sharp spine with a careless hand. Then betraying nothing of all which troubled their hearts.
they left the milk-pail on the grass, and went deep The sun fell on them. Sometimes the cow lowed,
into the wood. looking at them from afar.
Jean saw nothing but the wall of leaves where At their usual hour they rose to go back. Luc cut
they had entered; and he felt himself so troubled a switch. Jean carried the empty bottle to return it
that if he had tried to rise he would certainly have to the wine-seller at Bezons. Then they sallied out
fallen. He sat motionless, stupefied by astonish- upon the bridge, and, as they did every Sunday,
ment and suffering, with an agony which was stopped several minutes in the middle to watch

235
 De Maupassant
the water flowing. over—he—he leaned over—so far—so far that his
Jean leaned, leaned more and more, over the head turned a somersault; and—and—so he fell—
iron railing, as though he saw in the current some- he fell—”
thing which attracted him. Luc said: “Are you try- Choked with emotion, he could say no more. If
ing to drink?” Just as he uttered the last word Jean’s he had only known!
head overbalanced his body, his legs described a
circle in the air, and the little blue and red soldier
fell in a heap, struck the water, and disappeared.
Luc, his tongue paralyzed with anguish, tried in
vain to shout. Farther down he saw something
stir; then the head of his comrade rose to the sur-
face of the river and sank immediately. Farther
still he again perceived a hand, a single hand,
which issued from the stream and then disappear.
That was all.
The bargemen who dragged the river did not
find the body that day.
Luc set out alone for the barracks, going at a
run, his soul filled with despair. He told of the acci-
dent, with tears in his eyes, and a husky voice,
blowing his nose again and again: “He leaned

236
 Selected Writings

GHOSTS year ago, we used to live very quietly and happily

together, but ever since he has had so much to do
with the clergy, our domestic peace and happi-
JUST AT THE TIME when the Concordat was in its most
ness are at an end.”
flourishing condition, a young man belonging to
“What you have told me,” replied the official, “is
a wealthy and highly respectable middle-class fam-
as likely as it is regrettable, but I fail to see how I
ily went to the office of the head of the police at
can interfere in the matter. Your father is in full
P——, and begged for his help and advice, which
possession of all his mental faculties, and can dis-
was immediately promised him.
pose of all his property exactly as he pleases. I
“My father threatens to disinherit me,” the young
think that your protest is premature; you must wait
man began, “although I have never offended
until his will can legally take effect, and then you
against the laws of the State, of morality, or against
can invoke the aid of justice. I am sorry to say that
his paternal authority, merely because I do not
just now I can do nothing for you.”
share his blind reverence for the Catholic Church
“I think you will be able to,” the young man re-
and her clergy. On that account he looks upon
plied; “for I believe that a very clever piece of de-
me, not merely as Latitudinarian but as a perfect
ceit is being carried on.”
Atheist, and a faithful old manservant of ours, who
“How? Please explain yourself more clearly.”
is much attached to me, and who accidentally saw
“When I remonstrated with him, yesterday
my father’s will, told me in confidence that he had
evening, he referred to my dead mother, and at
left all his property to the Jesuits. I think this is
last assured me, in a voice of the deepest convic-
highly suspicious, and I fear that the priests have
tion, that she had frequently appeared to him, had
been maligning me to my father. Until less than a
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 De Maupassant
threatened him with all the torments of the authorities would assist him. The police director
damned, if he did not disinherit his son, who had asked for further information.
fallen away from God, and leave all his property “I have obtained a number of important clues,”
to the Church. Now I do not believe in ghosts.” said the young man. “In the first place, my father
“Neither do I,” the police director replied, “but I confessed to me that my mother did not appear to
cannot well do anything on such grounds, having him in our house, but in the churchyard where
nothing but superstitions to go upon. You know she is buried. My mother was consumptive for
how the Church rules all our affairs since the Con- many years, and a few weeks before her death
cordat with Rome, and if I investigate this matter she went to the village of S——, where she died
and obtain no results, I am risking my post. It would and was buried. In addition to this, I found out
be very different if you could adduce any proofs from our footman that my father has already left
for your suspicions. I do not deny that I should like the house twice, late at night, in company of X——,
to see the clerical party, which will, I fear, be the the Jesuit priest, and that on both occasions he
ruin of Austria, receive a staggering blow; try, there- did not return till morning. Each time he was re-
fore, to get to the bottom of this business, and markably uneasy and low-spirited after his return,
then we will talk it over again.” and had three masses said for my dead mother.
About a month passed, without the young Lati- He also told me just now that he has to leave home
tudinarian being heard of. Suddenly, he came one this evening on business, but, immediately after
evening, in a great state of excitement, and told he told me that, our footman saw the Jesuit go
the Inspector that he was in a position to expose out of the house. We may, therefore, assume that
the priestly deceit which he had mentioned, if the he intends this evening to consult the spirit of my

238
 Selected Writings
dead mother again, and this would be an excel- driven in the direction of the village of S——. Their
lent opportunity to solve the matter, if you do not carriage, however, did not enter the village, but
object to opposing the most powerful force in the stopped at the edge of a small wood in the imme-
Empire for the sake of such an insignificant indi- diate neighborhood. Here all four alighted: the
vidual as myself.” police director, accompanied by the young Latitu-
“Every citizen has an equal right to the protec- dinarian, a police sergeant, and an ordinary po-
tion of the State,” the police director replied; “and I liceman, the latter however, dressed in plain
think that I have shown often enough that I am clothes.
not wanting in courage to perform my duty, no “The first thing for us to do is to examine the
matter how serious the consequences may be. But locality carefully,” said the police director. “It is
only very young men act without any prospects eleven o’clock and the exorcisers of ghosts will
of success, because they are carried away by their not arrive before midnight, so we have time to
feelings. When you came to me the first time, I look round us, and to lay our plans.”
was obliged to refuse your request for assistance, The four men went to the churchyard, which lay
but to-day your request is just and reasonable. It is at the end of the village, near the little wood. Ev-
now eight o’clock; I shall expect you in two hours’ erything was as still as death, and not a soul was
time, here in my office. At present, all you have to to be seen. The sexton was evidently sitting in the
do is to hold your tongue; everything else is my public house, for they found the door of his cot-
affair.” tage locked, as well as the door of the little chapel
As soon as it was dark, four men got into a closed that stood in the middle of the churchyard.
carriage in the yard of the police-office, and were “Where is your mother’s grave?” the police di-

239
 De Maupassant
rector asked. As there were only a few stars vis- do, in case anything unforeseen should occur,
ible, it was not easy to find it, but at last they man- whereupon the sergeant and the constable left the
aged it, and the police director surveyed the neigh- churchyard, and lay down in a ditch at some dis-
borhood of it. tance from the gate, but opposite to it.
“The position is not a very favorable one for us,” Almost as soon as the clock struck half past
he said at last; “there is nothing here, not even a eleven, they heard steps near the chapel, where-
shrub, behind which we could hide.” upon the police director and the young Latitudi-
But just then, the policeman reported that he had narian went to the window in order to watch the
tried to get into the sexton’s hut through the door beginning of the exorcism, and as the chapel was
or a window, and that at last he had succeeded in in total darkness, they thought that they should
doing so by breaking open a square in a window be able to see without being seen; but matters
which had been mended with paper, that he had turned out differently from what they expected.
opened it and obtained possession of the key, Suddenly, the key turned in the lock. They barely
which he brought to the police director. had time to conceal themselves behind the altar,
The plans were very quickly settled. The police before two men came in, one of whom was carry-
director had the chapel opened and went in with ing a dark lantern. One was the young man’s fa-
the young Latitudinarian; then he told the police ther, an elderly man of the middle class, who
sergeant to lock the door behind him and to put seemed very unhappy and depressed, the other
the key back where he had found it, and to shut the Jesuit father X——, a tall, lean, big-boned man,
the window of the sexton’s cottage carefully. Lastly, with a thin, bilious face, in which two large gray
he made arrangements as to what they were to eyes shone restlessly under bushy, black eyebrows.

240
 Selected Writings
He lit the tapers, which were standing on the al- down outside it with their faces toward the grave,
tar, and began to say a “Requiem Mass”; while the and began to pray aloud, until at last the Jesuit
old man kneeled on the altar steps and served sprang up, in a species of wild ecstasy, and cried
him. out three times in a shrill voice:
When it was over, the Jesuit took the book of “Exsurge! Exsurge! Exsurge!”*
the Gospels and the holy-water sprinkler, and went Scarcely had the last words of the exorcism died
slowly out of the chapel, the old man following away, when thick, blue smoke rose out of the
him with the holy-water basin in one hand, and a grave, rapidly grew into a cloud, and began to
taper in the other. Then the police director left his assume the outlines of a human body, until at last
hiding place, and stooping down, so as not to be a tall, white figure stood behind the grave, and
seen, crept to the chapel window, where he cow- beckoned with its hand.
ered down carefully; the young man followed his “Who art thou?” the Jesuit asked solemnly, while
example. They were now looking straight at his the old man began to cry.
mother’s grave. “When I was alive, I was called Anna Maria B——,”
The Jesuit, followed by the superstitious old man, replied the ghost in a hollow voice.
walked three times round the grave; then he re- “Will you answer all my questions?” the priest
mained standing before it, and by the light of the continued.
taper read a few passages from the Gospel. Then “As far as I can.”
he dipped the holy-water sprinkler three times into “Have you not yet been delivered from purga-
the holy-water basin, and sprinkled the grave three tory by our prayers, and by all the Masses for your
times. Then both returned to the chapel, kneeled
*Arise!
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 De Maupassant
soul, which we have said for you?” rector laid his hand on the shoulder of the exor-
“Not yet, but soon, soon I shall be.” ciser with the remark:
“When?” “You are in custody.”
“As soon as that blasphemer, my son, has been Meanwhile, the police sergeant and the police-
punished.” man, who had come into the churchyard, had
“Has that not already happened? Has not your caught the ghost, and dragged it forward. It was
husband disinherited his lost son, and in his place the sexton, who had put on a flowing, white dress,
made the Church his heir?” and wore a wax mask, which bore a striking re-
“That is not enough.” semblance to his mother, so the son declared.
“What must he do besides?” When the case was heard, it was proved that
“He must deposit his will with the Judicial Au- the mask had been very skillfully made from a
thorities, as his last will and testament, and drive portrait of the deceased woman. The government
the reprobate out of his house.” gave orders that the matter should be investigated
“Consider well what you are saying; must this as secretly as possible, and left the punishment of
really be?” Father X——to the spiritual authorities, which was
“It must, or otherwise I shall have to languish in a matter of necessity, at a time when priests were
purgatory much longer,” the sepulchral voice re- outside of the jurisdiction of the civil authorities. It
plied with a deep sigh; but the next moment the is needless to say that Father X——was very com-
ghost yelled out in terror: “Oh! Good Lord!” and fortable during his imprisonment in a monastery,
began to run away as fast as it could. A shrill whistle in a part of the country which abounded with game
was heard, and then another, and the police di- and trout.

242
 Selected Writings
The only valuable result of the amusing ghost
story was that it brought about a reconciliation
WAS IT A DREAM?
between father and son; the former, as a matter
“I HAD LOVED HER MADLY!
of fact, felt such deep respect for priests and their
“Why does one love? Why does one love? How
ghosts in consequence of the apparition, that a
queer it is to see only one being in the world, to
short time after his wife had left purgatory for the
have only one thought in one’s mind, only one
last time in order to talk with him, he turned Prot-
desire in the heart, and only one name on the
estant.
lips—a name which comes up continually, rising,
like the water in a spring, from the depths of the
soul to the lips, a name which one repeats over
and over again, which one whispers ceaselessly,
everywhere, like a prayer.
“I am going to tell you our story, for love only
has one, which is always the same. I met her and
loved her; that is all. And for a whole year I have
lived on her tenderness, on her caresses, in her
arms, in her dresses, on her words, so completely
wrapped up, bound, and absorbed in everything
which came from her, that I no longer cared
whether it was day or night, or whether I was dead
or alive, on this old earth of ours.
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 De Maupassant
“And then she died. How? I do not know; I no about her.
longer know anything. But one evening she came “They consulted me about the funeral, but I do
home wet, for it was raining heavily, and the next not remember anything that they said, though I
day she coughed, and she coughed for about a recollected the coffin, and the sound of the ham-
week, and took to her bed. What happened I do mer when they nailed her down in it. Oh! God,
not remember now, but doctors came, wrote, and God!
went away. Medicines were brought, and some “She was buried! Buried! She! In that hole! Some
women made her drink them. Her hands were hot, people came—female friends. I made my escape
her forehead was burning, and her eyes bright and ran away. I ran, and then walked through the
and sad. When I spoke to her, she answered me, streets, went home, and the next day started on a
but I do not remember what we said. I have for- journey.
gotten everything, everything, everything! She
died, and I very well remember her slight, feeble * * *
sigh. The nurse said: ‘Ah!’ and I understood, I un-
derstood! “Yesterday I returned to Paris, and when I saw my
“I knew nothing more, nothing. I saw a priest, room again—our room, our bed, our furniture, ev-
who said: ‘Your mistress?’ and it seemed to me as erything that remains of the life of a human being
if he were insulting her. As she was dead, nobody after death—I was seized by such a violent attack
had the right to say that any longer, and I turned of fresh grief, that I felt like opening the window
him out. Another came who was very kind and and throwing myself out into the street. I could
tender, and I shed tears when he spoke to me not remain any longer among these things, be-

244
 Selected Writings
tween these walls which had inclosed and shel- everything that it has contained, everything that
tered her, which retained a thousand atoms of her, has passed before it, everything that has looked
of her skin and of her breath, in their impercep- at itself in it, or has been reflected in its affection,
tible crevices. I took up my hat to make my es- in its love! How I suffer!
cape, and just as I reached the door, I passed the “I went out without knowing it, without wishing
large glass in the hall, which she had put there so it, and toward the cemetery. I found her simple
that she might look at herself every day from head grave, a white marble cross, with these few words:
to foot as she went out, to see if her toilette looked
well, and was correct and pretty, from her little “ ‘She loved, was loved, and died.’
boots to her bonnet.
“I stopped short in front of that looking-glass in “She is there, below, decayed! How horrible! I
which she had so often been reflected—so often, sobbed with my forehead on the ground, and I
so often, that it must have retained her reflection. stopped there for a long time, a long time. Then I
I was standing there. trembling, with my eyes fixed saw that it was getting dark, and a strange, mad
on the glass—on that flat, profound, empty glass— wish, the wish of a despairing lover, seized me. I
which had contained her entirely, and had pos- wished to pass the night, the last night, in weep-
sessed her as much as I, as my passionate looks ing on her grave. But I should be seen and driven
had. I felt as if I loved that glass. I touched it; it was out. How was I to manage? I was cunning, and got
cold. Oh! the recollection! sorrowful mirror, burn- up and began to roam about in that city of the
ing mirror, horrible mirror, to make men suffer such dead. I walked and walked. How small this city is,
torments! Happy is the man whose heart forgets in comparison with the other, the city in which we

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live. And yet, how much more numerous the dead the thick and somber branches. I waited, clinging
are than the living. We want high houses, wide to the stem, like a shipwrecked man does to a
streets, and much room for the four generations plank.
who see the daylight at the same time, drink wa- “When it was quite dark, I left my refuge and
ter from the spring, and wine from the vines, and began to walk softly, slowly, inaudibly, through
eat bread from the plains. that ground full of dead people. I wandered about
“And for all the generations of the dead, for all for a long time, but could not find her tomb again.
that ladder of humanity that has descended down I went on with extended arms, knocking against
to us, there is scarcely anything, scarcely anything! the tombs with my hands, my feet, my knees, my
The earth takes them back, and oblivion effaces chest, even with my head, without being able to
them. Adieu! find her. I groped about like a blind man finding
“At the end of the cemetery, I suddenly perceived his way, I felt the stones, the crosses, the iron rail-
that I was in its oldest part, where those who had ings, the metal wreaths, and the wreaths of faded
been dead a long time are mingling with the soil, flowers! I read the names with my fingers, by pass-
where the crosses themselves are decayed, where ing them over the letters. What a night! What a
possibly newcomers will be put to-morrow. It is full night! I could not find her again!
of untended roses, of strong and dark cypress-trees, “There was no moon. What a night! I was fright-
a sad and beautiful garden, nourished on human ened, horribly frightened in these narrow paths,
flesh. between two rows of graves. Graves! graves!
“I was alone, perfectly alone. So I crouched in a graves! nothing but graves! On my right, on my
green tree and hid myself there completely amid left, in front of me, around me, everywhere there

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were graves! I sat down on one of them, for I could honorable, and died in the grace of the Lord.’
not walk any longer, my knees were so weak. I “The dead man also read what was inscribed on
could hear my heart beat! And I heard something his tombstone; then he picked up a stone off the
else as well. What? A confused, nameless noise. path, a little, pointed stone and began to scrape
Was the noise in my head, in the impenetrable the letters carefully. He slowly effaced them, and
night, or beneath the mysterious earth, the earth with the hollows of his eyes he looked at the places
sown with human corpses? I looked all around where they had been engraved. Then with the tip
me, but I cannot say how long I remained there; I of the bone that had been his forefinger, he wrote
was paralyzed with terror, cold with fright, ready in luminous letters, like those lines which boys trace
to shout out, ready to die. on walls with the tip of a lucifer match:
“Suddenly, it seemed to me that the slab of marble “ ‘Here reposes Jacques Olivant, who died at the
on which I was sitting, was moving. Certainly it age of fifty-one. He hastened his father’s death by
was moving, as if it were being raised. With a his unkindness, as he wished to inherit his for-
bound, I sprang on to the neighboring tomb, and tune, he tortured his wife, tormented his children,
I saw, yes, I distinctly saw the stone which I had deceived his neighbors, robbed everyone he could,
just quitted rise upright. Then the dead person ap- and died wretched.’
peared, a naked skeleton, pushing the stone back “When he had finished writing, the dead man
with its bent back. I saw it quite clearly, although stood motionless, looking at his work. On turning
the night was so dark. On the cross I could read: round I saw that all the graves were open, that all
“ ‘Here lies Jacques Olivant, who died at the age the dead bodies had emerged from them, and that
of fifty-one. He loved his family, was kind and all had effaced the lies inscribed on the gravestones

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by their relations, substituting the truth instead. “ ‘She loved, was loved, and died.’
And I saw that all had been the tormentors of their
neighbors—malicious, dishonest, hypocrites, liars, I now saw:
rogues, calumniators, envious; that they had sto- “ ‘Having gone out in the rain one day, in order
len, deceived, performed every disgraceful, every to deceive her lover, she caught cold and died.’
abominable action, these good fathers, these faith-
ful wives, these devoted sons, these chaste daugh- * * *
ters, these honest tradesmen, these men and
women who were called irreproachable. They were “It appears that they found me at daybreak, lying
all writing at the same time, on the threshold of on the grave unconscious.”
their eternal abode, the truth, the terrible and the
holy truth of which everybody was ignorant, or
pretended to be ignorant, while they were alive.
“I thought that she also must have written some-
thing on her tombstone, and now running with-
out any fear among the half-open coffins, among
the corpses and skeletons, I went toward her, sure
that I should find her immediately. I recognized
her at once, without seeing her face, which was
covered by the winding-sheet, and on the marble
cross, where shortly before I had read:

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THE DIARY OF A MADMAN mayed notary in the desk where the judge had
kept filed the records of great criminals! It was
entitled:
HE WAS DEAD—the head of a high tribunal, the up-
right magistrate, whose irreproachable life was a
WHY?
proverb in all the courts of France. Advocates,
young counselors, judges had saluted, bowing low
June 20, 1851. I have just left court. I have con-
in token of profound respect, remembering that
demned Blondel to death! Now, why did this man
grand face, pale and thin, illumined by two bright,
kill his five children? Frequently one meets with
deep-set eyes.
people to whom killing is a pleasure. Yes, yes, it
He had passed his life in pursuing crime and in
should be a pleasure—the greatest of all, perhaps,
protecting the weak. Swindlers and murderers had
for is not killing most like creating? To make and
no more redoubtable enemy, for he seemed to
to destroy! These two words contain the history
read in the recesses of their souls their most se-
of the universe, the history of all worlds, all that
cret thoughts.
is, all! Why is it not intoxicating to kill?
He was dead, now, at the age of eighty-two, hon-
June 25. To think that there is a being who lives,
ored by the homage and followed by the regrets
who walks, who runs. A being? What is a being?
of a whole people. Soldiers in red breeches had
An animated thing which bears in it the principle
escorted him to the tomb, and men in white cra-
of motion, and a will ruling that principle. It clings
vats had shed on his grave tears that seemed to
to nothing, this thing. Its feet are independent of
be real.
the ground. It is a grain of life that moves on the
But listen to the strange paper found by the dis-
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earth, and this grain of life, coming I know not ters another nation. It is a feast of blood, a feast
whence, one can destroy at one’s will. Then noth- that maddens armies and intoxicates the civilians,
ing nothing more. It perishes; it is finished. women and children, who read, by lamplight at
June 26. Why, then, is it a crime to kill? Yes, why? night, the feverish story of massacre.
On the contrary, it is the law of nature. Every be- And do we despise those picked out to accom-
ing has the mission to kill; he kills to live, and he plish these butcheries of men? No, they are loaded
lives to kill. The beast kills without ceasing, all day, with honors. They are clad in gold and in resplen-
every instant of its existence. Man kills without dent stuffs; they wear plumes on their heads and
ceasing, to nourish himself; but since in addition ornaments on their breasts; and they are given
he needs to kill for pleasure, he has invented the crosses, rewards, titles of every kind. They are proud,
chase! The child kills the insects he finds, the little respected, loved by women, cheered by the crowd,
birds, all the little animals that come in his way. solely because their mission is to shed human blood!
But this does not suffice for the irresistible need of They drag through the streets their instruments of
massacre that is in us. It is not enough to kill beasts; death, and the passer-by, clad in black, looks on
we must kill man too. Long ago this need was with envy. For to kill is the great law put by nature
satisfied by human sacrifice. Now, the necessity of in the heart of existence! There is nothing more
living in society has made murder a crime. We beautiful and honorable than killing!
condemn and punish the assassin! But as we can- June 30. To kill is the law, because Nature loves
not live without yielding to this natural and impe- eternal youth. She seems to cry in all her uncon-
rious instinct of death, we relieve ourselves from scious acts: “Quick! quick! quick!” The more she
time to time, by wars. Then a whole nation slaugh- destroys, the more she renews herself.

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 Selected Writings
July 2. It must be a pleasure, unique and full of room. From time to time I squeezed it tighter; its
zest, to kill to place before you a living, thinking heart beat faster; it was atrocious and delicious. I
being; to make therein a little hole, nothing but a was nearly choking it. But I could not see the blood.
little hole, and to see that red liquid flow which is Then I took scissors, short nail scissors, and I cut
the blood, which is the life; and then to have be- its throat in three strokes, quite gently. It opened
fore you only a heap of limp flesh, cold, inert, void its bill, it struggled to escape me, but I held it, oh! I
of thought! held it—I could have held a mad dog—and I saw
August 5. I, who have passed my life in judging, the blood trickle.
condemning, killing by words pronounced, killing And then I did as assassins do—real ones. I
by the guillotine those who had killed by the knife, washed the scissors and washed my hands. I
if I should do as all the assassins whom I have sprinkled water, and took the body, the corpse, to
smitten have done, I, I—who would know it? the garden to hide it. I buried it under a straw-
August 10. Who would ever know? Who would berry-plant. It will never be found. Every day I can
ever suspect me, especially if I should choose a eat a strawberry from that plant. How one can
being I had no interest in doing away with? enjoy life, when one knows how!
August 22. I could resist no longer. I have killed My servant cried; he thought his bird flown. How
a little creature as an experiment, as a beginning. could he suspect me? Ah!
Jean, my servant, had a goldfinch in a cage hung August 25. I must kill a man! I must!
in the office window. I sent him on an errand, and August 30. It is done. But what a little thing! I
I took the little bird in my hand, in my hand where had gone for a walk in the forest of Vernes. I was
I felt its heart beat. It was warm. I went up to my thinking of nothing, literally nothing. See! a child

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 De Maupassant
on the road, a little child eating a slice of bread September 1. Two tramps have been arrested.
and butter. He stops to see me pass and says, “Good Proofs are lacking.
day, Mr. President.” September 2. The parents have been to see me.
And the thought enters my head: “Shall I kill him?” They wept! Ah!
I answer: “You are alone, my boy?” October 6. Nothing has been discovered. Some
“Yes, sir.” strolling vagabond must have done the deed. Ah!
“All alone in the wood?” If I had seen the blood flow it seems to me I should
“Yes, sir.” be tranquil now!
The wish to kill him intoxicated me like wine. I October 10. Yet another. I was walking by the
approached him quite softly, persuaded that he was river, after breakfast. And I saw, under a willow, a
going to run away. And suddenly I seized him by fisherman asleep. It was noon. A spade, as if ex-
the throat. He held my wrists in his little hands, and pressly put there for me, was standing in a potato-
his body writhed like a feather on the fire. Then he field near by.
moved no more. I threw the body in the ditch, then I took it. I returned; I raised it like a club, and
some weeds on top of it. I returned home and dined with one blow of the edge I cleft the fisherman’s
well. What a little thing it was! In the evening I was head. Oh! he bled, this one!—rose-colored blood.
very gay, light, rejuvenated, and passed the evening It flowed into the water quite gently. And I went
at the Prefect’s. They found me witty. But I have away with a grave step. If I had been seen! Ah! I
not seen blood! I am not tranquil. should have made an excellent assassin.
August 31. The body has been discovered. They October 25. The affair of the fisherman makes a
are hunting for the assassin. Ah! great noise. His nephew, who fished with him, is

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 Selected Writings
charged with the murder. Now, I shall wait, I can wait. It would take such a
October 26. The examining magistrate affirms little thing to let myself be caught.
that the nephew is guilty. Everybody in town be-
lieves it. Ah! ah! * * *
October 27. The nephew defends himself badly.
He had gone to the village to buy bread and The manuscript contained more pages, but told of
cheese, he declares. He swears that his uncle had no new crime.
been killed in his absence! Who would believe him? Alienist physicians to whom the awful story has
October 28. The nephew has all but confessed, been submitted declare that there are in the world
so much have they made him lose his head! Ah! many unknown madmen; as adroit and as terrible
Justice! as this monstrous lunatic.
November 15. There are overwheming proofs
against the nephew, who was his uncle’s heir. I
shall preside at the sessions.
January 25, 1852. To death! to death! to death! I
have had him condemned to death! The advocate-
general spoke like an angel! Ah! Yet another! I
shall go to see him executed!
March 10. It is done. They guillotined him this morn-
ing. He died very well! very well! That gave me plea-
sure! How fine it is to see a man’s head cut off!

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 De Maupassant

AN UNFORTUNATE ing catches an imprudent wren on a limed twig—

in fact, she might have done whatever she liked
LIKENESS with me.
“I was under the charm of her enigmatical and
IT WAS DURING one of those sudden changes of the mocking smile, that smile in which her teeth
electric light, which at one time throws rays of gleamed cruelly between her red lips, and glistened
exquisite pale pink, of a liquid gold filtered through as if they were ready to bite and to heighten the
the light hair of a woman, and at another, rays of pleasure of the most delightful, the most volup-
bluish hue with strange tints, such as the sky as- tuous, kiss by pain.
sumes at twilight, in which the women with their “I loved everything in her—her feline suppleness,
bare shoulders looked like living flowers—it was, I her languid looks which emerged from her half-
say, on the night of the first of January at closed lids, full of promises and temptation, her
Montonirail’s, the dainty painter of tall, undulat- somewhat extreme elegance, and her hands, those
ing figures, of bright dresses, of Parisian prettiness— long, delicate white hands, with blue veins, like
that tall Pescarelle, whom some called “Pussy,” the bloodless hands of a female saint in a stained
though I do not know why, suddenly said in a low glass window, and her slender fingers, on which
voice: only the large blood-drop of a ruby glittered.
“Well, people were not altogether mistaken, in “I would have given her all my remaining youth
fact, were only half wrong when they coupled my and vigor to have laid my burning hands upon
name with that of pretty Lucy Plonelle. She had the back of her cool, round neck, and to feel that
caught me, just as a birdcatcher on a frosty morn- bright, silk, golden mane enveloping me and ca-

254
 Selected Writings
ressing my skin. I was never tired of hearing her netic attraction that inheres in such a woman?
disdainful, petulant voice, those vibrations which Nevertheless, I got cured and perfectly cured, and
sounded as if they proceeded from clear glass, that quite accidentally. This is how the enchant-
whose music, at times, became hoarse, harsh, and ment, which was apparently so infrangible, was
fierce, like the loud, sonorous calls of the Valkyries. broken.
“Good heavens! to be her lover, to be her chat- “On the first night of a play, I was sitting in the
tel, to belong to her, to devote one’s whole exist- stalls close to Lucy, whose mother had accompa-
ence to her, to spend one’s last half-penny and to nied her, as usual. They occupied the front of a
sink in misery, only to have the glory and the box, side by side. From some unsurmountable at-
happiness of possessing her splendid beauty, the traction, I never ceased looking at the woman
sweetness of her kisses, the pink and the white of whom I loved with all the force of my being. I
her demonlike soul all to myself, if only for a few feasted my eyes on her beauty, I saw nobody ex-
months! cept her in the theater, and did not listen to the
“It makes you laugh, I know, to think that I should piece that was being performed on the stage.
have been caught like that—I who give such good, “Suddenly, however, I felt as if I had received a
prudent advice to my friends—I who fear love as I blow from a dagger in my heart, and I had an
do those quicksands and shoals which appear at insane hallucination. Lucy had moved, and her
low tide and in which one may be swallowed up pretty head was in profile, in the same attitude
and disappear! and with the same lines as her mother. I do not
“But who can answer for himself, who can de- know what shadow or what play of light had hard-
fend himself against such a danger, as the mag- ened and altered the color of her delicate features,

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 De Maupassant
effacing their ideal prettiness, but the more I looked I should love her more and more every day, that
at them both, at the one who was young and the little sorceress who had so despotically and so
one who was old, the greater the distressing re- quickly conquered me. I should not allow any par-
semblance became. ticipation or any intrigue from the day she gave
“I saw Lucy growing older and older, striving herself to me, and once intimately connected, who
against those accumulating years which bring could tell whether, just as I was defending myself
wrinkles in the face, produce a double chin and against it most, the legitimate termination—mar-
crow’s-feet, and spoil the mouth. The almost looked riage—might not come?
like twins. “Why not give one’s name to a woman whom
“I suffered so, that I thought I should go mad. Yet one loves, and whom one trusts? The reason was
in spite of myself, instead of shaking off this feel- that I should be tied to a disfigured, ugly creature,
ing and making my escape out of the theater, far with whom I should not venture to be seen in pub-
away into the noise and life of the boulevards, I lic. My friends would leer at her with laughter in
persisted in looking at the other, at the old one, in their eyes, and with pity in their hearts for the
examining her, in judging her, in dissecting her man who was accompanying those remains.
with my eyes. I got excited over her flabby cheeks, “And so, as soon as the curtain had fallen, with-
over those ridiculous dimples, that were half filled out saying good day or good evening, I had my-
up, over that treble chin, that dyed hair, those lus- self driven to the Moulin Rouge.
terless eyes, and that nose, which was a carica-
ture of Lucy’s beautiful, attractive little nose. * * *
“I had a prescience of the future. I loved her, and

256
 Selected Writings
“Well,” Florise d’Anglet exclaimed, “I shall never
take mamma to the theater with me again, for the
A COUNTRY EXCURSION
men are really going crazy!”
FOR FIVE MONTHS they had been talking of going to
lunch at some country restaurant in the neighbor-
hood of Paris, on Madame Dufour’s birthday, and
as they were looking forward very impatiently to
the outing, they had risen very early that morn-
ing. Monsieur Dufour had borrowed the milkman’s
tilted cart, and drove himself. It was a very neat,
two wheeled conveyance, with a hood, and in it
Madame Dufour, resplendent in a wonderful,
sherry-colored silk dress, sat by the side of her
husband.
The old grandmother and the daughter were ac-
commodated with two chairs, and a yellow-haired
youth, of whom, however, nothing was to be seen
except his head, lay at the bottom of the trap.
When they got to the bridge of Neuilly, Mon-
sieur Dufour said: “Here we are in the country at
last!” At that warning, his wife grew sentimental
about the beauties of nature. When they got to
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 De Maupassant
the crossroads at Courbevoie, they were seized with Here and there tall factory-chimneys rose up from
admiration for the tremendous view down there: the barren soil, the only vegetation on that putrid
on the right was the spire of Argenteuil church, land, where the spring breezes wafted an odor of
above it rose the hills of Sannois and the mill of petroleum and soot, mingled with another smell
Orgemont, while on the left, the aqueduct of Marly that was even still less agreeable. At last, how-
stood out against the clear morning sky. In the dis- ever, they crossed the Seine a second time. It was
tance they could see the terrace of Saint-Germain, delightful on the bridge; the river sparkled in the
and opposite to them, at the end of a low chain of sun, and they had a feeling of quiet satisfaction
hills, the new fort of Cormeilles. Afar—a very long and enjoyment in drinking in purer air, not im-
way off, beyond the plains and villages—one could pregnated by the black smoke of factories, nor by
see the somber green of the forests. the miasma from the deposits of night-soil. A man
The sun was beginning to shine in their faces, whom they met told them that the name of the
the dust got into their eyes, and on either side of place was Bezons; so Monsieur Dufour pulled up,
the road there stretched an interminable tract of and read the attractive announcement outside an
bare, ugly country, which smelled unpleasantly. You eating-house:
would have thought that it had been ravaged by a “Restaurant Poulin, stews and fried fish, private
pestilence which had even attacked the buildings, rooms, arbors, and swings.”
for skeletons of dilapidated and deserted houses; “Well! Madame Dufour, will this suit you? Will
or small cottages left in an unfinished state, as if you make up your mind at last?”
the contractors had not been paid, reared their She read the announcement in her turn, and then
four roofless walls on each side. looked at the house for a time.

258
 Selected Writings
It was a white country inn, built by the road-side, blown and delightful to look at. She could hardly
and through the open door she could see the bright breathe, as she was laced too tightly, which forced
zinc of the counter, at which two workmen out for the heaving mass of her superabundant bosom
the day were sitting. At last she made up her mind, up to her double chin. Next, the girl put her hand
and said: on to her father’s shoulder, and jumped lightly
“Yes, this will do; and, besides, there is a view.” down. The youth with the yellow hair had got
So they drove into a large yard studded with trees, down by stepping on the wheel, and he helped
behind the inn, which was only separated from Monsieur Dufour to get the grandmother out. Then
the river by the towing-path, and got out. The they unharnessed the horse, which they tied up
husband sprang out first, and held out his arms for to a tree, and the carriage fell back, with both shafts
his wife. As the step was very high, Madame in the air. The man and boy took off their coats,
Dufour, in order to reach him, had to show the washed their hands in a pail of water, and then
lower part of her limbs, whose former slender- joined the ladies, who had already taken posses-
ness had disappeared in fat. Monsieur Dufour, who sion of the swings.
was already getting excited by the country air, Mademoiselle Dufour was trying to swing her-
pinched her calf, and then, taking her in his arms, self standing up, but she could not succeed in get-
set her on to the ground, as if she had been some ting a start. She was a pretty girl of about eigh-
enormous bundle. She shook the dust out of the teen; one of those women who suddenly excite
silk dress, and then looked round, to see in what your desire when you meet them in the street,
sort of a place she was. and who leave you with a vague feeling of un-
She was a stout woman, of about thirty-six, full- easiness and of excited senses. She was tall, had a

259
 De Maupassant
small waist and large hips, with a dark skin, very much difficulty he set his wife in motion. She
large eyes, and very black hair. Her dress clearly clutched the two ropes, and held her legs out
marked the outlines of her firm, full figure, which straight, so as not to touch the ground. She en-
was accentuated by the motion of her hips as she joyed feeling giddy from the motion of the swing,
tried to swing herself higher. Her arms were and her whole figure shook like a jelly on a dish,
stretched over her head to hold the rope, so that but as she went higher and higher, she grew too
her bosom rose at every movement she made. giddy and got frightened. Every time she was com-
Her hat, which a gust of wind had blown off, was ing back, she uttered a shriek, which made all the
hanging behind her, and as the swing gradually little urchins come round, and, down below, be-
rose higher and higher, she showed her delicate neath the garden hedge, she vaguely saw a row
limbs up to the knees each time, and the wind of mischievous heads, making various grimaces
from the perfumed petticoats, more heady than as they laughed.
the fumes of wine, blew into the faces of her fa- When a servant girl came out, they ordered lunch.
ther and friend, who were looking at her in admi- “Some fried fish, a stewed rabbit, salad, and des-
ration. sert,” Madame Dufour said, with an important air.
Sitting in the other swing, Madame Dufour kept “Bring two quarts of beer and a bottle of claret,”
saying in a monotonous voice: her husband said.
“Cyprian, come and swing me; do come and swing “We will have lunch on the grass,” the girl added.
me, Cyprian!” The grandmother, who had an affection for cats,
At last he complied, and turning up his shirt- had been petting one that belonged to the house,
sleeves, as if he intended to work very hard, with and had been bestowing the most affectionate

260
 Selected Writings
words on it, for the last ten minutes. The animal, “They are indeed two swell boats,” Monsieur
no doubt secretly pleased by her attentions, kept Dufour repeated gravely, and he examined them
close to the good woman, but just out of reach of closely, commenting on them like a connoisseur.
her hand, and quietly walked round the trees, He had been in the habit of rowing in his younger
against which she rubbed herself, with her tail up, days, he said, and when he had that in his hands—
purring with pleasure. and he went through the action of pulling the
“Hallo!” exclaimed the youth with the yellow hair, oars—he did not care a fig for anybody. He had
who was ferreting about, “here are two swell boats!” beaten more than one Englishman formerly at the
They all went to look at them, and saw two beauti- Joinville regattas. He grew quite excited at last,
ful skiffs in a wooden boathouse, which were as and offered to make a bet that in a boat like that
beautifully finished as if they had been objects of he could row six miles an hour, without exerting
luxury. They were moored side by side, like two himself.
tall, slender girls, in their narrow shining length, “Lunch is ready,” said the waitress, appearing at
and aroused in one a wish to float in them on warm the entrance to the boathouse. They all hurried
summer mornings and evenings, along flower-cov- off, but two young men were already lunching at
ered banks of the river, where the trees dip their the best place, which Madame Dufour had chosen
branches into the water, where the rushes are con- in her mind as her seat. No doubt they were the
tinually rustling in the breeze, and where the swift owners of the skiffs, for they were dressed in boat-
kingfishers dart about like flashes of blue lightning. ing costume. They were stretched out, almost ly-
The whole family looked at them with great re- ing on chairs, and were sunburned, and had on
spect. flannel trousers and thin cotton jerseys, with short

261
 De Maupassant
sleeves, which showed their bare arms, which were continually, rather embarrassed the young girl,
as strong as blacksmiths’. They were two strong who even pretended to turn her head aside, and
young fellows, who thought a great deal of their not to see them. But Madame Dufour, who was
vigor, and who showed in all their movements rather bolder, tempted by feminine curiosity,
that elasticity and grace of limb which can only be looked at them every moment, and no doubt com-
acquired by exercise, and which is so different to pared them with the secret unsightliness of her
the awkwardness with which the same continual husband. She had squatted herself on the ground
work stamps the mechanic. with her legs tucked under her, after the manner
They exchanged a rapid smile when they saw the of tailors, and kept wriggling about continually,
mother, and then a look on seeing the daughter. under the pretext that ants were crawling about
“Let us give up our place,” one of them said; “it her somewhere. Monsieur Dufour, whom the po-
will make us acquainted with them.” liteness of the strangers had put into rather a bad
The other got up immediately, and holding his temper, was trying to find a comfortable position,
black and red boating-cap in his hand, he politely which he did not, however, succeed in doing, while
offered the ladies the only shady place in the gar- the youth with the yellow hair was eating as si-
den. With many excuses they accepted, and so lently as an ogre.
that it might be more rural, they sat on the grass, “It is lovely weather, Monsieur,” the stout lady
without either tables or chairs. said to one of the boating-men. She wished to be
The two young men took their plates, knives, friendly, because they had given up their place.
forks, etc., to a table a little way off, and began to “It is, indeed, Madame,” he replied; “do you often
eat again. Their bare arms, which they showed go into the country?”

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 Selected Writings
“Oh! Only once or twice a year, to get a little of bathing while in a state of tremendous perspi-
fresh air; and you, Monsieur?” ration, of rowing in the fog at night, and they struck
“I come and sleep here every night.” their chests violently, to show how they sounded.
“Oh! That must be very nice?” “Ah! You look very strong,” the husband said and
“Certainly it is, Madame.” And he gave them such he did not talk any more of the time when he
a practical account of his daily life, that in the hearts used to beat the English. The girl was looking at
of these shopkeepers, who were deprived of the them askance now, and the young fellow with the
meadows, and who longed for country walks, it yellow hair, as he had swallowed some wine the
roused that innate love of nature, which they all wrong way, and was coughing violently, bespat-
felt so strongly the whole year round, behind the tered Madame Dufour’s sherry-colored silk dress.
counter in their shop. Madame got angry, and sent for some water to
The girl raised her eyes and looked at the oars- wash the spots.
man with emotion, and Monsieur Dufour spoke Meanwhile it had grown unbearably hot, the
for the first time. sparkling river looked like a blaze of fire and the
“It is indeed a happy life,” he said. And then he fumes of the wine were getting into their heads.
added: “A little more rabbit, my dear?” Monsieur Dufour, who had a violent hiccough, had
“No, thank you,” she replied, and turning to the unbuttoned his waistcoat and the top of his trou-
young men again, and pointing to their arms, asked sers, while his wife, who felt choking, was gradu-
“Do you never feel cold like that?” ally unfastening her dress. The youth was shaking
They both laughed, and amazed the family by his yellow wig in a happy frame of mind, and kept
telling of the enormous fatigue they could endure, helping himself to wine, and as the old grand-

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mother felt drunk, she endeavored to be very stiff He merely gave her a drunken look, without un-
and dignified. As for the girl, she showed nothing derstanding what she said. Then one of the row-
except a peculiar brightness in her eyes, while the ers came up, with two fishing-rods in his hand;
brown skin on the cheeks became more rosy. and the hope of catching a gudgeon, that great
The coffee finished them off; they spoke of sing- aim of the Parisian shopkeeper, made Dufour’s dull
ing, and each of them sang, or repeated a couplet, eyes gleam. He politely allowed them to do what-
which the others repeated enthusiastically. Then ever they liked, while he sat in the shade, under
they got up with some difficulty, and while the the bridge, with his feet dangling over the river,
two women, who were rather dizzy, were getting by the side of the young man with the yellow hair,
some fresh air, the two males, who were altogether who was sleeping soundly close to him.
drunk, were performing gymnastic tricks. Heavy, One of the boating-men made a martyr of him-
limp, and with scarlet faces, they hung awkwardly self, and took the mother.
on to the iron rings, without being able to raise “Let us go to the little wood on the Ile aux
themselves, while their shirts were continually Anglais!” he called out, as he rowed off. The other
threatening to part company with their trousers, skiff went slower, for the rower was looking at his
and to flap in the wind like flags. companion so intently, that he thought of noth-
Meanwhile, the two boating-men had got their ing else. His emotion paralyzed his strength, while
skiffs into the water. They came back, and politely the girl, who was sitting on the steerer’s seat, gave
asked the ladies whether they would like a row. herself up to the enjoyment of being on the wa-
“Would you like one, Monsieur Dufour?” his wife ter. She felt disinclined to think, felt a lassitude in
exclaimed. “Please come!” her limbs a complete self-relaxation, as if she were

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intoxicated. She had become very flushed, and “We will meet you in the wood; we are going as
breathed pantingly. The effect of the wine, in- far as Robinson’s,* because Madame Dufour is
creased by the extreme heat, made all the trees thirsty.” Then he bent over his oars again and
on the bank seem to bow, as she passed. A vague rowed off so quickly that he was soon out of sight.
wish for enjoyment, a fermentation of her blood, Meanwhile, a continual roar, which they had
seemed to pervade her whole body, and she was heard for some time, came nearer, and the river
also a little agitated by this tete-a-tete on the wa- itself seemed to shiver, as if the dull noise were
ter, in a place which seemed depopulated by the rising from its depths.
heat, with this young man, who thought her so “What is that noise?” she asked. It was the noise
pretty, whose looks seemed to caress her skin, of the weir, which cut the river in two, at the is-
and whose eyes were as penetrating and exciting land. He was explaining it to her, when above the
as the sun’s rays. noise of the waterfall they heard the song of a
Their inability to speak increased their emotion, bird, which seemed a long way off.
and they looked about them. At last he made an “Listen!” he said; “the nightingales are singing dur-
effort and asked her name, ing the day, so the females must be sitting.”
“Henriette,” she said. A nightingale! She had never heard one before,
“Why! My name is Henri,” he replied. The sound and the idea of listening to one roused visions of
of their voices calmed them, and they looked at poetic tenderness in her heart. A nightingale! That
the banks. The other skiff had gone ahead of them, is to say, the invisible witness of the lover’s inter-
and seemed to be waiting for them. The rower
called out: *A well-known restaurant on the banks of the
Seine, much frequented by the bourgeoisie.
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 De Maupassant
view which Juliette invoked on her balcony*; that Just above their heads, perched in one of the
celestial music which is attuned to human kisses; trees which hid them, the bird was still singing. He
that eternal inspirer of all those languorous ro- uttered shakes and roulades, and then long, vi-
mances which open idealized visions to the poor, brating sounds that filled the air and seemed to
tender, little hearts of sensitive girls! lose themselves in the distance, across the level
She wanted to hear a nightingale. country, through that burning silence which hung
“We must not make a noise,” her companion said, low upon the whole country round. They did not
“and then we can go into the wood, and sit down speak for fear of frightening the bird away. They
close to it.” were sitting close together, and slowly Henri’s arm
The skiff seemed to glide. They saw the trees on stole round the girl’s waist and squeezed it gently.
the island, the banks of which were so low that She took that daring hand, but without anger, and
they could look into the depths of the thickets. kept removing it whenever he put it round her;
They stopped, he made the boat fast, Henriette not, however, feeling at all embarrassed by this
took hold of Henri’s arm, and they went beneath caress, just as if it had been something quite natu-
the trees. ral which she was resisting just as naturally.
“Stoop,” he said, so she bent down, and they went She was listening to the bird in ecstasy. She felt
into an inextricable thicket of creepers, leaves, and an infinite longing for happiness, for some sud-
reed-grass, which formed an impenetrable retreat, den demonstration of tenderness, for a revelation
and which the young man laughingly called “his of divine poesy. She felt such a softening at her
private room.” heart, and such a relaxation of her nerves, that
she began to cry, without knowing why. The young
*Romeo and Juliet, Act III., Scene V.
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 Selected Writings
man was now straining her close to him, and she ing or touching each other, appearing to be irrec-
did not remove his arm; she did not think of it. oncilable enemies, as if disgust had sprung up be-
Suddenly the nightingale stopped, and a voice tween them, and hatred between their souls. From
called out in the distance: time to time Henriette called out: “Mamma!”
“Henriette!” By and by they heard a noise in a thicket, and
“Do not reply,” he said in a low voice, “you will Madame Dufour appeared, looking rather con-
drive the bird away.” fused, and her companion’s face was wrinkled with
But she had no idea of doing so, and they re- smiles that he could not check.
mained in the same position for some time. Ma- Madame Dufour took his arm, and they returned
dame Dufour had sat down somewhere or other, to the boats. Henri went on first, still without speak-
for from time to time they heard the stout lady ing, by the girl’s side, and at last they got back to
break out into little bursts of laughter. Bezons. Monsieur Dufour, who had sobered up,
The girl was still crying; she was filled with strange was waiting for them very impatiently, while the
sensations. Henri’s head was on her shoulder, and youth with the yellow hair was having a mouthful
suddenly he kissed her on the lips. She was sur- of something to eat before leaving the inn. The
prised and angry, and, to avoid him, she stood up. carriage was in the yard, with the horse in, and
They were both very pale when they quitted their the grandmother, who had already got in, was
grassy retreat. The blue sky looked dull to them, frightened at the thought of being overtaken by
the ardent sun was clouded over to their eyes, night, before they got back to Paris, the outskirts
they perceived not the solitude and the silence. not being safe.
They walked quickly side by side, without speak- The young men shook hands with them, and

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the Dufour family drove off. He was going out, feeling unhappy, though
“Good-bye, until we meet again!” the oarsmen scarcely knowing why, when Madame called him
cried, and the answers they got were a sigh and a back.
tear. “And how is your friend?” she asked, rather shyly.
“He is very well, thank you.”
* * * “Please give him our compliments, and beg him
to come and call when he is in the neighborhood.”
Two months later, as Henri was going along the She then added: “Tell him it will give me great plea-
Rue des Martyrs, he saw “Dufour, Ironmonger,” sure.”
over a door. So he went in, and saw the stout lady “I will be sure to do so. Adieu!”
sitting at the counter. They recognized each other “I will not say that; come again, very soon.”
immediately, and after an interchange of polite
greetings, he inquired after them all. * * *
“And how is Mademoiselle Henriette?” he in- The next year, one very hot Sunday, all the details
quired, specially. of that memorable adventure suddenly came back
“Very well, thank you; she is married.” to him so clearly that he revisited the “private room”
“Ah!” Mastering his feelings, he added: “To whom in the wood, and was overwhelmed with astonish-
was she married?” ment when he went in. She was sitting on the grass,
“To that young man who went with us, you know; looking very sad, while by her side, again in his
he has joined us in business.” shirt-sleeves, the young man with the yellow hair
“I remember him, perfectly.” was sleeping soundly, like some brute.

268
 Selected Writings
She grew so pale when she saw Henri, that at
first he thought she was going to faint; then, how-
ever, they began to talk quite naturally. But when
he told her that he was very fond of that spot, To return to the Guy De
and went there very often on Sundays, she looked Maupassant page
into his eyes for a long time. “I, too, often think of
it,” she replied.
go to
“Come, my dear,” her husband said, with a yawn;
“I think it is time for us to be going.” http://www.hn.psu.edu/fac-
ulty/jmanis/maupassant.htm

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269