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diff --git a/3087-h/3087-h.htm b/3087-h/3087-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b50c96c --- /dev/null +++ b/3087-h/3087-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4690 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Original Short Stories, Volume 11 (of 13), by Guy de Maupassant + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Original Short Stories of Maupassant, +Volume 11, by Guy de Maupassant + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Original Short Stories, Volume 11 (of 13) + +Author: Guy de Maupassant + +Release Date: August 16, 2006 [EBook #3087] +Last Updated: February 23, 2018 +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAUPASSANT SHORT STORIES *** + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <h1> + ORIGINAL SHORT STORIES<br />VOLUME 11 (of 13) + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + By Guy De Maupassant + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h4> + Translated by: <br /><br /> ALBERT M. C. McMASTER, B.A.<br /> A. E. + HENDERSON, B.A.<br /> MME. QUESADA and Others + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto" cellpadding="4" border="3"> + <tbody> + <tr> + <td> + <a + href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/28076/28076-h/28076-h.htm"><b>INDEX + TO ALL VOLUMES</b> </a> + </td> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + </tbody> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE UMBRELLA </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> BELHOMME'S BEAST </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> DISCOVERY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> THE ACCURSED BREAD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> THE DOWRY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> THE DIARY OF A MADMAN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> THE MASK </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> THE PENGUINS' ROCK </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> A FAMILY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> SUICIDES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> AN ARTIFICE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> DREAMS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> SIMON'S PAPA </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + THE UMBRELLA + </h2> + <p> + Mme. Oreille was a very economical woman; she knew the value of a centime, + and possessed a whole storehouse of strict principles with regard to the + multiplication of money, so that her cook found the greatest difficulty in + making what the servants call their market-penny, and her husband was + hardly allowed any pocket money at all. They were, however, very + comfortably off, and had no children; but it really pained Mme. Oreille to + see any money spent; it was like tearing at her heartstrings when she had + to take any of those nice crown-pieces out of her pocket; and whenever she + had to spend anything, no matter how necessary it might be, she slept + badly the next night. + </p> + <p> + Oreille was continually saying to his wife: + </p> + <p> + “You really might be more liberal, as we have no children, and never spend + our income.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't know what may happen,” she used to reply. “It is better to have + too much than too little.” + </p> + <p> + She was a little woman of about forty, very active, rather hasty, + wrinkled, very neat and tidy, and with a very short temper. + </p> + <p> + Her husband frequently complained of all the privations she made him + endure; some of them were particularly painful to him, as they touched his + vanity. + </p> + <p> + He was one of the head clerks in the War Office, and only stayed on there + in obedience to his wife's wish, to increase their income which they did + not nearly spend. + </p> + <p> + For two years he had always come to the office with the same old patched + umbrella, to the great amusement of his fellow clerks. At last he got + tired of their jokes, and insisted upon his wife buying him a new one. She + bought one for eight francs and a half, one of those cheap articles which + large houses sell as an advertisement. When the men in the office saw the + article, which was being sold in Paris by the thousand, they began their + jokes again, and Oreille had a dreadful time of it. They even made a song + about it, which he heard from morning till night all over the immense + building. + </p> + <p> + Oreille was very angry, and peremptorily told his wife to get him a new + one, a good silk one, for twenty francs, and to bring him the bill, so + that he might see that it was all right. + </p> + <p> + She bought him one for eighteen francs, and said, getting red with anger + as she gave it to her husband: + </p> + <p> + “This will last you for five years at least.” + </p> + <p> + Oreille felt quite triumphant, and received a small ovation at the office + with his new acquisition. + </p> + <p> + When he went home in the evening his wife said to him, looking at the + umbrella uneasily: + </p> + <p> + “You should not leave it fastened up with the elastic; it will very likely + cut the silk. You must take care of it, for I shall not buy you a new one + in a hurry.” + </p> + <p> + She took it, unfastened it, and remained dumfounded with astonishment and + rage; in the middle of the silk there was a hole as big as a + six-penny-piece; it had been made with the end of a cigar. + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” she screamed. + </p> + <p> + Her husband replied quietly, without looking at it: + </p> + <p> + “What is it? What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + She was choking with rage, and could hardly get out a word. + </p> + <p> + “You—you—have—burned—your umbrella! Why—you + must be—mad! Do you wish to ruin us outright?” + </p> + <p> + He turned round, and felt that he was growing pale. + </p> + <p> + “What are you talking about?” + </p> + <p> + “I say that you have burned your umbrella. Just look here.” + </p> + <p> + And rushing at him, as if she were going to beat him, she violently thrust + the little circular burned hole under his nose. + </p> + <p> + He was so utterly struck dumb at the sight of it that he could only + stammer out: + </p> + <p> + “What-what is it? How should I know? I have done nothing, I will swear. I + don't know what is the matter with the umbrella.” + </p> + <p> + “You have been playing tricks with it at the office; you have been playing + the fool and opening it, to show it off!” she screamed. + </p> + <p> + “I only opened it once, to let them see what a nice one it was, that is + all, I swear.” + </p> + <p> + But she shook with rage, and got up one of those conjugal scenes which + make a peaceable man dread the domestic hearth more than a battlefield + where bullets are raining. + </p> + <p> + She mended it with a piece of silk cut out of the old umbrella, which was + of a different color, and the next day Oreille went off very humbly with + the mended article in his hand. He put it into a cupboard, and thought no + more of it than of some unpleasant recollection. + </p> + <p> + But he had scarcely got home that evening when his wife took the umbrella + from him, opened it, and nearly had a fit when she saw what had befallen + it, for the disaster was irreparable. It was covered with small holes, + which evidently proceeded from burns, just as if some one had emptied the + ashes from a lighted pipe on to it. It was done for utterly, irreparably. + </p> + <p> + She looked at it without a word, in too great a passion to be able to say + anything. He, also, when he saw the damage, remained almost dumfounded, in + a state of frightened consternation. + </p> + <p> + They looked at each other, then he looked at the floor; and the next + moment she threw the useless article at his head, screaming out in a + transport of the most violent rage, for she had recovered her voice by + that time: + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you brute! you brute! You did it on purpose, but I will pay you out + for it. You shall not have another.” + </p> + <p> + And then the scene began again, and after the storm had raged for an hour, + he at last was able to explain himself. He declared that he could not + understand it at all, and that it could only proceed from malice or from + vengeance. + </p> + <p> + A ring at the bell saved him; it was a friend whom they were expecting to + dinner. + </p> + <p> + Mme. Oreille submitted the case to him. As for buying a new umbrella, that + was out of the question; her husband should not have another. The friend + very sensibly said that in that case his clothes would be spoiled, and + they were certainly worth more than the umbrella. But the little woman, + who was still in a rage, replied: + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then, when it rains he may have the kitchen umbrella, for I + will not give him a new silk one.” + </p> + <p> + Oreille utterly rebelled at such an idea. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” he said; “then I shall resign my post. I am not going to the + office with the kitchen umbrella.” + </p> + <p> + The friend interposed. + </p> + <p> + “Have this one re-covered; it will not cost much.” + </p> + <p> + But Mme. Oreille, being in the temper that she was, said: + </p> + <p> + “It will cost at least eight francs to re-cover it. Eight and eighteen are + twenty-six. Just fancy, twenty-six francs for an umbrella! It is utter + madness!” + </p> + <p> + The friend, who was only a poor man of the middle classes, had an + inspiration: + </p> + <p> + “Make your fire assurance pay for it. The companies pay for all articles + that are burned, as long as the damage has been done in your own house.” + </p> + <p> + On hearing this advice the little woman calmed down immediately, and then, + after a moment's reflection, she said to her husband: + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, before going to your office, you will go to the Maternelle + Assurance Company, show them the state your umbrella is in, and make them + pay for the damage.” + </p> + <p> + M. Oreille fairly jumped, he was so startled at the proposal. + </p> + <p> + “I would not do it for my life! It is eighteen francs lost, that is all. + It will not ruin us.” + </p> + <p> + The next morning he took a walking-stick when he went out, and, luckily, + it was a fine day. + </p> + <p> + Left at home alone, Mme. Oreille could not get over the loss of her + eighteen francs by any means. She had put the umbrella on the dining-room + table, and she looked at it without being able to come to any + determination. + </p> + <p> + Every moment she thought of the assurance company, but she did not dare to + encounter the quizzical looks of the gentlemen who might receive her, for + she was very timid before people, and blushed at a mere nothing, and was + embarrassed when she had to speak to strangers. + </p> + <p> + But the regret at the loss of the eighteen francs pained her as if she had + been wounded. She tried not to think of it any more, and yet every moment + the recollection of the loss struck her painfully. What was she to do, + however? Time went on, and she could not decide; but suddenly, like all + cowards, on making a resolve, she became determined. + </p> + <p> + “I will go, and we will see what will happen.” + </p> + <p> + But first of all she was obliged to prepare the umbrella so that the + disaster might be complete, and the reason of it quite evident. She took a + match from the mantelpiece, and between the ribs she burned a hole as big + as the palm of her hand; then she delicately rolled it up, fastened it + with the elastic band, put on her bonnet and shawl, and went quickly + toward the Rue de Rivoli, where the assurance office was. + </p> + <p> + But the nearer she got, the slower she walked. What was she going to say, + and what reply would she get? + </p> + <p> + She looked at the numbers of the houses; there were still twenty-eight. + That was all right, so she had time to consider, and she walked slower and + slower. Suddenly she saw a door on which was a large brass plate with “La + Maternelle Fire Assurance Office” engraved on it. Already! She waited a + moment, for she felt nervous and almost ashamed; then she walked past, + came back, walked past again, and came back again. + </p> + <p> + At last she said to herself: + </p> + <p> + “I must go in, however, so I may as well do it sooner as later.” + </p> + <p> + She could not help noticing, however, how her heart beat as she entered. + She went into an enormous room with grated doors all round it, and above + them little openings at which a man's head appeared, and as a gentleman + carrying a number of papers passed her, she stopped him and said timidly: + “I beg your pardon, monsieur, but can you tell me where I must apply for + payment for anything that has been accidentally burned?” + </p> + <p> + He replied in a sonorous voice: + </p> + <p> + “The first door on the left; that is the department you want.” + </p> + <p> + This frightened her still more, and she felt inclined to run away, to put + in no claim, to sacrifice her eighteen francs. But the idea of that sum + revived her courage, and she went upstairs, out of breath, stopping at + almost every other step. + </p> + <p> + She knocked at a door which she saw on the first landing, and a clear + voice said, in answer: + </p> + <p> + “Come in!” + </p> + <p> + She obeyed mechanically, and found herself in a large room where three + solemn gentlemen, all with a decoration in their buttonholes, were + standing talking. + </p> + <p> + One of them asked her: “What do you want, madame?” + </p> + <p> + She could hardly get out her words, but stammered: “I have come—I + have come on account of an accident, something—“. + </p> + <p> + He very politely pointed out a seat to her, + </p> + <p> + “If you will kindly sit down I will attend to you in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + And, returning to the other two, he went on with the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “The company, gentlemen, does not consider that it is under any obligation + to you for more than four hundred thousand francs, and we can pay no + attention to your claim to the further sum of a hundred thousand, which + you wish to make us pay. Besides that, the surveyor's valuation—” + </p> + <p> + One of the others interrupted him: + </p> + <p> + “That is quite enough, monsieur; the law courts will decide between us, + and we have nothing further to do than to take our leave.” And they went + out after mutual ceremonious bows. + </p> + <p> + Oh! if she could only have gone away with them, how gladly she would have + done it; she would have run away and given up everything. But it was too + late, for the gentleman came back, and said, bowing: + </p> + <p> + “What can I do for you, madame?” + </p> + <p> + She could scarcely speak, but at last she managed to say: + </p> + <p> + “I have come-for this.” + </p> + <p> + The manager looked at the object which she held out to him in mute + astonishment. + </p> + <p> + With trembling fingers she tried to undo the elastic, and succeeding, + after several attempts, she hastily opened the damaged remains of the + umbrella. + </p> + <p> + “It looks to me to be in a very bad state of health,” he said + compassionately. + </p> + <p> + “It cost me twenty francs,” she said, with some hesitation. + </p> + <p> + He seemed astonished. “Really! As much as that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it was a capital article, and I wanted you to see the condition it + is in.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I see; very well. But I really do not understand what it can + have to do with me.” + </p> + <p> + She began to feel uncomfortable; perhaps this company did not pay for such + small articles, and she said: + </p> + <p> + “But—it is burned.” + </p> + <p> + He could not deny it. + </p> + <p> + “I see that very well,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + She remained open-mouthed, not knowing what to say next; then, suddenly + recollecting that she had left out the main thing, she said hastily: + </p> + <p> + “I am Mme. Oreille; we are assured in La Maternelle, and I have come to + claim the value of this damage.” + </p> + <p> + “I only want you to have it re-covered,” she added quickly, fearing a + positive refusal. + </p> + <p> + The manager was rather embarrassed, and said: “But, really, madame, we do + not sell umbrellas; we cannot undertake such kinds of repairs.” + </p> + <p> + The little woman felt her courage reviving; she was not going to give up + without a struggle; she was not even afraid any more, and said: + </p> + <p> + “I only want you to pay me the cost of repairing it; I can quite well get + it done myself.” + </p> + <p> + The gentleman seemed rather confused. + </p> + <p> + “Really, madame, it is such a very small matter! We are never asked to + give compensation for such trivial losses. You must allow that we cannot + make good pocket-handkerchiefs, gloves, brooms, slippers, all the small + articles which are every day exposed to the chances of being burned.” + </p> + <p> + She got red in the face, and felt inclined to fly into a rage. + </p> + <p> + “But, monsieur, last December one of our chimneys caught fire, and caused + at least five hundred francs' damage; M. Oreille made no claim on the + company, and so it is only just that it should pay for my umbrella now.” + </p> + <p> + The manager, guessing that she was telling a lie, said, with a smile: + </p> + <p> + “You must acknowledge, madame, that it is very surprising that M. Oreille + should have asked no compensation for damages amounting to five hundred + francs, and should now claim five or six francs for mending an umbrella.” + </p> + <p> + She was not the least put out, and replied: + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, monsieur, the five hundred francs affected M. + Oreille's pocket, whereas this damage, amounting to eighteen francs, + concerns Mme. Oreille's pocket only, which is a totally different matter.” + </p> + <p> + As he saw that he had no chance of getting rid of her, and that he would + only be wasting his time, he said resignedly: + </p> + <p> + “Will you kindly tell me how the damage was done?” + </p> + <p> + She felt that she had won the victory, and said: + </p> + <p> + “This is how it happened, monsieur: In our hall there is a bronze stick + and umbrella stand, and the other day, when I came in, I put my umbrella + into it. I must tell you that just above there is a shelf for the + candlesticks and matches. I put out my hand, took three or four matches, + and struck one, but it missed fire, so I struck another, which ignited, + but went out immediately, and a third did the same.” + </p> + <p> + The manager interrupted her to make a joke. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose they were government matches, then?” + </p> + <p> + She did not understand him, and went on: + </p> + <p> + “Very likely. At any rate, the fourth caught fire, and I lit my candle, + and went into my room to go to bed; but in a quarter of an hour I fancied + that I smelt something burning, and I have always been terribly afraid of + fire. If ever we have an accident it will not be my fault, I assure you. I + am terribly nervous since our chimney was on fire, as I told you; so I got + up, and hunted about everywhere, sniffing like a dog after game, and at + last I noticed that my umbrella was burning. Most likely a match had + fallen between the folds and burned it. You can see how it has damaged + it.” + </p> + <p> + The manager had taken his cue, and asked her: “What do you estimate the + damage at?” + </p> + <p> + She did not know what to say, as she was not certain what value to put on + it, but at last she replied: + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you had better get it done yourself. I will leave it to you.” + </p> + <p> + He, however, naturally refused. + </p> + <p> + “No, madame, I cannot do that. Tell me the amount of your claim, that is + all I want to know.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think that—Look here, monsieur, I do not want to make any + money out of you, so I will tell you what we will do. I will take my + umbrella to the maker, who will re-cover it in good, durable silk, and I + will bring the bill to you. Will that suit you, monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly, madame; we will settle it so. Here is a note for the cashier, + who will repay you whatever it costs you.” + </p> + <p> + He gave Mme. Oreille a slip of paper, who took it, got up and went out, + thanking him, for she was in a hurry to escape lest he should change his + mind. + </p> + <p> + She went briskly through the streets, looking out for a really good + umbrella maker, and when she found a shop which appeared to be a + first-class one, she went in, and said, confidently: + </p> + <p> + “I want this umbrella re-covered in silk, good silk. Use the very best and + strongest you have; I don't mind what it costs.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BELHOMME'S BEAST + </h2> + <p> + The coach for Havre was ready to leave Criquetot, and all the passengers + were waiting for their names to be called out, in the courtyard of the + Commercial Hotel kept by Monsieur Malandain, Jr. + </p> + <p> + It was a yellow wagon, mounted on wheels which had once been yellow, but + were now almost gray through the accumulation of mud. The front wheels + were very small, the back ones, high and fragile, carried the large body + of the vehicle, which was swollen like the belly of an animal. Three white + horses, with enormous heads and great round knees, were the first things + one noticed. They were harnessed ready to draw this coach, which had + something of the appearance of a monster in its massive structure. The + horses seemed already asleep in front of the strange vehicle. + </p> + <p> + The driver, Cesaire Horlaville, a little man with a big paunch, supple + nevertheless, through his constant habit of climbing over the wheels to + the top of the wagon, his face all aglow from exposure to the brisk air of + the plains, to rain and storms, and also from the use of brandy, his eyes + twitching from the effect of constant contact with wind and hail, appeared + in the doorway of the hotel, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. + Large round baskets, full of frightened poultry, were standing in front of + the peasant women. Cesaire Horlaville took them one after the other and + packed them on the top of his coach; then more gently, he loaded on those + containing eggs; finally he tossed up from below several little bags of + grain, small packages wrapped in handkerchiefs, pieces of cloth, or paper. + Then he opened the back door, and drawing a list from his pocket he + called: + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le cure de Gorgeville.” + </p> + <p> + The priest advanced. He was a large, powerful, robust man with a red face + and a genial expression. He hitched up his cassock to lift his foot, just + as the women hold up their skirts, and climbed into the coach. + </p> + <p> + “The schoolmaster of Rollebose-les-Grinets.” + </p> + <p> + The man hastened forward, tall, timid, wearing a long frock coat which + fell to his knees, and he in turn disappeared through the open door. + </p> + <p> + “Maitre Poiret, two seats.” + </p> + <p> + Poiret approached, a tall, round-shouldered man, bent by the plow, + emaciated through abstinence, bony, with a skin dried by a sparing use of + water. His wife followed him, small and thin, like a tired animal, + carrying a large green umbrella in her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Maitre Rabot, two seats.” + </p> + <p> + Rabot hesitated, being of an undecided nature. He asked: + </p> + <p> + “You mean me?” + </p> + <p> + The driver was going to answer with a jest, when Rabot dived head first + towards the door, pushed forward by a vigorous shove from his wife, a + tall, square woman with a large, round stomach like a barrel, and hands as + large as hams. + </p> + <p> + Rabot slipped into the wagon like a rat entering a hole. + </p> + <p> + “Maitre Caniveau.” + </p> + <p> + A large peasant, heavier than an ox, made the springs bend, and was in + turn engulfed in the interior of the yellow chest. + </p> + <p> + “Maitre Belhomme.” + </p> + <p> + Belhomme, tall and thin, came forward, his neck bent, his head hanging, a + handkerchief held to his ear as if he were suffering from a terrible + toothache. + </p> + <p> + All these people wore the blue blouse over quaint and antique coats of a + black or greenish cloth, Sunday clothes which they would only uncover in + the streets of Havre. Their heads were covered by silk caps at high as + towers, the emblem of supreme elegance in the small villages of Normandy. + </p> + <p> + Cesaire Horlaville closed the door, climbed up on his box and snapped his + whip. + </p> + <p> + The three horses awoke and, tossing their heads, shook their bells. + </p> + <p> + The driver then yelling “Get up!” as loud as he could, whipped up his + horses. They shook themselves, and, with an effort, started off at a slow, + halting gait. And behind them came the coach, rattling its shaky windows + and iron springs, making a terrible clatter of hardware and glass, while + the passengers were tossed hither and thither like so many rubber balls. + </p> + <p> + At first all kept silent out of respect for the priest, that they might + not shock him. Being of a loquacious and genial disposition, he started + the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Maitre Caniveau,” said he, “how are you getting along?” + </p> + <p> + The enormous farmer who, on account of his size, girth and stomach, felt a + bond of sympathy for the representative of the Church, answered with a + smile: + </p> + <p> + “Pretty well, Monsieur le cure, pretty well. And how are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I'm always well and healthy.” + </p> + <p> + “And you, Maitre Poiret?” asked the abbe. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I'd be all right only the colzas ain't a-goin' to give much this + year, and times are so hard that they are the only things worth while + raisin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what can you expect? Times are hard.” + </p> + <p> + “Hub! I should say they were hard,” sounded the rather virile voice of + Rabot's big consort. + </p> + <p> + As she was from a neighboring village, the priest only knew her by name. + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Blondel?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm the one that married Rabot.” + </p> + <p> + Rabot, slender, timid, and self-satisfied, bowed smilingly, bending his + head forward as though to say: “Yes, I'm the Rabot whom Blondel married.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Maitre Belhomme, still holding his handkerchief to his ear, began + groaning in a pitiful fashion. He was going “Oh-oh-oh!” and stamping his + foot in order to show his terrible suffering. + </p> + <p> + “You must have an awful toothache,” said the priest. + </p> + <p> + The peasant stopped moaning for a minute and answered: + </p> + <p> + “No, Monsieur le cure, it is not the teeth. It's my ear-away down at the + bottom of my ear.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what have you got in your ear? A lump of wax?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know whether it's wax; but I know that it is a bug, a big bug, + that crawled in while I was asleep in the haystack.” + </p> + <p> + “A bug! Are you sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Am I sure? As sure as I am of heaven, Monsieur le cure! I can feel it + gnawing at the bottom of my ear! It's eating my head for sure! It's eating + my head! Oh-oh-oh!” And he began to stamp his foot again. + </p> + <p> + Great interest had been aroused among the spectators. Each one gave his + bit of advice. Poiret claimed that it was a spider, the teacher, thought + it might be a caterpillar. He had already seen such a thing once, at + Campemuret, in Orne, where he had been for six years. In this case the + caterpillar had gone through the head and out at the nose. But the man + remained deaf in that ear ever after, the drum having been pierced. + </p> + <p> + “It's more likely to be a worm,” said the priest. + </p> + <p> + Maitre Belhomme, his head resting against the door, for he had been the + last one to enter, was still moaning. + </p> + <p> + “Oh—oh—oh! I think it must be an ant, a big ant—there it + is biting again. Oh, Monsieur le cure, how it hurts! how it hurts!” + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen the doctor?” asked Caniveau. + </p> + <p> + “I should say not!” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + The fear of the doctor seemed to cure Belhomme. He straightened up + without, however, dropping his handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “What! You have money for them, for those loafers? He would have come + once, twice, three times, four times, five times! That means two + five-franc pieces, two five-franc pieces, for sure. And what would he have + done, the loafer, tell me, what would he have done? Can you tell me?” + </p> + <p> + Caniveau was laughing. + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't know. Where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to Havre, to see Chambrelan.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is Chambrelan?” + </p> + <p> + “The healer, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “What healer?” + </p> + <p> + “The healer who cured my father.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the healer who cured my father years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the matter with your father?” + </p> + <p> + “A draught caught him in the back, so that he couldn't move hand or foot.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what did your friend Chambrelan do to him?” + </p> + <p> + “He kneaded his back with both hands as though he were making bread! And + he was all right in a couple of hours!” + </p> + <p> + Belhomme thought that Chambrelan must also have used some charm, but he + did not dare say so before the priest. Caniveau replied, laughing: + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure it isn't a rabbit that you have in your ear? He might have + taken that hole for his home. Wait, I'll make him run away.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Caniveau, making a megaphone of his hands, began to mimic the + barking of hounds. He snapped, howled, growled, barked. And everybody in + the carriage began to roar, even the schoolmaster, who, as a rule, never + ever smiled. + </p> + <p> + However, as Belhomme seemed angry at their making fun of him, the priest + changed the conversation and turning to Rabot's big wife, said: + </p> + <p> + “You have a large family, haven't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, Monsieur le cure—and it's a pretty hard matter to bring + them up!” + </p> + <p> + Rabot agreed, nodding his head as though to say: “Oh, yes, it's a hard + thing to bring up!” + </p> + <p> + “How many children?” + </p> + <p> + She replied authoritatively in a strong, clear voice: + </p> + <p> + “Sixteen children, Monsieur le cure, fifteen of them by my husband!” + </p> + <p> + And Rabot smiled broadly, nodding his head. He was responsible for + fifteen, he alone, Rabot! His wife said so! Therefore there could be no + doubt about it. And he was proud! + </p> + <p> + And whose was the sixteenth? She didn't tell. It was doubtless the first. + Perhaps everybody knew, for no one was surprised. Even Caniveau kept mum. + </p> + <p> + But Belhomme began to moan again: + </p> + <p> + “Oh-oh-oh! It's scratching about in the bottom of my ear! Oh, dear, oh, + dear!” + </p> + <p> + The coach just then stopped at the Cafe Polyto. The priest said: + </p> + <p> + “If someone were to pour a little water into your ear, it might perhaps + drive it out. Do you want to try?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure! I am willing.” + </p> + <p> + And everybody got out in order to witness the operation. The priest asked + for a bowl, a napkin and a glass of water, then he told the teacher to + hold the patient's head over on one side, and, as soon as the liquid + should have entered the ear, to turn his head over suddenly on the other + side. + </p> + <p> + But Caniveau, who was already peering into Belhomme's ear to see if he + couldn't discover the beast, shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Gosh! What a mess! You'll have to clear that out, old man. Your rabbit + could never get through that; his feet would stick.” + </p> + <p> + The priest in turn examined the passage and saw that it was too narrow and + too congested for him to attempt to expel the animal. It was the teacher + who cleared out this passage by means of a match and a bit of cloth. Then, + in the midst of the general excitement, the priest poured into the passage + half a glass of water, which trickled over the face through the hair and + down the neck of the patient. Then the schoolmaster quickly twisted the + head round over the bowl, as though he were trying to unscrew it. A couple + of drops dripped into the white bowl. All the passengers rushed forward. + No insect had come out. + </p> + <p> + However, Belhomme exclaimed: “I don't feel anything any more.” The priest + triumphantly exclaimed: “Certainly it has been drowned.” Everybody was + happy and got back into the coach. + </p> + <p> + But hardly had they started when Belhomme began to cry out again. The bug + had aroused itself and had become furious. He even declared that it had + now entered his head and was eating his brain. He was howling with such + contortions that Poiret's wife, thinking him possessed by the devil, began + to cry and to cross herself. Then, the pain abating a little, the sick man + began to tell how it was running round in his ear. With his finger he + imitated the movements of the body, seeming to see it, to follow it with + his eyes: “There it goes up again! Oh—oh—oh—what + torture!” + </p> + <p> + Caniveau was getting impatient. “It's the water that is making the bug + angry. It is probably more accustomed to wine.” + </p> + <p> + Everybody laughed, and he continued: “When we get to the Cafe Bourbeux, + give it some brandy, and it won't bother you any more, I wager.” + </p> + <p> + But Belhomme could contain himself no longer; he began howling as though + his soul were being torn from his body. The priest was obliged to hold his + head for him. They asked Cesaire Horlaville to stop at the nearest house. + It was a farmhouse at the side of the road. Belhomme was carried into it + and laid on the kitchen table in order to repeat the operation. Caniveau + advised mixing brandy and water in order to benumb and perhaps kill the + insect. But the priest preferred vinegar. + </p> + <p> + They poured the liquid in drop by drop this time, that it might penetrate + down to the bottom, and they left it several minutes in the organ that the + beast had chosen for its home. + </p> + <p> + A bowl had once more been brought; Belhomme was turned over bodily by the + priest and Caniveau, while the schoolmaster was tapping on the healthy ear + in order to empty the other. + </p> + <p> + Cesaire Horlaville himself, whip in hand, had come in to observe the + proceedings. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, at the bottom of the bowl appeared a little brown spot, no + bigger than a tiny seed. However, it was moving. It was a flea! First + there were cries of astonishment and then shouts of laughter. A flea! + Well, that was a good joke, a mighty good one! Caniveau was slapping his + thigh, Cesaire Horlaville snapped his whip, the priest laughed like a + braying donkey, the teacher cackled as though he were sneezing, and the + two women were giving little screams of joy, like the clucking of hens. + </p> + <p> + Belhomme had seated himself on the table and had taken the bowl between + his knees; he was observing, with serious attention and a vengeful anger + in his eye, the conquered insect which was twisting round in the water. He + grunted, “You rotten little beast!” and he spat on it. + </p> + <p> + The driver, wild with joy, kept repeating: “A flea, a flea, ah! there you + are, damned little flea, damned little flea, damned little flea!” Then + having calmed down a little, he cried: “Well, back to the coach! We've + lost enough time.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + DISCOVERY + </h2> + <p> + The steamer was crowded with people and the crossing promised to be good. + I was going from Havre to Trouville. + </p> + <p> + The ropes were thrown off, the whistle blew for the last time, the whole + boat started to tremble, and the great wheels began to revolve, slowly at + first, and then with ever-increasing rapidity. + </p> + <p> + We were gliding along the pier, black with people. Those on board were + waving their handkerchiefs, as though they were leaving for America, and + their friends on shore were answering in the same manner. + </p> + <p> + The big July sun was shining down on the red parasols, the light dresses, + the joyous faces and on the ocean, barely stirred by a ripple. When we + were out of the harbor, the little vessel swung round the big curve and + pointed her nose toward the distant shore which was barely visible through + the early morning mist. On our left was the broad estuary of the Seine, + her muddy water, which never mingles with that of the ocean, making large + yellow streaks clearly outlined against the immense sheet of the pure + green sea. + </p> + <p> + As soon as I am on a boat I feel the need of walking to and fro, like a + sailor on watch. Why? I do not know. Therefore I began to thread my way + along the deck through the crowd of travellers. Suddenly I heard my name + called. I turned around. I beheld one of my old friends, Henri Sidoine, + whom I had not seen for ten years. + </p> + <p> + We shook hands and continued our walk together, talking of one thing or + another. Suddenly Sidoine, who had been observing the crowd of passengers, + cried out angrily: + </p> + <p> + “It's disgusting, the boat is full of English people!” + </p> + <p> + It was indeed full of them. The men were standing about, looking over the + ocean with an all-important air, as though to say: “We are the English, + the lords of the sea! Here we are!” + </p> + <p> + The young girls, formless, with shoes which reminded one of the naval + constructions of their fatherland, wrapped in multi-colored shawls, were + smiling vacantly at the magnificent scenery. Their small heads, planted at + the top of their long bodies, wore English hats of the strangest build. + </p> + <p> + And the old maids, thinner yet, opening their characteristic jaws to the + wind, seemed to threaten one with their long, yellow teeth. On passing + them, one could notice the smell of rubber and of tooth wash. + </p> + <p> + Sidoine repeated, with growing anger: + </p> + <p> + “Disgusting! Can we never stop their coming to France?” + </p> + <p> + I asked, smiling: + </p> + <p> + “What have you got against them? As far as I am concerned, they don't + worry me.” + </p> + <p> + He snapped out: + </p> + <p> + “Of course they don't worry you! But I married one of them.” + </p> + <p> + I stopped and laughed at him. + </p> + <p> + “Go ahead and tell me about it. Does she make you very unhappy?” + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “No, not exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “Then she—is not true to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, she is. That would be cause for a divorce, and I could get + rid of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'm afraid I don't understand!” + </p> + <p> + “You don't understand? I'm not surprised. Well, she simply learned how to + speak French—that's all! Listen. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't have the least desire of getting married when I went to spend + the summer at Etretat two years ago. There is nothing more dangerous than + watering-places. You have no idea how it suits young girls. Paris is the + place for women and the country for young girls. + </p> + <p> + “Donkey rides, surf-bathing, breakfast on the grass, all these things are + traps set for the marriageable man. And, really, there is nothing prettier + than a child about eighteen, running through a field or picking flowers + along the road. + </p> + <p> + “I made the acquaintance of an English family who were stopping at the + same hotel where I was. The father looked like those men you see over + there, and the mother was like all other Englishwomen. + </p> + <p> + “They had two sons, the kind of boys who play rough games with balls, bats + or rackets from morning till night; then came two daughters, the elder a + dry, shrivelled-up Englishwoman, the younger a dream of beauty, a heavenly + blonde. When those chits make up their minds to be pretty, they are + divine. This one had blue eyes, the kind of blue which seems to contain + all the poetry, all the dreams, all the hopes and happiness of the world! + </p> + <p> + “What an infinity of dreams is caused by two such eyes! How well they + answer the dim, eternal question of our heart! + </p> + <p> + “It must not be forgotten either that we Frenchmen adore foreign women. As + soon as we meet a Russian, an Italian, a Swede, a Spaniard, or an + Englishwoman with a pretty face, we immediately fall in love with her. We + enthuse over everything which comes from outside—clothes, hats, + gloves, guns and—women. But what a blunder! + </p> + <p> + “I believe that that which pleases us in foreign women is their accent. As + soon as a woman speaks our language badly we think she is charming, if she + uses the wrong word she is exquisite and if she jabbers in an entirely + unintelligible jargon, she becomes irresistible. + </p> + <p> + “My little English girl, Kate, spoke a language to be marvelled at. At the + beginning I could understand nothing, she invented so many new words; then + I fell absolutely in love with this queer, amusing dialect. All maimed, + strange, ridiculous terms became delightful in her mouth. Every evening, + on the terrace of the Casino, we had long conversations which resembled + spoken enigmas. + </p> + <p> + “I married her! I loved her wildly, as one can only love in a dream. For + true lovers only love a dream which has taken the form of a woman. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear fellow, the most foolish thing I ever did was to give my + wife a French teacher. As long as she slaughtered the dictionary and + tortured the grammar I adored her. Our conversations were simple. They + revealed to me her surprising gracefulness and matchless elegance; they + showed her to me as a wonderful speaking jewel, a living doll made to be + kissed, knowing, after a fashion, how to express what she loved. She + reminded me of the pretty little toys which say 'papa' and 'mamma' when + you pull a string. + </p> + <p> + “Now she talks—badly—very badly. She makes as many mistakes as + ever—but I can understand her. + </p> + <p> + “I have opened my doll to look inside—and I have seen. And now I + have to talk to her! + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you don't know, as I do, the opinions, the ideas, the theories of a + well-educated young English girl, whom I can blame in nothing, and who + repeats to me from morning till night sentences from a French reader + prepared in England for the use of young ladies' schools. + </p> + <p> + “You have seen those cotillon favors, those pretty gilt papers, which + enclose candies with an abominable taste. I have one of them. I tore it + open. I wished to eat what was inside and it disgusted me so that I feel + nauseated at seeing her compatriots. + </p> + <p> + “I have married a parrot to whom some old English governess might have + taught French. Do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + The harbor of Trouville was now showing its wooden piers covered with + people. + </p> + <p> + I said: + </p> + <p> + “Where is your wife?” + </p> + <p> + He answered: + </p> + <p> + “I took her back to Etretat.” + </p> + <p> + “And you, where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “I? Oh, I am going to rest up here at Trouville.” + </p> + <p> + Then, after a pause, he added: + </p> + <p> + “You have no idea what a fool a woman can be at times!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE ACCURSED BREAD + </h2> + <p> + Daddy Taille had three daughters: Anna, the eldest, who was scarcely ever + mentioned in the family; Rose, the second girl, who was eighteen, and + Clara, the youngest, who was a girl of fifteen. + </p> + <p> + Old Taille was a widower and a foreman in M. Lebrument's button + manufactory. He was a very upright man, very well thought of, abstemious; + in fact, a sort of model workman. He lived at Havre, in the Rue + d'Angouleme. + </p> + <p> + When Anna ran away from home the old man flew into a fearful rage. He + threatened to kill the head clerk in a large draper's establishment in + that town, whom he suspected. After a time, when he was told by various + people that she was very steady and investing money in government + securities, that she was no gadabout, but was a great friend of Monsieur + Dubois, who was a judge of the Tribunal of Commerce, the father was + appeased. + </p> + <p> + He even showed some anxiety as to how she was getting on, and asked some + of her old friends who had been to see her, and when told that she had her + own furniture, and that her mantelpiece was covered with vases and the + walls with pictures, that there were clocks and carpets everywhere, he + gave a broad contented smile. He had been working for thirty years to get + together a wretched five or six thousand francs. This girl was evidently + no fool. + </p> + <p> + One fine morning the son of Touchard, the cooper, at the other end of the + street, came and asked him for the hand of Rose, the second girl. The old + man's heart began to beat, for the Touchards were rich and in a good + position. He was decidedly lucky with his girls. + </p> + <p> + The marriage was agreed upon, and it was settled that it should be a grand + affair, and the wedding dinner was to be held at Sainte-Adresse, at Mother + Jusa's restaurant. It would cost a lot certainly, but never mind, it did + not matter just for once in a way. + </p> + <p> + But one morning, just as the old man was going home to luncheon with his + two daughters, the door opened suddenly, and Anna appeared. She was well + dressed and looked undeniably pretty and nice. She threw her arms round + her father's neck before he could say a word, then fell into her sisters' + arms with many tears and then asked for a plate, so that she might share + the family soup. Taille was moved to tears in his turn and said several + times: + </p> + <p> + “That is right, dear, that is right.” + </p> + <p> + Then she told them about herself. She did not wish Rose's wedding to take + place at Sainte-Adresse—certainly not. It should take place at her + house and would cost her father nothing. She had settled everything and + arranged everything, so it was “no good to say any more about it—there!” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, my dear! very well!” the old man said; “we will leave it so.” + But then he felt some doubt. Would the Touchards consent? But Rose, the + bride-elect, was surprised and asked: “Why should they object, I should + like to know? Just leave that to me; I will talk to Philip about it.” + </p> + <p> + She mentioned it to her lover the very same day, and he declared it would + suit him exactly. Father and Mother Touchard were naturally delighted at + the idea of a good dinner which would cost them nothing and said: + </p> + <p> + “You may be quite sure that everything will be in first-rate style.” + </p> + <p> + They asked to be allowed to bring a friend, Madame Florence, the cook on + the first floor, and Anna agreed to everything. + </p> + <p> + The wedding was fixed for the last Tuesday of the month. + </p> + <p> + After the civil formalities and the religious ceremony the wedding party + went to Anna's house. Among those whom the Tailles had brought was a + cousin of a certain age, a Monsieur Sauvetanin, a man given to + philosophical reflections, serious, and always very self-possessed, and + Madame Lamondois, an old aunt. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Sautevanin had been told off to give Anna his arm, as they were + looked upon as the two most important persons in the company. + </p> + <p> + As soon as they had arrived at the door of Anna's house she let go her + companion's arm, and ran on ahead, saying: “I will show you the way,” and + ran upstairs while the invited guests followed more slowly; and, when they + got upstairs, she stood on one side to let them pass, and they rolled + their eyes and turned their heads in all directions to admire this + mysterious and luxurious dwelling. + </p> + <p> + The table was laid in the drawing-room, as the dining-room had been + thought too small. Extra knives, forks and spoons had been hired from a + neighboring restaurant, and decanters stood full of wine under the rays of + the sun which shone in through the window. + </p> + <p> + The ladies went into the bedroom to take off their shawls and bonnets, and + Father Touchard, who was standing at the door, made funny and suggestive + signs to the men, with many a wink and nod. Daddy Taille, who thought a + great deal of himself, looked with fatherly pride at his child's + well-furnished rooms and went from one to the other, holding his hat in + his hand, making a mental inventory of everything, and walking like a + verger in a church. + </p> + <p> + Anna went backward and forward, ran about giving orders and hurrying on + the wedding feast. Soon she appeared at the door of the dining-room and + cried: “Come here, all of you, for a moment,” and as the twelve guests + entered the room they saw twelve glasses of Madeira on a small table. + </p> + <p> + Rose and her husband had their arms round each other's waists and were + kissing each other in every corner. Monsieur Sauvetanin never took his + eyes off Anna. + </p> + <p> + They sat down, and the wedding breakfast began, the relations sitting at + one end of the table and the young people at the other. Madame Touchard, + the mother, presided on the right and the bride on the left. Anna looked + after everybody, saw that the glasses were kept filled and the plates well + supplied. The guests evidently felt a certain respectful embarrassment at + the sight of all the sumptuousness of the rooms and at the lavish manner + in which they were treated. They all ate heartily of the good things + provided, but there were no jokes such as are prevalent at weddings of + that sort; it was all too grand, and it made them feel uncomfortable. Old + Madame Touchard, who was fond of a bit of fun, tried to enliven matters a + little, and at the beginning of the dessert she exclaimed: “I say, Philip, + do sing us something.” The neighbors in their street considered that he + had the finest voice in all Havre. + </p> + <p> + The bridegroom got up, smiled, and, turning to his sister-in-law, from + politeness and gallantry, tried to think of something suitable for the + occasion, something serious and correct, to harmonize with the seriousness + of the repast. + </p> + <p> + Anna had a satisfied look on her face, and leaned back in her chair to + listen, and all assumed looks of attention, though prepared to smile + should smiles be called for. + </p> + <p> + The singer announced “The Accursed Bread,” and, extending his right arm, + which made his coat ruck up into his neck, he began. + </p> + <p> + It was decidedly long, three verses of eight lines each, with the last + line and the last but one repeated twice. + </p> + <p> + All went well for the first two verses; they were the usual commonplaces + about bread gained by honest labor and by dishonesty. The aunt and the + bride wept outright. The cook, who was present, at the end of the first + verse looked at a roll which she held in her hand, with streaming eyes, as + if it applied to her, while all applauded vigorously. At the end of the + second verse the two servants, who were standing with their backs to the + wall, joined loudly in the chorus, and the aunt and the bride wept + outright. + </p> + <p> + Daddy Taille blew his nose with the noise of a trombone, and old Touchard + brandished a whole loaf half over the table, and the cook shed silent + tears on the crust which she was still holding. + </p> + <p> + Amid the general emotion Monsieur Sauvetanin said: + </p> + <p> + “That is the right sort of song; very different from the nasty, risky + things one generally hears at weddings.” + </p> + <p> + Anna, who was visibly affected, kissed her hand to her sister and pointed + to her husband with an affectionate nod, as if to congratulate her. + </p> + <p> + Intoxicated by his success, the young man continued, and unfortunately the + last verse contained words about the “bread of dishonor” gained by young + girls who had been led astray. No one took up the refrain about this + bread, supposed to be eaten with tears, except old Touchard and the two + servants. Anna had grown deadly pale and cast down her eyes, while the + bridegroom looked from one to the other without understanding the reason + for this sudden coldness, and the cook hastily dropped the crust as if it + were poisoned. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Sauvetanin said solemnly, in order to save the situation: “That + last couplet is not at all necessary;” and Daddy Taille, who had got red + up to his ears, looked round the table fiercely. + </p> + <p> + Then Anna, her eyes swimming in tears, told the servants in the faltering + voice of a woman trying to stifle her sobs, to bring the champagne. + </p> + <p> + All the guests were suddenly seized with exuberant joy, and all their + faces became radiant again. And when old Touchard, who had seen, felt and + understood nothing of what was going on, and pointing to the guests so as + to emphasize his words, sang the last words of the refrain: + </p> + <p> + “Children, I warn you all to eat not of that bread,” the whole company, + when they saw the champagne bottles, with their necks covered with gold + foil, appear, burst out singing, as if electrified by the sight: + </p> + <p> + “Children, I warn you all to eat not of that bread.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE DOWRY + </h2> + <p> + The marriage of Maitre Simon Lebrument with Mademoiselle Jeanne Cordier + was a surprise to no one. Maitre Lebrument had bought out the practice of + Maitre Papillon; naturally, he had to have money to pay for it; and + Mademoiselle Jeanne Cordier had three hundred thousand francs clear in + currency, and in bonds payable to bearer. + </p> + <p> + Maitre Lebrument was a handsome man. He was stylish, although in a + provincial way; but, nevertheless, he was stylish—a rare thing at + Boutigny-le-Rebours. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle Cordier was graceful and fresh-looking, although a trifle + awkward; nevertheless, she was a handsome girl, and one to be desired. + </p> + <p> + The marriage ceremony turned all Boutigny topsy-turvy. Everybody admired + the young couple, who quickly returned home to domestic felicity, having + decided simply to take a short trip to Paris, after a few days of + retirement. + </p> + <p> + This tete-a-tete was delightful, Maitre Lebrument having shown just the + proper amount of delicacy. He had taken as his motto: “Everything comes to + him who waits.” He knew how to be at the same time patient and energetic. + His success was rapid and complete. + </p> + <p> + After four days, Madame Lebrument adored her husband. She could not get + along without him. She would sit on his knees, and taking him by the ears + she would say: “Open your mouth and shut your eyes.” He would open his + mouth wide and partly close his eyes, and he would try to nip her fingers + as she slipped some dainty between his teeth. Then she would give him a + kiss, sweet and long, which would make chills run up and down his spine. + And then, in his turn, he would not have enough caresses to please his + wife from morning to night and from night to morning. + </p> + <p> + When the first week was over, he said to his young companion: + </p> + <p> + “If you wish, we will leave for Paris next Tuesday. We will be like two + lovers, we will go to the restaurants, the theatres, the concert halls, + everywhere, everywhere!” + </p> + <p> + She was ready to dance for joy. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! yes, yes. Let us go as soon as possible.” + </p> + <p> + He continued: + </p> + <p> + “And then, as we must forget nothing, ask your father to have your dowry + ready; I shall pay Maitre Papillon on this trip.” + </p> + <p> + She answered: + </p> + <p> + “All right: I will tell him to-morrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + And he took her in his arms once more, to renew those sweet games of love + which she had so enjoyed for the past week. + </p> + <p> + The following Tuesday, father-in-law and mother-in-law went to the station + with their daughter and their son-in-law who were leaving for the capital. + </p> + <p> + The father-in-law said: + </p> + <p> + “I tell you it is very imprudent to carry so much money about in a + pocketbook.” And the young lawyer smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry; I am accustomed to such things. You understand that, in my + profession, I sometimes have as much as a million about me. In this + manner, at least we avoid a great amount of red tape and delay. You + needn't worry.” + </p> + <p> + The conductor was crying: + </p> + <p> + “All aboard for Paris!” + </p> + <p> + They scrambled into a car, where two old ladies were already seated. + </p> + <p> + Lebrument whispered into his wife's ear: + </p> + <p> + “What a bother! I won't be able to smoke.” + </p> + <p> + She answered in a low voice + </p> + <p> + “It annoys me too, but not an account of your cigar.” + </p> + <p> + The whistle blew and the train started. The trip lasted about an hour, + during which time they did not say very much to each other, as the two old + ladies did not go to sleep. + </p> + <p> + As soon as they were in front of the Saint-Lazare Station, Maitre + Lebrument said to his wife: + </p> + <p> + “Dearie, let us first go over to the Boulevard and get something to eat; + then we can quietly return and get our trunk and bring it to the hotel.” + </p> + <p> + She immediately assented. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! yes. Let's eat at the restaurant. Is it far?” + </p> + <p> + He answered: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's quite a distance, but we will take the omnibus.” + </p> + <p> + She was surprised: + </p> + <p> + “Why don't we take a cab?” + </p> + <p> + He began to scold her smilingly: + </p> + <p> + “Is that the way you save money? A cab for a five minutes' ride at six + cents a minute! You would deprive yourself of nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “That's so,” she said, a little embarrassed. + </p> + <p> + A big omnibus was passing by, drawn by three big horses, which were + trotting along. Lebrument called out: + </p> + <p> + “Conductor! Conductor!” + </p> + <p> + The heavy carriage stopped. And the young lawyer, pushing his wife, said + to her quickly: + </p> + <p> + “Go inside; I'm going up on top, so that I may smoke at least one + cigarette before lunch.” + </p> + <p> + She had no time to answer. The conductor, who had seized her by the arm to + help her up the step, pushed her inside, and she fell into a seat, + bewildered, looking through the back window at the feet of her husband as + he climbed up to the top of the vehicle. + </p> + <p> + And she sat there motionless, between a fat man who smelled of cheap + tobacco and an old woman who smelled of garlic. + </p> + <p> + All the other passengers were lined up in silence—a grocer's boy, a + young girl, a soldier, a gentleman with gold-rimmed spectacles and a big + silk hat, two ladies with a self-satisfied and crabbed look, which seemed + to say: “We are riding in this thing, but we don't have to,” two sisters + of charity and an undertaker. They looked like a collection of + caricatures. + </p> + <p> + The jolting of the wagon made them wag their heads and the shaking of the + wheels seemed to stupefy them—they all looked as though they were + asleep. + </p> + <p> + The young woman remained motionless. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't he come inside with me?” she was saying to herself. An + unaccountable sadness seemed to be hanging over her. He really need not + have acted so. + </p> + <p> + The sisters motioned to the conductor to stop, and they got off one after + the other, leaving in their wake the pungent smell of camphor. The bus + started tip and soon stopped again. And in got a cook, red-faced and out + of breath. She sat down and placed her basket of provisions on her knees. + A strong odor of dish-water filled the vehicle. + </p> + <p> + “It's further than I imagined,” thought Jeanne. + </p> + <p> + The undertaker went out, and was replaced by a coachman who seemed to + bring the atmosphere of the stable with him. The young girl had as a + successor a messenger, the odor of whose feet showed that he was + continually walking. + </p> + <p> + The lawyer's wife began to feel ill at ease, nauseated, ready to cry + without knowing why. + </p> + <p> + Other persons left and others entered. The stage went on through + interminable streets, stopping at stations and starting again. + </p> + <p> + “How far it is!” thought Jeanne. “I hope he hasn't gone to sleep! He has + been so tired the last few days.” + </p> + <p> + Little by little all the passengers left. She was left alone, all alone. + The conductor cried: + </p> + <p> + “Vaugirard!” + </p> + <p> + Seeing that she did not move, he repeated: + </p> + <p> + “Vaugirard!” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him, understanding that he was speaking to her, as there was + no one else there. For the third time the man said: + </p> + <p> + “Vaugirard!” + </p> + <p> + Then she asked: + </p> + <p> + “Where are we?” + </p> + <p> + He answered gruffly: + </p> + <p> + “We're at Vaugirard, of course! I have been yelling it for the last half + hour!” + </p> + <p> + “Is it far from the Boulevard?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Which boulevard?” + </p> + <p> + “The Boulevard des Italiens.” + </p> + <p> + “We passed that a long time ago!” + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind telling my husband?” + </p> + <p> + “Your husband! Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “On the top of the bus.” + </p> + <p> + “On the top! There hasn't been anybody there for a long time.” + </p> + <p> + She started, terrified. + </p> + <p> + “What? That's impossible! He got on with me. Look well! He must be there.” + </p> + <p> + The conductor was becoming uncivil: + </p> + <p> + “Come on, little one, you've talked enough! You can find ten men for every + one that you lose. Now run along. You'll find another one somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + Tears were coming to her eyes. She insisted: + </p> + <p> + “But, monsieur, you are mistaken; I assure you that you must be mistaken. + He had a big portfolio under his arm.” + </p> + <p> + The man began to laugh: + </p> + <p> + “A big portfolio! Oh, yes! He got off at the Madeleine. He got rid of you, + all right! Ha! ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + The stage had stopped. She got out and, in spite of herself, she looked up + instinctively to the roof of the bus. It was absolutely deserted. + </p> + <p> + Then she began to cry, and, without thinking that anybody was listening or + watching her, she said out loud: + </p> + <p> + “What is going to become of me?” + </p> + <p> + An inspector approached: + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + The conductor answered, in a bantering tone of voice: + </p> + <p> + “It's a lady who got left by her husband during the trip.” + </p> + <p> + The other continued: + </p> + <p> + “Oh! that's nothing. You go about your business.” + </p> + <p> + Then he turned on his heels and walked away. + </p> + <p> + She began to walk straight ahead, too bewildered, too crazed even to + understand what had happened to her. Where was she to go? What could she + do? What could have happened to him? How could he have made such a + mistake? How could he have been so forgetful? + </p> + <p> + She had two francs in her pocket. To whom could she go? Suddenly she + remembered her cousin Barral, one of the assistants in the offices of the + Ministry of the Navy. + </p> + <p> + She had just enough to pay for a cab. She drove to his house. He met her + just as he was leaving for his office. He was carrying a large portfolio + under his arm, just like Lebrument. + </p> + <p> + She jumped out of the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Henry!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + He stopped, astonished: + </p> + <p> + “Jeanne! Here—all alone! What are you doing? Where have you come + from?” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes full of tears, she stammered: + </p> + <p> + “My husband has just got lost!” + </p> + <p> + “Lost! Where?” + </p> + <p> + “On an omnibus.” + </p> + <p> + “On an omnibus?” + </p> + <p> + Weeping, she told him her whole adventure. + </p> + <p> + He listened, thought, and then asked: + </p> + <p> + “Was his mind clear this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Good. Did he have much money with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he was carrying my dowry.” + </p> + <p> + “Your dowry! The whole of it?” + </p> + <p> + “The whole of it—in order to pay for the practice which he bought.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear cousin, by this time your husband must be well on his way + to Belgium.” + </p> + <p> + She could not understand. She kept repeating: + </p> + <p> + “My husband—you say—” + </p> + <p> + “I say that he has disappeared with your—your capital—that's + all!” + </p> + <p> + She stood there, a prey to conflicting emotions, sobbing. + </p> + <p> + “Then he is—he is—he is a villain!” + </p> + <p> + And, faint from excitement, she leaned her head on her cousin's shoulder + and wept. + </p> + <p> + As people were stopping to look at them, he pushed her gently into the + vestibule of his house, and, supporting her with his arm around her waist, + he led her up the stairs, and as his astonished servant opened the door, + he ordered: + </p> + <p> + “Sophie, run to the restaurant and get a luncheon for two. I am not going + to the office to-day.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE DIARY OF A MADMAN + </h2> + <p> + He was dead—the head of a high tribunal, the upright magistrate + whose irreproachable life was a proverb in all the courts of France. + Advocates, young counsellors, judges had greeted him at sight of his + large, thin, pale face lighted up by two sparkling deep-set eyes, bowing + low in token of respect. + </p> + <p> + He had passed his life in pursuing crime and in protecting the weak. + Swindlers and murderers had no more redoubtable enemy, for he seemed to + read the most secret thoughts of their minds. + </p> + <p> + He was dead, now, at the age of eighty-two, honored by the homage and + followed by the regrets of a whole people. Soldiers in red trousers had + escorted him to the tomb and men in white cravats had spoken words and + shed tears that seemed to be sincere beside his grave. + </p> + <p> + But here is the strange paper found by the dismayed notary in the desk + where he had kept the records of great criminals! It was entitled: WHY? + </p> + <p> + 20th June, 1851. I have just left court. I have condemned Blondel to + death! Now, why did this man kill his five children? Frequently one meets + with people to whom the destruction of life is a pleasure. Yes, yes, it + should be a pleasure, the greatest of all, perhaps, for is not killing the + next thing to creating? To make and to destroy! These two words contain + the history of the universe, all the history of worlds, all that is, all! + Why is it not intoxicating to kill? + </p> + <p> + 25th June. To think that a being is there who lives, who walks, who runs. + A being? What is a being? That animated thing, that bears in it the + principle of motion and a will ruling that motion. It is attached to + nothing, this thing. Its feet do not belong to the ground. It is a grain + of life that moves on the earth, and this grain of life, coming I know not + whence, one can destroy at one's will. Then nothing—nothing more. It + perishes, it is finished. + </p> + <p> + 26th June. Why then is it a crime to kill? Yes, why? On the contrary, it + is the law of nature. The mission of every being is to kill; he kills to + live, and he kills to kill. The beast kills without ceasing, all day, + every instant of his existence. Man kills without ceasing, to nourish + himself; but since he needs, besides, to kill for pleasure, he has + invented hunting! The child kills the insects he finds, the little birds, + all the little animals that come in his way. But this does not suffice for + the irresistible need to massacre that is in us. It is not enough to kill + beasts; we must kill man too. Long ago this need was satisfied by human + sacrifices. Now the requirements of social life have made murder a crime. + We condemn and punish the assassin! But as we cannot live without yielding + to this natural and imperious instinct of death, we relieve ourselves, + from time to time, by wars. Then a whole nation slaughters another nation. + It is a feast of blood, a feast that maddens armies and that intoxicates + civilians, women and children, who read, by lamplight at night, the + feverish story of massacre. + </p> + <p> + One might suppose that those destined to accomplish these butcheries of + men would be despised! No, they are loaded with honors. They are clad in + gold and in resplendent garments; they wear plumes on their heads and + ornaments on their breasts, and they are given crosses, rewards, titles of + every kind. They are proud, respected, loved by women, cheered by the + crowd, solely because their mission is to shed human blood; They drag + through the streets their instruments of death, that the passer-by, clad + in black, looks on with envy. For to kill is the great law set by nature + in the heart of existence! There is nothing more beautiful and honorable + than killing! + </p> + <p> + 30th June. To kill is the law, because nature loves eternal youth. She + seems to cry in all her unconscious acts: “Quick! quick! quick!” The more + she destroys, the more she renews herself. + </p> + <p> + 2d July. A human being—what is a human being? Through thought it is + a reflection of all that is; through memory and science it is an abridged + edition of the universe whose history it represents, a mirror of things + and of nations, each human being becomes a microcosm in the macrocosm. + </p> + <p> + 3d July. It must be a pleasure, unique and full of zest, to kill; to have + there before one the living, thinking being; to make therein a little + hole, nothing but a little hole, to see that red thing flow which is the + blood, which makes life; and to have before one only a heap of limp flesh, + cold, inert, void of thought! + </p> + <p> + 5th August. I, who have passed my life in judging, condemning, killing by + the spoken word, killing by the guillotine those who had killed by the + knife, I, I, if I should do as all the assassins have done whom I have + smitten, I—I—who would know it? + </p> + <p> + 10th August. Who would ever know? Who would ever suspect me, me, me, + especially if I should choose a being I had no interest in doing away + with? + </p> + <p> + 15th August. The temptation has come to me. It pervades my whole being; my + hands tremble with the desire to kill. + </p> + <p> + 22d August. I could resist no longer. I killed a little creature as an + experiment, for a beginning. Jean, my servant, had a goldfinch in a cage + hung in the office window. I sent him on an errand, and I took the little + bird in my hand, in my hand where I felt its heart beat. It was warm. I + went up to my room. From time to time I squeezed it tighter; its heart + beat faster; this was atrocious and delicious. I was near choking it. But + I could not see the blood. + </p> + <p> + Then I took scissors, short-nail scissors, and I cut its throat with three + slits, quite gently. It opened its bill, it struggled to escape me, but I + held it, oh! I held it—I could have held a mad dog—and I saw + the blood trickle. + </p> + <p> + And then I did as assassins do—real ones. I washed the scissors, I + washed my hands. I sprinkled water and took the body, the corpse, to the + garden to hide it. I buried it under a strawberry-plant. It will never be + found. Every day I shall eat a strawberry from that plant. How one can + enjoy life when one knows how! + </p> + <p> + My servant cried; he thought his bird flown. How could he suspect me? Ah! + ah! + </p> + <p> + 25th August. I must kill a man! I must— + </p> + <p> + 30th August. It is done. But what a little thing! I had gone for a walk in + the forest of Vernes. I was thinking of nothing, literally nothing. A + child was in the road, a little child eating a slice of bread and butter. + </p> + <p> + He stops to see me pass and says, “Good-day, Mr. President.” + </p> + <p> + And the thought enters my head, “Shall I kill him?” + </p> + <p> + I answer: “You are alone, my boy?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “All alone in the wood?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The wish to kill him intoxicated me like wine. I approached him quite + softly, persuaded that he was going to run away. And, suddenly, I seized + him by the throat. He looked at me with terror in his eyes—such + eyes! He held my wrists in his little hands and his body writhed like a + feather over the fire. Then he moved no more. I threw the body in the + ditch, and some weeds on top of it. I returned home, and dined well. What + a little thing it was! In the evening I was very gay, light, rejuvenated; + I passed the evening at the Prefect's. They found me witty. But I have not + seen blood! I am tranquil. + </p> + <p> + 31st August. The body has been discovered. They are hunting for the + assassin. Ah! ah! + </p> + <p> + 1st September. Two tramps have been arrested. Proofs are lacking. + </p> + <p> + 2d September. The parents have been to see me. They wept! Ah! ah! + </p> + <p> + 6th October. Nothing has been discovered. Some strolling vagabond must + have done the deed. Ah! ah! If I had seen the blood flow, it seems to me I + should be tranquil now! The desire to kill is in my blood; it is like the + passion of youth at twenty. + </p> + <p> + 20th October. Yet another. I was walking by the river, after breakfast. + And I saw, under a willow, a fisherman asleep. It was noon. A spade was + standing in a potato-field near by, as if expressly, for me. + </p> + <p> + I took it. I returned; I raised it like a club, and with one blow of the + edge I cleft the fisherman's head. Oh! he bled, this one! Rose-colored + blood. It flowed into the water, quite gently. And I went away with a + grave step. If I had been seen! Ah! ah! I should have made an excellent + assassin. + </p> + <p> + 25th October. The affair of the fisherman makes a great stir. His nephew, + who fished with him, is charged with the murder. + </p> + <p> + 26th October. The examining magistrate affirms that the nephew is guilty. + Everybody in town believes it. Ah! ah! + </p> + <p> + 27th October. The nephew makes a very poor witness. He had gone to the + village to buy bread and cheese, he declared. He swore that his uncle had + been killed in his absence! Who would believe him? + </p> + <p> + 28th October. The nephew has all but confessed, they have badgered him so. + Ah! ah! justice! + </p> + <p> + 15th November. There are overwhelming proofs against the nephew, who was + his uncle's heir. I shall preside at the sessions. + </p> + <p> + 25th January. To death! to death! to death! I have had him condemned to + death! Ah! ah! The advocate-general spoke like an angel! Ah! ah! Yet + another! I shall go to see him executed! + </p> + <p> + 10th March. It is done. They guillotined him this morning. He died very + well! very well! That gave me pleasure! How fine it is to see a man's head + cut off! + </p> + <p> + Now, I shall wait, I can wait. It would take such a little thing to let + myself be caught. + </p> + <p> + The manuscript contained yet other pages, but without relating any new + crime. + </p> + <p> + Alienist physicians to whom the awful story has been submitted declare + that there are in the world many undiscovered madmen as adroit and as much + to be feared as this monstrous lunatic. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE MASK + </h2> + <p> + There was a masquerade ball at the Elysee-Montmartre that evening. It was + the 'Mi-Careme', and the crowds were pouring into the brightly lighted + passage which leads to the dance ball, like water flowing through the open + lock of a canal. The loud call of the orchestra, bursting like a storm of + sound, shook the rafters, swelled through the whole neighborhood and + awoke, in the streets and in the depths of the houses, an irresistible + desire to jump, to get warm, to have fun, which slumbers within each human + animal. + </p> + <p> + The patrons came from every quarter of Paris; there were people of all + classes who love noisy pleasures, a little low and tinged with debauch. + There were clerks and girls—girls of every description, some wearing + common cotton, some the finest batiste; rich girls, old and covered with + diamonds, and poor girls of sixteen, full of the desire to revel, to + belong to men, to spend money. Elegant black evening suits, in search of + fresh or faded but appetizing novelty, wandering through the excited + crowds, looking, searching, while the masqueraders seemed moved above all + by the desire for amusement. Already the far-famed quadrilles had + attracted around them a curious crowd. The moving hedge which encircled + the four dancers swayed in and out like a snake, sometimes nearer and + sometimes farther away, according to the motions of the performers. The + two women, whose lower limbs seemed to be attached to their bodies by + rubber springs, were making wonderful and surprising motions with their + legs. Their partners hopped and skipped about, waving their arms about. + One could imagine their panting breath beneath their masks. + </p> + <p> + One of them, who had taken his place in the most famous quadrille, as + substitute for an absent celebrity, the handsome “Songe-au-Gosse,” was + trying to keep up with the tireless “Arete-de-Veau” and was making strange + fancy steps which aroused the joy and sarcasm of the audience. + </p> + <p> + He was thin, dressed like a dandy, with a pretty varnished mask on his + face. It had a curly blond mustache and a wavy wig. He looked like a wax + figure from the Musee Grevin, like a strange and fantastic caricature of + the charming young man of fashion plates, and he danced with visible + effort, clumsily, with a comical impetuosity. He appeared rusty beside the + others when he tried to imitate their gambols: he seemed overcome by + rheumatism, as heavy as a great Dane playing with greyhounds. Mocking + bravos encouraged him. And he, carried away with enthusiasm, jigged about + with such frenzy that suddenly, carried away by a wild spurt, he pitched + head foremost into the living wall formed by the audience, which opened up + before him to allow him to pass, then closed around the inanimate body of + the dancer, stretched out on his face. + </p> + <p> + Some men picked him up and carried him away, calling for a doctor. A + gentleman stepped forward, young and elegant, in well-fitting evening + clothes, with large pearl studs. “I am a professor of the Faculty of + Medicine,” he said in a modest voice. He was allowed to pass, and he + entered a small room full of little cardboard boxes, where the still + lifeless dancer had been stretched out on some chairs. The doctor at first + wished to take off the mask, and he noticed that it was attached in a + complicated manner, with a perfect network of small metal wires which + cleverly bound it to his wig and covered the whole head. Even the neck was + imprisoned in a false skin which continued the chin and was painted the + color of flesh, being attached to the collar of the shirt. + </p> + <p> + All this had to be cut with strong scissors. When the physician had slit + open this surprising arrangement, from the shoulder to the temple, he + opened this armor and found the face of an old man, worn out, thin and + wrinkled. The surprise among those who had brought in this seemingly young + dancer was so great that no one laughed, no one said a word. + </p> + <p> + All were watching this sad face as he lay on the straw chairs, his eyes + closed, his face covered with white hair, some long, falling from the + forehead over the face, others short, growing around the face and the + chin, and beside this poor head, that pretty little, neat varnished, + smiling mask. + </p> + <p> + The man regained consciousness after being inanimate for a long time, but + he still seemed to be so weak and sick that the physician feared some + dangerous complication. He asked: “Where do you live?” + </p> + <p> + The old dancer seemed to be making an effort to remember, and then he + mentioned the name of the street, which no one knew. He was asked for more + definite information about the neighborhood. He answered with a great + slowness, indecision and difficulty, which revealed his upset state of + mind. The physician continued: + </p> + <p> + “I will take you home myself.” + </p> + <p> + Curiosity had overcome him to find out who this strange dancer, this + phenomenal jumper might be. Soon the two rolled away in a cab to the other + side of Montmartre. + </p> + <p> + They stopped before a high building of poor appearance. They went up a + winding staircase. The doctor held to the banister, which was so grimy + that the hand stuck to it, and he supported the dizzy old man, whose + forces were beginning to return. They stopped at the fourth floor. + </p> + <p> + The door at which they had knocked was opened by an old woman, neat + looking, with a white nightcap enclosing a thin face with sharp features, + one of those good, rough faces of a hard-working and faithful woman. She + cried out: + </p> + <p> + “For goodness sake! What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + He told her the whole affair in a few words. She became reassured and even + calmed the physician himself by telling him that the same thing had + happened many times. She said: “He must be put to bed, monsieur, that is + all. Let him sleep and tomorrow he will be all right.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor continued: “But he can hardly speak.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! that's just a little drink, nothing more; he has eaten no dinner, in + order to be nimble, and then he took a few absinthes in order to work + himself up to the proper pitch. You see, drink gives strength to his legs, + but it stops his thoughts and words. He is too old to dance as he does. + Really, his lack of common sense is enough to drive one mad!” + </p> + <p> + The doctor, surprised, insisted: + </p> + <p> + “But why does he dance like that at his age?” + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her shoulders and turned red from the anger which was slowly + rising within her and she cried out: + </p> + <p> + “Ah! yes, why? So that the people will think him young under his mask; so + that the women will still take him for a young dandy and whisper nasty + things into his ears; so that he can rub up against all their dirty skins, + with their perfumes and powders and cosmetics. Ah! it's a fine business! + What a life I have had for the last forty years! But we must first get him + to bed, so that he may have no ill effects. Would you mind helping me? + When he is like that I can't do anything with him alone.” + </p> + <p> + The old man was sitting on his bed, with a tipsy look, his long white hair + falling over his face. His companion looked at him with tender yet + indignant eyes. She continued: + </p> + <p> + “Just see the fine head he has for his age, and yet he has to go and + disguise himself in order to make people think that he is young. It's a + perfect shame! Really, he has a fine head, monsieur! Wait, I'll show it to + you before putting him to bed.” + </p> + <p> + She went to a table on which stood the washbasin a pitcher of water, soap + and a comb and brush. She took the brush, returned to the bed and pushed + back the drunkard's tangled hair. In a few seconds she made him look like + a model fit for a great painter, with his long white locks flowing on his + neck. Then she stepped back in order to observe him, saying: “There! Isn't + he fine for his age?” + </p> + <p> + “Very,” agreed the doctor, who was beginning to be highly amused. + </p> + <p> + She added: “And if you had known him when he was twenty-five! But we must + get him to bed, otherwise the drink will make him sick. Do you mind + drawing off that sleeve? Higher-like that-that's right. Now the trousers. + Wait, I will take his shoes off—that's right. Now, hold him upright + while I open the bed. There—let us put him in. If you think that he + is going to disturb himself when it is time for me to get in you are + mistaken. I have to find a little corner any place I can. That doesn't + bother him! Bah! You old pleasure seeker!” + </p> + <p> + As soon as he felt himself stretched out in his sheets the old man closed + his eyes, opened them closed them again, and over his whole face appeared + an energetic resolve to sleep. The doctor examined him with an + ever-increasing interest and asked: “Does he go to all the fancy balls and + try to be a young man?” “To all of them, monsieur, and he comes back to me + in the morning in a deplorable condition. You see, it's regret that leads + him on and that makes him put a pasteboard face over his own. Yes, the + regret of no longer being what he was and of no longer making any + conquests!” + </p> + <p> + He was sleeping now and beginning to snore. She looked at him with a + pitying expression and continued: “Oh! how many conquests that man has + made! More than one could believe, monsieur, more than the finest + gentlemen of the world, than all the tenors and all the generals.” + </p> + <p> + “Really? What did he do?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it will surprise you at first, as you did not know him in his palmy + days. When I met him it was also at a ball, for he has always frequented + them. As soon as I saw him I was caught—caught like a fish on a + hook. Ah! how pretty he was, monsieur, with his curly raven locks and + black eyes as large as saucers! Indeed, he was good looking! He took me + away that evening and I never have left him since, never, not even for a + day, no matter what he did to me! Oh! he has often made it hard for me!” + </p> + <p> + The doctor asked: “Are you married?” + </p> + <p> + She answered simply: “Yes, monsieur, otherwise he would have dropped me as + he did the others. I have been his wife and his servant, everything, + everything that he wished. How he has made me cry—tears which I did + not show him; for he would tell all his adventures to me—to me, + monsieur—without understanding how it hurt me to listen.” + </p> + <p> + “But what was his business?” + </p> + <p> + “That's so. I forgot to tell you. He was the foreman at Martel's—a + foreman such as they never had had—an artist who averaged ten francs + an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Martel?—who is Martel?” + </p> + <p> + “The hairdresser, monsieur, the great hairdresser of the Opera, who had + all the actresses for customers. Yes, sir, all the smartest actresses had + their hair dressed by Ambrose and they would give him tips that made a + fortune for him. Ah! monsieur, all the women are alike, yes, all of them. + When a man pleases their fancy they offer themselves to him. It is so easy—and + it hurt me so to hear about it. For he would tell me everything—he + simply could not hold his tongue—it was impossible. Those things + please the men so much! They seem to get even more enjoyment out of + telling than doing. + </p> + <p> + “When I would see him coming in the evening, a little pale, with a pleased + look and a bright eye, would say to myself: 'One more. I am sure that he + has caught one more.' Then I felt a wild desire to question him and then, + again, not to know, to stop his talking if he should begin. And we would + look at each other. + </p> + <p> + “I knew that he would not keep still, that he would come to the point. I + could feel that from his manner, which seemed to laugh and say: 'I had a + fine adventure to-day, Madeleine.' I would pretend to notice nothing, to + guess nothing; I would set the table, bring on the soup and sit down + opposite him. + </p> + <p> + “At those times, monsieur, it was as if my friendship for him had been + crushed in my body as with a stone. It hurt. But he did not understand; he + did not know; he felt a need to tell all those things to some one, to + boast, to show how much he was loved, and I was the only one he had to + whom he could talk-the only one. And I would have to listen and drink it + in, like poison. + </p> + <p> + “He would begin to take his soup and then he would say: 'One more, + Madeleine.' + </p> + <p> + “And I would think: 'Here it comes! Goodness! what a man! Why did I ever + meet him?' + </p> + <p> + “Then he would begin: 'One more! And a beauty, too.' And it would be some + little one from the Vaudeville or else from the Varietes, and some of the + big ones, too, some of the most famous. He would tell me their names, how + their apartments were furnished, everything, everything, monsieur. + Heartbreaking details. And he would go over them and tell his story over + again from beginning to end, so pleased with himself that I would pretend + to laugh so that he would not get angry with me. + </p> + <p> + “Everything may not have been true! He liked to glorify himself and was + quite capable of inventing such things! They may perhaps also have been + true! On those evenings he would pretend to be tired and wish to go to bed + after supper. We would take supper at eleven, monsieur, for he could never + get back from work earlier. + </p> + <p> + “When he had finished telling about his adventure he would walk round the + room and smoke cigarettes, and he was so handsome, with his mustache and + curly hair, that I would think: 'It's true, just the same, what he is + telling. Since I myself am crazy about that man, why should not others be + the same?' Then I would feel like crying, shrieking, running away and + jumping out of the window while I was clearing the table and he was + smoking. He would yawn in order to show how tired he was, and he would say + two or three times before going to bed: 'Ah! how well I shall sleep this + evening!' + </p> + <p> + “I bear him no ill will, because he did not know how he was hurting me. + No, he could not know! He loved to boast about the women just as a peacock + loves to show his feathers. He got to the point where he thought that all + of them looked at him and desired him. + </p> + <p> + “It was hard when he grew old. Oh, monsieur, when I saw his first white + hair I felt a terrible shock and then a great joy—a wicked joy—but + so great, so great! I said to myself: 'It's the end-it's the end.' It + seemed as if I were about to be released from prison. At last I could have + him to myself, all to myself, when the others would no longer want him. + </p> + <p> + “It was one morning in bed. He was still sleeping and I leaned over him to + wake him up with a kiss, when I noticed in his curls, over his temple, a + little thread which shone like silver. What a surprise! I should not have + thought it possible! At first I thought of tearing it out so that he would + not see it, but as I looked carefully I noticed another farther up. White + hair! He was going to have white hair! My heart began to thump and + perspiration stood out all over me, but away down at the bottom I was + happy. + </p> + <p> + “It was mean to feel thus, but I did my housework with a light heart that + morning, without waking him up, and, as soon as he opened his eyes of his + own accord, I said to him: 'Do you know what I discovered while you were + asleep?' + </p> + <p> + “'No.' + </p> + <p> + “'I found white hairs.' + </p> + <p> + “He started up as if I had tickled him and said angrily: 'It's not true!' + </p> + <p> + “'Yes, it is. There are four of them over your left temple.' + </p> + <p> + “He jumped out of bed and ran over to the mirror. He could not find them. + Then I showed him the first one, the lowest, the little curly one, and I + said: 'It's no wonder, after the life that you have been leading. In two + years all will be over for you.' + </p> + <p> + “Well, monsieur, I had spoken true; two years later one could not + recognize him. How quickly a man changes! He was still handsome, but he + had lost his freshness, and the women no longer ran after him. Ah! what a + life I led at that time! How he treated me! Nothing suited him. He left + his trade to go into the hat business, in which he ate up all his money. + Then he unsuccessfully tried to be an actor, and finally he began to + frequent public balls. Fortunately, he had had common sense enough to save + a little something on which we now live. It is sufficient, but it is not + enormous. And to think that at one time he had almost a fortune. + </p> + <p> + “Now you see what he does. This habit holds him like a frenzy. He has to + be young; he has to dance with women who smell of perfume and cosmetics. + You poor old darling!” + </p> + <p> + She was looking at her old snoring husband fondly, ready to cry. Then, + gently tiptoeing up to him, she kissed his hair. The physician had risen + and was getting ready to leave, finding nothing to say to this strange + couple. Just as he was leaving she asked: + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind giving me your address? If he should grow worse, I could + go and get you.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE PENGUINS' ROCK + </h2> + <h3> + This is the season for penguins. + </h3> + <p> + From April to the end of May, before the Parisian visitors arrive, one + sees, all at once, on the little beach at Etretat several old gentlemen, + booted and belted in shooting costume. They spend four or five days at the + Hotel Hauville, disappear, and return again three weeks later. Then, after + a fresh sojourn, they go away altogether. + </p> + <p> + One sees them again the following spring. + </p> + <p> + These are the last penguin hunters, what remain of the old set. There were + about twenty enthusiasts thirty or forty years ago; now there are only a + few of the enthusiastic sportsmen. + </p> + <p> + The penguin is a very rare bird of passage, with peculiar habits. It lives + the greater part of the year in the latitude of Newfoundland and the + islands of St. Pierre and Miquelon. But in the breeding season a flight of + emigrants crosses the ocean and comes every year to the same spot to lay + their eggs, to the Penguins' Rock near Etretat. They are found nowhere + else, only there. They have always come there, have always been chased + away, but return again, and will always return. As soon as the young birds + are grown they all fly away, and disappear for a year. + </p> + <p> + Why do they not go elsewhere? Why not choose some other spot on the long + white, unending cliff that extends from the Pas-de-Calais to Havre? What + force, what invincible instinct, what custom of centuries impels these + birds to come back to this place? What first migration, what tempest, + possibly, once cast their ancestors on this rock? And why do the children, + the grandchildren, all the descendants of the first parents always return + here? + </p> + <p> + There are not many of them, a hundred at most, as if one single family, + maintaining the tradition, made this annual pilgrimage. + </p> + <p> + And each spring, as soon as the little wandering tribe has taken up its + abode an the rock, the same sportsmen also reappear in the village. One + knew them formerly when they were young; now they are old, but constant to + the regular appointment which they have kept for thirty or forty years. + They would not miss it for anything in the world. + </p> + <p> + It was an April evening in one of the later years. Three of the old + sportsmen had arrived; one was missing—M. d'Arnelles. + </p> + <p> + He had written to no one, given no account of himself. But he was not + dead, like so many of the rest; they would have heard of it. At length, + tired of waiting for him, the other three sat down to table. Dinner was + almost over when a carriage drove into the yard of the hotel, and the late + corner presently entered the dining room. + </p> + <p> + He sat down, in a good humor, rubbing his hands, and ate with zest. When + one of his comrades remarked with surprise at his being in a frock-coat, + he replied quietly: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I had no time to change my clothes.” + </p> + <p> + They retired on leaving the table, for they had to set out before daybreak + in order to take the birds unawares. + </p> + <p> + There is nothing so pretty as this sport, this early morning expedition. + </p> + <p> + At three o'clock in the morning the sailors awoke the sportsmen by + throwing sand against the windows. They were ready in a few minutes and + went down to the beach. Although it was still dark, the stars had paled a + little. The sea ground the shingle on the beach. There was such a fresh + breeze that it made one shiver slightly in spite of one's heavy clothing. + </p> + <p> + Presently two boats were pushed down the beach, by the sailors, with a + sound as of tearing cloth, and were floated on the nearest waves. The + brown sail was hoisted, swelled a little, fluttered, hesitated and + swelling out again as round as a paunch, carried the boats towards the + large arched entrance that could be faintly distinguished in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + The sky became clearer, the shadows seemed to melt away. The coast still + seemed veiled, the great white coast, perpendicular as a wall. + </p> + <p> + They passed through the Manne-Porte, an enormous arch beneath which a ship + could sail; they doubled the promontory of La Courtine, passed the little + valley of Antifer and the cape of the same name; and suddenly caught sight + of a beach on which some hundreds of seagulls were perched. + </p> + <p> + That was the Penguins' Rock. It was just a little protuberance of the + cliff, and on the narrow ledges of rock the birds' heads might be seen + watching the boats. + </p> + <p> + They remained there, motionless, not venturing to fly off as yet. Some of + them perched on the edges, seated upright, looked almost like bottles, for + their little legs are so short that when they walk they glide along as if + they were on rollers. When they start to fly they cannot make a spring and + let themselves fall like stones almost down to the very men who are + watching them. + </p> + <p> + They know their limitation and the danger to which it subjects them, and + cannot make up their minds to fly away. + </p> + <p> + But the boatmen begin to shout, beating the sides of the boat with the + wooden boat pins, and the birds, in affright, fly one by one into space + until they reach the level of the waves. Then, moving their wings rapidly, + they scud, scud along until they reach the open sea; if a shower of lead + does not knock them into the water. + </p> + <p> + For an hour the firing is kept up, obliging them to give up, one after + another. Sometimes the mother birds will not leave their nests, and are + riddled with shot, causing drops of blood to spurt out on the white cliff, + and the animal dies without having deserted her eggs. + </p> + <p> + The first day M. d'Arnelles fired at the birds with his habitual zeal; but + when the party returned toward ten o'clock, beneath a brilliant sun, which + cast great triangles of light on the white cliffs along the coast he + appeared a little worried, and absentminded, contrary to his accustomed + manner. + </p> + <p> + As soon as they got on shore a kind of servant dressed in black came up to + him and said something in a low tone. He seemed to reflect, hesitate, and + then replied: + </p> + <p> + “No, to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + The following day they set out again. This time M, d'Arnelles frequently + missed his aim, although the birds were close by. His friends teased him, + asked him if he were in love, if some secret sorrow was troubling his mind + and heart. At length he confessed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed, I have to leave soon, and that annoys me.” + </p> + <p> + “What, you must leave? And why?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I have some business that calls me back. I cannot stay any longer.” + </p> + <p> + They then talked of other matters. + </p> + <p> + As soon as breakfast was over the valet in black appeared. M. d'Arnelles + ordered his carriage, and the man was leaving the room when the three + sportsmen interfered, insisting, begging, and praying their friend to + stay. One of them at last said: + </p> + <p> + “Come now, this cannot be a matter of such importance, for you have + already waited two days.” + </p> + <p> + M. d'Arnelles, altogether perplexed, began to think, evidently baffled, + divided between pleasure and duty, unhappy and disturbed. + </p> + <p> + After reflecting for some time he stammered: + </p> + <p> + “The fact is—the fact is—I am not alone here. I have my + son-in-law.” + </p> + <p> + There were exclamations and shouts of “Your son-in-law! Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + He suddenly appeared confused and his face grew red. + </p> + <p> + “What! do you not know? Why—why—he is in the coach house. He + is dead.” + </p> + <p> + They were all silent in amazement. + </p> + <p> + M. d'Arnelles continued, more and more disturbed: + </p> + <p> + “I had the misfortune to lose him; and as I was taking the body to my + house, in Briseville, I came round this way so as not to miss our + appointment. But you can see that I cannot wait any longer.” + </p> + <p> + Then one of the sportsmen, bolder than the rest said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, but—since he is dead—it seems to me that he can wait a + day longer.” + </p> + <p> + The others chimed in: + </p> + <p> + “That cannot be denied.” + </p> + <p> + M. d'Arnelles appeared to be relieved of a great weight, but a little + uneasy, nevertheless, he asked: + </p> + <p> + “But, frankly—do you think—” + </p> + <p> + The three others, as one man, replied: + </p> + <p> + “Parbleu! my dear boy, two days more or less can make no difference in his + present condition.” + </p> + <p> + And, perfectly calmly, the father-in-law turned to the undertaker's + assistant, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, my friend, it will be the day after tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A FAMILY + </h2> + <p> + I was to see my old friend, Simon Radevin, of whom I had lost sight for + fifteen years. At one time he was my most intimate friend, the friend who + knows one's thoughts, with whom one passes long, quiet, happy evenings, to + whom one tells one's secret love affairs, and who seems to draw out those + rare, ingenious, delicate thoughts born of that sympathy that gives a + sense of repose. + </p> + <p> + For years we had scarcely been separated; we had lived, travelled, thought + and dreamed together; had liked the same things, had admired the same + books, understood the same authors, trembled with the same sensations, and + very often laughed at the same individuals, whom we understood completely + by merely exchanging a glance. + </p> + <p> + Then he married. He married, quite suddenly, a little girl from the + provinces, who had come to Paris in search of a husband. How in the world + could that little thin, insipidly fair girl, with her weak hands, her + light, vacant eyes, and her clear, silly voice, who was exactly like a + hundred thousand marriageable dolls, have picked up that intelligent, + clever young fellow? Can any one understand these things? No doubt he had + hoped for happiness, simple, quiet and long-enduring happiness, in the + arms of a good, tender and faithful woman; he had seen all that in the + transparent looks of that schoolgirl with light hair. + </p> + <p> + He had not dreamed of the fact that an active, living and vibrating man + grows weary of everything as soon as he understands the stupid reality, + unless, indeed, he becomes so brutalized that he understands nothing + whatever. + </p> + <p> + What would he be like when I met him again? Still lively, witty, + light-hearted and enthusiastic, or in a state of mental torpor induced by + provincial life? A man may change greatly in the course of fifteen years! + </p> + <p> + The train stopped at a small station, and as I got out of the carriage, a + stout, a very stout man with red cheeks and a big stomach rushed up to me + with open arms, exclaiming: “George!” I embraced him, but I had not + recognized him, and then I said, in astonishment: “By Jove! You have not + grown thin!” And he replied with a laugh: + </p> + <p> + “What did you expect? Good living, a good table and good nights! Eating + and sleeping, that is my existence!” + </p> + <p> + I looked at him closely, trying to discover in that broad face the + features I held so dear. His eyes alone had not changed, but I no longer + saw the same expression in them, and I said to myself: “If the expression + be the reflection of the mind, the thoughts in that head are not what they + used to be formerly; those thoughts which I knew so well.” + </p> + <p> + Yet his eyes were bright, full of happiness and friendship, but they had + not that clear, intelligent expression which shows as much as words the + brightness of the intellect. Suddenly he said: + </p> + <p> + “Here are my two eldest children.” A girl of fourteen, who was almost a + woman, and a boy of thirteen, in the dress of a boy from a Lycee, came + forward in a hesitating and awkward manner, and I said in a low voice: + “Are they yours?” “Of course they are,” he replied, laughing. “How many + have you?” “Five! There are three more at home.” + </p> + <p> + He said this in a proud, self-satisfied, almost triumphant manner, and I + felt profound pity, mingled with a feeling of vague contempt, for this + vainglorious and simple reproducer of his species. + </p> + <p> + I got into a carriage which he drove himself, and we set off through the + town, a dull, sleepy, gloomy town where nothing was moving in the streets + except a few dogs and two or three maidservants. Here and there a + shopkeeper, standing at his door, took off his hat, and Simon returned his + salute and told me the man's name; no doubt to show me that he knew all + the inhabitants personally, and the thought struck me that he was thinking + of becoming a candidate for the Chamber of Deputies, that dream of all + those who bury themselves in the provinces. + </p> + <p> + We were soon out of the town, and the carriage turned into a garden that + was an imitation of a park, and stopped in front of a turreted house, + which tried to look like a chateau. + </p> + <p> + “That is my den,” said Simon, so that I might compliment him on it. “It is + charming,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + A lady appeared on the steps, dressed for company, and with company + phrases all ready prepared. She was no longer the light-haired, insipid + girl I had seen in church fifteen years previously, but a stout lady in + curls and flounces, one of those ladies of uncertain age, without + intellect, without any of those things that go to make a woman. In short, + she was a mother, a stout, commonplace mother, a human breeding machine + which procreates without any other preoccupation but her children and her + cook-book. + </p> + <p> + She welcomed me, and I went into the hall, where three children, ranged + according to their height, seemed set out for review, like firemen before + a mayor, and I said: “Ah! ah! so there are the others?” Simon, radiant + with pleasure, introduced them: “Jean, Sophie and Gontran.” + </p> + <p> + The door of the drawing-room was open. I went in, and in the depths of an + easy-chair, I saw something trembling, a man, an old, paralyzed man. + Madame Radevin came forward and said: “This is my grandfather, monsieur; + he is eighty-seven.” And then she shouted into the shaking old man's ears: + “This is a friend of Simon's, papa.” The old gentleman tried to say + “good-day” to me, and he muttered: “Oua, oua, oua,” and waved his hand, + and I took a seat saying: “You are very kind, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + Simon had just come in, and he said with a laugh: “So! You have made + grandpapa's acquaintance. He is a treasure, that old man; he is the + delight of the children. But he is so greedy that he almost kills himself + at every meal; you have no idea what he would eat if he were allowed to do + as he pleased. But you will see, you will see. He looks at all the sweets + as if they were so many girls. You never saw anything so funny; you will + see presently.” + </p> + <p> + I was then shown to my room, to change my dress for dinner, and hearing a + great clatter behind me on the stairs, I turned round and saw that all the + children were following me behind their father; to do me honor, no doubt. + </p> + <p> + My windows looked out across a dreary, interminable plain, an ocean of + grass, of wheat and of oats, without a clump of trees or any rising + ground, a striking and melancholy picture of the life which they must be + leading in that house. + </p> + <p> + A bell rang; it was for dinner, and I went downstairs. Madame Radevin took + my arm in a ceremonious manner, and we passed into the dining-room. A + footman wheeled in the old man in his armchair. He gave a greedy and + curious look at the dessert, as he turned his shaking head with difficulty + from one dish to the other. + </p> + <p> + Simon rubbed his hands: “You will be amused,” he said; and all the + children understanding that I was going to be indulged with the sight of + their greedy grandfather, began to laugh, while their mother merely smiled + and shrugged her shoulders, and Simon, making a speaking trumpet of his + hands, shouted at the old man: “This evening there is sweet creamed rice!” + The wrinkled face of the grandfather brightened, and he trembled more + violently, from head to foot, showing that he had understood and was very + pleased. The dinner began. + </p> + <p> + “Just look!” Simon whispered. The old man did not like the soup, and + refused to eat it; but he was obliged to do it for the good of his health, + and the footman forced the spoon into his mouth, while the old man blew so + energetically, so as not to swallow the soup, that it was scattered like a + spray all over the table and over his neighbors. The children writhed with + laughter at the spectacle, while their father, who was also amused, said: + “Is not the old man comical?” + </p> + <p> + During the whole meal they were taken up solely with him. He devoured the + dishes on the table with his eyes, and tried to seize them and pull them + over to him with his trembling hands. They put them almost within his + reach, to see his useless efforts, his trembling clutches at them, the + piteous appeal of his whole nature, of his eyes, of his mouth and of his + nose as he smelt them, and he slobbered on his table napkin with + eagerness, while uttering inarticulate grunts. And the whole family was + highly amused at this horrible and grotesque scene. + </p> + <p> + Then they put a tiny morsel on his plate, and he ate with feverish + gluttony, in order to get something more as soon as possible, and when the + sweetened rice was brought in, he nearly had a fit, and groaned with + greediness, and Gontran called out to him: + </p> + <p> + “You have eaten too much already; you can have no more.” And they + pretended not to give him any. Then he began to cry; he cried and trembled + more violently than ever, while all the children laughed. At last, + however, they gave him his helping, a very small piece; and as he ate the + first mouthful, he made a comical noise in his throat, and a movement with + his neck as ducks do when they swallow too large a morsel, and when he had + swallowed it, he began to stamp his feet, so as to get more. + </p> + <p> + I was seized with pity for this saddening and ridiculous Tantalus, and + interposed on his behalf: + </p> + <p> + “Come, give him a little more rice!” But Simon replied: “Oh! no, my dear + fellow, if he were to eat too much, it would harm him, at his age.” + </p> + <p> + I held my tongue, and thought over those words. Oh, ethics! Oh, logic! Oh, + wisdom! At his age! So they deprived him of his only remaining pleasure + out of regard for his health! His health! What would he do with it, inert + and trembling wreck that he was? They were taking care of his life, so + they said. His life? How many days? Ten, twenty, fifty, or a hundred? Why? + For his own sake? Or to preserve for some time longer the spectacle of his + impotent greediness in the family. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing left for him to do in this life, nothing whatever. He + had one single wish left, one sole pleasure; why not grant him that last + solace until he died? + </p> + <p> + After we had played cards for a long time, I went up to my room and to + bed; I was low-spirited and sad, sad, sad! and I sat at my window. Not a + sound could be heard outside but the beautiful warbling of a bird in a + tree, somewhere in the distance. No doubt the bird was singing in a low + voice during the night, to lull his mate, who was asleep on her eggs. And + I thought of my poor friend's five children, and pictured him to myself, + snoring by the side of his ugly wife. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SUICIDES + </h2> + <h3> + To Georges Legrand. + </h3> + <p> + Hardly a day goes by without our reading a news item like the following in + some newspaper: + </p> + <p> + “On Wednesday night the people living in No. 40 Rue de——-, + were awakened by two successive shots. The explosions seemed to come from + the apartment occupied by M. X——. The door was broken in and + the man was found bathed in his blood, still holding in one hand the + revolver with which he had taken his life. + </p> + <p> + “M. X——was fifty-seven years of age, enjoying a comfortable + income, and had everything necessary to make him happy. No cause can be + found for his action.” + </p> + <p> + What terrible grief, what unknown suffering, hidden despair, secret wounds + drive these presumably happy persons to suicide? We search, we imagine + tragedies of love, we suspect financial troubles, and, as we never find + anything definite, we apply to these deaths the word “mystery.” + </p> + <p> + A letter found on the desk of one of these “suicides without cause,” and + written during his last night, beside his loaded revolver, has come into + our hands. We deem it rather interesting. It reveals none of those great + catastrophes which we always expect to find behind these acts of despair; + but it shows us the slow succession of the little vexations of life, the + disintegration of a lonely existence, whose dreams have disappeared; it + gives the reason for these tragic ends, which only nervous and high-strung + people can understand. + </p> + <p> + Here it is: + </p> + <p> + “It is midnight. When I have finished this letter I shall kill myself. + Why? I shall attempt to give the reasons, not for those who may read these + lines, but for myself, to kindle my waning courage, to impress upon myself + the fatal necessity of this act which can, at best, be only deferred. + </p> + <p> + “I was brought up by simple-minded parents who were unquestioning + believers. And I believed as they did. + </p> + <p> + “My dream lasted a long time. The last veil has just been torn from my + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “During the last few years a strange change has been taking place within + me. All the events of Life, which formerly had to me the glow of a + beautiful sunset, are now fading away. The true meaning of things has + appeared to me in its brutal reality; and the true reason for love has + bred in me disgust even for this poetic sentiment: 'We are the eternal + toys of foolish and charming illusions, which are always being renewed.' + </p> + <p> + “On growing older, I had become partly reconciled to the awful mystery of + life, to the uselessness of effort; when the emptiness of everything + appeared to me in a new light, this evening, after dinner. + </p> + <p> + “Formerly, I was happy! Everything pleased me: the passing women, the + appearance of the streets, the place where I lived; and I even took an + interest in the cut of my clothes. But the repetition of the same sights + has had the result of filling my heart with weariness and disgust, just as + one would feel were one to go every night to the same theatre. + </p> + <p> + “For the last thirty years I have been rising at the same hour; and, at + the same restaurant, for thirty years, I have been eating at the same + hours the same dishes brought me by different waiters. + </p> + <p> + “I have tried travel. The loneliness which one feels in strange places + terrified me. I felt so alone, so small on the earth that I quickly + started on my homeward journey. + </p> + <p> + “But here the unchanging expression of my furniture, which has stood for + thirty years in the same place, the smell of my apartments (for, with + time, each dwelling takes on a particular odor) each night, these and + other things disgust me and make me sick of living thus. + </p> + <p> + “Everything repeats itself endlessly. The way in which I put my key in the + lock, the place where I always find my matches, the first object which + meets my eye when I enter the room, make me feel like jumping out of the + window and putting an end to those monotonous events from which we can + never escape. + </p> + <p> + “Each day, when I shave, I feel an inordinate desire to cut my throat; and + my face, which I see in the little mirror, always the same, with soap on + my cheeks, has several times made me weak from sadness. + </p> + <p> + “Now I even hate to be with people whom I used to meet with pleasure; I + know them so well, I can tell just what they are going to say and what I + am going to answer. Each brain is like a circus, where the same horse + keeps circling around eternally. We must circle round always, around the + same ideas, the same joys, the same pleasures, the same habits, the same + beliefs, the same sensations of disgust. + </p> + <p> + “The fog was terrible this evening. It enfolded the boulevard, where the + street lights were dimmed and looked like smoking candles. A heavier + weight than usual oppressed me. Perhaps my digestion was bad. + </p> + <p> + “For good digestion is everything in life. It gives the inspiration to the + artist, amorous desires to young people, clear ideas to thinkers, the joy + of life to everybody, and it also allows one to eat heartily (which is one + of the greatest pleasures). A sick stomach induces scepticism unbelief, + nightmares and the desire for death. I have often noticed this fact. + Perhaps I would not kill myself, if my digestion had been good this + evening. + </p> + <p> + “When I sat down in the arm-chair where I have been sitting every day for + thirty years, I glanced around me, and just then I was seized by such a + terrible distress that I thought I must go mad. + </p> + <p> + “I tried to think of what I could do to run away from myself. Every + occupation struck me as being worse even than inaction. Then I bethought + me of putting my papers in order. + </p> + <p> + “For a long time I have been thinking of clearing out my drawers; for, for + the last thirty years, I have been throwing my letters and bills pell-mell + into the same desk, and this confusion has often caused me considerable + trouble. But I feel such moral and physical laziness at the sole idea of + putting anything in order that I have never had the courage to begin this + tedious business. + </p> + <p> + “I therefore opened my desk, intending to choose among my old papers and + destroy the majority of them. + </p> + <p> + “At first I was bewildered by this array of documents, yellowed by age, + then I chose one. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! if you cherish life, never disturb the burial place of old letters! + </p> + <p> + “And if, perchance, you should, take the contents by the handful, close + your eyes that you may not read a word, so that you may not recognize some + forgotten handwriting which may plunge you suddenly into a sea of + memories; carry these papers to the fire; and when they are in ashes, + crush them to an invisible powder, or otherwise you are lost—just as + I have been lost for an hour. + </p> + <p> + “The first letters which I read did not interest me greatly. They were + recent, and came from living men whom I still meet quite often, and whose + presence does not move me to any great extent. But all at once one + envelope made me start. My name was traced on it in a large, bold + handwriting; and suddenly tears came to my eyes. That letter was from my + dearest friend, the companion of my youth, the confidant of my hopes; and + he appeared before me so clearly, with his pleasant smile and his hand + outstretched, that a cold shiver ran down my back. Yes, yes, the dead come + back, for I saw him! Our memory is a more perfect world than the universe: + it gives back life to those who no longer exist. + </p> + <p> + “With trembling hand and dimmed eyes I reread everything that he told me, + and in my poor sobbing heart I felt a wound so painful that I began to + groan as a man whose bones are slowly being crushed. + </p> + <p> + “Then I travelled over my whole life, just as one travels along a river. I + recognized people, so long forgotten that I no longer knew their names. + Their faces alone lived in me. In my mother's letters I saw again the old + servants, the shape of our house and the little insignificant odds and + ends which cling to our minds. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I suddenly saw again all my mother's old gowns, the different styles + which she adopted and the several ways in which she dressed her hair. She + haunted me especially in a silk dress, trimmed with old lace; and I + remembered something she said one day when she was wearing this dress. She + said: 'Robert, my child, if you do not stand up straight you will be + round-shouldered all your life.' + </p> + <p> + “Then, opening another drawer, I found myself face to face with memories + of tender passions: a dancing-pump, a torn handkerchief, even a garter, + locks of hair and dried flowers. Then the sweet romances of my life, whose + living heroines are now white-haired, plunged me into the deep melancholy + of things. Oh, the young brows where blond locks curl, the caress of the + hands, the glance which speaks, the hearts which beat, that smile which + promises the lips, those lips which promise the embrace! And the first + kiss-that endless kiss which makes you close your eyes, which drowns all + thought in the immeasurable joy of approaching possession! + </p> + <p> + “Taking these old pledges of former love in both my hands, I covered them + with furious caresses, and in my soul, torn by these memories, I saw them + each again at the hour of surrender; and I suffered a torture more cruel + than all the tortures invented in all the fables about hell. + </p> + <p> + “One last letter remained. It was written by me and dictated fifty years + ago by my writing teacher. Here it is: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'MY DEAR LITTLE MAMMA: + + “'I am seven years old to-day. It is the age of reason. I take + advantage of it to thank you for having brought me into this world. + + “'Your little son, who loves you + + “'ROBERT.' +</pre> + <p> + “It is all over. I had gone back to the beginning, and suddenly I turned + my glance on what remained to me of life. I saw hideous and lonely old + age, and approaching infirmities, and everything over and gone. And nobody + near me! + </p> + <p> + “My revolver is here, on the table. I am loading it.... Never reread your + old letters!” + </p> + <p> + And that is how many men come to kill themselves; and we search in vain to + discover some great sorrow in their lives. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AN ARTIFICE + </h2> + <p> + The old doctor sat by the fireside, talking to his fair patient who was + lying on the lounge. There was nothing much the matter with her, except + that she had one of those little feminine ailments from which pretty women + frequently suffer—slight anaemia, a nervous attack, etc. + </p> + <p> + “No, doctor,” she said; “I shall never be able to understand a woman + deceiving her husband. Even allowing that she does not love him, that she + pays no heed to her vows and promises, how can she give herself to another + man? How can she conceal the intrigue from other people's eyes? How can it + be possible to love amid lies and treason?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor smiled, and replied: “It is perfectly easy, and I can assure + you that a woman does not think of all those little subtle details when + she has made up her mind to go astray. + </p> + <p> + “As for dissimulation, all women have plenty of it on hand for such + occasions, and the simplest of them are wonderful, and extricate + themselves from the greatest dilemmas in a remarkable manner.” + </p> + <p> + The young woman, however, seemed incredulous. + </p> + <p> + “No, doctor,” she said; “one never thinks until after it has happened of + what one ought to have done in a critical situation, and women are + certainly more liable than men to lose their head on such occasions:” + </p> + <p> + The doctor raised his hands. “After it has happened, you say! Now I will + tell you something that happened to one of my female patients, whom I + always considered an immaculate woman. + </p> + <p> + “It happened in a provincial town, and one night when I was asleep, in + that deep first sleep from which it is so difficult to rouse us, it seemed + to me, in my dreams, as if the bells in the town were sounding a fire + alarm, and I woke up with a start. It was my own bell, which was ringing + wildly, and as my footman did not seem to be answering the door, I, in + turn, pulled the bell at the head of my bed, and soon I heard a banging, + and steps in the silent house, and Jean came into my room, and handed me a + letter which said: 'Madame Lelievre begs Dr. Simeon to come to her + immediately.' + </p> + <p> + “I thought for a few moments, and then I said to myself: 'A nervous + attack, vapors; nonsense, I am too tired.' And so I replied: 'As Dr. + Simeon is not at all well, he must beg Madame Lelievre to be kind enough + to call in his colleague, Monsieur Bonnet.' I put the note into an + envelope and went to sleep again, but about half an hour later the street + bell rang again, and Jean came to me and said: 'There is somebody + downstairs; I do not quite know whether it is a man or a woman, as the + individual is so wrapped up, but they wish to speak to you immediately. + They say it is a matter of life and death for two people.' Whereupon I sat + up in bed and told him to show the person in. + </p> + <p> + “A kind of black phantom appeared and raised her veil as soon as Jean had + left the room. It was Madame Berthe Lelievre, quite a young woman, who had + been married for three years to a large merchant in the town, who was + said to have married the prettiest girl in the neighborhood. + </p> + <p> + “She was terribly pale, her face was contracted as the faces of insane + people are, occasionally, and her hands trembled violently. Twice she + tried to speak without being able to utter a sound, but at last she + stammered out: 'Come—quick—quick, doctor. Come—my—friend + has just died in my bedroom.' She stopped, half suffocated with emotion, + and then went on: 'My husband will be coming home from the club very + soon.' + </p> + <p> + “I jumped out of bed without even considering that I was only in my + nightshirt, and dressed myself in a few moments, and then I said: 'Did you + come a short time ago?' 'No,' she said, standing like a statue petrified + with horror. 'It was my servant—she knows.' And then, after a short + silence, she went on: 'I was there—by his side.' And she uttered a + sort of cry of horror, and after a fit of choking, which made her gasp, + she wept violently, and shook with spasmodic sobs for a minute: or two. + Then her tears suddenly ceased, as if by an internal fire, and with an air + of tragic calmness, she said: 'Let us make haste.' + </p> + <p> + “I was ready, but exclaimed: 'I quite forgot to order my carriage.' 'I + have one,' she said; 'it is his, which was waiting for him!' She wrapped + herself up, so as to completely conceal her face, and we started. + </p> + <p> + “When she was by my side in the carriage she suddenly seized my hand, and + crushing it in her delicate fingers, she said, with a shaking voice, that + proceeded from a distracted heart: 'Oh! if you only knew, if you only knew + what I am suffering! I loved him, I have loved him distractedly, like a + madwoman, for the last six months.' 'Is anyone up in your house?' I asked. + 'No, nobody except those, who knows everything.' + </p> + <p> + “We stopped at the door, and evidently everybody was asleep. We went in + without making any noise, by means of her latch-key, and walked upstairs + on tiptoe. The frightened servant was sitting on the top of the stairs + with a lighted candle by her side, as she was afraid to remain with the + dead man, and I went into the room, which was in great disorder. Wet + towels, with which they had bathed the young man's temples, were lying on + the floor, by the side of a washbasin and a glass, while a strong smell of + vinegar pervaded the room. + </p> + <p> + “The dead man's body was lying at full length in the middle of the room, + and I went up to it, looked at it, and touched it. I opened the eyes and + felt the hands, and then, turning to the two women, who were shaking as if + they were freezing, I said to them: 'Help me to lift him on to the bed.' + When we had laid him gently on it, I listened to his heart and put a + looking-glass to his lips, and then said: 'It is all over.' It was a + terrible sight! + </p> + <p> + “I looked at the man, and said: 'You ought to arrange his hair a little.' + The girl went and brought her mistress' comb and brush, but as she was + trembling, and pulling out his long, matted hair in doing it, Madame + Lelievre took the comb out of her hand, and arranged his hair as if she + were caressing him. She parted it, brushed his beard, rolled his mustaches + gently round her fingers, then, suddenly, letting go of his hair, she took + the dead man's inert head in her hands and looked for a long time in + despair at the dead face, which no longer could smile at her, and then, + throwing herself on him, she clasped him in her arms and kissed him + ardently. Her kisses fell like blows on his closed mouth and eyes, his + forehead and temples; and then, putting her lips to his ear, as if he + could still hear her, and as if she were about to whisper something to + him, she said several times, in a heartrending voice: + </p> + <p> + “'Good-by, my darling!' + </p> + <p> + “Just then the clock struck twelve, and I started up. 'Twelve o'clock!' I + exclaimed. 'That is the time when the club closes. Come, madame, we have + not a moment to lose!' She started up, and I said: + </p> + <p> + “'We must carry him into the drawing-room.' And when we had done this, I + placed him on a sofa, and lit the chandeliers, and just then the front + door was opened and shut noisily. 'Rose, bring me the basin and the + towels, and make the room look tidy. Make haste, for Heaven's sake! + Monsieur Lelievre is coming in.' + </p> + <p> + “I heard his steps on the stairs, and then his hands feeling along the + walls. 'Come here, my dear fellow,' I said; 'we have had an accident.' + </p> + <p> + “And the astonished husband appeared in the door with a cigar in his + mouth, and said: 'What is the matter? What is the meaning of this?' 'My + dear friend,' I said, going up to him, 'you find us in great + embarrassment. I had remained late, chatting with your wife and our + friend, who had brought me in his carriage, when he suddenly fainted, and + in spite of all we have done, he has remained unconscious for two hours. I + did not like to call in strangers, and if you will now help me downstairs + with him, I shall be able to attend to him better at his own house.' + </p> + <p> + “The husband, who was surprised, but quite unsuspicious, took off his hat, + and then he took his rival, who would be quite inoffensive for the future, + under the arms. I got between his two legs, as if I had been a horse + between the shafts, and we went downstairs, while his wife held a light + for us. When we got outside I stood the body up, so as to deceive the + coachman, and said: 'Come, my friend; it is nothing; you feel better + already I expect. Pluck up your courage, and make an effort. It will soon + be over.' But as I felt that he was slipping out of my hands, I gave him a + slap on the shoulder, which sent him forward and made him fall into the + carriage, and then I got in after him. Monsieur Lelievre, who was rather + alarmed, said to me: 'Do you think it is anything serious?' To which I + replied: 'No,' with a smile, as I looked at his wife, who had put her arm + into that of her husband, and was trying to see into the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “I shook hands with them and told my coachman to start, and during the + whole drive the dead man kept falling against me. When we got to his house + I said that he had become unconscious on the way home, and helped to carry + him upstairs, where I certified that he was dead, and acted another comedy + to his distracted family, and at last I got back to bed, not without + swearing at lovers.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor ceased, though he was still smiling, and the young woman, who + was in a very nervous state, said: “Why have you told me that terrible + story?” + </p> + <p> + He gave her a gallant bow, and replied: + </p> + <p> + “So that I may offer you my services if they should be needed.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + DREAMS + </h2> + <p> + They had just dined together, five old friends, a writer, a doctor and + three rich bachelors without any profession. + </p> + <p> + They had talked about everything, and a feeling of lassitude came over + them, that feeling which precedes and leads to the departure of guests + after festive gatherings. One of those present, who had for the last five + minutes been gazing silently at the surging boulevard dotted with + gas-lamps, with its rattling vehicles, said suddenly: + </p> + <p> + “When you've nothing to do from morning till night, the days are long.” + </p> + <p> + “And the nights too,” assented the guest who sat next to him. “I sleep + very little; pleasures fatigue me; conversation is monotonous. Never do I + come across a new idea, and I feel, before talking to any one, a violent + longing to say nothing and to listen to nothing. I don't know what to do + with my evenings.” + </p> + <p> + The third idler remarked: + </p> + <p> + “I would pay a great deal for anything that would help me to pass just two + pleasant hours every day.” + </p> + <p> + The writer, who had just thrown his overcoat across his arm, turned round + to them, and said: + </p> + <p> + “The man who could discover a new vice and introduce it among his fellow + creatures, even if it were to shorten their lives, would render a greater + service to humanity than the man who found the means of securing to them + eternal salvation and eternal youth.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor burst out laughing, and, while he chewed his cigar, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but it is not so easy to discover it. Men have however crudely, been + seeking for—and working for the object you refer to since the + beginning of the world. The men who came first reached perfection at once + in this way. We are hardly equal to them.” + </p> + <p> + One of the three idlers murmured: + </p> + <p> + “What a pity!” + </p> + <p> + Then, after a minute's pause, he added: + </p> + <p> + “If we could only sleep, sleep well, without feeling hot or cold, sleep + with that perfect unconsciousness we experience on nights when we are + thoroughly fatigued, sleep without dreams.” + </p> + <p> + “Why without dreams?” asked the guest sitting next to him. + </p> + <p> + The other replied: + </p> + <p> + “Because dreams are not always pleasant; they are always fantastic, + improbable, disconnected; and because when we are asleep we cannot have + the sort of dreams we like. We ought to dream waking.” + </p> + <p> + “And what's to prevent you?” asked the writer. + </p> + <p> + The doctor flung away the end of his cigar. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, in order to dream when you are awake, you need great + power and great exercise of will, and when you try to do it, great + weariness is the result. Now, real dreaming, that journey of our thoughts + through delightful visions, is assuredly the sweetest experience in the + world; but it must come naturally, it must not be provoked in a painful, + manner, and must be accompanied by absolute bodily comfort. This power of + dreaming I can give you, provided you promise that you will not abuse it.” + </p> + <p> + The writer shrugged his shoulders: + </p> + <p> + “Ah! yes, I know—hasheesh, opium, green tea—artificial + paradises. I have read Baudelaire, and I even tasted the famous drug, + which made me very sick.” + </p> + <p> + But the doctor, without stirring from his seat, said: + </p> + <p> + “No; ether, nothing but ether; and I would suggest that you literary men + should use it sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + The three rich bachelors drew closer to the doctor. + </p> + <p> + One of them said: + </p> + <p> + “Explain to us the effects of it.” + </p> + <p> + And the doctor replied: + </p> + <p> + “Let us put aside big words, shall we not? I am not talking of medicine or + morality; I am talking of pleasure. You give yourselves up every day to + excesses which consume your lives. I want to indicate to you a new + sensation, possible only to intelligent men—let us say even very + intelligent men—dangerous, like everything else that overexcites our + organs, but exquisite. I might add that you would require a certain + preparation, that is to say, practice, to feel in all their completeness + the singular effects of ether. + </p> + <p> + “They are different from the effects of hasheesh, of opium, or morphia, + and they cease as soon as the absorption of the drug is interrupted, while + the other generators of day dreams continue their action for hours. + </p> + <p> + “I am now going to try to analyze these feelings as clearly as possible. + But the thing is not easy, so facile, so delicate, so almost + imperceptible, are these sensations. + </p> + <p> + “It was when I was attacked by violent neuralgia that I made use of this + remedy, which since then I have, perhaps, slightly abused. + </p> + <p> + “I had acute pains in my head and neck, and an intolerable heat of the + skin, a feverish restlessness. I took up a large bottle of ether, and, + lying down, I began to inhale it slowly. + </p> + <p> + “At the end of some minutes I thought I heard a vague murmur, which ere + long became a sort of humming, and it seemed to me that all the interior + of my body had become light, light as air, that it was dissolving into + vapor. + </p> + <p> + “Then came a sort of torpor, a sleepy sensation of comfort, in spite of + the pains which still continued, but which had ceased to make themselves + felt. It was one of those sensations which we are willing to endure and + not any of those frightful wrenches against which our tortured body + protests. + </p> + <p> + “Soon the strange and delightful sense of emptiness which I felt in my + chest extended to my limbs, which, in their turn, became light, as light + as if the flesh and the bones had been melted and the skin only were left, + the skin necessary to enable me to realize the sweetness of living, of + bathing in this sensation of well-being. Then I perceived that I was no + longer suffering. The pain had gone, melted away, evaporated. And I heard + voices, four voices, two dialogues, without understanding what was said. + At one time there were only indistinct sounds, at another time a word + reached my ear. But I recognized that this was only the humming I had + heard before, but emphasized. I was not asleep; I was not awake; I + comprehended, I felt, I reasoned with the utmost clearness and depth, with + extraordinary energy and intellectual pleasure, with a singular + intoxication arising from this separation of my mental faculties. + </p> + <p> + “It was not like the dreams caused by hasheesh or the somewhat sickly + visions that come from opium; it was an amazing acuteness of reasoning, a + new way of seeing, judging and appreciating the things of life, and with + the certainty, the absolute consciousness that this was the true way. + </p> + <p> + “And the old image of the Scriptures suddenly came back to my mind. It + seemed to me that I had tasted of the Tree of Knowledge, that all the + mysteries were unveiled, so much did I find myself under the sway of a + new, strange and irrefutable logic. And arguments, reasonings, proofs rose + up in a heap before my brain only to be immediately displaced by some + stronger proof, reasoning, argument. My head had, in fact, become a + battleground of ideas. I was a superior being, armed with invincible + intelligence, and I experienced a huge delight at the manifestation of my + power. + </p> + <p> + “It lasted a long, long time. I still kept inhaling the ether from my + flagon. Suddenly I perceived that it was empty.” + </p> + <p> + The four men exclaimed at the same time: + </p> + <p> + “Doctor, a prescription at once for a liter of ether!” + </p> + <p> + But the doctor, putting on his hat, replied: + </p> + <p> + “As to that, certainly not; go and let some one else poison you!” + </p> + <p> + And he left them. + </p> + <p> + Ladies and gentlemen, what is your opinion on the subject? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SIMON'S PAPA + </h2> + <p> + Noon had just struck. The school door opened and the youngsters darted + out, jostling each other in their haste to get out quickly. But instead of + promptly dispersing and going home to dinner as usual, they stopped a few + paces off, broke up into knots, and began whispering. + </p> + <p> + The fact was that, that morning, Simon, the son of La Blanchotte, had, for + the first time, attended school. + </p> + <p> + They had all of them in their families heard talk of La Blanchotte; and, + although in public she was welcome enough, the mothers among themselves + treated her with a somewhat disdainful compassion, which the children had + imitated without in the least knowing why. + </p> + <p> + As for Simon himself, they did not know him, for he never went out, and + did not run about with them in the streets of the village, or along the + banks of the river. And they did not care for him; so it was with a + certain delight, mingled with considerable astonishment, that they met and + repeated to each other what had been said by a lad of fourteen or fifteen + who appeared to know all about it, so sagaciously did he wink. “You know—Simon—well, + he has no papa.” + </p> + <p> + Just then La Blanchotte's son appeared in the doorway of the school. + </p> + <p> + He was seven or eight years old, rather pale, very neat, with a timid and + almost awkward manner. + </p> + <p> + He was starting home to his mother's house when the groups of his + schoolmates, whispering and watching him with the mischievous and + heartless eyes of children bent upon playing a nasty trick, gradually + closed in around him and ended by surrounding him altogether. There he + stood in their midst, surprised and embarrassed, not understanding what + they were going to do with him. But the lad who had brought the news, + puffed up with the success he had met with already, demanded: + </p> + <p> + “What is your name, you?” + </p> + <p> + He answered: “Simon.” + </p> + <p> + “Simon what?” retorted the other. + </p> + <p> + The child, altogether bewildered, repeated: “Simon.” + </p> + <p> + The lad shouted at him: “One is named Simon something—that is not a + name—Simon indeed.” + </p> + <p> + The child, on the brink of tears, replied for the third time: + </p> + <p> + “My name is Simon.” + </p> + <p> + The urchins began to laugh. The triumphant tormentor cried: “You can see + plainly that he has no papa.” + </p> + <p> + A deep silence ensued. The children were dumfounded by this extraordinary, + impossible, monstrous thing—a boy who had not a papa; they looked + upon him as a phenomenon, an unnatural being, and they felt that hitherto + inexplicable contempt of their mothers for La Blanchotte growing upon + them. As for Simon, he had leaned against a tree to avoid falling, and he + remained as if prostrated by an irreparable disaster. He sought to + explain, but could think of nothing-to say to refute this horrible charge + that he had no papa. At last he shouted at them quite recklessly: “Yes, I + have one.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” demanded the boy. + </p> + <p> + Simon was silent, he did not know. The children roared, tremendously + excited; and those country boys, little more than animals, experienced + that cruel craving which prompts the fowls of a farmyard to destroy one of + their number as soon as it is wounded. Simon suddenly espied a little + neighbor, the son of a widow, whom he had seen, as he himself was to be + seen, always alone with his mother. + </p> + <p> + “And no more have you,” he said; “no more have you a papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the other, “I have one.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” rejoined Simon. + </p> + <p> + “He is dead,” declared the brat, with superb dignity; “he is in the + cemetery, is my papa.” + </p> + <p> + A murmur of approval rose among the little wretches as if this fact of + possessing a papa dead in a cemetery had caused their comrade to grow big + enough to crush the other one who had no papa at all. And these boys, + whose fathers were for the most part bad men, drunkards, thieves, and who + beat their wives, jostled each other to press closer and closer, as though + they, the legitimate ones, would smother by their pressure one who was + illegitimate. + </p> + <p> + The boy who chanced to be next Simon suddenly put his tongue out at him + with a mocking air and shouted at him: + </p> + <p> + “No papa! No papa!” + </p> + <p> + Simon seized him by the hair with both hands and set to work to disable + his legs with kicks, while he bit his cheek ferociously. A tremendous + struggle ensued between the two combatants, and Simon found himself + beaten, torn, bruised, rolled on the ground in the midst of the ring of + applauding schoolboys. As he arose, mechanically brushing with his hand + his little blouse all covered with dust, some one shouted at him: + </p> + <p> + “Go and tell your papa.” + </p> + <p> + Then he felt a great sinking at his heart. They were stronger than he was, + they had beaten him, and he had no answer to give them, for he knew well + that it was true that he had no papa. Full of pride, he attempted for some + moments to struggle against the tears which were choking him. He had a + feeling of suffocation, and then without any sound he commenced to weep, + with great shaking sobs. A ferocious joy broke out among his enemies, and, + with one accord, just like savages in their fearful festivals, they took + each other by the hand and danced round him in a circle, repeating as a + refrain: + </p> + <p> + “No papa! No papa!” + </p> + <p> + But suddenly Simon ceased sobbing. He became ferocious. There were stones + under his feet; he picked them up and with all his strength hurled them at + his tormentors. Two or three were struck and rushed off yelling, and so + formidable did he appear that the rest became panic-stricken. Cowards, as + the mob always is in presence of an exasperated man, they broke up and + fled. Left alone, the little fellow without a father set off running + toward the fields, for a recollection had been awakened in him which + determined his soul to a great resolve. He made up his mind to drown + himself in the river. + </p> + <p> + He remembered, in fact, that eight days before, a poor devil who begged + for his livelihood had thrown himself into the water because he had no + more money. Simon had been there when they fished him out again; and the + wretched man, who usually seemed to him so miserable, and ugly, had then + struck him as being so peaceful with his pale cheeks, his long drenched + beard, and his open eyes full of calm. The bystanders had said: + </p> + <p> + “He is dead.” + </p> + <p> + And some one had said: + </p> + <p> + “He is quite happy now.” + </p> + <p> + And Simon wished to drown himself also, because he had no father, just + like the wretched being who had no money. + </p> + <p> + He reached the water and watched it flowing. Some fish were sporting + briskly in the clear stream and occasionally made a little bound and + caught the flies flying on the surface. He stopped crying in order to + watch them, for their maneuvers interested him greatly. But, at intervals, + as in a tempest intervals of calm alternate suddenly with tremendous gusts + of wind, which snap off the trees and then lose themselves in the horizon, + this thought would return to him with intense pain: + </p> + <p> + “I am going to drown myself because I have no papa.” + </p> + <p> + It was very warm, fine weather. The pleasant sunshine warmed the grass. + The water shone like a mirror. And Simon enjoyed some minutes of + happiness, of that languor which follows weeping, and felt inclined to + fall asleep there upon the grass in the warm sunshine. + </p> + <p> + A little green frog leaped from under his feet. He endeavored to catch it. + It escaped him. He followed it and lost it three times in succession. At + last he caught it by one of its hind legs and began to laugh as he saw the + efforts the creature made to escape. It gathered itself up on its hind + legs and then with a violent spring suddenly stretched them out as stiff + as two bars; while it beat the air with its front legs as though they were + hands, its round eyes staring in their circle of yellow. It reminded him + of a toy made of straight slips of wood nailed zigzag one on the other; + which by a similar movement regulated the movements of the little soldiers + fastened thereon. Then he thought of his home, and then of his mother, + and, overcome by sorrow, he again began to weep. A shiver passed over him. + He knelt down and said his prayers as before going to bed. But he was + unable to finish them, for tumultuous, violent sobs shook his whole frame. + He no longer thought, he no longer saw anything around him, and was wholly + absorbed in crying. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a heavy hand was placed upon his shoulder, and a rough voice + asked him: + </p> + <p> + “What is it that causes you so much grief, my little man?” + </p> + <p> + Simon turned round. A tall workman with a beard and black curly hair was + staring at him good-naturedly. He answered with his eyes and throat full + of tears: + </p> + <p> + “They beat me—because—I—I have no—papa—no + papa.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” said the man, smiling; “why, everybody has one.” + </p> + <p> + The child answered painfully amid his spasms of grief: + </p> + <p> + “But I—I—I have none.” + </p> + <p> + Then the workman became serious. He had recognized La Blanchotte's son, + and, although himself a new arrival in the neighborhood, he had a vague + idea of her history. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, “console yourself, my boy, and come with me home to your + mother. They will give you—a papa.” + </p> + <p> + And so they started on the way, the big fellow holding the little fellow + by the hand, and the man smiled, for he was not sorry to see this + Blanchotte, who was, it was said, one of the prettiest girls of the + countryside, and, perhaps, he was saying to himself, at the bottom of his + heart, that a lass who had erred might very well err again. + </p> + <p> + They arrived in front of a very neat little white house. + </p> + <p> + “There it is,” exclaimed the child, and he cried, “Mamma!” + </p> + <p> + A woman appeared, and the workman instantly left off smiling, for he saw + at once that there was no fooling to be done with the tall pale girl who + stood austerely at her door as though to defend from one man the threshold + of that house where she had already been betrayed by another. Intimidated, + his cap in his hand, he stammered out: + </p> + <p> + “See, madame, I have brought you back your little boy who had lost himself + near the river.” + </p> + <p> + But Simon flung his arms about his mother's neck and told her, as he again + began to cry: + </p> + <p> + “No, mamma, I wished to drown myself, because the others had beaten me + —had beaten me—because I have no papa.” + </p> + <p> + A burning redness covered the young woman's cheeks; and, hurt to the + quick, she embraced her child passionately, while the tears coursed down + her face. The man, much moved, stood there, not knowing how to get away. + </p> + <p> + But Simon suddenly ran to him and said: + </p> + <p> + “Will you be my papa?” + </p> + <p> + A deep silence ensued. La Blanchotte, dumb and tortured with shame, leaned + herself against the wall, both her hands upon her heart. The child, seeing + that no answer was made him, replied: + </p> + <p> + “If you will not, I shall go back and drown myself.” + </p> + <p> + The workman took the matter as a jest and answered, laughing: + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, certainly I will.” + </p> + <p> + “What is your name,” went on the child, “so that I may tell the others + when they wish to know your name?” + </p> + <p> + “Philip,” answered the man: + </p> + <p> + Simon was silent a moment so that he might get the name well into his + head; then he stretched out his arms, quite consoled, as he said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, Philip, you are my papa.” + </p> + <p> + The workman, lifting him from the ground, kissed him hastily on both + cheeks, and then walked away very quickly with great strides. When the + child returned to school next day he was received with a spiteful laugh, + and at the end of school, when the lads were on the point of recommencing, + Simon threw these words at their heads as he would have done a stone: “He + is named Philip, my papa.” + </p> + <p> + Yells of delight burst out from all sides. + </p> + <p> + “Philip who? Philip what? What on earth is Philip? Where did you pick up + your Philip?” + </p> + <p> + Simon answered nothing; and, immovable in his faith, he defied them with + his eye, ready to be martyred rather than fly before them. The school + master came to his rescue and he returned home to his mother. + </p> + <p> + During three months, the tall workman, Philip, frequently passed by La + Blanchotte's house, and sometimes he made bold to speak to her when he saw + her sewing near the window. She answered him civilly, always sedately, + never joking with him, nor permitting him to enter her house. + Notwithstanding, being, like all men, a bit of a coxcomb, he imagined that + she was often rosier than usual when she chatted with him. + </p> + <p> + But a lost reputation is so difficult to regain and always remains so + fragile that, in spite of the shy reserve of La Blanchotte, they already + gossiped in the neighborhood. + </p> + <p> + As for Simon he loved his new papa very much, and walked with him nearly + every evening when the day's work was done. He went regularly to school, + and mixed with great dignity with his schoolfellows without ever answering + them back. + </p> + <p> + One day, however, the lad who had first attacked him said to him: + </p> + <p> + “You have lied. You have not a papa named Philip.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you say that?” demanded Simon, much disturbed. + </p> + <p> + The youth rubbed his hands. He replied: + </p> + <p> + “Because if you had one he would be your mamma's husband.” + </p> + <p> + Simon was confused by the truth of this reasoning; nevertheless, he + retorted: + </p> + <p> + “He is my papa, all the same.” + </p> + <p> + “That can very well be,” exclaimed the urchin with a sneer, “but that is + not being your papa altogether.” + </p> + <p> + La Blanchotte's little one bowed his head and went off dreaming in the + direction of the forge belonging to old Loizon, where Philip worked. This + forge was as though buried beneath trees. It was very dark there; the red + glare of a formidable furnace alone lit up with great flashes five + blacksmiths; who hammered upon their anvils with a terrible din. They were + standing enveloped in flame, like demons, their eyes fixed on the red-hot + iron they were pounding; and their dull ideas rose and fell with their + hammers. + </p> + <p> + Simon entered without being noticed, and went quietly to pluck his friend + by the sleeve. The latter turned round. All at once the work came to a + standstill, and all the men looked on, very attentive. Then, in the midst + of this unaccustomed silence, rose the slender pipe of Simon: + </p> + <p> + “Say, Philip, the Michaude boy told me just now that you were not + altogether my papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” asked the blacksmith. + </p> + <p> + The child replied with all innocence: + </p> + <p> + “Because you are not my mamma's husband.” + </p> + <p> + No one laughed. Philip remained standing, leaning his forehead upon the + back of his great hands, which supported the handle of his hammer standing + upright upon the anvil. He mused. His four companions watched him, and + Simon, a tiny mite among these giants, anxiously waited. Suddenly, one of + the smiths, answering to the sentiment of all, said to Philip: + </p> + <p> + “La Blanchotte is a good, honest girl, and upright and steady in spite of + her misfortune, and would make a worthy wife for an honest man.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true,” remarked the three others. + </p> + <p> + The smith continued: + </p> + <p> + “Is it the girl's fault if she went wrong? She had been promised marriage; + and I know more than one who is much respected to-day, and who sinned + every bit as much.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true,” responded the three men in chorus. + </p> + <p> + He resumed: + </p> + <p> + “How hard she has toiled, poor thing, to bring up her child all alone, and + how she has wept all these years she has never gone out except to church, + God only knows.” + </p> + <p> + “This is also true,” said the others. + </p> + <p> + Then nothing was heard but the bellows which fanned the fire of the + furnace. Philip hastily bent himself down to Simon: + </p> + <p> + “Go and tell your mother that I am coming to speak to her this evening.” + Then he pushed the child out by the shoulders. He returned to his work, + and with a single blow the five hammers again fell upon their anvils. Thus + they wrought the iron until nightfall, strong, powerful, happy, like + contented hammers. But just as the great bell of a cathedral resounds upon + feast days above the jingling of the other bells, so Philip's hammer, + sounding above the rest, clanged second after second with a deafening + uproar. And he stood amid the flying sparks plying his trade vigorously. + </p> + <p> + The sky was full of stars as he knocked at La Blanchotte's door. He had on + his Sunday blouse, a clean shirt, and his beard was trimmed. The young + woman showed herself upon the threshold, and said in a grieved tone: + </p> + <p> + “It is ill to come thus when night has fallen, Mr. Philip.” + </p> + <p> + He wished to answer, but stammered and stood confused before her. + </p> + <p> + She resumed: + </p> + <p> + “You understand, do you not, that it will not do for me to be talked about + again.” + </p> + <p> + “What does that matter to me, if you will be my wife!” + </p> + <p> + No voice replied to him, but he believed that he heard in the shadow of + the room the sound of a falling body. He entered quickly; and Simon, who + had gone to bed, distinguished the sound of a kiss and some words that his + mother murmured softly. Then, all at once, he found himself lifted up by + the hands of his friend, who, holding him at the length of his herculean + arms, exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “You will tell them, your schoolmates, that your papa is Philip Remy, the + blacksmith, and that he will pull the ears of all who do you any harm.” + </p> + <p> + On the morrow, when the school was full and lessons were about to begin, + little Simon stood up, quite pale with trembling lips: + </p> + <p> + “My papa,” said he in a clear voice, “is Philip Remy, the blacksmith, and + he has promised to pull the ears of all who does me any harm.” + </p> + <p> + This time no one laughed, for he was very well known, was Philip Remy, the + blacksmith, and was a papa of whom any one in the world would have been + proud. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Original Short Stories of Maupassant, +Volume 11, by Guy de Maupassant + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAUPASSANT SHORT STORIES *** + +***** This file should be named 3087-h.htm or 3087-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/8/3087/ + +Produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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