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+Project Gutenberg's Entire Original Maupassant Short Stories
+by Guy de Maupassant (#15 in our series by Guy de Maupassant)
+
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+Title: Entire Maupassant Original Short Stories
+
+Author: Guy de Maupassant
+
+Release Date: February, 2002  [Etext #3090]
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+
+The Entire Original Maupassant Short Stories
+by Guy de Maupassant
+
+
+
+                           GUY DE MAUPASSANT
+                         ORIGINAL SHORT STORIES
+                             Translated by
+                      ALBERT M. C. McMASTER, B.A.
+                         A. E. HENDERSON, B.A.
+                        MME. QUESADA and Others
+
+
+
+Also available in 13 individual Gutenberg Project etext files:
+
+Short Stories V13, by  Guy de Maupassant [GM#14][gm13v10.txt]3089
+Short Stories V12, by  Guy de Maupassant [GM#13][gm12v10.txt]3088
+Short Stories V11, by  Guy de Maupassant [GM#12][gm11v10.txt]3087
+Short Stories V10, by  Guy de Maupassant [GM#11][gm10v10.txt]3086
+Short Stories  V9, by  Guy de Maupassant [GM#10][gm09v10.txt]3085
+Short Stories  V8, by  Guy de Maupassant [GM#9] [gm08v10.txt]3084
+Short Stories  V7, by  Guy de Maupassant [GM#8] [gm07v10.txt]3083
+Short Stories  V6, by  Guy de Maupassant [GM#7] [gm06v10.txt]3082
+Short Stories  V5, by  Guy de Maupassant [GM#6] [gm05v10.txt]3081
+Short Stories  V4, by  Guy de Maupassant [GM#5] [gm04v10.txt]3080
+Short Stories  V3, by  Guy de Maupassant [GM#4] [gm03v10.txt]3079
+Short Stories  V2, by  Guy de Maupassant [GM#3] [gm02v10.txt]3078
+Short Stories  V1, by  Guy de Maupassant [GM#2] [gm01v10.txt]3077
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS OF THE 13 VOLUMES (180 Stories)
+
+     VOLUME I.
+
+GUY DE MAUPASSANT--A STUDY BY POL. NEVEUX
+
+BOULE DE SUIF
+TWO FRIENDS
+THE LANCER'S WIFE
+THE PRISONERS
+TWO LITTLE SOLDIERS
+FATHER MILON
+A COUP D'ETAT
+LIEUTENANT LARE'S MARRIAGE
+THE HORRIBLE
+MADAME PARISSE
+MADEMOISELLE FIFI
+A DUEL
+
+
+
+     VOLUME II.
+
+THE COLONEL'S IDEAS
+MOTHER SAUVAGE
+EPIPHANY
+THE MUSTACHE
+MADAME BAPTISTE
+THE QUESTION OF LATIN
+A MEETING
+THE BLIND MAN
+INDISCRETION
+A FAMILY AFFAIR
+BESIDE SCHOPENHAUER'S CORPSE
+
+
+
+     VOLUME III.
+
+MISS HARRIET
+LITTLE LOUISE ROQUE
+THE DONKEY
+MOIRON
+THE DISPENSER OF HOLY WATER
+THE PARRICIDE
+BERTHA
+THE PATRON
+THE DOOR
+A SALE
+THE IMPOLITE SEX
+A WEDDING GIFT
+THE RELIC
+
+
+
+     VOLUME IV.
+
+THE MORIBUND
+THE GAMEKEEPER
+THE STORY OF A FARM GIRL
+THE WRECK
+THEODULE SABOT'S CONFESSION
+THE WRONG HOUSE
+THE DIAMOND NECKLACE
+THE MARQUIS DE FUMEROL
+THE TRIP OF THE HORLA
+FAREWELL
+THE WOLF
+THE INN
+
+
+
+     VOLUME V.
+
+MONSIEUR PARENT
+QUEEN HORTENSE
+TIMBUCTOO
+TOMBSTONES
+MADEMOISELLE PEARL
+THE THIEF
+CLAIR DE LUNE
+WAITER, A "BOCK"
+AFTER
+FORGIVENESS
+IN THE SPRING
+A QUEER NIGHT IN PARIS
+
+
+
+     VOLUME VI.
+
+THAT COSTLY RIDE
+USELESS BEAUTY
+THE FATHER
+MY UNCLE SOSTHENES
+THE BARONESS
+MOTHER AND SON
+THE HAND
+A TRESS OF HAIR
+ON THE RIVER
+THE CRIPPLE
+A STROLL
+ALEXANDRE
+THE LOG
+JULIE ROMAINE
+THE RONDOLI SISTERS
+
+
+
+     VOLUME VII.
+
+THE FALSE GEMS
+FASCINATION
+YVETTE SAMORIS
+A VENDETTA
+MY TWENTY-FIVE DAYS
+"THE TERROR"
+LEGEND OF MONT ST. MICHEL
+A NEW YEAR'S GIFT
+FRIEND PATIENCE
+ABANDONED
+THE MAISON TELLIER
+DENIS
+MY WIFE
+THE UNKNOWN
+THE APPARITION
+
+
+
+     VOLUME VIII.
+
+CLOCHETTE
+THE KISS
+THE LEGION OF HONOR
+THE TEST
+FOUND ON A DROWNED MAN
+THE ORPHAN
+THE BEGGAR
+THE RABBIT
+HIS AVENGER
+MY UNCLE JULES
+THE MODEL
+A VAGABOND
+THE FISHING HOLE
+THE SPASM
+IN THE WOOD
+MARTINE
+ALL OVER
+THE PARROT
+A PIECE OF STRING
+
+
+
+     VOLUME IX.
+
+TOINE
+MADAME HUSSON'S ROSIER
+THE ADOPTED SON
+A COWARD
+OLD MONGILET
+MOONLIGHT
+THE FIRST SNOWFALL
+SUNDAYS OF A BOURGEOIS
+A RECOLLECTION
+OUR LETTERS
+THE LOVE OF LONG AGO
+FRIEND JOSEPH
+THE EFFEMINATES
+OLD AMABLE
+
+
+
+     VOLUME X.
+
+THE CHRISTENING
+THE FARMER'S WIFE
+THE DEVIL
+THE SNIPE
+THE WILL
+WALTER SCHNAFF'S ADVENTURE
+AT SEA
+MINUET
+THE SON
+THAT PIG OF A MORIN
+SAINT ANTHONY
+LASTING LOVE
+PIERROT
+A NORMANDY JOKE
+FATHER MATTHEW
+
+
+
+     VOLUME XI.
+
+THE UMBRELLA
+BELHOMME'S BEAST
+DISCOVERY
+THE ACCURSED BREAD
+THE DOWRY
+THE DIARY OF A MAD MAN
+THE MASK
+THE PENGUINS ROCK
+A FAMILY
+SUICIDES
+AN ARTIFICE
+DREAMS
+SIMON'S PAPA
+
+
+
+     VOLUME XII.
+
+THE CHILD
+A COUNTRY EXCURSION
+ROSE
+ROSALIE PRUDENT
+REGRET
+A SISTER'S CONFESSION
+COCO
+A DEAD WOMAN'S SECRET
+A HUMBLE DRAMA
+MADEMOISELLE COCOTTE
+THE CORSICAN BANDIT
+THE GRAVE
+
+
+
+     VOLUME XIII.
+
+OLD JUDAS
+THE LITTLE CASK
+BOITELLE
+A WIDOW
+THE ENGLISHMEN OF ETRETAT
+MAGNETISM
+A FATHERS CONFESSION
+A MOTHER OF MONSTERS
+AN UNCOMFORTABLE BED
+A PORTRAIT
+THE DRUNKARD
+THE WARDROBE
+THE MOUNTAIN POOL
+A CREMATION
+MISTI
+MADAME HERMET
+THE MAGIC COUCH
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                           GUY DE MAUPASSANT
+                         ORIGINAL SHORT STORIES
+
+
+     VOLUME I.
+
+GUY DE MAUPASSANT--A STUDY BY POL. NEVEUX
+BOULE DE SUIF
+TWO FRIENDS
+THE LANCER'S WIFE
+THE PRISONERS
+TWO LITTLE SOLDIERS
+FATHER MILON
+A COUP D'ETAT
+LIEUTENANT LARE'S MARRIAGE
+THE HORRIBLE
+MADAME PARISSE
+MADEMOISELLE FIFI
+A DUEL
+
+
+
+
+                           GUY DE MAUPASSANT
+                         A STUDY BY POL. NEVEUX
+
+"I entered literary life as a meteor, and I shall leave it like a
+thunderbolt."  These words of Maupassant to Jose Maria de Heredia on the
+occasion of a memorable meeting are, in spite of their morbid solemnity,
+not an inexact summing up of the brief career during which, for ten
+years, the writer, by turns undaunted and sorrowful, with the fertility
+of a master hand produced poetry, novels, romances and travels, only to
+sink prematurely into the abyss of madness and death. . . . .
+
+In the month of April, 1880, an article appeared in the "Le Gaulois"
+announcing the publication of the Soirees de Medan.  It was signed by a
+name as yet unknown: Guy de Maupassant.  After a juvenile diatribe
+against romanticism and a passionate attack on languorous literature, the
+writer extolled the study of real life, and announced the publication of
+the new work.  It was picturesque and charming.  In the quiet of evening,
+on an island, in the Seine, beneath poplars instead of the Neapolitan
+cypresses dear to the friends of Boccaccio, amid the continuous murmur of
+the valley, and no longer to the sound of the Pyrennean streams that
+murmured a faint accompaniment to the tales of Marguerite's cavaliers,
+the master and his disciples took turns in narrating some striking or
+pathetic episode of the war.  And the issue, in collaboration, of these
+tales in one volume, in which the master jostled elbows with his pupils,
+took on the appearance of a manifesto, the tone of a challenge, or the
+utterance of a creed.
+
+In fact, however, the beginnings had been much more simple, and they had
+confined themselves, beneath the trees of Medan, to deciding on a general
+title for the work.  Zola had contributed the manuscript of the "Attaque
+du Moulin," and it was at Maupassant's house that the five young men gave
+in their contributions.  Each one read his story, Maupassant being the
+last.  When he had finished Boule de Suif, with a spontaneous impulse,
+with an emotion they never forgot, filled with enthusiasm at this
+revelation, they all rose and, without superfluous words, acclaimed him
+as a master.
+
+He undertook to write the article for the Gaulois and, in cooperation
+with his friends, he worded it in the terms with which we are familiar,
+amplifying and embellishing it, yielding to an inborn taste for
+mystification which his youth rendered excusable.  The essential point,
+he said, is to "unmoor" criticism.
+
+It was unmoored.  The following day Wolff wrote a polemical dissertation
+in the Figaro and carried away his colleagues.  The volume was a
+brilliant success, thanks to Boule de Suif.  Despite the novelty, the
+honesty of effort, on the part of all, no mention was made of the other
+stories.  Relegated to the second rank, they passed without notice.  From
+his first battle, Maupassant was master of the field in literature.
+
+At once the entire press took him up and said what was appropriate
+regarding the budding celebrity.  Biographers and reporters sought
+information concerning his life.  As it was very simple and perfectly
+straightforward, they resorted to invention.  And thus it is that at the
+present day Maupassant appears to us like one of those ancient heroes
+whose origin and death are veiled in mystery.
+
+I will not dwell on Guy de Maupassant's younger days.  His relatives, his
+old friends, he himself, here and there in his works, have furnished us
+in their letters enough valuable revelations and touching remembrances of
+the years preceding his literary debut.  His worthy biographer,
+H. Edouard Maynial, after collecting intelligently all the writings,
+condensing and comparing them, has been able to give us some definite
+information regarding that early period.
+
+I will simply recall that he was born on the 5th of August, 1850, near
+Dieppe, in the castle of Miromesnil which he describes in Une Vie. . . .
+
+Maupassant, like Flaubert, was a Norman, through his mother, and through
+his place of birth he belonged to that strange and adventurous race,
+whose heroic and long voyages on tramp trading ships he liked to recall.
+And just as the author of "Education sentimentale" seems to have
+inherited in the paternal line the shrewd realism of Champagne, so de
+Maupassant appears to have inherited from his Lorraine ancestors their
+indestructible discipline and cold lucidity.
+
+His childhood was passed at Etretat, his beautiful childhood; it was
+there that his instincts were awakened in the unfoldment of his
+prehistoric soul.  Years went by in an ecstasy of physical happiness.
+The delight of running at full speed through fields of gorse, the charm
+of voyages of discovery in hollows and ravines, games beneath the dark
+hedges, a passion for going to sea with the fishermen and, on nights when
+there was no moon, for dreaming on their boats of imaginary voyages.
+
+Mme. de Maupassant, who had guided her son's early reading, and had gazed
+with him at the sublime spectacle of nature, put, off as long as possible
+the hour of separation.  One day, however, she had to take the child to
+the little seminary at Yvetot.  Later, he became a student at the college
+at Rouen, and became a literary correspondent of Louis Bouilhet.  It was
+at the latter's house on those Sundays in winter when the Norman rain
+drowned the sound of the bells and dashed against the window panes that
+the school boy learned to write poetry.
+
+Vacation took the rhetorician back to the north of Normandy.  Now it was
+shooting at Saint Julien l'Hospitalier, across fields, bogs, and through
+the woods.  From that time on he sealed his pact with the earth, and
+those "deep and delicate roots" which attached him to his native soil
+began to grow.  It was of Normandy, broad, fresh and virile, that he
+would presently demand his inspiration, fervent and eager as a boy's
+love; it was in her that he would take refuge when, weary of life, he
+would implore a truce, or when he simply wished to work and revive his
+energies in old-time joys.  It was at this time that was born in him that
+voluptuous love of the sea, which in later days could alone withdraw him
+from the world, calm him, console him.
+
+In 1870 he lived in the country, then he came to Paris to live; for, the
+family fortunes having dwindled, he had to look for a position.  For
+several years he was a clerk in the Ministry of Marine, where he turned
+over musty papers, in the uninteresting company of the clerks of the
+admiralty.
+
+Then he went into the department of Public Instruction, where
+bureaucratic servility is less intolerable.  The daily duties are
+certainly scarcely more onerous and he had as chiefs, or colleagues,
+Xavier Charmes and Leon Dierx, Henry Roujon and Rene Billotte, but his
+office looked out on a beautiful melancholy garden with immense plane
+trees around which black circles of crows gathered in winter.
+
+Maupassant made two divisions of his spare hours, one for boating, and
+the other for literature.  Every evening in spring, every free day, he
+ran down to the river whose mysterious current veiled in fog or sparkling
+in the sun called to him and bewitched him.  In the islands in the Seine
+between Chatou and Port-Marly, on the banks of Sartrouville and Triel he
+was long noted among the population of boatmen, who have now vanished,
+for his unwearying biceps, his cynical gaiety of good-fellowship, his
+unfailing practical jokes, his broad witticisms.  Sometimes he would row
+with frantic speed, free and joyous, through the glowing sunlight on the
+stream; sometimes, he would wander along the coast, questioning the
+sailors, chatting with the ravageurs, or junk gatherers, or stretched at
+full length amid the irises and tansy he would lie for hours watching the
+frail insects that play on the surface of the stream, water spiders, or
+white butterflies, dragon flies, chasing each other amid the willow
+leaves, or frogs asleep on the lily-pads.
+
+The rest of his life was taken up by his work.  Without ever becoming
+despondent, silent and persistent, he accumulated manuscripts, poetry,
+criticisms, plays, romances and novels.  Every week he docilely submitted
+his work to the great Flaubert, the childhood friend of his mother and
+his uncle Alfred Le Poittevin.  The master had consented to assist the
+young man, to reveal to him the secrets that make chefs-d'oeuvre
+immortal.  It was he who compelled him to make copious research and to
+use direct observation and who inculcated in him a horror of vulgarity
+and a contempt for facility.
+
+Maupassant himself tells us of those severe initiations in the Rue
+Murillo, or in the tent at Croisset; he has recalled the implacable
+didactics of his old master, his tender brutality, the paternal advice of
+his generous and candid heart.  For seven years Flaubert slashed,
+pulverized, the awkward attempts of his pupil whose success remained
+uncertain.
+
+Suddenly, in a flight of spontaneous perfection, he wrote Boule de Suif.
+His master's joy was great and overwhelming.  He died two months later.
+
+Until the end Maupassant remained illuminated by the reflection of the
+good, vanished giant, by that touching reflection that comes from the
+dead to those souls they have so profoundly stirred.  The worship of
+Flaubert was a religion from which nothing could distract him, neither
+work, nor glory, nor slow moving waves, nor balmy nights.
+
+At the end of his short life, while his mind was still clear: he wrote to
+a friend: "I am always thinking of my poor Flaubert, and I say to myself
+that I should like to die if I were sure that anyone would think of me in
+the same manner."
+
+During these long years of his novitiate Maupassant had entered the
+social literary circles.  He would remain silent, preoccupied; and if
+anyone, astonished at his silence, asked him about his plans he answered
+simply: "I am learning my trade."  However, under the pseudonym of Guy de
+Valmont, he had sent some articles to the newspapers, and, later, with
+the approval and by the advice of Flaubert, he published, in the
+"Republique des Lettres," poems signed by his name.
+
+These poems, overflowing with sensuality, where the hymn to the Earth
+describes the transports of physical possession, where the impatience of
+love expresses itself in loud melancholy appeals like the calls of
+animals in the spring nights, are valuable chiefly inasmuch as they
+reveal the creature of instinct, the fawn escaped from his native
+forests, that Maupassant was in his early youth.  But they add nothing to
+his glory.  They are the "rhymes of a prose writer" as Jules Lemaitre
+said.  To mould the expression of his thought according to the strictest
+laws, and to "narrow it down" to some extent, such was his aim.
+Following the example of one of his comrades of Medan, being readily
+carried away by precision of style and the rhythm of sentences, by the
+imperious rule of the ballad, of the pantoum or the chant royal,
+Maupassant also desired to write in metrical lines.  However, he never
+liked this collection that he often regretted having published.  His
+encounters with prosody had left him with that monotonous weariness that
+the horseman and the fencer feel after a period in the riding school, or
+a bout with the foils.
+
+Such, in very broad lines, is the story of Maupassant's literary
+apprenticeship.
+
+The day following the publication of "Boule de Suif," his reputation
+began to grow rapidly.  The quality of his story was unrivalled, but at
+the same time it must be acknowledged that there were some who, for the
+sake of discussion, desired to place a young reputation in opposition to
+the triumphant brutality of Zola.
+
+From this time on, Maupassant, at the solicitation of the entire press,
+set to work and wrote story after story.  His talent, free from all
+influences, his individuality, are not disputed for a moment.  With a
+quick step, steady and alert, he advanced to fame, a fame of which he
+himself was not aware, but which was so universal, that no contemporary
+author during his life ever experienced the same.  The "meteor" sent out
+its light and its rays were prolonged without limit, in article after
+article, volume on volume.
+
+He was now rich and famous .  .  .  .  He is esteemed all the more as
+they believe him to be rich and happy.  But they do not know that this
+young fellow with the sunburnt face, thick neck and salient muscles whom
+they invariably compare to a young bull at liberty, and whose love
+affairs they whisper, is ill, very ill.  At the very moment that success
+came to him, the malady that never afterwards left him came also, and,
+seated motionless at his side, gazed at him with its threatening
+countenance.  He suffered from terrible headaches, followed by nights of
+insomnia.  He had nervous attacks, which he soothed with narcotics and
+anesthetics, which he used freely.  His sight, which had troubled him at
+intervals, became affected, and a celebrated oculist spoke of
+abnormality, asymetry of the pupils.  The famous young man trembled in
+secret and was haunted by all kinds of terrors.
+
+The reader is charmed at the saneness of this revived art and yet, here
+and there, he is surprised to discover, amid descriptions of nature that
+are full of humanity, disquieting flights towards the supernatural,
+distressing conjurations, veiled at first, of the most commonplace, the
+most vertiginous shuddering fits of fear, as old as the world and as
+eternal as the unknown.  But, instead of being alarmed, he thinks that
+the author must be gifted with infallible intuition to follow out thus
+the taints in his characters, even through their most dangerous mazes.
+The reader does not know that these hallucinations which he describes so
+minutely were experienced by Maupassant himself; he does not know that
+the fear is in himself, the anguish of fear "which is not caused by the
+presence of danger, or of inevitable death, but by certain abnormal
+conditions, by certain mysterious influences in presence of vague
+dangers," the "fear of fear, the dread of that horrible sensation of
+incomprehensible terror."
+
+How can one explain these physical sufferings and this morbid distress
+that were known for some time to his intimates alone?  Alas! the
+explanation is only too simple.  All his life, consciously or
+unconsciously, Maupassant fought this malady, hidden as yet, which was
+latent in him.
+
+As his malady began to take a more definite form, he turned his steps
+towards the south, only visiting Paris to see his physicians and
+publishers.  In the old port of Antibes beyond the causeway of Cannes,
+his yacht, Bel Ami, which he cherished as a brother, lay at anchor and
+awaited him.  He took it to the white cities of the Genoese Gulf, towards
+the palm trees of Hyeres, or the red bay trees of Antheor.
+
+After several tragic weeks in which, from instinct, he made a desperate
+fight, on the 1st of January, 1892, he felt he was hopelessly vanquished,
+and in a moment of supreme clearness of intellect, like Gerard de Nerval,
+he attempted suicide.  Less fortunate than the author of Sylvia, he was
+unsuccessful.  But his mind, henceforth "indifferent to all unhappiness,"
+had entered into eternal darkness.
+
+He was taken back to Paris and placed in Dr. Meuriot's sanatorium, where,
+after eighteen months of mechanical existence, the "meteor" quietly
+passed away.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+BOULE DE SUIF
+
+
+For several days in succession fragments of a defeated army had passed
+through the town.  They were mere disorganized bands, not disciplined
+forces.  The men wore long, dirty beards and tattered uniforms; they
+advanced in listless fashion, without a flag, without a leader.  All
+seemed exhausted, worn out, incapable of thought or resolve, marching
+onward merely by force of habit, and dropping to the ground with fatigue
+the moment they halted.  One saw, in particular, many enlisted men,
+peaceful citizens, men who lived quietly on their income, bending beneath
+the weight of their rifles; and little active volunteers, easily
+frightened but full of enthusiasm, as eager to attack as they were ready
+to take to flight; and amid these, a sprinkling of red-breeched soldiers,
+the pitiful remnant of a division cut down in a great battle; somber
+artillerymen, side by side with nondescript foot-soldiers; and, here and
+there, the gleaming helmet of a heavy-footed dragoon who had difficulty
+in keeping up with the quicker pace of the soldiers of the line.  Legions
+of irregulars with high-sounding names "Avengers of Defeat," "Citizens of
+the Tomb," "Brethren in Death"--passed in their turn, looking like
+banditti.  Their leaders, former drapers or grain merchants, or tallow or
+soap chandlers--warriors by force of circumstances, officers by reason of
+their mustachios or their money--covered with weapons, flannel and gold
+lace, spoke in an impressive manner, discussed plans of campaign, and
+behaved as though they alone bore the fortunes of dying France on their
+braggart shoulders; though, in truth, they frequently were afraid of
+their own men--scoundrels often brave beyond measure, but pillagers and
+debauchees.
+
+Rumor had it that the Prussians were about to enter Rouen.
+
+The members of the National Guard, who for the past two months had been
+reconnoitering with the utmost caution in the neighboring woods,
+occasionally shooting their own sentinels, and making ready for fight
+whenever a rabbit rustled in the undergrowth, had now returned to their
+homes.  Their arms, their uniforms, all the death-dealing paraphernalia
+with which they had terrified all the milestones along the highroad for
+eight miles round, had suddenly and marvellously disappeared.
+
+The last of the French soldiers had just crossed the Seine on their way
+to Pont-Audemer, through Saint-Sever and Bourg-Achard, and in their rear
+the vanquished general, powerless to do aught with the forlorn remnants
+of his army, himself dismayed at the final overthrow of a nation
+accustomed to victory and disastrously beaten despite its legendary
+bravery, walked between two orderlies.
+
+Then a profound calm, a shuddering, silent dread, settled on the city.
+Many a round-paunched citizen, emasculated by years devoted to business,
+anxiously awaited the conquerors, trembling lest his roasting-jacks or
+kitchen knives should be looked upon as weapons.
+
+Life seemed to have stopped short; the shops were shut, the streets
+deserted.  Now and then an inhabitant, awed by the silence, glided
+swiftly by in the shadow of the walls.  The anguish of suspense made men
+even desire the arrival of the enemy.
+
+In the afternoon of the day following the departure of the French troops,
+a number of uhlans, coming no one knew whence, passed rapidly through the
+town.  A little later on, a black mass descended St. Catherine's Hill,
+while two other invading bodies appeared respectively on the Darnetal and
+the Boisguillaume roads.  The advance guards of the three corps arrived
+at precisely the same moment at the Square of the Hotel de Ville, and the
+German army poured through all the adjacent streets, its battalions
+making the pavement ring with their firm, measured tread.
+
+Orders shouted in an unknown, guttural tongue rose to the windows of the
+seemingly dead, deserted houses; while behind the fast-closed shutters
+eager eyes peered forth at the victors-masters now of the city, its
+fortunes, and its lives, by "right of war."  The inhabitants, in their
+darkened rooms, were possessed by that terror which follows in the wake
+of cataclysms, of deadly upheavals of the earth, against which all human
+skill and strength are vain.  For the same thing happens whenever the
+established order of things is upset, when security no longer exists,
+when all those rights usually protected by the law of man or of Nature
+are at the mercy of unreasoning, savage force.  The earthquake crushing a
+whole nation under falling roofs; the flood let loose, and engulfing in
+its swirling depths the corpses of drowned peasants, along with dead oxen
+and beams torn from shattered houses; or the army, covered with glory,
+murdering those who defend themselves, making prisoners of the rest,
+pillaging in the name of the Sword, and giving thanks to God to the
+thunder of cannon--all these are appalling scourges, which destroy all
+belief in eternal justice, all that confidence we have been taught to
+feel in the protection of Heaven and the reason of man.
+
+Small detachments of soldiers knocked at each door, and then disappeared
+within the houses; for the vanquished saw they would have to be civil to
+their conquerors.
+
+At the end of a short time, once the first terror had subsided, calm was
+again restored.  In many houses the Prussian officer ate at the same
+table with the family.  He was often well-bred, and, out of politeness,
+expressed sympathy with France and repugnance at being compelled to take
+part in the war.  This sentiment was received with gratitude; besides,
+his protection might be needful some day or other.  By the exercise of
+tact the number of men quartered in one's house might be reduced; and why
+should one provoke the hostility of a person on whom one's whole welfare
+depended?  Such conduct would savor less of bravery than of fool-
+hardiness.  And foolhardiness is no longer a failing of the citizens of
+Rouen as it was in the days when their city earned renown by its heroic
+defenses.  Last of all-final argument based on the national politeness-
+the folk of Rouen said to one another that it was only right to be civil
+in one's own house, provided there was no public exhibition of
+familiarity with the foreigner.  Out of doors, therefore, citizen and
+soldier did not know each other; but in the house both chatted freely,
+and each evening the German remained a little longer warming himself at
+the hospitable hearth.
+
+Even the town itself resumed by degrees its ordinary aspect.  The French
+seldom walked abroad, but the streets swarmed with Prussian soldiers.
+Moreover, the officers of the Blue Hussars, who arrogantly dragged their
+instruments of death along the pavements, seemed to hold the simple
+townsmen in but little more contempt than did the French cavalry officers
+who had drunk at the same cafes the year before.
+
+But there was something in the air, a something strange and subtle, an
+intolerable foreign atmosphere like a penetrating odor--the odor of
+invasion.  It permeated dwellings and places of public resort, changed
+the taste of food, made one imagine one's self in far-distant lands, amid
+dangerous, barbaric tribes.
+
+The conquerors exacted money, much money.  The inhabitants paid what was
+asked; they were rich.  But, the wealthier a Norman tradesman becomes,
+the more he suffers at having to part with anything that belongs to him,
+at having to see any portion of his substance pass into the hands of
+another.
+
+Nevertheless, within six or seven miles of the town, along the course of
+the river as it flows onward to Croisset, Dieppedalle and Biessart, boat-
+men and fishermen often hauled to the surface of the water the body of a
+German, bloated in his uniform, killed by a blow from knife or club, his
+head crushed by a stone, or perchance pushed from some bridge into the
+stream below.  The mud of the river-bed swallowed up these obscure acts
+of vengeance--savage, yet legitimate; these unrecorded deeds of bravery;
+these silent attacks fraught with greater danger than battles fought in
+broad day, and surrounded, moreover, with no halo of romance.  For hatred
+of the foreigner ever arms a few intrepid souls, ready to die for an
+idea.
+
+At last, as the invaders, though subjecting the town to the strictest
+discipline, had not committed any of the deeds of horror with which they
+had been credited while on their triumphal march, the people grew bolder,
+and the necessities of business again animated the breasts of the local
+merchants.  Some of these had important commercial interests at Havre-
+occupied at present by the French army--and wished to attempt to reach
+that port by overland route to Dieppe, taking the boat from there.
+
+Through the influence of the German officers whose acquaintance they had
+made, they obtained a permit to leave town from the general in command.
+
+A large four-horse coach having, therefore, been engaged for the journey,
+and ten passengers having given in their names to the proprietor, they
+decided to start on a certain Tuesday morning before daybreak, to avoid
+attracting a crowd.
+
+The ground had been frozen hard for some time-past, and about three
+o'clock on Monday afternoon--large black clouds from the north shed their
+burden of snow uninterruptedly all through that evening and night.
+
+At half-past four in the morning the travellers met in the courtyard of
+the Hotel de Normandie, where they were to take their seats in the coach.
+
+They were still half asleep, and shivering with cold under their wraps.
+They could see one another but indistinctly in the darkness, and the
+mountain of heavy winter wraps in which each was swathed made them look
+like a gathering of obese priests in their long cassocks.  But two men
+recognized each other, a third accosted them, and the three began to
+talk.  "I am bringing my wife," said one.  "So am I."  "And I, too."  The
+first speaker added: "We shall not return to Rouen, and if the Prussians
+approach Havre we will cross to England."  All three, it turned out, had
+made the same plans, being of similar disposition and temperament.
+
+Still the horses were not harnessed.  A small lantern carried by a
+stable-boy emerged now and then from one dark doorway to disappear
+immediately in another.  The stamping of horses' hoofs, deadened by the
+dung and straw of the stable, was heard from time to time, and from
+inside the building issued a man's voice, talking to the animals and
+swearing at them.  A faint tinkle of bells showed that the harness was
+being got ready; this tinkle soon developed into a continuous jingling,
+louder or softer according to the movements of the horse, sometimes
+stopping altogether, then breaking out in a sudden peal accompanied by a
+pawing of the ground by an iron-shod hoof.
+
+The door suddenly closed.  All noise ceased.
+
+The frozen townsmen were silent; they remained motionless, stiff with
+cold.
+
+A thick curtain of glistening white flakes fell ceaselessly to the
+ground; it obliterated all outlines, enveloped all objects in an icy
+mantle of foam; nothing was to be heard throughout the length and breadth
+of the silent, winter-bound city save the vague, nameless rustle of
+falling snow--a sensation rather than a sound--the gentle mingling of
+light atoms which seemed to fill all space, to cover the whole world.
+
+The man reappeared with his lantern, leading by a rope a melancholy-
+looking horse, evidently being led out against his inclination.  The
+hostler placed him beside the pole, fastened the traces, and spent some
+time in walking round him to make sure that the harness was all right;
+for he could use only one hand, the other being engaged in holding the
+lantern.  As he was about to fetch the second horse he noticed the
+motionless group of travellers, already white with snow, and said to
+them: "Why don't you get inside the coach?  You'd be under shelter, at
+least."
+
+This did not seem to have occurred to them, and they at once took his
+advice.  The three men seated their wives at the far end of the coach,
+then got in themselves; lastly the other vague, snow-shrouded forms
+clambered to the remaining places without a word.
+
+The floor was covered with straw, into which the feet sank.  The ladies
+at the far end, having brought with them little copper foot-warmers
+heated by means of a kind of chemical fuel, proceeded to light these, and
+spent some time in expatiating in low tones on their advantages, saying
+over and over again things which they had all known for a long time.
+
+At last, six horses instead of four having been harnessed to the
+diligence, on account of the heavy roads, a voice outside asked: "Is
+every one there?" To which a voice from the interior replied: "Yes," and
+they set out.
+
+The vehicle moved slowly, slowly, at a snail's pace; the wheels sank into
+the snow; the entire body of the coach creaked and groaned; the horses
+slipped, puffed, steamed, and the coachman's long whip cracked
+incessantly, flying hither and thither, coiling up, then flinging out its
+length like a slender serpent, as it lashed some rounded flank, which
+instantly grew tense as it strained in further effort.
+
+But the day grew apace.  Those light flakes which one traveller, a native
+of Rouen, had compared to a rain of cotton fell no longer.  A murky light
+filtered through dark, heavy clouds, which made the country more
+dazzlingly white by contrast, a whiteness broken sometimes by a row of
+tall trees spangled with hoarfrost, or by a cottage roof hooded in snow.
+
+Within the coach the passengers eyed one another curiously in the dim
+light of dawn.
+
+Right at the back, in the best seats of all, Monsieur and Madame Loiseau,
+wholesale wine merchants of the Rue Grand-Pont, slumbered opposite each
+other.  Formerly clerk to a merchant who had failed in business, Loiseau
+had bought his master's interest, and made a fortune for himself.  He
+sold very bad wine at a very low price to the retail-dealers in the
+country, and had the reputation, among his friends and acquaintances, of
+being a shrewd rascal a true Norman, full of quips and wiles.  So well
+established was his character as a cheat that, in the mouths of the
+citizens of Rouen, the very name of Loiseau became a byword for sharp
+practice.
+
+Above and beyond this, Loiseau was noted for his practical jokes of every
+description--his tricks, good or ill-natured; and no one could mention
+his name without adding at once: "He's an extraordinary man--Loiseau."
+He was undersized and potbellied, had a florid face with grayish
+whiskers.
+
+His wife-tall, strong, determined, with a loud voice and decided manner--
+represented the spirit of order and arithmetic in the business house
+which Loiseau enlivened by his jovial activity.
+
+Beside them, dignified in bearing, belonging to a superior caste, sat
+Monsieur Carre-Lamadon, a man of considerable importance, a king in the
+cotton trade, proprietor of three spinning-mills, officer of the Legion
+of Honor, and member of the General Council.  During the whole time the
+Empire was in the ascendancy he remained the chief of the well-disposed
+Opposition, merely in order to command a higher value for his devotion
+when he should rally to the cause which he meanwhile opposed with
+"courteous weapons," to use his own expression.
+
+Madame Carre-Lamadon, much younger than her husband, was the consolation
+of all the officers of good family quartered at Rouen.  Pretty, slender,
+graceful, she sat opposite her husband, curled up in her furs, and gazing
+mournfully at the sorry interior of the coach.
+
+Her neighbors, the Comte and Comtesse Hubert de Breville, bore one of the
+noblest and most ancient names in Normandy.  The count, a nobleman
+advanced in years and of aristocratic bearing, strove to enhance by every
+artifice of the toilet, his natural resemblance to King Henry IV, who,
+according to a legend of which the family were inordinately proud, had
+been the favored lover of a De Breville lady, and father of her child--
+the frail one's husband having, in recognition of this fact, been made a
+count and governor of a province.
+
+A colleague of Monsieur Carre-Lamadon in the General Council, Count
+Hubert represented the Orleanist party in his department.  The story of
+his marriage with the daughter of a small shipowner at Nantes had always
+remained more or less of a mystery.  But as the countess had an air of
+unmistakable breeding, entertained faultlessly, and was even supposed to
+have been loved by a son of Louis-Philippe, the nobility vied with one
+another in doing her honor, and her drawing-room remained the most select
+in the whole countryside--the only one which retained the old spirit of
+gallantry, and to which access was not easy.
+
+The fortune of the Brevilles, all in real estate, amounted, it was said,
+to five hundred thousand francs a year.
+
+These six people occupied the farther end of the coach, and represented
+Society--with an income--the strong, established society of good people
+with religion and principle.
+
+It happened by chance that all the women were seated on the same side;
+and the countess had, moreover, as neighbors two nuns, who spent the time
+in fingering their long rosaries and murmuring paternosters and aves.
+One of them was old, and so deeply pitted with smallpox that she looked
+for all the world as if she had received a charge of shot full in the
+face.  The other, of sickly appearance, had a pretty but wasted
+countenance, and a narrow, consumptive chest, sapped by that devouring
+faith which is the making of martyrs and visionaries.
+
+A man and woman, sitting opposite the two nuns, attracted all eyes.
+
+The man--a well-known character--was Cornudet, the democrat, the terror
+of all respectable people.  For the past twenty years his big red beard
+had been on terms of intimate acquaintance with the tankards of all the
+republican cafes.  With the help of his comrades and brethren he had
+dissipated a respectable fortune left him by his father, an old-
+established confectioner, and he now impatiently awaited the Republic,
+that he might at last be rewarded with the post he had earned by his
+revolutionary orgies.  On the fourth of September--possibly as the result
+of a practical joke--he was led to believe that he had been appointed
+prefect; but when he attempted to take up the duties of the position the
+clerks in charge of the office refused to recognize his authority, and he
+was compelled in consequence to retire.  A good sort of fellow in other
+respects, inoffensive and obliging, he had thrown himself zealously into
+the work of making an organized defence of the town.  He had had pits dug
+in the level country, young forest trees felled, and traps set on all the
+roads; then at the approach of the enemy, thoroughly satisfied with his
+preparations, he had hastily returned to the town.  He thought he might
+now do more good at Havre, where new intrenchments would soon be
+necessary.
+
+The woman, who belonged to the courtesan class, was celebrated for an
+embonpoint unusual for her age, which had earned for her the sobriquet of
+"Boule de Suif" (Tallow Ball).  Short and round, fat as a pig, with puffy
+fingers constricted at the joints, looking like rows of short sausages;
+with a shiny, tightly-stretched skin and an enormous bust filling out the
+bodice of her dress, she was yet attractive and much sought after, owing
+to her fresh and pleasing appearance.  Her face was like a crimson apple,
+a peony-bud just bursting into bloom; she had two magnificent dark eyes,
+fringed with thick, heavy lashes, which cast a shadow into their depths;
+her mouth was small, ripe, kissable, and was furnished with the tiniest
+of white teeth.
+
+As soon as she was recognized the respectable matrons of the party began
+to whisper among themselves, and the words "hussy" and "public scandal"
+were uttered so loudly that Boule de Suif raised her head.  She forthwith
+cast such a challenging, bold look at her neighbors that a sudden silence
+fell on the company, and all lowered their eyes, with the exception of
+Loiseau, who watched her with evident interest.
+
+But conversation was soon resumed among the three ladies, whom the
+presence of this girl had suddenly drawn together in the bonds of
+friendship--one might almost say in those of intimacy.  They decided that
+they ought to combine, as it were, in their dignity as wives in face of
+this shameless hussy; for legitimized love always despises its easygoing
+brother.
+
+The three men, also, brought together by a certain conservative instinct
+awakened by the presence of Cornudet, spoke of money matters in a tone
+expressive of contempt for the poor.  Count Hubert related the losses he
+had sustained at the hands of the Prussians, spoke of the cattle which
+had been stolen from him, the crops which had been ruined, with the easy
+manner of a nobleman who was also a tenfold millionaire, and whom such
+reverses would scarcely inconvenience for a single year.  Monsieur Carre-
+Lamadon, a man of wide experience in the cotton industry, had taken care
+to send six hundred thousand francs to England as provision against the
+rainy day he was always anticipating.  As for Loiseau, he had managed to
+sell to the French commissariat department all the wines he had in stock,
+so that the state now owed him a considerable sum, which he hoped to
+receive at Havre.
+
+And all three eyed one another in friendly, well-disposed fashion.
+Although of varying social status, they were united in the brotherhood of
+money--in that vast freemasonry made up of those who possess, who can
+jingle gold wherever they choose to put their hands into their breeches'
+pockets.
+
+The coach went along so slowly that at ten o'clock in the morning it had
+not covered twelve miles.  Three times the men of the party got out and
+climbed the hills on foot.  The passengers were becoming uneasy, for they
+had counted on lunching at Totes, and it seemed now as if they would
+hardly arrive there before nightfall.  Every one was eagerly looking out
+for an inn by the roadside, when, suddenly, the coach foundered in a
+snowdrift, and it took two hours to extricate it.
+
+As appetites increased, their spirits fell; no inn, no wine shop could be
+discovered, the approach of the Prussians and the transit of the starving
+French troops having frightened away all business.
+
+The men sought food in the farmhouses beside the road, but could not find
+so much as a crust of bread; for the suspicious peasant invariably hid
+his stores for fear of being pillaged by the soldiers, who, being
+entirely without food, would take violent possession of everything they
+found.
+
+About one o'clock Loiseau announced that he positively had a big hollow
+in his stomach.  They had all been suffering in the same way for some
+time, and the increasing gnawings of hunger had put an end to all
+conversation.
+
+Now and then some one yawned, another followed his example, and each in
+turn, according to his character, breeding and social position, yawned
+either quietly or noisily, placing his hand before the gaping void whence
+issued breath condensed into vapor.
+
+Several times Boule de Suif stooped, as if searching for something under
+her petticoats.  She would hesitate a moment, look at her neighbors, and
+then quietly sit upright again.  All faces were pale and drawn.  Loiseau
+declared he would give a thousand francs for a knuckle of ham.  His wife
+made an involuntary and quickly checked gesture of protest.  It always
+hurt her to hear of money being squandered, and she could not even
+understand jokes on such a subject.
+
+"As a matter of fact, I don't feel well," said the count.  "Why did I not
+think of bringing provisions?"  Each one reproached himself in similar
+fashion.
+
+Cornudet, however, had a bottle of rum, which he offered to his
+neighbors.  They all coldly refused except Loiseau, who took a sip, and
+returned the bottle with thanks, saying: "That's good stuff; it warms one
+up, and cheats the appetite."  The alcohol put him in good humor, and he
+proposed they should do as the sailors did in the song: eat the fattest
+of the passengers.  This indirect allusion to Boule de Suif shocked the
+respectable members of the party.  No one replied; only Cornudet smiled.
+The two good sisters had ceased to mumble their rosary, and, with hands
+enfolded in their wide sleeves, sat motionless, their eyes steadfastly
+cast down, doubtless offering up as a sacrifice to Heaven the suffering
+it had sent them.
+
+At last, at three o'clock, as they were in the midst of an apparently
+limitless plain, with not a single village in sight, Boule de Suif
+stooped quickly, and drew from underneath the seat a large basket covered
+with a white napkin.
+
+From this she extracted first of all a small earthenware plate and a
+silver drinking cup, then an enormous dish containing two whole chickens
+cut into joints and imbedded in jelly.  The basket was seen to contain
+other good things: pies, fruit, dainties of all sorts-provisions, in
+fine, for a three days' journey, rendering their owner independent of
+wayside inns.  The necks of four bottles protruded from among thp food.
+She took a chicken wing, and began to eat it daintily, together with one
+of those rolls called in Normandy "Regence."
+
+All looks were directed toward her.  An odor of food filled the air,
+causing nostrils to dilate, mouths to water, and jaws to contract
+painfully.  The scorn of the ladies for this disreputable female grew
+positively ferocious; they would have liked to kill her, or throw, her
+and her drinking cup, her basket, and her provisions, out of the coach
+into the snow of the road below.
+
+But Loiseau's gaze was fixed greedily on the dish of chicken.  He said:
+
+"Well, well, this lady had more forethought than the rest of us.  Some
+people think of everything."
+
+She looked up at him.
+
+"Would you like some, sir?  It is hard to go on fasting all day."
+
+He bowed.
+
+"Upon my soul, I can't refuse; I cannot hold out another minute.  All is
+fair in war time, is it not, madame?"  And, casting a glance on those
+around, he added:
+
+"At times like this it is very pleasant to meet with obliging people."
+
+He spread a newspaper over his knees to avoid soiling his trousers, and,
+with a pocketknife he always carried, helped himself to a chicken leg
+coated with jelly, which he thereupon proceeded to devour.
+
+Then Boule le Suif, in low, humble tones, invited the nuns to partake of
+her repast.  They both accepted the offer unhesitatingly, and after a few
+stammered words of thanks began to eat quickly, without raising their
+eyes.  Neither did Cornudet refuse his neighbor's offer, and, in
+combination with the nuns, a sort of table was formed by opening out the
+newspaper over the four pairs of knees.
+
+Mouths kept opening and shutting, ferociously masticating and devouring
+the food.  Loiseau, in his corner, was hard at work, and in low tones
+urged his wife to follow his example.  She held out for a long time, but
+overstrained Nature gave way at last.  Her husband, assuming his politest
+manner, asked their "charming companion" if he might be allowed to offer
+Madame Loiseau a small helping.
+
+"Why, certainly, sir," she replied, with an amiable smile, holding out
+the dish.
+
+When the first bottle of claret was opened some embarrassment was caused
+by the fact that there was only one drinking cup, but this was passed
+from one to another, after being wiped.  Cornudet alone, doubtless in a
+spirit of gallantry, raised to his own lips that part of the rim which
+was still moist from those of his fair neighbor.
+
+Then, surrounded by people who were eating, and well-nigh suffocated by
+the odor of food, the Comte and Comtesse de Breville and Monsieur and
+Madame Carre-Lamadon endured that hateful form of torture which has
+perpetuated the name of Tantalus.  All at once the manufacturer's young
+wife heaved a sigh which made every one turn and look at her; she was
+white as the snow without; her eyes closed, her head fell forward; she
+had fainted.  Her husband, beside himself, implored the help of his
+neighbors.  No one seemed to know what to do until the elder of the two
+nuns, raising the patient's head, placed Boule de Suif's drinking cup to
+her lips, and made her swallow a few drops of wine.  The pretty invalid
+moved, opened her eyes, smiled, and declared in a feeble voice that she
+was all right again.  But, to prevent a recurrence of the catastrophe,
+the nun made her drink a cupful of claret, adding: "It's just hunger-
+that's what is wrong with you."
+
+Then Boule de Suif, blushing and embarrassed, stammered, looking at the
+four passengers who were still fasting:
+
+"'Mon Dieu', if I might offer these ladies and gentlemen----"
+
+She stopped short, fearing a snub.  But Loiseau continued:
+
+"Hang it all, in such a case as this we are all brothers and sisters and
+ought to assist each other.  Come, come, ladies, don't stand on ceremony,
+for goodness' sake!  Do we even know whether we shall find a house in
+which to pass the night?  At our present rate of going we sha'n't be at
+Totes till midday to-morrow."
+
+They hesitated, no one daring to be the first to accept.  But the count
+settled the question.  He turned toward the abashed girl, and in his most
+distinguished manner said:
+
+"We accept gratefully, madame."
+
+As usual, it was only the first step that cost.  This Rubicon once
+crossed, they set to work with a will.  The basket was emptied.  It still
+contained a pate de foie gras, a lark pie, a piece of smoked tongue,
+Crassane pears, Pont-Leveque gingerbread, fancy cakes, and a cup full of
+pickled gherkins and onions--Boule de Suif, like all women, being very
+fond of indigestible things.
+
+They could not eat this girl's provisions without speaking to her.  So
+they began to talk, stiffly at first; then, as she seemed by no means
+forward, with greater freedom.  Mesdames de Breville and Carre-Lamadon,
+who were accomplished women of the world, were gracious and tactful.  The
+countess especially displayed that amiable condescension characteristic
+of great ladies whom no contact with baser mortals can sully, and was
+absolutely charming.  But the sturdy Madame Loiseau, who had the soul of
+a gendarme, continued morose, speaking little and eating much.
+
+Conversation naturally turned on the war.  Terrible stories were told
+about the Prussians, deeds of bravery were recounted of the French; and
+all these people who were fleeing themselves were ready to pay homage to
+the courage of their compatriots.  Personal experiences soon followed,
+and Bottle le Suif related with genuine emotion, and with that warmth of
+language not uncommon in women of her class and temperament, how it came
+about that she had left Rouen.
+
+"I thought at first that I should be able to stay," she said.  "My house
+was well stocked with provisions, and it seemed better to put up with
+feeding a few soldiers than to banish myself goodness knows where.  But
+when I saw these Prussians it was too much for me!  My blood boiled with
+rage; I wept the whole day for very shame.  Oh, if only I had been a man!
+I looked at them from my window--the fat swine, with their pointed
+helmets!--and my maid held my hands to keep me from throwing my furniture
+down on them.  Then some of them were quartered on me; I flew at the
+throat of the first one who entered.  They are just as easy to strangle
+as other men!  And I'd have been the death of that one if I hadn't been
+dragged away from him by my hair.  I had to hide after that.  And as soon
+as I could get an opportunity I left the place, and here I am."
+
+She was warmly congratulated.  She rose in the estimation of her
+companions, who had not been so brave; and Cornudet listened to her with
+the approving and benevolent smile of an apostle, the smile a priest
+might wear in listening to a devotee praising God; for long-bearded
+democrats of his type have a monopoly of patriotism, just as priests have
+a monopoly of religion.  He held forth in turn, with dogmatic self-
+assurance, in the style of the proclamations daily pasted on the walls of
+the town, winding up with a specimen of stump oratory in which he reviled
+"that besotted fool of a Louis-Napoleon."
+
+But Boule de Suif was indignant, for she was an ardent Bonapartist.  She
+turned as red as a cherry, and stammered in her wrath: "I'd just like to
+have seen you in his place--you and your sort!  There would have been a
+nice mix-up.  Oh, yes!  It was you who betrayed that man.  It would be
+impossible to live in France if we were governed by such rascals as you!"
+
+Cornudet, unmoved by this tirade, still smiled a superior, contemptuous
+smile; and one felt that high words were impending, when the count
+interposed, and, not without difficulty, succeeded in calming the
+exasperated woman, saying that all sincere opinions ought to be
+respected.  But the countess and the manufacturer's wife, imbued with the
+unreasoning hatred of the upper classes for the Republic, and instinct,
+moreover, with the affection felt by all women for the pomp and
+circumstance of despotic government, were drawn, in spite of themselves,
+toward this dignified young woman, whose opinions coincided so closely
+with their own.
+
+The basket was empty.  The ten people had finished its contents without
+difficulty amid general regret that it did not hold more.  Conversation
+went on a little longer, though it flagged somewhat after the passengers
+had finished eating.
+
+Night fell, the darkness grew deeper and deeper, and the cold made Boule
+de Suif shiver, in spite of her plumpness.  So Madame de Breville offered
+her her foot-warmer, the fuel of which had been several times renewed
+since the morning, and she accepted the offer at once, for her feet were
+icy cold.  Mesdames Carre-Lamadon and Loiseau gave theirs to the nuns.
+
+The driver lighted his lanterns.  They cast a bright gleam on a cloud of
+vapor which hovered over the sweating flanks of the horses, and on the
+roadside snow, which seemed to unroll as they went along in the changing
+light of the lamps.
+
+All was now indistinguishable in the coach; but suddenly a movement
+occurred in the corner occupied by Boule de Suif and Cornudet; and
+Loiseau, peering into the gloom, fancied he saw the big, bearded democrat
+move hastily to one side, as if he had received a well-directed, though
+noiseless, blow in the dark.
+
+Tiny lights glimmered ahead.  It was Totes.  The coach had been on the
+road eleven hours, which, with the three hours allotted the horses in
+four periods for feeding and breathing, made fourteen.  It entered the
+town, and stopped before the Hotel du Commerce.
+
+The coach door opened; a well-known noise made all the travellers start;
+it was the clanging of a scabbard, on the pavement; then a voice called
+out something in German.
+
+Although the coach had come to a standstill, no one got out; it looked as
+if they were afraid of being murdered the moment they left their seats.
+Thereupon the driver appeared, holding in his hand one of his lanterns,
+which cast a sudden glow on the interior of the coach, lighting up the
+double row of startled faces, mouths agape, and eyes wide open in
+surprise and terror.
+
+Beside the driver stood in the full light a German officer, a tall young
+man, fair and slender, tightly encased in his uniform like a woman in her
+corset, his flat shiny cap, tilted to one side of his head, making him
+look like an English hotel runner.  His exaggerated mustache, long and
+straight and tapering to a point at either end in a single blond hair
+that could hardly be seen, seemed to weigh down the corners of his mouth
+and give a droop to his lips.
+
+In  Alsatian French he requested the travellers to alight, saying
+stiffly:
+
+"Kindly get down, ladies and gentlemen."
+
+The two nuns were the first to obey, manifesting the docility of holy
+women accustomed to submission on every occasion.  Next appeared the
+count and countess, followed by the manufacturer and his wife, after whom
+came Loiseau, pushing his larger and better half before him.
+
+"Good-day, sir," he said to the officer as he put his foot to the ground,
+acting on an impulse born of prudence rather than of politeness.  The
+other, insolent like all in authority, merely stared without replying.
+
+Boule de Suif and Cornudet, though near the door, were the last to
+alight, grave and dignified before the enemy.  The stout girl tried to
+control herself and appear calm; the democrat stroked his long russet
+beard with a somewhat trembling hand.  Both strove to maintain their
+dignity, knowing well that at such a time each individual is always
+looked upon as more or less typical of his nation; and, also, resenting
+the complaisant attitude of their companions, Boule de Suif tried to wear
+a bolder front than her neighbors, the virtuous women, while he, feeling
+that it was incumbent on him to set a good example, kept up the attitude
+of resistance which he had first assumed when he undertook to mine the
+high roads round Rouen.
+
+They entered the spacious kitchen of the inn, and the German, having
+demanded the passports signed by the general in command, in which were
+mentioned the name, description and profession of each traveller,
+inspected them all minutely, comparing their appearance with the written
+particulars.
+
+Then he said brusquely: "All right," and turned on his heel.
+
+They breathed freely, All were still hungry; so supper was ordered.  Half
+an hour was required for its preparation, and while two servants were
+apparently engaged in getting it ready the travellers went to look at
+their rooms.  These all opened off a long corridor, at the end of which
+was a glazed door with a number on it.
+
+They were just about to take their seats at table when the innkeeper
+appeared in person.  He was a former horse dealer--a large, asthmatic
+individual, always wheezing, coughing, and clearing his throat.
+Follenvie was his patronymic.
+
+He called:
+
+"Mademoiselle Elisabeth Rousset?"
+
+Boule de Suif started, and turned round.
+
+"That is my name."
+
+"Mademoiselle, the Prussian officer wishes to speak to you immediately."
+
+"To me?"
+
+"Yes; if you are Mademoiselle Elisabeth Rousset."
+
+She hesitated, reflected a moment, and then declared roundly:
+
+"That may be; but I'm not going."
+
+They moved restlessly around her; every one wondered and speculated as to
+the cause of this order.  The count approached:
+
+"You are wrong, madame, for your refusal may bring trouble not only on
+yourself but also on all your companions.  It never pays to resist those
+in authority.  Your compliance with this request cannot possibly be
+fraught with any danger; it has probably been made because some formality
+or other was forgotten."
+
+All added their voices to that of the count; Boule de Suif was begged,
+urged, lectured, and at last convinced; every one was afraid of the
+complications which might result from headstrong action on her part.  She
+said finally:
+
+"I am doing it for your sakes, remember that!"
+
+The countess took her hand.
+
+"And we are grateful to you."
+
+She left the room.  All waited for her return before commencing the meal.
+Each was distressed that he or she had not been sent for rather than this
+impulsive, quick-tempered girl, and each mentally rehearsed platitudes in
+case of being summoned also.
+
+But at the end of ten minutes she reappeared breathing hard, crimson with
+indignation.
+
+"Oh! the scoundrel! the scoundrel!" she stammered.
+
+All were anxious to know what had happened; but she declined to enlighten
+them, and when the count pressed the point, she silenced him with much
+dignity, saying:
+
+"No; the matter has nothing to do with you, and I cannot speak of it."
+
+Then they took their places round a high soup tureen, from which issued
+an odor of cabbage.  In spite of this coincidence, the supper was
+cheerful.  The cider was good; the Loiseaus and the nuns drank it from
+motives of economy.  The others ordered wine; Cornudet demanded beer.  He
+had his own fashion of uncorking the bottle and making the beer foam,
+gazing at it as he inclined his glass and then raised it to a position
+between the lamp and his eye that he might judge of its color.  When he
+drank, his great beard, which matched the color of his favorite beverage,
+seemed to tremble with affection; his eyes positively squinted in the
+endeavor not to lose sight of the beloved glass, and he looked for all
+the world as if he were fulfilling the only function for which he was
+born.  He seemed to have established in his mind an affinity between the
+two great passions of his life--pale ale and revolution--and assuredly he
+could not taste the one without dreaming of the other.
+
+Monsieur and Madame Follenvie dined at the end of the table.  The man,
+wheezing like a broken-down locomotive, was too short-winded to talk when
+he was eating.  But the wife was not silent a moment; she told how the
+Prussians had impressed her on their arrival, what they did, what they
+said; execrating them in the first place because they cost her money, and
+in the second because she had two sons in the army.  She addressed
+herself principally to the countess, flattered at the opportunity of
+talking to a lady of quality.
+
+Then she lowered her voice, and began to broach delicate subjects.  Her
+husband interrupted her from time to time, saying:
+
+"You would do well to hold your tongue, Madame Follenvie."
+
+But she took no notice of him, and went on:
+
+"Yes, madame, these Germans do nothing but eat potatoes and pork, and
+then pork and potatoes.  And don't imagine for a moment that they are
+clean!  No, indeed!  And if only you saw them drilling for hours, indeed
+for days, together; they all collect in a field, then they do nothing but
+march backward and forward, and wheel this way and that.  If only they
+would cultivate the land, or remain at home and work on their high roads!
+Really, madame, these soldiers are of no earthly use!  Poor people have
+to feed and keep them, only in order that they may learn how to kill!
+True, I am only an old woman with no education, but when I see them
+wearing themselves out marching about from morning till night, I say to
+myself: When there are people who make discoveries that are of use to
+people, why should others take so much trouble to do harm?  Really, now,
+isn't it a terrible thing to kill people, whether they are Prussians, or
+English, or Poles, or French?  If we revenge ourselves on any one who
+injures us we do wrong, and are punished for it; but when our sons are
+shot down like partridges, that is all right, and decorations are given
+to the man who kills the most.  No, indeed, I shall never be able to
+understand it."
+
+Cornudet raised his voice:
+
+"War is a barbarous proceeding when we attack a peaceful neighbor, but it
+is a sacred duty when undertaken in defence of one's country."
+
+The old woman looked down:
+
+"Yes; it's another matter when one acts in self-defence; but would it not
+be better to kill all the kings, seeing that they make war just to amuse
+themselves?"
+
+Cornudet's eyes kindled.
+
+"Bravo, citizens!" he said.
+
+Monsieur Carre-Lamadon was reflecting profoundly.  Although an ardent
+admirer of great generals, the peasant woman's sturdy common sense made
+him reflect on the wealth which might accrue to a country by the
+employment of so many idle hands now maintained at a great expense, of so
+much unproductive force, if they were employed in those great industrial
+enterprises which it will take centuries to complete.
+
+But Loiseau, leaving his seat, went over to the innkeeper and began
+chatting in a low voice.  The big man chuckled, coughed, sputtered; his
+enormous carcass shook with merriment at the pleasantries of the other;
+and he ended by buying six casks of claret from Loiseau to be delivered
+in spring, after the departure of the Prussians.
+
+The moment supper was over every one went to bed, worn out with fatigue.
+
+But Loiseau, who had been making his observations on the sly, sent his
+wife to bed, and amused himself by placing first his ear, and then his
+eye, to the bedroom keyhole, in order to discover what he called "the
+mysteries of the corridor."
+
+At the end of about an hour he heard a rustling, peeped out quickly, and
+caught sight of Boule de Suif, looking more rotund than ever in a
+dressing-gown of blue cashmere trimmed with white lace.  She held a
+candle in her hand, and directed her steps to the numbered door at the
+end of the corridor.  But one of the side doors was partly opened, and
+when, at the end of a few minutes, she returned, Cornudet, in his shirt-
+sleeves, followed her.  They spoke in low tones, then stopped short.
+Boule de Suif seemed to be stoutly denying him admission to her room.
+Unfortunately, Loiseau could not at first hear what they said; but toward
+the end of the conversation they raised their voices, and he caught a few
+words.  Cornudet was loudly insistent.
+
+"How silly you are!  What does it matter to you?" he said.
+
+She seemed indignant, and replied:
+
+"No, my good man, there are times when one does not do that sort of
+thing; besides, in this place it would be shameful."
+
+Apparently he did not understand, and asked the reason.  Then she lost
+her temper and her caution, and, raising her voice still higher, said:
+
+"Why?  Can't you understand why?  When there are Prussians in the house!
+Perhaps even in the very next room!"
+
+He was silent.  The patriotic shame of this wanton, who would not suffer
+herself to be caressed in the neighborhood of the enemy, must have roused
+his dormant dignity, for after bestowing on her a simple kiss he crept
+softly back to his room.  Loiseau, much edified, capered round the
+bedroom before taking his place beside his slumbering spouse.
+
+Then silence reigned throughout the house.  But soon there arose from
+some remote part--it might easily have been either cellar or attic--a
+stertorous, monotonous, regular snoring, a dull, prolonged rumbling,
+varied by tremors like those of a boiler under pressure of steam.
+Monsieur Follenvie had gone to sleep.
+
+As they had decided on starting at eight o'clock the next morning, every
+one was in the kitchen at that hour; but the coach, its roof covered with
+snow, stood by itself in the middle of the yard, without either horses or
+driver.  They sought the latter in the stables, coach-houses and barns-
+but in vain.  So the men of the party resolved to scour the country for
+him, and sallied forth.  They found them selves in the square, with the
+church at the farther side, and to right and left low-roofed houses where
+there were some Prussian soldiers.  The first soldier they saw was
+peeling potatoes.  The second, farther on, was washing out a barber's
+shop.  An other, bearded to the eyes, was fondling a crying infant, and
+dandling it on his knees to quiet it; and the stout peasant women, whose
+men-folk were for the most part at the war, were, by means of signs,
+telling their obedient conquerors what work they were to do: chop wood,
+prepare soup, grind coffee; one of them even was doing the washing for
+his hostess, an infirm old grandmother.
+
+The count, astonished at what he saw, questioned the beadle who was
+coming out of the presbytery.  The old man answered:
+
+"Oh, those men are not at all a bad sort; they are not Prussians, I am
+told; they come from somewhere farther off, I don't exactly know where.
+And they have all left wives and children behind them; they are not fond
+of war either, you may be sure!  I am sure they are mourning for the men
+where they come from, just as we do here; and the war causes them just as
+much unhappiness as it does us.  As a matter of fact, things are not so
+very bad here just now, because the soldiers do no harm, and work just as
+if they were in their own homes.  You see, sir, poor folk always help one
+another; it is the great ones of this world who make war."
+
+Cornudet indignant at the friendly understanding established between
+conquerors and conquered, withdrew, preferring to shut himself up in the
+inn.
+
+"They are repeopling the country," jested Loiseau.
+
+"They are undoing the harm they have done," said Monsieur Carre-Lamadon
+gravely.
+
+But they could not find the coach driver.  At last he was discovered in
+the village cafe, fraternizing cordially with the officer's orderly.
+
+"Were you not told to harness the horses at eight o'clock?" demanded the
+count.
+
+"Oh, yes; but I've had different orders since."
+
+"What orders?"
+
+"Not to harness at all."
+
+"Who gave you such orders?"
+
+"Why, the Prussian officer."
+
+"But why?"
+
+"I don't know.  Go and ask him.  I am forbidden to harness the horses, so
+I don't harness them--that's all."
+
+"Did he tell you so himself?"
+
+"No, sir; the innkeeper gave me the order from him."
+
+"When?"
+
+"Last evening, just as I was going to bed."
+
+The three men returned in a very uneasy frame of mind.
+
+They asked for Monsieur Follenvie, but the servant replied that on
+account of his asthma he never got up before ten o'clock.  They were
+strictly forbidden to rouse him earlier, except in case of fire.
+
+They wished to see the officer, but that also was impossible, although he
+lodged in the inn.  Monsieur Follenvie alone was authorized to interview
+him on civil matters.  So they waited.  The women returned to their
+rooms, and occupied themselves with trivial matters.
+
+Cornudet settled down beside the tall kitchen fireplace, before a blazing
+fire.  He had a small table and a jug of beer placed beside him, and he
+smoked his pipe--a pipe which enjoyed among democrats a consideration
+almost equal to his own, as though it had served its country in serving
+Cornudet.  It was a fine meerschaum, admirably colored to a black the
+shade of its owner's teeth, but sweet-smelling, gracefully curved, at
+home in its master's hand, and completing his physiognomy.  And Cornudet
+sat motionless, his eyes fixed now on the dancing flames, now on the
+froth which crowned his beer; and after each draught he passed his long,
+thin fingers with an air of satisfaction through his long, greasy hair,
+as he sucked the foam from his mustache.
+
+Loiseau, under pretence of stretching his legs, went out to see if he
+could sell wine to the country dealers.  The count and the manufacturer
+began to talk politics.  They forecast the future of France.  One
+believed in the Orleans dynasty, the other in an unknown savior--a hero
+who should rise up in the last extremity: a Du Guesclin, perhaps a Joan
+of Arc? or another Napoleon the First?  Ah! if only the Prince Imperial
+were not so young!  Cornudet, listening to them, smiled like a man who
+holds the keys of destiny in his hands.  His pipe perfumed the whole
+kitchen.
+
+As the clock struck ten, Monsieur Follenvie appeared.  He was immediately
+surrounded and questioned, but could only repeat, three or four times in
+succession, and without variation, the words:
+
+"The officer said to me, just like this: 'Monsieur Follenvie, you will
+forbid them to harness up the coach for those travellers to-morrow.  They
+are not to start without an order from me.  You hear?  That is
+sufficient.'"
+
+Then they asked to see the officer.  The count sent him his card, on
+which Monsieur Carre-Lamadon also inscribed his name and titles.  The
+Prussian sent word that the two men would be admitted to see him after
+his luncheon--that is to say, about one o'clock.
+
+The ladies reappeared, and they all ate a little, in spite of their
+anxiety.  Boule de Suif appeared ill and very much worried.
+
+They were finishing their coffee when the orderly came to fetch the
+gentlemen.
+
+Loiseau joined the other two; but when they tried to get Cornudet to
+accompany them, by way of adding greater solemnity to the occasion, he
+declared proudly that he would never have anything to do with the
+Germans, and, resuming his seat in the chimney corner, he called for
+another jug of beer.
+
+The three men went upstairs, and were ushered into the best room in the
+inn, where the officer received them lolling at his ease in an armchair,
+his feet on the mantelpiece, smoking a long porcelain pipe, and enveloped
+in a gorgeous dressing-gown, doubtless stolen from the deserted dwelling
+of some citizen destitute of taste in dress.  He neither rose, greeted
+them, nor even glanced in their direction.  He afforded a fine example of
+that insolence of bearing which seems natural to the victorious soldier.
+
+After the lapse of a few moments he said in his halting French:
+
+"What do you want?"
+
+"We wish to start on our journey," said the count.
+
+"No."
+
+"May I ask the reason of your refusal?"
+
+"Because I don't choose."
+
+"I would respectfully call your attention, monsieur, to the fact that
+your general in command gave us a permit to proceed to Dieppe; and I do
+not think we have done anything to deserve this harshness at your hands."
+
+"I don't choose--that's all.  You may go."
+
+They bowed, and retired.
+
+The afternoon was wretched.  They could not understand the caprice of
+this German, and the strangest ideas came into their heads.  They all
+congregated in the kitchen, and talked the subject to death, imagining
+all kinds of unlikely things.  Perhaps they were to be kept as hostages
+--but for what reason? or to be extradited as prisoners of war? or
+possibly they were to be held for ransom?  They were panic-stricken at
+this last supposition.  The richest among them were the most alarmed,
+seeing themselves forced to empty bags of gold into the insolent
+soldier's hands in order to buy back their lives.  They racked their
+brains for plausible lies whereby they might conceal the fact that they
+were rich, and pass themselves off as poor--very poor.  Loiseau took off
+his watch chain, and put it in his pocket.  The approach of night
+increased their apprehension.  The lamp was lighted, and as it wanted yet
+two hours to dinner Madame Loiseau proposed a game of trente et un.  It
+would distract their thoughts.  The rest agreed, and Cornudet himself
+joined the party, first putting out his pipe for politeness' sake.
+
+The count shuffled the cards--dealt--and Boule de Suif had thirty-one to
+start with; soon the interest of the game assuaged the anxiety of the
+players.  But Cornudet noticed that Loiseau and his wife were in league
+to cheat.
+
+They were about to sit down to dinner when Monsieur Follenvie appeared,
+and in his grating voice announced:
+
+"The Prussian officer sends to ask Mademoiselle Elisabeth Rousset if she
+has changed her mind yet."
+
+Boule de Suif stood still, pale as death.  Then, suddenly turning crimson
+with anger, she gasped out:
+
+"Kindly tell that scoundrel, that cur, that carrion of a Prussian, that I
+will never consent--you understand?--never, never, never!"
+
+The fat innkeeper left the room.  Then Boule de Suif was surrounded,
+questioned, entreated on all sides to reveal the mystery of her visit to
+the officer.  She refused at first; but her wrath soon got the better of
+her.
+
+"What does he want?  He wants to make me his mistress!" she cried.
+
+No one was shocked at the word, so great was the general indignation.
+Cornudet broke his jug as he banged it down on the table.  A loud outcry
+arose against this base soldier.  All were furious.  They drew together
+in common resistance against the foe, as if some part of the sacrifice
+exacted of Boule de Suif had been demanded of each.  The count declared,
+with supreme disgust, that those people behaved like ancient barbarians.
+The women, above all, manifested a lively and tender sympathy for Boule
+de Suif.  The nuns, who appeared only at meals, cast down their eyes, and
+said nothing.
+
+They dined, however, as soon as the first indignant outburst had
+subsided; but they spoke little and thought much.
+
+The ladies went to bed early; and the men, having lighted their pipes,
+proposed a game of ecarte, in which Monsieur Follenvie was invited to
+join, the travellers hoping to question him skillfully as to the best
+means of vanquishing the officer's obduracy.  But he thought of nothing
+but his cards, would listen to nothing, reply to nothing, and repeated,
+time after time: "Attend to the game, gentlemen! attend to the game!"
+So absorbed was his attention that he even forgot to expectorate.  The
+consequence was that his chest gave forth rumbling sounds like those of
+an organ.  His wheezing lungs struck every note of the asthmatic scale,
+from deep, hollow tones to a shrill, hoarse piping resembling that of a
+young cock trying to crow.
+
+He refused to go to bed when his wife, overcome with sleep, came to fetch
+him.  So she went off alone, for she was an early bird, always up with
+the sun; while he was addicted to late hours, ever ready to spend the
+night with friends.  He merely said: "Put my egg-nogg by the fire," and
+went on with the game.  When the other men saw that nothing was to be got
+out of him they declared it was time to retire, and each sought his bed.
+
+They rose fairly early the next morning, with a vague hope of being
+allowed to start, a greater desire than ever to do so, and a terror at
+having to spend another day in this wretched little inn.
+
+Alas!  the horses remained in the stable, the driver was invisible.  They
+spent their time, for want of something better to do, in wandering round
+the coach.
+
+Luncheon was a gloomy affair; and there was a general coolness toward
+Boule de Suif, for night, which brings counsel, had somewhat modified the
+judgment of her companions.  In the cold light of the morning they almost
+bore a grudge against the girl for not having secretly sought out the
+Prussian, that the rest of the party might receive a joyful surprise when
+they awoke.  What more simple?
+
+Besides, who would have been the wiser?  She might have saved appearances
+by telling the officer that she had taken pity on their distress.  Such a
+step would be of so little consequence to her.
+
+But no one as yet confessed to such thoughts.
+
+In the afternoon, seeing that they were all bored to death, the count
+proposed a walk in the neighborhood of the village.  Each one wrapped
+himself up well, and the little party set out, leaving behind only
+Cornudet, who preferred to sit over the fire, and the two nuns, who were
+in the habit of spending their day in the church or at the presbytery.
+
+The cold, which grew more intense each day, almost froze the noses and
+ears of the pedestrians, their feet began to pain them so that each step
+was a penance, and when they reached the open country it looked so
+mournful and depressing in its limitless mantle of white that they all
+hastily retraced their steps, with bodies benumbed and hearts heavy.
+
+The four women walked in front, and the three men followed a little in
+their rear.
+
+Loiseau, who saw perfectly well how matters stood, asked suddenly "if
+that trollop were going to keep them waiting much longer in this
+Godforsaken spot."  The count, always courteous, replied that they could
+not exact so painful a sacrifice from any woman, and that the first move
+must come from herself.  Monsieur Carre-Lamadon remarked that if the
+French, as they talked of doing, made a counter attack by way of Dieppe,
+their encounter with the enemy must inevitably take place at Totes.  This
+reflection made the other two anxious.
+
+"Supposing we escape on foot?" said Loiseau.
+
+The count shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"How can you think of such a thing, in this snow?  And with our wives?
+Besides, we should be pursued at once, overtaken in ten minutes, and
+brought back as prisoners at the mercy of the soldiery."
+
+This was true enough; they were silent.
+
+The ladies talked of dress, but a certain constraint seemed to prevail
+among them.
+
+Suddenly, at the end of the street, the officer appeared.  His tall,
+wasp-like, uniformed figure was outlined against the snow which bounded
+the horizon, and he walked, knees apart, with that motion peculiar to
+soldiers, who are always anxious not to soil their carefully polished
+boots.
+
+He bowed as he passed the ladies, then glanced scornfully at the men, who
+had sufficient dignity not to raise their hats, though Loiseau made a
+movement to do so.
+
+Boule de Suif flushed crimson to the ears, and the three married women
+felt unutterably humiliated at being met thus by the soldier in company
+with the girl whom he had treated with such scant ceremony.
+
+Then they began to talk about him, his figure, and his face.  Madame
+Carre-Lamadon, who had known many officers and judged them as a
+connoisseur, thought him not at all bad-looking; she even regretted that
+he was not a Frenchman, because in that case he would have made a very
+handsome hussar, with whom all the women would assuredly have fallen in
+love.
+
+When they were once more within doors they did not know what to do with
+themselves.  Sharp words even were exchanged apropos of the merest
+trifles.  The silent dinner was quickly over, and each one went to bed
+early in the hope of sleeping, and thus killing time.
+
+They came down next morning with tired faces and irritable tempers; the
+women scarcely spoke to Boule de Suif.
+
+A church bell summoned the faithful to a baptism.  Boule de Suif had a
+child being brought up by peasants at Yvetot.  She did not see him once a
+year, and never thought of him; but the idea of the child who was about
+to be baptized induced a sudden wave of tenderness for her own, and she
+insisted on being present at the ceremony.
+
+As soon as she had gone out, the rest of the company looked at one
+another and then drew their chairs together; for they realized that they
+must decide on some course of action.  Loiseau had an inspiration: he
+proposed that they should ask the officer to detain Boule de Suif only,
+and to let the rest depart on their way.
+
+Monsieur Follenvie was intrusted with this commission, but he returned to
+them almost immediately.  The German, who knew human nature, had shown
+him the door.  He intended to keep all the travellers until his condition
+had been complied with.
+
+Whereupon Madame Loiseau's vulgar temperament broke bounds.
+
+"We're not going to die of old age here!" she cried.  "Since it's that
+vixen's trade to behave so with men I don't see that she has any right to
+refuse one more than another.  I may as well tell you she took any lovers
+she could get at Rouen--even coachmen!  Yes, indeed, madame--the coachman
+at the prefecture!  I know it for a fact, for he buys his wine of us.
+And now that it is a question of getting us out of a difficulty she puts
+on virtuous airs, the drab!  For my part, I think this officer has
+behaved very well.  Why, there were three others of us, any one of whom
+he would undoubtedly have preferred.  But no, he contents himself with
+the girl who is common property.  He respects married women.  Just think.
+He is master here.  He had only to say: 'I wish it!' and he might have
+taken us by force, with the help of his soldiers."
+
+The two other women shuddered; the eyes of pretty Madame Carre-Lamadon
+glistened, and she grew pale, as if the officer were indeed in the act of
+laying violent hands on her.
+
+The men, who had been discussing the subject among themselves, drew near.
+Loiseau, in a state of furious resentment, was for delivering up "that
+miserable woman," bound hand and foot, into the enemy's power.  But the
+count, descended from three generations of ambassadors, and endowed,
+moreover, with the lineaments of a diplomat, was in favor of more tactful
+measures.
+
+"We must persuade her," he said.
+
+Then they laid their plans.
+
+The women drew together; they lowered their voices, and the discussion
+became general, each giving his or her opinion.  But the conversation was
+not in the least coarse.  The ladies, in particular, were adepts at
+delicate phrases and charming subtleties of expression to describe the
+most improper things.  A stranger would have understood none of their
+allusions, so guarded was the language they employed.  But, seeing that
+the thin veneer of modesty with which every woman of the world is
+furnished goes but a very little way below the surface, they began rather
+to enjoy this unedifying episode, and at bottom were hugely delighted--
+feeling themselves in their element, furthering the schemes of lawless
+love with the gusto of a gourmand cook who prepares supper for another.
+
+Their gaiety returned of itself, so amusing at last did the whole
+business seem to them.  The count uttered several rather risky
+witticisms, but so tactfully were they said that his audience could not
+help smiling.  Loiseau in turn made some considerably broader jokes, but
+no one took offence; and the thought expressed with such brutal
+directness by his wife was uppermost in the minds of all: "Since it's the
+girl's trade, why should she refuse this man more than another?"  Dainty
+Madame Carre-Lamadon seemed to think even that in Boule de Suif's place
+she would be less inclined to refuse him than another.
+
+The blockade was as carefully arranged as if they were investing a
+fortress.  Each agreed on the role which he or she was to play, the
+arguments to be used, the maneuvers to be executed.  They decided on the
+plan of campaign, the stratagems they were to employ, and the surprise
+attacks which were to reduce this human citadel and force it to receive
+the enemy within its walls.
+
+But Cornudet remained apart from the rest, taking no share in the plot.
+
+So absorbed was the attention of all that Boule de Suif's entrance was
+almost unnoticed.  But the count whispered a gentle "Hush!" which made
+the others look up.  She was there.  They suddenly stopped talking, and a
+vague embarrassment prevented them for a few moments from addressing her.
+But the countess, more practiced than the others in the wiles of the
+drawing-room, asked her:
+
+"Was the baptism interesting?"
+
+The girl, still under the stress of emotion, told what she had seen and
+heard, described the faces, the attitudes of those present, and even the
+appearance of the church.  She concluded with the words:
+
+"It does one good to pray sometimes."
+
+Until lunch time the ladies contented themselves with being pleasant to
+her, so as to increase her confidence and make her amenable to their
+advice.
+
+As soon as they took their seats at table the attack began.  First they
+opened a vague conversation on the subject of self-sacrifice.  Ancient
+examples were quoted: Judith and Holofernes; then, irrationally enough,
+Lucrece and Sextus; Cleopatra and the hostile generals whom she reduced
+to abject slavery by a surrender of her charms.  Next was recounted an
+extraordinary story, born of the imagination of these ignorant
+millionaires, which told how the matrons of Rome seduced Hannibal, his
+lieutenants, and all his mercenaries at Capua.  They held up to
+admiration all those women who from time to time have arrested the
+victorious progress of conquerors, made of their bodies a field of
+battle, a means of ruling, a weapon; who have vanquished by their heroic
+caresses hideous or detested beings, and sacrificed their chastity to
+vengeance and devotion.
+
+All was said with due restraint and regard for propriety, the effect
+heightened now and then by an outburst of forced enthusiasm calculated to
+excite emulation.
+
+A listener would have thought at last that the one role of woman on earth
+was a perpetual sacrifice of her person, a continual abandonment of
+herself to the caprices of a hostile soldiery.
+
+The two nuns seemed to hear nothing, and to be lost in thought.  Boule de
+Suif also was silent.
+
+During the whole afternoon she was left to her reflections.  But instead
+of calling her "madame" as they had done hitherto, her companions
+addressed her simply as "mademoiselle," without exactly knowing why, but
+as if desirous of making her descend a step in the esteem she had won,
+and forcing her to realize her degraded position.
+
+Just as soup was served, Monsieur Follenvie reappeared, repeating his
+phrase of the evening before:
+
+"The Prussian officer sends to ask if Mademoiselle Elisabeth Rousset has
+changed her mind."
+
+Boule de Suif answered briefly:
+
+"No, monsieur."
+
+But at dinner the coalition weakened.  Loiseau made three unfortunate
+remarks.  Each was cudgeling his brains for further examples of
+self-sacrifice, and could find none, when the countess, possibly without
+ulterior motive, and moved simply by a vague desire to do homage to
+religion, began to question the elder of the two nuns on the most
+striking facts in the lives of the saints.  Now, it fell out that many of
+these had committed acts which would be crimes in our eyes, but the
+Church readily pardons such deeds when they are accomplished for the
+glory of God or the good of mankind.  This was a powerful argument, and
+the countess made the most of it.  Then, whether by reason of a tacit
+understanding, a thinly veiled act of complaisance such as those who wear
+the ecclesiastical habit excel in, or whether merely as the result of
+sheer stupidity--a stupidity admirably adapted to further their designs--
+the old nun rendered formidable aid to the conspirator.  They had thought
+her timid; she proved herself bold, talkative, bigoted.  She was not
+troubled by the ins and outs of casuistry; her doctrines were as iron
+bars; her faith knew no doubt; her conscience no scruples.  She looked on
+Abraham's sacrifice as natural enough, for she herself would not have
+hesitated to kill both father and mother if she had received a divine
+order to that effect; and nothing, in her opinion, could displease our
+Lord, provided the motive were praiseworthy.  The countess, putting to
+good use the consecrated authority of her unexpected ally, led her on to
+make a lengthy and edifying paraphrase of that axiom enunciated by a
+certain school of moralists: "The end justifies the means."
+
+"Then, sister," she asked, "you think God accepts all methods, and
+pardons the act when the motive is pure?"
+
+"Undoubtedly, madame.  An action reprehensible in itself often derives
+merit from the thought which inspires it."
+
+And in this wise they talked on, fathoming the wishes of God, predicting
+His judgments, describing Him as interested in matters which assuredly
+concern Him but little.
+
+All was said with the utmost care and discretion, but every word uttered
+by the holy woman in her nun's garb weakened the indignant resistance of
+the courtesan.  Then the conversation drifted somewhat, and the nun began
+to talk of the convents of her order, of her Superior, of herself, and of
+her fragile little neighbor, Sister St. Nicephore.  They had been sent
+for from Havre to nurse the hundreds of soldiers who were in hospitals,
+stricken with smallpox.  She described these wretched invalids and their
+malady.  And, while they themselves were detained on their way by the
+caprices of the Prussian officer, scores of Frenchmen might be dying,
+whom they would otherwise have saved!  For the nursing of soldiers was
+the old nun's specialty; she had been in the Crimea, in Italy, in
+Austria; and as she told the story of her campaigns she revealed herself
+as one of those holy sisters of the fife and drum who seem designed by
+nature to follow camps, to snatch the wounded from amid the strife of
+battle, and to quell with a word, more effectually than any general, the
+rough and insubordinate troopers--a masterful woman, her seamed and
+pitted face itself an image of the devastations of war.
+
+No one spoke when she had finished for fear of spoiling the excellent
+effect of her words.
+
+As soon as the meal was over the travellers retired to their rooms,
+whence they emerged the following day at a late hour of the morning.
+
+Luncheon passed off quietly.  The seed sown the preceding evening was
+being given time to germinate and bring forth fruit.
+
+In the afternoon the countess proposed a walk; then the count, as had
+been arranged beforehand, took Boule de Suif's arm, and walked with her
+at some distance behind the rest.
+
+He began talking to her in that familiar, paternal, slightly contemptuous
+tone which men of his class adopt in speaking to women like her, calling
+her "my dear child," and talking down to her from the height of his
+exalted social position and stainless reputation.  He came straight to
+the point.
+
+"So you prefer to leave us here, exposed like yourself to all the
+violence which would follow on a repulse of the Prussian troops, rather
+than consent to surrender yourself, as you have done so many times in
+your life?"
+
+The girl did not reply.
+
+He tried kindness, argument, sentiment.  He still bore himself as count,
+even while adopting, when desirable, an attitude of gallantry, and making
+pretty--nay, even tender--speeches.  He exalted the service she would
+render them, spoke of their gratitude; then, suddenly, using the familiar
+"thou":
+
+"And you know, my dear, he could boast then of having made a conquest of
+a pretty girl such as he won't often find in his own country."
+
+Boule de Suif did not answer, and joined the rest of the party.
+
+As soon as they returned she went to her room, and was seen no more.  The
+general anxiety was at its height.  What would she do?  If she still
+resisted, how awkward for them all!
+
+The dinner hour struck; they waited for her in vain.  At last Monsieur
+Follenvie entered, announcing that Mademoiselle Rousset was not well, and
+that they might sit down to table.  They all pricked up their ears.  The
+count drew near the innkeeper, and whispered:
+
+"Is it all right?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Out of regard for propriety he said nothing to his companions, but merely
+nodded slightly toward them.  A great sigh of relief went up from all
+breasts; every face was lighted up with joy.
+
+"By Gad!" shouted Loiseau, "I'll stand champagne all round if there's any
+to be found in this place."  And great was Madame Loiseau's dismay when
+the proprietor came back with four bottles in his hands.  They had all
+suddenly become talkative and merry; a lively joy filled all hearts.  The
+count seemed to perceive for the first time that Madame Carre-Lamadon was
+charming; the manufacturer paid compliments to the countess.  The
+conversation was animated, sprightly, witty, and, although many of the
+jokes were in the worst possible taste, all the company were amused by
+them, and none offended--indignation being dependent, like other
+emotions, on surroundings.  And the mental atmosphere had gradually
+become filled with gross imaginings and unclean thoughts.
+
+At dessert even the women indulged in discreetly worded allusions.  Their
+glances were full of meaning; they had drunk much.  The count, who even
+in his moments of relaxation preserved a dignified demeanor, hit on a
+much-appreciated comparison of the condition of things with the
+termination of a winter spent in the icy solitude of the North Pole and
+the joy of shipwrecked mariners who at last perceive a southward track
+opening out before their eyes.
+
+Loiseau, fairly in his element, rose to his feet, holding aloft a glass
+of champagne.
+
+"I drink to our deliverance!" he shouted.
+
+All stood up, and greeted the toast with acclamation.  Even the two good
+sisters yielded to the solicitations of the ladies, and consented to
+moisten their lips with the foaming wine, which they had never before
+tasted.  They declared it was like effervescent lemonade, but with a
+pleasanter flavor.
+
+"It is a pity," said Loiseau, "that we have no piano; we might have had a
+quadrille."
+
+Cornudet had not spoken a word or made a movement; he seemed plunged in
+serious thought, and now and then tugged furiously at his great beard, as
+if trying to add still further to its length.  At last, toward midnight,
+when they were about to separate, Loiseau, whose gait was far from
+steady, suddenly slapped him on the back, saying thickly:
+
+"You're not jolly to-night; why are you so silent, old man?"
+
+Cornudet threw back his head, cast one swift and scornful glance over the
+assemblage, and answered:
+
+"I tell you all, you have done an infamous thing!"
+
+He rose, reached the door, and repeating: "Infamous!" disappeared.
+
+A chill fell on all.  Loiseau himself looked foolish and disconcerted for
+a moment, but soon recovered his aplomb, and, writhing with laughter,
+exclaimed:
+
+"Really, you are all too green for anything!"
+
+Pressed for an explanation, he related the "mysteries of the corridor,"
+whereat his listeners were hugely amused.  The ladies could hardly
+contain their delight.  The count and Monsieur Carre-Lamadon laughed till
+they cried.  They could scarcely believe their ears.
+
+"What!  you are sure?  He wanted----"
+
+"I tell you I saw it with my own eyes."
+
+"And she refused?"
+
+"Because the Prussian was in the next room!"
+
+"Surely you are mistaken?"
+
+"I swear I'm telling you the truth."
+
+The count was choking with laughter.  The manufacturer held his sides.
+Loiseau continued:
+
+"So you may well imagine he doesn't think this evening's business at all
+amusing."
+
+And all three began to laugh again, choking, coughing, almost ill with
+merriment.
+
+Then they separated.  But Madame Loiseau, who was nothing if not
+spiteful, remarked to her husband as they were on the way to bed that
+"that stuck-up little minx of a Carre-Lamadon had laughed on the wrong
+side of her mouth all the evening."
+
+"You know," she said, "when women run after uniforms it's all the same to
+them whether the men who wear them are French or Prussian.  It's
+perfectly sickening!"
+
+The next morning the snow showed dazzling white tinder a clear winter
+sun.  The coach, ready at last, waited before the door; while a flock of
+white pigeons, with pink eyes spotted in the centres with black, puffed
+out their white feathers and walked sedately between the legs of the six
+horses, picking at the steaming manure.
+
+The driver, wrapped in his sheepskin coat, was smoking a pipe on the box,
+and all the passengers, radiant with delight at their approaching
+departure, were putting up provisions for the remainder of the journey.
+
+They were waiting only for Boule de Suif.  At last she appeared.
+
+She seemed rather shamefaced and embarrassed, and advanced with timid
+step toward her companions, who with one accord turned aside as if they
+had not seen her.  The count, with much dignity, took his wife by the
+arm, and removed her from the unclean contact.
+
+The girl stood still, stupefied with astonishment; then, plucking up
+courage, accosted the manufacturer's wife with a humble "Good-morning,
+madame," to which the other replied merely with a slight arid insolent
+nod, accompanied by a look of outraged virtue.  Every one suddenly
+appeared extremely busy, and kept as far from Boule de Suif as if tier
+skirts had been infected with some deadly disease.  Then they hurried to
+the coach, followed by the despised courtesan, who, arriving last of all,
+silently took the place she had occupied during the first part of the
+journey.
+
+The rest seemed neither to see nor to know her--all save Madame Loiseau,
+who, glancing contemptuously in her direction, remarked, half aloud, to
+her husband:
+
+"What a mercy I am not sitting beside that creature!"
+
+The lumbering vehicle started on its way, and the journey began afresh.
+
+At first no one spoke.  Boule de Suif dared not even raise her eyes.  She
+felt at once indignant with her neighbors, and humiliated at having
+yielded to the Prussian into whose arms they had so hypocritically cast
+her.
+
+But the countess, turning toward Madame Carre-Lamadon, soon broke the
+painful silence:
+
+"I think you know Madame d'Etrelles?"
+
+"Yes; she is a friend of mine."
+
+"Such a charming woman!"
+
+"Delightful!  Exceptionally talented, and an artist to the finger tips.
+She sings marvellously and draws to perfection."
+
+The manufacturer was chatting with the count, and amid the clatter of the
+window-panes a word of their conversation was now and then
+distinguishable: "Shares--maturity--premium--time-limit."
+
+Loiseau, who had abstracted from the inn the timeworn pack of cards,
+thick with the grease of five years' contact with half-wiped-off tables,
+started a game of bezique with his wife.
+
+The good sisters, taking up simultaneously the long rosaries hanging from
+their waists, made the sign of the cross, and began to mutter in unison
+interminable prayers, their lips moving ever more and more swiftly, as if
+they sought which should outdistance the other in the race of orisons;
+from time to time they kissed a medal, and crossed themselves anew, then
+resumed their rapid and unintelligible murmur.
+
+Cornudet sat still, lost in thought.
+
+Ah the end of three hours Loiseau gathered up the cards, and remarked
+that he was hungry.
+
+His wife thereupon produced a parcel tied with string, from which she
+extracted a piece of cold veal.  This she cut into neat, thin slices, and
+both began to eat.
+
+"We may as well do the same," said the countess.  The rest agreed, and
+she unpacked the provisions which had been prepared for herself, the
+count, and the Carre-Lamadons.  In one of those oval dishes, the lids of
+which are decorated with an earthenware hare, by way of showing that a
+game pie lies within, was a succulent delicacy consisting of the brown
+flesh of the game larded with streaks of bacon and flavored with other
+meats chopped fine.  A solid wedge of Gruyere cheese, which had been
+wrapped in a newspaper, bore the imprint: "Items of News," on its rich,
+oily surface.
+
+The two good sisters brought to light a hunk of sausage smelling strongly
+of garlic; and Cornudet, plunging both hands at once into the capacious
+pockets of his loose overcoat, produced from one four hard-boiled eggs
+and from the other a crust of bread.  He removed the shells, threw them
+into the straw beneath his feet, and began to devour the eggs, letting
+morsels of the bright yellow yolk fall in his mighty beard, where they
+looked like stars.
+
+Boule de Suif, in the haste and confusion of her departure, had not
+thought of anything, and, stifling with rage, she watched all these
+people placidly eating.  At first, ill-suppressed wrath shook her whole
+person, and she opened her lips to shriek the truth at them, to overwhelm
+them with a volley of insults; but she could not utter a word, so choked
+was she with indignation.
+
+No one looked at her, no one thought of her.  She felt herself swallowed
+up in the scorn of these virtuous creatures, who had first sacrificed,
+then rejected her as a thing useless and unclean.  Then she remembered
+her big basket full of the good things they had so greedily devoured: the
+two chickens coated in jelly, the pies, the pears, the four bottles of
+claret; and her fury broke forth like a cord that is overstrained, and
+she was on the verge of tears.  She made terrible efforts at self-
+control, drew herself up, swallowed the sobs which choked her; but the
+tears rose nevertheless, shone at the brink of her eyelids, and soon two
+heavy drops coursed slowly down her cheeks.  Others followed more
+quickly, like water filtering from a rock, and fell, one after another,
+on her rounded bosom.  She sat upright, with a fixed expression, her face
+pale and rigid, hoping desperately that no one saw her give way.
+
+But the countess noticed that she was weeping, and with a sign drew her
+husband's attention to the fact.  He shrugged his shoulders, as if to
+say: "Well, what of it?  It's not my fault."  Madame Loiseau chuckled
+triumphantly, and murmured:
+
+"She's weeping for shame."
+
+The two nuns had betaken themselves once more to their prayers, first
+wrapping the remainder of their sausage in paper:
+
+Then Cornudet, who was digesting his eggs, stretched his long legs under
+the opposite seat, threw himself back, folded his arms, smiled like a man
+who had just thought of a good joke, and began to whistle the
+Marseillaise.
+
+The faces of his neighbors clouded; the popular air evidently did not
+find favor with them; they grew nervous and irritable, and seemed ready
+to howl as a dog does at the sound of a barrel-organ.  Cornudet saw the
+discomfort he was creating, and whistled the louder; sometimes he even
+hummed the words:
+
+          Amour sacre de la patrie,
+          Conduis, soutiens, nos bras vengeurs,
+          Liberte, liberte cherie,
+          Combats avec tes defenseurs!
+
+The coach progressed more swiftly, the snow being harder now; and all the
+way to Dieppe, during the long, dreary hours of the journey, first in the
+gathering dusk, then in the thick darkness, raising his voice above the
+rumbling of the vehicle, Cornudet continued with fierce obstinacy his
+vengeful and monotonous whistling, forcing his weary and exasperated-
+hearers to follow the song from end to end, to recall every word of every
+line, as each was repeated over and over again with untiring persistency.
+
+And Boule de Suif still wept, and sometimes a sob she could not restrain
+was heard in the darkness between two verses of the song.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+TWO FRIENDS
+
+Besieged Paris was in the throes of famine.  Even the sparrows on the
+roofs and the rats in the sewers were growing scarce.  People were eating
+anything they could get.
+
+As Monsieur Morissot, watchmaker by profession and idler for the nonce,
+was strolling along the boulevard one bright January morning, his hands
+in his trousers pockets and stomach empty, he suddenly came face to face
+with an acquaintance--Monsieur Sauvage, a fishing chum.
+
+Before the war broke out Morissot had been in the habit, every Sunday
+morning, of setting forth with a bamboo rod in his hand and a tin box on
+his back.  He took the Argenteuil train, got out at Colombes, and walked
+thence to the Ile Marante.  The moment he arrived at this place of his
+dreams he began fishing, and fished till nightfall.
+
+Every Sunday he met in this very spot Monsieur Sauvage, a stout, jolly,
+little man, a draper in the Rue Notre Dame de Lorette, and also an ardent
+fisherman.  They often spent half the day side by side, rod in hand and
+feet dangling over the water, and a warm friendship had sprung up between
+the two.
+
+Some days they did not speak; at other times they chatted; but they
+understood each other perfectly without the aid of words, having similar
+tastes and feelings.
+
+In the spring, about ten o'clock in the morning, when the early sun
+caused a light mist to float on the water and gently warmed the backs of
+the two enthusiastic anglers, Morissot would occasionally remark to his
+neighbor:
+
+"My, but it's pleasant here."
+
+To which the other would reply:
+
+"I can't imagine anything better!"
+
+And these few words sufficed to make them understand and appreciate each
+other.
+
+In the autumn, toward the close of day, when the setting sun shed a
+blood-red glow over the western sky, and the reflection of the crimson
+clouds tinged the whole river with red, brought a glow to the faces of
+the two friends, and gilded the trees, whose leaves were already turning
+at the first chill touch of winter, Monsieur Sauvage would sometimes
+smile at Morissot, and say:
+
+"What a glorious spectacle!"
+
+And Morissot would answer, without taking his eyes from his float:
+
+"This is much better than the boulevard, isn't it?"
+
+As soon as they recognized each other they shook hands cordially,
+affected at the thought of meeting under such changed circumstances.
+
+Monsieur Sauvage, with a sigh, murmured:
+
+"These are sad times!"
+
+Morissot shook his head mournfully.
+
+"And such weather!  This is the first fine day of the year."
+
+The sky was, in fact, of a bright, cloudless blue.
+
+They walked along, side by side, reflective and sad.
+
+"And to think of the fishing!" said Morissot.  "What good times we used
+to have!"
+
+"When shall we be able to fish again?" asked Monsieur Sauvage.
+
+They entered a small cafe and took an absinthe together, then resumed
+their walk along the pavement.
+
+Morissot stopped suddenly.
+
+"Shall we have another absinthe?" he said.
+
+"If you like," agreed Monsieur Sauvage.
+
+And they entered another wine shop.
+
+They were quite unsteady when they came out, owing to the effect of the
+alcohol on their empty stomachs.  It was a fine, mild day, and a gentle
+breeze fanned their faces.
+
+The fresh air completed the effect of the alcohol on Monsieur Sauvage.
+He stopped suddenly, saying:
+
+"Suppose we go there?"
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Fishing."
+
+"But where?"
+
+"Why, to the old place.  The French outposts are close to Colombes.  I
+know Colonel Dumoulin, and we shall easily get leave to pass."
+
+Morissot trembled with desire.
+
+"Very well.  I agree."
+
+And they separated, to fetch their rods and lines.
+
+An hour later they were walking side by side on the-highroad.  Presently
+they reached the villa occupied by the colonel.  He smiled at their
+request, and granted it.  They resumed their walk, furnished with a
+password.
+
+Soon they left the outposts behind them, made their way through deserted
+Colombes, and found themselves on the outskirts of the small vineyards
+which border the Seine.  It was about eleven o'clock.
+
+Before them lay the village of Argenteuil, apparently lifeless.  The
+heights of Orgement and Sannois dominated the landscape.  The great
+plain, extending as far as Nanterre, was empty, quite empty-a waste of
+dun-colored soil and bare cherry trees.
+
+Monsieur Sauvage, pointing to the heights, murmured:
+
+"The Prussians are up yonder!"
+
+And the sight of the deserted country filled the two friends with vague
+misgivings.
+
+The Prussians!  They had never seen them as yet, but they had felt their
+presence in the neighborhood of Paris for months past--ruining France,
+pillaging, massacring, starving them.  And a kind of superstitious terror
+mingled with the hatred they already felt toward this unknown, victorious
+nation.
+
+"Suppose we were to meet any of them?" said Morissot.
+
+"We'd offer them some fish," replied Monsieur Sauvage, with that Parisian
+light-heartedness which nothing can wholly quench.
+
+Still, they hesitated to show themselves in the open country, overawed by
+the utter silence which reigned around them.
+
+At last Monsieur Sauvage said boldly:
+
+"Come, we'll make a start; only let us be careful!"
+
+And they made their way through one of the vineyards, bent double,
+creeping along beneath the cover afforded by the vines, with eye and ear
+alert.
+
+A strip of bare ground remained to be crossed before they could gain the
+river bank.  They ran across this, and, as soon as they were at the
+water's edge, concealed themselves among the dry reeds.
+
+Morissot placed his ear to the ground, to ascertain, if possible, whether
+footsteps were coming their way.  He heard nothing.  They seemed to be
+utterly alone.
+
+Their confidence was restored, and they began to fish.
+
+Before them the deserted Ile Marante hid them from the farther shore.
+The little restaurant was closed, and looked as if it had been deserted
+for years.
+
+Monsieur Sauvage caught the first gudgeon, Monsieur Morissot the second,
+and almost every moment one or other raised his line with a little,
+glittering, silvery fish wriggling at the end; they were having excellent
+sport.
+
+They slipped their catch gently into a close-meshed bag lying at their
+feet; they were filled with joy--the joy of once more indulging in a
+pastime of which they had long been deprived.
+
+The sun poured its rays on their backs; they no longer heard anything or
+thought of anything.  They ignored the rest of the world; they were
+fishing.
+
+But suddenly a rumbling sound, which seemed to come from the bowels of
+the earth, shook the ground beneath them: the cannon were resuming their
+thunder.
+
+Morissot turned his head and could see toward the left, beyond the banks
+of the river, the formidable outline of Mont-Valerien, from whose summit
+arose a white puff of smoke.
+
+The next instant a second puff followed the first, and in a few moments a
+fresh detonation made the earth tremble.
+
+Others followed, and minute by minute the mountain gave forth its deadly
+breath and a white puff of smoke, which rose slowly into the peaceful
+heaven and floated above the summit of the cliff.
+
+Monsieur Sauvage shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"They are at it again!" he said.
+
+Morissot, who was anxiously watching his float bobbing up and down, was
+suddenly seized with the angry impatience of a peaceful man toward the
+madmen who were firing thus, and remarked indignantly:
+
+"What fools they are to kill one another like that!"
+
+"They're worse than animals," replied Monsieur Sauvage.
+
+And Morissot, who had just caught a bleak, declared:
+
+"And to think that it will be just the same so long as there are
+governments!"
+
+"The Republic would not have declared war," interposed Monsieur Sauvage.
+
+Morissot interrupted him:
+
+"Under a king we have foreign wars; under a republic we have civil war."
+
+And the two began placidly discussing political problems with the sound
+common sense of peaceful, matter-of-fact citizens--agreeing on one point:
+that they would never be free.  And Mont-Valerien thundered ceaselessly,
+demolishing the houses of the French with its cannon balls, grinding
+lives of men to powder, destroying many a dream, many a cherished hope,
+many a prospective happiness; ruthlessly causing endless woe and
+suffering in the hearts of wives, of daughters, of mothers, in other
+lands.
+
+"Such is life!" declared Monsieur Sauvage.
+
+"Say, rather, such is death!" replied Morissot, laughing.
+
+But they suddenly trembled with alarm at the sound of footsteps behind
+them, and, turning round, they perceived close at hand four tall, bearded
+men, dressed after the manner of livery servants and wearing flat caps on
+their heads.  They were covering the two anglers with their rifles.
+
+The rods slipped from their owners' grasp and floated away down the
+river.
+
+In the space of a few seconds they were seized, bound, thrown into a
+boat, and taken across to the Ile Marante.
+
+And behind the house they had thought deserted were about a score of
+German soldiers.
+
+A shaggy-looking giant, who was bestriding a chair and smoking a long
+clay pipe, addressed them in excellent French with the words:
+
+"Well, gentlemen, have you had good luck with your fishing?"
+
+Then a soldier deposited at the officer's feet the bag full of fish,
+which he had taken care to bring away.  The Prussian smiled.
+
+"Not bad, I see.  But we have something else to talk about.  Listen to
+me, and don't be alarmed:
+
+"You must know that, in my eyes, you are two spies sent to reconnoitre me
+and my movements.  Naturally, I capture you and I shoot you.  You
+pretended to be fishing, the better to disguise your real errand.  You
+have fallen into my hands, and must take the consequences.  Such is war.
+
+"But as you came here through the outposts you must have a password for
+your return.  Tell me that password and I will let you go."
+
+The two friends, pale as death, stood silently side by side, a slight
+fluttering of the hands alone betraying their emotion.
+
+"No one will ever know," continued the officer.  "You will return
+peacefully to your homes, and the secret will disappear with you.  If you
+refuse, it means death-instant death.  Choose!"
+
+They stood motionless, and did not open their lips.
+
+The Prussian, perfectly calm, went on, with hand outstretched toward the
+river:
+
+"Just think that in five minutes you will be at the bottom of that water.
+In five minutes!  You have relations, I presume?"
+
+Mont-Valerien still thundered.
+
+The two fishermen remained silent.  The German turned and gave an order
+in his own language.  Then he moved his chair a little way off, that he
+might not be so near the prisoners, and a dozen men stepped forward,
+rifle in hand, and took up a position, twenty paces off.
+
+"I give you one minute," said the officer; "not a second longer."
+
+Then he rose quickly, went over to the two Frenchmen, took Morissot by
+the arm, led him a short distance off, and said in a low voice:
+
+"Quick!  the password!  Your friend will know nothing.  I will pretend to
+relent."
+
+Morissot answered not a word.
+
+Then the Prussian took Monsieur Sauvage aside in like manner, and made
+him the same proposal.
+
+Monsieur Sauvage made no reply.
+
+Again they stood side by side.
+
+The officer issued his orders; the soldiers raised their rifles.
+
+Then by chance Morissot's eyes fell on the bag full of gudgeon lying in
+the grass a few feet from him.
+
+A ray of sunlight made the still quivering fish glisten like silver.  And
+Morissot's heart sank.  Despite his efforts at self-control his eyes
+filled with tears.
+
+"Good-by, Monsieur Sauvage," he faltered.
+
+"Good-by, Monsieur Morissot," replied Sauvage.
+
+They shook hands, trembling from head to foot with a dread beyond their
+mastery.
+
+The officer cried:
+
+"Fire!"
+
+The twelve shots were as one.
+
+Monsieur Sauvage fell forward instantaneously.  Morissot, being the
+taller, swayed slightly and fell across his friend with face turned
+skyward and blood oozing from a rent in the breast of his coat.
+
+The German issued fresh orders.
+
+His men dispersed, and presently returned with ropes and large stones,
+which they attached to the feet of the two friends; then they carried
+them to the river bank.
+
+Mont-Valerien, its summit now enshrouded in smoke, still continued to
+thunder.
+
+Two soldiers took Morissot by the head and the feet; two others did the
+same with Sauvage.  The bodies, swung lustily by strong hands, were cast
+to a distance, and, describing a curve, fell feet foremost into the
+stream.
+
+The water splashed high, foamed, eddied, then grew calm; tiny waves
+lapped the shore.
+
+A few streaks of blood flecked the surface of the river.
+
+The officer, calm throughout, remarked, with grim humor:
+
+"It's the fishes' turn now!"
+
+Then he retraced his way to the house.
+
+Suddenly he caught sight of the net full of gudgeons, lying forgotten in
+the grass.  He picked it up, examined it, smiled, and called:
+
+"Wilhelm!"
+
+A white-aproned soldier responded to the summons, and the Prussian,
+tossing him the catch of the two murdered men, said:
+
+"Have these fish fried for me at once, while they are still alive;
+they'll make a tasty dish."
+
+Then he resumed his pipe.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE LANCER'S WIFE
+
+
+I
+
+It was after Bourbaki's defeat in the east of France.  The army, broken
+up, decimated, and worn out, had been obliged to retreat into Switzerland
+after that terrible campaign, and it was only its short duration that
+saved a hundred and fifty thousand men from certain death.  Hunger, the
+terrible cold, forced marches in the snow without boots, over bad
+mountain roads, had caused us 'francs-tireurs', especially, the greatest
+suffering, for we were without tents, and almost without food, always in
+the van when we were marching toward Belfort, and in the rear when
+returning by the Jura.  Of our little band that had numbered twelve
+hundred men on the first of January, there remained only twenty-two pale,
+thin, ragged wretches, when we at length succeeded in reaching Swiss
+territory.
+
+There we were safe, and could rest.  Everybody knows what sympathy was
+shown to the unfortunate French army, and how well it was cared for.  We
+all gained fresh life, and those who had been rich and happy before the
+war declared that they had never experienced a greater feeling of comfort
+than they did then.  Just think.  We actually had something to eat every
+day, and could sleep every night.
+
+Meanwhile, the war continued in the east of France, which had been
+excluded from the armistice.  Besancon still kept the enemy in check, and
+the latter had their revenge by ravaging Franche Comte.  Sometimes we
+heard that they had approached quite close to the frontier, and we saw
+Swiss troops, who were to form a line of observation between us and them,
+set out on their march.
+
+That pained us in the end, and, as we regained health and strength, the
+longing to fight took possession of us.  It was disgraceful and
+irritating to know that within two or three leagues of us the Germans
+were victorious and insolent, to feel that we were protected by our
+captivity, and to feel that on that account we were powerless against
+them.
+
+One day our captain took five or six of us aside, and spoke to us about
+it, long and furiously.  He was a fine fellow, that captain.  He had been
+a sublieutenant in the Zouaves, was tall and thin and as hard as steel,
+and during the whole campaign he had cut out their work for the Germans.
+He fretted in inactivity, and could not accustom himself to the idea of
+being a prisoner and of doing nothing.
+
+"Confound it!" he said to us, "does it not pain you to know that there is
+a number of uhlans within two hours of us?  Does it not almost drive you
+mad to know that those beggarly wretches are walking about as masters in
+our mountains, when six determined men might kill a whole spitful any
+day?  I cannot endure it any longer, and I must go there."
+
+"But how can you manage it, captain?"
+
+"How?  It is not very difficult!  Just as if we had not done a thing or
+two within the last six months, and got out of woods that were guarded by
+very different men from the Swiss.  The day that you wish to cross over
+into France, I will undertake to get you there."
+
+"That may be; but what shall we do in France without any arms?"
+
+"Without arms?  We will get them over yonder, by Jove!"
+
+"You are forgetting the treaty," another soldier said; "we shall run the
+risk of doing the Swiss an injury, if Manteuffel learns that they have
+allowed prisoners to return to France."
+
+"Come," said the captain, "those are all bad reasons.  I mean to go and
+kill some Prussians; that is all I care about.  If you do not wish to do
+as I do, well and good; only say so at once.  I can quite well go by
+myself; I do not require anybody's company."
+
+Naturally we all protested, and, as it was quite impossible to make the
+captain alter his mind, we felt obliged to promise to go with him.  We
+liked him too much to leave him in the lurch, as he never failed us in
+any extremity; and so the expedition was decided on.
+
+
+
+II
+
+The captain had a plan of his own, that he had been cogitating over for
+some time.  A man in that part of the country whom he knew was going to
+lend him a cart and six suits of peasants' clothes.  We could hide under
+some straw at the bottom of the wagon, which would be loaded with Gruyere
+cheese, which he was supposed to be going to sell in France.  The captain
+told the sentinels that he was taking two friends with him to protect his
+goods, in case any one should try to rob him, which did not seem an
+extraordinary precaution.  A Swiss officer seemed to look at the wagon in
+a knowing manner, but that was in order to impress his soldiers.  In a
+word, neither officers nor men could make it out.
+
+"Get up," the captain said to the horses, as he cracked his whip, while
+our three men quietly smoked their pipes.  I was half suffocated in my
+box, which only admitted the air through those holes in front, and at the
+same time I was nearly frozen, for it was terribly cold.
+
+"Get up," the captain said again, and the wagon loaded with Gruyere
+cheese entered France.
+
+The Prussian lines were very badly guarded, as the enemy trusted to the
+watchfulness of the Swiss.  The sergeant spoke North German, while our
+captain spoke the bad German of the Four Cantons, and so they could not
+understand each other.  The sergeant, however, pretended to be very
+intelligent; and, in order to make us believe that he understood us, they
+allowed us to continue our journey; and, after travelling for seven
+hours, being continually stopped in the same manner, we arrived at a
+small village of the Jura in ruins, at nightfall.
+
+What were we going to do?  Our only arms were the captain's whip, our
+uniforms our peasants' blouses, and our food the Gruyere cheese.  Our
+sole wealth consisted in our ammunition, packages of cartridges which we
+had stowed away inside some of the large cheeses.  We had about a
+thousand of them, just two hundred each, but we needed rifles, and they
+must be chassepots.  Luckily, however, the captain was a bold man of an
+inventive mind, and this was the plan that he hit upon:
+
+While three of us remained hidden in a cellar in the abandoned village,
+he continued his journey as far as Besancon with the empty wagon and one
+man.  The town was invested, but one can always make one's way into a
+town among the hills by crossing the tableland till within about ten
+miles of the walls, and then following paths and ravines on foot.  They
+left their wagon at Omans, among the Germans, and escaped out of it at
+night on foot; so as to gain the heights which border the River Doubs;
+the next day they entered Besancon, where there were plenty of
+chassepots.  There were nearly forty thousand of them left in the
+arsenal, and General Roland, a brave marine, laughed at the captain's
+daring project, but let him have six rifles and wished him "good luck."
+There he had also found his wife, who had been through all the war with
+us before the campaign in the East, and who had been only prevented by
+illness from continuing with Bourbaki's army.  She had recovered,
+however, in spite of the cold, which was growing more and more intense,
+and in spite of the numberless privations that awaited her, she persisted
+in accompanying her husband.  He was obliged to give way to her, and they
+all three, the captain, his wife, and our comrade, started on their
+expedition.
+
+Going was nothing in comparison to returning.  They were obliged to
+travel by night, so as to avoid meeting anybody, as the possession of six
+rifles would have made them liable to suspicion.  But, in spite of
+everything, a week after leaving us, the captain and his two men were
+back with us again.  The campaign was about to begin.
+
+
+
+III
+
+The first night of his arrival he began it himself, and, under pretext of
+examining the surrounding country, he went along the high road.
+
+I must tell you that the little village which served as our fortress was
+a small collection of poor, badly built houses, which had been deserted
+long before.  It lay on a steep slope, which terminated in a wooded
+plain.  The country people sell the wood; they send it down the slopes,
+which are called coulees, locally, and which lead down to the plain, and
+there they stack it into piles, which they sell thrice a year to the wood
+merchants.  The spot where this market is held in indicated by two small
+houses by the side of the highroad, which serve for public houses.  The
+captain had gone down there by way of one of these coulees.
+
+He had been gone about half an hour, and we were on the lookout at the
+top of the ravine, when we heard a shot.  The captain had ordered us not
+to stir, and only to come to him when we heard him blow his trumpet.  It
+was made of a goat's horn, and could be heard a league off ; but it gave
+no sound, and, in spite of our cruel anxiety, we were obliged to wait in
+silence, with our rifles by our side.
+
+It is nothing to go down these coulees; one just lets one's self slide
+down; but it is more difficult to get up again; one has to scramble up by
+catching hold of the hanging branches of the trees, and sometimes on all
+fours, by sheer strength.  A whole mortal hour passed, and he did not
+come; nothing moved in the brushwood.  The captain's wife began to grow
+impatient.  What could he be doing?  Why did he not call us?  Did the
+shot that we had heard proceed from an enemy, and had he killed or
+wounded our leader, her husband?  They did not know what to think, but I
+myself fancied either that he was dead or that his enterprise was
+successful; and I was merely anxious and curious to know what he had
+done.
+
+Suddenly we heard the sound of his trumpet, and we were much surprised
+that instead of coming from below, as we had expected, it came from the
+village behind us.  What did that mean?  It was a mystery to us, but the
+same idea struck us all, that he had been killed, and that the Prussians
+were blowing the trumpet to draw us into an ambush.  We therefore
+returned to the cottage, keeping a careful lookout with our fingers on
+the trigger, and hiding under the branches; but his wife, in spite of our
+entreaties, rushed on, leaping like a tigress.  She thought that she had
+to avenge her husband, and had fixed the bayonet to her rifle, and we
+lost sight of her at the moment that we heard the trumpet again; and, a
+few moments later, we heard her calling out to us:
+
+"Come on!  come on!  He is alive!  It is he!"
+
+We hastened on, and saw the captain smoking his pipe at the entrance of
+the village, but strangely enough, he was on horseback.
+
+"Ah!  ah !" he said to us, "you see that there is something to be done
+here.  Here I am on horseback already; I knocked over an uhlan yonder,
+and took his horse; I suppose they were guarding the wood, but it was by
+drinking and swilling in clover.  One of them, the sentry at the door,
+had not time to see me before I gave him a sugarplum in his stomach, and
+then, before the others could come out, I jumped on the horse and was off
+like a shot.  Eight or ten of them followed me, I think; but I took the
+crossroads through the woods.  I have got scratched and torn a bit, but
+here I am, and now, my good fellows, attention, and take care!  Those
+brigands will not rest until they have caught us, and we must receive
+them with rifle bullets.  Come along; let us take up our posts!"
+
+We set out.  One of us took up his position a good way from the village
+on the crossroads; I was posted at the entrance of the main street, where
+the road from the level country enters the village, while the two others,
+the captain and his wife, were in the middle of the village, near the
+church, whose tower-served for an observatory and citadel.
+
+We had not been in our places long before we heard a shot, followed by
+another, and then two, then three.  The first was evidently a chassepot
+--one recognized it by the sharp report, which sounds like the crack of a
+whip--while the other three came from the lancers' carbines.
+
+The captain was furious.  He had given orders to the outpost to let the
+enemy pass and merely to follow them at a distance if they marched toward
+the village, and to join me when they had gone well between the houses.
+Then they were to appear suddenly, take the patrol between two fires, and
+not allow a single man to escape; for, posted as we were, the six of us
+could have hemmed in ten Prussians, if needful.
+
+"That confounded Piedelot has roused them," the captain said, "and they
+will not venture to come on blindfolded any longer.  And then I am quite
+sure that he has managed to get a shot into himself somewhere or other,
+for we hear nothing of him.  It serves him right; why did he not obey
+orders?" And then, after a moment, he grumbled in his beard: "After all I
+am sorry for the poor fellow; he is so brave, and shoots so well!"
+
+The captain was right in his conjectures.  We waited until evening,
+without seeing the uhlans; they had retreated after the first attack; but
+unfortunately we had not seen Piedelot, either.  Was he dead or a
+prisoner?  When night came, the captain proposed that we should go out
+and look for him, and so the three of us started.  At the crossroads we
+found a broken rifle and some blood, while the ground was trampled down;
+but we did not find either a wounded man or a dead body, although we
+searched every thicket, and at midnight we returned without having
+discovered anything of our unfortunate comrade.
+
+"It is very strange," the captain growled.  "They must have killed him
+and thrown him into the bushes somewhere; they cannot possibly have taken
+him prisoner, as he would have called out for help.  I cannot understand
+it at all."  Just as he said that, bright flames shot up in the direction
+of the inn on the high road, which illuminated the sky.
+
+"Scoundrels! cowards!" he shouted.  "I will bet that they have set fire
+to the two houses on the marketplace, in order to have their revenge, and
+then they will scuttle off without saying a word.  They will be satisfied
+with having killed a man and set fire to two houses.  All right.  It
+shall not pass over like that.  We must go for them; they will not like
+to leave their illuminations in order to fight."
+
+"It would be a great stroke of luck if we could set Piedelot free at the
+same time," some one said.
+
+The five of us set off, full of rage and hope.  In twenty minutes we had
+got to the bottom of the coulee, and had not yet seen any one when we
+were within a hundred yards of the inn.  The fire was behind the house,
+and all we saw of it was the reflection above the roof.  However, we were
+walking rather slowly, as we were afraid of an ambush, when suddenly we
+heard Piedelot's well-known voice.  It had a strange sound, however; for
+it was at the same time--dull and vibrating, stifled and clear, as if he
+were calling out as loud as he could with a bit of rag stuffed into his
+mouth.  He seemed to be hoarse and gasping, and the unlucky fellow kept
+exclaiming: "Help! Help!"
+
+We sent all thoughts of prudence to the devil, and in two bounds we were
+at the back of the inn, where a terrible sight met our eyes.
+
+
+
+IV
+
+Piedelot was being burned alive.  He was writhing in the midst of a heap
+of fagots, tied to a stake, and the flames were licking him with their
+burning tongues.  When he saw us, his tongue seemed to stick in his
+throat; he drooped his head, and seemed as if he were going to die.  It
+was only the affair of a moment to upset the burning pile, to scatter the
+embers, and to cut the ropes that fastened him.
+
+Poor fellow!  In what a terrible state we found him.  The evening before
+he had had his left arm broken, and it seemed as if he had been badly
+beaten since then, for his whole body was covered with wounds, bruises
+and blood.  The flames had also begun their work on him, and he had two
+large burns, one on his loins and the other on his right thigh, and his
+beard and hair were scorched.  Poor Piedelot!
+
+No one knows the terrible rage we felt at this sight!  We would have
+rushed headlong at a hundred thousand Prussians; our thirst for vengeance
+was intense.  But the cowards had run away, leaving their crime behind
+them.  Where could we find them now?  Meanwhile, however, the captain's
+wife was looking after Piedelot, and dressing his wounds as best she
+could, while the captain himself shook hands with him excitedly, and in a
+few minutes he came to himself.
+
+"Good-morning, captain; good-morning, all of you," be said.  "Ah!  the
+scoundrels, the wretches!  Why, twenty of them came to surprise us."
+
+"Twenty, do you say?"
+
+"Yes; there was a whole band of them, and that is why I disobeyed orders,
+captain, and fired on them, for they would have killed you all, and I
+preferred to stop them.  That frightened them, and they did not venture
+to go farther than the crossroads.  They were such cowards.  Four of them
+shot at me at twenty yards, as if I had been a target, and then they
+slashed me with their swords.  My arm was broken, so that I could only
+use my bayonet with one hand."
+
+"But why did you not call for help?"
+
+"I took good care not to do that, for you would all have come; and you
+would neither have been able to defend me nor yourselves, being only five
+against twenty."
+
+"You know that we should not have allowed you to have been taken, poor
+old fellow."
+
+"I preferred to die by myself, don't you see!  I did not want to bring
+you here, for it would have been a mere ambush."
+
+"Well, we will not talk about it any more.  Do you feel rather easier?"
+
+"No, I am suffocating.  I know that I cannot live much longer.  The
+brutes!  They tied me to a tree, and beat me till I was half dead, and
+then they shook my broken arm; but I did not make a sound.  I would
+rather have bitten my tongue out than have called out before them.  Now I
+can tell what I am suffering and shed tears; it does one good.  Thank
+you, my kind friends."
+
+"Poor Piedelot!  But we will avenge you, you may be sure!"
+
+"Yes, yes; I want you to do that.  There is, in particular, a woman among
+them who passes as the wife of the lancer whom the captain killed
+yesterday.  She is dressed like a lancer, and she tortured me the most
+yesterday, and suggested burning me; and it was she who set fire to the
+wood.  Oh! the wretch, the brute!  Ah!  how I am suffering!  My loins, my
+arms!" and he fell back gasping and exhausted, writhing in his terrible
+agony, while the captain's wife wiped the perspiration from his forehead,
+and we all shed tears of grief and rage, as if we had been children.
+I will not describe the end to you; he died half an hour later,
+previously telling us in what direction the enemy had gone.  When he was
+dead we gave ourselves time to bury him, and then we set out in pursuit
+of them, with our hearts full of fury and hatred.
+
+"We will throw ourselves on the whole Prussian army, if it be necessary,"
+the captain said; "but we will avenge Piedelot.  We must catch those
+scoundrels.  Let us swear to die, rather than not to find them; and if I
+am killed first, these are my orders: All the prisoners that you take are
+to be shot immediately, and as for the lancer's wife, she is to be
+tortured before she is put to death."
+
+"She must not be shot, because she is a woman," the captain's wife said.
+"If you survive, I am sure that you would not shoot a woman.  Torturing
+her will be quite sufficient; but if you are killed in this pursuit, I
+want one thing, and that is to fight with her; I will kill her with my
+own hands, and the others can do what they like with her if she kills
+me."
+
+"We will outrage her!  We will burn her!  We will tear her to pieces!
+Piedelot shall be avenged!
+
+An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth!"
+
+
+
+V
+
+The next morning we unexpectedly fell on an outpost of uhlans four
+leagues away.  Surprised by our sudden attack, they were not able to
+mount their horses, nor even to defend themselves; and in a few moments
+we had five prisoner, corresponding to our own number.  The captain
+questioned them, and from their answers we felt certain that they were
+the same whom we had encountered the previous day.  Then a very curious
+operation took place.  One of us was told off to ascertain their sex, and
+nothing can describe our joy when we discovered what we were seeking
+among them, the female executioner who had tortured our friend.
+
+The four others were shot on the spot, with their backs to us and close
+to the muzzles of our rifles; and then we turned our attention to the
+woman.  What were we going to do with her?  I must acknowledge that we
+were all of us in favor of shooting her.  Hatred, and the wish to avenge
+Piedelot, had extinguished all pity in us, and we had forgotten that we
+were going to shoot a woman, but a woman reminded us of it, the captain's
+wife; at her entreaties, therefore, we determined to keep her a prisoner.
+
+The captain's poor wife was to be severely punished for this act of
+clemency.
+
+The next day we heard that the armistice had been extended to the eastern
+part of France, and we had to put an end to our little campaign.  Two of
+us, who belonged to the neighborhood, returned home, so there were only
+four of us, all told: the captain, his wife, and two men.  We belonged to
+Besancon, which was still being besieged in spite of the armistice.
+
+"Let us stop here," said the captain.  "I cannot believe that the war is
+going to end like this.  The devil take it!  Surely there are men still
+left in France; and now is the time to prove what they are made of.  The
+spring is coming on, and the armistice is only a trap laid for the
+Prussians.  During the time that it lasts, a new army will be raised, and
+some fine morning we shall fall upon them again.  We shall be ready, and
+we have a hostage--let us remain here."
+
+We fixed our quarters there.  It was terribly cold, and we did not go out
+much, and somebody had always to keep the female prisoner in sight.
+
+She was sullen, and never said anything, or else spoke of her husband,
+whom the captain had killed.  She looked at him continually with fierce
+eyes, and we felt that she was tortured by a wild longing for revenge.
+That seemed to us to be the most suitable punishment for the terrible
+torments that she had made Piedelot suffer, for impotent vengeance is
+such intense pain!
+
+Alas! we who knew how to avenge our comrade ought to have thought that
+this woman would know how to avenge her husband, and have been on our
+guard.  It is true that one of us kept watch every night, and that at
+first we tied her by a long rope to the great oak bench that was fastened
+to the wall.  But, by and by, as she had never tried to escape, in spite
+of her hatred for us, we relaxed our extreme prudence, and allowed her to
+sleep somewhere else except on the bench, and without being tied.  What
+had we to fear?  She was at the end of the room, a man was on guard at
+the door, and between her and the sentinel the captain's wife and two
+other men used to lie.  She was alone and unarmed against four, so there
+could be no danger.
+
+One night when we were asleep, and the captain was on guard, the lancer's
+wife was lying more quietly in her corner than usual, and she had even
+smiled for the first time since she had been our prisoner during the
+evening.  Suddenly, however, in the middle of the night, we were all
+awakened by a terrible cry.  We got up, groping about, and at once
+stumbled over a furious couple who were rolling about and fighting on the
+ground.  It was the captain and the lancer's wife.  We threw ourselves on
+them, and separated them in a moment.  She was shouting and laughing, and
+he seemed to have the death rattle.  All this took place in the dark.
+Two of us held her, and when a light was struck a terrible sight met our
+eyes.  The captain was lying on the floor in a pool of blood, with an
+enormous gash in his throat, and his sword bayonet, that had been taken
+from his rifle, was sticking in the red, gaping wound.  A few minutes
+afterward he died, without having been able to utter a word.
+
+His wife did not shed a tear.  Her eyes were dry, her throat was
+contracted, and she looked at the lancer's wife steadfastly, and with a
+calm ferocity that inspired fear.
+
+"This woman belongs to me," she said to us suddenly.  "You swore to me
+not a week ago to let me kill her as I chose, if she killed my husband;
+and you must keep your oath.  You must fasten her securely to the
+fireplace, upright against the back of it, and then you can go where you
+like, but far from here.  I will take my revenge on her myself.  Leave
+the captain's body, and we three, he, she and I, will remain here."
+
+We obeyed, and went away.  She promised to write to us to Geneva, as we
+were returning thither.
+
+
+
+VI
+
+Two days later I received the following letter, dated the day after we
+had left, that had been written at an inn on the high road:
+
+"MY FRIEND: I am writing to you, according to my promise.  For the moment
+I am at the inn, where I have just handed my prisoner over to a Prussian
+officer.
+
+"I must tell you, my friend, that this poor woman has left two children
+in Germany.  She had followed her husband, whom she adored, as she did
+not wish him to be exposed to the risks of war by himself, and as her
+children were with their grandparents.  I have learned all this since
+yesterday, and it has turned my ideas of vengeance into more humane
+feelings.  At the very moment when I felt pleasure in insulting this
+woman, and in threatening her with the most fearful torments, in
+recalling Piedelot, who had been burned alive, and in threatening her
+with a similar death, she looked at me coldly, and said:
+
+"'What have you got to reproach me with, Frenchwoman?  You think that you
+will do right in avenging your husband's death, is not that so?'
+
+"'Yes,' I replied.
+
+"'Very well, then; in killing him, I did what you are going to do in
+burning me.  I avenged my husband, for your husband killed him.'
+
+"'Well,' I replied, 'as you approve of this vengeance, prepare to endure
+it.'
+
+"'I do not fear it.'
+
+"And in fact she did not seem to have lost courage.  Her face was calm,
+and she looked at me without trembling, while I brought wood and dried
+leaves together, and feverishly threw on to them the powder from some
+cartridges, which was to make her funeral pile the more cruel.
+
+"I hesitated in my thoughts of persecution for a moment.  But the captain
+was there, pale and covered with blood, and he seemed to be looking at me
+with his large, glassy eyes, and I applied myself to my work again after
+kissing his pale lips.  Suddenly, however, on raising my head, I saw that
+she was crying, and I felt rather surprised.
+
+"'So you are frightened?' I said to her.
+
+"'No, but when I saw you kiss your husband, I thought of mine, of all
+whom I love.'
+
+"She continued to sob, but stopping suddenly, she said to me in broken
+words and in a low voice:
+
+"'Have you any children?'
+
+"A shiver rare over me, for I guessed that this poor woman had some.  She
+asked me to look in a pocketbook which was in her bosom, and in it I saw
+two photographs of quite young children, a boy and a girl, with those
+kind, gentle, chubby faces that German children have.  In it there were
+also two locks of light hair and a letter in a large, childish hand, and
+beginning with German words which meant:
+
+'My dear little mother.'
+
+"I could not restrain my tears, my dear friend, and so I untied her, and
+without venturing to look at the face of my poor dead husband, who was
+not to be avenged, I went with her as far as the inn. She is free; I have
+just left her, and she kissed me with tears.  I am going upstairs to my
+husband; come as soon as possible, my dear friend, to look for our two
+bodies."
+
+I set off with all speed, and when I arrived there was a Prussian patrol
+at the cottage; and when I asked what it all meant, I was told that there
+was a captain of francs-tireurs and his wife inside, both dead.  I gave
+their names; they saw that I knew them, and I begged to be allowed to
+arrange their funeral.
+
+"Somebody has already undertaken it," was the reply.  "Go in if you wish
+to, as you know them.  You can settle about their funeral with their
+friend."
+
+I went in.  The captain and his wife were lying side by side on a bed,
+and were covered by a sheet.  I raised it, and saw that the woman had
+inflicted a similar wound in her throat to that from which her husband
+had died.
+
+At the side of the bed there sat, watching and weeping, the woman who had
+been mentioned to me as their best friend.  It was the lancer's wife.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE PRISONERS
+
+There was not a sound in the forest save the indistinct, fluttering sound
+of the snow falling on the trees.  It had been snowing since noon; a
+little fine snow, that covered the branches as with frozen moss, and
+spread a silvery covering over the dead leaves in the ditches, and
+covered the roads with a white, yielding carpet, and made still more
+intense the boundless silence of this ocean of trees.
+
+Before the door of the forester's dwelling a young woman, her arms bare
+to the elbow, was chopping wood with a hatchet on a block of stone.  She
+was tall, slender, strong-a true girl of the woods, daughter and wife of
+a forester.
+
+A voice called from within the house:
+
+"We are alone to-night, Berthine; you must come in.  It is getting dark,
+and there may be Prussians or wolves about."
+
+"I've just finished, mother," replied the young woman, splitting as she
+spoke an immense log of wood with strong, deft blows, which expanded her
+chest each time she raised her arms to strike.  "Here I am; there's no
+need to be afraid; it's quite light still."
+
+Then she gathered up her sticks and logs, piled them in the chimney
+corner, went back to close the great oaken shutters, and finally came in,
+drawing behind her the heavy bolts of the door.
+
+Her mother, a wrinkled old woman whom age had rendered timid, was
+spinning by the fireside.
+
+"I am uneasy," she said, "when your father's not here.  Two women are not
+much good."
+
+"Oh," said the younger woman, "I'd cheerfully kill a wolf or a Prussian
+if it came to that."
+
+And she glanced at a heavy revolver hanging above the hearth.
+
+Her husband had been called upon to serve in the army at the beginning of
+the Prussian invasion, and the two women had remained alone with the old
+father, a keeper named Nicolas Pichon, sometimes called Long-legs, who
+refused obstinately to leave his home and take refuge in the town.
+
+This town was Rethel, an ancient stronghold built on a rock.  Its
+inhabitants were patriotic, and had made up their minds to resist the
+invaders, to fortify their native place, and, if need be, to stand a
+siege as in the good old days.  Twice already, under Henri IV and under
+Louis XIV, the people of Rethel had distinguished themselves by their
+heroic defence of their town.  They would do as much now, by gad! or else
+be slaughtered within their own walls.
+
+They had, therefore, bought cannon and rifles, organized a militia, and
+formed themselves into battalions and companies, and now spent their time
+drilling all day long in the square.  All-bakers, grocers, butchers,
+lawyers, carpenters, booksellers, chemists-took their turn at military
+training at regular hours of the day, under the auspices of Monsieur
+Lavigne, a former noncommissioned officer in the dragoons, now a draper,
+having married the daughter and inherited the business of Monsieur
+Ravaudan, Senior.
+
+He had taken the rank of commanding officer in Rethel, and, seeing that
+all the young men had gone off to the war, he had enlisted all the others
+who were in favor of resisting an attack.  Fat men now invariably walked
+the streets at a rapid pace, to reduce their weight and improve their
+breathing, and weak men carried weights to strengthen their muscles.
+
+And they awaited the Prussians.  But the Prussians did not appear.  They
+were not far off, however, for twice already their scouts had penetrated
+as far as the forest dwelling of Nicolas Pichon, called Long-legs.
+
+The old keeper, who could run like a fox, had come and warned the town.
+The guns had been got ready, but the enemy had not shown themselves.
+
+Long-legs' dwelling served as an outpost in the Aveline forest.  Twice a
+week the old man went to the town for provisions and brought the citizens
+news of the outlying district.
+
+On this particular day he had gone to announce the fact that a small
+detachment of German infantry had halted at his house the day before,
+about two o'clock in the afternoon, and had left again almost
+immediately.  The noncommissioned officer in charge spoke French.
+
+When the old man set out like this he took with him his dogs--two
+powerful animals with the jaws of lions-as a safeguard against the
+wolves, which were beginning to get fierce, and he left directions with
+the two women to barricade themselves securely within their dwelling as
+soon as night fell.
+
+The younger feared nothing, but her mother was always apprehensive, and
+repeated continually:
+
+"We'll come to grief one of these days.  You see if we don't!"
+
+This evening she was, if possible, more nervous than ever.
+
+"Do you know what time your father will be back?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, not before eleven, for certain.  When he dines with the commandant
+he's always late."
+
+And Berthine was hanging her pot over the fire to warm the soup when she
+suddenly stood still, listening attentively to a sound that had reached
+her through the chimney.
+
+"There are people walking in the wood," she said; "seven or eight men at
+least."
+
+The terrified old woman stopped her spinning wheel, and gasped:
+
+"Oh, my God!  And your father not here!"
+
+She had scarcely finished speaking when a succession of violent blows
+shook the door.
+
+As the woman made no reply, a loud, guttural voice shouted:
+
+"Open the door!"
+
+After a brief silence the same voice repeated:
+
+"Open the door or I'll break it down!"
+
+Berthine took the heavy revolver from its hook, slipped it into the
+pocket of her skirt, and, putting her ear to the door, asked:
+
+"Who are you?" demanded the young woman.  "What do you want?".
+
+"The detachment that came here the other day," replied the voice.
+
+"My men and I have lost our way in the forest since morning.  Open the
+door or I'll break it down!"
+
+The forester's daughter had no choice; she shot back the heavy bolts,
+threw open the ponderous shutter, and perceived in the wan light of the
+snow six men, six Prussian soldiers, the same who had visited the house
+the day before.
+
+"What are you doing here at this time of night?" she asked dauntlessly.
+
+"I lost my bearings," replied the officer; "lost them completely.  Then I
+recognized this house.  I've eaten nothing since morning, nor my men
+either."
+
+"But I'm quite alone with my mother this evening," said Berthine.
+
+"Never mind," replied the soldier, who seemed a decent sort of fellow.
+"We won't do you any harm, but you must give us something to eat.  We are
+nearly dead with hunger and fatigue."
+
+Then the girl moved aside.
+
+"Come in;" she said.
+
+Then entered, covered with snow, their helmets sprinkled with a creamy-
+looking froth, which gave them the appearance of meringues.  They seemed
+utterly worn out.
+
+The young woman pointed to the wooden benches on either side of the large
+table.
+
+"Sit down," she said, "and I'll make you some soup.  You certainly look
+tired out, and no mistake."
+
+Then she bolted the door afresh.
+
+She put more water in the pot, added butter and potatoes; then, taking
+down a piece of bacon from a hook in the chimney earner, cut it in two
+and slipped half of it into the pot.
+
+The six men watched her movements with hungry eyes.  They had placed
+their rifles and helmets in a corner and waited for supper, as well
+behaved as children on a school bench.
+
+The old mother had resumed her spinning, casting from time to time a
+furtive and uneasy glance at the soldiers.  Nothing was to be heard save
+the humming of the wheel, the crackling of the fire, and the singing of
+the water in the pot.
+
+But suddenly a strange noise--a sound like the harsh breathing of some
+wild animal sniffing under the door-startled the occupants of the room.
+
+The German officer sprang toward the rifles.  Berthine stopped him with a
+gesture, and said, smilingly:
+
+"It's only the wolves.  They are like you--prowling hungry through the
+forest."
+
+The incredulous man wanted to see with his own eyes, and as soon as the
+door was opened he perceived two large grayish animals disappearing with
+long, swinging trot into the darkness.
+
+He returned to his seat, muttering:
+
+"I wouldn't have believed it!"
+
+And he waited quietly till supper was ready.
+
+The men devoured their meal voraciously, with mouths stretched to their
+ears that they might swallow the more.  Their round eyes opened at the
+same time as their jaws, and as the soup coursed down their throats it
+made a noise like the gurgling of water in a rainpipe.
+
+The two women watched in silence the movements of the big red beards.
+The potatoes seemed to be engulfed in these moving fleeces.
+
+But, as they were thirsty, the forester's daughter went down to the
+cellar to draw them some cider.  She was gone some time.  The cellar was
+small, with an arched ceiling, and had served, so people said, both as
+prison and as hiding-place during the Revolution.  It was approached by
+means of a narrow, winding staircase, closed by a trap-door at the
+farther end of the kitchen.
+
+When Berthine returned she was smiling mysteriously to herself.  She gave
+the Germans her jug of cider.
+
+Then she and her mother supped apart, at the other end of the kitchen.
+
+The soldiers had finished eating, and were all six falling asleep as they
+sat round the table.  Every now and then a forehead fell with a thud on
+the board, and the man, awakened suddenly, sat upright again.
+
+Berthine said to the officer:
+
+"Go and lie down, all of you, round the fire.  There's lots of room for
+six.  I'm going up to my room with my mother."
+
+And the two women went upstairs.  They could be heard locking the door
+and walking about overhead for a time; then they were silent.
+
+The Prussians lay down on the floor, with their feet to the fire and
+their heads resting on their rolled-up cloaks.  Soon all six snored
+loudly and uninterruptedly in six different keys.
+
+They had been sleeping for some time when a shot rang out so loudly that
+it seemed directed against the very wall's of the house.  The soldiers
+rose hastily.  Two-then three-more shots were fired.
+
+The door opened hastily, and Berthine appeared, barefooted and only half
+dressed, with her candle in her hand and a scared look on her face.
+
+"There are the French," she stammered; "at least two hundred of them.  If
+they find you here they'll burn the house down.  For God's sake, hurry
+down into the cellar, and don't make a 'sound, whatever you do.  If you
+make any noise we are lost."
+
+"We'll go, we'll go," replied the terrified officer.  "Which is the way?"
+
+The young woman hurriedly raised the small, square trap-door, and the six
+men disappeared one after another down the narrow, winding staircase,
+feeling their way as they went.
+
+But as soon as the spike of the out of the last helmet was out of sight
+Berthine lowered the heavy oaken lid--thick as a wall, hard as steel,
+furnished with the hinges and bolts of a prison cell--shot the two heavy
+bolts, and began to laugh long and silently, possessed with a mad longing
+to dance above the heads of her prisoners.
+
+They made no sound, inclosed in the cellar as in a strong-box, obtaining
+air only from a small, iron-barred vent-hole.
+
+Berthine lighted her fire again, hung the pot over it, and prepared more
+soup, saying to herself:
+
+"Father will be tired to-night."
+
+Then she sat and waited.  The heavy pendulum of the clock swung to and
+fro with a monotonous tick.
+
+Every now and then the young woman cast an impatient glance at the dial-a
+glance which seemed to say:
+
+"I wish he'd be quick!"
+
+But soon there was a sound of voices beneath her feet.  Low, confused
+words reached her through the masonry which roofed the cellar.  The
+Prussians were beginning to suspect the trick she had played them, and
+presently the officer came up the narrow staircase, and knocked at the
+trap-door.
+
+"Open the door!" he cried.
+
+"What do you want?" she said, rising from her seat and approaching the
+cellarway.
+
+"Open the door!"
+
+"I won't do any such thing!"
+
+"Open it or I'll break it down!" shouted the man angrily.
+
+She laughed.
+
+"Hammer away, my good man!  Hammer away!"
+
+He struck with the butt-end of his gun at the closed oaken door.  But it
+would have resisted a battering-ram.
+
+The forester's daughter heard him go down the stairs again.  Then the
+soldiers came one after another and tried their strength against the
+trapdoor.  But, finding their efforts useless, they all returned to the
+cellar and began to talk among themselves.
+
+The young woman heard them for a short time, then she rose, opened the
+door of the house; looked out into the night, and listened.
+
+A sound of distant barking reached her ear.  She whistled just as a
+huntsman would, and almost immediately two great dogs emerged from the
+darkness, and bounded to her side.  She held them tight, and shouted at
+the top of her voice:
+
+"Hullo, father!"
+
+A far-off voice replied:
+
+"Hullo, Berthine!"
+
+She waited a few seconds, then repeated:
+
+"Hullo, father!"
+
+The voice, nearer now, replied:
+
+"Hullo, Berthine!"
+
+"Don't go in front of the vent-hole!" shouted his daughter.  "There are
+Prussians in the cellar!"
+
+Suddenly the man's tall figure could be seen to the left, standing
+between two tree trunks.
+
+"Prussians in the cellar?" he asked anxiously.  "What are they doing?"
+
+The young woman laughed.
+
+"They are the same as were here yesterday.  They lost their way, and I've
+given them free lodgings in the cellar."
+
+She told the story of how she had alarmed them by firing the revolver,
+and had shut them up in the cellar.
+
+The man, still serious, asked:
+
+"But what am I to do with them at this time of night?"
+
+"Go and fetch Monsieur Lavigne with his men," she replied.  "He'll take
+them prisoners.  He'll be delighted."
+
+Her father smiled.
+
+"So he will-delighted."
+
+"Here's some soup for you," said his daughter.  "Eat it quick, and then
+be off."
+
+The old keeper sat down at the table, and began to eat his soup, having
+first filled two plates and put them on the floor for the dogs.
+
+The Prussians, hearing voices, were silent.
+
+Long-legs set off a quarter of an hour later, and Berthine, with her head
+between her hands, waited.
+
+The prisoners began to make themselves heard again.  They shouted,
+called, and beat furiously with the butts of their muskets against the
+rigid trap-door of the cellar.
+
+Then they fired shots through the vent-hole, hoping, no doubt, to be
+heard by any German detachment which chanced to be passing that way.
+
+The forester's daughter did not stir, but the noise irritated and
+unnerved her.  Blind anger rose in her heart against the prisoners; she
+would have been only too glad to kill them all, and so silence them.
+
+Then, as her impatience grew, she watched the clock, counting the minutes
+as they passed.
+
+Her father had been gone an hour and a half.  He must have reached the
+town by now.  She conjured up a vision of him telling the story to
+Monsieur Lavigne, who grew pale with emotion, and rang for his servant to
+bring him his arms and uniform.  She fancied she could bear the drum as
+it sounded the call to arms.  Frightened faces appeared at the windows.
+The citizen-soldiers emerged from their houses half dressed, out of
+breath, buckling on their belts, and hurrying to the commandant's house.
+
+Then the troop of soldiers, with Long-legs at its head, set forth through
+the night and the snow toward the forest.
+
+She looked at the clock.  "They may be here in an hour."
+
+A nervous impatience possessed her.  The minutes seemed interminable.
+Would the time never come?
+
+At last the clock marked the moment she had fixed on for their arrival.
+And she opened the door to listen for their approach.  She perceived a
+shadowy form creeping toward the house.  She was afraid, and cried out.
+But it was her father.
+
+"They have sent me," he said, "to see if there is any change in the state
+of affairs."
+
+"No-none."
+
+Then he gave a shrill whistle.  Soon a dark mass loomed up under the
+trees; the advance guard, composed of ten men.
+
+"Don't go in front of the vent-hole!" repeated Long-legs at intervals.
+
+And the first arrivals pointed out the much-dreaded vent-hole to those
+who came after.
+
+At last the main body of the troop arrived, in all two hundred men, each
+carrying two hundred cartridges.
+
+Monsieur Lavigne, in a state of intense excitement, posted them in such a
+fashion as to surround the whole house, save for a large space left
+vacant in front of the little hole on a level with the ground, through
+which the cellar derived its supply of air.
+
+Monsieur Lavigne struck the trap-door a blow with his foot, and called:
+
+"I wish to speak to the Prussian officer!"
+
+The German did not reply.
+
+"The Prussian officer!" again shouted the commandant.
+
+Still no response.  For the space of twenty minutes Monsieur Lavigne
+called on this silent officer to surrender with bag and baggage,
+promising him that all lives should be spared, and that he and his men
+should be accorded military honors.  But he could extort no sign, either
+of consent or of defiance.  The situation became a puzzling one.
+
+The citizen-soldiers kicked their heels in the snow, slapping their arms
+across their chest, as cabdrivers do, to warm themselves, and gazing at
+the vent-hole with a growing and childish desire to pass in front of it.
+
+At last one of them took the risk-a man named Potdevin, who was fleet.
+of limb.  He ran like a deer across the zone of danger.  The experiment
+succeeded.  The prisoners gave no sign of life.
+
+A voice cried:
+
+"There's no one there!"
+
+And another soldier crossed the open space before the dangerous vent-
+hole.  Then this hazardous sport developed into a game.  Every minute a
+man ran swiftly from one side to the other, like a boy playing baseball,
+kicking up the snow behind him as he ran.  They had lighted big fires of
+dead wood at which to warm themselves, and the, figures of the runners
+were illumined by the flames as they passed rapidly from the camp on the
+right to that on the left.
+
+Some one shouted:
+
+"It's your turn now, Maloison."
+
+Maloison was a fat baker, whose corpulent person served to point many a
+joke among his comrades.
+
+He hesitated.  They chaffed him.  Then, nerving himself to the effort, he
+set off at a little, waddling gait, which shook his fat paunch and made
+the whole detachment laugh till they cried.
+
+"Bravo, bravo, Maloison!" they shouted for his encouragement.
+
+He had accomplished about two-thirds of his journey when a long, crimson
+flame shot forth from the vent-hole.  A loud report followed, and the fat
+baker fell.  face forward to the ground, uttering a frightful scream.
+No one went to his assistance.  Then he was seen to drag himself,
+groaning, on all-fours through the snow until he was beyond danger, when
+he fainted.
+
+He was shot in the upper part of the thigh.
+
+After the first surprise and fright were over they laughed at him again.
+But Monsieur Lavigne appeared on the threshold of the forester's
+dwelling.  He had formed his plan of attack.  He called in a loud voice
+"I want Planchut, the plumber, and his workmen."
+
+Three men approached.
+
+"Take the eavestroughs from the roof."
+
+In a quarter of an hour they brought the commandant thirty yards of
+pipes.
+
+Next, with infinite precaution, he had a small round hole drilled in the
+trap-door; then, making a conduit with the troughs from the pump to this
+opening, he said, with an air of extreme satisfaction
+
+"Now we'll give these German gentlemen something to drink."
+
+A shout of frenzied admiration, mingled with uproarious laughter, burst
+from his followers.  And the commandant organized relays of men, who were
+to relieve one another every five minutes.  Then he commanded:
+
+"Pump!!!
+
+And, the pump handle having been set in motion, a stream of water
+trickled throughout the length of the piping, and flowed from step to
+step down the cellar stairs with a gentle, gurgling sound.
+
+They waited.
+
+An hour passed, then two, then three.
+The commandant, in a state of feverish agitation, walked up and down the
+kitchen, putting his ear to the ground every now and then to discover, if
+possible, what the enemy were doing and whether they would soon
+capitulate.
+
+The enemy was astir now.  They could be heard moving the casks about,
+talking, splashing through the water.
+
+Then, about eight o'clock in the morning, a voice came from the vent-hole
+"I want to speak to the French officer."
+
+Lavigne replied from the window, taking care not to put his head out too
+far:
+
+"Do you surrender?"
+
+"I surrender."
+
+"Then put your rifles outside."
+
+A rifle immediately protruded from the hole, and fell into the snow, then
+another and another, until all were disposed of.  And the voice which had
+spoken before said:
+
+"I have no more.  Be quick!  I am drowned."
+
+"Stop pumping!" ordered the commandant.
+
+And the pump handle hung motionless.
+
+Then, having filled the kitchen with armed and waiting soldiers, he
+slowly raised the oaken trapdoor.
+
+Four heads appeared, soaking wet, four fair heads with long, sandy hair,
+and one after another the six Germans emerged--scared, shivering and
+dripping from head to foot.
+
+They were seized and bound.  Then, as the French feared a surprise, they
+set off at once in two convoys, one in charge of the prisoners, and the
+other conducting Maloison on a mattress borne on poles.
+
+They made a triumphal entry into Rethel.
+
+Monsieur Lavigne was decorated as a reward for having captured a Prussian
+advance guard, and the fat baker received the military medal for wounds
+received at the hands of the enemy.
+
+
+
+
+
+TWO LITTLE SOLDIERS
+
+Every Sunday, as soon as they were free, the little soldiers would go for
+a walk.  They turned to the right on leaving the barracks, crossed
+Courbevoie with rapid strides, as though on a forced march; then, as the
+houses grew scarcer, they slowed down and followed the dusty road which
+leads to Bezons.
+
+They were small and thin, lost in their ill-fitting capes, too large and
+too long, whose sleeves covered their hands; their ample red trousers
+fell in folds around their ankles.  Under the high, stiff shako one could
+just barely perceive two thin, hollow-cheeked Breton faces, with their
+calm, naive blue eyes.  They never spoke during their journey, going
+straight before them, the same idea in each one's mind taking the place
+of conversation.  For at the entrance of the little forest of Champioux
+they had found a spot which reminded them of home, and they did not feel
+happy anywhere else.
+
+At the crossing of the Colombes and Chatou roads, when they arrived under
+the trees, they would take off their heavy, oppressive headgear and wipe
+their foreheads.
+
+They always stopped for a while on the bridge at Bezons, and looked at
+the Seine.  They stood there several minutes, bending over the railing,
+watching the white sails, which perhaps reminded them of their home, and
+of the fishing smacks leaving for the open.
+
+
+As soon as they had crossed the Seine, they would purchase provisions at
+the delicatessen, the baker's, and the wine merchant's.  A piece of
+bologna, four cents' worth of bread, and a quart of wine, made up the
+luncheon which they carried away, wrapped up in their handkerchiefs.  But
+as soon as they were out of the village their gait would slacken and they
+would begin to talk.
+
+Before them was a plain with a few clumps of trees, which led to the
+woods, a little forest which seemed to remind them of that other forest
+at Kermarivan.  The wheat and oat fields bordered on the narrow path, and
+Jean Kerderen said each time to Luc Le Ganidec:
+
+"It's just like home, just like Plounivon."
+
+"Yes, it's just like home."
+
+And they went on, side by side, their minds full of dim memories of home.
+They saw the fields, the hedges, the forests, and beaches.
+
+Each time they stopped near a large stone on the edge of the private
+estate, because it reminded them of the dolmen of Locneuven.
+
+As soon as they reached the first clump of trees, Luc Le Ganidec would
+cut off a small stick, and, whittling it slowly, would walk on, thinking
+of the folks at home.
+
+Jean Kerderen carried the provisions.
+
+From time to time Luc would mention a name, or allude to some boyish
+prank which would give them food for plenty of thought.  And the home
+country, so dear and so distant, would little by little gain possession
+of their minds, sending them back through space, to the well-known forms
+and noises, to the familiar scenery, with the fragrance of its green
+fields and sea air.  They no longer noticed the smells of the city.  And
+in their dreams they saw their friends leaving, perhaps forever, for the
+dangerous fishing grounds.
+
+They were walking slowly, Luc Le Ganidec and Jean Kerderen, contented and
+sad, haunted by a sweet sorrow, the slow and penetrating sorrow of a
+captive animal which remembers the days of its freedom.
+
+And when Luc had finished whittling his stick, they came to a little
+nook, where every Sunday they took their meal.  They found the two
+bricks, which they had hidden in a hedge, and they made a little fire of
+dry branches and roasted their sausages on the ends of their knives.
+
+When their last crumb of bread had been eaten and the last drop of wine
+had been drunk, they stretched themselves out on the grass side by side,
+without speaking, their half-closed eyes looking away in the distance,
+their hands clasped as in prayer, their red-trousered legs mingling with
+the bright colors of the wild flowers.
+
+Towards noon they glanced, from time to time, towards the village of
+Bezons, for the dairy maid would soon be coming.  Every Sunday she would
+pass in front of them on the way to milk her cow, the only cow in the
+neighborhood which was sent out to pasture.
+
+Soon they would see the girl, coming through the fields, and it pleased
+them to watch the sparkling sunbeams reflected from her shining pail.
+They never spoke of her.  They were just glad to see her, without
+understanding why.
+
+She was a tall, strapping girl, freckled and tanned by the open air--a
+girl typical of the Parisian suburbs.
+
+Once, on noticing that they were always sitting in the same place, she
+said to them:
+
+"Do you always come here?"
+
+Luc Le Ganidec, more daring than his friend, stammered:
+
+"Yes, we come here for our rest."
+
+That was all.  But the following Sunday, on seeing them, she smiled with
+the kindly smile of a woman who understood their shyness, and she asked:
+
+"What are you doing here?  Are you watching the grass grow?"
+
+Luc, cheered up, smiled: "P'raps."
+
+She continued: "It's not growing fast, is it?"
+
+He answered, still laughing: "Not exactly."
+
+She went on.  But when she came back with her pail full of milk, she
+stopped before them and said:
+
+"Want some?  It will remind you of home."
+
+She had, perhaps instinctively, guessed and touched the right spot.
+
+Both were moved.  Then not without difficulty, she poured some milk into
+the bottle in which they had brought their wine.  Luc started to drink,
+carefully watching lest he should take more than his share.  Then he
+passed the bottle to Jean.  She stood before them, her hands on her hips,
+her pail at her feet, enjoying the pleasure that she was giving them.
+Then she went on, saying: "Well, bye-bye until next Sunday!"
+
+For a long time they watched her tall form as it receded in the distance,
+blending with the background, and finally disappeared.
+
+The following week as they left the barracks, Jean said to Luc:
+
+"Don't you think we ought to buy her something good?"
+
+They were sorely perplexed by the problem of choosing something to bring
+to the dairy maid.  Luc was in favor of bringing her some chitterlings;
+but Jean, who had a sweet tooth, thought that candy would be the best
+thing.  He won, and so they went to a grocery to buy two sous' worth, of
+red and white candies.
+
+This time they ate more quickly than usual, excited by anticipation.
+
+Jean was the first one to notice her.  "There she is," he said; and Luc
+answered: "Yes, there she is."
+
+She smiled when she saw them, and cried:
+
+"Well, how are you to-day?"
+
+They both answered together:
+
+"All right!  How's everything with you?"
+
+Then she started to talk of simple things which might interest them; of
+the weather, of the crops, of her masters.
+
+They didn't dare to offer their candies, which were slowly melting in
+Jean's pocket.  Finally Luc, growing bolder, murmured:
+
+"We have brought you something."
+
+She asked: "Let's see it."
+
+Then Jean, blushing to the tips of his ears, reached in his pocket, and
+drawing out the little paper bag, handed it to her.
+
+She began to eat the little sweet dainties.  The two soldiers sat in
+front of her, moved and delighted.
+
+At last she went to do her milking, and when she came back she again gave
+them some milk.
+
+They thought of her all through the week and often spoke of her: The
+following Sunday she sat beside them for a longer time.
+
+The three of them sat there, side by side, their eyes looking far away in
+the distance, their hands clasped over their knees, and they told each
+other little incidents and little details of the villages where they were
+born, while the cow, waiting to be milked, stretched her heavy head
+toward the girl and mooed.
+
+Soon the girl consented to eat with them and to take a sip of wine.
+Often she brought them plums pocket for plums were now ripe.  Her
+presence enlivened the little Breton soldiers, who chattered away like
+two birds.
+
+One Tuesday something unusual happened to Luc Le Ganidec; he asked for
+leave and did not return until ten o'clock at night.
+
+Jean, worried and racked his brain to account for his friend's having
+obtained leave.
+
+The following Friday, Luc borrowed ten sons from one of his friends, and
+once more asked and obtained leave for several hours.
+
+When he started out with Jean on Sunday he seemed queer, disturbed,
+changed.  Kerderen did not understand; he vaguely suspected something,
+but he could not guess what it might be.
+
+They went straight to the usual place, and lunched slowly.  Neither was
+hungry.
+
+Soon the girl appeared.  They watched her approach as they always did.
+When she was near, Luc arose and went towards her.  She placed her pail
+on the ground and kissed him.  She kissed him passionately, throwing her
+arms around his neck, without paying attention to Jean, without even
+noticing that he was there.
+
+Poor Jean was dazed, so dazed that he could not understand.  His mind was
+upset and his heart broken, without his even realizing why.
+
+Then the girl sat down beside Luc, and they started to chat.
+
+Jean was not looking at them.  He understood now why his friend had gone
+out twice during the week.  He felt the pain and the sting which
+treachery and deceit leave in their wake.
+
+Luc and the girl went together to attend to the cow.
+
+Jean followed them with his eyes.  He saw them disappear side by side,
+the red trousers of his friend making a scarlet spot against the white
+road.  It was Luc who sank the stake to which the cow was tethered.  The
+girl stooped down to milk the cow, while he absent-mindedly stroked the
+animal's glossy neck.  Then they left the pail in the grass and
+disappeared in the woods.
+
+Jean could no longer see anything but the wall of leaves through which
+they had passed.  He was unmanned so that he did not have strength to
+stand.  He stayed there, motionless, bewildered and grieving-simple,
+passionate grief.  He wanted to weep, to run away, to hide somewhere,
+never to see anyone again.
+
+Then he saw them coming back again.  They were walking slowly, hand in
+hand, as village lovers do.  Luc was carrying the pail.
+
+After kissing him again, the girl went on, nodding carelessly to Jean.
+She did not offer him any milk that day.
+
+The two little soldiers sat side by side, motionless as always, silent
+and quiet, their calm faces in no way betraying the trouble in their
+hearts.  The sun shone down on them.  From time to time they could hear
+the plaintive lowing of the cow.  At the usual time they arose to return.
+
+Luc was whittling a stick.  Jean carried the empty bottle.  He left it at
+the wine merchant's in Bezons.  Then they stopped on the bridge, as they
+did every Sunday, and watched the water flowing by.
+
+Jean leaned over the railing, farther and farther, as though he had seen
+something in the stream which hypnotized him.  Luc said to him:
+
+"What's the matter?  Do you want a drink?"
+
+He had hardly said the last word when Jean's head carried away the rest
+of his body, and the little blue and red soldier fell like a shot and
+disappeared in the water.
+
+Luc, paralyzed with horror, tried vainly to shout for help.  In the
+distance he saw something move; then his friend's head bobbed up out of
+the water only to disappear again.
+
+Farther down he again noticed a hand, just one hand, which appeared and
+again went out of sight.  That was all.
+
+The boatmen who had rushed to the scene found the body that day.
+
+Luc ran back to the barracks, crazed, and with eyes and voice full of
+tears, he related the accident: "He leaned--he--he was leaning--so far
+over--that his head carried him away--and--he--fell--he fell----"
+
+Emotion choked him so that he could say no more.  If he had only known.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FATHER MILON
+
+For a month the hot sun has been parching the fields.  Nature is
+expanding beneath its rays; the fields are green as far as the eye can
+see. The big azure dome of the sky is unclouded.  The farms of Normandy,
+scattered over the plains and surrounded by a belt of tall beeches, look,
+from a distance, like little woods.  On closer view, after lowering the
+worm-eaten wooden bars, you imagine yourself in an immense garden, for
+all the ancient apple-trees, as gnarled as the peasants themselves, are
+in bloom.  The sweet scent of their blossoms mingles with the heavy smell
+of the earth and the penetrating odor of the stables.  It is noon.  The
+family is eating under the shade of a pear tree planted in front of the
+door; father, mother, the four children, and the help--two women and
+three men are all there.  All are silent.  The soup is eaten and then a
+dish of potatoes fried with bacon is brought on.
+
+From time to time one of the women gets up and takes a pitcher down to
+the cellar to fetch more cider.
+
+The man, a big fellow about forty years old, is watching a grape vine,
+still bare, which is winding and twisting like a snake along the side of
+the house.
+
+At last he says: "Father's vine is budding early this year.  Perhaps we
+may get something from it."
+
+The woman then turns round and looks, without saying a word.
+
+This vine is planted on the spot where their father had been shot.
+
+It was during the war of 1870.  The Prussians were occupying the whole
+country.  General Faidherbe, with the Northern Division of the army, was
+opposing them.
+
+The Prussians had established their headquarters at this farm.  The old
+farmer to whom it belonged, Father Pierre Milon, had received and
+quartered them to the best of his ability.
+
+For a month the German vanguard had been in this village.  The French
+remained motionless, ten leagues away; and yet, every night, some of the
+Uhlans disappeared.
+
+Of all the isolated scouts, of all those who were sent to the outposts,
+in groups of not more than three, not one ever returned.
+
+They were picked up the next morning in a field or in a ditch.  Even
+their horses were found along the roads with their throats cut.
+
+These murders seemed to be done by the same men, who could never be
+found.
+
+The country was terrorized.  Farmers were shot on suspicion, women were
+imprisoned; children were frightened in order to try and obtain
+information.  Nothing could be ascertained.
+
+But, one morning, Father Milon was found stretched out in the barn, with
+a sword gash across his face.
+
+Two Uhlans were found dead about a mile and a half from the farm.  One of
+them was still holding his bloody sword in his hand.  He had fought,
+tried to defend himself.  A court-martial was immediately held in the
+open air, in front of the farm.  The old man was brought before it.
+
+He was sixty-eight years old, small, thin, bent, with two big hands
+resembling the claws of a crab.  His colorless hair was sparse and thin,
+like the down of a young duck, allowing patches of his scalp to be seen.
+The brown and wrinkled skin of his neck showed big veins which
+disappeared behind his jaws and came out again at the temples.  He had
+the reputation of being miserly and hard to deal with.
+
+They stood him up between four soldiers, in front of the kitchen table,
+which had been dragged outside.  Five officers and the colonel seated
+themselves opposite him.
+
+The colonel spoke in French:
+
+"Father Milon, since we have been here we have only had praise for you.
+You have always been obliging and even attentive to us.  But to-day a
+terrible accusation is hanging over you, and you must clear the matter
+up.  How did you receive that wound on your face?"
+
+The peasant answered nothing.
+
+The colonel continued:
+
+"Your silence accuses you, Father Milon.  But I want you to answer me!
+Do you understand?  Do you know who killed the two Uhlans who were found
+this morning near Calvaire?"
+
+The old man answered clearly
+
+"I did."
+
+The colonel, surprised, was silent for a minute, looking straight at the
+prisoner.  Father Milon stood impassive, with the stupid look of the
+peasant, his eyes lowered as though he were talking to the priest.  Just
+one thing betrayed an uneasy mind; he was continually swallowing his
+saliva, with a visible effort, as though his throat were terribly
+contracted.
+
+The man's family, his son Jean, his daughter-in-law and his two
+grandchildren were standing a few feet behind him, bewildered and
+affrighted.
+
+The colonel went on:
+
+"Do you also know who killed all the scouts who have been found dead, for
+a month, throughout the country, every morning?"
+
+The old man answered with the same stupid look:
+
+"I did."
+
+"You killed them all?"
+
+"Uh huh!  I did."
+
+"You alone?  All alone?"
+
+"Uh huh!"
+
+"Tell me how you did it."
+
+This time the man seemed moved; the necessity for talking any length of
+time annoyed him visibly.  He stammered:
+
+"I dunno!  I simply did it."
+
+The colonel continued:
+
+"I warn you that you will have to tell me everything.  You might as well
+make up your mind right away.  How did you begin?"
+
+The man cast a troubled look toward his family, standing close behind
+him.  He hesitated a minute longer, and then suddenly made up his mind to
+obey the order.
+
+"I was coming home one night at about ten o'clock, the night after you
+got here.  You and your soldiers had taken more than fifty ecus worth of
+forage from me, as well as a cow and two sheep.  I said to myself: 'As
+much as they take from you; just so much will you make them pay back.'
+And then I had other things on my mind which I will tell you.  Just then
+I noticed one of your soldiers who was smoking his pipe by the ditch
+behind the barn.  I went and got my scythe and crept up slowly behind
+him, so that he couldn't hear me.  And I cut his head off with one single
+blow, just as I would a blade of grass, before he could say 'Booh!'  If
+you should look at the bottom of the pond, you will find him tied up in a
+potato-sack, with a stone fastened to it.
+
+"I got an idea.  I took all his clothes, from his boots to his cap, and
+hid them away in the little wood behind the yard."
+
+The old man stopped.  The officers remained speechless, looking at each
+other.  The questioning began again, and this is what they learned.
+
+Once this murder committed, the man had lived with this one thought:
+"Kill the Prussians!"  He hated them with the blind, fierce hate of the
+greedy yet patriotic peasant.  He had his idea, as he said.  He waited
+several days.
+
+He was allowed to go and come as he pleased, because he had shown himself
+so humble, submissive and obliging to the invaders.  Each night he saw
+the outposts leave.  One night he followed them, having heard the name of
+the village to which the men were going, and having learned the few words
+of German which he needed for his plan through associating with the
+soldiers.
+
+He left through the back yard, slipped into the woods, found the dead
+man's clothes and put them on.  Then he began to crawl through the
+fields, following along the hedges in order to keep out of sight,
+listening to the slightest noises, as wary as a poacher.
+
+As soon as he thought the time ripe, he approached the road and hid
+behind a bush.  He waited for a while.  Finally, toward midnight, he
+heard the sound of a galloping horse.  The man put his ear to the ground
+in order to make sure that only one horseman was approaching, then he got
+ready.
+
+An Uhlan came galloping along, carrying des patches.  As he went, he was
+all eyes and ears. When he was only a few feet away, Father Milon dragged
+himself across the road, moaning: "Hilfe! Hilfe!" ( Help!  Help!) The
+horseman stopped, and recognizing a German, he thought he was wounded and
+dismounted, coming nearer without any suspicion, and just as he was
+leaning over the unknown man, he received, in the pit of his stomach, a
+heavy thrust from the long curved blade of the sabre.  He dropped without
+suffering pain, quivering only in the final throes.  Then the farmer,
+radiant with the silent joy of an old peasant, got up again, and, for his
+own pleasure, cut the dead man's throat.  He then dragged the body to the
+ditch and threw it in.
+
+The horse quietly awaited its master.  Father Milon mounted him and
+started galloping across the plains.
+
+About an hour later he noticed two more Uhlans who were returning home,
+side by side.  He rode straight for them, once more crying "Hilfe!
+Hilfe!"
+
+The Prussians, recognizing the uniform, let him approach without
+distrust.  The old man passed between them like a cannon-ball, felling
+them both, one with his sabre and the other with a revolver.
+
+Then he killed the horses, German horses!  After that he quickly returned
+to the woods and hid one of the horses.  He left his uniform there and
+again put on his old clothes; then going back into bed, he slept until
+morning.
+
+For four days he did not go out, waiting for the inquest to be
+terminated; but on the fifth day he went out again and killed two more
+soldiers by the same stratagem.  From that time on he did not stop.
+Each night he wandered about in search of adventure, killing Prussians,
+sometimes here and sometimes there, galloping through deserted fields,
+in the moonlight, a lost Uhlan, a hunter of men.  Then, his task
+accomplished, leaving behind him the bodies lying along the roads, the
+old farmer would return and hide his horse and uniform.
+
+He went, toward noon, to carry oats and water quietly to his mount, and
+he fed it well as he required from it a great amount of work.
+
+But one of those whom he had attacked the night before, in defending
+himself slashed the old peasant across the face with his sabre.
+
+However, he had killed them both.  He had come back and hidden the horse
+and put on his ordinary clothes again; but as he reached home he began to
+feel faint, and had dragged himself as far as the stable, being unable to
+reach the house.
+
+They had found him there, bleeding, on the straw.
+
+When he had finished his tale, he suddenly lifted up his head and looked
+proudly at the Prussian officers.
+
+The colonel, who was gnawing at his mustache, asked:
+
+"You have nothing else to say?"
+
+"Nothing more; I have finished my task; I killed sixteen, not one more or
+less."
+
+"Do you know that you are going to die?"
+
+"I haven't asked for mercy."
+
+"Have you been a soldier?"
+
+"Yes, I served my time.  And then, you had killed my father, who was a
+soldier of the first Emperor.  And last month you killed my youngest son,
+Francois, near Evreux.  I owed you one for that; I paid.  We are quits."
+
+The officers were looking at each other.
+
+The old man continued:
+
+"Eight for my father, eight for the boy--we are quits.  I did not seek
+any quarrel with you.  I don't know you.  I don't even know where you
+come from.  And here you are, ordering me about in my home as though it
+were your own.  I took my revenge upon the others.  I'm not sorry."
+
+And, straightening up his bent back, the old man folded his arms in the
+attitude of a modest hero.
+
+The Prussians talked in a low tone for a long time.  One of them, a
+captain, who had also lost his son the previous month, was defending the
+poor wretch.  Then the colonel arose and, approaching Father Milon, said
+in a low voice:
+
+"Listen, old man, there is perhaps a way of saving your life, it is to--"
+
+But the man was not listening, and, his eyes fixed on the hated officer,
+while the wind played with the downy hair on his head, he distorted his
+slashed face, giving it a truly terrible expression, and, swelling out
+his chest, he spat, as hard as he could, right in the Prussian's face.
+
+The colonel, furious, raised his hand, and for the second time the man
+spat in his face.
+
+All the officers had jumped up and were shrieking orders at the same
+time.
+
+In less than a minute the old man, still impassive, was pushed up against
+the wall and shot, looking smilingly the while toward Jean, his eldest
+son, his daughter-in-law and his two grandchildren, who witnessed this
+scene in dumb terror.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A COUP D'ETAT
+
+Paris had just heard of the disaster at Sedan.  A republic had been
+declared.  All France was wavering on the brink of this madness which
+lasted until after the Commune.  From one end of the country to the other
+everybody was playing soldier.
+
+Cap-makers became colonels, fulfilling the duties of generals; revolvers
+and swords were displayed around big, peaceful stomachs wrapped in
+flaming red belts; little tradesmen became warriors commanding battalions
+of brawling volunteers, and swearing like pirates in order to give
+themselves some prestige.
+
+The sole fact of handling firearms crazed these people, who up to that
+time had only handled scales, and made them, without any reason,
+dangerous to all.  Innocent people were shot to prove that they knew how
+to kill; in forests which had never seen a Prussian, stray dogs, grazing
+cows and browsing horses were killed.
+
+Each one thought himself called upon to play a great part in military
+affairs.  The cafes of the smallest villages, full of uniformed
+tradesmen, looked like barracks or hospitals.
+
+The town of Canneville was still in ignorance of the maddening news from
+the army and the capital; nevertheless, great excitement had prevailed
+for the last month, the opposing parties finding themselves face to face.
+
+The mayor, Viscount de Varnetot, a thin, little old man, a conservative,
+who had recently, from ambition, gone over to the Empire, had seen a
+determined opponent arise in Dr. Massarel, a big, full-blooded man,
+leader of the Republican party of the neighborhood, a high official in
+the local masonic lodge, president of the Agricultural Society and of the
+firemen's banquet and the organizer of the rural militia which was to
+save the country.
+
+In two weeks, he had managed to gather together sixty-three volunteers,
+fathers of families, prudent farmers and town merchants, and every
+morning he would drill them in the square in front of the town-hall.
+
+When, perchance, the mayor would come to the municipal building,
+Commander Massarel, girt with pistols, would pass proudly in front of his
+troop, his sword in his hand, and make all of them cry: "Long live the
+Fatherland!"  And it had been noticed that this cry excited the little
+viscount, who probably saw in it a menace, a threat, as well as the
+odious memory of the great Revolution.
+
+On the morning of the fifth of September, the doctor, in full uniform,
+his revolver on the table, was giving a consultation to an old couple, a
+farmer who had been suffering from varicose veins for the last seven
+years and had waited until his wife had them also, before he would
+consult the doctor, when the postman brought in the paper.
+
+M. Massarel opened it, grew pale, suddenly rose, and lifting his hands to
+heaven in a gesture of exaltation, began to shout at the top of his voice
+before the two frightened country folks:
+
+"Long live the Republic!  long live the Republic!  long live the
+Republic!"
+
+Then he fell back in his chair, weak from emotion.
+
+And as the peasant resumed: "It started with the ants, which began to run
+up and down my legs---" Dr.  Massarel exclaimed:
+
+"Shut up!  I haven't got time to bother with your nonsense.  The Republic
+has been proclaimed, the emperor has been taken prisoner, France is
+saved!  Long live the Republic!"
+
+Running to the door, he howled:
+
+Celeste, quick, Celeste!"
+
+The servant, affrighted, hastened in; he was trying to talk so rapidly,
+that he could only stammer:
+
+"My boots, my sword, my cartridge-box and the Spanish dagger which is on
+my night-table!  Hasten!"
+
+As the persistent peasant, taking advantage of a moment's silence,
+continued, "I seemed to get big lumps which hurt me when I walk," the
+physician, exasperated, roared:
+
+"Shut up and get out!  If you had washed your feet it would not have
+happened!"
+
+Then, grabbing him by the collar, he yelled at him:
+
+"Can't you understand that we are a republic, you brass-plated idiot!"
+
+But professional sentiment soon calmed him, and he pushed the bewildered
+couple out, saying:
+
+"Come back to-morrow, come back to-morrow, my friends.  I haven't any
+time to-day."
+
+As he equipped himself from head to foot, he gave a series of important
+orders to his servant:
+
+"Run over to Lieutenant Picart and to Second Lieutenant Pommel, and tell
+them that I am expecting them here immediately.  Also send me Torchebeuf
+with his drum.  Quick!  quick!"
+
+When Celeste had gone out, he sat down and thought over the situation and
+the difficulties which he would have to surmount.
+
+The three men arrived together in their working clothes.  The commandant,
+who expected to see them in uniform, felt a little shocked.
+
+"Don't you people know anything?  The emperor has been taken prisoner,
+the Republic has been proclaimed.  We must act.  My position is delicate,
+I might even say dangerous."
+
+He reflected for a few moments before his bewildered subordinates, then
+he continued:
+
+"We must act and not hesitate; minutes count as hours in times like
+these.  All depends on the promptness of our decision.  You, Picart, go
+to the cure and order him to ring the alarm-bell, in order to get
+together the people, to whom I am going to announce the news. You,
+Torchebeuf beat the tattoo throughout the whole neighborhood as far as
+the hamlets of Gerisaie and Salmare, in order to assemble the militia in
+the public square.  You, Pommel, get your uniform on quickly, just the
+coat and cap.  We are going to the town-hall to demand Monsieur de
+Varnetot to surrender his powers to me.  Do you understand?
+
+Yes."
+
+"Now carry out those orders quickly.  I will go over to your house with
+you, Pommel, since we shall act together."
+
+Five minutes later, the commandant and his subordinates, armed to the
+teeth, appeared on the square, just as the little Viscount de Varnetot,
+his legs encased in gaiters as for a hunting party, his gun on his
+shoulder, was coming down the other street at double-quick time, followed
+by his three green-coated guards, their swords at their sides and their
+guns swung over their shoulders.
+
+While the doctor stopped, bewildered, the four men entered the town-hall
+and closed the door behind them.
+
+"They have outstripped us," muttered the physician, "we must now wait for
+reenforcements.  There is nothing to do for the present."
+
+Lieutenant Picart now appeared on the scene.
+
+"The priest refuses to obey," he said.  "He has even locked himself in
+the church with the sexton and beadle."
+
+On the other side of the square, opposite the white, tightly closed town-
+hall, stood the church, silent and dark, with its massive oak door
+studded with iron.
+
+But just as the perplexed inhabitants were sticking their heads out of
+the windows or coming out on their doorsteps, the drum suddenly began to
+be heard, and Torchebeuf appeared, furiously beating the tattoo.  He
+crossed the square running, and disappeared along the road leading to the
+fields.
+
+The commandant drew his sword, and advanced alone to half way between the
+two buildings behind which the enemy had intrenched itself, and, waving
+his sword over his head, he roared with all his might:
+
+"Long live the Republic!  Death to traitors!"
+
+Then he returned to his officers.
+
+The butcher, the baker and the druggist, much disturbed, were anxiously
+pulling down their shades and closing their shops.  The grocer alone kept
+open.
+
+However, the militia were arriving by degrees, each man in a different
+uniform, but all wearing a black cap with gold braid, the cap being the
+principal part of the outfit.  They were armed with old rusty guns, the
+old guns which had hung for thirty years on the kitchen wall; and they
+looked a good deal like an army of tramps.
+
+When he had about thirty men about him, the commandant, in a few words,
+outlined the situation to them.  Then, turning to his staff: "Let us
+act," he said.
+
+The villagers were gathering together and talking the matter over.
+
+The doctor quickly decided on a plan of campaign.
+
+"Lieutenant Picart, you will advance under the windows of this town-hall
+and summon Monsieur de Varnetot, in the name of the Republic, to hand the
+keys over to me."
+
+But the lieutenant, a master mason, refused:
+
+"You're smart, you are.  I don't care to get killed, thank you.  Those
+people in there shoot straight, don't you forget it.  Do your errands
+yourself."
+
+The commandant grew very red.
+
+"I command you to go in the name of discipline!"
+
+The lieutenant rebelled:
+
+"I'm not going to have my beauty spoiled without knowing why."
+
+All the notables, gathered in a group near by, began to laugh.  One of
+them cried:
+
+"You are right, Picart, this isn't the right time."
+
+The doctor then muttered:
+
+"Cowards!"
+
+And, leaving his sword and his revolver in the hands of a soldier, he
+advanced slowly, his eye fastened on the windows, expecting any minute to
+see a gun trained on him.
+
+When he was within a few feet of the building, the doors at both ends,
+leading into the two schools, opened and a flood of children ran out,.
+boys from one side, girls from the ether, and began to play around the
+doctor, in the big empty square, screeching and screaming, and making so
+much noise that he could not make himself heard.
+
+As soon as the last child was out of the building, the two doors closed
+again.
+
+Most of the youngsters finally dispersed, and the commandant called in a
+loud voice:
+
+"Monsieur de Varnetot!"
+
+A window on the first floor opened and M. de Varnetot appeared.
+
+The commandant continued:
+
+"Monsieur, you know that great events have just taken place which have
+changed the entire aspect of the government.  The one which you
+represented no longer exists.  The one which I represent is taking
+control.  Under these painful, but decisive circumstances, I come, in the
+name of the new Republic, to ask you to turn over to me the office which
+you held under the former government."
+
+M. de Varnetot answered:
+
+"Doctor, I am the mayor of Canneville, duly appointed, and I shall remain
+mayor of Canneville until I have been dismissed by a decree from my
+superiors.  As mayor, I am in my place in the townhall, and here I stay.
+Anyhow, just try to get me out."
+
+He closed the window.
+
+The commandant returned to his troop.  But before giving any information,
+eyeing Lieutenant Picart from head to foot, he exclaimed:
+
+"You're a great one, you are!  You're a fine specimen of manhood!  You're
+a disgrace to the army!  I degrade you."
+
+"I don't give a ----!"
+
+He turned away and mingled with a group of townspeople.
+
+Then the doctor hesitated.  What could he do?  Attack?  But would his men
+obey orders?  And then, did he have the right to do so?
+
+An idea struck him.  He ran to the telegraph office, opposite the town-
+hall, and sent off three telegrams:
+
+To the new republican government in Paris.
+
+To the new prefect of the Seine-Inferieure, at Rouen.
+
+To the new republican sub-prefect at Dieppe.
+
+He explained the situation, pointed out the danger which the town would
+run if it should remain in the hands of the royalist mayor; offered his
+faithful services, asked for orders and signed, putting all his titles
+after his name.
+
+Then he returned to his battalion, and, drawing ten francs from his
+pocket, he cried: "Here, my friends, go eat and drink; only leave me a
+detachment of ten men to guard against anybody's leaving the town-hall."
+
+But ex-Lieutenant Picart, who had been talking with the watchmaker, heard
+him; he began to laugh, and exclaimed: "By Jove, if they come out, it'll
+give you a chance to get in.  Otherwise I can see you standing out there
+for the rest of your life!"
+
+The doctor did not reply, and he went to luncheon.
+
+In the afternoon, he disposed his men about the town as though they were
+in immediate danger of an ambush.
+
+Several times he passed in front of the town-hall and of the church
+without noticing anything suspicious; the two buildings looked as though
+empty.
+
+The butcher, the baker and the druggist once more opened up their stores.
+
+Everybody was talking about the affair.  If the emperor were a prisoner,
+there must have been some kind of treason.  They did not know exactly
+which of the republics had returned to power.
+
+Night fell.
+
+Toward nine o'clock, the doctor, alone, noiselessly approached the
+entrance of the public building, persuaded that the enemy must have gone
+to bed; and, as he was preparing to batter down the door with a pick-axe,
+the deep voice of a sentry suddenly called:
+
+"Who goes there?"
+
+And M. Massarel retreated as fast as his legs could carry him.
+
+Day broke without any change in the situation.
+
+Armed militia occupied the square.  All the citizens had gathered around
+this troop awaiting developments.  Even neighboring villagers had come to
+look on.
+
+Then the doctor, seeing that his reputation was at stake, resolved to put
+an end to the matter in one way or another; and he was about to take some
+measures, undoubtedly energetic ones, when the door of the telegraph
+station opened and the little servant of the postmistress appeared,
+holding in her hands two papers.
+
+First she went to the commandant and gave him one of the despatches; then
+she crossed the empty square, confused at seeing the eyes of everyone on
+her, and lowering her head and running along with little quick steps, she
+went and knocked softly at the door of the barricaded house, as though
+ignorant of the fact that those behind it were armed.
+
+The door opened wide enough to let a man's hand reach out and receive the
+message; and the young girl returned blushing, ready to cry at being thus
+stared at by the whole countryside.
+
+In a clear voice, the doctor cried:
+
+"Silence, if you please."
+
+When the populace had quieted down, he continued proudly:
+
+"Here is the communication which I have received from the government."
+
+And lifting the telegram he read:
+
+     Former mayor dismissed.  Inform him immediately, More orders
+     following.
+                         For the sub-prefect:
+                                   SAPIN, Councillor.
+
+He was-triumphant; his heart was throbbing with joy and his hands were
+trembling; but Picart, his former subordinate, cried to him from a
+neighboring group:
+
+"That's all right; but supposing the others don't come out, what good is
+the telegram going to do you?"
+
+M. Massarel grew pale.  He had not thought of that; if the others did not
+come out, he would now have to take some decisive step.  It was not only
+his right, but his duty.
+
+He looked anxiously at the town-hall, hoping to see the door open and his
+adversary give in.
+
+The door remained closed.  What could he do?  The crowd was growing and
+closing around the militia.  They were laughing.
+
+One thought especially tortured the doctor.  If he attacked, he would
+have to march at the head of his men; and as, with him dead, all strife
+would cease, it was at him and him only that M. de Varnetot and his three
+guards would aim.  And they were good shots, very good shots, as Picart
+had just said.  But an idea struck him and, turning to Pommel, he
+ordered:
+
+"Run quickly to the druggist and ask him to lend me a towel and a stick."
+
+The lieutenant hastened.
+
+He would make a flag of truce, a white flag, at the sight of which the
+royalist heart of the mayor would perhaps rejoice.
+
+Pommel returned with the cloth and a broom-stick.  With some twine they
+completed the flag, and M. Massarel, grasping it in both hands and
+holding it in front of him, again advanced in the direction of the town-
+hall.  When he was opposite the door, he once more called: "Monsieur de
+Varnetot!"  The door suddenly opened and M. de Varnetot and his three
+guards appeared on the threshold.
+
+Instinctively the doctor stepped back; then he bowed courteously to his
+enemy, and, choking with emotion, he announced: "I have come, monsieur,
+to make you acquainted with the orders which I have received."
+
+The nobleman, without returning the bow, answered: "I resign, monsieur,
+but understand that it is neither through fear of, nor obedience to, the
+odious government which has usurped the power."  And, emphasizing every
+word, he declared: "I do not wish to appear, for a single day, to serve
+the Republic.  That's all."
+
+Massarel, stunned, answered nothing; and M. de Varnetot, walking quickly,
+disappeared around the corner of the square, still followed by his
+escort.
+
+The doctor, puffed up with pride, returned to the crowd.  As soon as he
+was near enough to make himself heard, he cried: "Hurrah!  hurrah!
+Victory crowns the Republic everywhere."
+
+There was no outburst of joy.
+
+The doctor continued: "We are free, you are free, independent!  Be
+proud!"
+
+The motionless villagers were looking at him without any signs of triumph
+shining in their eyes.
+
+He looked at them, indignant at their indifference, thinking of what he
+could say or do in order to make an impression to electrify this calm
+peasantry, to fulfill his mission as a leader.
+
+He had an inspiration and, turning to Pommel, he ordered: "Lieutenant, go
+get me the bust of the ex-emperor which is in the meeting room of the
+municipal council, and bring it here with a chair."
+
+The man presently reappeared, carrying on his right shoulder the plaster
+Bonaparte, and holding in his left hand a cane-seated chair.
+
+M. Massarel went towards him, took the chair, placed the white bust on
+it, then stepping back a few steps, he addressed it in a loud voice:
+
+"Tyrant, tyrant, you have fallen down in the mud.  The dying fatherland
+was in its death throes under your oppression.  Vengeful Destiny has
+struck you.  Defeat and shame have pursued you; you fall conquered, a
+prisoner of the Prussians; and from the ruins of your crumbling empire,
+the young and glorious Republic arises, lifting from the ground your
+broken sword----"
+
+He waited for applause.  Not a sound greeted his listening ear.  The
+peasants, nonplussed, kept silent; and the white, placid, well-groomed
+statue seemed to look at M. Massarel with its plaster smile, ineffaceable
+and sarcastic.
+
+Thus they stood, face to face, Napoleon on his chair, the physician
+standing three feet away.  Anger seized the commandant.  What could he do
+to move this crowd and definitely to win over public opinion?
+
+He happened to carry his hand to his stomach, and he felt, under his red
+belt, the butt of his revolver.
+
+Not another inspiration, not another word cane to his mind.  Then, he
+drew his weapon, stepped back a few steps and shot the former monarch.
+
+The bullet made a little black hole:, like a spot, in his forehead.  No
+sensation was created.  M. Massarel shot a second time and made a second
+hole, then a third time, then, without stopping, he shot off the three
+remaining shots.  Napoleon's forehead was blown away in a white powder,
+but his eyes, nose and pointed mustache remained intact.
+
+Then in exasperation, the doctor kicked the chair over, and placing one
+foot on what remained of the bust in the position of a conqueror, he
+turned to the amazed public and yelled: "Thus may all traitors die!"
+
+As no enthusiasm was, as yet, visible, the spectators appearing to be
+dumb with astonishment, the commandant cried to the militia: "You may go
+home now."  And he himself walked rapidly, almost ran, towards his house.
+
+As soon as he appeared, the servant told him that some patients had been
+waiting in his office for over three hours.  He hastened in.  They were
+the same two peasants as a few days before, who had returned at daybreak,
+obstinate and patient.
+
+The old man immediately began his explanation:
+
+"It began with ants, which seemed to be crawling up and down my legs----"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+LIEUTENANT LARE'S MARRIAGE
+
+Since the beginning of the campaign Lieutenant Lare had taken two cannon
+from the Prussians.  His general had said: "Thank you, lieutenant," and
+had given him the cross of honor.
+
+As he was as cautious as he was brave, wary, inventive, wily and
+resourceful, he was entrusted with a hundred soldiers and he organized a
+company of scouts who saved the army on several occasions during a
+retreat.
+
+But the invading army entered by every frontier like a surging sea.
+Great waves of men arrived one after the other, scattering all around
+them a scum of freebooters.  General Carrel's brigade, separated from its
+division, retreated continually, fighting each day, but remaining almost
+intact, thanks to the vigilance and agility of Lieutenant Lare, who
+seemed to be everywhere at the same moment, baffling all the enemy's
+cunning, frustrating their plans, misleading their Uhlans and killing
+their vanguards.
+
+One morning the general sent for him.
+
+"Lieutenant," said he, "here is a dispatch from General de Lacere, who
+will be destroyed if we do not go to his aid by sunrise to-morrow.  He is
+at Blainville, eight leagues from here.  You will start at nightfall with
+three hundred men, whom you will echelon along the road.  I will follow
+you two hours later.  Study the road carefully; I fear we may meet a
+division of the enemy."
+
+It had been freezing hard for a week.  At two o'clock it began to snow,
+and by night the ground was covered and heavy white swirls concealed
+objects hard by.
+
+At six o'clock the detachment set out.
+
+Two men walked alone as scouts about three yards ahead.  Then came a
+platoon of ten men commanded by the lieutenant himself.  The rest
+followed them in two long columns.  To the right and left of the little
+band, at a distance of about three hundred feet on either side, some
+soldiers marched in pairs.
+
+The snow,,which was still falling, covered them with a white powder in
+the darkness, and as it did not melt on their uniforms, they were hardly
+distinguishable in the night amid the dead whiteness of the landscape.
+
+From time to time they halted.  One heard nothing but that indescribable,
+nameless flutter of falling snow--a sensation rather than a sound, a
+vague, ominous murmur.  A command was given in a low tone and when the
+troop resumed its march it left in its wake a sort of white phantom
+standing in the snow.  It gradually grew fainter and finally disappeared.
+It was the echelons who were to lead the army.
+
+The scouts slackened their pace.  Something was ahead of them.
+
+"Turn to the right," said the lieutenant; "it is the Ronfi wood; the
+chateau is more to the left."
+
+Presently the command "Halt" was passed along.  The detachment stopped
+and waited for the lieutenant, who, accompanied by only ten men, had
+undertaken a reconnoitering expedition to the chateau.
+
+They advanced, creeping under the trees.  Suddenly they all remained
+motionless.  Around them was a dead silence.  Then, quite near them, a
+little clear, musical young voice was heard amid the stillness of the
+wood.
+
+"Father, we shall get lost in the snow.  We shall never reach
+Blainville."
+
+A deeper voice replied:
+
+"Never fear, little daughter; I know the country as well as I know my
+pocket."
+
+The lieutenant said a few words and four men moved away silently, like
+shadows.
+
+All at once a woman's shrill cry was heard through the darkness.  Two
+prisoners were brought back, an old man and a young girl.  The lieutenant
+questioned them, still in a low tone:
+
+"Your name?"
+
+"Pierre Bernard."
+
+"Your profession?"
+
+"Butler to Comte de Ronfi."
+
+"Is this your daughter?"
+
+'Yes!'
+
+"What does she do?"
+
+"She is laundress at the chateau."
+
+"Where are you going?"
+
+"We are making our escape."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Twelve Uhlans passed by this evening.  They shot three keepers and
+hanged the gardener.  I was alarmed on account of the little one."
+
+"Whither are you bound?"
+
+"To Blainville."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because there is a French army there."
+
+"Do you know the way?"
+
+"Perfectly."
+
+"Well then, follow us."
+
+They rejoined the column and resumed their march across country.  The old
+man walked in silence beside the lieutenant, his daughter walking at his
+side.  All at once she stopped.
+
+"Father," she said, "I am so tired I cannot go any farther."
+
+And she sat down.  She was shaking with cold and seemed about to lose
+consciousness.  Her father wanted to carry her, but he was too old and
+too weak.
+
+"Lieutenant," said he, sobbing, "we shall only impede your march.  France
+before all.  Leave us here."
+
+The officer had given a command.  Some men had started off.  They came
+back with branches they had cut, and in a minute a litter was ready.  The
+whole detachment had joined them by this time.
+
+"Here is a woman dying of cold," said the lieutenant.  "Who will give his
+cape to cover her?"
+
+Two hundred capes were taken off.  The young girl was wrapped up in these
+warm soldiers' capes, gently laid in the litter, and then four' hardy
+shoulders lifted her up, and like an Eastern queen borne by her slaves
+she was placed in the center of the detachment of soldiers, who resumed
+their march with more energy, more courage, more cheerfulness, animated
+by the presence of a woman, that sovereign inspiration that has stirred
+the old French blood to so many deeds of valor.
+
+At the end of an hour they halted again and every one lay down in the
+snow.  Over yonder on the level country a big, dark shadow was moving.
+It looked like some weird monster stretching itself out like a serpent,
+then suddenly coiling itself into a mass, darting forth again, then back,
+and then forward again without ceasing.  Some whispered orders were
+passed around among the soldiers, and an occasional little, dry, metallic
+click was heard.  The moving object suddenly came nearer, and twelve
+Uhlans were seen approaching at a gallop, one behind the other, having
+lost their way in the darkness.  A brilliant flash suddenly revealed to
+them two hundred mete lying on the ground before them.  A rapid fire was
+heard, which died away in the snowy silence, and all the twelve fell to
+the ground, their horses with them.
+
+After a long rest the march was resumed.  The old man whom they had
+captured acted as guide.
+
+Presently a voice far off in the distance cried out: "Who goes there?"
+
+Another voice nearer by gave the countersign.
+
+They made another halt; some conferences took place.  It had stopped
+snowing.  A cold wind was driving the clouds, and innumerable stars were
+sparkling in the sky behind them, gradually paling in the rosy light of
+dawn.
+
+A staff officer came forward to receive the detachment.  But when he
+asked who was being carried in the litter, the form stirred; two little
+hands moved aside the big blue army capes and, rosy as the dawn, with two
+eyes that were brighter than the stars that had just faded from sight,
+and a smile as radiant as the morn, a dainty face appeared.
+
+"It is I, monsieur."
+
+The soldiers, wild with delight, clapped their hands and bore the young
+girl in triumph into the midst of the camp, that was just getting to
+arms.  Presently General Carrel arrived on the scene.  At nine o'clock
+the Prussians made an attack.  They beat a retreat at noon.
+
+That evening, as Lieutenant Lare, overcome by fatigue, was sleeping on a
+bundle of straw, he was sent for by the general.  He found the commanding
+officer in his tent, chatting with the old man whom they had come across
+during the night.  As soon as he entered the tent the general took his
+hand, and addressing the stranger, said:
+
+"My dear comte, this is the young man of whom you were telling me just
+now; he is one of my best officers."
+
+He smiled, lowered his tone, and added:
+
+"The best."
+
+Then, turning to the astonished lieutenant, he presented "Comte de Ronfi-
+Quedissac."
+
+The old man took both his hands, saying:
+
+"My dear lieutenant, you have saved my daughter's life.  I have only one
+way of thanking you.  You may come in a few months to tell me--if you
+like her."
+
+One year later, on the very same day, Captain Lare and Miss Louise-
+Hortense-Genevieve de Ronfi-Quedissac were married in the church of St.
+Thomas Aquinas.
+
+She brought a dowry of six thousand francs, and was said to be the
+prettiest bride that had been seen that year.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE HORRIBLE
+
+The shadows of a balmy night were slowly falling.  The women remained in
+the drawing-room of the villa.  The men, seated, or astride of garden
+chairs, were smoking outside the door of the house, around a table laden
+with cups and liqueur glasses.
+
+Their lighted cigars shone like eyes in the darkness, which was gradually
+becoming more dense.  They had been talking about a frightful accident
+which had occurred the night before--two men and three women drowned in
+the river before the eyes of the guests.
+
+General de G---- remarked:
+
+"Yes, these things are affecting, but they are not horrible.
+
+"Horrible, that well-known word, means much more than terrible.
+A frightful accident like this affects, upsets, terrifies; it does not
+horrify.  In order that we should experience horror, something more is
+needed than emotion, something more than the spectacle of a dreadful
+death; there must be a shuddering sense of mystery, or a sensation of
+abnormal terror, more than natural.  A man who dies, even under the most
+tragic circumstances, does not excite horror; a field of battle is not
+horrible; blood is not horrible; the vilest crimes are rarely horrible.
+
+"Here are two personal examples which have shown me what is the meaning
+of horror.
+
+"It was during the war of 1870.  We were retreating toward Pont-Audemer,
+after having passed through Rouen.  The army, consisting of about twenty
+thousand men, twenty thousand routed men, disbanded, demoralized,
+exhausted, were going to disband at Havre.
+
+"The earth was covered with snow.  The night was falling.  They had not
+eaten anything since the day before.  They were fleeing rapidly, the
+Prussians not being far off.
+
+"All the Norman country, sombre, dotted with the shadows of the trees
+surrounding the farms, stretched out beneath a black, heavy, threatening
+sky.
+
+"Nothing else could be heard in the wan twilight but the confused sound,
+undefined though rapid, of a marching throng, an endless tramping,
+mingled with the vague clink of tin bowls or swords.  The men, bent,
+round-shouldered, dirty, in many cases even in rags, dragged themselves
+along, hurried through the snow, with a long, broken-backed stride.
+
+"The skin of their hands froze to the butt ends of their muskets, for it
+was freezing hard that night.  I frequently saw a little soldier take off
+his shoes in order to walk barefoot, as his shoes hurt his weary feet;
+and at every step he left a track of blood.  Then, after some time, he
+would sit down in a field for a few minutes' rest, and he never got up
+again.  Every man who sat down was a dead man.
+
+"Should we have left behind us those poor, exhausted soldiers, who fondly
+counted on being able to start afresh as soon as they had somewhat
+refreshed their stiffened legs?  But scarcely had they ceased to move,
+and to make their almost frozen blood circulate in their veins, than an
+unconquerable torpor congealed them, nailed them to the ground, closed
+their eyes, and paralyzed in one second this overworked human mechanism.
+And they gradually sank down, their foreheads on their knees, without,
+however, falling over, for their loins and their limbs became as hard and
+immovable as wood, impossible to bend or to stand upright.
+
+'And the rest of us, more robust, kept straggling on, chilled to the
+marrow, advancing by a kind of inertia through the night, through the
+snow, through that cold and deadly country, crushed by pain, by defeat,
+by despair, above all overcome by the abominable sensation of
+abandonment, of the end, of death, of nothingness.
+
+"I saw two gendarmes holding by the arm a curious-looking little man,
+old, beardless, of truly surprising aspect.
+
+"They were looking for an officer, believing that they had caught a spy.
+The word 'spy' at once spread through the midst of the stragglers, and
+they gathered in a group round the prisoner.  A voice exclaimed: 'He must
+be shot!'  And all these soldiers who were falling from utter
+prostration, only holding themselves on their feet by leaning on their
+guns, felt all of a sudden that thrill of furious and bestial anger which
+urges on a mob to massacre.
+
+"I wanted to speak.  I was at that time in command of a battalion; but
+they no longer recognized the authority of their commanding officers;
+they would even have shot me.
+
+"One of the gendarmes said: 'He has been following us for the three last
+days.  He has been asking information from every one about the
+artillery.'
+
+I took it on myself to question this person.
+
+"What are you doing?  What do you want?  Why are you accompanying the
+army?"
+
+"He stammered out some words in some unintelligible dialect.  He was,
+indeed, a strange being, with narrow shoulders, a sly look, and such an
+agitated air in my presence that I really no longer doubted that he was a
+spy.  He seemed very aged and feeble.  He kept looking at me from under
+his eyes with a humble, stupid, crafty air.
+
+"The men all round us exclaimed.
+
+"'To the wall!  To the wall!'
+
+"I said to the gendarmes:
+
+"'Will you be responsible for the prisoner?'
+
+"I had not ceased speaking when a terrible shove threw me on my back, and
+in a second I saw the man seized by the furious soldiers, thrown down,
+struck, dragged along the side of the road, and flung against a tree.  He
+fell in the snow, nearly dead already.
+
+"And immediately they shot him.  The soldiers fired at him, reloaded
+their guns, fired again with the desperate energy of brutes.  They fought
+with each other to have a shot at him, filed off in front of the corpse,
+and kept on firing at him, as people at a funeral keep sprinkling holy
+water in front of a coffin.
+
+"But suddenly a cry arose of 'The Prussians!  the Prussians!'
+
+"And all along the horizon I heard the great noise of this panic-stricken
+army in full flight.
+
+"A panic, the result of these shots fired at this vagabond, had filled
+his very executioners with terror; and, without realizing that they were
+themselves the originators of the scare, they fled and disappeared in the
+darkness.
+
+"I remained alone with the corpse, except for the two gendarmes whose
+duty compelled them to stay with me.
+
+"They lifted up the riddled mass of bruised and bleeding flesh.
+
+"'He must be searched,' I said.  And I handed them a box of taper matches
+which I had in my pocket.  One of the soldiers had another box.  I was
+standing between the two.
+
+"The gendarme who was examining the body announced:
+
+"'Clothed in a blue blouse, a white shirt, trousers, and a pair of
+shoes.'
+
+"The first match went out; we lighted a second.  The man continued, as he
+turned out his pockets:
+
+"'A horn-handled pocketknife, check handkerchief, a snuffbox, a bit of
+pack thread, a piece of bread.'
+
+"The second match went out; we lighted a third.  The gendarme, after
+having felt the corpse for a long time, said:
+
+"'That is all.'
+
+"I said:
+
+"'Strip him.  We shall perhaps find something next his skin."
+
+"And in order that the two soldiers might help each other in this task, I
+stood between them to hold the lighted match.  By the rapid and speedily
+extinguished flame of the match, I saw them take off the garments one by
+one, and expose to view that bleeding bundle of flesh, still warm, though
+lifeless.
+
+"And suddenly one of them exclaimed:
+
+"'Good God, general, it is a woman!'
+
+"I cannot describe to you the strange and poignant sensation of pain that
+moved my heart.  I could not believe it, and I knelt down in the snow
+before this shapeless pulp of flesh to see for myself: it was a woman.
+
+"The two gendarmes, speechless and stunned, waited for me to give my
+opinion on the matter.  But I did not know what to think, what theory to
+adopt.
+
+"Then the brigadier slowly drawled out:
+
+"'Perhaps she came to look for a son of hers in the artillery, whom she
+had not heard from.'
+
+"And the other chimed in:
+
+"'Perhaps, indeed, that is so.'
+
+"And I, who had seen some very terrible things in my time, began to cry.
+And I felt, in the presence of this corpse, on that icy cold night, in
+the midst of that gloomy plain; at the sight of this mystery, at the
+sight of this murdered stranger, the meaning of that word 'horror.'
+
+"I had the same sensation last year, while interrogating one of the
+survivors of the Flatters Mission, an Algerian sharpshooter.
+
+"You know the details of that atrocious drama.  It is possible, however,
+that you are unacquainted with one of them.
+
+"The colonel travelled through the desert into the Soudan, and passed
+through the immense territory of the Touaregs, who, in that great ocean
+of sand which stretches from the Atlantic to Egypt and from the Soudan to
+Algeria, are a kind of pirates, resembling those who ravaged the seas in
+former days.
+
+"The guides who accompanied the column belonged to the tribe of the
+Chambaa, of Ouargla.
+
+"Now, one day we encamped in the middle of the desert, and the Arabs
+declared that, as the spring was still some distance away, they would go
+with all their camels to look for water.
+
+"One man alone warned the colonel that he had been betrayed.  Flatters
+did not believe this, and accompanied the convoy with the engineers, the
+doctors, and nearly all his officers.
+
+"They were massacred round the spring, and all the camels were captured.
+
+"The captain of the Arab Intelligence Department at Ouargla, who had
+remained in the camp, took command of the survivors, spahis and
+sharpshooters, and they began to retreat, leaving behind them the baggage
+and provisions, for want of camels to carry them.
+
+"Then they started on their journey through this solitude without shade
+and boundless, beneath the devouring sun, which burned them from morning
+till night.
+
+"One tribe came to tender its submission and brought dates as a tribute.
+The dates were poisoned.  Nearly all the Frenchmen died, and, among them,
+the last officer.
+
+"There now only remained a few spahis with their quartermaster, Pobeguin,
+and some native sharpshooters of the Chambaa tribe.  They had still two
+camels left.  They disappeared one night, along with two, Arabs.
+
+"Then the survivors understood that they would be obliged to eat each
+other, and as soon as they discovered the flight of the two men with the
+two camels, those who remained separated, and proceeded to march, one by
+one, through the soft sand, under the glare of a scorching sun, at a
+distance of more than a gunshot from each other.
+
+"So they went on all day, and when they reached a spring each of them
+came to drink at it in turn, as soon as each solitary marcher had moved
+forward the number of yards arranged upon.  And thus they continued
+marching the whole day, raising everywhere they passed, in that level,
+burntup expanse, those little columns of dust which, from a distance,
+indicate those who are trudging through the desert.
+
+"But one morning one of the travellers suddenly turned round and
+approached the man behind him.  And they all stopped to look.
+
+"The man toward whom the famished soldier drew near did not flee, but lay
+flat on the ground, and took aim at the one who was coming toward him.
+When he believed he was within gunshot, he fired.  The other was not hit,
+and he continued then to advance, and levelling his gun, in turn, he
+killed his comrade.
+
+"Then from all directions the others rushed to seek their share.  And he
+who had killed the fallen man, cutting the corpse into pieces,
+distributed it.
+
+"And they once more placed themselves at fixed distances, these
+irreconcilable allies, preparing for the next murder which would bring
+them together.
+
+"For two days they lived on this human flesh which they divided between
+them.  Then, becoming famished again, he who had killed the first man
+began killing afresh.  And again, like a butcher, he cut up the corpse
+and offered it to his comrades, keeping only his own portion of it.
+
+"And so this retreat of cannibals continued.
+
+"The last Frenchman, Pobeguin, was massacred at the side of a well, the
+very night before the supplies arrived.
+
+"Do you understand now what I mean by the horrible?"
+
+This was the story told us a few nights ago by General de G----.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MADAME PARISSE
+
+I was sitting on the pier of the small port of Obernon, near the village
+of Salis, looking at Antibes, bathed in the setting sun.  I had never
+before seen anything so wonderful and so beautiful.
+
+The small town, enclosed by its massive ramparts, built by Monsieur de
+Vauban, extended into the open sea, in the middle of the immense Gulf of
+Nice.  The great waves, coming in from the ocean, broke at its feet,
+surrounding it with a wreath of foam; and beyond the ramparts the houses
+climbed up the hill, one after the other, as far as the two towers, which
+rose up into the sky, like the peaks of an ancient helmet.  And these two
+towers were outlined against the milky whiteness of the Alps, that
+enormous distant wall of snow which enclosed the entire horizon.
+
+Between the white foam at the foot of the walls and the white snow on the
+sky-line the little city, dazzling against the bluish background of the
+nearest mountain ranges, presented to the rays of the setting sun a
+pyramid of red-roofed houses, whose facades were also white, but so
+different one from another that they seemed to be of all tints.
+
+And the sky above the Alps was itself of a blue that was almost white, as
+if the snow had tinted it; some silvery clouds were floating just over
+the pale summits, and on the other side of the gulf Nice, lying close to
+the water, stretched like a white thread between the sea and the
+mountain.  Two great sails, driven by a strong breeze, seemed to skim
+over the waves.  I looked upon all this, astounded.
+
+This view was one of those sweet, rare, delightful things that seem to
+permeate you and are unforgettable, like the memory of a great happiness.
+One sees, thinks, suffers, is moved and loves with the eyes.  He who can
+feel with the eye experiences the same keen, exquisite and deep pleasure
+in looking at men and things as the man with the delicate and sensitive
+ear, whose soul music overwhelms.
+
+I turned to my companion, M. Martini, a pureblooded Southerner.
+
+"This is certainly one of the rarest sights which it has been vouchsafed
+to me to admire.
+
+"I have seen Mont Saint-Michel, that monstrous granite jewel, rise out of
+the sand at sunrise.
+
+"I have seen, in the Sahara, Lake Raianechergui, fifty kilometers long,
+shining under a moon as brilliant as our sun and breathing up toward it a
+white cloud, like a mist of milk.
+
+"I have seen, in the Lipari Islands, the weird sulphur crater of the
+Volcanello, a giant flower which smokes and burns, an enormous yellow
+flower, opening out in the midst of the sea, whose stem is a volcano.
+
+"But I have seen nothing more wonderful than Antibes, standing against
+the Alps in the setting sun.
+
+"And I know not how it is that memories of antiquity haunt me; verses of
+Homer come into my mind; this is a city of the ancient East, a city of
+the odyssey; this is Troy, although Troy was very far from the sea."
+
+M. Martini drew the Sarty guide-book out of his pocket and read: "This
+city was originally a colony founded by the Phocians of Marseilles, about
+340 B.C.  They gave it the Greek name of Antipolis, meaning counter-
+city, city opposite another, because it is in fact opposite to Nice,
+another colony from Marseilles.
+
+"After the Gauls were conquered, the Romans turned Antibes into a
+municipal city, its inhabitants receiving the rights of Roman
+citizenship.
+
+"We know by an epigram of Martial that at this time----"
+
+I interrupted him:
+
+"I don't care what she was.  I tell you that I see down there a city of
+the Odyssey.  The coast of Asia and the coast of Europe resemble each
+other in their shores, and there is no city on the other coast of the
+Mediterranean which awakens in me the memories of the heroic age as this
+one does."
+
+A footstep caused me to turn my head; a woman, a large, dark woman, was
+walking along the road which skirts the sea in going to the cape.
+
+"That is Madame Parisse, you know," muttered Monsieur Martini, dwelling
+on the final syllable.
+
+No, I did not know, but that name, mentioned carelessly, that name of the
+Trojan shepherd, confirmed me in my dream.
+
+However, I asked: "Who is this Madame Parisse?"
+
+He seemed astonished that I did not know the story.
+
+I assured him that I did not know it, and I looked after the woman, who
+passed by without seeing us, dreaming, walking with steady and slow step,
+as doubtless the ladies of old walked.
+
+She was perhaps thirty-five years old and still very beautiful, though a
+trifle stout.
+
+And Monsieur Martini told me the following story:
+
+Mademoiselle Combelombe was married, one year before the war of 1870, to
+Monsieur Parisse, a government official.  She was then a handsome young
+girl, as slender and lively as she has now become stout and sad.
+
+Unwillingly she had accepted Monsieur Parisse, one of those little fat
+men with short legs, who trip along, with trousers that are always too
+large.
+
+After the war Antibes was garrisoned by a single battalion commanded by
+Monsieur Jean de Carmelin, a young officer decorated during the war, and
+who had just received his four stripes.
+
+As he found life exceedingly tedious in this fortress this stuffy mole-
+hole enclosed by its enormous double walls, he often strolled out to the
+cape, a kind of park or pine wood shaken by all the winds from the sea.
+
+There he met Madame Parisse, who also came out in the summer evenings to
+get the fresh air under the trees.  How did they come to love each other?
+Who knows?  They met, they looked at each other, and when out of sight
+they doubtless thought of each other.  The image of the young woman with
+the brown eyes, the black hair, the pale skin, this fresh, handsome
+Southerner, who displayed her teeth in smiling, floated before the eyes
+of the officer as he continued his promenade, chewing his cigar instead
+of smoking it; and the image of the commanding officer, in his close-
+fitting coat, covered with gold lace, and his red trousers, and a little
+blond mustache, would pass before the eyes of Madame Parisse, when her
+husband, half shaven and ill-clad, short-legged and big-bellied, came
+home to supper in the evening.
+
+As they met so often, they perhaps smiled at the next meeting; then,
+seeing each other again and again, they felt as if they knew each other.
+He certainly bowed to her.  And she, surprised, bowed in return, but
+very, very slightly, just enough not to appear impolite.  But after two
+weeks she returned his salutation from a distance, even before they were
+side by side.
+
+He spoke to her.  Of what?  Doubtless of the setting sun.  They admired
+it together, looking for it in each other's eyes more often than on the
+horizon.  And every evening for two weeks this was the commonplace and
+persistent pretext for a few minutes' chat.
+
+Then they ventured to take a few steps together, talking of anything that
+came into their minds, but their eyes were already saying to each other a
+thousand more intimate things, those secret, charming things that are
+reflected in the gentle emotion of the glance, and that cause the heart
+to beat, for they are a better revelation of the soul than the spoken
+ward.
+
+And then he would take her hand, murmuring those words which the woman
+divines, without seeming to hear them.
+
+And it was agreed between them that they would love each other without
+evidencing it by anything sensual or brutal.
+
+She would have remained indefinitely at this stage of intimacy, but he
+wanted more.  And every day he urged her more hotly to give in to his
+ardent desire.
+
+She resisted, would not hear of it, seemed determined not to give way.
+
+But one evening she said to him casually: "My husband has just gone to
+Marseilles.  He will be away four days."
+
+Jean de Carmelin threw himself at her feet, imploring her to open her
+door to him that very night at eleven o'clock.  But she would not listen
+to him, and went home, appearing to be annoyed.
+
+The commandant was in a bad humor all the evening, and the next morning
+at dawn he went out on the ramparts in a rage, going from one exercise
+field to the other, dealing out punishment to the officers and men as one
+might fling stones into a crowd,
+
+On going in to breakfast he found an envelope under his napkin with these
+four words: "To-night at ten."  And he gave one hundred sous without any
+reason to the waiter.
+
+The day seemed endless to him.  He passed part of it in curling his hair
+and perfuming himself.
+
+As he was sitting down to the dinner-table another envelope was handed to
+him, and in it he found the following telegram:
+
+     "My Love: Business completed.  I return this evening on the nine
+     o'clock train.
+                                   PARISSE."
+
+The commandant let loose such a vehement oath that the waiter dropped the
+soup-tureen on the floor.
+
+What should he do?  He certainly wanted her, that very, evening at
+whatever cost; and he would have her.  He would resort to any means, even
+to arresting and imprisoning the husband.  Then a mad thought struck him.
+Calling for paper, he wrote the following note:
+
+     MADAME: He will not come back this evening, I swear it to you,--and
+     I shall be, you know where, at ten o'clock.  Fear nothing.  I will
+     answer for everything, on my honor as an officer.
+                                             JEAN DE CARMELIN.
+
+And having sent off this letter, he quietly ate his dinner.
+
+Toward eight o'clock he sent for Captain Gribois, the second in command,
+and said, rolling between his fingers the crumpled telegram of Monsieur
+Parisse:
+
+"Captain, I have just received a telegram of a very singular nature,
+which it is impossible for me to communicate to you.  You will
+immediately have all the gates of the city closed and guarded, so that no
+one, mind me, no one, will either enter or leave before six in the
+morning.  You will also have men patrol the streets, who will compel the
+inhabitants to retire to their houses at nine o'clock.  Any one found
+outside beyond that time will be conducted to his home 'manu militari'.
+If your men meet me this night they will at once go out of my way,
+appearing not to know me.  You understand me?"
+
+"Yes, commandant."
+
+"I hold you responsible for the execution of my orders, my dear captain."
+
+"Yes, commandant."
+
+"Would you like to have a glass of chartreuse?"
+
+"With great pleasure, commandant."
+
+They clinked glasses drank down the brown liquor and Captain Gribois left
+the room.
+
+The train from Marseilles arrived at the station at nine o'clock sharp,
+left two passengers on the platform and went on toward Nice.
+
+One of them, tall and thin, was Monsieur Saribe, the oil merchant, and
+the other, short and fat, was Monsieur Parisse.
+
+Together they set out, with their valises, to reach the city, one
+kilometer distant.
+
+But on arriving at the gate of the port the guards crossed their
+bayonets, commanding them to retire.
+
+Frightened, surprised, cowed with astonishment, they retired to
+deliberate; then, after having taken counsel one with the other, they
+came back cautiously to parley, giving their names.
+
+But the soldiers evidently had strict orders, for they threatened to
+shoot; and the two scared travellers ran off, throwing away their
+valises, which impeded their flight.
+
+Making the tour of the ramparts, they presented themselves at the gate on
+the route to Cannes.  This likewise was closed and guarded by a menacing
+sentinel.  Messrs. Saribe and Parisse, like the prudent men they were,
+desisted from their efforts and went back to the station for shelter,
+since it was not safe to be near the fortifications after sundown.
+
+The station agent, surprised and sleepy, permitted them to stay till
+morning in the waiting-room.
+
+And they sat there side by side, in the dark, on the green velvet sofa,
+too scared to think of sleeping.
+
+It was a long and weary night for them.
+
+At half-past six in the morning they were informed that the gates were
+open and that people could now enter Antibes.
+
+They set out for the city, but failed to find their abandoned valises on
+the road.
+
+When they passed through the gates of the city, still somewhat anxious,
+the Commandant de Carmelin, with sly glance and mustache curled up, came
+himself to look at them and question them.
+
+Then he bowed to them politely, excusing himself for having caused them a
+bad night.  But he had to carry out orders.
+
+The people of Antibes were scared to death.  Some spoke of a surprise
+planned by the Italians, others of the landing of the prince imperial and
+others again believed that there was an Orleanist conspiracy.  The truth
+was suspected only later, when it became known that the battalion of the
+commandant had been sent away, to a distance and that Monsieur de
+Carmelin had been severely punished.
+
+Monsieur Martini had finished his story.  Madame Parisse returned, her
+promenade being ended.  She passed gravely near me, with her eyes fixed
+on the Alps, whose summits now gleamed rosy in the last rays of the
+setting sun.
+
+I longed to speak to her, this poor, sad woman, who would ever be
+thinking of that night of love, now long past, and of the bold man who
+for the sake of a kiss from her had dared to put a city into a state of
+siege and to compromise his whole future.
+
+And to-day he had probably forgotten her, if he did not relate this
+audacious, comical and tender farce to his comrades over their cups.
+
+Had she seen him again?  Did she still love him?  And I thought: Here is
+an instance of modern love, grotesque and yet heroic.  The Homer who
+should sing of this new Helen and the adventure of her Menelaus must be
+gifted with the soul of a Paul de Kock.  And yet the hero of this
+deserted woman was brave, daring, handsome, strong as Achilles and more
+cunning than Ulysses.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MADEMOISELLE FIFI
+
+Major Graf Von Farlsberg, the Prussian commandant, was reading his
+newspaper as he lay back in a great easy-chair, with his booted feet on
+the beautiful marble mantelpiece where his spurs had made two holes,
+which had grown deeper every day during the three months that he had been
+in the chateau of Uville.
+
+A cup of coffee was smoking on a small inlaid table, which was stained
+with liqueur, burned by cigars, notched by the penknife of the victorious
+officer, who occasionally would stop while sharpening a pencil, to jot
+down figures, or to make a drawing on it, just as it took his fancy.
+
+When he had read his letters and the German newspapers, which his orderly
+had brought him, he got up, and after throwing three or four enormous
+pieces of green wood on the fire, for these gentlemen were gradually
+cutting down the park in order to keep themselves warm, he went to the
+window.  The rain was descending in torrents, a regular Normandy rain,
+which looked as if it were being poured out by some furious person, a
+slanting rain, opaque as a curtain, which formed a kind of wall with
+diagonal stripes, and which deluged everything, a rain such as one
+frequently experiences in the neighborhood of Rouen, which is the
+watering-pot of France.
+
+For a long time the officer looked at the sodden turf and at the swollen
+Andelle beyond it, which was overflowing its banks; he was drumming a
+waltz with his fingers on the window-panes, when a noise made him turn
+round.  It was his second in command, Captain Baron van Kelweinstein.
+
+The major was a giant, with broad shoulders and a long, fan-like beard,
+which hung down like a curtain to his chest.  His whole solemn person
+suggested the idea of a military peacock, a peacock who was carrying his
+tail spread out on his breast.  He had cold, gentle blue eyes, and a scar
+from a swordcut, which he had received in the war with Austria; he was
+said to be an honorable man, as well as a brave officer.
+
+The captain, a short, red-faced man, was tightly belted in at the waist,
+his red hair was cropped quite close to his head, and in certain lights
+he almost looked as if he had been rubbed over with phosphorus.  He had
+lost two front teeth one night, though he could not quite remember how,
+and this sometimes made him speak unintelligibly, and he had a bald patch
+on top of his head surrounded by a fringe of curly, bright golden hair,
+which made him look like a monk.
+
+The commandant shook hands with him and drank his cup of coffee (the
+sixth that morning), while he listened to his subordinate's report of
+what had occurred; and then they both went to the window and declared
+that it was a very unpleasant outlook.  The major, who was a quiet man,
+with a wife at home, could accommodate himself to everything; but the
+captain, who led a fast life, who was in the habit of frequenting low
+resorts, and enjoying women's society, was angry at having to be shut up
+for three months in that wretched hole.
+
+There was a knock at the door, and when the commandant said, "Come in,"
+one of the orderlies appeared, and by his mere presence announced that
+breakfast was ready.  In the dining-room they met three other officers of
+lower rank--a lieutenant, Otto von Grossling, and two sub-lieutenants,
+Fritz Scheuneberg and Baron von Eyrick, a very short, fair-haired man,
+who was proud and brutal toward men, harsh toward prisoners and as
+explosive as gunpowder.
+
+Since he had been in France his comrades had called him nothing but
+Mademoiselle Fifi.  They had given him that nickname on account of his
+dandified style and small waist, which looked as if he wore corsets; of
+his pale face, on which his budding mustache scarcely showed, and on
+account of the habit he had acquired of employing the French expression,
+'Fi, fi donc', which he pronounced with a slight whistle when he wished
+to express his sovereign contempt for persons or things.
+
+The dining-room of the chateau was a magnificent long room, whose fine
+old mirrors, that were cracked by pistol bullets, and whose Flemish
+tapestry, which was cut to ribbons, and hanging in rags in places from
+sword-cuts, told too well what Mademoiselle Fifi's occupation was during
+his spare time.
+
+There were three family portraits on the walls a steel-clad knight, a
+cardinal and a judge, who were all smoking long porcelain pipes, which
+had been inserted into holes in the canvas, while a lady in a long,
+pointed waist proudly exhibited a pair of enormous mustaches, drawn with
+charcoal.  The officers ate their breakfast almost in silence in that
+mutilated room, which looked dull in the rain and melancholy in its
+dilapidated condition, although its old oak floor had become as solid as
+the stone floor of an inn.
+
+When they had finished eating and were smoking and drinking, they began,
+as usual, to berate the dull life they were leading.  The bottles of
+brandy and of liqueur passed from hand to hand, and all sat back in their
+chairs and took repeated sips from their glasses, scarcely removing from
+their mouths the long, curved stems, which terminated in china bowls,
+painted in a manner to delight a Hottentot.
+
+As soon as their glasses were empty they filled them again, with a
+gesture of resigned weariness, but Mademoiselle Fifi emptied his every
+minute, and a soldier immediately gave him another.  They were enveloped
+in a cloud of strong tobacco smoke, and seemed to be sunk in a state of
+drowsy, stupid intoxication, that condition of stupid intoxication of men
+who have nothing to do, when suddenly the baron sat up and said:
+"Heavens!  This cannot go on; we must think of something to do."  And on
+hearing this, Lieutenant Otto and Sub-lieutenant Fritz, who preeminently
+possessed the serious, heavy German countenance, said: "What, captain?"
+
+He thought for a few moments and then replied: "What?  Why, we must get
+up some entertainment, if the commandant will allow us."  "What sort of
+an entertainment, captain?" the major asked, taking his pipe out of his
+mouth.  "I will arrange all that, commandant," the baron said.  "I will
+send Le Devoir to Rouen, and he will bring back some ladies.  I know
+where they can be found, We will have supper here, as all the materials
+are at hand and; at least, we shall have a jolly evening."
+
+Graf von Farlsberg shrugged his shoulders with a smile: "You must surely
+be mad, my friend."
+
+But all the other officers had risen and surrounded their chief, saying:
+"Let the captain have his way, commandant; it is terribly dull here."
+And the major ended by yielding.  "Very well," he replied, and the baron
+immediately sent for Le Devoir.  He was an old non-commissioned officer,
+who had never been seen to smile, but who carried out all the orders of
+his superiors to the letter, no matter what they might be.  He stood
+there, with an impassive face, while he received the baron's
+instructions, and then went out, and five minutes later a large military
+wagon, covered with tarpaulin, galloped off as fast as four horses could
+draw it in the pouring rain.  The officers all seemed to awaken from
+their lethargy, their looks brightened,, and they began to talk.
+
+Although it was raining as hard as ever, the major declared that it was
+not so dark, and Lieutenant von Grossling said with conviction that the
+sky was clearing up, while Mademoiselle Fifi did not seem to be able to
+keep still.  He got up and sat down again, and his bright eyes seemed to
+be looking for something to destroy.  Suddenly, looking at the lady with
+the mustaches, the young fellow pulled out his revolver and said: "You
+shall not see it."  And without leaving his seat he aimed, and with two
+successive bullets cut out both the eyes of the portrait.
+
+"Let us make a mine!" he then exclaimed, and the conversation was
+suddenly interrupted, as if they had found some fresh and powerful
+subject of interest.  The mine was his invention, his method of
+destruction, and his favorite amusement.
+
+When he left the chateau, the lawful owner, Comte Fernand d'Amoys
+d'Uville, had not had time to carry away or to hide anything except the
+plate, which had been stowed away in a hole made in one of the walls.  As
+he was very rich and had good taste, the large drawing-room, which opened
+into the dining-room, looked like a gallery in a museum, before his
+precipitate flight.
+
+Expensive oil paintings, water colors and drawings hung against the
+walls, while on the tables, on the hanging shelves and in elegant glass
+cupboards there were a thousand ornaments: small vases, statuettes,
+groups of Dresden china and grotesque Chinese figures, old ivory and
+Venetian glass, which filled the large room with their costly and
+fantastic array.
+
+Scarcely anything was left now; not that the things had been stolen, for
+the major would not have allowed that, but Mademoiselle Fifi would every
+now and then have a mine, and on those occasions all the officers
+thoroughly enjoyed themselves for five minutes.  The little marquis went
+into the drawing-room to get what he wanted, and he brought back a small,
+delicate china teapot, which he filled with gunpowder, and carefully
+introduced a piece of punk through the spout.  This he lighted and took
+his infernal machine into the next room, but he came back immediately and
+shut the door.  The Germans all stood expectant, their faces full of
+childish, smiling curiosity, and as soon as the explosion had shaken the
+chateau, they all rushed in at once.
+
+Mademoiselle Fifi, who got in first, clapped his hands in delight at the
+sight of a terra-cotta Venus, whose head had been blown off, and each
+picked up pieces of porcelain and wondered at the strange shape of the
+fragments, while the major was looking with a paternal eye at the large
+drawing-room, which had been wrecked after the fashion of a Nero, and was
+strewn with the fragments of works of art.  He went out first and said
+with a smile: "That was a great success this time."
+
+But there was such a cloud of smoke in the dining-room, mingled with the
+tobacco smoke, that they could not breathe, so the commandant opened the
+window, and all the officers, who had returned for a last glass of
+cognac, went up to it.
+
+The moist air blew into the room, bringing with it a sort of powdery
+spray, which sprinkled their beards.  They looked at the tall trees which
+were dripping with rain, at the broad valley which was covered with mist,
+and at the church spire in the distance, which rose up like a gray point
+in the beating rain.
+
+The bells had not rung since their arrival.  That was the only resistance
+which the invaders had met with in the neighborhood.  The parish priest
+had not refused to take in and to feed the Prussian soldiers; he had
+several times even drunk a bottle of beer or claret with the hostile
+commandant, who often employed him as a benevolent intermediary; but it
+was no use to ask him for a single stroke of the bells; he would sooner
+have allowed himself to be shot.  That was his way of protesting against
+the invasion, a peaceful and silent protest, the only one, he said, which
+was suitable to a priest, who was a man of mildness, and not of blood;
+and every one, for twenty-five miles round, praised Abbe Chantavoine's
+firmness and heroism in venturing to proclaim the public mourning by the
+obstinate silence of his church bells.
+
+The whole village, enthusiastic at his resistance, was ready to back up
+their pastor and to risk anything, for they looked upon that silent
+protest as the safeguard of the national honor.  It seemed to the
+peasants that thus they deserved better of their country than Belfort and
+Strassburg, that they had set an equally valuable example, and that the
+name of their little village would become immortalized by that; but, with
+that exception, they refused their Prussian conquerors nothing.
+
+The commandant and his officers laughed among themselves at this
+inoffensive courage, and as the people in the whole country round showed
+themselves obliging and compliant toward them, they willingly tolerated
+their silent patriotism.  Little Baron Wilhelm alone would have liked to
+have forced them to ring the bells.  He was very angry at his superior's
+politic compliance with the priest's scruples, and every day begged the
+commandant to allow him to sound "ding-dong, ding-dong," just once, only
+just once, just by way of a joke.  And he asked it in the coaxing, tender
+voice of some loved woman who is bent on obtaining her wish, but the
+commandant would not yield, and to console himself, Mademoiselle Fifi
+made a mine in the Chateau d'Uville.
+
+The five men stood there together for five minutes, breathing in the
+moist air, and at last Lieutenant Fritz said with a laugh: "The ladies
+will certainly not have fine weather for their drive.  Then they
+separated, each to his duty, while the captain had plenty to do in
+arranging for the dinner.
+
+When they met again toward evening they began to laugh at seeing each
+other as spick and span and smart as on the day of a grand review.  The
+commandant's hair did not look so gray as it was in the morning, and the
+captain had shaved, leaving only his mustache, which made him look as if
+he had a streak of fire under his nose.
+
+In spite of the rain, they left the window open, and one of them went to
+listen from time to time; and at a quarter past six the baron said he
+heard a rumbling in the distance.  They all rushed down, and presently
+the wagon drove up at a gallop with its four horses steaming and blowing,
+and splashed with mud to their girths.  Five women dismounted, five
+handsome girls whom a comrade of the captain, to whom Le Devoir had
+presented his card, had selected with care.
+
+They had not required much pressing, as they had got to know the
+Prussians in the three months during which they had had to do with them,
+and so they resigned themselves to the men as they did to the state of
+affairs.
+
+They went at once into the dining-room, which looked still more dismal in
+its dilapidated condition when it was lighted up; while the table covered
+with choice dishes, the beautiful china and glass, and the plate, which
+had been found in the hole in the wall where its owner had hidden it,
+gave it the appearance of a bandits' inn, where they were supping after
+committing a robbery in the place.  The captain was radiant, and put his
+arm round the women as if he were familiar with them; and when the three
+young men wanted to appropriate one each, he opposed them
+authoritatively, reserving to himself the right to apportion them justly,
+according to their several ranks, so as not to offend the higher powers.
+Therefore, to avoid all discussion, jarring, and suspicion of partiality,
+he placed them all in a row according to height, and addressing the
+tallest, he said in a voice of command:
+
+"What is your name?" "Pamela," she replied, raising her voice.  And then
+he said: "Number One, called Pamela, is adjudged to the commandant."
+Then, having kissed Blondina, the second, as a sign of proprietorship, he
+proffered stout Amanda to Lieutenant Otto; Eva, "the Tomato," to Sub-
+lieutenant Fritz, and Rachel, the shortest of them all, a very young,
+dark girl, with eyes as black as ink, a Jewess, whose snub nose proved
+the rule which allots hooked noses to all her race, to the youngest
+officer, frail Count Wilhelm d'Eyrick.
+
+They were all pretty and plump, without any distinctive features, and all
+had a similarity of complexion and figure.
+
+The three young men wished to carry off their prizes immediately, under
+the pretext that they might wish to freshen their toilets; but the
+captain wisely opposed this, for he said they were quite fit to sit down
+to dinner, and his experience in such matters carried the day.  There
+were only many kisses, expectant kisses.
+
+Suddenly Rachel choked, and began to cough until the tears came into her
+eyes, while smoke came through her nostrils.  Under pretence of kissing
+her, the count had blown a whiff of tobacco into her mouth.  She did not
+fly into a rage and did not say a word, but she looked at her tormentor
+with latent hatred in her dark eyes.
+
+They sat down to dinner.  The commandant seemed delighted; he made Pamela
+sit on his right, and Blondina on his left, and said, as he unfolded his
+table napkin: "That was a delightful idea of yours, captain."
+
+Lieutenants Otto and Fritz, who were as polite as if they had been with
+fashionable ladies, rather intimidated their guests, but Baron von
+Kelweinstein beamed, made obscene remarks and seemed on fire with his
+crown of red hair.  He paid the women compliments in French of the Rhine,
+and sputtered out gallant remarks, only fit for a low pothouse, from
+between his two broken teeth.
+
+They did not understand him, however, and their intelligence did not seem
+to be awakened until he uttered foul words and broad expressions, which
+were mangled by his accent.  Then they all began to laugh at once like
+crazy women and fell against each other, repeating the words, which the
+baron then began to say all wrong, in order that he might have the
+pleasure of hearing them say dirty things.  They gave him as much of that
+stuff as he wanted, for they were drunk after the first bottle of wine,
+and resuming their usual habits and manners, they kissed the officers to
+right and left of them, pinched their arms, uttered wild cries, drank out
+of every glass and sang French couplets and bits of German songs which
+they had picked up in their daily intercourse with the enemy.
+
+Soon the men themselves became very unrestrained, shouted and broke the
+plates and dishes, while the soldiers behind them waited on them
+stolidly.  The commandant was the only one who kept any restraint upon
+himself.
+
+Mademoiselle Fifi had taken Rachel on his knee, and, getting excited, at
+one moment he kissed the little black curls on her neck and at another he
+pinched her furiously and made her scream, for he was seized by a species
+of ferocity, and tormented by his desire to hurt her.  He often held her
+close to him and pressed a long kiss on the Jewess' rosy mouth until she
+lost her breath, and at last he bit her until a stream of blood ran down
+her chin and on to her bodice.
+
+For the second time she looked him full in the face, and as she bathed
+the wound, she said: "You will have to pay for, that!"  But he merely
+laughed a hard laugh and said: "I will pay."
+
+At dessert champagne was served, and the commandant rose, and in the same
+voice in which he would have drunk to the health of the Empress Augusta,
+he drank: "To our ladies!"  And a series of toasts began, toasts worthy
+of the lowest soldiers and of drunkards, mingled with obscene jokes,
+which were made still more brutal by their ignorance of the language.
+They got up, one after the other, trying to say something witty, forcing
+themselves to be funny, and the women, who were so drunk that they almost
+fell off their chairs, with vacant looks and clammy tongues applauded
+madly each time.
+
+The captain, who no doubt wished to impart an appearance of gallantry to
+the orgy, raised his glass again and said: "To our victories over hearts
+and, thereupon Lieutenant Otto, who was a species of bear from the Black
+Forest, jumped up, inflamed and saturated with drink, and suddenly seized
+by an access of alcoholic patriotism, he cried: "To our victories over
+France!"
+
+Drunk as they were, the women were silent, but Rachel turned round,
+trembling, and said: "See here, I know some Frenchmen in whose presence
+you would not dare say that."  But the little count, still holding her on
+his knee, began to laugh, for the wine had made him very merry, and said:
+"Ha! ha! ha!  I have never met any of them myself.  As soon as we show
+ourselves, they run away!"  The girl, who was in a terrible rage, shouted
+into his face: "You are lying, you dirty scoundrel!"
+
+For a moment he looked at her steadily with his bright eyes upon her, as
+he had looked at the portrait before he destroyed it with bullets from
+his revolver, and then he began to laugh: "Ah! yes, talk about them, my
+dear!  Should we be here now if they were brave?"  And, getting excited,
+he exclaimed: "We are the masters!  France belongs to us!" She made one
+spring from his knee and threw herself into her chair, while he arose,
+held out his glass over the table and repeated: "France and the French,
+the woods, the fields and the houses of France belong to us!"
+
+The others, who were quite drunk, and who were suddenly seized by
+military enthusiasm, the enthusiasm of brutes, seized their glasses, and
+shouting, "Long live Prussia!" they emptied them at a draught.
+
+The girls did not protest, for they were reduced to silence and were
+afraid.  Even Rachel did not say a word, as she had no reply to make.
+Then the little marquis put his champagne glass, which had just been
+refilled, on the head of the Jewess and exclaimed: "All the women in
+France belong to us also!"
+
+At that she got up so quickly that the glass upset, spilling the amber-
+colored wine on her black hair as if to baptize her, and broke into a
+hundred fragments, as it fell to the floor.  Her lips trembling, she
+defied the looks of the officer, who was still laughing, and stammered
+out in a voice choked with rage:
+
+"That--that--that--is not true--for you shall not have the women of
+France!"
+
+He sat down again so as to laugh at his ease; and, trying to speak with
+the Parisian accent, he said: "She is good, very good!  Then why did you
+come here, my dear?"  She was thunderstruck and made no reply for a
+moment, for in her agitation she did not understand him at first, but as
+soon as she grasped his meaning she said to him indignantly and
+vehemently: "I!  I!  I am not a woman, I am only a strumpet, and that is
+all that Prussians want."
+
+Almost before she had finished he slapped her full in the face; but as he
+was raising his hand again, as if to strike her, she seized a small
+dessert knife with a silver blade from the table and, almost mad with
+rage, stabbed him right in the hollow of his neck.  Something that he was
+going to say was cut short in his throat, and he sat there with his mouth
+half open and a terrible look in his eyes.
+
+All the officers shouted in horror and leaped up tumultuously; but,
+throwing her chair between the legs of Lieutenant Otto, who fell down at
+full length, she ran to the window, opened it before they could seize her
+and jumped out into the night and the pouring rain.
+
+In two minutes Mademoiselle Fifi was dead, and Fritz and Otto drew their
+swords and wanted to kill the women, who threw themselves at their feet
+and clung to their knees.  With some difficulty the major stopped the
+slaughter and had the four terrified girls locked up in a room under the
+care of two soldiers, and then he organized the pursuit of the fugitive
+as carefully as if he were about to engage in a skirmish, feeling quite
+sure that she would be caught.
+
+The table, which had been cleared immediately, now served as a bed on
+which to lay out the lieutenant, and the four officers stood at the
+windows, rigid and sobered with the stern faces of soldiers on duty, and
+tried to pierce through the darkness of the night amid the steady torrent
+of rain.  Suddenly a shot was heard and then another, a long way off; and
+for four hours they heard from time to time near or distant reports and
+rallying cries, strange words of challenge, uttered in guttural voices.
+
+In the morning they all returned.  Two soldiers had been killed and three
+others wounded by their comrades in the ardor of that chase and in the
+confusion of that nocturnal pursuit, but they had not caught Rachel.
+
+Then the inhabitants of the district were terrorized, the houses were
+turned topsy-turvy, the country was scoured and beaten up, over and over
+again, but the Jewess did not seem to have left a single trace of her
+passage behind her.
+
+When the general was told of it he gave orders to hush up the affair, so
+as not to set a bad example to the army, but he severely censured the
+commandant, who in turn punished his inferiors.  The general had said:
+"One does not go to war in order to amuse one's self and to caress
+prostitutes."  Graf von Farlsberg, in his exasperation, made up his mind
+to have his revenge on the district, but as he required a pretext for
+showing severity, he sent for the priest and ordered him to have the bell
+tolled at the funeral of Baron von Eyrick.
+
+Contrary to all expectation, the priest showed himself humble and most
+respectful, and when Mademoiselle Fifi's body left the Chateau d'Uville
+on its way to the cemetery, carried by soldiers, preceded, surrounded and
+followed by soldiers who marched with loaded rifles, for the first time
+the bell sounded its funeral knell in a lively manner, as if a friendly
+hand were caressing it.  At night it rang again, and the next day, and
+every day; it rang as much as any one could desire.  Sometimes even it
+would start at night and sound gently through the darkness, seized with a
+strange joy, awakened one could not tell why.  All the peasants in the
+neighborhood declared that it was bewitched, and nobody except the priest
+and the sacristan would now go near the church tower.  And they went
+because a poor girl was living there in grief and solitude and provided
+for secretly by those two men.
+
+She remained there until the German troops departed, and then one evening
+the priest borrowed the baker's cart and himself drove his prisoner to
+Rouen.  When they got there he embraced her, and she quickly went back on
+foot to the establishment from which she had come, where the
+proprietress, who thought that she was dead, was very glad to see her.
+
+A short time afterward a patriot who had no prejudices, and who liked her
+because of her bold deed, and who afterward loved her for herself,
+married her and made her a lady quite as good as many others.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A DUEL
+
+The war was over.  The Germans occupied France.  The whole country was
+pulsating like a conquered wrestler beneath the knee of his victorious
+opponent.
+
+The first trains from Paris, distracted, starving, despairing Paris, were
+making their way to the new frontiers, slowly passing through the country
+districts and the villages.  The passengers gazed through the windows at
+the ravaged fields and burned hamlets.  Prussian soldiers, in their black
+helmets with brass spikes, were smoking their pipes astride their chairs
+in front of the houses which were still left standing.  Others were
+working or talking just as if they were members of the families.  As you
+passed through the different towns you saw entire regiments drilling in
+the squares, and, in spite of the rumble of the carriage-wheels, you
+could every moment hear the hoarse words of command.
+
+M. Dubuis, who during the entire siege had served as one of the National
+Guard in Paris, was going to join his wife and daughter, whom he had
+prudently sent away to Switzerland before the invasion.
+
+Famine and hardship had not diminished his big paunch so characteristic
+of the rich, peace-loving merchant.  He had gone through the terrible
+events of the past year with sorrowful resignation and bitter complaints
+at the savagery of men.  Now that he was journeying to the frontier at
+the close of the war, he saw the Prussians for the first time, although
+he had done his duty on the ramparts and mounted guard on many a cold
+night.
+
+He stared with mingled fear and anger at those bearded armed men,
+installed all over French soil as if they were at home, and he felt in
+his soul a kind of fever of impotent patriotism, at the same time also
+the great need of that new instinct of prudence which since then has,
+never left us.  In the same railway carriage were two Englishmen, who had
+come to the country as sightseers and were gazing about them with looks
+of quiet curiosity.  They were both also stout, and kept chatting in
+their own language, sometimes referring to their guidebook, and reading
+aloud the names of the places indicated.
+
+Suddenly the train stopped at a little village station, and a Prussian
+officer jumped up with a great clatter of his sabre on the double
+footboard of the railway carriage.  He was tall, wore a tightfitting
+uniform, and had whiskers up to his eyes.  His red hair seemed to be on
+fire, and his long mustache, of a paler hue, stuck out on both sides of
+his face, which it seemed to cut in two.
+
+The Englishmen at once began staring, at him with smiles of newly
+awakened interest, while M. Dubuis made a show of reading a newspaper.
+He sat concealed in his corner like a thief in presence of a gendarme.
+
+The train started again.  The Englishmen went on chatting and looking out
+for the exact scene of different battles; and all of a sudden, as one of
+them stretched out his arm toward the horizon as he pointed out a
+village, the Prussian officer remarked in French, extending his long legs
+and lolling backward:
+
+"I killed a dozen Frenchmen in that village and took more than a hundred
+prisoners."
+
+The Englishmen, quite interested, immediately asked:
+
+"Ha! and what is the name of this village?"
+
+The Prussian replied:
+
+"Pharsbourg."  He added: "We caught those French scoundrels by the ears."
+
+And he glanced toward M. Dubuis, laughing conceitedly into his mustache.
+
+The train rolled on, still passing through hamlets occupied by the
+victorious army.  German soldiers could be seen along the roads, on the
+edges of fields, standing in front of gates or chatting outside cafes.
+They covered the soil like African locusts.
+
+The officer said, with a wave of his hand:
+
+"If I had been in command, I'd have taken Paris, burned everything,
+killed everybody.  No more France!"
+
+The Englishman, through politeness, replied simply:
+
+"Ah!  yes."
+
+He went on:
+
+"In twenty years all Europe, all of it, will belong to us.  Prussia is
+more than a match for all of them."
+
+The Englishmen, getting uneasy, no longer replied.  Their faces, which
+had become impassive, seemed made of wax behind their long whiskers.
+Then the Prussian officer began to laugh.  And still, lolling back, he
+began to sneer.  He sneered at the downfall of France, insulted the
+prostrate enemy; he sneered at Austria, which had been recently
+conquered; he sneered at the valiant but fruitless defence of the
+departments; he sneered at the Garde Mobile and at the useless artillery.
+He announced that Bismarck was going to build a city of iron with the
+captured cannon.  And suddenly he placed his boots against the thigh of
+M. Dubuis, who turned away his eyes, reddening to the roots of his hair.
+
+The Englishmen seemed to have become indifferent to all that was going
+on, as if they were suddenly shut up in their own island, far from the
+din of the world.
+
+The officer took out his pipe, and looking fixedly at the Frenchman,
+said:
+
+"You haven't any tobacco--have you?"
+
+M. Dubuis replied:
+
+"No, monsieur."
+
+The German resumed:
+
+"You might go and buy some for me when the train stops."
+
+And he began laughing afresh as he added:
+
+"I'll give you the price of a drink."
+
+The train whistled, and slackened its pace.  They passed a station that
+had been burned down; and then they stopped altogether.
+
+The German opened the carriage door, and, catching M. Dubuis by the arm,
+said:
+
+"Go and do what I told you--quick, quick!"
+
+A Prussian detachment occupied the station. Other soldiers were standing
+behind wooden gratings, looking on.  The engine was getting up steam
+before starting off again.  Then M. Dubuis hurriedly jumped on the
+platform, and, in spite of the warnings of the station master, dashed
+into the adjoining compartment.
+
+He was alone!  He tore open his waistcoat, his heart was beating so
+rapidly, and, gasping for breath, he wiped the perspiration from his
+forehead.
+
+The train drew up at another station.  And suddenly the officer appeared
+at the carriage door and jumped in, followed close behind by the two
+Englishmen, who were impelled by curiosity.  The German sat facing the
+Frenchman, and, laughing still, said:
+
+"You did not want to do what I asked you?"
+
+M. Dubuis replied:
+
+"No, monsieur."
+
+The train had just left the station.
+
+The officer said:
+
+"I'll cut off your mustache to fill my pipe with."
+
+And he put out his hand toward the Frenchman's face.
+
+The Englishmen stared at them, retaining their previous impassive manner.
+
+The German had already pulled out a few hairs, and was still tugging at
+the mustache, when M. Dubuis, with a back stroke of his hand, flung aside
+the officer's arm, and, seizing him by the collar, threw him down on the
+seat.  Then, excited to a pitch of fury, his temples swollen and his eyes
+glaring, he kept throttling the officer with one hand, while with the
+other clenched he began to strike him violent blows in the face.  The
+Prussian struggled, tried to draw his sword, to clinch with his
+adversary, who was on top of him.  But M. Dubuis crushed him with his
+enormous weight and kept punching him without taking breath or knowing
+where his blows fell.  Blood flowed down the face of the German, who,
+choking and with a rattling in his throat, spat out his broken teeth and
+vainly strove to shake off this infuriated man who was killing him.
+
+The Englishmen had got on their feet and came closer in order to see
+better.  They remained standing, full of mirth and curiosity, ready to
+bet for, or against, either combatant.
+
+Suddenly M. Dubuis, exhausted by his violent efforts, rose and resumed
+his seat without uttering a word.
+
+The Prussian did not attack him, for the savage assault had terrified and
+astonished the officer as well as causing him suffering.  When he was
+able to breathe freely, he said:
+
+"Unless you give me satisfaction with pistols I will kill you."
+
+M. Dubuis replied:
+
+"Whenever you like.  I'm quite ready."
+
+The German said:
+
+"Here is the town of Strasbourg.  I'll get two officers to be my seconds,
+and there will be time before the train leaves the station."
+
+M. Dubuis, who was puffing as hard as the engine, said to the Englishmen:
+
+"Will you be my seconds?" They both answered together:
+
+"Oh, yes!"
+
+And the train stopped.
+
+In a minute the Prussian had found two comrades, who brought pistols, and
+they made their way toward the ramparts.
+
+The Englishmen were continually looking at their watches, shuffling their
+feet and hurrying on with the preparations, uneasy lest they should be
+too late for the train.
+
+M. Dubuis had never fired a pistol in his life.
+
+They made him stand twenty paces away from his enemy.  He was asked:
+
+"Are you ready?"
+
+While he was answering, "Yes, monsieur," he noticed that one of the
+Englishmen had opened his umbrella in order to keep off the rays of the
+sun.
+
+A voice gave the signal:
+
+"Fire!"
+
+M. Dubuis fired at random without delay, and he was amazed to see the
+Prussian opposite him stagger, lift up his arms and fall forward, dead.
+He had killed the officer.
+
+One of the Englishmen exclaimed: "Ah!"  He was quivering with delight,
+with satisfied curiosity and joyous impatience.  The other, who still
+kept his watch in his hand, seized M. Dubuis' arm and hurried him in
+double-quick time toward the station, his fellow-countryman marking time
+as he ran beside them, with closed fists, his elbows at his sides, "One,
+two; one, two!"
+
+And all three, running abreast rapidly, made their way to the station
+like three grotesque figures in a comic newspaper.
+
+The train was on the point of starting.  They sprang into their carriage.
+Then the Englishmen, taking off their travelling caps, waved them three
+times over their heads, exclaiming:
+
+"Hip!  hip!  hip!  hurrah!"
+
+And gravely, one after the other, they extended their right hands to M.
+Dubuis and then went back and sat down in their own corner.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+     VOLUME II.
+
+THE COLONEL'S IDEAS
+MOTHER SAUVAGE
+EPIPHANY
+THE MUSTACHE
+MADAME BAPTISTE
+THE QUESTION OF LATIN
+A MEETING
+THE BLIND MAN
+INDISCRETION
+A FAMILY AFFAIR
+BESIDE SCHOPENHAUER'S CORPSE
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE COLONEL'S IDEAS
+
+"Upon my word," said Colonel Laporte, "although I am old and gouty, my
+legs as stiff as two pieces of wood, yet if a pretty woman were to tell
+me to go through the eye of a needle, I believe I should take a jump at
+it, like a clown through a hoop.  I shall die like that; it is in the
+blood.  I am an old beau, one of the old school, and the sight of a
+woman, a pretty woman, stirs me to the tips of my toes.  There!
+
+"We are all very much alike in France in this respect; we still remain
+knights, knights of love and fortune, since God has been abolished whose
+bodyguard we really were.  But nobody can ever get woman out of our
+hearts; there she is, and there she will remain, and we love her, and
+shall continue to love her, and go on committing all kinds of follies on
+her account as long as there is a France on the map of Europe; and even
+if France were to be wiped off the map, there would always be Frenchmen
+left.
+
+"When I am in the presence of a woman, of a pretty woman, I feel capable
+of anything.  By Jove!  when I feel her looks penetrating me, her
+confounded looks which set your blood on fire, I should like to do I
+don't know what; to fight a duel, to have a row, to smash the furniture,
+in order to show that I am the strongest, the bravest, the most daring
+and the most devoted of men.
+
+"But I am not the only one, certainly not; the whole French army is like
+me, I swear to you.  From the common soldier to the general, we all start
+out, from the van to the rear guard, when there is a woman in the case, a
+pretty woman.  Do you remember what Joan of Arc made us do formerly?
+Come.  I will make a bet that if a pretty woman had taken command of the
+army on the eve of Sedan, when Marshal MacMahon was wounded, we should
+have broken through the Prussian lines, by Jove! and had a drink out of
+their guns.
+
+"It was not a Trochu, but a Sainte-Genevieve, who was needed in Paris;
+and I remember a little anecdote of the war which proves that we are
+capable of everything in presence of a woman.
+
+"I was a captain, a simple captain, at the time, and I was in command of
+a detachment of scouts, who were retreating through a district which
+swarmed with Prussians.  We were surrounded, pursued, tired out and half
+dead with fatigue and hunger, but we were bound to reach Bar-sur-Tain
+before the morrow, otherwise we should be shot, cut down, massacred.  I
+do not know how we managed to escape so far.  However, we had ten leagues
+to go during the night, ten leagues through the night, ten leagues
+through the snow, and with empty stomachs, and I thought to myself:
+
+"'It is all over; my poor devils of fellows will never be able to do it.'
+
+"We had eaten nothing since the day before, and the whole day long we
+remained hidden in a barn, huddled close together, so as not to feel the
+cold so much, unable to speak or even move, and sleeping by fits and
+starts, as one does when worn out with fatigue.
+
+"It was dark by five o'clock, that wan darkness of the snow, and I shook
+my men.  Some of them would not get up; they were almost incapable of
+moving or of standing upright; their joints were stiff from cold and
+hunger.
+
+"Before us there was a large expanse of flat, bare country; the snow was
+still falling like a curtain, in large, white flakes, which concealed
+everything under a thick, frozen coverlet, a coverlet of frozen wool One
+might have thought that it was the end of the world.
+
+"'Come, my lads, let us start.'
+
+"They looked at the thick white flakes that were coming down, and they
+seemed to think: 'We have had enough of this; we may just as well die
+here!' Then I took out my revolver and said:
+
+"'I will shoot the first man who flinches.' And so they set off, but very
+slowly, like men whose legs were of very little use to them, and I sent
+four of them three hundred yards ahead to scout, and the others followed
+pell-mell, walking at random and without any order.  I put the strongest
+in the rear, with orders to quicken the pace of the sluggards with the
+points of their bayonets in the back.
+
+"The snow seemed as if it were going to bury us alive; it powdered our
+kepis and cloaks without melting, and made phantoms of us, a kind of
+spectres of dead, weary soldiers.  I said to myself: 'We shall never get
+out of this except by a, miracle.'
+
+"Sometimes we had to stop for a few minutes, on account of those who
+could not follow us, and then we heard nothing except the falling snow,
+that vague, almost undiscernible sound made by the falling flakes.  Some
+of the men shook themselves, others did not move, and so I gave the order
+to set off again.  They shouldered their rifles, and with weary feet we
+resumed our march, when suddenly the scouts fell back.  Something had
+alarmed them; they had heard voices in front of them.  I sent forward six
+men and a sergeant and waited.
+
+"All at once a shrill cry, a woman's cry, pierced through the heavy
+silence of the snow, and in a few minutes they brought back two
+prisoners, an old man and a girl, whom I questioned in a low voice.  They
+were escaping from the Prussians, who had occupied their house during the
+evening and had got drunk.  The father was alarmed on his daughter's
+account, and, without even telling their servants, they had made their
+escape in the darkness.  I saw immediately that they belonged to the
+better class.  I invited them to accompany us, and we started off again,
+the old man who knew the road acting as our guide.
+
+"It had ceased snowing, the stars appeared and the cold became intense.
+The girl, who was leaning on her father's arm, walked unsteadily as
+though in pain, and several times she murmured:
+
+"'I have no feeling at all in my feet'; and I suffered more than she did
+to see that poor little woman dragging herself like that through the
+snow.  But suddenly she stopped and said:
+
+"'Father, I am so tired that I cannot go any further.'
+
+"The old man wanted to carry her, but he could not even lift her up, and
+she sank to the ground with a deep sigh.  We all gathered round her, and,
+as for me, I stamped my foot in perplexity, not knowing what to do, and
+being unwilling to abandon that man and girl like that, when suddenly one
+of the soldiers, a Parisian whom they had nicknamed Pratique, said:
+
+"'Come, comrades, we must carry the young lady, otherwise we shall not
+show ourselves Frenchmen, confound it!'
+
+"I really believe that I swore with pleasure.  'That is very good of you,
+my children,' I said; 'and I will take my share of the burden.'
+
+"We could indistinctly see, through the darkness, the trees of a little
+wood on the left.  Several of the men went into it, and soon came back
+with a bundle of branches made into a litter.
+
+"'Who will lend his cape?  It is for a pretty girl, comrades,' Pratique
+said, and ten cloaks were thrown to him.  In a moment the girl was lying,
+warm and comfortable, among them, and was raised upon six shoulders.  I
+placed myself at their head, on the right, well pleased with my position.
+
+"We started off much more briskly, as if we had had a drink of wine, and
+I even heard some jokes.  A woman is quite enough to electrify Frenchmen,
+you see.  The soldiers, who had become cheerful and warm, had almost
+reformed their ranks, and an old 'franc-tireur' who was following the
+litter, waiting for his turn to replace the first of his comrades who
+might give out, said to one of his neighbors, loud enough for me to hear:
+"'I am not a young man now, but by ---, there is nothing like the women
+to put courage into you!'
+
+"We went on, almost without stopping, until three o'clock in the morning,
+when suddenly our scouts fell back once more, and soon the whole
+detachment showed nothing but a vague shadow on the ground, as the men
+lay on the snow.  I gave my orders in a low voice, and heard the harsh,
+metallic sound of the cocking, of rifles.  For there, in the middle of
+the plain, some strange object was moving about.  It looked like some
+enormous animal running about, now stretching out like a serpent, now
+coiling itself into a ball, darting to the right, then to the left, then
+stopping, and presently starting off again.  But presently that wandering
+shape came nearer, and I saw a dozen lancers at full gallop, one behind
+the other.  They had lost their way and were trying to find it.
+
+"They were so near by that time that I could hear the loud breathing of
+their horses, the clinking of their swords and the creaking of their
+saddles, and cried: 'Fire!'
+
+"Fifty rifle shots broke the stillness of the night, then there were four
+or five reports, and at last one single shot was heard, and when the
+smoke had cleared away, we saw that the twelve men and nine horses had
+fallen.  Three of the animals were galloping away at a furious pace, and
+one of them was dragging the dead body of its rider, which rebounded
+violently from the ground; his foot had caught in the stirrup.
+
+"One of the soldiers behind me gave a terrible laugh and said: 'There
+will be some widows there!'
+
+"Perhaps he was married.  A third added: 'It did not take long!'
+
+"A head emerged from the litter.
+
+"'What is the matter?' she asked; 'are you fighting?'
+
+"'It is nothing, mademoiselle,' I replied; 'we have got rid of a dozen
+Prussians!'
+
+"'Poor fellows!' she said.  But as she was cold, she quickly disappeared
+beneath the cloaks again, and we started off once more.  We marched on
+for a long time, and at last the sky began to grow lighter.  The snow
+became quite clear, luminous and glistening, and a rosy tint appeared in
+the east.  Suddenly a voice in the distance cried:
+
+"'Who goes there?'
+
+"The whole detachment halted, and I advanced to give the countersign.
+We had reached the French lines, and, as my men defiled before the
+outpost, a commandant on horseback, whom I had informed of what had taken
+place, asked in a sonorous voice, as he saw the litter pass him: 'What
+have you in there?'
+
+"And immediately a small head covered with light hair appeared,
+dishevelled and smiling, and replied:
+
+"'It is I, monsieur.'
+
+"At this the men raised a hearty laugh, and we felt quite light-hearted,
+while Pratique, who was walking by the side of the litter, waved his kepi
+and shouted:
+
+"'Vive la France!'  And I felt really affected.  I do not know why,
+except that I thought it a pretty and gallant thing to say.
+
+"It seemed to me as if we had just saved the whole of France and had done
+something that other men could not have done, something simple and really
+patriotic.  I shall never forget that little face, you may be sure; and
+if I had to give my opinion about abolishing drums, trumpets and bugles,
+I should propose to replace them in every regiment by a pretty girl, and
+that would be even better than playing the 'Marseillaise: By Jove!  it
+would put some spirit into a trooper to have a Madonna like that, a live
+Madonna, by the colonel's side."
+
+He was silent for a few moments and then continued, with an air of
+conviction, and nodding his head:
+
+"All the same, we are very fond of women, we Frenchmen!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MOTHER SAUVAGE
+
+Fifteen years had passed since I was at Virelogne.  I returned there in
+the autumn to shoot with my friend Serval, who had at last rebuilt his
+chateau, which the Prussians had destroyed.
+
+I loved that district.  It is one of those delightful spots which have a
+sensuous charm for the eyes.  You love it with a physical love.  We, whom
+the country enchants, keep tender memories of certain springs, certain
+woods, certain pools, certain hills seen very often which have stirred us
+like joyful events.  Sometimes our thoughts turn back to a corner in a
+forest, or the end of a bank, or an orchard filled with flowers, seen but
+a single time on some bright day, yet remaining in our hearts like the
+image of certain women met in the street on a spring morning in their
+light, gauzy dresses, leaving in soul and body an unsatisfied desire
+which is not to be forgotten, a feeling that you have just passed by
+happiness.
+
+At Virelogne I loved the whole countryside, dotted with little woods and
+crossed by brooks which sparkled in the sun and looked like veins
+carrying blood to the earth.  You fished in them for crawfish, trout and
+eels.  Divine happiness!  You could bathe in places and you often found
+snipe among the high grass which grew along the borders of these small
+water courses.
+
+I was stepping along light as a goat, watching my two dogs running ahead
+of me, Serval, a hundred metres to my right, was beating a field of
+lucerne.  I turned round by the thicket which forms the boundary of the
+wood of Sandres and I saw a cottage in ruins.
+
+Suddenly I remembered it as I had seen it the last time, in 1869, neat,
+covered with vines, with chickens before the door.  What is sadder than a
+dead house, with its skeleton standing bare and sinister?
+
+I also recalled that inside its doors, after a very tiring day, the good
+woman had given me a glass of wine to drink and that Serval had told me
+the history of its people.  The father, an old poacher, had been killed
+by the gendarmes.  The son, whom I had once seen, was a tall, dry fellow
+who also passed for a fierce slayer of game.  People called them "Les
+Sauvage."
+
+Was that a name or a nickname?
+
+I called to Serval.  He came up with his long strides like a crane.
+
+I asked him:
+
+"What's become of those people?"
+
+This was his story:
+
+When war was declared the son Sauvage, who was then thirty-three years
+old, enlisted, leaving his mother alone in the house.  People did not
+pity the old woman very much because she had money; they knew it.
+
+She remained entirely alone in that isolated dwelling, so far from the
+village, on the edge of the wood.  She was not afraid, however, being of
+the same strain as the men folk--a hardy old woman, tall and thin, who
+seldom laughed and with whom one never jested.  The women of the fields
+laugh but little in any case, that is men's business.  But they
+themselves have sad and narrowed hearts, leading a melancholy, gloomy
+life.  The peasants imbibe a little noisy merriment at the tavern, but
+their helpmates always have grave, stern countenances.  The muscles of
+their faces have never learned the motions of laughter.
+
+Mother Sauvage continued her ordinary existence in her cottage, which was
+soon covered by the snows.  She came to the village once a week to get
+bread and a little meat.  Then she returned to her house.  As there was
+talk of wolves, she went out with a gun upon her shoulder--her son's gun,
+rusty and with the butt worn by the rubbing of the hand--and she was a
+strange sight, the tall "Sauvage," a little bent, going with slow strides
+over the snow, the muzzle of the piece extending beyond the black
+headdress, which confined her head and imprisoned her white hair, which
+no one had ever seen.
+
+One day a Prussian force arrived.  It was billeted upon the inhabitants,
+according to the property and resources of each.  Four were allotted to
+the old woman, who was known to be rich.
+
+They were four great fellows with fair complexion, blond beards and blue
+eyes, who had not grown thin in spite of the fatigue which they had
+endured already and who also, though in a conquered country, had remained
+kind and gentle.  Alone with this aged woman, they showed themselves full
+of consideration, sparing her, as much as they could, all expense and
+fatigue.  They could be seen, all four of them, making their toilet at
+the well in their shirt-sleeves in the gray dawn, splashing with great
+swishes of water their pink-white northern skin, while La Mere Sauvage
+went and came, preparing their soup.  They would be seen cleaning the
+kitchen, rubbing the tiles, splitting wood, peeling potatoes, doing up
+all the housework like four good sons around their mother.
+
+But the old woman thought always of her own son, so tall and thin, with
+his hooked nose and his brown eyes and his heavy mustache which made a
+roll of black hair upon his lip.  She asked every day of each of the
+soldiers who were installed beside her hearth: "Do you know where the
+French marching regiment, No. 23, was sent?  My boy is in it."
+
+They invariably answered, "No, we don't know, don't know a thing at all."
+And, understanding her pain and her uneasiness--they who had mothers,
+too, there at home--they rendered her a thousand little services.  She
+loved them well, moreover, her four enemies, since the peasantry have no
+patriotic hatred; that belongs to the upper class alone.  The humble,
+those who pay the most because they are poor and because every new burden
+crushes them down; those who are killed in masses, who make the true
+cannon's prey because they are so many; those, in fine, who suffer most
+cruelly the atrocious miseries of war because they are the feeblest and
+offer least resistance--they hardly understand at all those bellicose
+ardors, that excitable sense of honor or those pretended political
+combinations which in six months exhaust two nations, the conqueror with
+the conquered.
+
+They said in the district, in speaking of the Germans of La Mere Sauvage:
+
+"There are four who have found a soft place."
+
+Now, one morning, when the old woman was alone in the house, she
+observed, far off on the plain, a man coming toward her dwelling.
+Soon she recognized him; it was the postman to distribute the letters.
+He gave her a folded paper and she drew out of her case the spectacles
+which she used for sewing.  Then she read:
+
+     MADAME SAUVAGE: This letter is to tell you sad news.  Your boy
+     Victor was killed yesterday by a shell which almost cut him in two.
+     I was near by, as we stood next each other in the company, and he
+     told me about you and asked me to let you know on the same day if
+     anything happened to him.
+
+     I took his watch, which was in his pocket, to bring it back to you
+     when the war is done.
+                                        CESAIRE RIVOT,
+
+     Soldier of the 2d class, March.  Reg.  No. 23.
+
+
+The letter was dated three weeks back.
+
+She did not cry at all.  She remained motionless, so overcome and
+stupefied that she did not even suffer as yet.  She thought: "There's
+Victor killed now."  Then little by little the tears came to her eyes and
+the sorrow filled her heart.  Her thoughts came, one by one, dreadful,
+torturing.  She would never kiss him again, her child, her big boy, never
+again!  The gendarmes had killed the father, the Prussians had killed the
+son.  He had been cut in two by a cannon-ball.  She seemed to see the
+thing, the horrible thing: the head falling, the eyes open, while he
+chewed the corner of his big mustache as he always did in moments of
+anger.
+
+What had they done with his body afterward?  If they had only let her
+have her boy back as they had brought back her husband--with the bullet
+in the middle of the forehead!
+
+But she heard a noise of voices.  It was the Prussians returning from the
+village.  She hid her letter very quickly in her pocket, and she received
+them quietly, with her ordinary face, having had time to wipe her eyes.
+
+They were laughing, all four, delighted, for they brought with them a
+fine rabbit--stolen, doubtless--and they made signs to the old woman that
+there was to be something good to east.
+
+She set herself to work at once to prepare breakfast, but when it came to
+killing the rabbit, her heart failed her.  And yet it was not the first.
+One of the soldiers struck it down with a blow of his fist behind the
+ears.
+
+The beast once dead, she skinned the red body, but the sight of the blood
+which she was touching, and which covered her hands, and which she felt
+cooling and coagulating, made her tremble from head to foot, and she kept
+seeing her big boy cut in two, bloody, like this still palpitating
+animal.
+
+She sat down at table with the Prussians, but she could not eat, not even
+a mouthful.  They devoured the rabbit without bothering themselves about
+her.  She looked at them sideways, without speaking, her face so
+impassive that they perceived nothing.
+
+All of a sudden she said: "I don't even know your names, and here's a
+whole month that we've been together."  They understood, not without
+difficulty, what she wanted, and told their names.
+
+That was not sufficient; she had them written for her on a paper, with
+the addresses of their families, and, resting her spectacles on her great
+nose, she contemplated that strange handwriting, then folded the sheet
+and put it in her pocket, on top of the letter which told her of the
+death of her son.
+
+When the meal was ended she said to the men:
+
+"I am going to work for you."
+
+And she began to carry up hay into the loft where they slept.
+
+They were astonished at her taking all this trouble; she explained to
+them that thus they would not be so cold; and they helped her.  They
+heaped the stacks of hay as high as the straw roof, and in that manner
+they made a sort of great chamber with four walls of fodder, warm and
+perfumed, where they should sleep splendidly.
+
+At dinner one of them was worried to see that La Mere Sauvage still ate
+nothing.  She told him that she had pains in her stomach.  Then she
+kindled a good fire to warm herself, and the four Germans ascended to
+their lodging-place by the ladder which served them every night for this
+purpose.
+
+As soon as they closed the trapdoor the old woman removed the ladder,
+then opened the outside door noiselessly and went back to look for more
+bundles of straw, with which she filled her kitchen.  She went barefoot
+in the snow, so softly that no sound was heard.  From time to time she
+listened to the sonorous and unequal snoring of the four soldiers who
+were fast asleep.
+
+When she judged her preparations to be sufficient, she threw one of the
+bundles into the fireplace, and when it was alight she scattered it over
+all the others.  Then she went outside again and looked.
+
+In a few seconds the whole interior of the cottage was illumined with a
+brilliant light and became a frightful brasier, a gigantic fiery furnace,
+whose glare streamed out of the narrow window and threw a glittering beam
+upon the snow.
+
+Then a great cry issued from the top of the house; it was a clamor of men
+shouting heartrending calls of anguish and of terror.  Finally the
+trapdoor having given way, a whirlwind of fire shot up into the loft,
+pierced the straw roof, rose to the sky like the immense flame of a
+torch, and all the cottage flared.
+
+Nothing more was heard therein but the crackling of the fire, the
+cracking of the walls, the falling of the rafters.  Suddenly the roof
+fell in and the burning carcass of the dwelling hurled a great plume of
+sparks into the air, amid a cloud of smoke.
+
+The country, all white, lit up by the fire, shone like a cloth of silver
+tinted with red.
+
+A bell, far off, began to toll.
+
+The old "Sauvage" stood before her ruined dwelling, armed with her gun,
+her son's gun, for fear one of those men might escape.
+
+When she saw that it was ended, she threw her weapon into the brasier.
+A loud report followed.
+
+People were coming, the peasants, the Prussians.
+
+They found the woman seated on the trunk of a tree, calm and satisfied.
+
+A German officer, but speaking French like a son of France, demanded:
+
+"Where are your soldiers?"
+
+She reached her bony arm toward the red heap of fire which was almost out
+and answered with a strong voice:
+
+"There!"
+
+They crowded round her.  The Prussian asked:
+
+"How did it take fire?"
+
+"It was I who set it on fire."
+
+They did not believe her, they thought that the sudden disaster had made
+her crazy.  While all pressed round and listened, she told the story from
+beginning to end, from the arrival of the letter to the last shriek of
+the men who were burned with her house, and never omitted a detail.
+
+When she had finished, she drew two pieces of paper from her pocket, and,
+in order to distinguish them by the last gleams of the fire, she again
+adjusted her spectacles.  Then she said, showing one:
+
+"That, that is the death of Victor."  Showing the other, she added,
+indicating the red ruins with a bend of the head: "Here are their names,
+so that you can write home."  She quietly held a sheet of paper out to
+the officer, who held her by the shoulders, and she continued:
+
+"You must write how it happened, and you must say to their mothers that
+it was I who did that, Victoire Simon, la Sauvage!  Do not forget."
+
+The officer shouted some orders in German.  They seized her, they threw
+her against the walls of her house, still hot.  Then twelve men drew
+quickly up before her, at twenty paces.  She did not move.  She had
+understood; she waited.
+
+An order rang out, followed instantly by a long report.  A belated shot
+went off by itself, after the others.
+
+The old woman did not fall.  She sank as though they had cut off her
+legs.
+
+The Prussian officer approached.  She was almost cut in two, and in her
+withered hand she held her letter bathed with blood.
+
+My friend Serval added:
+
+"It was by way of reprisal that the Germans destroyed the chateau of the
+district, which belonged to me."
+
+I thought of the mothers of those four fine fellows burned in that house
+and of the horrible heroism of that other mother shot against the wall.
+
+And I picked up a little stone, still blackened by the flames.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+EPIPHANY
+
+I should say I did remember that Epiphany supper during the war!
+exclaimed Count de Garens, an army captain.
+
+I was quartermaster of cavalry at the time, and for a fortnight had been
+scouting in front of the German advance guard.  The evening before we had
+cut down a few Uhlans and had lost three men, one of whom was that poor
+little Raudeville.  You remember Joseph de Raudeville, of course.
+
+Well, on that day my commanding officer ordered me to take six troopers
+and to go and occupy the village of Porterin, where there had been five
+skirmishes in three weeks, and to hold it all night.  There were not
+twenty houses left standing, not a dozen houses in that wasps' nest.  So
+I took ten troopers and set out about four o'clock, and at five o'clock,
+while it was still pitch dark, we reached the first houses of Porterin.
+I halted and ordered Marchas--you know Pierre de Marchas, who afterward
+married little Martel-Auvelin, the daughter of the Marquis de Martel-
+Auvelin--to go alone into the village, and to report to me what he saw.
+
+I had selected nothing but volunteers, all men of good family.  It is
+pleasant when on duty not to be forced to be on intimate terms with
+unpleasant fellows.  This Marchas was as smart as possible, cunning as a
+fox and supple as a serpent.  He could scent the Prussians as a dog can
+scent a hare, could discover food where we should have died of hunger
+without him, and obtained information from everybody, and information
+which was always reliable, with incredible cleverness.
+
+In ten minutes he returned.  "All right," he said; "there have been no
+Prussians here for three days.  It is a sinister place, is this village.
+I have been talking to a Sister of Mercy, who is caring for four or five
+wounded men in an abandoned convent."
+
+I ordered them to ride on, and we entered the principal street.  On the
+right and left we could vaguely see roofless walls, which were hardly
+visible in the profound darkness.  Here and there a light was burning in
+a room; some family had remained to keep its house standing as well as
+they were able; a family of brave or of poor people.  The rain began to
+fall, a fine, icy cold rain, which froze as it fell on our cloaks.
+The horses stumbled against stones, against beams, against furniture.
+Marchas guided us, going before us on foot, and leading his horse by the
+bridle.
+
+"Where are you taking us to?" I asked him.  And he replied: "I have a
+place for us to lodge in, and a rare good one."  And we presently stopped
+before a small house, evidently belonging to some proprietor of the
+middle class.  It stood on the street, was quite inclosed, and had a
+garden in the rear.
+
+Marchas forced open the lock by means of a big stone which he picked up
+near the garden gate; then he mounted the steps, smashed in the front
+door with his feet and shoulders, lit a bit of wax candle, which he was
+never without, and went before us into the comfortable apartments of some
+rich private individual, guiding us with admirable assurance, as if he
+lived in this house which he now saw for the first time.
+
+Two troopers remained outside to take care of our horses, and Marchas
+said to stout Ponderel, who followed him: "The stables must be on the
+left; I saw that as we came in; go and put the animals up there, for we
+do not need them"; and then, turning to me, he said: "Give your orders,
+confound it all!"
+
+This fellow always astonished me, and I replied with a laugh: "I will
+post my sentinels at the country approaches and will return to you here."
+
+"How many men are you going to take?"
+
+"Five.  The others will relieve them at five o'clock in the evening."
+
+"Very well.  Leave me four to look after provisions, to do the cooking
+and to set the table.  I will go and find out where the wine is hidden."
+
+I went off, to reconnoitre the deserted streets until they ended in the
+open country, so as to post my sentries there.
+
+Half an hour later I was back, and found Marchas lounging in a great
+easy-chair, the covering of which he had taken off, from love of luxury,
+as he said.  He was warming his feet at the fire and smoking an excellent
+cigar, whose perfume filled the room.  He was alone, his elbows resting
+on the arms of the chair, his head sunk between his shoulders, his cheeks
+flushed, his eyes bright, and looking delighted.
+
+I heard the noise of plates and dishes in the next room, and Marchas said
+to me, smiling in a con tented manner: "This is famous; I found the
+champagne under the flight of steps outside, the brandy--fifty bottles of
+the very finest in the kitchen garden under a pear tree, which did not
+seem to me to be quite straight when I looked at it by the light of my
+lantern.  As for solids, we have two fowls, a goose, a duck, and three
+pigeons.  They are being cooked at this moment.  It is a delightful
+district."
+
+I sat down opposite him, and the fire in the grate was burning my nose
+and cheeks.  "Where did you find this wood?" I asked.  "Splendid wood,"
+he replied.  "The owner's carriage.  It is the paint which is causing all
+this flame, an essence of punch and varnish.  A capital house!"
+
+I laughed, for I saw the creature was funny, and he went on: "Fancy this
+being the Epiphany!  I have had a bean put into the goose dressing; but
+there is no queen; it is really very annoying!"  And I repeated like an
+echo: "It is annoying, but what do you want me to do in the matter?"
+"To find some, of course."  "Some women.  Women?--you must be mad?" "I
+managed to find the brandy under the pear tree, and the champagne under
+the steps; and yet there was nothing to guide me, while as for you, a
+petticoat is a sure bait.  Go and look, old fellow."
+
+He looked so grave, so convinced, that I could not tell whether he was
+joking or not, and so I replied: "Look here, Marchas, are you having a
+joke with me?"  "I never joke on duty."  "But where the devil do you
+expect me to find any women?"  "Where you like; there must be two or
+three remaining in the neighborhood, so ferret them out and bring them
+here."
+
+I got up, for it was too hot in front of the fire, and Marchas went off:
+
+"Do you want an idea?"  "Yes."  "Go and see the priest."  "The priest?
+What for?"  "Ask him to supper, and beg him to bring a woman with him."
+"The priest!  A woman!  Ha!  ha!  ha!"
+
+But Marchas continued with extraordinary gravity: "I am not laughing; go
+and find the priest and tell him how we are situated, and, as he must be
+horribly dull, he will come.  But tell him that we want one woman at
+least, a lady, of course, since we, are all men of the world.  He is sure
+to know his female parishioners on the tips of his fingers, and if there
+is one to suit us, and you manage it well, he will suggest her to you."
+
+"Come, come, Marchas, what are you thinking of?"  "My dear Garens, you
+can do this quite well.  It will even be very funny.  We are well bred,
+by Jove! and we will put on our most distinguished manners and our
+grandest style.  Tell the abbe who we are, make him laugh, soften his
+heart, coax him and persuade him!"  "No, it is impossible."
+
+He drew his chair close to mine, and as he knew my special weakness, the
+scamp continued: "Just think what a swaggering thing it will be to do and
+how amusing to tell about; the whole army will talk about it, and it will
+give you a famous reputation."
+
+I hesitated, for the adventure rather tempted me, and he persisted:
+"Come, my little Garens.  You are the head of this detachment, and you
+alone can go and call on the head of the church in this neighborhood.
+I beg of you to go, and I promise you that after the war I will relate
+the whole affair in verse in the Revue de Deux Mondes.  You owe this much
+to your men, for you have made them march enough during the last month."
+
+I got up at last and asked: "Where is the priest's house?"  "Take the
+second turning at the end of the street, you will see an avenue, and at
+the end of the avenue you will find the church.  The parsonage is beside
+it."  As I went out, he called out: "Tell him the bill of fare, to make
+him hungry!"
+
+I discovered the ecclesiastic's little house without any difficulty; it
+was by the side of a large, ugly brick church.  I knocked at the door
+with my fist, as there was neither bell nor knocker, and a loud voice
+from inside asked: "Who is there?"  To which I replied: "A quartermaster
+of hussars."
+
+I heard the noise of bolts and of a key being turned, and found myself
+face to face with a tall priest with a large stomach, the chest of a
+prizefighter, formidable hands projecting from turned-up sleeves, a red
+face, and the look of a kind man.  I gave him a military salute and said:
+"Good-day, Monsieur le Cure."
+
+He had feared a surprise, some marauders' ambush, and he smiled as he
+replied: "Good-day, my friend; come in."  I followed him into a small
+room with a red tiled floor, in which a small fire was burning, very
+different to Marchas' furnace, and he gave me a chair and said: "What can
+I do for you?" "Monsieur, allow me first of all to introduce myself"; and
+I gave him my card, which he took and read half aloud: "Le Comte de
+Garens."
+
+I continued: "There are eleven of us here, Monsieur l'Abbe, five on
+picket duty, and six installed at the house of an unknown inhabitant.
+The names of the six are: Garens, myself; Pierre de Marchas, Ludovic de
+Ponderel, Baron d'Streillis, Karl Massouligny, the painter's son, and
+Joseph Herbon, a young musician.  I have come to ask you, in their name
+and my own, to do us the honor of supping with us.  It is an Epiphany
+supper, Monsieur le Cure, and we should like to make it a little
+cheerful."
+
+The priest smiled and murmured: "It seems to me to be hardly a suitable
+occasion for amusing one's self."  And I replied: "We are fighting during
+the day, monsieur.  Fourteen of our comrades have been killed in a month,
+and three fell as late as yesterday.  It is war time.  We stake our life
+at every moment; have we not, therefore, the right to amuse ourselves
+freely?  We are Frenchmen, we like to laugh, and we can laugh everywhere.
+Our fathers laughed on the scaffold!  This evening we should like to
+cheer ourselves up a little, like gentlemen, and not like soldiers; you
+understand me, I hope.  Are we wrong?"
+
+He replied quickly: "You are quite right, my friend, and I accept your
+invitation with great pleasure."  Then he called out: "Hermance!"
+
+An old bent, wrinkled, horrible peasant woman appeared and said: "What do
+you want?"  "I shall not dine at home, my daughter."  "Where are you
+going to dine then?" "With some gentlemen, the hussars."
+
+I felt inclined to say: "Bring your servant with you," just to see
+Marchas' face, but I did not venture, and continued: "Do you know any one
+among your parishioners, male or female, whom I could invite as well?"
+He hesitated, reflected, and then said:, "No, I do not know anybody!"
+
+I persisted: "Nobody!  Come, monsieur, think; it would be very nice to
+have some ladies, I mean to say, some married couples!  I know nothing
+about your parishioners.  The baker and his wife, the grocer, the--the--
+the--watchmaker--the--shoemaker--the--the druggist with Mrs. Druggist.
+We have a good spread and plenty of wine, and we should be enchanted to
+leave pleasant recollections of ourselves with the people here."
+
+The priest thought again for a long time, and then said resolutely: "No,
+there is nobody."  I began to laugh.  "By Jove, Monsieur le Cure, it is
+very annoying not to have an Epiphany queen, for we have the bean.  Come,
+think.  Is there not a married mayor, or a married deputy mayor, or a
+married municipal councillor or a schoolmaster?"  "No, all the ladies
+have gone away."  "What, is there not in the whole place some good
+tradesman's wife with her good tradesman, to whom we might give this
+pleasure, for it would be a pleasure to them, a great pleasure under
+present circumstances?"
+
+But, suddenly, the cure began to laugh, and laughed so violently that he
+fairly shook, and presently exclaimed: "Ha!  ha!  ha!  I have got what
+you want, yes.  I have got what you want!  Ha!  ha!  ha!  We will laugh
+and enjoy ourselves, my children; we will have some fun.  How pleased the
+ladies will be, I say, how delighted they will be!  Ha!  ha!  Where are
+you staying?"
+
+I described the house, and he understood where it was.  "Very good," he
+said.  "It belongs to Monsieur Bertin-Lavaille.  I will be there in half
+an hour, with four ladies!  Ha!  ha!  ha!  four ladies!"
+
+He went out with me, still laughing, and left me, repeating: "That is
+capital; in half an hour at Bertin-Lavaille's house."
+
+I returned quickly, very much astonished and very much puzzled.  "Covers
+for how many?" Marchas asked, as soon as he saw me.  "Eleven.  There are
+six of us hussars, besides the priest and four ladies."  He was
+thunderstruck, and I was triumphant.  He repeated: "Four ladies!  Did you
+say, four ladies?"  "I said four women."  "Real women?"  "Real women."
+"Well, accept my compliments!"  "I will, for I deserve them."
+
+He got out of his armchair, opened the door, and I saw a beautiful white
+tablecloth on a long table, round which three hussars in blue aprons were
+setting out the plates and glasses.  "There are some women coming!"
+Marchas cried.  And the three men began to dance and to cheer with all
+their might.
+
+Everything was ready, and we were waiting.  We waited for nearly an hour,
+while a delicious smell of roast poultry pervaded the whole house.  At
+last, however, a knock against the shutters made us all jump up at the
+same moment.  Stout Ponderel ran to open the door, and in less than a
+minute a little Sister of Mercy appeared in the doorway.  She was thin,
+wrinkled and timid, and successively greeted the four bewildered hussars
+who saw her enter.  Behind her, the noise of sticks sounded on the tiled
+floor in the vestibule, and as soon as she had come into the drawing-
+room, I saw three old heads in white caps, following each other one by
+one, who came in, swaying with different movements, one inclining to the
+right, while the other inclined to the left.  And three worthy women
+appeared, limping, dragging their legs behind them, crippled by illness
+and deformed through old age, three infirm old women, past service, the
+only three pensioners who were able to walk in the home presided over by
+Sister Saint-Benedict.
+
+She had turned round to her invalids, full of anxiety for them, and then,
+seeing my quartermaster's stripes, she said to me: "I am much obliged to
+you for thinking of these poor women.  They have very little pleasure in
+life, and you are at the same time giving them a great treat and doing
+them a great honor."
+
+I saw the priest, who had remained in the dark hallway, and was laughing
+heartily, and I began to laugh in my turn, especially when I saw Marchas'
+face.  Then, motioning the nun to the seats, I said:
+
+"Sit down, sister; we are very proud and very happy that you have
+accepted our unpretentious invitation."
+
+She took three chairs which stood against the wall, set them before the
+fire, led her three old women to them, settled them on them, took their
+sticks and shawls, which she put into a corner, and then, pointing to the
+first, a thin woman with an enormous stomach, who was evidently suffering
+from the dropsy, she said: "This is Mother Paumelle; whose husband was
+killed by falling from a roof, and whose son died in Africa; she is sixty
+years old."  Then she pointed to another, a tall woman, whose head
+trembled unceasingly: "This is Mother Jean-Jean, who is sixty-seven.  She
+is nearly blind, for her face was terribly singed in a fire, and her
+right leg was half burned off."
+
+Then she pointed to the third, a sort of dwarf, with protruding, round,
+stupid eyes, which she rolled incessantly in all directions, "This is La
+Putois, an idiot.  She is only forty-four."
+
+I bowed to the three women as if I were being presented to some royal
+highnesses, and turning to the priest, I said: "You are an excellent man,
+Monsieur l'Abbe, to whom all of us here owe a debt of gratitude."
+
+Everybody was laughing, in fact, except Marchas, who seemed furious, and
+just then Karl Massouligny cried: "Sister Saint-Benedict, supper is on
+the table!"
+
+I made her go first with the priest, then I helped up Mother Paumelle,
+whose arm I took and dragged her into the next room, which was no easy
+task, for she seemed heavier than a lump of iron.
+
+Stout Ponderel gave his arm to Mother Jean-Jean, who bemoaned her crutch,
+and little Joseph Herbon took the idiot, La Putois, to the dining-room,
+which was filled with the odor of the viands.
+
+As soon as we were opposite our plates, the sister clapped her hands
+three times, and, with the precision of soldiers presenting arms, the
+women made a rapid sign of the cross, and then the priest slowly repeated
+the Benedictus in Latin.  Then we sat down, and the two fowls appeared,
+brought in by Marchas, who chose to wait at table, rather than to sit
+down as a guest to this ridiculous repast.
+
+But I cried: "Bring the champagne at once!" and a cork flew out with the
+noise of a pistol, and in spite of the resistance of the priest and of
+the kind sister, the three hussars, sitting by the side of the three
+invalids, emptied their three full glasses down their throats by force.
+
+Massouligny, who possessed the faculty of making himself at home, and of
+being on good terms with every one, wherever he was, made love to Mother
+Paumelle in the drollest manner.  The dropsical woman, who had retained
+her cheerfulness in spite of her misfortunes, answered him banteringly in
+a high falsetto voice which appeared as if it were put on, and she
+laughed so heartily at her neighbor's jokes that it was quite alarming.
+Little Herbon had seriously undertaken the task of making the idiot
+drunk, and Baron d'Streillis, whose wits were not always particularly
+sharp, was questioning old Jean-Jean about the life, the habits, and the
+rules of the hospital.
+
+The nun said to Massouligny in consternation:
+
+"Oh! oh! you will make her ill; pray do not make her laugh like that,
+monsieur.  Oh!  monsieur--"  Then she got up and rushed at Herbon to take
+from him a full glass which he was hastily emptying down La Putois'
+throat, while the priest shook with laughter, and said to the sister:
+"Never mind; just this once, it will not hurt them.  Do leave them
+alone."
+
+After the two fowls they ate the duck, which was flanked by the three
+pigeons and the blackbird, and then the goose appeared, smoking, golden-
+brown, and diffusing a warm odor of hot, browned roast meat.  La
+Paumelle, who was getting lively, clapped her hands; La Jean-Jean left
+off answering the baron's numerous questions, and La Putois uttered.
+grunts of pleasure, half cries and half sighs, as little children do when
+one shows them candy.  "Allow me to take charge of this animal," the cure
+said.  "I understand these sort of operations better than most people."
+"Certainly, Monsieur l'Abbe," and the sister said: "How would it be to
+open the window a little?  They are too warm, and I am afraid they will
+be ill."
+
+I turned to Marchas : "Open the window for a minute."  He did so; the
+cold outer air as it came in made the candles flare, and the steam from
+the goose, which the cure was scientifically carving, with a table napkin
+round his neck, whirl about.  We watched him doing it, without speaking
+now, for we were interested in his attractive handiwork, and seized with
+renewed appetite at the sight of that enormous golden-brown bird, whose
+limbs fell one after another into the brown gravy at the bottom of the
+dish.  At that moment, in the midst of that greedy silence which kept us
+all attentive, the distant report of a shot came in at the open window.
+
+I started to my feet so quickly that my chair fell down behind me, and I
+shouted: "To saddle, all of you!  You, Marches, take two men and go and
+see what it is.  I shall expect you back here in five minutes."  And
+while the three riders went off at full gallop through the night, I got
+into the saddle with my three remaining hussars, in front of the steps of
+the villa, while the cure, the sister and the three old women showed
+their frightened faces at the window.
+
+We heard nothing more, except the barking of a dog in the distance.  The
+rain had ceased, and it was cold, very cold, and soon I heard the gallop
+of a horse, of a single horse, coming back.  It was Marchas, and I called
+out to him: "Well?"  "It is nothing; Francois has wounded an old peasant
+who refused to answer his challenge: 'Who goes there?' and who continued
+to advance in spite of the order to keep off; but they are bringing him
+here, and we shall see what is the matter."
+
+I gave orders for the horses to be put back in the stable, and I sent my
+two soldiers to meet the others, and returned to the house.  Then the
+cure, Marchas, and I took a mattress into the room to lay the wounded man
+on; the sister tore up a table napkin in order to make lint, while the
+three frightened women remained huddled up in a corner.
+
+Soon I heard the rattle of sabres on the road, and I took a candle to
+show a light to the men who were returning; and they soon appeared,
+carrying that inert, soft, long, sinister object which a human body
+becomes when life no longer sustains it.
+
+They put the wounded man on the mattress that had been prepared for him,
+and I saw at the first glance that he was dying.  He had the death rattle
+and was spitting up blood, which ran out of the corners of his mouth at
+every gasp.  The man was covered with blood!  His cheeks, his beard, his
+hair, his neck and his clothes seemed to have been soaked, to have been
+dipped in a red tub; and that blood stuck to him, and had become a dull
+color which was horrible to look at.
+
+The wounded man, wrapped up in a large shepherd's cloak, occasionally
+opened his dull, vacant eyes, which seemed stupid with astonishment, like
+those of animals wounded by a sportsman, which fall at his feet, more
+than half dead already, stupefied with terror and surprise.
+
+The cure exclaimed: "Ah, it is old Placide, the shepherd from Les
+Moulins.  He is deaf, poor man, and heard nothing.  Ah!  Oh, God!  they
+have killed the unhappy man!"  The sister had opened his blouse and
+shirt, and was looking at a little blue hole in his chest, which was not
+bleeding any more.  "There is nothing to be done," she said.
+
+The shepherd was gasping terribly and bringing up blood with every last
+breath, and in his throat, to the very depth of his lungs, they could
+hear an ominous and continued gurgling.  The cure, standing in front of
+him, raised his right hand, made the sign of the cross, and in a slow and
+solemn voice pronounced the Latin words which purify men's souls, but
+before they were finished, the old man's body trembled violently, as if
+something had given way inside him, and he ceased to breathe.  He was
+dead.
+
+When I turned round, I saw a sight which was even more horrible than the
+death struggle of this unfortunate man; the three old women were standing
+up huddled close together, hideous, and grimacing with fear and horror.
+I went up to them, and they began to utter shrill screams, while La Jean-
+Jean, whose burned leg could no longer support her, fell to the ground at
+full length.
+
+Sister Saint-Benedict left the dead man, ran up to her infirm old women,
+and without a word or a look for me, wrapped their shawls round them,
+gave them their crutches, pushed them to the door, made them go out, and
+disappeared with them into the dark night.
+
+I saw that I could not even let a hussar accompany them, for the mere
+rattle of a sword would have sent them mad with fear.
+
+The cure was still looking at the dead man; but at last he turned round
+to me and said:
+
+"Oh!  What a horrible thing!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE MUSTACHE
+
+                                   CHATEAU DE SOLLES,
+                                   July 30, 1883.
+
+My Dear Lucy:
+
+I have no news.  We live in the drawing-room, looking out at the rain.
+We cannot go out in this frightful weather, so we have theatricals.
+How stupid they are, my dear, these drawing entertainments in the
+repertory of real life!  All is forced, coarse, heavy.  The jokes are
+like cannon balls, smashing everything in their passage.  No wit, nothing
+natural, no sprightliness, no elegance.  These literary men, in truth,
+know nothing of society.  They are perfectly ignorant of how people think
+and talk in our set.  I do not mind if they despise our customs, our
+conventionalities, but I do not forgive them for not knowing them.  When
+they want to be humorous they make puns that would do for a barrack; when
+they try to be jolly, they give us jokes that they must have picked up on
+the outer boulevard in those beer houses artists are supposed to
+frequent, where one has heard the same students' jokes for fifty years.
+
+So we have taken to Theatricals.  As we are only two women, my husband
+takes the part of a soubrette, and, in order to do that, he has shaved
+off his mustache.  You cannot imagine, my dear Lucy, how it changes him!
+I no longer recognize him-by day or at night.  If he did not let it grow
+again I think I should no longer love him; he looks so horrid like this.
+
+In fact, a man without a mustache is no longer a man.  I do not care much
+for a beard; it almost always makes a man look untidy.  But a mustache,
+oh, a mustache is indispensable to a manly face.  No, you would never
+believe how these little hair bristles on the upper lip are a relief to
+the eye and good in other ways.  I have thought over the matter a great
+deal but hardly dare to write my thoughts.  Words look so different on
+paper and the subject is so difficult, so delicate, so dangerous that it
+requires infinite skill to tackle it.
+
+Well, when my husband appeared, shaven, I understood at once that I never
+could fall in love with a strolling actor nor a preacher, even if it were
+Father Didon, the most charming of all!  Later when I was alone with him
+(my husband) it was worse still.  Oh, my dear Lucy, never let yourself be
+kissed by a man without a mustache; their kisses have no flavor, none
+whatever!  They no longer have the charm, the mellowness and the snap-
+yes, the snap--of a real kiss.  The mustache is the spice.
+
+Imagine placing to your lips a piece of dry--or moist--parchment.  That
+is the kiss of the man without a mustache.  It is not worth while.
+
+Whence comes this charm of the mustache, will you tell me?  Do I know
+myself?  It tickles your face, you feel it approaching your mouth and it
+sends a little shiver through you down to the tips of your toes.
+
+And on your neck!  Have you ever felt a mustache on your neck?  It
+intoxicates you, makes you feel creepy, goes to the tips of your fingers.
+You wriggle, shake your shoulders, toss back your head.  You wish to get
+away and at the same time to remain there; it is delightful, but
+irritating.  But how good it is!
+
+A lip without a mustache is like a body without clothing; and one must
+wear clothes, very few, if you like, but still some clothing.
+
+I recall a sentence (uttered by a politician) which has been running in
+my mind for three months.  My husband, who keeps up with the newspapers,
+read me one evening a very singular speech by our Minister of
+Agriculture, who was called M. Meline.  He may have been superseded by
+this time.  I do not know.
+
+I was paying no attention, but the name Meline struck me.  It recalled,
+I do not exactly know why, the 'Scenes de la vie de boheme'.  I thought
+it was about some grisette.  That shows how scraps of the speech entered
+my mind.  This M. Meline was making this statement to the people of
+Amiens, I believe, and I have ever since been trying to understand what
+he meant: "There is no patriotism without agriculture!"  Well, I have
+just discovered his meaning, and I affirm in my turn that there is no
+love without a mustache.  When you say it that way it sounds comical,
+does it not?
+
+There is no love without a mustache!
+
+"There is no patriotism without agriculture," said M. Meline, and he was
+right, that minister; I now understand why.
+
+From a very different point of view the mustache is essential.  It gives
+character to the face.  It makes a man look gentle, tender, violent, a
+monster, a rake, enterprising!  The hairy man, who does not shave off his
+whiskers, never has a refined look, for his features are concealed; and
+the shape of the jaw and the chin betrays a great deal to those who
+understand.
+
+The man with a mustache retains his own peculiar expression and his
+refinement at the same time.
+
+And how many different varieties of mustaches there are!  Sometimes they
+are twisted, curled, coquettish.  Those seem to be chiefly devoted to
+women.
+
+Sometimes they are pointed, sharp as needles, and threatening.  That kind
+prefers wine, horses and war.
+
+Sometimes they are enormous, overhanging, frightful.  These big ones
+generally conceal a fine disposition, a kindliness that borders on
+weakness and a gentleness that savors of timidity.
+
+But what I adore above all in the mustache is that it is French,
+altogether French.  It came from our ancestors, the Gauls, and has
+remained the insignia of our national character.
+
+It is boastful, gallant and brave.  It sips wine gracefully and knows how
+to laugh with refinement, while the broad-bearded jaws are clumsy in
+everything they do.
+
+I recall something that made me weep all my tears and also--I see it now
+--made me love a mustache on a man's face.
+
+It was during the war, when I was living with my father.  I was a young
+girl then.  One day there was a skirmish near the chateau.  I had heard
+the firing of the cannon and of the artillery all the morning, and that
+evening a German colonel came and took up his abode in our house.  He
+left the following day.
+
+My father was informed that there were a number of dead bodies in the
+fields.  He had them brought to our place so that they might be buried
+together.  They were laid all along the great avenue of pines as fast as
+they brought them in, on both sides of the avenue, and as they began to
+smell unpleasant, their bodies were covered with earth until the deep
+trench could be dug.  Thus one saw only their heads which seemed to
+protrude from the clayey earth and were almost as yellow, with their
+closed eyes.
+
+I wanted to see them.  But when I saw those two rows of frightful faces,
+I thought I should faint.  However, I began to look at them, one by one,
+trying to guess what kind of men these had been.
+
+The uniforms were concealed beneath the earth, and yet immediately, yes,
+immediately, my dear, I recognized the Frenchmen by their mustache!
+
+Some of them had shaved on the very day of the battle, as though they
+wished to be elegant up to the last; others seemed to have a week's
+growth, but all wore the French mustache, very plain, the proud mustache
+that seems to say: "Do not take me for my bearded friend, little one; I
+am a brother."
+
+And I cried, oh, I cried a great deal more than I should if I had not
+recognized them, the poor dead fellows.
+
+It was wrong of me to tell you this.  Now I am sad and cannot chatter any
+longer.  Well, good-by, dear Lucy.  I send you a hearty kiss.  Long live
+the mustache!
+                                                  JEANNE.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MADAME BAPTISTE
+
+The first thing I did was to look at the clock as I entered the waiting-
+room of the station at Loubain, and I found that I had to wait two hours
+and ten minutes for the Paris express.
+
+I had walked twenty miles and felt suddenly tired.  Not seeing anything
+on the station walls to amuse me, I went outside and stood there racking
+my brains to think of something to do.  The street was a kind of
+boulevard, planted with acacias, and on either side a row of houses of
+varying shape and different styles of architecture, houses such as one
+only sees in a small town, and ascended a slight hill, at the extreme end
+of which there were some trees, as though it ended in a park.
+
+From time to time a cat crossed the street and jumped over the gutters
+carefully.  A cur sniffed at every tree and hunted for scraps from the
+kitchens, but I did not see a single human being, and I felt listless and
+disheartened.  What could I do with myself?  I was already thinking of
+the inevitable and interminable visit to the small cafe at the railway
+station, where I should have to sit over a glass of undrinkable beer and
+the illegible newspaper, when I saw a funeral procession coming out of a
+side street into the one in which I was, and the sight of the hearse was
+a relief to me.  It would, at any rate, give me something to do for ten
+minutes.
+
+Suddenly, however, my curiosity was aroused.  The hearse was followed by
+eight gentlemen, one of whom was weeping, while the others were chatting
+together, but there was no priest, and I thought to myself:
+
+"This is a non-religious funeral," and then I reflected that a town like
+Loubain must contain at least a hundred freethinkers, who would have made
+a point of making a manifestation.  What could it be, then?  The rapid
+pace of the procession clearly proved that the body was to be buried
+without ceremony, and, consequently, without the intervention of the
+Church.
+
+My idle curiosity framed the most complicated surmises, and as the hearse
+passed me, a strange idea struck me, which was to follow it, with the
+eight gentlemen.  That would take up my time for an hour, at least, and I
+accordingly walked with the others, with a sad look on my face, and, on
+seeing this, the two last turned round in surprise, and then spoke to
+each other in a low voice.
+
+No doubt they were asking each other whether I belonged to the town, and
+then they consulted the two in front of them, who stared at me in turn.
+This close scrutiny annoyed me, and to put an end to it I went up to
+them, and, after bowing, I said:
+
+"I beg your pardon, gentlemen, for interrupting your conversation, but,
+seeing a civil funeral, I have followed it, although I did not know the
+deceased gentleman whom you are accompanying."
+
+"It was a woman," one of them said.
+
+I was much surprised at hearing this, and asked:
+
+"But it is a civil funeral, is it not?"
+
+The other gentleman, who evidently wished to tell me all about it, then
+said: "Yes and no.  The clergy have refused to allow us the use of the
+church."
+
+On hearing this I uttered a prolonged "A-h!" of astonishment.  I could
+not understand it at all, but my obliging neighbor continued:
+
+"It is rather a long story.  This young woman committed suicide, and that
+is the reason why she cannot be buried with any religious ceremony.
+The gentleman who is walking first, and who is crying, is her husband."
+
+I replied with some hesitation:
+
+"You surprise and interest me very much, monsieur.  Shall I be indiscreet
+if I ask you to tell me the facts of the case?  If I am troubling you,
+forget that I have said anything about the matter."
+
+The gentleman took my arm familiarly.
+
+"Not at all, not at all.  Let us linger a little behind the others, and I
+will tell it you, although it is a very sad story.  We have plenty of
+time before getting to the cemetery, the trees of which you see up
+yonder, for it is a stiff pull up this hill."
+
+And he began:
+
+"This young woman, Madame Paul Hamot, was the daughter of a wealthy
+merchant in the neighborhood, Monsieur Fontanelle.  When she was a mere
+child of eleven, she had a shocking adventure; a footman attacked her and
+she nearly died.  A terrible criminal case was the result, and the man
+was sentenced to penal servitude for life.
+
+"The little girl grew up, stigmatized by disgrace, isolated, without any
+companions; and grown-up people would scarcely kiss her, for they thought
+that they would soil their lips if they touched her forehead, and she
+became a sort of monster, a phenomenon to all the town.  People said to
+each other in a whisper: 'You know, little Fontanelle,' and everybody
+turned away in the streets when she passed.  Her parents could not even
+get a nurse to take her out for a walk, as the other servants held aloof
+from her, as if contact with her would poison everybody who came near
+her.
+
+"It was pitiable to see the poor child go and play every afternoon.  She
+remained quite by herself, standing by her maid and looking at the other
+children amusing themselves.  Sometimes, yielding to an irresistible
+desire to mix with the other children, she advanced timidly, with nervous
+gestures, and mingled with a group, with furtive steps, as if conscious
+of her own disgrace.  And immediately the mothers, aunts and nurses would
+come running from every seat and take the children entrusted to their
+care by the hand and drag them brutally away.
+
+"Little Fontanelle remained isolated, wretched, without understanding
+what it meant, and then she began to cry, nearly heartbroken with grief,
+and then she used to run and hide her head in her nurse's lap, sobbing.
+"As she grew up, it was worse still.  They kept the girls from her, as if
+she were stricken with the plague.  Remember that she had nothing to
+learn, nothing; that she no longer had the right to the symbolical wreath
+of orange-flowers; that almost before she could read she had penetrated
+that redoubtable mystery which mothers scarcely allow their daughters to
+guess at, trembling as they enlighten them on the night of their
+marriage.
+
+"When she went through the streets, always accompanied by her governess,
+as if, her parents feared some fresh, terrible adventure, with her eyes
+cast down under the load of that mysterious disgrace which she felt was
+always weighing upon her, the other girls, who were not nearly so
+innocent as people thought, whispered and giggled as they looked at her
+knowingly, and immediately turned their heads absently, if she happened
+to look at them.  People scarcely greeted her; only a few men bowed to
+her, and the mothers pretended not to see her, while some young
+blackguards called her Madame Baptiste, after the name of the footman who
+had attacked her.
+
+"Nobody knew the secret torture of her mind, for she hardly ever spoke,
+and never laughed, and her parents themselves appeared uncomfortable in
+her presence, as if they bore her a constant grudge for some irreparable
+fault.
+
+"An honest man would not willingly give his hand to a liberated convict,
+would he, even if that convict were his own son?  And Monsieur and Madame
+Fontanelle looked on their daughter as they would have done on a son who
+had just been released from the hulks.  She was pretty and pale, tall,
+slender, distinguished-looking, and she would have pleased me very much,
+monsieur, but for that unfortunate affair.
+
+"Well, when a new sub-prefect was appointed here, eighteen months ago, he
+brought his private secretary with him.  He was a queer sort of fellow,
+who had lived in the Latin Quarter, it appears.  He saw Mademoiselle
+Fontanelle and fell in love with her, and when told of what occurred, he
+merely said:
+
+'Bah!  That is just a guarantee for the future, and I would rather it
+should have happened before I married her than afterward.  I shall live
+tranquilly with that woman.'
+
+"He paid his addresses to her, asked for her hand and married her, and
+then, not being deficient in assurance, he paid wedding calls, as if
+nothing had happened.  Some people returned them, others did not; but,
+at last, the affair began to be forgotten, and she took her proper place
+in society.
+
+"She adored her husband as if he had been a god; for, you must remember,
+he had restored her to honor and to social life, had braved public
+opinion, faced insults, and, in a word, performed such a courageous act
+as few men would undertake, and she felt the most exalted and tender love
+for him.
+
+"When she became enceinte, and it was known, the most particular people
+and the greatest sticklers opened their doors to her, as if she had been
+definitely purified by maternity.
+
+"It is strange, but so it is, and thus everything was going on as well as
+possible until the other day, which was the feast of the patron saint of
+our town.  The prefect, surrounded by his staff and the authorities,
+presided at the musical competition, and when he had finished his speech
+the distribution of medals began, which Paul Hamot, his private
+secretary, handed to those who were entitled to them.
+
+"As you know, there are always jealousies and rivalries, which make
+people forget all propriety. All the ladies of the town were there on the
+platform, and, in his turn, the bandmaster from the village of Mourmillon
+came up.  This band was only to receive a second-class medal, for one
+cannot give first-class medals to everybody, can one?  But when the
+private secretary handed him his badge, the man threw it in his face and
+exclaimed:
+
+"'You may keep your medal for Baptiste.  You owe him a first-class one,
+also, just as you do me.'
+
+"There were a number of people there who began to laugh.  The common herd
+are neither charitable nor refined, and every eye was turned toward that
+poor lady.  Have you ever seen a woman going mad, monsieur?  Well, we
+were present at the sight!  She got up and fell back on her chair three
+times in succession, as if she wished to make her escape, but saw that
+she could not make her way through the crowd, and then another voice in
+the crowd exclaimed:
+
+"'Oh! Oh! Madame Baptiste!'
+
+"And a great uproar, partly of laughter and partly of indignation, arose.
+The word was repeated over and over again; people stood on tiptoe to see
+the unhappy woman's face; husbands lifted their wives up in their arms,
+so that they might see her, and people asked:
+
+"'Which is she?  The one in blue?'
+
+"The boys crowed like cocks, and laughter was heard all over the place.
+
+"She did not move now on her state chair, but sat just as if she had been
+put there for the crowd to look at.  She could not move, nor conceal
+herself, nor hide her face.  Her eyelids blinked quickly, as if a vivid
+light were shining on them, and she breathed heavily, like a horse that
+is going up a steep hill, so that it almost broke one's heart to see her.
+Meanwhile, however, Monsieur Hamot had seized the ruffian by the throat,
+and they were rolling on the ground together, amid a scene of
+indescribable confusion, and the ceremony was interrupted.
+
+"An hour later, as the Hamots were returning home, the young woman, who
+had not uttered a word since the insult, but who was trembling as if all
+her nerves had been set in motion by springs, suddenly sprang over the
+parapet of the bridge and threw herself into the river before her husband
+could prevent her.  The water is very deep under the arches, and it was
+two hours before her body was recovered.  Of course, she was dead."
+
+The narrator stopped and then added:
+
+"It was, perhaps, the best thing she could do under the circumstances.
+There are some things which cannot be wiped out, and now you understand
+why the clergy refused to have her taken into church.  Ah! If it had been
+a religious funeral the whole town would have been present, but you can
+understand that her suicide added to the other affair and made families
+abstain from attending her funeral; and then, it is not an easy matter
+here to attend a funeral which is performed without religious rites."
+
+We passed through the cemetery gates and I waited, much moved by what I
+had heard, until the coffin had been lowered into the grave, before I
+went up to the poor fellow who was sobbing violently, to press his hand
+warmly.  He looked at me in surprise through his tears and then said:
+
+"Thank you, monsieur."  And I was not sorry that I had followed the
+funeral.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE QUESTION OF LATIN
+
+This subject of Latin that has been dinned into our ears for some time
+past recalls to my mind a story--a story of my youth.
+
+I was finishing my studies with a teacher, in a big central town, at the
+Institution Robineau, celebrated through the entire province for the
+special attention paid there to the study of Latin.
+
+For the past ten years, the Robineau Institute beat the imperial lycee of
+the town at every competitive examination, and all the colleges of the
+subprefecture, and these constant successes were due, they said, to an
+usher, a simple usher, M. Piquedent, or rather Pere Piquedent.
+
+He was one of those middle-aged men quite gray, whose real age it is
+impossible to tell, and whose history we can guess at first glance.
+Having entered as an usher at twenty into the first institution that
+presented itself so that he could proceed to take first his degree of
+Master of Arts and afterward the degree of Doctor of Laws, he found
+himself so enmeshed in this routine that he remained an usher all his
+life.  But his love for Latin did not leave him and harassed him like an
+unhealthy passion.  He continued to read the poets, the prose writers,
+the historians, to interpret them and penetrate their meaning, to comment
+on them with a perseverance bordering on madness.
+
+One day, the idea came into his head to oblige all the students in his
+class to answer him in Latin only; and he persisted in this resolution
+until at last they were capable of sustaining an entire conversation with
+him just as they would in their mother tongue.  He listened to them, as a
+leader of an orchestra listens to his musicians rehearsing, and striking
+his desk every moment with his ruler, he exclaimed:
+
+"Monsieur Lefrere, Monsieur Lefrere, you are committing a solecism!  You
+forget the rule.
+
+"Monsieur Plantel, your way of expressing yourself is altogether French
+and in no way Latin.  You must understand the genius of a language.  Look
+here, listen to me."
+
+Now, it came to pass that the pupils of the Institution Robineau carried
+off, at the end of the year, all the prizes for composition, translation,
+and Latin conversation.
+
+Next year, the principal, a little man, as cunning as an ape, whom he
+resembled in his grinning and grotesque appearance, had had printed on
+his programmes, on his advertisements, and painted on the door of his
+institution:
+
+"Latin Studies a Specialty.  Five first prizes carried off in the five
+classes of the lycee.
+
+"Two honor prizes at the general examinations in competition with all the
+lycees and colleges of France."
+
+For ten years the Institution Robineau triumphed in the same fashion.
+Now my father, allured by these successes, sent me as a day pupil to
+Robineau's--or, as we called it, Robinetto or Robinettino's--and made me
+take special private lessons from Pere Piquedent at the rate of five
+francs per hour, out of which the usher got two francs and the principal
+three francs.  I was then eighteen, and was in the philosophy class.
+
+These private lessons were given in a little room looking out on the
+street.  It so happened that Pere Piquedent, instead of talking Latin to
+me, as he did when teaching publicly in the institution, kept telling me
+his troubles in French.  Without relations, without friends, the poor man
+conceived an attachment to me, and poured out his misery to me.
+
+He had never for the last ten or fifteen years chatted confidentially
+with any one.
+
+"I am like an oak in a desert," he said--"'sicut quercus in solitudine'."
+
+The other ushers disgusted him.  He knew nobody in the town, since he had
+no time to devote to making acquaintances.
+
+"Not even the nights, my friend, and that is the hardest thing on me.
+The dream of my life is to have a room with my own furniture, my own
+books, little things that belong to myself and which others may not
+touch.  And I have nothing of my own, nothing except my trousers and my
+frock-coat, nothing, not even my mattress and my pillow!  I have not four
+walls to shut myself up in, except when I come to give a lesson in this
+room.  Do you see what this means--a man forced to spend his life without
+ever having the right, without ever finding the time, to shut himself up
+all alone, no matter where, to think, to reflect, to work, to dream?  Ah!
+my dear boy, a key, the key of a door which one can lock--this is
+happiness, mark you, the only happiness!
+
+"Here, all day long, teaching all those restless rogues, and during the
+night the dormitory with the same restless rogues snoring.  And I have to
+sleep in the bed at the end of two rows of beds occupied by these
+youngsters whom I must look after.  I can never be alone, never!  If I go
+out I find the streets full of people, and, when I am tired of walking,
+I go into some cafe crowded with smokers and billiard players.  I tell
+you what, it is the life of a galley slave."
+
+I said:
+
+"Why did you not take up some other line, Monsieur Piquedent?"
+
+He exclaimed:
+
+"What, my little friend?  I am not a shoemaker, or a joiner, or a hatter,
+or a baker, or a hairdresser.  I only know Latin, and I have no diploma
+which would enable me to sell my knowledge at a high price.  If I were a
+doctor I would sell for a hundred francs what I now sell for a hundred
+sous; and I would supply it probably of an inferior quality, for my title
+would be enough to sustain my reputation."
+
+Sometimes he would say to me:
+
+"I have no rest in life except in the hours spent with you.  Don't be
+afraid!  you'll lose nothing by that.  I'll make it up to you in the
+class-room by making you speak twice as much Latin as the others."
+
+One day, I grew bolder, and offered him a cigarette.  He stared at me in
+astonishment at first, then he gave a glance toward the door.
+
+"If any one were to come in, my dear boy?"
+
+"Well, let us smoke at the window," said I.
+
+And we went and leaned our elbows on the windowsill looking on the
+street, holding concealed in our hands the little rolls pf tobacco.
+Just opposite to us was a laundry.  Four women in loose white waists were
+passing hot, heavy irons over the linen spread out before them, from
+which a warm steam arose.
+
+Suddenly, another, a fifth, carrying on her arm a large basket which made
+her stoop, came out to take the customers their shirts, their
+handkerchiefs, and their sheets.  She stopped on the threshold as if she
+were already fatigued; then, she raised her eyes, smiled as she saw us
+smoking, flung at us, with her left hand, which was free, the sly kiss
+characteristic of a free-and-easy working-woman, and went away at a slow
+place, dragging her feet as she went.
+
+She was a woman of about twenty, small, rather thin, pale, rather pretty,
+with a roguish air and laughing eyes beneath her ill-combed fair hair.
+
+Pere Piquedent, affected, began murmuring:
+
+"What an occupation for a woman!  Really a trade only fit for a horse."
+
+And he spoke with emotion about the misery of the people.  He had a heart
+which swelled with lofty democratic sentiment, and he referred to the
+fatiguing pursuits of the working class with phrases borrowed from Jean-
+Jacques Rousseau, and with sobs in his throat.
+
+Next day, as we were leaning our elbows on the same window sill, the same
+woman perceived us and cried out to us:
+
+"Good-day, scholars!" in a comical sort of tone, while she made a
+contemptuous gesture with her hands.
+
+I flung her a cigarette, which she immediately began to smoke.  And the
+four other ironers rushed out to the door with outstretched hands to get
+cigarettes also.
+
+And each day a friendly intercourse was established between the working-
+women of the pavement and the idlers of the boarding school.
+
+Pere Piquedent was really a comical sight.  He trembled at being noticed,
+for he might lose his position; and he made timid and ridiculous
+gestures, quite a theatrical display of love signals, to which the women
+responded with a regular fusillade of kisses.
+
+A perfidious idea came into my mind.  One day, on entering our room, I
+said to the old usher in a low tone:
+
+"You would not believe it, Monsieur Piquedent, I met the little
+washerwoman!  You know the one I mean, the woman who had the basket, and
+I spoke to her!"
+
+He asked, rather worried at my manner:
+
+"What did she say to you?"
+
+"She said to me--why, she said she thought you were very nice.  The fact
+of the matter is, I believe, I believe, that she is a little in love with
+you."  I saw that he was growing pale.
+
+"She is laughing at me, of course.  These things don't happen at my age,"
+he replied.
+
+I said gravely:
+
+"How is that?  You are all right."
+
+As I felt that my trick had produced its effect on him, I did not press
+the matter.
+
+But every day I pretended that I had met the little laundress and that I
+had spoken to her about him, so that in the end he believed me, and sent
+her ardent and earnest kisses.
+
+Now it happened that one morning, on my way to the boarding school, I
+really came across her.  I accosted her without hesitation, as if I had
+known her for the last ten years.
+
+"Good-day, mademoiselle.  Are you quite well?"
+
+"Very well, monsieur, thank you."
+
+"Will you have a cigarette?"
+
+"Oh!  not in the street."
+
+"You can smoke it at home."
+
+"In that case, I will."
+
+"Let me tell you, mademoiselle, there's something you don't know."
+
+"What is that, monsieur?"
+
+"The old gentleman--my old professor, I mean--"
+
+"Pere Piquedent?"
+
+"Yes, Pere Piquedent.  So you know his name?"
+
+"Faith, I do!  What of that?"
+
+"Well, he is in love with you!"
+
+She burst out laughing wildly, and exclaimed:
+
+"You are only fooling."
+
+"Oh!  no, I am not fooling!  He keeps talking of you all through the
+lesson.  I bet that he'll marry you!
+
+She ceased laughing.  The idea of marriage makes every girl serious.
+Then she repeated, with an incredulous air:
+
+"This is humbug!"
+
+"I swear to you, it's true."
+
+She picked up her basket which she had laid down at her feet.
+
+"Well, we'll see," she said.  And she went away.
+
+Presently when I had reached the boarding school, I took Pere Piquedent
+aside, and said:
+
+"You must write to her; she is infatuated with you."
+
+And he wrote a long letter, tenderly affectionate, full of phrases and
+circumlocutions, metaphors and similes, philosophy and academic
+gallantry; and I took on myself the responsibility of delivering it to
+the young woman.
+
+She read it with gravity, with emotion; then she murmured:
+
+"How well he writes!  It is easy to see he has got education!  Does he
+really mean to marry me?"
+
+I replied intrepidly: "Faith, he has lost his head about you!"
+
+"Then he must invite me to dinner on Sunday at the Ile des Fleurs."
+
+I promised that she should be invited.
+
+Pere Piquedent was much touched by everything I told him about her.
+
+I added:
+
+"She loves you, Monsieur Piquedent, and I believe her to be a decent
+girl.  It is not right to lead her on and then abandon her."
+
+He replied in a firm tone:
+
+"I hope I, too, am a decent man, my friend."
+
+I confess I had at the time no plan.  I was playing a practical joke a
+schoolboy joke, nothing more.  I had been aware of the simplicity of the
+old usher, his innocence and his weakness.  I amused myself without
+asking myself how it would turn out.  I was eighteen, and I had been for
+a long time looked upon at the lycee as a sly practical joker.
+
+So it was agreed that Pere Piquedent and I should set out in a hack for
+the ferry of Queue de Vache, that we should there pick up Angele, and
+that I should take them into my boat, for in those days I was fond of
+boating.  I would then bring them to the Ile des Fleurs, where the three
+of us would dine.  I had inflicted myself on them, the better to enjoy my
+triumph, and the usher, consenting to my arrangement, proved clearly that
+he was losing his head by thus risking the loss of his position.
+
+When we arrived at the ferry, where my boat had been moored since
+morning, I saw in the grass, or rather above the tall weeds of the bank,
+an enormous red parasol, resembling a monstrous wild poppy.  Beneath the
+parasol was the little laundress in her Sunday clothes.  I was surprised.
+She was really pretty, though pale; and graceful, though with a rather
+suburban grace.
+
+Pere Piquedent raised his hat and bowed.  She put out her hand toward
+him, and they stared at one another without uttering a word.  Then they
+stepped into my boat, and I took the oars.  They were seated side by side
+near the stern.
+
+The usher was the first to speak.
+
+"This is nice weather for a row in a boat."
+
+She murmured:
+
+"Oh!  yes."
+
+She dipped her hand into the water, skimming the surface, making a thin,
+transparent film like a sheet of glass, which made a soft plashing along
+the side of the boat.
+
+When they were in the restaurant, she took it on herself to speak, and
+ordered dinner, fried fish, a chicken, and salad; then she led us on
+toward the isle, which she knew perfectly.
+
+After this, she was gay, romping, and even rather tantalizing.
+
+Until dessert, no question of love arose.  I had treated them to
+champagne, and Pere Piquedent was tipsy.  Herself slightly the worse, she
+called out to him:
+
+"Monsieur Piquenez."
+
+He said abruptly:
+
+"Mademoiselle, Monsieur Raoul has communicated my sentiments to you."
+
+She became as serious as a judge.
+
+"Yes, monsieur."
+
+"What is your reply?"
+
+"We never reply to these questions!"
+
+He puffed with emotion, and went on:
+
+"Well, will the day ever come that you will like me?"
+
+She smiled.
+
+"You big stupid!  You are very nice."
+
+"In short, mademoiselle, do you think that, later on, we might--"
+
+She hesitated a second; then in a trembling voice she said:
+
+"Do you mean to marry me when you say that?  For on no other condition,
+you know."
+
+"Yes, mademoiselle!"
+
+"Well, that's all right, Monsieur Piquedent!"
+
+It was thus that these two silly creatures promised marriage to each
+other through the trick of a young scamp.  But I did not believe that it
+was serious, nor, indeed, did they, perhaps.
+
+"You know, I have nothing, not four sous,," she said.
+
+He stammered, for he was as drunk as Silenus:
+
+"I have saved five thousand francs."
+
+She exclaimed triumphantly:
+
+"Then we can set up in business?"
+
+He became restless.
+
+"In what business?"
+
+"What do I know?  We shall see.  With five thousand francs we could do
+many things.  You don't want me to go and live in your boarding school,
+do you?"
+
+He had not looked forward so far as this, and he stammered in great
+perplexity:
+
+"What business could we set up in?  That would not do, for all I know is
+Latin!"
+
+She reflected in her turn, passing in review all her business ambitions.
+
+"You could not be a doctor?"
+
+"No, I have no diploma."
+
+"Or a chemist?"
+
+"No more than the other."
+
+She uttered a cry of joy.  She had discovered it.
+
+"Then we'll buy a grocer's shop!  Oh!  what luck!  we'll buy a grocer's
+shop.  Not on a big scale, of course; with five thousand francs one does
+not go far."
+
+He was shocked at the suggestion.
+
+"No, I can't be a grocer.  I am--I am--too well known: I only know Latin,
+that is all I know."
+
+But she poured a glass of champagne down his throat.  He drank it and was
+silent.
+
+We got back into the boat.  The night was dark, very dark.  I saw
+clearly, however, that he had caught her by the waist, and that they were
+hugging each other again and again.
+
+It was a frightful catastrophe.  Our escapade was discovered, with the
+result that Pere Piquedent was dismissed.  And my father, in a fit of
+anger, sent me to finish my course of philosophy at Ribaudet's school.
+
+Six months later I took my degree of Bachelor of Arts.  Then I went to
+study law in Paris, and did not return to my native town till two years
+later.
+
+At the corner of the Rue de Serpent a shop caught my eye.  Over the door
+were the words: "Colonial Products--Piquedent" ; then underneath, so as
+to enlighten the most ignorant: "Grocery."
+
+I exclaimed:
+
+"'Quantum mutatus ab illo!'"
+
+Piquedent raised his head, left his female customer, and rushed toward me
+with outstretched hands.
+
+"Ah!  my young friend, my young friend, here you are!  What luck!  what
+luck!"
+
+A beautiful woman, very plump, abruptly left the cashier's desk and flung
+herself on my breast.  I had some difficulty in recognizing her, she had
+grown so stout.
+
+I asked:
+
+"So then you're doing well?"
+
+Piquedent had gone back to weigh the groceries.
+
+"Oh!  very well, very well, very well.  I have made three thousand francs
+clear this year!"
+
+"And what about Latin, Monsieur Piquedent?"
+
+"Oh, good heavens!  Latin, Latin, Latin--you see it does not keep the pot
+boiling!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A MEETING
+
+It was nothing but an accident, an accident pure and simple.  On that
+particular evening the princess' rooms were open, and as they appeared
+dark after the brilliantly lighted parlors, Baron d'Etraille, who was
+tired of standing, inadvertently wandered into an empty bedroom.
+
+He looked round for a chair in which to have a doze, as he was sure his
+wife would not leave before daylight.  As soon as he became accustomed to
+the light of the room he distinguished the big bed with its azure-and-
+gold hangings, in the middle of the great room, looking like a catafalque
+in which love was buried, for the princess was no longer young.  Behind
+it, a large bright surface looked like a lake seen at a distance.  It was
+a large mirror, discreetly covered with dark drapery, that was very
+rarely let down, and seemed to look at the bed, which was its accomplice.
+One might almost fancy that it had reminiscences, and that one might see
+in it charming female forms and the gentle movement of loving arms.
+
+The baron stood still for a moment, smiling, almost experiencing an
+emotion on the threshold of this chamber dedicated to love.  But suddenly
+something appeared in the looking-glass, as if the phantoms which he had
+evoked had risen up before him.  A man and a woman who had been sitting
+on a low couch concealed in the shadow had arisen, and the polished
+surface, reflecting their figures, showed that they were kissing each
+other before separating.
+
+Baron d'Etraille recognized his wife and the Marquis de Cervigne.  He
+turned and went away like a man who is fully master of himself, and
+waited till it was day before taking away the baroness; but he had no
+longer any thoughts of sleeping.
+
+As soon as they were alone he said:
+
+"Madame, I saw you just now in Princesse de Raynes' room; I need say no
+more, and I am not fond either of reproaches, acts of violence, or of
+ridicule.  As I wish to avoid all such things, we shall separate without
+any scandal.  Our lawyers will settle your position according to my
+orders.  You will be free to live as you please when you are no longer
+under my roof; but, as you will continue to bear my name, I must warn you
+that should any scandal arise I shall show myself inflexible."
+
+She tried to speak, but he stopped her, bowed, and left the room.
+
+He was more astonished and sad than unhappy.  He had loved her dearly
+during the first period of their married life; but his ardor had cooled,
+and now he often amused himself elsewhere, either in a theatre or in
+society, though he always preserved a certain liking for the baroness.
+
+She was very young, hardly four-and-twenty, small, slight--too slight--
+and very fair.  She was a true Parisian doll: clever, spoiled, elegant,
+coquettish, witty, with more charm than real beauty.  He used to say
+familiarly to his brother, when speaking of her:
+
+"My wife is charming, attractive, but--there is nothing to lay hold of.
+She is like a glass of champagne that is all froth; when you get to the
+wine it is very good, but there is too little of it, unfortunately."
+
+He walked up and down the room in great agitation, thinking of a thousand
+things.  At one moment he was furious, and felt inclined to give the
+marquis a good thrashing, or to slap his face publicly, in the club.
+But he decided that would not do, it would not be good form; he would be
+laughed at, and not his rival, and this thought wounded his vanity.
+So he went to bed, but could not sleep.  Paris knew in a few days that
+the Baron and Baroness d'Etraille had agreed to an amicable separation on
+account of incompatibility of temper.  No one suspected anything, no one
+laughed, and no one was astonished.
+
+The baron, however, to avoid meeting his wife, travelled for a year, then
+spent the summer at the seaside, and the autumn in shooting, returning to
+Paris for the winter.  He did not meet the baroness once.
+
+He did not even know what people said about her.  In any case, she took
+care to respect appearances, and that was all he asked for.
+
+He became dreadfully bored, travelled again, restored his old castle of
+Villebosc, which took him two years; then for over a year he entertained
+friends there, till at last, tired of all these so-called pleasures, he
+returned to his mansion in the Rue de Lille, just six years after the
+separation.
+
+He was now forty-five, with a good crop of gray hair, rather stout, and
+with that melancholy look characteristic of those who have been handsome,
+sought after, and liked, but who are deteriorating, daily.
+
+A month after his return to Paris, he took cold on coming out of his
+club, and had such a bad cough that his medical man ordered him to Nice
+for the rest of the winter.
+
+He reached the station only a few minutes before the departure of the
+train on Monday evening, and had barely time to get into a carriage, with
+only one other occupant, who was sitting in a corner so wrapped in furs
+and cloaks that he could not even make out whether it was a man or a
+woman, as nothing of the figure could be seen.  When he perceived that he
+could not find out, he put on his travelling cap, rolled himself up in
+his rugs, and stretched out comfortably to sleep.
+
+He did not wake until the day was breaking, and looked at once at his
+fellow-traveller, who had not stirred all night, and seemed still to be
+sound asleep.
+
+M. d'Etraille made use of the opportunity to brush his hair and his
+beard, and to try to freshen himself up a little generally, for a night's
+travel does not improve one's appearance when one has attained a certain
+age.
+
+A great poet has said:
+
+"When we are young, our mornings are triumphant!"
+
+Then we wake up with a cool skin, a bright eye, and glossy hair.
+
+As one grows older one wakes up in a very different condition.  Dull
+eyes, red, swollen cheeks, dry lips, hair and beard disarranged, impart
+an old, fatigued, worn-out look to the face.
+
+The baron opened his travelling case, and improved his looks as much as
+possible.
+
+The engine whistled, the train stopped, and his neighbor moved.  No doubt
+he was awake.  They started off again, and then a slanting ray of
+sunlight shone into the carriage and on the sleeper, who moved again,
+shook himself, and then his face could be seen.
+
+It was a young, fair, pretty, plump woman, and the baron looked at her in
+amazement.  He did not know what to think.  He could really have sworn
+that it was his wife, but wonderfully changed for the better: stouter--
+why she had grown as stout as he was, only it suited her much better than
+it did him.
+
+She looked at him calmly, did not seem to recognize him, and then slowly
+laid aside her wraps.  She had that quiet assurance of a woman who is
+sure of herself, who feels that on awaking she is in her full beauty and
+freshness.
+
+The baron was really bewildered.  Was it his wife, or else as like her as
+any sister could be?  Not having seen her for six years, he might be
+mistaken.
+
+She yawned, and this gesture betrayed her.  She turned and looked at him
+again, calmly, indifferently, as if she scarcely saw him, and then looked
+out of the window again.
+
+He was upset and dreadfully perplexed, and kept looking at her sideways.
+
+Yes; it was surely his wife.  How could he possibly have doubted it?
+There could certainly not be two noses like that, and a thousand
+recollections flashed through his mind.  He felt the old feeling of the
+intoxication of love stealing over him, and he called to mind the sweet
+odor of her skin, her smile when she put her arms on to his shoulders,
+the soft intonations of her voice, all her graceful, coaxing ways.
+
+But how she had changed and improved!  It was she and yet not she.  She
+seemed riper, more developed, more of a woman, more seductive, more
+desirable, adorably desirable.
+
+And this strange, unknown woman, whom he had accidentally met in a
+railway carriage, belonged to him; he had only to say to her:
+
+"I insist upon it."
+
+He had formerly slept in her arms, existed only in her love, and now he
+had found her again certainly, but so changed that he scarcely knew her.
+It was another, and yet it was she herself.  It was some one who had been
+born and had formed and grown since he had left her.  It was she, indeed;
+she whom he had loved, but who was now altered, with a more assured smile
+and greater self-possession.  There were two women in one, mingling a
+great part of what was new and unknown with many sweet recollections of
+the past.  There was something singular, disturbing, exciting about it
+--a kind of mystery of love in which there floated a delicious confusion.
+It was his wife in a new body and in new flesh which lips had never
+pressed.
+
+And he thought that in a few years nearly every thing changes in us; only
+the outline can be recognized, and sometimes even that disappears.
+
+The blood, the hair, the skin, all changes and is renewed, and when
+people have not seen each other for a long time, when they meet they find
+each other totally different beings, although they are the same and bear
+the same name.
+
+And the heart also can change.  Ideas may be modified and renewed, so
+that in forty years of life we may, by gradual and constant
+transformations, become four or five totally new and different beings.
+
+He dwelt on this thought till it troubled him; it had first taken
+possession of him when he surprised her in the princess' room.  He was
+not the least angry; it was not the same woman that he was looking at--
+that thin, excitable little doll of those days.
+
+What was he to do?  How should he address her? and what could he say to
+her?  Had she recognized him?
+
+The train stopped again.  He got up, bowed, and ,said: "Bertha, do you
+want anything I could bring you?"
+
+She looked at him from head to foot, and answered, without showing the
+slightest surprise, or confusion, or anger, but with the most perfect
+indifference:
+
+"I do not want anything---thank you."
+
+He got out and walked up and down the platform a little in order to
+recover himself, and, as it were, to recover his senses after a fall.
+What should he do now?  If he got into another carriage it would look as
+if he were running away.  Should he be polite or importunate?  That would
+look as if he were asking for forgiveness.  Should he speak as if he were
+her master?  He would look like a fool, and, besides, he really had no
+right to do so.
+
+He got in again and took his place.
+
+During his absence she had hastily arranged her dress and hair, and was
+now lying stretched out on the seat, radiant, and without showing any
+emotion.
+
+He turned to her, and said: "My dear Bertha, since this singular chance
+has brought up together after a separation of six years--a quite friendly
+separation--are we to continue to look upon each other as irreconcilable
+enemies?  We are shut up together, tete-d-tete, which is so much the
+better or so much the worse.  I am not going to get into another
+carriage, so don't you think it is preferable to talk as friends till the
+end of our journey?"
+
+She answered, quite calmly again:
+
+"Just as you please."
+
+Then he suddenly stopped, really not knowing what to say; but as he had
+plenty of assurance, he sat down on the middle seat, and said:
+
+"Well, I see I must pay my court to you; so much the better.  It is,
+however, really a pleasure, for you are charming.  You cannot imagine how
+you have improved in the last six years.  I do not know any woman who
+could give me that delightful sensation which I experienced just now when
+you emerged from your wraps.  I really could not have thought such a
+change possible."
+
+Without moving her head or looking at him, she said: "I cannot say the
+same with regard to you; you have certainly deteriorated a great deal."
+
+He got red and confused, and then, with a smile of resignation, he said:
+
+"You are rather hard."
+
+"Why?" was her reply.  "I am only stating facts.  I don't suppose you
+intend to offer me your love?  It must, therefore, be a matter of perfect
+indifference to you what I think about you.  But I see it is a painful
+subject, so let us talk of something else.  What have you been doing
+since I last saw you?"
+
+He felt rather out of countenance, and stammered:
+
+"I?  I have travelled, done some shooting, and grown old, as you see.
+And you?"
+
+She said, quite calmly: "I have taken care of appearances, as you ordered
+me."
+
+He was very nearly saying something brutal, but he checked himself; and
+kissed his wife's hand:
+
+"And I thank you," he said.
+
+She was surprised.  He was indeed diplomatic, and always master of
+himself.
+
+He went on: "As you have acceded to my first request, shall we now talk
+without any bitterness?"
+
+She made a little movement of surprise.
+
+"Bitterness?  I don't feel any; you are a complete stranger to me; I am
+only trying to keep up a difficult conversation."
+
+He was still looking at her, fascinated in spite of her harshness, and he
+felt seized with a brutal Beside, the desire of the master.
+
+Perceiving that she had hurt his feelings, she said:
+
+"How old are you now?  I thought you were younger than you look."
+
+"I am forty-five"; and then he added: "I forgot to ask after Princesse de
+Raynes.  Are you still intimate with her?"
+
+She looked at him as if she hated him:
+
+"Yes, I certainly am.  She is very well, thank you."
+
+They remained sitting side by side, agitated and irritated.  Suddenly he
+said:
+
+"My dear Bertha, I have changed my mind.  You are my wife, and I expect
+you to come with me to-day.  You have, I think, improved both morally and
+physically, and I am going to take you back again.  I am your husband,
+and it is my right to do so."
+
+She was stupefied, and looked at him, trying to divine his thoughts; but
+his face was resolute and impenetrable.
+
+"I am very sorry," she said, "but I have made other engagements."
+
+"So much the worse for you," was his reply.  "The law gives me the power,
+and I mean to use it."
+
+They were nearing Marseilles, and the train whistled and slackened speed.
+The baroness rose, carefully rolled up her wraps, and then, turning to
+her husband, said:
+
+"My dear Raymond, do not make a bad use of this tete-a tete which I had
+carefully prepared.  I wished to take precautions, according to your
+advice, so that I might have nothing to fear from you or from other
+people, whatever might happen.  You are going to Nice, are you not?"
+
+"I shall go wherever you go."
+
+"Not at all; just listen to me, and I am sure that you will leave me in
+peace.  In a few moments, when we get to the station, you will see the
+Princesse de Raynes and Comtesse Henriot waiting for me with their
+husbands.  I wished them to see as, and to know that we had spent the
+night together in the railway carriage.  Don't be alarmed; they will tell
+it everywhere as a most surprising fact.
+
+"I told you just now that I had most carefully followed your advice and
+saved appearances.  Anything else does not matter, does it?  Well, in
+order to do so, I wished to be seen with you.  You told me carefully to
+avoid any scandal, and I am avoiding it, for, I am afraid--I am afraid--"
+
+She waited till the train had quite stopped, and as her friends ran up to
+open the carriage door, she said:
+
+"I am afraid"--hesitating--"that there is another reason--je suis
+enceinte."
+
+The princess stretched out her arms to embrace her,--and the baroness
+said, painting to the baron, who was dumb with astonishment, and was
+trying to get at the truth:
+
+"You do not recognize Raymond?  He has certainly changed a good deal, and
+he agreed to come with me so that I might not travel alone.  We take
+little trips like this occasionally, like good friends who cannot live
+together.  We are going to separate here; he has had enough of me
+already."
+
+She put out her hand, which he took mechanically, and then she jumped out
+on to the platform among her friends, who were waiting for her.
+
+The baron hastily shut the carriage door, for he was too much disturbed
+to say a word or come to any determination.  He heard his wife's voice
+and their merry laughter as they went away.
+
+He never saw her again, nor did he ever discover whether she had told him
+a lie or was speaking the truth.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE BLIND MAN
+
+How is it that the sunlight gives us such joy?  Why does this radiance
+when it falls on the earth fill us with the joy of living?  The whole sky
+is blue, the fields are green, the houses all white, and our enchanted
+eyes drink in those bright colors which bring delight to our souls.  And
+then there springs up in our hearts a desire to dance, to run, to sing,
+a happy lightness of thought, a sort of enlarged tenderness; we feel a
+longing to embrace the sun.
+
+The blind, as they sit in the doorways, impassive in their eternal
+darkness, remain as calm as ever in the midst of this fresh gaiety, and,
+not understanding what is taking place around them, they continually
+check their dogs as they attempt to play.
+
+When, at the close of the day, they are returning home on the arm of a
+young brother or a little sister, if the child says: "It was a very fine
+day!" the other answers: "I could notice that it was fine.  Loulou
+wouldn't keep quiet."
+
+I knew one of these men whose life was one of the most cruel martyrdoms
+that could possibly be conceived.
+
+He was a peasant, the son of a Norman farmer.  As long as his father and
+mother lived, he was more or less taken care of; he suffered little save
+from his horrible infirmity; but as soon as the old people were gone, an
+atrocious life of misery commenced for him.  Dependent on a sister of
+his, everybody in the farmhouse treated him as a beggar who is eating the
+bread of strangers.  At every meal the very food he swallowed was made a
+subject of reproach against him; he was called a drone, a clown, and
+although his brother-in-law had taken possession of his portion of the
+inheritance, he was helped grudgingly to soup, getting just enough to
+save him from starving.
+
+His face was very pale and his two big white eyes looked like wafers.
+He remained unmoved at all the insults hurled at him, so reserved that
+one could not tell whether he felt them.
+
+Moreover, he had never known any tenderness, his mother having always
+treated him unkindly and caring very little for him; for in country
+places useless persons are considered a nuisance, and the peasants would
+be glad to kill the infirm of their species, as poultry do.
+
+As soon as he finished his soup he went and sat outside the door in
+summer and in winter beside the fireside, and did not stir again all the
+evening.  He made no gesture, no movement; only his eyelids, quivering
+from some nervous affection, fell down sometimes over his white,
+sightless orbs.  Had he any intellect, any thinking faculty, any
+consciousness of his own existence?  Nobody cared to inquire.
+
+For some years things went on in this fashion.  But his incapacity for
+work as well as his impassiveness eventually exasperated his relatives,
+and he became a laughingstock, a sort of butt for merriment, a prey to
+the inborn ferocity, to the savage gaiety of the brutes who surrounded
+him.
+
+It is easy to imagine all the cruel practical jokes inspired by his
+blindness.  And, in order to have some fun in return for feeding him,
+they now converted his meals into hours of pleasure for the neighbors and
+of punishment for the helpless creature himself.
+
+The peasants from the nearest houses came to this entertainment; it was
+talked about from door to door, and every day the kitchen of the
+farmhouse was full of people.  Sometimes they placed before his plate,
+when he was beginning to eat his soup, some cat or dog.  The animal
+instinctively perceived the man's infirmity, and, softly approaching,
+commenced eating noiselessly, lapping up the soup daintily; and, when
+they lapped the food rather noisily, rousing the poor fellow's attention,
+they would prudently scamper away to avoid the blow of the spoon directed
+at random by the blind man!
+
+Then the spectators ranged along the wall would burst out laughing, nudge
+each other and stamp their feet on the floor.  And he, without ever
+uttering a word, would continue eating with his right hand, while
+stretching out his left to protect his plate.
+
+Another time they made him chew corks, bits of wood, leaves or even
+filth, which he was unable to distinguish.
+
+After this they got tired even of these practical jokes, and the brother-
+in-law, angry at having to support him always, struck him, cuffed him
+incessantly, laughing at his futile efforts to ward off or return the
+blows.  Then came a new pleasure--the pleasure of smacking his face.  And
+the plough-men, the servant girls and even every passing vagabond were
+every moment giving him cuffs, which caused his eyelashes to twitch
+spasmodically.  He did not know where to hide himself and remained with
+his arms always held out to guard against people coming too close to him.
+
+At last he was forced to beg.
+
+He was placed somewhere on the high-road on market-days, and as soon as
+he heard the sound of footsteps or the rolling of a vehicle, he reached
+out his hat, stammering:
+
+"Charity, if you please!"
+
+But the peasant is not lavish, and for whole weeks he did not bring back
+a sou.
+
+Then he became the victim of furious, pitiless hatred.  And this is how
+he died.
+
+One winter the ground was covered with snow, and it was freezing hard.
+His brother-in-law led him one morning a great distance along the high
+road in order that he might solicit alms.  The blind man was left there
+all day; and when night came on, the brother-in-law told the people of
+his house that he could find no trace of the mendicant.  Then he added:
+
+"Pooh! best not bother about him!  He was cold and got someone to take
+him away.  Never fear! he's not lost.  He'll turn up soon enough tomorrow
+to eat the soup."
+
+Next day he did not come back.
+
+After long hours of waiting, stiffened with the cold, feeling that he was
+dying, the blind man began to walk.  Being unable to find his way along
+the road, owing to its thick coating of ice, he went on at random,
+falling into ditches, getting up again, without uttering a sound, his
+sole object being to find some house where he could take shelter.
+
+But, by degrees, the descending snow made a numbness steal over him, and
+his feeble limbs being incapable of carrying him farther, he sat down in
+the middle of an open field.  He did not get up again.
+
+The white flakes which fell continuously buried him, so that his body,
+quite stiff and stark, disappeared under the incessant accumulation of
+their rapidly thickening mass, and nothing was left to indicate the place
+where he lay.
+
+His relatives made a pretence of inquiring about him and searching for
+him for about a week.  They even made a show of weeping.
+
+The winter was severe, and the thaw did not set in quickly.  Now, one
+Sunday, on their way to mass, the farmers noticed a great flight of
+crows, who were whirling incessantly above the open field, and then
+descending like a shower of black rain at the same spot, ever going and
+coming.
+
+The following week these gloomy birds were still there.  There was a
+crowd of them up in the air, as if they had gathered from all corners of
+the horizon, and they swooped down with a great cawing into the shining
+snow, which they covered like black patches, and in which they kept
+pecking obstinately.  A young fellow went to see what they were doing and
+discovered the body of the blind man, already half devoured, mangled.
+His wan eyes had disappeared, pecked out by the long, voracious beaks.
+
+And I can never feel the glad radiance of sunlit days without sadly
+remembering and pondering over the fate of the beggar who was such an
+outcast in life- that his horrible death was a relief to all who had
+known him.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+INDISCRETION
+
+They had loved each other before marriage with a pure and lofty love.
+They had first met on the sea-shore.  He had thought this young girl
+charming, as she passed by with her light-colored parasol and her dainty
+dress amid the marine landscape against the horizon.  He had loved her,
+blond and slender, in these surroundings of blue ocean and spacious sky.
+He could not distinguish the tenderness which this budding woman awoke in
+him from the vague and powerful emotion which the fresh salt air and the
+grand scenery of surf and sunshine and waves aroused in his soul.
+
+She, on the other hand, had loved him because he courted her, because he
+was young, rich, kind, and attentive.  She had loved him because it is
+natural for young girls to love men who whisper sweet nothings to them.
+
+So, for three months, they had lived side by side, and hand in hand.
+The greeting which they exchanged in the morning before the bath, in the
+freshness of the morning, or in the evening on the sand, under the stars,
+in the warmth of a calm night, whispered low, very low, already had the
+flavor of kisses, though their lips had never met.
+
+Each dreamed of the other at night, each thought of the other on awaking,
+and, without yet having voiced their sentiments, each longer for the
+other, body and soul.
+
+After marriage their love descended to earth.  It was at first a
+tireless, sensuous passion, then exalted tenderness composed of tangible
+poetry, more refined caresses, and new and foolish inventions.  Every
+glance and gesture was an expression of passion.
+
+But, little by little, without even noticing it, they began to get tired
+of each other.  Love was still strong, but they had nothing more to
+reveal to each other, nothing more to learn from each other, no new tale
+of endearment, no unexpected outburst, no new way of expressing the well-
+known, oft-repeated verb.
+
+They tried, however, to rekindle the dwindling flame of the first love.
+Every day they tried some new trick or desperate attempt to bring back to
+their hearts the uncooled ardor of their first days of married life.
+They tried moonlight walks under the trees, in the sweet warmth of the
+summer evenings: the poetry of mist-covered beaches; the excitement of
+public festivals.
+
+One morning Henriette said to Paul:
+
+"Will you take me to a cafe for dinner?"
+
+"Certainly, dearie."
+
+"To some well-known cafe?"
+
+"Of course!"
+
+He looked at her with a questioning glance, seeing that she was thinking
+of something which she did not wish to tell.
+
+She went on:
+
+"You know, one of those cafes--oh, how can I explain myself?--a sporty
+cafe!"
+
+He smiled: "Of course, I understand--you mean in one of the cafes which
+are commonly called bohemian."
+
+"Yes, that's it.  But take me to one of the big places, one where you are
+known, one where you have already supped--no--dined--well, you know--I---
+-I--oh!  I will never dare say it!"
+
+"Go ahead, dearie.  Little secrets should no longer exist between us."
+
+"No, I dare not."
+
+"Go on; don't be prudish.  Tell me."
+
+"Well, I--I--I want to be taken for your sweetheart--there!  and I want
+the boys, who do not know that you are married, to take me for such; and
+you too--I want you to think that I am your sweetheart for one hour, in
+that place which must hold so many memories for you.  There!  And I will
+play that I am your sweetheart.  It's awful, I know--I am abominably
+ashamed, I am as red as a peony.  Don't look at me!"
+
+He laughed, greatly amused, and answered:
+
+"All right, we will go to-night to a very swell place where I am well
+known."
+
+Toward seven o'clock they went up the stairs of one of the big cafes on
+the Boulevard, he, smiling, with the look of a conqueror, she, timid,
+veiled, delighted.  They were immediately shown to one of the luxurious
+private dining-rooms, furnished with four large arm-chairs and a red
+plush couch.  The head waiter entered and brought them the menu.  Paul
+handed it to his wife.
+
+"What do you want to eat?"
+
+"I don't care; order whatever is good."
+
+After handing his coat to the waiter, he ordered dinner and champagne.
+The waiter looked at the young woman and smiled.  He took the order and
+murmured:
+
+"Will Monsieur Paul have his champagne sweet or dry?"
+
+"Dry, very dry."
+
+Henriette was pleased to hear that this man knew her husband's name.
+They sat on the couch, side by side, and began to eat.
+
+Ten candles lighted the room and were reflected in the mirrors all around
+them, which seemed to increase the brilliancy a thousand-fold.
+Henriette drank glass after glass in order to keep up her courage,
+although she felt dizzy after the first few glasses.  Paul, excited by
+the memories which returned to him, kept kissing his wife's hands.  His
+eyes were sparkling.
+
+She was feeling strangely excited in this new place, restless, pleased,
+a little guilty, but full of life.  Two waiters, serious, silent,
+accustomed to seeing and forgetting everything, to entering the room only
+when it was necessary and to leaving it when they felt they were
+intruding, were silently flitting hither and thither.
+
+Toward the middle of the dinner, Henriette was well under the influence
+of champagne.  She was prattling along fearlessly, her cheeks flushed,
+her eyes glistening.
+
+"Come, Paul; tell me everything."
+
+"What, sweetheart?"
+
+"I don't dare tell you."
+
+"Go on!"
+
+"Have you loved many women before me?"
+
+He hesitated, a little perplexed, not knowing whether he should hide his
+adventures or boast of them.
+
+She continued:
+
+"Oh!  please tell me.  How many have you loved?"
+
+"A few."
+
+"How many?"
+
+"I don't know.  How do you expect me to know such things?"
+
+"Haven't you counted them?"
+
+"Of course not."
+
+"Then you must have loved a good many!"
+
+"Perhaps."
+
+"About how many?  Just tell me about how many."
+
+"But I don't know, dearest.  Some years a good many, and some years only
+a few."
+
+"How many a year, did you say?"
+
+"Sometimes twenty or thirty, sometimes only four or five."
+
+"Oh! that makes more than a hundred in all!"
+
+"Yes, just about."
+
+"Oh! I think that is dreadful!"
+
+"Why dreadful?"
+
+"Because it's dreadful when you think of it--all those women--and always
+--always the same thing.  Oh!  it's dreadful, just the same--more than a
+hundred women!"
+
+He was surprised that she should think that dreadful, and answered, with
+the air of superiority which men take with women when they wish to make
+them understand that they have said something foolish:
+
+"That's funny!  If it is dreadful to have a hundred women, it's dreadful
+to have one."
+
+"Oh, no, not at all!"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because with one woman you have a real bond of love which attaches you
+to her, while with a hundred women it's not the same at all.  There is no
+real love.  I don't understand how a man can associate with such women."
+
+"But they are all right."
+
+"No, they can't be!"
+
+"Yes, they are!"
+
+"Oh, stop; you disgust me!"
+
+"But then, why did you ask me how many sweethearts I had had?"
+
+"Because----"
+
+"That's no reason!"
+
+"What were they-actresses, little shop-girls, or society women?"
+
+"A few of each."
+
+"It must have been rather monotonous toward the last."
+
+"Oh, no; it's amusing to change."
+
+She remained thoughtful, staring at her champagne glass.  It was full--
+she drank it in one gulp; then putting it back on the table, she threw
+her arms around her husband's neck and murmured in his ear:
+
+"Oh! how I love you, sweetheart! how I love you!"
+
+He threw his arms around her in a passionate embrace.  A waiter, who was
+just entering, backed out, closing the door discreetly.  In about five
+minutes the head waiter came back, solemn and dignified, bringing the
+fruit for dessert.  She was once more holding between her fingers a full
+glass, and gazing into the amber liquid as though seeking unknown things.
+She murmured in a dreamy voice:
+
+"Yes, it must be fun!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A FAMILY AFFAIR
+
+The small engine attached to the Neuilly steam-tram whistled as it passed
+the Porte Maillot to warn all obstacles to get out of its way and puffed
+like a person out of breath as it sent out its steam, its pistons moving
+rapidly with a noise as of iron legs running.  The train was going along
+the broad avenue that ends at the Seine.  The sultry heat at the close of
+a July day lay over the whole city, and from the road, although there was
+not a breath of wind stirring, there arose a white, chalky, suffocating,
+warm dust, which adhered to the moist skin, filled the eyes and got into
+the lungs.  People stood in the doorways of their houses to try and get a
+breath of air.
+
+The windows of the steam-tram were open and the curtains fluttered in the
+wind.  There were very few passengers inside, because on warm days people
+preferred the outside or the platforms.  They consisted of stout women in
+peculiar costumes, of those shopkeepers' wives from the suburbs, who made
+up for the distinguished looks which they did not possess by ill-assumed
+dignity; of men tired from office-work, with yellow faces, stooped
+shoulders, and with one shoulder higher than the other, in consequence
+of, their long hours of writing at a desk.  Their uneasy and melancholy
+faces also spoke of domestic troubles, of constant want of money,
+disappointed hopes, for they all belonged to the army of poor, threadbare
+devils who vegetate economically in cheap, plastered houses with a tiny
+piece of neglected garden on the outskirts of Paris, in the midst of
+those fields where night soil is deposited.
+
+A short, corpulent man, with a puffy face, dressed all in black and
+wearing a decoration in his buttonhole, was talking to a tall, thin man,
+dressed in a dirty, white linen suit, the coat all unbuttoned, with a
+white Panama hat on his head.  The former spoke so slowly and
+hesitatingly that it occasionally almost seemed as if he stammered; he
+was Monsieur Caravan, chief clerk in the Admiralty.  The other, who had
+formerly been surgeon on board a merchant ship, had set up in practice in
+Courbevoie, where he applied the vague remnants of medical knowledge
+which he had retained after an adventurous life, to the wretched
+population of that district.  His name was Chenet, and strange rumors
+were current as to his morality.
+
+Monsieur Caravan had always led the normal life of a man in a Government
+office.  For the last thirty years he had invariably gone the same way to
+his office every morning, and had met the same men going to business at
+the same time, and nearly on the same spot, and he returned home every
+evening by the same road, and again met the same faces which he had seen
+growing old.  Every morning, after buying his penny paper at the corner
+of the Faubourg Saint Honore, he bought two rolls, and then went to his
+office, like a culprit who is giving himself up to justice, and got to
+his desk as quickly as possible, always feeling uneasy; as though he were
+expecting a rebuke for some neglect of duty of which he might have been
+guilty.
+
+Nothing had ever occurred to change the monotonous order of his
+existence, for no event affected him except the work of his office,
+perquisites, gratuities, and promotion.  He never spoke of anything but
+of his duties, either at the office, or at home--he had married the
+portionless daughter of one of his colleagues.  His mind, which was in a
+state of atrophy from his depressing daily work, had no other thoughts,
+hopes or dreams than such as related to the office, and there was a
+constant source of bitterness that spoilt every pleasure that he might
+have had, and that was the employment of so many naval officials,
+tinsmiths, as they were called because of their silver-lace as first-
+class clerks; and every evening at dinner he discussed the matter hotly
+with his wife, who shared his angry feelings, and proved to their own
+satisfaction that it was in every way unjust to give places in Paris to
+men who ought properly to have been employed in the navy.
+
+He was old now, and had scarcely noticed how his life was passing, for
+school had merely been exchanged for the office without any intermediate
+transition, and the ushers, at whom he had formerly trembled, were
+replaced by his chiefs, of whom he was terribly afraid.  When he had to
+go into the rooms of these official despots, it made him tremble from
+head to foot, and that constant fear had given him a very awkward manner
+in their presence, a humble demeanor, and a kind of nervous stammering.
+
+He knew nothing more about Paris than a blind man might know who was led
+to the same spot by his dog every day; and if he read the account of any
+uncommon events or scandals in his penny paper, they appeared to him like
+fantastic tales, which some pressman had made up out of his own head, in
+order to amuse the inferior employees.  He did not read the political
+news, which his paper frequently altered as the cause which subsidized it
+might require, for he was not fond of innovations, and when he went
+through the Avenue of the Champs-Elysees every evening, he looked at the
+surging crowd of pedestrians, and at the stream of carriages, as a
+traveller might who has lost his way in a strange country.
+
+As he had completed his thirty years of obligatory service that year, on
+the first of January, he had had the cross of the Legion of Honor
+bestowed upon him, which, in the semi-military public offices, is a
+recompense for the miserable slavery--the official phrase is, loyal
+services--of unfortunate convicts who are riveted to their desk.  That
+unexpected dignity gave him a high and new idea of his own capacities,
+and altogether changed him.  He immediately left off wearing light
+trousers and fancy waistcoats, and wore black trousers and long coats, on
+which his ribbon, which was very broad, showed off better.  He got shaved
+every morning, manicured his nails more carefully, changed his linen
+every two days, from a legitimate sense of what was proper, and out of
+respect for the national Order, of which he formed a part, and from that
+day he was another Caravan, scrupulously clean, majestic and
+condescending.
+
+At home, he said, "my cross," at every moment, and he had become so proud
+of it, that he could not bear to see men wearing any other ribbon in
+their button-holes.  He became especially angry on seeing strange orders:
+"Which nobody ought to be allowed to wear in France," and he bore Chenet
+a particular grudge, as he met him on a tram-car every evening, wearing a
+decoration of one kind or another, white, blue, orange, or green.
+
+The conversation of the two men, from the Arc de Triomphe to Neuilly, was
+always the same, and on that day they discussed, first of all, various
+local abuses which disgusted them both, and the Mayor of Neuilly received
+his full share of their censure.  Then, as invariably happens in the
+company of medical man Caravan began to enlarge on the chapter of
+illness, as in that manner, he hoped to obtain a little gratuitous
+advice, if he was careful not to show his hand.  His mother had been
+causing him no little anxiety for some time; she had frequent and
+prolonged fainting fits, and, although she was ninety, she would not take
+care of herself.
+
+Caravan grew quite tender-hearted when he mentioned her great age, and
+more than once asked Doctor Chenet, emphasizing the word doctor--although
+he was not fully qualified, being only an Offcier de Sante--whether he
+had often met anyone as old as that.  And he rubbed his hands with
+pleasure; not, perhaps, that he cared very much about seeing the good
+woman last forever here on earth, but because the long duration of his
+mother's life was, as it were an earnest of old age for himself, and he
+continued:
+
+"In my family, we last long, and I am sure that, unless I meet with an
+accident, I shall not die until I am very old."
+
+The doctor looked at him with pity, and glanced for a moment at his
+neighbor's red face, his short, thick neck, his "corporation," as Chenet
+called it to himself, his two fat, flabby legs, and the apoplectic
+rotundity of the old official; and raising the white Panama hat from his
+head, he said with a snigger:
+
+"I am not so sure of that, old fellow; your mother is as tough as nails,
+and I should say that your life is not a very good one."
+
+This rather upset Caravan, who did not speak again until the tram put
+them down at their destination, where the two friends got out, and Chenet
+asked his friend to have a glass of vermouth at the Cafe du Globe,
+opposite, which both of them were in the habit of frequenting.  The
+proprietor, who was a friend of theirs, held out to them two fingers,
+which they shook across the bottles of the counter; and then they joined
+three of their friends, who were playing dominoes, and who had been there
+since midday.  They exchanged cordial greetings, with the usual question:
+"Anything new?"  And then the three players continued their game, and
+held out their hands without looking up, when the others wished them
+"Good-night," and then they both went home to dinner.
+
+Caravan lived in a small two-story house in Courbevaie, near where the
+roads meet; the ground floor was occupied by a hair-dresser.  Two bed
+rooms, a dining-room and a kitchen, formed the whole of their apartments,
+and Madame Caravan spent nearly her whole time in cleaning them up, while
+her daughter, Marie-Louise, who was twelve, and her son, Phillip-Auguste,
+were running about with all the little, dirty, mischievous brats of the
+neighborhood, and playing in the gutter.
+
+Caravan had installed his mother, whose avarice was notorious in the
+neighborhood, and who was terribly thin, in the room above them.  She was
+always cross, and she never passed a day without quarreling and flying
+into furious tempers.  She would apostrophize the neighbors, who were
+standing at their own doors, the coster-mongers, the street-sweepers, and
+the street-boys, in the most violent language; and the latter, to have
+their revenge, used to follow her at a distance when she went out, and
+call out rude things after her.
+
+A little servant from Normandy, who was incredibly giddy and thoughtless,
+performed the household work, and slept on the second floor in the same
+room as the old woman, for fear of anything happening to her in the
+night.
+
+When Caravan got in, his wife, who suffered from a chronic passion for
+cleaning, was polishing up the mahogany chairs that were scattered about
+the room with a piece of flannel.  She always wore cotton gloves, and
+adorned her head with a cap ornamented with many colored ribbons, which
+was always tilted over one ear; and whenever anyone caught her polishing,
+sweeping, or washing, she used to say:
+
+"I am not rich; everything is very simple in my house, but cleanliness is
+my luxury, and that is worth quite as much as any other."
+
+As she was gifted with sound, obstinate, practical common sense, she led
+her husband in everything.  Every evening during dinner, and afterwards
+when they were in their room, they talked over the business of the office
+for a long time, and although she was twenty years younger than he was,
+he confided everything to her as if she took the lead, and followed her
+advice in every matter.
+
+She had never been pretty, and now she had grown ugly; in addition to
+that, she was short and thin, while her careless and tasteless way of
+dressing herself concealed her few small feminine attractions, which
+might have been brought out if she had possessed any taste in dress.
+Her skirts were always awry, and she frequently scratched herself, no
+matter on what part of her person, totally indifferent as to who might
+see her, and so persistently, that anyone who saw her might think that
+she was suffering from something like the itch.  The only adornments that
+she allowed herself were silk ribbons, which she had in great profusion,
+and of various colors mixed together, in the pretentious caps which she
+wore at home.
+
+As soon as she saw her husband she rose and said, as she kissed his
+whiskers:
+
+"Did you remember Potin, my dear?"
+
+He fell into a chair, in consternation, for that was the fourth time on
+which he had forgotten a commission that he had promised to do for her.
+
+"It is a fatality," he said; "it is no good for me to think of it all day
+long, for I am sure to forget it in the evening."
+
+But as he seemed really so very sorry, she merely said, quietly:
+
+"You will think of it to-morrow, I dare say.  Anything new at the
+office?"
+
+"Yes, a great piece of news; another tinsmith has been appointed second
+chief clerk."  She became very serious, and said:
+
+"So he succeeds Ramon; this was the very post that I wanted you to have.
+And what about Ramon?"
+
+"He retires on his pension."
+
+She became furious, her cap slid down on her shoulder, and she continued:
+
+"There is nothing more to be done in that shop now.  And what is the name
+of the new commissioner?"
+
+"Bonassot."
+
+She took up the Naval Year Book, which she always kept close at hand, and
+looked him up.
+
+"'Bonassot-Toulon.  Born in 1851.  Student Commissioner in 1871.  Sub-
+Commissioner in 1875.'  Has he been to sea?" she continued.  At that
+question Caravan's looks cleared up, and he laughed until his sides
+shook.
+
+"As much as Balin--as much as Baffin, his chief."  And he added an old
+office joke, and laughed more than ever:
+
+"It would not even do to send them by water to inspect the Point-du-Jour,
+for they would be sick on the penny steamboats on the Seine."
+
+But she remained as serious as if she had not heard him, and then she
+said in a low voice, as she scratched her chin:
+
+"If we only had a Deputy to fall back upon.  When the Chamber hears
+everything that is going on at the Admiralty, the Minister will be turned
+out----,
+
+She was interrupted by a terrible noise on the stairs.  Marie-Louise and
+Philippe-Auguste, who had just come in from the gutter, were slapping
+each other all the way upstairs.  Their mother rushed at them furiously,
+and taking each of them by an arm she dragged them into the room, shaking
+them vigorously; but as soon as they saw their father, they rushed up to
+him, and he kissed them affectionately, and taking one of them on each
+knee, began to talk to them.
+
+Philippe-Auguste was an ugly, ill-kempt little brat, dirty from head to
+foot, with the face of an idiot, and Marie-Louise was already like her
+mother--spoke like her, repeated her words, and even imitated her
+movements.  She also asked him whether there was anything fresh at the
+office, and he replied merrily:
+
+"Your friend, Ramon, who comes and dines here every Sunday, is going to
+leave us, little one.  There is a new second head-clerk."
+
+She looked at her father, and with a precocious child's pity, she said:
+
+"Another man has been put over your head again."
+
+He stopped laughing, and did not reply, and in order to create a
+diversion, he said, addressing his wife, who was cleaning the windows:
+
+"How is mamma, upstairs?"
+
+Madame Caravan left off rubbing, turned round.  pulled her cap up, as it
+had fallen quite on to her back, and said with trembling lips:
+
+"Ah!  yes; let us talk about your mother, for she has made a pretty
+scene.  Just imagine: a short time ago Madame Lebaudin, the hairdresser's
+wife, came upstairs to borrow a packet of starch of me, and, as I was not
+at home, your mother chased her out as though she were a beggar; but I
+gave it to the old woman.  She pretended not to hear, as she always does
+when one tells her unpleasant truths, but she is no more deaf than I am,
+as you know.  It is all a sham, and the proof of it is, that she went up
+to her own room immediately, without saying a word."
+
+Caravan, embarrassed, did not utter a word, and at that moment the little
+servant came in to announce dinner.  In order to let his mother know, he
+took a broom-handle, which always stood in a corner, and rapped loudly on
+the ceiling three times, and then they went into the dining-room.  Madame
+Caravan, junior, helped the soup, and waited for the old woman, but she
+did not come, and as the soup was getting cold, they began to eat slowly,
+and when their plates were empty, they waited again, and Madame Caravan,
+who was furious, attacked her husband:
+
+"She does it on purpose, you know that as well as I do.  But you always
+uphold her."
+
+Not knowing which side to take, he sent Marie-Louise to fetch her
+grandmother, and he sat motionless, with his eyes cast down, while his
+wife tapped her glass angrily with her knife.  In about a minute, the
+door flew open suddenly, and the child came in again, out of breath and
+very pale, and said hurriedly:
+
+"Grandmamma has fallen on the floor."
+
+Caravan jumped up, threw his table-napkin down, and rushed upstairs,
+while his wife, who thought it was some trick of her mother-in-law's,
+followed more slowly, shrugging her shoulders, as if to express her
+doubt.  When they got upstairs, however, they found the old woman lying
+at full length in the middle of the room; and when they turned her over,
+they saw that she was insensible and motionless, while her skin looked
+more wrinkled and yellow than usual, her eyes were closed, her teeth
+clenched, and her thin body was stiff.
+
+Caravan knelt down by her, and began to moan.
+
+"My poor mother! my poor mother!" he said.  But the other Madame Caravan
+said:
+
+"Bah!  She has only fainted again, that is all, and she has done it to
+prevent us from dining comfortably, you may be sure of that."
+
+They put her on the bed, undressed her completely, and Caravan, his wife,
+and the servant began to rub her; but, in spite of their efforts, she did
+not recover consciousness, so they sent Rosalie, the servant, to fetch
+Doctor Chenet.  He lived a long way off, on the quay, going towards
+Suresnes, and so it was a considerable time before he arrived.  He came
+at last, however, and, after having looked at the old woman, felt her
+pulse, and listened for a heart beat, he said: "It is all over."
+
+Caravan threw himself on the body, sobbing violently; he kissed his
+mother's rigid face, and wept so that great tears fell on the dead
+woman's face like drops of water, and, naturally, Madame Caravan, junior,
+showed a decorous amount of grief, and uttered feeble moans as she stood
+behind her husband, while she rubbed her eyes vigorously.
+
+But, suddenly, Caravan raised himself up, with his thin hair in disorder,
+and, looking very ugly in his grief, said:
+
+"But--are you sure, doctor?  Are you quite sure?"
+
+The doctor stooped over the body, and, handling it with professional
+dexterity, as a shopkeeper might do, when showing off his goods, he said:
+
+"See, my dear friend, look at her eye."
+
+He raised the eyelid, and the old woman's eye appeared altogether
+unaltered, unless, perhaps, the pupil was rather larger, and Caravan felt
+a severe shock at the sight.  Then Monsieur Chenet took her thin arm,
+forced the fingers open, and said, angrily, as if he had been
+contradicted:
+
+"Just look at her hand; I never make a mistake, you may be quite sure of
+that."
+
+Caravan fell on the bed, and almost bellowed, while his wife, still
+whimpering, did what was necessary.
+
+She brought the night-table, on which she spread a towel and placed four
+wax candles on it, which she lighted; then she took a sprig of box, which
+was hanging over the chimney glass, and put it between the four candles,
+in a plate, which she filled with clean water, as she had no holy water.
+But, after a moment's rapid reflection, she threw a pinch of salt into
+the water, no doubt thinking she was performing some sort of act of
+consecration by doing that, and when she had finished, she remained
+standing motionless, and the doctor, who had been helping her, whispered
+to her:
+
+"We must take Caravan away."
+
+She nodded assent, and, going up to her husband, who was still on his
+knees, sobbing, she raised him up by one arm, while Chenet took him by
+the other.
+
+They put him into a chair, and his wife kissed his forehead, and then
+began to lecture him.  Chenet enforced her words and preached firmness,
+courage, and resignation--the very things which are always wanting in
+such overwhelming misfortunes--and then both of them took him by the arms
+again and led him out.
+
+He was crying like a great child, with convulsive sobs; his arms hanging
+down, and his legs weak, and he went downstairs without knowing what he
+was doing, and moving his feet mechanically.  They put him into the chair
+which he always occupied at dinner, in front of his empty soup plate.
+And there he sat, without moving, his eyes fixed on his glass, and so
+stupefied with grief, that he could not even think.
+
+In a corner, Madame Caravan was talking with the doctor and asking what
+the necessary formalities were, as she wanted to obtain practical
+information.  At last, Monsieur Chenet, who appeared to be waiting for
+something, took up his hat and prepared to go, saying that he had not
+dined yet; whereupon she exclaimed:
+
+"What! you have not dined?  Why, stay here, doctor; don't go.  You shall
+have whatever we have, for, of course, you understand that we do not fare
+sumptuously."  He made excuses and refused, but she persisted, and said:
+"You really must stay; at times like this, people like to have friends
+near them, and, besides that, perhaps you will be able to persuade my
+husband to take some nourishment; he must keep up his strength."
+
+The doctor bowed, and, putting down his hat, he said:
+
+"In that case, I will accept your invitation, madame."
+
+She gave Rosalie, who seemed to have lost her head, some orders, and then
+sat down, "to pretend to eat," as she said, "to keep the doctor company."
+
+The soup was brought in again, and Monsieur Chenet took two helpings.
+Then there came a dish of tripe, which exhaled a smell of onions, and
+which Madame Caravan made up her mind to taste.
+
+"It is excellent," the doctor said, at which she smiled, and, turning to
+her husband, she said:
+
+"Do take a little, my poor Alfred, only just to put something in your
+stomach.  Remember that you have got to pass the night watching by her!"
+
+He held out his plate, docilely, just as he would have gone to bed, if he
+had been told to, obeying her in everything, without resistance and
+without reflection, and he ate; the doctor helped himself three times,
+while Madame Caravan, from time to time, fished out a large piece at the
+end of her fork, and swallowed it with a sort of studied indifference.
+
+When a salad bowl full of macaroni was brought in, the doctor said:
+
+"By Jove!  That is what I am very fond of."  And this time, Madame
+Caravan helped everybody.  She even filled the saucers that were being
+scraped by the children, who, being left to themselves, had been drinking
+wine without any water, and were now kicking each other under the table.
+
+Chenet remembered that Rossini, the composer, had been very fond of that
+Italian dish, and suddenly he exclaimed:
+
+"Why! that rhymes, and one could begin some lines like this:
+
+               The Maestro Rossini
+               Was fond of macaroni."
+
+Nobody listened to him, however.  Madame Caravan, who had suddenly grown
+thoughtful, was thinking of all the probable consequences of the event,
+while her husband made bread pellets, which he put on the table-cloth,
+and looked at with a fixed, idiotic stare.  As he was devoured by thirst,
+he was continually raising his glass full of wine to his lips, and the
+consequence was that his mind, which had been upset by the shock and
+grief, seemed to become vague, and his ideas danced about as digestion
+commenced.
+
+The doctor, who, meanwhile, had been drinking away steadily, was getting
+visibly drunk, and Madame Caravan herself felt the reaction which follows
+all nervous shocks, and was agitated and excited, and, although she had
+drunk nothing but water, her head felt rather confused.
+
+Presently, Chenet began to relate stories of death that appeared comical
+to him.  For in that suburb of Paris, that is full of people from the
+provinces, one finds that indifference towards death which all peasants
+show, were it even their own father or mother; that want of respect, that
+unconscious brutality which is so common in the country, and so rare in
+Paris, and he said:
+
+"Why, I was sent for last week to the Rue du Puteaux, and when I went, I
+found the patient dead and the whole family calmly sitting beside the bed
+finishing a bottle of aniseed cordial, which had been bought the night
+before to satisfy the dying man's fancy."
+
+But Madame Caravan was not listening; she was continually thinking of the
+inheritance, and Caravan was incapable of understanding anything further.
+
+Coffee was presently served, and it had been made very strong to give
+them courage.  As every cup was well flavored with cognac, it made all
+their faces red, and confused their ideas still more.  To make matters
+still worse, Chenet suddenly seized the brandy bottle and poured out
+"a drop for each of them just to wash their mouths out with," as he
+termed it, and then, without speaking any more, overcome in spite of
+themselves, by that feeling of animal comfort which alcohol affords after
+dinner, they slowly sipped the sweet cognac, which formed a yellowish
+syrup at the bottom of their cups.
+
+The children had fallen asleep, and Rosalie carried them off to bed.
+Caravan, mechanically obeying that wish to forget oneself which possesses
+all unhappy persons, helped himself to brandy again several times, and
+his dull eyes grew bright.  At last the doctor rose to go, and seizing
+his friend's arm, he said:
+
+"Come with me; a little fresh air will do you good.  When one is in
+trouble, one must not remain in one spot."
+
+The other obeyed mechanically, put on his hat, took his stick, and went
+out, and both of them walked arm-in-arm towards the Seine, in the
+starlight night.
+
+The air was warm and sweet, for all the gardens in the neighborhood were
+full of flowers at this season of the year, and their fragrance, which is
+scarcely perceptible during the day, seemed to awaken at the approach of
+night, and mingled with the light breezes which blew upon them in the
+darkness.
+
+The broad avenue with its two rows of gas lamps, that extended as far as
+the Arc de Triomphe, was deserted and silent, but there was the distant
+roar of Paris, which seemed to have a reddish vapor hanging over it.
+It was a kind of continual rumbling, which was at times answered by the
+whistle of a train in the distance, travelling at full speed to the
+ocean, through the provinces.
+
+The fresh air on the faces of the two men rather overcame them at first,
+made the doctor lose his equilibrium a little, and increased Caravan's
+giddiness, from which he had suffered since dinner.  He walked as if he
+were in a dream; his thoughts were paralyzed, although he felt no great
+grief, for he was in a state of mental torpor that prevented him from
+suffering, and he even felt a sense of relief which was increased by the
+mildness of the night.
+
+When they reached the bridge, they turned to the right, and got the fresh
+breeze from the river, which rolled along, calm and melancholy, bordered
+by tall poplar trees, while the stars looked as if they were floating on
+the water and were-moving with the current.  A slight white mist that
+floated over the opposite banks, filled their lungs with a sensation of
+cold, and Caravan stopped suddenly, for he was struck by that smell from
+the water which brought back old memories to his mind.  For, in his mind,
+he suddenly saw his mother again, in Picardy, as he had seen her years
+before, kneeling in front of their door, and washing the heaps of linen
+at her side in the stream that ran through their garden.  He almost
+fancied that he could hear the sound of the wooden paddle with which she
+beat the linen in the calm silence of the country, and her voice, as she
+called out to him: "Alfred, bring me some soap."  And he smelled that
+odor of running water, of the mist rising from the wet ground, that
+marshy smell, which he should never forget, and which came back to him on
+this very evening on which his mother had died.
+
+He stopped, seized with a feeling of despair.  A sudden flash seemed to
+reveal to him the extent of his calamity, and that breath from the river
+plunged him into an abyss of hopeless grief.  His life seemed cut in
+half, his youth disappeared, swallowed up by that death.  All the former
+days were over and done with, all the recollections of his youth had been
+swept away; for the future, there would be nobody to talk to him of what
+had happened in days gone by, of the people he had known of old, of his
+own part of the country, and of his past life; that was a part of his
+existence which existed no longer, and the rest might as well end now.
+
+And then he saw "the mother" as she was when young, wearing well-worn
+dresses, which he remembered for such a long time that they seemed
+inseparable from her; he recollected her movements, the different tones
+of her voice, her habits, her predilections, her fits of anger, the
+wrinkles on her face, the movements of her thin fingers, and all her
+well-known attitudes, which she would never have again, and clutching
+hold of the doctor, he began to moan and weep.  His thin legs began to
+tremble, his whole stout body was shaken by his sobs, all he could say
+was:
+
+"My mother, my poor mother, my poor mother!"
+
+But his companion, who was still drunk, and who intended to finish the
+evening in certain places of bad repute that he frequented secretly, made
+him sit down on the grass by the riverside, and left him almost
+immediately, under the pretext that he had to see a patient.
+
+Caravan went on crying for some time, and when he had got to the end of
+his tears, when his grief had, so to say, run out, he again felt relief,
+repose and sudden tranquillity.
+
+The moon had risen, and bathed the horizon in its soft light.
+
+The tall poplar trees had a silvery sheen on them, and the mist on the
+plain looked like drifting snow; the river, in which the stars were
+reflected, and which had a sheen as of mother-of-pearl, was gently
+rippled by the wind.  The air was soft and sweet, and Caravan inhaled it
+almost greedily, and thought that he could perceive a feeling of
+freshness, of calm and of superhuman consolation pervading him.
+
+He actually resisted that feeling of comfort and relief, and kept on
+saying to himself: "My poor mother, my poor mother!" and tried to make
+himself cry, from a kind of conscientious feeling; but he could not
+succeed in doing so any longer, and those sad thoughts, which had made
+him sob so bitterly a shore time before, had almost passed away.  In a
+few moments, he rose to go home, and returned slowly, under the influence
+of that serene night, and with a heart soothed in spite of himself.
+
+When he reached the bridge, he saw that the last tramcar was ready to
+start, and behind it were the brightly lighted windows of the Cafe du
+Globe.  He felt a longing to tell somebody of his loss, to excite pity,
+to make himself interesting.  He put on a woeful face, pushed open the
+door, and went up to the counter, where the landlord still was.  He had
+counted on creating a sensation, and had hoped that everybody would get
+up and come to him.  with outstretched hands, and say: "Why, what is the
+matter with you?"  But nobody noticed his disconsolate face, so he rested
+his two elbows on the counter, and, burying his face in his hands, he
+murmured: "Mon Dieu!  Mon Dieu!"
+
+The landlord looked at him and said: "Are you ill, Monsieur Caravan?"
+
+"No, my friend," he replied, "but my mother has just died."
+
+"Ah!" the other exclaimed, and as a customer at the other end of the
+establishment asked for a glass of Bavarian beer, he went to attend to
+him, leaving Caravan dumfounded at his want of sympathy.
+
+The three domino players were sitting at the same table which they had
+occupied before dinner, totally absorbed in their game, and Caravan went
+up to them, in search of pity, but as none of them appeared to notice him
+he made up his mind to speak.
+
+"A great misfortune has happened to me since I was here," he said.
+
+All three slightly raised their heads at the same instant, but keeping
+their eyes fixed on the pieces which they held in their hands.
+
+"What do you say?"
+
+"My mother has just died"; whereupon one of them said:
+
+"Oh!  the devil," with that false air of sorrow which indifferent people
+assume.  Another, who could not find anything to say, emitted a sort of
+sympathetic whistle, shaking his head at the same time, and the third
+turned to the game again, as if he were saying to himself: "Is that all!"
+
+Caravan had expected some of these expressions that are said to "come
+from the heart," and when he saw how his news was received, he left the
+table, indignant at their calmness at their friend's sorrow, although
+this sorrow had stupefied him so that he scarcely felt it any longer.
+When he got home his wife was waiting for him in her nightgown, and
+sitting in a low chair by the open window, still thinking of the
+inheritance.
+
+"Undress yourself," she said; "we can go on talking."
+
+He raised his head, and looking at the ceiling, said:
+
+"But--there is nobody upstairs."
+
+"I beg your pardon, Rosalie is with her, and you can go and take her
+place at three o'clock in the morning, when you have had some sleep."
+
+He only partially undressed, however, so as to be ready for anything that
+might happen, and after tying a silk handkerchief round his head, he lay
+down to rest, and for some time neither of them spoke.  Madame Caravan
+was thinking.
+
+Her nightcap was adorned with a red bow, and was pushed rather to one
+side, as was the way with all the caps she wore, and presently she turned
+towards him and said:
+
+"Do you know whether your mother made a will?"
+
+He hesitated for a moment, and then replied:
+
+"I--I do not think so.  No, I am sure that she did not."
+
+His wife looked at him, and she said, in a law, angry tone:
+
+"I call that infamous; here we have been wearing ourselves out for ten
+years in looking after her, and have boarded and lodged her!  Your sister
+would not have done so much for her, nor I either, if I had known how I
+was to be rewarded!  Yes, it is a disgrace to her memory!  I dare say
+that you will tell me that she paid us, but one cannot pay one's children
+in ready money for what they do; that obligation is recognized after
+death; at any rate, that is how honorable people act.  So I have had all
+my worry and trouble for nothing!  Oh, that is nice! that is very nice!"
+
+Poor Caravan, who was almost distracted, kept on repeating:
+
+"My dear, my dear, please, please be quiet."
+
+She grew calmer by degrees, and, resuming her usual voice and manner, she
+continued:
+
+"We must let your sister know to-morrow."
+
+He started, and said:
+
+"Of course we must; I had forgotten all about it; I will send her a
+telegram the first thing in the morning."
+
+"No," she replied, like a woman who had foreseen everything; "no, do not
+send it before ten or eleven o'clock, so that we may have time to turn
+round before she comes.  It does not take more than two hours to get here
+from Charenton, and we can say that you lost your head from grief.  If we
+let her know in the course of the day, that will be soon enough, and will
+give us time to look round."
+
+Caravan put his hand to his forehead, and, in the came timid voice in
+which he always spoke of his chief, the very thought of whom made him
+tremble, he said:
+
+"I must let them know at the office."
+
+"Why?" she replied.  "On occasions like this, it is always excusable to
+forget.  Take my advice, and don't let him know; your chief will not be
+able to say anything to you, and you will put him in a nice fix.
+
+"Oh! yes, that I shall, and he will be in a terrible rage, too, when he
+notices my absence.  Yes, you are right; it is a capital idea, and when I
+tell him that my mother is dead, he will be obliged to hold his tongue."
+
+And he rubbed his hands in delight at the joke, when he thought of his
+chief's face; while upstairs lay the body of the dead old woman, with the
+servant asleep beside it.
+
+But Madame Caravan grew thoughtful, as if she were preoccupied by
+something which she did not care to mention, and at last she said:
+
+"Your mother had given you her clock, had she not--the girl playing at
+cup and ball?"
+
+He thought for a moment, and then replied:
+
+"Yes, yes; she said to me (but it was a long time ago, when she first
+came here): 'I shall leave the clock to you, if you look after me well.'"
+
+Madame Caravan was reassured, and regained her serenity, and said:
+
+"Well, then, you must go and fetch it out of her room, for if we get your
+sister here, she will prevent us from taking it."
+
+He hesitated.
+
+"Do you think so?"
+
+That made her angry.
+
+"I certainly think so; once it is in our possession, she will know
+nothing at all about where it came from; it belongs to us.  It is just
+the same with the chest of drawers with the marble top, that is in her
+room; she gave it me one day when she was in a good temper.  We will
+bring it down at the same time."
+
+Caravan, however, seemed incredulous, and said:
+
+"But, my dear, it is a great responsibility!"
+
+She turned on him furiously.
+
+"Oh!  Indeed!  Will you never change?  You would let your children die of
+hunger, rather than make a move.  Does not that chest of drawers belong
+to us, as she gave it to me?  And if your sister is not satisfied, let
+her tell me so, me!  I don't care a straw for your sister.  Come, get up,
+and we will bring down what your mother gave us, immediately."
+
+Trembling and vanquished, he got out of bed and began to put on his
+trousers, but she stopped him:
+
+"It is not worth while to dress yourself; your underwear is quite enough.
+I mean to go as I am."
+
+They both left the room in their night clothes, went upstairs quite
+noiselessly, opened the door and went into the room, where the four
+lighted tapers and the plate with the sprig of box alone seemed to be
+watching the old woman in her rigid repose, for Rosalie, who was lying
+back in the easy chair with her legs stretched out, her hands folded in
+her lap, and her head on one side, was also quite motionless, and was
+snoring with her mouth wide open.
+
+Caravan took the clock, which was one of those grotesque objects that
+were produced so plentifully under the Empire.  A girl in gilt bronze was
+holding a cup and ball, and the ball formed the pendulum.
+
+"Give that to me," his wife said, "and take the marble slab off the chest
+of drawers."
+
+He put the marble slab on his shoulder with considerable effort, and they
+left the room.  Caravan had to stoop in the doorway, and trembled as he
+went downstairs, while his wife walked backwards, so as to light him, and
+held the candlestick in one hand, carrying the clock under the other arm.
+
+When they were in their own room, she heaved a sigh.
+
+"We have got over the worst part of the job," she said; "so now let us go
+and fetch the other things."
+
+But the bureau drawers were full of the old woman's wearing apparel,
+which they must manage to hide somewhere, and Madame Caravan soon thought
+of a plan.
+
+"Go and get that wooden packing case in the vestibule; it is hardly worth
+anything, and we may just as well put it here."
+
+And when he had brought it upstairs they began to fill it.  One by one
+they took out all the collars, cuffs, chemises, caps, all the well-worn
+things that had belonged to the poor woman lying there behind them, and
+arranged them methodically in the wooden box in such a manner as to
+deceive Madame Braux, the deceased woman's other child, who would be
+coming the next day.
+
+When they had finished, they first of all carried the bureau drawers
+downstairs, and the remaining portion afterwards, each of them holding an
+end, and it was some time before they could make up their minds where it
+would stand best; but at last they decided upon their own room, opposite
+the bed, between the two windows, and as soon as it was in its place
+Madame Caravan filled it with her own things.  The clock was placed on
+the chimney-piece in the dining-room, and they looked to see what the
+effect was, and were both delighted with it and agreed that nothing could
+be better.  Then they retired, she blew out the candle, and soon
+everybody in the house was asleep.
+
+It was broad daylight when.  Caravan opened his eyes again.  His mind was
+rather confused when he woke up, and he did not clearly remember what had
+happened for a few minutes; when he did, he felt a weight at his heart,
+and jumped out of bed, almost ready to cry again.
+
+He hastened to the room overhead, where Rosalie was still sleeping in the
+same position as the night before, not having awakened once.  He sent her
+to do her work, put fresh tapers in the place of those that had burnt
+out, and then he looked at his mother, revolving in his brain those
+apparently profound thoughts, those religious and philosophical
+commonplaces which trouble people of mediocre intelligence in the
+presence of death.
+
+But, as his wife was calling him, he went downstairs.  She had written
+out a list of what had to be done during the morning, and he was
+horrified when be saw the memorandum:
+
+1.  Report the death at the mayor's office.
+2.  See the doctor who had attended her.
+3.  Order the coffin.
+4.  Give notice at the church.
+5.  Go to the undertaker.
+6.  Order the notices of her death at the printer's.
+7.  Go to the lawyer.
+8.  Telegraph the news to all the family.
+
+Besides all this, there were a number of small commissions; so he took
+his hat and went out.  As the news had spread abroad, Madame Caravan's
+female friends and neighbors soon began to come in and begged to be
+allowed to see the body.  There had been a scene between husband and wife
+at the hairdresser's on the ground floor about the matter, while a
+customer was being shaved.  The wife, who was knitting steadily, said:
+"Well, there is one less, and as great a miser as one ever meets with.
+I certainly did not care for her; but, nevertheless, I must go and have a
+look at her."
+
+The husband, while lathering his patient's chin, said: "That is another
+queer fancy!  Nobody but a woman would think of such a thing.  It is not
+enough for them to worry you during life, but they cannot even leave you
+at peace when you are dead:"  But his wife, without being in the least
+disconcerted, replied: "The feeling is stronger than I am, and I must go.
+It has been on me since the morning.  If I were not to see her, I should
+think about it all my life; but when I have had a good look at her, I
+shall be satisfied."
+
+The knight of the razor shrugged his shoulders and remarked in a low
+voice to the gentleman whose cheek he was scraping: "I just ask you, what
+sort of ideas do you think these confounded females have?  I should not
+amuse myself by going to see a corpse!"  But his wife had heard him and
+replied very quietly: "But it is so, it is so."  And then, putting her
+knitting on the counter, she went upstairs to the first floor, where she
+met two other neighbors, who had just come, and who were discussing the
+event with Madame Caravan, who was giving them the details, and they all
+went together to the death chamber.  The four women went in softly, and,
+one after the other, sprinkled the bed clothes with the salt water, knelt
+down, made the sign of the cross while they mumbled a prayer.  Then they
+rose from their knees and looked for some time at the corpse with round,
+wide-open eyes and mouths partly open, while the daughter-in-law of the
+dead woman, with her handkerchief to her face, pretended to be sobbing
+piteously.
+
+When she turned about to walk away whom should she perceive standing
+close to the door but Marie-Louise and Philippe-Auguste, who were
+curiously taking stock of all that was going on.  Then, forgetting her
+pretended grief, she threw herself upon them with uplifted hands, crying
+out in a furious voice, "Will you get out of this, you horrid brats!"
+
+Ten minutes later, going upstairs again with another contingent of
+neighbors, she prayed, wept profusely, performed all her duties, and
+found once more her two children, who had followed her upstairs.  She
+again boxed their ears soundly, but the next time she paid no heed to
+them, and at each fresh arrival of visitors the two urchins always
+followed in the wake, kneeling down in a corner and imitating slavishly
+everything they saw their mother do.
+
+When the afternoon came the crowds of inquisitive people began to
+diminish, and soon there were no more visitors.  Madame Caravan,
+returning to her own apartments, began to make the necessary preparations
+for the funeral ceremony, and the deceased was left alone.
+
+The window of the room was open.  A torrid heat entered, along with
+clouds of dust; the flames of the four candles were flickering beside the
+immobile corpse, and upon the cloth which covered the face, the closed
+eyes, the two stretched-out hands, small flies alighted, came, went and
+careered up and down incessantly, being the only companions of the old
+woman for the time being.
+
+Marie-Louise and Philippe-Auguste, however, had now left the house and
+were running up and down the street.  They were soon surrounded by their
+playmates, by little girls especially, who were older and who were much
+more interested in all the mysteries of life, asking questions as if they
+were grown people.
+
+"Then your grandmother is dead?"  "Yes, she died yesterday evening."
+"What does a dead person look like?"
+
+Then Marie began to explain, telling all about the candles, the sprig of
+box and the face of the corpse.  It was not long before great curiosity
+was aroused in the minds of all the children, and they asked to be
+allowed to go upstairs to look at the departed.
+
+Marie-Louise at once organized a first expedition, consisting of five
+girls and two boys--the biggest and the most courageous.  She made them
+take off their shoes so that they might not be discovered.  The troupe
+filed into the house and mounted the stairs as stealthily as an army of
+mice.
+
+Once in the chamber, the little girl, imitating her mother, regulated the
+ceremony.  She solemnly walked in advance of her comrades, went down on
+her knees, made the sign of the cross, moved her lips as in prayer, rose,
+sprinkled the bed, and while the children, all crowded together, were
+approaching--frightened and curious and eager to look at the face and
+hands of the deceased--she began suddenly to simulate sobbing and to bury
+her eyes in her little handkerchief.  Then, becoming instantly consoled,
+on thinking of the other children who were downstairs waiting at the
+door, she ran downstairs followed by the rest, returning in a minute with
+another group, then a third; for all the little ragamuffins of the
+countryside, even to the little beggars in rags, had congregated in order
+to participate in this new pleasure; and each time she repeated her
+mother's grimaces with absolute perfection.
+
+At length, however, she became tired.  Some game or other drew the
+children away from the house, and the old grandmother was left alone,
+forgotten suddenly by everybody.
+
+The room was growing dark, and upon the dry and rigid features of the
+corpse the fitful flames of the candles cast patches of light.
+
+Towards 8 o'clock Caravan ascended to the chamber of death, closed the
+windows and renewed the candles.  He was now quite composed on entering
+the room, accustomed already to regard the corpse as though it had been
+there for months.  He even went the length of declaring that, as yet,
+there were no signs of decomposition, making this remark just at the
+moment when he and his wife were about to sit down at table.  "Pshaw!"
+she responded, "she is now stark and stiff; she will keep for a year."
+
+The soup was eaten in silence.  The children, who had been left to
+themselves all day, now worn out by fatigue, were sleeping soundly on
+their chairs, and nobody ventured to break the silence.
+
+Suddenly the flame of the lamp went down.  Madame Caravan immediately
+turned up the wick, a hollow sound ensued, and the light went out.  They
+had forgotten to buy oil.  To send for it now to the grocer's would keep
+back the dinner, and they began to look for candles, but none were to be
+found except the tapers which had been placed upon the table upstairs in
+the death chamber.
+
+Madame Caravan, always prompt in her decisions, quickly despatched Marie-
+Louise to fetch two, and her return was awaited in total darkness.
+
+The footsteps of the girl who had ascended the stairs were distinctly
+heard.  There was silence for a few seconds and then the child descended
+precipitately.  She threw open the door and in a choking voice murmured:
+"Oh! papa, grandmamma is dressing herself!"
+
+Caravan bounded to his feet with such precipitance that his chair fell
+over against the wall.  He stammered out: "You say? . . . . What are you
+saying?"
+
+But Marie-Louise, gasping with emotion, repeated: "Grand--grand--
+grandmamma is putting on her clothes, she is coming downstairs."
+
+Caravan rushed boldly up the staircase, followed by his wife, dumfounded;
+but he came to a standstill before the door of the second floor, overcome
+with terror, not daring to enter.  What was he going to see?  Madame
+Caravan, more courageous, turned the handle of the door and stepped
+forward into the room.
+
+The old woman was standing up.  In awakening from her lethargic sleep,
+before even regaining full consciousness, in turning upon her side and
+raising herself on her elbow, she had extinguished three of the candles
+which burned near the bed.  Then, gaining strength, she got off the bed
+and began to look for her clothes.  The absence of her chest of drawers
+had at first worried her, but, after a little, she had succeeded in
+finding her things at the bottom of the wooden box, and was now quietly
+dressing.  She emptied the plateful of water, replaced the sprig of box
+behind the looking-glass, and arranged the chairs in their places, and
+was ready to go downstairs when there appeared before her her son and
+daughter-in-law.
+
+Caravan rushed forward, seized her by the hands, embraced her with tears
+in his eyes, while his wife, who was behind him, repeated in a
+hypocritical tone of voice: "Oh, what a blessing! oh, what a blessing!"
+
+But the old woman, without being at all moved, without even appearing to
+understand, rigid as a statue, and with glazed eyes, simply asked: "Will
+dinner soon be ready?"
+
+He stammered out, not knowing what he said:
+
+"Oh, yes, mother, we have been waiting for you."
+
+And with an alacrity unusual in him, he took her arm, while Madame
+Caravan, the younger, seized the candle and lighted them downstairs,
+walking backwards in front of them, step by step, just as she had done
+the previous night for her husband, who was carrying the marble.
+
+On reaching the first floor, she almost ran against people who were
+ascending the stairs.  It was the Charenton family, Madame Braux,
+followed by her husband.
+
+The wife, tall and stout, with a prominent stomach, opened wide her
+terrified eyes and was ready to make her escape.  The husband, a
+socialist shoemaker, a little hairy man, the perfect image of a monkey,
+murmured quite unconcerned: "Well, what next?  Is she resurrected?"
+
+As soon as Madame Caravan recognized them, she made frantic gestures to
+them; then, speaking aloud, she said: "Why, here you are!  What a
+pleasant surprise!"
+
+But Madame Braux, dumfounded, understood nothing.  She responded in a low
+voice: "It was your telegram that brought us; we thought that all was
+over."
+
+Her husband, who was behind her, pinched her to make her keep silent.
+He added with a sly laugh, which his thick beard concealed: "It was very
+kind of you to invite us here.  We set out post haste," which remark
+showed the hostility which had for a long time reigned between the
+households.  Then, just as the old woman reached the last steps, he
+pushed forward quickly and rubbed his hairy face against her cheeks,
+shouting in her ear, on account of her deafness: "How well you look,
+mother; sturdy as usual, hey!"
+
+Madame Braux, in her stupefaction at seeing the old woman alive, whom
+they all believed to be dead, dared not even embrace her; and her
+enormous bulk blocked up the passageway and hindered the others from
+advancing.  The old woman, uneasy and suspicious, but without speaking,
+looked at everyone around her; and her little gray eyes, piercing and
+hard, fixed themselves now on one and now on the other, and they were so
+full of meaning that the children became frightened.
+
+Caravan, to explain matters, said: "She has been somewhat ill, but she is
+better now; quite well, indeed, are you not, mother?"
+
+Then the good woman, continuing to walk, replied in a husky voice, as
+though it came from a distance: "It was syncope.  I heard you all the
+while."
+
+An embarrassing silence followed.  They entered the dining-room, and in a
+few minutes all sat down to an improvised dinner.
+
+Only M. Braux had retained his self-possession.  His gorilla features
+grinned wickedly, while he let fall some words of double meaning which
+painfully disconcerted everyone.
+
+But the door bell kept ringing every second, and Rosalie, distracted,
+came to call Caravan, who rushed out, throwing down his napkin.  His
+brother-in-law even asked him whether it was not one of his reception
+days, to which he stammered out in answer: "No, only a few packages;
+nothing more."
+
+A parcel was brought in, which he began to open carelessly, and the
+mourning announcements with black borders appeared unexpectedly.
+Reddening up to the very eyes, he closed the package hurriedly and pushed
+it under his waistcoat.
+
+His mother had not seen it!  She was looking intently at her clock which
+stood on the mantelpiece, and the embarrassment increased in midst of a
+dead silence.  Turning her wrinkled face towards her daughter, the old
+woman, in whose eyes gleamed malice, said: "On Monday you must take me
+away from here, so that I can see your little girl.  I want so much to
+see her."  Madame Braux, her features all beaming, exclaimed: "Yes,
+mother, that I will," while Madame Caravan, the younger, who had turned
+pale, was ready to faint with annoyance.  The two men, however, gradually
+drifted into conversation and soon became embroiled in a political
+discussion.  Braux maintained the most revolutionary and communistic
+doctrines, his eyes glowing, and gesticulating and throwing about his
+arms.  "Property, sir," he said, "is a robbery perpetrated on the working
+classes; the land is the common property of every man; hereditary rights
+are an infamy and a disgrace."  But here he suddenly stopped, looking as
+if he had just said something foolish, then added in softer tones: "But
+this is not the proper moment to discuss such things."
+
+The door was opened and Dr. Chenet appeared.  For a moment he seemed
+bewildered, but regaining his usual smirking expression of countenance,
+he jauntily approached the old woman and said: "Aha! mamma; you are
+better to-day.  Oh! I never had any doubt but you would come round again;
+in fact, I said to myself as I was mounting the staircase, 'I have an
+idea that I shall find the old lady on her feet once more';" and as he
+patted her gently on the back: "Ah!  she is as solid as the Pont-Neuf,
+she will bury us all; see if she does not."
+
+He sat down, accepted the coffee that was offered him, and soon began to
+join in the conversation of the two men, backing up Braux, for he himself
+had been mixed up in the Commune.
+
+The old woman, now feeling herself fatigued, wished to retire.  Caravan
+rushed forward.  She looked him steadily in the eye and said: "You, you
+must carry my clock and chest of drawers upstairs again without a
+moment's delay."  "Yes, mamma," he replied, gasping; "yes, I will do so."
+The old woman then took the arm of her daughter and withdrew from the
+room.  The two Caravans remained astounded, silent, plunged in the
+deepest despair, while Braux rubbed his hands and sipped his coffee
+gleefully.
+
+Suddenly Madame Caravan, consumed with rage, rushed at him, exclaiming:
+"You are a thief, a footpad, a cur!  I would spit in your face!  I--I--
+would----" She could find nothing further to say, suffocating as she was
+with rage, while he went on sipping his coffee with a smile.
+
+His wife returning just then, Madame Caravan attacked her sister-in-law,
+and the two women--the one with her enormous bulk, the other epileptic
+and spare, with changed voices and trembling hands flew at one another
+with words of abuse.
+
+Chenet and Braux now interposed, and the latter, taking his better half
+by the shoulders, pushed her out of the door before him, shouting: "Go
+on, you slut; you talk too much"; and the two were heard in the street
+quarrelling until they disappeared from sight.
+
+M. Chenet also took his departure, leaving the Caravans alone, face to
+face.  The husband fell back on his chair, and with the cold sweat
+standing out in beads on his temples, murmured: "What shall I say to my
+chief to-morrow?"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+BESIDE SCHOPENHAUER'S CORPSE
+
+He was slowly dying, as consumptives die.  I saw him each day, about two
+o'clock, sitting beneath the hotel windows on a bench in the promenade,
+looking out on the calm sea.  He remained for some time without moving,
+in the heat of the sun, gazing mournfully at the Mediterranean.  Every
+now and then, he cast a glance at the lofty mountains with beclouded
+summits that shut in Mentone; then, with a very slow movement, he would
+cross his long legs, so thin that they seemed like two bones, around
+which fluttered the cloth of his trousers, and he would open a book,
+always the same book.  And then he did not stir any more, but read on,
+read on with his eye and his mind; all his wasting body seemed to read,
+all his soul plunged, lost, disappeared, in this book, up to the hour
+when the cool air made him cough a little.  Then, he got up and reentered
+the hotel.
+
+He was a tall German, with fair beard, who breakfasted and dined in his
+own room, and spoke to nobody.
+
+A vague, curiosity attracted me to him.  One day, I sat down by his side,
+having taken up a book, too, to keep up appearances, a volume of Musset's
+poems.
+
+And I began to look through "Rolla."
+
+Suddenly, my neighbor said to me, in good French:
+
+"Do you know German, monsieur?"
+
+"Not at all, monsieur."
+
+"I am sorry for that.  Since chance has thrown us side by side, I could
+have lent you, I could have shown you, an inestimable thing--this book
+which I hold in my hand."
+
+"What is it, pray?"
+
+"It is a copy of my master, Schopenhauer, annotated with his own hand.
+All the margins, as you may see, are covered with his handwriting."
+
+I took the book from him reverently, and I gazed at these forms
+incomprehensible to me, but which revealed the immortal thoughts of the
+greatest shatterer of dreams who had ever dwelt on earth.
+
+And Musset's verses arose in my memory:
+
+     "Hast thou found out, Voltaire, that it is bliss to die,
+     And does thy hideous smile over thy bleached bones fly?"
+
+And involuntarily I compared the childish sarcasm, the religious sarcasm
+of Voltaire with the irresistible irony of the German philosopher whose
+influence is henceforth ineffaceable.
+
+Let us protest and let us be angry, let us be indignant, or let us be
+enthusiastic, Schopenhauer has marked humanity with the seal of his
+disdain and of his disenchantment.
+
+A disabused pleasure-seeker, he overthrew beliefs, hopes, poetic ideals
+and chimeras, destroyed the aspirations, ravaged the confidence of souls,
+killed love, dragged down the chivalrous worship of women, crushed the
+illusions of hearts, and accomplished the most gigantic task ever
+attempted by scepticism.  He spared nothing with his mocking spirit, and
+exhausted everything.  And even to-day those who execrate him seem to
+carry in their own souls particles of his thought.
+
+"So, then, you were intimately acquainted with Schopenhauer?" I said to
+the German.
+
+He smiled sadly.
+
+"Up to the time of his death, monsieur."
+
+And he spoke to me about the philosopher and told me about the almost
+supernatural impression which this strange being made on all who came
+near him.
+
+He gave me an account of the interview of the old iconoclast with a
+French politician, a doctrinaire Republican, who wanted to get a glimpse
+of this man, and found him in a noisy tavern, seated in the midst of his
+disciples, dry, wrinkled, laughing with an unforgettable laugh, attacking
+and tearing to pieces ideas and beliefs with a single word, as a dog
+tears with one bite of his teeth the tissues with which he plays.
+
+He repeated for me the comment of this Frenchman as he went away,
+astonished and terrified: "I thought I had spent an hour with the devil."
+
+Then he added:
+
+"He had, indeed, monsieur, a frightful smile, which terrified us even
+after his death.  I can tell you an anecdote about it that is not
+generally known, if it would interest you."
+
+And he began, in a languid voice, interrupted by frequent fits of
+coughing.
+
+"Schopenhauer had just died, and it was arranged that we should watch, in
+turn, two by two, till morning.
+
+"He was lying in a large apartment, very simple, vast and gloomy.  Two
+wax candles were burning on the stand by the bedside.
+
+"It was midnight when I went on watch, together with one of our comrades.
+The two friends whom we replaced had left the apartment, and we came and
+sat down at the foot of the bed.
+
+"The face was not changed.  It was laughing.  That pucker which we knew
+so well lingered still around the corners of the lips, and it seemed to
+us that he was about to open his eyes, to move and to speak.  His
+thought, or rather his thoughts, enveloped us.  We felt ourselves more
+than ever in the atmosphere of his genius, absorbed, possessed by him.
+His domination seemed to be even more sovereign now that he was dead.
+A feeling of mystery was blended with the power of this incomparable
+spirit.
+
+"The bodies of these men disappear, but they themselves remain; and in
+the night which follows the cessation of their heart's pulsation I assure
+you, monsieur, they are terrifying.
+
+"And in hushed tones we talked about him, recalling to mind certain
+sayings, certain formulas of his, those startling maxims which are like
+jets of flame flung, in a few words, into the darkness of the Unknown
+Life.
+
+"'It seems to me that he is going to speak,' said my comrade.  And we
+stared with uneasiness bordering on fear at the motionless face, with its
+eternal laugh.  Gradually, we began to feel ill at ease, oppressed, on
+the point of fainting.  I faltered:
+
+"'I don't know what is the matter with me, but, I assure you I am not
+well.'
+
+"And at that moment we noticed that there was an unpleasant odor from the
+corpse.
+
+"Then, my comrade suggested that we should go into the adjoining room,
+and leave the door open; and I assented to his proposal.
+
+"I took one of the wax candles which burned on the stand, and I left the
+second behind.  Then we went and sat down at the other end of the
+adjoining apartment, in such a position that we could see the bed and the
+corpse, clearly revealed by the light.
+
+"But he still held possession of us.  One would have said that his
+immaterial essence, liberated, free, all-powerful and dominating, was
+flitting around us.  And sometimes, too, the dreadful odor of the
+decomposed body came toward us and penetrated us, sickening and
+indefinable.
+
+"Suddenly a shiver passed through our bones: a sound, a slight sound,
+came from the death-chamber.  Immediately we fixed our glances on him,
+and we saw, yes, monsieur, we saw distinctly, both of us, something white
+pass across the bed, fall on the carpet, and vanish under an armchair.
+
+"We were on our feet before we had time to think of anything, distracted
+by stupefying terror, ready to run away.  Then we stared at each other.
+We were horribly pale.  Our hearts throbbed fiercely enough to have
+raised the clothing on our chests.  I was the first to speak:
+
+"'Did you see?'
+
+"'Yes, I saw.'
+
+"'Can it be that he is not dead?'
+
+"'Why, when the body is putrefying?'
+
+"'What are we to do?'
+
+"My companion said in a hesitating tone:
+
+"'We must go and look.'
+
+"I took our wax candle and entered first, glancing into all the dark
+corners in the large apartment.  Nothing was moving now, and I approached
+the bed.  But I stood transfixed with stupor and fright:
+
+Schopenhauer was no longer laughing!  He was grinning in a horrible
+fashion, with his lips pressed together and deep hollows in his cheeks.
+I stammered out:
+
+"'He is not dead!'
+
+"But the terrible odor ascended to my nose and stifled me.  And I no
+longer moved, but kept staring fixedly at him, terrified as if in the
+presence of an apparition.
+
+"Then my companion, having seized the other wax candle, bent forward.
+Next, he touched my arm without uttering a word.  I followed his glance,
+and saw on the ground, under the armchair by the side of the bed,
+standing out white on the dark carpet, and open as if to bite,
+Schopenhauer's set of artificial teeth.
+
+"The work of decomposition, loosening the jaws, had made it jump out of
+the mouth.
+
+"I was really frightened that day, monsieur."
+
+And as the sun was sinking toward the glittering sea, the consumptive
+German rose from his seat, gave me a parting bow, and retired into the
+hotel.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+     VOLUME III.
+
+MISS HARRIET
+LITTLE LOUISE ROQUE
+THE DONKEY
+MOIRON
+THE DISPENSER OF HOLY WATER
+THE PARRICIDE
+BERTHA
+THE PATRON
+THE DOOR
+A SALE
+THE IMPOLITE SEX
+A WEDDING GIFT
+THE RELIC
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MISS HARRIET
+
+There were seven of us on a drag, four women and three men; one of the
+latter sat on the box seat beside the coachman.  We were ascending, at a
+snail's pace, the winding road up the steep cliff along the coast.
+
+Setting out from Etretat at break of day in order to visit the ruins of
+Tancarville, we were still half asleep, benumbed by the fresh air of the
+morning.  The women especially, who were little accustomed to these early
+excursions, half opened and closed their eyes every moment, nodding their
+heads or yawning, quite insensible to the beauties of the dawn.
+
+It was autumn.  On both sides of the road stretched the bare fields,
+yellowed by the stubble of wheat and oats which covered the soil like a
+beard that had been badly shaved.  The moist earth seemed to steam.
+Larks were singing high up in the air, while other birds piped in the
+bushes.
+
+The sun rose at length in front of us, bright red on the plane of the
+horizon, and in proportion as it ascended, growing clearer from minute to
+minute, the country seemed to awake, to smile, to shake itself like a
+young girl leaving her bed in her white robe of vapor.  The Comte
+d'Etraille, who was seated on the box, cried:
+
+"Look! look! a hare!" and he extended his arm toward the left, pointing
+to a patch of clover.  The animal scurried along, almost hidden by the
+clover, only its large ears showing.  Then it swerved across a furrow,
+stopped, started off again at full speed, changed its course, stopped
+anew, uneasy, spying out every danger, uncertain what route to take, when
+suddenly it began to run with great bounds, disappearing finally in a
+large patch of beet-root.  All the men had waked up to watch the course
+of the animal.
+
+Rene Lamanoir exclaimed:
+
+"We are not at all gallant this morning," and; regarding his neighbor,
+the little Baroness de Serennes, who struggled against sleep, he said to
+her in a low tone: "You are thinking of your husband, baroness.  Reassure
+yourself; he will not return before Saturday, so you have still four
+days."
+
+She answered with a sleepy smile:
+
+"How stupid you are!"  Then, shaking off her torpor, she added: "Now, let
+somebody say something to make us laugh.  You, Monsieur Chenal, who have
+the reputation of having had more love affairs than the Due de Richelieu,
+tell us a love story in which you have played a part; anything you like."
+
+Leon Chenal, an old painter, who had once been very handsome, very
+strong, very proud of his physique and very popular with women, took his
+long white beard in his hand and smiled.  Then, after a few moments'
+reflection, he suddenly became serious.
+
+"Ladies, it will not be an amusing tale, for I am going to relate to you
+the saddest love affair of my life, and I sincerely hope that none of my
+friends may ever pass through a similar experience.
+
+"I was twenty-five years of age and was pillaging along the coast of
+Normandy.  I call 'pillaging' wandering about, with a knapsack on one's
+back, from inn to inn, under the pretext of making studies and sketching
+landscapes.  I knew nothing more enjoyable than that happy-go-lucky
+wandering life, in which one is perfectly free, without shackles of any
+kind, without care, without preoccupation, without thinking even of the
+morrow.  One goes in any direction one pleases, without any guide save
+his fancy, without any counsellor save his eyes.  One stops because a
+running brook attracts one, because the smell of potatoes frying tickles
+one's olfactories on passing an inn.  Sometimes it is the perfume of
+clematis which decides one in his choice or the roguish glance of the
+servant at an inn.  Do not despise me for my affection for these rustics.
+These girls have a soul as well as senses, not to mention firm cheeks and
+fresh lips; while their hearty and willing kisses have the flavor of wild
+fruit.  Love is always love, come whence it may.  A heart that beats at
+your approach, an eye that weeps when you go away are things so rare, so
+sweet, so precious that they must never be despised.
+
+"I have had rendezvous in ditches full of primroses, behind the cow
+stable and in barns among the straw, still warm from the heat of the day.
+I have recollections of coarse gray cloth covering supple peasant skin
+and regrets for simple, frank kisses, more delicate in their unaffected
+sincerity than the subtle favors of charming and distinguished women.
+
+"But what one loves most amid all these varied adventures is the country,
+the woods, the rising of the sun, the twilight, the moonlight.  These
+are, for the painter, honeymoon trips with Nature.  One is alone with her
+in that long and quiet association.  You go to sleep in the fields, amid
+marguerites and poppies, and when you open your eyes in the full glare of
+the sunlight you descry in the distance the little village with its
+pointed clock tower which sounds the hour of noon.
+
+"You sit down by the side of a spring which gushes out at the foot of an
+oak, amid a growth of tall, slender weeds, glistening with life.  You go
+down on your knees, bend forward and drink that cold, pellucid water
+which wets your mustache and nose; you drink it with a physical pleasure,
+as though you kissed the spring, lip to lip.  Sometimes, when you find a
+deep hole along the course of these tiny brooks, you plunge in quite
+naked, and you feel on your skin, from head to foot, as it were, an icy
+and delicious caress, the light and gentle quivering of the stream.
+
+"You are gay on the hills, melancholy on the edge of ponds, inspired when
+the sun is setting in an ocean of blood-red clouds and casts red
+reflections or the river.  And at night, under the moon, which passes
+across the vault of heaven, you think of a thousand strange things which
+would never have occurred to your mind under the brilliant light of day.
+
+"So, in wandering through the same country where we, are this year, I
+came to the little village of Benouville, on the cliff between Yport and
+Etretat.  I came from Fecamp, following the coast, a high coast as
+straight as a wall, with its projecting chalk cliffs descending
+perpendicularly into the sea.  I had walked since early morning on the
+short grass, smooth and yielding as a carpet, that grows on the edge of
+the cliff.  And, singing lustily, I walked with long strides, looking
+sometimes at the slow circling flight of a gull with its white curved
+wings outlined on the blue sky, sometimes at the brown sails of a fishing
+bark on the green sea.  In short, I had passed a happy day, a day of
+liberty and of freedom from care.
+
+"A little farmhouse where travellers were lodged was pointed out to me,
+a kind of inn, kept by a peasant woman, which stood in the centre of a
+Norman courtyard surrounded by a double row of beeches.
+
+"Leaving the coast, I reached the hamlet, which was hemmed in by great
+trees, and I presented myself at the house of Mother Lecacheur.
+
+"She was an old, wrinkled and stern peasant woman, who seemed always to
+receive customers under protest, with a kind of defiance.
+
+"It was the month of May.  The spreading apple trees covered the court
+with a shower of blossoms which rained unceasingly both upon people and
+upon the grass.
+
+"I said: 'Well, Madame Lecacheur, have you a room for me?'
+
+"Astonished to find that I knew her name, she answered:
+
+"'That depends; everything is let, but all the same I can find out."
+
+"In five minutes we had come to an agreement, and I deposited my bag upon
+the earthen floor of a rustic room, furnished with a bed, two chairs, a
+table and a washbowl.  The room looked into the large, smoky kitchen,
+where the lodgers took their meals with the people of the farm and the
+landlady, who was a widow.
+
+"I washed my hands, after which I went out.  The old woman was making a
+chicken fricassee for dinner in the large fireplace in which hung the
+iron pot, black with smoke.
+
+"'You have travellers, then, at the present time?' said I to her.
+
+"She answered in an offended tone of voice:
+
+"'I have a lady, an English lady, who has reached years of maturity.  She
+occupies the other room.'
+
+"I obtained, by means of an extra five sous a day, the privilege of
+dining alone out in the yard when the weather was fine.
+
+"My place was set outside the door, and I was beginning to gnaw the lean
+limbs of the Normandy chicken, to drink the clear cider and to munch the
+hunk of white bread, which was four days old but excellent.
+
+"Suddenly the wooden gate which gave on the highway was opened, and a
+strange lady directed her steps toward the house.  She was very thin,
+very tall, so tightly enveloped in a red Scotch plaid shawl that one
+might have supposed she had no arms, if one had not seen a long hand
+appear just above the hips, holding a white tourist umbrella.  Her face
+was like that of a mummy, surrounded with curls of gray hair, which
+tossed about at every step she took and made me think, I know not why, of
+a pickled herring in curl papers.  Lowering her eyes, she passed quickly
+in front of me and entered the house.
+
+"That singular apparition cheered me.  She undoubtedly was my neighbor,
+the English lady of mature age of whom our hostess had spoken.
+
+"I did not see her again that day.  The next day, when I had settled
+myself to commence painting at the end of that beautiful valley which you
+know and which extends as far as Etretat, I perceived, on lifting my eyes
+suddenly, something singular standing on the crest of the cliff, one
+might have said a pole decked out with flags.  It was she.  On seeing me,
+she suddenly disappeared.  I reentered the house at midday for lunch and
+took my seat at the general table, so as to make the acquaintance of this
+odd character.  But she did not respond to my polite advances, was
+insensible even to my little attentions.  I poured out water for her
+persistently, I passed her the dishes with great eagerness.  A slight,
+almost imperceptible, movement of the head and an English word, murmured
+so low that I did not understand it, were her only acknowledgments.
+
+"I ceased occupying myself with her, although she had disturbed my
+thoughts.
+
+"At the end of three days I knew as much about her as did Madame
+Lecacheur herself.
+
+"She was called Miss Harriet.  Seeking out a secluded village in which to
+pass the summer, she had been attracted to Benouville some six months
+before and did not seem disposed to leave it.  She never spoke at table,
+ate rapidly, reading all the while a small book of the Protestant
+propaganda.  She gave a copy of it to everybody.  The cure himself had
+received no less than four copies, conveyed by an urchin to whom she had
+paid two sous commission.  She said sometimes to our hostess abruptly,
+without preparing her in the least for the declaration:
+
+"'I love the Saviour more than all.  I admire him in all creation;
+I adore him in all nature; I carry him always in my heart.'
+
+"And she would immediately present the old woman with one of her tracts
+which were destined to convert the universe.
+
+"In, the village she was not liked.  In fact, the schoolmaster having
+pronounced her an atheist, a kind of stigma attached to her.  The cure,
+who had been consulted by Madame Lecacheur, responded:
+
+"'She is a heretic, but God does not wish the death of the sinner, and I
+believe her to be a person of pure morals.'
+
+"These words, 'atheist,' 'heretic,' words which no one can precisely
+define, threw doubts into some minds.  It was asserted, however, that
+this English woman was rich and that she had passed her life in
+travelling through every country in the world because her family had cast
+her off.  Why had her family cast her off?  Because of her impiety, of
+course!
+
+"She was, in fact, one of those people of exalted principles; one of
+those opinionated puritans, of which England produces so many; one of
+those good and insupportable old maids who haunt the tables d'hote of
+every hotel in Europe, who spoil Italy, poison Switzerland, render the
+charming cities of the Mediterranean uninhabitable, carry everywhere
+their fantastic manias their manners of petrified vestals, their
+indescribable toilets and a certain odor of india-rubber which makes one
+believe that at night they are slipped into a rubber casing.
+
+"Whenever I caught sight of one of these individuals in a hotel I fled
+like the birds who see a scarecrow in a field.
+
+"This woman, however, appeared so very singular that she did not
+displease me.
+
+"Madame Lecacheur, hostile by instinct to everything that was not rustic,
+felt in her narrow soul a kind of hatred for the ecstatic declarations of
+the old maid.  She had found a phrase by which to describe her, a term of
+contempt that rose to her lips, called forth by I know not what confused
+and mysterious mental ratiocination.  She said: 'That woman is a
+demoniac.'  This epithet, applied to that austere and sentimental
+creature, seemed to me irresistibly droll.  I myself never called her
+anything now but 'the demoniac,' experiencing a singular pleasure in
+pronouncing aloud this word on perceiving her.
+
+"One day I asked Mother Lecacheur : 'Well, what is our demoniac about to-
+day?'
+
+"To which my rustic friend replied with a shocked air:
+
+"'What do you think, sir?  She picked up a toad which had had its paw
+crushed and carried it to her room and has put it in her washbasin and
+bandaged it as if it were a man.  If that is not profanation I should
+like to know what is!'
+
+"On another occasion, when walking along the shore she bought a large
+fish which had just been caught, simply to throw it back into the sea
+again.  The sailor from whom she had bought it, although she paid him
+handsomely, now began to swear, more exasperated, indeed, than if she had
+put her hand into his pocket and taken his money.  For more than a month
+he could not speak of the circumstance without becoming furious and
+denouncing it as an outrage.  Oh, yes!  She was indeed a demoniac, this
+Miss Harriet, and Mother Lecacheur must have had an inspiration in thus
+christening her.
+
+"The stable boy, who was called Sapeur, because he had served in Africa
+in his youth, entertained other opinions.  He said with a roguish air:
+'She is an old hag who has seen life.'
+
+"If the poor woman had but known!
+
+"The little kind-hearted Celeste did not wait upon her willingly, but I
+was never able to understand why.  Probably her only reason was that she
+was a stranger, of another race; of a different tongue and of another
+religion.  She was, in fact, a demoniac!
+
+"She passed her time wandering about the country, adoring and seeking God
+in nature.  I found her one evening on her knees in a cluster of bushes.
+Having discovered something red through the leaves, I brushed aside the
+branches, and Miss Harriet at once rose to her feet, confused at having
+been found thus, fixing on me terrified eyes like those of an owl
+surprised in open day.
+
+"Sometimes, when I was working among the rocks, I would suddenly descry
+her on the edge of the cliff like a lighthouse signal.  She would be
+gazing in rapture at the vast sea glittering in the sunlight and the
+boundless sky with its golden tints.  Sometimes I would distinguish her
+at the end of the valley, walking quickly with her elastic English step,
+and I would go toward her, attracted by I know not what, simply to see
+her illuminated visage, her dried-up, ineffable features, which seemed to
+glow with inward and profound happiness.
+
+"I would often encounter her also in the corner of a field, sitting on
+the grass under the shadow of an apple tree, with her little religious
+booklet lying open on her knee while she gazed out at the distance.
+
+"I could not tear myself away from that quiet country neighborhood, to
+which I was attached by a thousand links of love for its wide and
+peaceful landscape.  I was happy in this sequestered farm, far removed
+from everything, but in touch with the earth, the good, beautiful, green
+earth.  And--must I avow it?--there was, besides, a little curiosity
+which retained me at the residence of Mother Lecacheur.  I wished to
+become acquainted a little with this strange Miss Harriet and to know
+what transpires in the solitary souls of those wandering old English
+women.
+
+"We became acquainted in a rather singular manner.  I had just finished a
+study which appeared to me to be worth something, and so it was, as it
+sold for ten thousand francs fifteen years later.  It was as simple,
+however, as two and two make four and was not according to academic
+rules.  The whole right side of my canvas represented a rock, an enormous
+rock, covered with sea-wrack, brown, yellow and red, across which the sun
+poured like a stream of oil.  The light fell upon the rock as though it
+were aflame without the sun, which was at my back, being visible.  That
+was all.  A first bewildering study of blazing, gorgeous light.
+
+"On the left was the sea, not the blue sea, the slate-colored sea, but a
+sea of jade, greenish, milky and solid beneath the deep-colored sky.
+
+"I was so pleased with my work that I danced from sheer delight as I
+carried it back to the inn.  I would have liked the whole world to see it
+at once.  I can remember that I showed it to a cow that was browsing by
+the wayside, exclaiming as I did so: 'Look at that, my old beauty; you
+will not often see its like again.'
+
+"When I had reached the house I immediately called out to Mother
+Lecacheur, shouting with all my might:
+
+"'Hullo, there!  Mrs. Landlady, come here and look at this.'
+
+"The rustic approached and looked at my work with her stupid eyes which
+distinguished nothing and could not even tell whether the picture
+represented an ox or a house.
+
+"Miss Harriet just then came home, and she passed behind me just as I was
+holding out my canvas at arm's length, exhibiting it to our landlady.
+The demoniac could not help but see it, for I took care to exhibit the
+thing in such a way that it could not escape her notice.  She stopped
+abruptly and stood motionless, astonished.  It was her rock which was
+depicted, the one which she climbed to dream away her time undisturbed.
+
+"She uttered a British 'Aoh,' which was at once so accentuated and so
+flattering that I turned round to her, smiling, and said:
+
+"'This is my latest study, mademoiselle.'
+
+"She murmured rapturously, comically and tenderly:
+
+"'Oh!  monsieur, you understand nature as a living thing.'
+
+"I colored and was more touched by that compliment than if it had come
+from a queen.  I was captured, conquered, vanquished.  I could have
+embraced her, upon my honor.
+
+"I took my seat at table beside her as usual.  For the first time she
+spoke, thinking aloud:
+
+"'Oh!  I do love nature.'
+
+"I passed her some bread, some water, some wine.  She now accepted these
+with a little smile of a mummy.  I then began to talk about the scenery.
+
+"After the meal we rose from the table together and walked leisurely
+across the courtyard; then, attracted doubtless by the fiery glow which
+the setting sun cast over the surface of the sea, I opened the gate which
+led to the cliff, and we walked along side by side, as contented as two
+persons might be who have just learned to understand and penetrate each
+other's motives and feelings.
+
+"It was one of those warm, soft evenings which impart a sense of ease to
+flesh and spirit alike.  All is enjoyment, everything charms.  The balmy
+air, laden with the perfume of grasses and the smell of seaweed, soothes
+the olfactory sense with its wild fragrance, soothes the palate with its
+sea savor, soothes the mind with its pervading sweetness.
+
+"We were now walking along the edge of the cliff, high above the
+boundless sea which rolled its little waves below us at a distance of a
+hundred metres.  And we drank in with open mouth and expanded chest that
+fresh breeze, briny from kissing the waves, that came from the ocean and
+passed across our faces.
+
+"Wrapped in her plaid shawl, with a look of inspiration as she faced the
+breeze, the English woman gazed fixedly at the great sun ball as it
+descended toward the horizon.  Far off in the distance a three-master in
+full sail was outlined on the blood-red sky and a steamship, somewhat
+nearer, passed along, leaving behind it a trail of smoke on the horizon.
+The red sun globe sank slowly lower and lower and presently touched the
+water just behind the motionless vessel, which, in its dazzling
+effulgence, looked as though framed in a flame of fire.  We saw it
+plunge, grow smaller and disappear, swallowed up by the ocean.
+
+"Miss Harriet gazed in rapture at the last gleams of the dying day.  She
+seemed longing to embrace the sky, the sea, the whole landscape.
+
+"She murmured: 'Aoh!  I love--I love' I saw a tear in her eye.  She
+continued: 'I wish I were a little bird, so that I could mount up into
+the firmament.'
+
+"She remained standing as I had often before seen her, perched on the
+cliff, her face as red as her shawl.  I should have liked to have
+sketched her in my album.  It would have been a caricature of ecstasy.
+
+"I turned away so as not to laugh.
+
+"I then spoke to her of painting as I would have done to a fellow artist,
+using the technical terms common among the devotees of the profession.
+She listened attentively, eagerly seeking to divine the meaning of the
+terms, so as to understand my thoughts.  From time to time she would
+exclaim:
+
+'Oh! I understand, I understand.  It is very interesting.'
+
+"We returned home.
+
+"The next day, on seeing me, she approached me, cordially holding out her
+hand; and we at once became firm friends.
+
+"She was a good creature who had a kind of soul on springs, which became
+enthusiastic at a bound.  She lacked equilibrium like all women who are
+spinsters at the age of fifty.  She seemed to be preserved in a pickle of
+innocence, but her heart still retained something very youthful and
+inflammable.  She loved both nature and animals with a fervor, a love
+like old wine fermented through age, with a sensuous love that she had
+never bestowed on men.
+
+"One thing is certain, that the sight of a bitch nursing her puppies, a
+mare roaming in a meadow with a foal at its side, a bird's nest full of
+young ones, screaming, with their open mouths and their enormous heads,
+affected her perceptibly.
+
+"Poor, solitary, sad, wandering beings!  I love you ever since I became
+acquainted with Miss Harriet.
+
+"I soon discovered that she had something she would like to tell me, but
+dare not, and I was amused at her timidity.  When I started out in the
+morning with my knapsack on my back, she would accompany me in silence as
+far as the end of the village, evidently struggling to find words with
+which to begin a conversation.  Then she would leave me abruptly and walk
+away quickly with her springy step.
+
+"One day, however, she plucked up courage:
+
+"I would like to see how you paint pictures.  Are you willing?  I have
+been very curious.'
+
+"And she blushed as if she had said something very audacious.
+
+"I conducted her to the bottom of the Petit-Val, where I had begun a
+large picture.
+
+"She remained standing behind me, following all my gestures with
+concentrated attention.  Then, suddenly, fearing perhaps that she was
+disturbing me, she said: 'Thank you,' and walked away.
+
+"But she soon became more friendly, and accompanied me every day, her
+countenance exhibiting visible pleasure.  She carried her camp stool
+under her arm, not permitting me to carry it.  She would remain there for
+hours, silent and motionless, following with her eyes the point of my
+brush, in its every movement.  When I obtained unexpectedly just the
+effect I wanted by a dash of color put on with the palette knife, she
+involuntarily uttered a little 'Ah!' of astonishment, of joy, of
+admiration.  She had the most tender respect for my canvases, an almost
+religious respect for that human reproduction of a part of nature's work
+divine.  My studies appeared to her a kind of religious pictures, and
+sometimes she spoke to me of God, with the idea of converting me.
+
+"Oh, he was a queer, good-natured being, this God of hers!  He was a sort
+of village philosopher without any great resources and without great
+power, for she always figured him to herself as inconsolable over
+injustices committed under his eyes, as though he were powerless to
+prevent them.
+
+"She was, however, on excellent terms with him, affecting even to be the
+confidante of his secrets and of his troubles.  She would say:
+
+"'God wills' or 'God does not will,' just like a sergeant announcing to a
+recruit: 'The colonel has commanded.'
+
+"At the bottom of her heart she deplored my ignorance of the intentions
+of the Eternal, which she endeavored to impart to me.
+
+"Almost every day I found in my pockets, in my hat when I lifted it from
+the ground, in my paintbox, in my polished shoes, standing in front of my
+door in the morning, those little pious tracts which she no doubt,
+received directly from Paradise.
+
+"I treated her as one would an old friend, with unaffected cordiality.
+But I soon perceived that she had changed somewhat in her manner, though,
+for a while, I paid little attention to it.
+
+"When I was painting, whether in my valley or in some country lane, I
+would see her suddenly appear with her rapid, springy walk.  She would
+then sit down abruptly, out of breath, as though she had been running or
+were overcome by some profound emotion.  Her face would be red, that
+English red which is denied to the people of all other countries; then,
+without any reason, she would turn ashy pale and seem about to faint
+away.  Gradually, however, her natural color would return and she would
+begin to speak.
+
+"Then, without warning, she would break off in the middle of a sentence,
+spring up from her seat and walk away so rapidly and so strangely that I
+was at my wits' ends to discover whether I had done or said anything to
+displease or wound her.
+
+"I finally came to the conclusion that those were her normal manners,
+somewhat modified no doubt in my honor during the first days of our
+acquaintance.
+
+"When she returned to the farm, after walking for hours on the windy
+coast, her long curls often hung straight down, as if their springs had
+been broken.  This had hitherto seldom given her any concern, and she
+would come to dinner without embarrassment all dishevelled by her sister,
+the breeze.
+
+But now she would go to her room and arrange the untidy locks, and when I
+would say, with familiar gallantry, which, however, always offended her
+"'You are as beautiful as a star to-day, Miss Harriet,' a blush would
+immediately rise to her cheeks, the blush of a young girl, of a girl of
+fifteen.
+
+"Then she would suddenly become quite reserved and cease coming to watch
+me paint.  I thought, 'This is only a fit of temper; it will blow over.'
+But it did not always blow over, and when I spoke to her she would answer
+me either with affected indifference or with sullen annoyance.
+
+"She became by turns rude, impatient and nervous.  I never saw her now
+except at meals, and we spoke but little.  I concluded at length that I
+must have offended her in some way, and, accordingly, I said to her one
+evening:
+
+"'Miss Harriet, why is it that you do not act toward me as formerly?
+What have I done to displease you?  You are causing me much pain!'
+
+"She replied in a most comical tone of anger:
+
+"'I am just the same with you as formerly.  It is not true, not true,'
+and she ran upstairs and shut herself up in her room.
+
+"Occasionally she would look at me in a peculiar manner.  I have often
+said to myself since then that those who are condemned to death must look
+thus when they are informed that their last day has come.  In her eye
+there lurked a species of insanity, an insanity at once mystical and
+violent; and even more, a fever, an aggravated longing, impatient and
+impotent, for the unattained and unattainable.
+
+"Nay, it seemed to me there was also going on within her a struggle in
+which her heart wrestled with an unknown force that she sought to master,
+and even, perhaps, something else.  But what do I know?  What do I know?
+
+"It was indeed a singular revelation.
+
+"For some time I had commenced to work, as soon as daylight appeared, on
+a picture the subject of which was as follows:
+
+"A deep ravine, enclosed, surmounted by two thickets of trees and vines,
+extended into the distance and was lost, submerged in that milky vapor,
+in that cloud like cotton down that sometimes floats over valleys at
+daybreak.  And at the extreme end of that heavy, transparent fog one saw,
+or, rather, surmised, that a couple of human beings were approaching, a
+human couple, a youth and a maiden, their arms interlaced, embracing each
+other, their heads inclined toward each other, their lips meeting.
+
+"A first ray of the sun, glistening through the branches, pierced that
+fog of the dawn, illuminated it with a rosy reflection just behind the
+rustic lovers, framing their vague shadows in a silvery background.  It
+was well done; yes, indeed, well done.
+
+"I was working on the declivity which led to the Valley of Etretat.  On
+this particular morning I had, by chance, the sort of floating vapor
+which I needed.  Suddenly something rose up in front of me like a
+phantom; it was Miss Harriet.  On seeing me she was about to flee.  But I
+called after her, saying: 'Come here, come here, mademoiselle.  I have a
+nice little picture for you.'
+
+"She came forward, though with seeming reluctance.  I handed her my
+sketch.  She said nothing, but stood for a long time, motionless, looking
+at it, and suddenly she burst into tears.  She wept spasmodically, like
+men who have striven hard to restrain their tears, but who can do so no
+longer and abandon themselves to grief, though still resisting.  I sprang
+to my feet, moved at the sight of a sorrow I did not comprehend, and I
+took her by the hand with an impulse of brusque affection, a true French
+impulse which acts before it reflects.
+
+"She let her hands rest in mine for a few seconds, and I felt them quiver
+as if all her nerves were being wrenched.  Then she withdrew her hands
+abruptly, or, rather, snatched them away.
+
+"I recognized that tremor, for I had felt it, and I could not be
+deceived.  Ah! the love tremor of a woman, whether she be fifteen or
+fifty years of age, whether she be of the people or of society, goes so
+straight to my heart that I never have any hesitation in understanding
+it!
+
+"Her whole frail being had trembled, vibrated, been overcome.  I knew it.
+She walked away before I had time to say a word, leaving me as surprised
+as if I had witnessed a miracle and as troubled as if I had committed a
+crime.
+
+"I did not go in to breakfast.  I went to take a turn on the edge of the
+cliff, feeling that I would just as lief weep as laugh, looking on the
+adventure as both comic and deplorable and my position as ridiculous,
+believing her unhappy enough to go insane.
+
+"I asked myself what I ought to do.  It seemed best for me to leave the
+place, and I immediately resolved to do so.
+
+"Somewhat sad and perplexed, I wandered about until dinner time and
+entered the farmhouse just when the soup had been served up.
+
+"I sat down at the table as usual.  Miss Harriet was there, eating away
+solemnly, without speaking to any one, without even lifting her eyes.
+Her manner and expression were, however, the same as usual.
+
+"I waited patiently till the meal had been finished, when, turning toward
+the landlady, I said: 'Well, Madame Lecacheur, it will not be long now
+before I shall have to take my leave of you.'
+
+"The good woman, at once surprised and troubled, replied in her drawling
+voice: 'My dear sir, what is it you say?  You are going to leave us after
+I have become so accustomed to you?'
+
+"I glanced at Miss Harriet out of the corner of my eye.  Her countenance
+did not change in the least.  But Celeste, the little servant, looked up
+at me.  She was a fat girl, of about eighteen years of age, rosy, fresh,
+as strong as a horse, and possessing the rare attribute of cleanliness.
+I had kissed her at odd times in out-of-the-way corners, after the manner
+of travellers--nothing more.
+
+"The dinner being at length over, I went to smoke my pipe under the apple
+trees, walking up and down from one end of the enclosure to the other.
+All the reflections which I had made during the day, the strange
+discovery of the morning, that passionate and grotesque attachment for
+me, the recollections which that revelation had suddenly called up,
+recollections at once charming and perplexing, perhaps also that look
+which the servant had cast on me at the announcement of my departure--all
+these things, mixed up and combined, put me now in a reckless humor, gave
+me a tickling sensation of kisses on the lips and in my veins a something
+which urged me on to commit some folly.
+
+"Night was coming on, casting its dark shadows under the trees, when I
+descried Celeste, who had gone to fasten up the poultry yard at the other
+end of the enclosure.  I darted toward her, running so noiselessly that
+she heard nothing, and as she got up from closing the small trapdoor by
+which the chickens got in and out, I clasped her in my arms and rained on
+her coarse, fat face a shower of kisses.  She struggled, laughing all the
+time, as she was accustomed to do in such circumstances.  Why did I
+suddenly loose my grip of her?  Why did I at once experience a shock?
+What was it that I heard behind me?
+
+"It was Miss Harriet, who had come upon us, who had seen us and who stood
+in front of us motionless as a spectre.  Then she disappeared in the
+darkness.
+
+"I was ashamed, embarrassed, more desperate at having been thus surprised
+by her than if she had caught me committing some criminal act.
+
+"I slept badly that night.  I was completely unnerved and haunted by sad
+thoughts.  I seemed to hear loud weeping, but in this I was no doubt
+deceived.  Moreover, I thought several times that I heard some one
+walking up and down in the house and opening the hall door.
+
+"Toward morning I was overcome by fatigue and fell asleep.  I got up late
+and did not go downstairs until the late breakfast, being still in a
+bewildered state, not knowing what kind of expression to put on.
+
+"No one had seen Miss Harriet.  We waited for her at table, but she did
+not appear.  At length Mother Lecacheur went to her room.  The English
+woman had gone out.  She must have set out at break of day, as she was
+wont to do, in order to see the sun rise.
+
+"Nobody seemed surprised at this, and we began to eat in silence.
+
+"The weather was hot, very hot, one of those broiling, heavy days when
+not a leaf stirs.  The table had been placed out of doors, under an apple
+tree, and from time to time Sapeur had gone to the cellar to draw a jug
+of cider, everybody was so thirsty.  Celeste brought the dishes from the
+kitchen, a ragout of mutton with potatoes, a cold rabbit and a salad.
+Afterward she placed before us a dish of strawberries, the first of the
+season.
+
+"As I wished to wash and freshen these, I begged the servant to go and
+draw me a pitcher of cold water.
+
+"In about five minutes she returned, declaring that the well was dry.
+She had lowered the pitcher to the full extent of the cord and had
+touched the bottom, but on drawing the pitcher up again it was empty.
+Mother Lecacheur, anxious to examine the thing for herself, went and
+looked down the hole.  She returned, announcing that one could see
+clearly something in the well, something altogether unusual.  But this no
+doubt was bundles of straw, which a neighbor had thrown in out of spite.
+
+"I wished to look down the well also, hoping I might be able to clear up
+the mystery, and I perched myself close to the brink.  I perceived
+indistinctly a white object.  What could it be?  I then conceived the
+idea of lowering a lantern at the end of a cord.  When I did so the
+yellow flame danced on the layers of stone and gradually became clearer.
+All four of us were leaning over the opening, Sapeur and Celeste having
+now joined us.  The lantern rested on a black-and-white indistinct mass,
+singular, incomprehensible.  Sapeur exclaimed:
+
+"'It is a horse.  I see the hoofs.  It must have got out of the meadow
+during the night and fallen in headlong.'
+
+"But suddenly a cold shiver froze me to the marrow.  I first recognized a
+foot, then a leg sticking up; the whole body and the other leg were
+completely under water.
+
+"I stammered out in a loud voice, trembling so violently that the lantern
+danced hither and thither over the slipper:
+
+"'It is a woman!  Who-who-can it be?  It is Miss Harriet!'
+
+"Sapeur alone did not manifest horror.  He had witnessed many such scenes
+in Africa.
+
+"Mother Lecacheur and Celeste began to utter piercing screams and ran
+away.
+
+"But it was necessary to recover the corpse of the dead woman.  I
+attached the young man securely by the waist to the end of the pulley
+rope and lowered him very slowly, watching him disappear in the darkness.
+In one hand he held the lantern and a rope in the other.  Soon I
+recognized his voice, which seemed to come from the centre of the earth,
+saying:
+
+'Stop!'
+
+"I then saw him fish something out of the water.  It was the other leg.
+He then bound the two feet together and shouted anew:
+
+"'Haul up!'
+
+"I began to wind up, but I felt my arms crack, my muscles twitch, and I
+was in terror lest I should let the man fall to the bottom.  When his
+head appeared at the brink I asked:
+
+"'Well?' as if I expected he had a message from the drowned woman.
+
+"We both got on the stone slab at the edge of the well and from opposite
+sides we began to haul up the body.
+
+"Mother Lecacheur and Celeste watched us from a distance, concealed from
+view behind the wall of the house.  When they saw issuing from the hole
+the black slippers and white stockings of the drowned person they
+disappeared.
+
+"Sapeur seized the ankles, and we drew up the body of the poor woman.
+The head was shocking to look at, being bruised and lacerated, and the
+long gray hair, out of curl forevermore, hanging down tangled and
+disordered.
+
+"'In the name of all that is holy!  how lean she is,' exclaimed Sapeur in
+a contemptuous tone.
+
+"We carried her into the room, and as the women did not put in an
+appearance I, with the assistance of the stable lad, dressed the corpse
+for burial.
+
+"I washed her disfigured face.  Under the touch of my finger an eye was
+slightly opened and regarded me with that pale, cold look, that terrible
+look of a corpse which seems to come from the beyond.  I braided as well
+as I could her dishevelled hair and with my clumsy hands arranged on her
+head a novel and singular coiffure.  Then I took off her dripping wet
+garments, baring, not without a feeling of shame, as though I had been
+guilty of some profanation, her shoulders and her chest and her long
+arms, as slim as the twigs of a tree.
+
+"I next went to fetch some flowers, poppies, bluets, marguerites and
+fresh, sweet-smelling grass with which to strew her funeral couch.
+
+"I then had to go through the usual formalities, as I was alone to attend
+to everything.  A letter found in her pocket, written at the last moment,
+requested that her body be buried in the village in which she had passed
+the last days of her life.  A sad suspicion weighed on my heart.  Was it
+not on my account that she wished to be laid to rest in this place?
+
+"Toward evening all the female gossips of the locality came to view the
+remains of the defunct, but I would not allow a single person to enter.
+I wanted to be alone, and I watched beside her all night.
+
+"I looked at the corpse by the flickering light of the candles, at this
+unhappy woman, unknown to us all, who had died in such a lamentable
+manner and so far away from home.  Had she left no friends, no relations
+behind her?  What had her infancy been?  What had been her life?  Whence
+had she come thither alone, a wanderer, lost like a dog driven from home?
+What secrets of sufferings and of despair were sealed up in that
+unprepossessing body, in that poor body whose outward appearance had
+driven from her all affection, all love?
+
+"How many unhappy beings there are!  I felt that there weighed upon that
+human creature the eternal injustice of implacable nature!  It was all
+over with her, without her ever having experienced, perhaps, that which
+sustains the greatest outcasts to wit, the hope of being loved once!
+Otherwise why should she thus have concealed herself, fled from the face
+of others?  Why did she love everything so tenderly and so passionately,
+everything living that was not a man?
+
+"I recognized the fact that she believed in a God, and that she hoped to
+receive compensation from the latter for all the miseries she had
+endured.  She would now disintegrate and become, in turn, a plant.  She
+would blossom in the sun, the cattle would browse on her leaves, the
+birds would bear away the seeds, and through these changes she would
+become again human flesh.  But that which is called the soul had been
+extinguished at the bottom of the dark well.  She suffered no longer.
+She had given her life for that of others yet to come.
+
+"Hours passed away in this silent and sinister communion with the dead.
+A pale light at length announced the dawn of a new day; then a red ray
+streamed in on the bed, making a bar of light across the coverlet and
+across her hands.  This was the hour she had so much loved.  The awakened
+birds began to sing in the trees.
+
+"I opened the window to its fullest extent and drew back the curtains
+that the whole heavens might look in upon us, and, bending over the icy
+corpse, I took in my hands the mutilated head and slowly, without terror
+or disgust, I imprinted a kiss, a long kiss, upon those lips which had
+never before been kissed."
+
+Leon Chenal remained silent.  The women wept.  We heard on the box seat
+the Count d'Atraille blowing his nose from time to time.  The coachman
+alone had gone to sleep.  The horses, who no longer felt the sting of the
+whip, had slackened their pace and moved along slowly.  The drag, hardly
+advancing at all, seemed suddenly torpid, as if it had been freighted
+with sorrow.
+
+     [Miss Harriet appeared in Le Gaulois, July 9, 1883, under the title
+     of Miss Hastings.  The story was later revised, enlarged; and partly
+     reconstructed.  This is what De Maupassant wrote to Editor Havard
+     March 15, 1884, in an unedited letter, in regard to the title of the
+     story that was to give its name to the volume:
+
+     "I do not believe that Hastings is a bad name, inasmuch as it is
+     known all over the world, and recalls the greatest facts in English
+     history.  Besides, Hastings is as much a name as Duval is with us.
+
+     "The name Cherbuliez selected, Miss Revel, is no more like an
+     English name than like a Turkish name.  But here is another name as
+     English as Hastings, and more euphonious; it is Miss Harriet.
+     I will ask you therefore to substitute Harriet for Hastings."
+
+     It was in regard to this very tittle that De Maupassant had a
+     disagreement with Audran and Boucheron director of the Bouffes
+     Parisiens in October, 1890 They had given this title to an operetta
+     about to be played at the Bouffes.  It ended however, by their
+     ceding to De Maupassant, and the title of the operetta was changed
+     to Miss Helyett.]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+LITTLE LOUISE ROQUE
+
+The former soldier, Mederic Rompel, familiarly called Mederic by the
+country folks, left the post office of Roiiy-le-Tors at the usual hour.
+After passing through the village with his long stride, he cut across the
+meadows of Villaume and reached the bank of the Brindille, following the
+path along the water's edge to the village of Carvelin, where he
+commenced to deliver his letters.  He walked quickly, following the
+course of the narrow river, which frothed, murmured and boiled in its
+grassy bed beneath an arch of willows.
+
+Mederic went on without stopping, with only this thought in his mind: "My
+first letter is for the Poivron family, then I have one for Monsieur
+Renardet; so I must cross the wood."
+
+His blue blouse, fastened round his waist by a black leather belt, moved
+in a quick, regular fashion above the green hedge of willow trees, and
+his stout stick of holly kept time with his steady tread.
+
+He crossed the Brindille on a bridge consisting of a tree trunk, with a
+handrail of rope, fastened at either end to a stake driven into the
+ground.
+
+The wood, which belonged to Monsieur Renardet, the mayor of Carvelin and
+the largest landowner in the district, consisted of huge old trees,
+straight as pillars and extending for about half a league along the left
+bank of the stream which served as a boundary to this immense dome of
+foliage.  Alongside the water large shrubs had grown up in the sunlight,
+but under the trees one found nothing but moss, thick, soft and yielding,
+from which arose, in the still air, an odor of dampness and of dead wood.
+
+Mederic slackened his pace, took off his black cap adorned with red lace
+and wiped his forehead, for it was by this time hot in the meadows,
+though it was not yet eight o'clock in the morning.
+
+He had just recovered from the effects of the heat and resumed his quick
+pace when he noticed at the foot of a tree a knife, a child's small
+knife.  When he picked it up he discovered a thimble and also a
+needlecase not far away.
+
+Having taken up these objects, he thought: "I'll entrust them to the
+mayor," and he resumed his journey, but now he kept his eyes open,
+expecting to find something else.
+
+All of a sudden he stopped short, as if he had struck against a wooden
+barrier.  Ten paces in front of him lay stretched on her back on the moss
+a little girl, perfectly nude, her face covered with a handkerchief.  She
+was about twelve years old.
+
+Meredic advanced on tiptoe, as if he apprehended some danger, and he
+glanced toward the spot uneasily.
+
+What was this?  No doubt she was asleep.  Then he reflected that a person
+does not go to sleep naked at half-past seven in the morning under the
+cool trees.  So, then, she must be dead, and he must be face to face with
+a crime.  At this thought a cold shiver ran through his frame, although
+he was an old soldier.  And then a murder was such a rare thing in the
+country, and, above all, the murder of a child, that he could not believe
+his eyes.  But she had no wound-nothing save a spot of blood on her leg.
+How, then, had she been killed?
+
+He stopped close to her and gazed at her, while he leaned on his stick.
+Certainly he must know her, for he knew all the inhabitants of the
+district; but, not being able to get a look at her face, he could not
+guess her name.  He stooped forward in order to take off the handkerchief
+which covered her face, then paused, with outstretched hand, restrained
+by an idea that occurred to him.
+
+Had he the right to disarrange anything in the condition of the corpse
+before the official investigation?  He pictured justice to himself as a
+kind of general whom nothing escapes and who attaches as much importance
+to a lost button as to the stab of a knife in the stomach.  Perhaps under
+this handkerchief evidence could be found to sustain a charge of murder;
+in fact, if such proof were there it might lose its value if touched by
+an awkward hand.
+
+Then he raised himself with the intention of hastening toward the mayor's
+residence, but again another thought held him back.  If the little girl
+were still alive, by any chance, he could not leave her lying there in
+this way.  He sank on his knees very gently, a little distance from her,
+through precaution, and extended his hand toward her foot.  It was icy
+cold, with the terrible coldness of death which leaves us no longer in
+doubt.  The letter carrier, as he touched her, felt his heart in his
+mouth, as he said himself afterward, and his mouth parched.  Rising up
+abruptly, he rushed off under the trees toward Monsieur Renardet's house.
+
+He walked on faster than ever, with his stick under his arm, his hands
+clenched and his head thrust forward, while his leathern bag, filled with
+letters and newspapers, kept flapping at his side.
+
+The mayor's residence was at the end of the wood which served as a park,
+and one side of it was washed by the Brindille.
+
+It was a big square house of gray stone, very old, and had stood many a
+siege in former days, and at the end of it was a huge tower, twenty
+metres high, rising out of the water.
+
+From the top of this fortress one could formerly see all the surrounding
+country.  It was called the Fox's tower, without any one knowing exactly
+why; and from this appellation, no doubt, had come the name Renardet,
+borne by the owners of this fief, which had remained in the same family,
+it was said, for more than two hundred years.  For the Renardets formed
+part of the upper middle class, all but noble, to be met with so often in
+the province before the Revolution.
+
+The postman dashed into the kitchen, where the servants were taking
+breakfast, and exclaimed:
+
+"Is the mayor up?  I want to speak to him at once."
+
+Mederic was recognized as a man of standing and authority, and they
+understood that something serious had happened.
+
+As soon as word was brought to Monsieur Renardet, he ordered the postman
+to be sent up to him.  Pale and out of breath, with his cap in his hand,
+Mederic found the mayor seated at a long table covered with scattered
+papers.
+
+He was a large, tall man, heavy and red-faced, strong as an ox, and was
+greatly liked in the district, although of an excessively violent
+disposition.  Almost forty years old and a widower for the past six
+months, he lived on his estate like a country gentleman.  His choleric
+temperament had often brought him into trouble from which the magistrates
+of Roiiy-le-Tors, like indulgent and prudent friends, had extricated him.
+Had he not one day thrown the conductor of the diligence from the top of
+his seat because he came near running over his retriever, Micmac?  Had he
+not broken the ribs of a gamekeeper who abused him for having, gun in
+hand, passed through a neighbor's property?  Had he not even caught by
+the collar the sub-prefect, who stopped over in the village during an
+administrative circuit, called by Monsieur Renardet an electioneering
+circuit, for he was opposed to the government, in accordance with family
+traditions.
+
+The mayor asked:
+
+"What's the matter now, Mederic?"
+
+"I found a little girl dead in your wood."
+
+Renardet rose to his feet, his face the color of brick.
+
+"What do you say--a little girl?"
+
+"Yes, m'sieu, a little girl, quite naked, on her back, with blood on her,
+dead--quite dead!"
+
+The mayor gave vent to an oath:
+
+"By God, I'd make a bet it is little Louise Roque!  I have just learned
+that she did not go home to her mother last night.  Where did you find
+her?"
+
+The postman described the spot, gave full details and offered to conduct
+the mayor to the place.
+
+But Renardet became brusque:
+
+"No, I don't need you.  Send the watchman, the mayor's secretary and the
+doctor to me at once, and resume your rounds.  Quick, quick, go and tell
+them to meet me in the wood."
+
+The letter carrier, a man used to discipline, obeyed and withdrew, angry
+and grieved at not being able to be present at the investigation.
+
+The mayor, in his turn, prepared to go out, took his big soft hat and
+paused for a few seconds on the threshold of his abode.  In front of him
+stretched a wide sward, in which were three large beds of flowers in full
+bloom, one facing the house and the others at either side of it.  Farther
+on the outlying trees of the wood rose skyward, while at the left, beyond
+the Brindille, which at that spot widened into a pond, could be seen long
+meadows, an entirely green flat sweep of country, intersected by trenches
+and hedges of pollard willows.
+
+To the right, behind the stables, the outhouses and all the buildings
+connected with the property, might be seen the village, which was
+wealthy, being mainly inhabited by cattle breeders.
+
+Renardet slowly descended the steps in front of his house, and, turning
+to the left, gained the water's edge, which he followed at a slow pace,
+his hand behind his back.  He walked on, with bent head, and from time to
+time glanced round in search of the persons he had sent for.
+
+When he stood beneath the trees he stopped, took off his hat and wiped
+his forehead as Mederic had done, for the burning sun was darting its
+fiery rays on the earth.  Then the mayor resumed his journey, stopped
+once more and retraced his steps.  Suddenly, stooping down, he steeped
+his handkerchief in the stream that glided along at his feet and spread
+it over his head, under his hat.  Drops of water flowed down his temples
+over his ears, which were always purple, over his strong red neck, and
+made their way, one after the other, under his white shirt collar.
+
+As nobody had appeared, he began tapping with his foot, then he called
+out:
+
+"Hello!  Hello!"
+
+A voice at his right answered:
+
+"Hello!  Hello!"
+
+And the doctor appeared under the trees.  He was a thin little man, an
+ex-military surgeon, who passed in the neighborhood for a very skillful
+practitioner.  He limped, having been wounded while in the service, and
+had to use a stick to assist him in walking.
+
+Next came the watchman and the mayor's secretary, who, having been sent
+for at the same time, arrived together.  They looked scared, and hurried
+forward, out of breath, walking and running alternately to hasten their
+progress, and moving their arms up and down so vigorously that they
+seemed to do more work with them than with their legs.
+
+Renardet said to the doctor:
+
+"You know what the trouble is about?"
+
+"Yes, a child found dead in the wood by Mederic."
+
+"That's quite correct.  Come on!"
+
+They walked along, side by side, followed by the two men.
+
+Their steps made no sound on the moss.  Their eyes were gazing ahead in
+front of them.
+
+Suddenly the doctor, extending his arm, said:
+
+"See, there she is!"
+
+Far ahead of them under the trees they saw something white on which the
+sun gleamed down through the branches.  As they approached they gradually
+distinguished a human form lying there, its head toward the river, the
+face covered and the arms extended as though on a crucifix.
+
+"I am fearfully warm," said the mayor, and stooping down, he again soaked
+his handkerchief in the water and placed it round his forehead.
+
+The doctor hastened his steps, interested by the discovery.  As soon as
+they were near the corpse, he bent down to examine it without touching
+it.  He had put on his pince-nez, as one does in examining some curious
+object, and turned round very quietly.
+
+He said, without rising:
+
+"Violated and murdered, as we shall prove presently.  This little girl,
+moreover, is almost a woman--look at her throat."
+
+The doctor lightly drew away the handkerchief which covered her face,
+which looked black, frightful, the tongue protruding, the eyes bloodshot.
+He went on:
+
+"By heavens!  She was strangled the moment the deed was done."
+
+He felt her neck.
+
+"Strangled with the hands without leaving any special trace, neither the
+mark of the nails nor the imprint of the fingers.  Quite right.  It is
+little Louise Roque, sure enough!"
+
+He carefully replaced the handkerchief.
+
+"There's nothing for me to do.  She's been dead for the last hour at
+least.  We must give notice of the matter to the authorities."
+
+Renardet, standing up, with his hands behind his back, kept staring with
+a stony look at the little body exposed to view on the grass.  He
+murmured:
+
+"What a wretch!  We must find the clothes."
+
+The doctor felt the hands, the arms, the legs.  He said:
+
+"She had been bathing no doubt.  They ought to be at the water's edge."
+
+The mayor thereupon gave directions:
+
+"Do you, Principe" (this was his secretary), "go and find those clothes
+for me along the stream.  You, Maxime" (this was the watchman), "hurry on
+toward Rouy-le-Tors and bring with you the magistrate with the gendarmes.
+They must be here within an hour.  You understand?"
+
+The two men started at once, and Renardet said to the doctor:
+
+"What miscreant could have done such a deed in this part of the country?"
+
+The doctor murmured:
+
+"Who knows?  Any one is capable of that.  Every one in particular and
+nobody in general.  No matter, it must be some prowler, some workman out
+of employment.  Since we have become a Republic we meet only this kind of
+person along the roads."
+
+Both of them were Bonapartists.
+
+The mayor went on:
+
+"Yes, it can only be a stranger, a passer-by, a vagabond without hearth
+or home."
+
+The doctor added, with the shadow of a smile on his face:
+
+"And without a wife.  Having neither a good supper nor a good bed, he
+became reckless.  You can't tell how many men there may be in the world
+capable of a crime at a given moment.  Did you know that this little girl
+had disappeared?"
+
+And with the end of his stick he touched one after the other the
+stiffened fingers of the corpse, resting on them as on the keys of a
+piano.
+
+"Yes, the mother came last night to look for me about nine o'clock, the
+child not having come home at seven to supper.  We looked for her along
+the roads up to midnight, but we did not think of the wood.  However, we
+needed daylight to carry out a thorough search."
+
+"Will you have a cigar?" said the doctor.
+
+"Thanks, I don't care to smoke.  This thing affects me so."
+
+They remained standing beside the corpse of the young girl, so pale on
+the dark moss.  A big blue fly was walking over the body with his lively,
+jerky movements.  The two men kept watching this wandering speck.
+
+The doctor said:
+
+"How pretty it is, a fly on the skin!  The ladies of the last century had
+good reason to paste them on their faces.  Why has this fashion gone
+out?"
+
+The mayor seemed not to hear, plunged as he was in deep thought.
+
+But, all of a sudden, he turned round, surprised by a shrill noise.  A
+woman in a cap and blue apron was running toward them under the trees.
+It was the mother, La Roque.  As soon as she saw Renardet she began to
+shriek:
+
+"My little girl!  Where's my little girl?" so distractedly that she did
+not glance down at the ground.  Suddenly she saw the corpse, stopped
+short, clasped her hands and raised both her arms while she uttered a
+sharp, heartrending cry--the cry of a wounded animal.  Then she rushed
+toward the body, fell on her knees and snatched away the handkerchief
+that covered the face.  When she saw that frightful countenance, black
+and distorted, she rose to her feet with a shudder, then sinking to the
+ground, face downward, she pressed her face against the ground and
+uttered frightful, continuous screams on the thick moss.
+
+Her tall, thin frame, with its close-clinging dress, was palpitating,
+shaken with spasms.  One could see her bony ankles and her dried-up
+calves covered with coarse blue stockings shaking horribly.  She was
+digging the soil with her crooked fingers, as though she were trying to
+make a hole in which to hide herself.
+
+The doctor, much affected, said in a low tone:
+
+"Poor old woman!"
+
+Renardet felt a strange sensation.  Then he gave vent to a sort of loud
+sneeze, and, drawing his handkerchief from his pocket, he began to weep
+internally, coughing, sobbing and blowing his nose noisily.
+
+He stammered:
+
+"Damn--damn--damned pig to do this!  I would like to seem him
+guillotined."
+
+Principe reappeared with his hands empty.  He murmured:
+
+"I have found nothing, M'sieu le Maire, nothing at all anywhere."
+
+The mayor, alarmed, replied in a thick voice, drowned in tears:
+
+"What is that you could not find?"
+
+"The little girl's clothes."
+
+"Well--well--look again, and find them--or you''ll have to answer to me."
+
+The man, knowing that the mayor would not brook opposition, set forth
+again with hesitating steps, casting a timid side glance at the corpse.
+
+Distant voices were heard under the trees, a confused sound, the noise of
+an approaching crowd, for Mederic had, in the course of his rounds,
+carried the news from door to door.  The people of the neighborhood,
+dazed at first, had gossiped about it in the street, from one threshold
+to another.  Then they gathered together.  They talked over, discussed
+and commented on the event for some minutes and had now come to see for
+themselves.
+
+They arrived in groups, a little faltering and uneasy through fear of the
+first impression of such a scene on their minds.  When they saw the body
+they stopped, not daring to advance, and speaking low.  Then they grew
+bolder, went on a few steps, stopped again, advanced once more, and
+presently formed around the dead girl, her mother, the doctor and
+Renardet a close circle, restless and noisy, which crowded forward at the
+sudden impact of newcomers.  And now they touched the corpse.  Some of
+them even bent down to feel it with their fingers.  The doctor kept them
+back.  But the mayor, waking abruptly out of his torpor, flew into a
+rage, and seizing Dr.  Labarbe's stick, flung himself on his townspeople,
+stammering:
+
+"Clear out--clear out--you pack of brutes--clear out!"
+
+And in a second the crowd of sightseers had fallen back two hundred
+paces.
+
+Mother La Roque had risen to a sitting posture and now remained weeping,
+with her hands clasped over her face.
+
+The crowd was discussing the affair, and young lads' eager eyes curiously
+scrutinized this nude young form.  Renardet perceived this, and, abruptly
+taking off his coat, he flung it over the little girl, who was entirely
+hidden from view beneath the large garment.
+
+The secretary drew near quietly.  The wood was filled with people, and a
+continuous hum of voices rose up under the tangled foliage of the tall
+trees.
+
+The mayor, in his shirt sleeves, remained standing, with his stick in his
+hands, in a fighting attitude.  He seemed exasperated by this curiosity
+on the part of the people and kept repeating:
+
+"If one of you come nearer I'll break his head just as I would a dog's."
+
+The peasants were greatly afraid of him.  They held back.  Dr. Labarbe,
+who was smoking, sat down beside La Roque and spoke to her in order to
+distract her attention.  The old woman at once removed her hands from her
+face and replied with a flood of tearful words, emptying her grief in
+copious talk.  She told the whole story of her life, her marriage, the
+death of her man, a cattle drover, who had been gored to death, the
+infancy of her daughter, her wretched existence as a widow without
+resources and with a child to support.  She had only this one, her little
+Louise, and the child had been killed--killed in this wood.  Then she
+felt anxious to see her again, and, dragging herself on her knees toward
+the corpse, she raised up one corner of the garment that covered her;
+then she let it fall again and began wailing once more.  The crowd
+remained silent, eagerly watching all the mother's gestures.
+
+But suddenly there was a great commotion at the cry of "The gendarmes!
+the gendarmes!"
+
+Two gendarmes appeared in the distance, advancing at a rapid trot,
+escorting their captain and a little gentleman with red whiskers, who was
+bobbing up and down like a monkey on a big white mare.
+
+The watchman had just found Monsieur Putoin, the magistrate, at the
+moment when he was mounting his horse to take his daily ride, for he
+posed as a good horseman, to the great amusement of the officers.
+
+He dismounted, along with the captain, and pressed the hands of the mayor
+and the doctor, casting a ferret-like glance on the linen coat beneath
+which lay the corpse.
+
+When he was made acquainted with all the facts, he first gave orders to
+disperse the crowd, whom the gendarmes drove out of the wood, but who
+soon reappeared in the meadow and formed a hedge, a big hedge of excited
+and moving heads, on the other side of the stream.
+
+The doctor, in his turn, gave explanations, which Renardet noted down in
+his memorandum book.  All the evidence was given, taken down and
+commented on without leading to any discovery.  Maxime, too, came back
+without having found any trace of the clothes.
+
+This disappearance surprised everybody; no one could explain it except on
+the theory of theft, and as her rags were not worth twenty sous, even
+this theory was inadmissible.
+
+The magistrate, the mayor, the captain and the doctor set to work
+searching in pairs, putting aside the smallest branch along the water.
+
+Renardet said to the judge:
+
+"How does it happen that this wretch has concealed or carried away the
+clothes, and has thus left the body exposed, in sight of every one?"
+
+The other, crafty and sagacious, answered:
+
+"Ha! ha!  Perhaps a dodge?  This crime has been committed either by a
+brute or by a sly scoundrel.  In any case, we'll easily succeed in
+finding him."
+
+The noise of wheels made them turn their heads round.  It was the deputy
+magistrate, the doctor and the registrar of the court who had arrived in
+their turn.  They resumed their search, all chatting in an animated
+fashion.
+
+Renardet said suddenly:
+
+"Do you know that you are to take luncheon with me?"
+
+Every one smilingly accepted the invitation, and the magistrate, thinking
+that the case of little Louise Roque had occupied enough attention for
+one day, turned toward the mayor.
+
+"I can have the body brought to your house, can I not?  You have a room
+in which you can keep it for me till this evening?"
+
+The other became confused and stammered:
+
+"Yes--no--no. To tell the truth, I prefer that it should not come into my
+house on account of--on account of my servants, who are already talking
+about ghosts in--in my tower, in the Fox's tower.  You know--I could no
+longer keep a single one.  No--I prefer not to have it in my house."
+
+The magistrate began to smile.
+
+"Good! I will have it taken at once to Roily for the legal examination."
+And, turning to his deputy, he said:
+
+"I can make use of your trap, can I not?"
+
+"Yes, certainly."
+
+They all came back to the place where the corpse lay.  Mother La Roque,
+now seated beside her daughter, was holding her hand and was staring
+right before her with a wandering, listless eye.
+
+The two doctors endeavored to lead her away, so that she might not
+witness the dead girl's removal, but she understood at once what they
+wanted to do, and, flinging herself on the body, she threw both arms
+round it.  Lying on top of the corpse, she exclaimed:
+
+"You shall not have it--it's mine--it's mine now.  They have killed her
+for me, and I want to keep her--you shall not have her----"
+
+All the men, affected and not knowing how to act, remained standing
+around her.  Renardet fell on his knees and said to her:
+
+"Listen, La Roque, it is necessary, in order to find out who killed her.
+Without this, we could not find out.  We must make a search for the man
+in order to punish him.  When we have found him we'll give her up to you.
+I promise you this."
+
+This explanation bewildered the woman, and a feeling of hatred manifested
+itself in her distracted glance.
+
+"So then they'll arrest him?"
+
+"Yes, I promise you that."
+
+She rose up, deciding to let them do as they liked, but when the captain
+remarked:
+
+"It is surprising that her clothes were not found," a new idea, which she
+had not previously thought of, abruptly entered her mind, and she asked:
+
+"Where are her clothes?  They're mine.  I want them.  Where have they
+been put?"
+
+They explained to her that they had not been found.  Then she demanded
+them persistently, crying and moaning.
+
+"They're mine--I want them.  Where are they?  I want them!"
+
+The more they tried to calm her the more she sobbed and persisted in her
+demands.  She no longer wanted the body, she insisted on having the
+clothes, as much perhaps through the unconscious cupidity of a wretched
+being to whom a piece of silver represents a fortune as through maternal
+tenderness.
+
+And when the little body, rolled up in blankets which had been brought
+out from Renardet's house, had disappeared in the vehicle, the old woman
+standing under the trees, sustained by the mayor and the captain,
+exclaimed:
+
+"I have nothing, nothing, nothing in the world, not even her little cap--
+her little cap."
+
+The cure, a young priest, had just arrived.  He took it on himself to
+accompany the mother, and they went away together toward the village.
+The mother's grief was modified by the sugary words of the clergyman, who
+promised her a thousand compensations.  But she kept repeating: "If I had
+only her little cap."  This idea now dominated every other.
+
+Renardet called from the distance:
+
+"You will lunch with us, Monsieur l'Abbe--in an hour's time."
+
+The priest turned his head round and replied:
+
+"With pleasure, Monsieur le Maire.  I'll be with you at twelve."
+
+And they all directed their steps toward the house, whose gray front,
+with the large tower built on the edge of the Brindille, could be seen
+through the branches.
+
+The meal lasted a long time.  They talked about the crime.  Everybody was
+of the same opinion.  It had been committed by some tramp passing there
+by mere chance while the little girl was bathing.
+
+Then the magistrates returned to Rouy, announcing that they would return
+next day at an early hour.  The doctor and the cure went to their
+respective homes, while Renardet, after a long walk through the meadows,
+returned to the wood, where he remained walking till nightfall with slow
+steps, his hands behind his back.
+
+He went to bed early and was still asleep next morning when the
+magistrate entered his room.  He was rubbing his hands together with a
+self-satisfied air.
+
+"Ha! ha!  You are still sleeping!  Well, my dear fellow, we have news
+this morning."
+
+The mayor sat up in his bed.
+
+"What, pray?"
+
+"Oh!  Something strange.  You remember well how the mother clamored
+yesterday for some memento of her daughter, especially her little cap?
+Well, on opening her door this morning she found on the threshold her
+child's two little wooden shoes. This proves that the crime was
+perpetrated by some one from the district, some one who felt pity for
+her. Besides, the postman, Mederic, brought me the thimble, the knife and
+the needle case of the dead girl.  So, then, the man in carrying off the
+clothes to hide them must have let fall the articles which were in the
+pocket.  As for me, I attach special importance to the wooden shoes, as
+they indicate a certain moral culture and a faculty for tenderness on the
+part of the assassin.  We will, therefore, if you have no objection, go
+over together the principal inhabitants of your district."
+
+The mayor got up.  He rang for his shaving water and said:
+
+"With pleasure, but it will take some time, and we may begin at once."
+
+M. Putoin sat astride a chair.
+
+Renardet covered his chin with a white lather while he looked at himself
+in the glass.  Then he sharpened his razor on the strop and continued:
+
+"The principal inhabitant of Carvelin bears the name of Joseph Renardet,
+mayor, a rich landowner, a rough man who beats guards and coachmen--"
+
+The examining magistrate burst out laughing.
+
+"That's enough.  Let us pass on to the next."
+
+"The second in importance is Pelledent, his deputy, a cattle breeder, an
+equally rich landowner, a crafty peasant, very sly, very close-fisted on
+every question of money, but incapable in my opinion of having
+perpetrated such a crime."
+
+"Continue," said M. Putoin.
+
+Renardet, while proceeding with his toilet, reviewed the characters of
+all the inhabitants of Carvelin.  After two hours' discussion their
+suspicions were fixed on three individuals who had hitherto borne a shady
+reputation--a poacher named Cavalle, a fisherman named Paquet, who caught
+trout and crabs, and a cattle drover named Clovis.
+
+
+
+II
+
+The search for the perpetrator of the crime lasted all summer, but he was
+not discovered.  Those who were suspected and arrested easily proved
+their innocence, and the authorities were compelled to abandon the
+attempt to capture the criminal.
+
+But this murder seemed to have moved the entire country in a singular
+manner.  There remained in every one's mind a disquietude, a vague fear,
+a sensation of mysterious terror, springing not merely from the
+impossibility of discovering any trace of the assassin, but also and
+above all from that strange finding of the wooden shoes in front of La
+Roque's door the day after the crime.  The certainty that the murderer
+had assisted at the investigation, that he was still, doubtless, living
+in the village, possessed all minds and seemed to brood over the
+neighborhood like a constant menace.
+
+The wood had also become a dreaded spot, a place to be avoided and
+supposed to be haunted.
+
+Formerly the inhabitants went there to spend every Sunday afternoon.
+They used to sit down on the moss at the feet of the huge tall trees or
+walk along the water's edge watching the trout gliding among the weeds.
+The boy's used to play bowls, hide-and-seek and other games where the
+ground had been cleared and levelled, and the girls, in rows of four or
+five, would trip along, holding one another by the arms and screaming
+songs with their shrill voices.  Now nobody ventured there for fear of
+finding some corpse lying on the ground.
+
+Autumn arrived, the leaves began to fall from the tall trees, whirling
+round and round to the ground, and the sky could be seen through the bare
+branches.  Sometimes, when a gust of wind swept over the tree tops, the
+slow, continuous rain suddenly grew heavier and became a rough storm that
+covered the moss with a thick yellow carpet that made a kind of creaking
+sound beneath one's feet.
+
+And the sound of the falling leaves seemed like a wail and the leaves
+themselves like tears shed by these great, sorrowful trees, that wept in
+the silence of the bare and empty wood, this dreaded and deserted wood
+where wandered lonely the soul, the little soul of little Louise Roque.
+
+The Brindille, swollen by the storms, rushed on more quickly, yellow and
+angry, between its dry banks, bordered by two thin, bare, willow hedges.
+
+And here was Renardet suddenly resuming his walks under the trees.  Every
+day, at sunset, he came out of his house, descended the front steps
+slowly and entered the wood in a dreamy fashion, with his hands in his
+pockets, and paced over the damp soft moss, while a legion of rooks from
+all the neighboring haunts came thither to rest in the tall trees and
+then flew off like a black cloud uttering loud, discordant cries.
+
+Night came on, and Renardet was still strolling slowly under the trees;
+then, when the darkness prevented him from walking any longer, he would
+go back to the house and sink into his armchair in front of the glowing
+hearth, stretching his damp feet toward the fire.
+
+One morning an important bit of news was circulated through the district;
+the mayor was having his wood cut down.
+
+Twenty woodcutters were already at work.  They had commenced at the
+corner nearest to the house and worked rapidly in the master's presence.
+
+And each day the wood grew thinner, losing its trees, which fell down one
+by one, as an army loses its soldiers.
+
+Renardet no longer walked up, and down.  He remained from morning till
+night, contemplating, motionless, with his hands behind his back, the
+slow destruction of his wood.  When a tree fell he placed his foot on it
+as if it were a corpse.  Then he raised his eyes to the next with a kind
+of secret, calm impatience, as if he expected, hoped for something at the
+end of this slaughter.
+
+Meanwhile they were approaching the place where little Louise Roque had
+been found.  They came to it one evening in the twilight.
+
+As it was dark, the sky being overcast, the woodcutters wanted to stop
+their work, putting off till next day the fall of an enormous beech tree,
+but the mayor objected to this and insisted that they should at once lop
+and cut down this giant, which had sheltered the crime.
+
+When the lopper had laid it bare and the woodcutters had sapped its base,
+five men commenced hauling at the rope attached to the top.
+
+The tree resisted; its powerful trunk, although notched to the centre,
+was as rigid as iron.  The workmen, all together, with a sort of
+simultaneous motion,' strained at the rope, bending backward and uttering
+a cry which timed and regulated their efforts.
+
+Two woodcutters standing close to the giant remained with axes in their
+grip, like two executioners ready to strike once more, and Renardet,
+motionless, with his hand on the trunk, awaited the fall with an uneasy,
+nervous feeling.
+
+One of the men said to him:
+
+"You are too near, Monsieur le Maire.  When it falls it may hurt you."
+
+He did not reply and did not move away.  He seemed ready to catch the
+beech tree in his open arms and to cast it on the ground like a wrestler.
+
+All at once, at the base of the tall column of wood there was a rent
+which seemed to run to the top, like a painful shock; it bent slightly,
+ready to fall, but still resisting.  The men, in a state of excitement,
+stiffened their arms, renewed their efforts with greater vigor, and, just
+as the tree came crashing down, Renardet suddenly made a forward step,
+then stopped, his shoulders raised to receive the irresistible shock, the
+mortal shock which would crush him to the earth.
+
+But the beech tree, having deviated a little, only rubbed against his
+loins, throwing him on his face, five metres away.
+
+The workmen dashed forward to lift him up.  He had already arisen to his
+knees, stupefied, with bewildered eyes and passing his hand across his
+forehead, as if he were awaking from an attack of madness.
+
+When he had got to his feet once more the men, astonished, questioned
+him, not being able to understand what he had done.  He replied in
+faltering tones that he had been dazed for a moment, or, rather, he had
+been thinking of his childhood days; that he thought he would have time
+to run under the tree, just as street boys rush in front of vehicles
+driving rapidly past; that he had played at danger; that for the past
+eight days he felt this desire growing stronger within him, asking
+himself each time a tree began to fall whether he could pass beneath it
+without being touched.  It was a piece of stupidity, he confessed, but
+every one has these moments of insanity and these temptations to boyish
+folly.
+
+He made this explanation in a slow tone, searching for his words, and
+speaking in a colorless tone.
+
+Then he went off, saying:
+
+"Till to-morrow, my friends-till to-morrow."
+
+As soon as he got back to his room he sat down at his table which his
+lamp lighted up brightly, and, burying his head in his hands, he began to
+cry.
+
+He remained thus for a long time, then wiped his eyes, raised his head
+and looked at the clock.  It was not yet six o'clock.
+
+He thought:
+
+"I have time before dinner."
+
+And he went to the door and locked it.  He then came back, and, sitting
+down at his table, pulled out the middle drawer.  Taking from it a
+revolver, he laid it down on his papers in full view.  The barrel of the
+firearm glittered, giving out gleams of light.
+
+Renardet gazed at it for some time with the uneasy glance of a drunken
+man.  Then he rose and began to pace up and down the room.
+
+He walked from one end of the apartment to the other, stopping from time
+to time, only to pace up and down again a moment afterward.  Suddenly he
+opened the door of his dressing-room, steeped a towel in the water
+pitcher and moistened his forehead, as he had done on the morning of the
+crime.
+
+Then he, began walking up and down again.  Each time he passed the table
+the gleaming revolver attracted his glance, tempted his hand, but he kept
+watching the clock and reflected:
+
+"I have still time."
+
+It struck half-past six.  Then he took up the revolver, opened  his mouth
+wide with a frightful grimace and stuck the barrel into it as if he
+wanted to swallow it.  He remained in this position for some seconds
+without moving, his finger on the trigger.  Then, suddenly seized with a
+shudder of horror, he dropped the pistol on the carpet.
+
+He fell back on his armchair, sobbing:
+
+"I cannot.  I dare not!  My God! my God!  How can I have the courage to
+kill myself?'"
+
+There was a knock at the door.  He rose up, bewildered.  A servant said:
+
+"Monsieur's dinner is ready."
+
+He replied:
+
+"All right.  I'm coming down."
+
+Then he picked up the revolver, locked it up again in the drawer and
+looked at himself in the mirror over the mantelpiece to see whether his
+face did not look too much troubled.  It was as red as usual, a little
+redder perhaps.  That was all.  He went down and seated himself at table.
+
+He ate slowly, like a man who wants to prolong the meal, who does not
+want to be alone.
+
+Then he smoked several pipes in the hall while the table was being
+cleared.  After that he went back to his room.
+
+As soon as he had locked himself in he looked, under the bed, opened all
+the closets, explored every corner, rummaged through all the furniture.
+Then he lighted the candles on the mantelpiece, and, turning round
+several times, ran his eye all over the apartment with an anguish of
+terror that distorted his face, for he knew well that he would see her,
+as he did every night--little Louise Roque, the little girl he had
+attacked and afterward strangled.
+
+Every night the odious vision came back again.  First he seemed to hear a
+kind of roaring sound, such as is made by a threshing machine or the
+distant passage of a train over a bridge.  Then he commenced to gasp, to
+suffocate, and he had to unbutton his collar and his belt.  He moved
+about to make his blood circulate, he tried to read, he attempted to
+sing.  It was in vain.  His thoughts, in spite of himself, went back to
+the day of the murder and made him begin it all over again in all its
+most secret details, with all the violent emotions he had experienced
+from the first minute to the last.
+
+He had felt on rising that morning, the morning of the horrible day, a
+little dizziness and headache, which he attributed to the heat, so that
+he remained in his room until breakfast time.
+
+After the meal he had taken a siesta, then, toward the close of the
+afternoon, he had gone out to breathe the fresh, soothing breeze under
+the trees in the wood.
+
+But, as soon as he was outside, the heavy, scorching air of the plain
+oppressed him still more.  The sun, still high in the heavens, poured
+down on the parched soil waves of burning light.  Not a breath of wind
+stirred the leaves.  Every beast and bird, even the grasshoppers, were
+silent.  Renardet reached the tall trees and began to walk over the moss
+where the Brindille produced a slight freshness of the air beneath the
+immense roof of branches.  But he felt ill at ease.  It seemed to him
+that an unknown, invisible hand was strangling him, and he scarcely
+thought of anything, having usually few ideas in his head.  For the last
+three months only one thought haunted him, the thought of marrying again.
+He suffered from living alone, suffered from it morally and physically.
+Accustomed for ten years past to feeling a woman near him, habituated to
+her presence every moment, he had need, an imperious and perplexing need
+of such association.  Since Madame Renardet's death he had suffered
+continually without knowing why, he had suffered at not feeling her dress
+brushing past him, and, above all, from no longer being able to calm and
+rest himself in her arms.  He had been scarcely six months a widower and
+he was already looking about in the district for some young girl or some
+widow he might marry when his period of mourning was at an end.
+
+He had a chaste soul, but it was lodged in a powerful, herculean body,
+and carnal imaginings began to disturb his sleep and his vigils.  He
+drove them away; they came back again; and he murmured from time to time,
+smiling at himself:
+
+"Here I am, like St. Anthony."
+
+Having this special morning had several of these visions, the desire
+suddenly came into his breast to bathe in the Brindille in order to
+refresh himself and cool his blood.
+
+He knew of a large deep pool, a little farther down, where the people of
+the neighborhood came sometimes to take a dip in summer.  He went there.
+
+Thick willow trees hid this clear body of water where the current rested
+and went to sleep for a while before starting on its way again.
+Renardet, as he appeared, thought he heard a light sound, a faint
+plashing which was not that of the stream on the banks.  He softly put
+aside the leaves and looked.  A little girl, quite naked in the
+transparent water, was beating the water with both hands, dancing about
+in it and dipping herself with pretty movements.  She was not a child nor
+was she yet a woman.  She was plump and developed, while preserving an
+air of youthful precocity, as of one who had grown rapidly.  He no longer
+moved, overcome with surprise, with desire, holding his breath with a
+strange, poignant emotion.  He remained there, his heart beating as if
+one of his sensuous dreams had just been realized, as if an impure fairy
+had conjured up before him this young creature, this little rustic Venus,
+rising from the eddies of the stream as the real Venus rose from the
+waves of the sea.
+
+Suddenly the little girl came out of the water, and, without seeing him,
+came over to where he stood, looking for her clothes in order to dress
+herself.  As she approached gingerly, on account of the sharp-pointed
+stones, he felt himself pushed toward her by an irresistible force, by a
+bestial transport of passion, which stirred his flesh, bewildered his
+mind and made him tremble from head to foot.
+
+She remained standing some seconds behind the willow tree which concealed
+him from view.  Then, losing his reason entirely, he pushed aside the
+branches, rushed on her and seized her in his arms.  She fell, too
+terrified to offer any resistance, too terror-stricken to cry out.  He
+seemed possessed, not understanding what he was doing.
+
+He woke from his crime as one wakes from a nightmare.  The child burst
+out weeping.
+
+"Hold your tongue!  Hold your tongue!" he said.  "I'll give you money."
+
+But she did not hear him and went on sobbing.
+
+"Come now, hold your tongue!  Do hold your tongue!  Keep quiet!" he
+continued.
+
+She kept shrieking as she tried to free herself.  He suddenly realized
+that he was ruined, and he caught her by the neck to stop her mouth from
+uttering these heartrending, dreadful screams.  As she continued to
+struggle with the desperate strength of a being who is seeking to fly
+from death, he pressed his enormous hands on the little throat swollen
+with screaming, and in a few seconds he had strangled her, so furiously
+did he grip her.  He had not intended to kill her, but only to make her
+keep quiet.
+
+Then he stood up, overwhelmed with horror.
+
+She lay before him, her face bleeding and blackned.  He was about to rush
+away when there sprang up in his agitated soul the mysterious and
+undefined instinct that guides all beings in the hour of danger.
+
+He was going to throw the body into the water, but another impulse drove
+him toward the clothes, which he made into a small package.  Then, as he
+had a piece of twine in his pocket, he tied it up and hid it in a deep
+portion of the stream, beneath the trunk of a tree that overhung the
+Brindille.
+
+Then he went off at a rapid pace, reached the meadows, took a wide turn
+in order to show himself to some peasants who dwelt some distance away at
+the opposite side of the district, and came back to dine at the usual
+hour, telling his servants all that was supposed to have happened during
+his walk.
+
+He slept, however, that night; he slept with a heavy, brutish sleep like
+the sleep of certain persons condemned to death.  He did not open his
+eyes until the first glimmer of dawn, and he waited till his usual hour
+for riding, so as to excite no suspicion.
+
+Then he had to be present at the inquiry as to the cause of death.  He
+did so like a somnambulist, in a kind of vision which showed him men and
+things as in a dream, in a cloud of intoxication, with that sense of
+unreality which perplexes the mind at the time of the greatest
+catastrophes.
+
+But the agonized cry of Mother Roque pierced his heart.  At that moment
+he had felt inclined to cast himself at the old woman's feet and to
+exclaim:
+
+"I am the guilty one!"
+
+But he had restrained himself.  He went back, however, during the night
+to fish up the dead girl's wooden shoes, in order to place them on her
+mother's threshold.
+
+As long as the inquiry lasted, as long as it was necessary to lead
+justice astray he was calm, master of himself, crafty and smiling.  He
+discussed quietly with the magistrates all the suppositions that passed
+through their minds, combated their opinions and demolished their
+arguments.  He even took a keen and mournful pleasure in disturbing their
+investigations, in embroiling their ideas, in showing the innocence of
+those whom they suspected.
+
+But as soon as the inquiry was abandoned he became gradually nervous,
+more excitable than he had been before, although he mastered his
+irritability.  Sudden noises made him start with fear; he shuddered at
+the slightest thing and trembled sometimes from head to foot when a fly
+alighted on his forehead.  Then he was seized with an imperious desire
+for motion, which impelled him to take long walks and to remain up whole
+nights pacing up and down his room.
+
+It was not that he was goaded by remorse.  His brutal nature did not lend
+itself to any shade of sentiment or of moral terror.  A man of energy and
+even of violence, born to make war, to ravage conquered countries and to
+massacre the vanquished, full of the savage instincts of the hunter and
+the fighter, he scarcely took count of human life.  Though he respected
+the Church outwardly, from policy, he believed neither in God nor the
+devil, expecting neither chastisement nor recompense for his acts in
+another life.  His sole belief was a vague philosophy drawn from all the
+ideas of the encyclopedists of the last century, and he regarded religion
+as a moral sanction of the law, the one and the other having been
+invented by men to regulate social relations.  To kill any one in a duel,
+or in war, or in a quarrel, or by accident, or for the sake of revenge,
+or even through bravado would have seemed to him an amusing and clever
+thing and would not have left more impression on his mind than a shot
+fired at a hare; but he had experienced a profound emotion at the murder
+of this child.  He had, in the first place, perpetrated it in the heat of
+an irresistible gust of passion, in a sort of tempest of the senses that
+had overpowered his reason.  And he had cherished in his heart, in his
+flesh, on his lips, even to the very tips of his murderous fingers a kind
+of bestial love, as well as a feeling of terrified horror, toward this
+little girl surprised by him and basely killed.  Every moment his
+thoughts returned to that horrible scene, and, though he endeavored to
+drive this picture from his mind, though he put it aside with terror,
+with disgust, he felt it surging through his soul, moving about in him,
+waiting incessantly for the moment to reappear.
+
+Then, as evening approached, he was afraid of the shadow falling around
+him.  He did not yet know why the darkness seemed frightful to him, but
+he instinctively feared it, he felt that it was peopled with terrors.
+The bright daylight did not lend itself to fears.  Things and beings were
+visible then, and only natural things and beings could exhibit themselves
+in the light of day.  But the night, the impenetrable night, thicker than
+walls and empty; the infinite night, so black, so vast, in which one
+might brush against frightful things; the night, when one feels that a
+mysterious terror is wandering, prowling about, appeared to him to
+conceal an unknown threatening danger, close beside him.
+
+What was it?
+
+He knew ere long.  As he sat in his armchair, rather late one evening
+when he could not sleep, he thought he saw the curtain of his window
+move.  He waited, uneasily, with beating heart.  The drapery did not
+stir; then, all of a sudden, it moved once more.  He did not venture to
+rise; he no longer ventured to breathe, and yet he was brave.  He had
+often fought, and he would have liked to catch thieves in his house.
+
+Was it true that this curtain did move?  he asked himself, fearing that
+his eyes had deceived him.  It was, moreover, such a slight thing, a
+gentle flutter of drapery, a kind of trembling in its folds, less than an
+undulation caused by the wind.
+
+Renardet sat still, with staring eyes and outstretched neck.  He sprang
+to his feet abruptly, ashamed of his fear, took four steps, seized the
+drapery with both hands and pulled it wide apart.  At first he saw
+nothing but darkened glass, resembling plates of glittering ink.  The
+night, the vast, impenetrable night, stretched beyond as far as the
+invisible horizon.  He remained standing in front of this illimitable
+shadow, and suddenly he perceived a light, a moving light, which seemed
+some distance away.
+
+Then he put his face close to the window pane, thinking that a person
+looking for crabs might be poaching in the Brindille, for it was past
+midnight, and this light rose up at the edge of the stream, under the
+trees.  As he was not yet able to see clearly, Renardet placed his hands
+over his eyes, and suddenly this light became an illumination, and he
+beheld little Louise Roque naked and bleeding on the moss.  He recoiled,
+frozen with horror, knocked over his chair and fell over on his back.  He
+remained there some minutes in anguish of mind; then he sat up and began
+to reflect.  He had had a hallucination--that was all, a hallucination
+due to the fact that a night marauder was walking with a lantern in his
+hand near the water's edge.  What was there astonishing, besides, in the
+circumstance that the recollection of his crime should sometimes bring
+before him the vision of the dead girl?
+
+He rose from the ground, swallowed a glass of wine and sat down again.
+He was thinking:
+
+"What am I to do if this occurs again?"
+
+And it would occur; he felt it; he was sure of it.  Already his glance
+was drawn toward the window; it called him; it attracted him.  In order
+to avoid looking at it, he turned his chair round.  Then he took a book
+and tried to read, but it seemed to him that he presently heard something
+stirring behind him, and he swung round his armchair on one foot.
+
+The curtain was moving again; unquestionably, it moved this time.  He
+could no longer have any doubt about it.
+
+He rushed forward and grasped it so violently that he pulled it down with
+its pole.  Then he eagerly glued his face to the glass.  He saw nothing.
+All was black outside, and he breathed with the joy of a man whose life
+has just been saved.
+
+Then he went back to his chair and sat down again, but almost immediately
+he felt a longing to look out once more through the window.  Since the
+curtain had fallen down, the window made a sort of gap, fascinating and
+terrible, on the dark landscape.  In order not to yield to this dangerous
+temptation, he undressed, blew out the light and closed his eyes.
+
+Lying on his back motionless, his skin warm and moist, he awaited sleep.
+Suddenly a great gleam of light flashed across his eyelids.  He opened
+them, believing that his dwelling was on fire.  All was black as before,
+and he leaned on his elbow to try to distinguish the window which had
+still for him an unconquerable attraction.  By dint of, straining his
+eyes he could perceive some stars, and he rose, groped his way across the
+room, discovered the panes with his outstretched hands, and placed his
+forehead close to them.  There below, under the trees, lay the body of
+the little girl gleaming like phosphorus, lighting up the surrounding
+darkness.
+
+Renardet uttered a cry and rushed toward his bed, where he lay till
+morning, his head hidden under the pillow.
+
+From that moment his life became intolerable.  He passed his days in
+apprehension of each succeeding night, and each night the vision came
+back again.  As soon as he had locked himself up in his room he strove to
+resist it, but in vain.  An irresistible force lifted him up and pushed
+him against the window, as if to call the phantom, and he saw it at once,
+lying first in the spot where the crime was committed in the position in
+which it had been found.
+
+Then the dead girl rose up and came toward him with little steps just as
+the child had done when she came out of the river.  She advanced quietly,
+passing straight across the grass and over the bed of withered flowers.
+Then she rose up in the air toward Renardet's window.  She came toward
+him as she had come on the day of the crime.  And the man recoiled before
+the apparition--he retreated to his bed and sank down upon it, knowing
+well that the little one had entered the room and that she now was
+standing behind the curtain, which presently moved.  And until daybreak
+he kept staring at this curtain with a fixed glance, ever waiting to see
+his victim depart.
+
+But she did not show herself any more; she remained there behind the
+curtain, which quivered tremulously now and then.
+
+And Renardet, his fingers clutching the clothes, squeezed them as he had
+squeezed the throat of little Louise Roque.
+
+He heard the clock striking the hours, and in the stillness the pendulum
+kept ticking in time with the loud beating of his heart.  And he
+suffered, the wretched man, more than any man had ever suffered before.
+
+Then, as soon as a white streak of light on the ceiling announced the
+approaching day, he felt himself free, alone at last, alone in his room;
+and he went to sleep.  He slept several hours--a restless, feverish sleep
+in which he retraced in dreams the horrible vision of the past night.
+
+When he went down to the late breakfast he felt exhausted as after
+unusual exertion, and he scarcely ate anything, still haunted as he was
+by the fear of what he had seen the night before.
+
+He knew well, however, that it was not an apparition, that the dead do
+not come back, and that his sick soul, his soul possessed by one thought
+alone, by an indelible remembrance, was the only cause of his torture,
+was what brought the dead girl back to life and raised her form before
+his eyes, on which it was ineffaceably imprinted.  But he knew, too, that
+there was no cure, that he would never escape from the savage persecution
+of his memory, and he resolved to die rather than to endure these
+tortures any longer.
+
+Then he thought of how he would kill himself, It must be something simple
+and natural, which would preclude the idea of suicide.  For he clung to
+his reputation, to the name bequeathed to him by his ancestors; and if
+his death awakened any suspicion people's thoughts might be, perhaps,
+directed toward the mysterious crime, toward the murderer who could not
+be found, and they would not hesitate to accuse him of the crime.
+
+A strange idea came into his head, that of allowing himself to be crushed
+by the tree at the foot of which he had assassinated little Louise Roque.
+So he determined to have the wood cut down and to simulate an accident.
+But the beech tree refused to crush his ribs.
+
+Returning to his house, a prey to utter despair, he had snatched up his
+revolver, and then did not dare to fire it.
+
+The dinner bell summoned him.  He could eat nothing, and he went upstairs
+again.  And he did not know what to do.  Now that he had escaped the
+first time, he felt himself a coward.  Presently he would be ready,
+brave, decided, master of his courage and of his resolution; now he was
+weak and feared death as much as he did the dead girl.
+
+He faltered:
+
+"I dare not venture it again--I dare not venture it."
+
+Then he glanced with terror, first at the revolver on the table and next
+at the curtain which hid his window.  It seemed to him, moreover, that
+something horrible would occur as soon as his life was ended.  Something?
+What?  A meeting with her, perhaps.  She was watching for him; she was
+waiting for him; she was calling him; and it was in order to seize him in
+her turn, to draw him toward the doom that would avenge her, and to lead
+him to die, that she appeared thus every night.
+
+He began to cry like a child, repeating:
+
+"I will not venture it again--I will not venture it."
+
+Then he fell on his knees and murmured:
+
+"My God!  my God!" without believing, nevertheless, in God.  And he no
+longer dared, in fact, to look at his window, where he knew the
+apparition was hiding, nor at his table, where his revolver gleamed.
+When he had risen up he said:
+
+"This cannot last; there must be an end of it"
+
+The sound of his voice in the silent room made a chill of fear pass
+through his limbs, but as he could not bring himself to come to a
+determination, as he felt certain that his finger would always refuse to
+pull the trigger of his revolver, he turned round to hide his head under
+the bedclothes and began to reflect.
+
+He would have to find some way in which he could force himself to die, to
+play some trick on himself which would not permit of any hesitation on
+his part, any delay, any possible regrets.  He envied condemned criminals
+who are led to the scaffold surrounded by soldiers.  Oh! if he could only
+beg of some one to shoot him; if after confessing his crime to a true
+friend who would never divulge it he could procure death at his hand.
+But from whom could he ask this terrible service?  From whom?  He thought
+of all the people he knew.  The doctor?  No, he would talk about it
+afterward, most probably.  And suddenly a fantastic idea entered his
+mind.  He would write to the magistrate, who was on terms of close
+friendship with him, and would denounce himself as the perpetrator of the
+crime.  He would in this letter confess everything, revealing how his
+soul had been tortured, how he had resolved to die, how he had hesitated
+about carrying out his resolution and what means he had employed to
+strengthen his failing courage.  And in the name of their old friendship
+he would implore of the other to destroy the letter as soon as he had
+ascertained that the culprit had inflicted justice on himself.  Renardet
+could rely on this magistrate; he knew him to be true, discreet,
+incapable of even an idle word.  He was one of those men who have an
+inflexible conscience, governed, directed, regulated by their reason
+alone.
+
+Scarcely had he formed this project when a strange feeling of joy took
+possession of his heart.  He was calm now.  He would write his letter
+slowly, then at daybreak he would deposit it in the box nailed to the
+outside wall of his office; then he would ascend his tower to watch for
+the postman's arrival; and when the man in the blue blouse had gone away,
+he would cast himself head foremost on the rocks on which the foundations
+rested, He would take care to be seen first by the workmen who had cut
+down his wood.  He could climb to the projecting stone which bore the
+flagstaff displayed on festivals, He would smash this pole with a shake
+and carry it along with him as he fell.
+
+Who would suspect that it was not an accident?  And he would be killed
+outright, owing to his weight and the height of the tower.
+
+Presently he got out of bed, went over to the table and began to write.
+He omitted nothing, not a single detail of the crime, not a single detail
+of the torments of his heart, and he ended by announcing that he had
+passed sentence on himself, that he was going to execute the criminal,
+and begged his friend, his old friend, to be careful that there should
+never be any stain on his memory.
+
+When he had finished this letter he saw that the day had dawned.
+
+He closed, sealed it and wrote the address.  Then he descended with light
+steps, hurried toward the little white box fastened to the outside wall
+in the corner of the farmhouse, and when he had thrown into it this
+letter, which made his hand tremble, he came back quickly, drew the bolts
+of the great door and climbed up to his tower to wait for the passing of
+the postman, who was to bear away his death sentence.
+
+He felt self-possessed now.  Liberated!  Saved!
+
+A cold dry wind, an icy wind passed across his face.  He inhaled it
+eagerly with open mouth, drinking in its chilling kiss.  The sky was red,
+a wintry red, and all the plain, whitened with frost, glistened under the
+first rays of the sun, as if it were covered with powdered glass.
+
+Renardet, standing up, his head bare, gazed at the vast tract of country
+before him, the meadows to the left and to the right the village whose
+chimneys were beginning to smoke in preparation for the morning meal.  At
+his feet he saw the Brindille flowing amid the rocks, where he would soon
+be crushed to death.  He felt new life on that beautiful frosty morning.
+The light bathed him, entered his being like a new-born hope.  A thousand
+recollections assailed him, recollections of similar mornings, of rapid
+walks on the hard earth which rang beneath his footsteps, of happy days
+of shooting on the edges of pools where wild ducks sleep.  All the good
+things that he loved, the good things of existence, rushed to his memory,
+penetrated him with fresh desires, awakened all the vigorous appetites of
+his active, powerful body.
+
+And he was about to die!  Why?  He was going to kill himself stupidly
+because he was afraid of a shadow-afraid of nothing!  He was still rich
+and in the prime of life.  What folly!  All he needed was distraction,
+absence, a voyage in order to forget.
+
+This night even he had not seen the little girl because his mind was
+preoccupied and had wandered toward some other subject.  Perhaps he would
+not see her any more?  And even if she still haunted him in this house,
+certainly she would not follow him elsewhere!  The earth was wide, the
+future was long.
+
+Why should he die?
+
+His glance travelled across the meadows, and he perceived a blue spot in
+the path which wound alongside the Brindille.  It was Mederic coming to
+bring letters from the town and to carry away those of the village.
+
+Renardet gave a start, a sensation of pain shot through his breast, and
+he rushed down the winding staircase to get back his letter, to demand it
+back from the postman.  Little did it matter to him now whether he was
+seen, He hurried across the grass damp from the light frost of the
+previous night and arrived in front of the box in the corner of the
+farmhouse exactly at the same time as the letter carrier.
+
+The latter had opened the little wooden door and drew forth the four
+papers deposited there by the inhabitants of the locality.
+
+Renardet said to him:
+
+"Good-morrow, Mederic."
+
+"Good-morrow, Monsieur le Maire."
+
+"I say, Mederic, I threw a letter into the box that I want back again.
+I came to ask you to give it back to me."
+
+"That's all right, Monsieur le Maire--you'll get it."
+
+And the postman raised his eyes.  He stood petrified at the sight of
+Renardet's face.  The mayor's cheeks were purple, his eyes were anxious
+and sunken, with black circles round them, his hair was unbrushed, his
+beard untrimmed, his necktie unfastened.  It was evident that he had not
+been in bed.
+
+The postman asked:
+
+"Are you ill, Monsieur le Maire?"
+
+The other, suddenly comprehending that his appearance must be unusual,
+lost countenance and faltered:
+
+"Oh!  no-oh!  no.  Only I jumped out of bed to ask you for this letter.
+I was asleep.  You understand?"
+
+He said in reply:
+
+"What letter?"
+
+"The one you are going to give back to me."
+
+Mederic now began to hesitate.  The mayor's attitude did not strike him
+as natural.  There was perhaps a secret in that letter, a political
+secret.  He knew Renardet was not a Republican, and he knew all the
+tricks and chicanery employed at elections.
+
+He asked:
+
+"To whom is it addressed, this letter of yours?"
+
+"To Monsieur Putoin, the magistrate--you know, my friend, Monsieur
+Putoin!"
+
+The postman searched through the papers and found the one asked for.
+Then he began looking at it, turning it round and round between his
+fingers, much perplexed, much troubled by the fear of either committing a
+grave offence or of making an enemy of the mayor.
+
+Seeing his hesitation, Renardet made a movement for the purpose of
+seizing the letter and snatching it away from him.  This abrupt action
+convinced Mederic that some important secret was at stake and made him
+resolve to do his duty, cost what it may.
+
+So he flung the letter into his bag and fastened it up, with the reply:
+
+"No, I can't, Monsieur le Maire.  As long as it is for the magistrate, I
+can't."
+
+A dreadful pang wrung Renardet's heart and he murmured:
+
+"Why, you know me well.  You are even able to recognize my handwriting.
+I tell you I want that paper."
+
+"I can't."
+
+"Look here, Mederic, you know that I'm incapable of deceiving you--I tell
+you I want it."
+
+"No, I can't."
+
+A tremor of rage passed through Renardet's soul.
+
+"Damn it all, take care!  You know that I never trifle and that I could
+get you out of your job, my good fellow, and without much delay, either,
+And then, I am the mayor of the district, after all; and I now order you
+to give me back that paper."
+
+The postman answered firmly:
+
+"No, I can't, Monsieur le Maire."
+
+Thereupon Renardet, losing his head, caught hold of the postman's arms in
+order to take away his bag; but, freeing himself by a strong effort, and
+springing backward, the letter carrier raised his big holly stick.
+Without losing his temper, he said emphatically:
+
+"Don't touch me, Monsieur le Maire, or I'll strike.  Take care, I'm only
+doing my duty!"
+
+Feeling that he was lost, Renardet suddenly became humble, gentle,
+appealing to him like a whimpering child:
+
+"Look here, look here, my friend, give me back that letter and I'll
+recompense you--I'll give you money.  Stop! stop!  I'll give you a
+hundred francs, you understand--a hundred francs!"
+
+The postman turned on his heel and started on his journey.
+
+Renardet followed him, out of breath, stammering:
+
+"Mederic, Mederic, listen!  I'll give you a thousand francs, you
+understand--a thousand francs."
+
+The postman still went on without giving any answer.
+
+Renardet went on:
+
+"I'll make your fortune, you understand--whatever you wish--fifty
+thousand francs--fifty thousand francs for that letter!  What does it
+matter to you?  You won't?  Well, a hundred thousand--I say--a hundred
+thousand francs.  Do you understand?  A hundred thousand francs--a
+hundred thousand francs."
+
+The postman turned back, his face hard, his eye severe:
+
+"Enough of this, or else I'll repeat to the magistrate everything you
+have just said to me."
+
+Renardet stopped abruptly.  It was all over.  He turned back and rushed
+toward his house, running like a hunted animal.
+
+Then, in his turn, Mederic stopped and watched his flight with
+stupefaction.  He saw the mayor reenter his house, and he waited still,
+as if something astonishing were about to happen.
+
+In fact, presently the tall form of Renardet appeared on the summit of
+the Fox's tower.  He ran round the platform like a madman.  Then he
+seized the flagstaff and shook it furiously without succeeding in
+breaking it; then, all of a sudden, like a diver, with his two hands
+before him, he plunged into space.
+
+Mederic rushed forward to his assistance.  He saw the woodcutters going
+to work and called out to them, telling them an accident had occurred.
+At the foot of the walls they found a bleeding body, its head crushed on
+a rock.  The Brindille surrounded this rock, and over its clear, calm
+waters could be seen a long red thread of mingled brains and blood.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE DONKEY
+
+There was not a breath of air stirring; a heavy mist was lying over the
+river.  It was like a layer of cotton placed on the water.  The banks
+themselves were indistinct, hidden behind strange fogs.  But day was
+breaking and the hill was becoming visible.  In the dawning light of day
+the plaster houses began to appear like white spots.  Cocks were crowing
+in the barnyard.
+
+On the other side of the river, hidden behind the fogs, just opposite
+Frette, a slight noise from time to time broke the dead silence of the
+quiet morning.  At times it was an indistinct plashing, like the cautious
+advance of a boat, then again a sharp noise like the rattle of an oar and
+then the sound of something dropping in the water.  Then silence.
+
+Sometimes whispered words, coming perhaps from a distance, perhaps from
+quite near, pierced through these opaque mists.  They passed by like wild
+birds which have slept in the rushes and which fly away at the first
+light of day, crossing the mist and uttering a low and timid sound which
+wakes their brothers along the shores.
+
+Suddenly along the bank, near the village, a barely perceptible shadow
+appeared on the water.  Then it grew, became more distinct and, coming
+out of the foggy curtain which hung over the river, a flatboat, manned by
+two men, pushed up on the grass.
+
+The one who was rowing rose and took a pailful of fish from the bottom of
+the boat, then he threw the dripping net over his shoulder.  His
+companion, who had not made a motion, exclaimed: "Say, Mailloche, get
+your gun and see if we can't land some rabbit along the shore."
+
+The other one answered: "All right.  I'll be with you in a minute."  Then
+he disappeared, in order to hide their catch.
+
+The man who had stayed in the boat slowly filled his pipe and lighted it.
+His name was Labouise, but he was called Chicot, and was in partnership
+with Maillochon, commonly called Mailloche, to practice the doubtful and
+undefined profession of junk-gatherers along the shore.
+
+They were a low order of sailors and they navigated regularly only in the
+months of famine.  The rest of the time they acted as junk-gatherers.
+Rowing about on the river day and night, watching for any prey, dead or
+alive, poachers on the water and nocturnal hunters, sometimes ambushing
+venison in the Saint-Germain forests, sometimes looking for drowned
+people and searching their clothes, picking up floating rags and empty
+bottles; thus did Labouise and Maillochon live easily.
+
+At times they would set out on foot about noon and stroll along straight
+ahead.  They would dine in some inn on the shore and leave again side by
+side.  They would remain away for a couple of days; then one morning they
+would be seen rowing about in the tub which they called their boat.
+
+At Joinville or at Nogent some boatman would be looking for his boat,
+which had disappeared one night, probably stolen, while twenty or thirty
+miles from there, on the Oise, some shopkeeper would be rubbing his
+hands, congratulating himself on the bargain he had made when he bought a
+boat the day before for fifty francs, which two men offered him as they
+were passing.
+
+Maillochon reappeared with his gun wrapped up in rags.  He was a man of
+forty or fifty, tall and thin, with the restless eye of people who are
+worried by legitimate troubles and of hunted animals.  His open shirt
+showed his hairy chest, but he seemed never to have had any more hair on
+his face than a short brush of a mustache and a few stiff hairs under his
+lower lip.  He was bald around the temples.  When he took off the dirty
+cap that he wore his scalp seemed to be covered with a fluffy down, like
+the body of a plucked chicken.
+
+Chicot, on the contrary, was red, fat, short and hairy.  He looked like a
+raw beefsteak.  He continually kept his left eye closed, as if he were
+aiming at something or at somebody, and when people jokingly cried to
+him, "Open your eye, Labouise!" he would answer quietly: "Never fear,
+sister, I open it when there's cause to."
+
+He had a habit of calling every one "sister," even his scavenger
+companion.
+
+He took up the oars again, and once more the boat disappeared in the
+heavy mist, which was now turned snowy white in the pink-tinted sky.
+
+"What kind of lead did you take, Maillochon?" Labouise asked.
+
+"Very small, number nine; that's the best for rabbits."
+
+They were approaching the other shore so slowly, so quietly that no noise
+betrayed them.  This bank belongs to the Saint-Germain forest and is the
+boundary line for rabbit hunting.  It is covered with burrows hidden
+under the roots of trees, and the creatures at daybreak frisk about,
+running in and out of the holes.
+
+Maillochon was kneeling in the bow, watching, his gun hidden on the
+floor.  Suddenly he seized it, aimed, and the report echoed for some time
+throughout the quiet country.
+
+Labouise, in a few strokes, touched the beach, and his companion, jumping
+to the ground, picked up a little gray rabbit, not yet dead.
+
+Then the boat once more disappeared into the fog in order to get to the
+other side, where it could keep away from the game wardens.
+
+The two men seemed to be riding easily on the water.  The weapon had
+disappeared under the board which served as a hiding place and the rabbit
+was stuffed into Chicot's loose shirt.
+
+After about a quarter of an hour Labouise asked: "Well, sister, shall we
+get one more?"
+
+"It will suit me," Maillochon answered.
+
+The boat started swiftly down the current.  The mist, which was hiding
+both shores, was beginning to rise.  The trees could be barely perceived,
+as through a veil, and the little clouds of fog were floating up from the
+water.  When they drew near the island, the end of which is opposite
+Herblay, the two men slackened their pace and began to watch.  Soon a
+second rabbit was killed.
+
+Then they went down until they were half way to Conflans.  Here they
+stopped their boat, tied it to a tree and went to sleep in the bottom of
+it.
+
+From time to time Labouise would sit up and look over the horizon with
+his open eye.  The last of the morning mist had disappeared and the large
+summer sun was climbing in the blue sky.
+
+On the other side of the river the vineyard-covered hill stretched out in
+a semicircle.  One house stood out alone at the summit.  Everything was
+silent.
+
+Something was moving slowly along the tow-path, advancing with
+difficulty.  It was a woman dragging a donkey.  The stubborn, stiff-
+jointed beast occasionally stretched out a leg in answer to its
+companion's efforts, and it proceeded thus, with outstretched neck and
+ears lying flat, so slowly that one could not tell when it would ever be
+out of sight.
+
+The woman, bent double, was pulling, turning round occasionally to strike
+the donkey with a stick.
+
+As soon as he saw her, Labouise exclaimed: "Say, Mailloche!"
+
+Mailloche answered: "What's the matter?"
+
+"Want to have some fun?"
+
+"Of course!"
+
+"Then hurry, sister; we're going to have a laugh."
+
+Chicot took the oars.  When he had crossed the river he stopped opposite
+the woman and called:
+
+"Hey, sister!"
+
+The woman stopped dragging her donkey and looked.
+
+Labouise continued: "What are you doing--going to the locomotive show?"
+
+The woman made no reply.  Chicot continued:
+
+"Say, your trotter's prime for a race.  Where are you taking him at that
+speed?"
+
+At last the woman answered: "I'm going to Macquart, at Champioux, to have
+him killed.  He's worthless."
+
+Labouise answered: "You're right.  How much do you think Macquart will
+give you for him?"
+
+The woman wiped her forehead on the back of her hand and hesitated,
+saying: "How do I know?  Perhaps three francs, perhaps four."
+
+Chicot exclaimed: "I'll give you five francs and your errand's done!
+How's that?"
+
+The woman considered the matter for a second and then exclaimed: "Done!"
+
+The two men landed.  Labouise grasped the animal by the bridle.
+Maillochon asked in surprise:
+
+"What do you expect to do with that carcass?"
+
+Chicot this time opened his other eye in order to express his gaiety.
+His whole red face was grinning with joy.  He chuckled: "Don't worry,
+sister.  I've got my idea."
+
+He gave five francs to the woman, who then sat down by the road to see
+what was going to happen.  Then Labouise, in great humor, got the gun and
+held it out to Maillochon, saying: "Each one in turn; we're going after
+big game, sister.  Don't get so near or you'll kill it right away!  You
+must make the pleasure last a little."
+
+He placed his companion about forty paces from the victim.  The ass,
+feeling itself free, was trying to get a little of the tall grass, but it
+was so exhausted that it swayed on its legs as if it were about to fall.
+
+Maillochon aimed slowly and said: "A little pepper for the ears; watch,
+Ghicot!"  And he fired.
+
+The tiny shot struck the donkey's long ears and he began to shake them in
+order to get rid of the stinging sensation.  The two men were doubled up
+with laughter and stamped their feet with joy.  The woman, indignant,
+rushed forward; she did not want her donkey to be tortured, and she
+offered to return the five francs.  Labouise threatened her with a
+thrashing and pretended to roll up his sleeves.  He had paid, hadn't he?
+Well, then, he would take a shot at her skirts, just to show that it
+didn't hurt.  She went away, threatening to call the police.  They could
+hear her protesting indignantly and cursing as she went her way.
+
+Maillochon held out the gun to his comrade, saying: "It's your turn,
+Chicot."
+
+Labouise aimed and fired.  The donkey received the charge in his thighs,
+but the shot was so small and came from such a distance that he thought
+he was being stung by flies, for he began to thrash himself with his
+tail.
+
+Labouise sat down to laugh more comfortably, while Maillochon reloaded
+the weapon, so happy that he seemed to sneeze into the barrel.  He
+stepped forward a few paces, and, aiming at the same place that his
+friend had shot at, he fired again.  This time the beast started, tried
+to kick and turned its head.  At last a little blood was running.  It had
+been wounded and felt a sharp pain, for it tried to run away with a slow,
+limping, jerky gallop.
+
+Both men darted after the beast, Maillochon with a long stride, Labouise
+with the short, breathless trot of a little man.  But the donkey, tired
+out, had stopped, and, with a bewildered look, was watching his two
+murderers approach.  Suddenly he stretched his neck and began to bray.
+
+Labouise, out of breath, had taken the gun.  This time he walked right up
+close, as he did not wish to begin the chase over again.
+
+When the poor beast had finished its mournful cry, like a last call for
+help, the man called: "Hey, Mailloche!  Come here, sister; I'm going to
+give him some medicine."  And while the other man was forcing the
+animal's mouth open, Chicot stuck the barrel of his gun down its throat,
+as if he were trying to make it drink a potion.  Then he said: "Look out,
+sister, here she goes!"
+
+He pressed the trigger.  The donkey stumbled back a few steps, fell down,
+tried to get up again and finally lay on its side and closed its eyes:
+The whole body was trembling, its legs were kicking as if it were, trying
+to run.  A stream of blood was oozing through its teeth.  Soon it stopped
+moving.  It was dead.
+
+The two men went along, laughing.  It was over too quickly; they had not
+had their money's worth.  Maillochon asked: "Well, what are we going to
+do now?"
+
+Labouise answered: "Don't worry, sister.  Get the thing on the boat;
+we're going to have some fun when night comes."
+
+They went and got the boat.  The animal's body was placed on the bottom,
+covered with fresh grass, and the two men stretched out on it and went to
+sleep.
+
+Toward noon Labouise drew a bottle of wine, some bread and butter and raw
+onions from a hiding place in their muddy, worm-eaten boat, and they
+began to eat.
+
+When the meal was over they once more stretched out on the dead donkey
+and slept.  At nightfall Labouise awoke and shook his comrade, who was
+snoring like a buzzsaw.  "Come on, sister," he ordered.
+
+Maillochon began to row.  As they had plenty of time they went up the
+Seine slowly.  They coasted along the reaches covered with water-lilies,
+and the heavy, mud-covered boat slipped over the lily pads and bent the
+flowers, which stood up again as soon as they had passed.
+
+When they reached the wall of the Eperon, which separates the Saint-
+Germain forest from the Maisons-Laffitte Park, Labouise stopped his
+companion and explained his idea to him.  Maillochon was moved by a
+prolonged, silent laugh.
+
+They threw into the water the grass which had covered the body, took the
+animal by the feet and hid it behind some bushes.  Then they got into
+their boat again and went to Maisons-Laffitte.
+
+The night was perfectly black when they reached the wine shop of old man
+Jules.  As soon as the dealer saw them he came up, shook hands with them
+and sat down at their table.  They began to talk of one thing and
+another.  By eleven o'clock the last customer had left and old man Jules
+winked at Labouise and asked: "Well, have you got any?"
+
+Labouise made a motion with his head and answered: "Perhaps so, perhaps
+not!"
+
+The dealer insisted: "Perhaps you've not nothing but gray ones?"
+
+Chicot dug his hands into his flannel shirt, drew out the ears of a
+rabbit and declared: "Three francs a pair!"
+
+Then began a long discussion about the price.  Two francs sixty-five and
+the two rabbits were delivered.  As the two men were getting up to go,
+old man Jules, who had been watching them, exclaimed:
+
+"You have something else, but you won't say what."
+
+Labouise answered: "Possibly, but it is not for you; you're too stingy."
+
+The man, growing eager, kept asking: "What is it?  Something big?
+Perhaps we might make a deal."
+
+Labouise, who seemed perplexed, pretended to consult Maillochon with a
+glance.  Then he answered in a slow voice: "This is how it is.  We were
+in the bushes at Eperon when something passed right near us, to the left,
+at the end of the wall.  Mailloche takes a shot and it drops.  We skipped
+on account of the game people.  I can't tell you what it is, because I
+don't know.  But it's big enough.  But what is it?  If I told you I'd be
+lying, and you know, sister, between us everything's above-board."
+
+Anxiously the man asked: "Think it's venison?"
+
+Labouise answered: "Might be and then again it might not!  Venison?--uh!
+uh!--might be a little big for that!  Mind you, I don't say it's a doe,
+because I don't know, but it might be."
+
+Still the dealer insisted: "Perhaps it's a buck?"
+
+Labouise stretched out his hand, exclaiming: "No, it's not that!  It's
+not a buck.  I should have seen the horns.  No, it's not a buck!"
+
+"Why didn't you bring it with you?" asked the man.
+
+"Because, sister, from now on I sell from where I stand.  Plenty of
+people will buy.  All you have to do is to take a walk over there, find
+the thing and take it.  No risk for me."
+
+The innkeeper, growing suspicious, exclaimed "Supposing he wasn't there!"
+
+Labouise once more raised his hand and said:
+
+"He's there, I swear!--first bush to the left.  What it is, I don't know.
+But it's not a buck, I'm positive.  It's for you to find out what it is.
+Twenty-five francs, cash down!"
+
+Still the man hesitated: "Couldn't you bring it?"
+
+Maillochon exclaimed: "No, indeed!  You know our price!  Take it or leave
+it!"
+
+The dealer decided: "It's a bargain for twenty francs!"
+
+And they shook hands over the deal.
+
+Then he took out four big five-franc pieces from the cash drawer, and the
+two friends pocketed the money.  Labouise arose, emptied his glass and
+left.  As he was disappearing in the shadows he turned round to exclaim:
+"It isn't a buck.  I don't know what it is!--but it's there.  I'll give
+you back your money if you find nothing!"
+
+And he disappeared in the darkness.  Maillochon, who was following him,
+kept punching him in the back to express his joy.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MOIRON
+
+As we were still talking about Pranzini, M. Maloureau, who had been
+attorney general under the Empire, said: "Oh! I formerly knew a very
+curious affair, curious for several reasons, as you will see.
+
+"I was at that time imperial attorney in one of the provinces.  I had to
+take up the case which has remained famous under the name of the Moiron
+case.
+
+"Monsieur Moiron, who was a teacher in the north of France, enjoyed an
+excellent reputation throughout the whole country.  He was a person of
+intelligence, quiet, very religious, a little taciturn; he had married in
+the district of Boislinot, where he exercised his profession.  He had had
+three children, who had died of consumption, one after the other.  From
+this time he seemed to bestow upon the youngsters confided to his care
+all the tenderness of his heart.  With his own money he bought toys for
+his best scholars and for the good boys; he gave them little dinners and
+stuffed them with delicacies, candy and cakes: Everybody loved this good
+man with his big heart, when suddenly five of his pupils died, in a
+strange manner, one after the other.  It was supposed that there was an
+epidemic due to the condition of the water, resulting from drought; they
+looked for the causes without being able to discover them, the more so
+that the symptoms were so peculiar.  The children seemed to be attacked
+by a feeling of lassitude; they would not eat, they complained of pains
+in their stomachs, dragged along for a short time, and died in frightful
+suffering.
+
+"A post-mortem examination was held over the last one, but nothing was
+discovered.  The vitals were sent to Paris and analyzed, and they
+revealed the presence of no toxic substance.
+
+"For a year nothing new developed; then two little boys, the best
+scholars in the class, Moiron's favorites, died within four days of each
+other.  An examination of the bodies was again ordered, and in both of
+them were discovered tiny fragments of crushed glass.  The conclusion
+arrived at was that the two youngsters must imprudently have eaten from
+some carelessly cleaned receptacle.  A glass broken over a pail of milk
+could have produced this frightful accident, and the affair would have
+been pushed no further if Moiron's servant had not been taken sick at
+this time.  The physician who was called in noticed the same symptoms he
+had seen in the children.  He questioned her and obtained the admission
+that she had stolen and eaten some candies that had been bought by the
+teacher for his scholars.
+
+"On an order from the court the schoolhouse was searched, and a closet
+was found which was full of toys and dainties destined for the children.
+Almost all these delicacies contained bits of crushed glass or pieces of
+broken needles!
+
+"Moiron was immediately arrested; but he seemed so astonished and
+indignant at the suspicion hanging over him that he was almost released.
+How ever, indications of his guilt kept appearing, and baffled in my mind
+my first conviction, based on his excellent reputation, on his whole
+life, on the complete absence of any motive for such a crime.
+
+"Why should this good, simple, religious man have killed little children,
+and the very children whom he seemed to love the most, whom he spoiled
+and stuffed with sweet things, for whom he spent half his salary in
+buying toys and bonbons?
+
+"One must consider him insane to believe him guilty of this act.  Now,
+Moiron seemed so normal, so quiet, so rational and sensible that it
+seemed impossible to adjudge him insane.
+
+"However, the proofs kept growing!  In none of the candies that were
+bought at the places where the schoolmaster secured his provisions could
+the slightest trace of anything suspicious be found.
+
+"He then insisted that an unknown enemy must have opened his cupboard
+with a false key in order to introduce the glass and the needles into the
+eatables.  And he made up a whole story of an inheritance dependent on
+the death of a child, determined on and sought by some peasant, and
+promoted thus by casting suspicions on the schoolmaster.  This brute, he
+claimed, did not care about the other children who were forced to die as
+well.
+
+"The story was possible.  The man appeared to be so sure of himself and
+in such despair that we should undoubtedly have acquitted him,
+notwithstanding the charges against him, if two crushing discoveries had
+not been made, one after the other.
+
+"The first one was a snuffbox full of crushed glass; his own snuffbox,
+hidden in the desk where he kept his money!
+
+"He explained this new find in an acceptable manner, as the ruse of the
+real unknown criminal.  But a mercer from Saint-Marlouf came to the
+presiding judge and said that a gentleman had several times come to his
+store to buy some needles; and he always asked for the thinnest needles
+he could find, and would break them to see whether they pleased him.  The
+man was brought forward in the presence of a dozen or more persons, and
+immediately recognized Moiron.  The inquest revealed that the
+schoolmaster had indeed gone into Saint-Marlouf on the days mentioned by
+the tradesman.
+
+"I will pass over the terrible testimony of children on the choice of
+dainties and the care which he took to have them eat the things in his
+presence, and to remove the slightest traces.
+
+"Public indignation demanded capital punishment, and it became more and
+more insistent, overturning all objections.
+
+"Moiron was condemned to death, and his appeal was rejected.  Nothing was
+left for him but the imperial pardon.  I knew through my father that the
+emperor would not grant it.
+
+"One morning, as I was working in my study, the visit of the prison
+almoner was announced.  He was an old priest who knew men well and
+understood the habits of criminals.  He seemed troubled, ill at ease,
+nervous.  After talking for a few minutes about one thing and another, he
+arose and said suddenly: 'If Moiron is executed, monsieur, you will have
+put an innocent man to death.'
+
+"Then he left without bowing, leaving me behind with the deep impression
+made by his words.  He had pronounced them in such a sincere and solemn
+manner, opening those lips, closed and sealed by the secret of
+confession, in order to save a life.
+
+"An hour later I left for Paris, and my father immediately asked that I
+be granted an audience with the emperor.
+
+"The following day I was received.  His majesty was working in a little
+reception room when we were introduced.  I described the whole case, and
+I was just telling about the priest's visit when a door opened behind the
+sovereign's chair and the empress, who supposed he was alone, appeared.
+His majesty, Napoleon, consulted her.  As soon as she had heard the
+matter, she exclaimed: 'This man must be pardoned.  He must, since he is
+innocent.'
+
+"Why did this sudden conviction of a religious woman cast a terrible
+doubt in my mind?
+
+"Until then I had ardently desired a change of sentence.  And now I
+suddenly felt myself the toy, the dupe of a cunning criminal who had
+employed the priest and confession as a last means of defence.
+
+"I explained my hesitancy to their majesties.  The emperor remained
+undecided, urged on one side by his natural kindness and held back on the
+other by the fear of being deceived by a criminal; but the empress, who
+was convinced that the priest had obeyed a divine inspiration, kept
+repeating: 'Never mind!  It is better to spare a criminal than to kill an
+innocent man!' Her advice was taken.  The death sentence was commuted to
+one of hard labor.
+
+"A few years later I heard that Moiron had again been called to the
+emperor's attention on account of his exemplary conduct in the prison at
+Toulon and was now employed as a servant by the director of the
+penitentiary.
+
+"For a long time I heard nothing more of this man.  "But about two years
+ago, while I was spending a summer near Lille with my cousin, De
+Larielle, I was informed one evening, just as we were sitting down to
+dinner, that a young priest wished to speak to me.
+
+"I had him shown in and he begged me to come to a dying man who desired
+absolutely to see me.  This had often happened to me in my long career as
+a magistrate, and, although I had been set aside by the Republic, I was
+still often called upon in similar circumstances.  I therefore followed
+the priest, who led me to a miserable little room in a large tenement
+house.
+
+"There I found a strange-looking man on a bed of straw, sitting with his
+back against the wall, in order to get his breath.  He was a sort of
+skeleton, with dark, gleaming eyes.
+
+"As soon as he saw me, he murmured: 'Don't you recognize me?'
+
+"'No.'
+
+"'I am Moiron.'
+
+"I felt a shiver run through me, and I asked 'The schoolmaster?'
+
+"'Yes.'
+
+"'How do you happen to be here?'
+
+"'The story is too long.  I haven't time to tell it.  I was going to die
+--and that priest was brought to me--and as I knew that you were here I
+sent for you.  It is to you that I wish to confess--since you were the
+one who once saved my life.'
+
+"His hands clutched the straw of his bed through the sheet and he
+continued in a hoarse, forcible and low tone: 'You see--I owe you the
+truth--I owe it to you--for it must be told to some one before I leave
+this earth.
+
+"'It is I who killed the children--all of them.  I did it--for revenge!
+
+"'Listen.  I was an honest, straightforward, pure man--adoring God--this
+good Father--this Master who teaches us to love, and not the false God,
+the executioner, the robber, the murderer who governs the earth.  I had
+never done any harm; I had never committed an evil act.  I was as good as
+it is possible to be, monsieur.
+
+"'I married and had children, and I loved them as no father or mother
+ever loved their children.  I lived only for them.  I was wild about
+them.  All three of them died!  Why?  why?  What had I done?  I was
+rebellious, furious; and suddenly my eyes were opened as if I were waking
+up out of a sleep.  I understood that God is bad.  Why had He killed my
+children?  I opened my eyes and saw that He loves to kill.  He loves only
+that, monsieur.  He gives life but to destroy it!  God, monsieur, is a
+murderer!  He needs death every day.  And He makes it of every variety,
+in order the better to be amused.  He has invented sickness and accidents
+in order to give Him diversion all through the months and the years; and
+when He grows tired of this, He has epidemics, the plague, cholera,
+diphtheria, smallpox, everything possible!  But this does not satisfy
+Him; all these things are too similar; and so from time to time He has
+wars, in order to see two hundred thousand soldiers killed at once,
+crushed in blood and in the mud, blown apart, their arms and legs torn
+off, their heads smashed by bullets, like eggs that fall on the ground.
+
+"'But this is not all.  He has made men who eat each other.  And then, as
+men become better than He, He has made beasts, in order to see men hunt
+them, kill them and eat them.  That is not all.  He has made tiny little
+animals which live one day, flies who die by the millions in one hour,
+ants which we are continually crushing under our feet, and so many, many
+others that we cannot even imagine.  And all these things are continually
+killing each other and dying.  And the good Lord looks on and is amused,
+for He sees everything, the big ones as well as the little ones, those
+who are in the drops of water and those in the other firmaments.  He
+watches them and is amused.  Wretch!
+
+"'Then, monsieur, I began to kill children played a trick on Him.  He did
+not get those.  It was not He, but I!  And I would have killed many
+others, but you caught me.  There!
+
+"'I was to be executed.  I!  How He would have laughed!  Then I asked for
+a priest, and I lied.  I confessed to him.  I lied and I lived.
+
+"'Now, all is over.  I can no longer escape from Him.  I no longer fear
+Him, monsieur; I despise Him too much.'
+
+"This poor wretch was frightful to see as he lay there gasping, opening
+an enormous mouth in order to utter words which could scarcely be heard,
+his breath rattling, picking at his bed and moving his thin legs under a
+grimy sheet as though trying to escape.
+
+"Oh!  The mere remembrance of it is frightful!
+
+"'You have nothing more to say?' I asked.
+
+"'No, monsieur.'
+
+"'Then, farewell.'
+
+"'Farewell, monsieur, till some day----'
+
+"I turned to the ashen-faced priest, whose dark outline stood out against
+the wall, and asked: 'Are you going to stay here, Monsieur l'Abbe?'
+
+"'Yes.'
+
+"Then the dying man sneered: 'Yes, yes, He sends His vultures to the
+corpses.'
+
+"I had had enough of this.  I opened the door and ran away."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE DISPENSER OF HOLY WATER
+
+We lived formerly in a little house beside the high road outside the
+village.  He had set up in business as a wheelwright, after marrying the
+daughter of a farmer of the neighborhood, and as they were both
+industrious, they managed to save up a nice little fortune.  But they had
+no children, and this caused them great sorrow.  Finally a son was born,
+whom they named Jean.  They both loved and petted him, enfolding him with
+their affection, and were unwilling to let him be out of their sight.
+
+When he was five years old some mountebanks passed through the country
+and set up their tent in the town hall square.
+
+Jean, who had seen them pass by, made his escape from the house, and
+after his father had made a long search for him, he found him among the
+learned goats and trick dogs, uttering shouts of laughter and sitting on
+the knees of an old clown.
+
+Three days later, just as they were sitting down to dinner, the
+wheelwright and his wife noticed that their son was not in the house.
+They looked for him in the garden, and as they did not find him, his
+father went out into the road and shouted at the top of his voice,
+"Jean!"
+
+Night came on.  A brown vapor arose making distant objects look still
+farther away and giving them a dismal, weird appearance.  Three tall
+pines, close at hand, seemed to be weeping.  Still there was no reply,
+but the air appeared to be full of indistinct sighing.  The father
+listened for some time, thinking he heard a sound first in one direction,
+then in another, and, almost beside himself, he ran, out into the night,
+calling incessantly "Jean!  Jean!"
+
+He ran along thus until daybreak, filling the, darkness with his shouts,
+terrifying stray animals, torn by a terrible anguish and fearing that he
+was losing his mind.  His wife, seated on the stone step of their home,
+sobbed until morning.
+
+They did not find their son.  They both aged rapidly in their
+inconsolable sorrow.  Finally they sold their house and set out to search
+together.
+
+They inquired of the shepherds on the hillsides, of the tradesmen passing
+by, of the peasants in the villages and of the authorities in the towns.
+But their boy had been lost a long time and no one knew anything about
+him.  He had probably forgotten his own name by this time and also the
+name of his village, and his parents wept in silence, having lost hope.
+
+Before long their money came to an end, and they worked out by the day in
+the farms and inns, doing the most menial work, eating what was left from
+the tables, sleeping on the ground and suffering from cold.  Then as they
+became enfeebled by hard work no one would employ them any longer, and
+they were forced to beg along the high roads.  They accosted passers-by
+in an entreating voice and with sad, discouraged faces; they begged a
+morsel of bread from the harvesters who were dining around a tree in the
+fields at noon, and they ate in silence seated on the edge of a ditch.
+An innkeeper to whom they told their story said to them one day:
+
+"I know some one who had lost their daughter, and they found her in
+Paris."
+
+They at once set out for Paris.
+
+When they entered the great city they were bewildered by its size and by
+the crowds that they saw.  But they knew that Jean must be in the midst
+of all these people, though they did not know how to set about looking
+for him.  Then they feared that they might not recognize him, for he was
+only five years old when they last saw him.
+
+They visited every place, went through all the streets, stopping whenever
+they saw a group of people, hoping for some providential meeting, some
+extraordinary luck, some compassionate fate.
+
+They frequently walked at haphazard straight ahead, leaning one against
+the other, looking so sad and poverty-stricken that people would give
+them alms without their asking.
+
+They spent every Sunday at the doors of the churches, watching the crowds
+entering and leaving, trying to distinguish among the faces one that
+might be familiar.  Several times they thought they recognized him, but
+always found they had made a mistake.
+
+In the vestibule of one of the churches which they visited the most
+frequently there was an old dispenser of holy Water who had become their
+friend.  He also had a very sad history, and their sympathy for him had
+established a bond of close friendship between them.  It ended by them
+all three living together in a poor lodging on the top floor of a large
+house situated at some distance, quite on the outskirts of the city, and
+the wheelwright would sometimes take his new friend's place at the church
+when the latter was ill.
+
+Winter came, a very severe winter.  The poor holy water sprinkler died
+and the parish priest appointed the wheelwright, whose misfortunes had
+come to his knowledge, to replace him.  He went every morning and sat in
+the same place, on the same chair, wearing away the old stone pillar by
+continually leaning against it.  He would gaze steadily at every man who
+entered the church and looked forward to Sunday with as much impatience
+as a schoolboy, for on that day the church was filled with people from
+morning till night.
+
+He became very old, growing weaker each day from the dampness of the
+church, and his hope oozed away gradually.
+
+He now knew by sight all the people who came to the services; he knew
+their hours, their manners, could distinguish their step on the stone
+pavement.
+
+His interests had become so contracted that the entrance of a stranger in
+the church was for him a great event.  One day two ladies came in; one
+was old, the other young--a mother and daughter probably.  Behind them
+came a man who was following them.  He bowed to them as they came out,
+and after offering them some holy water, he took the arm of the elder
+lady.
+
+"That must be the fiance of the younger one," thought the wheelwright.
+And until evening he kept trying to recall where he had formerly seen a
+young man who resembled this one.  But the one he was thinking of must be
+an old man by this time, for it seemed as if he had known him down home
+in his youth.
+
+The same man frequently came again to walk home with the ladies, and this
+vague, distant, familiar resemblance which he could not place worried the
+old man so much that he made his wife come with him to see if she could
+help his impaired memory.
+
+One evening as it was growing dusk the three strangers entered together.
+When they had passed the old man said:
+
+"Well, do you know him?"
+
+His wife anxiously tried to ransack her memory.  Suddenly she said in a
+low tone:
+
+"Yes--yes--but he is darker, taller, stouter and is dressed like a
+gentleman, but, father, all the same, it is your face when you were
+young!"
+
+The old man started violently.
+
+It was true.  He looked like himself and also like his brother who was
+dead, and like his father, whom he remembered while he was yet young.
+The old couple were so affected that they could not speak.  The three
+persons came out and were about to leave the church.
+
+The man touched his finger to the holy water sprinkler.  Then the old
+man, whose hand was trembling so that he was fairly sprinkling the ground
+with holy water, exclaimed:
+
+"Jean!"
+
+The young man stopped and looked at him.
+
+He repeated in a lower tone:
+
+"Jean!"
+
+The two women looked at them without understanding.
+
+He then said for the third time, sobbing as he did so:
+
+"Jean!"
+
+The man stooped down, with his face close to the old man's, and as a
+memory of his childhood dawned on him he replied:
+
+"Papa Pierre, Mamma Jeanne!"
+
+He had forgotten everything, his father's surname and the name of his
+native place, but he always remembered those two words that he had so
+often repeated: "Papa Pierre, Mamma Jeanne."
+
+He sank to the floor, his face on the old man's knees, and he wept,
+kissing now his father and then his mother, while they were almost
+breathless from intense joy.
+
+The two ladies also wept, understanding as they did that some great
+happiness had come to pass.
+
+Then they all went to the young man's house and he told them his history.
+The circus people had carried him off.  For three years he traveled with
+them in various countries.  Then the troupe disbanded, and one day an old
+lady in a chateau had paid to have him stay with her because she liked
+his appearance.  As he was intelligent, he was sent to school, then to
+college, and the old lady having no children, had left him all her money.
+He, for his part, had tried to find his parents, but as he could remember
+only the two names, "Papa Pierre, Mamma Jeanne," he had been unable to do
+so.  Now he was about to be married, and he introduced his fiancee, who
+was very good and very pretty.
+
+When the two old people had told their story in their turn he kissed them
+once more.  They sat up very late that night, not daring to retire lest
+the happiness they had so long sought should escape them again while they
+were asleep.
+
+But misfortune had lost its hold on them and they were happy for the rest
+of their lives.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A PARRICIDE
+
+The lawyer had presented a plea of insanity.  How could anyone explain
+this strange crime otherwise?
+
+One morning, in the grass near Chatou, two bodies had been found, a man
+and a woman, well known, rich, no longer young and married since the
+preceding year, the woman having been a widow for three years before.
+
+They were not known to have enemies; they had not been robbed.  They
+seemed to have been thrown from the roadside into the river, after having
+been struck, one after the other, with a long iron spike.
+
+The investigation revealed nothing.  The boatmen, who had been
+questioned, knew nothing.  The matter was about to be given up, when a
+young carpenter from a neighboring village, Georges Louis, nicknamed "the
+Bourgeois," gave himself up.
+
+To all questions he only answered this:
+
+"I had known the man for two years, the woman for six months.  They often
+had me repair old furniture for them, because I am a clever workman."
+
+And when he was asked:
+
+"Why did you kill them?"
+
+He would obstinately answer:
+
+"I killed them because I wanted to kill them."
+
+They could get nothing more out of him.
+
+This man was undoubtedly an illegitimate child, put out to nurse and then
+abandoned.  He had no other name than Georges Louis, but as on growing up
+he became particularly intelligent, with the good taste and native
+refinement which his acquaintances did not have, he was nicknamed "the
+Bourgeois," and he was never called otherwise.  He had become remarkably
+clever in the trade of a carpenter, which he had taken up.  He was also
+said to be a socialist fanatic, a believer in communistic and nihilistic
+doctrines, a great reader of bloodthirsty novels, an influential
+political agitator and a clever orator in the public meetings of workmen
+or of farmers.
+
+His lawyer had pleaded insanity.
+
+Indeed, how could one imagine that this workman should kill his best
+customers, rich and generous (as he knew), who in two years had enabled
+him to earn three thousand francs (his books showed it)?  Only one
+explanation could be offered: insanity, the fixed idea of the unclassed
+individual who reeks vengeance on two bourgeois, on all ,the bourgeoisie,
+and the lawyer made a clever allusion to this nickname of "The
+Bourgeois," given throughout the neighborhood to this poor wretch.
+He exclaimed:
+
+"Is this irony not enough to unbalance the mind of this poor wretch, who
+has neither father nor mother?  He is an ardent republican.  What am I
+saying?  He even belongs to the same political party, the members of
+which, formerly shot or exiled by the government, it now welcomes with
+open arms this party to which arson is a principle and murder an ordinary
+occurrence.
+
+"These gloomy doctrines, now applauded in public meetings, have ruined
+this man.  He has heard republicans--even women, yes, women---ask for the
+blood of M. Gambetta, the blood of M. Grevy; his weakened mind gave way;
+he wanted blood, the blood of a bourgeois!
+
+"It is not he whom you should condemn, gentlemen; it is the Commune!"
+
+Everywhere could be heard murmurs of assent.  Everyone felt that the
+lawyer had won his case.  The prosecuting attorney did not oppose him.
+
+Then the presiding judge asked the accused the customary question:
+
+"Prisoner, is there anything that you wish to add to your defense?"
+
+The man stood up.
+
+He was a short, flaxen blond, with calm, clear, gray eyes.  A strong,
+frank, sonorous voice came from this frail-looking boy and, at the first
+words, quickly changed the opinion which had been formed of him.
+
+He spoke loud in a declamatory manner, but so distinctly that every word
+could be understood in the farthest corners of the big hall:
+
+"Your honor, as I do not wish to go to an insane asylum, and as I even
+prefer death to that, I will tell everything.
+
+"I killed this man and this woman because they were my parents.
+
+"Now, listen, and judge me.
+
+"A woman, having given birth to a boy, sent him out, somewhere, to a
+nurse.  Did she even know where her accomplice carried this innocent
+little being, condemned to eternal misery, to the shame of an
+illegitimate birth; to more than that--to death, since he was abandoned
+and the nurse, no longer receiving the monthly pension, might, as they
+often do, let him die of hunger and neglect!
+
+"The woman who nursed me was honest, better, more noble, more of a mother
+than my own mother.  She brought me up.  She did wrong in doing her duty.
+It is more humane to let them die, these little wretches who are cast
+away in suburban villages just as garbage is thrown away.
+
+"I grew up with the indistinct impression that I was carrying some burden
+of shame.  One day the other children called me a 'b-----'.  They did not
+know the meaning of this word, which one of them had heard at home.
+I was also ignorant of its meaning, but I felt the sting all the same.
+
+"I was, I may say, one of the cleverest boys in the school.  I would have
+been a good man, your honor, perhaps a man of superior intellect, if my
+parents had not committed the crime of abandoning me.
+
+"This crime was committed against me.  I was the victim, they were the
+guilty ones.  I was defenseless, they were pitiless.  Their duty was to
+love me, they rejected me.
+
+"I owed them life--but is life a boon?  To me, at any rate, it was a
+misfortune.  After their shameful desertion, I owed them only vengeance.
+They committed against me the most inhuman, the most infamous, the most
+monstrous crime which can be committed against a human creature.
+
+"A man who has been insulted, strikes; a man who has been robbed, takes
+back his own by force.  A man who has been deceived, played upon,
+tortured, kills; a man who has been slapped, kills; a man who has been
+dishonored, kills.  I have been robbed, deceived, tortured, morally
+slapped, dishonored, all this to a greater degree than those whose anger
+you excuse.
+
+"I revenged myself, I killed.  It was my legitimate right.  I took their
+happy life in exchange for the terrible one which they had forced on me.
+
+"You will call me parricide!  Were these people my parents, for whom I
+was an abominable burden, a terror, an infamous shame; for whom my birth
+was a calamity and my life a threat of disgrace?  They sought a selfish
+pleasure; they got an unexpected child.  They suppressed the child.  My
+turn came to do the same for them.
+
+"And yet, up to quite recently, I was ready to love them.
+
+"As I have said, this man, my father, came to me for the first time two
+years ago.  I suspected nothing.  He ordered two pieces of furniture.
+I found out, later on, that, under the seal of secrecy, naturally, he had
+sought information from the priest.
+
+"He returned often.  He gave me a lot of work and paid me well.
+Sometimes he would even talk to me of one thing or another.  I felt a
+growing affection for him.
+
+"At the beginning of this year he brought with him his wife, my mother.
+When she entered she was trembling so that I thought her to be suffering
+from some nervous disease.  Then she asked for a seat and a glass of
+water.  She said nothing; she looked around abstractedly at my work and
+only answered 'yes' and 'no,' at random, to all the questions which he
+asked her.  When she had left I thought her a little unbalanced.
+
+"The following month they returned.  She was calm, self-controlled.  That
+day they chattered for a long time, and they left me a rather large
+order.  I saw her three more times, without suspecting anything.  But one
+day she began to talk to me of my life, of my childhood, of my parents.
+I answered: 'Madame, my parents were wretches who deserted me.'  Then she
+clutched at her heart and fell, unconscious.  I immediately thought: 'She
+is my mother!' but I took care not to let her notice anything.  I wished
+to observe her.
+
+"I, in turn, sought out information about them.  I learned that they had
+been married since last July, my mother having been a widow for only
+three years.  There had been rumors that they had loved each other during
+the lifetime of the first husband, but there was no proof of it.  I was
+the proof--the proof which they had at first hidden and then hoped to
+destroy.
+
+"I waited.  She returned one evening, escorted as usual by my father.
+That day she seemed deeply moved, I don't know why.  Then, as she was
+leaving, she said to me: 'I wish you success, because you seem to me to
+be honest and a hard worker; some day you will undoubtedly think of
+getting married.  I have come to help you to choose freely the woman who
+may suit you.  I was married against my inclination once and I know what
+suffering it causes.  Now I am rich, childless, free, mistress of my
+fortune.  Here is your dowry.'
+
+"She held out to me a large, sealed envelope.
+
+"I looked her straight in the eyes and then said: 'Are you my mother?'
+
+"She drew back a few steps and hid her face in her hands so as not to see
+me.  He, the man, my father, supported her in his arms and cried out to
+me: 'You must be crazy!'
+
+"I answered: 'Not in the least.  I know that you are my parents.  I
+cannot be thus deceived.  Admit it and I will keep the secret; I will
+bear you no ill will; I will remain what I am, a carpenter.'
+
+"He retreated towards the door, still supporting his wife who was
+beginning to sob.  Quickly I locked the door, put the key in my pocket
+and continued: 'Look at her and dare to deny that she is my mother.'
+
+"Then he flew into a passion, very pale, terrified at the thought that
+the scandal, which had so far been avoided, might suddenly break out;
+that their position, their good name, their honor might all at once be
+lost.  He stammered out: 'You are a rascal, you wish to get money from
+us!  That's the thanks we get for trying to help such common people!'
+
+"My mother, bewildered, kept repeating: 'Let's get out of here, let's get
+out!'
+
+"Then, when he found the door locked, he exclaimed : 'If you do not open
+this door immediately, I will have you thrown into prison for blackmail
+and assault!'
+
+"I had remained calm; I opened the door and saw them disappear in the
+darkness.
+
+"Then I seemed to have been suddenly orphaned, deserted, pushed to the
+wall.  I was seized with an overwhelming sadness, mingled with anger,
+hatred, disgust; my whole being seemed to rise up in revolt against the
+injustice, the meanness, the dishonor, the rejected love.  I began to
+run, in order to overtake them along the Seine, which they had to follow
+in order to reach the station of Chaton.
+
+"I soon caught up with them.  It was now pitch dark.  I was creeping up
+behind them softly, that they might not hear me.  My mother was still
+crying.  My father was saying: 'It's all your own fault.  Why did you
+wish to see him?  It was absurd in our position.  We could have helped
+him from afar, without showing ourselves.  Of what use are these
+dangerous visits, since we can't recognize him?'
+
+"Then I rushed up to them, beseeching.  I cried:
+
+'You see!  You are my parents.  You have already rejected me once; would
+you repulse me again?'
+
+"Then, your honor, he struck me.  I swear it on my honor, before the law
+and my country.  He struck me, and as I seized him by the collar, he drew
+from his pocket a revolver.
+
+"The blood rushed to my head, I no longer knew what I was doing, I had my
+compass in my pocket; I struck him with it as often as I could.
+
+"Then she began to cry: 'Help!  murder!' and to pull my beard.  It seems
+that I killed her also.  How do I know what I did then?
+
+"Then, when I saw them both lying on the ground, without thinking, I
+threw them into the Seine.
+
+"That's all.  Now sentence me."
+
+The prisoner sat down.  After this revelation the case was carried over
+to the following session.  It comes up very soon.  If we were jurymen,
+what would we do with this parricide?
+
+
+
+
+
+
+BERTHA
+
+Dr. Bonnet, my old friend--one sometimes has friends older than one's
+self--had often invited me to spend some time with him at Riom, and, as I
+did not know Auvergne, I made up my mind to visit him in the summer of
+1876.
+
+I arrived by the morning train, and the first person I saw on the
+platform was the doctor.  He was dressed in a gray suit, and wore a soft,
+black, wide-brimmed, high-crowned felt hat, narrow at the top like a
+chimney pot, a hat which hardly any one except an Auvergnat would wear,
+and which reminded one of a charcoal burner.  Dressed like that, the
+doctor had the appearance of an old young man, with his spare body under
+his thin coat, and his large head covered with white hair.
+
+He embraced me with that evident pleasure which country people feel when
+they meet long-expected friends, and, stretching out his arm, he said
+proudly:
+
+"This is Auvergne!" I saw nothing before me except a range of mountains,
+whose summits, which resembled truncated cones, must have been extinct
+volcanoes.
+
+Then, pointing to the name of the station, he said:
+
+"Riom, the fatherland of magistrates, the pride of the magistracy, and
+which ought rather to be the fatherland of doctors."
+
+"Why?" I, asked.
+
+"Why?" he replied with a laugh.  "If you transpose the letters, you have
+the Latin word 'mori', to die.  That is the reason why I settled here, my
+young friend."
+
+And, delighted at his own joke, he carried me off, rubbing his hands.
+
+As soon as I had swallowed a cup of coffee, he made me go and see the
+town.  I admired the druggist's house, and the other noted houses, which
+were all black, but as pretty as bric-a-brac, with their facades of
+sculptured stone.  I admired the statue of the Virgin, the patroness of
+butchers, and he told me an amusing story about this, which I will relate
+some other time, and then Dr. Bonnet said to me:
+
+"I must beg you to excuse me for a few minutes while I go and see a
+patient, and then I will take you to Chatel-Guyon, so as to show you the
+general aspect of the town, and all the mountain chain of the Puy-de-Dome
+before lunch.  You can wait for me outside; I shall only go upstairs and
+come down immediately."
+
+He left me outside one of those old, gloomy, silent, melancholy houses,
+which one sees in the provinces, and this one appeared to look
+particularly sinister, and I soon discovered the reason.  All the large
+windows on the first floor were boarded half way up.  The upper part of
+them alone could be opened, as if one had wished to prevent the people
+who were locked up in that huge stone box from looking into the street.
+
+When the doctor came down again, I told him how it struck me, and he
+replied:
+
+"You are quite right; the poor creature who is living there must never
+see what is going on outside.  She is a madwoman, or rather an idiot,
+what you Normans would call a Niente.  It is a miserable story, but a
+very singular pathological case at the same time.  Shall I tell you?"
+
+I begged him to do so, and he continued:
+
+"Twenty years ago the owners of this house, who were my patients, had a
+daughter who was like all other girls, but I soon discovered that while
+her body became admirably developed, her intellect remained stationary.
+
+"She began to walk very early, but she could not talk.  At first I
+thought she was deaf, but I soon discovered that, although she heard
+perfectly, she did not understand anything that was said to her.  Violent
+noises made her start and frightened her, without her understanding how
+they were caused.
+
+"She grew up into a superb woman, but she was dumb, from an absolute want
+of intellect.  I tried all means to introduce a gleam of intelligence
+into her brain, but nothing succeeded.  I thought I noticed that she knew
+her nurse, though as soon as she was weaned, she failed to recognize her
+mother.  She could never pronounce that word which is the first that
+children utter and the last which soldiers murmur when they are dying on
+the field of battle.  She sometimes tried to talk, but she produced
+nothing but incoherent sounds.
+
+"When the weather was fine, she laughed continually, and emitted low
+cries which might be compared to the twittering of birds; when it rained
+she cried and moaned in a mournful, terrifying manner, which sounded like
+the howling of a dog before a death occurs in a house.
+
+"She was fond of rolling on the grass, as young animals do, and of
+running about madly, and she would clap her hands every morning, when the
+sun shone into her room, and would insist, by signs, on being dressed as
+quickly as possible, so that she might get out.
+
+"She did not appear to distinguish between people, between her mother and
+her nurse, or between her father and me, or between the coachman and the
+cook.  I particularly liked her parents, who were very unhappy on her
+account, and went to see them nearly every day.  I dined with them quite
+frequently, which enabled me to remark that Bertha (they had called her
+Bertha) seemed to recognize the various dishes, and to prefer some to
+others.  At that time she was twelve years old, but as fully formed in
+figure as a girl of eighteen, and taller than I was.  Then the idea
+struck me of developing her greediness, and by this means of cultivating
+some slight power of discrimination in her mind, and to force her, by the
+diversity of flavors, if not to reason, at any rate to arrive at
+instinctive distinctions, which would of themselves constitute a kind of
+process that was necessary to thought.  Later on, by appealing to her
+passions, and by carefully making use of those which could serve our
+purpose, we might hope to obtain a kind of reaction on her intellect, and
+by degrees increase the unconscious action of her brain.
+
+"One day I put two plates before her, one of soup, and the other of very
+sweet vanilla cream.  I made her taste each of them successively, and
+then I let her choose for herself, and she ate the plate of
+cream.  In a short time I made her very greedy, so greedy that it
+appeared as if the only idea she had in her head was the desire for
+eating.  She perfectly recognized the various dishes, and stretched out
+her hands toward those that she liked, and took hold of them eagerly, and
+she used to cry when they were taken from her.  Then I thought I would
+try and teach her to come to the dining-room when the dinner bell rang.
+It took a long time, but I succeeded in the end.  In her vacant intellect
+a vague correlation was established between sound and taste, a
+correspondence between the two senses, an appeal from one to the other,
+and consequently a sort of connection of ideas--if one can call that kind
+of instinctive hyphen between two organic functions an idea--and so I
+carried my experiments further, and taught her, with much difficulty, to
+recognize meal times by the clock.
+
+"It was impossible for me for a long time to attract her attention to the
+hands, but I succeeded in making her remark the clockwork and the
+striking apparatus.  The means I employed were very simple; I asked them
+not to have the bell rung for lunch, and everybody got up and went into
+the dining-room when the little brass hammer struck twelve o'clock, but I
+found great difficulty in making her learn to count the strokes.  She ran
+to the door each time she heard the clock strike, but by degrees she
+learned that all the strokes had not the same value as far as regarded
+meals, and she frequently fixed her eyes, guided by her ears, on the dial
+of the clock.
+
+"When I noticed that, I took care every day at twelve, and at six
+o'clock, to place my fingers on the figures twelve and six, as soon as
+the moment she was waiting for had arrived, and I soon noticed that she
+attentively followed the motion of the small brass hands, which I had
+often turned in her presence.
+
+"She had understood!  Perhaps I ought rather to say that she had grasped
+the idea.  I had succeeded in getting the knowledge, or, rather, the
+sensation, of the time into her, just as is the case with carp, who
+certainly have no clocks, when they are fed every day exactly at the same
+time.
+
+"When once I had obtained that result all the clocks and watches in the
+house occupied her attention almost exclusively.  She spent her time in
+looking at them, listening to them, and in waiting for meal time, and
+once something very funny happened.  The striking apparatus of a pretty
+little Louis XVI clock that hung at the head of her bed having got out of
+order, she noticed it.  She sat for twenty minutes with her eyes on the
+hands, waiting for it to strike ten, but when the hands passed the figure
+she was astonished at not hearing anything; so stupefied was she, indeed,
+that she sat down, no doubt overwhelmed by a feeling of violent emotion
+such as attacks us in the face of some terrible catastrophe.  And she had
+the wonderful patience to wait until eleven o'clock in order to see what
+would happen, and as she naturally heard nothing, she was suddenly either
+seized with a wild fit of rage at having been deceived and imposed upon
+by appearances, or else overcome by that fear which some frightened
+creature feels at some terrible mystery, and by the furious impatience of
+a passionate individual who meets with some obstacle; she took up the
+tongs from the fireplace and struck the clock so violently that she broke
+it to pieces in a moment.
+
+"It was evident, therefore, that her, brain did act and calculate,
+obscurely it is true, and within very restricted limits, for I could
+never succeed in making her distinguish persons as she distinguished the
+time; and to stir her intellect, it was necessary to appeal to her
+passions, in the material sense of the word, and we soon had another, and
+alas! a very terrible proof of this!
+
+"She had grown up into a splendid girl, a perfect type of a race, a sort
+of lovely and stupid Venus.  She was sixteen, and I have rarely seen such
+perfection of form, such suppleness and such regular features.  I said
+she was a Venus; yes, a fair, stout, vigorous Venus, with large, bright,
+vacant eyes, which were as blue as the flowers of the flax plant; she had
+a large mouth with full lips, the mouth of a glutton, of a sensualist, a
+mouth made for kisses.  Well, one morning her father came into my
+consulting room with a strange look on his face, and, sitting down
+without even replying to my greeting, he said:
+
+"'I want to speak to you about a very serious matter.  Would it be
+possible--would it be possible for Bertha to marry?'
+
+"'Bertha to marry!  Why, it is quite impossible!'
+
+"'Yes, I know, I know,' he replied.  'But reflect, doctor.  Don't you
+think--perhaps--we hoped--if she had children--it would be a great shock
+to her, but a great happiness, and--who knows whether maternity might not
+rouse her intellect?'
+
+"I was in a state of great perplexity.  He was right, and it was possible
+that such a new situation, and that wonderful instinct of maternity,
+which beats in the hearts of the lower animals as it does in the heart of
+a woman, which makes the hen fly at a dog's jaws to defend her chickens,
+might bring about a revolution, an utter change in her vacant mind, and
+set the motionless mechanism of her thoughts in motion.  And then,
+moreover, I immediately remembered a personal instance.  Some years
+previously I had owned a spaniel bitch who was so stupid that I could do
+nothing with her, but when she had had puppies she became, if not exactly
+intelligent, yet almost like many other dogs who had not been thoroughly
+broken.
+
+"As soon as I foresaw the possibility of this, the wish to get Bertha
+married grew in me, not so much out of friendship for her and her poor
+parents as from scientific curiosity.  What would happen?  It was a
+singular problem.  I said in reply to her father:
+
+"'Perhaps you are right.  You might make the attempt, but you will never
+find a man to consent to marry her.'
+
+"'I have found somebody,' he said, in a low voice.
+
+"I was dumfounded, and said: 'Somebody really suitable?  Some one of your
+own rank and position in society?'
+
+"'Decidedly,' he replied.
+
+"'Oh!  And may I ask his name?'
+
+"'I came on purpose to tell you, and to consult you.  It is Monsieur
+Gaston du Boys de Lucelles.'
+
+"I felt inclined to exclaim: 'The wretch!' but I held my tongue, and
+after a few moments' silence I said:
+
+"'Oh!  Very good.  I see nothing against it.'
+
+"The poor man shook me heartily by the hand.
+
+"'She is to be married next month,' he said.
+
+
+"Monsieur Gaston du Boys de Lucelles was a scapegrace of good family,
+who, after having spent all that he had inherited from his father, and
+having incurred debts in all kinds of doubtful ways, had been trying to
+discover some other means of obtaining money, and he had discovered this
+method.  He was a good-looking young fellow, and in capital health, but
+fast; one of that odious race of provincial fast men, and he appeared to
+me to be as suitable as anyone, and could be got rid of later by making
+him an allowance.  He came to the house to pay his addresses and to strut
+about before the idiot girl, who, however, seemed to please him.  He
+brought her flowers, kissed her hands, sat at her feet, and looked at her
+with affectionate eyes; but she took no notice of any of his attentions,
+and did not make any distinction between him and the other persons who
+were about her.
+
+"However, the marriage took place, and you may guess how my curiosity was
+aroused.  I went to see Bertha the next day to try and discover from her
+looks whether any feelings had been awakened in her, but I found her just
+the same as she was every day, wholly taken up with the clock and dinner,
+while he, on the contrary, appeared really in love, and tried to rouse
+his wife's spirits and affection by little endearments and such caresses
+as one bestows on a kitten.  He could think of nothing better.
+
+"I called upon the married couple pretty frequently, and I soon perceived
+that the young woman knew her husband, and gave him those eager looks
+which she had hitherto only bestowed on sweet dishes.
+
+"She followed his movements, knew his step on the stairs or in the
+neighboring rooms, clapped her hands when he came in, and her face was
+changed and brightened by the flames of profound happiness and of desire.
+
+"She loved him with her whole body and with all her soul to the very
+depths of her poor, weak soul, and with all her heart, that poor heart of
+some grateful animal.  It was really a delightful and innocent picture of
+simple passion, of carnal and yet modest passion, such as nature had
+implanted in mankind, before man had complicated and disfigured it by all
+the various shades of sentiment.  But he soon grew tired of this ardent,
+beautiful, dumb creature, and did not spend more than an hour during the
+day with her, thinking it sufficient if he came home at night, and she
+began to suffer in consequence.  She used to wait for him from morning
+till night with her eyes on the clock; she did not even look after the
+meals now, for he took all his away from home, Clermont, Chatel-Guyon,
+Royat, no matter where, as long as he was not obliged to come home.
+
+"She began to grow thin; every other thought, every other wish, every
+other expectation, and every confused hope disappeared from her mind, and
+the hours during which she did not see him became hours of terrible
+suffering to her.  Soon he ceased to come home regularly of nights; he
+spent them with women at the casino at Royat and did not come home until
+daybreak.  But she never went to bed before he returned.  She remained
+sitting motionless in an easy-chair, with her eyes fixed on the hands of
+the clock, which turned so slowly and regularly round the china face on
+which the hours were painted.
+
+"She heard the trot of his horse in the distance and sat up with a start,
+and when he came into the room she got up with the movements of an
+automaton and pointed to the clock, as if to say: 'Look how late it is!'
+
+"And he began to be afraid of this amorous and jealous, half-witted
+woman, and flew into a rage, as brutes do; and one night he even went so
+far as to strike her, so they sent for me.  When I arrived she was
+writhing and screaming in a terrible crisis of pain, anger, passion, how
+do I know what?  Can one tell what goes on in such undeveloped brains?
+
+"I calmed her by subcutaneous injections of morphine, and forbade her to
+see that man again, for I saw clearly that marriage would infallibly kill
+her by degrees.
+
+"Then she went mad!  Yes, my dear friend, that idiot went mad.  She is
+always thinking of him and waiting for him; she waits for him all day and
+night, awake or asleep, at this very moment, ceaselessly.  When I saw her
+getting thinner and thinner, and as she persisted in never taking her
+eyes off the clocks, I had them removed from the house.  I thus made it
+impossible for her to count the hours, and to try to remember, from her
+indistinct reminiscences, at what time he used to come home formerly.  I
+hope to destroy the recollection of it in time, and to extinguish that
+ray of thought which I kindled with so much difficulty.
+
+"The other day I tried an experiment.  I offered her my watch; she took
+it and looked at it for some time; then she began to scream terribly, as
+if the sight of that little object had suddenly awakened her memory,
+which was beginning to grow indistinct.  She is pitiably thin now, with
+hollow and glittering eyes, and she walks up and down ceaselessly, like a
+wild beast in its cage; I have had gratings put on the windows, boarded
+them up half way, and have had the seats fixed to the floor so as to
+prevent her from looking to see whether he is coming.
+
+"Oh!  her poor parents!  What a life they must lead!"
+
+We had got to the top of the hill, and the doctor turned round and said
+to me:
+
+"Look at Riom from here."
+
+The gloomy town looked like some ancient city.  Behind it a green, wooded
+plain studded with towns and villages, and bathed in a soft blue haze,
+extended until it was lost in the distance.  Far away, on my right, there
+was a range of lofty mountains with round summits, or else cut off flat,
+as if with a sword, and the doctor began to enumerate the villages, towns
+and hills, and to give me the history of all of them.  But I did not
+listen to him; I was thinking of nothing but the madwoman, and I only saw
+her.  She seemed to be hovering over that vast extent of country like a
+mournful ghost, and I asked him abruptly:
+
+"What has become of the husband?"
+
+My friend seemed rather surprised, but after a few moments' hesitation,
+he replied:
+
+"He is living at Royat, on an allowance that they made him, and is quite
+happy; he leads a very fast life."
+
+As we were slowly going back, both of us silent and rather low-spirited,
+an English dogcart, drawn by a thoroughbred horse, came up behind us and
+passed us rapidly.  The doctor took me by the arm.
+
+"There he is," he said.
+
+I saw nothing except a gray felt hat, cocked over one ear above a pair of
+broad shoulders, driving off in a cloud of dust.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE PATRON
+
+We never dreamed of such good fortune!  The son of a provincial bailiff,
+Jean Marin had come, as do so many others, to study law in the Quartier
+Latin.  In the various beer-houses that he had frequented he had made
+friends with several talkative students who spouted politics as they
+drank their beer.  He had a great admiration for them and followed them
+persistently from cafe to cafe, even paying for their drinks when he had
+the money.
+
+He became a lawyer and pleaded causes, which he lost.  However, one
+morning he read in the papers that one of his former comrades of the
+Quartier had just been appointed deputy.
+
+He again became his faithful hound, the friend who does the drudgery, the
+unpleasant tasks, for whom one sends when one has need of him and with
+whom one does not stand on ceremony.  But it chanced through some
+parliamentary incident that the deputy became a minister.  Six months
+later Jean Marin was appointed a state councillor.
+
+He was so elated with pride at first that he lost his head.  He would
+walk through the streets just to show himself off, as though one could
+tell by his appearance what position he occupied.  He managed to say to
+the shopkeepers as soon as he entered a store, bringing it in somehow in
+the course of the most insignificant remarks and even to the news vendors
+and the cabmen:
+
+"I, who am a state councillor--"
+
+Then, in consequence of his position as well as for professional reasons
+and as in duty bound through being an influential and generous man, he
+felt an imperious need of patronizing others.  He offered his support to
+every one on all occasions and with unbounded generosity.
+
+When he met any one he recognized on the boulevards he would advance to
+meet them with a charmed air, would take their hand, inquire after their
+health, and, without waiting for any questions, remark:
+
+"You know I am state councillor, and I am entirely at your service.  If I
+can be of any use to you, do not hesitate to call on me.  In my position
+one has great influence."
+
+Then he would go into some cafe with the friend he had just met and ask
+for a pen and ink and a sheet of paper.  "Just one, waiter; it is to
+write a letter of recommendation."
+
+And he wrote ten, twenty, fifty letters of recommendation a day.  He
+wrote them to the Cafe Americain, to Bignon's, to Tortoni's, to the
+Maison Doree, to the Cafe Riche, to the Helder, to the Cafe Anglais, to
+the Napolitain, everywhere, everywhere.  He wrote them to all the
+officials of the republican government, from the magistrates to the
+ministers.  And he was happy, perfectly happy.
+
+One morning as he was starting out to go to the council it began to rain.
+He hesitated about taking a cab, but decided not to do so and set out on
+foot.
+
+The rain came down in torrents, swamping the sidewalks and inundating the
+streets.  M. Marin was obliged to take shelter in a doorway.  An old
+priest was standing there--an old priest with white hair.  Before he
+became a councillor M. Marin did not like the clergy.  Now he treated
+them with consideration, ever since a cardinal had consulted him on an
+important matter.  The rain continued to pour down in floods and obliged
+the two men to take shelter in the porter's lodge so as to avoid getting
+wet.  M. Marin, who was always itching to talk so as to let people know
+who he was, remarked:
+
+"This is horrible weather, Monsieur l'Abbe."
+
+The old priest bowed:
+
+"Yes indeed, sir, it is very unpleasant when one comes to Paris for only
+a few days."
+
+"Ah!  You come from the provinces?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur.  I am only passing through on my journey."
+
+"It certainly is very disagreeable to have rain during the few days one
+spends in the capital.  We officials who stay here the year round, we
+think nothing of it."
+
+The priest did not reply.  He was looking at the street where the rain
+seemed to be falling less heavily.  And with a sudden resolve he raised
+his cassock just as women raise their skirts in stepping across water.
+
+M. Marin, seeing him start away, exclaimed:
+
+"You will get drenched, Monsieur l'Abbe.  Wait a few moments longer; the
+rain will be over."
+
+The good man stopped irresistibly and then said:
+
+"But I am in a great hurry.  I have an important engagement."
+
+M. Marin seemed quite worried.
+
+"But you will be absolutely drenched.  Might I ask in which direction you
+are going?"
+
+The priest appeared to hesitate.  Then he said:
+
+"I am going in the direction of the Palais Royal."
+
+"In that case, if you will allow me, Monsieur l'Abbe, I will offer you
+the shelter of my umbrella: As for me, I am going to the council.  I am a
+councillor of state."
+
+The old priest raised his head and looked at his neighbor and then
+exclaimed:
+
+"I thank you, monsieur.  I shall be glad to accept your offer."
+
+M. Marin then took his arm and led him away.  He directed him, watched
+over him and advised him.
+
+"Be careful of that stream, Monsieur 1'Abbe.  And be very careful about
+the carriage wheels; they spatter you with mud sometimes from head to
+foot.  Look out for the umbrellas of the people passing by; there is
+nothing more dangerous to the eyes than the tips of the ribs.  Women
+especially are unbearable; they pay no heed to where they are going and
+always jab you in the face with the point of their parasols or umbrellas.
+And they never move aside for anybody.  One would suppose the town
+belonged to them.  They monopolize the pavement and the street.  It is my
+opinion that their education has been greatly neglected."
+
+And M. Marin laughed.
+
+The priest did not reply.  He walked along, slightly bent over, picking
+his steps carefully so as not to get mud on his boots or his cassock.
+
+M. Marin resumed:
+
+"I suppose you have come to Paris to divert your mind a little?"
+
+The good man replied:
+
+"No, I have some business to attend to."
+
+"Ali!  Is it important business?  Might I venture to ask what it is?  If
+I can be of any service to you, you may command me."
+
+The priest seemed embarrassed.  He murmured:
+
+"Oh, it is a little personal matter; a little difficulty with--with my
+bishop.  It would not interest you.  It is a matter of internal
+regulation--an ecclesiastical affair."
+
+M. Marin was eager.
+
+"But it is precisely the state council that regulates all those things.
+In that case, make use of me."
+
+"Yes, monsieur, it is to the council that I am going.  You are a thousand
+times too kind.  I have to see M. Lerepere and M. Savon and also perhaps
+M. Petitpas."
+
+M. Marin stopped short.
+
+"Why, those are my friends, Monsieur l'Abbe, my best friends, excellent
+colleagues, charming men.  I will speak to them about you, and very
+highly.  Count upon me."
+
+The cure thanked him, apologizing for troubling him, and stammered out a
+thousand grateful promises.
+
+M. Marin was enchanted.
+
+"Ah, you may be proud of having made a stroke of luck, Monsieur l'Abbe.
+You will see--you will see that, thanks to me, your affair will go along
+swimmingly."
+
+They reached the council hall.  M. Marin took the priest into his office,
+offered him a chair in front of the fire and sat down himself at his desk
+and began to write.
+
+"My dear colleague, allow me to recommend to you most highly a venerable
+and particularly worthy and deserving priest, M. L'Abbe----"
+
+He stopped and asked:
+
+"Your name, if you please?"
+
+"L'Abbe Ceinture."
+
+"M. l'Abbe Ceinture, who needs your good office in a little matter which
+he will communicate to you.
+
+"I am pleased at this incident which gives me an opportunity, my dear
+colleague----"
+
+And he finished with the usual compliments.
+
+When he had written the three letters he handed them to his protege, who
+took his departure with many protestations of gratitude.
+
+M. Marin attended to some business and then went home, passed the day
+quietly, slept well, woke in a good humor and sent for his newspapers.
+
+The first he opened was a radical sheet.  He read:
+
+     "OUR CLERGY AND OUR GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS
+
+"We shall never make an end of enumerating the misdeeds of the clergy.
+A certain priest, named Ceinture, convicted of conspiracy against the
+present government, accused of base actions to which we will not even
+allude, suspected besides of being a former Jesuit, metamorphosed into a
+simple priest, suspended by a bishop for causes that are said to be
+unmentionable and summoned to Paris to give an explanation of his
+conduct, has found an ardent defender in the man named Marin, a
+councillor of state, who was not afraid to give this frocked malefactor
+the warmest letters of recommendation to all the republican officials,
+his colleagues.
+
+"We call the, attention of the ministry to the unheard of attitude of
+this councillor of state----"
+
+M. Marin bounded out of bed, dressed himself and hastened to his
+colleague, Petitpas, who said to him:
+
+"How now?  You were crazy to recommend to me that old conspirator!"
+
+M. Marin, bewildered, stammered out:
+
+"Why no--you see--I was deceived.  He looked such an honest man.  He
+played me a trick--a disgraceful trick!  I beg that you will sentence him
+severely, very severely.  I am going to write.  Tell me to whom I should
+write about having him punished.  I will go and see the attorney-general
+and the archbishop of Paris--yes, the archbishop."
+
+And seating himself abruptly at M. Petitpas' desk, he wrote:
+
+"Monseigneur, I have the honor to bring to your grace's notice the fact
+that I have recently been made a victim of the intrigues and lies of a
+certain Abbe Ceinture, who imposed on my kind-heartedness.
+
+"Deceived by the representations of this ecclesiastic, I was led----"
+
+Then, having signed and sealed his letter, he turned to his colleague and
+exclaimed:
+
+"See here; my dear friend, let this be a warning to you never to
+recommend any one again."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE DOOR
+
+"Bah!" exclaimed Karl Massouligny, "the question of complaisant husbands
+is a difficult one.  I have seen many kinds, and yet I am unable to give
+an opinion about any of them.  I have often tried to determine whether
+they are blind, weak or clairvoyant.  I believe that there are some which
+belong to each of these categories.
+
+"Let us quickly pass over the blind ones.  They cannot rightly be called
+complaisant, since they do not know, but they are good creatures who
+cannot see farther than their nose.  It is a curious and interesting
+thing to notice the ease with which men and women can, be deceived.
+We are taken in by the slightest trick of those who surround us, by our
+children, our friends, our servants, our tradespeople.  Humanity is
+credulous, and in order to discover deceit in others, we do not display
+one-tenth the shrewdness which we use when we, in turn, wish to deceive
+some one else.
+
+"Clairvoyant husbands may be divided into three classes: Those who have
+some interest, pecuniary, ambitious or otherwise, in their wife's having
+love affairs.  These ask only to safeguard appearances as much as
+possible, and they are satisfied.
+
+"Next come those who get angry.  What a beautiful novel one could write
+about them!
+
+"Finally the weak ones!  Those who are afraid of scandal.
+
+"There are also those who are powerless, or, rather, tired, who flee from
+the duties of matrimony through fear of ataxia or apoplexy, who are
+satisfied to see a friend run these risks.
+
+"But I once met a husband of a rare species, who guarded against the
+common accident in a strange and witty manner.
+
+"In Paris I had made the acquaintance of an elegant, fashionable couple.
+The woman, nervous, tall, slender, courted, was supposed to have had many
+love adventures.  She pleased me with her wit, and I believe that I
+pleased her also.  I courted her, a trial courting to which she answered
+with evident provocations.  Soon we got to tender glances, hand
+pressures, all the little gallantries which precede the final attack.
+
+"Nevertheless, I hesitated.  I consider that, as a rule, the majority of
+society intrigues, however short they may be, are not worth the trouble
+which they give us and the difficulties which may arise.  I therefore
+mentally compared the advantages and disadvantages which I might expect,
+and I thought I noticed that the husband suspected me.
+
+"One evening, at a ball, as I was saying tender things to the young woman
+in a little parlor leading from the big hall where the dancing was going
+on, I noticed in a mirror the reflection of some one who was watching me.
+It was he.  Our looks met and then I saw him turn his head and walk away.
+
+"I murmured: 'Your husband is spying on us.'
+
+"She seemed dumbfounded and asked: 'My husband?'
+
+"'Yes, he has been watching us for some time:
+
+"'Nonsense!  Are you sure?'
+
+"'Very sure.'
+
+"'How strange!  He is usually extraordinarily pleasant to all my.
+friends.'
+
+"'Perhaps he guessed that I love you!'
+
+"'Nonsense!  You are not the first one to pay attention to me.  Every
+woman who is a little in view drags behind her a herd of admirers.'
+
+"'Yes.  But I love you deeply.'
+
+"'Admitting that that is true, does a husband ever guess those things?'
+
+"'Then he is not jealous?'
+
+"'No-no!'
+
+"She thought for an instant and then continued: 'No.  I do not think that
+I ever noticed any jealousy on his part.'
+
+"'Has he never-watched you?'
+
+"'No.  As I said, he is always agreeable to my friends.'
+
+"From that day my courting became much more assiduous.  The woman did not
+please me any more than before, but the probable jealousy of her husband
+tempted me greatly.
+
+"As for her, I judged her coolly and clearly.  She had a certain worldly
+charm, due to a quick, gay, amiable and superficial mind, but no real,
+deep attraction.  She was, as I have already said, an excitable little
+being, all on the surface, with rather a showy elegance.  How can I
+explain myself?  She was an ornament, not a home.
+
+"One day, after taking dinner with her, her husband said to me, just as I
+was leaving: 'My dear friend' (he now called me 'friend'), 'we soon leave
+for the country.  It is a great pleasure to my wife and myself to
+entertain people whom we like.  We would be very pleased to have you
+spend a month with us.  It would be very nice of you to do so.'
+
+"I was dumbfounded, but I accepted.
+
+"A month later I arrived at their estate of Vertcresson, in Touraine.
+They were waiting for me at the station, five miles from the chateau.
+There were three of them, she, the husband and a gentleman unknown to me,
+the Comte de Morterade, to whom I was introduced.  He appeared to be
+delighted to make my acquaintance, and the strangest ideas passed through
+my mind while we trotted along the beautiful road between two hedges.
+I was saying to myself: 'Let's see, what can this mean?  Here is a
+husband who cannot doubt that his wife and I are on more than friendly
+terms, and yet he invites me to his house, receives me like an old friend
+and seems to say: "Go ahead, my friend, the road is clear!"
+
+"'Then I am introduced to a very pleasant gentleman, who seems already to
+have settled down in the house, and--and who is perhaps trying to get out
+of it, and who seems as pleased at my arrival as the husband himself.
+
+"'Is it some former admirer who wishes to retire?  One might think so.
+But, then, would these two men tacitly have come to one of these infamous
+little agreements so common in society?  And it is proposed to me that I
+should quietly enter into the pact and carry it out.  All hands and arms
+are held out to me.  All doors and hearts are open to me.
+
+"'And what about her?  An enigma.  She cannot be ignorant of everything.
+However--however----  Well, I cannot understand it.'
+
+"The dinner was very gay and cordial.  On leaving the table the husband
+and his friend began to play cards, while I went out on the porch to look
+at the moonlight with madame.  She seemed to be greatly affected by
+nature, and I judged that the moment for my happiness was near.  That
+evening she was really delightful.  The country had seemed to make her
+more tender.  Her long, slender waist looked pretty on this stone porch
+beside a great vase in which grew some flowers.  I felt like dragging her
+out under the trees, throwing myself at her feet and speaking to her
+words of love.
+
+"Her husband's voice called 'Louise!'
+
+"'Yes, dear.'
+
+"'You are forgetting the tea.'
+
+"'I'll go and see about it, my friend.'
+
+"We returned to the house, and she gave us some tea.  When the two men
+had finished playing cards, they were visibly tired.  I had to go to my
+room.  I did not get to sleep till late, and then I slept badly.
+
+"An excursion was decided upon for the following afternoon, and we went
+in an open carriage to visit some ruins.  She and I were in the back of
+the vehicle and they were opposite us, riding backward.  The conversation
+was sympathetic and agreeable.  I am an orphan, and it seemed to me as
+though I had just found my family, I felt so at home with them.
+
+"Suddenly, as she had stretched out her foot between her husband's legs,
+he murmured reproachfully: 'Louise, please don't wear out your old shoes
+yourself.  There is no reason for being neater in Paris than in the
+country.'
+
+"I lowered my eyes.  She was indeed wearing worn-out shoes, and I noticed
+that her stockings were not pulled up tight.
+
+"She had blushed and hidden her foot under her dress.  The friend was
+looking out in the distance with an indifferent and unconcerned look.
+
+"The husband offered me a cigar, which I accepted.  For a few days it was
+impossible for me to be alone with her for two minutes; he was with us
+everywhere.  He was delightful to me, however.
+
+"One morning he came to get me to take a walk before breakfast, and the
+conversation happened to turn on marriage.  I spoke a little about
+solitude and about how charming life can be made by the affection of a
+woman.  Suddenly he interrupted me, saying: 'My friend, don't talk about
+things you know nothing about.  A woman who has no other reason for
+loving you will not love you long.  All the little coquetries which make
+them so exquisite when they do not definitely belong to us cease as soon
+as they become ours.  And then--the respectable women--that is to say our
+wives--are--are not--in fact do not understand their profession of wife.
+Do you understand?'
+
+"He said no more, and I could not guess his thoughts.
+
+"Two days after this conversation he called me to his room quite early,
+in order to show me a collection of engravings.  I sat in an easy chair
+opposite the big door which separated his apartment from his wife's, and
+behind this door I heard some one walking and moving, and I was thinking
+very little of the engravings, although I kept exclaiming: 'Oh, charming!
+delightful!  exquisite!'
+
+"He suddenly said: 'Oh, I have a beautiful specimen in the next room.
+I'll go and get it.'
+
+"He ran to the door quickly, and both sides opened as though for a
+theatrical effect.
+
+"In a large room, all in disorder, in the midst of skirts, collars,
+waists lying around on the floor, stood a tall, dried-up creature.  The
+lower part of her body was covered with an old, worn-out silk petticoat,
+which was hanging limply on her shapeless form, and she was standing in
+front of a mirror brushing some short, sparse blond hairs.  Her arms
+formed two acute angles, and as she turned around in astonishment I saw
+under a common cotton chemise a regular cemetery of ribs, which were
+hidden from the public gaze by well-arranged pads.
+
+"The husband uttered a natural exclamation and came back, closing the
+doors, and said: 'Gracious!  how stupid I am!  Oh, how thoughtless!  My
+wife will never forgive me for that!'
+
+"I already felt like thanking him.  I left three days later, after
+cordially shaking hands with the two men and kissing the lady's fingers.
+She bade me a cold good-by."
+
+Karl Massouligny was silent.  Some one asked: "But what was the friend?"
+
+"I don't know--however--however he looked greatly distressed to see me
+leaving so soon."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A SALE
+
+The defendants, Cesaire-Isidore Brument and Prosper-Napoleon Cornu,
+appeared before the Court of Assizes of the Seine-Inferieure, on a charge
+of attempted murder, by drowning, of Mme. Brument, lawful wife of the
+first of the aforenamed.
+
+The two prisoners sat side by side on the traditional bench.  They were
+two peasants; the first was small and stout, with short arms, short legs,
+and a round head with a red pimply face, planted directly on his trunk,
+which was also round and short, and with apparently no neck.  He was a
+raiser of pigs and lived at Cacheville-la-Goupil, in the district of
+Criquetot.
+
+Cornu (Prosper-Napoleon) was thin, of medium height, with enormously long
+arms.  His head was on crooked, his jaw awry, and he squinted.  A blue
+blouse, as long as a shirt, hung down to his knees, and his yellow hair,
+which was scanty and plastered down on his head, gave his face a worn-
+out, dirty look, a dilapidated look that was frightful.  He had been
+nicknamed "the cure" because he could imitate to perfection the chanting
+in church, and even the sound of the serpent.  This talent attracted to
+his cafe--for he was a saloon keeper at Criquetot--a great many customers
+who preferred the "mass at Cornu" to the mass in church.
+
+Mme. Brument, seated on the witness bench, was a thin peasant woman who
+seemed to be always asleep.  She sat there motionless, her hands crossed
+on her knees, gazing fixedly before her with a stupid expression.
+
+The judge continued his interrogation.
+
+"Well, then, Mme. Brument, they came into your house and threw you into a
+barrel full of water.  Tell us the details.  Stand up."
+
+She rose.  She looked as tall as a flag pole with her cap which looked
+like a white skull cap.  She said in a drawling tone:
+
+"I was shelling beans.  Just then they came in.  I said to myself, 'What
+is the matter with them?  They do not seem natural, they seem up to some
+mischief.'  They watched me sideways, like this, especially Cornu,
+because he squints.  I do not like to see them together, for they are two
+good-for-nothings when they are in company.  I said: 'What do you want
+with me?'  They did not answer.  I had a sort of mistrust----"
+
+The defendant Brument interrupted the witness hastily, saying:
+
+"I was full."
+
+Then Cornu, turning towards his accomplice said in the deep tones of an
+organ:
+
+"Say that we were both full, and you will be telling no lie."
+
+The judge, severely:
+
+"You mean by that that you were both drunk?"
+
+Brument: "There can be no question about it."
+
+Cornu : "That might happen to anyone."
+
+The judge to the victim: "Continue your testimony, woman Brument."
+
+"Well, Brument said to me, 'Do you wish to earn a hundred sous?' 'Yes,'
+I replied, seeing that a hundred sous are not picked up in a horse's
+tracks.  Then he said: 'Open your eyes and do as I do,' and he went to
+fetch the large empty barrel which is under the rain pipe in the corner,
+and he turned it over and brought it into my kitchen, and stuck it down
+in the middle of the floor, and then he said to me: 'Go and fetch water
+until it is full.'
+
+"So I went to the pond with two pails and carried water, and still more
+water for an hour, seeing that the barrel was as large as a vat, saving
+your presence, m'sieu le president.
+
+"All this time Brument and Cornu were drinking a glass, and then another
+glass, and then another.  They were finishing their drinks when I said to
+them: 'You are full, fuller than this barrel.'  And Brument answered me.
+'Do not worry, go on with your work, your turn will come, each one has
+his share.' I paid no attention to what he said as he was full.
+
+"When the barrel was full to the brim, I said: 'There, that's done.'
+
+"And then Cornu gave me a hundred sous, not Brument, Cornu; it was Cornu
+gave them to me.  And Brument said: 'Do you wish to earn a hundred sous
+more?' 'Yes,' I said, for I am not accustomed to presents like that.
+Then he said: 'Take off your clothes.!
+
+"'Take off my clothes?'
+
+"'Yes,' he said.
+
+"'How many shall I take off?'
+
+"'If it worries you at all, keep on your chemise, that won't bother us.'
+
+"A hundred sous is a hundred sous, and I have to undress myself; but I
+did not fancy undressing before those two good-for-nothings.  I took off
+my cap, and then my jacket, and then my skirt, and then my sabots.
+Brument said, 'Keep on your stockings, also; we are good fellows.'
+
+"And Cornu said, too, 'We are good fellows.'
+
+"So there I was, almost like mother Eve.  And they got up from their
+chairs, but could not stand straight, they were so full, saving your
+presence, M'sieu le president.
+
+"I said to myself: 'What are they up to?'
+
+"And Brument said: 'Are you ready?'
+
+"And Cornu said: 'I'm ready!'
+
+"And then they took me, Brument by the head, and Cornu by the feet, as
+one might take, for instance, a sheet that has been washed.  Then I began
+to bawl.
+
+"And Brument said: 'Keep still, wretched creature!'
+
+"And they lifted me up in the air and put me into the barrel, which was
+full of water, so that I had a check of the circulation, a chill to my
+very insides.
+
+"And Brument said: 'Is that all?'
+
+"Cornu said: 'That is all.'
+
+"Brument said: 'The head is not in, that will make a difference in the
+measure.'
+
+"Cornu said: 'Put in her head.'
+
+"And then Brument pushed down my head as if to drown me, so that the
+water ran into my nose, so that I could already see Paradise.  And he
+pushed it down, and I disappeared.
+
+"And then he must have been frightened.  He pulled me out and said: 'Go
+and get dry, carcass.'
+
+"As for me, I took to my heels and ran as far as M. le cure's.  He lent
+me a skirt belonging to his servant, for I was almost in a state of
+nature, and he went to fetch Maitre Chicot, the country watchman who went
+to Criquetot to fetch the police who came to my house with me.
+
+"Then we found Brument and Cornu fighting each other like two rams.
+
+"Brument was bawling: 'It isn't true, I tell you that there is at least a
+cubic metre in it.  It is the method that was no good.'
+
+"Cornu bawled: 'Four pails, that is almost half a cubic metre.  You need
+not reply, that's what it is.'
+
+"The police captain put them both under arrest.  I have no more to tell."
+
+She sat down.  The audience in the court room laughed.  The jurors looked
+at one another in astonishment.  The judge said:
+
+"Defendant Cornu, you seem to have been the instigator of this infamous
+plot.  What have you to say?"
+
+And Cornu rose in his turn.
+
+"Judge," he replied, "I was full."
+
+The Judge answered gravely:
+
+"I know it.  Proceed."
+
+"I will.  Well, Brument came to my place about nine o'clock, and ordered
+two drinks, and said: 'There's one for you, Cornu.' I sat down opposite
+him and drank, and out of politeness, I offered him a glass.  Then he
+returned the compliment and so did I, and so it went on from glass to
+glass until noon, when we were full.
+
+"Then Brument began to cry.  That touched me.  I asked him what was the
+matter.  He said: 'I must have a thousand francs by Thursday.' That
+cooled me off a little, you understand.  Then he said to me all at once:
+'I will sell you my wife.'
+
+"I was full, and I was a widower.  You understand, that stirred me up.
+I did not know his wife, but she was a woman, wasn't she?  I asked him:
+'How much would you sell her for?'
+
+"He reflected, or pretended to reflect.  When one is full one is not very
+clear-headed, and he replied: 'I will sell her by the cubic metre.'
+
+"That did not surprise me, for I was as drunk as he was, and I knew what
+a cubic metre is in my business.  It is a thousand litres, that suited
+me.
+
+"But the price remained to be settled.  All depends on the quality.  I
+said: 'How much do you want a cubic metre?'
+
+"He answered: 'Two thousand francs.'
+
+"I gave a bound like a rabbit, and then I reflected that a woman ought
+not to measure more than three hundred litres.  So I said: 'That's too
+dear.'
+
+"He answered: 'I cannot do it for less.  I should lose by it.'
+
+"You understand, one is not a dealer in hogs for nothing.  One
+understands one's business.  But, if he is smart, the seller of bacon, I
+am smarter, seeing that I sell them also.  Ha, Ha, Ha!  So I said to him:
+'If she were new, I would not say anything, but she has been married to
+you for some time, so she is not as fresh as she was.  I will give you
+fifteen hundred francs a cubic metre, not a sou more.  Will that suit
+you?'
+
+"He answered: 'That will do.  That's a bargain!'
+
+"I agreed, and we started out, arm in arm.  We must help each other in
+this world.
+
+"But a fear came to me: 'How can you measure her unless you put her into
+the liquid?'
+
+"Then he explained his idea, not without difficulty for he was full.  He
+said to me: 'I take a barrel, and fill it with water to the brim.  I put
+her in it.  All the water that comes out we will measure, that is the way
+to fix it.'
+
+"I said: 'I see, I understand.  But this water that overflows will run
+away; how are you going to gather it up?'
+
+"Then he began stuffing me and explained to me that all we should have to
+do would be to refill the barrel with the water his wife had displaced as
+soon as she should have left.  All the water we should pour in would be
+the measure.  I supposed about ten pails; that would be a cubic metre.
+He isn't a fool, all the same, when he is drunk, that old horse.
+
+"To be brief, we reached his house and I took a look at its mistress.  A
+beautiful woman she certainly was not.  Anyone can see her, for there she
+is.  I said to myself: 'I am disappointed, but never mind, she will be of
+value; handsome or ugly, it is all the same, is it not, monsieur le
+president?'  And then I saw that she was as thin as a rail.  I said to
+myself: 'She will not measure four hundred litres.'  I understand the
+matter, it being in liquids.
+
+"She told you about the proceeding.  I even let her keep on her chemise
+and stockings, to my own disadvantage.
+
+"When that was done she ran away.  I said: 'Look out, Brument!  she is
+escaping.'
+
+"He replied: 'Do not be afraid.  I will catch her all right.  She will
+have to come back to sleep, I will measure the deficit.'
+
+"We measured.  Not four pailfuls.  Ha, Ha, Ha!"
+
+The witness began to laugh so persistently that a gendarme was obliged to
+punch him in the back.  Having quieted down, he resumed:
+
+"In short, Brument exclaimed: 'Nothing doing, that is not enough.' I
+bawled and bawled, and bawled again, he punched me, I hit back.  That
+would have kept on till the Day of judgment, seeing we were both drunk.
+
+"Then came the gendarmes!  They swore at us, they took us off to prison.
+I want damages."
+
+He sat down.
+
+Brument confirmed in every particular the statements of his accomplice.
+The jury, in consternation, retired to deliberate.
+
+At the end of an hour they returned a verdict of acquittal for the
+defendants, with some severe strictures on the dignity of marriage, and
+establishing the precise limitations of business transactions.
+
+Brument went home to the domestic roof accompanied by his wife.
+
+Cornu went back to his business.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE IMPOLITE SEX
+
+                      Madame de X.  to Madame de L.
+
+                                        ETRETAT, Friday.
+My Dear Aunt:
+
+I am coming to see you without anyone knowing it.  I shall be at Les
+Fresnes on the 2d of September, the day before the hunting season opens,
+as I do not want to miss it, so that I may tease these gentlemen.  You
+are too good, aunt, and you will allow them, as you usually do when there
+are no strange guests, to come to table, under pretext of fatigue,
+without dressing or shaving for the occasion.
+
+They are delighted, of course, when I am not present.  But I shall be
+there and will hold a review, like a general, at dinner time; and, if I
+find a single one of them at all careless in dress, no matter how little,
+I mean to send them down to the kitchen with the servants.
+
+The men of to-day have so little consideration for others and so little
+good manners that one must be always severe with them.  We live indeed in
+an age of vulgarity.  When they quarrel, they insult each other in terms
+worthy of longshoremen, and, in our presence, they do not conduct
+themselves even as well as our servants.  It is at the seaside that you
+see this most clearly.  They are to be found there in battalions, and you
+can judge them in the lump.  Oh!  what coarse beings they are!
+
+Just imagine, in a train, a gentleman who looked well, as I thought at
+first sight, thanks to his tailor, carefully took off his boots in order
+to put on a pair of old shoes!  Another, an old man who was probably some
+wealthy upstart (these are the most ill-bred), while sitting opposite to
+me, had the delicacy to place his two feet on the seat quite close to me.
+This is a positive fact.
+
+At the watering-places the vulgarity is unrestrained.  I must here make
+one admission--that my indignation is perhaps due to the fact that I am
+not accustomed to associate, as a rule, with the sort of people one comes
+across here, for I should be less shocked by their manners if I had the
+opportunity of observing them oftener.  In the office of the hotel I was
+nearly thrown down by a young man who snatched the key over my head.
+Another knocked against me so violently without begging my pardon or
+lifting his hat, coming away from a ball at the Casino, that it gave me a
+pain in the chest.  It is the same way with all of them.  Watch them
+addressing ladies on the terrace; they scarcely ever bow.  They merely
+raise their hands to their headgear.  But, indeed, as they are all more
+or less bald, it is the best plan.
+
+But what exasperates and disgusts me particularly is the liberty they
+take of talking in public, without any kind of precaution, about the most
+revolting adventures.  When two men are together, they relate to each
+other, in the broadest language and with the most abominable comments
+really horrible stories, without caring in the slightest degree whether a
+woman's ear is within reach of their voices.  Yesterday, on the beach, I
+was forced to leave the place where I was sitting in order not to be any
+longer the involuntary confidante of an obscene anecdote, told in such
+immodest language that I felt just as humiliated as indignant at having
+heard it.  Would not the most elementary good-breeding teach them to
+speak in a lower tone about such matters when we are near at hand.
+Etretat is, moreover, the country of gossip and scandal.  From five to
+seven o'clock you can see people wandering about in quest of scandal,
+which they retail from group to group.  As you remarked to me, my dear
+aunt, tittle-tattle is the mark of petty individuals and petty minds.
+It is also the consolation of women who are no longer loved or sought
+after.  It is enough for me to observe the women who are fondest of
+gossiping to be persuaded that you are quite right.
+
+The other day I was present at a musical evening at the Casino, given by
+a remarkable artist, Madame Masson, who sings in a truly delightful
+manner.  I took the opportunity of applauding the admirable Coquelin, as
+well as two charming vaudeville performers, M---- and Meillet.  I met, on
+this occasion, all the bathers who were at the beach.  It is no great
+distinction this year.
+
+Next day I went to lunch at Yport.  I noticed a tall man with a beard,
+coming out of a large house like a castle.  It was the painter, Jean Paul
+Laurens.  He is not satisfied apparently with imprisoning the subjects of
+his pictures, he insists on imprisoning himself.
+
+Then I found myself seated on the shingle close to a man still young, of
+gentle and refined appearance, who was reading poetry.  But he read it
+with such concentration, with such passion, I may say, that he did not
+even raise his eyes towards me.  I was somewhat astonished and asked the
+proprietor of the baths, without appearing to be much concerned, the name
+of this gentleman.  I laughed to myself a little at this reader of
+rhymes; he seemed behind the age, for a man.  This person, I thought,
+must be a simpleton.  Well, aunt, I am now infatuated about this
+stranger.  Just fancy, his name is Sully Prudhomme!  I went back and sat
+down beside him again so as to get a good look at him.  His face has an
+expression of calmness and of penetration.  Somebody came to look for
+him, and I heard his voice, which is sweet and almost timid.  He would
+certainly not tell obscene stories aloud in public or knock up against
+ladies without apologizing.  He is assuredly a man of refinement, but his
+refinement is of an almost morbid, sensitive character, I will try this
+winter to get an introduction to him.
+
+I have no more news, my dear aunt, and I must finish this letter in
+haste, as the mail will soon close.  I kiss your hands and your cheeks.
+Your devoted niece,
+                                        BERTHE DE X.
+
+P. S.--I should add, however, by way of justification of French
+politeness, that our fellow-countrymen are, when travelling, models of
+good manners in comparison with the abominable English, who seem to have
+been brought up in a stable, so careful are they not to discommode
+themselves in any way, while they always discommode their neighbors.
+
+
+
+                      Madame de L.  to Madame de X.
+
+                                        LES FRESNES, Saturday.
+My Dear Child:
+
+Many of the things you have said to me are very sensible, but that does
+not prevent you from being wrong.  Like you, I used formerly to feel very
+indignant at the impoliteness of men, who, as I supposed, constantly
+treated me with neglect; but, as I grew older and reflected on
+everything, putting aside coquetry, and observing things without taking
+any part in them myself, I perceived this much--that if men are not
+always polite, women are always indescribably rude.
+
+We imagine that we should be permitted to do anything, my darling, and at
+the same time we consider that we have a right to the utmost respect, and
+in the most flagrant manner we commit actions devoid of that elementary
+good-breeding of which you speak so feelingly.
+
+I find, on the contrary, that men consider us much more than we consider
+them.  Besides, darling, men must needs be, and are, what we make them.
+In a state of society, where women are all true gentlewomen, all men
+would become gentlemen.
+
+Come now; just observe and reflect.
+
+Look at two women meeting in the street.  What an attitude each assumes
+towards the other!  What disparaging looks!  What contempt they throw
+into each glance!  How they toss their heads while they inspect each
+other to find something to condemn!  And, if the footpath is narrow, do
+you think one woman would make room for another, or would beg pardon as
+she sweeps by?  Never!  When two men jostle each other by accident in
+some narrow lane, each of them bows and at the same time gets out of the
+other's way, while we women press against each other stomach to stomach,
+face to face, insolently staring each other out of countenance.
+
+Look at two women who are acquaintances meeting on a staircase outside
+the door of a friend's drawing-room, one of them just leaving, the other
+about to go in.  They begin to talk to each other and block up all the
+landing.  If anyone happens to be coming up behind them, man or woman, do
+you imagine that they will put themselves half an inch out of their way?
+Never! never!
+
+I was waiting myself, with my watch in my hands, one day last winter at a
+certain drawing-room door.  And, behind me, two gentlemen were also
+waiting without showing any readiness, as I did, to lose their temper.
+The reason was that they had long grown accustomed to our unconscionable
+insolence.
+
+The other day, before leaving Paris, I went to dine with no less a person
+than your husband, in the Champs Elysees, in order to enjoy the fresh
+air.  Every table was occupied.  The waiter asked us to wait and there
+would soon be a vacant table.
+
+At that moment I noticed an elderly lady of noble figure, who, having
+paid for her dinner, seemed on the point of going away.  She saw me,
+scanned me from head to foot, and did not budge.  For more than a quarter
+of an hour she sat there, immovable, putting on her gloves, and calmly
+staring at those who were waiting like myself.  Now, two young men who
+were just finishing their dinner, having seen me in their turn, hastily
+summoned the waiter, paid what they owed, and at once offered me their
+seats, even insisting on standing while waiting for their change.  And,
+bear in mind, my fair niece, that I am no longer pretty, like you, but
+old and white-haired.
+
+It is we, you see, who should be taught politeness, and the task would be
+such a difficult one that Hercules himself would not be equal to it.  You
+speak to me about Etretat and about the people who indulged in "tittle-
+tattle" along the beach of that delightful watering-place.  It is a spot
+now lost to me, a thing of the past, but I found much amusement therein
+days gone by.
+
+There were only a few of us, people in good society, really good society,
+and a few artists, and we all fraternized.  We paid little attention to
+gossip in those days.
+
+As we had no monotonous Casino, where people only gather for show, where
+they whisper, where they dance stupidly, where they succeed in thoroughly
+boring one another, we sought some other way of passing our evenings
+pleasantly.  Now, just guess what came into the head of one of our
+husbands?  Nothing less than to go and dance each night in one of the
+farm-houses in the neighborhood.
+
+We started out in a group with a street-organ, generally played by Le
+Poittevin, the painter, with a cotton nightcap on his head.  Two men
+carried lanterns.  We followed in procession, laughing and chattering
+like a pack of fools.
+
+We woke up the farmer and his servant-maids and farm hands.  We got them
+to make onion soup (horror!), and we danced under the apple trees, to the
+sound of the barrel-organ.  The cocks waking up began to crow in the
+darkness of the out-houses; the horses began prancing on the straw of
+their stables.  The cool air of the country caressed our cheeks with the
+smell of grass and of new-mown hay.
+
+How long ago it is!  How long ago it is!  It is thirty years since then!
+
+I do not want you, my darling, to come for the opening of the hunting
+season.  Why spoil the pleasure of our friends by inflicting on them
+fashionable toilettes on this day of vigorous exercise in the country?
+This is the way, child, that men are spoiled.  I embrace you.  Your old
+aunt,
+                                   GENEVIEVE DE L.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A WEDDING GIFT
+
+For a long time Jacques Bourdillere had sworn that he would never marry,
+but he suddenly changed his mind.  It happened suddenly, one summer, at
+the seashore.
+
+One morning as he lay stretched out on the sand, watching the women
+coming out of the water, a little foot had struck him by its neatness and
+daintiness.  He raised his eyes and was delighted with the whole person,
+although in fact he could see nothing but the ankles and the head
+emerging from a flannel bathrobe carefully held closed.  He was supposed
+to be sensual and a fast liver.  It was therefore by the mere grace of
+the form that he was at first captured.  Then he was held by the charm of
+the young girl's sweet mind, so simple and good, as fresh as her cheeks
+and lips.
+
+He was presented to the family and pleased them.  He immediately fell
+madly in love.  When he saw Berthe Lannis in the distance, on the long
+yellow stretch of sand, he would tingle to the roots of his hair.  When
+he was near her he would become silent, unable to speak or even to think,
+with a kind of throbbing at his heart, and a buzzing in his ears, and a
+bewilderment in his mind.  Was that love?
+
+He did not know or understand, but he had fully decided to have this
+child for his wife.
+
+Her parents hesitated for a long time, restrained by the young man's bad
+reputation.  It was said that he had an old sweetheart, one of these
+binding attachments which one always believes to be broken off and yet
+which always hold.
+
+Besides, for a shorter or longer period, he loved every woman who came
+within reach of his lips.
+
+Then he settled down and refused, even once, to see the one with whom he
+had lived for so long.  A friend took care of this woman's pension and
+assured her an income.  Jacques paid, but he did not even wish to hear of
+her, pretending even to ignore her name.  She wrote him letters which he
+never opened.  Every week he would recognize the clumsy writing of the
+abandoned woman, and every week a greater anger surged within him against
+her, and he would quickly tear the envelope and the paper, without
+opening it, without reading one single line, knowing in advance the
+reproaches and complaints which it contained.
+
+As no one had much faith in his constancy, the test was prolonged through
+the winter, and Berthe's hand was not granted him until the spring.  The
+wedding took place in Paris at the beginning of May.
+
+The young couple had decided not to take the conventional wedding trip,
+but after a little dance for the younger cousins, which would not be
+prolonged after eleven o'clock, in order that this day of lengthy
+ceremonies might not be too tiresome, the young pair were to spend the
+first night in the parental home and then, on the following morning, to
+leave for the beach so dear to their hearts, where they had first known
+and loved each other.
+
+Night had come, and the dance was going on in the large parlor.  'The two
+had retired into a little Japanese boudoir hung with bright silks and
+dimly lighted by the soft rays of a large colored lantern hanging from
+the ceiling like a gigantic egg.  Through the open window the fresh air
+from outside passed over their faces like a caress, for the night was
+warm and calm, full of the odor of spring.
+
+They were silent, holding each other's hands and from time to time
+squeezing them with all their might.  She sat there with a dreamy look,
+feeling a little lost at this great change in her life, but smiling,
+moved, ready to cry, often also almost ready to faint from joy, believing
+the whole world to be changed by what had just happened to her, uneasy,
+she knew not why, and feeling her whole body and soul filled with an
+indefinable and delicious lassitude.
+
+He was looking at her persistently with a fixed smile.  He wished to
+speak, but found nothing to say, and so sat there, expressing all his
+ardor by pressures of the hand.  From time to time he would murmur:
+"Berthe!"  And each time she would raise her eyes to him with a look of
+tenderness; they would look at each other for a second and then her look,
+pierced and fascinated by his, would fall.
+
+They found no thoughts to exchange.  They had been left alone, but
+occasionally some of the dancers would cast a rapid glance at them, as
+though they were the discreet and trusty witnesses of a mystery.
+
+A door opened and a servant entered, holding on a tray a letter which a
+messenger had just brought.  Jacques, trembling, took this paper,
+overwhelmed by a vague and sudden fear, the mysterious terror of swift
+misfortune.
+
+He looked for a longtime at the envelope, the writing on which he did not
+know, not daring to open it, not wishing to read it, with a wild desire
+to put it in his pocket and say to himself: "I'll leave that till to-
+morrow, when I'm far away!"  But on one corner two big words, underlined,
+"Very urgent," filled him with terror.  Saying, "Please excuse me, my
+dear," he tore open the envelope.  He read the paper, grew frightfully
+pale, looked over it again, and, slowly, he seemed to spell it out word
+for word.
+
+When he raised his head his whole expression showed how upset he was.  He
+stammered: "My dear, it's--it's from my best friend, who has had ,a very
+great misfortune.  He has need of me immediately--for a matter of life or
+death.  Will you excuse me if I leave you for half an hour?  I'll be
+right back."
+
+Trembling and dazed, she stammered: "Go, my dear!" not having been his
+wife long enough to dare to question him, to demand to know.  He
+disappeared.  She remained alone, listening to the dancing in the
+neighboring parlor.
+
+He had seized the first hat and coat he came to and rushed downstairs
+three steps at a time.  As he was emerging into the street he stopped
+under the gas-jet of the vestibule and reread the letter.  This is what
+it said:
+
+     SIR: A girl by the name of Ravet, an old sweetheart of yours, it
+     seems, has just given birth to a child that she says is yours.  The
+     mother is about to die and is begging for you. I take the liberty to
+     write and ask you if you can grant this last request to a woman who
+     seems to be very unhappy and worthy of pity.
+     Yours truly,                                 DR.  BONNARD.
+
+When he reached the sick-room the woman was already on the point of
+death.  He did not recognize her at first.  The doctor and two nurses
+were taking care of her.  And everywhere on the floor were pails full of
+ice and rags covered with blood.  Water flooded the carpet; two candles
+were burning on a bureau; behind the bed, in a little wicker crib, the
+child was crying, and each time it would moan the mother, in torture,
+would try to move, shivering under her ice bandages.
+
+She was mortally wounded, killed by this birth.  Her life was flowing
+from her, and, notwithstanding the ice and the care, the merciless
+hemorrhage continued, hastening her last hour.
+
+She recognized Jacques and wished to raise her arms.  They were so weak
+that she could not do so, but tears coursed down her pallid cheeks.
+He dropped to his knees beside the bed, seized one of her hands and
+kissed it frantically.  Then, little by little, he drew close to the thin
+face, which started at the contact.  One of the nurses was lighting them
+with a candle, and the doctor was watching them from the back of the
+room.
+
+Then she said in a voice which sounded as though it came from a distance:
+"I am going to die, dear.  Promise to stay to the end.  Oh! don't leave
+me now.  Don't leave me in my last moments!"
+
+He kissed her face and her hair, and, weeping, he murmured: "Do not be
+uneasy; I will stay."
+
+It was several minutes before she could speak again, she was so weak.
+She continued: "The little one is yours.  I swear it before God and on my
+soul.  I swear it as I am dying!  I have never loved another man but you
+--promise to take care of the child."
+
+He was trying to take this poor pain-racked body in his arms.  Maddened
+by remorse and sorrow, he stammered: "I swear to you that I will bring
+him up and love him.  He shall never leave me."
+
+Then she tried to kiss Jacques.  Powerless to lift her head, she held out
+her white lips in an appeal for a kiss.  He approached his lips to
+respond to this piteous entreaty.
+
+As soon as she felt a little calmer, she murmured: "Bring him here and
+let me see if you love him."
+
+He went and got the child.  He placed him gently on the bed between them,
+and the little one stopped crying.  She murmured: "Don't move any more!"
+And he was quiet.  And he stayed there, holding in his burning hand this
+other hand shaking in the chill of death, just as, a while ago, he had
+been holding a hand trembling with love.  From time to time he would cast
+a quick glance at the clock, which marked midnight, then one o'clock,
+then two.
+
+The physician had returned.  The two nurses, after noiselessly moving
+about the room for a while, were now sleeping on chairs.  The child was
+asleep, and the mother, with eyes shut, appeared also to be resting.
+
+Suddenly, just as pale daylight was creeping in behind the curtains, she
+stretched out her arms with such a quick and violent motion that she
+almost threw her baby on the floor.  A kind of rattle was heard in her
+throat, then she lay on her back motionless, dead.
+
+The nurses sprang forward and declared: "All is over!"
+
+He looked once more at this woman whom he had so loved, then at the
+clock, which pointed to four, and he ran away, forgetting his overcoat,
+in the evening dress, with the child in his arms.
+
+After he had left her alone the young wife had waited, calmly enough at
+first, in the little Japanese boudoir.  Then, as she did not see him
+return, she went back to the parlor with an indifferent and calm
+appearance, but terribly anxious.  When her mother saw her alone she
+asked: "Where is your husband?" She answered: "In his room; he is coming
+right back."
+
+After an hour, when everybody had questioned her, she told about the
+letter, Jacques' upset appearance and her fears of an accident.
+
+Still they waited.  The guests left; only the nearest relatives remained.
+At midnight the bride was put to bed, sobbing bitterly.  Her mother and
+two aunts, sitting around the bed, listened to her crying, silent and in
+despair.  The father had gone to the commissary of police to see if he
+could obtain some news.
+
+At five o'clock a slight noise was heard in the hall.  A door was softly
+opened and closed.  Then suddenly a little cry like the mewing of a cat
+was heard throughout the silent house.
+
+All the women started forward and Berthe sprang ahead of them all,
+pushing her way past her aunts, wrapped in a bathrobe.
+
+Jacques stood in the middle of the room, pale and out of breath, holding
+an infant in his arms.  The four women looked at him, astonished; but
+Berthe, who had suddenly become courageous, rushed forward with anguish
+in her heart, exclaiming: "What is it?  What's the matter?"
+
+He looked about him wildly and answered shortly:
+
+"I--I have a child and the mother has just died."
+
+And with his clumsy hands he held out the screaming infant.
+
+Without saying a word, Berthe seized the child, kissed it and hugged it
+to her.  Then she raised her tear-filled eyes to him, asking: "Did you
+say that the mother was dead?"  He answered: "Yes--just now--in my arms.
+I had broken with her since summer.  I knew nothing.  The physician sent
+for me."
+
+Then Berthe murmured: "Well, we will bring up the little one."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE RELIC
+
+"To the Abbe Louis d'Ennemare, at Soissons.
+
+My Dear Abbe.
+
+"My marriage with your cousin is broken off in the most stupid way, all
+on account of an idiotic trick which I almost involuntarily played my
+intedded.  In my perplexity I turn to you, my old school chum, for you
+may be able to help me out of the difficulty.  If you can, I shall be
+grateful to you until I die.
+
+"You know Gilberte, or, rather, you think you know her, but do we ever
+understand women?  All their opinions, their ideas, their creeds, are a
+surprise to us.  They are all full of twists and turns, cf the
+unforeseen, of unintelligible arguments, of defective logic and of
+obstinate ideas, which seem final, but which they alter because a little
+bird came and perched on the window ledge.
+
+"I need not tell you that your cousin is very religious, as she was
+brought up by the White (or was it the Black?) Ladies at Nancy.  You know
+that better than I do, but what you perhaps do not know is, that she is
+just as excitable about other matters as she is about religion.  Her head
+flies away, just as a leaf is whirled away by the wind; and she is a true
+woman, or, rather, girl, for she is moved or made angry in a moment,
+starting off at a gallop in affection, just as she does in hatred, and
+returning in the same manner; and she is pretty--as you know, and more
+charming than I can say--as you will never know.
+
+"Well, we became engaged, and I adored her, as I adore her still, and she
+appeared to love me.
+
+"One evening, I received a telegram summoning me to Cologne for a
+consultation, which might be followed by a serious and difficult
+operation, and as I had to start the next morning, I went to wish
+Gilberte good-by, and tell her why I could not dine with them on
+Wednesday, but would do so on Friday, the day of my return.  Ah!  Beware
+of Fridays, for I assure you they are unlucky!
+
+"When I told her that I had to go to Germany, I saw that her eyes filled
+with tears, but when I said I should be back very soon, she clapped her
+hands, and said:
+
+"'I am very glad you are going, then!  You must bring me back something;
+a mere trifle, just a souvenir, but a souvenir that you have chosen for
+me.  You must guess what I should like best, do you hear?  And then I
+shall see whether you have any imagination.'
+
+"She thought for a few moments, and then added:
+
+"'I forbid you to spend more than twenty francs on it.  I want it for the
+intention, and for a remembrance of your penetration, and not for its
+intrinsic value:
+
+"And then, after another moment's silence, she said, in a low voice, and
+with downcast eyes:
+
+"'If it costs you nothing in money, but is something very ingenious and
+pretty, I will--I will kiss you.'
+
+"The next day I was in Cologne.  It was a case of a terrible accident,
+which had plunged a whole family into despair, and a difficult amputation
+was necessary.  They lodged me in the house; I might say, they almost
+locked me up, and I saw nobody but people in tears, who almost deafened
+me with their lamentations; I operated on a man who appeared to be in a
+moribund state, and who nearly died under my hands, and with whom I
+remained two nights; and then, when I saw that there was a chance of his
+recovery, I drove to the station.  I had, however, made a mistake in the
+trains, and I had an hour to wait, and so I wandered about the streets,
+still thinking of my poor patient, when a man accosted me.  I do not know
+German, and he was totally ignorant of French, but at last I made out
+that he was offering me some relics.  I thought of Gilberte, for I knew
+her fanatical devotion, and here was my present ready to hand, so I
+followed the man into a shop where religious objects were for sale, and I
+bought a small piece of a bone of one of the Eleven Thousand Virgins.
+
+"The pretended relic was inclosed in a charming old silver box, and that
+determined my choice, and, putting my purchase into my pocket, I went to
+the railway station, and so on to Paris.
+
+"As soon as I got home, I wished to examine my purchase again, and on
+taking hold of it, I found that the box was open, and the relic missing!
+I searched in vain in my pocket, and turned it inside out; the small bit
+of bone, which was no bigger than half a pin, had disappeared.
+
+"You know, my dear little Abbe, that my faith is not very fervent, but,
+as my friend, you are magnanimous enough to put up with my lukewarmness,
+and to leave me alone, and to wait for the future, so you say.  But I
+absolutely disbelieve in the relics of secondhand dealers in piety, and
+you share my doubts in that respect.  Therefore, the loss of that bit of
+sheep's carcass did not grieve me, and I easily procured a similar
+fragment, which I carefully fastened inside my jewel-box, and then I went
+to see my intended.
+
+"As soon as she saw me, she ran up to me, smiling and eager, and, said to
+me:
+
+"'What have you brought me?'
+
+"I pretended to have forgotten, but she did not believe me, and I made
+her beg, and even beseech me.  But when I saw that she was devoured by
+curiosity, I gave her the sacred silver box.  She appeared overjoyed.
+
+"'A relic!  Oh!  A relic!'
+
+"And she kissed the box passionately, so that I was ashamed of my
+deception.  She was not quite satisfied, however, and her uneasiness soon
+turned to terrible fear, and looking straight into my eyes, she said:
+
+"'Are you sure-that it is genuine?'
+
+"'Absolutely certain.'
+
+"'How can you be so certain?'
+
+"I was trapped; for to say that I had bought it of a man in the streets
+would be my destruction.  What was I to say?  A wild idea struck me, and
+I said, in a low, mysterious voice:
+
+"'I stole it for you.'
+
+"She looked at me with astonishment and delight in her large eyes.
+
+"'Oh!  You stole it?  Where?'
+
+"'In the cathedral; in the very shrine of the Eleven Thousand Virgins.'
+
+"Her heart beat with pleasure, and she murmured:
+
+"'Oh!  Did you really do that-for me?  Tell me-all about it!'
+
+"That was the climax; I could not retract what I had said.  I made up a
+fanciful story; with precise details: I had given the custodian of the
+building a hundred francs to be allowed to go about the building by
+myself; the shrine was being repaired, but I happened to be there at the
+breakfast hour of the workmen and clergy; by removing a small panel, I
+had been enabled to seize a small piece of bone (oh!  so small), among a
+quantity of others (I said a quantity, as I thought of the amount that
+the remains of the skeletons of eleven thousand virgins must produce).
+Then I went to a goldsmith's and bought a casket worthy of the relic; and
+I was not sorry to let her know that the silver box cost me five hundred
+francs.
+
+"But she did not think of that; she listened to me, trembling, in an
+ecstasy, and whispering: 'How I love you!' she threw herself into my
+arms.
+
+"Just note this: I had committed sacrilege for her sake.  I had committed
+a theft; I had violated a church; I had violated a shrine; violated and
+stolen holy relics, and for that she adored me, thought me perfect,
+tender, divine.  Such is woman, my dear Abbe, every woman.
+
+"For two months I was the most admirable of lovers.  In her room, she had
+made a kind of magnificent chapel in which to keep this bit of mutton
+chop, which, as she thought, had made me commit that divine love-crime,
+and she worked up her religious enthusiasm in front of it every morning
+and evening.  I had asked her to keep the matter secret, for fear, as I
+said, that I might be arrested, condemned, and given over to Germany, and
+she kept her promise.
+
+"Well, at the beginning of the summer, she was seized with an
+irresistible desire to see the scene of my exploit, and she teased her
+father so persistently (without telling him her secret reason), that he
+took her to Cologne, but without telling me of their trip, according to
+his daughter's wish.
+
+"I need not tell you that I had not seen the interior of the cathedral.
+I do not know where the tomb (if there be a tomb) of the Eleven Thousand
+Virgins is; and then, it appears, it is unapproachable, alas!
+
+"A week afterward, I received ten lines, breaking off our engagement, and
+then an explanatory letter from her father, whom she had, somewhat late,
+taken into her confidence.
+
+"At the sight of the shrine, she had suddenly seen through my trickery
+and my lie, and at the same time discovered my real innocence of any
+crime.  Having asked the keeper of the relics whether any robbery had
+been committed, the man began to laugh, and pointed out to them how
+impossible such a crime was.  But, from the moment that I had not plunged
+my profane hand into venerable relics, I was no longer worthy of my fair-
+haired, sensitive betrothed.
+
+"I was forbidden the house; I begged and prayed in vain; nothing could
+move the fair devotee, and I became ill from grief.  Well, last week, her
+cousin, Madame d'Arville, who is your cousin also, sent me word that she
+should like to see me, and when I called, she told me on what conditions
+I might obtain my pardon, and here they are.  I must bring her a relic, a
+real, authentic relic of some virgin and martyr, certified to be such by
+our Holy Father, the Pope, and I am going mad from embarrassment and
+anxiety.
+
+"I will go to Rome, if needful, but I cannot call on the Pope
+unexpectedly, to tell him my stupid misadventure; and, besides, I doubt
+whether they allow private individuals to have relics.  Could not you
+give me an introduction to some cardinal, or even to some French prelate
+who possesses some remains of a female saint?  Or, perhaps, you may have
+the precious object she wants in your collection?
+
+"Help me out of my difficulty, my dear Abbe, and I promise you that I
+will be converted ten years sooner than I otherwise should be!
+
+"Madame d'Arville, who takes the matter seriously, said to me the other
+day:
+
+"'Poor Gilberte will never marry.'
+
+"My dear old schoolmate, will you allow your cousin to die the victim of
+a stupid piece of subterfuge on my part?  Pray prevent her from being
+virgin eleven thousand and one.
+
+"Pardon me, I am unworthy, but I embrace vou, and love you with all my
+heart.
+
+"Your old friend,
+                              "HENRI FONTAL."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+     VOLUME IV.
+
+THE MORIBUND
+THE GAMEKEEPER
+THE STORY OF A FARM GIRL
+THE WRECK
+THEODULE SABOT'S CONFESSION
+THE WRONG HOUSE
+THE DIAMOND NECKLACE
+THE MARQUIS DE FUMEROL
+THE TRIP OF THE HORLA
+FAREWELL
+THE WOLF
+THE INN
+
+
+
+
+THE MORIBUND
+
+The warm autumn sun was beating down on the farmyard.  Under the grass,
+which had been cropped close by the cows, the earth soaked by recent
+rains, was soft and sank in under the feet with a soggy noise, and the
+apple trees, loaded with apples, were dropping their pale green fruit in
+the dark green grass.
+
+Four young heifers, tied in a line, were grazing and at times looking
+toward the house and lowing.  The fowls made a colored patch on the dung-
+heap before the stable, scratching, moving about and cackling, while two
+roosters crowed continually, digging worms for their hens, whom they were
+calling with a loud clucking.
+
+The wooden gate opened and a man entered.  He might have been forty years
+old, but he looked at least sixty, wrinkled, bent, walking slowly,
+impeded by the weight of heavy wooden shoes full of straw.  His long arms
+hung down on both sides of his body.  When he got near the farm a yellow
+cur, tied at the foot of an enormous pear tree, beside a barrel which
+served as his kennel, began at first to wag his tail and then to bark for
+joy.  The man cried:
+
+"Down, Finot!"
+
+The dog was quiet.
+
+A peasant woman came out of the house.  Her large, flat, bony body was
+outlined under a long woollen jacket drawn in at the waist.  A gray
+skirt, too short, fell to the middle of her legs, which were encased in
+blue stockings.  She, too, wore wooden shoes, filled with straw.  The
+white cap, turned yellow, covered a few hairs which were plastered to the
+scalp, and her brown, thin, ugly, toothless face had that wild, animal
+expression which is often to be found on the faces of the peasants.
+
+The man asked:
+
+"How is he gettin' along?"
+
+The woman answered:
+
+"The priest said it's the end--that he will never live through the
+night."
+
+Both of them went into the house.
+
+After passing through the kitchen, they entered a low, dark room, barely
+lighted by one window, in front of which a piece of calico was hanging.
+The big beams, turned brown with age and smoke, crossed the room from one
+side to the other, supporting the thin floor of the garret, where an army
+of rats ran about day and night.
+
+The moist, lumpy earthen floor looked greasy, and, at the back of the
+room, the bed made an indistinct white spot.  A harsh, regular noise, a
+difficult, hoarse, wheezing breathing, like the gurgling of water from a
+broken pump, came from the darkened couch where an old man, the father of
+the peasant woman, was dying.
+
+The man and the woman approached the dying man and looked at him with
+calm, resigned eyes.
+
+The son-in-law said:
+
+"I guess it's all up with him this time; he will not last the night."
+
+The woman answered:
+
+"He's been gurglin' like that ever since midday."  They were silent.  The
+father's eyes were closed, his face was the color of the earth and so dry
+that it looked like wood.  Through his open mouth came his harsh,
+rattling breath, and the gray linen sheet rose and fell with each
+respiration.
+
+The son-in-law, after a long silence, said:
+
+"There's nothing more to do; I can't help him.  It's a nuisance, just the
+same, because the weather is good and we've got a lot of work to do."
+
+His wife seemed annoyed at this idea.  She reflected a few moments and
+then said:
+
+He won't be buried till Saturday, and that will give you all day
+tomorrow."
+
+The peasant thought the matter over and answered:
+
+"Yes, but to-morrow I'll have to invite the people to the funeral.  That
+means five or six hours to go round to Tourville and Manetot, and to see
+everybody."
+
+The woman, after meditating two or three minutes, declared:
+
+"It isn't three o'clock yet.  You could begin this evening and go all
+round the country to Tourville.  You can just as well say that he's dead,
+seem' as he's as good as that now."
+
+The man stood perplexed for a while, weighing the pros and cons of the
+idea.  At last he declared:
+
+"Well, I'll go!"
+
+He was leaving the room, but came back after a minute's hesitation:
+
+"As you haven't got anythin' to do you might shake down some apples to
+bake and make four dozen dumplings for those who come to the funeral, for
+one must have something to cheer them.  You can light the fire with the
+wood that's under the shed.  It's dry."
+
+He left the room, went back into the kitchen, opened the cupboard, took
+out a six-pound loaf of bread, cut off a slice, and carefully gathered
+the crumbs in the palm of his hand and threw them into his mouth, so as
+not to lose anything.  Then, with the end of his knife, he scraped out a
+little salt butter from the bottom of an earthen jar, spread it on his
+bread and began to eat slowly, as he did everything.
+
+He recrossed the farmyard, quieted the dog, which had started barking
+again, went out on the road bordering on his ditch, and disappeared in
+the direction of Tourville.
+
+As soon as she was alone, the woman began to work.  She uncovered the
+meal-bin and made the dough for the dumplings.  She kneaded it a long
+time, turning it over and over again, punching, pressing, crushing it.
+Finally she made a big, round, yellow-white ball, which she placed on the
+corner of the table.
+
+Then she went to get her apples, and, in order not to injure the tree
+with a pole, she climbed up into it by a ladder.  She chose the fruit
+with care, only taking the ripe ones, and gathering them in her apron.
+
+A voice called from the road:
+
+"Hey, Madame Chicot!"
+
+She turned round.  It was a neighbor, Osime Favet, the mayor, on his way
+to fertilize his fields, seated on the manure-wagon, with his feet
+hanging over the side.  She turned round and answered:
+
+"What can I do for you, Maitre Osime?"
+
+"And how is the father?"
+
+She cried:
+
+"He is as good as dead.  The funeral is Saturday at seven, because
+there's lots of work to be done."
+
+The neighbor answered:
+
+"So!  Good luck to you!  Take care of yourself."
+
+To his kind remarks she answered:"
+
+"Thanks; the same to you."
+
+And she continued picking apples.
+
+When she went back to the house, she went over to look at her father,
+expecting to find him dead.  But as soon as she reached the door she
+heard his monotonous, noisy rattle, and, thinking it a waste of time to
+go over to him, she began to prepare her dumplings.  She wrapped up the
+fruit, one by one, in a thin layer of paste, then she lined them up on
+the edge of the table.  When she had made forty-eight dumplings, arranged
+in dozens, one in front of the other, she began to think of preparing
+supper, and she hung her kettle over the fire to cook potatoes, for she
+judged it useless to heat the oven that day, as she had all the next day
+in which to finish the preparations.
+
+Her husband returned at about five.  As soon as he had crossed the
+threshold he asked:
+
+"Is it over?"
+
+She answered:
+
+"Not yet; he's still gurglin'."
+
+They went to look at him.  The old man was in exactly the same condition.
+His hoarse rattle, as regular as the ticking of a clock, was neither
+quicker nor slower.  It returned every second, the tone varying a little,
+according as the air entered or left his chest.
+
+His son-in-law looked at him and then said:
+
+"He'll pass away without our noticin' it, just like a candle."
+
+They returned to the kitchen and started to eat without saying a word.
+When they had swallowed their soup, they ate another piece of bread and
+butter.  Then, as soon as the dishes were washed, they returned to the
+dying man.
+
+The woman, carrying a little lamp with a smoky wick, held it in front of
+her father's face.  If he had not been breathing, one would certainly
+have thought him dead.
+
+The couple's bed was hidden in a little recess at the other end of the
+room.  Silently they retired, put out the light, closed their eyes, and
+soon two unequal snores, one deep and the other shriller, accompanied the
+uninterrupted rattle of the dying man.
+
+The rats ran about in the garret.
+
+The husband awoke at the first streaks of dawn.  His father-in-law was
+still alive.  He shook his wife, worried by the tenacity of the old man.
+
+"Say, Phemie, he don't want to quit.  What would you do?"
+
+He knew that she gave good advice.
+
+She answered:
+
+"You needn't be afraid; he can't live through the day.  And the mayor
+won't stop our burying him to-morrow, because he allowed it for Maitre
+Renard's father, who died just during the planting season."
+
+He was convinced by this argument, and left for the fields.
+
+His wife baked the dumplings and then attended to her housework.
+
+At noon the old man was not dead.  The people hired for the day's work
+came by groups to look at him.  Each one had his say.  Then they left
+again for the fields.
+
+At six o'clock, when the work was over, the father was still breathing.
+At last his son-in-law was frightened.
+
+"What would you do now, Phemie?"
+
+She no longer knew how to solve the problem.  They went to the mayor.  He
+promised that he would close his eyes and authorize the funeral for the
+following day.  They also went to the health officer, who likewise
+promised, in order to oblige Maitre Chicot, to antedate the death
+certificate.  The man and the woman returned, feeling more at ease.
+
+They went to bed and to sleep, just as they did the preceding day, their
+sonorous breathing blending with the feeble breathing of the old man.
+
+When they awoke, he was not yet dead.
+
+Then they began to be frightened.  They stood by their father, watching
+him with distrust, as though he had wished to play them a mean trick, to
+deceive them, to annoy them on purpose, and they were vexed at him for
+the time which he was making them lose.
+
+The son-in-law asked:
+
+"What am I goin' to do?"
+
+She did not know.  She answered:
+
+"It certainly is annoying!"
+
+The guests who were expected could not be notified.  They decided to wait
+and explain the case to them.
+
+Toward a quarter to seven the first ones arrived.  The women in black,
+their heads covered with large veils, looking very sad.  Then men, ill at
+ease in their homespun coats, were coming forward more slowly, in
+couples, talking business.
+
+Maitre Chicot and his wife, bewildered, received them sorrowfully, and
+suddenly both of them together began to cry as they approached the first
+group.  They explained the matter, related their difficulty, offered
+chairs, bustled about, tried to make excuses, attempting to prove that
+everybody would have done as they did, talking continually and giving
+nobody a chance to answer.
+
+They were going from one person to another:
+
+"I never would have thought it; it's incredible how he can last this
+long!"
+
+The guests, taken aback, a little disappointed, as though they had missed
+an expected entertainment, did not know what to do, some remaining
+seated.  others standing.  Several wished to leave.  Maitre Chicot held
+them back:
+
+"You must take something, anyhow!  We made some dumplings; might as well
+make use of 'em."
+
+The faces brightened at this idea.  The yard was filling little by
+little; the early arrivals were telling the news to those who had arrived
+later.  Everybody was whispering.  The idea of the dumplings seemed to
+cheer everyone up.
+
+The women went in to take a look at the dying man.  They crossed
+themselves beside the bed, muttered a prayer and went out again.  The
+men, less anxious for this spectacle, cast a look through the window,
+which had been opened.
+
+Madame Chicot explained her distress:
+
+"That's how he's been for two days, neither better nor worse.  Doesn't he
+sound like a pump that has gone dry?"
+
+When everybody had had a look at the dying man, they thought of the
+refreshments; but as there were too many people for the kitchen to hold,
+the table was moved out in front of the door.  The four dozen golden
+dumplings, tempting and appetizing, arranged in two big dishes, attracted
+the eyes of all.  Each one reached out to take his, fearing that there
+would not be enough.  But four remained over.
+
+Maitre Chicot, his mouth full, said:
+
+"Father would feel sad if he were to see this.  He loved them so much
+when he was alive."
+
+A big, jovial peasant declared:
+
+"He won't eat any more now.  Each one in his turn."
+
+This remark, instead of making the guests sad, seemed to cheer them up.
+It was their turn now to eat dumplings.
+
+Madame Chicot, distressed at the expense, kept running down to the cellar
+continually for cider.  The pitchers were emptied in quick succession.
+The company was laughing and talking loud now.  They were beginning to
+shout as they do at feasts.
+
+Suddenly an old peasant woman who had stayed beside the dying man, held
+there by a morbid fear of what would soon happen to herself, appeared at
+the window and cried in a shrill voice:
+
+"He's dead!  he's dead!"
+
+Everybody was silent.  The women arose quickly to go and see.
+He was indeed dead.  The rattle had ceased.  The men looked at each
+other, looking down, ill at ease.  They hadn't finished eating the
+dumplings.  Certainly the rascal had not chosen a propitious moment.
+The Chicots were no longer weeping.  It was over; they were relieved.
+
+They kept repeating:
+
+"I knew it couldn't 'last.  If he could only have done it last night, it
+would have saved us all this trouble."
+
+Well, anyhow, it was over.  They would bury him on Monday, that was all,
+and they would eat some more dumplings for the occasion.
+
+The guests went away, talking the matter over, pleased at having had the
+chance to see him and of getting something to eat.
+
+And when the husband and wife were alone, face to face, she said, her
+face distorted with grief:
+
+"We'll have to bake four dozen more dumplings!  Why couldn't he have made
+up his mind last night?"
+
+The husband, more resigned, answered:
+
+"Well, we'll not have to do this every day."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE GAMEKEEPER
+
+It was after dinner, and we were talking about adventures and accidents
+which happened while out shooting.
+
+An old friend, known to all of us, M. Boniface, a great sportsman and a
+connoisseur of wine, a man of wonderful physique, witty and gay, and
+endowed with an ironical and resigned philosophy, which manifested itself
+in caustic humor, and never in melancholy, suddenly exclaimed:
+
+"I know a story, or rather a tragedy, which is somewhat peculiar.  It is
+not at all like those which one hears of usually, and I have never told
+it, thinking that it would interest no one.
+
+"It is not at all sympathetic.  I mean by that, that it does not arouse
+the kind of interest which pleases or which moves one agreeably.
+
+"Here is the story:
+
+"I was then about thirty-five years of age, and a most enthusiastic
+sportsman.
+
+"In those days I owned a lonely bit of property in the neighborhood of
+Jumieges, surrounded by forests and abounding in hares and rabbits.
+I was accustomed to spending four or five days alone there each year,
+there not being room enough to allow of my bringing a friend with me.
+
+"I had placed there as gamekeeper, an old retired gendarme, a good man,
+hot-tempered, a severe disciplinarian, a terror to poachers and fearing
+nothing.  He lived all alone, far from the village, in a little house, or
+rather hut, consisting of two rooms downstairs, with kitchen and store-
+room, and two upstairs.  One of them, a kind of box just large enough to
+accommodate a bed, a cupboard and a chair, was reserved for my use.
+
+"Old man Cavalier lived in the other one.  When I said that he was alone
+in this place, I was wrong.  He had taken his nephew with him, a young
+scamp about fourteen years old, who used to go to the village and run
+errands for the old man.
+
+"This young scapegrace was long and lanky, with yellow hair, so light
+that it resembled the fluff of a plucked chicken, so thin that he seemed
+bald.  Besides this, he had enormous feet and the hands of a giant.
+
+"He was cross-eyed, and never looked at anyone.  He struck me as being in
+the same relation to the human race as ill-smelling beasts are to the
+animal race.  He reminded me of a polecat.
+
+"He slept in a kind of hole at the top of the stairs which led to the two
+rooms.
+
+"But during my short sojourns at the Pavilion--so I called the hut--
+Marius would give up his nook to an old woman from Ecorcheville, called
+Celeste, who used to come and cook for me, as old man Cavalier's stews
+were not sufficient for my healthy appetite.
+
+"You now know the characters and the locality.  Here is the story:
+
+"It was on the fifteenth of October, 1854--I shall remember that date as
+long as I live.
+
+"I left Rouen on horseback, followed by my dog Bock, a big Dalmatian
+hound from Poitou, full-chested and with a heavy jaw, which could
+retrieve among the bushes like a Pont-Andemer spaniel.
+
+"I was carrying my satchel slung across my back and my gun diagonally
+across my chest.  It was a cold, windy, gloomy day, with clouds scurrying
+across the sky.
+
+"As I went up the hill at Canteleu, I looked over the broad valley of the
+Seine, the river winding in and out along its course as far as the eye
+could see.  To the right the towers of Rouen stood out against the sky,
+and to the left the landscape was bounded by the distant slopes covered
+with trees.  Then I crossed the forest of Roumare and, toward five
+o'clock, reached the Pavilion, where Cavalier and Celeste were expecting
+me.
+
+"For ten years I had appeared there at the same time, in the same manner;
+and for ten years the same faces had greeted me with the same words:
+
+"'Welcome, master!  We hope your health is good.'
+
+"Cavalier had hardly changed.  He withstood time like an old tree; but
+Celeste, especially in the past four years, had become unrecognizable.
+
+"She was bent almost double, and, although still active, when she walked
+her body was almost at right angles to her legs.
+
+"The old woman, who was very devoted to me, always seemed affected at
+seeing me again, and each time, as I left, she would say:
+
+"'This may be the last time, master.'
+
+"The sad, timid farewell of this old servant, this hopeless resignation
+to the inevitable fate which was not far off for her, moved me strangely
+each year.
+
+"I dismounted, and while Cavalier, whom I had greeted, was leading my
+horse to the little shed which served as a stable, I entered the kitchen,
+which also served as dining-room, followed by Celeste.
+
+"Here the gamekeeper joined us.  I saw at first glance that something was
+the matter.  He seemed preoccupied, ill at ease, worried.
+
+"I said to him:
+
+"'Well, Cavalier, is everything all right?'
+
+"He muttered:
+
+"'Yes and no.  There are things I don't like.'
+
+"I asked:
+
+"'What?  Tell me about it.'
+
+"But he shook his head.
+
+"'No, not yet, monsieur.  I do not wish to bother you with my little
+troubles so soon after your arrival.'
+
+"I insisted, but he absolutely refused to give me any information before
+dinner.  From his expression, I could tell that it was something very
+serious.
+
+"Not knowing what to say to him, I asked:
+
+"'How about game?  Much of it this year?'
+
+"'Oh, yes!  You'll find all you want.  Thank heaven, I looked out for
+that.'
+
+"He said this with so much seriousness, with such sad solemnity, that it
+was really almost funny.  His big gray mustache seemed almost ready ,to
+drop from his lips.
+
+"Suddenly I remembered that I had not yet seen his nephew.
+
+"'Where is Marius?  Why does he not show himself?'
+
+"The "The gamekeeper started, looking me suddenly in the face:
+
+" Well, monsieur, I had rather tell you the whole business right away;
+it's on account of him that I am worrying.'
+
+"'Ah!  Well, where is he?'
+
+"'Over in the stable, monsieur.  I was waiting for the right time to
+bring him out.'
+
+"'What has he done?'
+
+"'Well, monsieur----'
+
+"The gamekeeper, however, hesitated, his voice altered and shaky, his
+face suddenly furrowed by the deep lines of an old man.
+
+"He continued slowly:
+
+"'Well, I found out, last winter, that someone was poaching in the woods
+of Roseraies, but I couldn't seem to catch the man.  I spent night after
+night on the lookout for him.  In vain.  During that time they began
+poaching over by Ecorcheville.  I was growing thin from vexation.  But as
+for catching the trespasser, impossible!  One might have thought that the
+rascal was forewarned of my plans.
+
+"'But one day, while I was brushing Marius' Sunday trousers, I found
+forty cents in his pocket.  Where did he get it?
+
+"'I thought the matter over for about a week, and I noticed that he used
+to go out; he would leave the house just as I was coming home to go to
+bed--yes, monsieur.
+
+"'Then I started to watch him, without the slightest suspicion of the
+real facts.  One morning, just after I had gone to bed before him, I got
+right up again, and followed him.  For shadowing a man, there is nobody
+like me, monsieur.
+
+"'And I caught him, Marius, poaching on your land, monsieur; he my
+nephew, I your keeper!
+
+"'The blood rushed to my head, and I almost killed him on the spot, I hit
+him so hard.  Oh!  yes, I thrashed him all right.  And I promised him
+that he would get another beating from my hand, in your presence, as an
+example.
+
+"'There!  I have grown thin from sorrow.  You know how it is when one is
+worried like that.  But tell me, what would you have done?  The boy has
+no father or mother, and I am the last one of his blood; I kept him, I
+couldn't drive him out, could I?
+
+"'I told him that if it happened again I would have no more pity for him,
+all would be over.  There!  Did I do right, monsieur?'
+
+"I answered, holding out my hand:
+
+"'You did well, Cavalier; you are an honest man.'
+
+"He rose.
+
+"'Thank you, monsieur.  Now I am going to fetch him.  I must give him his
+thrashing, as an example.'
+
+"I knew that it was hopeless to try and turn the old man from his idea.
+I therefore let him have his own way.
+
+"He got the rascal and brought him back by the ear.
+
+"I was seated on a cane chair, with the solemn expression of a judge.
+
+"Marius seemed to have grown; he was homelier even than the year before,
+with his evil, sneaking expression.
+
+"His big hands seemed gigantic.
+
+"His uncle pushed him up to me, and, in his soldierly voice, said:
+
+"'Beg the gentleman's pardon.'
+
+"The boy didn't say a word.
+
+"Then putting one arm round him, the former gendarme lifted him right off
+the ground, and began to whack him with such force that I rose to stop
+the blows.
+
+"The boy was now howling: 'Mercy!  mercy!  mercy!  I promise----'
+
+"Cavalier put him back on the ground and forced him to his knees:
+
+"'Beg for pardon,' he said.
+
+"With eyes lowered, the scamp murmured:
+
+"'I ask for pardon!'
+
+"Then his uncle lifted him to his feet, and dismissed him with a cuff
+which almost knocked him down again.
+
+"He made his escape, and I did not see him again that evening.
+
+"Cavalier appeared overwhelmed.'
+
+"'He is a bad egg,' he said.
+
+"And throughout the whole dinner, he kept repeating:
+
+"'Oh! that worries me, monsieur, that worries me.'
+
+"I tried to comfort him, but in vain.
+
+"I went to bed early, so that I might start out at daybreak.
+
+"My dog was already asleep on the floor, at the foot of my bed, when I
+put out the light.
+
+"I was awakened toward midnight by the furious barking of my dog Bock.  I
+immediately noticed that my room was full of smoke.  I jumped out of bed,
+struck a light, ran to the door and opened it.  A cloud of flames burst
+in.  The house was on fire.
+
+"I quickly closed the heavy oak door and, drawing on my trousers, I first
+lowered the dog through the window, by means of a rope made of my sheets;
+then, having thrown out the rest of my clothes, my game-bag and my gun, I
+in turn escaped the same way.
+
+"I began to shout with all my might: 'Cavalier!  Cavalier!  Cavalier!'
+
+"But the gamekeeper did not wake up.  He slept soundly like an old
+gendarme.
+
+"However, I could see through the lower windows that the whole ground-
+floor was nothing but a roaring furnace; I also noticed that it had been
+filled with straw to make it burn readily.
+
+"Somebody must purposely have set fire to the place!
+
+"I continued shrieking wildly: 'Cavalier!'
+
+"Then the thought struck me that the smoke might be suffocating him.  An
+idea came to me.  I slipped two cartridges into my gun, and shot straight
+at his window.
+
+"The six panes of glass shattered into the room in a cloud of glass.
+This time the old man had heard me, and he appeared, dazed, in his
+nightshirt, bewildered by the glare which illumined the whole front of
+his 'house.
+
+"I cried to him:
+
+"'Your house is on fire!  Escape through the window!  Quick!  Quick!'
+
+"The flames were coming out through all the cracks downstairs, were
+licking along the wall, were creeping toward him and going to surround
+him.  He jumped and landed on his feet, like a cat.
+
+"It was none too soon.  The thatched roof cracked in the middle, right
+over the staircase, which formed a kind of flue for the fire downstairs;
+and an immense red jet jumped up into the air, spreading like a stream of
+water and sprinkling a shower of sparks around the hut.  In a few seconds
+it was nothing but a pool of flames.
+
+"Cavalier, thunderstruck, asked:
+
+"'How did the fire start?'
+
+"I answered:
+
+"'Somebody lit it in the kitchen.'
+
+"He muttered:
+
+"'Who could have started the fire?'
+
+"And I, suddenly guessing, answered:
+
+"'Marius!'
+
+"The old man understood.  He stammered:
+
+"'Good God!  That is why he didn't return.'
+
+"A terrible thought flashed through my mind.  I cried:
+
+"'And Celeste!  Celeste!'
+
+"He did not answer.  The house caved in before us, forming only an
+enormous, bright, blinding brazier, an awe-inspiring funeral-pile, where
+the poor woman could no longer be anything but a glowing ember, a glowing
+ember of human flesh.
+
+"We had not heard a single cry.
+
+"As the fire crept toward the shed, I suddenly bethought me of my horse,
+and Cavalier ran to free it.
+
+"Hardly had he opened the door of the stable, when a supple, nimble body
+darted between his legs, and threw him on his face.  It was Marius,
+running for all he was worth.
+
+"The man was up in a second.  He tried to run after the wretch, but,
+seeing that he could not catch him, and maddened by an irresistible
+anger, yielding to one of those thoughtless impulses which we cannot
+foresee or prevent, he picked up my gun, which was lying on the ground.
+near him, put it to his shoulder, and, before I could make a motion, he
+pulled the trigger without even noticing whether or not the weapon was
+loaded.
+
+"One of the cartridges which I had put in to announce the fire was still
+intact, and the charge caught the fugitive right in the back,--throwing
+him forward on the ground, bleeding profusely.  He immediately began to
+claw the earth with his hands and with his knees, as though trying to run
+on all fours like a rabbit who has been mortally wounded, and sees the
+hunter approaching.
+
+"I rushed forward to the boy, but I could already hear the death-rattle.
+He passed away before the fire was extinguished, without having said a
+word.
+
+"Cavalier, still in his shirt, his legs bare, was standing near us,
+motionless, dazed.
+
+"When the people from the village arrived, my gamekeeper was taken away,
+like an insane man.
+
+"I appeared at the trial as witness, and related the facts in detail,
+without changing a thing.  Cavalier was acquitted.  He disappeared that
+very day, leaving the country.
+
+"I have never seen him since.
+
+"There, gentlemen, that is my story."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF A FARM GIRL
+
+
+PART I
+
+As the weather was very fine, the people on the farm had hurried through
+their dinner and had returned to the fields.
+
+The servant, Rose, remained alone in the large kitchen, where the fire
+was dying out on the hearth beneath the large boiler of hot water.  From
+time to time she dipped out some water and slowly washed her dishes,
+stopping occasionally to look at the two streaks of light which the sun
+threw across the long table through the window, and which showed the
+defects in the glass.
+
+Three venturesome hens were picking up the crumbs under the chairs, while
+the smell of the poultry yard and the warmth from the cow stall came in
+through the half-open door, and a cock was heard crowing in the distance.
+
+When she had finished her work, wiped down the table, dusted the
+mantelpiece and put the plates on the high dresser close to the wooden
+clock with its loud tick-tock, she drew a long breath, as she felt rather
+oppressed, without exactly knowing why.  She looked at the black clay
+walls, the rafters that were blackened with smoke and from which hung
+spiders' webs, smoked herrings and strings of onions, and then she sat
+down, rather overcome by the stale odor from the earthen floor, on which
+so many things had been continually spilled and which the heat brought
+out.  With this there was mingled the sour smell of the pans of milk
+which were set out to raise the cream in the adjoining dairy.
+
+She wanted to sew, as usual, but she did not feel strong enough, and so
+she went to the door to get a mouthful of fresh air, which seemed to do
+her good.
+
+The fowls were lying on the steaming dunghill; some of them were
+scratching with one claw in search of worms, while the cock stood up
+proudly in their midst.  When he crowed, the cocks in all the neighboring
+farmyards replied to him, as if they were uttering challenges from farm
+to farm.
+
+The girl looked at them without thinking, and then she raised her eyes
+and was almost dazzled at the sight of the apple trees in blossom.  Just
+then a colt, full of life and friskiness, jumped over the ditches and
+then stopped suddenly, as if surprised at being alone.
+
+She also felt inclined to run; she felt inclined to move and to stretch
+her limbs and to repose in the warm, breathless air.  She took a few
+undecided steps and closed her eyes, for she was seized with a feeling of
+animal comfort, and then she went to look for eggs in the hen loft.
+There were thirteen of them, which she took in and put into the
+storeroom; but the smell from the kitchen annoyed her again, and she went
+out to sit on the grass for a time.
+
+The farmyard, which was surrounded by trees, seemed to be asleep.  The
+tall grass, amid which the tall yellow dandelions rose up like streaks of
+yellow light, was of a vivid, fresh spring green.  The apple trees cast
+their shade all round them, and the thatched roofs, on which grew blue
+and yellow irises, with their sword-like leaves, steamed as if the
+moisture of the stables and barns were coming through the straw.
+The girl went to the shed, where the carts and buggies were kept.  Close
+to it, in a ditch, there was a large patch of violets, whose fragrance
+was spread abroad, while beyond the slope the open country could be seen,
+where grain was growing, with clumps of trees in places, and groups of
+laborers here and there, who looked as small as dolls, and white horses
+like toys, who were drawing a child's cart, driven by a man as tall as
+one's finger.
+
+She took up a bundle of straw, threw it into the ditch and sat down upon
+it.  Then, not feeling comfortable, she undid it, spread it out and lay
+down upon it at full length on her back, with both arms under her head
+and her legs stretched out.
+
+Gradually her eyes closed, and she was falling into a state of delightful
+languor.  She was, in fact, almost asleep when she felt two hands on her
+bosom, and she sprang up at a bound.  It was Jacques, one of the farm
+laborers, a tall fellow from Picardy, who had been making love to her for
+a long time.  He had been herding the sheep, and, seeing her lying down
+in the shade, had come up stealthily and holding his breath, with
+glistening eyes and bits of straw in his hair.
+
+He tried to kiss her, but she gave him a smack in the face, for she was
+as strong as he, and he was shrewd enough to beg her pardon; so they sat
+down side by side and talked amicably.  They spoke about the favorable
+weather, of their master, who was a good fellow, then of their neighbors,
+of all the people in the country round, of themselves, of their village,
+of their youthful days, of their recollections, of their relations, who
+had left them for a long time, and it might be forever.  She grew sad as
+she thought of it, while he, with one fixed idea in his head, drew closer
+to her.
+
+"I have not seen my mother for a long time," she said.  "It is very hard
+to be separated like that," and she directed her looks into the distance,
+toward the village in the north which she had left.
+
+Suddenly, however, he seized her by the neck and kissed her again, but
+she struck him so violently in the face with her clenched fist that his
+nose began to bleed, and he got up and laid his head against the stem of
+a tree.  When she saw that, she was sorry, and going up to him, she said:
+"Have I hurt you?"  He, however, only laughed.  "No, it was a mere
+nothing; only she had hit him right on the middle of the nose.  What a
+devil!" he said, and he looked at her with admiration, for she had
+inspired him with a feeling of respect and of a very different kind of
+admiration which was the beginning of a real love for that tall, strong
+wench.  When the bleeding had stopped, he proposed a walk, as he was
+afraid of his neighbor's heavy hand, if they remained side by side like
+that much longer; but she took his arm of her own accord, in the avenue,
+as if they had been out for an evening's walk, and said: "It is not nice
+of you to despise me like that, Jacques."  He protested, however.  No, he
+did not despise her.  He was in love with her, that was all.
+
+"So you really want to marry me?" she asked.
+
+He hesitated and then looked at her sideways, while she looked straight
+ahead of her.  She had fat, red cheeks, a full bust beneath her cotton
+jacket; thick, red lips; and her neck, which was almost bare, was covered
+with small beads of perspiration.  He felt a fresh access of desire, and,
+putting his lips to her ear, he murmured: "Yes, of course I do."
+
+Then she threw her arms round his neck and kissed him till they were both
+out of breath.  From that moment the eternal story of love began between
+them.  They plagued one another in corners; they met in the moonlight
+beside the haystack and gave each other bruises on the legs, under the
+table, with their heavy nailed boots.  By degrees, however, Jacques
+seemed to grow tired of her; he avoided her, scarcely spoke to her, and
+did not try any longer to meet her alone, which made her sad and anxious;
+and soon she found that she was enceinte.
+
+At first she was in a state of consternation, but then she got angry, and
+her rage increased every day because she could not meet him, as he
+avoided her most carefully.  At last, one night, when every one in the
+farmhouse was asleep, she went out noiselessly in her petticoat, with
+bare feet, crossed the yard and opened the door of the stable where
+Jacques was lying in a large box of straw above his horses.  He pretended
+to snore when he heard her coming, but she knelt down by his side and
+shook him until he sat up.
+
+"What do you want?" he then asked her.  And with clenched teeth, and
+trembling with anger, she replied: "I want--I want you to marry me, as
+you promised."  But he only laughed and replied: "Oh! if a man were to
+marry all the girls with whom he has made a slip, he would have more than
+enough to do."
+
+Then she seized him by the throat, threw him or his back, so that he
+could not get away from her, and, half strangling him, she shouted into
+his face:
+
+"I am enceinte, do you hear?  I am enceinte!"
+
+He gasped for breath, as he was almost choked, and so they remained, both
+of them, motionless and without speaking, in the dark silence, which was
+only broken by the noise made by a horse as he, pulled the hay out of the
+manger and then slowly munched it.
+
+When Jacques found that she was the stronger, he stammered out: "Very
+well, I will marry you, as that is the case."  But she did not believe
+his promises.  "It must be at once," she said.  "You must have the banns
+put up."  "At once," he replied.  "Swear solemnly that you will."  He
+hesitated for a few moments and then said: "I swear it, by Heaven!"
+
+Then she released her grasp and went away without another word.
+
+She had no chance of speaking to him for several days; and, as the stable
+was now always locked at night, she was afraid to make any noise, for
+fear of creating a scandal.  One morning, however, she saw another man
+come in at dinner time, and she said: "Has Jacques left?"  "Yes;" the man
+replied; "I have got his place."
+
+This made her tremble so violently that she could not take the saucepan
+off the fire; and later, when they were all at work, she went up into her
+room and cried, burying her head in the bolster, so that she might not be
+heard.  During the day, however, she tried to obtain some information
+without exciting any suspicion, but she was so overwhelmed by the
+thoughts of her misfortune that she fancied that all the people whom she
+asked laughed maliciously.  All she learned, however, was that he had
+left the neighborhood altogether.
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+Then a cloud of constant misery began for her.  She worked mechanically,
+without thinking of what she was doing, with one fixed idea in her head:
+
+"Suppose people were to know."
+
+This continual feeling made her so incapable of reasoning that she did
+not even try to think of any means of avoiding the disgrace that she knew
+must ensue, which was irreparable and drawing nearer every day, and which
+was as sure as death itself.  She got up every morning long before the
+others and persistently tried to look at her figure in a piece of broken
+looking-glass, before which she did her hair, as she was very anxious to
+know whether anybody would notice a change in her, and, during the day,
+she stopped working every few minutes to look at herself from top to toe,
+to see whether her apron did not look too short.
+
+The months went on, and she scarcely spoke now, and when she was asked a
+question, did not appear to understand; but she had a frightened look,
+haggard eyes and trembling hands, which made her master say to her
+occasionally: "My poor girl, how stupid you have grown lately."
+
+In church she hid behind a pillar, and no longer ventured to go to
+confession, as she feared to face the priest, to whom she attributed
+superhuman powers, which enabled him to read people's consciences; and at
+meal times the looks of her fellow servants almost made her faint with
+mental agony; and she was always fancying that she had been found out by
+the cowherd, a precocious and cunning little lad, whose bright eyes
+seemed always to be watching her.
+
+One morning the postman brought her a letter, and as she had never
+received one in her life before she was so upset by it that she was
+obliged to sit down.  Perhaps it was from him?  But, as she could not
+read, she sat anxious and trembling with that piece of paper, covered
+with ink, in her hand.  After a time, however, she put it into her
+pocket, as she did not venture to confide her secret to any one.  She
+often stopped in her work to look at those lines written at regular
+intervals, and which terminated in a signature, imagining vaguely that
+she would suddenly discover their meaning, until at last, as she felt
+half mad with impatience and anxiety, she went to the schoolmaster, who
+told her to sit down and read to her as follows:
+
+"MY DEAR DAUGHTER: I write to tell you that I am very ill.  Our neighbor,
+Monsieur Dentu, begs you to come, if you can.
+
+"From your affectionate mother,
+                                   "CESAIRE DENTU, Deputy Mayor."
+
+She did not say a word and went away, but as soon as she was alone her
+legs gave way under her, and she fell down by the roadside and remained
+there till night.
+
+When she got back, she told the farmer her bad news, and he allowed her
+to go home for as long as she liked, and promised to have her work done
+by a charwoman and to take her back when she returned.
+
+Her mother died soon after she got there, and the next day Rose gave
+birth to a seven-months child, a miserable little skeleton, thin enough
+to make anybody shudder, and which seemed to be suffering continually, to
+judge from the painful manner in which it moved its poor little hands,
+which were as thin as a crab's legs; but it lived for all that.  She said
+she was married, but could not be burdened with the child, so she left it
+with some neighbors, who promised to take great care of it, and she went
+back to the farm.
+
+But now in her heart, which had been wounded so long, there arose
+something like brightness, an unknown love for that frail little creature
+which she had left behind her, though there was fresh suffering in that
+very love, suffering which she felt every hour and every minute, because
+she was parted from her child.  What pained her most, however, was the
+mad longing to kiss it, to press it in her arms, to feel the warmth of
+its little body against her breast.  She could not sleep at night; she
+thought of it the whole day long, and in the evening, when her work was
+done, she would sit in front of the fire and gaze at it intently, as
+people do whose thoughts are far away.
+
+They began to talk about her and to tease-her about her lover.  They
+asked her whether he was tall, handsome and rich.  When was the wedding
+to be and the christening?  And often she ran away to cry by herself, for
+these questions seemed to hurt her like the prick of a pin; and, in order
+to forget their jokes, she began to work still more energetically, and,
+still thinking of her child, she sought some way of saving up money for
+it, and determined to work so that her master would be obliged to raise
+her wages.
+
+By degrees she almost monopolized the work and persuaded him to get rid
+of one servant girl, who had become useless since she had taken to
+working like two; she economized in the bread, oil and candles; in the
+corn, which they gave to the chickens too extravagantly, and in the
+fodder for the horses and cattle, which was rather wasted.  She was as
+miserly about her master's money as if it had been her own; and, by dint
+of making good bargains, of getting high prices for all their produce,
+and by baffling the peasants' tricks when they offered anything for sale,
+he, at last, entrusted her with buying and selling everything, with the
+direction of all the laborers, and with the purchase of provisions
+necessary for the household; so that, in a short time, she became.
+indispensable to him.  She kept such a strict eye on everything about her
+that, under her direction, the farm prospered wonderfully, and for five
+miles around people talked of "Master Vallin's servant," and the farmer
+himself said everywhere: "That girl is worth more than her weight in
+gold."
+
+But time passed by, and her wages remained the same.  Her hard work was
+accepted as something that was due from every good servant, and as a mere
+token of good will; and she began to think rather bitterly that if the
+farmer could put fifty or a hundred crowns extra into the bank every
+month, thanks to her, she was still only earning her two hundred francs a
+year, neither more nor less; and so she made up her mind to ask for an
+increase of wages.  She went to see the schoolmaster three times about
+it, but when she got there, she spoke about something else.  She felt a
+kind of modesty in asking for money, as if it were something disgraceful;
+but, at last, one day, when the farmer was having breakfast by himself in
+the kitchen, she said to him, with some embarrassment, that she wished to
+speak to him particularly.  He raised his head in surprise, with both his
+hands on the table, holding his knife, with its point in the air, in one,
+and a piece of bread in the other, and he looked fixedly at, the girl,
+who felt uncomfortable under his gaze, but asked for a week's holiday, so
+that she might get away, as she was not very well.  He acceded to her
+request immediately, and then added, in some embarrassment himself:
+
+"When you come back, I shall have something to say to you myself."
+
+
+PART III
+
+The child was nearly eight months old, and she did not recognize it.  It
+had grown rosy and chubby all over, like a little roll of fat.  She threw
+herself on it, as if it had been some prey, and kissed it so violently
+that it began to scream with terror; and then she began to cry herself,
+because it did not know her, and stretched out its arms to its nurse as
+soon as it saw her.  But the next day it began to know her, and laughed
+when it saw her, and she took it into the fields, and ran about excitedly
+with it, and sat down under the shade of the trees; and then, for the
+first time in her life, she opened her heart to somebody, although he
+could not understand her, and told him her troubles; how hard her work
+was, her anxieties and her hopes, and she quite tired the child with the
+violence of her caresses.
+
+She took the greatest pleasure in handling it, in washing and dressing
+it, for it seemed to her that all this was the confirmation of her
+maternity; and she would look at it, almost feeling surprised 'that it
+was hers, and would say to herself in a low voice as she danced it in her
+arms: "It is my baby, it's my baby."
+
+She cried all the way home as she returned to the farm and had scarcely
+got in before her master called her into his room; and she went, feeling
+astonished and nervous, without knowing why.
+
+"Sit down there," he said.  She sat down, and for some moments they
+remained side by side, in some embarrassment, with their arms hanging at
+their sides, as if they did not know what to do with them, and looking
+each other in the face, after the manner of peasants.
+
+The farmer, a stout, jovial, obstinate man of forty-five, who had lost
+two wives, evidently felt embarrassed, which was very unusual with him;
+but, at last, he made.  up his mind, and began to speak vaguely,
+hesitating a little, and looking out of the window as he talked.  "How is
+it, Rose," he said, "that you have never thought of settling in life?"
+She grew as pale as death, and, seeing that she gave him no answer, he
+went on: "You are a good, steady, active and economical girl; and a wife
+like you would make a man's fortune."
+
+She did not move, but looked frightened; she did not even try to
+comprehend his meaning, for her thoughts were in a whirl, as if at the
+approach of some great danger; so, after waiting for a few seconds, he
+went on: "You see, a farm without a mistress can never succeed, even with
+a servant like you."  Then he stopped, for he did not know what else to
+say, and Rose looked at him with the air of a person who thinks that he
+is face to face with a murderer and ready to flee at the slightest
+movement he may make; but, after waiting for about five minutes, he asked
+her: "Well, will it suit you?"  "Will what suit me, master?"  And he said
+quickly: "Why, to marry me, by Heaven!"
+
+She jumped up, but fell back on her chair, as if she had been struck, and
+there she remained motionless, like a person who is overwhelmed by some
+great misfortune.  At last the farmer grew impatient and said: "Come,
+what more do you want?" She looked at him, almost in terror, then
+suddenly the tears came into her eves and she said twice in a choking
+voice: "I cannot, I cannot!"  "Why not?" he asked.  "Come, don't be
+silly; I will give you until tomorrow to think it over."
+
+And he hurried out of the room, very glad to have got through with the
+matter, which had troubled him a good deal, for he had no doubt that she
+would the next morning accept a proposal which she could never have
+expected and which would be a capital bargain for him, as he thus bound a
+woman to his interests who would certainly bring him more than if she had
+the best dowry in the district.
+
+Neither could there be any scruples about an unequal match between them,
+for in the country every one is very nearly equal; the farmer works with
+his laborers, who frequently become masters in their turn, and the female
+servants constantly become the mistresses of the establishments without
+its making any change in their life or habits.
+
+Rose did not go to bed that night.  She threw herself, dressed as she
+was, on her bed, and she had not even the strength to cry left in her,
+she was so thoroughly dumfounded.  She remained quite inert, scarcely
+knowing that she had a body, and without being at all able to collect her
+thoughts, though, at moments, she remembered something of what had
+happened, and then she was frightened at the idea of what might happen.
+Her terror increased, and every time the great kitchen clock struck the
+hour she broke out in a perspiration from grief.  She became bewildered,
+and had the nightmare; her candle went out, and then she began to imagine
+that some one bad cast a spell over her, as country people so often
+imagine, and she felt a mad inclination to run away, to escape and to
+flee before her misfortune, like a ship scudding before the wind.
+An owl hooted; she shivered, sat up, passed her hands over her face, her
+hair, and all over her body, and then she went downstairs, as if she were
+walking in her sleep.  When she got into the yard she stooped down, so as
+not to be seen by any prowling scamp, for the moon, which was setting,
+shed a bright light over the fields.  Instead of opening the gate she
+scrambled over the fence, and as soon as she was outside she started off.
+She went on straight before her, with a quick, springy trot, and from
+time to time she unconsciously uttered a piercing cry.  Her long shadow
+accompanied her, and now and then some night bird flew over her head,
+while the dogs in the farmyards barked as they heard her pass; one even
+jumped over the ditch, and followed her and tried to bite her, but she
+turned round and gave such a terrible yell that the frightened animal ran
+back and cowered in silence in its kennel.
+
+The stars grew dim, and the birds began to twitter; day was breaking.
+The girl was worn out and panting; and when the sun rose in the purple
+sky, she stopped, for her swollen feet refused to go any farther; but she
+saw a pond in the distance, a large pond whose stagnant water looked like
+blood under the reflection of this new day, and she limped on slowly with
+her hand on her heart, in order to dip both her feet in it.  She sat down
+on a tuft of grass, took off her heavy shoes, which were full of dust,
+pulled off her stockings and plunged her legs into the still water, from
+which bubbles were rising here and there.
+
+A feeling of delicious coolness pervaded her from head to foot, and
+suddenly, while she was looking fixedly at the deep pool, she was seized
+with dizziness, and with a mad longing to throw herself into it.  All her
+sufferings would be over in there, over forever.  She no longer thought
+of her child; she only wanted peace, complete rest, and to sleep forever,
+and she got up with raised arms and took two steps forward.  She was in
+the water up to her thighs, and she was just about to throw her self in
+when sharp, pricking pains in her ankles made her jump back, and she
+uttered a cry of despair, for, from her knees to the tips of her feet,
+long black leeches were sucking her lifeblood, and were swelling as they
+adhered to her flesh.  She did not dare to touch them, and screamed with
+horror, so that her cries of despair attracted a peasant, who was driving
+along at some distance, to the spot.  He pulled off the leeches one by
+one, applied herbs to the wounds, and drove the girl to her master's farm
+in his gig.
+
+She was in bed for a fortnight, and as she was sitting outside the door
+on the first morning that she got up, the farmer suddenly came and
+planted himself before her.  "Well," he said, "I suppose the affair is
+settled isn't it?"  She did not reply at first, and then, as he remained
+standing and looking at her intently with his piercing eyes, she said
+with difficulty: "No, master, I cannot."  He immediately flew into a
+rage.
+
+"You cannot, girl; you cannot?  I should just like to know the reason
+why?" She began to cry, and repeated: "I cannot."  He looked at her, and
+then exclaimed angrily: "Then I suppose you have a lover?"  "Perhaps that
+is it," she replied, trembling with shame.
+
+The man got as red as a poppy, and stammered out in a rage: "Ah!  So you
+confess it, you slut!  And pray who is the fellow?  Some penniless, half-
+starved ragamuffin, without a roof to his head, I suppose?  Who is it, I
+say?" And as she gave him no answer, he continued: "Ah!  So you will not
+tell me.  Then I will tell you; it is Jean Baudu?' "No, not he,"  she
+exclaimed.  "Then it is Pierre Martin?" "Oh!  no, master."
+
+And he angrily mentioned all the young fellows in the neighborhood, while
+she denied that he had hit upon the right one, and every moment wiped her
+eyes with the corner of her blue apron.  But he still tried to find it
+out, with his brutish obstinacy, and, as it were, scratching at her heart
+to discover her secret, just as a terrier scratches at a hole to try and
+get at the animal which he scents inside it.  Suddenly, however, the man
+shouted: "By George!  It is Jacques, the man who was here last year.
+They used to say that you were always talking together, and that you
+thought about getting married."
+
+Rose was choking, and she grew scarlet, while her tears suddenly stopped
+and dried up on her cheeks, like drops of water on hot iron, and she
+exclaimed: "No, it is not he, it is not he!"  "Is that really a fact?"
+asked the cunning peasant, who partly guessed the truth; and she replied,
+hastily: "I will swear it; I will swear it to you--"  She tried to think
+of something by which to swear, as she did not venture to invoke sacred
+things, but he interrupted her: "At any rate, he used to follow you into
+every corner and devoured you with his eyes at meal times.  Did you ever
+give him your promise, eh?"
+
+This time she looked her master straight in the face.  "No, never, never;
+I will solemnly swear to you that if he were to come to-day and ask me to
+marry him I would have nothing to do with him."  She spoke with such an
+air of sincerity that the farmer hesitated, and then he continued, as if
+speaking to himself:.  "What, then?  You have not had a misfortune, as
+they call it, or it would have been known, and as it has no consequences,
+no girl would refuse her master on that account.  There must be something
+at the bottom of it, however."
+
+She could say nothing; she had not the strength to speak, and he asked
+her again: "You will not?"  "I cannot, master," she said, with a sigh,
+and he turned on his heel.
+
+She thought she had got rid of him altogether and spent the rest of the
+day almost tranquilly, but was as exhausted as if she had been turning
+the thrashing machine all day in the place of the old white horse, and
+she went to bed as soon as she could and fell asleep immediately.  In the
+middle of the night, however, two hands touching the bed woke her.  She .
+trembled with fear, but immediately recognized the farmer's voice, when
+he said to her: "Don't be frightened, Rose; I have come to speak to you."
+She was surprised at first, but when he tried to take liberties with her
+she understood and began to tremble violently, as she felt quite alone in
+the darkness, still heavy from sleep, and quite unprotected, with that
+man standing near her.  She certainly did not consent, but she resisted
+carelessly struggling against that instinct which is always strong in
+simple natures and very imperfectly protected by the undecided will of
+inert and gentle races.  She turned her head now to the wall, and now
+toward the room, in order to avoid the attentions which the farmer tried
+to press on her, but she was weakened by fatigue, while he became brutal,
+intoxicated by desire.
+
+They lived together as man and wife, and one morning he said to her: "I
+have put up our banns, and we will get married next month."
+
+She did not reply, for what could she say?  She did not resist, for what
+could she do?
+
+
+PART IV
+
+She married him.  She felt as if she were in a pit with inaccessible
+sides from which she could never get out, and all kinds of misfortunes
+were hanging over her head, like huge rocks, which would fall on the
+first occasion.  Her husband gave her the impression of a man whom she
+had robbed, and who would find it out some day or other.  And then she
+thought of her child, who was the cause of her misfortunes, but who was
+also the cause of all her happiness on earth, and whom she went to see
+twice a year, though she came back more unhappy each time.
+
+But she gradually grew accustomed to her life, her fears were allayed,
+her heart was at rest, and she lived with an easier mind, though still
+with some vague fear floating in it.  And so years went on, until the
+child was six.  She was almost happy now, when suddenly the farmer's
+temper grew very bad.
+
+For two or three years he seemed to have been nursing some secret
+anxiety, to be troubled by some care, some mental disturbance, which was
+gradually increasing.  He remained sitting at table after dinner, with
+his head in his hands, sad and devoured by sorrow.  He always spoke
+hastily, sometimes even brutally, and it even seemed as if he had a
+grudge against his wife, for at times he answered her roughly, almost
+angrily.
+
+One day, when a neighbor's boy came for some eggs, and she spoke rather
+crossly to him, as she was very busy, her husband suddenly came in and
+said to her in his unpleasant voice: "If that were your own child you
+would not treat him so."  She was hurt and did not reply, and then she
+went back into the house, with all her grief awakened afresh; and at
+dinner the farmer neither spoke to her nor looked at her, and he seemed
+to hate her, to despise her, to know something about the affair at last.
+In consequence she lost her composure, and did not venture to remain
+alone with him after the meal was over, but left the room and hastened to
+the church.
+
+It was getting dusk; the narrow nave was in total darkness, but she heard
+footsteps in the choir, for the sacristan was preparing the tabernacle
+lamp for the night.  That spot of trembling light, which was lost in the
+darkness of the.  arches, looked to Rose like her last hope, and with her
+eyes fixed on it, she fell on her knees.  The chain rattled as the little
+lamp swung up into the air, and almost immediately the small bell rang
+out the Angelus through the increasing mist.  She went up to him, as he
+was going out.
+
+"Is Monsieur le Cure at home?" she asked.  "Of course he is; this is his
+dinnertime."  She trembled as she rang the bell of the parsonage.  The
+priest was just sitting down to dinner, and he made her sit down also.
+"Yes, yes, I know all about it; your husband has mentioned the matter to
+me that brings you here."  The poor woman nearly fainted, and the priest
+continued: "What do you want, my child?"  And he hastily swallowed
+several spoonfuls of soup, some of which dropped on to his greasy
+cassock.  But Rose did not venture to say anything more, and she got up
+to go, but the priest said: "Courage."
+
+And she went out and returned to the farm without knowing what she was
+doing.  The farmer was waiting for her, as the laborers had gone away
+during her absence, and she fell heavily at his feet, and, shedding a
+flood of tears, she said to him: "What have you got against me?"
+
+He began to shout and to swear: "What have I got against you?  That I
+have no children, by ---.  When a man takes a wife it is not that they
+may live alone together to the end of their days.  That is what I have
+against you.  When a cow has no calves she is not worth anything, and
+when a woman has no children she is also not worth anything."
+
+She began to cry, and said: "It is not my fault!  It is not my fault!"
+He grew rather more gentle when he heard that, and added: "I do not say
+that it is, but it is very provoking, all the same."
+
+
+
+PART V
+
+From that day forward she had only one thought: to have a child another
+child; she confided her wish to everybody, and, in consequence of this, a
+neighbor told her of an infallible method.  This was, to make her husband
+drink a glass of water with a pinch of ashes in it every evening.  The
+farmer consented to try it, but without success; so they said to each
+other: "Perhaps there are some secret ways?"  And they tried to find out.
+They were told of a shepherd who lived ten leagues off, and so Vallin one
+day drove off to consult him.  The shepherd gave him a loaf on which he
+had made some marks; it was kneaded up with herbs, and each of them was
+to eat a piece of it, but they ate the whole loaf without obtaining any
+results from it.
+
+Next, a schoolmaster unveiled mysteries and processes of love which were
+unknown in the country, but infallible, so he declared; but none of them
+had the desired effect.  Then the priest advised them to make a
+pilgrimage to the shrine at Fecamp.  Rose went with the crowd and
+prostrated herself in the abbey, and, mingling her prayers with the
+coarse desires of the peasants around her, she prayed that she might be
+fruitful a second time; but it was in vain, and then she thought that she
+was being punished for her first fault, and she was seized by terrible
+grief.  She was wasting away with sorrow; her husband was also aging
+prematurely, and was wearing himself out in useless hopes.
+
+Then war broke out between them; he called her names and beat her.  They
+quarrelled all day long, and when they were in their room together at
+night he flung insults and obscenities at her, choking with rage, until
+one night, not being able to think of any means of making her suffer more
+he ordered her to get up and go and stand out of doors in the rain until
+daylight.  As she did not obey him, he seized her by the neck and began
+to strike her in the face with his fists, but she said nothing and did
+not move.  In his exasperation he knelt on her stomach, and with clenched
+teeth, and mad with rage, he began to beat her.  Then in her despair she
+rebelled, and flinging him against the wall with a furious gesture, she
+sat up, and in an altered voice she hissed: "I have had a child, I have
+had one!  I had it by Jacques; you know Jacques.  He promised to marry
+me, but he left this neighborhood without keeping his word."
+
+The man was thunderstruck and could hardly speak, but at last he
+stammered out: "What are you saying?  What are you saying?"  Then she
+began to sob, and amid her tears she continued: "That was the reason why
+I did not want to marry you.  I could not tell you, for you would have
+left me without any bread for my child.  You have never had any children,
+so you cannot understand, you cannot understand!"
+
+He said again, mechanically, with increasing surprise: "You have a child?
+You have a child?"
+
+"You took me by force, as I suppose you know?  I did not want to marry
+you," she said, still sobbing.
+
+Then he got up, lit the candle, and began to walk up and down, with his
+arms behind him.  She was cowering on the bed and crying, and suddenly he
+stopped in front of her, and said: "Then it is my fault that you have no
+children?"  She gave him no answer, and he began to walk up and down
+again, and then, stopping again, he continued: "How old is your child?"
+"Just six," she whispered.  "Why did you not tell me about it?" he asked.
+"How could I?" she replied, with a sigh.
+
+He remained standing, motionless.  "Come, get up," he said.  She got up
+with some difficulty, and then, when she was standing on the floor, he
+suddenly began to laugh with the hearty laugh of his good days, and,
+seeing how surprised she was, he added: "Very well, we will go and fetch
+the child, as you and I can have none together."
+
+She was so scared that if she had had the strength she would assuredly
+have run away, but the farmer rubbed his hands and said: "I wanted to
+adopt one, and now we have found one.  I asked the cure about an orphan
+some time ago."
+
+Then, still laughing, he kissed his weeping and agitated wife on both
+cheeks, and shouted out, as though she could not hear him: "Come along,
+mother, we will go and see whether there is any soup left; I should not
+mind a plateful."
+
+She put on her petticoat and they went downstairs; and While she was
+kneeling in front of the fireplace and lighting the fire under the
+saucepan, he continued to walk up and down the kitchen with long strides,
+repeating:
+
+"Well, I am really glad of this; I am not saying it for form's sake, but
+I am glad, I am really very glad."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE WRECK
+
+It was yesterday, the 31st of December.
+
+I had just finished breakfast with my old friend Georges Garin when the
+servant handed him a letter covered with seals and foreign stamps.
+
+Georges said:
+
+"Will you excuse me?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+And so he began to read the letter, which was written in a large English
+handwriting, crossed and recrossed in every direction.  He read them
+slowly, with serious attention and the interest which we only pay to
+things which touch our hearts.
+
+Then he put the letter on the mantelpiece and said:
+
+"That was a curious story!  I've never told you about it, I think.  Yet
+it was a sentimental adventure, and it really happened to me.  That was a
+strange New Year's Day, indeed!  It must have been twenty years ago, for
+I was then thirty and am now fifty years old.
+
+"I was then an inspector in the Maritime Insurance Company, of which I am
+now director.  I had arranged to pass New Year's Day in Paris--since it
+is customary to make that day a fete--when I received a letter from the
+manager, asking me to proceed at once to the island of Re, where a three-
+masted vessel from Saint-Nazaire, insured by us, had just been driven
+ashore.  It was then eight o'clock in the morning.  I arrived at the
+office at ten to get my advices, and that evening I took the express,
+which put me down in La Rochelle the next day, the 31st of December.
+
+"I had two hours to wait before going aboard the boat for Re.  So I made
+a tour of the town.  It is certainly a queer city, La Rochelle, with
+strong characteristics of its own streets tangled like a labyrinth,
+sidewalks running under endless arcaded galleries like those of the Rue
+de Rivoli, but low, mysterious, built as if to form a suitable setting
+for conspirators and making a striking background for those old-time
+wars, the savage heroic wars of religion.  It is indeed the typical old
+Huguenot city, conservative, discreet, with no fine art to show, with no
+wonderful monuments, such as make Rouen; but it is remarkable for its
+severe, somewhat sullen look; it is a city of obstinate fighters, a city
+where fanaticism might well blossom, where the faith of the Calvinists
+became enthusiastic and which gave birth to the plot of the 'Four
+Sergeants.'
+
+"After I had wandered for some time about these curious streets, I went
+aboard the black, rotund little steamboat which was to take me to the
+island of Re.  It was called the Jean Guiton.  It started with angry
+puffings, passed between the two old towers which guard the harbor,
+crossed the roadstead and issued from the mole built by Richelieu, the
+great stones of which can be seen at the water's edge, enclosing the town
+like a great necklace.  Then the steamboat turned to the right.
+
+"It was one of those sad days which give one the blues, tighten the heart
+and take away all strength and energy and force-a gray, cold day, with a
+heavy mist which was as wet as rain, as cold as frost, as bad to breathe
+as the steam of a wash-tub.
+
+"Under this low sky of dismal fog the shallow, yellow, sandy sea of all
+practically level beaches lay without a wrinkle, without a movement,
+without life, a sea of turbid water, of greasy water, of stagnant water.
+The Jean Guiton passed over it, rolling a little from habit, dividing the
+smooth, dark blue water and leaving behind a few waves, a little
+splashing, a slight swell, which soon calmed down.
+
+"I began to talk to the captain, a little man with small feet, as round
+as his boat and rolling in the same manner.  I wanted some details of the
+disaster on which I was to draw up a report.  A great square-rigged
+three-master, the Marie Joseph, of Saint-Nazaire, had gone ashore one
+night in a hurricane on the sands of the island of Re.
+
+"The owner wrote us that the storm had thrown the ship so far ashore that
+it was impossible to float her and that they had to remove everything
+which could be detached with the utmost possible haste.  Nevertheless I
+must examine the situation of the wreck, estimate what must have been her
+condition before the disaster and decide whether all efforts had been
+used to get her afloat.  I came as an agent of the company in order to
+give contradictory testimony, if necessary, at the trial.
+
+"On receipt of my report, the manager would take what measures he might
+think necessary to protect our interests.
+
+"The captain of the Jean Guiton knew all about the affair, having been
+summoned with his boat to assist in the attempts at salvage.
+
+"He told me the story of the disaster.  The Marie Joseph, driven by a
+furious gale lost her bearings completely in the night, and steering by
+chance over a heavy foaming sea--'a milk-soup sea,' said the captain--had
+gone ashore on those immense sand banks which make the coasts of this
+country look like limitless Saharas when the tide is low.
+
+"While talking I looked around and ahead.  Between the ocean and the
+lowering sky lay an open space where the eye could see into the distance.
+We were following a coast.  I asked:
+
+"'Is that the island of Re?'
+
+"'Yes, sir.'
+
+"And suddenly the captain stretched his right hand out before us, pointed
+to something almost imperceptible in the open sea, and said:
+
+"'There's your ship!'
+
+"'The Marie Joseph!'
+
+"'Yes.'
+
+"I was amazed.  This black, almost imperceptible speck, which looked to
+me like a rock, seemed at least three miles from land.
+
+"I continued:
+
+"'But, captain, there must be a hundred fathoms of water in that place.'
+
+"He began to laugh.
+
+"'A hundred fathoms, my child!  Well, I should say about two!'
+
+"He was from Bordeaux.  He continued:
+
+"'It's now nine-forty, just high tide.  Go down along the beach with your
+hands in your pockets after you've had lunch at the Hotel du Dauphin, and
+I'll wager that at ten minutes to three, or three o'clock, you'll reach
+the wreck without wetting your feet, and have from an hour and three-
+quarters to two hours aboard of her; but not more, or you'll be caught.
+The faster the sea goes out the faster it comes back.  This coast is as
+flat as a turtle!  But start away at ten minutes to five, as I tell you,
+and at half-past seven you will be again aboard of the Jean Guiton, which
+will put you down this same evening on the quay at La Rochelle.'
+
+"I thanked the captain and I went and sat down in the bow of the steamer
+to get a good look at the little city of Saint-Martin, which we were now
+rapidly approaching.
+
+"It was just like all small seaports which serve as capitals of the
+barren islands scattered along the coast--a large fishing village, one
+foot on sea and one on shore, subsisting on fish and wild fowl,
+vegetables and shell-fish, radishes and mussels.  The island is very low
+and little cultivated, yet it seems to be thickly populated.  However, I
+did not penetrate into the interior.
+
+"After breakfast I climbed across a little promontory, and then, as the
+tide was rapidly falling, I started out across the sands toward a kind of
+black rock which I could just perceive above the surface of the water,
+out a considerable distance.
+
+"I walked quickly over the yellow plain.  It was elastic, like flesh and
+seemed to sweat beneath my tread.  The sea had been there very lately.
+Now I perceived it at a distance, escaping out of sight, and I no longer
+could distinguish the line which separated the sands from ocean.  I felt
+as though I were looking at a gigantic supernatural work of enchantment.
+The Atlantic had just now been before me, then it had disappeared into
+the sands, just as scenery disappears through a trap; and I was now
+walking in the midst of a desert.  Only the feeling, the breath of the
+salt-water, remained in me.  I perceived the smell of the wrack, the
+smell of the sea, the good strong smell of sea coasts.  I walked fast; I
+was no longer cold.  I looked at the stranded wreck, which grew in size
+as I approached, and came now to resemble an enormous shipwrecked whale.
+
+"It seemed fairly to rise out of the ground, and on that great, flat,
+yellow stretch of sand assumed wonderful proportions.  After an hour's
+walk I at last reached it.  It lay upon its side, ruined and shattered,
+its broken bones showing as though it were an animal, its bones of tarred
+wood pierced with great bolts.  The sand had already invaded it, entering
+it by all the crannies, and held it and refused to let it go.  It seemed
+to have taken root in it.  The bow had entered deep into this soft,
+treacherous beach, while the stern, high in air, seemed to cast at
+heaven, like a cry of despairing appeal, the two white words on the black
+planking, Marie Joseph.
+
+"I climbed upon this carcass of a ship by the lowest side; then, having
+reached the deck, I went below.  The daylight, which entered by the
+stove-in hatches and the cracks in the sides, showed me dimly long dark
+cavities full of demolished woodwork.  They contained nothing but sand,
+which served as foot-soil in this cavern of planks.
+
+"I began to take some notes about the condition of the ship.  I was
+seated on a broken empty cask, writing by the light of a great crack,
+through which I could perceive the boundless stretch of the strand.
+A strange shivering of cold and loneliness ran over my skin from time to
+time, and I would often stop writing for a moment to listen to the
+mysterious noises in the derelict: the noise of crabs scratching the
+planking with their crooked claws; the noise of a thousand little
+creatures of the sea already crawling over this dead body or else boring
+into the wood.
+
+"Suddenly, very near me, I heard human voices.  I started as though I had
+seen a ghost.  For a second I really thought I was about to see drowned
+men rise from the sinister depths of the hold, who would tell me about
+their death.  At any rate, it did not take me long to swing myself on
+deck.  There, standing by the bows, was a tall Englishman with three
+young misses.  Certainly they were a good deal more frightened at seeing
+this sudden apparition on the abandoned three-master than I was at seeing
+them.  The youngest girl turned and ran, the two others threw their arms
+round their father.  As for him, he opened his mouth--that was the only
+sign of emotion which he showed.
+
+"Then, after several seconds, he spoke:
+
+"'Mosieu, are you the owner of this ship.?'
+
+"'I am.'
+
+"'May I go over it?'
+
+"'You may.'
+
+"Then he uttered a long sentence in English, in which I only
+distinguished the word 'gracious,' repeated several times.
+
+"As he was looking for a place to climb up I showed him the easiest way,
+and gave him a hand.  He climbed up.  Then we helped up the three girls,
+who had now quite recovered their composure.  They were charming,
+especially the oldest, a blonde of eighteen, fresh as a flower, and very
+dainty and pretty!  Ah, yes!  the pretty Englishwomen have indeed the
+look of tender sea fruit.  One would have said of this one that she had
+just risen out of the sands and that her hair had kept their tint.  They
+all, with their exquisite freshness, make you think of the delicate
+colors of pink sea-shells and of shining pearls hidden in the unknown
+depths of the ocean.
+
+"She spoke French a little better than her father and acted as
+interpreter.  I had to tell all about the shipwreck, and I romanced as
+though I had been present at the catastrophe.  Then the whole family
+descended into the interior of the wreck.  As soon as they had penetrated
+into this sombre, dimly lit cavity they uttered cries of astonishment and
+admiration.  Suddenly the father and his three daughters were holding
+sketch-books in their hands, which they had doubtless carried hidden
+somewhere in their heavy weather-proof clothes, and were all beginning at
+once to make pencil sketches of this melancholy and weird place.
+
+"They had seated themselves side by side on a projecting beam, and the
+four sketch-books on the eight knees were being rapidly covered with
+little black lines which were intended to represent the half-opened hulk
+of the Marie Joseph.
+
+"I continued to inspect the skeleton of the ship, and the oldest girl
+talked to me while she worked.
+
+"They had none of the usual English arrogance; they were simple honest
+hearts of that class of continuous travellers with which England covers
+the globe.  The father was long and thin, with a red face framed in white
+whiskers, and looking like a living sandwich, a piece of ham carved like
+a face between two wads of hair.  The daughters, who had long legs like
+young storks, were also thin-except the oldest.  All three were pretty,
+especially the tallest.
+
+"She had such a droll way of speaking, of laughing, of understanding and
+of not understanding, of raising her eyes to ask a question (eyes blue as
+the deep ocean), of stopping her drawing a moment to make a guess at what
+you meant, of returning once more to work, of saying 'yes' or 'no'--that
+I could have listened and looked indefinitely.
+
+"Suddenly she murmured:
+
+"'I hear a little sound on this boat.'
+
+"I listened and I immediately distinguished a low, steady, curious sound.
+I rose and looked out of the crack and gave a scream.  The sea had come
+up to us; it would soon surround us!
+
+"We were on deck in an instant.  It was too late.  The water circled us
+about and was running toward the coast at tremendous speed.  No, it did
+not run, it glided, crept, spread like an immense, limitless blot.  The
+water was barely a few centimeters deep, but the rising flood had gone so
+far that we no longer saw the vanishing line of the imperceptible tide.
+"The Englishman wanted to jump.  I held him back.  Flight was impossible
+because of the deep places which we had been obliged to go round on our
+way out and into which we should fall on our return.
+
+"There was a minute of horrible anguish in our hearts.  Then the little
+English girl began to smile and murmured:
+
+"'It is we who are shipwrecked.'
+
+"I tried to laugh, but fear held me, a fear which was cowardly and horrid
+and base and treacherous like the tide.  All the danger which we ran
+appeared to me at once.  I wanted to shriek: 'Help!' But to whom?
+
+"The two younger girls were clinging to their father, who looked in
+consternation at the measureless sea which hedged us round about.
+
+"The night fell as swiftly as the ocean rose--a lowering, wet, icy night.
+
+"I said:
+
+"'There's nothing to do but to stay on the ship:
+
+"The Englishman answered:
+
+"'Oh, yes!'
+
+"And we waited there a quarter of an hour, half an hour, indeed I don't
+know how long, watching that creeping water growing deeper as it swirled
+around us, as though it were playing on the beach, which it had regained.
+
+"One of the young girls was cold, and we went below to shelter ourselves
+from the light but freezing wind that made our skins tingle.
+
+"I leaned over the hatchway.  The ship was full of water.  So we had to
+cower against the stern planking, which shielded us a little.
+
+"Darkness was now coming on, and we remained huddled together.  I felt
+the shoulder of the little English girl trembling against mine, her teeth
+chattering from time to time.  But I also felt the gentle warmth of her
+body through her ulster, and that warmth was as delicious to me as a
+kiss.  We no longer spoke; we sat motionless, mute, cowering down like
+animals in a ditch when a hurricane is raging.  And, nevertheless,
+despite the night, despite the terrible and increasing danger, I began to
+feel happy that I was there, glad of the cold and the peril, glad of the
+long hours of darkness and anguish that I must pass on this plank so near
+this dainty, pretty little girl.
+
+"I asked myself, 'Why this strange sensation of well-being and of joy?'
+"Why!  Does one know?  Because she was there?  Who?  She, a little
+unknown English girl?  I did not love her, I did not even know her.  And
+for all that, I was touched and conquered.  I wanted to save her, to
+sacrifice myself for her, to commit a thousand follies!  Strange thing!
+How does it happen that the presence of a woman overwhelms us so?  Is it
+the power of her grace which enfolds us?  Is it the seduction of her
+beauty and youth, which intoxicates one like wine?
+
+"Is it not rather the touch of Love, of Love the Mysterious, who seeks
+constantly to unite two beings, who tries his strength the instant he has
+put a man and a woman face to face?
+
+"The silence of the darkness became terrible, the stillness of the sky
+dreadful, because we could hear vaguely about us a slight, continuous
+sound, the sound of the rising tide and the monotonous plashing of the
+water against the ship.
+
+"Suddenly I heard the sound of sobs.  The youngest of the girls was
+crying.  Her father tried to console her, and they began to talk in their
+own tongue, which I did not understand.  I guessed that he was reassuring
+her and that she was still afraid.
+
+"I asked my neighbor:
+
+"'You are not too cold, are you, mademoiselle?'
+
+"'Oh, yes.  I am very cold.'
+
+"I offered to give her my cloak; she refused it.
+
+But I had taken it off and I covered her with it against her will.  In
+the short struggle her hand touched mine.  It made a delicious thrill run
+through my body.
+
+"For some minutes the air had been growing brisker, the dashing of the
+water stronger against the flanks of the ship.  I raised myself; a great
+gust of wind blew in my face.  The wind was rising!
+
+"The Englishman perceived this at the same time that I did and said
+simply:
+
+"'This is bad for us, this----'
+
+"Of course it was bad, it was certain death if any breakers, however
+feeble, should attack and shake the wreck, which was already so shattered
+and disconnected that the first big sea would carry it off.
+
+"So our anguish increased momentarily as the squalls grew stronger and
+stronger.  Now the sea broke a little, and I saw in the darkness white
+lines appearing and disappearing, lines of foam, while each wave struck
+the Marie Joseph and shook her with a short quiver which went to our
+hearts.
+
+"The English girl was trembling.  I felt her shiver against me.  And I
+had a wild desire to take her in my arms.
+
+"Down there, before and behind us, to the left and right, lighthouses
+were shining along the shore--lighthouses white, yellow and red,
+revolving like the enormous eyes of giants who were watching us, waiting
+eagerly for us to disappear.  One of them in especial irritated me.  It
+went out every thirty seconds and it lit up again immediately.  It was
+indeed an eye, that one, with its lid incessantly lowered over its fiery
+glance.
+
+"From time to time the Englishman struck a match to see the hour; then he
+put his watch back in his pocket.  Suddenly he said to me, over the heads
+of his daughters, with tremendous gravity:
+
+"'I wish you a happy New Year, Mosieu.'
+
+"It was midnight.  I held out my hand, which he pressed.  Then he said
+something in English, and suddenly he and his daughters began to sing
+'God Save the Queen,' which rose through the black and silent air and
+vanished into space.
+
+"At first I felt a desire to laugh; then I was seized by a powerful,
+strange emotion.
+
+"It was something sinister and superb, this chant of the shipwrecked, the
+condemned, something like a prayer and also like something grander,
+something comparable to the ancient 'Ave Caesar morituri te salutant.'
+
+"When they had finished I asked my neighbor to sing a ballad alone,
+anything she liked, to make us forget our terrors.  She consented, and
+immediately her clear young voice rang out into the night.  She sang
+something which was doubtless sad, because the notes were long drawn out
+and hovered, like wounded birds, above the waves.
+
+"The sea was rising now and beating upon our wreck.  As for me, I thought
+only of that voice.  And I thought also of the sirens.  If a ship had
+passed near by us what would the sailors have said?  My troubled spirit
+lost itself in the dream!  A siren!  Was she not really a siren, this
+daughter of the sea, who had kept me on this worm-eaten ship and who was
+soon about to go down with me deep into the waters?
+
+"But suddenly we were all five rolling on the deck, because the Marie
+Joseph had sunk on her right side.  The English girl had fallen upon me,
+and before I knew what I was doing, thinking that my last moment was
+come, I had caught her in my arms and kissed her cheek, her temple and
+her hair.
+
+"The ship did not move again, and we, we also, remained motionless.
+
+"The father said, 'Kate!'  The one whom I was holding answered 'Yes' and
+made a movement to free herself.  And at that moment I should have wished
+the ship to split in two and let me fall with her into the sea.
+
+"The Englishman continued:
+
+"'A little rocking; it's nothing.  I have my three daughters safe.'
+
+"Not having seen the oldest, he had thought she was lost overboard!
+
+"I rose slowly, and suddenly I made out a light on the sea quite close to
+us.  I shouted; they answered.  It was a boat sent out in search of us by
+the hotelkeeper, who had guessed at our imprudence.
+
+"We were saved.  I was in despair.  They picked us up off our raft and
+they brought us back to Saint-Martin.
+
+"The Englishman began to rub his hand and murmur:
+
+"'A good supper!  A good supper!'
+
+"We did sup.  I was not gay.  I regretted the Marie Joseph.
+
+"We had to separate the next day after much handshaking and many promises
+to write.  They departed for Biarritz.  I wanted to follow them.
+
+"I was hard hit.  I wanted to ask this little girl to marry me.  If we
+had passed eight days together, I should have done so!  How weak and
+incomprehensible a man sometimes is!
+
+"Two years passed without my hearing a word from them.  Then I received a
+letter from New York.  She was married and wrote to tell me.  And since
+then we write to each other every year, on New Year's Day.  She tells me
+about her life, talks of her children, her sisters, never of her husband!
+Why?  Ah! why?  And as for me, I only talk of the Marie Joseph.  That was
+perhaps the only woman I have ever loved--no--that I ever should have
+loved.  Ah, well!  who can tell?  Circumstances rule one.  And then--and
+then--all passes.  She must be old now; I should not know her.  Ah! she
+of the bygone time, she of the wreck!  What a creature!  Divine!  She
+writes me her hair is white.  That caused me terrible pain.  Ah! her
+yellow hair.  No, my English girl exists no longer.  How sad it all is!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THEODULE SABOT'S CONFESSION
+
+When Sabot entered the inn at Martinville it was a signal for laughter.
+What a rogue he was, this Sabot!  There was a man who did not like
+priests, for instance!  Oh, no, oh, no!  He did not spare them, the
+scamp.
+
+Sabot (Theodule), a master carpenter, represented liberal thought in
+Martinville.  He was a tall, thin, than, with gray, cunning eyes, and
+thin lips, and wore his hair plastered down on his temples.  When he
+said: "Our holy father, the pope" in a certain manner, everyone laughed.
+He made a point of working on Sunday during the hour of mass.  He killed
+his pig each year on Monday in Holy Week in order to have enough black
+pudding to last till Easter, and when the priest passed by, he always
+said by way of a joke: "There goes one who has just swallowed his God off
+a salver."
+
+The priest, a stout man and also very tall, dreaded him on account of his
+boastful talk which attracted followers.  The Abbe Maritime was a politic
+man, and believed in being diplomatic.  There had been a rivalry between
+them for ten years, a secret, intense, incessant rivalry.  Sabot was
+municipal councillor, and they thought he would become mayor, which would
+inevitably mean the final overthrow of the church.
+
+The elections were about to take place.  The church party was shaking in
+its shoes in Martinville.
+
+One morning the cure set out for Rouen, telling his servant that he was
+going to see the archbishop.  He returned in two days with a joyous,
+triumphant air.  And everyone knew the following day that the chancel of
+the church was going to be renovated.  A sum of six hundred francs had
+been contributed by the archbishop out of his private fund.  All the old
+pine pews were to be removed, and replaced by new pews made of oak.  It
+would be a big carpentering job, and they talked about it that very
+evening in all the houses in the village.
+
+Theodule Sabot was not laughing.
+
+When he went through the village the following morning, the neighbors,
+friends and enemies, all asked him, jokingly:
+
+"Are you going to do the work on the chancel of the church?"
+
+He could find nothing to say, but he was furious, he was good and angry.
+
+Ill-natured people added:
+
+"It is a good piece of work; and will bring in not less than two or three
+per cent. profit."
+
+Two days later, they heard that the work of renovation had been entrusted
+to Celestin Chambrelan, the carpenter from Percheville.  Then this was
+denied, and it was said that all the pews in the church were going to be
+changed.  That would be well worth the two thousand francs that had been
+demanded of the church administration.
+
+Theodule Sabot could not sleep for thinking about it.  Never, in all the
+memory of man, had a country carpenter undertaken a similar piece of
+work.  Then a rumor spread abroad that the cure felt very grieved that he
+had to give this work to a carpenter who was a stranger in the community,
+but that Sabot's opinions were a barrier to his being entrusted with the
+job.
+
+Sabot knew it well.  He called at the parsonage just as it was growing
+dark.  The servant told him that the cure was at church.  He went to the
+church.
+
+Two attendants on the altar of the Virgin, two soar old maids, were
+decorating the altar for the month of Mary, under the direction of the
+priest, who stood in the middle of the chancel with his portly paunch,
+directing the two women who, mounted on chairs, were placing flowers
+around the tabernacle.
+
+Sabot felt ill at ease in there, as though he were in the house of his
+greatest enemy, but the greed of gain was gnawing at his heart.  He drew
+nearer, holding his cap in his hand, and not paying any attention to the
+"demoiselles de la Vierge," who remained standing startled, astonished,
+motionless on their chairs.
+
+He faltered:
+
+"Good morning, monsieur le cure."
+
+The priest replied without looking at him, all occupied as he was with
+the altar:
+
+"Good morning, Mr. Carpenter.'
+
+Sabot, nonplussed, knew not what to say next.  But after a pause he
+remarked:
+
+"You are making preparations?"
+
+Abbe Maritime replied:
+
+"Yes, we are near the month of Mary."
+
+"Why, why," remarked Sabot and then was silent.  He would have liked to
+retire now without saying anything, but a glance at the chancel held him
+back.  He saw sixteen seats that had to be remade, six to the right and
+eight to the left, the door of the sacristy occupying the place of two.
+Sixteen oak seats, that would be worth at most three hundred francs, and
+by figuring carefully one might certainly make two hundred francs on the
+work if one were not clumsy.
+
+Then he stammered out:
+
+"I have come about the work."
+
+The cure appeared surprised.  He asked:
+
+"What work?"
+
+"The work to be done," murmured Sabot, in dismay.
+
+Then the priest turned round and looking him straight in the eyes, said:
+
+"Do you mean the repairs in the chancel of my church?"
+
+At the tone of the abbe, Theodule Sabot felt a chill run down his back
+and he once more had a longing to take to his heels.  However, he replied
+humbly:
+
+"Why, yes, monsieur le cure."
+
+Then the abbe folded his arms across his large stomach and, as if filled
+with amazement, said:
+
+"Is it you--you--you, Sabot--who have come to ask me for this .  .  .
+You--the only irreligious man in my parish!  Why, it would be a scandal,
+a public scandal!  The archbishop would give me a reprimand, perhaps
+transfer me."
+
+He stopped a few seconds, for breath, and then resumed in a calmer tone:
+"I can understand that it pains you to see a work of such importance
+entrusted to a carpenter from a neighboring parish.  But I cannot do
+otherwise, unless--but no--it is impossible--you would not consent, and
+unless you did, never."
+
+Sabot now looked at the row of benches in line as far as the entrance
+door.  Christopher, if they were going to change all those!
+
+And he asked:
+
+"What would you require of me?  Tell me."
+
+The priest, in a firm tone replied:
+
+"I must have an extraordinary token of your good intentions."
+
+"I do not say--I do not say; perhaps we might come to an understanding,"
+faltered Sabot.
+
+"You will have to take communion publicly at high mass next Sunday,"
+declared the cure.
+
+The carpenter felt he was growing pale, and without replying, he asked:
+
+"And the benches, are they going to be renovated?"
+
+The abbe replied with confidence:
+
+"Yes, but later on."
+
+Sabot resumed:
+
+"I do not say, I do not say.  I am not calling it off, I am consenting to
+religion, for sure.  But what rubs me the wrong way is, putting it in
+practice; but in this case I will not be refractory."
+
+The attendants of the Virgin, having got off their chairs had concealed
+themselves behind the altar; and they listened pale with emotion.
+
+The cure, seeing he had gained the victory, became all at once very
+friendly, quite familiar.
+
+"That is good, that is good.  That was wisely said, and not stupid, you
+understand.  You will see, you will see."
+
+Sabot smiled and asked with an awkward air:
+
+"Would it not be possible to put off this communion just a trifle?"
+
+But the priest replied, resuming his severe expression:
+
+"From the moment that the work is put into your hands, I want to be
+assured of your conversion."
+
+Then he continued more gently:
+
+"You will come to confession to-morrow; for I must examine you at least
+twice."
+
+"Twice?" repeated Sabot.
+
+"Yes."
+
+The priest smiled.
+
+"You understand perfectly that you must have a general cleaning up,
+a thorough cleansing.  So I will expect you to-morrow."
+
+The carpenter, much agitated, asked:
+
+"Where do you do that?"
+
+"Why--in the confessional."
+
+"In--that box, over there in the corner?  The fact is--is--that it does
+not suit me, your box."
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"Seeing that--seeing that I am not accustomed to that, and also I am
+rather hard of hearing."
+
+The cure was very affable and said.:
+
+"Well, then!  you shall come to my house and into my parlor.  We will
+have it just the two of us, tete-a-tete.  Does that suit you?"
+
+"Yes, that is all right, that will suit me, but your box, no."
+
+"Well, then, to-morrow after the days work, at six o'clock."
+
+"That is understood, that is all right, that is agreed on.  To-morrow,
+monsieur le cure.  Whoever draws back is a skunk!"
+
+And he held out his great rough hand which the priest grasped heartily
+with a clap that resounded through the church.
+
+Theodule Sabot was not easy in his mind all the following day.  He had a
+feeling analogous to the apprehension one experiences when a tooth has to
+be drawn.  The thought recurred to him at every moment: "I must go to
+confession this evening."  And his troubled mind, the mind of an atheist
+only half convinced, was bewildered with a confused and overwhelming
+dread of the divine mystery.
+
+As soon as he had finished his work, he betook himself to the parsonage.
+The cure was waiting for him in the garden, reading his breviary as he
+walked along a little path.  He appeared radiant and greeted him with a
+good-natured laugh.
+
+"Well, here we are!  Come in, come in, Monsieur Sabot, no one will eat
+you."
+
+And Sabot preceded him into the house.  He faltered:
+
+"If you do not mind I should like to get through with this little matter
+at once."
+
+The cure replied:
+
+"I am at your service.  I have my surplice here.  One minute and I will
+listen to you."
+
+The carpenter, so disturbed that he had not two ideas in his head,
+watched him as he put on the white vestment with its pleated folds.
+The priest beckoned to him and said:
+
+"Kneel down on this cushion."
+
+Sabot remained standing, ashamed of having to kneel.  He stuttered:
+
+"Is it necessary?"
+
+But the abbe had become dignified.
+
+"You cannot approach the penitent bench except on your knees."
+
+And Sabot knelt down.
+
+"Repeat the confiteor," said the priest.
+
+"What is that?" asked Sabot.
+
+"The confiteor.  If you do not remember it, repeat after me, one by one,
+the words I am going to say."  And the cure repeated the sacred prayer,
+in a slow tone, emphasizing the words which the carpenter repeated after
+him.  Then he said:
+
+"Now make your confession."
+
+But Sabot was silent, not knowing where to begin.  The abbe then came to
+his aid.
+
+"My child, I will ask you questions, since you don't seem familiar with
+these things.  We will take, one by one, the commandments of God.  Listen
+to me and do not be disturbed.  Speak very frankly and never fear that
+you may say too much.
+
+     "'One God alone, thou shalt adore,
+     And love him perfectly.'
+
+Have you ever loved anything, or anybody, as well as you loved God?  Have
+you loved him with all your soul, all your heart, all the strength of
+your love?"
+
+Sabot was perspiring with the effort of thinking.  He replied:
+
+"No.  Oh, no, m'sieu le cure.  I love God as much as I can.  That is--
+yes--I love him very much.  To say that I do not love my children,
+no--I cannot say that.  To say that if I had to choose between them and
+God, I could not be sure.  To say that if I had to lose a hundred francs
+for the love of God, I could not say about that.  But I love him well,
+for sure, I love him all the same."  The priest said gravely "You must
+love Him more than all besides."  And Sabot, meaning well, declared "I
+will do what I possibly can, m'sieu le cure."  The abbe resumed:
+
+     "'God's name in vain thou shalt not take
+     Nor swear by any other thing.'
+
+Did you ever swear?"
+
+"No-oh, that, no!  I never swear, never.  Sometimes, in a moment of
+anger, I may say sacre nom de Dieu!  But then, I never swear."
+
+"That is swearing," cried the priest, and added seriously:
+
+"Do not do it again.
+
+     'Thy Sundays thou shalt keep
+     In serving God devoutly.'
+
+What do you do on Sunday?"
+
+This time Sabot scratched his ear.
+
+"Why, I serve God as best I can, m'sieu le cure.  I serve him--at home.
+I work on Sunday."
+
+The cure interrupted him, saying magnanimously:
+
+"I know, you will do better in future.  I will pass over the following
+commandments, certain that you have not transgressed the two first.  We
+will take from the sixth to the ninth.  I will resume:
+
+     "'Others' goods thou shalt not take
+     Nor keep what is not thine.'
+
+Have you ever taken in any way what belonged to another?"
+
+But Theodule Sabot became indignant.
+
+"Of course not, of course not!  I am an honest man, m'sieu le cure, I
+swear it, for sure.  To say that I have not sometimes charged for a few
+more hours of work to customers who had means, I could not say that.
+To say that I never add a few centimes to bills, only a few, I would not
+say that.  But to steal, no!  Oh, not that, no!"
+
+The priest resumed severely:
+
+"To take one single centime constitutes a theft.  Do not do it again.
+
+     'False witness thou shalt not bear,
+     Nor lie in any way.'
+
+Have you ever told a lie?"
+
+"No, as to that, no.  I am not a liar.  That is my quality.  To say that
+I have never told a big story, I would not like to say that.  To say that
+I have never made people believe things that were not true when it was to
+my own interest, I would not like to say that.  But as for lying, I am
+not a liar."
+
+The priest simply said:
+
+"Watch yourself more closely."  Then he continued:
+
+     "'The works of the flesh thou shalt not desire
+     Except in marriage only.'
+
+Did you ever desire, or live with, any other woman than your wife?"
+
+Sabot exclaimed with sincerity:
+
+"As to that, no; oh, as to that, no, m'sieu le Cure.  My poor wife,
+deceive her!  No, no!  Not so much as the tip of a finger, either in
+thought or in act.  That is the truth."
+
+They were silent a few seconds, then, in a lower tone, as though a doubt
+had arisen in his mind, he resumed:
+
+"When I go to town, to say that I never go into a house, you know, one of
+the licensed houses, just to laugh and talk and see something different,
+I could not say that.  But I always pay, monsieur le cure, I always pay.
+From the moment you pay, without anyone seeing or knowing you, no one can
+get you into trouble."
+
+The cure did not insist, and gave him absolution.
+
+Theodule Sabot did the work on the chancel, and goes to communion every
+month.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE WRONG HOUSE
+
+Quartermaster Varajou had obtained a week's leave to go and visit his
+sister, Madame Padoie.  Varajou, who was in garrison at Rennes and was
+leading a pretty gay life, finding himself high and dry, wrote to his
+sister saying that he would devote a week to her.  It was not that he
+cared particularly for Mme. Padoie, a little moralist, a devotee, and
+always cross; but he needed money, needed it very badly, and he
+remembered that, of all his relations, the Padoies were the only ones
+whom he had never approached on the subject.
+
+Pere Varajou, formerly a horticulturist at Angers, but now retired from
+business, had closed his purse strings to his scapegrace son and had
+hardly seen him for two years.  His daughter had married Padoie, a former
+treasury clerk, who had just been appointed tax collector at Vannes.
+
+Varajou, on leaving the train, had some one direct him to the house of
+his brother-in-law, whom he found in his office arguing with the Breton
+peasants of the neighborhood.  Padoie rose from his seat, held out his
+hand across the table littered with papers, murmured, "Take a chair.  I
+will be at liberty in a moment," sat down again and resumed his
+discussion.
+
+The peasants did not understand his explanations, the collector did not
+understand their line of argument.  He spoke French, they spoke Breton,
+and the clerk who acted as interpreter appeared not to understand either.
+
+It lasted a long time, a very long lime.  Varajou looked at his brother-
+in-law and thought: "What a fool!"  Padoie must have been almost fifty.
+He was tall, thin, bony, slow, hairy, with heavy arched eyebrows.  He
+wore a velvet skull cap with a gold cord vandyke design round it.  His
+look was gentle, like his actions.  His speech, his gestures, his
+thoughts, all were soft.  Varajou said to himself, "What a fool!"
+
+He, himself, was one of those noisy roysterers for whom the greatest
+pleasures in life are the cafe and abandoned women.  He understood
+nothing outside of these conditions of existence.
+
+A boisterous braggart, filled with contempt for the rest of the world, he
+despised the entire universe from the height of his ignorance.  When he
+said: "Nom d'un chien, what a spree!" he expressed the highest degree of
+admiration of which his mind was capable.
+
+Having finally got rid of his peasants, Padoie inquired:
+
+"How are you?"
+
+"Pretty well, as you see.  And how are you?"
+
+"Quite well, thank you.  It is very kind of you to have thought of coming
+to see us."
+
+"Oh, I have been thinking of it for some time; but, you know, in the
+military profession one has not much freedom."
+
+"Oh, I know, I know.  All the same, it is very kind of you."
+
+"And Josephine, is she well?"
+
+"Yes, yes, thank you; you will see her presently."  "Where is she?"
+
+"She is making some calls.  We have a great many friends here; it is a
+very nice town."
+
+"I thought so."
+
+The door opened and Mme. Padoie appeared.  She went over to her brother
+without any eagerness, held her cheek for him to kiss, and asked:
+
+"Have you been here long?"
+
+"No, hardly half an hour."
+
+"Oh, I thought the train would be late.  Will you come into the parlor?"
+
+They went into the adjoining room, leaving Padoie to his accounts and his
+taxpayers.  As soon as they were alone, she said:
+
+"I have heard nice things about you!"
+
+"What have you heard?"
+
+"It seems that you are behaving like a blackguard, getting drunk and
+contracting debts."
+
+He appeared very much astonished.
+
+"I!  never in the world!"
+
+"Oh, do not deny it, I know it."
+
+He attempted to defend himself, but she gave him such a lecture that he
+could say nothing more.
+
+She then resumed:
+
+"We dine at six o'clock, and you can amuse yourself until then.  I cannot
+entertain you, as I have so many things to do."
+
+When he was alone he hesitated as to whether he should sleep or take a
+walk.  He looked first at the door leading to his room and then at the
+hall door, and decided to go out.  He sauntered slowly through the quiet
+Breton town, so sleepy, so calm, so dead, on the shores of its inland bay
+that is called "le Morbihan."  He looked at the little gray houses, the
+occasional pedestrians, the empty stores, and he murmured:
+
+"Vannes is certainly not gay, not lively.  It was a sad idea, my coming
+here."
+
+He reached the harbor, the desolate harbor, walked back along a lonely,
+deserted boulevard, and got home before five o'clock.  Then he threw
+himself on his bed to sleep till dinner time.  The maid woke him,
+knocking at the door.
+
+"Dinner is ready, sir:"
+
+He went downstairs.  In the damp dining-room with the paper peeling from
+the walls near the floor, he saw a soup tureen on a round table without
+any table cloth, on which were also three melancholy soup-plates.
+
+M. and Mme. Padoie entered the room at the same time as Varajou.  They
+all sat down to table, and the husband and wife crossed themselves over
+the pit of their stomachs, after which Padoie helped the soup, a meat
+soup.  It was the day for pot-roast.
+
+After the soup, they had the beef, which was done to rags, melted,
+greasy, like pap.  The officer ate slowly, with disgust, weariness and
+rage.
+
+Mme. Padoie said to her husband:
+
+"Are you going to the judge's house this evening?"
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+"Do not stay late.  You always get so tired when you go out.  You are not
+made for society, with your poor health."
+
+She then talked about society in Vannes, of the excellent social circle
+in which the Padoies moved, thanks to their religious sentiments.
+
+A puree of potatoes and a dish of pork were next served, in honor of the
+guest.  Then some cheese, and that was all.  No coffee.
+
+When Varajou saw that he would have to spend the evening tete-a-tete with
+his sister, endure her reproaches, listen to her sermons, without even a
+glass of liqueur to help him to swallow these remonstrances, he felt that
+he could not stand the torture, and declared that he was obliged to go to
+the police station to have something attended to regarding his leave of
+absence.  And he made his escape at seven o'clock.
+
+He had scarcely reached the street before he gave himself a shake like a
+dog coming out of the water.  He muttered:
+
+"Heavens, heavens, heavens, what a galley slave's life!"
+
+And he set out to look for a cafe, the best in the town.  He found it on
+a public square, behind two gas lamps.  Inside the cafe, five or six men,
+semi-gentlemen, and not noisy, were drinking and chatting quietly,
+leaning their elbows on the small tables, while two billiard players
+walked round the green baize, where the balls were hitting each other as
+they rolled.
+
+One heard them counting:
+
+"Eighteen-nineteen.  No luck.  Oh, that's a good stroke!  Well played!
+Eleven.  You should have played on the red.  Twenty.  Froze!  Froze!
+Twelve.  Ha!  Wasn't I right?"
+
+Varajou ordered:
+
+"A demi-tasse and a small decanter of brandy, the best."  Then he sat
+down and waited for it.
+
+He was accustomed to spending his evenings off duty with his companions,
+amid noise and the smoke of pipes.  This silence, this quiet, exasperated
+him.  He began to drink; first the coffee, then the brandy, and asked for
+another decanter.  He now wanted to laugh, to shout, to sing, to fight
+some one.  He said to himself:
+
+"Gee, I am half full.  I must go and have a good time."
+
+And he thought he would go and look for some girls to amuse him.  He
+called the waiter:
+
+"Hey, waiter."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Tell me, where does one amuse oneself here?"
+
+The man looked stupid, and replied:
+
+"I do not know, sir.  Here, I suppose!"
+
+"How do you mean here?  What do you call amusing oneself, yourself?"
+
+"I do not know, sir, drinking good beer or good wine."
+
+"Ah, go away, dummy, how about the girls?"
+
+"The girls, ah! ah!"
+
+"Yes, the girls, where can one find any here?"
+
+"Girls?"
+
+"Why, yes, girls!"
+
+The boy approached and lowering his voice, said: "You want to know where
+they live?"
+
+"Why, yes, the devil!"
+
+"You take the second street to the left and then the first to the right.
+It is number fifteen."
+
+"Thank you, old man.  There is something for you."
+
+"Thank you, sir."
+
+And Varajou went out of the cafe, repeating, "Second to the left, first
+to the right, number 15."  But at the end of a few seconds he thought,
+"second to the left yes.  But on leaving the cafe must I walk to the
+right or the left?  Bah, it cannot be helped, we shall see."
+
+And he walked on, turned down the second street to the left, then the
+first to the right and looked for number 15.  It was a nice looking
+house, and one could see behind the closed blinds that the windows were
+lighted up on the first floor.  The hall door was left partly open, and a
+lamp was burning in the vestibule.  The non-commissioned officer thought
+to himself:
+
+"This looks all right."
+
+He went in and, as no one appeared, he called out:
+
+"Hallo there, hallo!"
+
+A little maid appeared and looked astonished at seeing a soldier.  He
+said:
+
+"Good-morning, my child.  Are the ladies upstairs?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"In the parlor?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"May I go up?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"The door opposite the stairs?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+He ascended the stairs, opened a door and saw sitting in a room well
+lighted up by two lamps, a chandelier, and two candelabras with candles
+in them, four ladies in evening dress, apparently expecting some one.
+
+Three of them, the younger ones, remained seated, with rather a formal
+air, on some crimson velvet chairs; while the fourth, who was about
+forty-five, was arranging some flowers in a vase.  She was very stout,
+and wore a green silk dress with low neck and short sleeves, allowing her
+red neck, covered with powder, to escape as a huge flower might from its
+corolla.
+
+The officer saluted them, saying:
+
+"Good-day, ladies."
+
+The older woman turned round, appeared surprised, but bowed.
+
+"Good-morning, sir."
+
+He sat down.  But seeing that they did not welcome him eagerly, he
+thought that possibly only commissioned officers were admitted to the
+house, and this made him uneasy.  But he said:
+
+"Bah, if one comes in, we can soon tell."
+
+He then remarked:
+
+"Are you all well?"
+
+The large lady, no doubt the mistress of the house, replied:
+
+"Very well, thank you!"
+
+He could think of nothing else to say, and they were all silent.  But at
+last, being ashamed of his bashfulness, and with an awkward laugh, he
+said:
+
+"Do not people have any amusement in this country?  I will pay for a
+bottle of wine."
+
+He had not finished his sentence when the door opened, and in walked
+Padoie dressed in a black suit.
+
+Varajou gave a shout of joy, and rising from his seat, he rushed at his
+brother-in-law, put his arms round him and waltzed him round the room,
+shouting:
+
+"Here is Padoie!  Here is Padoie!  Here is Padoie!"
+
+Then letting go of the tax collector he exclaimed as he looked him in the
+face:
+
+"Oh, oh, oh, you scamp, you scamp!  You are out for a good time, too.
+Oh, you scamp!  And my sister!  Are you tired of her, say?"
+
+As he thought of all that he might gain through this unexpected
+situation, the forced loan, the inevitable blackmail, he flung himself on
+the lounge and laughed so heartily that the piece of furniture creaked
+all over.
+
+The three young ladies, rising simultaneously, made their escape, while
+the older woman retreated to the door looking as though she were about to
+faint.
+
+And then two gentlemen appeared in evening dress, and wearing the ribbon
+of an order.  Padoie rushed up to them.
+
+"Oh, judge--he is crazy, he is crazy.  He was sent to us as a
+convalescent.  You can see that he is crazy."
+
+Varajou was sitting up now, and not being able to understand it all, he
+guessed that he had committed some monstrous folly.  Then he rose, and
+turning to his brother-in-law, said:
+
+"What house is this?"
+
+But Padoie, becoming suddenly furious, stammered out:
+
+"What house--what--what house is this?  Wretch--scoundrel--villain--what
+house, indeed?  The house of the judge--of the judge of the Supreme
+Court-of the Supreme Court--of the Supreme Court--Oh, oh--rascal!--
+rascal!--rascal!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE DIAMOND NECKLACE
+
+The girl was one of those pretty and charming young creatures who
+sometimes are born, as if by a slip of fate, into a family of clerks.
+She had no dowry, no expectations, no way of being known, understood,
+loved, married by any rich and distinguished man; so she let herself be
+married to a little clerk of the Ministry of Public Instruction.
+
+She dressed plainly because she could not dress well, but she was unhappy
+as if she had really fallen from a higher station; since with women there
+is neither caste nor rank, for beauty, grace and charm take the place of
+family and birth.  Natural ingenuity, instinct for what is elegant, a
+supple mind are their sole hierarchy, and often make of women of the
+people the equals of the very greatest ladies.
+
+Mathilde suffered ceaselessly, feeling herself born to enjoy all
+delicacies and all luxuries.  She was distressed at the poverty of her
+dwelling, at the bareness of the walls, at the shabby chairs, the
+ugliness of the curtains.  All those things, of which another woman of
+her rank would never even have been conscious, tortured her and made her
+angry.  The sight of the little Breton peasant who did her humble
+housework aroused in her despairing regrets and bewildering dreams.  She
+thought of silent antechambers hung with Oriental tapestry, illumined by
+tall bronze candelabra, and of two great footmen in knee breeches who
+sleep in the big armchairs, made drowsy by the oppressive heat of the
+stove.  She thought of long reception halls hung with ancient silk, of
+the dainty cabinets containing priceless curiosities and of the little
+coquettish perfumed reception rooms made for chatting at five o'clock
+with intimate friends, with men famous and sought after, whom all women
+envy and whose attention they all desire.
+
+When she sat down to dinner, before the round table covered with a
+tablecloth in use three days, opposite her husband, who uncovered the
+soup tureen and declared with a delighted air, "Ah, the good soup!
+I don't know anything better than that," she thought of dainty dinners,
+of shining silverware, of tapestry that peopled the walls with ancient
+personages and with strange birds flying in the midst of a fairy forest;
+and she thought of delicious dishes served on marvellous plates and of
+the whispered gallantries to which you listen with a sphinxlike smile
+while you are eating the pink meat of a trout or the wings of a quail.
+
+She had no gowns, no jewels, nothing.  And she loved nothing but that.
+She felt made for that.  She would have liked so much to please, to be
+envied, to be charming, to be sought after.
+
+She had a friend, a former schoolmate at the convent, who was rich, and
+whom she did not like to go to see any more because she felt so sad when
+she came home.
+
+But one evening her husband reached home with a triumphant air and
+holding a large envelope in his hand.
+
+"There," said he, "there is something for you."
+
+She tore the paper quickly and drew out a printed card which bore these
+words:
+
+     The Minister of Public Instruction and Madame Georges Ramponneau
+     request the honor of M. and Madame Loisel's company at the palace of
+     the Ministry on Monday evening, January 18th.
+
+Instead of being delighted, as her husband had hoped, she threw the
+invitation on the table crossly, muttering:
+
+"What do you wish me to do with that?"
+
+"Why, my dear, I thought you would be glad.  You never go out, and this
+is such a fine opportunity.  I had great trouble to get it.  Every one
+wants to go; it is very select, and they are not giving many invitations
+to clerks.  The whole official world will be there."
+
+She looked at him with an irritated glance and said impatiently:
+
+"And what do you wish me to put on my back?"
+
+He had not thought of that.  He stammered:
+
+"Why, the gown you go to the theatre in.  It looks very well to me."
+
+He stopped, distracted, seeing that his wife was weeping.  Two great
+tears ran slowly from the corners of her eyes toward the corners of her
+mouth.
+
+"What's the matter?  What's the matter?" he answered.
+
+By a violent effort she conquered her grief and replied in a calm voice,
+while she wiped her wet cheeks:
+
+"Nothing.  Only I have no gown, and, therefore, I can't go to this ball.
+Give your card to some colleague whose wife is better equipped than I
+am."
+
+He was in despair.  He resumed:
+
+"Come, let us see, Mathilde.  How much would it cost, a suitable gown,
+which you could use on other occasions--something very simple?"
+
+She reflected several seconds, making her calculations and wondering also
+what sum she could ask without drawing on herself an immediate refusal
+and a frightened exclamation from the economical clerk.
+
+Finally she replied hesitating:
+
+"I don't know exactly, but I think I could manage it with four hundred
+francs."
+
+He grew a little pale, because he was laying aside just that amount to
+buy a gun and treat himself to a little shooting next summer on the plain
+of Nanterre, with several friends who went to shoot larks there of a
+Sunday.
+
+But he said:
+
+"Very well.  I will give you four hundred francs.  And try to have a
+pretty gown."
+
+The day of the ball drew near and Madame Loisel seemed sad, uneasy,
+anxious.  Her frock was ready, however.  Her husband said to her one
+evening:
+
+"What is the matter?  Come, you have seemed very queer these last three
+days."
+
+And she answered:
+
+"It annoys me not to have a single piece of jewelry, not a single
+ornament, nothing to put on.  I shall look poverty-stricken.  I would
+almost rather not go at all."
+
+"You might wear natural flowers," said her husband.  "They're very
+stylish at this time of year.  For ten francs you can get two or three
+magnificent roses."
+
+She was not convinced.
+
+"No; there's nothing more humiliating than to look poor among other women
+who are rich."
+
+"How stupid you are!" her husband cried.  "Go look up your friend, Madame
+Forestier, and ask her to lend you some jewels.  You're intimate enough
+with her to do that."
+
+She uttered a cry of joy:
+
+"True!  I never thought of it."
+
+The next day she went to her friend and told her of her distress.
+
+Madame Forestier went to a wardrobe with a mirror, took out a large jewel
+box, brought it back, opened it and said to Madame Loisel:
+
+"Choose, my dear."
+
+She saw first some bracelets, then a pearl necklace, then a Venetian gold
+cross set with precious stones, of admirable workmanship.  She tried on
+the ornaments before the mirror, hesitated and could not make up her mind
+to part with them, to give them back.  She kept asking:
+
+"Haven't you any more?"
+
+"Why, yes.  Look further; I don't know what you like."
+
+Suddenly she discovered, in a black satin box, a superb diamond necklace,
+and her heart throbbed with an immoderate desire.  Her hands trembled as
+she took it.  She fastened it round her throat, outside her high-necked
+waist, and was lost in ecstasy at her reflection in the mirror.
+
+Then she asked, hesitating, filled with anxious doubt:
+
+"Will you lend me this, only this?"
+
+"Why, yes, certainly."
+
+She threw her arms round her friend's neck, kissed her passionately, then
+fled with her treasure.
+
+The night of the ball arrived.  Madame Loisel was a great success.  She
+was prettier than any other woman present, elegant, graceful, smiling and
+wild with joy.  All the men looked at her, asked her name, sought to be
+introduced.  All the attaches of the Cabinet wished to waltz with her.
+She was remarked by the minister himself.
+
+She danced with rapture, with passion, intoxicated by pleasure,
+forgetting all in the triumph of her beauty, in the glory of her success,
+in a sort of cloud of happiness comprised of all this homage, admiration,
+these awakened desires and of that sense of triumph which is so sweet to
+woman's heart.
+
+She left the ball about four o'clock in the morning.  Her husband had
+been sleeping since midnight in a little deserted anteroom with three
+other gentlemen whose wives were enjoying the ball.
+
+He threw over her shoulders the wraps he had brought, the modest wraps of
+common life, the poverty of which contrasted with the elegance of the
+ball dress.  She felt this and wished to escape so as not to be remarked
+by the other women, who were enveloping themselves in costly furs.
+
+Loisel held her back, saying: "Wait a bit.  You will catch cold outside.
+I will call a cab."
+
+But she did not listen to him and rapidly descended the stairs.  When
+they reached the street they could not find a carriage and began to look
+for one, shouting after the cabmen passing at a distance.
+
+They went toward the Seine in despair, shivering with cold.  At last they
+found on the quay one of those ancient night cabs which, as though they
+were ashamed to show their shabbiness during the day, are never seen
+round Paris until after dark.
+
+It took them to their dwelling in the Rue des Martyrs, and sadly they
+mounted the stairs to their flat.  All was ended for her.  As to him, he
+reflected that he must be at the ministry at ten o'clock that morning.
+
+She removed her wraps before the glass so as to see herself once more in
+all her glory.  But suddenly she uttered a cry.  She no longer had the
+necklace around her neck!
+
+"What is the matter with you?" demanded her husband, already half
+undressed.
+
+She turned distractedly toward him.
+
+"I have--I have--I've lost Madame Forestier's necklace," she cried.
+
+He stood up, bewildered.
+
+"What!--how?  Impossible!"
+
+They looked among the folds of her skirt, of her cloak, in her pockets,
+everywhere, but did not find it.
+
+"You're sure you had it on when you left the ball?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, I felt it in the vestibule of the minister's house."
+
+"But if you had lost it in the street we should have heard it fall.  It
+must be in the cab."
+
+"Yes, probably.  Did you take his number?"
+
+"No.  And you--didn't you notice it?"
+
+"No."
+
+They looked, thunderstruck, at each other.  At last Loisel put on his
+clothes.
+
+"I shall go back on foot," said he, "over the whole route, to see whether
+I can find it."
+
+He went out.  She sat waiting on a chair in her ball dress, without
+strength to go to bed, overwhelmed, without any fire, without a thought.
+
+Her husband returned about seven o'clock.  He had found nothing.
+
+He went to police headquarters, to the newspaper offices to offer a
+reward; he went to the cab companies--everywhere, in fact, whither he was
+urged by the least spark of hope.
+
+She waited all day, in the same condition of mad fear before this
+terrible calamity.
+
+Loisel returned at night with a hollow, pale face.  He had discovered
+nothing.
+
+"You must write to your friend," said he, "that you have broken the clasp
+of her necklace and that you are having it mended.  That will give us
+time to turn round."
+
+She wrote at his dictation.
+
+At the end of a week they had lost all hope.  Loisel, who had aged five
+years, declared:
+
+"We must consider how to replace that ornament."
+
+The next day they took the box that had contained it and went to the
+jeweler whose name was found within.  He consulted his books.
+
+"It was not I, madame, who sold that necklace; I must simply have
+furnished the case."
+
+Then they went from jeweler to jeweler, searching for a necklace like the
+other, trying to recall it, both sick with chagrin and grief.
+
+They found, in a shop at the Palais Royal, a string of diamonds that
+seemed to them exactly like the one they had lost.  It was worth forty
+thousand francs.  They could have it for thirty-six.
+
+So they begged the jeweler not to sell it for three days yet.  And they
+made a bargain that he should buy it back for thirty-four thousand
+francs, in case they should find the lost necklace before the end of
+February.
+
+Loisel possessed eighteen thousand francs which his father had left him.
+He would borrow the rest.
+
+He did borrow, asking a thousand francs of one, five hundred of another,
+five louis here, three louis there.  He gave notes, took up ruinous
+obligations, dealt with usurers and all the race of lenders.  He
+compromised all the rest of his life, risked signing a note without even
+knowing whether he could meet it; and, frightened by the trouble yet to
+come, by the black misery that was about to fall upon him, by the
+prospect of all the physical privations and moral tortures that he was to
+suffer, he went to get the new necklace, laying upon the jeweler's
+counter thirty-six thousand francs.
+
+When Madame Loisel took back the necklace Madame Forestier said to her
+with a chilly manner:
+
+"You should have returned it sooner; I might have needed it."
+
+She did not open the case, as her friend had so much feared.  If she had
+detected the substitution, what would she have thought, what would she
+have said?  Would she not have taken Madame Loisel for a thief?
+
+Thereafter Madame Loisel knew the horrible existence of the needy.  She
+bore her part, however, with sudden heroism.  That dreadful debt must be
+paid.  She would pay it.  They dismissed their servant; they changed
+their lodgings; they rented a garret under the roof.
+
+She came to know what heavy housework meant and the odious cares of the
+kitchen.  She washed the dishes, using her dainty fingers and rosy nails
+on greasy pots and pans.  She washed the soiled linen, the shirts and the
+dishcloths, which she dried upon a line; she carried the slops down to
+the street every morning and carried up the water, stopping for breath at
+every landing.  And dressed like a woman of the people, she went to the
+fruiterer, the grocer, the butcher, a basket on her arm, bargaining,
+meeting with impertinence, defending her miserable money, sou by sou.
+
+Every month they had to meet some notes, renew others, obtain more time.
+
+Her husband worked evenings, making up a tradesman's accounts, and late
+at night he often copied manuscript for five sous a page.
+
+This life lasted ten years.
+
+At the end of ten years they had paid everything, everything, with the
+rates of usury and the accumulations of the compound interest.
+
+Madame Loisel looked old now.  She had become the woman of impoverished
+households--strong and hard and rough.  With frowsy hair, skirts askew
+and red hands, she talked loud while washing the floor with great swishes
+of water.  But sometimes, when her husband was at the office, she sat
+down near the window and she thought of that gay evening of long ago, of
+that ball where she had been so beautiful and so admired.
+
+What would have happened if she had not lost that necklace?  Who knows?
+who knows?  How strange and changeful is life!  How small a thing is
+needed to make or ruin us!
+
+But one Sunday, having gone to take a walk in the Champs Elysees to
+refresh herself after the labors of the week, she suddenly perceived a
+woman who was leading a child.  It was Madame Forestier, still young,
+still beautiful, still charming.
+
+Madame Loisel felt moved.  Should she speak to her?  Yes, certainly.  And
+now that she had paid, she would tell her all about it.  Why not?
+
+She went up.
+
+"Good-day, Jeanne."
+
+The other, astonished to be familiarly addressed by this plain good-wife,
+did not recognize her at all and stammered:
+
+"But--madame!--I do not know---- You must have mistaken."
+
+"No.  I am Mathilde Loisel."
+
+Her friend uttered a cry.
+
+"Oh, my poor Mathilde!  How you are changed!"
+
+"Yes, I have had a pretty hard life, since I last saw you, and great
+poverty--and that because of you!"
+
+"Of me!  How so?"
+
+"Do you remember that diamond necklace you lent me to wear at the
+ministerial ball?"
+
+"Yes.  Well?"
+
+"Well, I lost it."
+
+"What do you mean?  You brought it back."
+
+"I brought you back another exactly like it.  And it has taken us ten
+years to pay for it.  You can understand that it was not easy for us, for
+us who had nothing.  At last it is ended, and I am very glad."
+
+Madame Forestier had stopped.
+
+"You say that you bought a necklace of diamonds to replace mine?"
+
+"Yes.  You never noticed it, then!  They were very similar."
+
+And she smiled with a joy that was at once proud and ingenuous.
+
+Madame Forestier, deeply moved, took her hands.
+
+"Oh, my poor Mathilde!  Why, my necklace was paste!  It was worth at most
+only five hundred francs!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE MARQUIS DE FUMEROL
+
+Roger de Tourneville was whiffing a cigar and blowing out small clouds of
+smoke every now and then, as he sat astride a chair amid a party of
+friends.  He was talking.
+
+"We were at dinner when a letter was brought in which my father opened.
+You know my father, who thinks that he is king of France ad interim.
+I call him Don Quixote, because for twelve years he has been running a
+tilt against the windmill of the Republic, without quite knowing whether
+it was in the cause of the Bourbons or the Orleanists.  At present he is
+bearing the lance in the cause of the Orleanists alone, because there is
+no one else left.  In any case, he thinks himself the first gentleman of
+France, the best known, the most influential, the head of the party; and
+as he is an irremovable senator, he thinks that the thrones of the
+neighboring kings are very insecure.
+
+"As for my mother, she is my father's soul, she is the soul of the
+kingdom and of religion, and the scourge of all evil-thinkers.
+
+"Well, a letter was brought in while we were at dinner, and my father
+opened and read it, and then he said to mother: 'Your brother is dying.'
+She grew very pale.  My uncle was scarcely ever mentioned in the house,
+and I did not know him at all; all I knew from public talk was, that he
+had led, and was still leading, a gay life.  After having spent his
+fortune in fast living, he was now in small apartments in the Rue des
+Martyrs.
+
+"An ancient peer of France and former colonel of cavalry, it was said
+that he believed in neither God nor devil.  Not believing, therefore, in
+a future life he had abused the present life in every way, and had become
+a live wound in my mother's heart.
+
+"'Give me that letter, Paul,' she said, and when she read it, I asked for
+it in my turn.  Here it is:
+
+     Monsieur le Comte, I think I ought to let you know that your
+     brother-in-law, the Comte Fumerol, is going to die.  Perhaps you
+     would like to make some arrangements, and do not forget I told you.
+     Your servant,
+                                             MELANIE.
+
+"'We must take counsel,' papa murmured.  'In my position, I ought to
+watch over your brother's last moments.'
+
+"Mamma continued: 'I will send for Abbe Poivron and ask his advice, and
+then I will go to my brother with the abbe and Roger.  Remain here, Paul,
+for you must not compromise yourself; but a woman can, and ought to do
+these things.  For a politician in your position, it is another matter.
+It would be a fine thing for one of your opponents to be able to bring
+one of your most laudable actions up against you.' 'You are right,' my
+father said.  'Do as you think best, my dear wife.'
+
+"A quarter of an hour, later, the Abbe Poivron came into the drawing-
+room, and the situation was explained to him, analyzed and discussed in
+all its bearings.  If the Marquis de Fumerol, one of the greatest names
+in France, were to die without the ministrations of religion, it would
+assuredly be a terrible blow to the nobility in general, and to the Count
+de Tourneville in particular, and the freethinkers would be triumphant.
+The liberal newspapers would sing songs of victory for six months; my
+mother's name would be dragged through the mire and brought into the
+prose of Socialistic journals, and my father's name would be smirched.
+It was impossible that such a thing should be.
+
+"A crusade was therefore immediately decided upon, which was to be led by
+the Abbe Poivron, a little, fat, clean, priest with a faint perfume about
+him, a true vicar of a large church in a noble and rich quarter.
+
+"The landau was ordered and we all three set out, my mother, the cure and
+I, to administer the last sacraments to my uncle.
+
+"It had been decided first of all we should see Madame Melanie who had
+written the letter, and who was most likely the porter's wife, or my
+uncle's servant, and I dismounted, as an advance guard, in front of a
+seven-story house and went into a dark passage, where I had great
+difficulty in finding the porter's den.  He looked at me distrustfully,
+and I said:
+
+"'Madame Melanie, if you please.' 'Don't know her!'  'But I have received
+a letter from her.' 'That may be, but I don't know her.  Are you asking
+for a lodger?' 'No, a servant probably.  She wrote me about a place.'
+'A servant?--a servant?  Perhaps it is the marquis'.  Go and see, the
+fifth story on the left.'
+
+"As soon as he found I was not asking for a doubtful character he became
+more friendly and came as far as the corridor with me.  He was a tall,
+thin man with white whiskers, the manners of a beadle and majestic
+gestures.
+
+"I climbed up a long spiral staircase, the railing of which I did not
+venture to touch, and I gave three discreet knocks at the left-hand door
+on the fifth story.  It opened immediately, and an enormous dirty woman
+appeared before me.  She barred the entrance with her extended arms which
+she placed against the two doorposts, and growled:
+
+"'What do you want?'  'Are you Madame Melanie?'  'Yes.'  'I am the
+Visconte de Tourneville.'  'Ah!  All right!  Come in.'  'Well, the fact
+is, my mother is downstairs with a priest.'  'Oh!  All right; go and
+bring them up; but be careful of the porter.'
+
+"I went downstairs and came up again with my mother, who was followed by
+the abbe, and I fancied that I heard other footsteps behind us.  As soon
+as we were in the kitchen, Melanie offered us chairs, and we all four sat
+down to deliberate.
+
+"'Is he very ill?' my mother asked.  'Oh!  yes, madame; he will not be
+here long.'  'Does he seem disposed to receive a visit from a priest?'
+'Oh!  I do not think so.'  'Can I see him?'  'Well--yes madame--only--
+only--those young ladies are with him.'  'What young ladies?'  'Why--why
+--his lady friends, of course.'  'Oh!' Mamma had grown scarlet, and the
+Abbe Poivron had lowered his eyes.
+
+"The affair began to amuse me, and I said: 'Suppose I go in first?  I
+shall see how he receives me, and perhaps I shall be able to prepare him
+to receive you.'
+
+"My mother, who did not suspect any trick, replied: 'Yes, go, my dear.'
+But a woman's voice cried out: 'Melanie!'
+
+"The servant ran out and said: 'What do you want, Mademoiselle Claire?'
+'The omelette; quickly.'  'In a minute, mademoiselle.'  And coming back
+to us, she explained this summons.
+
+"They had ordered a cheese omelette at two o'clock as a slight collation.
+And she at once began to break the eggs into a salad bowl, and to whip
+them vigorously, while I went out on the landing and pulled the bell, so
+as to formally announce my arrival.  Melanie opened the door to me, and
+made me sit down in an ante-room, while she went to tell my uncle that I
+had come; then she came back and asked me to go in, while the abbe hid
+behind the door, so that he might appear at the first signal.
+
+"I was certainly very much surprised at the sight of my uncle, for he was
+very handsome, very solemn and very elegant, the old rake.
+
+"Sitting, almost lying, in a large armchair, his legs wrapped in
+blankets, his hands, his long, white hands, over the arms of the chair,
+he was waiting for death with the dignity of a patriarch.  His white
+beard fell on his chest, and his hair, which was also white, mingled with
+it on his cheeks.
+
+"Standing behind his armchair, as if to defend him against me, were two
+young women, who looked at me with bold eyes.  In their petticoats and
+morning wrappers, with bare arms, with coal black hair twisted in a knot
+on the nape of their neck, with embroidered, Oriental slippers, which
+showed their ankles and silk stockings, they looked like the figures in
+some symbolical painting, by the side of the dying man.  Between the
+easy-chair and the bed, there was a table covered with a white cloth, on
+which two plates, two glasses, two forks and two knives, were waiting for
+the cheese omelette which had been ordered some time before of Melanie.
+
+"My uncle said in a weak, almost breathless, but clear voice:
+
+'Good-morning, my child; it is rather late in the day to come and see me;
+our acquaintanceship will not last long.'  I stammered out, 'It was not
+my fault, uncle:' 'No; I know that,' he replied. 'It is your father and
+mother's fault more than yours. How are they?' 'Pretty well, thank you.
+When they heard that you were ill, they sent me to ask after you.'
+'Ah! Why did they not come themselves?'
+
+"I looked up at the two girls and said gently: 'It is not their fault if
+they could not come, uncle.  But it would be difficult for my father, and
+impossible for my mother to come in here.'  The old man did not reply,
+but raised his hand toward mine, and I took the pale, cold hand and held
+it in my own.
+
+"The door opened, Melanie came in with the omelette and put it on the
+table, and the two girls immediately sat down at the table, and began to
+eat without taking their eyes off me.  Then I said: 'Uncle, it would give
+great pleasure to my mother to embrace you.'  'I also,' he murmured,
+'should like----'  He said no more, and I could think of nothing to
+propose to him, and there was silence except for the noise of the plates
+and that vague sound of eating.
+
+"Now, the abbe, who was listening behind the door, seeing our
+embarrassment, and thinking we had won the game, thought the time had
+come to interpose, and showed himself.  My uncle was so stupefied at
+sight of him that at first he remained motionless; and then he opened his
+mouth as if he meant to swallow up the priest, and shouted to him in a
+strong, deep, furious voice: 'What are you doing here?'
+
+"The abbe, who was used to difficult situations, came forward into the
+room, murmuring: 'I have come in your sister's name, Monsieur le Marquis;
+she has sent me.  She would be happy, monsieur--'
+
+"But the marquis was not listening.  Raising one hand, he pointed to the
+door with a proud, tragic gesture, and said angrily and breathing hard:
+'Leave this room--go out--robber of souls.  Go out from here, you
+violator of consciences.  Go out from here, you pick-lock of dying men's
+doors!'
+
+"The abbe retreated, and I also went to the door, beating a retreat with
+the priest; the two young women, who had the best of it, got up, leaving
+their omelette only half eaten, and went and stood on either side of my
+uncle's easy-chair, putting their hands on his arms to calm him, and to
+protect him against the criminal enterprises of the Family, and of
+Religion.
+
+"The abbe and I rejoined my mother in the kitchen, and Melanie again
+offered us chairs.  'I knew quite well that this method would not work;
+we must try some other means, otherwise he will escape us.'  And they
+began deliberating afresh, my mother being of one opinion and the abbe of
+another, while I held a third.
+
+"We had been discussing the matter in a low voice for half an hour,
+perhaps, when a great noise of furniture being moved and of cries uttered
+by my uncle, more vehement and terrible even than the former had been,
+made us all four jump up.
+
+"Through the doors and walls we could hear him shouting: 'Go out--out--
+rascals--humbugs, get out, scoundrels--get out--get out!'
+
+"Melanie rushed in, but came back immediately to call me to help her, and
+I hastened in.  Opposite to my uncle, who was terribly excited by anger,
+almost standing up and vociferating, stood two men, one behind the other,
+who seemed to be waiting till he should be dead with rage.
+
+"By his ridiculous long coat, his long English shoes, his manners of a
+tutor out of a position, his high collar, white necktie and straight
+hair, his humble face of a false priest of a bastard religion, I
+immediately recognized the first as a Protestant minister.
+
+"The second was the porter of the house, who belonged to the reformed
+religion and had followed us, and having seen our defeat, had gone to
+fetch his own pastor, in hopes that he might meet a better reception.
+My uncle seemed mad with rage!  If the sight of the Catholic priest, of
+the priest of his ancestors, had irritated the Marquis de Fumerol, who
+had become a freethinker, the sight of his porter's minister made him
+altogether beside himself.  I therefore took the two men by the arm and
+threw them out of the room so roughly that they bumped against each other
+twice, between the two doors which led to the staircase; and then I
+disappeared in my turn and returned to the kitchen, which was our
+headquarters in order to take counsel with my mother and the abbe.
+
+"But Melanie came back in terror, sobbing out:
+
+'He is dying--he is dying--come immediately--he is dying.'
+
+"My mother rushed out.  My uncle had fallen to the ground, and lay full
+length along the floor, without moving.  I fancy he was already dead.
+My mother was superb at that moment!  She went straight up to the two
+girls who were kneeling by the body and trying to raise it up, and
+pointing to the door with irresistible authority, dignity and majesty,
+she said: 'Now it is time for you to leave the room.'
+
+"And they went out without a word of protest.  I must add, that I was
+getting ready to turn them out as unceremoniously as I had done the
+parson and the porter.
+
+"Then the Abbe Poivron administered the last sacraments to my uncle with
+all the customary prayers, and remitted all his sins, while my mother
+sobbed as she knelt near her brother.  Suddenly, however, she exclaimed:
+'He recognized me; he pressed my hand; I am sure he recognized me!!!--and
+that he thanked me!  Oh, God, what happiness!'
+
+"Poor mamma!  If she had known or guessed for whom those thanks were
+intended!
+
+"They laid my uncle on his bed; he was certainly dead this time.
+
+"'Madame,' Melanie said, 'we have no sheets to bury him in; all the linen
+belongs to these two young ladies,' and when I looked at the omelette
+which they had not finished, I felt inclined to laugh and to cry at the
+same time.  There are some humorous moments and some humorous situations
+in life, occasionally!
+
+"We gave my uncle a magnificent fungal, with five speeches at the grave.
+Baron de Croiselles, the senator, showed in admirable terms that God
+always returns victorious into well-born souls which have temporarily
+been led into error.  All the members of the Royalist and Catholic party
+followed the funeral procession with the enthusiasm of victors, as they
+spoke of that beautiful death after a somewhat troublous life."
+
+Viscount Roger ceased speaking; his audience was laughing.  Then somebody
+said: "Bah!  That is the story of all conversions in extremis."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE TRIP OF LE HORLA
+
+On the morning of July 8th I received the following telegram: "Fine day.
+Always my predictions.  Belgian frontier.  Baggage and servants left at
+noon at the social session.  Beginning of manoeuvres at three.  So I will
+wait for you at the works from five o'clock on.  Jovis."
+
+At five o'clock sharp I entered the gas works of La Villette.  It might
+have been mistaken for the colossal ruins of an old town inhabited by
+Cyclops.  There were immense dark avenues separating heavy gasometers
+standing one behind another, like monstrous columns, unequally high and,
+undoubtedly, in the past the supports of some tremendous, some fearful
+iron edifice.
+
+The balloon was lying in the courtyard and had the appearance of a cake
+made of yellow cloth, flattened on the ground under a rope.  That is
+called placing a balloon in a sweep-net, and, in fact, it appeared like
+an enormous fish.
+
+Two or three hundred people were looking at it, sitting or standing, and
+some were examining the basket, a nice little square basket for a human
+cargo, bearing on its side in gold letters on a mahogany plate the words:
+Le Horla.
+
+Suddenly the people began to stand back, for the gas was beginning to
+enter into the balloon through a long tube of yellow cloth, which lay on
+the soil, swelling and undulating like an enormous worm.  But another
+thought, another picture occurs to every mind.  It is thus that nature
+itself nourishes beings until their birth.  The creature that will rise
+soon begins to move, and the attendants of Captain Jovis, as Le Horla
+grew larger, spread and put in place the net which covers it, so that the
+pressure will be regular and equally distributed at every point.
+
+The operation is very delicate and very important, for the resistance of
+the cotton cloth of which the balloon is made is figured not in
+proportion to the contact surface of this cloth with the net, but in
+proportion to the links of the basket.
+
+Le Horla, moreover, has been designed by M. Mallet, constructed under his
+own eyes and made by himself.  Everything had been made in the shops of
+M. Jovis by his own working staff and nothing was made outside.
+
+We must add that everything was new in this balloon, from the varnish to
+the valve, those two essential parts of a balloon.  Both must render the
+cloth gas-proof, as the sides of a ship are waterproof.  The old
+varnishes, made with a base of linseed oil, sometimes fermented and thus
+burned the cloth, which in a short time would tear like a piece of paper.
+
+The valves were apt to close imperfectly after being opened and when the
+covering called "cataplasme" was injured.  The fall of M. L'Hoste in the
+open sea during the night proved the imperfection of the old system.
+
+The two discoveries of Captain Jovis, the varnish principally, are of
+inestimable value in the art of ballooning.
+
+The crowd has begun to talk, and some men, who appear to be specialists,
+affirm with authority that we shall come down before reaching the
+fortifications.  Several other things have been criticized in this novel
+type of balloon with which we are about to experiment with so much
+pleasure and success.
+
+It is growing slowly but surely.  Some small holes and scratches made in
+transit have been discovered, and we cover them and plug them with a
+little piece of paper applied on the cloth while wet.  This method of
+repairing alarms and mystifies the public.
+
+While Captain Jovis and his assistants are busy with the last details,
+the travellers go to dine in the canteen of the gas-works, according to
+the established custom.
+
+When we come out again the balloon is swaying, enormous and transparent,
+a prodigious golden fruit, a fantastic pear which is still ripening,
+covered by the last rays of the setting sun.  Now the basket is attached,
+the barometers are brought, the siren, which we will blow to our hearts'
+content, is also brought, also the two trumpets, the eatables, the
+overcoats and raincoats, all the small articles that can go with the men
+in that flying basket.
+
+As the wind pushes the balloon against the gasometers, it is necessary to
+steady it now and then, to avoid an accident at the start.
+
+Captain Jovis is now ready and calls all the passengers.
+
+Lieutenant Mallet jumps aboard, climbing first on the aerial net between
+the basket and the balloon, from which he will watch during the night the
+movements of Le Horla across the skies, as the officer on watch, standing
+on starboard, watches the course of a ship.
+
+M. Etierine Beer gets in after him, then comes M. Paul Bessand, then M.
+Patrice Eyries and I get in last.
+
+But the basket is too heavy for the balloon, considering the long trip to
+be taken, and M. Eyries has to get out, not without great regret.
+
+M. Joliet, standing erect on the edge of the basket, begs the ladies, in
+very gallant terms, to stand aside a little, for he is afraid he might
+throw sand on their hats in rising.  Then he commands:
+
+"Let it loose," and, cutting with one stroke of his knife the ropes that
+hold the balloon to the ground, he gives Le Horla its liberty.
+
+In one second we fly skyward.  Nothing can be heard; we float, we rise,
+we fly, we glide.  Our friends shout with glee and applaud, but we hardly
+hear them, we hardly see them.  We are already so far, so high!  What?
+Are we really leaving these people down there?  Is it possible?  Paris
+spreads out beneath us, a dark bluish patch, cut by its streets, from
+which rise, here and there, domes, towers, steeples, then around it the
+plain, the country, traversed by long roads, thin and white, amidst green
+fields of a tender or dark green, and woods almost black.
+
+The Seine appears like a coiled snake, asleep,  of which we see neither
+head nor tail; it crosses Paris, and the entire field resembles an
+immense basin of prairies and forests dotted here and there by mountains,
+hardly visible in the horizon.
+
+The sun, which we could no longer see down below, now reappears as though
+it were about to rise again, and our balloon seems to be lighted; it must
+appear like a star to the people who are looking up.  M. Mallet every few
+seconds throws a cigarette paper into-space and says quietly: "We are
+rising, always rising," while Captain Jovis, radiant with joy, rubs his
+hands together and repeats: "Eh?  this varnish?  Isn't it good?"
+
+In fact, we can see whether we are rising or sinking only by throwing a
+cigarette paper out of the basket now and then.  If this paper appears to
+fall down like a stone, it means that the balloon is rising; if it
+appears to shoot skyward the balloon is descending.
+
+The two barometers mark about five hundred meters, and we gaze with
+enthusiastic admiration at the earth we are leaving and to which we are
+not attached in any way; it looks like a colored map, an immense plan of
+the country.  All its noises, however, rise to our ears very distinctly,
+easily recognizable.  We hear the sound of the wheels rolling in the
+streets, the snap of a whip, the cries of drivers, the rolling and
+whistling of trains and the laughter of small boys running after one
+another.  Every time we pass over a village the noise of children's
+voices is heard above the rest and with the greatest distinctness.  Some
+men are calling us; the locomotives whistle; we answer with the siren,
+which emits plaintive, fearfully shrill wails like the voice of a weird
+being wandering through the world.
+
+We perceive lights here and there, some isolated fire in the farms, and
+lines of gas in the towns.  We are going toward the northwest, after
+roaming for some time over the little lake of Enghien.  Now we see a
+river; it is the Oise, and we begin to argue about the exact spot we are
+passing.  Is that town Creil or Pontoise--the one with so many lights?
+But if we were over Pontoise we could see the junction of the Seine and
+the Oise; and that enormous fire to the left, isn't it the blast furnaces
+of Montataire?  So then we are above Creil.  The view is superb; it is
+dark on the earth, but we are still in the light, and it is now past ten
+o'clock.  Now we begin to hear slight country noises, the double cry of
+the quail in particular, then the mewing of cats and the barking of dogs.
+Surely the dogs have scented the balloon; they have seen it and have
+given the alarm.  We can hear them barking all over the plain and making
+the identical noise they make when baying at the moon.  The cows also
+seem to wake up in the barns, for we can hear them lowing; all the beasts
+are scared and moved before the aerial monster that is passing.
+
+The delicious odors of the soil rise toward us, the smell of hay, of
+flowers, of the moist, verdant earth, perfuming the air-a light air, in
+fact, so light, so sweet, so delightful that I realize I never was so
+fortunate as to breathe before.  A profound sense of well-being, unknown
+to me heretofore, pervades me, a well-being of body and spirit, composed
+of supineness, of infinite rest, of forgetfulness, of indifference to
+everything and of this novel sensation of traversing space without any of
+the sensations that make motion unbearable, without noise, without shocks
+and without fear.
+
+At times we rise and then descend.  Every few minutes Lieutenant Mallet,
+suspended in his cobweb of netting, says to Captain Jovis : "We are
+descending; throw down half a handful."  And the captain, who is talking
+and laughing with us, with a bag of ballast between his legs, takes a
+handful of sand out of the bag and throws it overboard.
+
+Nothing is more amusing, more delicate, more interesting than the
+manoeuvring of a balloon.  It is an enormous toy, free and docile, which
+obeys with surprising sensitiveness, but it is also, and before all, the
+slave of the wind, which we cannot control.  A pinch of sand, half a
+sheet of paper, one or two drops of water, the bones of a chicken which
+we had just eaten, thrown overboard, makes it go up quickly.
+
+A breath of cool, damp air rising from the river or the wood we are
+traversing makes the balloon descend two hundred metres.  It does not
+vary when passing over fields of ripe grain, and it rises when it passes
+over towns.
+
+The earth sleeps now, or, rather, men sleep on the earth, for the beasts
+awakened by the sight of our balloon announce our approach everywhere.
+Now and then the rolling of a train or the whistling of a locomotive is
+plainly distinguishable.  We sound our siren as we pass over inhabited
+places; and the peasants, terrified in their beds, must surely tremble
+and ask themselves if the Angel Gabriel is not passing by.
+
+A strong and continuous odor of gas can be plainly observed.  We must
+have encountered a current of warm air, and the balloon expands, losing
+its invisible blood by the escape-valve, which is called the appendix,
+and which closes of itself as soon as the expansion ceases.
+
+We are rising.  The earth no longer gives back the echo of our trumpets;
+we have risen almost two thousand feet.  It is not light enough for us to
+consult the instruments; we only know that the rice paper falls from us
+like dead butterflies, that we are rising, always rising.  We can no
+longer see the earth; a light mist separates us from it; and above our
+head twinkles a world of stars.
+
+A silvery light appears before us and makes the sky turn pale, and
+suddenly, as if it were rising from unknown depths behind the horizon
+below us rises the moon on the edge of a cloud.  It seems to be coming
+from below, while we are looking down upon it from a great height,
+leaning on the edge of our basket like an audience on a balcony.  Clear
+and round, it emerges from the clouds and slowly rises in the sky.
+
+The earth no longer seems to exist, it is buried in milky vapors that
+resemble a sea.  We are now alone in space with the moon, which looks
+like another balloon travelling opposite us; and our balloon, which
+shines in the air, appears like another, larger moon, a world wandering
+in the sky amid the stars, through infinity.  We no longer speak, think
+nor live; we float along through space in delicious inertia.  The air
+which is bearing us up has made of us all beings which resemble itself,
+silent, joyous, irresponsible beings, intoxicated by this stupendous
+flight, peculiarly alert, although motionless.  One is no longer
+conscious of one's flesh or one's bones; one's heart seems to have ceased
+beating; we have become something indescribable, birds who do not even
+have to flap their wings.
+
+All memory has disappeared from our minds, all trouble from our thoughts;
+we have no more regrets, plans nor hopes.  We look, we feel, we wildly
+enjoy this fantastic journey; nothing in the sky but the moon and
+ourselves!  We are a wandering, travelling world, like our sisters, the
+planets; and this little world carries five men who have left the earth
+and who have almost forgotten it.  We can now see as plainly as in
+daylight; we look at each other, surprised at this brightness, for we
+have nothing to look at but ourselves and a few silvery clouds floating
+below us.  The barometers mark twelve hundred metres, then thirteen,
+fourteen, fifteen hundred; and the little rice papers still fall about
+us.
+
+Captain Jovis claims that the moon has often made balloons act thus, and
+that the upward journey will continue.
+
+We are now at two thousand metres; we go up to two thousand three hundred
+and fifty; then the balloon stops: We blow the siren and are surprised
+that no one answers us from the stars.
+
+We are now going down rapidly.  M. Mallet keeps crying: "Throw out more
+ballast!  throw out more ballast!" And the sand and stones that we throw
+over come back into our faces, as if they were going up, thrown from
+below toward the stars, so rapid is our descent.
+
+Here is the earth!  Where are we?  It is now past midnight, and we are
+crossing a broad, dry, well-cultivated country, with many roads and well
+populated.
+
+To the right is a large city and farther away to the left is another.
+But suddenly from the earth appears a bright fairy light; it disappears,
+reappears and once more disappears.  Jovis, intoxicated by space,
+exclaims: "Look, look at this phenomenon of the moon in the water.  One
+can see nothing more beautiful at night!"
+
+Nothing indeed can give one an idea of the wonderful brightness of these
+spots of light which are not fire, which do not look like reflections,
+which appear quickly here or there and immediately go out again.  These
+shining lights appear on the winding rivers at every turn, but one hardly
+has time to see them as the balloon passes as quickly as the wind.
+
+We are now quite near the earth, and Beer exclaims:-- "Look at that!
+What is that running over there in the fields?  Isn't it a dog?" Indeed,
+something is running along the ground with great speed, and this
+something seems to jump over ditches, roads, trees with such ease that we
+could not understand what it might be.  The captain laughed: "It is the
+shadow of our balloon.  It will grow as we descend."
+
+I distinctly hear a great noise of foundries in the distance.  And,
+according to the polar star, which we have been observing all night, 'and
+which I have so often watched and consulted from the bridge of my little
+yacht on the Mediterranean, we are heading straight for Belgium.
+
+Our siren and our two horns are continually calling.  A few cries from
+some truck driver or belated reveler answer us.  We bellow: "Where are
+we?" But the balloon is going so rapidly that the bewildered man has not
+even time to answer us.  The growing shadow of Le Horla, as large as a
+child's ball, is fleeing before us over the fields, roads and woods.  It
+goes along steadily, preceding us by about a quarter of a mile; and now I
+am leaning out of the basket, listening to the roaring of the wind in the
+trees and across the harvest fields.  I say to Captain Jovis : "How the
+wind blows!"
+
+He answers: "No, those are probably waterfalls."  I insist, sure of my
+ear that knows the sound of the wind, from hearing it so often whistle
+through the rigging.  Then Jovis nudges me; he fears to frighten his
+happy, quiet passengers, for he knows full well that a storm is pursuing
+us.
+
+At last a man manages to understand us; he answers: "Nord!"  We get the
+same reply from another.
+
+Suddenly the lights of a town, which seems to be of considerable size,
+appear before us.  Perhaps it is Lille.  As we approach it, such a
+wonderful flow of fire appears below us that I think myself transported
+into some fairyland where precious stones are manufactured for giants.
+
+It seems that it is a brick factory.  Here are others, two, three.  The
+fusing material bubbles, sparkles, throws out blue, red, yellow, green
+sparks, reflections from giant diamonds, rubies, emeralds, turquoises,
+sapphires, topazes.  And near by are great foundries roaring like
+apocalyptic lions; high chimneys belch forth their clouds of smoke and
+flame, and we can hear the noise of metal striking against metal.
+
+"Where are we?"
+
+The voice of some joker or of a crazy person answers: "In a balloon!"
+
+"Where are we?"
+
+"At Lille!"
+
+We were not mistaken.  We are already out of sight of the town, and we
+see Roubaix to the right, then some well-cultivated, rectangular fields,
+of different colors according to the crops, some yellow, some gray or
+brown.  But the clouds are gathering behind us, hiding the moon, whereas
+toward the east the sky is growing lighter, becoming a clear blue tinged
+with red.  It is dawn.  It grows rapidly, now showing us all the little
+details of the earth, the trains, the brooks, the cows, the goats.  And
+all this passes beneath us with surprising speed.  One hardly has time to
+notice that other fields, other meadows, other houses have already
+disappeared.  Cocks are crowing, but the voice of ducks drowns
+everything.  One might think the world to be peopled, covered with them,
+they make so much noise.
+
+The early rising peasants are waving their arms and crying to us: "Let
+yourselves drop!" But we go along steadily, neither rising nor falling,
+leaning over the edge of the basket and watching the world fleeing under
+our feet.
+
+Jovis sights another city far off in the distance.  It approaches;
+everywhere are old church spires.  They are delightful, seen thus from
+above.  Where are we?  Is this Courtrai?  Is it Ghent?
+
+We are already very near it, and we see that it is surrounded by water
+and crossed in every direction by canals.  One might think it a Venice of
+the north.  Just as we are passing so near to a church tower that our
+long guy-rope almost touches it, the chimes begin to ring three o'clock.
+The sweet, clear sounds rise to us from this frail roof which we have
+almost touched in our wandering course.  It is a charming greeting, a
+friendly welcome from Holland.  We answer with our siren, whose raucous
+voice echoes throughout the streets.
+
+It was Bruges.  But eve have hardly lost sight of it when my neighbor,
+Paul Bessand, asks me: "Don't you see something over there, to the right,
+in front of us?  It looks like a river."
+
+And, indeed, far ahead of us stretches a bright highway, in the light of
+the dawning day.  Yes, it looks like a river, an immense river full of
+islands.
+
+"Get ready for the descent," cried the captain.  He makes M. Mallet leave
+his net and return to the basket; then we pack the barometers and
+everything that could be injured by possible shocks.  M. Bessand
+exclaims: "Look at the masts over there to the left!  We are at the sea!"
+
+Fogs had hidden it from us until then.  The sea was everywhere, to the
+left and opposite us, while to our right the Scheldt, which had joined
+the Moselle, extended as far as the sea, its mouths vaster than a lake.
+
+It was necessary to descend within a minute or two.  The rope to the
+escape-valve, which had been religiously enclosed in a little white bag
+and placed in sight of all so that no one would touch it, is unrolled,
+and M. Mallet holds it in his hand while Captain Jovis looks for a
+favorable landing.
+
+Behind us the thunder was rumbling and not a single bird followed our mad
+flight.
+
+"Pull!" cried Jovis.
+
+We were passing over a canal.  The basket trembled and tipped over
+slightly.  The guy-rope touched the tall trees on both banks.  But our
+speed is so great that the long rope now trailing does not seem to slow
+down, and we pass with frightful rapidity over a large farm, from which
+the bewildered chickens, pigeons and ducks fly away, while the cows, cats
+and dogs run, terrified, toward the house.
+
+Just one-half bag of ballast is left.  Jovis throws it overboard, and Le
+Horla flies lightly across the roof.
+
+The captain once more cries: "The escape-valve!"
+
+M. Mallet reaches for the rope and hangs to it, and we drop like an
+arrow.  With a slash of a knife the cord which retains the anchor is cut,
+and we drag this grapple behind us, through a field of beets.  Here are
+the trees.
+
+"Take care!  Hold fast!  Look out for your heads!"
+
+We pass over them.  Then a strong shock shakes us.  The anchor has taken
+hold.
+
+"Look out!  Take a good hold!  Raise yourselves by your wrists.  We are
+going to touch ground."
+
+The basket does indeed strike the earth.  Then it flies up again.  Once
+more it falls and bounds upward again, and at last it settles on the
+ground, while the balloon struggles madly, like a wounded beast.
+
+Peasants run toward us, but they do not dare approach.  They were a long
+time before they decided to come and deliver us, for one cannot set foot
+on the ground until the bag is almost completely deflated.
+
+Then, almost at the same time as the bewildered men, some of whom showed
+their astonishment by jumping, with the wild gestures of savages, all the
+cows that were grazing along the coast came toward us, surrounding our
+balloon with a strange and comical circle of horns, big eyes and blowing
+nostrils.
+
+With the help of the accommodating and hospitable Belgian peasants, we
+were able in a short time to pack up all our material and carry it to the
+station at Heyst, where at twenty minutes past eight we took the train
+for Paris.
+
+The descent occurred at three-fifteen in the morning, preceding by only a
+few seconds the torrent of rain and the blinding lightning of the storm
+which had been chasing us before it.
+
+Thanks to Captain Jovis, of whom I had heard much from my colleague, Paul
+Ginisty--for both of them had fallen together and voluntarily into the
+sea opposite Mentone--thanks to this brave man, we were able to see, in a
+single night, from far up in the sky, the setting of the sun, the rising
+of the moon and the dawn of day and to go from Paris to the mouth of the
+Scheldt through the skies.
+
+     [This story appeared in "Figaro" on July 16, 1887, under the title:
+     "From Paris to Heyst.]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FAREWELL!
+
+The two friends were getting near the end of their dinner.  Through the
+cafe windows they could see the Boulevard, crowded with people.  They
+could feel the gentle breezes which are wafted over Paris on warm summer
+evenings and make you feel like going out somewhere, you care not where,
+under the trees, and make you dream of moonlit rivers, of fireflies and
+of larks.
+
+One of the two, Henri Simon, heaved a deep sigh and said:
+
+"Ah!  I am growing old.  It's sad.  Formerly, on evenings like this, I
+felt full of life.  Now, I only feel regrets.  Life is short!"
+
+He was perhaps forty-five years old, very bald and already growing stout.
+
+The other, Pierre Carnier, a trifle older, but thin and lively, answered:
+
+"Well, my boy, I have grown old without noticing it in the least.  I have
+always been merry, healthy, vigorous and all the rest.  As one sees
+oneself in the mirror every day, one does not realize the work of age,
+for it is slow, regular, and it modifies the countenance so gently that
+the changes are unnoticeable.  It is for this reason alone that we do not
+die of sorrow after two or three years of excitement.  For we cannot
+understand the alterations which time produces.  In order to appreciate
+them one would have to remain six months without seeing one's own face--
+then, oh, what a shock!
+
+"And the women, my friend, how I pity the poor beings!  All their joy,
+all their power, all their life, lies in their beauty, which lasts ten
+years.
+
+"As I said, I aged without noticing it; I thought myself practically a
+youth, when I was almost fifty years old.  Not feeling the slightest
+infirmity, I went about, happy and peaceful.
+
+"The revelation of my decline came to me in a simple and terrible manner,
+which overwhelmed me for almost six months--then I became resigned.
+
+"Like all men, I have often been in love, but most especially once.
+
+"I met her at the seashore, at Etretat, about twelve years ago, shortly
+after the war.  There is nothing prettier than this beach during the
+morning bathing hour.  It is small, shaped like a horseshoe, framed by
+high while cliffs, which are pierced by strange holes called the
+'Portes,' one stretching out into the ocean like the leg of a giant, the
+other short and dumpy.  The women gather on the narrow strip of sand in
+this frame of high rocks, which they make into a gorgeous garden of
+beautiful gowns.  The sun beats down on the shores, on the multicolored
+parasols, on the blue-green sea; and all is gay, delightful, smiling.
+You sit down at the edge of the water and you watch the bathers.  The
+women come down, wrapped in long bath robes, which they throw off
+daintily when they reach the foamy edge of the rippling waves; and they
+run into the water with a rapid little step, stopping from time to time
+for a delightful little thrill from the cold water, a short gasp.
+
+"Very few stand the test of the bath.  It is there that they can be
+judged, from the ankle to the throat.  Especially on leaving the water
+are the defects revealed, although water is a powerful aid to flabby
+skin.
+
+"The first time that I saw this young woman in the water, I was
+delighted, entranced.  She stood the test well.  There are faces whose
+charms appeal to you at first glance and delight you instantly.  You seem
+to have found the woman whom you were born to love.  I had that feeling
+and that shock.
+
+"I was introduced, and was soon smitten worse than I had ever been
+before.  My heart longed for her.  It is a terrible yet delightful thing
+thus to be dominated by a young woman.  It is almost torture, and yet
+infinite delight.  Her look, her smile, her hair fluttering in the wind,
+the little lines of her face, the slightest movement of her features,
+delighted me, upset me, entranced me.  She had captured me, body and
+soul, by her gestures, her manners, even by her clothes, which seemed to
+take on a peculiar charm as soon as she wore them.  I grew tender at the
+sight of her veil on some piece of furniture, her gloves thrown on a
+chair.  Her gowns seemed to me inimitable.  Nobody had hats like hers.
+
+"She was married, but her husband came only on Saturday, and left on
+Monday.  I didn't cencern myself about him, anyhow.  I wasn't jealous of
+him, I don't know why; never did a creature seem to me to be of less
+importance in life, to attract my attention less than this man.
+
+"But she! how I loved her!  How beautiful, graceful and young she was!
+She was youth, elegance, freshness itself!  Never before had I felt so
+strongly what a pretty, distinguished, delicate, charming, graceful being
+woman is.  Never before had I appreciated the seductive beauty to be
+found in the curve of a cheek, the movement of a lip, the pinkness of an
+ear, the shape of that foolish organ called the nose.
+
+"This lasted three months; then I left for America, overwhelmed with
+sadness.  But her memory remained in me, persistent, triumphant.  From
+far away I was as much hers as I had been when she was near me.  Years
+passed by, and I did not forget her.  The charming image of her person
+was ever before my eyes and in my heart.  And my love remained true to
+her, a quiet tenderness now, something like the beloved memory of the
+most beautiful and the most enchanting thing I had ever met in my life.
+
+"Twelve years are not much in a lifetime!  One does not feel them slip
+by.  The years follow each other gently and quickly, slowly yet rapidly,
+each one is long and yet so soon over!  They add up so rapidly, they
+leave so few traces behind them, they disappear so completely, that, when
+one turns round to look back over bygone years, one sees nothing and yet
+one does not understand how one happens to be so old.  It seemed to me,
+really, that hardly a few months separated me from that charming season
+on the sands of Etretat.
+
+"Last spring I went to dine with some friends at Maisons-Laffitte.
+
+"Just as the train was leaving, a big, fat lady, escorted by four little
+girls, got into my car.  I hardly looked at this mother hen, very big,
+very round, with a face as full as the moon framed in an enormous,
+beribboned hat.
+
+"She was puffing, out of breath from having been forced to walk quickly.
+The children began to chatter.  I unfolded my paper and began to read.
+
+"We had just passed Asnieres, when my neighbor suddenly turned to me and
+said:
+
+"'Excuse me, sir, but are you not Monsieur Garnier?'
+
+"'Yes, madame.'
+
+"Then she began to laugh, the pleased laugh of a good woman; and yet it
+was sad.
+
+"'You do not seem to recognize me.'
+
+"I hesitated.  It seemed to me that I had seen that face somewhere; but
+where?  when?  I answered:
+
+"'Yes--and no.  I certainly know you, and yet I cannot recall your name.'
+
+"She blushed a little:
+
+"'Madame Julie Lefevre.'
+
+"Never had I received such a shock.  In a second it seemed to me as
+though it were all over with me!  I felt that a veil had been torn from
+my eyes and that I was going to make a horrible and heartrending
+discovery.
+
+"So that was she!  That big, fat, common woman, she!  She had become the
+mother of these four girls since I had last her.  And these little beings
+surprised me as much as their mother.  They were part of her; they were
+big girls, and already had a place in life.  Whereas she no longer
+counted, she, that marvel of dainty and charming gracefulness.  It seemed
+to me that I had seen her but yesterday, and this is how I found her
+again!  Was it possible?  A poignant grief seized my heart; and also a
+revolt against nature herself, an unreasoning indignation against this
+brutal, infariious act of destruction.
+
+"I looked at her, bewildered.  Then I took her hand in mine, and tears
+came to my eyes.  I wept for her lost youth.  For I did not know this fat
+lady.
+
+"She was also excited, and stammered:
+
+"'I am greatly changed, am I not?  What can you expect--everything has
+its time!  You see, I have become a mother, nothing but a good mother.
+Farewell to the rest, that is over.  Oh!  I never expected you to
+recognize me if we met.  You, too, have changed.  It took me quite a
+while to be sure that I was not mistaken.  Your hair is all white.  Just
+think!  Twelve years ago!  Twelve years!  My oldest girl is already ten.'
+
+"I looked at the child.  And I recognized in her something of her
+mother's old charm, but something as yet unformed, something which
+promised for the future.  And life seemed to me as swift as a passing
+train.
+
+"We had reached.  Maisons-Laffitte.  I kissed my old friend's hand.  I
+had found nothing utter but the most commonplace remarks.  I was too much
+upset to talk.
+
+"At night, alone, at home, I stood in front of the mirror for a long
+time, a very long time.  And I finally remembered what I had been,
+finally saw in my mind's eye my brown mustache, my black hair and the
+youthful expression of my face.  Now I was old.  Farewell!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE WOLF
+
+This is what the old Marquis d'Arville told us after St. Hubert's dinner
+at the house of the Baron des Ravels.
+
+We had killed a stag that day.  The marquis was the only one of the
+guests who had not taken part in this chase.  He never hunted.
+
+During that long repast we had talked about hardly anything but the
+slaughter of animals.  The ladies themselves were interested in bloody
+and exaggerated tales, and the orators imitated the attacks and the
+combats of men against beasts, raised their arms, romanced in a
+thundering voice.
+
+M. d Arville talked well, in a certain flowery, high-sounding, but
+effective style.  He must have told this story frequently, for he told it
+fluently, never hesitating for words, choosing them with skill to make
+his description vivid.
+
+Gentlemen, I have never hunted, neither did my father, nor my
+grandfather, nor my great-grandfather.  This last was the son of a man
+who hunted more than all of you put together.  He died in 1764.  I will
+tell you the story of his death.
+
+His name was Jean.  He was married, father of that child who became my
+great-grandfather, and he lived with his younger brother, Francois
+d'Arville, in our castle in Lorraine, in the midst of the forest.
+
+Francois d'Arville had remained a bachelor for love of the chase.
+
+They both hunted from one end of the year to the other, without stopping
+and seemingly without fatigue.  They loved only hunting, understood
+nothing else, talked only of that, lived only for that.
+
+They had at heart that one passion, which was terrible and inexorable.
+It consumed them, had completely absorbed them, leaving room for no other
+thought.
+
+They had given orders that they should not be interrupted in the chase
+for any reason whatever.  My great-grandfather was born while his father
+was following a fox, and Jean d'Arville did not stop the chase, but
+exclaimed: "The deuce!  The rascal might have waited till after the view-
+halloo!"
+
+His brother Franqois was still more infatuated.  On rising he went to see
+the dogs, then the horses, then he shot little birds about the castle
+until the time came to hunt some large game.
+
+In the countryside they were called M. le Marquis and M. le Cadet, the
+nobles then not being at all like the chance nobility of our time, which
+wishes to establish an hereditary hierarchy in titles; for the son of a
+marquis is no more a count, nor the son of a viscount a baron, than a son
+of a general is a colonel by birth.  But the contemptible vanity of today
+finds profit in that arrangement.
+
+My ancestors were unusually tall, bony, hairy, violent and vigorous.
+The younger, still taller than the older, had a voice so strong that,
+according to a legend of which he was proud, all the leaves of the forest
+shook when he shouted.
+
+When they were both mounted to set out hunting, it must have been a
+superb sight to see those two giants straddling their huge horses.
+
+Now, toward the midwinter of that year, 1764, the frosts were excessive,
+and the wolves became ferocious.
+
+They even attacked belated peasants, roamed at night outside the houses,
+howled from sunset to sunrise, and robbed the stables.
+
+And soon a rumor began to circulate.  People talked of a colossal wolf
+with gray fur, almost white, who had eaten two children, gnawed off a
+woman's arm, strangled all the watch dogs in the district, and even come
+without fear into the farmyards.  The people in the houses affirmed that
+they had felt his breath, and that it made the flame of the lights
+flicker.  And soon a panic ran through all the province.  No one dared go
+out any more after nightfall.  The darkness seemed haunted by the image
+of the beast.
+
+The brothers d'Arville determined to find and kill him, and several times
+they brought together all the gentlemen of the country to a great hunt.
+
+They beat the forests and searched the coverts in vain; they never met
+him.  They killed wolves, but not that one.  And every night after a
+battue the beast, as if to avenge himself, attacked some traveller or
+killed some one's cattle, always far from the place where they had looked
+for him.
+
+Finally, one night he stole into the pigpen of the Chateau d'Arville and
+ate the two fattest pigs.
+
+The brothers were roused to anger, considering this attack as a direct
+insult and a defiance.  They took their strong bloodhounds, used to
+pursue dangerous animals, and they set off to hunt, their hearts filled
+with rage.
+
+From dawn until the hour when the empurpled sun descended behind the
+great naked trees, they beat the woods without finding anything.
+
+At last, furious and disgusted, both were returning, walking their horses
+along a lane bordered with hedges, and they marvelled that their skill as
+huntsmen should be baffled by this wolf, and they were suddenly seized
+with a mysterious fear.
+
+The elder said:
+
+"That beast is not an ordinary one.  You would say it had a mind like a
+man."
+
+The younger answered:
+
+"Perhaps we should have a bullet blessed by our cousin, the bishop, or
+pray some priest to pronounce the words which are needed."
+
+Then they were silent.
+
+Jean continued:
+
+"Look how red the sun is.  The great wolf will do some harm to-night."
+
+He had hardly finished speaking when his horse reared; that of Franqois
+began to kick.  A large thicket covered with dead leaves opened before
+them, and a mammoth beast, entirely gray, jumped up and ran off through
+the wood.
+
+Both uttered a kind of grunt of joy, and bending over the necks of their
+heavy horses, they threw them forward with an impulse from all their
+body, hurling them on at such a pace, urging them, hurrying them away,
+exciting them so with voice and with gesture and with spur that the
+experienced riders seemed to be carrying the heavy beasts between 4
+their thighs and to bear them off as if they were flying.
+
+Thus they went, plunging through the thickets, dashing across the beds of
+streams, climbing the hillsides, descending the gorges, and blowing the
+horn as loud as they could to attract their people and the dogs.
+
+And now, suddenly, in that mad race, my ancestor struck his forehead
+against an enormous branch which split his skull; and he fell dead on the
+ground, while his frightened horse took himself off, disappearing in the
+gloom which enveloped the woods.
+
+The younger d'Arville stopped quick, leaped to the earth, seized his
+brother in his arms, and saw that the brains were escaping from the wound
+with the blood.
+
+Then he sat down beside the body, rested the head, disfigured and red, on
+his knees, and waited, regarding the immobile face of his elder brother.
+Little by little a fear possessed him, a strange fear which he had never
+felt before, the fear of the dark, the fear of loneliness, the fear of
+the deserted wood, and the fear also of the weird wolf who had just
+killed his brother to avenge himself upon them both.
+
+The gloom thickened; the acute cold made the trees crack.  Francois got
+up, shivering, unable to remain there longer, feeling himself growing
+faint.  Nothing was to be heard, neither the voice of the dogs nor the
+sound of the horns-all was silent along the invisible horizon; and this
+mournful silence of the frozen night had something about it terrific and
+strange.
+
+He seized in his immense hands the great body of Jean, straightened it,
+and laid it across the saddle to carry it back to the chateau; then he
+went on his way softly, his mind troubled as if he were in a stupor,
+pursued by horrible and fear-giving images.
+
+And all at once, in the growing darkness a great shape crossed his path.
+It was the beast.  A shock of terror shook the hunter;  something cold,
+like a drop of water, seemed to glide down his back, and, like a monk
+haunted of the devil, he made a great sign of the cross, dismayed at this
+abrupt return of the horrible prowler.  But his eyes fell again on the
+inert body before him, and passing abruptly from fear to anger, he shook
+with an indescribable rage.
+
+Then he spurred his horse and rushed after the wolf.
+
+He followed it through the copses, the ravines, and the tall trees,
+traversing woods which he no longer recognized, his eyes fixed on the
+white speck which fled before him through the night.
+
+His horse also seemed animated by a force and strength hitherto unknown.
+It galloped straight ahead with outstretched neck, striking against
+trees, and rocks, the head and the feet of the dead man thrown across the
+saddle.  The limbs tore out his hair; the brow, beating the huge trunks,
+spattered them with blood; the spurs tore their ragged coats of bark.
+Suddenly the beast and the horseman issued from the forest and rushed
+into a valley, just as the moon appeared above the mountains.  The valley
+here was stony, inclosed by enormous rocks.
+
+Francois then uttered a yell of joy which the echoes repeated like a peal
+of thunder, and he leaped from his horse, his cutlass in his hand.
+
+The beast, with bristling hair, the back arched, awaited him, its eyes
+gleaming like two stars.  But, before beginning battle, the strong
+hunter, seizing his brother, seated him on a rock, and, placing stones
+under his head, which was no more than a mass of blood, he shouted in the
+ears as if he was talking to a deaf man: "Look, Jean; look at this!"
+
+Then he attacked the monster.  He felt himself strong enough to overturn
+a mountain, to bruise stones in his hands.  The beast tried to bite him,
+aiming for his stomach; but he had seized the fierce animal by the neck,
+without even using his weapon, and he strangled it gently, listening to
+the cessation of breathing in its throat and the beatings of its heart.
+He laughed, wild with joy, pressing closer and closer his formidable
+embrace, crying in a delirium of joy, "Look, Jean, look!" All resistance
+ceased; the body of the wolf became limp.  He was dead.
+
+Franqois took him up in his arms and carried him to the feet of the elder
+brother, where he laid him, repeating, in a tender voice: "There, there,
+there, my little Jean, see him!"
+
+Then he replaced on the saddle the two bodies, one upon the other, and
+rode away.
+
+He returned to the chateau, laughing and crying, like Gargantua at the
+birth of Pantagruel, uttering shouts of triumph, and boisterous with joy
+as he related the death of the beast, and grieving and tearing his beard
+in telling of that of his brother.
+
+And often, later, when he talked again of that day, he would say, with
+tears in his eyes: "If only poor Jean could have seen me strangle the
+beast, he would have died content, that I am sure!"
+
+The widow of my ancestor inspired her orphan son with that horror of the
+chase which has transmitted itself from father to son as far down as
+myself.
+
+The Marquis d'Arville was silent.  Some one asked:
+
+"That story is a legend, isn't it?"
+
+And the story teller answered:
+
+"I swear to you that it is true from beginning to end."
+
+Then a lady declared, in a little, soft voice
+
+"All the same, it is fine to have passions like that."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE INN
+
+Resembling in appearance all the wooden hostelries of the High Alps
+situated at the foot of glaciers in the barren rocky gorges that
+intersect the summits of the mountains, the Inn of Schwarenbach serves as
+a resting place for travellers crossing the Gemini Pass.
+
+It remains open for six months in the year and is inhabited by the family
+of Jean Hauser; then, as soon as the snow begins to fall and to fill the
+valley so as to make the road down to Loeche impassable, the father and
+his three sons go away and leave the house in charge of the old guide,
+Gaspard Hari, with the young guide, Ulrich Kunsi, and Sam, the great
+mountain dog.
+
+The two men and the dog remain till the spring in their snowy prison,
+with nothing before their eyes except the immense white slopes of the
+Balmhorn, surrounded by light, glistening summits, and are shut in,
+blocked up and buried by the snow which rises around them and which
+envelops, binds and crushes the little house, which lies piled on the
+roof, covering the windows and blocking up the door.
+
+It was the day on which the Hauser family were going to return to Loeche,
+as winter was approaching, and the descent was becoming dangerous.  Three
+mules started first, laden with baggage and led by the three sons.  Then
+the mother, Jeanne Hauser, and her daughter Louise mounted a fourth mule
+and set off in their turn and the father followed them, accompanied by
+the two men in charge, who were to escort the family as far as the brow
+of the descent.  First of all they passed round the small lake, which was
+now frozen over, at the bottom of the mass of rocks which stretched in
+front of the inn, and then they followed the valley, which was dominated
+on all sides by the snow-covered summits.
+
+A ray of sunlight fell into that little white, glistening, frozen desert
+and illuminated it with a cold and dazzling flame.  No living thing
+appeared among this ocean of mountains.  There was no motion in this
+immeasurable solitude and no noise disturbed the profound silence.
+
+By degrees the young guide, Ulrich Kunsi, a tall, long-legged Swiss, left
+old man Hauser and old Gaspard behind, in order to catch up the mule
+which bore the two women.  The younger one looked at him as he approached
+and appeared to be calling him with her sad eyes.  She was a young,
+fairhaired little peasant girl, whose milk-white cheeks and pale hair
+looked as if they had lost their color by their long abode amid the ice.
+When he had got up to the animal she was riding he put his hand on the
+crupper and relaxed his speed.  Mother Hauser began to talk to him,
+enumerating with the minutest details all that he would have to attend to
+during the winter.  It was the first time that he was going to stay up
+there, while old Hari had already spent fourteen winters amid the snow,
+at the inn of Schwarenbach.
+
+Ulrich Kunsi listened, without appearing to understand and looked
+incessantly at the girl.  From time to time he replied: "Yes, Madame
+Hauser," but his thoughts seemed far away and his calm features remained
+unmoved.
+
+They reached Lake Daube, whose broad, frozen surface extended to the end
+of the valley.  On the right one saw the black, pointed, rocky summits of
+the Daubenhorn beside the enormous moraines of the Lommern glacier, above
+which rose the Wildstrubel.  As they approached the Gemmi pass, where the
+descent of Loeche begins, they suddenly beheld the immense horizon of the
+Alps of the Valais, from which the broad, deep valley of the Rhone
+separated them.
+
+In the distance there was a group of white, unequal, flat, or pointed
+mountain summits, which glistened in the sun; the Mischabel with its two
+peaks, the huge group of the Weisshorn, the heavy Brunegghorn, the lofty
+and formidable pyramid of Mount Cervin, that slayer of men, and the Dent-
+Blanche, that monstrous coquette.
+
+Then beneath them, in a tremendous hole, at the bottom of a terrific
+abyss, they perceived Loeche, where houses looked as grains of sand which
+had been thrown into that enormous crevice that is ended and closed by
+the Gemmi and which opens, down below, on the Rhone.
+
+The mule stopped at the edge of the path, which winds and turns
+continually, doubling backward, then, fantastically and strangely, along
+the side of the mountain as far as the almost invisible little village at
+its feet.  The women jumped into the snow and the two old men joined
+them.  "Well," father Hauser said, "good-by, and keep up your spirits
+till next year, my friends," and old Hari replied: "Till next year."
+
+They embraced each other and then Madame Hauser in her turn offered her
+cheek, and the girl did the same.
+
+When Ulrich Kunsi's turn came, he whispered in Louise's ear, "Do not
+forget those up yonder," and she replied, "No," in such a low voice that
+he guessed what she had said without hearing it.  "Well, adieu," Jean
+Hauser repeated, "and don't fall ill."  And going before the two women,
+he commenced the descent, and soon all three disappeared at the first
+turn in the road, while the two men returned to the inn at Schwarenbach.
+
+They walked slowly, side by side, without speaking.  It was over, and
+they would be alone together for four or five months.  Then Gaspard Hari
+began to relate his life last winter.  He had remained with Michael
+Canol, who was too old now to stand it, for an accident might happen
+during that long solitude.  They had not been dull, however; the only
+thing was to make up one's mind to it from the first, and in the end one
+would find plenty of distraction, games and other means of whiling away
+the time.
+
+Ulrich Kunsi listened to him with his eyes on the ground, for in his
+thoughts he was following those who were descending to the village.  They
+soon came in sight of the inn, which was, however, scarcely visible, so
+small did it look, a black speck at the foot of that enormous billow of
+snow, and when they opened the door Sam, the great curly dog, began to
+romp round them.
+
+"Come, my boy," old Gaspard said, "we have no women now, so we must get
+our own dinner ready.  Go and peel the potatoes."  And they both sat down
+on wooden stools and began to prepare the soup.
+
+The next morning seemed very long to Kunsi.  Old Hari smoked and spat on
+the hearth, while the young man looked out of the window at the snow-
+covered mountain opposite the house.
+
+In the afternoon he went out, and going over yesterday's ground again, he
+looked for the traces of the mule that had carried the two women.  Then
+when he had reached the Gemmi Pass, he laid himself down on his stomach
+and looked at Loeche.
+
+The village, in its rocky pit, was not yet buried under the snow, from
+which it was sheltered by the pine woods which protected it on all sides.
+Its low houses looked like paving stones in a large meadow from above.
+Hauser's little daughter was there now in one of those gray-colored
+houses.  In which?  Ulrich Kunsi was too far away to be able to make them
+out separately.  How he would have liked to go down while he was yet
+able!
+
+But the sun had disappeared behind the lofty crest of the Wildstrubel and
+the young man returned to the chalet.  Daddy Hari was smoking, and when
+he saw his mate come in he proposed a game of cards to him, and they sat
+down opposite each other, on either side of the table.  They played for a
+long time a simple game called brisque and then they had supper and went
+to bed.
+
+The following days were like the first, bright and cold, without any
+fresh snow.  Old Gaspard spent his afternoons in watching the eagles and
+other rare birds which ventured on those frozen heights, while Ulrich
+returned regularly to the Gemmi Pass to look at the village.  Then they
+played cards, dice or dominoes and lost and won a trifle, just to create
+an interest in the game.
+
+One morning Hari, who was up first, called his companion.  A moving, deep
+and light cloud of white spray was falling on them noiselessly and was by
+degrees burying them under a thick, heavy coverlet of foam.  That lasted
+four days and four nights.  It was necessary to free the door and the
+windows, to dig out a passage and to cut steps to get over this frozen
+powder, which a twelve hours' frost had made as hard as the granite of
+the moraines.
+
+They lived like prisoners and did not venture outside their abode.  They
+had divided their duties, which they performed regularly.  Ulrich Kunsi
+undertook the scouring, washing and everything that belonged to
+cleanliness.  He also chopped up the wood while Gaspard Hari did the
+cooking and attended to the fire.  Their regular and monotonous work was
+interrupted by long games at cards or dice, and they never quarrelled,
+but were always calm and placid.  They were never seen impatient or ill-
+humored, nor did they ever use hard words, for they had laid in a stock
+of patience for their wintering on the top of the mountain.
+
+Sometimes old Gaspard took his rifle and went after chamois, and
+occasionally he killed one.  Then there was a feast in the inn at
+Schwarenbach and they revelled in fresh meat.  One morning he went out as
+usual.  The thermometer outside marked eighteen degrees of frost, and as
+the sun had not yet risen, the hunter hoped to surprise the animals at
+the approaches to the Wildstrubel, and Ulrich, being alone, remained in
+bed until ten o'clock.  He was of a sleepy nature, but he would not have
+dared to give way like that to his inclination in the presence of the old
+guide, who was ever an early riser.  He breakfasted leisurely with Sam,
+who also spent his days and nights in sleeping in front of the fire; then
+he felt low-spirited and even frightened at the solitude, and was-seized
+by a longing for his daily game of cards, as one is by the craving of a
+confirmed habit, and so he went out to meet his companion, who was to
+return at four o'clock.
+
+The snow had levelled the whole deep valley, filled up the crevasses,
+obliterated all signs of the two lakes and covered the rocks, so that
+between the high summits there was nothing but an immense, white,
+regular, dazzling and frozen surface.  For three weeks Ulrich had not
+been to the edge of the precipice from which he had looked down on the
+village, and he wanted to go there before climbing the slopes which led
+to Wildstrubel.  Loeche was now also covered by the snow and the houses
+could scarcely be distinguished, covered as they were by that white
+cloak.
+
+Then, turning to the right, he reached the Loemmern glacier.  He went
+along with a mountaineer's long strides, striking the snow, which was as
+hard as a rock, with his ironpointed stick, and with his piercing eyes he
+looked for the little black, moving speck in the distance, on that
+enormous, white expanse.
+
+When he reached the end of the glacier he stopped and asked himself
+whether the old man had taken that road, and then he began to walk along
+the moraines with rapid and uneasy steps.  The day was declining, the
+snow was assuming a rosy tint, and a dry, frozen wind blew in rough gusts
+over its crystal surface.  Ulrich uttered a long, shrill, vibrating call.
+His voice sped through the deathlike silence in which the mountains were
+sleeping; it reached the distance, across profound and motionless waves
+of glacial foam, like the cry of a bird across the waves of the sea.
+Then it died away and nothing answered him.
+
+He began to walk again.  The sun had sunk yonder behind the mountain
+tops, which were still purple with the reflection from the sky, but the
+depths of the valley were becoming gray, and suddenly the young man felt
+frightened.  It seemed to him as if the silence, the cold, the solitude,
+the winter death of these mountains were taking possession of him, were
+going to stop and to freeze his blood, to make his limbs grow stiff and
+to turn him into a motionless and frozen object, and he set off running,
+fleeing toward his dwelling.  The old man, he thought, would have
+returned during his absence.  He had taken another road; he would, no
+doubt, be sitting before the fire, with a dead chamois at his feet.
+He soon came in sight of the inn, but no smoke rose from it.  Ulrich
+walked faster and opened the door.  Sam ran up to him to greet him, but
+Gaspard Hari had not returned.  Kunsi, in his alarm, turned round
+suddenly, as if he had expected to find his comrade hidden in a corner.
+Then he relighted the fire and made the soup, hoping every moment to see
+the old man come in.  From time to time he went out to see if he were not
+coming.  It was quite night now, that wan, livid night of the mountains,
+lighted by a thin, yellow crescent moon, just disappearing behind the
+mountain tops.
+
+Then the young man went in and sat down to warm his hands and feet, while
+he pictured to himself every possible accident.  Gaspard might have
+broken a leg, have fallen into a crevasse, taken a false step and
+dislocated his ankle.  And, perhaps, he was lying on the snow, overcome
+and stiff with the cold, in agony of mind, lost and, perhaps, shouting
+for help, calling with all his might in the silence of the night..
+But where?  The mountain was so vast, so rugged, so dangerous in places,
+especially at that time of the year, that it would have required ten or
+twenty guides to walk for a week in all directions to find a man in that
+immense space.  Ulrich Kunsi, however, made up his mind to set out with
+Sam if Gaspard did not return by one in the morning, and he made his
+preparations.
+
+He put provisions for two days into a bag, took his steel climbing iron,
+tied a long, thin, strong rope round his waist, and looked to see that
+his ironshod stick and his axe, which served to cut steps in the ice,
+were in order.  Then he waited.  The fire was burning on the hearth, the
+great dog was snoring in front of it, and the clock was ticking, as
+regularly as a heart beating, in its resounding wooden case.
+He waited, with his ears on the alert for distant sounds, and he shivered
+when the wind blew against the roof and the walls.  It struck twelve and
+he trembled: Then, frightened and shivering, he put some water on the
+fire, so that he might have some hot coffee before starting, and when the
+clock struck one he got up, woke Sam, opened the door and went off in the
+direction of the Wildstrubel.  For five hours he mounted, scaling the
+rocks by means of his climbing irons, cutting into the ice, advancing
+continually, and occasionally hauling up the dog, who remained below at
+the foot of some slope that was too steep for him, by means of the rope.
+It was about six o'clock when he reached one of the summits to which old
+Gaspard often came after chamois, and he waited till it should be
+daylight.
+
+The sky was growing pale overhead, and a strange light, springing nobody
+could tell whence, suddenly illuminated the immense ocean of pale
+mountain summits, which extended for a hundred leagues around him.  One
+might have said that this vague brightness arose from the snow itself and
+spread abroad in space.  By degrees the highest distant summits assumed a
+delicate, pink flesh color, and the red sun appeared behind the ponderous
+giants of the Bernese Alps.
+
+Ulrich Kunsi set off again, walking like a hunter, bent over, looking for
+tracks, and saying to his dog: "Seek, old fellow, seek!"
+
+He was descending the mountain now, scanning the depths closely, and from
+time to time shouting, uttering aloud, prolonged cry, which soon died
+away in that silent vastness.  Then he put his ear to the ground to
+listen.  He thought he could distinguish a voice, and he began to run and
+shouted again, but he heard nothing more and sat down, exhausted and in
+despair.  Toward midday he breakfasted and gave Sam, who was as tired as
+himself, something to eat also, and then he recommenced his search.
+
+When evening came he was still walking, and he had walked more than
+thirty miles over the mountains.  As he was too far away to return home
+and too tired to drag himself along any further, he dug a hole in the
+snow and crouched in it with his dog under a blanket which he had brought
+with him.  And the man and the dog lay side by side, trying to keep warm,
+but frozen to the marrow nevertheless.  Ulrich scarcely slept, his mind
+haunted by visions and his limbs shaking with cold.
+
+Day was breaking when he got up.  His legs were as stiff as iron bars and
+his spirits so low that he was ready to cry with anguish, while his heart
+was beating so that he almost fell over with agitation, when he thought
+he heard a noise.
+
+Suddenly he imagined that he also was going to die of cold in the midst
+of this vast solitude, and the terror of such a death roused his energies
+and gave him renewed vigor.  He was descending toward the inn, falling
+down and getting up again, and followed at a distance by Sam, who was
+limping on three legs, and they did not reach Schwarenbach until four
+o'clock in the afternoon.  The house was empty and the young man made a
+fire, had something to eat and went to sleep, so worn out that he did not
+think of anything more.
+
+He slept for a long time, for a very long time, an irresistible sleep.
+But suddenly a voice, a cry, a name, "Ulrich!" aroused him from his
+profound torpor and made him sit up in bed.  Had he been dreaming?  Was
+it one of those strange appeals which cross the dreams of disquieted
+minds?  No, he heard it still, that reverberating cry-which had entered
+his ears and remained in his flesh-to the tips of his sinewy fingers.
+Certainly somebody had cried out and called "Ulrich!" There was somebody
+there near the house, there could be no doubt of that, and he opened the
+door and shouted, "Is it you, Gaspard?" with all the strength of his
+lungs.  But there was no reply, no murmur, no groan, nothing.  It was
+quite dark and the snow looked wan.
+
+The wind had risen, that icy wind that cracks the rocks and leaves
+nothing alive on those deserted heights, and it came in sudden gusts,
+which were more parching and more deadly than the burning wind of the
+desert, and again Ulrich shouted: "Gaspard!  Gaspard!  Gaspard."  And
+then he waited again.  Everything was silent on the mountain.
+
+Then he shook with terror and with a bound he was inside the inn, when he
+shut and bolted the door, and then he fell into a chair trembling all
+over, for he felt certain that his comrade had called him at the moment
+he was expiring.
+
+He was sure of that, as sure as one is of being alive or of eating a
+piece of bread.  Old Gaspard Hari had been dying for two days and three
+nights somewhere, in some hole, in one of those deep, untrodden ravines
+whose whiteness is more sinister than subterranean darkness.  He had been
+dying for two days and three nights and be had just then died, thinking
+of his comrade.  His soul, almost before it was released, had taken its
+flight to the inn where Ulrich was sleeping, and it had called him by
+that terrible and mysterious power which the spirits of the dead have to
+haunt the living.  That voiceless soul had cried to the worn-out soul of
+the sleeper; it had uttered its last farewell, or its reproach, or its
+curse on the man who had not searched carefully enough.
+
+And Ulrich felt that it was there, quite close to him, behind the wall,
+behind the door which be had just fastened.  It was wandering about, like
+a night bird which lightly touches a lighted window with his wings, and
+the terrified young man was ready to scream with horror.  He wanted to
+run away, but did not dare to go out; he did not dare, and he should
+never dare to do it in the future, for that phantom would remain there
+day and night, round the inn, as long as the old man's body was not
+recovered and had not been deposited in the consecrated earth of a
+churchyard.
+
+When it was daylight Kunsi recovered some of his courage at the return of
+the bright sun.  He prepared his meal, gave his dog some food and then
+remained motionless on a chair, tortured at heart as he thought of the
+old man lying on the snow, and then, as soon as night once more covered
+the mountains, new terrors assailed him.  He now walked up and down the
+dark kitchen, which was scarcely lighted by the flame of one candle, and
+he walked from one end of it to the other with great strides, listening,
+listening whether the terrible cry of the other night would again break
+the dreary silence outside.  He felt himself alone, unhappy man, as no
+man had ever been alone before!  He was alone in this immense desert of
+Snow, alone five thousand feet above the inhabited earth, above human
+habitation, above that stirring, noisy, palpitating life, alone under an
+icy sky!  A mad longing impelled him to run away, no matter where, to get
+down to Loeche by flinging himself over the precipice; but he did not
+even dare to open the door, as he felt sure that the other, the dead man,
+would bar his road, so that he might not be obliged to remain up there
+alone:
+
+Toward midnight, tired with walking, worn out by grief and fear, he at
+last fell into a doze in his chair, for he was afraid of his bed as one
+is of a haunted spot.  But suddenly the strident cry of the other evening
+pierced his ears, and it was so shrill that Ulrich stretched out his arms
+to repulse the ghost, and he fell backward with his chair.
+
+Sam, who was awakened by the noise, began to howl as frightened dogs do
+howl, and he walked all about the house trying to find out where the
+danger came from.  When he got to the door, he sniffed beneath it,
+smelling vigorously, with his coat bristling and his tail stiff, while he
+growled angrily.  Kunsi, who was terrified, jumped up, and, holding his
+chair by one leg, he cried: "Don't come in, don't come in, or I shall
+kill you."  And the dog, excited by this threat, barked angrily at that
+invisible enemy who defied his master's voice.  By degrees, however, he
+quieted down and came back and stretched himself in front of the fire,
+but he was uneasy and kept his head up and growled between his teeth.
+
+Ulrich, in turn, recovered his senses, but as he felt faint with terror,
+he went and got a bottle of brandy out of the sideboard, and he drank off
+several glasses, one after anther, at a gulp.  His ideas became vague,
+his courage revived and a feverish glow ran through his veins.
+
+He ate scarcely anything the next day and limited himself to alcohol, and
+so he lived for several days, like a drunken brute.  As soon as he
+thought of Gaspard Hari, he began to drink again, and went on drinking
+until he fell to the ground, overcome by intoxication.  And there he
+remained lying on his face, dead drunk, his limbs benumbed, and snoring
+loudly.  But scarcely had he digested the maddening and burning liquor
+than the same cry, "Ulrich!" woke him like a bullet piercing his brain,
+and he got up, still staggering, stretching out his hands to save himself
+from falling, and calling to Sam to help him.  And the dog, who appeared
+to be going mad like his master, rushed to the door, scratched it with
+his claws and gnawed it with his long white teeth, while the young man,
+with his head thrown back drank the brandy in draughts, as if it had been
+cold water, so that it might by and by send his thoughts, his frantic
+terror, and his memory to sleep again.
+
+In three weeks he had consumed all his stock of ardent spirits.  But his
+continual drunkenness only lulled his terror, which awoke more furiously
+than ever as soon as it was impossible for him to calm it.  His fixed
+idea then, which had been intensified by a month of drunkenness, and
+which was continually increasing in his absolute solitude, penetrated him
+like a gimlet.  He now walked about the house like a wild beast in its
+cage, putting his ear to the door to listen if the other were there and
+defying him through the wall.  Then, as soon as he dozed, overcome by
+fatigue, he heard the voice which made him leap to his feet.
+
+At last one night, as cowards do when driven to extremities, he sprang to
+the door and opened it, to see who was calling him and to force him to
+keep quiet, but such a gust of cold wind blew into his face that it
+chilled him to the bone, and he closed and bolted the door again
+immediately, without noticing that Sam had rushed out.  Then, as he was
+shivering with cold, he threw some wood on the fire and sat down in front
+of it to warm himself, but suddenly he started, for somebody was
+scratching at the wall and crying.  In desperation he called out: "Go
+away!" but was answered by another long, sorrowful wail.
+
+Then all his remaining senses forsook him from sheer fright.  He
+repeated: "Go away!" and turned round to try to find some corner in which
+to hide, while the other person went round the house still crying and
+rubbing against the wall.  Ulrich went to the oak sideboard, which was
+full of plates and dishes and of provisions, and lifting it up with
+superhuman strength, he dragged it to the door, so as to form a
+barricade.  Then piling up all the rest of the furniture, the mattresses,
+palliasses and chairs, he stopped up the windows as one does when
+assailed by an enemy.
+
+But the person outside now uttered long, plaintive, mournful groans, to
+which the young man replied by similar groans, and thus days and nights
+passed without their ceasing to howl at each other.  The one was
+continually walking round the house and scraped the walls with his nails
+so vigorously that it seemed as if he wished to destroy them, while the
+other, inside, followed all his movements, stooping down and holding his
+ear to the walls and replying to all his appeals with terrible cries.
+One evening, however, Ulrich heard nothing more, and he sat down, so
+overcome by fatigue, that he went to sleep immediately and awoke in the
+morning without a thought, without any recollection of what had happened,
+just as if his head had been emptied during his heavy sleep, but he felt
+hungry, and he ate.
+
+The winter was over and the Gemmi Pass was practicable again, so the
+Hauser family started off to return to their inn.  As soon as they had
+reached the top of the ascent the women mounted their mule and spoke
+about the two men whom they would meet again shortly.  They were, indeed,
+rather surprised that neither of them had come down a few days before, as
+soon as the road was open, in order to tell them all about their long
+winter sojourn.  At last, however, they saw the inn, still covered with
+snow, like a quilt.  The door and the window were closed, but a little
+smoke was coming out of the chimney, which reassured old Hauser.  On
+going up to the door, however, he saw the skeleton of an animal which had
+been torn to pieces by the eagles, a large skeleton lying on its side.
+
+They all looked close at it and the mother said:
+
+"That must be Sam," and then she shouted: "Hi, Gaspard!" A cry from the
+interior of the house answered her and a sharp cry that one might have
+thought some animal had uttered it.  Old Hauser repeated, "Hi, Gaspard!"
+and they heard another cry similar to the first.
+
+Then the three men, the father and the two sons, tried to open the door,
+but it resisted their efforts. From the empty cow-stall they took a beam
+to serve as a battering-ram and hurled it against the door with all their
+might.  The wood gave way and the boards flew into splinters.  Then the
+house was shaken by a loud voice, and inside, behind the side board which
+was overturned, they saw a man standing upright, with his hair falling on
+his shoulders and a beard descending to his breast, with shining eyes,
+and nothing but rags to cover him.  They did not recognize him, but
+Louise Hauser exclaimed:
+
+"It is Ulrich, mother."  And her mother declared that it was Ulrich,
+although his hair was white.
+
+He allowed them to go up to him and to touch him, but he did not reply to
+any of their questions, and they were obliged to take him to Loeche,
+where the doctors found that he was mad, and nobody ever found out what
+had become of his companion.
+
+Little Louise Hauser nearly died that summer of decline, which the
+physicians attributed to the cold air of the mountains.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+     VOLUME V.
+
+MONSIEUR PARENT
+QUEEN HORTENSE
+TIMBUCTOO
+TOMBSTONES
+MADEMOISELLE PEARL
+THE THIEF
+CLAIR DE LUNE
+WAITER, A "BOCK"
+AFTER
+FORGIVENESS
+IN THE SPRING
+A QUEER NIGHT IN PARIS
+
+
+
+
+
+MONSIEUR PARENT
+
+George's father was sitting in an iron chair, watching his little son
+with concentrated affection and attention, as little George piled up the
+sand into heaps during one of their walks.  He would take up the sand
+with both hands, make a mound of it, and put a chestnut leaf on top.
+His father saw no one but him in that public park full of people.
+
+The sun was just disappearing behind the roofs of the Rue Saint-Lazare,
+but still shed its rays obliquely on that little, overdressed crowd.
+The chestnut trees were lighted up by its yellow rays, and the three
+fountains before the lofty porch of the church had the appearance of
+liquid silver.
+
+Monsieur Parent, accidentally looking up at the church clock, saw that he
+was five minutes late.  He got up, took the child by the arm, shook his
+dress, which was covered with sand, wiped his hands, and led him in the
+direction of the Rue Blanche.  He walked quickly, so as not to get in
+after his wife, and the child could not keep up with him.  He took him up
+and carried him, though it made him pant when he had to walk up the steep
+street.  He was a man of forty, already turning gray, and rather stout.
+At last he reached his house.  An old servant who had brought him up, one
+of those trusted servants who are the tyrants of families, opened the
+door to him.
+
+"Has madame come in yet?" he asked anxiously.
+
+The servant shrugged her shoulders:
+
+"When have you ever known madame to come home at half-past six,
+monsieur?"
+
+"Very well; all the better; it will give me time to change my things, for
+I am very warm."
+
+The servant looked at him with angry and contemptuous pity.  "Oh, I can
+see that well enough," she grumbled.  "You are covered with perspiration,
+monsieur.  I suppose you walked quickly and carried the child, and only
+to have to wait until half-past seven, perhaps, for madame.  I have made
+up my mind not to have dinner ready on time.  I shall get it for eight
+o'clock, and if, you have to wait, I cannot help it; roast meat ought not
+to be burnt!"
+
+Monsieur Parent pretended not to hear, but went into his own room, and as
+soon as he got in, locked the door, so as to be alone, quite alone.  He
+was so used now to being abused and badly treated that he never thought
+himself safe except when he was locked in.
+
+What could he do?  To get rid of Julie seemed to him such a formidable
+thing to do that he hardly ventured to think of it, but it was just as
+impossible to uphold her against his wife, and before another month the
+situation would become unbearable between the two.  He remained sitting
+there, with his arms hanging down, vaguely trying to discover some means
+to set matters straight, but without success.  He said to himself: "It is
+lucky that I have George; without him I should-be very miserable."
+
+Just then the clock struck seven, and he started up.  Seven o'clock, and
+he had not even changed his clothes.  Nervous and breathless, he
+undressed, put on a clean shirt, hastily finished his toilet, as if he
+had been expected in the next room for some event of extreme importance,
+and went into the drawing-room, happy at having nothing to fear.  He
+glanced at the newspaper, went and looked out of the window, and then sat
+down again, when the door opened, and the boy came in, washed, brushed,
+and smiling.  Parent took him up in his arms and kissed him passionately;
+then he tossed him into the air, and held him up to the ceiling, but soon
+sat down again, as he was tired with all his exertion.  Then, taking
+George on his knee, he made him ride a-cock-horse.  The child laughed and
+clapped his hands and shouted with pleasure, as did his father, who
+laughed until his big stomach shook, for it amused him almost more than
+it did the child.
+
+Parent loved him with all the heart of a weak, resigned, ill-used man.
+He loved him with mad bursts of affection, with caresses and with all the
+bashful tenderness which was hidden in him, and which had never found an
+outlet, even at the early period of his married life, for his wife had
+always shown herself cold and reserved.
+
+Just then Julie came to the door, with a pale face and glistening eyes,
+and said in a voice which trembled with exasperation: "It is half-past
+seven, monsieur."
+
+Parent gave an uneasy and resigned look at the clock and replied: "Yes,
+it certainly is half-past seven."
+
+"Well, my dinner is quite ready now."
+
+Seeing the storm which was coming, he tried to turn it aside.  "But did
+you not tell me when I came in that it would not be ready before eight?"
+
+"Eight!  what are you thinking about?  You surely do not mean to let the
+child dine at eight o'clock?  It would ruin his stomach.  Just suppose
+that he only had his mother to look after him!  She cares a great deal
+about her child.  Oh, yes, we will speak about her; she is a mother!
+What a pity it is that there should be any mothers like her!"
+
+Parent thought it was time to cut short a threatened scene.  "Julie," he
+said, "I will not allow you to speak like that of your mistress.  You
+understand me, do you not?  Do not forget it in the future."
+
+The old servant, who was nearly choked with surprise, turned and went
+out, slamming the door so violently after her that the lustres on the
+chandelier rattled, and for some seconds it sounded as if a number of
+little invisible bells were ringing in the drawing-room.
+
+Eight o'clock struck, the door opened, and Julie came in again.  She had
+lost her look of exasperation, but now she put on an air of cold and
+determined resolution, which was still more formidable.
+
+"Monsieur," she said, "I served your mother until the day of her death,
+and I have attended to you from your birth until now, and I think it may
+be said that I am devoted to the family."  She waited for a reply, and
+Parent stammered:
+
+"Why, yes, certainly, my good Julie."
+
+"You know quite well," she continued, "that I have never done anything
+for the sake of money, but always for your sake; that I have never
+deceived you nor lied to you, that you have never had to find fault with
+me--"
+
+"Certainly, my good Julie."
+
+"Very well, then, monsieur; it cannot go on any longer like this.  I have
+said nothing, and left you in your ignorance, out of respect and liking
+for you, but it is too much, and every one in the neighborhood is
+laughing at you.  Everybody knows about it, and so I must tell you also,
+although I do not like to repeat it.  The reason why madame comes in at
+any time she chooses is that she is doing abominable things."
+
+He seemed stupefied and not to understand, and could only stammer out:
+
+"Hold your tongue; you know I have forbidden you----"
+
+But she interrupted him with irresistible resolution.  "No, monsieur, I
+must tell you everything now.  For a long time madame has been carrying
+on with Monsieur Limousin.  I have seen them kiss scores of times behind
+the door.  Ah! you may be sure that if Monsieur Limousin had been rich,
+madame would never have married Monsieur Parent.  If you remember how the
+marriage was brought about, you would understand the matter from
+beginning to end."
+
+Parent had risen, and stammered out, his face livid: "Hold your tongue-
+hold your tongue, or----"
+
+She went on, however: "No, I mean to tell you everything.  She married
+you from interest, and she deceived you from the very first day.  It was
+all settled between them beforehand.  You need only reflect for a few
+moments to understand it, and then, as she was not satisfied with having
+married you, as she did not love you, she has made your life miserable,
+so miserable that it has almost broken my heart when I have seen it."
+
+He walked up and down the room with hands clenched, repeating: "Hold your
+tongue--hold your tongue----"  For he could find nothing else to say.
+The old servant, however, would not yield; she seemed resolved on
+everything.
+
+George, who had been at first astonished and then frightened at those
+angry voices, began to utter shrill screams, and remained behind his
+father, with his face puckered up and his mouth open, roaring.
+
+His son's screams exasperated Parent, and filled him with rage and
+courage.  He rushed at Julie with both arms raised, ready to strike her,
+exclaiming: "Ah!  you wretch.  You will drive the child out of his
+senses."  He already had his hand on her, when she screamed in his face:
+
+"Monsieur, you may beat me if you like, me who reared you, but that will
+not prevent your wife from deceiving you, or alter the fact that your
+child is not yours----"
+
+He stopped suddenly, let his arms fall, and remained standing opposite to
+her, so overwhelmed that he could understand nothing more.
+
+"You need only to look at the child," she added, "to know who is its
+father!  He is the very image of Monsieur Limousin.  You need only look
+at his eyes and forehead.  Why, a blind man could not be mistaken in
+him."
+
+He had taken her by the shoulders, and was now shaking her with all his
+might.  "Viper, viper!" he said.  "Go out the room, viper!  Go out, or I
+shall kill you!  Go out!  Go out!"
+
+And with a desperate effort he threw her into the next room.  She fell
+across the table, which was laid for dinner, breaking the glasses.  Then,
+rising to her feet, she put the table between her master and herself.
+While he was pursuing her, in order to take hold of her again, she flung
+terrible words at him.
+
+"You need only go out this evening after dinner, and come in again
+immediately, and you will see!  You will see whether I have been lying!
+Just try it, and you will see."  She had reached the kitchen door and
+escaped, but he ran after her, up the back stairs to her bedroom, into
+which she had locked herself, and knocking at the door, he said:
+
+"You will leave my house this very instant!"
+
+"You may be certain of that, monsieur," was her reply.  "In an hour's
+time I shall not be here any longer."
+
+He then went slowly downstairs again, holding on to the banister so as
+not to fall, and went back to the drawing-room, where little George was
+sitting on the floor, crying.  He fell into a chair, and looked at the
+child with dull eyes.  He understood nothing, knew nothing more; he felt
+dazed, stupefied, mad, as if he had just fallen on his head, and he
+scarcely even remembered the dreadful things the servant had told him.
+Then, by degrees, his mind, like muddy water, became calmer and clearer,
+and the abominable revelations began to work in his heart.
+
+He was no longer thinking of George.  The child was quiet now and sitting
+on the carpet; but, seeing that no notice was being taken of him, he
+began to cry.  His father ran to him, took him in his arms, and covered
+him with kisses.  His child remained to him, at any rate!  What did the
+rest matter?  He held him in his arms and pressed his lips to his light
+hair, and, relieved and composed, he whispered:
+
+"George--my little George--my dear little George----" But he suddenly
+remembered what Julie had said!  Yes, she had said that he was Limousin's
+child.  Oh!  it could not be possible, surely.  He could not believe it,
+could not doubt, even for a moment, that he was his own child.  It was
+one of those low scandals which spring from servants' brains!  And he
+repeated: "George--my dear little George."  The youngster was quiet
+again, now that his father was fondling him.
+
+Parent felt the warmth of the little chest penetrate through his clothes,
+and it filled him with love, courage, and happiness; that gentle warmth
+soothed him, fortified him and saved him.  Then he put the small, curly
+head away from him a little, and looked at it affectionately, still
+repeating: "George!  Oh, my little George!" But suddenly he thought:
+
+"Suppose he were to resemble Limousin, after all!" He looked at him with
+haggard, troubled eyes, and tried to discover whether there was any
+likeness in his forehead, in his nose, mouth, or cheeks.  His thoughts
+wandered as they do when a person is going mad, and his child's face
+changed in his eyes, and assumed a strange look and improbable
+resemblances.
+
+The hall bell rang.  Parent gave a bound as if a bullet had gone through
+him.  "There she is," he said.  "What shall I do?"  And he ran and locked
+himself up in his room, to have time to bathe his eyes.  But in a few
+moments another ring at the bell made him jump again, and then he
+remembered that Julie had left, without the housemaid knowing it, and so
+nobody would go to open the door.  What was he to do?  He went himself,
+and suddenly he felt brave, resolute, ready for dissimulation and the
+struggle.  The terrible blow had matured him in a few moments.  He wished
+to know the truth, he desired it with the rage of a timid man, and with
+the tenacity of an easy-going man who has been exasperated.
+
+Nevertheless, he trembled.  Does one know how much excited cowardice
+there often is in boldness?  He went to the door with furtive steps, and
+stopped to listen; his heart beat furiously.  Suddenly, however, the
+noise of the bell over his head startled him like an explosion.  He
+seized the lock, turned the key, and opening the door, saw his wife and
+Limousin standing before him on the stairs.
+
+With an air of astonishment, which also betrayed a little irritation, she
+said:
+
+"So you open the door now?  Where is Julie?"
+
+His throat felt tight and his breathing was labored as he tried to.
+reply, without being able to utter a word.
+
+"Are you dumb?" she continued.  "I asked you where Julie is?"
+
+"She--she--has--gone----" he managed to stammer.
+
+His wife began to get angry.  "What do you mean by gone?  Where has she
+gone?  Why?"
+
+By degrees he regained his coolness.  He felt an intense hatred rise up
+in him for that insolent woman who was standing before him.
+
+"Yes, she has gone altogether.  I sent her away."
+
+"You have sent away Julie?  Why, you must be mad."
+
+"Yes, I sent her away because she was insolent, and because--because she
+was ill-using the child."
+
+"Julie?"
+
+"Yes--Julie."
+
+"What was she insolent about?"
+
+"About you."
+
+"About me?"
+
+"Yes, because the dinner was burnt, and you did not come in."
+
+"And she said----"
+
+"She said--offensive things about you--which I ought not--which I could
+not listen to----"
+
+"What did she, say?"
+
+"It is no good repeating them."
+
+"I want to hear them."
+
+"She said it was unfortunate for a man like me to be married to a woman
+like you, unpunctual, careless, disorderly, a bad mother, and a bad
+wife."
+
+The young woman had gone into the anteroom, followed by Limousin, who did
+not say a word at this unexpected condition of things.  She shut the door
+quickly, threw her cloak on a chair, and going straight up to her
+husband, she stammered out:
+
+"You say?  You say?  That I am----"
+
+Very pale and calm, he replied: "I say nothing, my dear.  I am simply
+repeating what Julie said to me, as you wanted to know what it was, and I
+wish you to remark that I turned her off just on account of what she
+said."
+
+She trembled with a violent longing to tear out his beard and scratch his
+face.  In his voice and manner she felt that he was asserting his
+position as master.  Although she had nothing to say by way of reply, she
+tried to assume the offensive by saying something unpleasant.  "I suppose
+you have had dinner?" she asked.
+
+"No, I waited for you."
+
+She shrugged her shoulders impatiently.  "It is very stupid of you to
+wait after half-past seven," she said.  "You might have guessed that I
+was detained, that I had a good many things to do, visits and shopping,"
+
+And then, suddenly, she felt that she wanted to explain how she had spent
+her time, and told him in abrupt, haughty words that, having to buy some
+furniture in a shop a long distance off, very far off, in the Rue de
+Rennes, she had met Limousin at past seven o'clock on the Boulevard
+Saint-Germain, and that then she had gone with him to have something to
+eat in a restaurant, as she did not like to go to one by herself,
+although she was faint with hunger.  That was how she had dined with
+Limousin, if it could be called dining, for they had only some soup and
+half a chicken, as they were in a great hurry to get back.
+
+Parent replied simply: "Well, you were quite right.  I am not finding
+fault with you."
+
+Then Limousin, who, had not spoken till then, and who had been half
+hidden behind Henriette, came forward and put out his hand, saying: "Are
+you very well?"
+
+Parent took his hand, and shaking it gently, replied: "Yes, I am very
+well."
+
+But the young woman had felt a reproach in her husband's last words.
+"Finding fault!  Why do you speak of finding fault?  One might think that
+you meant to imply something."
+
+"Not at all," he replied, by way of excuse.  "I simply meant that I was
+not at all anxious although you were late, and that I did not find fault
+with you for it."
+
+She, however, took the high hand, and tried to find a pretext for a
+quarrel.  "Although I was late?  One might really think that it was one
+o'clock in the morning, and that I spent my nights away from home."
+
+"Certainly not, my dear.  I said late because I could find no other word.
+You said you should be back at half-past six, and you returned at half-
+past eight.  That was surely being late.  I understand it perfectly well.
+I am not at all surprised, even.  But--but--I can hardly use any other
+word."
+
+"But you pronounce them as if I had been out all night."
+
+"Oh, no-oh, no!"
+
+She saw that he would yield on every point, and she was going into her
+own room, when at last she noticed that George was screaming, and then
+she asked, with some feeling: "What is the matter with the child?"
+
+"I told you that Julie had been rather unkind to him."
+
+"What has the wretch been doing to him?"
+
+"Oh nothing much.  She gave him a push, and he fell down."
+
+She wanted to see her child, and ran into the dining room, but stopped
+short at the sight of the table covered with spilt wine, with broken
+decanters and glasses and overturned saltcellars.  "Who did all that
+mischief?" she asked.
+
+"It was Julie, who----" But she interrupted him furiously:
+
+"That is too much, really!  Julie speaks of me as if I were a shameless
+woman, beats my child, breaks my plates and dishes, turns my house upside
+down, and it appears that you think it all quite natural."
+
+"Certainly not, as I have got rid of her."
+
+"Really!  You have got rid of her!  But you ought to have given her in
+charge.  In such cases, one ought to call in the Commissary of Police!"
+
+"But--my dear--I really could not.  There was no reason.  It would have
+been very difficult----"
+
+She shrugged her shoulders disdainfully.  "There!  you will never be
+anything but a poor, wretched fellow, a man without a will, without any
+firmness or energy.  Ah! she must have said some nice things to you, your
+Julie, to make you turn her off like that.  I should like to have been
+here for a minute, only for a minute."  Then she opened the drawing-room
+door and ran to George, took him into her arms and kissed him, and said:
+"Georgie, what is it, my darling, my pretty one, my treasure?"
+
+Then, suddenly turning to another idea, she said: "But the child has had
+no dinner?  You have had nothing to eat, my pet?"
+
+"No, mamma."
+
+Then she again turned furiously upon her husband.  "Why, you must be mad,
+utterly mad!  It is half-past eight, and George has had no dinner!"
+
+He excused himself as best he could, for he had nearly lost his wits
+through the overwhelming scene and the explanation, and felt crushed by
+this ruin of his life.  "But, my dear, we were waiting for you, as I did
+not wish to dine without you.  As you come home late every day, I
+expected you every moment."
+
+She threw her bonnet, which she had kept on till then, into an easy-
+chair, and in an angry voice she said: "It is really intolerable to have
+to do with people who can understand nothing, who can divine nothing and
+do nothing by themselves.  So, I suppose, if I were to come in at twelve
+o'clock at night, the child would have had nothing to eat?  Just as if
+you could not have understood that, as it was after half-past seven, I
+was prevented from coming home, that I had met with some hindrance!"
+
+Parent trembled, for he felt that his anger was getting the upper hand,
+but Limousin interposed, and turning toward the young woman, said:
+
+"My dear friend, you, are altogether unjust.  Parent could not guess that
+you would come here so late, as you never do so, and then, how could you
+expect him to get over the difficulty all by himself, after having sent
+away Julie?"
+
+But Henriette was very angry, and replied:
+
+"Well, at any rate, he must get over the difficulty himself, for I will
+not help him," she replied.  "Let him settle it!"  And she went into her
+own room, quite forgetting that her child had not had anything to eat.
+
+Limousin immediately set to work to help his friend.  He picked up the
+broken glasses which strewed the table and took them out, replaced the
+plates and knives and forks, and put the child into his high chair, while
+Parent went to look for the chambermaid to wait at table.  The girl came
+in, in great astonishment, as she had heard nothing in George's room,
+where she had been working.  She soon, however, brought in the soup, a
+burnt leg of mutton, and mashed potatoes.
+
+Parent sat by the side of the child, very much upset and distressed at
+all that had happened.  He gave the boy his dinner, and endeavored to eat
+something himself, but he could only swallow with an effort, as his
+throat felt paralyzed.  By degrees he was seized with an insane desire to
+look at Limousin, who was sitting opposite to him, making bread pellets,
+to see whether George was like him, but he did not venture to raise his
+eyes for some time.  At last, however, he made up his mind to do so, and
+gave a quick, sharp look at the face which he knew so well, although he
+almost fancied that he had never examined it carefully.  It looked so
+different to what he had imagined.  From time to time he looked at
+Limousin, trying to recognize a likeness in the smallest lines of his
+face, in the slightest features, and then he looked at his son, under the
+pretext of feeding him.
+
+Two words were sounding in his ears: "His father! his father! his
+father!"  They buzzed in his temples at every beat of his heart.  Yes,
+that man, that tranquil man who was sitting on the other side of the
+table, was, perhaps, the father of his son, of George, of his little
+George.  Parent left off eating; he could not swallow any more.  A
+terrible pain, one of those attacks of pain which make men scream, roll
+on the ground, and bite the furniture, was tearing at his entrails, and
+he felt inclined to take a knife and plunge it into his stomach.
+He started when he heard the door open.  His wife came in.  "I am
+hungry," she said; "are not you, Limousin?"
+
+He hesitated a little, and then said: "Yes, I am, upon my word."
+She had the leg of mutton brought in again.  Parent asked himself
+"Have they had dinner?  Or are they late because they have had a lovers'
+meeting?"
+
+They both ate with a very good appetite.  Henriette was very calm, but
+laughed and joked.  Her husband watched her furtively.  She had on a pink
+teagown trimmed with white lace, and her fair head, her white neck and
+her plump hands stood out from that coquettish and perfumed dress as
+though it were a sea shell edged with foam.
+
+What fun they must be making of him, if he had been their dupe since the
+first day!  Was it possible to make a fool of a man, of a worthy man,
+because his father had left him a little money?  Why could one not see
+into people's souls?  How was it that nothing revealed to upright hearts
+the deceits of infamous hearts?  How was it that voices had the same
+sound for adoring as for lying?  Why was a false, deceptive look the same
+as a sincere one?  And he watched them, waiting to catch a gesture, a
+word, an intonation.  Then suddenly he thought: "I will surprise them
+this evening," and he said:
+
+"My dear, as I have dismissed Julie, I will see about getting another
+girl this very day.  I will go at once to procure one by to-morrow
+morning, so I may not be in until late."
+
+"Very well," she replied; "go.  I shall not stir from here.  Limousin
+will keep me company.  We will wait for you."  Then, turning to the maid,
+she said: "You had better put George to bed, and then you can clear away
+and go up to your room."
+
+Parent had got up; he was unsteady on his legs, dazed and bewildered, and
+saying, "I shall see you again later on," he went out, holding on to the
+wall, for the floor seemed to roll like a ship.  George had been carried
+out by his nurse, while Henriette and Limousin went into the drawing-
+room.
+
+As soon as the door was shut, he said: "You must be mad, surely, to
+torment your husband as you do?"
+
+She immediately turned on him: "Ah!  Do you know that I think the habit
+you have got into lately, of looking upon Parent as a martyr, is very
+unpleasant?"
+
+Limousin threw himself into an easy-chair and crossed his legs.  "I am
+not setting him up as a martyr in the least, but I think that, situated
+as we are, it is ridiculous to defy this man as you do, from morning till
+night."
+
+She took a cigarette from the mantelpiece, lighted it, and replied: "But
+I do not defy him; quite the contrary.  Only he irritates me by his
+stupidity, and I treat him as he deserves."
+
+Limousin continued impatiently: "What you are doing is very foolish!  I
+am only asking you to treat your husband gently, because we both of us
+require him to trust us.  I think that you ought to see that."
+
+They were close together: he, tall, dark, with long whiskers and the
+rather vulgar manners of a good-looking man who is very well satisfied
+with himself; she, small, fair, and pink, a little Parisian, born in the
+back room of a shop, half cocotte and half bourgeoise, brought up to
+entice customers to the store by her glances, and married, in
+consequence, to a simple, unsophisticated man, who saw her outside the
+door every morning when he went out and every evening when he came home.
+
+"But do you not understand; you great booby," she said, "that I hate him
+just because he married me, because he bought me, in fact; because
+everything that he says and does, everything that he thinks, acts on my
+nerves?  He exasperates me every moment by his stupidity, which you call
+his kindness; by his dullness, which you call his confidence, and then,
+above all, because he is my husband, instead of you.  I feel him between
+us, although he does not interfere with us much.  And then---and then!
+No, it is, after all, too idiotic of him not to guess anything!  I wish
+he would, at any rate, be a little jealous.  There are moments when I
+feel inclined to say to him: 'Do you not see, you stupid creature, that
+Paul is my lover?'
+
+"It is quite incomprehensible that you cannot understand how hateful he
+is to me, how he irritates me.  You always seem to like him, and you
+shake hands with him cordially.  Men are very extraordinary at times."
+
+"One must know how to dissimulate, my dear."
+
+"It is no question of dissimulation, but of feeling.  One might think
+that, when you men deceive one another, you like each other better on
+that account, while we women hate a man from the moment that we have
+betrayed him."
+
+"I do not see why one should hate an excellent fellow because one is
+friendly with his wife."
+
+"You do not see it?  You do not see it?  You all of you are wanting in
+refinement of feeling.  However, that is one of those things which one
+feels and cannot express.  And then, moreover, one ought not.  No, you
+would not understand; it is quite useless!  You men have no delicacy of
+feeling."
+
+And smiling, with the gentle contempt of an impure woman, she put both
+her hands on his shoulders and held up her lips to him.  He stooped down
+and clasped her closely in his arms, and their lips met.  And as they
+stood in front of the mantel mirror, another couple exactly like them
+embraced behind the clock.
+
+They had heard nothing, neither the noise of the key nor the creaking of
+the door, but suddenly Henriette, with a loud cry, pushed Limousin away
+with both her arms, and they saw Parent looking at them, livid with rage,
+without his shoes on and his hat over his forehead.  He looked at each,
+one after the other, with a quick glance of his eyes and without moving
+his head.  He appeared beside himself.  Then, without saying a word, he
+threw himself on Limousin, seized him as if he were going to strangle
+him, and flung him into the opposite corner of the room so violently that
+the other lost his balance, and, beating the air with his hand, struck
+his head violently against the wall.
+
+When Henriette saw that her husband was going to murder her lover, she
+threw herself on Parent, seized him by the neck, and digging her ten
+delicate, rosy fingers into his neck, she squeezed him so tightly, with
+all the vigor of a desperate woman, that the blood spurted out under her
+nails, and she bit his shoulder, as if she wished to tear it with her
+teeth.  Parent, half-strangled and choking, loosened his hold on
+Limousin, in order to shake off his wife, who was hanging to his neck.
+Putting his arms round her waist, he flung her also to the other end of
+the drawing-room.
+
+Then, as his passion was short-lived, like that of most good-tempered
+men, and his strength was soon exhausted, he remained standing between
+the two, panting, worn out, not knowing what to do next.  His brutal fury
+had expended itself in that effort, like the froth of a bottle of
+champagne, and his unwonted energy ended in a gasping for breath.  As
+soon as he could speak, however, he said:
+
+"Go away--both of you--immediately!  Go away!"
+
+Limousin remained motionless in his corner, against the wall, too
+startled to understand anything as yet, too frightened to move a finger;
+while Henriette, with her hands resting on a small, round table, her head
+bent forward, her hair hanging down, the bodice of her dress unfastened,
+waited like a wild animal which is about to spring.  Parent continued in
+a stronger voice: "Go away immediately.  Get out of the house!"
+
+His wife, however, seeing that he had got over his first exasperation
+grew bolder, drew herself up, took two steps toward him, and, grown
+almost insolent, she said: "Have you lost your head?  What is the matter
+with you?  What is the meaning of this unjustifiable violence?"
+
+But he turned toward her, and raising his fist to strike her, he
+stammered out: "Oh--oh--this is too much, too much!  I heard everything!
+Everything--do you understand?  Everything!  You wretch--you wretch!  You
+are two wretches!  Get out of the house, both of you!  Immediately, or I
+shall kill you!  Leave the house!"
+
+She saw that it was all over, and that he knew everything; that she could
+not prove her innocence, and that she must comply.  But all her impudence
+had returned to her, and her hatred for the man, which was aggravated
+now, drove her to audacity, made her feel the need of bravado, and of
+defying him, and she said in a clear voice: "Come, Limousin; as he is
+going to turn me out of doors, I will go to your lodgings with you."
+
+But Limousin did not move, and Parent, in a fresh access of rage, cried
+out: "Go, will you?  Go, you wretches!  Or else--or else----" He seized a
+chair and whirled it over his head.
+
+Henriette walked quickly across the room, took her lover by the arm,
+dragged him from the wall, to which he appeared fixed, and led him toward
+the door, saying: "Do come, my friend--you see that the man is mad.  Do
+come!"
+
+As she went out she turned round to her husband, trying to think of
+something that she could do, something that she could invent to wound him
+to the heart as she left the house, and an idea struck her, one of those
+venomous, deadly ideas in which all a woman's perfidy shows itself, and
+she said resolutely: "I am going to take my child with me."
+
+Parent was stupefied, and stammered: "Your--your--child?  You dare to
+talk of your child?  You venture--you venture to ask for your child--
+after-after--Oh, oh, that is too much!  Go, you vile creature!  Go!"
+
+She went up to him again, almost smiling, almost avenged already, and
+defying him, standing close to him, and face to face, she said: "I want
+my child, and you have no right to keep him, because he is not yours--do
+you understand?  He is not yours!  He is Limousin's!"
+
+And Parent cried out in bewilderment: "You lie--you lie--worthless
+woman!"
+
+But she continued: "You fool!  Everybody knows it except you.  I tell
+you, this is his father.  You need only look at him to see it."
+
+Parent staggered backward, and then he suddenly turned round, took a
+candle, and rushed into the next room; returning almost immediately,
+carrying little George wrapped up in his bedclothes.  The child, who had
+been suddenly awakened, was crying from fright.  Parent threw him into
+his wife's arms, and then, without speaking, he pushed her roughly out
+toward the stairs, where Limousin was waiting, from motives of prudence.
+
+Then he shut the door again, double-locked and bolted it, but had
+scarcely got back into the drawing-room when he fell to the floor at full
+length.
+
+Parent lived alone, quite alone.  During the five weeks that followed
+their separation, the feeling of surprise at his new life prevented him
+from thinking much.  He had resumed his bachelor life, his habits of
+lounging, about, and took his meals at a restaurant, as he had done
+formerly.  As he wished to avoid any scandal, he made his wife an
+allowance, which was arranged by their lawyers.  By degrees, however, the
+thought of the child began to haunt him.  Often, when he was at home
+alone at night, he suddenly thought he heard George calling out "Papa,"
+and his heart would begin to beat, and he would get up quickly and open
+the door, to see whether, by chance, the child might have returned, as
+dogs or pigeons do.  Why should a child have less instinct than an
+animal?  On finding that he was mistaken, he would sit down in his
+armchair again and think of the boy.  He would think of him for hours and
+whole days.  It was not only a moral, but still more a physical
+obsession, a nervous longing to kiss him, to hold and fondle him, to take
+him on his knees and dance him.  He felt the child's little arms around
+his neck, his little mouth pressing a kiss on his beard, his soft hair
+tickling his cheeks, and the remembrance of all those childish ways made
+him suffer as a man might for some beloved woman who has left him.
+Twenty or a hundred times a day he asked himself the question whether he
+was or was not George's father, and almost before he was in bed every
+night he recommenced the same series of despairing questionings.
+
+He especially dreaded the darkness of the evening, the melancholy feeling
+of the twilight.  Then a flood of sorrow invaded his heart, a torrent of
+despair which seemed to overwhelm him and drive him mad.  He was as
+afraid of his own thoughts as men are of criminals, and he fled before
+them as one does from wild beasts.  Above all things, he feared his
+empty, dark, horrible dwelling and the deserted streets, in which, here
+and there, a gas lamp flickered, where the isolated foot passenger whom
+one hears in the distance seems to be a night prowler, and makes one walk
+faster or slower, according to whether he is coming toward you or
+following you.
+
+And in spite of himself, and by instinct, Parent went in the direction of
+the broad, well-lighted, populous streets.  The light and the crowd
+attracted him, occupied his mind and distracted his thoughts, and when he
+was tired of walking aimlessly about among the moving crowd, when he saw
+the foot passengers becoming more scarce and the pavements less crowded,
+the fear of solitude and silence drove him into some large cafe full of
+drinkers and of light.  He went there as flies go to a candle, and he
+would sit down at one of the little round tables and ask for a "bock,"
+which he would drink slowly, feeling uneasy every time a customer got up
+to go.  He would have liked to take him by the arm, hold him back, and
+beg him to stay a little longer, so much did he dread the time when the
+waiter should come up to him and say sharply: "Come, monsieur, it is
+closing time!"
+
+He thus got into the habit of going to the beer houses, where the
+continual elbowing of the drinkers brings you in contact with a familiar
+and silent public, where the heavy clouds of tobacco smoke lull
+disquietude, while the heavy beer dulls the mind and calms the heart.
+He almost lived there.  He was scarcely up before he went there to find
+people to distract his glances and his thoughts, and soon, as he felt too
+lazy to move, he took his meals there.
+
+After every meal, during more than an hour, he sipped three or four small
+glasses of brandy, which stupefied him by degrees, and then his head
+drooped on his chest, he shut his eyes, and went to sleep.  Then,
+awaking, he raised himself on the red velvet seat, straightened his
+waistcoat, pulled down his cuffs, and took up the newspapers again,
+though he had already seen them in the morning, and read them all through
+again, from beginning to end.  Between four and five o'clock he went for
+a walk on the boulevards, to get a little fresh air, as he used to say,
+and then came back to the seat which had been reserved for him, and asked
+for his absinthe.  He would talk to the regular customers whose
+acquaintance he had made.  They discussed the news of the day and
+political events, and that carried him on till dinner time; and he spent
+the evening as he had the afternoon, until it was time to close.  That
+was a terible moment for him when he was obliged to go out into the dark,
+into his empty room full of dreadful recollections, of horrible thoughts,
+and of mental agony.  He no longer saw any of his old friends, none of
+his relatives, nobody who might remind him of his past life.  But as his
+apartments were a hell to him, he took a room in a large hotel, a good
+room on the ground floor, so as to see the passers-by.  He was no longer
+alone in that great building.  He felt people swarming round him, he
+heard voices in the adjoining rooms, and when his former sufferings
+tormented him too much at the sight of his bed, which was turned down,
+and of his solitary fireplace, he went out into the wide passages and
+walked up and down them like a sentinel, before all the closed doors, and
+looked sadly at the shoes standing in couples outside them, women's
+little boots by the side of men's thick ones, and he thought that, no
+doubt, all these people were happy, and were sleeping in their warm beds.
+Five years passed thus; five miserable years.  But one day, when he was
+taking his usual walk between the Madeleine and the Rue Drouot, he
+suddenly saw a lady whose bearing struck him.  A tall gentleman and a
+child were with her, and all three were walking in front of him.  He
+asked himself where he had seen them before, when suddenly he recognized
+a movement of her hand; it was his wife, his wife with Limousin and his
+child, his little George.
+
+His heart beat as if it would suffocate him, but he did not stop, for he
+wished to see them, and he followed them.  They looked like a family of
+the better middle class.  Henriette was leaning on Paul's arm, and
+speaking to him in a low voice, and looking at him sideways occasionally.
+Parent got a side view of her and recognized her pretty features, the
+movements of her lips, her smile, and her coaxing glances.  But the child
+chiefly took up his attention.  How tall and strong he was!  Parent could
+not see his face, but only his long, fair curls.  That tall boy with bare
+legs, who was walking by his mother's side like a little man, was George.
+He saw them suddenly, all three, as they stopped in front of a shop.
+Limousin had grown very gray, had aged and was thinner; his wife, on the
+contrary, was as young looking as ever, and had grown stouter.  George he
+would not have recognized, he was so different from what he had been
+formerly.
+
+They went on again and Parent followed them.  He walked on quickly,
+passed them, and then turned round, so as to meet them face to face.  As
+he passed the child he felt a mad longing to take him into his arms and
+run off with him, and he knocked against him as if by accident.  The boy
+turned round and looked at the clumsy man angrily, and Parent hurried
+away, shocked, hurt, and pursued by that look.  He went off like a thief,
+seized with a horrible fear lest he should have been seen and recognized
+by his wife and her lover.  He went to his cafe without stopping, and
+fell breathless into his chair.  That evening he drank three absinthes.
+For four months he felt the pain of that meeting in his heart.  Every
+night he saw the three again, happy and tranquil, father, mother, and
+child walking on the boulevard before going in to dinner, and that new.
+vision effaced the old one.  It was another matter, another hallucination
+now, and also a fresh pain.  Little George, his little George, the child
+he had so much loved and so often kissed, disappeared in the far
+distance, and he saw a new one, like a brother of the first, a little boy
+with bare legs, who did not know him!  He suffered terribly at that
+thought.  The child's love was dead; there was no bond between them; the
+child would not have held out his arms when he saw him.  He had even
+looked at him angrily.
+
+Then, by degrees he grew calmer, his mental torture diminished, the image
+that had appeared to his eyes and which haunted his nights became more
+indistinct and less frequent.  He began once more to live nearly like
+everybody else, like all those idle people who drink beer off marble-
+topped tables and wear out their clothes on the threadbare velvet of the
+couches.
+
+He grew old amid the smoke from pipes, lost his hair under the gas
+lights, looked upon his weekly bath, on his fortnightly visit to the
+barber's to have his hair cut, and on the purchase of a new coat or hat
+as an event.  When he got to his cafe in a new hat he would look at
+himself in the glass for a long time before sitting down, and take it off
+and put it on again several times, and at last ask his friend, the lady
+at the bar, who was watching him with interest, whether she thought it
+suited him.
+
+Two or three times a year he went to the theatre, and in the summer he
+sometimes spent his evenings at one of the open-air concerts in the
+Champs Elysees.  And so the years followed each other slow, monotonous,
+and short, because they were quite uneventful.
+
+He very rarely now thought of the dreadful drama which had wrecked his
+life; for twenty years had passed since that terrible evening.  But the
+life he had led since then had worn him out.  The landlord of his cafe
+would often say to him: "You ought to pull yourself together a little,
+Monsieur Parent; you should get some fresh air and go into the country.
+I assure you that you have changed very much within the last few months."
+And when his customer had gone out be used to say to the barmaid: "That
+poor Monsieur Parent is booked for another world; it is bad never to get
+out of Paris.  Advise him to go out of town for a day occasionally; he
+has confidence in you.  Summer will soon be here; that will put him
+straight."
+
+And she, full of pity and kindness for such a regular customer, said to
+Parent every day: "Come, monsieur, make up your mind to get a little
+fresh air.  It is so charming in the country when the weather is fine.
+Oh, if I could, I would spend my life there!"
+
+By degrees he was seized with a vague desire to go just once and see
+whether it was really as pleasant there as she said, outside the walls of
+the great city.  One morning he said to her:
+
+"Do you know where one can get a good luncheon in the neighborhood of
+Paris?"
+
+"Go to the Terrace at Saint-Germain; it is delightful there!"
+
+He had been there formerly, just when he became engaged.  He made up his
+mind to go there again, and he chose a Sunday, for no special reason, but
+merely because people generally do go out on Sundays, even when they have
+nothing to do all the week; and so one Sunday morning he went to Saint-
+Germain.  He felt low-spirited and vexed at having yielded to that new
+longing, and at having broken through his usual habits.  He was thirsty;
+he would have liked to get out at every station and sit down in the cafe
+which he saw outside and drink a "bock" or two, and then take the first
+train back to Paris.  The journey seemed very long to him.  He could
+remain sitting for whole days, as long as he had the same motionless
+objects before his eyes, but he found it very trying and fatiguing to
+remain sitting while he was being whirled along, and to see the whole
+country fly by, while he himself was motionless.
+
+However, he found the Seine interesting every time he crossed it.  Under
+the bridge at Chatou he saw some small boats going at great speed under
+the vigorous strokes of the bare-armed oarsmen, and he thought: "There
+are some fellows who are certainly enjoying themselves!"  The train
+entered the tunnel just before you get to the station at Saint-Germain,
+and presently stopped at the platform.  Parent got out, and walked
+slowly, for he already felt tired, toward the Terrace, with his hands
+behind his back, and when he got to the iron balustrade, stopped to look
+at the distant horizon.  The immense plain spread out before him vast as
+the sea, green and studded with large villages, almost as populous as
+towns.  The sun bathed the whole landscape in its full, warm light.  The
+Seine wound like an endless serpent through the plain, flowed round the
+villages and along the slopes.  Parent inhaled the warm breeze, which
+seemed to make his heart young again, to enliven his spirits, and to
+vivify his blood, and said to himself:
+
+"Why, it is delightful here."
+
+Then he went on a few steps, and stopped again to look about him.  The
+utter misery of his existence seemed to be brought into full relief by
+the intense light which inundated the landscape.  He saw his twenty years
+of cafe life--dull, monotonous, heartbreaking.  He might have traveled as
+others did, have gone among foreigners, to unknown countries beyond the
+sea, have interested himself somewhat in everything which other men are
+passionately devoted to, in arts and science; he might have enjoyed life
+in a thousand forms, that mysterious life which is either charming or
+painful, constantly changing, always inexplicable and strange.  Now,
+however, it was too late.  He would go on drinking "bock" after "bock"
+until he died, without any family, without friends, without hope, without
+any curiosity about anything, and he was seized with a feeling of misery
+and a wish to run away, to hide himself in Paris, in his cafe and his
+lethargy!  All the thoughts, all the dreams, all the desires which are
+dormant in the slough of stagnating hearts had reawakened, brought to
+life by those rays of sunlight on the plain.
+
+Parent felt that if he were to remain there any longer he should lose his
+reason, and he made haste to get to the Pavilion Henri IV for lunch, to
+try and forget his troubles under--the influence of wine and alcohol, and
+at any rate to have some one to speak to.
+
+He took a small table in one of the arbors, from which one can see all
+the surrounding country, ordered his lunch, and asked to be served at
+once.  Then some more people arrived and sat down at tables near him.  He
+felt more comfortable; he was no longer alone.  Three persons were eating
+luncheon near him.  He looked at them two or three times without seeing
+them clearly, as one looks at total strangers.  Suddenly a woman's voice
+sent a shiver through him which seemed to penetrate to his very marrow.
+"George," it said, "will you carve the chicken?"
+
+And another voice replied: "Yes, mamma."
+
+Parent looked up, and he understood; he guessed immediately who those
+people were!  He should certainly not have known them again.  His wife
+had grown quite white and very stout, an elderly, serious, respectable
+lady, and she held her head forward as she ate for fear of spotting her
+dress, although she had a table napkin tucked under her chin.  George had
+become a man.  He had a slight beard, that uneven and almost colorless
+beard which adorns the cheeks of youths.  He wore a high hat, a white
+waistcoat, and a monocle, because it looked swell, no doubt.  Parent
+looked at him in astonishment.  Was that George, his son?  No, he did not
+know that young man; there could be nothing in common between them.
+Limousin had his back to him, and was eating; with his shoulders rather
+bent.
+
+All three of them seemed happy and satisfied; they came and took luncheon
+in the country at well-known restaurants.  They had had a calm and
+pleasant existence, a family existence in a warm and comfortable house,
+filled with all those trifles which make life agreeable, with affection,
+with all those tender words which people exchange continually when they
+love each other.  They had lived thus, thanks to him, Parent, on his
+money, after having deceived him, robbed him, ruined him!  They had
+condemned him, the innocent, simple-minded, jovial man, to all the
+miseries of solitude, to that abominable life which he had led, between
+the pavement and a bar-room, to every mental torture and every physical
+misery!  They had made him a useless, aimless being, a waif in the world,
+a poor old man without any pleasures, any prospects, expecting nothing
+from anybody or anything.  For him, the world was empty, because he loved
+nothing in the world.  He might go among other nations, or go about the
+streets, go into all the houses in Paris, open every room, but he would
+not find inside any door the beloved face, the face of wife or child
+which smiles when it sees you.  This idea worked upon him more than any
+other, the idea of a door which one opens, to see and to embrace somebody
+behind it.
+
+And that was the fault of those three wretches!  The fault of that
+worthless woman, of that infamous friend, and of that tall, light-haired
+lad who put on insolent airs.  Now he felt as angry with the child as he
+did with the other two.  Was he not Limousin's son?  Would Limousin have
+kept him and loved him otherwise?  Would not Limousin very quickly have
+got rid of the mother and of the child if he had not felt sure that it
+was his, positively his?  Does anybody bring up other people's children?
+And now they were there, quite close to him, those three who had made him
+suffer so much.
+
+Parent looked at them, irritated and excited at the recollection of all
+his sufferings and of his despair, and was especially exasperated at
+their placid and satisfied looks.  He felt inclined to kill them, to
+throw his siphon of Seltzer water at them, to split open Limousin's head
+as he every moment bent it over his plate, raising it again immediately.
+
+He would have his revenge now, on the spot, as he had them under his
+hand.  But how?  He tried to think of some means, he pictured such
+dreadful things as one reads of in the newspapers occasionally, but could
+not hit on anything practical.  And he went on drinking to excite
+himself, to give himself courage not to allow such an opportunity to
+escape him, as he might never have another.
+
+Suddenly an idea struck him, a terrible idea; and he left off drinking to
+mature it.  He smiled as he murmured: "I have them, I have them!  We will
+see; we will see!"
+
+They finished their luncheon slowly, conversing with perfect unconcern.
+Parent could not hear what they were saying, but he saw their quiet
+gestures.  His wife's face especially exasperated him.  She had assumed a
+haughty air, the air of a comfortable, devout woman, of an
+unapproachable, devout woman, sheathed in principles, iron-clad in
+virtue.  They paid their bill and got up from table.  Parent then noticed
+Limousin.  He might have been taken for a retired diplomat, for he looked
+a man of great importance, with his soft white whiskers, the tips of
+which touched his coat collar.
+
+They walked away.  Parent rose and followed them.  First they went up and
+down the terrace, and calmly admired the landscape, and then they went.
+into the forest.  Parent followed them at a distance, hiding himself so
+as not to excite their suspicion too soon.
+
+Parent came up to them by degrees, breathing hard with emotion and
+fatigue, for he was unused to walking now.  He soon came up to them, but
+was seized with fear, an inexplicable fear, and he passed them, so as to
+turn round and meet them face to face.  He walked on, his heart beating,
+feeling that they were just behind him now, and he said to himself:
+"Come, now is the time.  Courage!  courage!  Now is the moment!"
+
+He turned round.  They were all three sitting on the grass, at the foot
+of a huge tree, and were still chatting.  He made up his mind, and walked
+back rapidly; stopping in front of them in the middle of tile road, he
+said abruptly, in a voice broken by emotion:
+
+"It is I!  Here I am!  I suppose you did not expect me?"
+
+They all three stared at this man, who seemed to be insane.
+He continued:
+
+"One would suppose that you did not know me again.  Just look at me!  I
+am Parent, Henri Parent.  You thought it was all over, and that you would
+never see me again.  Ah!  but here I am once more, you see, and now we
+will have an explanation."
+
+Henriette, terrified, hid her face in her hands, murmuring: "Oh!  Good
+heavens!"
+
+Seeing this stranger, who seemed to be threatening his mother, George
+sprang up, ready to seize him by the collar.  Limousin, thunderstruck,
+looked in horror at this apparition, who, after gasping for breath,
+continued:
+
+"So now we will have an explanation; the proper moment has come!  Ah!
+you deceived me, you condemned me to the life of a convict, and you
+thought that I should never catch you!"
+
+The young man took him by the shoulders and pushed him back.
+
+"Are you mad?" he asked.  "What do you want?  Go on your way immediately,
+or I shall give you a thrashing!"
+
+"What do I want?" replied Parent.  "I want to tell you who these people
+are."
+
+George, however, was in a rage, and shook him; and was even going to
+strike him.
+
+"Let me go," said Parent.  "I am your father.  There, see whether they
+recognize me now, the wretches!"
+
+The young man, thunderstruck, unclenched his fists and turned toward his
+mother.  Parent, as soon as he was released, approached her.
+
+"Well," he said, "tell him yourself who I am!  Tell him that my name is
+Henri Parent, that I am his father because his name is George Parent,
+because you are my wife, because you are all three living on my money, on
+the allowance of ten thousand francs which I have made you since I drove
+you out of my house.  Will you tell him also why I drove you out?
+Because I surprised you with this beggar, this wretch, your lover!  Tell
+him what I was, an honorable man, whom you married for money, and whom
+you deceived from the very first day.  Tell him who you are, and who I
+am----"
+
+He stammered and gasped for breath in his rage.  The woman exclaimed in a
+heartrending voice:
+
+"Paul, Paul, stop him; make him be quiet!  Do not let him say this before
+my son!"
+
+Limousin had also risen to his feet.  He said in a very low voice:
+"Hold your tongue!  Hold your tongue!  Do you understand what you are
+doing?"
+
+"I quite know what I am doing," resumed Parent, "and that is not all.
+There is one thing that I will know, something that has tormented me for
+twenty years."  Then, turning to George, who was leaning against a tree
+in consternation, he said:
+
+"Listen to me.  When she left my house she thought it was not enough to
+have deceived me, but she also wanted to drive me to despair.  You were
+my only consolation, and she took you with her, swearing that I was not
+your father, but, that he was your father.  Was she lying?  I do not
+know.  I have been asking myself the question for the last twenty years."
+He went close up to her, tragic and terrible, and, pulling away her
+hands, with which she had covered her face, he continued:
+
+"Well, now!  I call upon you to tell me which of us two is the father of
+this young man; he or I, your husband or your lover.  Come!  Come!  tell
+us."
+
+Limousin rushed at him.  Parent pushed him back, and, sneering in his
+fury, he said: "Ah!  you are brave now!  You are braver than you were
+that day when you ran downstairs because you thought I was going to
+murder you.  Very well!  If she will not reply, tell me yourself.  You
+ought to know as well as she.  Tell me, are you this young fellow's
+father?  Come!  Come!  Tell me!"
+
+He turned to his wife again.  "If you will not tell me, at any rate tell
+your son.  He is a man, now, and he has the right to know who his father
+is.  I do not know, and I never did know, never, never!  I cannot tell
+you, my boy."
+
+He seemed to be losing his senses; his voice grew shrill and he worked
+his arms about as if he had an epileptic 'fit.
+
+"Come!  .  .  .  Give me an answer.  She does not know .  .  . I will
+make a bet that she does not know .  .  .  No .  .  . she does not know,
+by Jove!  Ha!  ha!  ha!  Nobody knows .  .  .  nobody .  .  . How can one
+know such things?
+
+You will not know either, my boy, you will not know any more than I do
+.  .  .  never.  .  .  .  Look here .  .  . Ask her you will find that
+she does not know .  .  . I do not know either .  .  .  nor does he, nor
+do you, nobody knows.  You can choose .  .  . You can choose .  .  .
+yes, you can choose him or me.  .  .  Choose.
+
+Good evening .  .  .  It is all over.  If she makes up her mind to tell
+you, you will come and let me know, will you not?  I am living at the
+Hotel des Continents .  .  .  I should be glad to know .  .  .  Good
+evening .  .  .  I hope you will enjoy yourselves very much .  .  ."
+
+And he went away gesticulating, talking to himself under the tall trees,
+in the quiet, the cool air, which was full of the fragrance of growing
+plants.  He did not turn round to look at them, but went straight on,
+walking under the stimulus of his rage, under a storm of passion, with
+that one fixed idea in his mind.  All at once he found himself outside
+the station.  A train was about to start and he got in.  During the
+journey his anger calmed down, he regained his senses and returned to
+Paris, astonished at his own boldness, full of aches and pains as if he
+had broken some bones.  Nevertheless, he went to have a "bock" at his
+brewery.
+
+When she saw him come in, Mademoiselle Zoe asked in surprise: "What!
+back already?  are you tired?"
+
+"Yes--yes, I am tired .  .  . very tired .  .  . You know, when one is
+not used to going out.  .  . I've had enough of it.  I shall not go into
+the country again.  It would have been better to have stayed here.  For
+the future, I shall not stir out."
+
+She could not persuade him to tell her about his little excursion, much
+as she wished to.
+
+For the first time in his life he got thoroughly drunk that night, and
+had to be carried home.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+QUEEN HORTENSE
+
+In Argenteuil she was called Queen Hortense.  No one knew why.  Perhaps
+it was because she had a commanding tone of voice; perhaps because she
+was tall, bony, imperious; perhaps because she governed a kingdom of
+servants, chickens, dogs, cats, canaries, parrots, all so dear to an old
+maid's heart.  But she did not spoil these familiar friends; she had for
+them none of those endearing names, none of the foolish tenderness which
+women seem to lavish on the soft fur of a purring cat.  She governed
+these beasts with authority; she reigned.
+
+She was indeed an old maid--one of those old maids with a harsh voice and
+angular motions, whose very soul seems to be hard.  She never would stand
+contradiction, argument, hesitation, indifference, laziness nor fatigue.
+She had never been heard to complain, to regret anything, to envy anyone.
+She would say: "Everyone has his share," with the conviction of a
+fatalist.  She did not go to church, she had no use for priests, she
+hardly believed in God, calling all religious things "weeper's wares."
+
+For thirty years she had lived in her little house, with its tiny garden
+running along the street; she had never changed her habits, only changing
+her servants pitilessly, as soon as they reached twenty-one years of age.
+
+When her dogs, cats and birds would die of old age, or from an accident,
+she would replace them without tears and without regret; with a little
+spade she would bury the dead animal in a strip of ground, throwing a few
+shovelfuls of earth over it and stamping it down with her feet in an
+indifferent manner.
+
+She had a few friends in town, families of clerks who went to Paris every
+day.  Once in a while she would be invited out, in the evening, to tea.
+She would inevitably fall asleep, and she would have to be awakened, when
+it was time for her to go home.  She never allowed anyone to accompany
+her, fearing neither light nor darkness.  She did not appear to like
+children.
+
+She kept herself busy doing countless masculine tasks--carpentering,
+gardening, sawing or chopping wood, even laying bricks when it was
+necessary.
+
+She had relatives who came to see her twice a year, the Cimmes and the
+Colombels, her two sisters having married, one of them a florist and the
+other a retired merchant.  The Cimmes had no children; the Colombels had
+three: Henri, Pauline and Joseph.  Henri was twenty, Pauline seventeen
+and Joseph only three.
+
+There was no love lost between the old maid and her relatives.
+
+In the spring of the year 1882 Queen Hortense suddenly fell sick.
+The neighbors called in a physician, whom she immediately drove out.
+A priest then having presented himself, she jumped out of bed, in order
+to throw him out of the house.
+
+The young servant, in despair, was brewing her some tea.
+
+After lying in bed for three days the situation appeared so serious that
+the barrel-maker, who lived next door, to the right, acting on advice
+from the doctor, who had forcibly returned to the house, took it upon
+himself to call together the two families.
+
+They arrived by the same train, towards ten in the morning, the Colombels
+bringing little Joseph with them.
+
+When they got to the garden gate, they saw the servant seated in the
+chair against the wall, crying.
+
+The dog was sleeping on the door mat in the broiling sun; two cats, which
+looked as though they might be dead, were stretched out in front of the
+two windows, their eyes closed, their paws and tails stretched out at
+full length.
+
+A big clucking hen was parading through the garden with a whole regiment
+of yellow, downy chicks, and a big cage hanging from the wall and covered
+with pimpernel, contained a population of birds which were chirping away
+in the warmth of this beautiful spring morning.
+
+In another cage, shaped like a chalet, two lovebirds sat motionless side
+by side on their perch.
+
+M. Cimme, a fat, puffing person, who always entered first everywhere,
+pushing aside everyone else, whether man or woman, when it was necessary,
+asked:
+
+"Well, Celeste, aren't things going well?"
+
+The little servant moaned through her tears:
+
+"She doesn't even recognize me any more.  The doctor says it's the end."
+
+Everybody looked around.
+
+Mme. Cimme and Mme. Colombel immediately embraced each other, without
+saying a word.  They locked very much alike, having always worn their
+hair in Madonna bands, and loud red French cashmere shawls.
+
+Cimme turned to his brother-in-law, a pale, sal, low-complexioned, thin
+man, wasted by stomach complaints, who limped badly, and said in a
+serious tone of voice:
+
+"Gad!  It was high time."
+
+But no one dared to enter the dying woman's room on the ground floor.
+Even Cimme made way for the others.  Colombel was the first to make up
+his mind, and, swaying from side to side like the mast of a ship, the
+iron ferule of his cane clattering on the paved hall, he entered.
+
+The two women were the next to venture, and M. Cimmes closed the
+procession.
+
+Little Joseph had remained outside, pleased at the sight of the dog.
+
+A ray of sunlight seemed to cut the bed in two, shining just on the
+hands, which were moving nervously, continually opening and closing.
+The fingers were twitching as though moved by some thought, as though
+trying to point out a meaning or idea, as though obeying the dictates of
+a will.  The rest of the body lay motionless under the sheets.  The
+angular frame showed not a single movement.  The eyes remained closed.
+
+The family spread out in a semi-circle and, without a word, they began to
+watch the contracted chest and the short, gasping breathing.  The little
+servant had followed them and was still crying.
+
+At last Cimme asked:
+
+"Exactly what did the doctor say?"
+
+The girl stammered:
+
+"He said to leave her alone, that nothing more could be done for her."
+
+But suddenly the old woman's lips began to move.  She seemed to be
+uttering silent words, words hidden in the brain of this dying being, and
+her hands quickened their peculiar movements.
+
+Then she began to speak in a thin, high voice, which no one had ever
+heard, a voice which seemed to come from the distance, perhaps from the
+depths of this heart which had always been closed.
+
+Cimme, finding this scene painful, walked away on tiptoe.  Colombel,
+whose crippled leg was growing tired, sat down.
+
+The two women remained standing.
+
+Queen Hortense was now babbling away, and no one could understand a word.
+She was pronouncing names, many names, tenderly calling imaginary people.
+
+"Come here, Philippe, kiss your mother.  Tell me, child, do you love your
+mamma?  You, Rose, take care of your little sister while I am away.  And
+don't leave her alone.  Don't play with matches!"
+
+She stopped for a while, then, in a louder voice, as though she were
+calling someone: "Henriette!" then waited a moment and continued:
+
+"Tell your father that I wish to speak to him before he goes to
+business."  And suddenly: "I am not feeling very well to-day, darling;
+promise not to come home late.  Tell your employer that I am sick.
+You know, it isn't safe to leave the children alone when I am in bed.
+For dinner I will fix you up a nice dish of rice.  The little ones like
+that very much.  Won't Claire be happy?"
+
+And she broke into a happy, joyous laugh, such as they had never heard:
+"Look at Jean, how funny he looks!  He has smeared jam all over his face,
+the little pig!  Look, sweetheart, look; isn't he funny?"
+
+Colombel, who was continually lifting his tired leg from place to place,
+muttered:
+
+"She is dreaming that she has children and a husband; it is the beginning
+of the death agony."
+
+The two sisters had not yet moved, surprised, astounded.
+
+The little maid exclaimed:
+
+"You must take off your shawls and your hits!  Would you like to go into
+the parlor?"
+
+They went out without having said a word.  And Colombel followed them,
+limping, once more leaving the dying woman alone.
+
+When they were relieved of their travelling garments, the women finally
+sat down.  Then one of the cats left its window, stretched, jumped into
+the room and on to Mme. Cimme's knees.  She began to pet it.
+
+In the next room could be heard the voice of the dying woman, living, in
+this last hour, the life for which she had doubtless hoped, living her
+dreams themselves just when all was over for her.
+
+Cimme, in the garden, was playing with little Joseph and the dog,
+enjoying himself in the whole hearted manner of a countryman, having
+completely forgotten the dying woman.
+
+But suddenly he entered the house and said to the girl:
+
+"I say, my girl, are we not going to have luncheon?  What do you ladies
+wish to eat?"
+
+They finally agreed on an omelet, a piece of steak with new potatoes,
+cheese and coffee.
+
+As Mme. Colombel was fumbling in her pocket for her purse, Cimme stopped
+her, and, turning to the maid: "Have you got any money?"
+
+She answered:
+
+"Yes, monsieur."
+
+"How much?"
+
+"Fifteen francs."
+
+"That's enough.  Hustle, my girl, because I am beginning to get very
+hungry:"
+
+Mme. Cimme, looking out over the climbing vines bathed in sunlight, and
+at the two turtle-doves on the roof opposite, said in an annoyed tone of
+voice:
+
+"What a pity to have had to come for such a sad occasion.  It is so nice
+in the country to-day."
+
+Her sister sighed without answering, and Colombel mumbled, thinking
+perhaps of the walk ahead of him:
+
+"My leg certainly is bothering me to-day:"
+
+Little Joseph and the dog were making a terrible noise; one was shrieking
+with pleasure, the other was barking wildly.  They were playing hide-and-
+seek around the three flower beds, running after each other like mad.
+
+The dying woman continued to call her children, talking with each one,
+imagining that she was dressing them, fondling them, teaching them how to
+read: "Come on!  Simon repeat: A, B, C, D.  You are not paying attention,
+listen--D, D, D ; do you hear me?  Now repeat--"
+
+Cimme exclaimed: "Funny what people say when in that condition."
+
+Mme. Colombel then asked:
+
+"Wouldn't it be better if we were to return to her?"
+
+But Cimme dissuaded her from the idea:
+
+"What's the use?  You can't change anything.  We are just as comfortable
+here."
+
+Nobody insisted.  Mme. Cimme observed the two green birds called love-
+birds.  In a few words she praised this singular faithfulness and blamed
+the men for not imitating these animals.  Cimme began to laugh, looked at
+his wife and hummed in a teasing way: "Tra-la-la, tra-la-la" as though to
+cast a good deal of doubt on his own, Cimme's, faithfulness:
+
+Colombel was suffering from cramps and was rapping the floor with his
+cane.
+
+The other cat, its tail pointing upright to the sky, now came in.
+
+They sat down to luncheon at one o'clock.
+
+As soon as he had tasted the wine, Colombel, for whom only the best of
+Bordeaux had been prescribed, called the servant back:
+
+"I say, my girl, is this the best stuff that you have in the cellar?"
+
+"No, monsieur; there is some better wine, which was only brought out when
+you came."
+
+"Well, bring us three bottles of it."
+
+They tasted the wine and found it excellent, not because it was of a
+remarkable vintage, but because it had been in the cellar fifteen years.
+Cimme declared:
+
+"That is regular invalid's wine."
+
+Colombel, filled with an ardent desire to gain possession of this
+Bordeaux, once more questioned the girl:
+
+"How much of it is left?"
+
+"Oh!  Almost all, monsieur; mamz'elle never touched it.  It's in the
+bottom stack."
+
+Then he turned to his brother-in-law:
+
+"If you wish, Cimme, I would be willing to exchange something else for
+this wine; it suits my stomach marvellously."
+
+The chicken had now appeared with its regiment of young ones.  The two
+women were enjoying themselves throwing crumbs to them.
+
+Joseph and the dog, who had eaten enough, were sent back to the garden.
+
+Queen Hortense was still talking, but in a low, hushed voice, so that the
+words could no longer be distinguished.
+
+When they had finished their coffee all went in to observe the condition
+of the sick woman.  She seemed calm.
+
+They went outside again and seated themselves in a circle in the garden,
+in order to complete their digestion.
+
+Suddenly the dog, who was carrying something in his mouth, began to run
+around the chairs at full speed.  The child was chasing him wildly.  Both
+disappeared into the house.
+
+Cimme fell asleep, his well-rounded paunch bathed in the glow of the
+shining sun.
+
+The dying woman once more began to talk in a loud voice.  Then suddenly
+she shrieked.
+
+The two women and Colombel rushed in to see what was the matter.  Cimme,
+waking up, did not budge, because, he did not wish to witness such a
+scene.
+
+She was sitting up, with haggard eyes.  Her dog, in order to escape being
+pursued by little Joseph, had jumped up on the bed, run over the sick
+woman, and entrenched behind the pillow, was looking down at his playmate
+with snapping eyes, ready to jump down and begin the game again.  He was
+holding in his mouth one of his mistress' slippers, which he had torn to
+pieces and with which he had been playing for the last hour.
+
+The child, frightened by this woman who had suddenly risen in front of
+him, stood motionless before the bed.
+
+The hen had also come in, and frightened by the noise, had jumped up on a
+chair and was wildly calling her chicks, who were chirping distractedly
+around the four legs of the chair.
+
+Queen Hortense was shrieking:
+
+"No, no, I don't want to die, I don't want to!  I don't want to!  Who
+will bring up my children?  Who will take care of them?  Who will love
+them?  No, I don't want to!--I don't----"
+
+She fell back.  All was over.
+
+The dog, wild with excitement, jumped about the room, barking.
+
+Colombel ran to the window, calling his brother-in-law:
+
+"Hurry up, hurry up!  I think that she has just gone."
+
+Then Cimme, resigned, arose and entered the room, mumbling
+
+"It didn't take as long as I thought it would!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+TIMBUCTOO
+
+The boulevard, that river of humanity, was alive with people in the
+golden light of the setting sun.  The whole sky was red, blinding, and
+behind the Madeleine an immense bank of flaming clouds cast a shower of
+light the whole length of tile boulevard, vibrant as the heat from a
+brazier.
+
+The gay, animated crowd went by in this golden mist and seemed to be
+glorified.  Their faces were gilded, their black hats and clothes took on
+purple tints, the patent leather of their shoes cast bright reflections
+on the asphalt of the sidewalk.
+
+Before the cafes a mass of men were drinking opalescent liquids that
+looked like precious stones dissolved in the glasses.
+
+In the midst of the drinkers two officers in full uniform dazzled all
+eyes with their glittering gold lace.  They chatted, happy without asking
+why, in this glory of life, in this radiant light of sunset, and they
+looked at the crowd, the leisurely men and the hurrying women who left a
+bewildering odor of perfume as they passed by.
+
+All at once an enormous negro, dressed in black, with a paunch beneath
+his jean waistcoat, which was covered with charms, his face shining as if
+it had been polished, passed before them with a triumphant air.  He
+laughed at the passers-by, at the news venders, at the dazzling sky, at
+the whole of Paris.  He was so tall that he overtopped everyone else, and
+when he passed all the loungers turned round to look at his back.
+
+But he suddenly perceived the officers and darted towards them, jostling
+the drinkers in his path.  As soon as he reached their table he fixed his
+gleaming and delighted eyes upon them and the corners of his mouth
+expanded to his ears, showing his dazzling white teeth like a crescent
+moon in a black sky.  The two men looked in astonishment at this ebony
+giant, unable to understand his delight.
+
+With a voice that made all the guests laugh, he said:
+
+"Good-day, my lieutenant."
+
+One of the officers was commander of a battalion, the other was a
+colonel.  The former said:
+
+"I do not know you, sir.  I am at a loss to know what you want of me."
+
+"Me like you much, Lieutenant Vedie, siege of Bezi, much grapes, find
+me."
+
+The officer, utterly bewildered, looked at the man intently, trying to
+refresh his memory.  Then he cried abruptly:
+
+"Timbuctoo?"
+
+The negro, radiant, slapped his thigh as he uttered a tremendous laugh
+and roared:
+
+"Yes, yes, my lieutenant; you remember Timbuctoo, ya.  How do you do?"
+
+The commandant held out his hand, laughing heartily as he did so.  Then
+Timbuctoo became serious.  He seized the officer's hand and, before the
+other could prevent it, he kissed it, according to negro and Arab custom.
+The officer embarrassed, said in a severe tone:
+
+"Come now, Timbuctoo, we are not in Africa.  Sit down there and tell me
+how it is I find you here."
+
+Timbuctoo swelled himself out and, his words falling over one another,
+replied hurriedly:
+
+"Make much money, much, big restaurant, good food; Prussians, me, much
+steal, much, French cooking; Timbuctoo cook to the emperor; two thousand
+francs mine.  Ha, ha, ha, ha!"
+
+And he laughed, doubling himself up, roaring, with wild delight in his
+glances.
+
+When the officer, who understood his strange manner of expressing
+himself, had questioned him he said:
+
+"Well, au revoir, Timbuctoo.  I will see you again."
+
+The negro rose, this time shaking the hand that was extended to him and,
+smiling still, cried:
+
+"Good-day, good-day, my lieutenant!"
+
+He went off so happy that he gesticulated as he walked, and people
+thought he was crazy.
+
+"Who is that brute?" asked the colonel.
+
+"A fine fellow and a brave soldier.  I will tell you what I know about
+him.  It is funny enough.
+
+"You know that at the commencement of the war of 1870 I was shut up in
+Bezieres, that this negro calls Bezi.  We were not besieged, but
+blockaded.  The Prussian lines surrounded us on all sides, outside the
+reach of cannon, not firing on us, but slowly starving us out.
+
+"I was then lieutenant.  Our garrison consisted of soldier of all
+descriptions, fragments of slaughtered regiments, some that had run away,
+freebooters separated from the main army, etc.  We had all kinds, in fact
+even eleven Turcos [Algerian soldiers in the service of France], who
+arrived one evening no one knew whence or how.  They appeared at the
+gates of the city, exhausted, in rags, starving and dirty.  They were
+handed over to me.
+
+"I saw very soon that they were absolutely undisciplined, always in the
+street and always drunk.  I tried putting them in the police station,
+even in prison, but nothing was of any use.  They would disappear,
+sometimes for days at a time, as if they had been swallowed up by the
+earth, and then come back staggering drunk.  They had no money.  Where
+did they buy drink and how and with what?
+
+"This began to worry me greatly, all the more as these savages interested
+me with their everlasting laugh and their characteristics of overgrown
+frolicsome children.
+
+"I then noticed that they blindly obeyed the largest among them, the one
+you have just seen.  He made them do as he pleased, planned their
+mysterious expeditions with the all-powerful and undisputed authority of
+a leader.  I sent for him and questioned him.  Our conversation lasted
+fully three hours, for it was hard for me to understand his remarkable
+gibberish.  As for him, poor devil, he made unheard-of efforts to make
+himself intelligible, invented words, gesticulated, perspired in his
+anxiety, mopping his forehead, puffing, stopping and abruptly beginning
+again when he thought he had found a new method of explaining what he
+wanted to say.
+
+"I gathered finally that he was the son of a big chief, a sort of negro
+king of the region around Timbuctoo.  I asked him his name.  He repeated
+something like 'Chavaharibouhalikranafotapolara.' It seemed simpler to me
+to give him the name of his native place, 'Timbuctoo.'  And a week later
+he was known by no other name in the garrison.
+
+"But we were all wildly anxious to find out where this African ex-prince
+procured his drinks.  I discovered it in a singular manner.
+
+"I was on the ramparts one morning, watching the horizon, when I
+perceived something moving about in a vineyard.  It was near the time of
+vintage, the grapes were ripe, but I was not thinking of that.  I thought
+that a spy was approaching the town, and I organized a complete
+expedition to catch the prowler.  I took command myself, after obtaining
+permission from the general.
+
+"I sent out by three different gates three little companies, which were
+to meet at the suspected vineyard and form a cordon round it.  In order
+to cut off the spy's retreat, one of these detachments had to make at
+least an hour's march.  A watch on the walls signalled to me that the
+person I had seen had not left the place.  We went along in profound
+silence, creeping, almost crawling, along the ditches.  At last we
+reached the spot assigned.
+
+"I abruptly disbanded my soldiers, who darted into the vineyard and found
+Timbuctoo on hands and knees travelling around among the vines and eating
+grapes, or rather devouring them as a dog eats his sop, snatching them in
+mouthfuls from the vine with his teeth.
+
+"I wanted him to get up, but he could not think of it.  I then understood
+why he was crawling on his hands and knees.  As soon as we stood him on
+his feet he began to wabble, then stretched out his arms and fell down on
+his nose.  He was more drunk than I have ever seen anyone.
+
+"They brought him home on two poles.  He never stopped laughing all the
+way back, gesticulating with his arms and legs.
+
+"This explained the mystery.  My men also drank the juice of the grapes,
+and when they were so intoxicated they could not stir they went to sleep
+in the vineyard.  As for Timbuctoo, his love of the vineyard was beyond
+all belief and all bounds.  He lived in it as did the thrushes, whom he
+hated with the jealous hate of a rival.  He repeated incessantly: 'The
+thrushes eat all the grapes, captain!'
+
+"One evening I was sent for.  Something had been seen on the plain coming
+in our direction.  I had not brought my field-glass and I could not
+distinguish things clearly.  It looked like a great serpent uncoiling
+itself--a convoy.  How could I tell?
+
+"I sent some men to meet this strange caravan, which presently made its
+triumphal entry.  Timbuctoo and nine of his comrades were carrying on a
+sort of altar made of camp stools eight severed, grinning and bleeding
+heads.  The African was dragging along a horse to whose tail another head
+was fastened, and six other animals followed, adorned in the same manner.
+
+"This is what I learned: Having started out to the vineyard, my Africans
+had suddenly perceived a detachment of Prussians approaching a village.
+Instead of taking to their heels, they hid themselves, and as soon as the
+Prussian officers dismounted at an inn to refresh themselves, the eleven
+rascals rushed on them, put to flight the lancers, who thought they were
+being attacked by the main army, killed the two sentries, then the
+colonel and the five officers of his escort.
+
+"That day I kissed Timbuctoo.  I saw, however, that he walked with
+difficulty and thought he was wounded.  He laughed and said:
+
+"'Me provisions for my country.'
+
+"Timbuctoo was not fighting for glory, but for gain.  Everything he found
+that seemed to him to be of the slightest value, especially anything that
+glistened, he put in his pocket.  What a pocket!  An abyss that began at
+his hips and reached to his ankles.  He had retained an old term used by
+the troopers and called it his 'profonde,' and it was his 'profonde' in
+fact.
+
+"He had taken the gold lace off the Prussian uniforms, the brass off
+their helmets, detached their buttons, etc., and had thrown them all into
+his 'profonde,' which was full to overflowing.
+
+"Each day he pocketed every glistening object that came beneath his
+observation, pieces of tin or pieces of silver, and sometimes his contour
+was very comical.
+
+"He intended to carry all that back to the land of ostriches, whose
+brother he might have been, this son of a king, tormented with the
+longing to gobble up all objects that glistened.  If he had not had his
+'profonde' what would he have done?  He doubtless would have swallowed
+them.
+
+"Each morning his pocket was empty.  He had, then, some general store
+where his riches were piled up.  But where?  I could not discover it.
+
+"The general, on being informed of Timbuctoo's mighty act of valor, had
+the headless bodies that had been left in the neighboring village
+interred at once, that it might not be discovered that they were
+decapitated.  The Prussians returned thither the following day.  The
+mayor and seven prominent inhabitants were shot on the spot, by way of
+reprisal, as having denounced the Prussians.
+
+"Winter was here.  We were exhausted and desperate.  There were
+skirmishes now every day.  The famished men could no longer march.  The
+eight 'Turcos' alone (three had been killed) remained fat and shiny,
+vigorous and always ready to fight.  Timbuctoo was even getting fatter.
+He said to me one day:
+
+"'You much hungry; me good meat.'
+
+"And he brought me an excellent filet.  But of what?  We had no more
+cattle, nor sheep, nor goats, nor donkeys, nor pigs.  It was impossible
+to get a horse.  I thought of all this after I had devoured my meat.
+Then a horrible idea came to me.  These negroes were born close to a
+country where they eat human beings!  And each day such a number of
+soldiers were killed around the town!  I questioned Timbuctoo.  He would
+not answer.  I did not insist, but from that time on I declined his
+presents.
+
+"He worshipped me.  One night snow took us by surprise at the outposts.
+We were seated, on the ground.  I looked with pity at those poor negroes
+shivering beneath this white frozen shower.  I was very cold and began to
+cough.  At once I felt something fall on me like a large warm quilt.  It
+was Timbuctoo's cape that he had thrown on my shoulders.
+
+"I rose and returned his garment, saying:
+
+"'Keep it, my boy; you need it more than I do.'
+
+"'Non, my lieutenant, for you; me no need.  Me hot, hot!'
+
+"And he looked at me entreatingly.
+
+"'Come, obey orders.  Keep your cape; I insist,' I replied.
+
+"He then stood up, drew his sword, which he had sharpened to an edge like
+a scythe, and holding in his other hand the large cape which I had
+refused, said:
+
+"'If you not keep cape, me cut.  No one cape.'
+
+"And he would have done it.  So I yielded.
+
+
+"Eight days later we capitulated.  Some of us had been able to escape,
+the rest were to march out of the town and give themselves up to the
+conquerors.
+
+"I went towards the exercising ground, where we were all to meet, when I
+was dumfounded at the sight of a gigantic negro dressed in white duck and
+wearing a straw hat.  It was Timbuctoo.  He was beaming and was walking
+with his hands in his pockets in front of a little shop where two plates
+and two glasses were displayed.
+
+"'What are you doing?' I said.
+
+"'Me not go.  Me good cook; me make food for Colonel Algeria.  Me eat
+Prussians; much steal, much.'
+
+"There were ten degrees of frost.  I shivered at sight of this negro in
+white duck.  He took me by the arm and made me go inside.  I noticed an
+immense flag that he was going to place outside his door as soon as we
+had left, for he had some shame.
+
+I read this sign, traced by the hand of some accomplice
+
+          "'ARMY KITCHEN OF M. TIMBUCTOO,
+          "'Formerly Cook to H. M. the Emperor.
+          "'A Parisian Artist.  Moderate Prices.'
+
+"In spite of the despair that was gnawing at my heart, I could not help
+laughing, and I left my negro to his new enterprise.
+
+"Was not that better than taking him prisoner?
+
+"You have just seen that he made a success of it, the rascal.
+
+"Bezieres to-day belongs to the Germans.  The 'Restaurant Timbuctoo' is
+the beginning of a retaliation."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+TOMBSTONES
+
+The five friends had finished dinner, five men of the world, mature,
+rich, three married, the two others bachelors.  They met like this every
+month in memory of their youth, and after dinner they chatted until two
+o'clock in the morning.  Having remained intimate friends, and enjoying
+each other's society, they probably considered these the pleasantest
+evenings of their lives.  They talked on every subject, especially of
+what interested and amused Parisians.  Their conversation was, as in the
+majority of salons elsewhere, a verbal rehash of what they had read in
+the morning papers.
+
+One of the most lively of them was Joseph de Bardon, a celibate living
+the Parisian life in its fullest and most whimsical manner.  He was not a
+debauche nor depraved, but a singular, happy fellow, still young, for he
+was scarcely forty.  A man of the world in its widest and best sense,
+gifted with a brilliant, but not profound, mind, with much varied
+knowledge, but no true erudition, ready comprehension without true
+understanding, he drew from his observations, his adventures, from
+everything he saw, met with and found, anecdotes at once comical and
+philosophical, and made humorous remarks that gave him a great reputation
+for cleverness in society.
+
+He was the after dinner speaker and had his own story each time, upon
+which they counted, and he talked without having to be coaxed.
+
+As he sat smoking, his elbows on the table, a petit verre half full
+beside his plate, half torpid in an atmosphere of tobacco blended with
+steaming coffee, he seemed to be perfectly at home.  He said between two
+whiffs:
+
+"A curious thing happened to me some time ago."
+
+"Tell it to us," they all exclaimed at once.
+
+"With pleasure.  You know that I wander about Paris a great deal, like
+book collectors who ransack book stalls.  I just look at the sights, at
+the people, at all that is passing by and all that is going on.
+
+"Toward the middle of September--it was beautiful weather--I went out one
+afternoon, not knowing where I was going.  One always has a vague wish to
+call on some pretty woman or other.  One chooses among them in one's
+mental picture gallery, compares them in one's mind, weighs the interest
+with which they inspire you, their comparative charms and finally decides
+according to the influence of the day.  But when the sun is very bright
+and the air warm, it takes away from you all desire to make calls.
+
+"The sun was bright, the air warm.  I lighted a cigar and sauntered
+aimlessly along the outer boulevard.  Then, as I strolled on, it occurred
+to me to walk as far as Montmartre and go into the cemetery.
+
+"I am very fond of cemeteries.  They rest me and give me a feeling of
+sadness; I need it.  And, besides, I have good friends in there, those
+that one no longer goes to call on, and I go there from time to time.
+
+"It is in this cemetery of Montmartre that is buried a romance of my
+life, a sweetheart who made a great impression on me, a very emotional,
+charming little woman whose memory, although it causes me great sorrow,
+also fills me with regrets--regrets of all kinds.  And I go to dream
+beside her grave.  She has finished with life.
+
+"And then I like cemeteries because they are immense cities filled to
+overflowing with inhabitants.  Think how many dead people there are in
+this small space, think of all the generations of Parisians who are
+housed there forever, veritable troglodytes enclosed in their little
+vaults, in their little graves covered with a stone or marked by a cross,
+while living beings take up so much room and make so much noise--
+imbeciles that they are
+
+"Then, again, in cemeteries there are monuments almost as interesting as
+in museums.  The tomb of Cavaignac reminded me, I must confess without
+making any comparison, of the chef d'oeuvre of Jean Goujon: the recumbent
+statue of Louis de Breze in the subterranean chapel of the Cathedral of
+Rouen.  All modern and realistic art has originated there, messieurs.
+This dead man, Louis de Breze, is more real, more terrible, more like
+inanimate flesh still convulsed with the death agony than all the
+tortured corpses that are distorted to-day in funeral monuments.
+
+"But in Montmartre one can yet admire Baudin's monument, which has a
+degree of grandeur; that of Gautier, of Murger, on which I saw the other
+day a simple, paltry wreath of immortelles, yellow immortelles, brought
+thither by whom?  Possibly by the last grisette, very old and now
+janitress in the neighborhood.  It is a pretty little statue by Millet,
+but ruined by dirt and neglect.  Sing of youth, O Murger!
+
+"Well, there I was in Montmartre Cemetery, and was all at once filled
+with sadness, a sadness that is not all pain, a kind of sadness that
+makes you think when you are in good health, 'This place is not amusing,
+but my time has not come yet.'
+
+"The feeling of autumn, of the warm moisture which is redolent of the
+death of the leaves, and the weakened, weary, anaemic sun increased,
+while rendering it poetical, the sensation of solitude and of finality
+that hovered over this spot which savors of human mortality.
+
+"I walked along slowly amid these streets of tombs, where the neighbors
+do not visit each other, do not sleep together and do not read the
+newspapers.  And I began to read the epitaphs.  That is the most amusing
+thing in the world.  Never did Labiche or Meilhac make me laugh as I have
+laughed at the comical inscriptions on tombstones.  Oh, how much superior
+to the books of Paul de Kock for getting rid of the spleen are these
+marble slabs and these crosses where the relatives of the deceased have
+unburdened their sorrow, their desires for the happiness of the vanished
+ones and their hope of rejoining them--humbugs!
+
+"But I love above all in this cemetery the deserted portion, solitary,
+full of great yews and cypresses, the older portion, belonging to those
+dead long since, and which will soon be taken into use again; the growing
+trees nourished by the human corpses cut down in order to bury in rows
+beneath little slabs of marble those who have died more recently.
+
+"When I had sauntered about long enough to refresh my mind I felt that I
+would soon have had enough of it and that I must place the faithful
+homage of my remembrance on my little friend's last resting place.  I
+felt a tightening of the heart as I reached her grave.  Poor dear, she
+was so dainty, so loving and so white and fresh--and now--if one should
+open the grave----
+
+"Leaning over the iron grating, I told her of my sorrow in a low tone,
+which she doubtless did not hear, and was moving away when I saw a woman
+in black, in deep mourning, kneeling on the next grave.  Her crape veil
+was turned back, uncovering a pretty fair head, the hair in Madonna bands
+looking like rays of dawn beneath her sombre headdress.  I stayed.
+
+"Surely she must be in profound grief.  She had covered her face with her
+hands and, standing there in meditation, rigid as a statue, given up to
+her grief, telling the sad rosary of her remembrances within the shadow
+of her concealed and closed eyes, she herself seemed like a dead person
+mourning another who was dead.  All at once a little motion of her back,
+like a flutter of wind through a willow, led me to suppose that she was
+going to cry.  She wept softly at first, then louder, with quick motions
+of her neck and shoulders.  Suddenly she uncovered her eyes.  They were
+full of tears and charming, the eyes of a bewildered woman, with which
+she glanced about her as if awaking from a nightmare.  She looked at me,
+seemed abashed and hid her face completely in her hands.  Then she sobbed
+convulsively, and her head slowly bent down toward the marble.  She
+leaned her forehead on it, and her veil spreading around her, covered the
+white corners of the beloved tomb, like a fresh token of mourning.
+I heard her sigh, then she sank down with her cheek on the marble slab
+and remained motionless, unconscious.
+
+"I darted toward her, slapped her hands, blew on her eyelids, while I
+read this simple epitaph: 'Here lies Louis-Theodore Carrel, Captain of
+Marine Infantry, killed by the enemy at Tonquin.  Pray for him.'
+
+"He had died some months before.  I was affected to tears and redoubled
+my attentions.  They were successful.  She regained consciousness.
+I appeared very much moved.  I am not bad looking, I am not forty.  I saw
+by her first glance that she would be polite and grateful.  She was, and
+amid more tears she told me her history in detached fragments as well as
+her gasping breath would allow, how the officer was killed at Tonquin
+when they had been married a year, how she had married him for love, and
+being an orphan, she had only the usual dowry.
+
+"I consoled her, I comforted her, raised her and lifted her on her feet.
+Then I said:
+
+"'Do not stay here.  Come.'
+
+"'I am unable to walk,' she murmured.
+
+"'I will support you.'
+
+"'Thank you, sir; you are good.  Did you also come to mourn for some
+one?'
+
+"'Yes, madame.'
+
+"'A dead friend?'
+
+"'Yes, madame.'
+
+"'Your wife?'
+
+"'A friend.'
+
+"'One may love a friend as much as they love their wife.  Love has no
+law.'
+
+"'Yes, madame.'
+
+"And we set off together, she leaning on my arm, while I almost carried
+her along the paths of the cemetery.  When we got outside she faltered:
+
+"'I feel as if I were going to be ill.'
+
+"'Would you like to go in anywhere, to take something?'
+
+"'Yes, monsieur.'
+
+"I perceived a restaurant, one of those places where the mourners of the
+dead go to celebrate the funeral.  We went in.  I made her drink a cup of
+hot tea, which seemed to revive her.  A faint smile came to her lips.
+She began to talk about herself.  It was sad, so sad to be always alone
+in life, alone in one's home, night and day, to have no one on whom one
+can bestow affection, confidence, intimacy.
+
+"That sounded sincere.  It sounded pretty from her mouth.  I was touched.
+She was very young, perhaps twenty.  I paid her compliments, which she
+took in good part.  Then, as time was passing, I suggested taking her
+home in a carriage.  She accepted, and in the cab we sat so close that
+our shoulders touched.
+
+"When the cab stopped at her house she murmured: 'I do not feel equal to
+going upstairs alone, for I live on the fourth floor.  You have been so
+good.  Will you let me take your arm as far as my own door?'
+
+"I agreed with eagerness.  She ascended the stairs slowly, breathing
+hard.  Then, as we stood at her door, she said:
+
+"'Come in a few moments so that I may thank you.'
+
+"And, by Jove, I went in.  Everything was modest, even rather poor, but
+simple and in good taste.
+
+"We sat down side by side on a little sofa and she began to talk again
+about her loneliness.  She rang for her maid, in order to offer me some
+wine.  The maid did not come.  I was delighted, thinking that this maid
+probably came in the morning only, what one calls a charwoman.
+
+"She had taken off her hat.  She was really pretty, and she gazed at me
+with her clear eyes, gazed so hard and her eyes were so clear that I was
+terribly tempted.  I caught her in my arms and rained kisses on her
+eyelids, which she closed suddenly.
+
+"She freed herself and pushed me away, saying:
+
+"'Have done, have done.'
+
+"But I next kissed her on the mouth and she did not resist, and as our
+glances met after thus outraging the memory of the captain killed in
+Tonquin, I saw that she had a languid, resigned expression that set my
+mind at rest.
+
+"I became very attentive and, after chatting for some time, I said:
+
+"'Where do you dine?'
+
+"'In a little restaurant in the neighborhood:
+
+"'All alone?'
+
+"'Why, yes.'
+
+"'Will you dine with me?'
+
+"'Where?'
+
+"'In a good restaurant on the Boulevard.'
+
+"She demurred a little.  I insisted.  She yielded, saying by way of
+apology to herself: 'I am so lonely--so lonely.' Then she added:
+
+"'I must put on something less sombre, and went into her bedroom.  When
+she reappeared she was dressed in half-mourning, charming, dainty and
+slender in a very simple gray dress.  She evidently had a costume for the
+cemetery and one for the town.
+
+"The dinner was very enjoyable.  She drank some champagne, brightened up,
+grew lively and I went home with her.
+
+"This friendship, begun amid the tombs, lasted about three weeks.  But
+one gets tired of everything, especially of women.  I left her under
+pretext of an imperative journey.  She made me promise that I would come
+and see her on my return.  She seemed to be really rather attached to me.
+
+"Other things occupied my attention, and it was about a month before I
+thought much about this little cemetery friend.  However, I did not
+forget her.  The recollection of her haunted me like a mystery, like a
+psychological problem, one of those inexplicable questions whose solution
+baffles us.
+
+"I do not know why, but one day I thought I might possibly meet her in
+the Montmartre Cemetery, and I went there.
+
+"I walked about a long time without meeting any but the ordinary visitors
+to this spot, those who have not yet broken off all relations with their
+dead.  The grave of the captain killed at Tonquin had no mourner on its
+marble slab, no flowers, no wreath.
+
+"But as I wandered in another direction of this great city of the dead I
+perceived suddenly, at the end of a narrow avenue of crosses, a couple in
+deep mourning walking toward me, a man and a woman.  Oh, horrors!  As
+they approached I recognized her.  It was she!
+
+"She saw me, blushed, and as I brushed past her she gave me a little
+signal, a tiny little signal with her eye, which meant: 'Do not recognize
+me!' and also seemed to say, 'Come back to see me again, my dear!'
+
+"The man was a gentleman, distingue, chic, an officer of the Legion of
+Honor, about fifty years old.  He was supporting her as I had supported
+her myself when we were leaving the cemetery.
+
+"I went my way, filled with amazement, asking myself what this all meant,
+to what race of beings belonged this huntress of the tombs?  Was she just
+a common girl, one who went to seek among the tombs for men who were in
+sorrow, haunted by the recollection of some woman, a wife or a
+sweetheart, and still troubled by the memory of vanished caresses?  Was
+she unique?  Are there many such?  Is it a profession?  Do they parade
+the cemetery as they parade the street?  Or else was she only impressed
+with the admirable, profoundly philosophical idea of exploiting love
+recollections, which are revived in these funereal places?
+
+"And I would have liked to know whose widow she was on that special day."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MADEMOISELLE PEARL
+
+
+I
+
+What a strange idea it was for me to choose Mademoiselle Pearl for queen
+that evening!
+
+Every year I celebrate Twelfth Night with my old friend Chantal.  My
+father, who was his most intimate friend, used to take me round there
+when I was a child.  I continued the custom, and I doubtless shall
+continue it as long as I live and as long as there is a Chantal in this
+world.
+
+The Chantals lead a peculiar existence; they live in Paris as though they
+were in Grasse, Evetot, or Pont-a-Mousson.
+
+They have a house with a little garden near the observatory.  They live
+there as though they were in the country.  Of Paris, the real Paris, they
+know nothing at all, they suspect nothing; they are so far, so far away!
+However, from time to time, they take a trip into it.  Mademoiselle
+Chantal goes to lay in her provisions, as it is called in the family.
+This is how they go to purchase their provisions:
+
+Mademoiselle Pearl, who has the keys to the kitchen closet (for the linen
+closets are administered by the mistress herself), Mademoiselle Pearl
+gives warning that the supply of sugar is low, that the preserves are
+giving out, that there is not much left in the bottom of the coffee bag.
+Thus warned against famine, Mademoiselle Chantal passes everything in
+review, taking notes on a pad.  Then she puts down a lot of figures and
+goes through lengthy calculations and long discussions with Mademoiselle
+Pearl.  At last they manage to agree, and they decide upon the quantity
+of each thing of which they will lay in a three months' provision; sugar,
+rice, prunes, coffee, preserves, cans of peas, beans, lobster, salt or
+smoked fish, etc., etc.  After which the day for the purchasing is
+determined on and they go in a cab with a railing round the top and drive
+to a large grocery store on the other side of the river in the new
+sections of the town.
+
+Madame Chantal and Mademoiselle Pearl make this trip together,
+mysteriously, and only return at dinner time, tired out, although still
+excited, and shaken up by the cab, the roof of which is covered with
+bundles and bags, like an express wagon.
+
+For the Chantals all that part of Paris situated on the other side of the
+Seine constitutes the new quarter, a section inhabited by a strange,
+noisy population, which cares little for honor, spends its days in
+dissipation, its nights in revelry, and which throws money out of the
+windows.  From time to time, however, the young girls are taken to the
+Opera-Comique or the Theatre Francais, when the play is recommended by
+the paper which is read by M. Chantal.
+
+At present the young ladies are respectively nineteen and seventeen.
+They are two pretty girls, tall and fresh, very well brought up, in fact,
+too well brought up, so much so that they pass by unperceived like two
+pretty dolls.  Never would the idea come to me to pay the slightest
+attention or to pay court to one of the young Chantal ladies; they are so
+immaculate that one hardly dares speak to them; one almost feels indecent
+when bowing to them.
+
+As for the father, he is a charming man, well educated, frank, cordial,
+but he likes calm and quiet above all else, and has thus contributed
+greatly to the mummifying of his family in order to live as he pleased in
+stagnant quiescence.  He reads a lot, loves to talk and is readily
+affected.  Lack of contact and of elbowing with the world has made his
+moral skin very tender and sensitive.  The slightest thing moves him,
+excites him, and makes him suffer.
+
+The Chantals have limited connections carefully chosen in the
+neighborhood.  They also exchange two or three yearly visits with
+relatives who live in the distance.
+
+As for me, I take dinner with them on the fifteenth of August and on
+Twelfth Night.  That is as much one of my duties as Easter communion is
+for a Catholic.
+
+On the fifteenth of August a few friends are invited, but on Twelfth
+Night I am the only stranger.
+
+Well, this year, as every former year, I went to the Chantals' for my
+Epiphany dinner.
+
+According to my usual custom, I kissed M. Chantal, Madame Chantal and
+Mademoiselle Pearl, and I made a deep bow to the Misses Louise and
+Pauline.  I was questioned about a thousand and one things, about what
+had happened on the boulevards, about politics, about how matters stood
+in Tong-King, and about our representatives in Parliament.  Madame
+Chantal, a fat lady, whose ideas always gave me the impression of being
+carved out square like building stones, was accustomed to exclaiming at
+the end of every political discussion: "All that is seed which does not
+promise much for the future!"  Why have I always imagined that Madame
+Chantal's ideas are square?  I don't know; but everything that she says
+takes that shape in my head: a big square, with four symmetrical angles.
+There are other people whose ideas always strike me as being round and
+rolling like a hoop.  As soon as they begin a sentence on any subject it
+rolls on and on, coming out in ten, twenty, fifty round ideas, large and
+small, which I see rolling along, one behind the other, to the end of the
+horizon.  Other people have pointed ideas--but enough of this.
+
+We sat down as usual and finished our dinner without anything out of the
+ordinary being said.  At dessert the Twelfth Night cake was brought on.
+Now, M. Chantal had been king every year.  I don't know whether this was
+the result of continued chance or a family convention, but he unfailingly
+found the bean in his piece of cake, and he would proclaim Madame Chantal
+to be queen.  Therefore, I was greatly surprised to find something very
+hard, which almost made me break a tooth, in a mouthful of cake.  Gently
+I took this thing from my mouth and I saw that it was a little porcelain
+doll, no bigger than a bean.  Surprise caused me to exclaim:
+
+"Ah!" All looked at me, and Chantal clapped his hands and cried: "It's
+Gaston!  It's Gaston!  Long live the king!  Long live the king!"
+
+All took up the chorus: "Long live the king!" And I blushed to the tip of
+my ears, as one often does, without any reason at all, in situations
+which are a little foolish.  I sat there looking at my plate, with this
+absurd little bit of pottery in my fingers, forcing myself to laugh and
+not knowing what to do or say, when Chantal once more cried out: "Now,
+you must choose a queen!"
+
+Then I was thunderstruck.  In a second a thousand thoughts and
+suppositions flashed through my mind.  Did they expect me to pick out one
+of the young Chantal ladies?  Was that a trick to make me say which one I
+prefer?  Was it a gentle, light, direct hint of the parents toward a
+possible marriage?  The idea of marriage roams continually in houses with
+grown-up girls, and takes every shape and disguise, and employs every
+subterfuge.  A dread of compromising myself took hold of me as well as an
+extreme timidity before the obstinately correct and reserved attitude of
+the Misses Louise and Pauline.  To choose one of them in preference to
+the other seemed to me as difficult as choosing between two drops of
+water; and then the fear of launching myself into an affair which might,
+in spite of me, lead me gently into matrimonial ties, by means as wary
+and imperceptible and as calm as this insignificant royalty--the fear of
+all this haunted me.
+
+Suddenly I had an inspiration, and I held out to Mademoiselle Pearl the
+symbolical emblem.  At first every one was surprised, then they doubtless
+appreciated my delicacy and discretion, for they applauded furiously.
+Everybody was crying: "Long live the queen!  Long live the queen!"
+
+As for herself, poor old maid, she was so amazed that she completely lost
+control of herself; she was trembling and stammering: "No--no--oh!  no--
+not me--please--not me--I beg of you----"
+
+Then for the first time in my life I looked at Mademoiselle Pearl and
+wondered what she was.
+
+I was accustomed to seeing her in this house, just as one sees old
+upholstered armchairs on which one has been sitting since childhood
+without ever noticing them.  One day, with no reason at all, because a
+ray of sunshine happens to strike the seat, you suddenly think: "Why,
+that chair is very curious"; and then you discover that the wood has been
+worked by a real artist and that the material is remarkable.  I had never
+taken any notice of Mademoiselle Pearl.
+
+She was a part of the Chantal family, that was all.  But how?  By what
+right?  She was a tall, thin person who tried to remain in the
+background, but who was by no means insignificant.  She was treated in a
+friendly manner, better than a housekeeper, not so well as a relative.
+I suddenly observed several shades of distinction which I had never
+noticed before.  Madame Chantal said: "Pearl."  The young ladies:
+"Mademoiselle Pearl," and Chantal only addressed her as "Mademoiselle,"
+with an air of greater respect, perhaps.
+
+I began to observe her.  How old could she be?  Forty?  Yes, forty.  She
+was not old, she made herself old.  I was suddenly struck by this fact.
+She fixed her hair and dressed in a ridiculous manner, and,
+notwithstanding all that, she was not in the least ridiculous, she had
+such simple, natural gracefulness, veiled and hidden.  Truly, what a
+strange creature!  How was it I had never observed her before?  She
+dressed her hair in a grotesque manner with little old maid curls, most
+absurd; but beneath this one could see a large, calm brow, cut by two
+deep lines, two wrinkles of long sadness, then two blue eyes, large and
+tender, so timid, so bashful, so humble, two beautiful eyes which had
+kept the expression of naive wonder of a young girl, of youthful
+sensations, and also of sorrow, which had softened without spoiling them.
+
+Her whole face was refined and discreet, a face the expression of which
+seemed to have gone out without being used up or faded by the fatigues
+and great emotions of life.
+
+What a dainty mouth!  and such pretty teeth!  But one would have thought
+that she did not dare smile.
+
+Suddenly I compared her to Madame Chantal!  Undoubtedly Mademoiselle
+Pearl was the better of the two, a hundred times better, daintier,
+prouder, more noble.  I was surprised at my observation.  They were
+pouring out champagne.  I held my glass up to the queen and, with a well-
+turned compliment, I drank to her health.  I could see that she felt
+inclined to hide her head in her napkin.  Then, as she was dipping her
+lips in the clear wine, everybody cried: "The queen drinks!  the queen
+drinks!" She almost turned purple and choked.  Everybody was laughing;
+but I could see that all loved her.
+
+As soon as dinner was over Chantal took me by the arm.  It was time for
+his cigar, a sacred hour.  When alone he would smoke it out in the
+street; when guests came to dinner he would take them to the billiard
+room and smoke while playing.  That evening they had built a fire to
+celebrate Twelfth Night; my old friend took his cue, a very fine one, and
+chalked it with great care; then he said:
+
+"You break, my boy!"
+
+He called me "my boy," although I was twenty-five, but he had known me as
+a young child.
+
+I started the game and made a few carroms.  I missed some others, but as
+the thought of Mademoiselle Pearl kept returning to my mind, I suddenly
+asked:
+
+"By the way, Monsieur Chantal, is Mademoiselle Pearl a relative of
+yours?"
+
+Greatly surprised, he stopped playing and looked at me:
+
+"What!  Don't you know?  Haven't you heard about Mademoiselle Pearl?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Didn't your father ever tell you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, well, that's funny!  That certainly is funny!  Why, it's a regular
+romance!"
+
+He paused, and then continued:
+
+"And if you only knew how peculiar it is that you should ask me that to-
+day, on Twelfth Night!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Why?  Well, listen.  Forty-one years ago to day, the day of the
+Epiphany, the following events occurred: We were then living at Roiiy-le-
+Tors, on the ramparts; but in order that you may understand, I must first
+explain the house.  Roily is built on a hill, or, rather, on a mound
+which overlooks a great stretch of prairie.  We had a house there with a
+beautiful hanging garden supported by the old battlemented wall; so that
+the house was in the town on the streets, while the garden overlooked the
+plain.  There was a door leading from the garden to the open country, at
+the bottom of a secret stairway in the thick wall--the kind you read
+about in novels.  A road passed in front of this door, which was provided
+with a big bell; for the peasants, in order to avoid the roundabout way,
+would bring their provisions up this way.
+
+"You now understand the place, don't you?  Well, this year, at Epiphany,
+it had been snowing for a week.  One might have thought that the world
+was coming to an end.  When we went to the ramparts to look over the
+plain, this immense white, frozen country, which shone like varnish,
+would chill our very souls.  One might have thought that the Lord had
+packed the world in cotton to put it away in the storeroom for old
+worlds.  I can assure you that it was dreary looking.
+
+"We were a very numerous family at that time my father, my mother, my
+uncle and aunt, my two brothers and four cousins; they were pretty little
+girls; I married the youngest.  Of all that crowd, there are only three
+of us left: my wife, I, and my sister-in-law, who lives in Marseilles.
+Zounds!  how quickly a family like that dwindles away!  I tremble when I
+think of it!  I was fifteen years old then, since I am fifty-six now.
+
+"We were going to celebrate the Epiphany, and we were all happy, very
+happy!  Everybody was in the parlor, awaiting dinner, and my oldest
+brother, Jacques, said: 'There has been a dog howling out in the plain
+for about ten minutes; the poor beast must be lost.'
+
+"He had hardly stopped talking when the garden bell began to ring.  It
+had the deep sound of a church bell, which made one think of death.  A
+shiver ran through everybody.  My father called the servant and told him
+to go outside and look.  We waited in complete silence; we were thinking
+of the snow which covered the ground.  When the man returned he declared
+that he had seen nothing.  The dog kept up its ceaseless howling, and
+always from the same spot.
+
+"We sat down to dinner; but we were all uneasy, especially the young
+people.  Everything went well up to the roast, then the bell began to
+ring again, three times in succession, three heavy, long strokes which
+vibrated to the tips of our fingers and which stopped our conversation
+short.  We sat there looking at each other, fork in the air, still
+listening, and shaken by a kind of supernatural fear.
+
+"At last my mother spoke: 'It's surprising that they should have waited
+so long to come back.  Do not go alone, Baptiste; one of these gentlemen
+will accompany you.'
+
+"My Uncle Francois arose.  He was a kind of Hercules, very proud of his
+strength, and feared nothing in the world.  My father said to him: 'Take
+a gun.  There is no telling what it might be.'
+
+"But my uncle only took a cane and went out with the servant.
+
+"We others remained there trembling with fear and apprehension, without
+eating or speaking.  My father tried to reassure us: 'Just wait and see,'
+he said; 'it will be some beggar or some traveller lost in the snow.
+After ringing once, seeing that the door was not immediately opened, he
+attempted again to find his way, and being unable to, he has returned to
+our door.'
+
+"Our uncle seemed to stay away an hour.  At last he came back, furious,
+swearing: 'Nothing at all; it's some practical joker!  There is nothing
+but that damned dog howling away at about a hundred yards from the walls.
+If I had taken a gun I would have killed him to make him keep quiet.'
+
+"We sat down to dinner again, but every one was excited; we felt that all
+was not over, that something was going to happen, that the bell would
+soon ring again.
+
+"It rang just as the Twelfth Night cake was being cut.  All the men
+jumped up together.  My Uncle, Francois, who had been drinking champagne,
+swore so furiously that he would murder it, whatever it might be, that my
+mother and my aunt threw themselves on him to prevent his going.  My
+father, although very calm and a little helpless (he limped ever since he
+had broken his leg when thrown by a horse), declared, in turn, that he
+wished to find out what was the matter and that he was going.  My
+brothers, aged eighteen and twenty, ran to get their guns; and as no one
+was paying any attention to me I snatched up a little rifle that was used
+in the garden and got ready to accompany the expedition.
+
+"It started out immediately.  My father and uncle were walking ahead with
+Baptiste, who was carrying a lantern.  My brothers, Jacques and Paul,
+followed, and I trailed on behind in spite of the prayers of my mother,
+who stood in front of the house with her sister and my cousins.
+
+"It had been snowing again for the last hour, and the trees were weighted
+down.  The pines were bending under this heavy, white garment, and looked
+like white pyramids or enormous sugar cones, and through the gray
+curtains of small hurrying flakes could be seen the lighter bushes which
+stood out pale in the shadow.  The snow was falling so thick that we
+could hardly see ten feet ahead of us.  But the lantern threw a bright
+light around us.  When we began to go down the winding stairway in the
+wall I really grew frightened.  I felt as though some one were walking
+behind me, were going to grab me by the shoulders and carry me away, and
+I felt a strong desire to return; but, as I would have had to cross the
+garden all alone, I did not dare.  I heard some one opening the door
+leading to the plain; my uncle began to swear again, exclaiming: 'By ---!
+He has gone again!  If I can catch sight of even his shadow, I'll take
+care not to miss him, the swine!'
+
+"It was a discouraging thing to see this great expanse of plain, or,
+rather, to feel it before us, for we could not see it; we could only see
+a thick, endless veil of snow, above, below, opposite us, to the right,
+to the left, everywhere.  My uncle continued:
+
+'Listen!  There is the dog howling again; I will teach him how I shoot.
+That will be something gained, anyhow.'
+
+"But my father, who was kind-hearted, went on:
+
+'It will be much better to go on and get the poor animal, who is crying
+for hunger.  The poor fellow is barking for help; he is calling like a
+man in distress.  Let us go to him.'
+
+"So we started out through this mist, through this thick continuous fall
+of snow, which filled the air, which moved, floated, fell, and chilled
+the skin with a burning sensation like a sharp, rapid pain as each flake
+melted.  We were sinking in up to our knees in this soft, cold mass, and
+we had to lift our feet very high in order to walk.  As we advanced the
+dog's voice became clearer and stronger.  My uncle cried: 'Here he is!'
+We stopped to observe him as one does when he meets an enemy at night.
+
+"I could see nothing, so I ran up to the others, and I caught sight of
+him; he was frightful and weird-looking; he was a big black shepherd's
+dog with long hair and a wolf's head, standing just within the gleam of
+light cast by our lantern on the snow.  He did not move; he was silently
+watching us.
+
+"My uncle said: 'That's peculiar, he is neither advancing nor retreating.
+I feel like taking a shot at him.'
+
+"My father answered in a firm voice: 'No, we must capture him.'
+
+"Then my brother Jacques added: 'But he is not alone.  There is something
+behind him."
+
+"There was indeed something behind him, something gray, impossible to
+distinguish.  We started out again cautiously.  When he saw us
+approaching the dog sat down.  He did not look wicked.  Instead, he
+seemed pleased at having been able to attract the attention of some one.
+
+"My father went straight to him and petted him.  The dog licked his
+hands.  We saw that he was tied to the wheel of a little carriage, a sort
+of toy carriage entirely wrapped up in three or four woolen blankets.
+We carefully took off these coverings, and as Baptiste approached his
+lantern to the front of this little vehicle, which looked like a rolling
+kennel, we saw in it a little baby sleeping peacefully.
+
+"We were so astonished that we couldn't speak.
+
+My father was the first to collect his wits, and as he had a warm heart
+and a broad mind, he stretched his hand over the roof of the carriage and
+said: 'Poor little waif, you shall be one of us!' And he ordered my
+brother Jacques to roll the foundling ahead of us.  Thinking out loud, my
+father continued:
+
+"'Some child of love whose poor mother rang at my door on this night of
+Epiphany in memory of the Child of God.'
+
+"He once more stopped and called at the top of his lungs through the
+night to the four corners of the heavens: 'We have found it!' Then,
+putting his hand on his brother's shoulder, he murmured: 'What if you had
+shot the dog, Francois?'
+
+"My uncle did not answer, but in the darkness he crossed himself, for,
+notwithstanding his blustering manner, he was very religious.
+
+"The dog, which had been untied, was following us.
+
+"Ah!  But you should have seen us when we got to the house!  At first we
+had a lot of trouble in getting the carriage up through the winding
+stairway; but we succeeded and even rolled it into the vestibule.
+
+"How funny mamma was!  How happy and astonished!  And my four little
+cousins (the youngest was only six), they looked like four chickens
+around a nest.  At last we took the child from the carriage.  It was
+still sleeping.  It was a girl about six weeks old.  In its clothes we
+found ten thousand francs in gold, yes, my boy, ten thousand francs!--
+which papa saved for her dowry.  Therefore, it was not a child of poor
+people, but, perhaps, the child of some nobleman and a little bourgeoise
+of the town--or again--we made a thousand suppositions, but we never
+found out anything-never the slightest clue.  The dog himself was
+recognized by no one.  He was a stranger in the country.  At any rate,
+the person who rang three times at our door must have known my parents
+well, to have chosen them thus.
+
+"That is how, at the age of six weeks, Mademoiselle Pearl entered the
+Chantal household.
+
+"It was not until later that she was called Mademoiselle Pearl.  She was
+at first baptized 'Marie Simonne Claire,' Claire being intended, for her
+family name.
+
+"I can assure you that our return to the diningroom was amusing, with
+this baby now awake and looking round her at these people and these
+lights with her vague blue questioning eyes.
+
+"We sat down to dinner again and the cake was cut.  I was king, and for
+queen I took Mademoiselle Pearl, just as you did to-day.  On that day she
+did not appreciate the honor that was being shown her.
+
+"Well, the child was adopted and brought up in the family.  She grew, and
+the years flew by.  She was so gentle and loving and minded so well that
+every one would have spoiled her abominably had not my mother prevented
+it.
+
+"My mother was an orderly woman with a great respect for class
+distinctions.  She consented to treat little Claire as she did her own
+sons, but, nevertheless, she wished the distance which separated us to be
+well marked, and our positions well established.  Therefore, as soon as
+the child could understand, she acquainted her with her story and gently,
+even tenderly, impressed on the little one's mind that, for the Chantals,
+she was an adopted daughter, taken in, but, nevertheless, a stranger.
+Claire understood the situation with peculiar intelligence and with
+surprising instinct; she knew how to take the place which was allotted
+her, and to keep it with so much tact, gracefulness and gentleness that
+she often brought tears to my father's eyes.  My mother herself was often
+moved by the passionate gratitude and timid devotion of this dainty and
+loving little creature that she began calling her: 'My daughter.' At
+times, when the little one had done something kind and good, my mother
+would raise her spectacles on her forehead, a thing which always
+indicated emotion with her, and she would repeat: 'This child is a pearl,
+a perfect pearl!' This name stuck to the little Claire, who became and
+remained for us Mademoiselle Pearl."
+
+
+II
+
+M. Chantal stopped.  He was sitting on the edge of the billiard table,
+his feet hanging, and was playing with a ball with his left hand, while
+with his right he crumpled a rag which served to rub the chalk marks from
+the slate.  A little red in the face, his voice thick, he was talking
+away to himself now, lost in his memories, gently drifting through the
+old scenes and events which awoke in his mind, just as we walk through
+old family gardens where we were brought up and where each tree, each
+walk, each hedge reminds us of some occurrence.
+
+I stood opposite him leaning against the wall, my hands resting on my
+idle cue.
+
+After a slight pause he continued:
+
+"By Jove!  She was pretty at eighteen--and graceful--and perfect.  Ah!
+She was so sweet--and good and true--and charming!  She had such eyes-
+blue-transparent--clear--such eyes as I have never seen since!"
+
+He was once more silent.  I asked: "Why did she never marry?"
+
+He answered, not to me, but to the word "marry" which had caught his ear:
+"Why?  why?  She never would--she never would!  She had a dowry of thirty
+thousand francs, and she received several offers--but she never would!
+She seemed sad at that time.  That was when I married my cousin, little
+Charlotte, my wife, to whom I had been engaged for six years."
+
+I looked at M. Chantal, and it seemed to me that I was looking into his
+very soul, and I was suddenly witnessing one of those humble and cruel
+tragedies of honest, straightforward, blameless hearts, one of those
+secret tragedies known to no one, not even the silent and resigned
+victims.  A rash curiosity suddenly impelled me to exclaim:
+
+"You should have married her, Monsieur Chantal!"
+
+He started, looked at me, and said:
+
+"I?  Marry whom?"
+
+"Mademoiselle Pearl."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because you loved her more than your cousin."
+
+He stared at me with strange, round, bewildered eyes and stammered:
+
+"I loved her--I?  How?  Who told you that?"
+
+"Why, anyone can see that--and it's even on account of her that you
+delayed for so long your marriage to your cousin who had been waiting for
+you for six years."
+
+He dropped the ball which he was holding in his left hand, and, seizing
+the chalk rag in both hands, he buried his face in it and began to sob.
+He was weeping with his eyes, nose and mouth in a heartbreaking yet
+ridiculous manner, like a sponge which one squeezes.  He was coughing,
+spitting and blowing his nose in the chalk rag, wiping his eyes and
+sneezing; then the tears would again begin to flow down the wrinkles on
+his face and he would make a strange gurgling noise in his throat.
+I felt bewildered, ashamed; I wanted to run away, and I no longer knew
+what to say, do, or attempt.
+
+Suddenly Madame Chantal's voice sounded on the stairs.  "Haven't you men
+almost finished smoking your cigars?"
+
+I opened the door and cried: "Yes, madame, we are coming right down."
+
+Then I rushed to her husband, and, seizing him by the shoulders, I cried:
+"Monsieur Chantal, my friend Chantal, listen to me; your wife is calling;
+pull yourself together, we must go downstairs."
+
+He stammered: "Yes--yes--I am coming--poor girl!  I am coming--tell her
+that I am coming."
+
+He began conscientiously to wipe his face on the cloth which, for the
+last two or three years, had been used for marking off the chalk from the
+slate; then he appeared, half white and half red, his forehead, nose,
+cheeks and chin covered with chalk, and his eyes swollen, still full of
+tears.
+
+I caught him by the hands and dragged him into his bedroom, muttering: "I
+beg your pardon, I beg your pardon, Monsieur Chantal, for having caused
+you such sorrow--but--I did not know--you--you understand."
+
+He squeezed my hand, saying: "Yes--yes--there are difficult moments."
+
+Then he plunged his face into a bowl of water.  When he emerged from it
+he did not yet seem to me to be presentable; but I thought of a little
+stratagem.  As he was growing worried, looking at himself in the mirror,
+I said to him: "All you have to do is to say that a little dust flew into
+your eye and you can cry before everybody to your heart's content."
+
+He went downstairs rubbing his eyes with his handkerchief.  All were
+worried; each one wished to look for the speck, which could not be found;
+and stories were told of similar cases where it had been necessary to
+call in a physician.
+
+I went over to Mademoiselle Pearl and watched her, tormented by an ardent
+curiosity, which was turning to positive suffering.  She must indeed have
+been pretty, with her gentle, calm eyes, so large that it looked as
+though she never closed them like other mortals.  Her gown was a little
+ridiculous, a real old maid's gown, which was unbecoming without
+appearing clumsy.
+
+It seemed to me as though I were looking into her soul, just as I had
+into Monsieur Chantal's; that I was looking right from one end to the
+other of this humble life, so simple and devoted.  I felt an irresistible
+longing to question her, to find out whether she, too, had loved him;
+whether she also had suffered, as he had, from this long, secret,
+poignant grief, which one cannot see, know, or guess, but which breaks
+forth at night in the loneliness of the dark room.  I was watching her,
+and I could observe her heart beating under her waist, and I wondered
+whether this sweet, candid face had wept on the soft pillow and she had
+sobbed, her whole body shaken by the violence of her anguish.
+
+I said to her in a low voice, like a child who is breaking a toy to see
+what is inside: "If you could have seen Monsieur Chantal crying a while
+ago it would have moved you."
+
+She started, asking: "What?  He was weeping?"
+
+"Ah, yes, he was indeed weeping!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+She seemed deeply moved.  I answered:
+
+"On your account."
+
+"On my account?"
+
+"Yes.  He was telling me how much he had loved you in the days gone by;
+and what a pang it had given him to marry his cousin instead of you."
+
+Her pale face seemed to grow a little longer; her calm eyes, which always
+remained open, suddenly closed so quickly that they seemed shut forever.
+She slipped from her chair to the floor, and slowly, gently sank down as
+would a fallen garment.
+
+I cried: "Help!  help!  Mademoiselle Pearl is ill."
+
+Madame Chantal and her daughters rushed forward, and while they were
+looking for towels, water and vinegar, I grabbed my hat and ran away.
+
+I walked away with rapid strides, my heart heavy, my mind full of remorse
+and regret.  And yet sometimes I felt pleased; I felt as though I had
+done a praiseworthy and necessary act.  I was asking myself: "Did I do
+wrong or right?" They had that shut up in their hearts, just as some
+people carry a bullet in a closed wound.  Will they not be happier now?
+It was too late for their torture to begin over again and early enough
+for them to remember it with tenderness.
+
+And perhaps some evening next spring, moved by a beam of moonlight
+falling through the branches on the grass at their feet, they will join
+and press their hands in memory of all this cruel and suppressed
+suffering; and, perhaps, also this short embrace may infuse in their
+veins a little of this thrill which they would not have known without it,
+and will give to those two dead souls, brought to life in a second, the
+rapid and divine sensation of this intoxication, of this madness which
+gives to lovers more happiness in an instant than other men can gather
+during a whole lifetime!
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE THIEF
+
+While apparently thinking of something else, Dr. Sorbier had been
+listening quietly to those amazing accounts of burglaries and daring
+deeds that might have been taken from the trial of Cartouche.
+"Assuredly," he exclaimed, "assuredly, I know of no viler fault nor any
+meaner action than to attack a girl's innocence, to corrupt her, to
+profit by a moment of unconscious weakness and of madness, when her heart
+is beating like that of a frightened fawn, and her pure lips seek those
+of her tempter; when she abandons herself without thinking of the
+irremediable stain, nor of her fall, nor of the morrow.
+
+"The man who has brought this about slowly, viciously, who can tell with
+what science of evil, and who, in such a case, has not steadiness and
+self-restraint enough to quench that flame by some icy words, who has not
+sense enough for two, who cannot recover his self-possession and master
+the runaway brute within him, and who loses his head on the edge of the
+precipice over which she is going to fall, is as contemptible as any man
+who breaks open a lock, or as any rascal on the lookout for a house left
+defenceless and unprotected or for some easy and dishonest stroke of
+business, or as that thief whose various exploits you have just related
+to us.
+
+"I, for my part, utterly refuse to absolve him, even when extenuating
+circumstances plead in his favor, even when he is carrying on a dangerous
+flirtation, in which a man tries in vain to keep his balance, not to
+exceed the limits of the game, any more than at lawn tennis; even when
+the parts are inverted and a man's adversary is some precocious, curious,
+seductive girl, who shows you immediately that she has nothing to learn
+and nothing to experience, except the last chapter of love, one of those
+girls from whom may fate always preserve our sons, and whom a
+psychological novel writer has christened 'The Semi-Virgins.'
+
+"It is, of course, difficult and painful for that coarse and unfathomable
+vanity which is characteristic of every man, and which might be called
+'malism', not to stir such a charming fire, difficult to act the Joseph
+and the fool, to turn away his eyes, and, as it were, to put wax into his
+ears, like the companions of Ulysses when they were attracted by the
+divine, seductive songs of the Sirens, difficult only to touch that
+pretty table covered with a perfectly new cloth, at which you are invited
+to take a seat before any one else, in such a suggestive voice, and are
+requested to quench your thirst and to taste that new wine, whose fresh
+and strange flavor you will never forget.  But who would hesitate to
+exercise such self-restraint if, when he rapidly examines his conscience,
+in one of those instinctive returns to his sober self in which a man
+thinks clearly and recovers his head, he were to measure the gravity of
+his fault, consider it, think of its consequences, of the reprisals, of
+the uneasiness which he would always feel in the future, and which would
+destroy the repose and happiness of his life?
+
+"You may guess that behind all these moral reflections, such as a
+graybeard like myself may indulge in, there is a story hidden, and, sad
+as it is, I am sure it will interest you on account of the strange
+heroism it shows."
+
+He was silent for a few moments, as if to classify his recollections,
+and, with his elbows resting on the arms of his easy-chair and his eyes
+looking into space, he continued in the slow voice of a hospital
+professor who is explaining a case to his class of medical students, at a
+bedside:
+
+"He was one of those men who, as our grandfathers used to say, never met
+with a cruel woman, the type of the adventurous knight who was always
+foraging, who had something of the scamp about him, but who despised
+danger and was bold even to rashness.  He was ardent in the pursuit of
+pleasure, and had an irresistible charm about him, one of those men in
+whom we excuse the greatest excesses as the most natural things in the
+world.  He had run through all his money at gambling and with pretty
+girls, and so became, as it were, a soldier of fortune.  He amused
+himself whenever and however he could, and was at that time quartered at
+Versailles.
+
+"I knew him to the very depths of his childlike heart, which was only too
+easily seen through and sounded, and I loved him as some old bachelor
+uncle loves a nephew who plays him tricks, but who knows how to coax him.
+He had made me his confidant rather than his adviser, kept me informed of
+his slightest pranks, though he always pretended to be speaking about one
+of his friends, and not about himself; and I must confess that his
+youthful impetuosity, his careless gaiety, and his amorous ardor
+sometimes distracted my thoughts and made me envy the handsome, vigorous
+young fellow who was so happy at being alive, that I had not the courage
+to check him, to show him the right road, and to call out to him: 'Take
+care!' as children do at blind man's buff.
+
+"And one day, after one of those interminable cotillons, where the
+couples do not leave each other for hours, and can disappear together
+without anybody thinking of noticing them, the poor fellow at last
+discovered what love was, that real love which takes up its abode in the
+very centre of the heart and in the brain, and is proud of being there,
+and which rules like a sovereign and a tyrannous master, and he became
+desperately enamored of a pretty but badly brought up girl, who was as
+disquieting and wayward as she was pretty.
+
+"She loved him, however, or rather she idolized him despotically, madly,
+with all her enraptured soul and all her being.  Left to do as she
+pleased by imprudent and frivolous parents, suffering from neurosis, in
+consequence of the unwholesome friendships which she contracted at the
+convent school, instructed by what she saw and heard and knew was going
+on around her, in spite of her deceitful and artificial conduct, knowing
+that neither her father nor her mother, who were very proud of their race
+as well as avaricious, would ever agree to let her marry the man whom she
+had taken a liking to, that handsome fellow who had little besides
+vision, ideas and debts, and who belonged to the middle-class, she laid
+aside all scruples, thought of nothing but of becoming his, no matter
+what might be the cost.
+
+"By degrees, the unfortunate man's strength gave way, his heart softened,
+and he allowed himself to be carried away by that current which buffeted
+him, surrounded him, and left him on the shore like a waif and a stray.
+
+"They wrote letters full of madness to each other, and not a day passed
+without their meeting, either accidentally, as it seemed, or at parties
+and balls.  She had yielded her lips to him in long, ardent caresses,
+which had sealed their compact of mutual passion."
+
+The doctor stopped, and his eyes suddenly filled with tears, as these
+former troubles came back to his mind; and then, in a hoarse voice, he
+went on, full of the horror of what he was going to relate:
+
+"For months he scaled the garden wall, and, holding his breath and
+listening for the slightest noise, like a burglar who is going to break
+into a house, he went in by the servants' entrance, which she had left
+open, slunk barefoot down a long passage and up the broad staircase,
+which creaked occasionally, to the second story, where his sweetheart's
+room was, and stayed there for hours.
+
+"One night, when it was darker than usual, and he was hurrying lest he
+should be later than the time agreed on, he knocked up against a piece of
+furniture in the anteroom and upset it.  It so happened that the girl's
+mother had not gone to sleep, either because she had a sick headache, or
+else be cause she had sat up late over some novel, and, frightened at
+that unusual noise which disturbed the silence of the house, she jumped
+out of bed, opened the door, saw some one indistinctly running away and
+keeping close to the wall, and, immediately thinking that there were
+burglars in the house, she aroused her husband and the servants by her
+frantic screams.  The unfortunate man understood the situation; and,
+seeing what a terrible fix he was in, and preferring to be taken for a
+common thief to dishonoring his adored one's name, he ran into the
+drawing-room, felt on the tables and what-nots, filled his pockets at
+random with valuable bric-a-brac, and then cowered down behind the grand
+piano, which barred the corner of a large room.
+
+"The servants, who had run in with lighted candles, found him, and,
+overwhelming him with abuse, seized him by the collar and dragged him,
+panting and apparently half dead with shame and terror, to the nearest
+police station.  He defended himself with intentional awkwardness when he
+was brought up for trial, kept up his part with the most perfect self-
+possession and without any signs of the despair and anguish that he felt
+in his heart, and, condemned and degraded and made to suffer martyrdom in
+his honor as a man and a soldier--he was an officer--he did not protest,
+but went to prison as one of those criminals whom society gets rid of
+like noxious vermin.
+
+"He died there of misery and of bitterness of spirit, with the name of
+the fair-haired idol, for whom he had sacrificed himself, on his lips, as
+if it had been an ecstatic prayer, and he intrusted his will 'to the
+priest who administered extreme unction to him, and requested him to give
+it to me.  In it, without mentioning anybody, and without in the least
+lifting the veil, he at last explained the enigma, and cleared himself of
+those accusations the terrible burden of which he had borne until his
+last breath.
+
+"I have always thought myself, though I do not know why, that the girl
+married and had several charming children, whom she brought up with the
+austere strictness and in the serious piety of former days!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CLAIR DE LUNE
+
+Abbe Marignan's martial name suited him well.  He was a tall, thin
+priest, fanatic, excitable, yet upright.  All his beliefs were fixed,
+never varying.  He believed sincerely that he knew his God, understood
+His plans, desires and intentions.
+
+When he walked with long strides along the garden walk of his little
+country parsonage, he would sometimes ask himself the question: "Why has
+God done this?" And he would dwell on this continually, putting himself
+in the place of God, and he almost invariably found an answer.  He would
+never have cried out in an outburst of pious humility: "Thy ways, O Lord,
+are past finding out."
+
+He said to himself: "I am the servant of God; it is right for me to know
+the reason of His deeds, or to guess it if I do not know it."
+
+Everything in nature seemed to him to have been created in accordance
+with an admirable and absolute logic.  The "whys" and "becauses" always
+balanced.  Dawn was given to make our awakening pleasant, the days to
+ripen the harvest, the rains to moisten it, the evenings for preparation
+for slumber, and the dark nights for sleep.
+
+The four seasons corresponded perfectly to the needs of agriculture, and
+no suspicion had ever come to the priest of the fact that nature has no
+intentions; that, on the contrary, everything which exists must conform
+to the hard demands of seasons, climates and matter.
+
+But he hated woman--hated her unconsciously, and despised her by
+instinct.  He often repeated the words of Christ: "Woman, what have I to
+do with thee?" and he would add: "It seems as though God, Himself, were
+dissatisfied with this work of His."  She was the tempter who led the
+first man astray, and who since then had ever been busy with her work of
+damnation, the feeble creature, dangerous and mysteriously affecting one.
+And even more than their sinful bodies, he hated their loving hearts.
+
+He had often felt their tenderness directed toward himself, and though he
+knew that he was invulnerable, he grew angry at this need of love that is
+always vibrating in them.
+
+According to his belief, God had created woman for the sole purpose of
+tempting and testing man.  One must not approach her without defensive
+precautions and fear of possible snares.  She was, indeed, just like a
+snare, with her lips open and her arms stretched out to man.
+
+He had no indulgence except for nuns, whom their vows had rendered
+inoffensive; but he was stern with them, nevertheless, because he felt
+that at the bottom of their fettered and humble hearts the everlasting
+tenderness was burning brightly--that tenderness which was shown even to
+him, a priest.
+
+He felt this cursed tenderness, even in their docility, in the low tones
+of their voices when speaking to him, in their lowered eyes, and in their
+resigned tears when he reproved them roughly.  And he would shake his
+cassock on leaving the convent doors, and walk off, lengthening his
+stride as though flying from danger.
+
+He had a niece who lived with her mother in a little house near him.  He
+was bent upon making a sister of charity of her.
+
+She was a pretty, brainless madcap.  When the abbe preached she laughed,
+and when he was angry with her she would give him a hug, drawing him to
+her heart, while he sought unconsciously to release himself from this
+embrace which nevertheless filled him with a sweet pleasure, awakening in
+his depths the sensation of paternity which slumbers in every man.
+
+Often, when walking by her side, along the country road, he would speak
+to her of God, of his God.  She never listened to him, but looked about
+her at the sky, the grass and flowers, and one could see the joy of life
+sparkling in her eyes.  Sometimes she would dart forward to catch some
+flying creature, crying out as she brought it back: "Look, uncle, how
+pretty it is!  I want to hug it!"  And this desire to "hug" flies or
+lilac blossoms disquieted, angered, and roused the priest, who saw, even
+in this, the ineradicable tenderness that is always budding in women's
+hearts.
+
+Then there came a day when the sexton's wife, who kept house for Abbe
+Marignan, told him, with caution, that his niece had a lover.
+
+Almost suffocated by the fearful emotion this news roused in him, he
+stood there, his face covered with soap, for he was in the act of
+shaving.
+
+When he had sufficiently recovered to think and speak he cried: "It is
+not true; you lie, Melanie!"
+
+But the peasant woman put her hand on her heart, saying: "May our Lord
+judge me if I lie, Monsieur le Cure!  I tell you, she goes there every
+night when your sister has gone to bed.  They meet by the river side; you
+have only to go there and see, between ten o'clock and midnight."
+
+He ceased scraping his chin, and began to walk up and down impetuously,
+as he always did when he was in deep thought.  When he began shaving
+again he cut himself three times from his nose to his ear.
+
+All day long he was silent, full of anger and indignation.  To his
+priestly hatred of this invincible love was added the exasperation of her
+spiritual father, of her guardian and pastor, deceived and tricked by a
+child, and the selfish emotion shown by parents when their daughter
+announces that she has chosen a husband without them, and in spite of
+them.
+
+After dinner he tried to read a little, but could not, growing more and,
+more angry.  When ten o'clock struck he seized his cane, a formidable oak
+stick, which he was accustomed to carry in his nocturnal walks when
+visiting the sick.  And he smiled at the enormous club which he twirled
+in a threatening manner in his strong, country fist.  Then he raised it
+suddenly and, gritting his teeth, brought it down on a chair, the broken
+back of which fell over on the floor.
+
+He opened the door to go out, but stopped on the sill, surprised by the
+splendid moonlight, of such brilliance as is seldom seen.
+
+And, as he was gifted with an emotional nature, one such as had all those
+poetic dreamers, the Fathers of the Church, he felt suddenly distracted
+and moved by all the grand and serene beauty of this pale night.
+
+In his little garden, all bathed in soft light, his fruit trees in a row
+cast on the ground the shadow of their slender branches, scarcely in full
+leaf, while the giant honeysuckle, clinging to the wall of his house,
+exhaled a delicious sweetness, filling the warm moonlit atmosphere with a
+kind of perfumed soul.
+
+He began to take long breaths, drinking in the air as drunkards drink
+wine, and he walked along slowly, delighted, marveling, almost forgetting
+his niece.
+
+As soon as he was outside of the garden, he stopped to gaze upon the
+plain all flooded with the caressing light, bathed in that tender,
+languishing charm of serene nights.  At each moment was heard the short,
+metallic note of the cricket, and distant nightingales shook out their
+scattered notes--their light, vibrant music that sets one dreaming,
+without thinking, a music made for kisses, for the seduction of
+moonlight.
+
+The abbe walked on again, his heart failing, though he knew not why.  He
+seemed weakened, suddenly exhausted; he wanted to sit down, to rest
+there, to think, to admire God in His works.
+
+Down yonder, following the undulations of the little river, a great line
+of poplars wound in and out.  A fine mist, a white haze through which the
+moonbeams passed, silvering it and making it gleam, hung around and above
+the mountains, covering all the tortuous course of the water with a kind
+of light and transparent cotton.
+
+The priest stopped once again, his soul filled with a growing and
+irresistible tenderness.
+
+And a doubt, a vague feeling of disquiet came over him; he was asking one
+of those questions that he sometimes put to himself.
+
+"Why did God make this?  Since the night is destined for sleep,
+unconsciousness, repose, forgetfulness of everything, why make it more
+charming than day, softer than dawn or evening?  And does why this
+seductive planet, more poetic than the sun, that seems destined, so
+discreet is it, to illuminate things too delicate and mysterious for the
+light of day, make the darkness so transparent?
+
+"Why does not the greatest of feathered songsters sleep like the others?
+Why does it pour forth its voice in the mysterious night?
+
+"Why this half-veil cast over the world?  Why these tremblings of the
+heart, this emotion of the spirit, this enervation of the body?  Why this
+display of enchantments that human beings do not see, since they are
+lying in their beds?  For whom is destined this sublime spectacle, this
+abundance of poetry cast from heaven to earth?"
+
+And the abbe could not understand.
+
+But see, out there, on the edge of the meadow, under the arch of trees
+bathed in a shining mist, two figures are walking side by side.
+
+The man was the taller, and held his arm about his sweetheart's neck and
+kissed her brow every little while.  They imparted life, all at once, to
+the placid landscape in which they were framed as by a heavenly hand.
+The two seemed but a single being, the being for whom was destined this
+calm and silent night, and they came toward the priest as a living
+answer, the response his Master sent to his questionings.
+
+He stood still, his heart beating, all upset; and it seemed to him that
+he saw before him some biblical scene, like the loves of Ruth and Boaz,
+the accomplishment of the will of the Lord, in some of those glorious
+stories of which the sacred books tell.  The verses of the Song of Songs
+began to ring in his ears, the appeal of passion, all the poetry of this
+poem replete with tenderness.
+
+And he said unto himself: "Perhaps God has made such nights as these to
+idealize the love of men."
+
+He shrank back from this couple that still advanced with arms
+intertwined.  Yet it was his niece.  But he asked himself now if he would
+not be disobeying God.  And does not God permit love, since He surrounds
+it with such visible splendor?
+
+And he went back musing, almost ashamed, as if he had intruded into a
+temple where he had, no right to enter.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+WAITER, A "BOCK"
+
+
+Why did I go into that beer hall on that particular evening?  I do not
+know.  It was cold; a fine rain, a flying mist, veiled the gas lamps with
+a transparent fog, made the side walks reflect the light that streamed
+from the shop windows--lighting up the soft slush and the muddy feet of
+the passers-by.
+
+I was going nowhere in particular; was simply having a short walk after
+dinner.  I had passed the Credit Lyonnais, the Rue Vivienne, and several
+other streets.  I suddenly descried a large beer hall which was more than
+half full.  I walked inside, with no object in view.  I was not the least
+thirsty.
+
+I glanced round to find a place that was not too crowded, and went and
+sat down by the side of a man who seemed to me to be old, and who was
+smoking a two-sous clay pipe, which was as black as coal.  From six to
+eight glasses piled up on the table in front of him indicated the number
+of "bocks" he had already absorbed.  At a glance I recognized a
+"regular," one of those frequenters of beer houses who come in the
+morning when the place opens, and do not leave till evening when it is
+about to close.  He was dirty, bald on top of his head, with a fringe of
+iron-gray hair falling on the collar of his frock coat.  His clothes,
+much too large for him, appeared to have been made for him at a time when
+he was corpulent.  One could guess that he did not wear suspenders, for
+he could not take ten steps without having to stop to pull up his
+trousers.  Did he wear a vest?  The mere thought of his boots and of that
+which they covered filled me with horror.  The frayed cuffs were
+perfectly black at the edges, as were his nails.
+
+As soon as I had seated myself beside him, this individual said to me in
+a quiet tone of voice:
+
+"How goes it?"
+
+I turned sharply round and closely scanned his features, whereupon he
+continued:
+
+"I see you do not recognize me."
+
+"No, I do not."
+
+"Des Barrets."
+
+I was stupefied.  It was Count Jean des Barrets, my old college chum.
+
+I seized him by the hand, and was so dumbfounded that I could find
+nothing to say.  At length I managed to stammer out:
+
+"And you, how goes it with you?"
+
+He responded placidly:
+
+"I get along as I can."
+
+"What are you doing now?" I asked.
+
+"You see what I am doing," he answered quit resignedly.
+
+I felt my face getting red.  I insisted:
+
+"But every day?"
+
+"Every day it is the same thing," was his reply, accompanied with a thick
+puff of tobacco smoke.
+
+He then tapped with a sou on the top of the marble table, to attract the
+attention of the waiter, and called out:
+
+"Waiter, two 'bocks.'"
+
+A voice in the distance repeated:
+
+"Two bocks for the fourth table."
+
+Another voice, more distant still, shouted out:
+
+"Here they are!"
+
+Immediately a man with a white apron appeared, carrying two "bocks,"
+which he set down, foaming, on the table, spilling some of the yellow
+liquid on the sandy floor in his haste.
+
+Des Barrets emptied his glass at a single draught and replaced it on the
+table, while he sucked in the foam that had been left on his mustache.
+He next asked:
+
+"What is there new?"
+
+I really had nothing new to tell him.  I stammered:
+
+"Nothing, old man.  I am a business man."
+
+In his monotonous tone of voice he said:
+
+"Indeed, does it amuse you?"
+
+"No, but what can I do?  One must do something!"
+
+"Why should one?"
+
+"So as to have occupation."
+
+"What's the use of an occupation?  For my part, I do nothing at all, as
+you see, never anything.  When one has not a sou I can understand why one
+should work.  But when one has enough to live on, what's the use?  What
+is the good of working?  Do you work for yourself, or for others?  If you
+work for yourself, you do it for your own amusement, which is all right;
+if you work for others, you are a fool."
+
+Then, laying his pipe on the marble table, he called out anew:
+
+"Waiter, a 'bock.'"  And continued: "It makes me thirsty to keep calling
+so.  I am not accustomed to that sort of thing.  Yes, yes, I do nothing.
+I let things slide, and I am growing old.  In dying I shall have nothing
+to regret.  My only remembrance will be this beer hall.  No wife, no
+children, no cares, no sorrows, nothing.  That is best."
+
+He then emptied the glass which had been brought him, passed his tongue
+over his lips, and resumed his pipe.
+
+I looked at him in astonishment, and said:
+
+"But you have not always been like that?"
+
+"Pardon me; ever since I left college."
+
+"That is not a proper life to lead, my dear fellow; it is simply
+horrible.  Come, you must have something to do, you must love something,
+you must have friends."
+
+"No, I get up at noon, I come here, I have my breakfast, I drink my beer,
+I remain until the evening, I have my dinner, I drink beer.  Then about
+half-past one in the morning, I go home to bed, because the place closes
+up; that annoys me more than anything.  In the last ten years I have
+passed fully six years on this bench, in my corner; and the other four in
+my bed, nowhere else.  I sometimes chat with the regular customers."
+
+"But when you came to Paris what did you do at first?"
+
+"I paid my devoirs to the Cafe de Medicis."
+
+"What next?"
+
+"Next I crossed the water and came here."
+
+"Why did you take that trouble?"
+
+"What do you mean?  One cannot remain all one's life in the Latin
+Quarter.  The students make too much noise.  Now I shall not move again.
+Waiter, a 'bock.'"
+
+I began to think that he was making fun of me, and I continued:
+
+"Come now, be frank.  You have been the victim of some great sorrow; some
+disappointment in love, no doubt!  It is easy to see that you are a man
+who has had some trouble.  What age are you?"
+
+"I am thirty, but I look forty-five, at least."
+
+I looked him straight in the face.  His wrinkled, ill-shaven face gave
+one the impression that he was an old man.  On the top of his head a few
+long hairs waved over a skin of doubtful cleanliness.  He had enormous
+eyelashes, a heavy mustache, and a thick beard.  Suddenly I had a kind of
+vision, I know not why, of a basin filled with dirty water in which all
+that hair had been washed.  I said to him:
+
+"You certainly look older than your age.  You surely must have
+experienced some great sorrow."
+
+He replied:
+
+"I tell you that I have not.  I am old because I never go out into the
+air.  Nothing makes a man deteriorate more than the life of a cafe."
+
+I still could not believe him.
+
+"You must surely also have been married?  One could not get as bald-
+headed as you are without having been in love."
+
+He shook his head, shaking dandruff down on his coat as he did so.
+
+"No, I have always been virtuous."
+
+And, raising his eyes toward the chandelier which heated our heads, he
+said:
+
+"If I am bald, it is the fault of the gas.  It destroys the hair.
+Waiter, a 'bock.' Are you not thirsty?"
+
+"No, thank you.  But you really interest me.  Since when have you been so
+morbid?  Your life is not normal, it is not natural.  There is something
+beneath it all."
+
+"Yes, and it dates from my infancy.  I received a great shock when I was
+very young, and that turned my life into darkness which will last to the
+end."
+
+"What was it?"
+
+"You wish to know about it?  Well, then, listen.  You recall, of course,
+the castle in which I was brought up, for you used to spend five or six
+months there during vacation.  You remember that large gray building, in
+the middle of a great park, and the long avenues of oaks which opened to
+the four points of the compass.  You remember my father and mother, both
+of whom were ceremonious, solemn, and severe.
+
+"I worshipped my mother; I was afraid of my father; but I respected both,
+accustomed always as I was to see every one bow before them.  They were
+Monsieur le Comte and Madame la Comtesse to all the country round, and
+our neighbors, the Tannemares, the Ravelets, the Brennevilles, showed
+them the utmost consideration.
+
+"I was then thirteen years old.  I was happy, pleased with everything, as
+one is at that age, full of the joy of life.
+
+"Well, toward the end of September, a few days before returning to
+college, as I was playing about in the shrubbery of the park, among the
+branches and leaves, as I was crossing a path, I saw my father and
+mother, who were walking along.
+
+"I recall it as though it were yesterday.  It was a very windy day.  The
+whole line of trees swayed beneath the gusts of wind, groaning, and
+seeming to utter cries-those dull, deep cries that forests give out
+during a tempest.
+
+"The falling leaves, turning yellow, flew away like birds, circling and
+falling, and then running along the path like swift animals.
+
+"Evening came on.  It was dark in the thickets.  The motion of the wind
+and of the branches excited me, made me tear about as if I were crazy,
+and howl in imitation of the wolves.
+
+"As soon as I perceived my parents, I crept furtively toward them, under
+the branches, in order to surprise them, as though I had been a veritable
+prowler.  But I stopped in fear a few paces from them.  My father, who
+was in a terrible passion, cried:
+
+"'Your mother is a fool; moreover, it is not a question of your mother.
+It is you.  I tell you that I need this money, and I want you to sign
+this.'
+
+"My mother replied in a firm voice:
+
+"'I will not sign it.  It is Jean's fortune.  I shall guard it for him
+and I will not allow you to squander it with strange women, as you have
+your own heritage.'
+
+"Then my father, trembling with rage, wheeled round and, seizing his wife
+by the throat, began to slap her with all his might full in the face with
+his disengaged hand.
+
+"My mother's hat fell off, her hair became loosened and fell over her
+shoulders; she tried to parry the blows, but she could not do so.  And my
+father, like a madman, kept on striking her.  My mother rolled over on
+the ground, covering her face with her hands.  Then he turned her over on
+her back in order to slap her still more, pulling away her hands, which
+were covering her face.
+
+"As for me, my friend, it seemed as though the world was coming to an
+end, that the eternal laws had changed.  I experienced the overwhelming
+dread that one has in presence of things supernatural, in presence of
+irreparable disasters.  My childish mind was bewildered, distracted.
+I began to cry with all my might, without knowing why; a prey to a
+fearful dread, sorrow, and astonishment.  My father heard me, turned
+round, and, on seeing me, started toward me.  I believe that he wanted to
+kill me, and I fled like a hunted animal, running straight ahead into the
+thicket.
+
+"I ran perhaps for an hour, perhaps for two.  I know not.  Darkness set
+in.  I sank on the grass, exhausted, and lay there dismayed, frantic with
+fear, and devoured by a sorrow capable of breaking forever the heart of a
+poor child.  I was cold, hungry, perhaps.  At length day broke.  I was
+afraid to get up, to walk, to return home, to run farther, fearing to
+encounter my father, whom I did not wish to see again.
+
+"I should probably have died of misery and of hunger at the foot of a
+tree if the park guard had not discovered me and led me home by force.
+
+"I found my parents looking as usual.  My mother alone spoke to me
+"'How you frightened me, you naughty boy.  I lay awake the whole night.'
+
+"I did not answer, but began to weep.  My father did not utter a single
+word.
+
+"Eight days later I returned to school.
+
+"Well, my friend, it was all over with me.  I had witnessed the other
+side of things, the bad side.  I have not been able to perceive the good
+side since that day.  What has taken place in my mind, what strange
+phenomenon has warped my ideas, I do not know.  But I no longer had a
+taste for anything, a wish for anything, a love for anybody, a desire for
+anything whatever, any ambition, or any hope.  And I always see my poor
+mother on the ground, in the park, my father beating her.  My mother died
+some years later; my, father still lives.  I have not seen him since.
+Waiter, a 'bock.'"
+
+A waiter brought him his "bock," which he swallowed at a gulp.  But, in
+taking up his pipe again, trembling as he was, he broke it.  "Confound
+it!" he said, with a gesture of annoyance.  "That is a real sorrow.  It
+will take me a month to color another!"
+
+And he called out across the vast hall, now reeking with smoke and full
+of men drinking, his everlasting: "Garcon, un 'bock'--and a new pipe."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+AFTER
+
+My darlings," said the comtesse, "you might go to bed."
+
+The three children, two girls and a boy, rose and kissed their
+grandmother.  Then they said good-night to M. le Cure, who had dined at
+the chateau, as was his custom every Thursday.
+
+The Abbe Mauduit lifted two of the children on his knees, passing his
+long arms clad in black round their necks, and kissing them tenderly on
+the forehead as he drew their heads toward him as a father might.
+
+Then he set them down on the ground, and the little beings went off, the
+boy ahead, and the girls following.
+
+"You are fond of children, M. le Cure," said the comtesse.
+
+"Very fond, madame."
+
+The old woman raised her bright eyes toward the priest.
+
+"And--has your solitude never weighed too heavily on you?"
+
+"Yes, sometimes."
+
+He became silent, hesitated, and then added: "But I was never made for
+ordinary life."
+
+"What do you know about it?"
+
+"Oh!  I know very well.  I was made to be a priest; I followed my
+vocation.
+
+The comtesse kept staring at him:
+
+"Come now, M. le Cure, tell me this--tell me how it was you resolved to
+renounce forever all that makes the rest of us love life--all that
+consoles and sustains us?  What is it that drove you, impelled you, to
+separate yourself from the great natural path of marriage and the family?
+You are neither an enthusiast nor a fanatic, neither a gloomy person nor
+a sad person.  Was it some incident, some sorrow, that led you to take
+life vows?"
+
+The Abbe Mauduit rose and approached the fire, then, holding toward the
+flame his big shoes, such as country priests generally wear, he seemed
+still hesitating as to what reply he should make.
+
+He was a tall old man with white hair, and for the last twenty years had
+been pastor of the parish of Saint-Antoine-du-Rocher.  The peasants said
+of him: "There's a good man for you!"  And indeed he was a good man,
+benevolent, friendly to all, gentle, and, to crown all, generous.  Like
+Saint Martin, he would have cut his cloak in two.  He laughed readily,
+and wept also, on slight provocation, just like a woman--which prejudiced
+him more or less in the hard minds of the country folk.
+
+The old Comtesse de Saville, living in retirement in her chateau of
+Rocher, in order to bring up her grandchildren, after the successive
+deaths of her son and her daughter-in-law, was very much attached to her
+cure, and used to say of him: "What a heart he has!"
+
+He came every Thursday to spend the evening with the comtesse, and they
+were close friends, with the frank and honest friendship of old people.
+
+She persisted:
+
+"Look here, M. le Cure! it is your turn now to make a confession!"
+
+He repeated: "I was not made for ordinary life.  I saw it fortunately in
+time, and I have had many proofs since that I made no mistake on the
+point:
+
+"My parents, who were mercers in Verdiers, and were quite well to do, had
+great ambitions for me.  They sent me to a boarding school while I was
+very young.  No one knows what a boy may suffer at school through the
+mere fact of separation, of isolation.  This monotonous life without
+affection is good for some, and detestable for others.  Young people are
+often more sensitive than one supposes, and by shutting them up thus too
+soon, far from those they love, we may develop to an exaggerated extent a
+sensitiveness which is overwrought and may become sickly and dangerous.
+
+"I scarcely ever played; I had no companions; I passed my hours in
+homesickness; I spent the whole night weeping in my bed.  I sought to
+bring before my mind recollections of home, trifling memories of little
+things, little events.  I thought incessantly of all I had left behind
+there.  I became almost imperceptibly an over-sensitive youth to whom the
+slightest annoyances were terrible griefs.
+
+"In this way I remained taciturn, self-absorbed, without expansion,
+without confidants.  This mental excitement was going on secretly and
+surely.  The nerves of children are quickly affected, and one should see
+to it that they live a tranquil life until they are almost fully
+developed.  But who ever reflects that, for certain boys, an unjust
+imposition may be as great a pang as the death of a friend in later
+years?  Who can explain why certain young temperaments are liable to
+terrible emotions for the slightest cause, and may eventually become
+morbid and incurable?
+
+"This was my case.  This faculty of regret developed in me to such an
+extent that my existence became a martyrdom.
+
+"I did not speak about it; I said nothing about it; but gradually I
+became so sensitive that my soul resembled an open wound.  Everything
+that affected me gave me painful twitchings, frightful shocks, and
+consequently impaired my health.  Happy are the men whom nature has
+buttressed with indifference and armed with stoicism.
+
+"I reached my sixteenth year.  An excessive timidity had arisen from this
+abnormal sensitiveness.  Feeling myself unprotected from all the attacks
+of chance or fate, I feared every contact, every approach, every current.
+I lived as though I were threatened by an unknown and always expected
+misfortune.  I did not venture either to speak or do anything in public.
+I had, indeed, the feeling that life, is a battle, a dreadful conflict in
+which one receives terrible blows, grievous, mortal wounds.  In place of
+cherishing, like all men, a cheerful anticipation of the morrow, I had
+only a confused fear of it, and felt in my own mind a desire to conceal
+myself to avoid that combat in which I would be vanquished and slain.
+
+"As soon as my studies were finished, they gave me six months' time to
+choose a career.  A very simple occurrence showed me clearly, all of a
+sudden, the diseased condition of my mind, made me understand the danger,
+and determined me to flee from it.
+
+"Verdiers is a little town surrounded with plains and woods.  In the
+central street stands my parents' house.  I now passed my days far from
+this dwelling which I had so much regretted, so much desired.  Dreams had
+reawakened in me, and I walked alone in the fields in order to let them
+escape and fly away.  My father and mother, quite occupied with business,
+and anxious about my future, talked to me only about their profits or
+about my possible plans.  They were fond of me after the manner of
+hardheaded, practical people; they had more reason than heart in their
+affection for me.  I lived imprisoned in my thoughts, and vibrating with
+my eternal sensitiveness.
+
+"Now, one evening, after a long walk, as I was making my way home with
+great strides so as not to be late, I saw a dog trotting toward me.  He
+was a species of red spaniel, very lean, with long curly ears.
+
+"When he was ten paces away from me he stopped.  I did the same.  Then he
+began wagging his tail, and came over to me with short steps and nervous
+movements of his whole body, bending down on his paws as if appealing to
+me, and softly shaking his head.  I spoke to him.  He then began to crawl
+along in such a sad, humble, suppliant manner that I felt the tears
+coming into my eyes.  I approached him; he ran away, then he came back
+again; and I bent down on one knee trying to coax him to approach me,
+with soft words.  At last, he was within reach of my hands, and I gently
+and very carefully stroked him.
+
+"He gained courage, gradually rose and, placing his paws on my shoulders,
+began to lick my face.  He followed me to the house.
+
+"This was really the first being I had passionately loved, because he
+returned my affection.  My attachment to this animal was certainly
+exaggerated and ridiculous.  It seemed to me in a confused sort of way
+that we were two brothers, lost on this earth, and therefore isolated and
+without defense, one as well as the other.  He never again quitted my
+side.  He slept at the foot of my bed, ate at the table in spite of the
+objections of my parents, and followed me in my solitary walks.
+
+"I often stopped at the side of a ditch, and sat down in the grass.  Sam
+immediately rushed up, lay down at my feet, and lifted up my hand with
+his muzzle that I might caress him.
+
+"One day toward the end of June, as we were on the road from Saint-Pierre
+de Chavrol, I saw the diligence from Pavereau coming along.  Its four
+horses were going at a gallop, with its yellow body, and its imperial
+with the black leather hood.  The coachman cracked his whip; a cloud of
+dust rose up under the wheels of the heavy vehicle, then floated behind,
+just as a cloud would do.
+
+"Suddenly, as the vehicle came close to me, Sam, perhaps frightened by
+the noise and wishing to join me, jumped in front of it.  A horse's hoof
+knocked him down.  I saw him roll over, turn round, fall back again
+beneath the horses' feet, then the coach gave two jolts, and behind it I
+saw something quivering in the dust on the road.  He was nearly cut in
+two; all his intestines were hanging out and blood was spurting from the
+wound.  He tried to get up, to walk, but he could only move his two front
+paws, and scratch the ground with them, as if to make a hole.  The two
+others were already dead.  And he howled dreadfully, mad with pain.
+
+"He died in a few minutes.  I cannot describe how much I felt and
+suffered.  I was confined to my room for a month.
+
+"One night, my father, enraged at seeing me so affected by such a
+trifling occurrence, exclaimed:
+
+"'How will it be when you have real griefs--if you lose your wife or
+children?'
+
+"His words haunted me and I began to see my condition clearly.  I
+understood why all the small miseries of each day assumed in my eyes the
+importance of a catastrophe; I saw that I was organized in such a way
+that I suffered dreadfully from everything, that every painful impression
+was multiplied by my diseased sensibility, and an atrocious fear of life
+took possession of me.  I was without passions, without ambitions; I
+resolved to sacrifice possible joys in order to avoid sure sorrows.
+Existence is short, but I made up my mind to spend it in the service of
+others, in relieving their troubles and enjoying their happiness.  Having
+no direct experience of either one or the other, I should only experience
+a milder form of emotion.
+
+"And if you only knew how, in spite of this, misery tortures me, ravages
+me!  But what would formerly have been an intolerable affliction has
+become commiseration, pity.
+
+"These sorrows which cross my path at every moment, I could not endure if
+they affected me directly.  I could not have seen one of my children die
+without dying myself.  And I have, in spite of everything, preserved such
+a mysterious, overwhelming fear of events that the sight of the postman
+entering my house makes a shiver pass every day through my veins, and yet
+I have nothing to be afraid of now."
+
+The Abbe Mauduit ceased speaking.  He stared into the fire in the huge
+grate, as if he saw there mysterious things, all the unknown of the
+existence he might have passed had he been more fearless in the face of
+suffering.
+
+He added, then, in a subdued tone:
+
+"I was right.  I was not made for this world."
+
+The comtesse said nothing at first; but at length, after a long silence,
+she remarked:
+
+"For my part, if I had not my grandchildren, I believe I would not have
+the courage to live."
+
+And the cure rose up without saying another word.
+
+As the servants were asleep in the kitchen, she accompanied him herself
+to the door, which looked out on the garden, and she saw his tall shadow,
+lit up by the reflection of the lamp, disappearing through the gloom of
+night.
+
+Then she came back and sat down before the fire, and pondered over many
+things we never think of when we are young.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FORGIVENESS
+
+She had been brought up in one of those families who live entirely to
+themselves, apart from all the rest of the world.  Such families know
+nothing of political events, although they are discussed at table; for
+changes in the Government take place at such a distance from them that
+they are spoken of as one speaks of a historical event, such as the death
+of Louis XVI or the landing of Napoleon.
+
+Customs are modified in course of time, fashions succeed one another, but
+such variations are taken no account of in the placid family circle where
+traditional usages prevail year after year.  And if some scandalous
+episode or other occurs in the neighborhood, the disreputable story dies
+a natural death when it reaches the threshold of the house.  The father
+and mother may, perhaps, exchange a few words on the subject when alone
+together some evening, but they speak in hushed tones--for even walls
+have ears.  The father says, with bated breath:
+
+"You've heard of that terrible affair in the Rivoil family?"
+
+And the mother answers:
+
+"Who would have dreamed of such a thing?  It's dreadful."
+
+The children suspected nothing, and arrive in their turn at years of
+discretion with eyes and mind blindfolded, ignorant of the real side of
+life, not knowing that people do not think as they speak, and do not
+speak as they act; or aware that they should live at war, or at all
+events, in a state of armed peace, with the rest of mankind; not
+suspecting the fact that the simple are always deceived, the sincere made
+sport of, the good maltreated.
+
+Some go on till the day of their death in this blind probity and loyalty
+and honor, so pure-minded that nothing can open their eyes.
+
+Others, undeceived, but without fully understanding, make mistakes, are
+dismayed, and become desperate, believing themselves the playthings of a
+cruel fate, the wretched victims of adverse circumstances, and
+exceptionally wicked men.
+
+The Savignols married their daughter Bertha at the age of eighteen.  She
+wedded a young Parisian, George Baron by name, who had dealings on the
+Stock Exchange.  He was handsome, well-mannered, and apparently all that
+could be desired.  But in the depths of his heart he somewhat despised
+his old-fashioned parents-in-law, whom he spoke of among his intimates as
+"my dear old fossils."
+
+He belonged to a good family, and the girl was rich.  They settled down
+in Paris.
+
+She became one of those provincial Parisians whose name is legion.  She
+remained in complete ignorance of the great city, of its social side, its
+pleasures and its customs--just as she remained ignorant also of life,
+its perfidy and its mysteries.
+
+Devoted to her house, she knew scarcely anything beyond her own street;
+and when she ventured into another part of Paris it seemed to her that
+she had accomplished a long and arduous journey into some unknown,
+unexplored city.  She would then say to her husband in the evening:
+
+"I have been through the boulevards to-day."
+
+Two or three times a year her husband took her to the theatre.  These
+were events the remembrance of which never grew dim; they provided
+subjects of conversation for long afterward.
+
+Sometimes three months afterward she would suddenly burst into laughter,
+and exclaim:
+
+"Do you remember that actor dressed up as a general, who crowed like a
+cock?"
+
+Her friends were limited to two families related to her own.  She spoke
+of them as "the Martinets" and "the Michelins."
+
+Her husband lived as he pleased, coming home when it suited him--
+sometimes not until dawn--alleging business, but not putting himself out
+overmuch to account for his movements, well aware that no suspicion would
+ever enter his wife's guileless soul.
+
+But one morning she received an anonymous letter.
+
+She was thunderstruck--too simple-minded to understand the infamy of
+unsigned information and to despise the letter, the writer of which
+declared himself inspired by interest in her happiness, hatred of evil,
+and love of truth.
+
+This missive told her that her husband had had for two years past, a
+sweetheart, a young widow named Madame Rosset, with whom he spent all his
+evenings.
+
+Bertha knew neither how to dissemble her grief nor how to spy on her
+husband.  When he came in for lunch she threw the letter down before him,
+burst into tears, and fled to her room.
+
+He had time to take in the situation and to prepare his reply.  He
+knocked at his wife's door.  She opened it at once, but dared not look at
+him.  He smiled, sat down, drew her to his knee, and in a tone of light
+raillery began:
+
+"My dear child, as a matter of fact, I have a friend named Madame Rosset,
+whom I have known for the last ten years, and of whom I have a very high
+opinion.  I may add that I know scores of other people whose names I have
+never mentioned to you, seeing that you do not care for society, or fresh
+acquaintances, or functions of any sort.  But, to make short work of such
+vile accusations as this, I want you to put on your things after lunch,
+and we'll go together and call on this lady, who will very soon become a
+friend of yours, too, I am quite sure."
+
+She embraced her husband warmly, and, moved by that feminine spirit of
+curiosity which will not be lulled once it is aroused, consented to go
+and see this unknown widow, of whom she was, in spite of everything, just
+the least bit jealous.  She felt instinctively that to know a danger is
+to be already armed against it.
+
+She entered a small, tastefully furnished flat on the fourth floor of an
+attractive house.  After waiting five minutes in a drawing-room rendered
+somewhat dark by its many curtains and hangings, a door opened, and a
+very dark, short, rather plump young woman appeared, surprised and
+smiling.
+
+George introduced them:
+
+"My wife--Madame Julie Rosset."
+
+The young widow uttered a half-suppressed cry of astonishment and joy,
+and ran forward with hands outstretched.  She had not hoped, she said, to
+have this pleasure, knowing that Madame Baron never saw any one, but she
+was delighted to make her acquaintance.  She was so fond of George (she
+said "George" in a familiar, sisterly sort of way) that, she had been
+most anxious to know his young wife and to make friends with her, too.
+
+By the end of a month the two new friends were inseparable.  They saw
+each other every day, sometimes twice a day, and dined together every
+evening, sometimes at one house, sometimes at the other.  George no
+longer deserted his home, no longer talked of pressing business.  He
+adored his own fireside, he said.
+
+When, after a time, a flat in the house where Madame Rosset lived became
+vacant Madame Baron hastened to take it, in order to be near her friend
+and spend even more time with her than hitherto.
+
+And for two whole years their friendship was without a cloud, a
+friendship of heart and mind--absolute, tender, devoted.  Bertha could
+hardly speak without bringing in Julie's name.  To her Madame Rosset
+represented perfection.
+
+She was utterly happy, calm and contented.
+
+But Madame Rosset fell ill.  Bertha hardly left her side.  She spent her
+nights with her, distracted with grief; even her husband seemed
+inconsolable.
+
+One morning the doctor, after leaving the invalid's bedside, took George
+and his wife aside, and told them that he considered Julie's condition
+very grave.
+
+As soon as he had gone the grief-stricken husband and wife sat down
+opposite each other and gave way to tears.  That night they both sat up
+with the patient.  Bertha tenderly kissed her friend from time to time,
+while George stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes gazing steadfastly on
+the invalid's face.
+
+The next day she was worse.
+
+But toward evening she declared she felt better, and insisted that her
+friends should go back to their own apartment to dinner.
+
+They were sitting sadly in the dining-room, scarcely even attempting to
+eat, when the maid gave George a note.  He opened it, turned pale as
+death, and, rising from the table, said to his wife in a constrained
+voice:
+
+"Wait for me.  I must leave you a moment.  I shall be back in ten
+minutes.  Don't go away on any account."
+
+And he hurried to his room to get his hat.
+
+Bertha waited for him, a prey to fresh anxiety.  But, docile in
+everything, she would not go back to her friend till he returned.
+
+At length, as he did not reappear, it occurred to her to visit his room
+and see if he had taken his gloves.  This would show whether or not he
+had had a call to make.
+
+She saw them at the first glance.  Beside them lay a crumpled paper,
+evidently thrown down in haste.
+
+She recognized it at once as the note George had received.
+
+And a burning temptation, the first that had ever assailed her urged her
+to read it and discover the cause of her husband's abrupt departure.  Her
+rebellious conscience protester' but a devouring and fearful curiosity
+prevailed.  She seized the paper, smoothed it out, recognized the
+tremulous, penciled writing as Julie's, and read:
+
+"Come alone and kiss me, my poor dear.  I am dying."
+
+At first she did not understand, the idea of Julie's death being her
+uppermost thought.  But all at once the true meaning of what she read
+burst in a flash upon her; this penciled note threw a lurid light upon
+her whole existence, revealed the whole infamous truth, all the treachery
+and perfidy of which she had been the victim.  She understood the long
+years of deceit, the way in which she had been made their puppet.  She
+saw them again, sitting side by side in the evening, reading by lamplight
+out of the same book, glancing at each other at the end of each page.
+
+And her poor, indignant, suffering, bleeding heart was cast into the
+depths of a despair which knew no bounds.
+
+Footsteps drew near; she fled, and shut herself in her own room.
+
+Presently her husband called her:
+
+"Come quickly!  Madame Rosset is dying."
+
+Bertha appeared at her door, and with trembling lips replied:
+
+"Go back to her alone; she does not need me."
+
+He looked at her stupidly, dazed with grief, and repeated:
+
+"Come at once!  She's dying, I tell you!"
+
+Bertha answered:
+
+"You would rather it were I."
+
+Then at last he understood, and returned alone to the dying woman's
+bedside.
+
+He mourned her openly, shamelessly, indifferent to the sorrow of the wife
+who no longer spoke to him, no longer looked at him; who passed her life
+in solitude, hedged round with disgust, with indignant anger, and praying
+night and day to God.
+
+They still lived in the same house, however, and sat opposite each other
+at table, in silence and despair.
+
+Gradually his sorrow grew less acute; but she did not forgive him.
+
+And so their life went on, hard and bitter for them both.
+
+For a whole year they remained as complete strangers to each other as if
+they had never met.  Bertha nearly lost her reason.
+
+At last one morning she went out very early, and returned about eight
+o'clock bearing in her hands an enormous bouquet of white roses.
+And she sent word to her husband that she wanted to speak to him.
+He came-anxious and uneasy.
+
+"We are going out together," she said.  "Please carry these flowers; they
+are too heavy for me."
+
+A carriage took them to the gate of the cemetery, where they alighted.
+Then, her eyes filling with tears, she said to George:
+
+"Take me to her grave."
+
+He trembled, and could not understand her motive; but he led the way,
+still carrying the flowers.  At last he stopped before a white marble
+slab, to which he pointed without a word.
+
+She took the bouquet from him, and, kneeling down, placed it on the
+grave.  Then she offered up a silent, heartfelt prayer.
+
+Behind her stood her husband, overcome by recollections of the past.
+
+She rose, and held out her hands to him.
+
+"If you wish it, we will be friends," she said.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+IN THE SPRING
+
+With the first day of spring, when the awakening earth puts on its
+garment of green, and the warm, fragrant air fans our faces and fills our
+lungs and appears even to penetrate to our hearts, we experience a vague,
+undefined longing for freedom, for happiness, a desire to run, to wander
+aimlessly, to breathe in the spring.  The previous winter having been
+unusually severe, this spring feeling was like a form of intoxication in
+May, as if there were an overabundant supply of sap.
+
+One morning on waking I saw from my window the blue sky glowing in the
+sun above the neighboring houses.  The canaries hanging in the windows
+were singing loudly, and so were the servants on every floor; a cheerful
+noise rose up from the streets, and I went out, my spirits as bright as
+the day, to go--I did not exactly know where.  Everybody I met seemed to
+be smiling; an air of happiness appeared to pervade everything in the
+warm light of returning spring.  One might almost have said that a breeze
+of love was blowing through the city, and the sight of the young women
+whom I saw in the streets in their morning toilets, in the depths of
+whose eyes there lurked a hidden tenderness, and who walked with languid
+grace, filled my heart with agitation.
+
+Without knowing how or why, I found myself on the banks of the Seine.
+Steamboats were starting for Suresnes, and suddenly I was seized by an
+unconquerable desire to take a walk through the woods.  The deck of the
+Mouche was covered with passengers, for the sun in early spring draws one
+out of the house, in spite of themselves, and everybody moves about, goes
+and comes and talks to his neighbor.
+
+I had a girl neighbor; a little work-girl, no doubt, who possessed the
+true Parisian charm: a little head, with light curly hair, which looked
+like a shimmer of light as it danced in the wind, came down to her ears,
+and descended to the nape of her neck, where it became such fine, light-
+colored clown that one could scarcely see it, but felt an irresistible
+desire to shower kisses on it.
+
+Under my persistent gaze, she turned her head toward me, and then
+immediately looked down, while a slight crease at the side of her mouth,
+that was ready to break out into a smile, also showed a fine, silky, pale
+down which the sun was gilding a little.
+
+The calm river grew wider; the atmosphere was warm and perfectly still,
+but a murmur of life seemed to fill all space.
+
+My neighbor raised her eyes again, and this time, as I was still looking
+at her, she smiled decidedly.  She was charming, and in her passing
+glance I saw a thousand things, which I had hitherto been ignorant of,
+for I perceived unknown depths, all the charm of tenderness, all the
+poetry which we dream of, all the happiness which we are continually in
+search of.  I felt an insane longing to open my arms and to carry her off
+somewhere, so as to whisper the sweet music of words of love into her
+ears.
+
+I was just about to address her when somebody touched me on the shoulder,
+and as I turned round in some surprise, I saw an ordinary-looking man,
+who was neither young nor old, and who gazed at me sadly.
+
+"I should like to speak to you," he said.
+
+I made a grimace, which he no doubt saw, for he added:
+
+"It is a matter of importance."
+
+I got up, therefore, and followed him to the other end of the boat and
+then he said:
+
+"Monsieur, when winter comes, with its cold, wet and snowy weather, your
+doctor says to you constantly: 'Keep your feet warm, guard against
+chills, colds, bronchitis, rheumatism and pleurisy.'
+
+"Then you are very careful, you wear flannel, a heavy greatcoat and thick
+shoes, but all this does not prevent you from passing two months in bed.
+But when spring returns, with its leaves and flowers, its warm, soft
+breezes and its smell of the fields, all of which causes you vague
+disquiet and causeless emotion, nobody says to you:
+
+"'Monsieur, beware of love!  It is lying in ambush everywhere; it is
+watching for you at every corner; all its snares are laid, all its
+weapons are sharpened, all its guiles are prepared!  Beware of love!
+Beware of love!  It is more dangerous than brandy, bronchitis or
+pleurisy!  It never forgives and makes everybody commit irreparable
+follies.'
+
+"Yes, monsieur, I say that the French Government ought to put large
+public notices on the walls, with these words: 'Return of spring.  French
+citizens, beware of love!' just as they put: 'Beware of paint:
+
+"However, as the government will not do this, I must supply its place,
+and I say to you: 'Beware of love!' for it is just going to seize you,
+and it is my duty to inform you of it, just as in Russia they inform any
+one that his nose is frozen."
+
+I was much astonished at this individual, and assuming a dignified
+manner, I said:
+
+"Really, monsieur, you appear to me to be interfering in a matter which
+is no concern of yours."
+
+He made an abrupt movement and replied:
+
+"Ah!  monsieur, monsieur!  If I see that a man is in danger of being
+drowned at a dangerous spot, ought I to let him perish?  So just listen
+to my story and you will see why I ventured to speak to you like this.
+
+"It was about this time last year that it occurred.  But, first of all,
+I must tell you that I am a clerk in the Admiralty, where our chiefs, the
+commissioners, take their gold lace as quill-driving officials seriously,
+and treat us like forecastle men on board a ship.  Well, from my office
+I could see a small bit of blue sky and the swallows, and I felt inclined
+to dance among my portfolios.
+
+"My yearning for freedom grew so intense that, in spite of my repugnance,
+I went to see my chief, a short, bad-tempered man, who was always in a
+rage.  When I told him that I was not well, he looked at me and said:
+'I do not believe it, monsieur, but be off with you!  Do you think that
+any office can go on with clerks like you?'  I started at once and went
+down the Seine.  It was a day like this, and I took the Mouche, to go as
+far as Saint Cloud.  Ah! what a good thing it would have been if my chief
+had refused me permission to leave the office that day!
+
+"I seemed to myself to expand in the sun.  I loved everything--the
+steamer, the river, the trees, the houses and my fellow-passengers.
+I felt inclined to kiss something, no matter what; it was love, laying
+its snare.  Presently, at the Trocadero, a girl, with a small parcel in
+her hand, came on board and sat down opposite me.  She was decidedly
+pretty, but it is surprising, monsieur, how much prettier women seem to
+us when the day is fine at the beginning of the spring.  Then they have
+an intoxicating charm, something quite peculiar about them.  It is just
+like drinking wine after cheese.
+
+"I looked at her and she also looked at me, but only occasionally, as
+that girl did at you, just now; but at last, by dint of looking at each
+other constantly, it seemed to me that we knew each other well enough to
+enter into conversation, and I spoke to her and she replied.  She was
+decidedly pretty and nice and she intoxicated me, monsieur!
+
+"She got out at Saint-Cloud, and I followed her.  She went and delivered
+her parcel, and when she returned the boat had just started.  I walked by
+her side, and the warmth of the 'air made us both sigh.  'It would be
+very nice in the woods,' I said.  'Indeed, it would!' she replied.
+'Shall we go there for a walk, mademoiselie?'
+
+"She gave me a quick upward look, as if to see exactly what I was like,
+and then, after a little hesitation, she accepted my proposal, and soon
+we were there, walking side by side.  Under the foliage, which was still
+rather scanty, the tall, thick, bright green grass was inundated by the
+sun, and the air was full of insects that were also making love to one
+another, and birds were singing in all directions.  My companion began to
+jump and to run, intoxicated by the air and the smell of the country, and
+I ran and jumped, following her example.  How silly we are at times,
+monsieur!
+
+"Then she sang unrestrainedly a thousand things, opera airs and the song
+of Musette!  The song of Musette!  How poetical it seemed to me, then!
+I almost cried over it.  Ah!  Those silly songs make us lose our heads;
+and, believe me, never marry a woman who sings in the country, especially
+if she sings the song of Musette!
+
+"She soon grew tired, and sat down on a grassy slope, and I sat at her
+feet and took her hands, her little hands, that were so marked with the
+needle, and that filled me with emotion.  I said to myself:
+
+'These are the sacred marks of toil.' Oh! monsieur, do you know what
+those sacred marks of toil mean?  They mean all the gossip of the
+workroom, the whispered scandal, the mind soiled by all the filth that is
+talked; they mean lost chastity, foolish chatter, all the wretchedness of
+their everyday life, all the narrowness of ideas which belongs to women
+of the lower orders, combined to their fullest extent in the girl whose
+fingers bear the sacred marks of toil.
+
+"Then we looked into each other's eyes for a long while.  Oh! what power
+a woman's eye has!  How it agitates us, how it invades our very being,
+takes possession of us, and dominates us!  How profound it seems, how
+full of infinite promises!  People call that looking into each other's
+souls!  Oh!  monsieur, what humbug!  If we could see into each other's
+souls, we should be more careful of what we did.  However, I was
+captivated and was crazy about her and tried to take her into my arms,
+but she said: 'Paws off!'.  Then I knelt down and opened my heart to her
+and poured out all the affection that was suffocating me.  She seemed
+surprised at my change of manner and gave me a sidelong glance, as if to
+say, 'Ah! so that is the way women make a fool of you, old fellow!  Very
+well, we will see.'
+
+"In love, monsieur, we are always novices, and women artful dealers.
+
+"No doubt I could have had her, and I saw my own stupidity later, but
+what I wanted was not a woman's person, it was love, it was the ideal.
+I was sentimental, when I ought to have been using my time to a better
+purpose.
+
+"As soon as she had had enough of my declarations of affection, she got
+up, and we returned to Saint-Cloud, and I did not leave her until we got
+to Paris; but she had looked so sad as we were returning, that at last I
+asked her what was the matter.  'I am thinking,' she replied, 'that this
+has been one of those days of which we have but few in life.' My heart
+beat so that it felt as if it would break my ribs.
+
+"I saw her on the following Sunday, and the next Sunday, and every
+Sunday.  I took her to Bougival, Saint-Germain, Maisons-Lafitte, Poissy;
+to every suburban resort of lovers.
+
+"The little jade, in turn, pretended to love me, until, at last,
+I altogether lost my head, and three months later I married her.
+
+"What can you expect, monsieur, when a man is a clerk, living alone,
+without any relations, or any one to advise him?  One says to one's self:
+'How sweet life would be with a wife!'
+
+"And so one gets married and she calls you names from morning till night,
+understands nothing, knows nothing, chatters continually, sings the song
+of Musette at the, top of her voice (oh! that song of Musette, how tired
+one gets of it!); quarrels with the charcoal dealer, tells the janitor
+all her domestic details, confides all the secrets of her bedroom to the
+neighbor's servant, discusses her husband with the tradespeople and has
+her head so stuffed with stupid stories, with idiotic superstitions, with
+extraordinary ideas and monstrous prejudices, that I--for what I have
+said applies more particularly to myself--shed tears of discouragement
+every time I talk to her."
+
+He stopped, as he was rather out of breath and very much moved, and I
+looked at him, for I felt pity for this poor, artless devil, and I was
+just going to give him some sort of answer, when the boat stopped.  We
+were at Saint-Cloud.
+
+The little woman who had so taken my fancy rose from her seat in order to
+land.  She passed close to me, and gave me a sidelong glance and a
+furtive smile, one of those smiles that drive you wild.  Then she jumped
+on the landing-stage.  I sprang forward to follow her, but my neighbor
+laid hold of my arm.  I shook myself loose, however, whereupon he seized
+the skirt of my coat and pulled me back, exclaiming: "You shall not go!
+you shall not go!" in such a loud voice that everybody turned round and
+laughed, and I remained standing motionless and furious, but without
+venturing to face scandal and ridicule, and the steamboat started.
+
+The little woman on the landing-stage looked at me as I went off with an
+air of disappointment, while my persecutor rubbed his hands and whispered
+to me:
+
+"You must acknowledge that I have done you a great service."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A QUEER NIGHT IN PARIS
+
+Mattre Saval, notary at Vernon, was passionately fond of music.  Although
+still young he was already bald; he was always carefully shaven, was
+somewhat corpulent as was suitable, and wore a gold pince-nez instead of
+spectacles.  He was active, gallant and cheerful and was considered quite
+an artist in Vernon.  He played the piano and the violin, and gave
+musicals where the new operas were interpreted.
+
+He had even what is called a bit of a voice; nothing but a bit, very
+little bit of a voice; but he managed it with so much taste that cries of
+"Bravo!"  "Exquisite!"  "Surprising!"  "Adorable!" issued from every
+throat as soon as he had murmured the last note.
+
+He subscribed to a music publishing house in Paris, and they sent him the
+latest music, and from time to time he sent invitations after this
+fashion to the elite of the town:
+
+"You are invited to be present on Monday evening at the house of M.
+Saval, notary, Vernon, at the first rendering of 'Sais.'"
+
+A few officers, gifted with good voices, formed the chorus.  Two or three
+lady amateurs also sang.  The notary filled the part of leader of the
+orchestra with so much correctness that the bandmaster of the 190th
+regiment of the line said of him, one day, at the Cafe de l'Europe
+
+"Oh!  M. Saval is a master.  It is a great pity that he did not adopt the
+career of an artist."
+
+When his name was mentioned in a drawing-room, there was always somebody
+found to declare: "He is not an amateur; he is an artist, a genuine
+artist."
+
+And two or three persons repeated, in a tone of profound conviction:
+
+"Oh!  yes, a genuine artist," laying particular stress on the word
+"genuine."
+
+Every time that a new work was interpreted at a big Parisian theatre
+M. Saval paid a visit to the capital.
+
+Now, last year, according to his custom, he went to hear Henri VIII.  He
+then took the express which arrives in Paris at 4:30 P.M., intending to
+return by the 12:35 A.M. train, so as not to have to sleep at a hotel.
+He had put on evening dress, a black coat and white tie, which he
+concealed under his overcoat with the collar turned up.
+
+As soon as he set foot on the Rue d'Amsterdam, he felt himself in quite
+jovial mood.  He said to himself:
+
+"Decidedly, the air of Paris does not resemble any other air.  It has in
+it something indescribably stimulating, exciting, intoxicating, which
+fills you with a strange longing to dance about and to do many other
+things.  As soon as I arrive here, it seems to me, all of a sudden, that
+I have taken a bottle of champagne.  What a life one can lead in this
+city in the midst of artists!  Happy are the elect, the great men who
+make themselves a reputation in such a city!  What an existence is
+theirs!"
+
+And be made plans; he would have liked to know some of these celebrated
+men, to talk about them in Vernon, and to spend an evening with them from
+time to time in Paris.
+
+But suddenly an idea struck him.  He had heard allusions to little cafes
+in the outer boulevards at which well-known painters, men of letters, and
+even musicians gathered, and he proceeded to go up to Montmartre at a
+slow pace.
+
+He had two hours before him.  He wanted to look about him.  He passed in
+front of taverns frequented by belated bohemians, gazing at the different
+faces, seeking to discover the artists.  Finally, he came to the sign of
+"The Dead Rat," and, allured by the name, he entered.
+
+Five or six women, with their elbows resting on the marble tables, were
+talking in low tones about their love affairs, the quarrels of Lucie and
+Hortense, and the scoundrelism of Octave.  They were no longer young,
+were too fat or too thin, tired out, used up.  You could see that they
+were almost bald; and they drank beer like men.
+
+M. Saval sat down at some distance from them and waited, for the hour for
+taking absinthe was at hand.
+
+A tall young man soon came in and took a seat beside him.  The landlady
+called him M. "Romantin."  The notary quivered.  Was this the Romantin
+who had taken a medal at the last Salon?
+
+The young man made a sign to the waiter.
+
+"You will bring up my dinner at once, and then carry to my new studio,
+15 Boulevard de Clichy, thirty bottles of beer, and the ham I ordered
+this morning.  We are going to have a housewarming."
+
+M. Saval immediately ordered dinner.  Then, he took off his overcoat, so
+that his dress suit and his white tie could be seen.  His neighbor did
+not seem to notice him.  He had taken up a newspaper, and was reading it.
+M. Saval glanced sideways at him, burning with the desire to speak to
+him.
+
+Two young men entered, in red vests and with peaked beards, in the
+fashion of Henry III.  They sat down opposite Romantin.
+
+The first of the pair said:
+
+"Is it for this evening?"
+
+Romantin pressed his hand.
+
+"I believe you, old chap, and everyone will be there.  I have Bonnat,
+Guillemet, Gervex, Beraud, Hebert, Duez, Clairin, and Jean-Paul Laurens.
+It will be a stunning affair!  And women, too!  Wait till you see!  Every
+actress without exception--of course I mean, you know, all those who have
+nothing to do this evening."
+
+The landlord of the establishment came across.
+
+"Do you often have this housewarming?"
+
+The painter replied:
+
+"I believe you, every three months, each quarter."
+
+M. Saval could not restrain himself any longer, and in a hesitating voice
+said:
+
+"I beg your pardon for intruding on you, monsieur, but I heard your name
+mentioned, and I would be very glad to know if you really are
+M. Romantin, whose work in the last Salon I have so much admired?"
+
+The painter answered:
+
+"I am the very person, monsieur."
+
+The notary then paid the artist a very well-turned compliment, showing
+that he was a man of culture.
+
+The painter, gratified, thanked him politely in reply.
+
+Then they chattered.  Romantin returned to the subject of his house-
+warming, going into details as to the magnificence of the forthcoming
+entertainment.
+
+M. Saval questioned him as to all the men he was going to receive,
+adding:
+
+"It would be an extraordinary piece of good fortune for a stranger to
+meet at one time so many celebrities assembled in the studio of an artist
+of your rank."
+
+Romantin, vanquished, replied:
+
+"If it would be agreeable to you, come."
+
+M. Saval accepted the invitation with enthusiasm, reflecting:
+
+"I shall have time enough to see Henri VIII."
+
+Both of them had finished their meal.  The notary insisted on paying the
+two bills, wishing to repay his neighbor's civilities.  He also paid for
+the drinks of the young fellows in red velvet; then he left the
+establishment with the painter.
+
+They stopped in front of a very long, low house, the first story having
+the appearance of an interminable conservatory.  Six studios stood in a
+row with their fronts facing the boulevards.
+
+Romantin was the first to enter, and, ascending the stairs, he opened a
+door, and lighted a match and then a candle.
+
+They found themselves in an immense apartment, the furniture of which
+consisted of three chairs, two easels, and a few sketches standing on the
+ground along the walls.  M. Saval remained standing at the door somewhat
+astonished.
+
+The painter remarked:
+
+"Here you are! we've got to the spot; but everything has yet to be done."
+
+Then, examining the high, bare apartment, its ceiling disappearing in the
+darkness, he said:
+
+"We might make a great deal out of this studio."
+
+He walked round it, surveying it with the utmost attention, then went on:
+
+"I know someone who might easily give a helping hand.  Women are
+incomparable for hanging drapery.  But I sent her to the country for
+to-day in order to get her off my hands this evening.  It is not that she
+bores me, but she is too much lacking in the ways of good society.
+It would be embarrassing to my guests."
+
+He reflected for a few seconds, and then added:
+
+"She is a good girl, but not easy to deal with.  If she knew that I was
+holding a reception, she would tear out my eyes."
+
+M. Saval had not even moved; he did not understand.
+
+The artist came over to him.
+
+"Since I have invited you, you will assist ma about something."
+
+The notary said emphatically:
+
+"Make any use of me you please.  I am at your disposal."
+
+Romantin took off his jacket.
+
+"Well, citizen, to work!'  We are first going to clean up."
+
+He went to the back of the easel, on which there was a canvas
+representing a cat, and seized a very worn-out broom.
+
+"I say!  Just brush up while I look after the lighting."
+
+M. Saval took the broom, inspected it, and then began to sweep the floor
+very awkwardly, raising a whirlwind of dust.
+
+Romantin, disgusted, stopped him: "Deuce take it! you don't know how to
+sweep the floor! Look at me!"
+
+And he began to roll before him a heap of grayish sweepings, as if he had
+done nothing else all his life.  Then, he gave bark the broom to the
+notary, who imitated him.
+
+In five minutes, such a cloud of dust filled the studio that Rormantin
+asked:
+
+"Where are you?  I can't see you any longer."
+
+M. Saval, who was coughing, came near to him.  The painter said:
+
+"How would you set about making a chandelier?"
+
+The other, surprised, asked:
+
+"What chandelier?"
+
+"Why, a chandelier to light the room--a chandelier with wax-candles."
+
+The notary did not understand.
+
+He answered: "I don't know."
+
+The painter began to jump about, cracking his fingers.
+
+"Well, monseigneur, I have found out a way."
+
+Then he went on more calmly:
+
+"Have you got five francs about you?"
+
+M. Saval replied:
+
+"Why, yes."
+
+The artist said: "Well! you'll go out and buy for me five francs' worth
+of wax-candles while I go and see the cooper."
+
+And he pushed the notary in his evening coat into the street.  At the end
+of five minutes, they had returned, one of them with the wax-candles and
+the other with the hoop of a cask.  Then Romantin plunged his hand into a
+cupboard, and drew forth twenty empty bottles, which he fixed in the form
+of a crown around the hoop.
+
+He then went downstairs to borrow a ladder from the janitress, after
+having explained that he had made interest with the old woman by painting
+the portrait of her cat, exhibited on the easel.
+
+When he returned with the ladder, he said to M. Saval:
+
+"Are you active?"
+
+The other, without understanding, answered:
+
+"Why, yes."
+
+"Well, you just climb up there, and fasten this chandelier for me to the
+ring of the ceiling.  Then, you put a wax-candle in each bottle, and
+light it.  I tell you I have a genius for lighting up.  But off with your
+coat, damn it!  You are just like a Jeames."
+
+The door was opened brusquely.  A woman appeared, her eyes flashing, and
+remained standing on the threshold.
+
+Romantin gazed at her with a look of terror.
+
+She waited some seconds, crossing her arms over her breast, and then in a
+shrill, vibrating, exasperated voice said:
+
+"Ha!  you dirty scoundrel, is this the way you leave me?"
+
+Romantin made no reply.  She went on:
+
+"Ha!  you scoundrel!  You did a nice thing in parking me off to the
+country.  You'll soon see the way I'll settle your jollification.  Yes,
+I'm going to receive your friends."
+
+She grew warmer.
+
+"I'm going to slap their faces with the bottles and the wax-candles----"
+
+Romantin said in a soft tone:
+
+"Mathilde----"
+
+But she did not pay any attention to him; she went on:
+
+"Wait a little, my fine fellow!  wait a little!"
+
+Romantin went over to her, and tried to take her by the hands.
+
+"Mathilde----"
+
+But she was now fairly under way; and on she went, emptying the vials of
+her wrath with strong words and reproaches.  They flowed out of her mouth
+like, a stream sweeping a heap of filth along with it.  The words pouring
+forth seemed struggling for exit.  She stuttered, stammered, yelled,
+suddenly recovering her voice to cast forth an insult or a curse.
+
+He seized her hands without her having noticed it.  She did not seem to
+see anything, so taken up was she in scolding and relieving her feelings.
+And suddenly she began to weep.  The tears flowed from her eyes, but this
+did not stop her complaints.  But her words were uttered in a screaming
+falsetto voice with tears in it and interrupted by sobs.  She commenced
+afresh twice or three times, till she stopped as if something were
+choking her, and at last she ceased with a regular flood of tears.
+
+Then he clasped her in his arms and kissed her hair, affected himself.
+
+"Mathilde, my little Mathilde, listen.  You must be reasonable.  You
+know, if I give a supper-party to my friends, it is to thank these
+gentlemen for the medal I got at the Salon.  I cannot receive women.  You
+ought to understand that.  It is not the same with artists as with other
+people."
+
+She stammered, in the midst of her tears:
+
+"Why didn't you tell me this?"
+
+He replied:
+
+"It was in order not to annoy you, not to give you pain.  Listen, I'm
+going to see you home.  You will be very sensible, very nice; you will
+remain quietly waiting for me in bed, and I'll come back as soon as it's
+over."
+
+She murmured:
+
+"Yes, but you will not begin over again?"
+
+"No, I swear to you!"
+
+He turned towards M. Saval, who had at last hooked on the chandelier:
+
+"My dear friend, I am coming back in five minutes.  If anyone arrives in
+my absence, do the honors for me, will you not?"
+
+And he carried off Mathilde, who kept drying her eyes with her
+handkerchief as she went along.
+
+Left to himself, M. Saval succeeded in putting everything around him in
+order.  Then he lighted the wax-candles, and waited.
+
+He waited for a quarter of an hour, half an hour, an hour.  Romantin did
+not return.  Then, suddenly there was a dreadful noise on the stairs, a
+song shouted out in chorus by twenty mouths and a regular march like that
+of a Prussian regiment.  The whole house was shaken by the steady tramp
+of feet.  The door flew open, and a motley throng appeared--men and women
+in file, two and two holding each other by the arm and stamping their
+heels on the ground to mark time, advanced into the studio like a snake
+uncoiling itself.  They howled:
+
+          "Come, and let us all be merry,
+          Pretty maids and soldiers gay!"
+
+M. Saval, thunderstruck, remained standing in evening dress under the
+chandelier.  The procession of revellers caught sight of him, and uttered
+a shout:
+
+"A Jeames!  A Jeames!"
+
+And they began whirling round him, surrounding him with a circle of
+vociferations.  Then they took each other by the hand and went dancing
+about madly.
+
+He attempted to explain:
+
+"Messieurs--messieurs--mesdames----"
+
+But they did not listen to him.  They whirled about, they jumped, they
+brawled.
+
+At last, the dancing ceased.  M. Saval said:
+
+"Gentlemen----"
+
+A tall young fellow, fair-haired and bearded to the nose, interrupted
+him:
+
+"What's your name, my friend?"
+
+The notary, quite scared, said:
+
+"I am M. Saval."
+
+A voice exclaimed:
+
+"You mean Baptiste."
+
+A woman said:
+
+"Let the poor waiter alone!  You'll end by making him get angry.  He's
+paid to wait on us, and not to be laughed at by us."
+
+Then, M. Saval noticed that each guest had brought his own provisions.
+One held a bottle of wine, and the other a pie.  This one had a loaf of
+bread, and one a ham.
+
+The tall, fair young fellow placed in his hands an enormous sausage, and
+gave orders:
+
+"Here, go and arrange the sideboard in the corner over there.  Put the
+bottles at the left and the provisions at the right."
+
+Saval, getting quite distracted, exclaimed: "But, messieurs, I am a
+notary!"
+
+There was a moment's silence and then a wild outburst of laughter.  One
+suspicious gentleman asked:
+
+"How came you to be here?"
+
+He explained, telling about his project of going to the opera, his
+departure from Vernon, his arrival in Paris, and the way in which he had
+spent the evening.
+
+They sat around him to listen to him; they greeted him with words of
+applause, and called him Scheherazade.
+
+Romantin did not return.  Other guests arrived.  M. Saval was presented
+to them so that he might begin his story over again.  He declined; they
+forced him to relate it.  They seated and tied him on one of three chairs
+between two women who kept constantly filling his glass.  He drank; he
+laughed; he talked; he sang, too.  He tried to waltz with his chair, and
+fell on the ground.
+
+From that moment, he forgot everything.  It seemed to him, however, that
+they undressed him, put him to bed, and that he was nauseated.
+
+When he awoke, it was broad daylight, and he lay stretched with his feet
+against a cupboard, in a strange bed.
+
+An old woman with a broom in her hand was glaring angrily at him.  At
+last, she said:
+
+"Clear out, you blackguard!  Clear out!  What right has anyone to get
+drunk like this?"
+
+He sat up in bed, feeling very ill at ease.  He asked:
+
+"Where am I?"
+
+"Where are you, you dirty scamp?  You are drunk.  Take your rotten
+carcass out of here as quick as you can--and lose no time about it!"
+
+He wanted to get up.  He found that he was in no condition to do so.  His
+clothes had disappeared.  He blurted out:
+
+"Madame, I---- Then he remembered.  What was he to do?  He asked:
+
+"Did Monsieur Romantin come back?"
+
+The doorkeeper shouted:
+
+"Will you take your dirty carcass out of this, so that he at any rate may
+not catch you here?"
+
+M. Saval said, in a state of confusion:
+
+"I haven't got my clothes; they have been taken away from me."
+
+He had to wait, to explain his situation, give notice to his friends, and
+borrow some money to buy clothes.  He did not leave Paris till evening.
+And when people talk about music to him in his beautiful drawing-room in
+Vernon, he declares with an air of authority that painting is a very
+inferior art.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+     VOLUME VI.
+
+THAT COSTLY RIDE
+USELESS BEAUTY
+THE FATHER
+MY UNCLE SOSTHENES
+THE BARONESS
+MOTHER AND SON
+THE HAND
+A TRESS OF HAIR
+ON THE RIVER
+THE CRIPPLE
+A STROLL
+ALEXANDRE
+THE LOG
+JULIE ROMAINE
+THE RONDOLI SISTERS
+
+
+
+
+THAT COSTLY RIDE
+
+The household lived frugally on the meager income derived from the
+husband's insignificant appointments.  Two children had been born of the
+marriage, and the earlier condition of the strictest economy had become
+one of quiet, concealed, shamefaced misery, the poverty of a noble
+family--which in spite of misfortune never forgets its rank.
+
+Hector de Gribelin had been educated in the provinces, under the paternal
+roof, by an aged priest.  His people were not rich, but they managed to
+live and to keep up appearances.
+
+At twenty years of age they tried to find him a position, and he entered
+the Ministry of Marine as a clerk at sixty pounds a year.  He foundered
+on the rock of life like all those who have not been early prepared for
+its rude struggles, who look at life through a mist, who do not know how
+to protect themselves, whose special aptitudes and faculties have not
+been developed from childhood, whose early training has not developed the
+rough energy needed for the battle of life or furnished them with tool or
+weapon.
+
+His first three years of office work were a martyrdom.
+
+He had, however, renewed the acquaintance of a few friends of his family
+--elderly people, far behind the times, and poor like himself, who lived
+in aristocratic streets, the gloomy thoroughfares of the Faubourg Saint-
+Germain ; and he had created a social circle for himself.
+
+Strangers to modern life, humble yet proud, these needy aristocrats lived
+in the upper stories of sleepy, old-world houses.  From top to bottom of
+their dwellings the tenants were titled, but money seemed just as scarce
+on the ground floor as in the attics.
+
+Their eternal prejudices, absorption in their rank, anxiety lest they
+should lose caste, filled the minds and thoughts of these families once
+so brilliant, now ruined by the idleness of the men of the family.
+Hector de Gribelin met in this circle a young girl as well born and as
+poor as himself and married her.
+
+They had two children in four years.
+
+For four years more the husband and wife, harassed by poverty, knew no
+other distraction than the Sunday walk in the Champs-Elysees and a few
+evenings at the theatre (amounting in all to one or two in the course of
+the winter) which they owed to free passes presented by some comrade or
+other.
+
+But in the spring of the following year some overtime work was entrusted
+to Hector de Gribelin by his chief, for which he received the large sum
+of three hundred francs.
+
+The day he brought the money home he said to his wife:
+
+"My dear Henrietta, we must indulge in some sort of festivity--say an
+outing for the children."
+
+And after a long discussion it was decided that they should go and lunch
+one day in the country.
+
+"Well," cried Hector, "once will not break us, so we'll hire a wagonette
+for you, the children and the maid.  And I'll have a saddle horse; the
+exercise will do me good."
+
+The whole week long they talked of nothing but the projected excursion.
+
+Every evening, on his return from the office, Hector caught up his elder
+son, put him astride his leg, and, making him bounce up and down as hard
+as he could, said:
+
+"That's how daddy will gallop next Sunday."
+
+And the youngster amused himself all day long by bestriding chairs,
+dragging them round the room and shouting:
+
+"This is daddy on horseback!"
+
+The servant herself gazed at her master with awestruck eyes as she
+thought of him riding alongside the carriage, and at meal-times she
+listened with all her ears while he spoke of riding and recounted the
+exploits of his youth, when he lived at home with his father.  Oh, he had
+learned in a good school, and once he felt his steed between his legs he
+feared nothing--nothing whatever!
+
+Rubbing his hands, he repeated gaily to his wife:
+
+"If only they would give me a restive animal I should be all the better
+pleased.  You'll see how well I can ride; and if you like we'll come back
+by the Champs-Elysees just as all the people are returning from the Bois.
+As we shall make a good appearance, I shouldn't at all object to meeting
+some one from the ministry.  That is all that is necessary to insure the
+respect of one's chiefs."
+
+On the day appointed the carriage and the riding horse arrived at the
+same moment before the door.  Hector went down immediately to examine his
+mount.  He had had straps sewn to his trousers and flourished in his hand
+a whip he had bought the evening before.
+
+He raised the horse's legs and felt them one after another, passed his
+hand over the animal's neck, flank and hocks, opened his mouth, examined
+his teeth, declared his age; and then, the whole household having
+collected round him, he delivered a discourse on the horse in general and
+the specimen before him in particular, pronouncing the latter excellent
+in every respect.
+
+When the rest of the party had taken their seats in the carriage he
+examined the saddle-girth; then, putting his foot in the stirrup, he
+sprang to the saddle.  The animal began to curvet and nearly threw his
+rider.
+
+Hector, not altogether at his ease, tried to soothe him:
+
+"Come, come, good horse, gently now!"
+
+Then, when the horse had recovered his equanimity and the rider his
+nerve, the latter asked:
+
+"Are you ready?"
+
+The occupants of the carriage replied with one voice:
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Forward!" he commanded.
+
+And the cavalcade set out.
+
+All looks were centered on him.  He trotted in the English style, rising
+unnecessarily high in the saddle; looking at times as if he were mounting
+into space.  Sometimes he seemed on the point of falling forward on the
+horse's mane; his eyes were fixed, his face drawn, his cheeks pale.
+
+His wife, holding one of the children on her knees, and the servant, who
+was carrying the other, continually cried out:
+
+"Look at papa!  look at papa!"
+
+And the two boys, intoxicated by the motion of the carriage, by their
+delight and by the keen air, uttered shrill cries.  The horse, frightened
+by the noise they made, started off at a gallop, and while Hector was
+trying to control his steed his hat fell off, and the driver had to get
+down and pick it up.  When the equestrian had recovered it he called to
+his wife from a distance:
+
+"Don't let the children shout like that!  They'll make the horse bolt!"
+
+They lunched on the grass in the Vesinet woods, having brought provisions
+with them in the carriage.
+
+Although the driver was looking after the three horses, Hector rose every
+minute to see if his own lacked anything; he patted him on the neck and
+fed him with bread, cakes and sugar.
+
+"He's an unequal trotter," he declared.  "He certainly shook me up a
+little at first, but, as you saw, I soon got used to it.  He knows his
+master now and won't give any more trouble."
+
+As had been decided, they returned by the Champs-Elysees.
+
+That spacious thoroughfare literally swarmed with vehicles of every kind,
+and on the sidewalks the pedestrians were so numerous that they looked
+like two indeterminate black ribbons unfurling their length from the Arc
+de Triomphe to the Place de la Concorde.  A flood of sunlight played on
+this gay scene, making the varnish of the carriages, the steel of the
+harness and the handles of the carriage doors shine with dazzling
+brilliancy.
+
+An intoxication of life and motion seemed to have invaded this assemblage
+of human beings, carriages and horses.  In the distance the outlines of
+the Obelisk could be discerned in a cloud of golden vapor.
+
+As soon as Hector's horse had passed the Arc de Triomphe he became
+suddenly imbued with fresh energy, and, realizing that his stable was not
+far off, began to trot rapidly through the maze of wheels, despite all
+his rider's efforts to restrain him.
+
+The carriage was now far behind.  When the horse arrived opposite the
+Palais de l'Industrie he saw a clear field before him, and, turning to
+the right, set off at a gallop.
+
+An old woman wearing an apron was crossing the road in leisurely fashion.
+She happened to be just in Hector's way as he arrived on the scene riding
+at full speed.  Powerless to control his mount, he shouted at the top of
+his voice:
+
+"Hi!  Look out there!  Hi!"
+
+She must have been deaf, for she continued peacefully on her way until
+the awful moment when, struck by the horse's chest as by a locomotive
+under full steam, she rolled ten paces off, turning three somersaults on
+the way.
+
+Voices yelled:
+
+"Stop him!"
+
+Hector, frantic with terror, clung to the horse's mane and shouted:
+
+"Help!  help!"
+
+A terrible jolt hurled him, as if shot from a gun, over his horse's ears
+and cast him into the arms of a policeman who was running up to stop him.
+
+In the space of a second a furious, gesticulating, vociferating group had
+gathered round him.  An old gentleman with a white mustache, wearing a
+large round decoration, seemed particularly exasperated.  He repeated:
+
+"Confound it!  When a man is as awkward as all that he should remain at
+home and not come killing people in the streets, if he doesn't know how
+to handle a horse."
+
+Four men arrived on the scene, carrying the old woman.  She appeared to
+be dead.  Her skin was like parchment, her cap on one side and she was
+covered with dust.
+
+"Take her to a druggist's," ordered the old gentleman, "and let us go to
+the commissary of police."
+
+Hector started on his way with a policeman on either side of him, a third
+was leading his horse.  A crowd followed them--and suddenly the wagonette
+appeared in sight.  His wife alighted in consternation, the servant lost
+her head, the children whimpered.  He explained that he would soon be at
+home, that he had knocked a woman down and that there was not much the
+matter.  And his family, distracted with anxiety, went on their way.
+
+When they arrived before the commissary the explanation took place in few
+words.  He gave his name--Hector de Gribelin, employed at the Ministry of
+Marine; and then they awaited news of the injured woman.  A policeman who
+had been sent to obtain information returned, saying that she had
+recovered consciousness, but was complaining of frightful internal pain.
+She was a charwoman, sixty-five years of age, named Madame Simon.
+
+When he heard that she was not dead Hector regained hope and promised to
+defray her doctor's bill.  Then he hastened to the druggist's.  The door
+way was thronged; the injured woman, huddled in an armchair, was
+groaning.  Her arms hung at her sides, her face was drawn.  Two doctors
+were still engaged in examining her.  No bones were broken, but they
+feared some internal lesion.
+
+Hector addressed her:
+
+"Do you suffer much?"
+
+"Oh, yes!"
+
+"Where is the pain?"
+
+"I feel as if my stomach were on fire."
+
+A doctor approached.
+
+"Are you the gentleman who caused the accident?"
+
+"I am."
+
+"This woman ought to be sent to a home.  I know one where they would take
+her at six francs a day.  Would you like me to send her there?"
+
+Hector was delighted at the idea, thanked him and returned home much
+relieved.
+
+His wife, dissolved in tears, was awaiting him.  He reassured her.
+
+"It's all right.  This Madame Simon is better already and will be quite
+well in two or three days.  I have sent her to a home.  It's all right."
+
+When he left his office the next day he went to inquire for Madame Simon.
+He found her eating rich soup with an air of great satisfaction.
+
+"Well?" said he.
+
+"Oh, sir," she replied, "I'm just the same.  I feel sort of crushed--not
+a bit better."
+
+The doctor declared they must wait and see; some complication or other
+might arise.
+
+Hector waited three days, then he returned.  The old woman, fresh-faced
+and clear-eyed, began to whine when she saw him:
+
+"I can't move, sir; I can't move a bit.  I shall be like this for the
+rest of my days."
+
+A shudder passed through Hector's frame.  He asked for the doctor, who
+merely shrugged his shoulders and said:
+
+"What can I do?  I can't tell what's wrong with her.  She shrieks when
+they try to raise her.  They can't even move her chair from one place to
+another without her uttering the most distressing cries.  I am bound to
+believe what she tells me; I can't look into her inside.  So long as I
+have no chance of seeing her walk I am not justified in supposing her to
+be telling lies about herself."
+
+The old woman listened, motionless, a malicious gleam in her eyes.
+
+A week passed, then a fortnight, then a month.  Madame Simon did not
+leave her armchair.  She ate from morning to night, grew fat, chatted
+gaily with the other patients and seemed to enjoy her immobility as if it
+were the rest to which she was entitled after fifty years of going up and
+down stairs, of turning mattresses, of carrying coal from one story to
+another, of sweeping and dusting.
+
+Hector, at his wits' end, came to see her every day.  Every day he found
+her calm and serene, declaring:
+
+"I can't move, sir; I shall never be able to move again."
+
+Every evening Madame de Gribelin, devoured with anxiety, said:
+
+"How is Madame Simon?"
+
+And every time he replied with a resignation born of despair:
+
+"Just the same; no change whatever.
+
+They dismissed the servant, whose wages they could no longer afford.
+They economized more rigidly than ever.  The whole of the extra pay had
+been swallowed up.
+
+Then Hector summoned four noted doctors, who met in consultation over the
+old woman.  She let them examine her, feel her, sound her, watching them
+the while with a cunning eye.
+
+"We must make her walk," said one.
+
+"But, sirs, I can't!" she cried.  "I can't move!"
+
+Then they took hold of her, raised her and dragged her a short distance,
+but she slipped from their grasp and fell to the floor, groaning and
+giving vent to such heartrending cries that they carried her back to her
+seat with infinite care and precaution.
+
+They pronounced a guarded opinion--agreeing, however, that work was an
+impossibility to her.
+
+And when Hector brought this news to his wife she sank on a chair,
+murmuring:
+
+"It would be better to bring her here; it would cost us less."
+
+He started in amazement.
+
+"Here?  In our own house?  How can you think of such a thing?"
+
+But she, resigned now to anything, replied with tears in her eyes:
+
+"But what can we do, my love?  It's not my fault!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+USELESS BEAUTY
+
+I
+
+About half-past five one afternoon at the end of June when the sun was
+shining warm and bright into the large courtyard, a very elegant victoria
+with two beautiful black horses drew up in front of the mansion.
+
+The Comtesse de Mascaret came down the steps just as her husband, who was
+coming home, appeared in the carriage entrance.  He stopped for a few
+moments to look at his wife and turned rather pale.  The countess was
+very beautiful, graceful and distinguished looking, with her long oval
+face, her complexion like yellow ivory, her large gray eyes and her black
+hair; and she got into her carriage without looking at him, without even
+seeming to have noticed him, with such a particularly high-bred air, that
+the furious jealousy by which he had been devoured for so long again
+gnawed at his heart.  He went up to her and said: "You are going for a
+drive?"
+
+She merely replied disdainfully: "You see I am!"
+
+"In the Bois de Boulogne?"
+
+"Most probably."
+
+"May I come with you?"
+
+"The carriage belongs to you."
+
+Without being surprised at the tone in which she answered him, he got in
+and sat down by his wife's side and said: "Bois de Boulogne."  The
+footman jumped up beside the coachman, and the horses as usual pranced
+and tossed their heads until they were in the street.  Husband and wife
+sat side by side without speaking.  He was thinking how to begin a
+conversation, but she maintained such an obstinately hard look that he
+did not venture to make the attempt.  At last, however, he cunningly,
+accidentally as it were, touched the countess' gloved hand with his own,
+but she drew her arm away with a movement which was so expressive of
+disgust that he remained thoughtful, in spite of his usual authoritative
+and despotic character, and he said: "Gabrielle!"
+
+"What do you want?"
+
+"I think you are looking adorable."
+
+She did not reply, but remained lying back in the carriage, looking like
+an irritated queen.  By that time they were driving up the Champs
+Elysees, toward the Arc de Triomphe.  That immense monument, at the end
+of the long avenue, raised its colossal arch against the red sky and the
+sun seemed to be descending on it, showering fiery dust on it from the
+sky.
+
+The stream of carriages, with dashes of sunlight reflected in the silver
+trappings of the harness and the glass of the lamps, flowed on in a
+double current toward the town and toward the Bois, and the Comte de
+Mascaret continued: "My dear Gabrielle!"
+
+Unable to control herself any longer, she replied in an exasperated
+voice: "Oh!  do leave me in peace, pray!  I am not even allowed to have
+my carriage to myself now."  He pretended not to hear her and continued:
+"You never have looked so pretty as you do to-day."
+
+Her patience had come to an end, and she replied with irrepressible
+anger: "You are wrong to notice it, for I swear to you that I will never
+have anything to do with you in that way again."
+
+The count was decidedly stupefied and upset, and, his violent nature
+gaining the upper hand, he exclaimed: "What do you mean by that?" in a
+tone that betrayed rather the brutal master than the lover.  She replied
+in a low voice, so that the servants might not hear amid the deafening
+noise of the wheels: "Ah!  What do I mean by that?  What do I mean by
+that?  Now I recognize you again!  Do you want me to tell everything?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Everything that has weighed on my heart since I have been the victim of
+your terrible selfishness?"
+
+He had grown red with surprise and anger and he growled between his
+closed teeth: "Yes, tell me everything."
+
+He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, with a big red beard, a handsome
+man, a nobleman, a man of the world, who passed as a perfect husband and
+an excellent father, and now, for the first time since they had started,
+she turned toward him and looked him full in the face: "Ah!  You will
+hear some disagreeable things, but you must know that I am prepared for
+everything, that I fear nothing, and you less than any one to-day."
+
+He also was looking into her eyes and was already shaking with rage as he
+said in a low voice: "You are mad."
+
+"No, but I will no longer be the victim of the hateful penalty of
+maternity, which you have inflicted on me for eleven years!  I wish to
+take my place in society as I have the right to do, as all women have the
+right to do."
+
+He suddenly grew pale again and stammered: "I do not understand you."
+
+"Oh! yes; you understand me well enough.  It is now three months since I
+had my last child, and as I am still very beautiful, and as, in spite of
+all your efforts you cannot spoil my figure, as you just now perceived,
+when you saw me on the doorstep, you think it is time that I should think
+of having another child."
+
+"But you are talking nonsense!"
+
+"No, I am not, I am thirty, and I have had seven children, and we have
+been married eleven years, and you hope that this will go on for ten
+years longer, after which you will leave off being jealous."
+
+He seized her arm and squeezed it, saying: "I will not allow you to talk
+to me like that much longer."
+
+"And I shall talk to you till the end, until I have finished all I have
+to say to you, and if you try to prevent me, I shall raise my voice so
+that the two servants, who are on the box, may hear.  I only allowed you
+to come with me for that object, for I have these witnesses who will
+oblige you to listen to me and to contain yourself, so now pay attention
+to what I say.  I have always felt an antipathy to you, and I have always
+let you see it, for I have never lied, monsieur.  You married me in spite
+of myself; you forced my parents, who were in embarrassed circumstances,
+to give me to you, because you were rich, and they obliged me to marry
+you in spite of my tears.
+
+"So you bought me, and as soon as I was in your power, as soon as I had
+become your companion, ready to attach myself to you, to forget your
+coercive and threatening proceedings, in order that I might only remember
+that I ought to be a devoted wife and to love you as much as it might be
+possible for me to love you, you became jealous, you, as no man has ever
+been before, with the base, ignoble jealousy of a spy, which was as
+degrading to you as it was to me.  I had not been married eight months
+when you suspected me of every perfidiousness, and you even told me so.
+What a disgrace!  And as you could not prevent me from being beautiful
+and from pleasing people, from being called in drawing-rooms and also in
+the newspapers one of the most beautiful women in Paris, you tried
+everything you could think of to keep admirers from me, and you hit upon
+the abominable idea of making me spend my life in a constant state of
+motherhood, until the time should come when I should disgust every man.
+Oh, do not deny it.  I did not understand it for some time, but then I
+guessed it.  You even boasted about it to your sister, who told me of it,
+for she is fond of me and was disgusted at your boorish coarseness.
+
+"Ah!  Remember how you have behaved in the past!  How for eleven years
+you have compelled me to give up all society and simply be a mother to
+your children.  And then you would grow disgusted with me and I was sent
+into the country, the family chateau, among fields and meadows.  And when
+I reappeared, fresh, pretty and unspoiled, still seductive and constantly
+surrounded by admirers, hoping that at last I should live a little more
+like a rich young society woman, you were seized with jealousy again, and
+you began once more to persecute me with that infamous and hateful desire
+from which you are suffering at this moment by my side.  And it is not
+the desire of possessing me--for I should never have refused myself to
+you, but it is the wish to make me unsightly.
+
+"And then that abominable and mysterious thing occurred which I was a
+long time in understanding (but I grew sharp by dint of watching your
+thoughts and actions): You attached yourself to your children with all
+the security which they gave you while I bore them.  You felt affection
+for them, with all your aversion to me, and in spite of your ignoble
+fears, which were momentarily allayed by your pleasure in seeing me lose
+my symmetry.
+
+"Oh! how often have I noticed that joy in you!  I have seen it in your
+eyes and guessed it.  You loved your children as victories, and not
+because they were of your own blood.  They were victories over me, over
+my youth, over my beauty, over my charms, over the compliments which were
+paid me and over those that were whispered around me without being paid
+to me personally.  And you are proud of them, you make a parade of them,
+you take them out for drives in your break in the Bois de Boulogne and
+you give them donkey rides at Montmorency.  You take them to theatrical
+matinees so that you may be seen in the midst of them, so that the people
+may say: 'What a kind father' and that it may be repeated----"
+
+He had seized her wrist with savage brutality, and he squeezed it so
+violently that she was quiet and nearly cried out with the pain and he
+said to her in a whisper:
+
+"I love my children, do you hear?  What you have just told me is
+disgraceful in a mother.  But you belong to me; I am master--your master
+--I can exact from you what I like and when I like--and I have the law-on
+my side."
+
+He was trying to crush her fingers in the strong grip of his large,
+muscular hand, and she, livid with pain, tried in vain to free them from
+that vise which was crushing them.  The agony made her breathe hard and
+the tears came into her eyes.  "You see that I am the master and the
+stronger," he said.  When he somewhat loosened his grip, she asked him:
+"Do you think that I am a religious woman?"
+
+He was surprised and stammered "Yes."
+
+"Do you think that I could lie if I swore to the truth of anything to you
+before an altar on which Christ's body is?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Will you go with me to some church?"
+
+"What for?"
+
+"You shall see.  Will you?"
+
+"If you absolutely wish it, yes."
+
+She raised her voice and said: "Philippe!" And the coachman, bending down
+a little, without taking his eyes from his horses, seemed to turn his ear
+alone toward his mistress, who continued: "Drive to St. Philippe-du-
+Roule."  And the-victoria, which had reached the entrance of the Bois de
+Boulogne returned to Paris.
+
+Husband and wife (did riot exchange a word further during the drive, and
+when the carriage stopped before the church Madame de Mascaret jumped out
+and entered it, followed by the count, a few yards distant.  She went,
+without stopping, as far as the choir-screen, and falling on her knees at
+a chair, she buried her face in her hands.  She prayed for a long time,
+and he, standing behind her could see that she was crying.  She wept
+noiselessly, as women weep when they are in great, poignant grief.  There
+was a kind of undulation in her body, which ended in a little sob, which
+was hidden and stifled by her fingers.
+
+But the Comte de Mascaret thought that the situation was lasting too
+long, and he touched her on the shoulder.  That contact recalled her to
+herself, as if she had been burned, and getting up, she looked straight
+into his eyes.  "This is what I have to say to you.  I am afraid of
+nothing, whatever you may do to me.  You may kill me if you like.  One of
+your children is not yours, and one only; that I swear to you before God,
+who hears me here.  That was the only revenge that was possible for me in
+return for all your abominable masculine tyrannies, in return for the
+penal servitude of childbearing to which you have condemned me.  Who was
+my lover?  That you never will know!  You may suspect every one, but you
+never will find out.  I gave myself to him, without love and without
+pleasure, only for the sake of betraying you, and he also made me a
+mother.  Which is the child?  That also you never will know.  I have
+seven; try to find out!  I intended to tell you this later, for one has
+not avenged oneself on a man by deceiving him, unless he knows it.  You
+have driven me to confess it today.  I have now finished."
+
+She hurried through the church toward the open door, expecting to hear
+behind her the quick step: of her husband whom she had defied and to be
+knocked to the ground by a blow of his fist, but she heard nothing and
+reached her carriage.  She jumped into it at a bound, overwhelmed with
+anguish and breathless with fear.  So she called out to the coachman:
+"Home!" and the horses set off at a quick trot.
+
+
+II
+
+The Comtesse de Mascaret was waiting in her room for dinner time as a
+criminal sentenced to death awaits the hour of his execution.  What was
+her husband going to do?  Had he come home?  Despotic, passionate, ready
+for any violence as he was, what was he meditating, what had he made up
+his mind to do?  There was no sound in the house, and every moment she
+looked at the clock.  Her lady's maid had come and dressed her for the
+evening and had then left the room again.  Eight o'clock struck and
+almost at the same moment there were two knocks at the door, and the
+butler came in and announced dinner.
+
+"Has the count come in?"
+
+"Yes, Madame la Comtesse.  He is in the diningroom."
+
+For a little moment she felt inclined to arm herself with a small
+revolver which she had bought some time before, foreseeing the tragedy
+which was being rehearsed in her heart.  But she remembered that all the
+children would be there, and she took nothing except a bottle of smelling
+salts.  He rose somewhat ceremoniously from his chair.  They exchanged a
+slight bow and sat down.  The three boys with their tutor, Abbe Martin,
+were on her right and the three girls, with Miss Smith, their English
+governess, were on her left.  The youngest child, who was only three
+months old, remained upstairs with his nurse.
+
+The abbe said grace as usual when there was no company, for the children
+did not come down to dinner when guests were present.  Then they began
+dinner.  The countess, suffering from emotion, which she had not
+calculated upon, remained with her eyes cast down, while the count
+scrutinized now the three boys and now the three girls.  with an
+uncertain, unhappy expression, which travelled from one to the other.
+Suddenly pushing his wineglass from him, it broke, and the wine was spilt
+on the tablecloth, and at the slight noise caused by this little accident
+the countess started up from her chair; and for the first time they
+looked at each other.  Then, in spite of themselves, in spite of the
+irritation of their nerves caused by every glance, they continued to
+exchange looks, rapid as pistol shots.
+
+The abbe, who felt that there was some cause for embarrassment which he
+could not divine, attempted to begin a conversation and tried various
+subjects, but his useless efforts gave rise to no ideas and did not bring
+out a word.  The countess, with feminine tact and obeying her instincts
+of a woman of the world, attempted to answer him two or three times, but
+in vain.  She could not find words, in the perplexity of her mind, and
+her own voice almost frightened her in the silence of the large room,
+where nothing was heard except the slight sound of plates and knives and
+forks.
+
+Suddenly her husband said to her, bending forward: "Here, amid your
+children, will you swear to me that what you told me just now is true?"
+
+The hatred which was fermenting in her veins suddenly roused her, and
+replying to that question with the same firmness with which she had
+replied to his looks, she raised both her hands, the right pointing
+toward the boys and the left toward the girls, and said in a firm,
+resolute voice and without any hesitation: "On the head of my children,
+I swear that I have told you the truth."
+
+He got up and throwing his table napkin on the table with a movement of
+exasperation, he turned round and flung his chair against the wall, and
+then went out without another word, while she, uttering a deep sigh, as
+if after a first victory, went on in a calm voice: "You must not pay any
+attention to what your father has just said, my darlings; he was very
+much upset a short time ago, but he will be all right again in a few
+days."
+
+Then she talked with the abbe and Miss Smith and had tender, pretty words
+for all her children, those sweet, tender mother's ways which unfold
+little hearts.
+
+When dinner was over she went into the drawing-room, all her children
+following her.  She made the elder ones chatter, and when their bedtime
+came she kissed them for a long time and then went alone into her room.
+
+She waited, for she had no doubt that the count would come, and she made
+up her mind then, as her children were not with her, to protect herself
+as a woman of the world as she would protect her life, and in the pocket
+of her dress she put the little loaded revolver which she had bought a
+few days previously.  The hours went by, the hours struck, and every
+sound was hushed in the house.  Only the cabs, continued to rumble
+through the streets, but their noise was only heard vaguely through the
+shuttered and curtained windows.
+
+She waited, full of nervous energy, without any fear of him now, ready
+for anything, and almost triumphant, for she had found means of torturing
+him continually during every moment of his life.
+
+But the first gleam of dawn came in through the fringe at the bottom of
+her curtain without his having come into her room, and then she awoke to
+the fact, with much amazement, that he was not coming.  Having locked and
+bolted her door, for greater security, she went to bed at last and
+remained there, with her eyes open, thinking and barely understanding it
+all, without being able to guess what he was going to do.
+
+When her maid brought her tea she at the same time handed her a letter
+from her husband.  He told her that he was going to undertake a longish
+journey and in a postscript added that his lawyer would provide her with
+any sums of money she might require for all her expenses.
+
+
+III
+
+It was at the opera, between two acts of "Robert the Devil."  In the
+stalls the men were standing up, with their hats on, their waistcoats cut
+very low so as to show a large amount of white shirt front, in which gold
+and jewelled studs glistened, and were looking at the boxes full of
+ladies in low dresses covered with diamonds and pearls, who were
+expanding like flowers in that illuminated hothouse, where the beauty of
+their faces and the whiteness of their shoulders seemed to bloom in order
+to be gazed at, amid the sound of the music and of human voices.
+
+Two friends, with their backs to the orchestra, were scanning those rows
+of elegance, that exhibition of real or false charms, of jewels, of
+luxury and of pretension which displayed itself in all parts of the Grand
+Theatre, and one of them, Roger de Salnis, said to his companion, Bernard
+Grandin:
+
+"Just look how beautiful the Comtesse de Mascaret still is."
+
+The older man in turn looked through his opera glasses at a tall lady in
+a box opposite.  She appeared to be still very young, and her striking
+beauty seemed to attract all eyes in every corner of the house.  Her pale
+complexion, of an ivory tint, gave her the appearance of a statue, while
+a small diamond coronet glistened on her black hair like a streak of
+light.
+
+When he had looked at her for some time, Bernard Grandin replied with a
+jocular accent of sincere conviction: "You may well call her beautiful!"
+
+"How old do you think she is?"
+
+"Wait a moment.  I can tell you exactly, for I have known her since she
+was a child and I saw her make her debut into society when she was quite
+a girl.  She is--she is--thirty--thirty-six."
+
+"Impossible!"
+
+"I am sure of it."
+
+"She looks twenty-five."
+
+"She has had seven children."
+
+"It is incredible."
+
+"And what is more, they are all seven alive, as she is a very good
+mother.  I occasionally go to the house, which is a very quiet and
+pleasant one, where one may see the phenomenon of the family in the midst
+of society."
+
+"How very strange!  And have there never been any reports about her?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"But what about her husband?  He is peculiar, is he not?"
+
+"Yes and no.  Very likely there has been a little drama between them, one
+of those little domestic dramas which one suspects, never finds out
+exactly, but guesses at pretty closely."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"I do not know anything about it.  Mascaret leads a very fast life now,
+after being a model husband.  As long as he remained a good spouse he had
+a shocking temper, was crabbed and easily took offence, but since he has
+been leading his present wild life he has become quite different, But one
+might surmise that he has some trouble, a worm gnawing somewhere, for he
+has aged very much."
+
+Thereupon the two friends talked philosophically for some minutes about
+the secret, unknowable troubles which differences of character or perhaps
+physical antipathies, which were not perceived at first, give rise to in
+families, and then Roger de Salnis, who was still looking at Madame de
+Mascaret through his opera glasses, said: "It is almost incredible that
+that woman can have had seven children!"
+
+"Yes, in eleven years; after which, when she was thirty, she refused to
+have any more, in order to take her place in society, which she seems
+likely to do for many years."
+
+"Poor women!"
+
+"Why do you pity them?"
+
+"Why?  Ah! my dear fellow, just consider!  Eleven years in a condition of
+motherhood for such a woman!  What a hell!  All her youth, all her
+beauty, every hope of success, every poetical ideal of a brilliant life
+sacrificed to that abominable law of reproduction which turns the normal
+woman into a mere machine for bringing children into the world."
+
+"What would you have?  It is only Nature!"
+
+"Yes, but I say that Nature is our enemy, that we must always fight
+against Nature, for she is continually bringing us back to an animal
+state.  You may be sure that God has not put anything on this earth that
+is clean, pretty, elegant or accessory to our ideal; the human brain has
+done it.  It is man who has introduced a little grace, beauty, unknown
+charm and mystery into creation by singing about it, interpreting it, by
+admiring it as a poet, idealizing it as an artist and by explaining it
+through science, doubtless making mistakes, but finding ingenious
+reasons, hidden grace and beauty, unknown charm and mystery in the
+various phenomena of Nature.  God created only coarse beings, full of the
+germs of disease, who, after a few years of bestial enjoyment, grow old
+and infirm, with all the ugliness and all the want of power of human
+decrepitude.  He seems to have made them only in order that they may
+reproduce their species in an ignoble manner and then die like ephemeral
+insects.  I said reproduce their species in an ignoble manner and I
+adhere to that expression.  What is there as a matter of fact more
+ignoble and more repugnant than that act of reproduction of living
+beings, against which all delicate minds always have revolted and always
+will revolt?  Since all the organs which have been invented by this
+economical and malicious Creator serve two purposes, why did He not
+choose another method of performing that sacred mission, which is the
+noblest and the most exalted of all human functions?  The mouth, which
+nourishes the body by means of material food, also diffuses abroad speech
+and thought.  Our flesh renews itself of its own accord, while we are
+thinking about it.  The olfactory organs, through which the vital air
+reaches the lungs, communicate all the perfumes of the world to the
+brain: the smell of flowers, of woods, of trees, of the sea.  The ear,
+which enables us to communicate with our fellow men, has also allowed us
+to invent music, to create dreams, happiness, infinite and even physical
+pleasure by means of sound!  But one might say that the cynical and
+cunning Creator wished to prohibit man from ever ennobling and idealizing
+his intercourse with women.  Nevertheless man has found love, which is
+not a bad reply to that sly Deity, and he has adorned it with so much
+poetry that woman often forgets the sensual part of it.  Those among us
+who are unable to deceive themselves have invented vice and refined
+debauchery, which is another way of laughing at God and paying homage,
+immodest homage, to beauty.
+
+"But the normal man begets children just like an animal coupled with
+another by law.
+
+"Look at that woman!  Is it not abominable to think that such a jewel,
+such a pearl, born to be beautiful, admired, feted and adored, has spent
+eleven years of her life in providing heirs for the Comte de Mascaret?"
+
+Bernard Grandin replied with a laugh: "There is a great deal of truth in
+all that, but very few people would understand you."
+
+Salnis became more and more animated.  "Do you know how I picture God
+myself?" he said.  "As an enormous, creative organ beyond our ken, who
+scatters millions of worlds into space, just as one single fish would
+deposit its spawn in the sea.  He creates because it is His function as
+God to do so, but He does not know what He is doing and is stupidly
+prolific in His work and is ignorant of the combinations of all kinds
+which are produced by His scattered germs.  The human mind is a lucky
+little local, passing accident which was totally unforeseen, and
+condemned to disappear with this earth and to recommence perhaps here or
+elsewhere the same or different with fresh combinations of eternally new
+beginnings.  We owe it to this little lapse of intelligence on His part
+that we are very uncomfortable in this world which was not made for us,
+which had not been prepared to receive us, to lodge and feed us or to
+satisfy reflecting beings, and we owe it to Him also that we have to
+struggle without ceasing against what are still called the designs of
+Providence, when we are really refined and civilized beings."
+
+Grandin, who was listening to him attentively as he had long known the
+surprising outbursts of his imagination, asked him: "Then you believe
+that human thought is the spontaneous product of blind divine
+generation?"
+
+"Naturally!  A fortuitous function of the nerve centres of our brain,
+like the unforeseen chemical action due to new mixtures and similar also
+to a charge of electricity, caused by friction or the unexpected
+proximity of some substance, similar to all phenomena caused by the
+infinite and fruitful fermentation of living matter.
+
+"But, my dear fellow, the truth of this must be evident to any one who
+looks about him.  If the human mind, ordained by an omniscient Creator,
+had been intended to be what it has become, exacting, inquiring,
+agitated, tormented--so different from mere animal thought and
+resignation--would the world which was created to receive the beings
+which we now are have been this unpleasant little park for small game,
+this salad patch, this wooded, rocky and spherical kitchen garden where
+your improvident Providence had destined us to live naked, in caves or
+under trees, nourished on the flesh of slaughtered animals, our brethren,
+or on raw vegetables nourished by the sun and the rain?
+
+"But it is sufficient to reflect for a moment, in order to understand
+that this world was not made for such creatures as we are.  Thought,
+which is developed by a miracle in the nerves of the cells in our brain,
+powerless, ignorant and confused as it is, and as it will always remain,
+makes all of us who are intellectual beings eternal and wretched exiles
+on earth.
+
+"Look at this earth, as God has given it to those who inhabit it.  Is it
+not visibly and solely made, planted and covered with forests for the
+sake of animals?  What is there for us?  Nothing.  And for them,
+everything, and they have nothing to do but to eat or go hunting and eat
+each other, according to their instincts, for God never foresaw
+gentleness and peaceable manners; He only foresaw the death of creatures
+which were bent on destroying and devouring each other.  Are not the
+quail, the pigeon and the partridge the natural prey of the hawk? the
+sheep, the stag and the ox that of the great flesh-eating animals, rather
+than meat to be fattened and served up to us with truffles, which have
+been unearthed by pigs for our special benefit?
+
+"As to ourselves, the more civilized, intellectual and refined we are,
+the more we ought to conquer and subdue that animal instinct, which
+represents the will of God in us.  And so, in order to mitigate our lot
+as brutes, we have discovered and made everything, beginning with houses,
+then exquisite food, sauces, sweetmeats, pastry, drink, stuffs, clothes,
+ornaments, beds, mattresses, carriages, railways and innumerable
+machines, besides arts and sciences, writing and poetry.  Every ideal
+comes from us as do all the amenities of life, in order to make our
+existence as simple reproducers, for which divine Providence solely
+intended us, less monotonous and less hard.
+
+"Look at this theatre.  Is there not here a human world created by us,
+unforeseen and unknown to eternal fate, intelligible to our minds alone,
+a sensual and intellectual distraction, which has been invented solely by
+and for that discontented and restless little animal, man?
+
+"Look at that woman, Madame de Mascaret.  God intended her to live in a
+cave, naked or wrapped up in the skins of wild animals.  But is she not
+better as she is?  But, speaking of her, does any one know why and how
+her brute of a husband, having such a companion by his side, and
+especially after having been boorish enough to make her a mother seven
+times, has suddenly left her, to run after bad women?"
+
+Grandin replied: "Oh! my dear fellow, this is probably the only reason.
+He found that raising a family was becoming too expensive, and from
+reasons of domestic economy he has arrived at the same principles which
+you lay down as a philosopher."
+
+Just then the curtain rose for the third act, and they turned round, took
+off their hats and sat down.
+
+
+IV
+
+The Comte and Comtesse Mascaret were sitting side by side in the carriage
+which was taking them home from the Opera, without speaking but suddenly
+the husband said to his wife: "Gabrielle!"
+
+"What do you want?"
+
+"Don't you think that this has lasted long enough?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"The horrible punishment to which you have condemned me for the last six
+years?"
+
+"What do you want?  I cannot help it."
+
+"Then tell me which of them it is."
+
+"Never."
+
+"Think that I can no longer see my children or feel them round me,
+without having my heart burdened with this doubt.  Tell me which of them
+it is, and I swear that I will forgive you and treat it like the others."
+
+"I have not the right to do so."
+
+"Do you not see that I can no longer endure this life, this thought which
+is wearing me out, or this question which I am constantly asking myself,
+this question which tortures me each time I look at them?  It is driving
+me mad."
+
+"Then you have suffered a great deal?" she said.
+
+"Terribly.  Should I, without that, have accepted the horror of living by
+your side, and the still greater horror of feeling and knowing that there
+is one among them whom I cannot recognize and who prevents me from loving
+the others?"
+
+"Then you have really suffered very much?" she repeated.
+
+And he replied in a constrained and sorrowful voice:
+
+"Yes, for do I not tell you every day that it is intolerable torture to
+me?  Should I have remained in that house, near you and them, if I did
+not love them?  Oh!  You have behaved abominably toward me.  All the
+affection of my heart I have bestowed upon my children, and that you
+know.  I am for them a father of the olden time, as I was for you a
+husband of one of the families of old, for by instinct I have remained a
+natural man, a man of former days.  Yes, I will confess it, you have made
+me terribly jealous, because you are a woman of another race, of another
+soul, with other requirements.  Oh! I shall never forget the things you
+said to me, but from that day I troubled myself no more about you.  I did
+not kill you, because then I should have had no means on earth of ever
+discovering which of our--of your children is not mine.  I have waited,
+but I have suffered more than you would believe, for I can no longer
+venture to love them, except, perhaps, the two eldest; I no longer
+venture to look at them, to call them to me, to kiss them; I cannot take
+them on my knee without asking myself, 'Can it be this one?'  I have been
+correct in my behavior toward you for six years, and even kind and
+complaisant.  Tell me the truth, and I swear that I will do nothing
+unkind."
+
+He thought, in spite of the darkness of the carriage, that he could
+perceive that she was moved, and feeling certain that she was going to
+speak at last, he said: "I beg you, I beseech you to tell me" he said.
+
+"I have been more guilty than you think perhaps," she replied, "but I
+could no longer endure that life of continual motherhood, and I had only
+one means of driving you from me.  I lied before God and I lied, with my
+hand raised to my children's head, for I never have wronged you."
+
+He seized her arm in the darkness, and squeezing it as he had done on
+that terrible day of their drive in the Bois de Boulogne, he stammered:
+
+"Is that true?"
+
+"It is true."
+
+But, wild with grief, he said with a groan: "I shall have fresh doubts
+that will never end!  When did you lie, the last time or now?  How am I
+to believe you at present?  How can one believe a woman after that?  I
+shall never again know what I am to think.  I would rather you had said
+to me, 'It is Jacques or it is Jeanne.'"
+
+The carriage drove into the courtyard of the house and when it had drawn
+up in front of the steps the count alighted first, as usual, and offered
+his wife his arm to mount the stairs.  As soon as they reached the first
+floor he said: "May I speak to you for a few moments longer?" And she
+replied, "I am quite willing."
+
+They went into a small drawing-room and a footman, in some surprise,
+lighted the wax candles.  As soon as he had left the room and they were
+alone the count continued: "How am I to know the truth? I have begged you
+a thousand times to speak, but you have remained dumb, impenetrable,
+inflexible, inexorable, and now to-day you tell me that you have been
+lying.  For six years you have actually allowed me to believe such a
+thing!  No, you are lying now, I do not know why, but out of pity for me,
+perhaps?"
+
+She replied in a sincere and convincing manner: "If I had not done so, I
+should have had four more children in the last six years!"
+
+"Can a mother speak like that?"
+
+"Oh!" she replied, "I do not feel that I am the mother of children who
+never have been born; it is enough for me to be the mother of those that
+I have and to love them with all my heart.  I am a woman of the civilized
+world, monsieur--we all are--and we are no longer, and we refuse to be,
+mere females to restock the earth."
+
+She got up, but he seized her hands.  "Only one word, Gabrielle.  Tell me
+the truth!"
+
+"I have just told you.  I never have dishonored you."
+
+He looked her full in the face, and how beautiful she was, with her gray
+eyes, like the cold sky.  In her dark hair sparkled the diamond coronet,
+like a radiance.  He suddenly felt, felt by a kind of intuition, that
+this grand creature was not merely a being destined to perpetuate the
+race, but the strange and mysterious product of all our complicated
+desires which have been accumulating in us for centuries but which have
+been turned aside from their primitive and divine object and have
+wandered after a mystic, imperfectly perceived and intangible beauty.
+There are some women like that, who blossom only for our dreams, adorned
+with every poetical attribute of civilization, with that ideal luxury,
+coquetry and esthetic charm which surround woman, a living statue that
+brightens our life.
+
+Her husband remained standing before her, stupefied at his tardy and
+obscure discovery, confusedly hitting on the cause of his former jealousy
+and understanding it all very imperfectly, and at last lie said: "I
+believe you, for I feel at this moment that you are not lying, and before
+I really thought that you were."
+
+She put out her hand to him: "We are friends then?"
+
+He took her hand and kissed it and replied: "We are friends.  Thank you,
+Gabrielle."
+
+Then he went out, still looking at her, and surprised that she was still
+so beautiful and feeling a strange emotion arising in him.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE FATHER
+
+I
+
+He was a clerk in the Bureau of Public Education and lived at
+Batignolles.  He took the omnibus to Paris every morning and always sat
+opposite a girl, with whom he fell in love.
+
+She was employed in a shop and went in at the same time every day.  She
+was a little brunette, one of those girls whose eyes are so dark that
+they look like black spots, on a complexion like ivory.  He always saw
+her coming at the corner of the same street, and she generally had to run
+to catch the heavy vehicle, and sprang upon the steps before the horses
+had quite stopped.  Then she got inside, out of breath, and, sitting
+down, looked round her.
+
+The first time that he saw her, Francois Tessier liked the face.  One
+sometimes meets a woman whom one longs to clasp in one's arms without
+even knowing her.  That girl seemed to respond to some chord in his
+being, to that sort of ideal of love which one cherishes in the depths of
+the heart, without knowing it.
+
+He looked at her intently, not meaning to be rude, and she became
+embarrassed and blushed.  He noticed it, and tried to turn away his eyes;
+but he involuntarily fixed them upon her again every moment, although he
+tried to look in another direction; and, in a few days, they seemed to
+know each other without having spoken.  He gave up his place to her when
+the omnibus was full, and got outside, though he was very sorry to do it.
+By this time she had got so far as to greet him with a little smile; and,
+although she always dropped her eyes under his looks, which she felt were
+too ardent, yet she did not appear offended at being looked at in such a
+manner.
+
+They ended by speaking.  A kind of rapid friendship had become
+established between them, a daily freemasonry of half an hour, and that
+was certainly one of the most charming half hours in his life to him.
+He thought of her all the rest of the day, saw her image continually
+during the long office hours.  He was haunted and bewitched by that
+floating and yet tenacious recollection which the form of a beloved woman
+leaves in us, and it seemed to him that if he could win that little
+person it would be maddening happiness to him, almost above human
+realization.
+
+Every morning she now shook hands with him, and he preserved the sense of
+that touch and the recollection of the gentle pressure of her little
+fingers until the next day, and he almost fancied that he preserved the
+imprint on his palm.  He anxiously waited for this short omnibus ride,
+while Sundays seemed to him heartbreaking days.  However, there was no
+doubt that she loved him, for one Saturday, in spring, she promised to go
+and lunch with him at Maisons-Laffitte the next day.
+
+
+II
+
+She was at the railway station first, which surprised him, but she said:
+"Before going, I want to speak to you.  We have twenty minutes, and that
+is more than I shall take for what I have to say."
+
+She trembled as she hung on his arm, and looked down, her cheeks pale, as
+she continued: "I do not want you to be deceived in me, and I shall not
+go there with you, unless you promise, unless you swear--not to do--not
+to do anything--that is at all improper."
+
+She had suddenly become as red as a poppy, and said no more.  He did not
+know what to reply, for he was happy and disappointed at the same time.
+He should love her less, certainly, if he knew that her conduct was
+light, but then it would be so charming, so delicious to have a little
+flirtation.
+
+As he did not say anything, she began to speak again in an agitated voice
+and with tears in her eyes.  "If you do not promise to respect me
+altogether, I shall return home."  And so he squeezed her arm tenderly
+and replied: "I promise, you shall only do what you like."  She appeared
+relieved in mind, and asked, with a smile: "Do you really mean it?"  And
+he looked into her eyes and replied: "I swear it" "Now you may take the
+tickets," she said.
+
+During the journey they could hardly speak, as the carriage was full, and
+when they reached Maisons-Laffite they went toward the Seine.  The sun,
+which shone full on the river, on the leaves and the grass, seemed to be
+reflected in their hearts, and they went, hand in hand, along the bank,
+looking at the shoals of little fish swimming near the bank, and they
+walked on, brimming over with happiness, as if they were walking on air.
+
+At last she said: "How foolish you must think me!"
+
+"Why?" he asked.  "To come out like this, all alone with you."
+
+"Certainly not; it is quite natural."  "No, no; it is not natural for me
+--because I do not wish to commit a fault, and yet this is how girls
+fall.  But if you only knew how wretched it is, every day the same thing,
+every day in the month and every month in the year.  I live quite alone
+with mamma, and as she has had a great deal of trouble, she is not very
+cheerful.  I do the best I can, and try to laugh in spite of everything,
+but I do not always succeed.  But, all the same, it was wrong in me to
+come, though you, at any rate, will not be sorry."
+
+By way of an answer, he kissed her ardently on the ear that was nearest
+him, but she moved from him with an abrupt movement, and, getting
+suddenly angry, exclaimed: "Oh! Monsieur Francois, after what you swore
+to me!"  And they went back to Maisons-Laffitte.
+
+They had lunch at the Petit-Havre, a low house, buried under four
+enormous poplar trees, by the side of the river.  The air, the heat, the
+weak white wine and the sensation of being so close together made them
+silent; their faces were flushed and they had a feeling of oppression;
+but, after the coffee, they regained their high spirits, and, having
+crossed the Seine, started off along the bank, toward the village of La
+Frette.  Suddenly he asked: "What-is your name?"
+
+"Louise."
+
+"Louise," he repeated and said nothing more.
+
+The girl picked daisies and made them into a great bunch, while he sang
+vigorously, as unrestrained as a colt that has been turned into a meadow.
+On their left a vine-covered slope followed the river.  Francois stopped
+motionless with astonishment: "Oh, look there!" he said.
+
+The vines had come to an end, and the whole slope was covered with lilac
+bushes in flower.  It was a purple wood!  A kind of great carpet of
+flowers stretched over the earth, reaching as far as the village, more
+than two miles off.  She also stood, surprised and delighted, and
+murmured: "Oh!  how pretty!"  And, crossing a meadow, they ran toward
+that curious low hill, which, every year, furnishes all the lilac that is
+drawn through Paris on the carts of the flower venders.
+
+There was a narrow path beneath the trees, so they took it, and when they
+came to a small clearing, sat down.
+
+Swarms of flies were buzzing around them and making a continuous, gentle
+sound, and the sun, the bright sun of a perfectly still day, shone over
+the bright slopes and from that forest of blossoms a powerful fragrance
+was borne toward them, a breath of perfume, the breath of the flowers.
+
+A church clock struck in the distance, and they embraced gently, then,
+without the knowledge of anything but that kiss, lay down on the grass.
+But she soon came to herself with the feeling of a great misfortune, and
+began to cry and sob with grief, with her face buried in her hands.
+
+He tried to console her, but she wanted to start to return and to go home
+immediately; and she kept saying, as she walked along quickly: "Good
+heavens!  good heavens!"
+
+He said to her: "Louise!  Louise!  Please let us stop here."  But now her
+cheeks were red and her eyes hollow, and, as soon as they got to the
+railway station in Paris, she left him without even saying good-by.
+
+
+III
+
+When he met her in the omnibus, next day, she appeared to him to be
+changed and thinner, and she said to him: "I want to speak to you; we
+will get down at the Boulevard."
+
+As soon as they were on the pavement, she said:
+
+"We must bid each other good-by; I cannot meet you again."  "But why?" he
+asked.  "Because I cannot; I have been culpable, and I will not be so
+again."
+
+Then he implored her, tortured by his love, but she replied firmly: "No,
+I cannot, I cannot."  He, however, only grew all the more excited and
+promised to marry her, but she said again: "No," and left him.
+
+For a week he did not see her.  He could not manage to meet her, and, as
+he did not know her address, he thought that he had lost her altogether.
+On the ninth day, however, there was a ring at his bell, and when he
+opened the door, she was there.  She threw herself into his arms and did
+not resist any longer, and for three months they were close friends.
+He was beginning to grow tired of her, when she whispered something to
+him, and then he had one idea and wish: to break with her at any price.
+As, however, he could not do that, not knowing how to begin, or what to
+say, full of anxiety through fear of the consequences of his rash
+indiscretion, he took a decisive step: one night he changed his lodgings
+and disappeared.
+
+The blow was so heavy that she did not look, for the man who had
+abandoned her, but threw herself at her mother's knees and confessed her
+misfortune, and, some months after, gave birth to a boy.
+
+
+IV
+
+Years passed, and Francois Tessier grew old, without there having been
+any alteration in his life.  He led the dull, monotonous life of an
+office clerk, without hope and without expectation.  Every day he got up
+at the same time, went through the same streets, went through the same
+door, past the same porter, went into the same office, sat in the same
+chair, and did the same work.  He was alone in the world, alone during
+the day in the midst of his different colleagues, and alone at night in
+his bachelor's lodgings, and he laid by a hundred francs a month against
+old age.
+
+Every Sunday he went to the Champs-Elysees, to watch the elegant people,
+the carriages and the pretty women, and the next day he used to say to
+one of his colleagues: "The return of the carriages from the Bois du
+Boulogne was very brilliant yesterday."  One fine Sunday morning,
+however, he went into the Parc Monceau, where the mothers and nurses,
+sitting on the sides of the walks, watched the children playing, and
+suddenly Francois Tessier started.  A woman passed by, holding two
+children by the hand, a little boy of about ten and a little girl of
+four.  It was she!
+
+He walked another hundred yards anti then fell into a chair, choking with
+emotion.  She had not recognized him, and so he came back, wishing to see
+her again.  She was sitting down now, and the boy was standing by her
+side very quietly, while the little girl was making sand castles.  It was
+she, it was certainly she, but she had the reserved appearance of a lady,
+was dressed simply, and looked self-possessed and dignified.  He looked
+at her from a distance, for he did not venture to go near; but the little
+boy raised his head, and Francois Tessier felt himself tremble.  It was
+his own son, there could be no doubt of that.  And, as he looked at him,
+he thought he could recognize himself as he appeared in an old photograph
+taken years ago.  He remained hidden behind a tree, waiting for her to go
+that he might follow her.
+
+He did not sleep that night.  The idea of the child especially tormented
+him.  His son!  Oh, if he could only have known, have been sure!  But
+what could he have done?  However, he went to the house where she lived
+and asked about her.  He was told that a neighbor, an honorable man of
+strict morals, had been touched by her distress and had married her; he
+knew the fault she had committed and had married her, and had even
+recognized the child, his, Francois Tessier's child, as his own.
+
+He returned to the Parc Monceau every Sunday, for then he always saw her,
+and each time he was seized with a mad, an irresistible longing to take
+his son into his arms, to cover him with kisses and to steal him, to
+carry him off.
+
+He suffered horribly in his wretched isolation as an old bachelor, with
+nobody to care for him, and he also suffered atrocious mental torture,
+torn by paternal tenderness springing from remorse, longing and jealousy
+and from that need of loving one's own children which nature has
+implanted in all.  At last he determined to make a despairing attempt,
+and, going up to her, as she entered the park, he said, standing in the
+middle of the path, pale and with trembling lips: "You do not recognize
+me."  She raised her eyes, looked at him, uttered an exclamation of
+horror, of terror, and, taking the two children by the hand, she rushed
+away, dragging them after her, while he went home and wept inconsolably.
+
+Months passed without his seeing her again, but he suffered, day and
+night, for he was a prey to his paternal love.  He would gladly have
+died, if he could only have kissed his son; he would have committed
+murder, performed any task, braved any danger, ventured anything.  He
+wrote to her, but she did not reply, and, after writing her some twenty
+letters, he saw that there was no hope of altering her determination, and
+then he formed the desperate resolution of writing to her husband, being
+quite prepared to receive a bullet from a revolver, if need be.  His
+letter only consisted of a few lines, as follows:
+
+"Monsieur: You must have a perfect horror of my name, but I am so
+wretched, so overcome by misery that my only hope is in you, and,
+therefore, I venture to request you to grant me an interview of only five
+minutes.
+
+"I have the honor, etc."
+
+The next day he received the reply:
+
+"Monsieur: I shall expect you to-morrow, Tuesday, at five o'clock."
+
+As he went up the staircase, Francois Tessier's heart beat so violently
+that he had to stop several times.  There was a dull and violent thumping
+noise in his breast, as of some animal galloping; and he could breathe
+only with difficulty, and had to hold on to the banisters, in order not
+to fall.
+
+He rang the bell on the third floor, and when a maid servant had opened
+the door, he asked: "Does Monsieur Flamel live here?"  "Yes, monsieur.
+Kindly come in."
+
+He was shown into the drawing-room; he was alone, and waited, feeling
+bewildered, as in the midst of a catastrophe, until a door opened, and a
+man came in.  He was tall, serious and rather stout, and wore a black
+frock coat, and pointed to a chair with his hand.  Francois Tessier sat
+down, and then said, with choking breath: "Monsieur--monsieur--I do not
+know whether you know my name--whether you know----"
+
+Monsieur Flamel interrupted him.  "You need not tell it me, monsieur, I
+know it.  My wife has spoken to me about you."  He spoke in the dignified
+tone of voice of a good man who wishes to be severe, and with the
+commonplace stateliness of an honorable man, and Francois Tessier
+continued:
+
+"Well, monsieur, I want to say this: I am dying of grief, of remorse, of
+shame, and I would like once, only once to kiss the child."
+
+Monsieur Flamel got up and rang the bell, and when the servant came in,
+he said: "Will you bring Louis here?"  When she had gone out, they
+remained face to face, without speaking, as they had nothing more to say
+to one another, and waited.  Then, suddenly, a little boy of ten rushed
+into the room and ran up to the man whom he believed to be his father,
+but he stopped when he saw the stranger, and Monsieur Flamel kissed him
+and said: "Now, go and kiss that gentleman, my dear."  And the child went
+up to the stranger and looked at him.
+
+Francois Tessier had risen.  He let his hat fall, and was ready to fall
+himself as he looked at his son, while Monsieur Flamel had turned away,
+from a feeling of delicacy, and was looking out of the window.
+
+The child waited in surprise; but he picked up the hat and gave it to the
+stranger.  Then Francois, taking the child up in his arms, began to kiss
+him wildly all over his face; on his eyes, his cheeks, his mouth, his
+hair; and the youngster, frightened at the shower of kisses, tried to
+avoid them, turned away his head, and pushed away the man's face with his
+little hands.  But suddenly Francois Tessier put him down and cried:
+"Good-by! good-by!" And he rushed out of the room as if he had been a
+thief.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MY UNCLE SOSTHENES
+
+Some people are Freethinkers from sheer stupidity.  My Uncle Sosthenes
+was one of these.  Some people are often religious for the same reason.
+The very sight of a priest threw my uncle into a violent rage.  He would
+shake his fist and make grimaces at him, and would then touch a piece of
+iron when the priest's back was turned, forgetting that the latter action
+showed a belief after all, the belief in the evil eye.  Now, when beliefs
+are unreasonable, one should have all or none at all.  I myself am a
+Freethinker; I revolt at all dogmas, but feel no anger toward places of
+worship, be they Catholic, Apostolic, Roman, Protestant, Greek, Russian,
+Buddhist, Jewish, or Mohammedan.
+
+My uncle was a Freemason, and I used to declare that they are stupider
+than old women devotees.  That is my opinion, and I maintain it; if we
+must have any religion at all, the old one is good enough for me.
+
+What is their object?  Mutual help to be obtained by tickling the palms
+of each other's hands.  I see no harm in it, for they put into practice
+the Christian precept: "Do unto others as ye would they should do unto
+you."  The only difference consists in the tickling, but it does not seem
+worth while to make such a fuss about lending a poor devil half a crown.
+
+To all my arguments my uncle's reply used to be:
+
+"We are raising up a religion against a religion; Free Thought will kill
+clericalism.  Freemasonry is the stronghold, of those who are demolishing
+all deities."
+
+"Very well, my dear uncle," I would reply--in my heart I felt inclined to
+say, "You old idiot! it is just that which I am blaming you for.  Instead
+of destroying, you are organizing competition; it is only a case of
+lowering prices.  And then, if you admitted only Freethinkers among you,
+I could understand it, but you admit anybody.  You have a number of
+Catholics among you, even the leaders of the party.  Pius IX is said to
+have been one of you before he became pope.  If you call a society with
+such an organization a bulwark against clericalism, I think it is an
+extremely weak one."
+
+"My dear boy," my uncle would reply, with a wink, "we are most to be
+dreaded in politics; slowly and surely we are everywhere undermining the
+monarchical spirit."
+
+Then I broke out: "Yes, you are very clever!  If you tell me that
+Freemasonry is an election machine, I will grant it.  I will never deny
+that it is used as a machine to control candidates of all shades; if you
+say that it is only used to hoodwink people, to drill them to go to the
+polls as soldiers are sent under fire, I agree with you; if you declare
+that it is indispensable to all political ambitions because it changes
+all its members into electoral agents, I should say to you: 'That is as
+clear as the sun.' But when you tell me that it serves to undermine the
+monarchical spirit, I can only laugh in your face.
+
+"Just consider that gigantic and secret democratic association which had
+Prince Napoleon for its grand master under the Empire; which has the
+Crown Prince for its grand master in Germany, the Czar's brother in
+Russia, and to which the Prince of Wales and King Humbert, and nearly all
+the crowned heads of the globe belong."
+
+"You are quite right," my uncle said; "but all these persons are serving
+our projects without guessing it."
+
+I felt inclined to tell him he was talking a pack of nonsense.
+
+It was, however, indeed a sight to see my uncle when he had a Freemason
+to dinner.
+
+On meeting they shook hands in a manner that was irresistibly funny; one
+could see that they were going through a series of secret, mysterious
+signs.
+
+Then my uncle would take his friend into a corner to tell him something
+important, and at dinner they had a peculiar way of looking at each
+other, and of drinking to each other, in a manner as if to say: "We know
+all about it, don't we?"
+
+And to think that there are millions on the face of the globe who are
+amused at such monkey tricks!  I would sooner be a Jesuit.
+
+Now, in our town there really was an old Jesuit who was my uncle's
+detestation.  Every time he met him, or if he only saw him at a distance,
+he used to say: "Get away, you toad."  And then, taking my arm, he would
+whisper to me:
+
+"See here, that fellow will play me a trick some day or other, I feel
+sure of it."
+
+My uncle spoke quite truly, and this was how it happened, and through my
+fault.
+
+It was close on Holy Week, and my uncle made up his mind to give a dinner
+on Good Friday, a real dinner, with his favorite chitterlings and black
+puddings.  I resisted as much as I could, and said:
+
+"I shall eat meat on that day, but at home, quite by myself.  Your
+manifestation, as you call it, is an idiotic idea.  Why should you
+manifest?  What does it matter to you if people do not eat any meat?"
+
+But my uncle would not be persuaded.  He asked three of his friends to
+dine with him at one of the best restaurants in the town, and as he was
+going to pay the bill I had certainly, after all, no scruples about
+manifesting.
+
+At four o'clock we took a conspicuous place in the most frequented
+restaurant in the town, and my uncle ordered dinner in a loud voice for
+six o'clock.
+
+We sat down punctually, and at ten o'clock we had not yet finished.  Five
+of us had drunk eighteen bottles of choice, still wine and four of
+champagne.  Then my uncle proposed what he was in the habit of calling
+"the archbishop's circuit."  Each man put six small glasses in front of
+him, each of them filled with a different liqueur, and they had all to be
+emptied at one gulp, one after another, while one of the waiters counted
+twenty.  It was very stupid, but my uncle thought it was very suitable to
+the occasion.
+
+At eleven o'clock he was as drunk as a fly.  So we had to take him home
+in a cab and put him to bed, and one could easily foresee that his anti-
+clerical demonstration would end in a terrible fit of indigestion.
+
+As I was going back to my lodgings, being rather drunk myself, with a
+cheerful drunkenness, a Machiavellian idea struck me which satisfied all
+my sceptical instincts.
+
+I arranged my necktie, put on a look of great distress, and went and,
+rang loudly at the old Jesuit's door.  As he was deaf he made me wait a
+longish while, but at length appeared at his window in a cotton nightcap
+and asked what I wanted.
+
+I shouted out at the top of my voice:
+
+"Make haste, reverend sir, and open the door; a poor, despairing, sick
+man is in need of your spiritual ministrations."
+
+The good, kind man put on his trousers as quickly as he could, and came
+down without his cassock.  I told him in a breathless voice that my
+uncle, the Freethinker, had been taken suddenly ill, and fearing it was
+going to be something serious, he had been seized with a sudden dread of
+death, and wished to see the priest and talk to him; to have his advice
+and comfort, to make his peace with the Church, and to confess, so as to
+be able to cross the dreaded threshold at peace with himself; and I added
+in a mocking tone:
+
+"At any rate, he wishes it, and if it does him no good it can do him no
+harm."
+
+The old Jesuit, who was startled, delighted, and almost trembling, said
+to me:
+
+"Wait a moment, my son; I will come with you."  But I replied: "Pardon
+me, reverend father, if I do not go with you; but my convictions will not
+allow me to do so.  I even refused to come and fetch you, so I beg you
+not to say that you have seen me, but to declare that you had a
+presentiment--a sort of revelation of his illness.
+
+The priest consented and went off quickly; knocked at my uncle's door,
+and was soon let in; and I saw the black cassock disappear within that
+stronghold of Free Thought.
+
+I hid under a neighboring gateway to wait results.  Had he been well, my
+uncle would have half-murdered the Jesuit, but I knew that he would
+scarcely be able to move an arm, and I asked myself gleefully what sort
+of a scene would take place between these antagonists, what disputes,
+what arguments, what a hubbub, and what would be the issue of the
+situation, which my uncle's indignation would render still more tragic?
+
+I laughed till my sides ached, and said half aloud: "Oh, what a joke,
+what a joke!"
+
+Meanwhile it was getting very cold, and I noticed that the Jesuit stayed
+a long time, and I thought: "They are having an argument, I suppose."
+
+One, two, three hours passed, and still the reverend father did not come
+out.  What had happened?  Had my uncle died in a fit when he saw him, or
+had he killed the cassocked gentleman?  Perhaps they had mutually
+devoured each other?  This last supposition appeared very unlikely, for I
+fancied that my uncle was quite incapable of swallowing a grain more
+nourishment at that moment.
+
+At last the day broke.
+
+I was very uneasy, and, not venturing to go into the house myself, went
+to one of my friends who lived opposite.  I woke him up, explained
+matters to him, much to his amusement and astonishment, and took
+possession of his window.
+
+At nine o'clock he relieved me, and I got a little sleep.  At two o'clock
+I, in my turn, replaced him.  We were utterly astonished.
+
+At six o'clock the Jesuit left, with a very happy and satisfied look on
+his face, and we saw him go away with a quiet step.
+
+Then, timid and ashamed, I went and knocked at the door of my uncle's
+house; and when the servant opened it I did not dare to ask her any
+questions, but went upstairs without saying a word.
+
+My uncle was lying, pale and exhausted, with weary, sorrowful eyes and
+heavy arms, on his bed.  A little religious picture was fastened to one
+of the bed curtains with a pin.
+
+"Why, uncle," I said, "in bed still?  Are you not well?"
+
+He replied in a feeble voice:
+
+"Oh, my dear boy, I have been very ill, nearly dead."
+
+"How was that, uncle?"
+
+"I don't know; it was most surprising.  But what is stranger still is
+that the Jesuit priest who has just left--you know, that excellent man
+whom I have made such fun of--had a divine revelation of my state, and
+came to see me."
+
+I was seized with an almost uncontrollable desire to laugh, and with
+difficulty said: "Oh, really!"
+
+"Yes, he came.  He heard a voice telling him to get up and come to me,
+because I was going to die.  I was a revelation."
+
+I pretended to sneeze, so as not to burst out laughing; I felt inclined
+to roll on the ground with amusement.
+
+In about a minute I managed to say indignantly:
+
+"And you received him, uncle?  You, a Freethinker, a Freemason?  You did
+not have him thrown out of doors?"
+
+He seemed confused, and stammered:
+
+"Listen a moment, it is so astonishing--so astonishing and providential!
+He also spoke to me about my father; it seems he knew him formerly."
+
+"Your father, uncle?  But that is no reason for receiving a Jesuit."
+
+"I know that, but I was very ill, and he looked after me most devotedly
+all night long.  He was perfect; no doubt he saved my life; those men all
+know a little of medicine."
+
+"Oh!  he looked after you all night?  But you said just now that he had
+only been gone a very short time."
+
+"That is quite true; I kept him to breakfast after all his kindness.  He
+had it at a table by my bedside while I drank a cup of tea."
+
+"And he ate meat?"
+
+My uncle looked vexed, as if I had said something very uncalled for, and
+then added:
+
+"Don't joke, Gaston; such things are out of place at times.  He has shown
+me more devotion than many a relation would have done, and I expect to
+have his convictions respected."
+
+This rather upset me, but I answered, nevertheless: "Very well, uncle;
+and what did you do after breakfast?"
+
+"We played a game of bezique, and then he repeated his breviary while I
+read a little book which he happened to have in his pocket, and which was
+not by any means badly written."
+
+"A religious book, uncle?"
+
+"Yes, and no, or, rather--no.  It is the history of their missions in
+Central Africa, and is rather a book of travels and adventures.  What
+these men have done is very grand."
+
+I began to feel that matters were going badly, so I got up.  "Well, good-
+by, uncle," I said, "I see you are going to give up Freemasonry for
+religion; you are a renegade."
+
+He was still rather confused, and stammered:
+
+"Well, but religion is a sort of Freemasonry."
+
+"When is your Jesuit coming back?" I asked.
+
+"I don't--I don't know exactly; to-morrow, perhaps; but it is not
+certain."
+
+I went out, altogether overwhelmed.
+
+My joke turned out very badly for me!  My uncle became thoroughly
+converted, and if that had been all I should not have cared so much.
+Clerical or Freemason, to me it is all the same; six of one and half a
+dozen of the other; but the worst of it is that he has just made his
+will--yes, made his will--and he has disinherited me in favor of that
+rascally Jesuit!
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE BARONESS
+
+"Come with me," said my friend Boisrene, "you will see some very
+interesting bric-a-brac and works of art there."
+
+He conducted me to the first floor of an elegant house in one of the big
+streets of Paris.  We were welcomed by a very pleasing man, with
+excellent manners, who led us from room to room, showing us rare things,
+the price of which he mentioned carelessly.  Large sums, ten, twenty,
+thirty, fifty thousand francs, dropped from his lips with such grace and
+ease that one could not doubt that this gentleman-merchant had millions
+shut up in his safe.
+
+I had known him by reputation for a long time Very bright, clever,
+intelligent, he acted as intermediary in all sorts of transactions.  He
+kept in touch with all the richest art amateurs in Paris, and even of
+Europe and America, knowing their tastes and preferences; he apprised
+them by letter, or by wire if they lived in a distant city, as soon as he
+knew of some work of art which might suit them.
+
+Men of the best society had had recourse to him in times of difficulty,
+either to find money for gambling, or to pay off a debt, or to sell a
+picture, a family jewel, or a tapestry.
+
+It was said that he never refused his services when he saw a chance of
+gain.
+
+Boisrene seemed very intimate with this strange merchant.  They must have
+worked together in many a deal.  I observed the man with great interest.
+
+He was tall, thin, bald, and very elegant.  His soft, insinuating voice
+had a peculiar, tempting charm which seemed to give the objects a special
+value.  When he held anything in his hands, he turned it round and round,
+looking at it with such skill, refinement, and sympathy that the object
+seemed immediately to be beautiful and transformed by his look and touch.
+And its value increased in one's estimation, after the object had passed
+from the showcase into his hands.
+
+"And your Crucifix," said Boisrene, "that beautiful Renaissance Crucifix
+which you showed me last year?"
+
+The man smiled and answered:
+
+"It has been sold, and in a very peculiar manner.  There is a real
+Parisian story for you!  Would you like to hear it?"
+
+"With pleasure."
+
+"Do you know the Baroness Samoris?"
+
+"Yes and no.  I have seen her once, but I know what she is!"
+
+"You know--everything?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Would you mind telling me, so that I can see whether you are not
+mistaken?"
+
+"Certainly.  Mme. Samoris is a woman of the world who has a daughter,
+without anyone having known her husband.  At any rate, she is received in
+a certain tolerant, or blind society.  She goes to church and devoutly
+partakes of Communion, so that everyone may know it, and she never
+compromises herself.  She expects her daughter to marry well.  Is that
+correct?"
+
+"Yes, but I will complete your information.  She is a woman who makes
+herself respected by her admirers in spite of everything.  That is a rare
+quality, for in this manner she can get what she wishes from a man.  The
+man whom she has chosen without his suspecting it courts her for a long
+time, longs for her timidly, wins her with astonishment and possesses her
+with consideration.  He does not notice that he is paying, she is so
+tactful; and she maintains her relations on such a footing of reserve and
+dignity that he would slap the first man who dared doubt her in the
+least.  And all this in the best of faith.
+
+"Several times I have been able to render little services to this woman.
+She has no secrets from me.
+
+"Toward the beginning of January she came to me in order to borrow thirty
+thousand francs.  Naturally, I did not lend them to her; but, as I wished
+to oblige her, I told her to explain her situation to me completely, so
+that I might see whether there was not something I could do for her.
+
+"She told me her troubles in such cautious language that she could not
+have spoken more delicately of her child's first communion.  I finally
+managed to understand that times were hard, and that she was penniless.
+
+"The commercial crisis, political unrest, rumors of war, had made money
+scarce even in the hands of her clients.  And then, of course, she was
+very particular.
+
+"She would associate only with a man in the best of society, who could
+strengthen her reputation as well as help her financially.  A reveller,
+no matter how rich, would have compromised her forever, and would have
+made the marriage of her daughter quite doubtful.
+
+"She had to maintain her household expenses and continue to entertain, in
+order not to lose the opportunity of finding, among her numerous
+visitors, the discreet and distinguished friend for whom she was waiting,
+and whom she would choose.
+
+"I showed her that my thirty thousand francs would have but little
+likelihood of returning to me; for, after spending them all, she would
+have to find at least sixty thousand more, in a lump, to pay me back.
+
+"She seemed very disheartened when she heard this.  I did not know just
+what to do, when an idea, a really fine idea, struck me.
+
+"I had just bought this Renaissance Crucifix which I showed you, an
+admirable piece of workmanship, one of the finest of its land that I have
+ever seen.
+
+"'My dear friend,' I said to her, 'I am going to send you that piece of
+ivory.  You will invent some ingenious, touching, poetic story, anything
+that you wish, to explain your desire for parting with it.  It is, of
+course, a family heirloom left you by your father.
+
+"'I myself will send you amateurs, or will bring them to you.  The rest
+concerns you.  Before they come I will drop you a line about their
+position, both social and financial.  This Crucifix is worth fifty
+thousand francs; but I will let it go for thirty thousand.  The
+difference will belong to you.'
+
+"She considered the matter seriously for several minutes, and then
+answered: 'Yes, it is, perhaps, a good idea.  I thank you very-much.'
+
+"The next day I sent her my Crucifix, and the same evening the Baron de
+Saint-Hospital.
+
+"For three months I sent her my best clients, from a business point of
+view.  But I heard nothing more from her.
+
+"One day I received a visit from a foreigner who spoke very little
+French.  I decided to introduce him personally to the baroness, in order
+to see how she was getting along.
+
+"A footman in black livery received us and ushered us into a quiet little
+parlor, furnished with taste, where we waited for several minutes.  She
+appeared, charming as usual, extended her hand to me and invited us to be
+seated; and when I had explained the reason of my visit, she rang.
+
+"The footman appeared.
+
+"'See if Mlle. Isabelle can let us go into her oratory.'  The young girl
+herself brought the answer.  She was about fifteen years of age, modest
+and good to look upon in the sweet freshness of her youth.  She wished to
+conduct us herself to her chapel.
+
+"It was a kind of religious boudoir where a silver lamp was burning
+before the Crucifix, my Crucifix, on a background of black velvet.  The
+setting was charming and very clever.  The child crossed herself and then
+said:
+
+"'Look, gentlemen.  Isn't it beautiful?'
+
+"I took the object, examined it and declared it to be remarkable.  The
+foreigner also examined it, but he seemed much more interested in the two
+women than in the crucifix.
+
+"A delicate odor of incense, flowers and perfume pervaded the whole
+house.  One felt at home there.  This really was a comfortable home,
+where one would have liked to linger.
+
+"When we had returned to the parlor I delicately broached the subject of
+the price.  Mme. Samoris, lowering her eyes, asked fifty thousand francs.
+
+"Then she added: 'If you wish to see it again, monsieur, I very seldom go
+out before three o'clock; and I can be found at home every day.'
+
+"In the street the stranger asked me for some details about the baroness,
+whom he had found charming.  But I did not hear anything more from either
+of them.
+
+"Three months passed by.
+
+"One morning, hardly two weeks ago, she came here at about lunch time,
+and, placing a roll of bills in my hand, said: 'My dear, you are an
+angel!  Here are fifty thousand francs; I am buying your crucifix, and I
+am paying twenty thousand francs more for it than the price agreed upon,
+on condition that you always--always send your clients to me--for it is
+sill for sale.'"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MOTHER AND SON
+
+A party of men were chatting in the smoking room after dinner.  We were
+talking of unexpected legacies, strange inheritances.  Then M. le
+Brument, who was sometimes called "the illustrious judge" and at other
+times "the illustrious lawyer," went and stood with his back to the fire.
+
+"I have," said he, "to search for an heir who disappeared under
+peculiarly distressing circumstances.  It is one of those simple and
+terrible dramas of ordinary life, a thing which possibly happens every
+day, and which is nevertheless one of the most dreadful things I know.
+Here are the facts:
+
+"Nearly six months ago I was called to the bedside of a dying woman.  She
+said to me:
+
+"'Monsieur, I want to intrust to you the most delicate, the most
+difficult, and the most wearisome mission that can be conceived.  Be good
+enough to notice my will, which is there on the table.  A sum of five
+thousand francs is left to you as a fee if you do not succeed, and of a
+hundred thousand francs if you do succeed.  I want you to find my son
+after my death.'
+
+"She asked me to assist her to sit up in bed, in order that she might
+talk with greater ease, for her voice, broken and gasping, was whistling
+in her throat.
+
+"It was a very wealthy establishment.  The luxurious apartment, of an
+elegant simplicity, was upholstered with materials as thick as walls,
+with a soft inviting surface.
+
+"The dying woman continued:
+
+"'You are the first to hear my horrible story.  I will try to have
+strength ,enough to finish it.  You must know all, in order that you,
+whom I know to be a kind-hearted man as well as a man of the world, may
+have a sincere desire to aid me with all your power.
+
+"'Listen to me:
+
+"'Before my marriage, I loved a young man, whose suit was rejected by my
+family because he was not rich enough.  Not long afterward, I married a
+man of great wealth.  I married him through ignorance, through obedience,
+through indifference, as young girls do marry.
+
+"'I had a child, a boy.  My husband died in the course of a few years.
+
+"'He whom I had loved had married, in his turn.  When he saw that I was
+a widow, he was crushed by grief at knowing he was not free.  He came to
+see me; he wept and sobbed so bitterly, that it was enough to break my
+heart.  He came to see me at first as a friend.  Perhaps I ought not to
+have received him.  What could I do?  I was alone, so sad, so solitary,
+so hopeless!  And I loved him still.  What sufferings we women have
+sometimes to endure!
+
+"'I had only him in the world, my parents being dead.  He came
+frequently; he spent whole evenings with me.  I should not have let him
+come so often, seeing that he was married.  But I had not enough will-
+power to prevent him from coming.
+
+"'How can I tell it?--he became my lover.  How did this come about?  Can
+I explain it?  Can any one explain such things?  Do you think it could be
+otherwise when two human beings are drawn to each other by the
+irresistible force of mutual affection?  Do you believe, monsieur, that
+it is always in our power to resist, that we can keep up the struggle
+forever, and refuse to yield to the prayers, the supplications, the
+tears, the frenzied words, the appeals on bended knees, the transports of
+passion, with which we are pursued by the man we adore, whom we want to
+gratify even in his slightest wishes, whom we desire to crown with every
+possible happiness, and whom, if we are to be guided by a worldly code of
+honor, we must drive to despair?  What strength would it not require?
+What a renunciation of happiness? what self-denial? and even what
+virtuous selfishness?
+
+"'In short, monsieur, I was his mistress; and I was happy.  I became--and
+this was my greatest weakness and my greatest piece of cowardice-I became
+his wife's friend.
+
+"'We brought up my son together; we made a man of him, a thorough man,
+intelligent, full of sense and resolution, of large and generous ideas.
+The boy reached the age of seventeen.
+
+"'He, the young man, was fond of my--my lover, almost as fond of him as I
+was myself, for he had been equally cherished and cared for by both of
+us.  He used to call him his 'dear friend,' and respected him immensely,
+having never received from him anything but wise counsels and an example
+of integrity, honor, and probity.  He looked upon him as an old loyal and
+devoted comrade of his mother, as a sort of moral father, guardian,
+protector--how am I to describe it?
+
+"'Perhaps the reason why he never asked any questions was that he had
+been accustomed from his earliest years to see this man in my house, at
+my side, and at his side, always concerned about us both.
+
+"'One evening the three of us were to dine together--this was my chief
+amusement--and I waited for the two men, asking myself which of them
+would be the first to arrive.  The door opened; it was my old friend.
+I went toward him, with outstretched arms; and he pressed my lips in a
+long, delicious kiss.
+
+"'All of a sudden, a slight sound, a faint rustling, that mysterious
+sensation which indicates the presence of another person, made us start
+and turn round abruptly.  Jean, my son, stood there, livid, staring at
+us.
+
+"'There was a moment of atrocious confusion.  I drew back, holding out my
+hand toward my son as if in supplication; but I could not see him.  He
+had gone.
+
+"'We remained facing each other--my lover and I--crushed, unable to utter
+a word.  I sank into an armchair, and I felt a desire, a vague, powerful
+desire, to flee, to go out into the night, and to disappear forever.
+Then convulsive sobs rose in my throat, and I wept, shaken with spasms,
+my heart breaking, all my nerves writhing with the horrible sensation of
+an irreparable, misfortune, and with that dreadful sense of shame which,
+in such moments as this, fills a mother's heart.
+
+"'He looked at me in a terrified manner, not venturing to approach, to
+speak to me, or to touch me, for fear of the boy's return.  At last he
+said:
+
+"'I am going to follow him-to talk to him--to explain matters to him.  In
+short, I must see him and let him know----"
+
+"'And he hurried away.
+
+"'I waited--waited in a distracted frame of mind, trembling at the least
+sound, starting with fear and with some unutterably strange and
+intolerable emotion at every slight crackling of the fire in the grate.
+
+"'I waited an hour, two hours, feeling my heart swell with a dread I had
+never before experienced, such anguish that I would not wish the greatest
+criminal to endure ten minutes of such misery.  Where was my son?  What
+was he doing?
+
+"'About midnight, a messenger brought me a note from my lover.  I still
+know its contents by heart:
+
+"'Has your son returned?  I did not find him.  I am down here.  I do not
+want to go up at this hour."
+
+"'I wrote in pencil on the same slip of paper:
+
+"'Jean has not returned.  You must find him."
+
+"'And I 'remained all night in the armchair, waiting for him.
+
+"'I felt as if I were going mad.  I longed to run wildly about, to roll
+on the ground.  And yet I did not even stir, but kept waiting hour after
+hour.  What was going to happen?  I tried to imagine, to guess.  But I
+could form no conception, in spite of my efforts, in spite of the
+tortures of my soul!
+
+"'And now I feared that they might meet.  What would they do in that
+case?  What would my son do?  My mind was torn with fearful doubts, with
+terrible suppositions.
+
+"'You can understand my feelings, can you not, monsieur?
+"'My chambermaid, who knew nothing, who understood nothing, came into the
+room every moment, believing, naturally, that I had lost my reason.  I
+sent her away with a word or a movement of the hand.  She went for the
+doctor, who found me in the throes of a nervous attack.
+
+"'I was put to bed.  I had brain fever.
+
+"'When I regained consciousness, after a long illness, I saw beside my
+bed my--lover--alone.
+
+"'I exclaimed:
+
+"'My son?  Where is my son?
+
+"'He made no reply.  I stammered:
+
+"'Dead-dead.  Has he committed suicide?
+
+"'No, no, I swear it.  But we have not found him in spite of all my
+efforts.
+
+"'Then, becoming suddenly exasperated and even indignant--for women are
+subject to such outbursts of unaccountable and unreasoning anger--I said:
+
+"'I forbid you to come near me or to see me again unless you find him.
+Go away!
+
+"He did go away.
+
+"'I have never seen one or the other of them since, monsieur, and thus I
+have lived for the last twenty years.
+
+"'Can you imagine what all this meant to me?  Can you understand this
+monstrous punishment, this slow, perpetual laceration of a mother's
+heart, this abominable, endless waiting?  Endless, did I say?  No; it is
+about to end, for I am dying.  I am dying without ever again seeing
+either of them--either one or the other!
+
+"'He--the man I loved--has written to me every day for the last twenty
+years; and I--I have never consented to see him, even for one second; for
+I had a strange feeling that, if he were to come back here, my son would
+make his appearance at the same moment.  Oh! my son! my son!  Is he dead?
+Is he living?  Where is he hiding?  Over there, perhaps, beyond the great
+ocean, in some country so far away that even its very name is unknown to
+me!  Does he ever think of me?  Ah! if he only knew!  How cruel one's
+children are!  Did he understand to what frightful suffering he condemned
+me, into what depths of despair, into what tortures, he cast me while I
+was still in the prime of life, leaving me to suffer until this moment,
+when I am about to die--me, his mother, who loved him with all the
+intensity of a mother's love?  Oh!  isn't it cruel, cruel?
+
+"'You will tell him all this, monsieur--will you not?  You will repeat to
+him my last words:
+
+"'My child, my dear, dear child, be less harsh toward poor women!  Life
+is already brutal and savage enough in its dealings with them.  My dear
+son, think of what the existence of your poor mother has been ever since
+the day you left her.  My dear child, forgive her, and love her, now that
+she is dead, for she has had to endure the most frightful penance ever
+inflicted on a woman."
+
+"She gasped for breath, trembling, as if she had addressed the last words
+to her son and as if he stood by her bedside.
+
+"Then she added:
+
+"'You will tell him also, monsieur, that I never again saw-the other.'
+
+"Once more she ceased speaking, then, in a broken voice, she said:
+
+"'Leave me now, I beg of you.  I want to die all alone, since they are
+not with me.'"
+
+Maitre Le Brument added:
+
+"And I left the house, monsieurs, crying like a fool, so bitterly,
+indeed, that my coachman turned round to stare at me.
+
+"And to think that, every day, dramas like this are being enacted all
+around us!
+
+"I have not found the son--that son--well, say what you like about him,
+but I call him that criminal son!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE HAND
+
+All were crowding around M. Bermutier, the judge, who was giving his
+opinion about the Saint-Cloud mystery.  For a month this in explicable
+crime had been the talk of Paris.  Nobody could make head or tail of it.
+
+M. Bermutier, standing with his back to the fireplace, was talking,
+citing the evidence, discussing the various theories, but arriving at no
+conclusion.
+
+Some women had risen, in order to get nearer to him, and were standing
+with their eyes fastened on the clean-shaven face of the judge, who was
+saying such weighty things.  They, were shaking and trembling, moved by
+fear and curiosity, and by the eager and insatiable desire for the
+horrible, which haunts the soul of every woman.  One of them, paler than
+the others, said during a pause:
+
+"It's terrible.  It verges on the supernatural.  The truth will never be
+known."
+
+The judge turned to her:
+
+"True, madame, it is likely that the actual facts will never be
+discovered.  As for the word 'supernatural' which you have just used, it
+has nothing to do with the matter.  We are in the presence of a very
+cleverly conceived and executed crime, so well enshrouded in mystery that
+we cannot disentangle it from the involved circumstances which surround
+it.  But once I had to take charge of an affair in which the uncanny
+seemed to play a part.  In fact, the case became so confused that it had
+to be given up."
+
+Several women exclaimed at once:
+
+"Oh!  Tell us about it!"
+
+M. Bermutier smiled in a dignified manner, as a judge should, and went
+on:
+
+"Do not think, however, that I, for one minute, ascribed anything in the
+case to supernatural influences.  I believe only in normal causes.  But
+if, instead of using the word 'supernatural' to express what we do not
+understand, we were simply to make use of the word 'inexplicable,' it
+would be much better.  At any rate, in the affair of which I am about to
+tell you, it is especially the surrounding, preliminary circumstances
+which impressed me.  Here are the facts:
+
+"I was, at that time, a judge at Ajaccio, a little white city on the edge
+of a bay which is surrounded by high mountains.
+
+"The majority of the cases which came up before me concerned vendettas.
+There are some that are superb, dramatic, ferocious, heroic.  We find
+there the most beautiful causes for revenge of which one could dream,
+enmities hundreds of years old, quieted for a time but never
+extinguished; abominable stratagems, murders becoming massacres and
+almost deeds of glory.  For two years I heard of nothing but the price of
+blood, of this terrible Corsican prejudice which compels revenge for
+insults meted out to the offending person and all his descendants and
+relatives.  I had seen old men, children, cousins murdered; my head was
+full of these stories.
+
+"One day I learned that an Englishman had just hired a little villa at
+the end of the bay for several years.  He had brought with him a French
+servant, whom he had engaged on the way at Marseilles.
+
+"Soon this peculiar person, living alone, only going out to hunt and
+fish, aroused a widespread interest.  He never spoke to any one, never
+went to the town, and every morning he would practice for an hour or so
+with his revolver and rifle.
+
+"Legends were built up around him.  It was said that he was some high
+personage, fleeing from his fatherland for political reasons; then it was
+affirmed that he was in hiding after having committed some abominable
+crime.  Some particularly horrible circumstances were even mentioned.
+
+"In my judicial position I thought it necessary to get some information
+about this man, but it was impossible to learn anything.  He called
+himself Sir John Rowell.
+
+"I therefore had to be satisfied with watching him as closely as I could,
+but I could see nothing suspicious about his actions.
+
+"However, as rumors about him were growing and becoming more widespread,
+I decided to try to see this stranger myself, and I began to hunt
+regularly in the neighborhood of his grounds.
+
+"For a long time I watched without finding an opportunity.  At last it
+came to me in the shape of a partridge which I shot and killed right in
+front of the Englishman.  My dog fetched it for me, but, taking the bird,
+I went at once to Sir John Rowell and, begging his pardon, asked him to
+accept it.
+
+"He was a big man, with red hair and beard, very tall, very broad, a kind
+of calm and polite Hercules.  He had nothing of the so-called British
+stiffness, and in a broad English accent he thanked me warmly for my
+attention.  At the end of a month we had had five or six conversations.
+
+"One night, at last, as I was passing before his door, I saw him in the
+garden, seated astride a chair, smoking his pipe.  I bowed and he invited
+me to come in and have a glass of beer.  I needed no urging.
+
+"He received me with the most punctilious English courtesy, sang the
+praises of France and of Corsica, and declared that he was quite in love
+with this country.
+
+"Then, with great caution and under the guise of a vivid interest, I
+asked him a few questions about his life and his plans.  He answered
+without embarrassment, telling me that he had travelled a great deal in
+Africa, in the Indies, in America.  He added, laughing:
+
+"'I have had many adventures.'
+
+"Then I turned the conversation on hunting, and he gave me the most
+curious details on hunting the hippopotamus, the tiger, the elephant and
+even the gorilla.
+
+"I said:
+
+"'Are all these animals dangerous?'
+
+"He smiled:
+
+"'Oh, no!  Man is the worst.'
+
+"And he laughed a good broad laugh, the wholesome laugh of a contented
+Englishman.
+
+"'I have also frequently been man-hunting.'
+
+"Then he began to talk about weapons, and he invited me to come in and
+see different makes of guns.
+
+"His parlor was draped in black, black silk embroidered in gold.  Big
+yellow flowers, as brilliant as fire, were worked on the dark material.
+
+"He said:
+
+"'It is a Japanese material.'
+
+"But in the middle of the widest panel a strange thing attracted my
+attention.  A black object stood out against a square of red velvet.  I
+went up to it; it was a hand, a human hand.  Not the clean white hand of
+a skeleton, but a dried black hand, with yellow nails, the muscles
+exposed and traces of old blood on the bones, which were cut off as clean
+as though it had been chopped off with an axe, near the middle of the
+forearm.
+
+"Around the wrist, an enormous iron chain, riveted and soldered to this
+unclean member, fastened it to the wall by a ring, strong enough to hold
+an elephant in leash.
+
+"I asked:
+
+"'What is that?'
+
+"The Englishman answered quietly:
+
+"'That is my best enemy.  It comes from America, too.  The bones were
+severed by a sword and the skin cut off with a sharp stone and dried in
+the sun for a week.'
+
+"I touched these human remains, which must have belonged to a giant.  The
+uncommonly long fingers were attached by enormous tendons which still had
+pieces of skin hanging to them in places.  This hand was terrible to see;
+it made one think of some savage vengeance.
+
+"I said:
+
+"'This man must have been very strong.'
+
+"The Englishman answered quietly:
+
+"'Yes, but I was stronger than he.  I put on this chain to hold him.'
+
+"I thought that he was joking.  I said:
+
+"'This chain is useless now, the hand won't run away.'
+
+"Sir John Rowell answered seriously:
+
+"'It always wants to go away.  This chain is needed.'
+
+"I glanced at him quickly, questioning his face, and I asked myself:
+
+"'Is he an insane man or a practical joker?'
+
+"But his face remained inscrutable, calm and friendly.  I turned to other
+subjects, and admired his rifles.
+
+"However, I noticed that he kept three loaded revolvers in the room, as
+though constantly in fear of some attack.
+
+"I paid him several calls.  Then I did not go any more.  People had
+become used to his presence; everybody had lost interest in him.
+
+"A whole year rolled by.  One morning, toward the end of November, my
+servant awoke me and announced that Sir John Rowell had been murdered
+during the night.
+
+"Half an hour later I entered the Englishman's house, together with the
+police commissioner and the captain of the gendarmes.  The servant,
+bewildered and in despair, was crying before the door.  At first I
+suspected this man, but he was innocent.
+
+"The guilty party could never be found.
+
+"On entering Sir John's parlor, I noticed the body, stretched out on its
+back, in the middle of the room.
+
+"His vest was torn, the sleeve of his jacket had been pulled off,
+everything pointed to, a violent struggle.
+
+"The Englishman had been strangled!  His face was black, swollen and
+frightful, and seemed to express a terrible fear.  He held something
+between his teeth, and his neck, pierced by five or six holes which
+looked as though they had been made by some iron instrument, was covered
+with blood.
+
+"A physician joined us.  He examined the finger marks on the neck for a
+long time and then made this strange announcement:
+
+"'It looks as though he had been strangled by a skeleton.'
+
+"A cold chill seemed to run down my back, and I looked over to where I
+had formerly seen the terrible hand.  It was no longer there.  The chain
+was hanging down, broken.
+
+"I bent over the dead man and, in his contracted mouth, I found one of
+the fingers of this vanished hand, cut--or rather sawed off by the teeth
+down to the second knuckle.
+
+"Then the investigation began.  Nothing could be discovered.  No door,
+window or piece of furniture had been forced.  The two watch dogs had not
+been aroused from their sleep.
+
+"Here, in a few words, is the testimony of the servant:
+
+"For a month his master had seemed excited.  He had received many
+letters, which he would immediately burn.
+
+"Often, in a fit of passion which approached madness, he had taken a
+switch and struck wildly at this dried hand riveted to the wall, and
+which had disappeared, no one knows how, at the very hour of the crime.
+
+"He would go to bed very late and carefully lock himself in.  He always
+kept weapons within reach.  Often at night he would talk loudly, as
+though he were quarrelling with some one.
+
+"That night, somehow, he had made no noise, and it was only on going to
+open the windows that the servant had found Sir John murdered.  He
+suspected no one.
+
+"I communicated what I knew of the dead man to the judges and public
+officials.  Throughout the whole island a minute investigation was
+carried on.  Nothing could be found out.
+
+"One night, about three months after the crime, I had a terrible
+nightmare.  I seemed to see the horrible hand running over my curtains
+and walls like an immense scorpion or spider.  Three times I awoke, three
+times I went to sleep again; three times I saw the hideous object
+galloping round my room and moving its fingers like legs.
+
+"The following day the hand was brought me, found in the cemetery, on the
+grave of Sir John Rowell, who had been buried there because we had been
+unable to find his family.  The first finger was missing.
+
+"Ladies, there is my story.  I know nothing more."
+
+The women, deeply stirred, were pale and trembling.  One of them
+exclaimed:
+
+"But that is neither a climax nor an explanation!  We will be unable to
+sleep unless you give us your opinion of what had occurred."
+
+The judge smiled severely:
+
+"Oh!  Ladies, I shall certainly spoil your terrible dreams.  I simply
+believe that the legitimate owner of the hand was not dead, that he came
+to get it with his remaining one.  But I don't know how.  It was a kind
+of vendetta."
+
+One of the women murmured:
+
+"No, it can't be that."
+
+And the judge, still smiling, said:
+
+"Didn't I tell you that my explanation would not satisfy you?"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A TRESS OF HAIR
+
+The walls of the cell were bare and white washed.  A narrow grated
+window, placed so high that one could not reach it, lighted this sinister
+little room.  The mad inmate, seated on a straw chair, looked at us with
+a fixed, vacant and haunted expression.  He was very thin, with hollow
+cheeks and hair almost white, which one guessed might have turned gray in
+a few months.  His clothes appeared to be too large for his shrunken
+limbs, his sunken chest and empty paunch.  One felt that this man's mind
+was destroyed, eaten by his thoughts, by one thought, just as a fruit is
+eaten by a worm.  His craze, his idea was there in his brain, insistent,
+harassing, destructive.  It wasted his frame little by little.  It--the
+invisible, impalpable, intangible, immaterial idea--was mining his
+health, drinking his blood, snuffing out his life.
+
+What a mystery was this man, being killed by an ideal!  He aroused
+sorrow, fear and pity, this madman.  What strange, tremendous and deadly
+thoughts dwelt within this forehead which they creased with deep wrinkles
+which were never still?
+
+"He has terrible attacks of rage," said the doctor to me.  "His is one of
+the most peculiar cases I have ever seen.  He has seizures of erotic and
+macaberesque madness.  He is a sort of necrophile.  He has kept a journal
+in which he sets forth his disease with the utmost clearness.  In it you
+can, as it were, put your finger on it.  If it would interest you, you
+may go over this document."
+
+I followed the doctor into his office, where he handed me this wretched
+man's diary, saying: "Read it and tell me what you think of it."
+I read as follows:
+
+"Until the age of thirty-two I lived peacefully, without knowing love.
+Life appeared very simple, very pleasant and very easy.  I was rich.
+I enjoyed so many things that I had no passion for anything in
+particular.  It was good to be alive!  I awoke happy every morning and
+did those things that pleased me during the day and went to bed at night
+contented, in the expectation of a peaceful tomorrow and a future without
+anxiety.
+
+"I had had a few flirtations without my heart being touched by any true
+passion or wounded by any of the sensations of true love.  It is good to
+live like that.  It is better to love, but it is terrible.  And yet those
+who love in the ordinary way must experience ardent happiness, though
+less than mine possibly, for love came to me in a remarkable manner.
+
+"As I was wealthy, I bought all kinds of old furniture and old
+curiosities, and I often thought of the unknown hands that had touched
+these objects, of the eyes that had admired them, of the hearts that had
+loved them; for one does love things!  I sometimes remained hours and
+hours looking at a little watch of the last century.  It was so tiny, so
+pretty with its enamel and gold chasing.  And it kept time as on the day
+when a woman first bought it, enraptured at owning this dainty trinket.
+It had not ceased to vibrate, to live its mechanical life, and it had
+kept up its regular tick-tock since the last century.  Who had first worn
+it on her bosom amid the warmth of her clothing, the heart of the watch
+beating beside the heart of the woman?  What hand had held it in its warm
+fingers, had turned it over and then wiped the enamelled shepherds on the
+case to remove ,the slight moisture from her fingers?  What eyes had
+watched the hands on its ornamental face for the expected, the beloved,
+the sacred hour?
+
+"How I wished I had known her, seen her, the woman who had selected this
+exquisite and rare object!  She is dead!  I am possessed with a longing
+for women of former days.  I love, from afar, all those who have loved.
+The story of those dead and gone loves fills my heart with regrets.  Oh,
+the beauty, the smiles, the youthful caresses, the hopes!  Should not all
+that be eternal?
+
+"How I have wept whole nights-thinking of those poor women of former
+days, so beautiful, so loving, so sweet, whose arms were extended in an
+embrace, and who now are dead!  A kiss is immortal!  It goes from lips to
+lips, from century to century, from age to age.  Men receive them, give
+them and die.
+
+"The past attracts me, the present terrifies me because the future means
+death.  I regret all that has gone by.  I mourn all who have lived; I
+should like to check time, to stop the clock.  But time goes, it goes, it
+passes, it takes from me each second a little of myself for the
+annihilation of to-morrow.  And I shall never live again.
+
+"Farewell, ye women of yesterday.  I love you!
+
+"But I am not to be pitied.  I found her, the one I was waiting for, and
+through her I enjoyed inestimable pleasure.
+
+"I was sauntering in Paris on a bright, sunny morning, with a happy heart
+and a high step, looking in at the shop windows with the vague interest
+of an idler.  All at once I noticed in the shop of a dealer in antiques a
+piece of Italian furniture of the seventeenth century.  It was very
+handsome, very rare.  I set it down as being the work of a Venetian
+artist named Vitelli, who was celebrated in his day.
+
+"I went on my way.
+
+"Why did the remembrance of that piece of furniture haunt me with such
+insistence that I retraced my steps?  I again stopped before the shop, in
+order to take another look at it, and I felt that it tempted me.
+
+"What a singular thing temptation is!  One gazes at an object, and,
+little by little, it charms you, it disturbs you, it fills your thoughts
+as a woman's face might do.  The enchantment of it penetrates your being,
+a strange enchantment of form, color and appearance of an inanimate
+object.  And one loves it, one desires it, one wishes to have it.  A
+longing to own it takes possession of you, gently at first, as though it
+were timid, but growing, becoming intense, irresistible.
+
+"And the dealers seem to guess, from your ardent gaze, your secret and
+increasing longing.
+
+"I bought this piece of furniture and had it sent home at once.  I placed
+it in my room.
+
+"Oh, I am sorry for those who do not know the honeymoon of the collector
+with the antique he has just purchased.  One looks at it tenderly and
+passes one's hand over it as if it were human flesh; one comes back to it
+every moment, one is always thinking of it, wherever ore goes, whatever
+one does.  The dear recollection of it pursues you in the street, in
+society, everywhere; and when you return home at night, before taking off
+your gloves or your hat; you go and look at it with the tenderness of a
+lover.
+
+"Truly, for eight days I worshipped this piece of furniture.  I opened
+its doors and pulled out the drawers every few moments.  I handled it
+with rapture, with all the intense joy of possession.
+
+"But one evening I surmised, while I was feeling the thickness of one of
+the panels, that there must be a secret drawer in it: My heart began to
+beat, and I spent the night trying to discover this secret cavity.
+
+"I succeeded on the following day by driving a knife into a slit in the
+wood.  A panel slid back and I saw, spread out on a piece of black
+velvet, a magnificent tress of hair.
+
+"Yes, a woman's hair, an immense coil of fair hair, almost red, which
+must have been cut off close to the head, tied with a golden cord.
+
+"I stood amazed, trembling, confused.  An almost imperceptible perfume,
+so ancient that it seemed to be the spirit of a perfume, issued from this
+mysterious drawer and this remarkable relic.
+
+"I lifted it gently, almost reverently, and took it out of its hiding
+place.  It at once unwound in a golden shower that reached to the floor,
+dense but light; soft and gleaming like the tail of a comet.
+
+"A strange emotion filled me.  What was this?  When, how, why had this
+hair been shut up in this drawer?  What adventure, what tragedy did this
+souvenir conceal?  Who had cut it off?  A lover on a day of farewell, a
+husband on a day of revenge, or the one whose head it had graced on the
+day of despair?
+
+"Was it as she was about to take the veil that they had cast thither that
+love dowry as a pledge to the world of the living?  Was it when they were
+going to nail down the coffin of the beautiful young corpse that the one
+who had adored her had cut off her tresses, the only thing that he could
+retain of her, the only living part of her body that would not suffer
+decay, the only thing he could still love, and caress, and kiss in his
+paroxysms of grief?
+
+"Was it not strange that this tress should have remained as it was in
+life, when not an atom of the body on which it grew was in existence?
+
+"It fell over my fingers, tickled the skin with a singular caress, the
+caress of a dead woman.  It affected me so that I felt as though I should
+weep.
+
+"I held it in my hands for a long time, then it seemed as if it disturbed
+me, as though something of the soul had remained in it.  And I put it
+back on the velvet, rusty from age, and pushed in the drawer, closed the
+doors of the antique cabinet and went out for a walk to meditate.
+
+"I walked along, filled with sadness and also with unrest, that unrest
+that one feels when in love.  I felt as though I must have lived before,
+as though I must have known this woman.
+
+"And Villon's lines came to my mind like a sob:
+
+     Tell me where, and in what place
+     Is Flora, the beautiful Roman,
+     Hipparchia and Thais
+     Who was her cousin-german?
+
+     Echo answers in the breeze
+     O'er river and lake that blows,
+     Their beauty was above all praise,
+     But where are last year's snows?
+
+     The queen, white as lilies,
+     Who sang as sing the birds,
+     Bertha Broadfoot, Beatrice, Alice,
+     Ermengarde, princess of Maine,
+     And Joan, the good Lorraine,
+     Burned by the English at Rouen,
+     Where are they, Virgin Queen?
+     And where are last year's snows?
+
+"When I got home again I felt an irresistible longing to see my singular
+treasure, and I took it out and, as I touched it, I felt a shiver go all
+through me.
+
+"For some days, however, I was in my ordinary condition, although the
+thought of that tress of hair was always present to my mind.
+
+"Whenever I came into the house I had to see it and take it in my, hands.
+I turned the key of the cabinet with the same hesitation that one opens
+the door leading to one's beloved, for in my hands and my heart I felt a
+confused, singular, constant sensual longing to plunge my hands in the
+enchanting golden flood of those dead tresses.
+
+"Then, after I had finished caressing it and had locked the cabinet I
+felt as if it were a living thing, shut up in there, imprisoned; and I
+longed to see it again.  I felt again the imperious desire to take it in
+my hands, to touch it, to even feel uncomfortable at the cold, slippery,
+irritating, bewildering contact.
+
+"I lived thus for a month or two, I forget how long.  It obsessed me,
+haunted me.  I was happy and tormented by turns, as when one falls in
+love, and after the first vows have been exchanged.
+
+"I shut myself in the room with it to feel it on my skin, to bury my lips
+in it, to kiss it.  I wound it round my face, covered my eyes with the
+golden flood so as to see the day gleam through its gold.
+
+"I loved it!  Yes, I loved it.  I could not be without it nor pass an
+hour without looking at it.
+
+"And I waited--I waited--for what?  I do not know--  For her!
+
+"One night I woke up suddenly, feeling as though I were not alone in my
+room.
+
+"I was alone, nevertheless, but I could not go to sleep again, and, as I
+was tossing about feverishly, I got up to look at the golden tress.  It
+seemed softer than usual, more life-like.  Do the dead come back?  I
+almost lost consciousness as I kissed it.  I took it back with me to bed
+and pressed it to my lips as if it were my sweetheart.
+
+"Do the dead come back?  She came back.  Yes, I saw her; I held her in my
+arms, just as she was in life, tall, fair and round.  She came back every
+evening--the dead woman, the beautiful, adorable, mysterious unknown.
+
+"My happiness was so great that I could not conceal it.  No lover ever
+tasted such intense, terrible enjoyment.  I loved her so well that I
+could not be separated from her.  I took her with me always and
+everywhere.  I walked about the town with her as if she were my wife, and
+took her to the theatre, always to a private box.  But they saw her--they
+guessed--they arrested me.  They put me in prison like a criminal.  They
+took her.  Oh, misery!"
+
+Here the manuscript stopped.  And as I suddenly raised my astonished eyes
+to the doctor a terrific cry, a howl of impotent rage and of exasperated
+longing resounded through the asylum.
+
+"Listen," said the doctor.  "We have to douse the obscene madman with
+water five times a day.  Sergeant Bertrand was the only one who was in
+love with the dead."
+
+Filled with astonishment, horror and pity, I stammered out:
+
+"But--that tress--did it really exist?"
+
+The doctor rose, opened a cabinet full of phials and instruments and
+tossed over a long tress of fair hair which flew toward me like a golden
+bird.
+
+I shivered at feeling its soft, light touch on my hands.  And I sat
+there, my heart beating with disgust and desire, disgust as at the
+contact of anything accessory to a crime and desire as at the temptation
+of some infamous and mysterious thing.
+
+The doctor said as he shrugged his shoulders:
+
+"The mind of man is capable of anything."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ON THE RIVER
+
+I rented a little country house last summer on the banks of the Seine,
+several leagues from Paris, and went out there to sleep every evening.
+After a few days I made the acquaintance of one of my neighbors, a man
+between thirty and forty, who certainly was the most curious specimen I
+ever met.  He was an old boating man, and crazy about boating.  He was
+always beside the water, on the water, or in the water.  He must have
+been born in a boat, and he will certainly die in a boat at the last.
+
+One evening as we were walking along the banks of the Seine I asked him
+to tell me some stories about his life on the water.  The good man at
+once became animated, his whole expression changed, he became eloquent,
+almost poetical.  There was in his heart one great passion, an absorbing,
+irresistible passion-the river.
+
+Ah, he said to me, how many memories I have, connected with that river
+that you see flowing beside us!  You people who live in streets know
+nothing about the river.  But listen to a fisherman as he mentions the
+word.  To him it is a mysterious thing, profound, unknown, a land of
+mirages and phantasmagoria, where one sees by night things that do not
+exist, hears sounds that one does not recognize, trembles without knowing
+why, as in passing through a cemetery--and it is, in fact, the most
+sinister of cemeteries, one in which one has no tomb.
+
+The land seems limited to the river boatman, and on dark nights, when
+there is no moon, the river seems limitless.  A sailor has not the same
+feeling for the sea.  It is often remorseless and cruel, it is true; but
+it shrieks, it roars, it is honest, the great sea; while the river is
+silent and perfidious.  It does not speak, it flows along without a
+sound; and this eternal motion of flowing water is more terrible to me
+than the high waves of the ocean.
+
+Dreamers maintain that the sea hides in its bosom vast tracts of blue
+where those who are drowned roam among the big fishes, amid strange
+forests and crystal grottoes.  The river has only black depths where one
+rots in the slime.  It is beautiful, however, when it sparkles in the
+light of the rising sun and gently laps its banks covered with whispering
+reeds.
+
+The poet says, speaking of the ocean,
+     O waves, what mournful tragedies ye know--
+     Deep waves, the dread of kneeling mothers' hearts!
+     Ye tell them to each other as ye roll
+     On flowing tide, and this it is that gives
+     The sad despairing tones unto your voice
+     As on ye roll at eve by mounting tide."
+
+Well, I think that the stories whispered by the slender reeds, with their
+little soft voices, must be more sinister than the lugubrious tragedies
+told by the roaring of the waves.
+
+But as you have asked for some of my recollections, I will tell you of a
+singular adventure that happened to me ten years ago.
+
+I was living, as I am now, in Mother Lafon's house, and one of my closest
+friends, Louis Bernet who has now given up boating, his low shoes and his
+bare neck, to go into the Supreme Court, was living in the village of C.,
+two leagues further down the river.  We dined together every day,
+sometimes at his house, sometimes at mine.
+
+One evening as I was coming home along and was pretty tired, rowing with
+difficulty my big boat, a twelve-footer, which I always took out at
+night, I stopped a few moments to draw breath near the reed-covered point
+yonder, about two hundred metres from the railway bridge.
+
+It was a magnificent night, the moon shone brightly, the river gleamed,
+the air was calm and soft.  This peacefulness tempted me.  I thought to
+myself that it would be pleasant to smoke a pipe in this spot.  I took up
+my anchor and cast it into the river.
+
+The boat floated downstream with the current, to the end of the chain,
+and then stopped, and I seated myself in the stern on my sheepskin and
+made myself as comfortable as possible.  There was not a sound to be
+heard, except that I occasionally thought I could perceive an almost
+imperceptible lapping of the water against the bank, and I noticed taller
+groups of reeds which assumed strange shapes and seemed, at times, to
+move.
+
+The river was perfectly calm, but I felt myself affected by the unusual
+silence that surrounded me.  All the creatures, frogs and toads, those
+nocturnal singers of the marsh, were silent.
+
+Suddenly a frog croaked to my right, and close beside me.  I shuddered.
+It ceased, and I heard nothing more, and resolved to smoke, to soothe my
+mind.  But, although I was a noted colorer of pipes, I could not smoke;
+at the second draw I was nauseated, and gave up trying.  I began to sing.
+The sound of my voice was distressing to me.  So I lay still, but
+presently the slight motion of the boat disturbed me.  It seemed to me as
+if she were making huge lurches, from bank to bank of the river, touching
+each bank alternately.  Then I felt as though an invisible force, or
+being, were drawing her to the surface of the water and lifting her out,
+to let her fall again.  I was tossed about as in a tempest.  I heard
+noises around me.  I sprang to my feet with a single bound.  The water
+was glistening, all was calm.
+
+I saw that my nerves were somewhat shaky, and I resolved to leave the
+spot.  I pulled the anchor chain, the boat began to move; then I felt a
+resistance.  I pulled harder, the anchor did not come up; it had caught
+on something at the bottom of the river and I could not raise it.  I
+began pulling again, but all in vain.  Then, with my oars, I turned the
+boat with its head up stream to change the position of the anchor.  It
+was no use, it was still caught.  I flew into a rage and shook the chain
+furiously.  Nothing budged.  I sat down, disheartened, and began to
+reflect on my situation.  I could not dream of breaking this chain, or
+detaching it from the boat, for it was massive and was riveted at the
+bows to a piece of wood as thick as my arm.  However, as the weather was
+so fine I thought that it probably would not be long before some
+fisherman came to my aid.  My ill-luck had quieted me.  I sat down and
+was able, at length, to smoke my pipe.  I had a bottle of rum; I drank
+two or three glasses, and was able to laugh at the situation.  It was
+very warm; so that, if need be, I could sleep out under the stars without
+any great harm.
+
+All at once there was a little knock at the side of the boat.  I gave a
+start, and a cold sweat broke out all over me.  The noise was, doubtless,
+caused by some piece of wood borne along by the current, but that was
+enough, and I again became a prey to a strange nervous agitation.  I
+seized the chain and tensed my muscles in a desperate effort.  The anchor
+held firm.  I sat down again, exhausted.
+
+The river had slowly become enveloped in a thick white fog which lay
+close to the water, so that when I stood up I could see neither the
+river, nor my feet, nor my boat; but could perceive only the tops of the
+reeds, and farther off in the distance the plain, lying white in the
+moonlight, with big black patches rising up from it towards the sky,
+which were formed by groups of Italian poplars.  I was as if buried to
+the waist in a cloud of cotton of singular whiteness, and all sorts of
+strange fancies came into my mind.  I thought that someone was trying to
+climb into my boat which I could no longer distinguish, and that the
+river, hidden by the thick fog, was full of strange creatures which were
+swimming all around me.  I felt horribly uncomfortable, my forehead felt
+as if it had a tight band round it, my heart beat so that it almost
+suffocated me, and, almost beside myself, I thought of swimming away from
+the place.  But then, again, the very idea made me tremble with fear.  I
+saw myself, lost, going by guesswork in this heavy fog, struggling about
+amid the grasses and reeds which I could not escape, my breath rattling
+with fear, neither seeing the bank, nor finding my boat; and it seemed as
+if I would feel myself dragged down by the feet to the bottom of these
+black waters.
+
+In fact, as I should have had to ascend the stream at least five hundred
+metres before finding a spot free from grasses and rushes where I could
+land, there were nine chances to one that I could not find my way in the
+fog and that I should drown, no matter how well I could swim.
+
+I tried to reason with myself.  My will made me resolve not to be afraid,
+but there was something in me besides my will, and that other thing was
+afraid.  I asked myself what there was to be afraid of.  My brave "ego"
+ridiculed my coward "ego," and never did I realize, as on that day, the
+existence in us of two rival personalities, one desiring a thing, the
+other resisting, and each winning the day in turn.
+
+This stupid, inexplicable fear increased, and became terror.  I remained
+motionless, my eyes staring, my ears on the stretch with expectation.  Of
+what?  I did not know, but it must be something terrible.  I believe if
+it had occurred to a fish to jump out of the water, as often happens,
+nothing more would have been required to make me fall over, stiff and
+unconscious.
+
+However, by a violent effort I succeeded in becoming almost rational
+again.  I took up my bottle of rum and took several pulls.  Then an idea
+came to me, and I began to shout with all my might towards all the points
+of the compass in succession.  When my throat was absolutely paralyzed I
+listened.  A dog was howling, at a great distance.
+
+I drank some more rum and stretched myself out at the bottom of the boat.
+I remained there about an hour, perhaps two, not sleeping, my eyes wide
+open, with nightmares all about me.  I did not dare to rise, and yet I
+intensely longed to do so.  I delayed it from moment to moment.  I said
+to myself: "Come, get up!" and I was afraid to move.  At last I raised
+myself with infinite caution as though my life depended on the slightest
+sound that I might make; and looked over the edge of the boat.
+I was dazzled by the most marvellous, the most astonishing sight that it
+is possible to see.  It was one of those phantasmagoria of fairyland, one
+of those sights described by travellers on their return from distant
+lands, whom we listen to without believing.
+
+The fog which, two hours before, had floated on the water, had gradually
+cleared off and massed on the banks, leaving the river absolutely clear;
+while it formed on either bank an uninterrupted wall six or seven metres
+high, which shone in the moonlight with the dazzling brilliance of snow.
+One saw nothing but the river gleaming with light between these two white
+mountains; and high above my head sailed the great full moon, in the
+midst of a bluish, milky sky.
+
+All the creatures in the water were awake.  The frogs croaked furiously,
+while every few moments I heard, first to the right and then to the left,
+the abrupt, monotonous and mournful metallic note of the bullfrogs.
+Strange to say, I was no longer afraid.  I was in the midst of such an
+unusual landscape that the most remarkable things would not have
+astonished me.
+
+How long this lasted I do not know, for I ended by falling asleep.  When
+I opened my eyes the moon had gone down and the sky was full of clouds.
+The water lapped mournfully, the wind was blowing, it was pitch dark.
+I drank the rest of the rum, then listened, while I trembled, to the
+rustling of the reeds and the foreboding sound of the river.  I tried to
+see, but could not distinguish my boat, nor even my hands, which I held
+up close to my eyes.
+
+Little by little, however, the blackness became less intense.  All at
+once I thought I noticed a shadow gliding past, quite near me.  I
+shouted, a voice replied; it was a fisherman.  I called him; he came near
+and I told him of my ill-luck.  He rowed his boat alongside of mine and,
+together, we pulled at the anchor chain.  The anchor did not move.  Day
+came, gloomy gray, rainy and cold, one of those days that bring one
+sorrows and misfortunes.  I saw another boat.  We hailed it.  The man on
+board of her joined his efforts to ours, and gradually the anchor
+yielded.  It rose, but slowly, slowly, loaded down by a considerable
+weight.  At length we perceived a black mass and we drew it on board.
+It was the corpse of an old women with a big stone round her neck.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE CRIPPLE
+
+The following adventure happened to me about 1882.  I had just taken the
+train and settled down in a corner, hoping that I should be left alone,
+when the door suddenly opened again and I heard a voice say: "Take care,
+monsieur, we are just at a crossing; the step is very high."
+
+Another voice answered: "That's all right, Laurent, I have a firm hold on
+the handle."
+
+Then a head appeared, and two hands seized the leather straps hanging on
+either side of the door and slowly pulled up an enormous body, whose feet
+striking on the step, sounded like two canes.  When the man had hoisted
+his torso into the compartment I noticed, at the loose edge of his
+trousers, the end of a wooden leg, which was soon followed by its mate.
+A head appeared behind this traveller and asked; "Are you all right,
+monsieur?"
+
+"Yes, my boy."
+
+"Then here are your packages and crutches."
+
+And a servant, who looked like an old soldier, climbed in, carrying in
+his arms a stack of bundles wrapped in black and yellow papers and
+carefully tied; he placed one after the other in the net over his
+master's head.  Then he said: "There, monsieur, that is all.  There are
+five of them--the candy, the doll the drum, the gun, and the pate de
+foies gras."
+
+"Very well, my boy."
+
+"Thank you, Laurent; good health!"
+
+The man closed the door and walked away, and I looked at my neighbor.
+He was about thirty-five, although his hair was almost white; he wore the
+ribbon of the Legion of Honor; he had a heavy mustache and was quite
+stout, with the stoutness of a strong and active man who is kept
+motionless on account of some infirmity.  He wiped his brow, sighed, and,
+looking me full in the face, he asked: "Does smoking annoy you,
+monsieur?"
+
+"No, monsieur."
+
+Surely I knew that eye, that voice, that face.  But when and where had I
+seen them? I had certainly met that man, spoken to him, shaken his hand.
+That was a long, long time ago.  It was lost in the haze wherein the mind
+seems to feel around blindly for memories and pursues them like fleeing
+phantoms without being able to seize them.  He, too, was observing me,
+staring me out of countenance, with the persistence of a man who
+remembers slightly but not completely.  Our eyes, embarrassed by this
+persistent contact, turned away; then, after a few minutes, drawn
+together again by the obscure and tenacious will of working memory, they
+met once more, and I said: "Monsieur, instead of staring at each other
+for an hour or so, would it not be better to try to discover where we
+have known each other?"
+
+My neighbor answered graciously: "You are quite right, monsieur."
+
+I named myself: "I am Henri Bonclair, a magistrate."
+
+He hesitated for a few minutes; then, with the vague look and voice which
+accompany great mental tension, he said: "Oh, I remember perfectly.
+I met you twelve years ago, before the war, at the Poincels!"
+
+"Yes, monsieur.  Ah! Ah!  You are Lieutenant Revaliere?"
+
+"Yes.  I was Captain Revaliere even up to the time when I lost my feet--
+both of them together from one cannon ball."
+
+Now that we knew each other's identity we looked at each other again.
+I remembered perfectly the handsome, slender youth who led the cotillons
+with such frenzied agility and gracefulness that he had been nicknamed
+"the fury."  Going back into the dim, distant past, I recalled a story
+which I had heard and forgotten, one of those stories to which one
+listens but forgets, and which leave but a faint impression upon the
+memory.
+
+There was something about love in it.  Little by little the shadows
+cleared up, and the face of a young girl appeared before my eyes.  Then
+her name struck me with the force of an explosion: Mademoiselle de
+Mandel.  I remembered everything now.  It was indeed a love story, but
+quite commonplace.  The young girl loved this young man, and when I had
+met them there was already talk of the approaching wedding.  The youth
+seemed to be very much in love, very happy.
+
+I raised my eye to the net, where all the packages which had been brought
+in by the servant were trembling from the motion of the train, and the
+voice of the servant came back to me, as if he had just finished
+speaking.  He had said: "There, monsieur, that is all.  There are five of
+them: the candy, the doll, the drum, the gun, and the pate de foies
+gras."
+
+Then, in a second, a whole romance unfolded itself in my head.  It was
+like all those which I had already read, where the young lady married
+notwithstanding the catastrophe, whether physical or financial;
+therefore, this officer who had been maimed in the war had returned,
+after the campaign, to the young girl who had given him her promise, and
+she had kept her word.
+
+I considered that very beautiful, but simple, just as one, considers
+simple all devotions and climaxes in books or in plays.  It always seems,
+when one reads or listens to these stories of magnanimity, that one could
+sacrifice one's self with enthusiastic pleasure and overwhelming joy.
+But the following day, when an unfortunate friend comes to borrow some
+money, there is a strange revulsion of feeling.
+
+But, suddenly, another supposition, less poetic and more realistic,
+replaced the first one.  Perhaps he had married before the war, before
+this frightful accident, and she, in despair and resignation, had been
+forced to receive, care for, cheer, and support this husband, who had
+departed, a handsome man, and had returned without his feet, a frightful
+wreck, forced into immobility, powerless anger, and fatal obesity.
+
+Was he happy or in torture?  I was seized with an irresistible desire to
+know his story, or, at least, the principal points, which would permit me
+to guess that which he could not or would not tell me.  Still thinking
+the matter over, I began talking to him.  We had exchanged a few
+commonplace words; and I raised my eyes to the net, and thought: "He must
+have three children: the bonbons are for his wife, the doll for his
+little girl, the drum and the gun for his sons, and this pate de foies
+gras for himself."
+
+Suddenly I asked him: "Are you a father, monsieur?"
+
+He answered: "No, monsieur."
+
+I suddenly felt confused, as if I had been guilty of some breach of
+etiquette, and I continued: "I beg your pardon.  I had thought that you
+were when I heard your servant speaking about the toys.  One listens and
+draws conclusions unconsciously."
+
+He smiled and then murmured: "No, I am not even married.  I am still at
+the preliminary stage."
+
+I pretended suddenly to remember, and said:
+
+"Oh!  that's true!  When I knew you, you were engaged to Mademoiselle de
+Mandel, I believe."
+
+"Yes, monsieur, your memory is excellent."
+
+I grew very bold and added: "I also seem to remember hearing that
+Mademoiselle de Mandel married Monsieur--Monsieur--"
+
+He calmly mentioned the name: "Monsieur de Fleurel."
+
+"Yes, that's it!  I remember it was on that occasion that I heard of your
+wound."
+
+I looked him full in the face, and he blushed.  His full face, which was
+already red from the oversupply of blood, turned crimson.  He answered
+quickly, with a sudden ardor of a man who is pleading a cause which is
+lost in his mind and in his heart, but which he does not wish to admit.
+
+"It is wrong, monsieur, to couple my name with that of Madame de Fleurel.
+When I returned from the war-without my feet, alas!  I never would have
+permitted her to become my wife.  Was it possible?  When one marries,
+monsieur, it is not in order to parade one's generosity; it is in order
+to live every day, every hour, every minute, every second beside a man;
+and if this man is disfigured, as I am, it is a death sentence to marry
+him!  Oh, I understand, I admire all sacrifices and devotions when they
+have a limit, but I do not admit that a woman should give up her whole
+life, all joy, all her dreams, in order to satisfy the admiration of the
+gallery.  When I hear, on the floor of my room, the tapping of my wooden
+legs and of my crutches, I grow angry enough to strangle my servant.  Do
+you think that I would permit a woman to do what I myself am unable to
+tolerate?  And, then, do you think that my stumps are pretty?"
+
+He was silent.  What could I say?  He certainly was right.  Could I blame
+her, hold her in contempt, even say that she was wrong?  No.  However,
+the end which conformed to the rule, to the truth, did not satisfy my
+poetic appetite.  These heroic deeds demand a beautiful sacrifice, which
+seemed to be lacking, and I felt a certain disappointment.  I suddenly.
+asked: "Has Madame de Fleurel any children?"
+
+"Yes, one girl and two boys.  It is for them that I am bringing these
+toys.  She and her husband are very kind to me."
+
+The train was going up the incline to Saint-Germain.  It passed through
+the tunnels, entered the station, and stopped.  I was about to offer my
+arm to the wounded officer, in order to help him descend, when two hands
+were stretched up to him through the open door.
+
+"Hello! my dear Revaliere!"
+
+"Ah!  Hello, Fleurel!"
+
+Standing behind the man, the woman, still beautiful, was smiling and
+waving her hands to him.  A little girl, standing beside her, was jumping
+for joy, and two young boys were eagerly watching the drum and the gun,
+which were passing from the car into their father's hands.
+
+When the cripple was on the ground, all the children kissed him.  Then
+they set off, the little girl holding in her hand the small varnished
+rung of a crutch, just as she might walk beside her big friend and hold
+his thumb.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A STROLL
+
+When Old Man Leras, bookkeeper for Messieurs Labuze and Company, left the
+store, he stood for a minute bewildered at the glory of the setting sun.
+He had worked all day in the yellow light of a small jet of gas, far in
+the back of the store, on a narrow court, as deep as a well.  The little
+room where he had been spending his days for forty years was so dark that
+even in the middle of summer one could hardly see without gaslight from
+eleven until three.
+
+It was always damp and cold, and from this hole on which his window
+opened came the musty odor of a sewer.
+
+For forty years Monsieur Leras had been arriving every morning in this
+prison at eight o'clock, and he would remain there until seven at night,
+bending over his books, writing with the industry of a good clerk.
+
+He was now making three thousand francs a year, having started at fifteen
+hundred.  He had remained a bachelor, as his means did not allow him the
+luxury of a wife, and as he had never enjoyed anything, he desired
+nothing.  From time to time, however, tired of this continuous and
+monotonous work, he formed a platonic wish: "Gad!  If I only had an
+income of fifteen thousand francs, I would take life easy."
+
+He had never taken life easy, as he had never had anything but his
+monthly salary.  His life had been uneventful, without emotions, without
+hopes.  The faculty of dreaming with which every one is blessed had never
+developed in the mediocrity of his ambitions.
+
+When he was twenty-one he entered the employ of Messieurs Labuze and
+Company.  And he had never left them.
+
+In 1856 he had lost his father and then his mother in 1859.  Since then
+the only incident in his life was when he moved, in 1868, because his
+landlord had tried to raise his rent.
+
+Every day his alarm clock, with a frightful noise of rattling chains,
+made him spring out of bed at 6 o'clock precisely.
+
+Twice, however, this piece of mechanism had been out of order--once in
+1866 and again in 1874; he had never been able to find out the reason
+why.  He would dress, make his bed, sweep his room, dust his chair and
+the top of his bureau.  All this took him an hour and a half.
+
+Then he would go out, buy a roll at the Lahure Bakery, in which he had
+seen eleven different owners without the name ever changing, and he would
+eat this roll on the way to the office.
+
+His entire existence had been spent in the narrow, dark office, which was
+still decorated with the same wall paper.  He had entered there as a
+young man, as assistant to Monsieur Brument, and with the desire to
+replace him.
+
+He had taken his place and wished for nothing more.
+
+The whole harvest of memories which other men reap in their span of
+years, the unexpected events, sweet or tragic loves, adventurous
+journeys, all the occurrences of a free existence, all these things had
+remained unknown to him.
+
+Days, weeks, months, seasons, years, all were alike to him.  He got up
+every day at the same hour, started out, arrived at the office, ate
+luncheon, went away, had dinner and went to bed without ever interrupting
+the regular monotony of similar actions, deeds and thoughts.
+
+Formerly he used to look at his blond mustache and wavy hair in the
+little round mirror left by his predecessor.  Now, every evening before
+leaving, he would look at his white mustache and bald head in the same
+mirror.  Forty years had rolled by, long and rapid, dreary as a day of
+sadness and as similar as the hours of a sleepless night.  Forty years of
+which nothing remained, not even a memory, not even a misfortune, since
+the death of his parents.  Nothing.
+
+That day Monsieur Leras stood by the door, dazzled at the brilliancy of
+the setting sun; and instead of returning home he decided to take a
+little stroll before dinner, a thing which happened to him four or five
+times a year.
+
+He reached the boulevards, where people were streaming along under the
+green trees.  It was a spring evening, one of those first warm and
+pleasant evenings which fill the heart with the joy of life.
+
+Monsieur Leras went along with his mincing old man's step; he was going
+along with joy in his heart, at peace with the world.  He reached the
+Champs-Elysees, and he continued to walk, enlivened by the sight of the
+young people trotting along.
+
+The whole sky was aflame; the Arc de Triomphe stood out against the
+brilliant background of the horizon, like a giant surrounded by fire.  As
+he approached the immense monument, the old bookkeeper noticed that he
+was hungry, and he went into a wine dealer's for dinner.
+
+The meal was served in front of the store, on the sidewalk.  It consisted
+of some mutton, salad and asparagus.  It was the best dinner that
+Monsieur Leras had had in a long time.  He washed down his cheese with a
+small bottle of burgundy, had his after-dinner cup of coffee, a thing
+which he rarely took, and finally a little pony of brandy.
+
+When he had paid he felt quite youthful, even a little moved.  And he
+said to himself: "What a fine evening!  I will continue my stroll as far
+as the entrance to the Bois de Boulogne.  It will do me good."
+He set out.  An old tune which one of his neighbors used to sing kept
+returning to his mind.  He kept on humming it over and over again.  A
+hot, still night had fallen over Paris.  Monsieur Leras walked along the
+Avenue du Bois de Boulogne and watched the cabs drive by.  They kept
+coming with their shining lights, one behind the other, giving horn a
+glimpse of the couples inside, the women in their light dresses and the
+men dressed in black.
+
+It was one long procession of lovers, riding under the warm, starlit sky.
+They kept on coming in rapid succession.  They passed by in the
+carriages, silent, side by side, lost in their dreams, in the emotion of
+desire, in the anticipation of the approaching embrace.  The warm shadows
+seemed to be full of floating kisses.  A sensation of tenderness filled
+the air.  All these carriages full of tender couples, all these people
+intoxicated with the same idea, with the same thought, seemed to give out
+a disturbing, subtle emanation.
+
+At last Monsieur Leras grew a little tired of walking, and he sat down on
+a bench to watch these carriages pass by with their burdens of love.
+Almost immediately a woman walked up to him and sat down beside him.
+"Good-evening, papa," she said.
+
+He answered: "Madame, you are mistaken."
+
+She slipped her arm through his, saying: "Come along, now; don't be
+foolish.  Listen----"
+
+He arose and walked away, with sadness in his heart.  A few yards away
+another woman walked up to him and asked: "Won't you sit down beside me?"
+He said: "What makes you take up this life?"
+
+She stood before him and in an altered, hoarse, angry voice exclaimed:
+
+"Well, it isn't for the fun of it, anyhow!"
+
+He insisted in a gentle voice: "Then what makes you?"
+
+She grumbled: "I've got to live!  Foolish question!" And she walked away,
+humming.
+
+Monsieur Leras stood there bewildered.  Other women were passing near
+him, speaking to him and calling to him.  He felt as though he were
+enveloped in darkness by something disagreeable.
+
+He sat down again on a bench.  The carriages were still rolling by.  He
+thought: "I should have done better not to come here; I feel all upset."
+He began to think of all this venal or passionate love, of all these
+kisses, sold or given, which were passing by it front of him.  Love!  He
+scarcely knew it.  In his lifetime he had only known two or three women,
+his means forcing him to live a quiet life, and he looked back at the
+life which he had led, so different from everybody else, so dreary, so
+mournful, so empty.
+
+Some people are really unfortunate.  And suddenly, as though a veil had
+been torn from his eyes, he perceived the infinite misery, the monotony
+of his existence: the past, present and future misery; his last day
+similar to his first one, with nothing before him, behind him or about
+him, nothing in his heart or any place.
+
+The stream of carriages was still going by.  In the rapid passage of the
+open carriage he still saw the two silent, loving creatures.  It seemed
+to him that the whole of humanity was flowing on before him, intoxicated
+with joy, pleasure and happiness.  He alone was looking on.  To-morrow he
+would again be alone, always alone, more so than any one else.  He stood
+up, took a few steps, and suddenly he felt as tired as though he had
+taken a long journey on foot, and he sat down on the next bench.
+
+What was he waiting for?  What was he hoping for?  Nothing.  He was
+thinking of how pleasant it must be in old age to return home and find
+the little children.  It is pleasant to grow old when one is surrounded
+by those beings who owe their life to you, who love you, who caress you,
+who tell you charming and foolish little things which warm your heart and
+console you for everything.
+
+And, thinking of his empty room, clean and sad, where no one but himself
+ever entered, a feeling of distress filled his soul; and the place seemed
+to him more mournful even than his little office.  Nobody ever came
+there; no one ever spoke in it.  It was dead, silent, without the echo of
+a human voice.  It seems as though walls retain something of the people
+who live within them, something of their manner, face and voice.  The
+very houses inhabited by happy families are gayer than the dwellings of
+the unhappy.  His room was as barren of memories as his life.  And the
+thought of returning to this place, all alone, of getting into his bed,
+of again repeating all the duties and actions of every evening, this
+thought terrified him.  As though to escape farther from this sinister
+home, and from the time when he would have to return to it, he arose and
+walked along a path to a wooded corner, where he sat down on the grass.
+
+About him, above him, everywhere, he heard a continuous, tremendous,
+confused rumble, composed of countless and different noises, a vague and
+throbbing pulsation of life: the life breath of Paris, breathing like a
+giant.
+
+The sun was already high and shed a flood of light on the Bois de
+Boulogne.  A few carriages were beginning to drive about and people were
+appearing on horseback.
+
+A couple was walking through a deserted alley.
+
+Suddenly the young woman raised her eyes and saw something brown in the
+branches.  Surprised and anxious, she raised her hand, exclaiming: "Look!
+what is that?"
+
+Then she shrieked and fell into the arms of her companion, who was forced
+to lay her on the ground.
+
+The policeman who had been called cut down an old man who had hung
+himself with his suspenders.
+
+Examination showed that he had died the evening before.  Papers found on
+him showed that he was a bookkeeper for Messieurs Labuze and Company and
+that his name was Leras.
+
+His death was attributed to suicide, the cause of which could not be
+suspected.  Perhaps a sudden access of madness!
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ALEXANDRE
+
+At four o'clock that day, as on every other day, Alexandre rolled the
+three-wheeled chair for cripples up to the door of the little house;
+then, in obedience to the doctor's orders, he would push his old and
+infirm mistress about until six o'clock.
+
+When he had placed the light vehicle against the step, just at the place
+where the old lady could most easily enter it, he went into the house;
+and soon a furious, hoarse old soldier's voice was heard cursing inside
+the house: it issued from the master, the retired ex-captain of infantry,
+Joseph Maramballe.
+
+Then could be heard the noise of doors being slammed, chairs being pushed
+about, and hasty footsteps; then nothing more.  After a few seconds,
+Alexandre reappeared on the threshold, supporting with all his strength
+Madame Maramballe, who was exhausted from the exertion of descending the
+stairs.  When she was at last settled in the rolling chair, Alexandre
+passed behind it, grasped the handle, and set out toward the river.
+
+Thus they crossed the little town every day amid the respectful greeting,
+of all.  These bows were perhaps meant as much for the servant as for the
+mistress, for if she was loved and esteemed by all, this old trooper,
+with his long, white, patriarchal beard, was considered a model domestic.
+
+The July sun was beating down unmercifully on the street, bathing the low
+houses in its crude and burning light.  Dogs were sleeping on the
+sidewalk in the shade of the houses, and Alexandre, a little out of
+breath, hastened his footsteps in order sooner to arrive at the avenue
+which leads to the water.
+
+Madame Maramballe was already slumbering under her white parasol, the
+point of which sometimes grazed along the man's impassive face.  As soon
+as they had reached the Allee des Tilleuls, she awoke in the shade of the
+trees, and she said in a kindly voice: "Go more slowly, my poor boy; you
+will kill yourself in this heat."
+
+Along this path, completely covered by arched linden trees, the Mavettek
+flowed in its winding bed bordered by willows.
+
+The gurgling of the eddies and the splashing of the little waves against
+the rocks lent to the walk the charming music of babbling water and the
+freshness of damp air.  Madame Maramballe inhaled with deep delight the
+humid charm of this spot and then murmured: "Ah! I feel better now!  But
+he wasn't in a good humor to-day."
+
+Alexandre answered: "No, madame."
+
+For thirty-five years he had been in the service of this couple, first as
+officer's orderly, then as simple valet who did not wish to leave his
+masters; and for the last six years, every afternoon, he had been
+wheeling his mistress about through the narrow streets of the town.  From
+this long and devoted service, and then from this daily tete-a-tete, a
+kind of familiarity arose between the old lady and the devoted servant,
+affectionate on her part, deferential on his.
+
+They talked over the affairs of the house exactly as if they were equals.
+Their principal subject of conversation and of worry was the bad
+disposition of the captain, soured by a long career which had begun with
+promise, run along without promotion, end ended without glory.
+
+Madame Maramballe continued: "He certainly was not in a good humor today.
+This happens too often since he has left the service."
+
+And Alexandre, with a sigh, completed his mistress's thoughts, "Oh,
+madame might say that it happens every day and that it also happened
+before leaving the army."
+
+"That is true.  But the poor man has been so unfortunate.  He began with
+a brave deed, which obtained for him the Legion of Honor at the age of
+twenty; and then from twenty to fifty he was not able to rise higher than
+captain, whereas at the beginning he expected to retire with at least the
+rank of colonel."
+
+"Madame might also admit that it was his fault.  If he had not always
+been as cutting as a whip, his superiors would have loved and protected
+him better.  Harshness is of no use; one should try to please if one
+wishes to advance.  As far as his treatment of us is concerned, it is
+also our fault, since we are willing to remain with him, but with others
+it's different."
+
+Madame Maramballe was thinking.  Oh, for how many years had she thus been
+thinking of the brutality of her husband, whom she had married long ago
+because he was a handsome officer, decorated quite young, and full of
+promise, so they said!  What mistakes one makes in life!
+
+She murmured: "Let us stop a while, my poor Alexandre, and you rest on
+that bench:
+
+It was a little worm-eaten bench, placed at a turn in the alley.  Every
+time they came in this direction Alexandre was accustomed to making a
+short pause on this seat.
+
+He sat down and with a proud and familiar gesture he took his beautiful
+white beard in his hand, and, closing his, fingers over it, ran them down
+to the point, which he held for a minute at the pit of his stomach, as if
+once more to verify the length of this growth.
+
+Madame Maramballe continued: "I married him; it is only just and natural
+that I should bear his injustice; but what I do not understand is why you
+also should have supported it, my good Alexandre!"
+
+He merely shrugged his shoulders and answered: "Oh!  I--madame."
+
+She added: "Really.  I have often wondered.  When I married him you were
+his orderly and you could hardly do otherwise than endure him.  But why
+did you remain with us, who pay you so little and who treat you so badly,
+when you could have done as every one else does, settle down, marry, have
+a family?"
+
+He answered: "Oh, madame! with me it's different."
+
+Then he was silent; but he kept pulling his beard as if he were ringing a
+bell within him, as if he were trying to pull it out, and he rolled his
+eyes like a man who is greatly embarrassed.
+
+Madame Maramballe was following her own train of thought: "You are not a
+peasant.  You have an education--"
+
+He interrupted her proudly: "I studied surveying, madame."
+
+"Then why did you stay with us, and blast your prospects?"
+
+He stammered: "That's it! that's it! it's the fault of my dispositton."
+
+"How so, of your disposition?"
+
+"Yes, when I become attached to a person I become attached to him, that's
+all."
+
+She began to laugh: "You are not going to try to tell me that
+Maramballe's sweet disposition caused you to become attached to him for
+life."
+
+He was fidgeting about on his bench visibly embarrassed, and he muttered
+behind his long beard:
+
+"It was not he, it was you!"
+
+The old lady, who had a sweet face, with a snowy line of curly white hair
+between her forehead and her bonnet, turned around in her chair and
+observed her servant with a surprised look, exclaiming: "I, my poor
+Alexandre!  How so?"
+
+He began to look up in the air, then to one side, then toward the
+distance, turning his head as do timid people when forced to admit
+shameful secrets.  At last he exclaimed, with the courage of a trooper
+who is ordered to the line of fire: "You see, it's this way--the first
+time I brought a letter to mademoiselle from the lieutenant, mademoiselle
+gave me a franc and a smile, and that settled it."
+
+Not understanding well, she questioned him "Explain yourself."
+
+Then he cried out, like a malefactor who is admitting a fatal crime:
+"I had a sentiment for madame!  There!"
+
+She answered nothing, stopped looking at him, hung her head, and thought.
+She was good, full of justice, gentleness, reason, and tenderness.  In a
+second she saw the immense devotion of this poor creature, who had given
+up everything in order to live beside her, without saying anything.  And
+she felt as if she could cry.  Then, with a sad but not angry expression,
+she said: "Let us return home."
+
+He rose and began to push the wheeled chair.
+
+As they approached the village they saw Captain Maramballe coming toward
+them.  As soon as he joined them he asked his wife, with a visible desire
+of getting angry: "What have we for dinner?"
+
+"Some chicken with flageolets."
+
+He lost his temper: "Chicken!  chicken!  always chicken!  By all that's
+holy, I've had enough chicken!  Have you no ideas in your head, that you
+make me eat chicken every day?"
+
+She answered, in a resigned tone: "But, my dear, you know that the doctor
+has ordered it for you.  It's the best thing for your stomach.  If your
+stomach were well, I could give you many things which I do not dare set
+before you now."
+
+Then, exasperated, he planted himself in front of Alexandre, exclaiming:
+"Well, if my stomach is out of order it's the fault of that brute.  For
+thirty-five years he has been poisoning me with his abominable cooking."
+
+Madame Maramballe suddenly turned about completely, in order to see the
+old domestic.  Their eyes met, and in this single glance they both said
+"Thank you!" to each other.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE LOG
+
+The drawing-room was small, full of heavy draperies and discreetly
+fragrant.  A large fire burned in the grate and a solitary lamp at one
+end of the mantelpiece threw a soft light on the two persons who were
+talking.
+
+She, the mistress of the house, was an old lady with white hair, but one
+of those old ladies whose unwrinkled skin is as smooth as the finest
+paper, and scented, impregnated with perfume, with the delicate essences
+which she had used in her bath for so many years.
+
+He was a very old friend, who had never married, a constant friend, a
+companion in the journey of life, but nothing more.
+
+They had not spoken for about a minute, and were both looking at the
+fire, dreaming of no matter what, in one of those moments of friendly
+silence between people who have no need to be constantly talking in order
+to be happy together, when suddenly a large log, a stump covered with
+burning roots, fell out.  It fell over the firedogs into the drawing-room
+and rolled on to the carpet, scattering great sparks around it.  The old
+lady, with a little scream, sprang to her feet to run away, while he
+kicked the log back on to the hearth and stamped out all the burning
+sparks with his boots.
+
+When the disaster was remedied, there was a strong smell of burning, and,
+sitting down opposite to his friend, the man looked at her with a smile
+and said, as he pointed to the log:
+
+"That is the reason why I never married."
+
+She looked at him in astonishment, with the inquisitive gaze of women who
+wish to know everything, that eye which women have who are no longer very
+young,--in which a complex, and often roguish, curiosity is reflected,
+and she asked:
+
+"How so?"
+
+"Oh, it is a long story," he replied; "a rather sad and unpleasant story.
+
+"My old friends were often surprised at the coldness which suddenly
+sprang up between one of my best friends whose Christian name was Julien,
+and myself.  They could not understand how two such intimate and
+inseparable friends, as we had been, could suddenly become almost
+strangers to one another, and I will tell you the reason of it.
+
+"He and I used to live together at one time.  We were never apart, and
+the friendship that united us seemed so strong that nothing could break
+it.
+
+"One evening when he came home, he told me that he was going to get
+married, and it gave me a shock as if he had robbed me or betrayed me.
+When a man's friend marries, it is all over between them.  The jealous
+affection of a woman, that suspicious, uneasy and carnal affection, will
+not tolerate the sturdy and frank attachment, that attachment of the
+mind, of the heart, and that mutual confidence which exists between two
+men.
+
+"You see, however great the love may be that unites them a man and a
+woman are always strangers in mind and intellect; they remain
+belligerents, they belong to different races.  There must always be a
+conqueror and a conquered, a master and a slave; now the one, now the
+other--they are never two equals.  They press each other's hands, those
+hands trembling with amorous passion; but they never press them with a
+long, strong, loyal pressure, with that pressure which seems to open
+hearts and to lay them bare in a burst of sincere, strong, manly
+affection.  Philosophers of old, instead of marrying, and procreating as
+a consolation for their old age children, who would abandon them, sought
+for a good, reliable friend, and grew old with him in that communion of
+thought which can only exist between men.
+
+"Well, my friend Julien married.  His wife was pretty, charming, a
+little, curly-haired blonde, plump and lively, who seemed to worship him.
+At first I went but rarely to their house, feeling myself de trop.  But,
+somehow, they attracted me to their home; they were constantly inviting
+me, and seemed very fond of me.  Consequently, by degrees, I allowed
+myself to be allured by the charm of their life.  I often dined with
+them, and frequently, when I returned home at night, thought that I would
+do as he had done, and get married, as my empty house now seemed very
+dull.
+
+"They appeared to be very much in love, and were never apart.
+
+"Well, one evening Julien wrote and asked me to go to dinner, and I
+naturally went.
+
+"'My dear fellow,' he said, 'I must go out directly afterward on
+business, and I shall not be back until eleven o'clock; but I shall be
+back at eleven precisely, and I reckon on you to keep Bertha company.'
+
+"The young woman smiled.
+
+"'It was my idea,' she said, 'to send for you.'
+
+"I held out my hand to her.
+
+"'You are as nice as ever, I said, and I felt a long, friendly pressure
+of my fingers, but I paid no attention to it; so we sat down to dinner,
+and at eight o'clock Julien went out.
+
+"As soon as he had gone, a kind of strange embarrassment immediately
+seemed to arise between his wife and me.  We had never been alone
+together yet, and in spite of our daily increasing intimacy, this tete
+-a-tete placed us in a new position.  At first I spoke vaguely of those
+indifferent matters with which one fills up an embarrassing silence, but
+she did not reply, and remained opposite to me with her head down in an
+undecided manner, as if she were thinking over some difficult subject,
+and as I was at a loss for small talk, I held my tongue.  It is
+surprising how hard it is at times to find anything to say.
+
+"And then also I felt something in the air, something I could not
+express, one of those mysterious premonitions that warn one of another
+person's secret intentions in regard to yourself, whether they be good or
+evil.
+
+"That painful silence lasted some time, and then Bertha said to me:
+
+"'Will you kindly put a log on the fire for it is going out.'
+
+"So I opened the box where the wood was kept, which was placed just where
+yours is, took out the largest log and put it on top of the others, which
+were three parts burned, and then silence again reigned in the room.
+
+"In a few minutes the log was burning so brightly that it scorched our
+faces, and the young woman raised her eyes to mine--eyes that had a
+strange look to me.
+
+"'It is too hot now,' she said; 'let us go and sit on the sofa over
+there.'
+
+"So we went and sat on the sofa, and then she said suddenly, looking me
+full in the face:
+
+"'What would you do if a woman were to tell you that she was in love with
+you?'
+
+"'Upon my word,' I replied, very much at a loss for an answer, 'I cannot
+foresee such a case; but it would depend very much upon the woman.'
+
+"She gave a hard, nervous, vibrating laugh; one of those false laughs
+which seem as if they must break thin glass, and then she added: 'Men are
+never either venturesome or spiteful.'  And, after a moment's silence,
+she continued: 'Have you ever been in love, Monsieur Paul?'  I was
+obliged to acknowledge that I certainly had, and she asked me to tell her
+all about it.  Whereupon I made up some story or other.  She listened to
+me attentively, with frequent signs of disapproval and contempt, and then
+suddenly she said:
+
+"'No, you understand nothing about the subject.  It seems to me that real
+love must unsettle the mind, upset the nerves and distract the head; that
+it must--how shall I express it?--be dangerous, even terrible, almost
+criminal and sacrilegious; that it must be a kind of treason; I mean to
+say that it is bound to break laws, fraternal bonds, sacred obligations;
+when love is tranquil, easy, lawful and without dangers, is it really
+love?'
+
+"I did not know what answer to give her, and I made this philosophical
+reflection to myself: 'Oh! female brain, here; indeed, you show
+yourself!'
+
+"While speaking, she had assumed a demure saintly air; and, resting on
+the cushions, she stretched herself out at full length, with her head on
+my shoulder, and her dress pulled up a little so as to show her red
+stockings, which the firelight made look still brighter.  In a minute or
+two she continued:
+
+"'I suppose I have frightened you?'  I protested against such a notion,
+and she leaned against my breast altogether, and without looking at me,
+she said: 'If I were to tell you that I love you, what would you do?'
+
+"And before I could think of an answer, she had thrown her arms around my
+neck, had quickly drawn my head down, and put her lips to mine.
+
+"Oh!  My dear friend, I can tell you that I did not feel at all happy!
+What!  deceive Julien?  become the lover of this little, silly, wrong-
+headed, deceitful woman, who was, no doubt, terribly sensual, and whom
+her husband no longer satisfied.
+
+To betray him continually, to deceive him, to play at being in love
+merely because I was attracted by forbidden fruit, by the danger incurred
+and the friendship betrayed!  No, that did not suit me, but what was I to
+do?  To imitate Joseph would be acting a very stupid and, moreover,
+difficult part, for this woman was enchanting in her perfidy, inflamed by
+audacity, palpitating and excited.  Let the man who has never felt on his
+lips the warm kiss of a woman who is ready to give herself to him throw
+the first stone at me.
+
+"Well, a minute more--you understand what I mean?  A minute more, and--I
+should have been--no, she would have been!--I beg your pardon, he would
+have been--when a loud noise made us both jump up.  The log had fallen
+into the room, knocking over the fire irons and the fender, and on to the
+carpet, which it had scorched, and had rolled under an armchair, which it
+would certainly set alight.
+
+"I jumped up like a madman, and, as I was replacing on the fire that log
+which had saved me, the door opened hastily, and Julien came in.
+
+"'I am free,' he said, with evident pleasure.  'The business was over two
+hours sooner than I expected!'
+
+"Yes, my dear friend, without that log, I should have been caught in the
+very act, and you know what the consequences would have been!
+
+"You may be sure that I took good care never to be found in a similar
+situation again, never, never.  Soon afterward I saw that Julien was
+giving me the 'cold shoulder,' as they say.  His wife was evidently
+undermining our friendship.  By degrees he got rid of me, and we have
+altogether ceased to meet.
+
+"I never married, which ought not to surprise you, I think."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+JULIE ROMAIN
+
+Two years ago this spring I was making a walking tour along the shore of
+the Mediterranean.  Is there anything more pleasant than to meditate
+while walking at a good pace along a highway?  One walks in the sunlight,
+through the caressing breeze, at the foot of the mountains, along the
+coast of the sea.  And one dreams!  What a flood of illusions, loves,
+adventures pass through a pedestrian's mind during a two hours' march!
+What a crowd of confused and joyous hopes enter into you with the mild,
+light air!  You drink them in with the breeze, and they awaken in your
+heart a longing for happiness which increases with the hun ger induced by
+walking.  The fleeting, charming ideas fly and sing like birds.
+
+I was following that long road which goes from Saint Raphael to Italy,
+or, rather, that long, splendid panoramic highway which seems made for
+the representation of all the love-poems of earth.  And I thought that
+from Cannes, where one poses, to Monaco, where one gambles, people come
+to this spot of the earth for hardly any other purpose than to get
+embroiled or to throw away money on chance games, displaying under this
+delicious sky and in this garden of roses and oranges all base vanities
+and foolish pretensions and vile lusts, showing up the human mind such as
+it is, servile, ignorant, arrogant and full of cupidity.
+
+Suddenly I saw some villas in one of those ravishing bays that one meets
+at every turn of the mountain; there were only four or five fronting the
+sea at the foot of the mountains, and behind them a wild fir wood slopes
+into two great valleys, that were untraversed by roads.  I stopped short
+before one of these chalets, it was so pretty: a small white house with
+brown trimmings, overrun with rambler roses up to the top.
+
+The garden was a mass of flowers, of all colors and all kinds, mixed in a
+coquettish, well-planned disorder.  The lawn was full of them, big pots
+flanked each side of every step of the porch, pink or yellow clusters
+framed each window, and the terrace with the stone balustrade, which
+enclosed this pretty little dwelling, had a garland of enormous red
+bells, like drops of blood.  Behind the house I saw a long avenue of
+orange trees in blossom, which went up to the foot of the mountain.
+
+Over the door appeared the name, "Villa d'Antan," in small gold letters.
+
+I asked myself what poet or what fairy was living there, what inspired,
+solitary being had discovered this spot and created this dream house,
+which seemed to nestle in a nosegay.
+
+A workman was breaking stones up the street, and I went to him to ask the
+name of the proprietor of this jewel.
+
+"It is Madame Julie Romain," he replied.
+
+Julie Romain!  In my childhood, long ago, I had heard them speak of this
+great actress, the rival of Rachel.
+
+No woman ever was more applauded and more loved--especially more loved!
+What duets and suicides on her account and what sensational adventures!
+How old was this seductive woman now?  Sixty, seventy, seventy-five!
+Julie Romain here, in this house!  The woman who had been adored by the
+greatest musician and the most exquisite poet of our land!  I still
+remember the sensation (I was then twelve years of age) which her flight
+to Sicily with the latter, after her rupture with the former, caused
+throughout France.
+
+She had left one evening, after a premiere, where the audience had
+applauded her for a whole half hour, and had recalled her eleven times in
+succession.  She had gone away with the poet, in a post-chaise, as was
+the fashion then; they had crossed the sea, to love each other in that
+antique island, the daughter of Greece, in that immense orange wood which
+surrounds Palermo, and which is called the "Shell of Gold."
+
+People told of their ascension of Mount Etna and how they had leaned over
+the immense crater, arm in arm, cheek to cheek, as if to throw themselves
+into the very abyss.
+
+Now he was dead, that maker of verses so touching and so profound that
+they turned, the heads of a whole generation, so subtle and so mysterious
+that they opened a new world to the younger poets.
+
+The other one also was dead--the deserted one, who had attained through
+her musical periods that are alive in the memories of all, periods of
+triumph and of despair, intoxicating triumph and heartrending despair.
+
+And she was there, in that house veiled by flowers.
+
+I did not hesitate, but rang the bell.
+
+A small servant answered, a boy of eighteen with awkward mien and clumsy
+hands.  I wrote in pencil on my card a gallant compliment to the actress,
+begging her to receive me.  Perhaps, if she knew my name, she would open
+her door to me.
+
+The little valet took it in, and then came back, asking me to follow him.
+He led me to a neat and decorous salon, furnished in the Louis-Philippe
+style, with stiff and heavy furniture, from which a little maid of
+sixteen, slender but not pretty, took off the covers in my honor.
+
+Then I was left alone.
+
+On the walls hung three portraits, that of the actress in one of her
+roles, that of the poet in his close-fitting greatcoat and the ruffled
+shirt then in style, and that of the musician seated at a piano.
+
+She, blond, charming, but affected, according to the fashion of her day,
+was smiling, with her pretty mouth and blue eyes; the painting was
+careful, fine, elegant, but lifeless.
+
+Those faces seemed to be already looking upon posterity.
+
+The whole place had the air of a bygone time, of days that were done and
+men who had vanished.
+
+A door opened and a little woman entered, old, very old, very small, with
+white hair and white eyebrows, a veritable white mouse, and as quick and
+furtive of movement.
+
+She held out her hand to me, saying in a voice still fresh, sonorous and
+vibrant:
+
+"Thank you, monsieur.  How kind it is of the men of to-day to remember
+the women of yesterday!  Sit down."
+
+I told her that her house had attracted me, that I had inquired for the
+proprietor's name, and that, on learning it, I could not resist the
+desire to ring her bell.
+
+"This gives me all the more pleasure, monsieur," she replied, "as it is
+the first time that such a thing has happened.  When I received your
+card, with the gracious note, I trembled as if an old friend who had
+disappeared for twenty years had been announced to me.  I am like a dead
+body, whom no one remembers, of whom no one will think until the day when
+I shall actually die; then the newspapers will mention Julie Romain for
+three days, relating anecdotes and details of my life, reviving memories,
+and praising me greatly.  Then all will be over with me."
+
+After a few moments of silence, she continued:
+
+"And this will not be so very long now.  In a few months, in a few days,
+nothing will remain but a little skeleton of this little woman who is now
+alive."
+
+She raised her eyes toward her portrait, which smiled down upon this
+caricature of herself; then she looked at those of the two men, the
+disdainful poet and the inspired musician, who seemed to say: "What does
+this ruin want of us?"
+
+An indefinable, poignant, irresistible sadness overwhelmed my heart, the
+sadness of existences that have had their day, but who are still debating
+with their memories, like a person drowning in deep water.
+
+From my seat I could see on the highroad the handsome carriages that were
+whirling from Nice to Monaco; inside them I saw young, pretty, rich and
+happy women and smiling, satisfied men.  Following my eye, she understood
+my thought and murmured with a smile of resignation:
+
+"One cannot both be and have been."
+
+"How beautiful life must have been for you!" I said.
+
+She heaved a great sigh.
+
+"Beautiful and sweet!  And for that reason I regret it so much."
+
+I saw that she was disposed to talk of herself, so I began to question
+her, gently and discreetly, as one might touch bruised flesh.
+
+She spoke of her successes, her intoxications and her friends, of her
+whole triumphant existence.
+
+"Was it on the stage that you found your most intense joys, your true
+happiness?" I asked.
+
+"Oh, no!" she replied quickly.
+
+I smiled; then, raising her eyes to the two portraits, she said, with a
+sad glance:
+
+"It was with them."
+
+"Which one?" I could not help asking.
+
+"Both.  I even confuse them up a little now in my old woman's memory, and
+then I feel remorse."
+
+"Then, madame, your acknowledgment is not to them, but to Love itself.
+They were merely its interpreters."
+
+"That is possible.  But what interpreters!"
+
+"Are you sure that you have not been, or that you might not have been,
+loved as well or better by a simple man, but not a great man, who would
+have offered to you his whole life and heart, all his thoughts, all his
+days, his whole being, while these gave you two redoubtable rivals, Music
+and Poetry?"
+
+"No, monsieur, no!" she exclaimed emphatically, with that still youthful
+voice, which caused the soul to vibrate.  "Another one might perhaps have
+loved me more, but he would not have loved me as these did.  Ah! those
+two sang to me of the music of love as no one else in the world could
+have sung of it.  How they intoxicated me!  Could any other man express
+what they knew so well how to express in tones and in words?  Is it
+enough merely to love if one cannot put all the poetry and all the music
+of heaven and earth into love?  And they knew how to make a woman
+delirious with songs and with words.  Yes, perhaps there was more of
+illusion than of reality in our passion; but these illusions lift you
+into the clouds, while realities always leave you trailing in the dust.
+If others have loved me more, through these two I have understood, felt
+and worshipped love."
+
+Suddenly she began to weep.
+
+She wept silently, shedding tears of despair.
+
+I pretended not to see, looking off into the distance.  She resumed,
+after a few minutes:
+
+"You see, monsieur, with nearly every one the heart ages with the body.
+But this has not happened with me.  My body is sixty-nine years old,
+while my poor heart is only twenty.  And that is the reason why I live
+all alone, with my flowers and my dreams."
+
+There was a long silence between us.  She grew calmer and continued,
+smiling:
+
+"How you would laugh at me, if you knew, if you knew how I pass my
+evenings, when the weather is fine.  I am ashamed and I pity myself at
+the same time."
+
+Beg as I might, she would not tell me what she did.  Then I rose to
+leave.
+
+"Already!" she exclaimed.
+
+And as I said that I wished to dine at Monte Carlo, she asked timidly:
+
+"Will you not dine with me?  It would give me a great deal of pleasure."
+
+I accepted at once.  She rang, delighted, and after giving some orders to
+the little maid she took me over her house.
+
+A kind of glass-enclosed veranda, filled with shrubs, opened into the
+dining-room, revealing at the farther end the long avenue of orange trees
+extending to the foot of the mountain.  A low seat, hidden by plants,
+indicated that the old actress often came there to sit down.
+
+Then we went into the garden, to look at the flowers.  Evening fell
+softly, one of those calm, moist evenings when the earth breathes forth
+all her perfumes.  Daylight was almost gone when we sat down at table.
+The dinner was good and it lasted a long time, and we became intimate
+friends, she and I, when she understood what a profound sympathy she had
+aroused in my heart.  She had taken two thimblefuls of wine, as the
+phrase goes, and had grown more confiding and expansive.
+
+"Come, let us look at the moon," she said.  "I adore the good moon.  She
+has been the witness of my most intense joys.  It seems to me that all my
+memories are there, and that I need only look at her to bring them all
+back to me.  And even--some times--in the evening--I offer to myself a
+pretty play--yes, pretty--if you only knew!  But no, you would laugh at
+me.  I cannot--I dare not--no, no--really--no."
+
+I implored her to tell me what it was.
+
+"Come, now!  come, tell me; I promise you that I will not laugh.  I swear
+it to you--come, now!"
+
+She hesitated.  I took her hands--those poor little hands, so thin and so
+cold!--and I kissed them one after the other, several times, as her
+lovers had once kissed them.  She was moved and hesitated.
+
+"You promise me not to laugh?"
+
+"Yes, I swear it to you."
+
+"Well, then, come."
+
+She rose, and as the little domestic, awkward in his green livery,
+removed the chair behind her, she whispered quickly a few words into his
+ear.
+
+"Yes, madame, at once," he replied.
+
+She took my arm and led me to the veranda.
+
+The avenue of oranges was really splendid to see.  The full moon made a
+narrow path of silver, a long bright line, which fell on the yellow sand,
+between the round, opaque crowns of the dark trees.
+
+As these trees were in bloom, their strong, sweet perfume filled the
+night, and swarming among their dark foliage I saw thousands of
+fireflies, which looked like seeds fallen from the stars.
+
+"Oh, what a setting for a love scene!" I exclaimed.
+
+She smiled.
+
+"Is it not true?  Is it not true?  You will see!"
+
+And she made me sit down beside her.
+
+"This is what makes one long for more life.  But you hardly think of
+these things, you men of to-day.  You are speculators, merchants and men
+of affairs.
+
+You no longer even know how to talk to us.  When I say 'you,' I mean
+young men in general.  Love has been turned into a liaison which very
+often begins with an unpaid dressmaker's bill.  If you think the bill is
+dearer than the woman, you disappear; but if you hold the woman more
+highly, you pay it.  Nice morals--and a nice kind of love!"
+
+She took my hand.
+
+"Look!"
+
+I looked, astonished and delighted.  Down there at the end of the avenue,
+in the moonlight, were two young people, with their arms around each
+other's waist.  They were walking along, interlaced, charming, with
+short, little steps, crossing the flakes of light; which illuminated them
+momentarily, and then sinking back into the shadow.  The youth was
+dressed in a suit of white satin, such as men wore in the eighteenth
+century, and had on a hat with an ostrich plume.  The girl was arrayed in
+a gown with panniers, and the high, powdered coiffure of the handsome
+dames of the time of the Regency.
+
+They stopped a hundred paces from us, and standing in the middle of the
+avenue, they kissed each other with graceful gestures.
+
+Suddenly I recognized the two little servants.  Then one of those
+dreadful fits of laughter that convulse you made me writhe in my chair.
+But I did not laugh aloud.  I resisted, convulsed and feeling almost ill,
+as a man whose leg is cut off resists the impulse to cry out.
+
+As the young pair turned toward the farther end of the avenue they again
+became delightful.  They went farther and farther away, finally
+disappearing as a dream disappears.  I no longer saw them.  The avenue
+seemed a sad place.
+
+I took my leave at once, so as not to see them again, for I guessed that
+this little play would last a long time, awakening, as it did, a whole
+past of love and of stage scenery; the artificial past, deceitful and
+seductive, false but charming, which still stirred the heart of this
+amorous old comedienne.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE RONDOLI SISTERS
+
+I
+
+I set out to see Italy thoroughly on two occasions, and each time I was
+stopped at the frontier and could not get any further.  So I do not know
+Italy, said my friend, Charles Jouvent.  And yet my two attempts gave me
+a charming idea of the manners of that beautiful country.  Some time,
+however, I must visit its cities, as well as the museums and works of art
+with which it abounds.  I will make another attempt to penetrate into the
+interior, which I have not yet succeeded in doing.
+
+You don't understand me, so I will explain: In the spring of 1874 I was
+seized with an irresistible desire to see Venice, Florence, Rome and
+Naples.  I am, as you know, not a great traveller; it appears to me a
+useless and fatiguing business.  Nights spent in a train, the disturbed
+slumbers of the railway carriage, with the attendant headache, and
+stiffness in every limb, the sudden waking in that rolling box, the
+unwashed feeling, with your eyes and hair full of dust, the smell of the
+coal on which one's lungs feed, those bad dinners in the draughty
+refreshment rooms are, according to my ideas, a horrible way of beginning
+a pleasure trip.
+
+After this introduction, we have the miseries of the hotel; of some great
+hotel full of people, and yet so empty; the strange room and the doubtful
+bed!
+
+I am most particular about my bed; it is the sanctuary of life.  We
+entrust our almost naked and fatigued bodies to it so that they may be
+reanimated by reposing between soft sheets and feathers.
+
+There we find the most delightful hours of our existence, the hours of
+love and of sleep.  The bed is sacred, and should be respected, venerated
+and loved by us as the best and most delightful of our earthly
+possessions.
+
+I cannot lift up the sheets of a hotel bed without a shudder of disgust.
+Who has occupied it the night before?  Perhaps dirty, revolting people
+have slept in it.  I begin, then, to think of all the horrible people
+with whom one rubs shoulders every day, people with suspicious-looking
+skin which makes one think of the feet and all the rest!  I call to mind
+those who carry about with them the sickening smell of garlic or of
+humanity.  I think of those who are deformed and unhealthy, of the
+perspiration emanating from the sick, of everything that is ugly and
+filthy in man.
+
+And all this, perhaps, in the bed in which I am about to sleep!  The mere
+idea of it makes me feel ill as I get into it.
+
+And then the hotel dinners--those dreary table d'hote dinners in the
+midst of all sorts of extraordinary people, or else those terrible
+solitary dinners at a small table in a restaurant, feebly lighted by a
+wretched composite candle under a shade.
+
+Again, those terribly dull evenings in some un known town!  Do you know
+anything more wretched than the approach of.  dusk on such an occasion?
+One goes about as if almost in a dream, looking at faces that one never
+has seen before and never will see again; listening to people talking
+about matters which are quite indifferent to you in a language that
+perhaps you do not understand.  You have a terrible feeling, almost as if
+you were lost, and you continue to walk on so as not to be obliged to
+return to the hotel, where you would feel more lost still because you are
+at home, in a home which belongs to anyone who can pay for it; and at
+last you sink into a chair of some well-lighted cafe, whose gilding and
+lights oppress you a thousand times more than the shadows in the streets.
+Then you feel so abominably lonely sitting in front of the glass of flat
+bock beer that a kind of madness seizes you, the longing to go somewhere
+or other, no matter where, as long as you need not remain in front of
+that marble table amid those dazzling lights.
+
+And then, suddenly, you are aware that you are really alone in the world,
+always and everywhere, and that in places which we know, the familiar
+jostlings give us the illusion only of human fraternity.  At such moments
+of self-abandonment and sombre isolation in distant cities one thinks
+broadly, clearly and profoundly.  Then one suddenly sees the whole of
+life outside the vision of eternal hope, apart from the deceptions of our
+innate habits, and of our expectations of happiness, which we indulge in
+dreams never to be realized.
+
+It is only by going a long distance from home that we can fully
+understand how short-lived and empty everything near at hand is; by
+searching for the unknown, we perceive how commonplace and evanescent
+everything is; only by wandering over the face of the earth can we
+understand how small the world is, and how very much alike it is
+everywhere.
+
+How well I know, and how I hate and almost fear, those haphazard walks
+through unknown streets; and this was the reason why, as nothing would
+induce me to undertake a tour in Italy by myself, I made up my mind to
+accompany my friend Paul Pavilly.
+
+You know Paul, and how he idealizes women.  To him the earth is habitable
+only because they are there; the sun gives light and is warm because it
+shines upon them; the air is soft and balmy because it blows upon their
+skin and ruffles the soft hair on their temples; and the moon is charming
+because it makes them dream and imparts a languorous charm to love.
+Every act and action of Paul's has woman for its motive; all his
+thoughts, all his efforts and hopes are centered in them.
+
+When I mentioned Italy to Paul he at first absolutely refused to leave
+Paris.  I, however, began to tell him of the adventures I had on my
+travels.  I assured him that all Italian women are charming, and I made
+him hope for the most refined pleasures at Naples, thanks to certain
+letters of introduction which I had; and so at last he allowed himself to
+be persuaded.
+
+
+II
+
+We took the express one Thursday evening, Paul and I.  Hardly anyone goes
+south at that time of the year, so that we had the carriages to
+ourselves, and both of us were in a bad temper on leaving Paris, sorry
+for having yielded to the temptation of this journey, and regretting
+Marly, the Seine, and our lazy boating excursions, and all those
+pleasures in and near Paris which are so dear to every true Parisian.
+
+As soon as the train started Paul stuck himself in his corner, and said,
+"It is most idiotic to go all that distance," and as it was too late for
+him to change his mind then, I said, "Well, you should not have come."
+
+He made no answer, and I felt very much inclined to laugh when I saw how
+furious he looked.  He is certainly always rather like a squirrel, but
+then every one of us has retained the type of some animal or other as the
+mark of his primitive origin.  How many people have jaws like a bulldog,
+or heads like goats, rabbits, foxes, horses, or oxen.  Paul is a squirrel
+turned into a man.  He has its bright, quick eyes, its hair, its pointed
+nose, its small, fine, supple, active body, and a certain mysterious
+resemblance in his general bearing; in fact, a similarity of movement, of
+gesture, and of bearing which might almost be taken for a recollection.
+
+At last we both went to sleep with that uncomfortable slumber of the
+railway carriage, which is interrupted by horrible cramps in the arms and
+neck, and by the sudden stoppages of the train.
+
+We woke up as we were passing along the Rhone.  Soon the continued noise
+of crickets came in through the windows, that cry which seems to be the
+voice of the warm earth, the song of Provence; and seemed to instill into
+our looks, our breasts, and our souls the light and happy feeling of the
+south, that odor of the parched earth, of the stony and light soil of the
+olive with its gray-green foliage.
+
+When the train stopped again a railway guard ran along the train calling
+out "Valence" in a sonorous voice, with an accent that again gave us a
+taste of that Provence which the shrill note of the crickets had already
+imparted to us.
+
+Nothing fresh happened till we got to Marseilles, where we alighted for
+breakfast, but when we returned to our carriage we found a woman
+installed there.
+
+Paul, with a delighted glance at me, gave his short mustache a mechanical
+twirl, and passed his fingers through his, hair, which.  had become
+slightly out of order with the night's journey.  Then he sat down
+opposite the newcomer.
+
+Whenever I happen to see a striking new face, either in travelling or in
+society, I always have the strongest inclination to find out what
+character, mind, and intellectual capacities are hidden beneath those
+features.
+
+She was a young and pretty woman, certainly a native of the south of
+France, with splendid eyes, beautiful wavy black hair, which was so thick
+and long that it seemed almost too heavy for her head.  She was dressed
+with a certain southern bad taste which made her look a little vulgar.
+Her regular features had none of the grace and finish of the refined
+races, of that slight delicacy which members of the aristocracy inherit
+from their birth, and which is the hereditary mark of thinner blood.
+
+Her bracelets were too big to be of gold; she wore earrings with large
+white stones that were certainly not diamonds, and she belonged
+unmistakably to the People.  One surmised that she would talk too loud,
+and shout on every occasion with exaggerated gestures.
+
+When the train started she remained motionless in her place, in the
+attitude of a woman who was indignant, without even looking at us.
+
+Paul began to talk to me, evidently with an eye to effect, trying to
+attract her attention, as shopkeepers expose their choice wares to catch
+the notice of passersby.
+
+She, however, did not appear to be paying the least attention.
+
+"Toulon!  Ten minutes to wait!  Refreshment room!" the porters shouted.
+
+Paul motioned to me to get out, and as soon as we had done so, he said:
+
+"I wonder who on earth she can be?"
+
+I began to laugh.  "I am sure I don't know, and I don't in the least
+care."
+
+He was quite excited.
+
+"She is an uncommonly fresh and pretty girl.  What eyes she has, and how
+cross she looks.  She must have been dreadfully worried, for she takes no
+notice of anything."
+
+"You will have all your trouble for nothing," I growled.
+
+He began to lose his temper.
+
+"I am not taking any trouble, my dear fellow.  I think her an extremely
+pretty woman, that is all.  If one could only speak to her!  But I don't
+know how to begin.  Cannot you give me an idea?  Can't you guess who she
+is?"
+
+"Upon my word, I cannot.  However, I should rather think she is some
+strolling actress who is going to rejoin her company after a love
+adventure."
+
+He seemed quite upset, as if I had said something insulting.
+
+"What makes you think that?  On the contrary, I think she looks most
+respectable."
+
+"Just look at her bracelets," I said, "her earrings and her whole dress.
+I should not be the least surprised if she were a dancer or a circus
+rider, but most likely a dancer.  Her whole style smacks very much of the
+theatre."
+
+He evidently did not like the idea.
+
+"She is much too young, I am sure; why, she is hardly twenty."
+
+"Well," I replied, "there are many things which one can do before one is
+twenty; dancing and elocution are among them."
+
+"Take your seats for Nice, Vintimiglia," the guards and porters called.
+
+We got in; our fellow passenger was eating an orange, and certainly she
+did not do it elegantly.  She had spread her pocket-handkerchief on her
+knees, and the way in which she tore off the peel and opened her mouth to
+put in the pieces, and then spat the pips out of the window, showed that
+her training had been decidedly vulgar.
+
+She seemed, also, more put out than ever, and swallowed the fruit with an
+exceedingly comic air of rage.
+
+Paul devoured her with his eyes, and tried to attract her attention and
+excite her curiosity; but in spite of his talk, and of the manner in
+which he brought in well-known names, she did not pay the least attention
+to him.
+
+After passing Frejus and St. Raphael, the train passed through a
+veritable garden, a paradise of roses, and groves of oranges and lemons
+covered with fruits and flowers at the same time.  That delightful coast
+from Marseilles to Genoa is a kingdom of perfumes in a home of flowers.
+
+June is the time to see it in all its beauty, when in every narrow valley
+and on every slope, the most exquisite flowers are growing luxuriantly.
+And the roses! fields, hedges, groves of roses.  They climb up the walls,
+blossom on the roofs, hang from the trees, peep out from among the
+bushes; they are white, red, yellow, large and small, single, with a
+simple self-colored dress, or full and heavy in brilliant toilettes.
+
+Their breath makes the air heavy and relaxing, and the still more
+penetrating odor of the orange blossoms sweetens the atmosphere till it
+might almost be called the refinement of odor.
+
+The shore, with its brown rocks, was bathed by the motionless
+Mediterranean.  The hot summer sun stretched like a fiery cloth over the
+mountains, over the long expanses of sand, and over the motionless,
+apparently solid blue sea.  The train went on through the tunnels, along
+the slopes, above the water, on straight, wall-like viaducts, and a soft,
+vague, saltish smell, a smell of drying seaweed, mingled at times with
+the strong, heavy perfume of the flowers.
+
+But Paul neither saw, looked at, nor smelled anything, for our fellow
+traveller engrossed all his attention.
+
+When we reached Cannes, as he wished to speak to me he signed to me to
+get out, and as soon as I did so, he took me by the arm.
+
+"Do you know, she is really charming.  Just look at her eyes; and I never
+saw anything like her hair."
+
+"Don't excite yourself," I replied, "or else address her, if you have any
+intentions that way.  She does not look unapproachable; I fancy, although
+she appear to be a little bit grumpy."
+
+"Why don't you speak to her?" he said.
+
+"I don't know what to say, for I am always terribly stupid at first; I
+can never make advances to a woman in the street.  I follow them, go
+round and round them, and quite close to them, but never know what to say
+at first.  I only once tried to enter into conversation with a woman in
+that way.  As I clearly saw that she was waiting for me to make
+overtures, and as I felt bound to say something, I stammered out, 'I hope
+you are quite well, madame?'  She laughed in my face, and I made my
+escape."
+
+I promised Paul to do all I could to bring about a conversation, and when
+we had taken our places again, I politely asked our neighbor:
+
+"Have you any objection to the smell of tobacco, madame?"
+
+She merely replied, "Non capisco."
+
+So she was an Italian!  I felt an absurd inclination to laugh.  As Paul
+did not understand a word of that language, I was obliged to act as his
+interpreter, so I said in Italian:
+
+"I asked you, madame, whether you had any objection to tobacco smoke?"
+
+With an angry look she replied, "Che mi fa!"
+
+She had neither turned her head nor looked at me, and I really did not
+know whether to take this "What do I care" for an authorization, a
+refusal, a real sign of indifference, or for a mere "Let me alone."
+
+"Madame," I replied, "if you mind the smell of tobacco in the least--"
+
+She again said, "Mica," in a tone which seemed to mean, "I wish to
+goodness you would leave me alone!"  It was, however, a kind of
+permission, so I said to Paul:
+
+"You may smoke."
+
+He looked at me in that curious sort of way that people have when they
+try to understand others who are talking in a strange language before
+them, and asked me:
+
+"What did you say to her?"
+
+"I asked whether we might smoke, and she said we might do whatever we
+liked."
+
+Whereupon I lighted my cigar.
+
+"Did she say anything more?"
+
+"If you had counted her words you would have noticed that she used
+exactly six, two of which gave me to understand that she knew no French,
+so four remained, and much can be said in four words."
+
+Paul seemed quite unhappy, disappointed, and at sea, so to speak.
+
+But suddenly the Italian asked me, in that tone of discontent which
+seemed habitual to her, "Do you know at what time we shall get to Genoa?"
+
+"At eleven o'clock," I replied.  Then after a moment I went on:
+
+"My friend and I are also going to Genoa, and if we can be of any service
+to you, we shall be very happy, as you are quite alone."  But she
+interrupted with such a "Mica!" that I did not venture on another word.
+
+"What did she say?" Paul asked.
+
+"She said she thought you were charming."
+
+But he was in no humor for joking, and begged me dryly not to make fun of
+him; so I translated her question and my polite offer, which had been so
+rudely rejected.
+
+Then he really became as restless as a caged squirrel.
+
+"If we only knew," he said, "what hotel she was going to, we would go to
+the same.  Try to find out so as to have another opportunity to make her
+talk."
+
+It was not particularly easy, and I did not know what pretext to invent,
+desirous as I was to make the acquaintance of this unapproachable person.
+
+We passed Nice, Monaco, Mentone, and the train stopped at the frontier
+for the examination of luggage.
+
+Although I hate those ill-bred people who breakfast and dine in railway-
+carriages, I went and bought a quantity of good things to make one last
+attack on her by their means.  I felt sure that this girl must,
+ordinarily, be by no means inaccessible.  Something had put her out and
+made her irritable, but very little would suffice, a mere word or some
+agreeable offer, to decide her and vanquish her.
+
+We started again, and we three were still alone.  I spread my eatables on
+the seat.  I cut up the fowl, put the slices of ham neatly on a piece of
+paper, and then carefully laid out our dessert, strawberries, plums,
+cherries and cakes, close to the girl.
+
+When she saw that we were about to eat she took a piece of chocolate and
+two little crisp cakes out of her pocket and began to munch them.
+
+"Ask her to have some of ours," Paul said in a whisper.
+
+"That is exactly what I wish to do, but it is rather a difficult matter."
+
+As she, however, glanced from time to time at our provisions, I felt sure
+that she would still be hungry when she had finished what she had with
+her; so, as soon as her frugal meal was over, I said to her:
+
+"It would be very kind of you if you would take some of this fruit."
+
+Again she said "Mica!" but less crossly than before.
+
+"Well, then," I said, "may I offer you a little wine?  I see you have not
+drunk anything.  It is Italian wine, and as we are now in your own
+country, we should be very pleased to see such a pretty Italian mouth
+accept the offer of its French neighbors."
+
+She shook her head slightly, evidently wishing to refuse, but very
+desirous of accepting, and her mica this time was almost polite.  I took
+the flask, which was covered with straw in the Italian fashion, and
+filling the glass, I offered it to her.
+
+"Please drink it," I said, "to bid us welcome to your country."
+
+She took the glass with her usual look, and emptied it at a draught, like
+a woman consumed with thirst, and then gave it back to me without even
+saying "Thank you."
+
+I then offered her the cherries.  "Please take some," I said; "we shall
+be so glad if you will."
+
+Out of her corner she looked at all the fruit spread out beside her, and
+said so rapidly that I could scarcely follow her: "A me non piacciono ne
+le ciriegie ne le susine; amo soltano le fragole."
+
+"What does she say?" Paul asked.
+
+"That she does riot care for cherries or plums, but only for
+strawberries."
+
+I put a newspaper full of wild strawberries on her lap, and she ate them
+quickly, tossing them into her mouth from some distance in a coquettish
+and charming manner.
+
+When she had finished the little red heap, which soon disappeared under
+the rapid action of her hands, I asked her:
+
+"What may I offer you now?"
+
+"I will take a little chicken," she replied.
+
+She certainly devoured half of it, tearing it to pieces with the rapid
+movements of her jaws like some carnivorous animal.  Then she made up her
+mind to have some cherries, which she "did not like," and then some
+plums, then some little cakes.  Then she said, "I have had enough," and
+sat back in her corner.
+
+I was much amused, and tried to make her eat more, insisting, in fact,
+till she suddenly flew into a rage, and flung such a furious mica at me,
+that I would no longer run the risk of spoiling her digestion.
+
+I turned to my friend.  "My poor Paul," I said, "I am afraid we have had
+our trouble for nothing."
+
+The night came on, one of those hot summer nights which extend their warm
+shade over the burning and exhausted earth.  Here and there, in the
+distance, by the sea, on capes and promontories, bright stars, which I
+was, at times, almost inclined to confound with lighthouses, began to
+shine on the dark horizon:
+
+The scent of the orange trees became more penetrating, and we breathed
+with delight, distending our lungs to inhale it more deeply.  The balmy
+air was soft, delicious, almost divine.
+
+Suddenly I noticed something like a shower of stars under the dense shade
+of the trees along the line, where it was quite dark.  It might have been
+taken for drops of light, leaping, flying, playing and running among the
+leaves, or for small stars fallen from the skies in order to have an
+excursion on the earth; but they were only fireflies dancing a strange
+fiery ballet in the perfumed air.
+
+One of them happened to come into our carriage, and shed its intermittent
+light, which seemed to be extinguished one moment and to be burning the
+next.  I covered the carriage-lamp with its blue shade and watched the
+strange fly careering about in its fiery flight.  Suddenly it settled on
+the dark hair of our neighbor, who was half dozing after dinner.  Paul
+seemed delighted, with his eyes fixed on the bright, sparkling spot,
+which looked like a living jewel on the forehead of the sleeping woman.
+
+The Italian woke up about eleven o'clock, with the bright insect still in
+her hair.  When I saw her move, I said: "We are just getting to Genoa,
+madame," and she murmured, without answering me, as if possessed by some
+obstinate and embarrassing thought:
+
+"What am I going to do, I wonder?"
+
+And then she suddenly asked:
+
+"Would you like me to come with you?"
+
+I was so taken aback that I really did not understand her.
+
+"With us?  How do you mean?"
+
+She repeated, looking more and more furious:
+
+"Would you like me to be your guide now, as soon as we get out of the
+train?"
+
+"I am quite willing; but where do you want to go.
+
+She shrugged her shoulders with an air of supreme indifference.
+
+"Wherever you like; what does it matter to me?" She repeated her "Che mi
+fa" twice.
+
+"But we are going to the hotel."
+
+"Very well, let us all go to the hotel," she said, in a contemptuous
+voice.
+
+I turned to Paul, and said:
+
+"She wishes to know whether we should like her to come with us."
+
+My friend's utter surprise restored my self-possession.  He stammered:
+
+"With us?  Where to?  What for?  How?"
+
+"I don't know, but she made this strange proposal to me in a most
+irritated voice.  I told her that we were going to the hotel, and she
+said: 'Very well, let us all go there!' I suppose she is without a penny.
+She certainly has a very strange way of making acquaintances."
+
+Paul, who 'was very much excited, exclaimed:
+
+"I am quite agreeable.  Tell her that we will go wherever she likes."
+Then, after a moment's hesitation, he said uneasily:
+
+"We must know, however, with whom she wishes to go--with you or with me?"
+
+I turned to the Italian, who did not even seem to be listening to us, and
+said:
+
+"We shall be very happy to have you with us, but my friend wishes to know
+whether you will take my arm or his?"
+
+She opened her black eyes wide with vague surprise, and said, "Che ni
+fa?"
+
+I was obliged to explain myself.  "In Italy, I believe, when a man looks
+after a woman, fulfils all her wishes, and satisfies all her caprices, he
+is called a patito.  Which of us two will you take for your patito?"
+
+Without the slightest hesitation she replied:
+
+"You!"
+
+I turned to Paul.  "You see, my friend, she chooses me; you have no
+chance."
+
+"All the better for you," he replied in a rage.  Then, after thinking for
+a few moments, he went on:
+
+"Do you really care about taking this creature with you?  She will spoil
+our journey.  What are we to do with this woman, who looks like I don't
+know what?  They will not take us in at any decent hotel."
+
+I, however, just began to find the Italian much nicer than I had thought
+her at first, and I was now very desirous to take her with us.  The idea
+delighted me.
+
+I replied, "My dear fellow, we have accepted, and it is too late to
+recede.  You were the first to advise me to say 'Yes.'"
+
+"It is very stupid," he growled, "but do as you please."
+
+The train whistled, slackened speed, and we ran into the station.
+
+I got out of the carriage, and offered my new companion my hand.  She
+jumped out lightly, and I gave her my arm, which she took with an air of
+seeming repugnance.  As soon as we had claimed our luggage we set off
+into the town, Paul walking in utter silence.
+
+"To what hotel shall we go?" I asked him.  "It may be difficult to get
+into the City of Paris with a woman, especially with this Italian."
+
+Paul interrupted me.  "Yes, with an Italian who looks more like a dancer
+than a duchess.  However, that is no business of mine.  Do just as you
+please."
+
+I was in a state of perplexity.  I had written to the City of Paris to
+retain our rooms, and now I did not know what to do.
+
+Two commissionaires followed us with our luggage.  I continued: "You
+might as well go on first, and say that we are coming; and give the
+landlord to understand that I have a--a friend with me and that we should
+like rooms quite by themselves for us three, so as not to be brought in
+contact with other travellers.  He will understand, and we will decide
+according to his answer."
+
+But Paul growled, "Thank you, such commissions and such parts do not suit
+me, by any means.  I did not come here to select your apartments or to
+minister to your pleasures."
+
+But I was urgent: "Look here, don't be angry.  It is surely far better to
+go to a good hotel than to a bad one, and it is not difficult to ask the
+landlord for three separate bedrooms and a dining-room."
+
+I put a stress on three, and that decided him.
+
+He went on first, and I saw him go into a large hotel while I remained on
+the other side of the street, with my fair Italian, who did not say a
+word, and followed the porters with the luggage.
+
+Paul came back at last, looking as dissatisfied as my companion.
+
+"That is settled," he said, "and they will take us in; but here are only
+two bedrooms.  You must settle it as you can."
+
+I followed him, rather ashamed of going in with such a strange companion.
+
+There were two bedrooms separated by a small sitting-room.  I ordered a
+cold supper, and then I turned to the Italian with a perplexed look.
+
+"We have only been able to get two rooms, so you must choose which you
+like."
+
+She replied with her eternal "Che mi fa!" I thereupon took up her little
+black wooden trunk, such as servants use, and took it into the room on
+the right, which I had chosen for her.  A bit of paper was fastened to
+the box, on which was written, Mademoiselle Francesca Rondoli, Genoa.
+
+"Your name is Francesca?" I asked, and she nodded her head, without
+replying.
+
+"We shall have supper directly," I continued.  "Meanwhile, I dare say you
+would like to arrange your toilette a little?"
+
+She answered with a 'mica', a word which she employed just as frequently
+as 'Che me fa', but I went on: "It is always pleasant after a journey."
+
+Then I suddenly remembered that she had not, perhaps, the necessary
+requisites, for she appeared to me in a very singular position, as if she
+had just escaped from some disagreeable adventure, and I brought her my
+dressing-case.
+
+I put out all the little instruments for cleanliness and comfort which it
+contained: a nail-brush, a new toothbrush--I always carry a selection of
+them about with me--my nail-scissors, a nail-file, and sponges.  I
+uncorked a bottle of eau de cologne, one of lavender-water, and a little
+bottle of new-mown hay, so that she might have a choice.  Then I opened
+my powder-box, and put out the powder-puff, placed my fine towels over
+the water-jug, and a piece of new soap near the basin.
+
+She watched my movements with a look of annoyance in her wide-open eyes,
+without appearing either astonished or pleased at my forethought.
+
+"Here is all that you require," I then said; "I will tell you when supper
+is ready."
+
+When I returned to the sitting-room I found that Paul had shut himself in
+the other room, so I sat down to wait.
+
+A waiter went to and fro, bringing plates and glasses.  He laid the table
+slowly, then put a cold chicken on it, and told me that all was ready.
+
+I knocked gently at Mademoiselle Rondoli's door.  "Come in," she said,
+and when I did so I was struck by a strong, heavy smell of perfumes, as
+if I were in a hairdresser's shop.
+
+The Italian was sitting on her trunk in an attitude either of thoughtful
+discontent or absent-mindedness.  The towel was still folded over the
+waterjug that was full of water, and the soap, untouched and dry, was
+lying beside the empty basin; but one would have thought that the young
+woman had used half the contents of the bottles of perfume.  The eau de
+cologne, however, had been spared, as only about a third of it had gone;
+but to make up for that she had used a surprising amount of lavender-
+water and new-mown hay.  A cloud of violet powder, a vague white mist,
+seemed still to be floating in the air, from the effects of her over-
+powdering her face and neck.  It seemed to cover her eyelashes, eyebrows,
+and the hair on her temples like snow, while her cheeks were plastered
+with it, and layers of it covered her nostrils, the corners of her eyes,
+and her chin.
+
+When she got up she exhaled such a strong odor of perfume that it almost
+made me feel faint.
+
+When we sat down to supper, I found that Paul was in a most execrable
+temper, and I could get nothing out of him but blame, irritable words,
+and disagreeable remarks.
+
+Mademoiselle Francesca ate like an ogre, and as soon as she had finished
+her meal she threw herself upon the sofa in the sitting-room.  Sitting
+down beside her, I said gallantly, kissing her hand:
+
+"Shall I have the bed prepared, or will you sleep on the couch?"
+
+"It is all the same to me.  'Che mi fa'!"
+
+Her indifference vexed me.
+
+"Should you like to retire at once?"
+
+"Yes; I am very sleepy."
+
+She got up, yawned, gave her hand to Paul, who took it with a furious
+look, and I lighted her into the bedroom.  A disquieting feeling haunted
+me.  "Here is all you want," I said again.
+
+The next morning she got up early, like a woman who is accustomed to
+work.  She woke me by doing so, and I watched her through my half-closed
+eyelids.
+
+She came and went without hurrying herself, as if she were astonished at
+having nothing to do.  At length she went to the dressing-table, and in a
+moment emptied all my bottles of perfume.  She certainly also used some
+water, but very little.
+
+When she was quite dressed, she sat down on her trunk again, and clasping
+one knee between her hands, she seemed to be thinking.
+
+At that moment I pretended to first notice her, and said:
+
+"Good-morning, Francesca."
+
+Without seeming in at all a better temper than the previous night, she
+murmured, "Good-morning!"
+
+When I asked her whether she had slept well, she nodded her head, and
+jumping out of bed, I went and kissed her.
+
+She turned her face toward me like a child who is being kissed against
+its will; but I took her tenderly in my arms, and gently pressed my lips
+on her eyelids, which she closed with evident distaste under my kisses on
+her fresh cheek and full lips, which she turned away.
+
+"You don't seem to like being kissed," I said to her.
+
+"Mica!" was her only answer.
+
+I sat down on the trunk by her side, and passing my arm through hers, I
+said: "Mica!  mica!  mica!  in reply to everything.  I shall call you
+Mademoiselle Mica, I think."
+
+For the first time I fancied that I saw the shadow of a smile on her
+lips, but it passed by so quickly that I may have been mistaken.
+
+"But if you never say anything but Mica, I shall not know what to do to
+please you.  Let me see; what shall we do to-day?"
+
+She hesitated a moment, as if some fancy had flitted through her head,
+and then she said carelessly: "It is all the same to me; whatever you
+like."
+
+"Very well, Mademoiselle Mica, we will have a carriage and go for a
+drive."
+
+"As you please," she said.
+
+Paul was waiting for us in the dining-room, looking as bored as third
+parties usually do in love affairs.  I assumed a delighted air, and shook
+hands with him with triumphant energy.
+
+"What are you thinking of doing?" he asked.
+
+"First of all, we will go and see a little of the town, and then we might
+get a carriage and take a drive in the neighborhood."
+
+We breakfasted almost in silence, and then set out.  I dragged Francesca
+from palace to palace, and she either looked at nothing or merely glanced
+carelessly at the various masterpieces.  Paul followed us, growling all
+sorts of disagreeable things.  Then we all three took a drive in silence
+into the country and returned to dinner.
+
+The next day it was the same thing and the next day again; and on the
+third Paul said to me: "Look here, I am going to leave you; I am not
+going to stop here for three weeks watching you make love to this
+creature."
+
+I was perplexed and annoyed, for to my great surprise I had become
+singularly attached to Francesca.  A man is but weak and foolish, carried
+away by the merest trifle, and a coward every time that his senses are
+excited or mastered.  I clung to this unknown girl, silent and
+dissatisfied as she always was.  I liked her somewhat ill-tempered face,
+the dissatisfied droop of her mouth, the weariness of her look; I liked
+her fatigued movements, the contemptuous way in which she let me kiss
+her, the very indifference of her caresses.  A secret bond, that
+mysterious bond of physical love, which does not satisfy, bound me to
+her.  I told Paul so, quite frankly.  He treated me as if I were a fool,
+and then said:
+
+"Very well, take her with you."
+
+But she obstinately refused to leave Genoa, without giving any reason.
+I besought, I reasoned, I promised, but all was of no avail, and so I
+stayed on.
+
+Paul declared that he would go by himself, and went so far as to pack up
+his portmanteau; but he remained all the same.
+
+Thus a fortnight passed.  Francesca was always silent and irritable,
+lived beside me rather than with me, responded to all my requirements and
+all my propositions with her perpetual Che mi fa, or with her no less
+perpetual Mica.
+
+My friend became more and more furious, but my only answer was, "You can
+go if you are tired of staying.  I am not detaining you."
+
+Then he called me names, overwhelmed me with reproaches, and exclaimed:
+"Where do you think I can go now?  We had three weeks at our disposal,
+and here is a fortnight gone!  I cannot continue my journey now; and, in
+any case, I am not going to Venice, Florence and Rome all by myself.  But
+you will pay for it, and more dearly than you think, most likely.  You
+are not going to bring a man all the way from Paris in order to shut him
+up at a hotel in Genoa with an Italian adventuress."
+
+When I told him, very calmly, to return to Paris, he exclaimed that he
+intended to do so the very next day; but the next day he was still there,
+still in a rage and swearing.
+
+By this time we began to be known in the streets through which we
+wandered from morning till night.  Sometimes French people would turn
+round astonished at meeting their fellow-countrymen in the company of
+this girl with her striking costume, who looked singularly out of place,
+not to say compromising, beside us.
+
+She used to walk along, leaning on my arm, without looking at anything.
+Why did she remain with me, with us, who seemed to do so little to amuse
+her?  Who was she?  Where did she come from?  What was she doing?  Had
+she any plan or idea?  Where did she live?  As an adventuress, or by
+chance meetings?  I tried in vain to find out and to explain it.  The
+better I knew her the more enigmatical she became.  She seemed to be a
+girl of poor family who had been taken away, and then cast aside and
+lost.  What did she think would become of her, or whom was she waiting
+for?  She certainly did not appear to be trying to make a conquest of me,
+or to make any real profit out of me.
+
+I tried to question her, to speak to her of her childhood and family; but
+she never gave me an answer.  I stayed with her, my heart unfettered and
+my senses enchained, never wearied of holding her in my arms, that proud
+and quarrelsome woman, captivated by my senses, or rather carried away,
+overcome by a youthful, healthy, powerful charm, which emanated from her
+fragrant person and from the well-molded lines of her body.
+
+Another week passed, and the term of my journey was drawing on, for I had
+to be back in Paris by the eleventh of July.  By this time Paul had come
+to take his part in the adventure, though still grumbling at me, while I
+invented pleasures, distractions and excursions to amuse Francesca and my
+friend; and in order to do this I gave myself a great amount of trouble.
+
+One day I proposed an excursion to Sta Margarita, that charming little
+town in the midst of gardens, hidden at the foot of a slope which
+stretches far into the sea up to the village of Portofino.  We three
+walked along the excellent road which goes along the foot of the
+mountain.  Suddenly Francesca said to me: "I shall not be able to go with
+you to-morrow; I must go and see some of my relatives."
+
+That was all; I did not ask her any questions, as I was quite sure she
+would not answer me.
+
+The next morning she got up very early.  When she spoke to me it was in a
+constrained and hesitating voice:
+
+"If I do not come back again, shall you come and fetch me?"
+
+"Most certainly I shall," was my reply.  "Where shall I go to find you?"
+
+Then she explained: "You must go into the Street Victor-Emmanuel, down
+the Falcone road and the side street San-Rafael and into the furniture
+shop in the building at the right at the end of a court, and there you
+must ask for Madame Rondoli.  That is the place."
+
+And so she went away, leaving me rather astonished.
+
+When Paul saw that I was alone, he stammered out: "Where; is Francesca?"
+And when I told him what had happened, he exclaimed:
+
+"My dear fellow, let us make use of our opportunity, and bolt; as it is,
+our time is up.  Two days, more or less, make no difference.  Let us go
+at once; go and pack up your things.  Off we go!"
+
+But I refused.  I could not, as I told him, leave the girl in that manner
+after such companionship for nearly three weeks.  At any rate, I ought to
+say good-by to her, and make her accept a present; I certainly had no
+intention of behaving badly to her.
+
+But he would not listen; he pressed and worried me, but I would not give
+way.
+
+I remained indoors for several hours, expecting Francesca's return, but
+she did not come, and at last, at dinner, Paul said with a triumphant
+air:
+
+"She has flown, my dear fellow; it is certainly very strange."
+
+I must acknowledge that I was surprised and rather vexed.  He laughed in
+my face, and made fun of me.
+
+"It is not exactly a bad way of getting rid of you, though rather
+primitive.  'Just wait for me, I shall be back in a moment,' they often
+say.  How long are you going to wait?  I should not wonder if you were
+foolish enough to go and look for her at the address she gave you.  'Does
+Madame Rondoli live here, please?' 'No, monsieur.' I'll bet that you are
+longing to go there."
+
+"Not in the least," I protested, "and I assure you that if she does not
+come back to-morrow morning I shall leave by the express at eight
+o'clock.  I shall have waited twenty-four hours, and that is enough; my
+conscience will be quite clear."
+
+I spent an uneasy and unpleasant evening, for I really had at heart a
+very tender feeling for her.  I went to bed at twelve o'clock, and hardly
+slept at all.  I got up at six, called Paul, packed up my things, and two
+hours later we set out for France together.
+
+
+III
+
+The next year, at just about the same period, I was seized as one is with
+a periodical fever, with a new desire to go to Italy, and I immediately
+made up my mind to carry it into effect.  There is no doubt that every
+really well-educated man ought to see Florence, Venice and Rome.  This
+travel has, also, the additional advantage of providing many subjects of
+conversation in society, and of giving one an opportunity for bringing
+forward artistic generalities which appear profound.
+
+This time I went alone, and I arrived at Genoa at the same time as the
+year before, but without any adventure on the road.  I went to the same
+hotel, and actually happened to have the same room.
+
+I was hardly in bed when the recollection of Francesca which, since the
+evening before, had been floating vaguely through my mind, haunted me
+with strange persistency.  I thought of her nearly the whole night, and
+by degrees the wish to see her again seized me, a confused desire at
+first, which gradually grew stronger and more intense.  At last I made up
+my mind to spend the next day in Genoa to try to find her, and if I
+should not succeed, to take the evening train.
+
+Early in the morning I set out on my search.  I remembered the directions
+she had given me when she left me, perfectly--Victor-Emmanuel Street,
+house of the furniture-dealer, at the bottom of the yard on the right.
+
+I found it without the least difficulty, and I knocked at the door of a
+somewhat dilapidated-looking dwelling.  It was opened by a stout woman,
+who must have been very handsome, but who actually was only very dirty.
+Although she had too much embonpoint, she still bore the lines of
+majestic beauty; her untidy hair fell over her forehead and shoulders,
+and one fancied one could see her floating about in an enormous dressing-
+gown covered with spots of dirt and grease.  Round her neck she wore a
+great gilt necklace, and on her wrists were splendid bracelets of Genoa
+filigree work.
+
+In rather a hostile manner she asked me what I wanted, and I replied by
+requesting her to tell me whether Francesca Rondoli lived there.
+
+"What do you want with her?" she asked.
+
+"I had the pleasure of meeting her last year, and I should like to see
+her again."
+
+The old woman looked at me suspiciously.
+
+"Where did you meet her?" she asked.
+
+"Why, here in Genoa itself."
+
+"What is your name?"
+
+I hesitated a moment, and then I told her.  I had hardly done so when the
+Italian put out her arms as if to embrace me.  "Oh!  you are the
+Frenchman how glad I am to see you!  But what grief you caused the poor
+child!  She waited for you a month; yes, a whole month.  At first she
+thought you would come to fetch her.  She wanted to see whether you loved
+her. If you only knew how she cried when she saw that you were not
+coming!  She cried till she seemed to have no tears left.  Then she went
+to the hotel, but you had gone.  She thought that most likely you were
+travelling in Italy, and that you would return by Genoa to fetch her, as
+she would not go with you.  And she waited more than a month, monsieur;
+and she was so unhappy; so unhappy.  I am her mother."
+
+I really felt a little disconcerted, but I regained my self-possession,
+and asked:
+
+"Where is she now?"
+
+"She has gone to Paris with a painter, a delightful man, who loves her
+very much, and who gives her everything that she wants.  Just look at
+what she sent me; they are very pretty, are they not?"
+
+And she showed me, with quite southern animation, her heavy bracelets and
+necklace.  "I have also," she continued, "earrings with stones in them, a
+silk dress, and some rings; but I only wear them on grand occasions.
+Oh!  she is very happy, monsieur, very happy.  She will be so pleased
+when I tell her you have been here.  But pray come in and sit down.  You
+will take something or other, surely?"
+
+But I refused, as I now wished to get away by the first train; but she
+took me by the arm and pulled me in, saying:
+
+"Please, come in; I must tell her that you have been in here."
+
+I found myself in a small, rather dark room, furnished with only a table
+and a few chairs.
+
+She continued: "Oh, she is very happy now, very happy.  When you met her
+in the train she was very miserable; she had had an unfortunate love
+affair in Marseilles, and she was coming home, poor child.  But she liked
+you at once, though she was still rather sad, you understand.  Now she
+has all she wants, and she writes and tells me everything that she does.
+His name is Bellemin, and they say he is a great painter in your country.
+He fell in love with her at first sight.  But you will take a glass of
+sirup?-it is very good.  Are you quite alone, this year?"
+
+"Yes," I said, "quite alone."
+
+I felt an increasing inclination to laugh, as my first disappointment was
+dispelled by what Mother Rondoli said.  I was obliged; however, to drink
+a glass of her sirup.
+
+"So you are quite alone?" she continued.  "How sorry I am that Francesca
+is not here now; she would have been company for you all the time you
+stayed.  It is not very amusing to go about all by oneself, and she will
+be very sorry also."
+
+Then, as I was getting up to go, she exclaimed:
+
+"But would you not like Carlotta to go with you?  She knows all the walks
+very well.  She is my second daughter, monsieur."
+
+No doubt she took my look of surprise for consent, for she opened the
+inner door and called out up the dark stairs which I could not see:
+
+"Carlotta!  Carlotta!  make haste down, my dear child."
+
+I tried to protest, but she would not listen.
+
+"No; she will be very glad to go with you; she is very nice, and much
+more cheerful than her sister, and she is a good girl, a very good girl,
+whom I love very much."
+
+In a few moments a tall, slender, dark girl appeared, her hair hanging
+down, and her youthful figure showing unmistakably beneath an old dress
+of her mother's.
+
+The latter at once told her how matters stood.
+
+"This is Francesca's Frenchman, you know, the one whom she knew last
+year.  He is quite alone, and has come to look for her, poor fellow; so
+I told him that you would go with him to keep him company."
+
+The girl looked at me with her handsome dark eyes, and said, smiling:
+
+"I have no objection, if he wishes it"
+
+I could not possibly refuse, and merely said:
+
+"Of course, I shall be very glad of your company."
+
+Her mother pushed her out.  "Go and get dressed directly; put on your
+blue dress and your hat with the flowers, and make haste."
+
+As soon as she had left the room the old woman explained herself: "I have
+two others, but they are much younger.  It costs a lot of money to bring
+up four children.  Luckily the eldest is off my hands at present."
+
+Then she told all about herself, about her husband, who had been an
+employee on the railway, but who was dead, and she expatiated on the good
+qualities of Carlotta, her second girl, who soon returned, dressed, as
+her sister had been, in a striking, peculiar manner.
+
+Her mother examined her from head to foot, and, after finding everything
+right, she said:
+
+"Now, my children, you can go."  Then turning to the girl, she said: "Be
+sure you are back by ten o'clock to-night; you know the door is locked
+then."  The answer was:
+
+"All right, mamma; don't alarm yourself."
+
+She took my arm and we went wandering about the streets, just as I had
+wandered the previous year with her sister.
+
+We returned to the hotel for lunch, and then I took my new friend to
+Santa Margarita, just as I had taken her sister the year previously.
+
+During the whole fortnight which I had at my disposal, I took Carlotta to
+all the places of interest in and about Genoa.  She gave me no cause to
+regret her sister.
+
+She cried when I left her, and the morning of my departure I gave her
+four bracelets for her mother, besides a substantial token of my
+affection for herself.
+
+One of these days I intend to return to Italy, and I cannot help
+remembering with a certain amount of uneasiness, mingled with hope, that
+Madame Rondoli has two more daughters.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+     VOLUME VII.
+
+THE FALSE GEMS
+FASCINATION
+YVETTE SAMORIS
+A VENDETTA
+MY TWENTY-FIVE DAYS
+"THE TERROR"
+LEGEND OF MONT ST. MICHEL
+A NEW YEAR'S GIFT
+FRIEND PATIENCE
+ABANDONED
+THE MAISON TELLIER
+DENNIS
+MY WIFE
+THE UNKNOWN
+THE APPARITION
+
+
+
+
+
+THE FALSE GEMS
+
+Monsieur Lantin had met the young girl at a reception at the house of the
+second head of his department, and had fallen head over heels in love
+with her.
+
+She was the daughter of a provincial tax collector, who had been dead
+several years.  She and her mother came to live in Paris, where the
+latter, who made the acquaintance of some of the families in her
+neighborhood, hoped to find a husband for her daughter.
+
+They had very moderate means, and were honorable, gentle, and quiet.
+
+The young girl was a perfect type of the virtuous woman in whose hands
+every sensible young man dreams of one day intrusting his happiness.
+Her simple beauty had the charm of angelic modesty, and the imperceptible
+smile which constantly hovered about the lips seemed to be the reflection
+of a pure and lovely soul.  Her praises resounded on every side.  People
+never tired of repeating: "Happy the man who wins her love!  He could not
+find a better wife."
+
+Monsieur Lantin, then chief clerk in the Department of the Interior,
+enjoyed a snug little salary of three thousand five hundred francs, and
+he proposed to this model young girl, and was accepted.
+
+He was unspeakably happy with her.  She governed his household with such
+clever economy that they seemed to live in luxury.  She lavished the most
+delicate attentions on her husband, coaxed and fondled him; and so great
+was her charm that six years after their marriage, Monsieur Lantin
+discovered that he loved his wife even more than during the first days of
+their honeymoon.
+
+He found fault with only two of her tastes: Her love for the theatre, and
+her taste for imitation jewelry.  Her friends (the wives of some petty
+officials) frequently procured for her a box at the theatre, often for
+the first representations of the new plays; and her husband was obliged
+to accompany her, whether he wished it or not, to these entertainments
+which bored him excessively after his day's work at the office.
+
+After a time, Monsieur Lantin begged his wife to request some lady of her
+acquaintance to accompany her, and to bring her home after the theatre.
+She opposed this arrangement, at first; but, after much persuasion,
+finally consented, to the infinite delight of her husband.
+
+Now, with her love for the theatre, came also the desire for ornaments.
+Her costumes remained as before, simple, in good taste, and always
+modest; but she soon began to adorn her ears with huge rhinestones, which
+glittered and sparkled like real diamonds.  Around her neck she wore
+strings of false pearls, on her arms bracelets of imitation gold, and
+combs set with glass jewels.
+
+Her husband frequently remonstrated with her, saying:
+
+"My dear, as you cannot afford to buy real jewelry, you ought to appear
+adorned with your beauty and modesty alone, which are the rarest
+ornaments of your sex."
+
+But she would smile sweetly, and say:
+
+"What can I do?  I am so fond of jewelry.  It is my only weakness.  We
+cannot change our nature."
+
+Then she would wind the pearl necklace round her fingers, make the facets
+of the crystal gems sparkle, and say:
+
+"Look!  are they not lovely?  One would swear they were real."
+
+Monsieur Lantin would then answer, smilingly:
+
+"You have bohemian tastes, my dear."
+
+Sometimes, of an evening, when they were enjoying a tete-a-tote by the
+fireside, she would place on the tea table the morocco leather box
+containing the "trash," as Monsieur Lantin called it.  She would examine
+the false gems with a passionate attention, as though they imparted some
+deep and secret joy; and she often persisted in passing a necklace around
+her husband's neck, and, laughing heartily, would exclaim: "How droll you
+look!" Then she would throw herself into his arms, and kiss him
+affectionately.
+
+One evening, in winter, she had been to the opera, and returned home
+chilled through and through.  The next morning she coughed, and eight
+days later she died of inflammation of the lungs.
+
+Monsieur Lantin's despair was so great that his hair became white in one
+month.  He wept unceasingly; his heart was broken as he remembered her
+smile, her voice, every charm of his dead wife.
+
+Time did not assuage his grief.  Often, during office hours, while his
+colleagues were discussing the topics of the day, his eyes would suddenly
+fill with tears, and he would give vent to his grief in heartrending
+sobs.  Everything in his wife's room remained as it was during her
+lifetime; all her furniture, even her clothing, being left as it was on
+the day of her death.  Here he was wont to seclude himself daily and
+think of her who had been his treasure-the joy of his existence.
+
+But life soon became a struggle.  His income, which, in the hands of his
+wife, covered all household expenses, was now no longer sufficient for
+his own immediate wants; and he wondered how she could have managed to
+buy such excellent wine and the rare delicacies which he could no longer
+procure with his modest resources.
+
+He incurred some debts, and was soon reduced to absolute poverty.  One
+morning, finding himself without a cent in his pocket, he resolved to
+sell something, and immediately the thought occurred to him of disposing
+of his wife's paste jewels, for he cherished in his heart a sort of
+rancor against these "deceptions," which had always irritated him in the
+past.  The very sight of them spoiled, somewhat, the memory of his lost
+darling.
+
+To the last days of her life she had continued to make purchases,
+bringing home new gems almost every evening, and he turned them over some
+time before finally deciding to sell the heavy necklace, which she seemed
+to prefer, and which, he thought, ought to be worth about six or seven
+francs; for it was of very fine workmanship, though only imitation.
+
+He put it in his pocket, and started out in search of what seemed a
+reliable jeweler's shop.  At length he found one, and went in, feeling a
+little ashamed to expose his misery, and also to offer such a worthless
+article for sale.
+
+"Sir," said he to the merchant, "I would like to know what this is
+worth."
+
+The man took the necklace, examined it, called his clerk, and made some
+remarks in an undertone; he then put the ornament back on the counter,
+and looked at it from a distance to judge of the effect.
+
+Monsieur Lantin, annoyed at all these ceremonies, was on the point of
+saying: "Oh! I know well 'enough it is not worth anything," when the
+jeweler said: "Sir, that necklace is worth from twelve to fifteen
+thousand francs; but I could not buy it, unless you can tell me exactly
+where it came from."
+
+The widower opened his eyes wide and remained gaping, not comprehending
+the merchant's meaning.  Finally he stammered: "You say--are you sure?'
+The other replied, drily: "You can try elsewhere and see if any one will
+offer you more.  I consider it worth fifteen thousand at the most.  Come
+back; here, if you cannot do better."
+
+Monsieur Lantin, beside himself with astonishment, took up the necklace
+and left the store.  He wished time for reflection.
+
+Once outside, he felt inclined to laugh, and said to himself: "The fool!
+Oh, the fool!  Had I only taken him at his word!  That jeweler cannot
+distinguish real diamonds from the imitation article."
+
+A few minutes after, he entered another store, in the Rue de la Paix.  As
+soon as the proprietor glanced at the necklace, he cried out:
+
+"Ah, parbleu!  I know it well; it was bought here."
+
+Monsieur Lantin, greatly disturbed, asked:
+
+"How much is it worth?"
+
+"Well, I sold it for twenty thousand francs.  I am willing to take it
+back for eighteen thousand, when you inform me, according to our legal
+formality, how it came to be in your possession."
+
+This time, Monsieur Lantin was dumfounded.  He replied:
+
+"But--but--examine it well.  Until this moment I was under the impression
+that it was imitation."
+
+The jeweler asked:
+
+"What is your name, sir?"
+
+"Lantin--I am in the employ of the Minister of the Interior.  I live at
+number sixteen Rue des Martyrs."
+
+The merchant looked through his books, found the entry, and said: "That
+necklace was sent to Madame Lantin's address, sixteen Rue des Martyrs,
+July 20, 1876."
+
+The two men looked into each other's eyes--the widower speechless with
+astonishment; the jeweler scenting a thief.  The latter broke the
+silence.
+
+"Will you leave this necklace here for twenty-four hours?" said he; "I
+will give you a receipt."
+
+Monsieur Lantin answered hastily: "Yes, certainly."  Then, putting the
+ticket in his pocket, he left the store.
+
+He wandered aimlessly through the streets, his mind in a state of
+dreadful confusion.  He tried to reason, to understand.  His wife could
+not afford to purchase such a costly ornament.  Certainly not.
+
+But, then, it must have been a present!--a present!--a present, from
+whom?  Why was it given her?
+
+He stopped, and remained standing in the middle of the street.  A
+horrible doubt entered his mind--She?  Then, all the other jewels must
+have been presents, too!  The earth seemed to tremble beneath him--the
+tree before him to be falling; he threw up his arms, and fell to the
+ground, unconscious.  He recovered his senses in a pharmacy, into which
+the passers-by had borne him.  He asked to be taken home, and, when he
+reached the house, he shut himself up in his room, and wept until
+nightfall.  Finally, overcome with fatigue, he went to bed and fell into
+a heavy sleep.
+
+The sun awoke him next morning, and he began to dress slowly to go to the
+office.  It was hard to work after such shocks.  He sent a letter to his
+employer, requesting to be excused.  Then he remembered that he had to
+return to the jeweler's.  He did not like the idea; but he could not
+leave the necklace with that man.  He dressed and went out.
+
+It was a lovely day; a clear, blue sky smiled on the busy city below.
+Men of leisure were strolling about with their hands in their pockets.
+
+Monsieur Lantin, observing them, said to himself: "The rich, indeed, are
+happy.  With money it is possible to forget even the deepest sorrow.  One
+can go where one pleases, and in travel find that distraction which is
+the surest cure for grief.  Oh if I were only rich!"
+
+He perceived that he was hungry, but his pocket was empty.  He again
+remembered the necklace.  Eighteen thousand francs!  Eighteen thousand
+francs!  What a sum!
+
+He soon arrived in the Rue de la Paix, opposite the jeweler's.  Eighteen
+thousand francs!  Twenty times he resolved to go in, but shame kept him
+back.  He was hungry, however--very hungry--and not a cent in his pocket.
+He decided quickly, ran across the street, in order not to have time for
+reflection, and rushed into the store.
+
+The proprietor immediately came forward, and politely offered him a
+chair; the clerks glanced at him knowingly.
+
+"I have made inquiries, Monsieur Lantin," said the jeweler, "and if you
+are still resolved to dispose of the gems, I am ready to pay you the
+price I offered."
+
+"Certainly, sir," stammered Monsieur Lantin.
+
+Whereupon the proprietor took from a drawer eighteen large bills,
+counted, and handed them to Monsieur Lantin, who signed a receipt; and,
+with trembling hand, put the money into his pocket.
+
+As he was about to leave the store, he turned toward the merchant, who
+still wore the same knowing smile, and lowering his eyes, said:
+
+"I have--I have other gems, which came from the same source.  Will you
+buy them, also?"
+
+The merchant bowed: "Certainly, sir."
+
+Monsieur Lantin said gravely: "I will bring them to you."  An hour later,
+he returned with the gems.
+
+The large diamond earrings were worth twenty thousand francs; the
+bracelets, thirty-five thousand; the rings, sixteen thousand; a set of
+emeralds and sapphires, fourteen thousand; a gold chain with solitaire
+pendant, forty thousand--making the sum of one hundred and forty-three
+thousand francs.
+
+The jeweler remarked, jokingly:
+
+"There was a person who invested all her savings in precious stones."
+
+Monsieur Lantin replied, seriously:
+
+"It is only another way of investing one's money."
+
+That day he lunched at Voisin's, and drank wine worth twenty francs a
+bottle.  Then he hired a carriage and made a tour of the Bois.  He gazed
+at the various turnouts with a kind of disdain, and could hardly refrain
+from crying out to the occupants:
+
+"I, too, am rich!--I am worth two hundred thousand francs."
+
+Suddenly he thought of his employer.  He drove up to the bureau, and
+entered gaily, saying:
+
+"Sir, I have come to resign my position.  I have just inherited three
+hundred thousand francs."
+
+He shook hands with his former colleagues, and confided to them some of
+his projects for the future; he then went off to dine at the Cafe
+Anglais.
+
+He seated himself beside a gentleman of aristocratic bearing; and, during
+the meal, informed the latter confidentially that he had just inherited a
+fortune of four hundred thousand francs.
+
+For the first time in his life, he was not bored at the theatre, and
+spent the remainder of the night in a gay frolic.
+
+Six months afterward, he married again.  His second wife was a very
+virtuous woman; but had a violent temper.  She caused him much sorrow.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FASCINATION
+
+I can tell you neither the name of the country, nor the name of the man.
+It was a long, long way from here on a fertile and burning shore.  We had
+been walking since the morning along the coast, with the blue sea bathed
+in sunlight on one side of us, and the shore covered with crops on the
+other.  Flowers were growing quite close to the waves, those light,
+gentle, lulling waves.  It was very warm, a soft warmth permeated with
+the odor of the rich, damp, fertile soil.  One fancied one was inhaling
+germs.
+
+I had been told, that evening, that I should meet with hospitality at the
+house of a Frenchman who lived in an orange grove at the end of a
+promontory.  Who was he?  I did not know.  He had come there one morning
+ten years before, and had bought land which he planted with vines and
+sowed with grain.  He had worked, this man, with passionate energy, with
+fury.  Then as he went on from month to month, year to year, enlarging
+his boundaries, cultivating incessantly the strong virgin soil, he
+accumulated a fortune by his indefatigable labor.
+
+But he kept on working, they said.  Rising at daybreak, he would remain
+in the fields till evening, superintending everything without ceasing,
+tormented by one fixed idea, the insatiable desire for money, which
+nothing can quiet, nothing satisfy.  He now appeared to be very rich.
+The sun was setting as I reached his house.  It was situated as
+described, at the end of a promontory in the midst of a grove of orange
+trees.  It was a large square house, quite plain, and overlooked the sea.
+As I approached, a man wearing a long beard appeared in the doorway.
+Having greeted him, I asked if he would give me shelter for the night.
+He held out his hand and said, smiling:
+
+"Come in, monsieur, consider yourself at home."
+
+He led me into a room, and put a man servant at my disposal with the
+perfect ease and familiar graciousness of a man-of-the-world.  Then he
+left me saying:
+
+"We will dine as soon as you are ready to come downstairs."
+
+We took dinner, sitting opposite each other, on a terrace facing the sea.
+I began to talk about this rich, distant, unknown land.  He smiled, as he
+replied carelessly:
+
+"Yes, this country is beautiful.  But no country satisfies one when they
+are far from the one they love."
+
+"You regret France?"
+
+"I regret Paris."
+
+"Why do you not go back?"
+
+"Oh, I will return there."
+
+And gradually we began to talk of French society, of the boulevards, and
+things Parisian.  He asked me questions that showed he knew all about
+these things, mentioned names, all the familiar names in vaudeville known
+on the sidewalks.
+
+"Whom does one see at Tortoni's now?
+
+"Always the same crowd, except those who died."  I looked at him
+attentively, haunted by a vague recollection.  I certainly had seen that
+head somewhere.  But where?  And when?  He seemed tired, although he was
+vigorous; and sad, although he was determined.  His long, fair beard fell
+on his chest.  He was somewhat bald and had heavy eyebrows and a thick
+mustache.
+
+The sun was sinking into the sea, turning the vapor from the earth into a
+fiery mist.  The orange blossoms exhaled their powerful, delicious
+fragrance.  He seemed to see nothing besides me, and gazing steadfastly
+he appeared to discover in the depths of my mind the far-away, beloved
+and well-known image of the wide, shady pavement leading from the
+Madeleine to the Rue Drouot.
+
+"Do you know Boutrelle?"
+
+"Yes, indeed."
+
+"Has he changed much?"
+
+"Yes, his hair is quite white."
+
+"And La Ridamie?"
+
+"The same as ever."
+
+"And the women?  Tell me about the women.  Let's see.  Do you know
+Suzanne Verner?"
+
+"Yes, very much.  But that is over."
+
+"Ah!  And Sophie Astier?"
+
+"Dead."
+
+"Poor girl.  Did you--did you know--"
+
+But he ceased abruptly: And then, in a changed voice, his face suddenly
+turning pale, he continued:
+
+"No, it is best that I should not speak of that any more, it breaks my
+heart."
+
+Then, as if to change the current of his thoughts he rose.
+
+"Would you like to go in?" he said.
+
+"Yes, I think so."
+
+And he preceded me into the house.  The downstairs rooms were enormous,
+bare and mournful, and had a deserted look.  Plates and glasses were
+scattered on the tables, left there by the dark-skinned servants who
+wandered incessantly about this spacious dwelling.
+
+Two rifles were banging from two nails, on the wall; and in the corners
+of the rooms were spades, fishing poles, dried palm leaves, every
+imaginable thing set down at random when people came home in the evening
+and ready to hand when they went out at any time, or went to work.
+
+My host smiled as he said:
+
+"This is the dwelling, or rather the kennel, of an exile, but my own room
+is cleaner.  Let us go there."
+
+As I entered I thought I was in a second-hand store, it was so full of
+things of all descriptions, strange things of various kinds that one felt
+must be souvenirs.  On the walls were two pretty paintings by well-known
+artists, draperies, weapons, swords and pistols, and exactly in the
+middle, on the principal panel, a square of white satin in a gold frame.
+
+Somewhat surprised, I approached to look at it, and perceived a hairpin
+fastened in the centre of the glossy satin.  My host placed his hand on
+my shoulder.
+
+"That," said he, "is the only ,thing that I look at here, and the only
+thing that I have seen for ten years.  M. Prudhomme said: 'This sword is
+the most memorable day of my life.' I can say: 'This hairpin is all my
+life.'"
+
+I sought for some commonplace remark, and ended by saying:
+
+"You have suffered on account of some woman?"
+
+He replied abruptly:
+
+"Say, rather, that I am suffering like a wretch.
+
+But come out on my balcony.  A name rose to my lips just now which I
+dared not utter; for if you had said 'Dead' as you did of Sophie Astier,
+I should have fired a bullet into my brain, this very day."
+
+We had gone out on the wide balcony from whence we could see two gulfs,
+one to the right and the other to the left, enclosed by high gray
+mountains.  It was just twilight and the reflection of the sunset still
+lingered in the sky.
+
+He continued:
+
+"Is Jeanne de Limours still alive?"
+
+His eyes were fastened on mine and were full of a trembling anxiety.  I
+smiled.
+
+"Parbleu--she is prettier than ever."
+
+"Do you know her?" Yes."
+
+He hesitated and then said:
+
+"Very well?"
+
+"No."
+
+He took my hand.
+
+"Tell me about her," he said.
+
+"Why, I have nothing to tell.  She is one of the most charming women, or,
+rather, girls, and the most admired in Paris.  She leads a delightful
+existence and lives like a princess, that is all."
+
+"I love her," he murmured in a tone in which he might have said "I am
+going to die."  Then suddenly he continued:
+
+"Ah!  For three years we lived in a state of terror and delight.  I
+almost killed her five or six times.  She tried to pierce my eyes with
+that hairpin that you saw just now.  Look, do you see that little white
+spot beneath my left eye?  We loved each other.  How can I explain that
+infatuation?  You would not understand it."
+
+"There must be a simple form of love, the result of the mutual impulse of
+two hearts and two souls.  But there is also assuredly an atrocious form,
+that tortures one cruelly, the result of the occult blending of two
+unlike personalities who detest each other at the same time that they
+adore one another."
+
+"In three years this woman had ruined me.  I had four million francs
+which she squandered in her calm manner, quietly, eat them up with a
+gentle smile that seemed to fall from her eyes on to her lips."
+
+"You know her?  There is something irresistible about her.  What is it?
+I do not know.  Is it those gray eyes whose glance penetrates you like a
+gimlet and remains there like the point of an arrow?  It is more likely
+the gentle, indifferent and fascinating smile that she wears like a mask.
+Her slow grace pervades you little by little; exhales from her like a
+perfume, from her slim figure that scarcely sways as she passes you, for
+she seems to glide rather than walk; from her pretty voice with its
+slight drawl that would seem to be the music of her smile; from her
+gestures, also, which are never exaggerated, but always appropriate, and
+intoxicate your vision with their harmony.  For three years she was the
+only being that existed for me on the earth!  How I suffered; for she
+deceived me as she deceived everyone!  Why?  For no reason; just for the
+pleasure of deceiving.  And when I found it out, when I treated her as a
+common girl and a beggar, she said quietly: 'Are we married?'
+
+"Since I have been here I have thought so much about her that at last I
+understand her.  She is Manon Lescaut come back to life.  It is Manon,
+who could not love without deceiving; Marion for whom love, amusement,
+money, are all one."
+
+He was silent.  After a few minutes he resumed:
+
+"When I had spent my last sou on her she said simply:
+
+"'You understand, my dear boy, that I cannot live on air and weather.
+I love you very much, better than anyone, but I must live.  Poverty and
+I could not keep house together."
+
+"And if I should tell you what a horrible life I led with her!  When I
+looked at her I would just as soon have killed her as kissed her.  When I
+looked at her .  .  .  I felt a furious desire to open my arms to embrace
+and strangle her.  She had, back of her eyes, something false and
+intangible that made me execrate her; and that was, perhaps, the reason I
+loved her so well.  The eternal feminine, the odious and seductive
+feminine, was stronger in her than in any other woman.  She was full of
+it, overcharged, as with a venomous and intoxicating fluid.  She was a
+woman to a greater extent than any one has ever been."
+
+"And when I went out with her she would look at all men in such a manner
+that she seemed to offer herself to each in a single glance.  This
+exasperated me, and still it attached me to her all the more.  This
+creature in just walking along the street belonged to everyone, in spite
+of me, in spite of herself, by the very fact of her nature, although she
+had a modest, gentle carriage.  Do you understand?
+
+"And what torture!  At the theatre, at the restaurant she seemed to
+belong to others under my very eyes.  And as soon as I left her she did
+belong to others.
+
+"It is now ten years since I saw her and I love her better than ever."
+
+Night spread over the earth.  A strong perfume of orange blossoms
+pervaded the air.  I said:
+
+"Will you see her again?"
+
+"Parbleu!  I now have here, in land and money, seven to eight thousand
+francs.  When I reach a million I shall sell out and go away.  I shall
+have enough to live on with her for a year--one whole year.  And then,
+good-bye, my life will be finished."
+
+"But after that?" I asked.
+
+"After that, I do not know.  That will be all, I may possibly ask her to
+take me as a valet de chambre."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+YVETTE SAMORIS
+
+"The Comtesse Samoris."
+
+"That lady in black over there?"
+
+"The very one.  She's wearing mourning for her daughter, whom she
+killed."
+
+"You don't mean that seriously?  How did she die?"
+
+"Oh! it is a very simple story, without any crime in it, any violence."
+
+"Then what really happened?"
+
+"Almost nothing.  Many courtesans are born to be virtuous women, they
+say; and many women called virtuous are born to be courtesans--is that
+not so?  Now, Madame Samoris, who was born a courtesan, had a daughter
+born a virtuous woman, that's all."
+
+"I don't quite understand you."
+
+"I'll--explain what I mean.  The comtesse is nothing but a common,
+ordinary parvenue originating no one knows where.  A Hungarian or
+Wallachian countess or I know not what.  She appeared one winter in
+apartments she had taken in the Champs Elysees, that quarter for
+adventurers and adventuresses, and opened her drawing-room to the first
+comer or to any one that turned up.
+
+"I went there.  Why?  you will say.  I really can't tell you.  I went
+there, as every one goes to such places because the women are facile and
+the men are dishonest.  You know that set composed of filibusters with
+varied decorations, all noble, all titled, all unknown at the embassies,
+with the exception of those who are spies.  All talk of their honor
+without the slightest occasion for doing so, boast of their ancestors,
+tell you about their lives, braggarts, liars, sharpers, as dangerous as
+the false cards they have up their sleeves, as delusive as their names--
+in short, the aristocracy of the bagnio.
+
+"I adore these people.  They are interesting to study, interesting to
+know, amusing to understand, often clever, never commonplace like public
+functionaries.  Their wives are always pretty, with a slight flavor of
+foreign roguery, with the mystery of their existence, half of it perhaps
+spent in a house of correction.  They have, as a rule, magnificent eyes
+and incredible hair.  I adore them also.
+
+"Madame Samoris is the type of these adventuresses, elegant, mature and
+still beautiful.  Charming feline creatures, you feel that they are
+vicious to the marrow of their bones.  You find them very amusing when
+you visit them; they give card parties; they have dances and suppers; in
+short, they offer you all the pleasures of social life.
+
+"And she had a daughter--a tall, fine-looking girl, always ready for
+amusement, always full of laughter and reckless gaiety--a true
+adventuress' daughter--but, at the same time, an innocent,
+unsophisticated, artless girl, who saw nothing, knew nothing, understood
+nothing of all the things that happened in her father's house.
+
+"The girl was simply a puzzle to me.  She was a mystery.  She lived amid
+those infamous surroundings with a quiet, tranquil ease that was either
+terribly criminal or else the result of innocence.  She sprang from the
+filth of that class like a beautiful flower fed on corruption."
+
+"How do you know about them?"
+
+"How do I know?  That's the funniest part of the business!  One morning
+there was a ring at my door, and my valet came up to tell me that
+M. Joseph Bonenthal wanted to speak to me.  I said directly:
+
+'And who is this gentleman?'  My valet replied: 'I don't know, monsieur;
+perhaps 'tis some one that wants employment.'  And so it was.  The man
+wanted me to take him as a servant.  I asked him where he had been last.
+He answered: 'With the Comtesse Samoris.' 'Ah!' said I, 'but my house is
+not a bit like hers.' 'I know that well, monsieur,' he said, 'and that's
+the very reason I want to take service with monsieur.  I've had enough of
+these people: a man may stay a little while with them, but he won't
+remain long with them.'  I required an additional man servant at the time
+and so I took him.
+
+"A month later Mademoiselle Yvette Samoris died mysteriously, and here
+are all the details of her death I could gather from Joseph, who got them
+from his sweetheart, the comtesse's chambermaid.
+
+"It was a ball night, and two newly arrived guests were chatting behind a
+door.  Mademoiselle Yvette, who had just been dancing, leaned against
+this door to get a little air.
+
+"They did not see her approaching, but she heard what they were saying.
+And this was what they said:
+
+"'But who is the father of the girl?'
+
+"'A Russian, it appears; Count Rouvaloff.  He never comes near the mother
+now.'
+
+"'And who is the reigning prince to-day?'
+
+"'That English prince standing near the window; Madame Samoris adores
+him.  But her adoration of any one never lasts longer than a month or six
+weeks.  Nevertheless, as you see, she has a large circle of admirers.
+All are called--and nearly all are chosen.  That kind of thing costs a
+good deal, but--hang it, what can you expect?'
+
+"'And where did she get this name of Samoris?'
+
+"'From the only man perhaps that she ever loved--a Jewish banker from
+Berlin who goes by the name of Samuel Morris.'
+
+"'Good.  Thanks.  Now that I know what kind of woman she is and have seen
+her, I'm off!'
+
+"What a shock this was to the mind of a young girl endowed with all the
+instincts of a virtuous woman!  What despair overwhelmed that simple
+soul!  What mental tortures quenched her unbounded gaiety, her delightful
+laughter, her exultant satisfaction with life!  What a conflict took
+place in that youthful heart up to the moment when the last guest had
+left!  Those were things that Joseph could not tell me.  But, the same
+night, Yvette abruptly entered her mother's room just as the comtesse was
+getting into bed, sent out the lady's maid, who was close to the door,
+and, standing erect and pale and with great staring eyes, she said:
+
+"'Mamma, listen to what I heard a little while ago during the ball.'
+
+"And she repeated word for word the conversation just as I told it to
+you.
+
+"The comtesse was so stunned that she did not know what to say in reply
+at first.  When she recovered her self-possession she denied everything
+and called God to witness that there was no truth in the story.
+
+"The young girl went away, distracted but not convinced.  And she began
+to watch her mother.
+
+"I remember distinctly the strange alteration that then took place in
+her.  She became grave and melancholy.  She would fix on us her great
+earnest eyes as if she wanted to read what was at the bottom of our
+hearts.  We did not know what to think of her and used to imagine that
+she was looking out for a husband.
+
+"One evening she overheard her mother talking to her admirer and later
+saw them together, and her doubts were confirmed.  She was heartbroken,
+and after telling her mother what she had seen, she said coldly, like a
+man of business laying down the terms of an agreement:
+
+"'Here is what I have determined to do, mamma: We will both go away to
+some little town, or rather into the country.  We will live there quietly
+as well as we can.  Your jewelry alone may be called a fortune.  If you
+wish to marry some honest man, so much the better; still better will it
+be if I can find one.  If you don't consent to do this, I will kill
+myself.'
+
+"This time the comtesse ordered her daughter to go to bed and never to
+speak again in this manner, so unbecoming in the mouth of a child toward
+her mother.
+
+"Yvette's answer to this was: 'I give you a month to reflect.  If, at the
+end of that month, we have not changed our way of living, I will kill
+myself, since there is no other honorable issue left to my life.'
+
+"And she left the room.
+
+"At the end of a month the Comtesse Samoris had resumed her usual
+entertainments, as though nothing had occurred.  One day, under the
+pretext that she had a bad toothache, Yvette purchased a few drops of
+chloroform from a neighboring chemist.  The next day she purchased more,
+and every time she went out she managed to procure small doses of the
+narcotic.  She filled a bottle with it.
+
+"One morning she was found in bed, lifeless and already quite cold, with
+a cotton mask soaked in chloroform over her face.
+
+"Her coffin was covered with flowers, the church was hung in white.
+There was a large crowd at the funeral ceremony.
+
+"Ah!  well, if I had known--but you never can know--I would have married
+that girl, for she was infernally pretty."
+
+"And what became of the mother?"
+
+"Oh!  she shed a lot of tears over it.  She has only begun to receive
+visits again for the past week."
+
+"And what explanation is given of the girl's death?"
+
+"Oh!  they pretended that it was an accident caused by a new stove, the
+mechanism of which got out of order.  As a good many such accidents have
+occurred, the thing seemed probable enough."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A VENDETTA
+
+The widow of Paolo Saverini lived alone with her son in a poor little
+house on the outskirts of Bonifacio.  The town, built on an outjutting
+part of the mountain, in places even overhanging the sea, looks across
+the straits, full of sandbanks, towards the southernmost coast of
+Sardinia.  Beneath it, on the other side and almost surrounding it, is a
+cleft in the cliff like an immense corridor which serves as a harbor, and
+along it the little Italian and Sardinian fishing boats come by a
+circuitous route between precipitous cliffs as far as the first houses,
+and every two weeks the old, wheezy steamer which makes the trip to
+Ajaccio.
+
+On the white mountain the houses, massed together, makes an even whiter
+spot.  They look like the nests of wild birds, clinging to this peak,
+overlooking this terrible passage, where vessels rarely venture.  The
+wind, which blows uninterruptedly, has swept bare the forbidding coast;
+it drives through the narrow straits and lays waste both sides.  The pale
+streaks of foam, clinging to the black rocks, whose countless peaks rise
+up out of the water, look like bits of rag floating and drifting on the
+surface of the sea.
+
+The house of widow Saverini, clinging to the very edge of the precipice,
+looks out, through its three windows, over this wild and desolate
+picture.
+
+She lived there alone, with her son Antonia and their dog "Semillante," a
+big, thin beast, with a long rough coat, of the sheep-dog breed.  The
+young man took her with him when out hunting.
+
+One night, after some kind of a quarrel, Antoine Saverini was
+treacherously stabbed by Nicolas Ravolati, who escaped the same evening
+to Sardinia.
+
+When the old mother received the body of her child, which the neighbors
+had brought back to her, she did not cry, but she stayed there for a long
+time motionless, watching him.  Then, stretching her wrinkled hand over
+the body, she promised him a vendetta.  She did not wish anybody near
+her, and she shut herself up beside the body with the dog, which howled
+continuously, standing at the foot of the bed, her head stretched towards
+her master and her tail between her legs.  She did not move any more than
+did the mother, who, now leaning over the body with a blank stare, was
+weeping silently and watching it.
+
+The young man, lying on his back, dressed in his jacket of coarse cloth,
+torn at the chest, seemed to be asleep.  But he had blood all over him;
+on his shirt, which had been torn off in order to administer the first
+aid; on his vest, on his trousers, on his face, on his hands.  Clots of
+blood had hardened in his beard and in his hair.
+
+His old mother began to talk to him.  At the sound of this voice the dog
+quieted down.
+
+"Never fear, my boy, my little baby, you shall be avenged.  Sleep, sleep;
+you shall be avenged.  Do you hear?  It's your mother's promise!  And she
+always keeps her word, your mother does, you know she does."
+
+Slowly she leaned over him, pressing her cold lips to his dead ones.
+
+Then Semillante began to howl again with a long, monotonous, penetrating,
+horrible howl.
+
+The two of them, the woman and the dog, remained there until morning.
+
+Antoine Saverini was buried the next day and soon his name ceased to be
+mentioned in Bonifacio.
+
+He had neither brothers nor cousins.  No man was there to carry on the
+vendetta.  His mother, the old woman, alone pondered over it.
+
+On the other side of the straits she saw, from morning until night, a
+little white speck on the coast.  It was the little Sardinian village
+Longosardo, where Corsican criminals take refuge when they are too
+closely pursued.  They compose almost the entire population of this
+hamlet, opposite their native island, awaiting the time to return, to go
+back to the "maquis."  She knew that Nicolas Ravolati had sought refuge
+in this village.
+
+All alone, all day long, seated at her window, she was looking over there
+and thinking of revenge.  How could she do anything without help--she, an
+invalid and so near death?  But she had promised, she had sworn on the
+body.  She could not forget, she could not wait.  What could she do?  She
+no longer slept at night; she had neither rest nor peace of mind; she
+thought persistently.  The dog, dozing at her feet, would sometimes lift
+her head and howl.  Since her master's death she often howled thus, as
+though she were calling him, as though her beast's soul, inconsolable
+too, had also retained a recollection that nothing could wipe out.
+
+One night, as Semillante began to howl, the mother suddenly got hold of
+an idea, a savage, vindictive, fierce idea.  She thought it over until
+morning.  Then, having arisen at daybreak she went to church.  She
+prayed, prostrate on the floor, begging the Lord to help her, to support
+her, to give to her poor, broken-down body the strength which she needed
+in order to avenge her son.
+
+She returned home.  In her yard she had an old barrel, which acted as a
+cistern.  She turned it over, emptied it, made it fast to the ground with
+sticks and stones.  Then she chained Semillante to this improvised kennel
+and went into the house.
+
+She walked ceaselessly now, her eyes always fixed on the distant coast of
+Sardinia.  He was over there, the murderer.
+
+All day and all night the dog howled.  In the morning the old woman
+brought her some water in a bowl, but nothing more; no soup, no bread.
+
+Another day went by.  Semillante, exhausted, was sleeping.  The following
+day her eyes were shining, her hair on end and she was pulling wildly at
+her chain.
+
+All this day the old woman gave her nothing to eat.  The beast, furious,
+was barking hoarsely.  Another night went by.
+
+Then, at daybreak, Mother Saverini asked a neighbor for some straw.  She
+took the old rags which had formerly been worn by her husband and stuffed
+them so as to make them look like a human body.
+
+Having planted a stick in the ground, in front of Semillante's kennel,
+she tied to it this dummy, which seemed to be standing up.  Then she made
+a head out of some old rags.
+
+The dog, surprised, was watching this straw man, and was quiet, although
+famished.  Then the old woman went to the store and bought a piece of
+black sausage.  When she got home she started a fire in the yard, near
+the kennel, and cooked the sausage.  Semillante, frantic, was jumping
+about, frothing at the mouth, her eyes fixed on the food, the odor of
+which went right to her stomach.
+
+Then the mother made of the smoking sausage a necktie for the dummy.  She
+tied it very tight around the neck with string, and when she had finished
+she untied the dog.
+
+With one leap the beast jumped at the dummy's throat, and with her paws
+on its shoulders she began to tear at it.  She would fall back with a
+piece of food in her mouth, then would jump again, sinking her fangs into
+the string, and snatching few pieces of meat she would fall back again
+and once more spring forward.  She was tearing up the face with her teeth
+and the whole neck was in tatters.
+
+The old woman, motionless and silent, was watching eagerly.  Then she
+chained the beast up again, made her fast for two more days and began
+this strange performance again.
+
+For three months she accustomed her to this battle, to this meal
+conquered by a fight.  She no longer chained her up, but just pointed to
+the dummy.
+
+She had taught her to tear him up and to devour him without even leaving
+any traces in her throat.
+
+Then, as a reward, she would give her a piece of sausage.
+
+As soon as she saw the man, Semillante would begin to tremble.  Then she
+would look up to her mistress, who, lifting her finger, would cry, "Go!"
+in a shrill tone.
+
+When she thought that the proper time had come, the widow went to
+confession and, one Sunday morning she partook of communion with an
+ecstatic fervor.  Then, putting on men's clothes and looking like an old
+tramp, she struck a bargain with a Sardinian fisherman who carried her
+and her dog to the other side of the straits.
+
+In a bag she had a large piece of sausage.  Semillante had had nothing to
+eat for two days.  The old woman kept letting her smell the food and
+whetting her appetite.
+
+They got to Longosardo.  The Corsican woman walked with a limp.  She went
+to a baker's shop and asked for Nicolas Ravolati.  He had taken up his
+old trade, that of carpenter.  He was working alone at the back of his
+store.
+
+The old woman opened the door and called:
+
+"Hallo, Nicolas!"
+
+He turned around.  Then releasing her dog, she cried:
+
+"Go, go!  Eat him up! eat him up!"
+
+The maddened animal sprang for his throat.  The man stretched out his
+arms, clasped the dog and rolled to the ground.  For a few seconds he
+squirmed, beating the ground with his feet.  Then he stopped moving,
+while Semillante dug her fangs into his throat and tore it to ribbons.
+Two neighbors, seated before their door, remembered perfectly having seen
+an old beggar come out with a thin, black dog which was eating something
+that its master was giving him.
+
+At nightfall the old woman was at home again.  She slept well that night.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MY TWENTY-FIVE DAYS
+
+I had just taken possession of my room in the hotel, a narrow den between
+two papered partitions, through which I could hear every sound made by my
+neighbors; and I was beginning to arrange my clothes and linen in the
+wardrobe with a long mirror, when I opened the drawer which is in this
+piece of furniture.  I immediately noticed a roll of paper.  Having
+opened it, I spread it out before me, and read this title:
+
+                    My Twenty-five Days.
+
+It was the diary of a guest at the watering place, of the last occupant
+of my room, and had been forgotten at the moment of departure.
+
+These notes may be of some interest to sensible and healthy persons who
+never leave their own homes.  It is for their benefit that I transcribe
+them without altering a letter.
+
+                                        "CHATEL-GUYON, July 15th.
+
+"At the first glance it is not lively, this country.  However, I am going
+to spend twenty-five days here, to have my liver and stomach treated, and
+to get thin.  The twenty-five days of any one taking the baths are very
+like the twenty-eight days of the reserves; they are all devoted to
+fatigue duty, severe fatigue duty.  To-day I have done nothing as yet;
+I have been getting settled.  I have made the acquaintance of the
+locality and of the doctor.  Chatel-Guyon consists of a stream in which
+flows yellow water, in the midst of several hillocks on which are a
+casino, some houses, and some stone crosses.  On the bank of the stream,
+at the end of the valley, may be seen a square building surrounded by a
+little garden; this is the bathing establishment.  Sad people wander
+around this building--the invalids.  A great silence reigns in the walks
+shaded by trees, for this is not a pleasure resort, but a true health
+resort; one takes care of one's health as a business, and one gets well,
+so it seems.
+
+"Those who know affirm, even, that the mineral springs perform true
+miracles here.  However, no votive offering is hung around the cashier's
+office.
+
+"From time to time a gentleman or a lady comes over to a kiosk with a
+slate roof, which shelters a woman of smiling and gentle aspect, and a
+spring boiling in a basin of cement: Not a word is exchanged between the
+invalid and the female custodian of the healing water.  She hands the
+newcomer a little glass in which air bubbles sparkle in the transparent
+liquid.  The guest drinks and goes off with a grave step to resume his
+interrupted walk beneath the trees.
+
+"No noise in the little park, no breath of air in the leaves; no voice
+passes through this silence.  One ought to write at the entrance to this
+district: 'No one laughs here; they take care of their health.'
+
+"The people who chat resemble mutes who merely open their mouths to
+simulate sounds, so afraid are they that their voices might escape.
+
+"In the hotel, the same silence.  It is a big hotel, where you dine
+solemnly with people of good position, who have nothing to say to each
+other.  Their manners bespeak good breeding, and their faces reflect the
+conviction of a superiority of which it might be difficult for some to
+give actual proofs.
+
+"At two o'clock I made my way up to the Casino, a little wooden but
+perched on a hillock, which one reaches by a goat path.  But the view
+from that height is admirable.  Chatel-Guyon is situated in a very narrow
+valley, exactly between the, plain and the mountain.  I perceive, at the
+left, the first great billows of the mountains of Auvergne, covered with
+woods, and here and there big gray patches, hard masses of lava, for we
+are at the foot of the extinct volcanoes.  At the right, through the
+narrow cut of the valley, I discover a plain, infinite as the sea,
+steeped in a bluish fog which lets one only dimly discern the villages,
+the towns, the yellow fields of ripe grain, and the green squares of
+meadowland shaded with apple trees.  It is the Limagne, an immense level,
+always enveloped in a light veil of vapor.
+
+"The night has come.  And now, after having dined alone, I write these
+lines beside my open window.  I hear, over there, in front of me, the
+little orchestra of the Casino, which plays airs just as a foolish bird
+might sing all alone in the desert.
+
+"A dog barks at intervals.  This great calm does one good.  Goodnight.
+
+"July 16th.--Nothing new.  I have taken a bath and then a shower bath.
+I have swallowed three glasses of water, and I have walked along the
+paths in the park, a quarter of an hour between each glass, then half an
+hour after the last.  I have begun my twenty-five days.
+
+"July 17th.--Remarked two mysterious, pretty women who are taking their
+baths and their meals after every one else has finished.
+
+"July 18th.--Nothing new.
+
+"July 19th.--Saw the two pretty women again.  They have style and a
+little indescribable air which I like very much.
+
+"July 20th.--Long walk in a charming wooded valley, as far as the
+Hermitage of Sans-Souci.  This country is delightful, although sad; but
+so calm; so sweet, so green.  One meets along the mountain roads long
+wagons loaded with hay, drawn by two cows at a slow pace or held back by
+them in going down the slopes with a great effort of their heads, which
+are yoked together.  A man with a big black hat on his head is driving
+them with a slender stick, tipping them on the side or on the forehead;
+and often with a simple gesture, an energetic and serious gesture, he
+suddenly halts them when the excessive load precipitates their journey
+down the too rugged descents.
+
+"The air is good to inhale in these valleys.  And, if it is very warm,
+the dust bears with it a light odor of vanilla and of the stable, for so
+many cows pass over these routes that they leave reminders everywhere.
+And this odor is a perfume, when it would be a stench if it came from
+other animals.
+
+"July 21st.--Excursion to the valley of the Enval.  It is a narrow gorge
+inclosed by superb rocks at the very foot of the mountain.  A stream
+flows amid the heaped-up boulders.
+
+"As I reached the bottom of this ravine I heard women's voices, and I
+soon perceived the two mysterious ladies of my hotel, who were chatting,
+seated on a stone.
+
+"The occasion appeared to me a good one, and I introduced myself without
+hesitation.  My overtures were received without embarrassment.  We walked
+back together to the hotel.  And we talked about Paris.  They knew, it
+seemed, many people whom I knew, too.  Who can they be?
+
+"I shall see them to-morrow.  There is nothing more amusing than such
+meetings as this.
+
+"July 22d.--Day passed almost entirely with the two unknown ladies.  They
+are very pretty, by Jove!--one a brunette and the other a blonde.  They
+say they are widows.  H'm?
+
+"I offered to accompany them to Royat tomorrow, and they accepted my
+offer.
+
+"Chatel-Guyon is less sad than I thought on my arrival.
+
+"July 23d.--Day spent at Royat.  Royat is a little patch of hotels at the
+bottom of a valley, at the gate of Clermont-Ferrand.  A great many people
+there.  A large park full of life.  Superb view of the Puyde-Dome, seen
+at the end of a perspective of valleys.
+
+"My fair companions are very popular, which is flattering to me.  The man
+who escorts a pretty woman always believes himself crowned with an
+aureole; with much more reason, the man who is accompanied by one on each
+side of him.  Nothing is so pleasant as to dine in a fashionable
+restaurant with a female companion at whom everybody stares, and there is
+nothing better calculated to exalt a man in the estimation of his
+neighbors.
+
+"To go to the Bois, in a trap drawn by a sorry nag, or to go out into the
+boulevard escorted by a plain woman, are the two most humiliating things
+that could happen to a sensitive heart that values the opinion of others.
+Of all luxuries, woman is the rarest and the most distinguished; she is
+the one that costs most and which we desire most; she is, therefore the
+one that we should seek by preference to exhibit to the jealous eyes of
+the world.
+
+"To exhibit to the world a pretty woman leaning on your arm is to excite,
+all at once, every kind of jealousy.  It is as much as to say: 'Look
+here!  I am rich, since I possess this rare and costly object; I have
+taste, since I have known how to discover this pearl; perhaps, even, I am
+loved by her, unless I am deceived by her, which would still prove that
+others also consider her charming.
+
+"But, what a disgrace it is to walk about town with an ugly woman!
+
+"And how many humiliating things this gives people to understand!
+
+"In the first place, they assume she must be your wife, for how could it
+be supposed that you would have an unattractive sweetheart?  A true woman
+may be ungraceful; but then, her ugliness implies a thousand disagreeable
+things for you.  One supposes you must be a notary or a magistrate, as
+these two professions have a monopoly of grotesque and well-dowered
+spouses.  Now, is this not distressing to a man?  And then, it seems to
+proclaim to the public that you have the odious courage, and are even
+under a legal obligation, to caress that ridiculous face and that ill-
+shaped body, and that you will, without doubt, be shameless enough to
+make a mother of this by no means desirable being--which is the very
+height of the ridiculous.
+
+"July 24th.--I never leave the side of the two unknown widows, whom I am
+beginning to know quite well.  This country is delightful and our hotel
+is excellent.  Good season.  The treatment is doing me an immense amount
+of good.
+
+"July 25th.--Drive in a landau to the lake of Tazenat.  An exquisite and
+unexpected jaunt decided on at luncheon.  We started immediately on
+rising from table.  After a long journey through the mountains we
+suddenly perceived an admirable little lake, quite round, very blue,
+clear as glass, and situated at the bottom of an extinct crater.  One
+side of this immense basin is barren, the other is wooded.  In the midst
+of the trees is a small house where sleeps a good-natured, intellectual
+man, a sage who passes his days in this Virgilian region.  He opens his
+dwelling for us.  An idea comes into my head.  I exclaim:
+
+"'Supposing we bathe?'
+
+"'Yes,' they said, 'but costumes.'
+
+"'Bah!  we are in the wilderness.'
+
+"And we did bathe!  "If I were a poet, how I would describe this
+unforgettable vision of those lissome young forms in the transparency of
+the water!  The high, sloping sides shut in the lake, motionless,
+gleaming and round, as a silver coin; the sun pours into it a flood of
+warm light; and along the rocks the fair forms move in the almost
+invisible water in which the swimmers seemed suspended.  On the sand at
+the bottom of the lake one could see their shadows as they moved along.
+
+"July 26th.--Some persons seem to look with shocked and disapproving eyes
+at my rapid intimacy with the two fair widows.  There are some people,
+then, who imagine that life consists in being bored.  Everything that
+appears to be amusing becomes immediately a breach of good breeding or
+morality.  For them duty has inflexible and mortally tedious rules.
+
+"I would draw their attention, with all respect, to the fact that duty is
+not the same for Mormons, Arabs Zulus, Turks, Englishmen, and Frenchmen,
+and that there are very virtuous people among all these nations.
+
+"I will cite a single example.  As regards women, duty begins in England
+at nine years of age; in France at fifteen.  As for me, I take a little
+of each people's notion of duty, and of the whole I make a result
+comparable to the morality of good King Solomon.
+
+"July 27th.--Good news.  I have lost 620 grams in weight.  Excellent,
+this water of Chatel-Guyon!  I am taking the widows to dine at Riom.  A
+sad town whose anagram constitutes it an objectionable neighbor to
+healing springs: Riom, Mori.
+
+"July 28th.--Hello, how's this!  My two widows have been visited by two
+gentlemen who came to look for them.  Two widowers, without doubt.  They
+are leaving this evening.  They have written to me on fancy notepaper.
+
+"July 29th.--Alone!  Long excursion on foot to the extinct crater of
+Nachere.  Splendid view.
+
+"July 30th.--Nothing.  I am taking the treatment.
+
+"July 31st.--Ditto.  Ditto.  This pretty country is full of polluted
+streams.  I am drawing the notice of the municipality to the abominable
+sewer which poisons the road in front of the hotel.  All the kitchen
+refuse of the establishment is thrown into it.  This is a good way to
+breed cholera.
+
+"August 1st.--Nothing.  The treatment.
+
+"August 2d.--Admirable walk to Chateauneuf, a place of sojourn for
+rheumatic patients, where everybody is lame.  Nothing can be queerer than
+this population of cripples!
+
+"August 3d.--Nothing.  The treatment.
+
+"August 4th.--Ditto.  Ditto.
+
+"August 5th.--Ditto.  Ditto.
+
+"August 6th.--Despair!  I have just weighed myself.  I have gained 310
+grams.  But then?
+
+"August 7th.--Drove sixty-six kilometres in a carriage on the mountain.
+I will not mention the name of the country through respect for its women.
+
+"This excursion had been pointed out to me as a beautiful one, and one
+that was rarely made.  After four hours on the road, I arrived at a
+rather pretty village on the banks of a river in the midst of an
+admirable wood of walnut trees.  I had not yet seen a forest of walnut
+trees of such dimensions in Auvergne.  It constitutes, moreover, all the
+wealth of the district, for it is planted on the village common.  This
+common was formerly only a hillside covered with brushwood.  The
+authorities had tried in vain to get it cultivated.  There was scarcely
+enough pasture on it to feed a few sheep.
+
+"To-day it is a superb wood, thanks to the women, and it has a curious
+name: it is called the Sins of the Cure.
+
+"Now I must say that the women of the mountain districts have the
+reputation of being light, lighter than in the plain.  A bachelor who
+meets them owes them at least a kiss; and if he does not take more he is
+only a blockhead.  If we consider this fairly, this way of looking at the
+matter is the only one that is logical and reasonable.  As woman, whether
+she be of the town or the country, has her natural mission to please man,
+man should always show her that she pleases him.  If he abstains from
+every sort of demonstration, this means that he considers her ugly; it is
+almost an insult to her.  If I were a woman, I would not receive, a
+second time, a man who failed to show me respect at our first meeting,
+for I would consider that he had failed in appreciation of my beauty, my
+charm, and my feminine qualities.
+
+"So the bachelors of the village X often proved to the women of the
+district that they found them to their taste, and, as the cure was unable
+to prevent these demonstrations, as gallant as they were natural, he
+resolved to utilize them for the benefit of the general prosperity.  So
+he imposed as a penance on every woman who had gone wrong that she should
+plant a walnut tree on the common.  And every night lanterns were seen
+moving about like will-o'-the-wisps on the hillock, for the erring ones
+scarcely like to perform their penance in broad daylight.
+
+"In two years there was no longer any room on the lands belonging to the
+village, and to-day they calculate that there are more than three
+thousand trees around the belfry which rings out the services amid their
+foliage.  These are the Sins of the Cure.
+
+"Since we have been seeking for so many ways of rewooding France, the
+Administration of Forests might surely enter into some arrangement with
+the clergy to employ a method so simple as that employed by this humble
+cure.
+
+"August 7th.--Treatment.
+
+"August 8th.--I am packing up my trunks and saying good-by to the
+charming little district so calm and silent, to the green mountain, to
+the quiet valleys, to the deserted Casino, from which you can see, almost
+veiled by its light, bluish mist, the immense plain of the Limagne.
+
+"I shall leave to-morrow."
+
+Here the manuscript stopped.  I will add nothing to it, my impressions of
+the country not having been exactly the same as those of my predecessor.
+For I did not find the two widows!
+
+
+
+
+
+
+"THE TERROR"
+
+You say you cannot possibly understand it, and I believe you.  You think
+I am losing my mind?  Perhaps I am, but for other reasons than those you
+imagine, my dear friend.
+
+Yes, I am going to be married, and will tell you what has led me to take
+that step.
+
+I may add that I know very little of the girl who is going to become my
+wife to-morrow; I have only seen her four or five times.  I know that
+there is nothing unpleasing about her, and that is enough for my purpose.
+She is small, fair, and stout; so, of course, the day after to-morrow I
+shall ardently wish for a tall, dark, thin woman.
+
+She is not rich, and belongs to the middle classes.  She is a girl such
+as you may find by the gross, well adapted for matrimony, without any
+apparent faults, and with no particularly striking qualities.  People say
+of her:
+
+"Mlle. Lajolle is a very nice girl," and tomorrow they will say: "What a
+very nice woman Madame Raymon is."  She belongs, in a word, to that
+immense number of girls whom one is glad to have for one's wife, till the
+moment comes when one discovers that one happens to prefer all other
+women to that particular woman whom one has married.
+
+"Well," you will say to me, "what on earth did you get married for?"
+
+I hardly like to tell you the strange and seemingly improbable reason
+that urged me on to this senseless act; the fact, however, is that I am
+afraid of being alone.
+
+I don't know how to tell you or to make you understand me, but my state
+of mind is so wretched that you will pity me and despise me.
+
+I do not want to be alone any longer at night.  I want to feel that there
+is some one close to me, touching me, a being who can speak and say
+something, no matter what it be.
+
+I wish to be able to awaken somebody by my side, so that I may be able to
+ask some sudden question, a stupid question even, if I feel inclined, so
+that I may hear a human voice, and feel that there is some waking soul
+close to me, some one whose reason is at work; so that when I hastily
+light the candle I may see some human face by my side--because--because
+--I am ashamed to confess it--because I am afraid of being alone.
+
+Oh, you don't understand me yet.
+
+I am not afraid of any danger; if a man were to come into the room, I
+should kill him without trembling.  I am not afraid of ghosts, nor do I
+believe in the supernatural.  I am not afraid of dead people, for I
+believe in the total annihilation of every being that disappears from the
+face of this earth.
+
+Well--yes, well, it must be told: I am afraid of myself, afraid of that
+horrible sensation of incomprehensible fear.
+
+You may laugh, if you like.  It is terrible, and I cannot get over it.
+I am afraid of the walls, of the furniture, of the familiar objects;
+which are animated, as far as I am concerned, by a kind of animal life.
+Above all, I am afraid of my own dreadful thoughts, of my reason, which
+seems as if it were about to leave me, driven away by a mysterious and
+invisible agony.
+
+At first I feel a vague uneasiness in my mind, which causes a cold shiver
+to run all over me.  I look round, and of course nothing is to be seen,
+and I wish that there were something there, no matter what, as long as it
+were something tangible.  I am frightened merely because I cannot
+understand my own terror.
+
+If I speak, I am afraid of my own voice.  If I walk, I am afraid of I
+know not what, behind the door, behind the curtains, in the cupboard, or
+under my bed, and yet all the time I know there is nothing anywhere, and
+I turn round suddenly because I am afraid of what is behind me, although
+there is nothing there, and I know it.
+
+I become agitated.  I feel that my fear increases, and so I shut myself
+up in my own room, get into bed, and hide under the clothes; and there,
+cowering down, rolled into a ball, I close my eyes in despair, and remain
+thus for an indefinite time, remembering that my candle is alight on the
+table by my bedside, and that I ought to put it out, and yet--I dare not
+do it.
+
+It is very terrible, is it not, to be like that?
+
+Formerly I felt nothing of all that.  I came home quite calm, and went up
+and down my apartment without anything disturbing my peace of mind.  Had
+any one told me that I should be attacked by a malady--for I can call it
+nothing else--of most improbable fear, such a stupid and terrible malady
+as it is, I should have laughed outright.  I was certainly never afraid
+of opening the door in the dark.  I went to bed slowly, without locking
+it, and never got up in the middle of the night to make sure that
+everything was firmly closed.
+
+It began last year in a very strange manner on a damp autumn evening.
+When my servant had left the room, after I had dined, I asked myself what
+I was going to do.  I walked up and down my room for some time, feeling
+tired without any reason for it, unable to work, and even without energy
+to read.  A fine rain was falling, and I felt unhappy, a prey to one of
+those fits of despondency, without any apparent cause, which make us feel
+inclined to cry, or to talk, no matter to whom, so as to shake off our
+depressing thoughts.
+
+I felt that I was alone, and my rooms seemed to me to be more empty than
+they had ever been before.  I was in the midst of infinite and
+overwhelming solitude.  What was I to do?  I sat down, but a kind of
+nervous impatience seemed to affect my legs, so I got up and began to
+walk about again.  I was, perhaps, rather feverish, for my hands, which I
+had clasped behind me, as one often does when walking slowly, almost
+seemed to burn one another.  Then suddenly a cold shiver ran down my
+back, and I thought the damp air might have penetrated into my rooms, so
+I lit the fire for the first time that year, and sat down again and
+looked at the flames.  But soon I felt that I could not possibly remain
+quiet, and so I got up again and determined to go out, to pull myself
+together, and to find a friend to bear me company.
+
+I could not find anyone, so I walked to the boulevard ro try and meet
+some acquaintance or other there.
+
+It was wretched everywhere, and the wet pavement glistened in the
+gaslight, while the oppressive warmth of the almost impalpable rain lay
+heavily over the streets and seemed to obscure the light of the lamps.
+
+I went on slowly, saying to myself: "I shall not find a soul to talk to."
+
+I glanced into several cafes, from the Madeleine as far as the Faubourg
+Poissoniere, and saw many unhappy-looking individuals sitting at the
+tables who did not seem even to have enough energy left to finish the
+refreshments they had ordered.
+
+For a long time I wandered aimlessly up and down, and about midnight I
+started for home.  I was very calm and very tired.  My janitor opened the
+door at once, which was quite unusual for him, and I thought that another
+lodger had probably just come in.
+
+When I go out I always double-lock the door of my room, and I found it
+merely closed, which surprised me; but I supposed that some letters had
+been brought up for me in the course of the evening.
+
+I went in, and found my fire still burning so that it lighted up the room
+a little, and, while in the act of taking up a candle, I noticed somebody
+sitting in my armchair by the fire, warming his feet, with his back
+toward me.
+
+I was not in the slightest degree frightened.  I thought, very naturally,
+that some friend or other had come to see me.  No doubt the porter, to
+whom I had said I was going out, had lent him his own key.  In a moment I
+remembered all the circumstances of my return, how the street door had
+been opened immediately, and that my own door was only latched and not
+locked.
+
+I could see nothing of my friend but his head, and he had evidently gone
+to sleep while waiting for me, so I went up to him to rouse him.  I saw
+him quite distinctly; his right arm was hanging down and his legs were
+crossed; the position of his head, which was somewhat inclined to the
+left of the armchair, seemed to indicate that he was asleep.  "Who can it
+be?" I asked myself.  I could not see clearly, as the room was rather
+dark, so I put out my hand to touch him on the shoulder, and it came in
+contact with the back of the chair.  There was nobody there; the seat was
+empty.
+
+I fairly jumped with fright.  For a moment I drew back as if confronted
+by some terrible danger; then I turned round again, impelled by an
+imperious standing upright, panting with fear, so upset that I could not
+collect my thoughts, and ready to faint.
+
+But I am a cool man, and soon recovered myself.  I thought: "It is a mere
+hallucination, that is all," and I immediately began to reflect on this
+phenomenon.  Thoughts fly quickly at such moments.
+
+I had been suffering from an hallucination, that was an incontestable
+fact.  My mind had been perfectly lucid and had acted regularly and
+logically, so there was nothing the matter with the brain.  It was only
+my eyes that had been deceived; they had had a vision, one of those
+visions which lead simple folk to believe in miracles.  It was a nervous
+seizure of the optical apparatus, nothing more; the eyes were rather
+congested, perhaps.
+
+I lit my candle, and when I stooped down to the fire in doing so I
+noticed that I was trembling, and I raised myself up with a jump, as if
+somebody had touched me from behind.
+
+I was certainly not by any means calm.
+
+I walked up and down a little, and hummed a tune or two.  Then I double-
+locked the door and felt rather reassured; now, at any rate, nobody could
+come in.
+
+I sat down again and thought over my adventure for a long time; then I
+went to bed and blew out my light.
+
+For some minutes all went well; I lay quietly on my back, but presently
+an irresistible desire seized me to look round the room, and I turned
+over on my side.
+
+My fire was nearly out, and the few glowing embers threw a faint light on
+the floor by the chair, where I fancied I saw the man sitting again.
+
+I quickly struck a match, but I had been mistaken; there was nothing
+there.  I got up, however, and hid the chair behind my bed, and tried to
+get to sleep, as the room was now dark; but I had not forgotten myself
+for more than five minutes, when in my dream I saw all the scene which I
+had previously witnessed as clearly as if it were reality.  I woke up
+with a start, and having lit the candle, sat up in bed, without venturing
+even to try to go to sleep again.
+
+Twice, however, sleep overcame me for a few moments in spite of myself,
+and twice I saw the same thing again, till I fancied I was going mad.
+When day broke, however, I thought that I was cured, and slept peacefully
+till noon.
+
+It was all past and over.  I had been feverish, had had the nightmare.  I
+know not what.  I had been ill, in fact, but yet thought I was a great
+fool.
+
+I enjoyed myself thoroughly that evening.  I dined at a restaurant and
+afterward went to the theatre, and then started for home.  But as I got
+near the house I was once more seized by a strange feeling of uneasiness.
+I was afraid of seeing him again.  I was not afraid of him, not afraid of
+his presence, in which I did not believe; but I was afraid of being
+deceived again.  I was afraid of some fresh hallucination, afraid lest
+fear should take possession of me.
+
+For more than an hour I wandered up and down the pavement; then, feeling
+that I was really too foolish, I returned home.  I breathed so hard that
+I could hardly get upstairs, and remained standing outside my door for
+more than ten minutes; then suddenly I had a courageous impulse and my
+will asserted itself.  I inserted my key into the lock, and went into the
+apartment with a candle in my hand.  I kicked open my bedroom door, which
+was partly open, and cast a frightened glance toward the fireplace.
+There was nothing there.  A-h!  What a relief and what a delight!  What a
+deliverance!  I walked up and down briskly and boldly, but I was not
+altogether reassured, and kept turning round with a jump; the very
+shadows in the corners disquieted me.
+
+I slept badly, and was constantly disturbed by imaginary noises, but did
+not see him; no, that was all over.
+
+Since that time I have been afraid of being alone at night.  I feel that
+the spectre is there, close to me, around me; but it has not appeared to
+me again.
+
+And supposing it did, what would it matter, since I do not believe in it,
+and know that it is nothing?
+
+However, it still worries me, because I am constantly thinking of it.
+His right arm hanging down and his head inclined to the left like a man
+who was asleep--I don't want to think about it!
+
+Why, however, am I so persistently possessed with this idea?  His feet
+were close to the fire!
+
+He haunts me; it is very stupid, but who and what is he?  I know that he
+does not exist except in my cowardly imagination, in my fears, and in my
+agony.  There--enough of that!
+
+Yes, it is all very well for me to reason with myself, to stiffen my
+backbone, so to say; but I cannot remain at home because I know he is
+there.  I know I shall not see him again; he will not show himself again;
+that is all over.  But he is there, all the same, in my thoughts.  He
+remains invisible, but that does not prevent his being there.  He is
+behind the doors, in the closed cupboard, in the wardrobe, under the bed,
+in every dark corner.  If I open the door or the cupboard, if I take the
+candle to look under the bed and throw a light on the dark places he is
+there no longer, but I feel that he is behind me.  I turn round, certain
+that I shall not see him, that I shall never see him again; but for all
+that, he is behind me.
+
+It is very stupid, it is dreadful; but what am I to do?  I cannot help
+it.
+
+But if there were two of us in the place I feel certain that he would not
+be there any longer, for he is there just because I am alone, simply and
+solely because I am alone!
+
+
+
+
+
+
+LEGEND OF MONT ST. MICHEL
+
+I had first seen it from Cancale, this fairy castle in the sea.  I got an
+indistinct impression of it as of a gray shadow outlined against the
+misty sky.  I saw it again from Avranches at sunset.  The immense stretch
+of sand was red, the horizon was red, the whole boundless bay was red.
+The rocky castle rising out there in the distance like a weird,
+seignorial residence, like a dream palace, strange and beautiful-this
+alone remained black in the crimson light of the dying day.
+
+The following morning at dawn I went toward it across the sands, my eyes
+fastened on this, gigantic jewel, as big as a mountain, cut like a cameo,
+and as dainty as lace.  The nearer I approached the greater my admiration
+grew, for nothing in the world could be more wonderful or more perfect.
+
+As surprised as if I had discovered the habitation of a god, I wandered
+through those halls supported by frail or massive columns, raising my
+eyes in wonder to those spires which looked like rockets starting for the
+sky, and to that marvellous assemblage of towers, of gargoyles, of
+slender and charming ornaments, a regular fireworks of stone, granite
+lace, a masterpiece of colossal and delicate architecture.
+
+As I was looking up in ecstasy a Lower Normandy peasant came up to me and
+told me the story of the great quarrel between Saint Michael and the
+devil.
+
+A sceptical genius has said: "God made man in his image and man has
+returned the compliment."
+
+This saying is an eternal truth, and it would be very curious to write
+the history of the local divinity of every continent as well as the
+history of the patron saints in each one of our provinces.  The negro has
+his ferocious man-eating idols; the polygamous Mahometan fills his
+paradise with women; the Greeks, like a practical people, deified all the
+passions.
+
+Every village in France is under the influence of some protecting saint,
+modelled according to the characteristics of the inhabitants.
+
+Saint Michael watches over Lower Normandy, Saint Michael, the radiant and
+victorious angel, the sword-carrier, the hero of Heaven, the victorious,
+the conqueror of Satan.
+
+But this is how the Lower Normandy peasant, cunning, deceitful and
+tricky, understands and tells of the struggle between the great saint and
+the devil.
+
+To escape from the malice of his neighbor, the devil, Saint Michael built
+himself, in the open ocean, this habitation worthy of an archangel; and
+only such a saint could build a residence of such magnificence.
+
+But as he still feared the approaches of the wicked one, he surrounded
+his domains by quicksands, more treacherous even than the sea.
+
+The devil lived in a humble cottage on the hill, but he owned all the
+salt marshes, the rich lands where grow the finest crops, the wooded
+valleys and all the fertile hills of the country, while the saint a ruled
+only over the sands.  Therefore Satan was rich, whereas Saint Michael was
+as poor as a church mouse.
+
+After a few years of fasting the saint grew tired of this state of
+affairs and began to think of some compromise with the devil, but the
+matter was by no means easy, as Satan kept a good hold on his crops.
+
+He thought the thing over for about six months; then one morning he
+walked across to the shore.  The demon was eating his soup in front of
+his door when he saw the saint.  He immediately rushed toward him, kissed
+the hem of his sleeve, invited him in and offered him refreshments.
+
+Saint Michael drank a bowl of milk and then began: "I have come here to
+propose to you a good bargain."
+
+The devil, candid and trustful, answered: "That will suit me."
+
+"Here it is.  Give me all your lands."
+
+Satan, growing alarmed, wished to speak "But--"
+
+She saint continued: "Listen first.  Give me all your lands.  I will take
+care of all the work, the ploughing, the sowing, the fertilizing,
+everything, and we will share the crops equally.  How does that suit
+you?"
+
+The devil, who was naturally lazy, accepted.  He only demanded in
+addition a few of those delicious gray mullet which are caught around the
+solitary mount.  Saint Michael promised the fish.
+
+They grasped hands and spat on the ground to show that it was a bargain,
+and the saint continued: "See here, so that you will have nothing to
+complain of, choose that part of the crops which you prefer: the part
+that grows above ground or the part that stays in the ground."  Satan
+cried out: "I will take all that will be above ground."
+
+"It's a bargain!" said the saint.  And he went away.
+
+Six months later, all over the immense domain of the devil, one could see
+nothing but carrots, turnips, onions, salsify, all the plants whose juicy
+roots are good and savory and whose useless leaves are good for nothing
+but for feeding animals.
+
+Satan wished to break the contract, calling Saint Michael a swindler.
+
+But the saint, who had developed quite a taste for agriculture, went back
+to see the devil and said:
+
+"Really, I hadn't thought of that at all; it was just an accident, no
+fault of mine.  And to make things fair with you, this year I'll let you
+take everything that is under the ground."
+
+"Very well," answered Satan.
+
+The following spring all the evil spirit's lands were covered with golden
+wheat, oats as big as beans, flax, magnificent colza, red clover, peas,
+cabbage, artichokes, everything that develops into grains or fruit in the
+sunlight.
+
+Once more Satan received nothing, and this time he completely lost his
+temper.  He took back his fields and remained deaf to all the fresh
+propositions of his neighbor.
+
+A whole year rolled by.  From the top of his lonely manor Saint Michael
+looked at the distant and fertile lands and watched the devil direct the
+work, take in his crops and thresh the wheat.  And he grew angry,
+exasperated at his powerlessness.
+
+As he was no longer able to deceive Satan, he decided to wreak vengeance
+on him, and he went out to invite him to dinner for the following Monday.
+
+"You have been very unfortunate in your dealings with me," he said;
+"I know it, but I don't want any ill feeling between us, and I expect you
+to dine with me.  I'll give you some good things to eat."
+
+Satan, who was as greedy as he was lazy, accepted eagerly.  On the day
+appointed he donned his finest clothes and set out for the castle.
+
+Saint Michael sat him down to a magnificent meal.  First there was a
+'vol-au-vent', full of cocks' crests and kidneys, with meat-balls, then
+two big gray mullet with cream sauce, a turkey stuffed with chestnuts
+soaked in wine, some salt-marsh lamb as tender as cake, vegetables which
+melted in the mouth and nice hot pancake which was brought on smoking and
+spreading a delicious odor of butter.
+
+They drank new, sweet, sparkling cider and heady red wine, and after each
+course they whetted their appetites with some old apple brandy.
+
+The devil drank and ate to his heart's content; in fact he took so much
+that he was very uncomfortable, and began to retch.
+
+Then Saint Michael arose in anger and cried in a voice like thunder:
+"What! before me, rascal!  You dare--before me--"
+
+Satan, terrified, ran away, and the saint, seizing a stick, pursued him.
+They ran through the halls, turning round the pillars, running up the
+staircases, galloping along the cornices, jumping from gargoyle to
+gargoyle.  The poor devil, who was woefully ill, was running about madly
+and trying hard to escape.  At last he found himself at the top of the
+last terrace, right at the top, from which could be seen the immense bay,
+with its distant towns, sands and pastures.  He could no longer escape,
+and the saint came up behind him and gave him a furious kick, which shot
+him through space like a cannonball.
+
+He shot through the air like a javelin and fell heavily before the town
+of Mortain.  His horns and claws stuck deep into the rock, which keeps
+through eternity the traces of this fall of Satan.
+
+He stood up again, limping, crippled until the end of time, and as he
+looked at this fatal castle in the distance, standing out against the
+setting sun, he understood well that he would always be vanquished in
+this unequal struggle, and he went away limping, heading for distant
+countries, leaving to his enemy his fields, his hills, his valleys and
+his marshes.
+
+And this is how Saint Michael, the patron saint of Normandy, vanquished
+the devil.
+
+Another people would have dreamed of this battle in an entirely different
+manner.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A NEW YEAR'S GIFT
+
+Jacques de Randal, having dined at home alone, told his valet he might go
+out, and he sat down at his table to write some letters.
+
+He ended every year in this manner, writing and dreaming.  He reviewed
+the events of his life since last New Year's Day, things that were now
+all over and dead; and, in proportion as the faces of his friends rose up
+before his eyes, he wrote them a few lines, a cordial New Year's greeting
+on the first of January.
+
+So he sat down, opened a drawer, took out of it a woman's photograph,
+gazed at it a few moments, and kissed it.  Then, having laid it beside a
+sheet of notepaper, he began:
+
+     MY DEAR IRENE: You must by this time have received the little
+     souvenir I sent, you addressed to the maid.  I have shut myself up
+     this evening in order to tell you----"
+
+The pen here ceased to move.  Jacques rose up and began walking up and
+down the room.
+
+For the last ten months he had had a sweetheart, not like the others, a
+woman with whom one engages in a passing intrigue, of the theatrical
+world or the demi-monde, but a woman whom he loved and won.  He was no
+longer a young man, although he was still comparatively young for a man,
+and he looked on life seriously in a positive and practical spirit.
+
+Accordingly, he drew up the balance sheet of his passion, as he drew up
+every year the balance sheet of friendships that were ended or freshly
+contracted, of circumstances and persons that had entered into his life.
+
+His first ardor of love having grown calmer, he asked himself with the
+precision of a merchant making a calculation what was the state of his
+heart with regard to her, and he tried to form an idea of what it would
+be in the future.
+
+He found there a great and deep affection; made up of tenderness,
+gratitude and the thousand subtleties which give birth to long and
+powerful attachments.
+
+A ring at the bell made him start.  He hesitated.  Should he open the
+door?  But he said to himself that one must always open the door on New
+Year's night, to admit the unknown who is passing by and knocks, no
+matter who it may be.
+
+So he took a wax candle, passed through the antechamber, drew back the
+bolts, turned the key, pulled the door back, and saw his sweetheart
+standing pale as a corpse, leaning against the wall.
+
+He stammered:
+
+"What is the matter with you?"
+
+She replied:
+
+"Are you alone?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Without servants?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You are not going out?"
+
+"No."
+
+She entered with the air of a woman who knew the house.  As soon as she
+was in the drawing-room, she sank down on the sofa, and, covering her
+face with her hands, began to weep bitterly.
+
+He knelt down at her feet, and tried to remove her hands from her eyes,
+so that he might look at them, and exclaimed:
+
+"Irene, Irene, what is the matter with you?  I implore you to tell me
+what is the matter with you?"
+
+Then, amid her sobs, she murmured:
+
+"I can no longer live like this."
+
+"Live like this?  What do you mean?"
+
+"Yes.  I can no longer live like this.  I have endured so much.  He
+struck me this afternoon."
+
+"Who?  Your husband?"
+
+"Yes, my husband."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+He was astonished, having never suspected that her husband could be
+brutal.  He was a man of the world, of the better class, a clubman, a
+lover of horses, a theatergoer and an expert swordsman; he was known,
+talked about, appreciated everywhere, having very courteous manners, a
+very mediocre intellect, an absence of education and of the real culture
+needed in order to think like all well-bred people, and finally a respect
+for conventionalities.
+
+He appeared to devote himself to his wife, as a man ought to do in the
+case of wealthy and well-bred people.  He displayed enough of anxiety
+about her wishes, her health, her dresses, and, beyond that, left her
+perfectly free.
+
+Randal, having become Irene's friend, had a right to the affectionate
+hand-clasp which every husband endowed with good manners owes to his
+wife's intimate acquaintance.  Then, when Jacques, after having been for
+some time the friend, became the lover, his relations with the husband
+were more cordial, as is fitting.
+
+Jacques had never dreamed that there were storms in this household, and
+he was bewildered at this unexpected revelation.
+
+He asked:
+
+"How did it happen?  Tell me."
+
+Thereupon she related a long story, the entire history of her life since
+the day of her marriage, the first disagreement arising out of a mere
+nothing, then becoming accentuated at every new difference of opinion
+between two dissimilar dispositions.
+
+Then came quarrels, a complete separation, not apparent, but real; next,
+her husband showed himself aggressive, suspicious, violent.  Now, he was
+jealous, jealous of Jacques, and that very day, after a scene, he had
+struck her.
+
+She added with decision: "I will not go back to him.  Do with me what you
+like."
+
+Jacques sat down opposite to her, their knees touching.  He took her
+hands:
+
+"My dear love, you are going to commit a gross, an irreparable folly.  If
+you want to leave your husband, put him in the wrong, so that your
+position as a woman of the world may be saved."
+
+She asked, as she looked at him uneasily:
+
+"Then, what do you advise me?"
+
+"To go back home and to put up with your life there till the day when you
+can obtain either a separation or a divorce, with the honors of war."
+
+"Is not this thing which you advise me to do a little cowardly?"
+
+"No; it is wise and sensible.  You have a high position, a reputation to
+protect, friends to preserve and relations to deal with.  You must not
+lose all these through a mere caprice."
+
+She rose up, and said with violence:
+
+"Well, no!  I cannot stand it any longer!  It is at an end! it is at an
+end!"
+
+Then, placing her two hands on her lover's shoulders, and looking him
+straight in the face, she asked:
+
+"Do you love me?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Really and truly?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then take care of me."
+
+He exclaimed:
+
+"Take care of you?  In my own house?  Here?  Why, you are mad.  It would
+mean losing you forever; losing you beyond hope of recall!  You are mad!"
+
+She replied, slowly and seriously, like a woman who feels the weight of
+her words:
+
+"Listen, Jacques.  He has forbidden me to see you again, and I will not
+play this comedy of coming secretly to your house.  You must either lose
+me or take me."
+
+"My dear Irene, in that case, obtain your divorce, and I will marry you."
+
+"Yes, you will marry me in--two years at the soonest.  Yours is a patient
+love."
+
+"Look here!  Reflect!  If you remain here he'll come to-morrow to take
+you away, seeing that he is your husband, seeing that he has right and
+law on his side."
+
+"I did not ask you to keep me in your own house, Jacques, but to take me
+anywhere you like.  I thought you loved me enough to do that.  I have
+made a mistake.  Good-by!"
+
+She turned round and went toward the door so quickly that he was only
+able to catch hold of her when she was outside the room:
+
+"Listen, Irene."
+
+She struggled, and would not listen to him.  Her eyes were full of tears,
+and she stammered:
+
+"Let me alone! let me alone! let me alone!"
+
+He made her sit down by force, and once more falling on his knees at her
+feet, he now brought forward a number of arguments and counsels to make
+her understand the folly and terrible risk of her project.  He omitted
+nothing which he deemed necessary to convince her, finding even in his
+very affection for her incentives to persuasion.
+
+As she remained silent and cold as ice, he begged of her, implored of her
+to listen to him, to trust him, to follow his advice.
+
+When he had finished speaking, she only replied:
+
+"Are you disposed to let me go away now?  Take away your hands, so that I
+may rise to my feet."
+
+"Look here, Irene."
+
+"Will you let me go?"
+
+"Irene--is your resolution irrevocable?"
+
+"Will you let me go."
+
+"Tell me only whether this resolution, this mad resolution of yours,
+which you will bitterly regret, is irrevocable?"
+
+"Yes--let me go!"
+
+"Then stay.  You know well that you are at home here.  We shall go away
+to-morrow morning."
+
+She rose to her feet in spite of him, and said in a hard tone:
+
+"No.  It is too late.  I do not want sacrifice; I do not want devotion."
+
+"Stay!  I have done what I ought to do; I have said what I ought to say.
+I have no further responsibility on your behalf.  My conscience is at
+peace.  Tell me what you want me to do, and I will obey."'
+
+She resumed her seat, looked at him for a long time, and then asked, in a
+very calm voice:
+
+"Well, then, explain."
+
+"Explain what?  What do you wish me to explain?"
+
+"Everything--everything that you thought about before changing your mind.
+Then I will see what I ought to do."
+
+"But I thought about nothing at all.  I had to warn you that you were
+going to commit an act of folly.  You persist; then I ask to share in
+this act of folly, and I even insist on it."
+
+"It is not natural to change one's mind so quickly."
+
+"Listen, my dear love.  It is not a question here of sacrifice or
+devotion.  On the day when I realized that I loved you, I said to myself
+what every lover ought to say to himself in the same case: 'The man who
+loves a woman, who makes an effort to win her, who gets her, and who
+takes her, enters into a sacred contract with himself and with her.  That
+is, of course, in dealing with a woman like you, not a woman with a
+fickle heart and easily impressed.'
+
+"Marriage which has a great social value, a great legal value, possesses
+in my eyes only a very slight moral value, taking into account the
+conditions under which it generally takes place.
+
+"Therefore, when a woman, united by this lawful bond, but having no
+attachment to her husband, whom she cannot love, a woman whose heart is
+free, meets a man whom she cares for, and gives herself to him, when a
+man who has no other tie, takes a woman in this way, I say that they
+pledge themselves toward each other by this mutual and free agreement
+much more than by the 'Yes' uttered in the presence of the mayor.
+
+"I say that, if they are both honorable persons, their union must be more
+intimate, more real, more wholesome, than if all the sacraments had
+consecrated it.
+
+"This woman risks everything.  And it is exactly because she knows it,
+because she gives everything, her heart, her body, her soul, her honor,
+her life, because she has foreseen all miseries, all dangers all
+catastrophes, because she dares to do a bold act, an intrepid act,
+because she is prepared, determined to brave everything--her husband, who
+might kill her, and society, which may cast her out. This is why she is
+worthy of respect in the midst of her conjugal infidelity; this is why
+her lover, in taking her, should also foresee everything, and prefer her
+to every one else whatever may happen.  I have nothing more to say.  I
+spoke in the beginning like a sensible man whose duty it was to warn you;
+and now I am only a man--a man who loves you--Command, and I obey."
+
+Radiant, she closed his mouth with a kiss, and said in a low tone:
+
+"It is not true, darling!  There is nothing the matter!  My husband does
+not suspect anything.  But I wanted to see, I wanted to know, what you
+would do I wished for a New Year's gift--the gift of your heart--another
+gift besides the necklace you sent me.  You have given it to me.  Thanks!
+thanks!  God be thanked for the happiness you have given me!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FRIEND PATIENCE
+
+What became of Leremy?"
+
+"He is captain in the Sixth Dragoons."
+
+"And Pinson?"
+
+"He's a subprefect."
+
+"And Racollet?"
+
+"Dead."
+
+We were searching for other names which would remind us of the youthful
+faces of our younger days.  Once in a while we had met some of these old
+comrades, bearded, bald, married, fathers of several children, and the
+realization of these changes had given us an unpleasant shudder,
+reminding us how short life is, how everything passes away, how
+everything changes.  My friend asked me:
+
+"And Patience, fat Patience?"
+
+I almost, howled:
+
+"Oh! as for him, just listen to this.  Four or five years ago I was in
+Limoges, on a tour of inspection, and I was waiting for dinner time.
+I was seated before the big cafe in the Place du Theatre, just bored to
+death.  The tradespeople were coming by twos, threes or fours, to take
+their absinthe or vermouth, talking all the time of their own or other
+people's business, laughing loudly, or lowering their voices in order to
+impart some important or delicate piece of news.
+
+"I was saying to myself: 'What shall I do after dinner?' And I thought of
+the long evening in this provincial town, of the slow, dreary walk
+through unknown streets, of the impression of deadly gloom which these
+provincial people produce on the lonely traveller, and of the whole
+oppressive atmosphere of the place.
+
+"I was thinking of all these things as I watched the little jets of gas
+flare up, feeling my loneliness increase with the falling shadows.
+
+"A big, fat man sat down at the next table and called in a stentorian
+voice:
+
+"'Waiter, my bitters!'
+
+"The 'my' came out like the report of a cannon.  I immediately understood
+that everything was his in life, and not another's; that he had his
+nature, by Jove, his appetite, his trousers, his everything, his, more
+absolutely and more completely than anyone else's.  Then he looked round
+him with a satisfied air.  His bitters were brought, and he ordered:
+
+"'My newspaper!'
+
+"I wondered: 'Which newspaper can his be?'  The title would certainly
+reveal to me his opinions, his theories, his principles, his hobbies, his
+weaknesses.
+
+"The waiter brought the Temps.  I was surprised.  Why the Temps,
+a serious, sombre, doctrinaire, impartial sheet?  I thought:
+
+"'He must be a serious man with settled and regular habits; in short,
+a good bourgeois.'
+
+"He put on his gold-rimmed spectacles, leaned back before beginning to
+read, and once more glanced about him.  He noticed me, and immediately
+began to stare at me in an annoying manner.  I was even going to ask the
+reason for this attention, when he exclaimed from his seat:
+
+"'Well, by all that's holy, if this isn't Gontran Lardois.'
+
+"I answered:
+
+"'Yes, monsieur, you are not mistaken.'
+
+"Then he quickly rose and came toward me with hands outstretched:
+
+"'Well, old man, how are you?'
+
+"As I did not recognize him at all I was greatly embarrassed.
+I stammered:
+
+"'Why-very well-and-you?'
+
+"He began to laugh
+"'I bet you don't recognize me.'
+
+"'No, not exactly.  It seems--however--'
+
+"He slapped me on the back:
+
+"'Come on, no joking!  I am Patience, Robert Patience, your friend, your
+chum.'
+
+"I recognized him.  Yes, Robert Patience, my old college chum.  It was
+he.  I took his outstretched hand:
+
+"'And how are you?'
+
+"'Fine!'
+
+"His smile was like a paean of victory.
+
+"He asked:
+
+"'What are you doing here?'
+
+"I explained that I was government inspector of taxes.
+
+"He continued, pointing to my red ribbon:
+
+"'Then you have-been a success?'
+
+"I answered:
+
+"'Fairly so.  And you?'
+
+"'I am doing well!'
+
+"'What are you doing?'
+
+"'I'm in business.'
+
+"'Making money?'
+
+"'Heaps.  I'm very rich.  But come around to lunch, to-morrow noon, 17
+Rue du Coq-qui-Chante; you will see my place.'
+
+"He seemed to hesitate a second, then continued:
+
+"'Are you still the good sport that you used to be?'
+
+"'I--I hope so.'
+
+"'Not married?'
+
+"'No.'
+
+"'Good.  And do you still love a good time and potatoes?'
+
+"I was beginning to find him hopelessly vulgar.  Nevertheless, I answered
+"'Yes.'
+
+"'And pretty girls?'
+
+"'Most assuredly.'
+
+"He began to laugh good-humoredly.
+
+"'Good, good!  Do you remember our first escapade, in Bordeaux, after
+that dinner at Routie's?  What a spree!'
+
+"I did, indeed, remember that spree; and the recollection of it cheered
+me up.  This called to mind other pranks.  He would say:
+
+"'Say, do you remember the time when we locked the proctor up in old man
+Latoque's cellar?'
+
+"And he laughed and banged the table with his fist, and then he
+continued:
+
+"'Yes-yes-yes-and do you remember the face of the geography teacher,
+M. Marin, the day we set off a firecracker in the globe, just as he was
+haranguing about the principal volcanoes of the earth?'
+
+"Then suddenly I asked him:
+
+"'And you, are you married?'
+
+"He exclaimed:
+
+"'Ten years, my boy, and I have four children, remarkable youngsters; but
+you'll see them and their mother.'
+
+"We were talking rather loud; the people around us looked at us in
+surprise.
+
+"Suddenly my friend looked at his watch, a chronometer the size of a
+pumpkin, and he cried:
+
+"'Thunder!  I'm sorry, but I'll have to leave you; I am never free at
+night.'
+
+"He rose, took both my hands, shook them as though he were trying to
+wrench my arms from their sockets, and exclaimed:
+
+"'So long, then; till to-morrow noon!'
+
+"'So long!'
+
+"I spent the morning working in the office of the collector-general of
+the Department.  The chief wished me to stay to luncheon, but I told him
+that I had an engagement with a friend.  As he had to go out, he
+accompanied me.
+
+"I asked him:
+
+"'Can you tell me how I can find the Rue du Coq-qui-Chante?'
+
+"He answered:
+
+"'Yes, it's only five minutes' walk from here.  As I have nothing special
+to do, I will take you there.'
+
+"We started out and soon found ourselves there.  It was a wide, fine-
+looking street, on the outskirts of the town.  I looked at the houses and
+I noticed No. 17.  It was a large house with a garden behind it.  The
+facade, decorated with frescoes, in the Italian style, appeared to me as
+being in bad taste.  There were goddesses holding vases, others swathed
+in clouds.  Two stone cupids supported the number of the house.
+
+"I said to the treasurer:
+
+"'Here is where I am going.'
+
+"I held my hand out to him.  He made a quick, strange gesture, said
+nothing and shook my hand.
+
+"I rang.  A maid appeared.  I asked:
+
+"'Monsieur Patience, if you please?'
+
+"She answered:
+
+"'Right here, sir.  Is it to monsieur that you wish to speak?'
+
+"'Yes.'
+
+"The hall was decorated with paintings from the brush of some local
+artist.  Pauls and Virginias were kissing each other under palm trees
+bathed in a pink light.  A hideous Oriental lantern was ranging from the
+ceiling.  Several doors were concealed by bright hangings.
+
+"But what struck me especially was the odor.  It was a sickening and
+perfumed odor, reminding one of rice powder and the mouldy smell of a
+cellar.  An indefinable odor in a heavy atmosphere as oppressive as that
+of public baths.  I followed the maid up a marble stairway, covered with
+a green, Oriental carpet, and was ushered into a sumptubus parlor.
+
+"Left alone, I looked about me.
+
+"The room was richly furnished, but in the pretentious taste of a
+parvenu.  Rather fine engravings of the last century represented women
+with powdered hair dressed high surprised by gentlemen in interesting
+positions.  Another lady, lying in a large bed, was teasing with her foot
+a little dog, lost in the sheets.  One drawing showed four feet, bodies
+concealed behind a curtain.  The large room, surrounded by soft couches,
+was entirely impregnated with that enervating and insipid odor which I
+had already noticed.  There seemed to be something suspicious about the
+walls, the hangings, the exaggerated luxury, everything.
+
+"I approached the window to look into the garden.  It was very big,
+shady, beautiful.  A wide path wound round a grass plot in the midst of
+which was a fountain, entered a shrubbery and came out farther away.
+And, suddenly, yonder, in the distance, between two clumps of bushes,
+three women appeared.  They were walking slowly, arm in arm, clad in
+long, white tea-gowns covered with lace.  Two were blondes and the other
+was dark-haired.  Almost immediately they disappeared again behind the
+trees.  I stood there entranced, delighted with this short and charming
+apparition, which brought to my mind a whole world of poetry.  They had
+scarcely allowed themselves to be seen, in just the proper light, in that
+frame of foliage, in the midst of that mysterious, delightful park.  It
+seemed to me that I had suddenly seen before me the great ladies of the
+last century, who were depicted in the engravings on the wall.  And I
+began to think of the happy, joyous, witty and amorous times when manners
+were so graceful and lips so approachable.
+
+"A deep voice male me jump.  Patience had come in, beaming, and held out
+his hands to me.
+
+"He looked into my eyes with the sly look which one takes when divulging
+secrets of love, and, with a Napoleonic gesture, he showed me his
+sumptuous parlor, his park, the three women, who had reappeared in the
+back of it, then, in a triumphant voice, where the note of pride was
+prominent, he said:
+
+"'And to think that I began with nothing--my wife and my sister-in-law!'"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ABANDONED
+
+"I really think you must be mad, my dear, to go for a country walk in
+such weather as this.  You have had some very strange notions for the
+last two months.  You drag me to the seaside in spite of myself, when you
+have never once had such a whim during all the forty-four years that we
+have been married.  You chose Fecamp, which is a very dull town, without
+consulting me in the matter, and now you are seized with such a rage for
+walking, you who hardly ever stir out on foot, that you want to take a
+country walk on the hottest day of the year.  Ask d'Apreval to go with
+you, as he is ready to gratify all your whims.  As for me, I am going
+back to have a nap."
+
+Madame de Cadour turned to her old friend and said:
+
+"Will you come with me, Monsieur d'Apreval?"
+
+He bowed with a smile, and with all the gallantry of former years:
+
+"I will go wherever you go," he replied.
+
+"Very well, then, go and get a sunstroke," Monsieur de Cadour said; and
+he went back to the Hotel des Bains to lie down for an hour or two.
+
+As soon as they were alone, the old lady and her old companion set off,
+and she said to him in a low voice, squeezing his hand:
+
+"At last! at last!"
+
+"You are mad," he said in a whisper.  "I assure you that you are mad.
+Think of the risk you are running.  If that man--"
+
+She started.
+
+"Oh!  Henri, do not say that man, when you are speaking of him."
+
+"Very well," he said abruptly, "if our son guesses anything, if he has
+any suspicions, he will have you, he will have us both in his power.
+You have got on without seeing him for the last forty years.  What is the
+matter with you to-day?"
+
+They had been going up the long street that leads from the sea to the
+town, and now they turned to the right, to go to Etretat.  The white road
+stretched in front of him, then under a blaze of brilliant sunshine, so
+they went on slowly in the burning heat.  She had taken her old friend's
+arm, and was looking straight in front of her, with a fixed and haunted
+gaze, and at last she said:
+
+"And so you have not seen him again, either?"
+
+"No, never."
+
+"Is it possible?"
+
+"My dear friend, do not let us begin that discussion again.  I have a
+wife and children and you have a husband, so we both of us have much to
+fear from other people's opinion."
+
+She did not reply; she was thinking of her long past youth and of many
+sad things that had occurred.  How well she recalled all the details of
+their early friendship, his smiles, the way he used to linger, in order
+to watch her until she was indoors.  What happy days they were, the only
+really delicious days she had ever enjoyed, and how quickly they were
+over!
+
+And then--her discovery--of the penalty she paid!  What anguish!
+
+Of that journey to the South, that long journey, her sufferings, her
+constant terror, that secluded life in the small, solitary house on the
+shores of the Mediterranean, at the bottom of a garden, which she did not
+venture to leave.  How well she remembered those long days which she
+spent lying under an orange tree, looking up at the round, red fruit,
+amid the green leaves.  How she used to long to go out, as far as the
+sea, whose fresh breezes came to her over the wall, and whose small waves
+she could hear lapping on the beach.  She dreamed of its immense blue
+expanse sparkling under the sun, with the white sails of the small
+vessels, and a mountain on the horizon.  But she did not dare to go
+outside the gate.  Suppose anybody had recognized her!
+
+And those days of waiting, those last days of misery and expectation!
+The impending suffering, and then that terrible night!  What misery she
+had endured, and what a night it was!  How she had groaned and screamed!
+She could still see the pale face of her lover, who kissed her hand every
+moment, and the clean-shaven face of the doctor and the nurse's white
+cap.
+
+And what she felt when she heard the child's feeble cries, that wail,
+that first effort of a human's voice!
+
+And the next day! the next day! the only day of her life on which she had
+seen and kissed her son; for, from that time, she had never even caught a
+glimpse of him.
+
+And what a long, void existence hers had been since then, with the
+thought of that child always, always floating before her.  She had never
+seen her son, that little creature that had been part of herself, even
+once since then; they had taken him from her, carried him awav, and had
+hidden him.  All she knew was that he had been brought up by some
+peasants in Normandy, that he had become a peasant himself, had married
+well, and that his father, whose name he did not know, had settled a
+handsome sum of money on him.
+
+How often during the last forty years had she wished to go and see him
+and to embrace him!  She could not imagine to herself that he had grown!
+She always thought of that small human atom which she had held in her
+arms and pressed to her bosom for a day.
+
+How often she had said to M. d'Apreval: "I cannot bear it any longer;
+I must go and see him."
+
+But he had always stopped her and kept her from going.  She would be
+unable to restrain and to master herself; their son would guess it and
+take advantage of her, blackmail her; she would be lost.
+
+"What is he like?" she said.
+
+"I do not know.  I have not seen him again, either."
+
+"Is it possible?  To have a son and not to know him; to be afraid of him
+and to reject him as if he were a disgrace!  It is horrible."
+
+They went along the dusty road, overcome by the scorching sun, and
+continually ascending that interminable hill.
+
+"One might take it for a punishment," she continued; "I have never had
+another child, and I could no longer resist the longing to see him, which
+has possessed me for forty years.  You men cannot understand that.  You
+must remember that I shall not live much longer, and suppose I should
+never see him, never have seen him!  .  .  .  Is it possible?  How could
+I wait so long?  I have thought about him every day since, and what a
+terrible existence mine has been!  I have never awakened, never, do you
+understand, without my first thoughts being of him, of my child.  How is
+he?  Oh, how guilty I feel toward him!  Ought one to fear what the world
+may say in a case like this?  I ought to have left everything to go after
+him, to bring him up and to show my love for him.  I should certainly
+have been much happier, but I did not dare, I was a coward.  How I have
+suffered!  Oh, how those poor, abandoned children must hate their
+mothers!"
+
+She stopped suddenly, for she was choked by her sobs.  The whole valley
+was deserted and silent in the dazzling light and the overwhelming heat,
+and only the grasshoppers uttered their shrill, continuous chirp among
+the sparse yellow grass on both sides of the road.
+
+"Sit down a little," he said.
+
+She allowed herself to be led to the side of the ditch and sank down with
+her face in her hands.  Her white hair, which hung in curls on both sides
+of her face, had become tangled.  She wept, overcome by profound grief,
+while he stood facing her, uneasy and not knowing what to say, and he
+merely murmured: "Come, take courage."
+
+She got up.
+
+"I will," she said, and wiping her eyes, she began to walk again with the
+uncertain step of an elderly woman.
+
+A little farther on the road passed beneath a clump of trees, which hid a
+few houses, and they could distinguish the vibrating and regular blows of
+a blacksmith's hammer on the anvil; and presently they saw a wagon
+standing on the right side of the road in front of a low cottage, and two
+men shoeing a horse under a shed.
+
+Monsieur d' Apreval went up to them.
+
+"Where is Pierre Benedict's farm?" he asked.
+
+"Take the road to the left, close to the inn, and then go straight on;
+it is the third house past Poret's.  There is a small spruce fir close to
+the gate; you cannot make a mistake."
+
+They turned to the left.  She was walking very slowly now, her legs
+threatened to give way, and her heart was beating so violently that she
+felt as if she should suffocate, while at every step she murmured, as if
+in prayer:
+
+"Oh!  Heaven!  Heaven!"
+
+Monsieur d'Apreval, who was also nervous and rather pale, said to her
+somewhat gruffly:
+
+"If you cannot manage to control your feelings, you will betray yourself
+at once.  Do try and restrain yourself."
+
+"How can I?" she replied.  "My child!  When I think that I am going to
+see my child."
+
+They were going along one of those narrow country lanes between
+farmyards, that are concealed beneath a double row of beech trees at
+either side of the ditches, and suddenly they found themselves in front
+of a gate, beside which there was a young spruce fir.
+
+"This is it," he said.
+
+She stopped suddenly and looked about her.  The courtyard, which was
+planted with apple trees, was large and extended as far as the small
+thatched dwelling house.  On the opposite side were the stable, the barn,
+the cow house and the poultry house, while the gig, the wagon and the
+manure cart were under a slated outhouse.  Four calves were grazing under
+the shade of the trees and black hens were wandering all about the
+enclosure.
+
+All was perfectly still; the house door was open, but nobody was to be
+seen, and so they went in, when immediately a large black dog came out of
+a barrel that was standing under a pear tree, and began to bark
+furiously.
+
+There were four bee-hives on boards against the wall of the house.
+
+Monsieur d'Apreval stood outside and called out:
+
+"Is anybody at home?"
+
+Then a child appeared, a little girl of about ten, dressed in a chemise
+and a linen, petticoat, with dirty, bare legs and a timid and cunning
+look.  She remained standing in the doorway, as if to prevent any one
+going in.
+
+"What do you want?" she asked.
+
+"Is your father in?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"And your mother?"
+
+"Gone after the cows."
+
+"Will she be back soon?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+Then suddenly the lady, as if she feared that her companion might force
+her to return, said quickly:
+
+"I shall not go without having seen him."
+
+"We will wait for him, my dear friend."
+
+As they turned away, they saw a peasant woman coming toward the house,
+carrying two tin pails, which appeared to be heavy and which glistened
+brightly in the sunlight.
+
+She limped with her right leg, and in her brown knitted jacket, that was
+faded by the sun and washed out by the rain, she looked like a poor,
+wretched, dirty servant.
+
+"Here is mamma," the child said.
+
+When she got close to the house, she looked at the strangers angrily and
+suspiciously, and then she went in, as if she had not seen them.  She
+looked old and had a hard, yellow, wrinkled face, one of those wooden
+faces that country people so often have.
+
+Monsieur d'Apreval called her back.
+
+"I beg your pardon, madame, but we came in to know whether you could sell
+us two glasses of milk."
+
+She was grumbling when she reappeared in the door, after putting down her
+pails.
+
+"I don't sell milk," she replied.
+
+"We are very thirsty," he said, "and madame is very tired.  Can we not
+get something to drink?"
+
+The peasant woman gave them an uneasy and cunning glance and then she
+made up her mind.
+
+"As you are here, I will give you some," she said, going into the house,
+and almost immediately the child came out and brought two chairs, which
+she placed under an apple tree, and then the mother, in turn, brought out
+two bowls of foaming milk, which she gave to the visitors.  She did not
+return to the house, however, but remained standing near them, as if to
+watch them and to find out for what purpose they had come there.
+
+"You have come from Fecamp?" she said.
+
+"Yes," Monsieur d'Apreval replied, "we are staying at Fecamp for the
+summer."
+
+And then, after a short silence, he continued:
+
+"Have you any fowls you could sell us every week?"
+
+The woman hesitated for a moment and then replied:
+
+"Yes, I think I have.  I suppose you want young ones?"
+
+"Yes, of course."
+
+"'What do you pay for them in the market?"
+
+D'Apreval, who had not the least idea, turned to his companion:
+
+"What are you paying for poultry in Fecamp, my dear lady?"
+
+"Four francs and four francs fifty centimes," she said, her eyes full of
+tears, while the farmer's wife, who was looking at her askance, asked in
+much surprise
+
+"Is the lady ill, as she is crying?"
+
+He did not know what to say, and replied with some hesitation:
+
+"No--no--but she lost her watch as we came along, a very handsome watch,
+and that troubles her.  If anybody should find it, please let us know."
+
+Mother Benedict did not reply, as she thought it a very equivocal sort of
+answer, but suddenly she exclaimed:
+
+"Oh, here is my husband!"
+
+She was the only one who had seen him, as she was facing the gate.
+D'Apreval started and Madame de Cadour nearly fell as she turned round
+suddenly on her chair.
+
+A man bent nearly double, and out of breath, stood there, ten-yards from
+them, dragging a cow at the end of a rope.  Without taking any notice of
+the visitors, he said:
+
+"Confound it!  What a brute!"
+
+And he went past them and disappeared in the cow house.
+
+Her tears had dried quickly as she sat there startled, without a word and
+with the one thought in her mind, that this was her son, and D'Apreval,
+whom the same thought had struck very unpleasantly, said in an agitated
+voice:
+
+"Is this Monsieur Benedict?"
+
+"Who told you his name?" the wife asked, still rather suspiciously.
+
+"The blacksmith at the corner of the highroad," he replied, and then they
+were all silent, with their eyes fixed on the door of the cow house,
+which formed a sort of black hole in the wall of the building.  Nothing
+could be seen inside, but they heard a vague noise, movements and
+footsteps and the sound of hoofs, which were deadened by the straw on the
+floor, and soon the man reappeared in the door, wiping his forehead, and
+came toward the house with long, slow strides.  He passed the strangers
+without seeming to notice them and said to his wife:
+
+"Go and draw me a jug of cider; I am very thirsty."
+
+Then he went back into the house, while his wife went into the cellar and
+left the two Parisians alone.
+
+"Let us go, let us go, Henri," Madame de Cadour said, nearly distracted
+with grief, and so d'Apreval took her by the arm, helped her to rise, and
+sustaining her with all his strength, for he felt that she was nearly
+fainting, he led her out, after throwing five francs on one of the
+chairs.
+
+As soon as they were outside the gate, she began to sob and said, shaking
+with grief:
+
+"Oh! oh! is that what you have made of him?"
+
+He was very pale and replied coldly:
+
+"I did what I could.  His farm is worth eighty thousand francs, and that
+is more than most of the sons of the middle classes have."
+
+They returned slowly, without speaking a word.  She was still crying; the
+tears ran down her cheeks continually for a time, but by degrees they
+stopped, and they went back to Fecamp, where they found Monsieur de
+Cadour waiting dinner for them.  As soon as he saw them, he began to
+laugh and exclaimed:
+
+"So my wife has had a sunstroke, and I am very glad of it.  I really
+think she has lost her head for some time past!"
+
+Neither of them replied, and when the husband asked them, rubbing his
+hands:
+
+"Well, I hope that, at least, you have had a pleasant walk?"
+
+Monsieur d'Apreval replied:
+
+"A delightful walk, I assure you; perfectly delightful."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE MAISON TELLIER
+
+They went there every evening about eleven o'clock, just as they would go
+to the club.  Six or eight of them; always the same set, not fast men,
+but respectable tradesmen, and young men in government or some other
+employ, and they would drink their Chartreuse, and laugh with the girls,
+or else talk seriously with Madame Tellier, whom everybody respected, and
+then they would go home at twelve o'clock!  The younger men would
+sometimes stay later.
+
+It was a small, comfortable house painted yellow, at the corner of a
+street behind Saint Etienne's Church, and from the windows one could see
+the docks full of ships being unloaded, the big salt marsh, and, rising
+beyond it, the Virgin's Hill with its old gray chapel.
+
+Madame Tellier, who came of a respectable family of peasant proprietors
+in the Department of the Eure, had taken up her profession, just as she
+would have become a milliner or dressmaker.  The prejudice which is so
+violent and deeply rooted in large towns, does not exist in the country
+places in Normandy.  The peasant says:
+
+"It is a paying-business," and he sends his daughter to keep an
+establishment of this character just as he would send her to keep a
+girls' school.
+
+She had inherited the house from an old uncle, to whom it had belonged.
+Monsieur and Madame Tellier, who had formerly been innkeepers near
+Yvetot, had immediately sold their house, as they thought that the
+business at Fecamp was more profitable, and they arrived one fine morning
+to assume the direction of the enterprise, which was declining on account
+of the absence of the proprietors.  They were good people enough in their
+way, and soon made themselves liked by their staff and their neighbors.
+
+Monsieur died of apoplexy two years later, for as the new place kept him
+in idleness and without any exercise, he had grown excessively stout, and
+his health had suffered.  Since she had been a widow, all the frequenters
+of the establishment made much of her; but people said that, personally,
+she was quite virtuous, and even the girls in the house could not
+discover anything against her.  She was tall, stout and affable, and her
+complexion, which had become pale in the dimness of her house, the
+shutters of which were scarcely ever opened, shone as if it had been
+varnished.  She had a fringe of curly false hair, which gave her a
+juvenile look, that contrasted strongly with the ripeness of her figure.
+She was always smiling and cheerful, and was fond of a joke, but there
+was a shade of reserve about her, which her occupation had not quite made
+her lose.  Coarse words always shocked her, and when any young fellow who
+had been badly brought up called her establishment a hard name, she was
+angry and disgusted.
+
+In a word, she had a refined mind, and although she treated her women as
+friends, yet she very frequently used to say that "she and they were not
+made of the same stuff."
+
+Sometimes during the week she would hire a carriage and take some of her
+girls into the country, where they used to enjoy themselves on the grass
+by the side of the little river.  They were like a lot of girls let out
+from school, and would run races and play childish games.  They had a
+cold dinner on the grass, and drank cider, and went home at night with a
+delicious feeling of fatigue, and in the carriage they kissed Madame'
+Tellier as their kind mother, who was full of goodness and complaisance.
+
+The house had two entrances.  At the corner there was a sort of tap-room,
+which sailors and the lower orders frequented at night, and she had two
+girls whose special duty it was to wait on them with the assistance of
+Frederic, a short, light-haired, beardless fellow, as strong as a horse.
+They set the half bottles of wine and the jugs of beer on the shaky
+marble tables before the customers, and then urged the men to drink.
+
+The three other girls--there were only five of them--formed a kind of
+aristocracy, and they remained with the company on the first floor,
+unless they were wanted downstairs and there was nobody on the first
+floor.  The salon de Jupiter, where the tradesmen used to meet, was
+papered in blue, and embellished with a large drawing representing Leda
+and the swan.  The room was reached by a winding staircase, through a
+narrow door opening on the street, and above this door a lantern inclosed
+in wire, such as one still sees in some towns, at the foot of the shrine
+of some saint, burned all night long.
+
+The house, which was old and damp, smelled slightly of mildew.  At times
+there was an odor of eau de Cologne in the passages, or sometimes from a
+half-open door downstairs the noisy mirth of the common men sitting and
+drinking rose to the first floor, much to the disgust of the gentlemen
+who were there.  Madame Tellier, who was on friendly terms with her
+customers, did not leave the room, and took much interest in what was
+going on in the town, and they regularly told her all the news.  Her
+serious conversation was a change from the ceaseless chatter of the three
+women; it was a rest from the obscene jokes of those stout individuals
+who every evening indulged in the commonplace debauchery of drinking a
+glass of liqueur in company with common women.
+
+The names of the girls on the first floor were Fernande, Raphaele, and
+Rosa, the Jade.  As the staff was limited, madame had endeavored that
+each member of it should be a pattern, an epitome of the feminine type,
+so that every customer might find as nearly as possible the realization
+of his ideal.  Fernande represented the handsome blonde; she was very
+tall, rather fat, and lazy; a country girl, who could not get rid of her
+freckles, and whose short, light, almost colorless, tow-like hair, like
+combed-out hemp, barely covered her head.
+
+Raphaele, who came from Marseilles, played the indispensable part of the
+handsome Jewess, and was thin, with high cheekbones, which were covered
+with rouge, and black hair covered with pomatum, which curled on her
+forehead.  Her eyes would have been handsome, if the right one had not
+had a speck in it.  Her Roman nose came down over a square jaw, where two
+false upper teeth contrasted strangely with the bad color of the rest.
+
+Rosa was a little roll of fat, nearly all body, with very short legs, and
+from morning till night she sang songs, which were alternately risque or
+sentimental, in a harsh voice; told silly, interminable tales, and only
+stopped talking in order to eat, and left off eating in order to talk;
+she was never still, and was active as a squirrel, in spite of her
+embonpoint and her short legs; her laugh, which was a torrent of shrill
+cries, resounded here and there, ceaselessly, in a bedroom, in the loft,
+in the cafe, everywhere, and all about nothing.
+
+The two women on the ground floor, Lodise, who was nicknamed La Cocotte,
+and Flora, whom they called Balancoise, because she limped a little, the
+former always dressed as the Goddess of Liberty, with a tri-colored sash,
+and the other as a Spanish woman, with a string of copper coins in her
+carroty hair, which jingled at every uneven step, looked like cooks
+dressed up for the carnival.  They were like all other women of the lower
+orders, neither uglier nor better looking than they usually are.
+
+They looked just like servants at an inn, and were generally called "the
+two pumps."
+
+A jealous peace, which was, however, very rarely disturbed, reigned among
+these five women, thanks to Madame Tellier's conciliatory wisdom, and to
+her constant good humor, and the establishment, which was the only one of
+the kind in the little town, was very much frequented.  Madame Tellier
+had succeeded in giving it such a respectable appearance, she was so
+amiable and obliging to everybody, her good heart was so well known, that
+she was treated with a certain amount of consideration.  The regular
+customers spent money on her, and were delighted when she was especially
+friendly toward them, and when they met during the day, they would say:
+"Until this evening, you know where," just as men say: "At the club,
+after dinner."  In a word, Madame Tellier's house was somewhere to go to,
+and they very rarely missed their daily meetings there.
+
+One evening toward the end of May, the first arrival, Monsieur Poulin,
+who was a timber merchant, and had been mayor, found the door shut.  The
+lantern behind the grating was not alight; there was not a sound in the
+house; everything seemed dead.  He knocked, gently at first, but then
+more loudly, but nobody answered the door.  Then he went slowly up the
+street, and when he got to the market place he met Monsieur Duvert, the
+gunmaker, who was going to the same place, so they went back together,
+but did not meet with any better success.  But suddenly they heard a loud
+noise, close to them, and on going round the house, they saw a number of
+English and French sailors, who were hammering at the closed shutters of
+the taproom with their fists.
+
+The two tradesmen immediately made their escape, but a low "Pst!" stopped
+them; it was Monsieur Tournevau, the fish curer, who had recognized them,
+and was trying to attract their attention.  They told him what had
+happened, and he was all the more annoyed, as he was a married man and
+father of a family, and only went on Saturdays.  That was his regular
+evening, and now he should be deprived of this dissipation for the whole
+week.
+
+The three men went as far as the quay together, and on the way they met
+young Monsieur Philippe, the banker's son, who frequented the place
+regularly, and Monsieur Pinipesse, the collector, and they all returned
+to the Rue aux Juifs together, to make a last attempt.  But the
+exasperated sailors were besieging the house, throwing stones at the
+shutters, and shouting, and the five first-floor customers went away as
+quickly as possible, and walked aimlessly about the streets.
+
+Presently they met Monsieur Dupuis, the insurance agent, and then
+Monsieur Vasse, the Judge of the Tribunal of Commerce, and they took a
+long walk, going to the pier first of all, where they sat down in a row
+on the granite parapet and watched the rising tide, and when the
+promenaders had sat there for some time, Monsieur Tournevau said:
+
+"This is not very amusing!"
+
+"Decidedly not," Monsieur Pinipesse replied, and they started off to walk
+again.
+
+After going through the street alongside the hill, they returned over the
+wooden bridge which crosses the Retenue, passed close to the railway, and
+came out again on the market place, when, suddenly, a quarrel arose
+between Monsieur Pinipesse, the collector, and Monsieur Tournevau about
+an edible mushroom which one of them declared he had found in the
+neighborhood.
+
+As they were out of temper already from having nothing to do, they would
+very probably have come to blows, if the others had not interfered.
+Monsieur Pinipesse went off furious, and soon another altercation arose
+between the ex-mayor, Monsieur Poulin, and Monsieur Dupuis, the insurance
+agent, on the subject of the tax collector's salary and the profits which
+he might make.  Insulting remarks were freely passing between them, when
+a torrent of formidable cries was heard, and the body of sailors, who
+were tired of waiting so long outside a closed house, came into the
+square.  They were walking arm in arm, two and two, and formed a long
+procession, and were shouting furiously.  The townsmen hid themselves in
+a doorway, and the yelling crew disappeared in the direction of the
+abbey.  For a long time they still heard the noise, which diminished like
+a storm in the distance, and then silence was restored.  Monsieur Poulin
+and Monsieur Dupuis, who were angry with each other, went in different
+directions, without wishing each other good-by.
+
+The other four set off again, and instinctively went in the direction of
+Madame Tellier's establishment, which was still closed, silent,
+impenetrable.  A quiet, but obstinate drunken man was knocking at the
+door of the lower room, antd then stopped and called Frederic, in a low
+voice, but finding that he got no answer, he sat down on the doorstep,
+and waited the course of events.
+
+The others were just going to retire, when the noisy band of sailors
+reappeared at the end of the street.  The French sailors were shouting
+the "Marseillaise," and the Englishmen "Rule Britannia."  There was a
+general lurching against the wall, and then the drunken fellows went on
+their way toward the quay, where a fight broke out between the two
+nations, in the course of which an Englishman had his arm broken and a
+Frenchman his nose split.
+
+The drunken man who had waited outside the door, was crying by that time,
+as drunken men and children cry when they are vexed, and the others went
+away.  By degrees, calm was restored in the noisy town; here and there,
+at moments, the distant sound of voices could be heard, and then died
+away in the distance.
+
+One man only was still wandering about, Monsieur Tournevau, the fish
+curer, who was annoyed at having to wait until the following Saturday,
+and he hoped something would turn up, he did not know what; but he was
+exasperated at the police for thus allowing an establishment of such
+public utility, which they had under their control, to be closed.
+
+He went back to it and examined the walls, trying to find out some
+reason, and on the shutter he saw a notice stuck up.  He struck a wax
+match and read the following, in a large, uneven hand: "Closed on account
+of the Confirmation."
+
+Then he went away, as he saw it was useless to remain, and left the
+drunken man lying on the pavement fast asleep, outside that inhospitable
+door.
+
+The next day, all the regular customers, one after the other, found some
+reason for going through the street, with a bundle of papers under their
+arm to keep them in countenance, and with a furtive glance they all read
+that mysterious notice:
+
+               "Closed on account of the Confirmation."
+
+
+PART II
+
+Madame Tellier had a brother, who was a carpenter in their native place,
+Virville, in the Department of Eure.  When she still kept the inn at
+Yvetot, she had stood godmother to that brother's daughter, who had
+received the name of Constance--Constance Rivet; she herself being a
+Rivet on her father's side.  The carpenter, who knew that his sister was
+in a good position, did not lose sight of her, although they did not meet
+often, for they were both kept at home by their occupations, and lived a
+long way from each other.  But as the girl was twelve years old, and
+going to be confirmed, he seized that opportunity to write to his sister,
+asking her to come and be present at the ceremony.  Their old parents
+were dead, and as she could not well refuse her goddaughter, she accepted
+the invitation.  Her brother, whose name was Joseph, hoped that by dint
+of showing his sister attention, she might be induced to make her will in
+the girl's favor, as she had no children of her own.
+
+His sister's occupation did not trouble his scruples in the least, and,
+besides, nobody knew anything about it at Virville.  When they spoke of
+her, they only said: "Madame Tellier is living at Fecamp," which might
+mean that she was living on her own private income.  It was quite twenty
+leagues from Fecamp to Virville, and for a peasant, twenty leagues on
+land is as long a journey as crossing the ocean would be to city people.
+The people at Virville had never been further than Rouen, and nothing
+attracted the people from Fecamp to a village of five hundred houses in
+the middle of a plain, and situated in another department; at any rate,
+nothing was known about her business.
+
+But the Confirmation was coming on, and Madame Tellier was in great
+embarrassment.  She had no substitute, and did not at all care to leave
+her house, even for a day; for all the rivalries between the girls
+upstairs and those downstairs would infallibly break out.  No doubt
+Frederic would get drunk, and when he was in that state, he would knock
+anybody down for a mere word.  At last, however, she made up her mind to
+take them all with her, with the exception of the man, to whom she gave a
+holiday until the next day but one.
+
+When she asked her brother, he made no objection, but undertook to put
+them all up for a night, and so on Saturday morning the eight-o'clock
+express carried off Madame Tellier and her companions in a second-class
+carriage.  As far as Beuzeville they were alone, and chattered like
+magpies, but at that station a couple got in.  The man, an old peasant,
+dressed in a blue blouse with a turned-down collar, wide sleeves tight at
+the wrist, ornamented with white embroidery, wearing an old high hat with
+long nap, held an enormous green umbrella in one hand, and a large basket
+in the other, from which the heads of three frightened ducks protruded.
+The woman, who sat up stiffly in her rustic finery, had a face like a
+fowl, with a nose that was as pointed as a bill.  She sat down opposite
+her husband and did not stir, as she was startled at finding herself in
+such smart company.
+
+There was certainly an array of striking colors in the carriage.  Madame
+Tellier was dressed in blue silk from head to foot, and had on a dazzling
+red imitation French cashmere shawl.  Fernande was puffing in a Scotch
+plaid dress, of which her companions had laced the bodice as tight as
+they could, forcing up her full bust, that was continually heaving up and
+down.  Raphaele, with a bonnet covered with feathers, so that it looked
+like a bird's nest, had on a lilac dress with gold spots on it, and there
+was something Oriental about it that suited her Jewish face.  Rosa had on
+a pink skirt with largo flounces, and looked like a very fat child, an
+obese dwarf; while the two Pumps looked as if they had cut their dresses
+out of old flowered curtains dating from the Restoration.
+
+As soon as they were no longer alone in the compartment, the ladies put
+on staid looks, and began to talk of subjects which might give others a
+high opinion of them.  But at Bolbeck a gentleman with light whiskers, a
+gold chain, and wearing two or three rings, got in, and put several
+parcels wrapped in oilcloth on the rack over his head.  He looked
+inclined for a joke, and seemed a good-hearted fellow.
+
+"Are you ladies changing your quarters?" he said, and that question
+embarrassed them all considerably.  Madame Tellier, however, quickly
+regained her composure, and said sharply, to avenge the honor of her
+corps:
+
+"I think you might try and be polite!"
+
+He excused himself, and said: "I beg your pardon, I ought to have said
+your nunnery."
+
+She could not think of a retort, so, perhaps thinking she had said
+enough, madame gave him a dignified bow and compressed her lips.
+
+Then the gentleman, who was sitting between Rosa and the old peasant,
+began to wink knowingly at the ducks whose heads were sticking out of the
+basket, and when he felt that he had fixed the attention of his public,
+he began to tickle them under the bills and spoke funnily to them to make
+the company smile.
+
+"We have left our little pond, quack!  quack!  to make the acquaintance
+of the little spit, qu-ack! qu-ack!"
+
+The unfortunate creatures turned their necks away, to avoid his caresses,
+and made desperate efforts to get out of their wicker prison, and then,
+suddenly, all at once, uttered the most lamentable quacks of distress.
+The women exploded with laughter.  They leaned forward and pushed each
+other, so as to see better; they were very much interested in the ducks,
+and the gentleman redoubled his airs, his wit and his teasing.
+
+Rosa joined in, and leaning over her neighbor's legs, she kissed the
+three animals on the head, and immediately all the girls wanted to kiss
+them, in turn, and as they did so the gentleman took them on his knee,
+jumped them up and down and pinched their arms.  The two peasants, who
+were even in greater consternation than their poultry, rolled their eyes
+as if they were possessed, without venturing to move, and their old
+wrinkled faces had not a smile, not a twitch.
+
+Then the gentleman, who was a commercial traveller, offered the ladies
+suspenders by way of a joke, and taking up one of his packages, he opened
+it.  It was a joke, for the parcel contained garters.  There were blue
+silk, pink silk, red silk, violet silk, mauve silk garters, and the
+buckles were made of two gilt metal cupids embracing each other.  The
+girls uttered exclamations of delight and looked at them with that
+gravity natural to all women when they are considering an article of
+dress.  They consulted one another by their looks or in a whisper, and
+replied in the same manner, and Madame Tellier was longingly handling a
+pair of orange garters that were broader and more imposing looking than
+the rest; really fit for the mistress of such an establishment.
+
+The gentleman waited, for he had an idea.
+
+"Come, my kittens," he said, "you must try them on."
+
+There was a torrent of exclamations, and they squeezed their petticoats
+between their legs, but he quietly waited his time and said: "Well, if
+you will not try them on I shall pack them up again."
+
+And he added cunningly:.  "I offer any pair they like to those who will
+try them on."
+
+But they would not, and sat up very straight and looked dignified.
+
+But the two Pumps looked so distressed that he renewed his offer to them,
+and Flora, especially, visibly hesitated, and he insisted: "Come, my
+dear, a little courage!  Just look at that lilac pair; it will suit your
+dress admirably."
+
+That decided her, and pulling up her dress she showed a thick leg fit for
+a milkmaid, in a badly fitting, coarse stocking.  The commercial
+traveller stooped down and fastened the garter.  When he had done this,
+he gave her the lilac pair and asked: "Who next?"
+
+"I! I!" they all shouted at once, and he began on Rosa, who uncovered a
+shapeless, round thing without any ankle, a regular "sausage of a leg,"
+as Raphaele used to say.
+
+Lastly, Madame Tellier herself put out her leg, a handsome, muscular
+Norman leg, and in his surprise and pleasure, the commercial traveller
+gallantly took off his hat to salute that master calf, like a true French
+cavalier.
+
+The two peasants, who were speechless from surprise, glanced sideways out
+of the corner of one eye, and they looked so exactly like fowls that the
+man with the light whiskers, when he sat up, said: "Co--co--ri--co" under
+their very noses, and that gave rise to another storm of amusement.
+
+The old people got out at Motteville with their basket, their ducks and
+their umbrella, and they heard the woman say to her husband as they went
+away:
+
+"They are no good and are off to that cursed place, Paris."
+
+The funny commercial traveller himself got out at Rouen, after behaving
+so coarsely that Madame Tellier was obliged sharply to put him in his
+right place, and she added, as a moral: "This will teach us not to talk
+to the first comer."
+
+At Oissel they changed trains, and at a little station further on
+Monsieur Joseph Rivet was waiting for them with a large cart with a
+number of chairs in it, drawn by a white horse.
+
+The carpenter politely kissed all the ladies and then helped them into
+his conveyance.
+
+Three of them sat on three chairs at the back, Raphaele, Madame Tellier
+and her brother on the three chairs in front, while Rosa, who had no
+seat, settled herself as comfortably as she could on tall Fernande's
+knees, and then they set off.
+
+But the horse's jerky trot shook the cart so terribly that the chairs
+began to dance and threw the travellers about, to the right and to the
+left, as if they were dancing puppets, which made them scream and make
+horrible grimaces.
+
+They clung on to the sides of the vehicle, their bonnets fell on their
+backs, over their faces and on their shoulders, and the white horse went
+on stretching out his head and holding out his little hairless tail like
+a rat's, with which he whisked his buttocks from time to time.
+
+Joseph Rivet, with one leg on the shafts and the other doubled under him,
+held the reins with his elbows very high, and kept uttering a kind of
+clucking sound, which made the horse prick up its ears and go faster.
+
+The green country extended on either side of the road, and here and there
+the colza in flower presented a waving expanse of yellow, from which
+arose a strong, wholesome, sweet and penetrating odor, which the wind
+carried to some distance.
+
+The cornflowers showed their little blue heads amid the rye, and the
+women wanted to pick them, but Monsieur Rivet refused to stop.
+
+Then, sometimes, a whole field appeared to be covered with blood, so
+thick were the poppies, and the cart, which looked as if it were filled
+with flowers of more brilliant hue, jogged on through fields bright with
+wild flowers, and disappeared behind the trees of a farm, only to
+reappear and to go on again through the yellow or green standing crops,
+which were studded with red or blue.
+
+One o'clock struck as they drove up to the carpenter's door.  They were
+tired out and pale with hunger, as they had eaten nothing since they left
+home.  Madame Rivet ran out and made them alight, one after another, and
+kissed them as soon as they were on the ground, and she seemed as if she
+would never tire of kissing her sister-in-law, whom she apparently wanted
+to monopolize.  They had lunch in the workshop, which had been cleared
+out for the next day's dinner.
+
+The capital omelet, followed by boiled chitterlings and washed down with
+good hard cider, made them all feel comfortable.
+
+Rivet had taken a glass so that he might drink with them, and his wife
+cooked, waited on them, brought in the dishes, took them out and asked
+each of them in a whisper whether they had everything they wanted.  A
+number of boards standing against the walls and heaps of shavings that
+had been swept into the corners gave out a smell of planed wood, a smell
+of a carpenter's shop, that resinous odor which penetrates to the lungs.
+
+They wanted to see the little girl, but she had gone to church and would
+not be back again until evening, so they all went out for a stroll in the
+country.
+
+It was a small village, through which the highroad passed.  Ten or a
+dozen houses on either side of the single street were inhabited by the
+butcher, the grocer, the carpenter, the innkeeper, the shoemaker and the
+baker.
+
+The church was at the end of the street and was surrounded by a small
+churchyard, and four immense lime-trees, which stood just outside the
+porch, shaded it completely.  It was built of flint, in no particular
+style, and had a slate-roofed steeple.  When you got past it, you were
+again in the open country, which was varied here and there by clumps of
+trees which hid the homesteads.
+
+Rivet had given his arm to his sister, out of politeness, although he was
+in his working clothes, and was walking with her in a dignified manner.
+His wife, who was overwhelmed by Raphaele's gold-striped dress, walked
+between her and Fernande, and roly-poly Rosa was trotting behind with
+Louise and Flora, the Seesaw, who was limping along, quite tired out.
+
+The inhabitants came to their doors, the children left off playing, and a
+window curtain would be raised, so as to show a muslin cap, while an old
+woman with a crutch, who was almost blind, crossed herself as if it were
+a religious procession, and they all gazed for a long time at those
+handsome ladies from town, who had come so far to be present at the
+confirmation of Joseph Rivet's little girl, and the carpenter rose very
+much in the public estimation.
+
+As they passed the church they heard some children singing.  Little
+shrill voices were singing a hymn, but Madame Tellier would not let them
+go in, for fear of disturbing the little cherubs.
+
+After the walk, during which Joseph Rivet enumerated the principal landed
+proprietors, spoke about the yield of the land and the productiveness of
+the cows and sheep, he took his tribe of women home and installed them in
+his house, and as it was very small, they had to put them into the rooms,
+two and two.
+
+Just for once Rivet would sleep in the workshop on the shavings; his wife
+was to share her bed with her sister-in-law, and Fernande and Raphaele
+were to sleep together in the next room.  Louise and Flora were put into
+the kitchen, where they had a mattress on the floor, and Rosa had a
+little dark cupboard to herself at the top of the stairs, close to the
+loft, where the candidate for confirmation was to sleep.
+
+When the little girl came in she was overwhelmed with kisses; all the
+women wished to caress her with that need of tender expansion, that habit
+of professional affection which had made them kiss the ducks in the
+railway carriage.
+
+They each of them took her on their knees, stroked her soft, light hair
+and pressed her in their arms with vehement and spontaneous outbursts of
+affection, and the child, who was very good and religious, bore it all
+patiently.
+
+As the day had been a fatiguing one for everybody, they all went to bed
+soon after dinner.  The whole village was wrapped in that perfect
+stillness of the country, which is almost like a religious silence, and
+the girls, who were accustomed to the noisy evenings of their
+establishment, felt rather impressed by the perfect repose of the
+sleeping village, and they shivered, not with cold, but with those little
+shivers of loneliness which come over uneasy and troubled hearts.
+
+As soon as they were in bed, two and two together, they clasped each
+other in their arms, as if to protect themselves against this feeling of
+the calm and profound slumber of the earth.  But Rosa, who was alone in
+her little dark cupboard, felt a vague and painful emotion come over her.
+
+She was tossing about in bed, unable to get to sleep, when she heard the
+faint sobs of a crying child close to her head, through the partition.
+She was frightened, and called out, and was answered by a weak voice,
+broken by sobs.  It was the little girl, who was always used to sleeping
+in her mother's room, and who was afraid in her small attic.
+
+Rosa was delighted, got up softly so as not to awaken any one, and went
+and fetched the child.  She took her into her warm bed, kissed her and
+pressed her to her bosom, lavished exaggerated manifestations of
+tenderness on her, and at last grew calmer herself and went to sleep.
+And till morning the candidate for confirmation slept with her head on
+Rosa's bosom.
+
+At five o'clock the little church bell, ringing the Angelus, woke the
+women, who usually slept the whole morning long.
+
+The villagers were up already, and the women went busily from house to
+house, carefully bringing short, starched muslin dresses or very long wax
+tapers tied in the middle with a bow of silk fringed with gold, and with
+dents in the wax for the fingers.
+
+The sun was already high in the blue sky, which still had a rosy tint
+toward the horizon, like a faint remaining trace of dawn.  Families of
+fowls were walking about outside the houses, and here and there a black
+cock, with a glistening breast, raised his head, which was crowned by his
+red comb, flapped his wings and uttered his shrill crow, which the other
+cocks repeated.
+
+Vehicles of all sorts came from neighboring parishes, stopping at the
+different houses, and tall Norman women dismounted, wearing dark dresses,
+with kerchiefs crossed over the bosom, fastened with silver brooches a
+hundred years old.
+
+The men had put on their blue smocks over their new frock-coats or over
+their old dress-coats of green-cloth, the two tails of which hung down
+below their blouses.  When the horses were in the stable there was a
+double line of rustic conveyances along the road: carts, cabriolets,
+tilburies, wagonettes, traps of every shape and age, tipping forward on
+their shafts or else tipping backward with the shafts up in the air.
+
+The carpenter's house was as busy as a bee-hive.  The women, in dressing-
+jackets and petticoats, with their thin, short hair, which looked faded
+and worn, hanging down their backs, were busy dressing the child, who was
+standing quietly on a table, while Madame Tellier was directing the
+movements of her battalion.  They washed her, did her hair, dressed her,
+and with the help of a number of pins, they arranged the folds of her
+dress and took in the waist, which was too large.
+
+Then, when she was ready, she was told to sit down and not to move, and
+the women hurried off to get ready themselves.
+
+The church bell began to ring again, and its tinkle was lost in the air,
+like a feeble voice which is soon drowned in space.  The candidates came
+out.  of the houses and went toward the parochial building, which
+contained the two schools and the mansion house, and which stood quite at
+one end of the village, while the church was situated at the other.
+
+The parents, in their very best clothes, followed their children, with
+embarrassed looks, and those clumsy movements of a body bent by toil.
+
+The little girls disappeared in a cloud of muslin, which looked like
+whipped cream, while the lads, who looked like embryo waiters in a cafe
+and whose heads shone with pomatum, walked with their legs apart, so as
+not to get any dust or dirt on their black trousers.
+
+It was something for a family, to be proud of, when a large number of
+relatives, who had come from a distance, surrounded the child, and the
+carpenter's triumph was complete.
+
+Madame Tellier's regiment, with its leader at its head, followed
+Constance; her father gave his arm to his sister, her mother walked by
+the side of Raphaele, Fernande with Rosa and Louise and Flora together,
+and thus they proceeded majestically through the village, like a
+general's staff in full uniform, while the effect on the village was
+startling.
+
+At the school the girls ranged themselves under the Sister of Mercy and
+the boys under the schoolmaster, and they started off, singing a hymn as
+they went.  The boys led the way, in two files, between the two rows of
+vehicles, from which the horses had been taken out, and the girls
+followed in the same order; and as all the people in the village had
+given the town ladies the precedence out of politeness, they came
+immediately behind the girls, and lengthened the double line of the
+procession still more, three on the right and three on the left, while
+their dresses were as striking as a display of fireworks.
+
+When they went into the church the congregation grew quite excited.  They
+pressed against each other, turned round and jostled one another in order
+to see, and some of the devout ones spoke almost aloud, for they were so
+astonished at the sight of those ladies whose dresses were more elaborate
+than the priest's vestments.
+
+The mayor offered them his pew, the first one on the right, close to the
+choir, and Madame Tellier sat there with her sister-in-law, Fernande and
+Raphaele.  Rosa, Louise and Flora occupied the second seat, in company
+with the carpenter.
+
+The choir was full of kneeling children, the girls on one side and the
+boys on the other, and the long wax tapers which they held looked like
+lances pointing in all directions, and three men were standing in front
+of the lectern, singing as loud as they could.
+
+They prolonged the syllables of the sonorous Latin indefinitely, holding
+on to "Amens" with interminable "a-a's," which the reed stop of the organ
+sustained in a monotonous, long-drawn-out tone.
+
+A child's shrill voice took up the reply, and from time to time a priest
+sitting in a stall and wearing a biretta got up, muttered something and
+sat down again, while the three singers continued, their eyes fixed on
+the big book of plain chant lying open before them on the outstretched
+wings of a wooden eagle.
+
+Then silence ensued and the service went on.  Toward the close Rosa, with
+her head in both hands, suddenly thought of her mother, her village
+church and her first communion.  She almost fancied that that day had
+returned, when she was so small anti was almost hidden in her white
+dress, and she began to cry.
+
+First of all she wept silently, and the tears dropped slowly from her
+eyes, but her emotion in creased with her recollections, and she began to
+sob. She took out her pocket handkerchief, wiped her eyes and held it to
+her mouth, so as not to scream, but it was in vain.  A sort of rattle
+escaped her throat, and she was answered by two other profound,
+heartbreaking sobs, for her two neighbors, Louise and Flora, who were
+kneeling near her, overcome by similar recollections, were sobbing by her
+side, amid a flood of tears; and as tears are contagious, Madame Tellier
+soon in turn found that her eyes were wet, and on turning to her sister-
+in-law, she saw that all the occupants of her seat were also crying.
+
+Soon, throughout the church, here and there, a wife, a mother, a sister,
+seized by the strange sympathy of poignant emotion, and affected at the
+sight of those handsome ladies on their knees, shaken with sobs was
+moistening her cambric pocket handkerchief and pressing her beating heart
+with her left hand.
+
+Just as the sparks from an engine will set fire to dry grass, so the
+tears of Rosa and of her companions infected the whole congregation in a
+moment.  Men, women, old men and lads in new smocks were soon all
+sobbing, and something superhuman seemed to be hovering over their heads
+--a spirit, the powerful breath of an invisible and all powerful Being.
+
+Suddenly a species of madness seemed to pervade the church, the noise of
+a crowd in a state of frenzy, a tempest of sobs and stifled cries.  It
+came like gusts of wind which blow the trees in a forest, and the priest,
+paralyzed by emotion, stammered out incoherent prayers, without finding
+words, ardent prayers of the soul soaring to heaven.
+
+The people behind him gradually grew calmer.  The cantors, in all the
+dignity of their white surplices, went on in somewhat uncertain voices,
+and the reed stop itself seemed hoarse, as if the instrument had been
+weeping; the priest, however, raised his hand to command silence and went
+and stood on the chancel steps, when everybody was silent at once.
+
+After a few remarks on what had just taken place, and which he attributed
+to a miracle, he continued, turning to the seats where the carpenter's
+guests were sitting; "I especially thank you, my dear sisters, who have
+come from such a distance, and whose presence among us, whose evident
+faith and ardent piety have set such a salutary example to all.  You have
+edified my parish; your emotion has warmed all hearts; without you, this
+great day would not, perhaps, have had this really divine character.  It
+is sufficient, at times, that there should be one chosen lamb, for the
+Lord to descend on His flock."
+
+His voice failed him again, from emotion, and he said no more, but
+concluded the service.
+
+They now left the church as quickly as possible; the children themselves
+were restless and tired with such a prolonged tension of the mind.  The
+parents left the church by degrees to see about dinner.
+
+There was a crowd outside, a noisy crowd, a babel of loud voices, where
+the shrill Norman accent was discernible.  The villagers formed two
+ranks, and when the children appeared, each family took possession of
+their own.
+
+The whole houseful of women caught hold of Constance, surrounded her and
+kissed her, and Rosa was especially demonstrative.  At last she took hold
+of one hand, while Madame Tellier took the other, and Raphaele and
+Fernande held up her long muslin skirt, so that it might not drag in the
+dust; Louise and Flora brought up the rear with Madame Rivet; and the
+child, who was very silent and thoughtful, set off for home in the midst
+of this guard of honor.
+
+Dinner was served in the workshop on long boards supported by trestles,
+and through the open door they could see all the enjoyment that was going
+on in the village.  Everywhere they were feasting, and through every
+window were to be seen tables surrounded by people in their Sunday best,
+and a cheerful noise was heard in every house, while the men sat in their
+shirt-sleeves, drinking glass after glass of cider.
+
+In the carpenter's house the gaiety maintained somewhat of an air of
+reserve, the consequence of the emotion of the girls in the morning, and
+Rivet was the only one who was in a jolly mood, and he was drinking to
+excess.  Madame Tellier looked at the clock every moment, for, in order
+not to lose two days running, they must take the 3:55 train, which would
+bring them to Fecamp by dark.
+
+The carpenter tried very hard to distract her attention, so as to keep
+his guests until the next day, but he did not succeed, for she never
+joked when there was business on hand, and as soon as they had had their
+coffee she ordered her girls to make haste and get ready, and then,
+turning to her brother, she said:
+
+"You must put in the horse immediately," and she herself went to finish
+her last preparations.
+
+When she came down again, her sister-in-law was waiting to speak to her
+about the child, and a long conversation took place, in which, however,
+nothing was settled.  The carpenter's wife was artful and pretended to be
+very much affected, and Madame Tellier, who was holding the girl on her
+knee, would not pledge herself to anything definite, but merely gave
+vague promises--she would not forget her, there was plenty of time, and
+besides, they would meet again.
+
+But the conveyance did not come to the door and the women did not come
+downstairs.  Upstairs they even heard loud laughter, romping, little
+screams, and much clapping of hands, and so, while the carpenter's wife
+went to the stable to see whether the cart was ready, madame went
+upstairs.
+
+Rivet, who was very drunk, was plaguing Rosa, who was half choking with
+laughter.  Louise and Flora were holding him by the arms and trying to
+calm him, as they were shocked at his levity after that morning's
+ceremony; but Raphaele and Fernande were urging him on, writhing and
+holding their sides with laughter, and they uttered shrill cries at every
+rebuff the drunken fellow received.
+
+The man was furious, his face was red, and he was trying to shake off the
+two women who were clinging to him, while he was pulling Rosa's skirt
+with all his might and stammering incoherently.
+
+But Madame Tellier, who was very indignant, went up to her brother,
+seized him by the shoulders, and threw him out of the room with such
+violence that he fell against the wall in the passage, and a minute
+afterward they heard him pumping water on his head in the yard, and when
+he reappeared with the cart he was quite calm.
+
+They started off in the same way as they had come the day before, and the
+little white horse started off with his quick, dancing trot.  Under the
+hot sun, their fun, which had been checked during dinner, broke out
+again.  The girls now were amused at the jolting of the cart, pushed
+their neighbors' chairs, and burst out laughing every moment.
+
+There was a glare of light over the country, which dazzled their eyes,
+and the wheels raised two trails of dust along the highroad.  Presently,
+Fernande, who was fond of music, asked Rosa to sing something, and she
+boldly struck up the "Gros Cure de Meudon," but Madame Tellier made her
+stop immediately, as she thought it a very unsuitable song for such a
+day, and she added:
+
+"Sing us something of Beranger's."  And so, after a moment's hesitation,
+Rosa began Beranger's song "The Grandmother" in her worn-out voice, and
+all the girls, and even Madame Tellier herself, joined in the chorus:
+
+               "How I regret
+               My dimpled arms,
+               My nimble legs,
+               And vanished charms."
+
+"That is first rate," Rivet declared, carried away by the rhythm, and
+they shouted the refrain to every verse, while Rivet beat time on the
+shaft with his foot, and with the reins on the back of the horse, who, as
+if he himself were carried away by the rhythm, broke into a wild gallop,
+and threw all the women in a heap, one on top of the other, on the bottom
+of the conveyance.
+
+They got up, laughing as if they were mad, and the Gong went on, shouted
+at the top of their voices, beneath the burning sky, among the ripening
+grain, to the rapid gallop of the little horse, who set off every time
+the refrain was sung, and galloped a hundred yards, to their great
+delight, while occasionally a stone-breaker by the roadside sat up and
+looked at the load of shouting females through his wire spectacles.
+
+When they got out at the station, the carpenter said:
+
+"I am sorry you are going; we might have had some good times together."
+But Madame Tellier replied very sensibly: "Everything has its right time,
+and we cannot always be enjoying ourselves."  And then he had a sudden
+inspiration:
+
+"Look here, I will come and see you at Fecamp next month."  And he gave
+Rosa a roguish and knowing look.
+
+"Come," his sister replied, "you must be sensible; you may come if you
+like, but you are not to be up to any of your tricks."
+
+He did not reply, and as they heard the whistle of the train, he
+immediately began to kiss them all.  When it came to Rosa's turn, he
+tried to get to her mouth, which she, however, smiling with her lips
+closed, turned away from him each time by a rapid movement of her head to
+one side.  He held her in his arms, but he could not attain his object,
+as his large whip, which he was holding in his hand and waving behind the
+girl's back in desperation, interfered with his movements.
+
+"Passengers for Rouen, take your seats!" a guard cried, and they got in.
+There was a slight whistle, followed by a loud whistle from the engine,
+which noisily puffed cut its first jet of steam, while the wheels began
+to turn a little with a visible effort, and Rivet left the station and
+ran along by the track to get another look at Rosa, and as the carriage
+passed him, he began to crack his whip and to jump, while he sang at the
+top of his voice:
+
+                    "How I regret
+                    My dimpled arms,
+                    My nimble legs,
+                    And vanished charms."
+
+And then he watched a white pocket-handkerchief, which somebody was
+waving, as it disappeared in the distance.
+
+
+PART III
+
+They slept the peaceful sleep of a quiet conscience, until they got to
+Rouen, and when they returned to the house, refreshed and rested, Madame
+Tellier could not help saying:
+
+"It was all very well, but I was longing to get home."
+
+They hurried over their supper, and then, when they had put on their
+usual evening costume, waited for their regular customers, and the little
+colored lamp outside the door told the passers-by that Madame Tellier had
+returned, and in a moment the news spread, nobody knew how or through
+whom.
+
+Monsieur Philippe, the banker's son, even carried his friendliness so far
+as to send a special messenger to Monsieur Tournevau, who was in the
+bosom of his family.
+
+The fish curer had several cousins to dinner every Sunday, and they were
+having coffee, when a man came in with a letter in his hand.  Monsieur
+Tournevau was much excited; he opened the envelope and grew pale; it
+contained only these words in pencil:
+
+"The cargo of cod has been found; the ship has come into port; good
+business for you.  Come immediately."
+
+He felt in his pockets, gave the messenger two sons, and suddenly
+blushing to his ears, he said: "I must go out."  He handed his wife the
+laconic and mysterious note, rang the bell, and when the servant came in,
+he asked her to bring him has hat and overcoat immediately.  As soon as
+he was in the street, he began to hurry, and the way seemed to him to be
+twice as long as usual, in consequence of his impatience.
+
+Madame Tellier's establishment had put on quite a holiday look.  On the
+ground floor, a number of sailors were making a deafening noise, and
+Louise and Flora drank with one and the other, and were being called for
+in every direction at once.
+
+The upstairs room was full by nine o'clock.  Monsieur Vasse, the Judge of
+the Tribunal of Commerce, Madame Tellier's regular but Platonic wooer,
+was talking to her in a corner in a low voice, and they were both
+smiling, as if they were about to come to an understanding.
+
+Monsieur Poulin, the ex-mayor, was talking to Rosa, and she was running
+her hands through the old gentleman's white whiskers.
+
+Tall Fernande was on the sofa, her feet on the coat of Monsieur
+Pinipesse, the tax collector, and leaning back against young Monsieur
+Philippe, her right arm around his neck, while she held a cigarette in
+her left hand.
+
+Raphaele appeared to be talking seriously with Monsieur Dupuis, the
+insurance agent, and she finished by saying: "Yes, I will, yes."
+
+Just then, the door opened suddenly, and Monsieur Tournevau came in, and
+was greeted with enthusiastic cries of "Long live Tournevau!"  And
+Raphaele, who was dancing alone up and down the room, went and threw
+herself into his arms.  He seized her in a vigorous embrace and, without
+saying a word, lifted her up as if she had been a feather.
+
+Rosa was chatting to the ex-mayor, kissing him and puffing; both his
+whiskers at the same time, in order to keep his head straight.
+
+Fernanae and Madame Tellier remained with the four men, and Monsieur
+Philippe exclaimed: "I will pay for some champagne; get three bottles,
+Madame Tellier."  And Fernande gave him a hug, and whispered to him:
+"Play us a waltz, will you?" So he rose and sat down at the old piano in
+the corner, and managed to get a hoarse waltz out of the depths of the
+instrument.
+
+The tall girl put her arms round the tax collector, Madame Tellier let
+Monsieur Vasse take her round the waist, and the two couples turned
+round, kissing as they danced.  Monsieur Vasse, who had formerly danced
+in good society, waltzed with such elegance that Madame Tellier was quite
+captivated.
+
+Frederic brought the champagne; the first cork popped, and Monsieur
+Philippe played the introduction to a quadrille, through which the four
+dancers walked in society fashion, decorously, with propriety,
+deportment, bows and curtsies, and then they began to drink.
+
+Monsieur Philippe next struck up a lively polka, and Monsieur Tournevau
+started off with the handsome Jewess, whom he held without letting her
+feet touch the ground.  Monsieur Pinipesse and Monsieur Vasse had started
+off with renewed vigor, and from time to time one or other couple would
+stop to toss off a long draught of sparkling wine, and that dance was
+threatening to become never-ending, when Rosa opened the door.
+
+"I want to dance," she exclaimed.  And she caught hold of Monsieur
+Dupuis, who was sitting idle on the couch, and the dance began again.
+
+But the bottles were empty.  "I will pay for one," Monsieur Tournevau
+said.  "So will I," Monsieur Vasse declared.  "And.  I will do the same,"
+Monsieur Dupuis remarked.
+
+They all began to clap their hands, and it soon became a regular ball,
+and from time to time Louise and Flora ran upstairs quickly and had a few
+turns, while their customers downstairs grew impatient, and then they
+returned regretfully to the tap-room.  At midnight they were still
+dancing.
+
+Madame Tellier let them amuse themselves while she had long private talks
+in corners with Monsieur Vasse, as if to settle the last details of
+something that had already been settled.
+
+At last, at one o'clock, the two married men, Monsieur Tournevau and
+Monsieur Pinipesse, declared that they were going home, and wanted to
+pay.  Nothing was charged for except the champagne, and that cost only
+six francs a bottle, instead of ten, which was the usual price, and when
+they expressed their surprise at such generosity, Madame Tellier, who was
+beaming, said to them:
+
+"We don't have a holiday every day."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+DENIS
+
+     To Leon Chapron.
+
+Marambot opened the letter which his servant Denis gave him and smiled.
+
+For twenty years Denis has been a servant in this house.  He was a short,
+stout, jovial man, who was known throughout the countryside as a model
+servant.  He asked:
+
+"Is monsieur pleased?  Has monsieur received good news?"
+
+M. Marambot was not rich.  He was an old village druggist, a bachelor,
+who lived on an income acquired with difficulty by selling drugs to the
+farmers.  He answered:
+
+"Yes, my boy.  Old man Malois is afraid of the law-suit with which I am
+threatening him.  I shall get my money to-morrow.  Five thousand francs
+are not liable to harm the account of an old bachelor."
+
+M. Marambot rubbed his hands with satisfaction.  He was a man of quiet
+temperament, more sad than gay, incapable of any prolonged effort,
+careless in business.
+
+He could undoubtedly have amassed a greater income had he taken advantage
+of the deaths of colleagues established in more important centers, by
+taking their places and carrying on their business.  But the trouble of
+moving and the thought of all the preparations had always stopped him.
+After thinking the matter over for a few days, he would be satisfied to
+say:
+
+"Bah!  I'll wait until the next time.  I'll not lose anything by the
+delay.  I may even find something better."
+
+Denis, on the contrary, was always urging his master to new enterprises.
+Of an energetic temperament, he would continually repeat:
+
+"Oh!  If I had only had the capital to start out with, I could have made
+a fortune!  One thousand francs would do me."
+
+M. Marambot would smile without answering and would go out in his little
+garden, where, his hands behind his back, he would walk about dreaming.
+
+All day long, Denis sang the joyful refrains of the folk-songs of the
+district.  He even showed an unusual activity, for he cleaned all the
+windows of the house, energetically rubbing the glass, and singing at the
+top of his voice.
+
+M. Marambot, surprised at his zeal, said to him several times, smiling:
+
+"My boy, if you work like that there will be nothing left for you to do
+to-morrow."
+
+The following day, at about nine o'clock in the morning, the postman gave
+Denis four letters for his master, one of them very heavy.  M. Marambot
+immediately shut himself up in his room until late in the afternoon.
+He then handed his servant four letters for the mail.  One of them was
+addressed to M. Malois; it was undoubtedly a receipt for the money.
+
+Denis asked his master no questions; he appeared to be as sad and gloomy
+that day as he had seemed joyful the day before.
+
+Night came.  M. Marambot went to bed as usual and slept.
+
+He was awakened by a strange noise.  He sat up in his bed and listened.
+Suddenly the door opened, and Denis appeared, holding in one hand a
+candle and in the other a carving knife, his eyes staring, his face
+contracted as though moved by some deep emotion; he was as pale as a
+ghost.
+
+M. Marambot, astonished, thought that he was sleep-walking, and he was
+going to get out of bed and assist him when the servant blew out the
+light and rushed for the bed.  His master stretched out his hands to
+receive the shock which knocked him over on his back; he was trying to
+seize the hands of his servant, whom he now thought to be crazy, in order
+to avoid the blows which the latter was aiming at him.
+
+He was struck by the knife; once in the shoulder, once in the forehead
+and the third time in the chest.  He fought wildly, waving his arms
+around in the darkness, kicking and crying:
+
+"Denis!  Denis!  Are you mad?  Listen, Denis!"
+
+But the latter, gasping for breath, kept up his furious attack always
+striking, always repulsed, sometimes with a kick, sometimes with a punch,
+and rushing forward again furiously.
+
+M. Marambot was wounded twice more, once in the leg and once in the
+stomach.  But, suddenly, a thought flashed across his mind, and he began
+to shriek:
+
+"Stop, stop, Denis, I have not yet received my money!"
+
+The man immediately ceased, and his master could hear his labored
+breathing in the darkness.
+
+M. Marambot then went on:
+
+"I have received nothing.  M. Malois takes back what he said, the law-
+suit will take place; that is why you carried the letters to the mail.
+Just read those on my desk."
+
+With a final effort, he reached for his matches and lit the candle.
+
+He was covered with blood.  His sheets, his curtains, and even the walls,
+were spattered with red.  Denis, standing in the middle of the room, was
+also bloody from head to foot.
+
+When he saw the blood, M. Marambot thought himself dead, and fell
+unconscious.
+
+At break of day he revived.  It was some time, however, before he
+regained his senses, and was able to understand or remember.  But,
+suddenly, the memory of the attack and of his wounds returned to him,
+and he was filled with such terror that he closed his eyes in order not
+to see anything.  After a few minutes he grew calmer and began to think.
+He had not died' immediately, therefore he might still recover.  He felt
+weak, very weak; but he had no real pain, although he noticed an
+uncomfortable smarting sensation in several parts of his body.  He also
+felt icy cold, and all wet, and as though wrapped up in bandages.  He
+thought that this dampness came from the blood which he had lost; and he
+shivered at the dreadful thought of this red liquid which had come from
+his veins and covered his bed.  The idea of seeing this terrible
+spectacle again so upset him that he kept his eyes closed with all his
+strength, as though they might open in spite of himself.
+
+What had become of Denis?  He had probably escaped.
+
+But what could he, Marambot, do now?  Get up?  Call for help?  But if he
+should make the slightest motions, his wounds would undoubtedly open up
+again and he would die from loss of blood.
+
+Suddenly he heard the door of his room open.  His heart almost stopped.
+It was certainly Denis who was coming to finish him up.  He held his
+breath in order to make the murderer think that he had been successful.
+
+He felt his sheet being lifted up, and then someone feeling his stomach.
+A sharp pain near his hip made him start.  He was being very gently
+washed with cold water.  Therefore, someone must have discovered the
+misdeed and he was being cared for.  A wild joy seized him; but
+prudently, he did not wish to show that he was conscious.  He opened one
+eye, just one, with the greatest precaution.
+
+He recognized Denis standing beside him, Denis himself!  Mercy!  He
+hastily closed his eye again.
+
+Denis!  What could he be doing?  What did he want?  What awful scheme
+could he now be carrying out?
+
+What was he doing?  Well, he was washing him in order to hide the traces
+of his crime!  And he would now bury him in the garden, under ten feet of
+earth, so that no one could discover him!  Or perhaps under the wine
+cellar!  And M. Marambot began to tremble like a leaf.  He kept saying to
+himself: "I am lost, lost!" He closed his eyes so as not to see the knife
+as it descended for the final stroke.  It did not come.  Denis was now
+lifting him up and bandaging him.  Then he began carefully to dress the
+wound on his leg, as his master had taught him to do.
+
+There was no longer any doubt.  His servant, after wishing to kill him,
+was trying to save him.
+
+Then M. Marambot, in a dying voice, gave him the practical piece of
+advice:
+
+"Wash the wounds in a dilute solution of carbolic acid!"
+
+Denis answered:
+
+"This is what I am doing, monsieur."
+
+M. Marambot opened both his eyes.  There was no sign of blood either on
+the bed, on the walls, or on the murderer.  The wounded man was stretched
+out on clean white sheets.
+
+The two men looked at each other.
+
+Finally M. Marambot said calmly:
+
+"You have been guilty of a great crime."
+
+Denis answered:
+
+"I am trying to make up for it, monsieur.  If you will not tell on me, I
+will serve you as faithfully as in the past."
+
+This was no time to anger his servant.  M. Marambot murmured as he closed
+his eyes:
+
+"I swear not to tell on you."
+
+
+Denis saved his master.  He spent days and nights without sleep, never
+leaving the sick room, preparing drugs, broths, potions, feeling his
+pulse, anxiously counting the beats, attending him with the skill of a
+trained nurse and the devotion of a son.
+
+He continually asked:
+
+"Well, monsieur, how do you feel?"
+
+M. Marambot would answer in a weak voice:
+
+"A little better, my boy, thank you."
+
+And when the sick man would wake up at night, he would often see his
+servant seated in an armchair, weeping silently.
+
+Never had the old druggist been so cared for, so fondled, so spoiled.
+At first he had said to himself:
+
+"As soon as I am well I shall get rid of this rascal."
+
+He was now convalescing, and from day to day he would put off dismissing
+his murderer.  He thought that no one would ever show him such care and
+attention, for he held this man through fear; and he warned him that he
+had left a document with a lawyer denouncing him to the law if any new
+accident should occur.
+
+This precaution seemed to guarantee him against any future attack; and he
+then asked himself if it would not be wiser to keep this man near him, in
+order to watch him closely.
+
+Just as formerly, when he would hesitate about taking some larger place
+of business, he could not make up his mind to any decision.
+
+"There is always time," he would say to himself.
+
+Denis continued to show himself an admirable servant.  M. Marambot was
+well.  He kept him.
+
+One morning, just as he was finishing breakfast, he suddenly heard a
+great noise in the kitchen.  He hastened in there.  Denis was struggling
+with two gendarmes.  An officer was taking notes on his pad.
+
+As soon as he saw his master, the servant began to sob, exclaiming:
+
+"You told on me, monsieur, that's not right, after what you had promised
+me.  You have broken your word of honor, Monsieur Marambot; that is not
+right, that's not right!"
+
+M. Marambot, bewildered and distressed at being suspected, lifted his
+hand:
+
+"I swear to you before the Lord, my boy that I did not tell on you.  I
+haven't the slightest idea how the police could have found out about your
+attack on me."
+
+The officer started:
+
+"You say that he attacked you, M. Marambot?"
+
+The bewildered druggist answered:
+
+"Yes--but I did not tell on him--I haven't said a word--I swear it--he
+has served me excellently from that time on--"
+
+The officer pronounced severely:
+
+"I will take down your testimony.  The law will take notice of this new
+action, of which it was ignorant, Monsieur Marambot.  I was commissioned
+to arrest your servant for the theft of two ducks surreptitiously taken
+by him from M. Duhamel of which act there are witnesses.  I shall make a
+note of your information."
+
+Then, turning toward his men, he ordered:
+
+"Come on, bring him along!"
+
+The two gendarmes dragged Denis out.
+
+The lawyer used a plea of insanity, contrasting the two misdeeds in order
+to strengthen his argument.  He had clearly proved that the theft of the
+two ducks came from the same mental condition as the eight knife-wounds
+in the body of Maramlot.  He had cunningly analyzed all the phases of
+this transitory condition of mental aberration, which could, doubtless,
+be cured by a few months' treatment in a reputable sanatorium.  He had
+spoken in enthusiastic terms of the continued devotion of this faithful
+servant, of the care with which he had surrounded his master, wounded by
+him in a moment of alienation.
+
+Touched by this memory, M. Marambot felt the tears rising to his eyes.
+
+The lawyer noticed it, opened his arms with a broad gesture, spreading
+out the long black sleeves of his robe like the wings of a bat, and
+exclaimed:
+
+"Look, look, gentleman of the jury, look at those tears.  What more can I
+say for my client?  What speech, what argument, what reasoning would be
+worth these tears of his master?  They, speak louder than I do, louder
+than the law; they cry: 'Mercy, for the poor wandering mind of a while
+ago!  They implore, they pardon, they bless!"
+
+He was silent and sat down.
+
+Then the judge, turning to Marambot, whose testimony had been excellent
+for his servant, asked him:
+
+"But, monsieur, even admitting that you consider this man insane, that
+does not explain why you should have kept him.  He was none the less
+dangerous."
+
+Marambot, wiping his eyes, answered:
+
+"Well, your honor, what can you expect?  Nowadays it's so hard to find
+good servants--I could never have found a better one."
+
+Denis was acquitted and put in a sanatorium at his master's expense.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MY WIFE
+
+It had been a stag dinner.  These men still came together once in a while
+without their wives as they had done when they were bachelors.  They
+would eat for a long time, drink for a long time; they would talk of
+everything, stir up those old and joyful memories which bring a smile to
+the lip and a tremor to the heart.  One of them was saying: "Georges, do
+you remember our excursion to Saint-Germain with those two little girls
+from Montmartre?"
+
+"I should say I do!"
+
+And a little detail here or there would be remembered, and all these
+things brought joy to the hearts.
+
+The conversation turned on marriage, and each one said with a sincere
+air: "Oh, if it were to do over again!" Georges Duportin added: "It's
+strange how easily one falls into it.  You have fully decided never to
+marry; and then, in the springtime, you go to the country; the weather is
+warm; the summer is beautiful; the fields are full of flowers; you meet a
+young girl at some friend's house--crash! all is over.  You return
+married!"
+
+Pierre Letoile exclaimed: "Correct! that is exactly my case, only there
+were some peculiar incidents--"
+
+His friend interrupted him: "As for you, you have no cause to complain.
+You have the most charming wife in the world, pretty, amiable, perfect!
+You are undoubtedly the happiest one of us all."
+
+The other one continued: "It's not my fault."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"It is true that I have a perfect wife, but I certainly married her much
+against my will."
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"Yes--this is the adventure.  I was thirty-five, and I had no more idea
+of marrying than I had of hanging myself.  Young girls seemed to me to be
+inane, and I loved pleasure.
+
+"During the month of May I was invited to the wedding of my cousin, Simon
+d'Erabel, in Normandy.  It was a regular Normandy wedding.  We sat down
+at the table at five o'clock in the evening and at eleven o'clock we were
+still eating.  I had been paired off, for the occasion, with a
+Mademoiselle Dumoulin, daughter of a retired colonel, a young, blond,
+soldierly person, well formed, frank and talkative.  She took complete
+possession of me for the whole day, dragged me into the park, made me
+dance willy-nilly, bored me to death.  I said to myself: 'That's all very
+well for to-day, but tomorrow I'll get out.  That's all there is to it!'
+
+"Toward eleven o'clock at night the women retired to their rooms; the men
+stayed, smoking while they drank or drinking while they smoked, whichever
+you will.
+
+"Through the open window we could see the country folks dancing.  Farmers
+and peasant girls were jumping about in a circle yelling at the top of
+their lungs a dance air which was feebly accompanied by two violins and a
+clarinet.  The wild song of the peasants often completely drowned the
+sound of the instruments, and the weak music, interrupted by the
+unrestrained voices, seemed to come to us in little fragments of
+scattered notes.  Two enormous casks, surrounded by flaming torches,
+contained drinks for the crowd.  Two men were kept busy rinsing the
+glasses or bowls in a bucket and immediately holding them under the
+spigots, from which flowed the red stream of wine or the golden stream of
+pure cider; and the parched dancers, the old ones quietly, the girls
+panting, came up, stretched out their arms and grasped some receptacle,
+threw back their heads and poured down their throats the drink which they
+preferred.  On a table were bread, butter, cheese and sausages.  Each one
+would step up from time to time and swallow a mouthful, and under the
+starlit sky this healthy and violent exercise was a pleasing sight, and
+made one also feel like drinking from these enormous casks and eating the
+crisp bread and butter with a raw onion.
+
+"A mad desire seized me to take part in this merrymaking, and I left my
+companions.  I must admit that I was probably a little tipsy, but I was
+soon entirely so.
+
+"I grabbed the hand of a big, panting peasant woman and I jumped her
+about until I was out of breath.
+
+"Then I drank some wine and reached for another girl.  In order to
+refresh myself afterward, I swallowed a bowlful of cider, and I began to
+bounce around as if possessed.
+
+"I was very light on my feet.  The boys, delighted, were watching me and
+trying to imitate me; the girls all wished to dance with me, and jumped
+about heavily with the grace of cows.
+
+"After each dance I drank a glass of wine or a glass of cider, and toward
+two o'clock in the morning I was so drunk that I could hardly stand up.
+
+"I realized my condition and tried to reach my room.  Everybody was
+asleep and the house was silent and dark.
+
+"I had no matches and everybody was in bed.  As soon as I reached the
+vestibule I began to, feel dizzy.  I had a lot of trouble to find the
+banister.  At last, by accident, my hand came in contact with it, and I
+sat down on the first step of the stairs in order to try to gather my
+scattered wits.
+
+"My room was on the second floor; it was the third door to the left.
+Fortunately I had not forgotten that.  Armed with this knowledge, I
+arose, not without difficulty, and I began to ascend, step by step.  In
+my hands I firmly gripped the iron railing in order not to fall, and took
+great pains to make no noise.
+
+"Only three or four times did my foot miss the steps, and I went down on
+my knees; but thanks to the energy of my arms and the strength of my
+will, I avoided falling completely.
+
+"At last I reached the second floor and I set out in my journey along the
+hall, feeling my way by the walls.  I felt one door; I counted: 'One';
+but a sudden dizziness made me lose my hold on the wall, make a strange
+turn and fall up against the other wall.  I wished to turn in a straight
+line: The crossing was long and full of hardships.  At last I reached the
+shore, and, prudently, I began to travel along again until I met another
+door.  In order to be sure to make no mistake, I again counted out loud:
+'Two.' I started out on my walk again.  At last I found the third door.
+I said: 'Three, that's my room,' and I turned the knob.  The door opened.
+Notwithstanding my befuddled state, I thought: 'Since the door opens,
+this must be home.'  After softly closing the door, I stepped out in the
+darkness.  I bumped against something soft: my easy-chair.  I immediately
+stretched myself out on it.
+
+"In my condition it would not have been wise to look for my bureau, my
+candles, my matches.  It would have taken me at least two hours.  It
+would probably have taken me that long also to undress; and even then I
+might not have succeeded.  I gave it up.
+
+"I only took my shoes off; I unbuttoned my waistcoat, which was choking
+me, I loosened my trousers and went to sleep.
+
+"This undoubtedly lasted for a long time.  I was suddenly awakened by a
+deep voice which was saying: 'What, you lazy girl, still in bed?  It's
+ten o'clock!'
+
+"A woman's voice answered: 'Already!  I was so tired yesterday.'
+
+"In bewilderment I wondered what this dialogue meant.  Where was I?  What
+had I done?  My mind was wandering, still surrounded by a heavy fog.  The
+first voice continued: 'I'm going to raise your curtains.'
+
+"I heard steps approaching me.  Completely at a loss what to do, I sat
+up.  Then a hand was placed on my head.  I started.  The voice asked:
+'Who is there?'  I took good care not to answer.  A furious grasp seized
+me.  I in turn seized him, and a terrific struggle ensued.  We were
+rolling around, knocking over the furniture and crashing against the
+walls.  A woman's voice was shrieking: 'Help! help!'
+
+"Servants, neighbors, frightened women crowded around us.  The blinds
+were open and the shades drawn.  I was struggling with Colonel Dumoulin
+
+"I had slept beside his daughter's bed!
+
+"When we were separated, I escaped to my room, dumbfounded.  I locked
+myself in and sat down with my feet on a chair, for my shoes had been
+left in the young girl's room.
+
+"I heard a great noise through the whole house, doors being opened and
+closed, whisperings and rapid steps.
+
+"After half an hour some one knocked on my door.  I cried: 'Who is
+there?' It was my uncle, the bridegroom's father.  I opened the door:
+
+"He was pale and furious, and he treated me harshly: 'You have behaved
+like a scoundrel in my house, do you hear?' Then he added more gently
+'But, you young fool, why 'the devil did you let yourself get caught at
+ten o'clock in the morning?  You go to sleep like a log in that room,
+instead of leaving immediately-immediately after.'
+
+"I exclaimed: 'But, uncle, I assure you that nothing occurred.  I was
+drunk and got into the wrong room.'
+
+"He shrugged his shoulders!  'Don't talk nonsense.' I raised my hand,
+exclaiming: 'I swear to you on my honor.' My uncle continued: 'Yes,
+that's all right.  It's your duty to say that.'
+
+"I in turn grew angry and told him the whole unfortunate occurrence.  He
+looked at me with a bewildered expression, not knowing what to believe.
+Then he went out to confer with the colonel.
+
+"I heard that a kind of jury of the mothers had been formed, to which
+were submitted the different phases of the situation.
+
+"He came back an hour later, sat down with the dignity of a judge and
+began: 'No matter what may be the situation, I can see only one way out
+of it for you; it is to marry Mademoiselle Dumoulin.'
+
+"I bounded out of the chair, crying: 'Never!  never!'
+
+"Gravely he asked: 'Well, what do you expect to do?'
+
+"I answered simply: 'Why-leave as soon as my shoes are returned to me.'
+
+"My uncle continued: 'Please do not jest.  The colonel has decided to
+blow your brains out as soon as he sees you.  And you may be sure that he
+does not threaten idly.  I spoke of a duel and he answered: "No, I tell
+you that I will blow his brains out."
+
+"'Let us now examine the question from another point of view.  Either you
+have misbehaved yourself--and then so much the worse for you, my boy; one
+should not go near a young girl--or else, being drunk, as you say, you
+made a mistake in the room.  In this case, it's even worse for you.  You
+shouldn't get yourself into such foolish situations.  Whatever you may
+say, the poor girl's reputation is lost, for a drunkard's excuses are
+never believed.  The only real victim in the matter is the girl.  Think
+it over.'
+
+"He went away, while I cried after him: 'Say what you will, I'll not
+marry her!'
+
+"I stayed alone for another hour.  Then my aunt came.  She was crying.
+She used every argument.  No one believed my story.  They could not
+imagine that this young girl could have forgotten to lock her door in a
+house full of company.  The colonel had struck her.  She had been crying
+the whole morning.  It was a terrible and unforgettable scandal.  And my
+good aunt added: 'Ask for her hand, anyhow.  We may, perhaps, find some
+way out of it when we are drawing up the papers.'
+
+"This prospect relieved me.  And I agreed to write my proposal.  An hour
+later I left for Paris.  The following day I was informed that I had been
+accepted.
+
+"Then, in three weeks, before I had been able to find any excuse, the
+banns were published, the announcement sent out, the contract signed, and
+one Monday morning I found myself in a church, beside a weeping young
+girl, after telling the magistrate that I consented to take her as my
+companion--for better, for worse.
+
+"I had not seen her since my adventure, and I glanced at her out of the
+corner of my eye with a certain malevolent surprise.  However, she was
+not ugly--far from it.  I said to myself: 'There is some one who won't
+laugh every day.'
+
+"She did not look at me once until, the evening, and she did not say a
+single word.
+
+"Toward the middle of the night I entered the bridal chamber with the
+full intention of letting her know my resolutions, for I was now master.
+I found her sitting in an armchair, fully dressed, pale and with red
+eyes.  As soon as I entered she rose and came slowly toward me saying:
+'Monsieur, I am ready to do whatever you may command.  I will kill myself
+if you so desire'
+
+"The colonel's daughter was as pretty as she could be in this heroic
+role.  I kissed her; it was my privilege.
+
+"I soon saw that I had not got a bad bargain.  I have now been married
+five years.  I do not regret it in the least."
+
+Pierre Letoile was silent.  His companions were laughing.  One of them
+said: "Marriage is indeed a lottery; you must never choose your numbers.
+The haphazard ones are the best."
+
+Another added by way of conclusion: "Yes, but do not forget that the god
+of drunkards chose for Pierre."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE UNKNOWN
+
+We were speaking of adventures, and each one of us was relating his story
+of delightful experiences, surprising meetings, on the train, in a hotel,
+at the seashore.  According to Roger des Annettes, the seashore was
+particularly favorable to the little blind god.
+
+Gontran, who was keeping mum, was asked what he thought of it.
+
+"I guess Paris is about the best place for that," he said.  "Woman is
+like a precious trinket, we appreciate her all the more when we meet her
+in the most unexpected places; but the rarest ones are only to be found
+in Paris."
+
+He was silent for a moment, and then continued:
+
+"By Jove, it's great!  Walk along the streets on some spring morning.
+The little women, daintily tripping along, seem to blossom out like
+flowers.  What a delightful, charming sight!  The dainty perfume of
+violet is everywhere.  The city is gay, and everybody notices the women.
+By Jove, how tempting they are in their light, thin dresses, which
+occasionally give one a glimpse of the delicate pink flesh beneath!
+
+"One saunters along, head up, mind alert, and eyes open.  I tell you it's
+great!  You see her in the distance, while still a block away; you
+already know that she is going to please you at closer quarters.  You can
+recognize her by the flower on her hat, the toss of her head, or her
+gait.  She approaches, and you say to yourself: 'Look out, here she is!'
+You come closer to her and you devour her with your eyes.
+
+"Is it a young girl running errands for some store, a young woman
+returning from church, or hastening to see her lover?  What do you care?
+Her well-rounded bosom shows through the thin waist.  Oh, if you could
+only take her in your arms and fondle and kiss her!  Her glance may be
+timid or bold, her hair light or dark.  What difference does it make?
+She brushes against you, and a cold shiver runs down your spine.  Ah, how
+you wish for her all day!  How many of these dear creatures have I met
+this way, and how wildly in love I would have been had I known them more
+intimately.
+
+"Have you ever noticed that the ones we would love the most distractedly
+are those whom we never meet to know?  Curious, isn't it?  From time to
+time we barely catch a glimpse of some woman, the mere sight of whom
+thrills our senses.  But it goes no further.  When I think of all the
+adorable creatures that I have elbowed in the streets of Paris, I fairly
+rave.  Who are they!  Where are they?  Where can I find them again?
+There is a proverb which says that happiness often passes our way; I am
+sure that I have often passed alongside the one who could have caught me
+like a linnet in the snare of her fresh beauty."
+
+Roger des Annettes had listened smilingly.  He answered: "I know that as
+well as you do.  This is what happened to me: About five years ago, for
+the first time I met, on the Pont de la Concorde, a young woman who made
+a wonderful impression on me.  She was dark, rather stout, with glossy
+hair, and eyebrows which nearly met above two dark eyes.  On her lip was
+a scarcely perceptible down, which made one dream-dream as one dreams of
+beloved woods, on seeing a bunch of wild violets.  She had a small waist
+and a well-developed bust, which seemed to present a challenge, offer a
+temptation.  Her eyes were like two black spots on white enamel.  Her
+glance was strange, vacant, unthinking, and yet wonderfully beautiful.
+"I imagined that she might be a Jewess.  I followed her, and then turned
+round to look at her, as did many others.  She walked with a swinging
+gait that was not graceful, but somehow attracted one.  At the Place de
+la Concorde she took a carriage, and I stood there like a fool, moved by
+the strongest desire that had ever assailed me.
+
+"For about three weeks I thought only of her; and then her memory passed
+out of my mind.
+
+"Six months later I descried her in the Rue de la Paix again.  On seeing
+her I felt the same shock that one experiences on seeing a once dearly
+loved woman.  I stopped that I might better observe her.  When she passed
+close enough to touch me I felt as though I were standing before a red
+hot furnace.  Then, when she had passed by, I noticed a delicious
+sensation, as of a cooling breeze blowing over my face.  I did not follow
+her.  I was afraid of doing something foolish.  I was afraid of myself.
+
+"She haunted all my dreams.
+
+"It was a year before I saw her again.  But just as the sun was going
+down on one beautiful evening in May I recognized her walking along the
+Avenue des Champs-Elysees.  The Arc de Triomphe stood out in bold relief
+against the fiery glow of the sky.  A golden haze filled the air; it was
+one of those delightful spring evenings which are the glory of Paris.
+"I followed her, tormented by a desire to address her, to kneel before
+her, to pour forth the emotion which was choking me.  Twice I passed by
+her only to fall back, and each time as I passed by I felt this
+sensation, as of scorching heat, which I had noticed in the Rue de la
+Paix.
+
+"She glanced at me, and then I saw her enter a house on the Rue de
+Presbourg.  I waited for her two hours and she did not come out.  Then I
+decided to question the janitor.  He seemed not to understand me.  'She
+must be visiting some one,' he said.
+
+"The next time I was eight months without seeing her.  But one freezing
+morning in January, I was walking along the Boulevard Malesherbes at a
+dog trot, so as to keep warm, when at the corner I bumped into a woman
+and knocked a small package out of her hand.  I tried to apologize.  It
+was she!
+
+"At first I stood stock still from the shock; then having returned to her
+the package which she had dropped, I said abruptly:
+
+"'I am both grieved and delighted, madame, to have jostled you.  For more
+than two years I have known you, admired you, and had the most ardent
+wish to be presented to you; nevertheless I have been unable to find out
+who you are, or where you live.  Please excuse these foolish words.
+Attribute them to a passionate desire to be numbered among your
+acquaintances.  Such sentiments can surely offend you in no way!  You do
+not know me.  My name is Baron Roger des Annettes.  Make inquiries about
+me, and you will find that I am a gentleman.  Now, if you refuse my
+request, you will throw me into abject misery.  Please be good to me and
+tell me how I can see you.'
+
+"She looked at me with her strange vacant stare, and answered smilingly:
+
+"'Give me your address.  I will come and see you.'
+
+"I was so dumfounded that I must have shown my surprise.  But I quickly
+gathered my wits together and gave her a visiting card, which she slipped
+into her pocket with a quick, deft movement.
+
+"Becoming bolder, I stammered:
+
+"'When shall I see you again?'
+
+"She hesitated, as though mentally running over her list of engagements,
+and then murmured:
+
+"'Will Sunday morning suit you?'
+
+"'I should say it would!'
+
+"She went on, after having stared at me, judged, weighed and analyzed me
+with this heavy and vacant gaze which seemed to leave a quieting and
+deadening impression on the person towards whom it was directed.
+
+"Until Sunday my mind was occupied day and night trying to guess who she
+might be and planning my course of conduct towards her.  I finally
+decided to buy her a jewel, a beautiful little jewel, which I placed in
+its box on the mantelpiece, and left it there awaiting her arrival.
+
+"I spent a restless night waiting for her.
+
+"At ten o'clock she came, calm and quiet, and with her hand outstretched,
+as though she had known me for years.  Drawing up a chair, I took her hat
+and coat and furs, and laid them aside.  And then, timidly, I took her
+hand in mine; after that all went on without a hitch.
+
+"Ah, my friends!  what a bliss it is, to stand at a discreet distance and
+watch the hidden pink and blue ribbons, partly concealed, to observe the
+hazy lines of the beloved one's form, as they become visible through the
+last of the filmy garments!  What a delight it is to watch the ostrich-
+like modesty of those who are in reality none too modest.  And what is so
+pretty as their motions!
+
+"Her back was turned towards me, and suddenly, my eyes were irresistibly
+drawn to a large black spot right between her shoulders.  What could it
+be?  Were my eyes deceiving me?  But no, there it was, staring me in the
+face!  Then my mind reverted to the faint down on her lip, the heavy
+eyebrows almost meeting over her coal-black eyes, her glossy black hair--
+I should have been prepared for some surprise.
+
+"Nevertheless I was dumfounded, and my mind was haunted by dim visions of
+strange adventures.  I seemed to see before me one of the evil genii of
+the Thousand and One Nights, one of these dangerous and crafty creatures
+whose mission it is to drag men down to unknown depths.  I thought of
+Solomon, who made the Queen of Sheba walk on a mirror that he might be
+sure that her feet were not cloven.
+
+"And when the time came for me to sing of love to her, my voice forsook
+me.  At first she showed surprise, which soon turned to anger; and she
+said, quickly putting on her wraps:
+
+"'It was hardly worth while for me to go out of my way to come here.'
+
+"I wanted her to accept the ring which I had bought for her, but she
+replied haughtily: 'For whom do you take me, sir?' I blushed to the roots
+of my hair.  She left without saying another word.
+
+"There is my whole adventure.  But the worst part of it is that I am now
+madly in love with her.  I can't see a woman without thinking of her.
+All the others disgust me, unless they remind me of her.  I cannot kiss a
+woman without seeing her face before me, and without suffering the
+torture of unsatisfied desire.  She is always with me, always there,
+dressed or nude, my true love.  She is there, beside the other one,
+visible but intangible.  I am almost willing to believe that she was
+bewitched, and carried a talisman between her shoulders.
+
+"Who is she?  I don't know yet.  I have met her once or twice since.  I
+bowed, but she pretended not to recognize me.  Who is she?  An Oriental?
+Yes, doubtless an oriental Jewess!  I believe that she must be a Jewess!
+But why?  Why?  I don't know!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE APPARITION
+
+The subject of sequestration of the person came up in speaking of a
+recent lawsuit, and each of us had a story to tell--a true story, he
+said.  We had been spending the evening together at an old family mansion
+in the Rue de Grenelle, just a party of intimate friends.  The old
+Marquis de la Tour-Samuel, who was eighty-two, rose,and, leaning his
+elbow on the mantelpiece, said in his somewhat shaky voice:
+
+"I also know of something strange, so strange that it has haunted me all
+my life.  It is now fifty-six years since the incident occurred, and yet
+not a month passes that I do not see it again in a dream, so great is the
+impression of fear it has left on my mind.  For ten minutes I experienced
+such horrible fright that ever since then a sort of constant terror has
+remained with me.  Sudden noises startle me violently, and objects
+imperfectly distinguished at night inspire me with a mad desire to flee
+from them.  In short, I am afraid of the dark!
+
+"But I would not have acknowledged that before I reached my present age.
+Now I can say anything.  I have never receded before real danger, ladies.
+It is, therefore, permissible, at eighty-two years of age, not to be
+brave in presence of imaginary danger.
+
+"That affair so completely upset me, caused me such deep and mysterious
+and terrible distress, that I never spoke of it to any one.  I will now
+tell it to you exactly as it happened, without any attempt at
+explanation.
+
+"In July, 1827, I was stationed at Rouen.  One day as I was walking along
+the quay I met a man whom I thought I recognized without being able to
+recall exactly who he was.  Instinctively I made a movement to stop.  The
+stranger perceived it and at once extended his hand.
+
+"He was a friend to whom I had been deeply attached as a youth.  For five
+years I had not seen him; he seemed to have aged half a century.  His
+hair was quite white and he walked bent over as though completely
+exhausted.  He apparently understood my surprise, and he told me of the
+misfortune which had shattered his life.
+
+"Having fallen madly in love with a young girl, he had married her, but
+after a year of more than earthly happiness she died suddenly of an
+affection of the heart.  He left his country home on the very day of her
+burial and came to his town house in Rouen, where he lived, alone and
+unhappy, so sad and wretched that he thought constantly of suicide.
+
+"'Since I have found you again in this manner,' he said, 'I will ask you
+to render me an important service.  It is to go and get me out of the
+desk in my bedroom--our bedroom--some papers of which I have urgent need.
+I cannot send a servant or a business clerk, as discretion and absolute
+silence are necessary.  As for myself, nothing on earth would induce me
+to reenter that house.  I will give you the key of the room, which I
+myself locked on leaving, and the key of my desk, also a few words for my
+gardener, telling him to open the chateau for you.  But come and
+breakfast with me tomorrow and we will arrange all that.'
+
+"I promised to do him the slight favor he asked.  It was, for that
+matter, only a ride which I could make in an hour on horseback, his
+property being but a few miles distant from Rouen.
+
+"At ten o'clock the following day I breakfasted, tete-a-tete, with my
+friend, but he scarcely spoke.
+
+"He begged me to pardon him; the thought of the visit I was about to make
+to that room, the scene of his dead happiness, overcame him, he said.
+He, indeed, seemed singularly agitated and preoccupied, as though
+undergoing some mysterious mental struggle.
+
+"At length he explained to me exactly what I had to do.  It was very
+simple.  I must take two packages of letters and a roll of papers from
+the first right-hand drawer of the desk, of which I had the key.  He
+added:
+
+"'I need not beg you to refrain from glancing at them.'
+
+"I was wounded at that remark and told him so somewhat sharply.  He
+stammered:
+
+"'Forgive me, I suffer so,' and tears came to his eyes.
+
+"At about one o'clock I took leave of him to accomplish my mission.
+
+"'The weather was glorious, and I trotted across the fields, listening to
+the song of the larks and the rhythmical clang of my sword against my
+boot. Then I entered the forest and walked my horse. Branches of trees
+caressed my face as I passed, and now and then I caught a leaf with my
+teeth and chewed it, from sheer gladness of heart at being alive and
+vigorous on such a radiant day.
+
+"As I approached the chateau I took from my pocket the letter I had for
+the gardener, and was astonished at finding it sealed.  I was so
+irritated that I was about to turn back without having fulfilled my
+promise, but reflected that I should thereby display undue
+susceptibility.  My friend in his troubled condition might easily have
+fastened the envelope without noticing that he did so.
+
+"The manor looked as if it had been abandoned for twenty years.  The open
+gate was falling from its hinges, the walks were overgrown with grass and
+the flower beds were no longer distinguishable.
+
+"The noise I made by kicking at a shutter brought out an old man from a
+side door.  He seemed stunned with astonishment at seeing me.  On
+receiving my letter, he read it, reread it, turned it over and over,
+looked me up and down, put the paper in his pocket and finally said:
+
+"'Well, what is it you wish?'
+
+"I replied shortly:
+
+"'You ought to know, since you have just read your master's orders.  I
+wish to enter the chateau.'
+
+"He seemed overcome.
+
+"'Then you are going in--into her room?'
+
+"I began to lose patience.
+
+"'Damn it!  Are you presuming to question me?'
+
+"He stammered in confusion:
+
+"'No--sir--but--but it has not been opened since--since the-death.  If
+you will be kind enough to wait five minutes I will go and--and see if--'
+
+"I interrupted him angrily:
+
+"'See here, what do you mean by your tricks?
+
+"'You know very well you cannot enter the room, since here is the key!'
+
+"He no longer objected.
+
+"'Then, sir, I will show you the way.'
+
+"'Show me the staircase and leave me.  I'll find my way without you.'
+
+"'But--sir--indeed--'
+
+"This time I lost patience, and pushing him aside, went into the house.
+
+"I first went through the kitchen, then two rooms occupied by this man
+and his wife.  I then crossed a large hall, mounted a staircase and
+recognized the door described by my friend.
+
+"I easily opened it, and entered the apartment.  It was so dark that at
+first I could distinguish nothing.  I stopped short, disagreeably
+affected by that disagreeable, musty odor of closed, unoccupied rooms.
+As my eyes slowly became accustomed to the darkness I saw plainly enough
+a large and disordered bedroom, the bed without sheets but still
+retaining its mattresses and pillows, on one of which was a deep
+impression, as though an elbow or a head had recently rested there.
+
+"The chairs all seemed out of place.  I noticed that a door, doubtless
+that of a closet, had remained half open.
+
+"I first went to the window, which I opened to let in the light, but the
+fastenings of the shutters had grown so rusty that I could not move them.
+I even tried to break them with my sword, but without success.  As I was
+growing irritated over my useless efforts and could now see fairly well
+in the semi-darkness, I gave up the hope of getting more light, and went
+over to the writing desk.
+
+"I seated myself in an armchair and, letting down the lid of the desk, I
+opened the drawer designated.  It was full to the top.  I needed but
+three packages, which I knew how to recognize, and began searching for
+them.
+
+"I was straining my eyes in the effort to read the superscriptions when I
+seemed to hear, or, rather, feel, something rustle back of me.  I paid no
+attention, believing that a draught from the window was moving some
+drapery.  But in a minute or so another movement, almost imperceptible,
+sent a strangely disagreeable little shiver over my skin.  It was so
+stupid to be affected, even slightly, that self-respect prevented my
+turning around.  I had just found the second package I needed and was
+about to lay my hand on the third when a long and painful sigh, uttered
+just at my shoulder, made me bound like a madman from my seat and land
+several feet off.  As I jumped I had turned round my hand on the hilt of
+my sword, and, truly, if I had not felt it at my side I should have taken
+to my heels like a coward.
+
+"A tall woman dressed in white, stood gazing at me from the back of the
+chair where I had been sitting an instant before.
+
+"Such a shudder ran through all my limbs that I nearly fell backward.  No
+one who has not experienced it can understand that frightful, unreasoning
+terror!  The mind becomes vague, the heart ceases to beat, the entire
+body grows as limp as a sponge.
+
+"I do not believe in ghosts, nevertheless I collapsed from a hideous
+dread of the dead, and I suffered, oh!  I suffered in a few moments more
+than in all the rest of my life from the irresistible terror of the
+supernatural.  If she had not spoken I should have died perhaps.  But she
+spoke, she spoke in a sweet, sad voice that set my nerves vibrating.
+I dare not say that I became master of myself and recovered my reason.
+No!  I was terrified and scarcely knew what I was doing.  But a certain
+innate pride, a remnant of soldierly instinct, made me, almost in spite
+of myself, maintain a bold front.  She said:
+
+"'Oh, sir, you can render me a great service.'
+
+"I wanted to reply, but it was impossible for me to pronounce a word.
+Only a vague sound came from my throat.  She continued:
+
+"'Will you?  You can save me, cure me.  I suffer frightfully.  I suffer,
+oh!  how I suffer!' and she slowly seated herself in my armchair, still
+looking at me.
+
+"'Will you?' she said.
+
+"I nodded in assent, my voice still being paralyzed.
+
+"Then she held out to me a tortoise-shell comb and murmured:
+
+"'Comb my hair, oh!  comb my hair; that will cure me; it must be combed.
+Look at my head--how I suffer; and my hair pulls so!'
+
+"Her hair, unbound, very long and very black, it seemed to me, hung over
+the back of the armchair and touched the floor.
+
+"Why did I promise?  Why did I take that comb with a shudder, and why did
+I hold in my hands her long black hair that gave my skin a frightful cold
+sensation, as though I were handling snakes?  I cannot tell.
+
+"That sensation has remained in my fingers, and I still tremble in
+recalling it.
+
+"I combed her hair.  I handled, I know not how, those icy locks.  I
+twisted, knotted, and unknotted, and braided them.  She sighed, bowed her
+head, seemed happy.  Suddenly she said, 'Thank you!' snatched the comb
+from my hands and fled by the door that I had noticed ajar.
+
+"Left alone, I experienced for several seconds the horrible agitation of
+one who awakens from a nightmare.  At length I regained my senses.  I ran
+to the window and with a mighty effort burst open the shutters, letting a
+flood of light into the room.  Immediately I sprang to the door by which
+that being had departed.  I found it closed and immovable!
+
+"Then the mad desire to flee overcame me like a panic the panic which
+soldiers know in battle.  I seized the three packets of letters on the
+open desk, ran from the room, dashed down the stairs four steps at a
+time, found myself outside, I know not how, and, perceiving my horse a
+few steps off, leaped into the saddle and galloped away.
+
+"I stopped only when I reached Rouen and alighted at my lodgings.
+Throwing the reins to my orderly, I fled to my room and shut myself in to
+reflect.  For an hour I anxiously asked myself if I were not the victim
+of a hallucination.  Undoubtedly I had had one of those incomprehensible
+nervous attacks those exaltations of mind that give rise to visions and
+are the stronghold of the supernatural.  And I was about to believe I had
+seen a vision, had a hallucination, when, as I approached the window, my
+eyes fell, by chance, upon my breast.  My military cape was covered with
+long black hairs!  One by one, with trembling fingers, I plucked them off
+and threw them away.
+
+"I then called my orderly.  I was too disturbed, too upset to go and see
+my friend that day, and I also wished to reflect more fully upon what I
+ought to tell him.  I sent him his letters, for which he gave the soldier
+a receipt.  He asked after me most particularly, and, on being told I was
+ill--had had a sunstroke--appeared exceedingly anxious.  Next morning I
+went to him, determined to tell him the truth.  He had gone out the
+evening before and had not yet returned.  I called again during the day;
+my friend was still absent.  After waiting a week longer without news of
+him, I notified the authorities and a judicial search was instituted.
+Not the slightest trace of his whereabouts or manner of disappearance was
+discovered.
+
+"A minute inspection of the abandoned chateau revealed nothing of a
+suspicious character.  There was no indication that a woman had been
+concealed there.
+
+"After fruitless researches all further efforts were abandoned, and for
+fifty-six years I have heard nothing; I know no more than before."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+     VOLUME VIII.
+
+CLOCHETTE
+THE KISS
+THE LEGION OF HONOR
+THE TEST
+FOUND ON A DROWNED MAN
+THE ORPHAN
+THE BEGGAR
+THE RABBIT
+HIS AVENGER
+MY UNCLE JULES
+THE MODEL
+A VAGABOND
+THE FISHING HOLE
+THE SPASM
+IN THE WOOD
+MARTINE
+ALL OVER
+THE PARROT
+A PIECE OF STRING
+
+
+
+
+CLOCHETTE
+
+How strange those old recollections are which haunt us, without our being
+able to get rid of them.
+
+This one is so very old that I cannot understand how it has clung so
+vividly and tenaciously to my memory.  Since then I have seen so many
+sinister things, which were either affecting or terrible, that I am
+astonished at not being able to pass a single day without the face of
+Mother Bellflower recurring to my mind's eye, just as I knew her
+formerly, now so long ago, when I was ten or twelve years old.
+
+She was an old seamstress who came to my parents' house once a week,
+every Thursday, to mend the linen.  My parents lived in one of those
+country houses called chateaux, which are merely old houses with gable
+roofs, to which are attached three or four farms lying around them.
+
+The village, a large village, almost a market town, was a few hundred
+yards away, closely circling the church, a red brick church, black with
+age.
+
+Well, every Thursday Mother Clochette came between half-past six and
+seven in the morning, and went immediately into the linen-room and began
+to work.  She was a tall, thin, bearded or rather hairy woman, for she
+had a beard all over her face, a surprising, an unexpected beard, growing
+in improbable tufts, in curly bunches which looked as if they had been
+sown by a madman over that great face of a gendarme in petticoats.  She
+had them on her nose, under her nose, round her nose, on her chin, on her
+cheeks; and her eyebrows, which were extraordinarily thick and long, and
+quite gray, bushy and bristling, looked exactly like a pair of mustaches
+stuck on there by mistake.
+
+She limped, not as lame people generally do, but like a ship at anchor.
+When she planted her great, bony, swerving body on her sound leg, she
+seemed to be preparing to mount some enormous wave, and then suddenly she
+dipped as if to disappear in an abyss, and buried herself in the ground.
+Her walk reminded one of a storm, as she swayed about, and her head,
+which was always covered with an enormous white cap, whose ribbons
+fluttered down her back, seemed to traverse the horizon from north to
+south and from south to north, at each step.
+
+I adored Mother Clochette.  As soon as I was up I went into the linen-
+room where I found her installed at work, with a foot-warmer under her
+feet.  As soon as I arrived, she made me take the foot-warmer and sit
+upon it, so that I might not catch cold in that large, chilly room under
+the roof.
+
+"That draws the blood from your throat," she said to me.
+
+She told me stories, whilst mending the linen with her long crooked
+nimble fingers; her eyes behind her magnifying spectacles, for age had
+impaired her sight, appeared enormous to me, strangely profound, double.
+
+She had, as far as I can remember the things which she told me and by
+which my childish heart was moved, the large heart of a poor woman.  She
+told me what had happened in the village, how a cow had escaped from the
+cow-house and had been found the next morning in front of Prosper Malet's
+windmill, looking at the sails turning, or about a hen's egg which had
+been found in the church belfry without any one being able to understand
+what creature had been there to lay it, or the story of Jean-Jean Pila's
+dog, who had been ten leagues to bring back his master's breeches which a
+tramp had stolen whilst they were hanging up to dry out of doors, after
+he had been in the rain.  She told me these simple adventures in such a
+manner, that in my mind they assumed the proportions of never-to-be
+-forgotten dramas, of grand and mysterious poems; and the ingenious
+stories invented by the poets which my mother told me in the evening, had
+none of the flavor, none of the breadth or vigor of the peasant woman's
+narratives.
+
+Well, one Tuesday, when I had spent all the morning in listening to
+Mother Clochette, I wanted to go upstairs to her again during the day
+after picking hazelnuts with the manservant in the wood behind the farm.
+I remember it all as clearly as what happened only yesterday.
+
+On opening the door of the linen-room, I saw the old seamstress lying on
+the ground by the side of her chair, with her face to the ground and her
+arms stretched out, but still holding her needle in one hand and one of
+my shirts in the other.  One of her legs in a blue stocking, the longer
+one, no doubt, was extended under her chair, and her spectacles glistened
+against the wall, as they had rolled away from her.
+
+I ran away uttering shrill cries.  They all came running, and in a few
+minutes I was told that Mother Clochette was dead.
+
+I cannot describe the profound, poignant, terrible emotion which stirred
+my childish heart.  I went slowly down into the drawing-room and hid
+myself in a dark corner, in the depths of an immense old armchair, where
+I knelt down and wept.  I remained there a long time, no doubt, for night
+came on.  Suddenly somebody came in with a lamp, without seeing me,
+however, and I heard my father and mother talking with the medical man,
+whose voice I recognized.
+
+He had been sent for immediately, and he was explaining the causes of the
+accident, of which I understood nothing, however.  Then he sat down and
+had a glass of liqueur and a biscuit.
+
+He went on talking, and what he then said will remain engraved on my mind
+until I die!  I think that I can give the exact words which he used.
+
+"Ah!" said he, "the poor woman!  She broke her leg the day of my arrival
+here, and I had not even had time to wash my hands after getting off the
+diligence before I was sent for in all haste, for it was a bad case, very
+bad.
+
+"She was seventeen, and a pretty girl, very pretty!  Would any one
+believe it?  I have never told her story before, and nobody except myself
+and one other person who is no longer living in this part of the country
+ever knew it.  Now that she is dead, I may be less discreet.
+
+"Just then a young assistant-teacher came to live in the village; he was
+a handsome, well-made fellow, and looked like a non-commissioned officer.
+All the girls ran after him, but he paid no attention to them, partly
+because he was very much afraid of his superior, the schoolmaster, old
+Grabu, who occasionally got out of bed the wrong foot first.
+
+"Old Grabu already employed pretty Hortense who has just died here, and
+who was afterwards nicknamed Clochette.  The assistant master singled out
+the pretty young girl, who was, no doubt, flattered at being chosen by
+this impregnable conqueror; at any rate, she fell in love with him, and
+he succeeded in persuading her to give him a first meeting in the hay-
+loft behind the school, at night, after she had done her day's sewing.
+
+"She pretended to go home, but instead of going downstairs when she left
+the Grabus' she went upstairs and hid among the hay, to wait for her
+lover.  He soon joined her, and was beginning to say pretty things to
+her, when the door of the hay-loft opened and the schoolmaster appeared,
+and asked: 'What are you doing up there, Sigisbert?'  Feeling sure that
+he would be caught, the young schoolmaster lost his presence of mind and
+replied stupidly: 'I came up here to rest a little amongst the bundles of
+hay, Monsieur Grabu.'
+
+"The loft was very large and absolutely dark, and Sigisbert pushed the
+frightened girl to the further end and said: 'Go over there and hide
+yourself.  I shall lose my position, so get away and hide yourself.'
+
+"When the schoolmaster heard the whispering, he continued: 'Why, you are
+not by yourself?' 'Yes, I am, Monsieur Grabu!' 'But you are not, for you
+are talking.' 'I swear I am, Monsieur Grabu.' 'I will soon find out,' the
+old man replied, and double locking the door, he went down to get a
+light.
+
+"Then the young man, who was a coward such as one frequently meets, lost
+his head, and becoming furious all of a sudden, he repeated: 'Hide
+yourself, so that he may not find you.  You will keep me from making a
+living for the rest of my life; you will ruin my whole career.  Do hide
+yourself!'  They could hear the key turning in the lock again, and
+Hortense ran to the window which looked out on the street, opened it
+quickly, and then said in a low and determined voice: 'You will come and
+pick me up when he is gone,' and she jumped out.
+
+"Old Grabu found nobody, and went down again in great surprise, and a
+quarter of an hour later, Monsieur Sigisbert came to me and related his
+adventure.  The girl had remained at the foot of the wall unable to get
+up, as she had fallen from the second story, and I went with him to fetch
+her.  It was raining in torrents, and I brought the unfortunate girl home
+with me, for the right leg was broken in three places, and the bones had
+come trough the flesh.  She did not complain, and merely said, with
+admirable resignation: 'I am punished, well punished!'
+
+"I sent for assistance and for the work-girl's relatives and told them a,
+made-up story of a runaway carriage which had knocked her down and lamed
+her outside my door.  They believed me, and the gendarmes for a whole
+month tried in vain to find the author of this accident.
+
+"That is all!  And I say that this woman was a heroine and belonged to
+the race of those who accomplish the grandest deeds of history.
+
+"That was her only love affair, and she died a virgin.  She was a martyr,
+a noble soul, a sublimely devoted woman!  And if I did not absolutely
+admire her, I should not have told you this story, which I would never
+tell any one during her life; you understand why."
+
+The doctor ceased.  Mamma cried and papa said some words which I did not
+catch; then they left the room and I remained on my knees in the armchair
+and sobbed, whilst I heard a strange noise of heavy footsteps and
+something knocking against the side of the staircase.
+
+They were carrying away Clochette's body.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE KISS
+
+My Little Darling:  So you are crying from morning until night and from
+night until morning, because your husband leaves you; you do not know
+what to do and so you ask your old aunt for advice; you must consider her
+quite an expert.  I don't know as much as you think I do, and yet I am
+not entirely ignorant of the art of loving, or, rather, of making one's
+self loved, in which you are a little lacking.  I can admit that at my
+age.
+
+You say that you are all attention, love, kisses and caresses for him.
+Perhaps that is the very trouble; I think you kiss him too much.
+
+My dear, we have in our hands the most terrible power in the world: LOVE.
+
+Man is gifted with physical strength, and he exercises force.  Woman is
+gifted with charm, and she rules with caresses.  It is our weapon,
+formidable and invincible, but we should know how to use it.
+
+Know well that we are the mistresses of the world!  To tell the history
+of Love from the beginning of the world would be to tell the history of
+man himself: Everything springs from it, the arts, great events, customs,
+wars, the overthrow of empires.
+
+In the Bible you find Delila, Judith; in fables we find Omphale, Helen;
+in history the Sabines, Cleopatra and many others.
+
+Therefore we reign supreme, all-powerful.  But, like kings, we must make
+use of delicate diplomacy.
+
+Love, my dear, is made up of imperceptible sensations.  We know that it
+is as strong as death, but also as frail as glass.  The slightest shock
+breaks it, and our power crumbles, and we are never able to raise it
+again.
+
+We have the power of making ourselves adored, but we lack one tiny thing,
+the understanding of the various kinds of caresses.  In embraces we lose
+the sentiment of delicacy, while the man over whom we rule remains master
+of himself, capable of judging the foolishness of certain words.  Take
+care, my dear; that is the defect in our armor.  It is our Achilles'
+heel.
+
+Do you know whence comes our real power?  From the kiss, the kiss alone!
+When we know how to hold out and give up our lips we can become queens.
+
+The kiss is only a preface, however, but a charming preface.  More
+charming than the realization itself.  A preface which can always be read
+over again, whereas one cannot always read over the book.
+
+Yes, the meeting of lips is the most perfect, the most divine sensation
+given to human beings, the supreme limit of happiness: It is in the kiss
+alone that one sometimes seems to feel this union of souls after which we
+strive, the intermingling of hearts, as it were.
+
+Do you remember the verses of Sully-Prudhomme:
+
+     Caresses are nothing but anxious bliss,
+     Vain attempts of love to unite souls through a kiss.
+
+One caress alone gives this deep sensation of two beings welded into one
+--it is the kiss.  No violent delirium of complete possession is worth
+this trembling approach of the lips, this first moist and fresh contact,
+and then the long, lingering, motionless rapture.
+
+Therefore, my dear, the kiss is our strongest weapon, but we must take
+care not to dull it.  Do not forget that its value is only relative,
+purely conventional.  It continually changes according to circumstances,
+the state of expectancy and the ecstasy of the mind.  I will call
+attention to one example.
+
+Another poet, Francois Coppee, has written a line which we all remember,
+a line which we find delightful, which moves our very hearts.
+
+After describing the expectancy of a lover, waiting in a room one
+winter's evening, his anxiety, his nervous impatience, the terrible fear
+of not seeing her, he describes the arrival of the beloved woman, who at
+last enters hurriedly, out of breath, bringing with her part of the
+winter breeze, and he exclaims:
+
+     Oh! the taste of the kisses first snatched through the veil.
+
+Is that not a line of exquisite sentiment, a delicate and charming
+observation, a perfect truth?  All those who have hastened to a
+clandestine meeting, whom passion has thrown into the arms of a man, well
+do they know these first delicious kisses through the veil; and they
+tremble at the memory of them.  And yet their sole charm lies in the
+circumstances, from being late, from the anxious expectancy, but from the
+purely--or, rather, impurely, if you prefer--sensual point of view, they
+are detestable.
+
+Think!  Outside it is cold.  The young woman has walked quickly; the veil
+is moist from her cold breath.  Little drops of water shine in the lace.
+The lover seizes her and presses his burning lips to her liquid breath.
+The moist veil, which discolors and carries the dreadful odor of chemical
+dye, penetrates into the young man's mouth, moistens his mustache.  He
+does not taste the lips of his beloved, he tastes the dye of this lace
+moistened with cold breath.  And yet, like the poet, we would all
+exclaim:
+
+     Oh! the taste of the kisses first snatched through the veil.
+
+Therefore, the value of this caress being entirely a matter of
+convention, we must be careful not to abuse it.
+
+Well, my dear, I have several times noticed that you are very clumsy.
+However, you were not alone in that fault; the majority of women lose
+their authority by abusing the kiss with untimely kisses.  When they feel
+that their husband or their lover is a little tired, at those times when
+the heart as well as the body needs rest, instead of understanding what
+is going on within him, they persist in giving inopportune caresses, tire
+him by the obstinacy of begging lips and give caresses lavished with
+neither rhyme nor reason.
+
+Trust in the advice of my experience.  First, never kiss your husband in
+public, in the train, at the restaurant.  It is bad taste; do not give in
+to your desires.  He would feel ridiculous and would never forgive you.
+
+Beware of useless kisses lavished in intimacy.  I am sure that you abuse
+them.  For instance, I remember one day that you did something quite
+shocking.  Probably you do not remember it.
+
+All three of us were together in the drawing-room, and, as you did not
+stand on ceremony before me, your husband was holding you on his knees
+and kissing you at great length on the neck, the lips and throat.
+Suddenly you exclaimed: "Oh! the fire!" You had been paying no attention
+to it, and it was almost out.  A few lingering embers were glowing on the
+hearth.  Then he rose, ran to the woodbox, from which he dragged two
+enormous logs with great difficulty, when you came to him with begging
+lips, murmuring:
+
+"Kiss me!" He turned his head with difficulty and tried to hold up the
+logs at the same time.  Then you gently and slowly placed your mouth on
+that of the poor fellow, who remained with his neck out of joint, his
+sides twisted, his arms almost dropping off, trembling with fatigue and
+tired from his desperate effort.  And you kept drawing out this torturing
+kiss, without seeing or understanding.  Then when you freed him, you
+began to grumble: "How badly you kiss!"  No wonder!
+
+Oh, take care of that!  We all have this foolish habit, this unconscious
+need of choosing the most inconvenient moments.  When he is carrying a
+glass of water, when he is putting on his shoes, when he is tying his
+scarf--in short, when he finds himself in any uncomfortable position--
+then is the time which we choose for a caress which makes him stop for a
+whole minute in the middle of a gesture with the sole desire of getting
+rid of us!
+
+Do not think that this criticism is insignificant.  Love, my dear, is a
+delicate thing.  The least little thing offends it; know that everything
+depends on the tact of our caresses.  An ill-placed kiss may do any
+amount of harm.
+
+Try following my advice.
+
+                         Your old aunt,
+                                             COLLETTE.
+
+This story appeared in the Gaulois in November, 1882, under the pseudonym
+of "Maufrigneuse."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE LEGION OF HONOR
+
+
+                      HOW HE GOT THE LEGION OF HONOR
+
+From the time some people begin to talk they seem to have an
+overmastering desire or vocation.
+
+Ever since he was a child, M. Caillard had only had one idea in his head-
+to wear the ribbon of an order.  When he was still quite a small boy he
+used to wear a zinc cross of the Legion of Honor pinned on his tunic,
+just as other children wear a soldier's cap, and he took his mother's
+hand in the street with a proud air, sticking out his little chest with
+its red ribbon and metal star so that it might show to advantage.
+
+His studies were not a success, and he failed in his examination for
+Bachelor of Arts; so, not knowing what to do, he married a pretty girl,
+as he had plenty of money of his own.
+
+They lived in Paris, as many rich middle-class people do, mixing with
+their own particular set, and proud of knowing a deputy, who might
+perhaps be a minister some day, and counting two heads of departments
+among their friends.
+
+But M. Caillard could not get rid of his one absorbing idea, and he felt
+constantly unhappy because he had not the right to wear a little bit of
+colored ribbon in his buttonhole.
+
+When he met any men who were decorated on the boulevards, he looked at
+them askance, with intense jealousy.  Sometimes, when he had nothing to
+do in the afternoon, he would count them, and say to himself: "Just let
+me see how many I shall meet between the Madeleine and the Rue Drouot."
+
+Then he would walk slowly, looking at every coat with a practiced eye for
+the little bit of red ribbon, and when he had got to the end of his walk
+he always repeated the numbers aloud.
+
+"Eight officers and seventeen knights.  As many as that!  It is stupid to
+sow the cross broadcast in that fashion.  I wonder how many I shall meet
+going back?"
+
+And he returned slowly, unhappy when the crowd of passers-by interfered
+with his vision.
+
+He knew the places where most were to be found.  They swarmed in the
+Palais Royal.  Fewer were seen in the Avenue de 1'Opera than in the Rue
+de la Paix, while the right side of the boulevard was more frequented by
+them than the left.
+
+They also seemed to prefer certain cafes and theatres.  Whenever he saw a
+group of white-haired old gentlemen standing together in the middle of
+the pavement, interfering with the traffic, he used to say to himself:
+
+"They are officers of the Legion of Honor," and he felt inclined to take
+off his hat to them.
+
+He had often remarked that the officers had a different bearing to the
+mere knights.  They carried their head differently, and one felt that
+they enjoyed a higher official consideration and a more widely extended
+importance.
+
+Sometimes, however, the worthy man would be seized with a furious hatred
+for every one who was decorated; he felt like a Socialist toward them.
+
+Then, when he got home, excited at meeting so many crosses--just as a
+poor, hungry wretch might be on passing some dainty provision shop--he
+used to ask in a loud voice:
+
+"When shall we get rid of this wretched government?"
+
+And his wife would be surprised, and ask:
+
+"What is the matter with you to-day?"
+
+"I am indignant," he replied, "at the injustice I see going on around us.
+Oh, the Communards were certainly right!"
+
+After dinner he would go out again and look at the shops where the
+decorations were sold, and he examined all the emblems of various shapes
+and colors.  He would have liked to possess them all, and to have walked
+gravely at the head of a procession, with his crush hat under his arm and
+his breast covered with decorations, radiant as a star, amid a buzz of
+admiring whispers and a hum of respect.
+
+But, alas!  he had no right to wear any decoration whatever.
+
+He used to say to himself: "It is really too difficult for any man to
+obtain the Legion of Honor unless he is some public functionary.  Suppose
+I try to be appointed an officer of the Academy!"
+
+But he did not know how to set about it, and spoke on the subject to his
+wife, who was stupefied.
+
+"Officer of the Academy!  What have you done to deserve it?"
+
+He got angry.  "I know what I am talking about.  I only want to know how
+to set about it.  You are quite stupid at times."
+
+She smiled.  "You are quite right.  I don't understand anything about
+it."
+
+An idea struck him: "Suppose you were to speak to M. Rosselin, the
+deputy; he might be able to advise me.  You understand I cannot broach
+the subject to him directly.  It is rather difficult and delicate, but
+coming from you it might seem quite natural."
+
+Mme. Caillard did what he asked her, and M. Rosselin promised to speak to
+the minister about it; and then Caillard began to worry him, till the
+deputy told him he must make a formal application and put forward his
+claims.
+
+"What were his charms?" he said.  "He was not even a Bachelor of Arts."
+However, he set to work and produced a pamphlet, with the title, "The
+People's Right to Instruction," but he could not finish it for want of
+ideas.
+
+He sought for easier subjects, and began several in succession.  The
+first was, "The Instruction of Children by Means of the Eye."  He wanted
+gratuitous theatres to be established in every poor quarter of Paris for
+little children.  Their parents were to take them there when they were
+quite young, and, by means of a magic lantern, all the notions of human
+knowledge were to be imparted to them.  There were to be regular courses.
+The sight would educate the mind, while the pictures would remain
+impressed on the brain, and thus science would, so to say, be made
+visible.  What could be more simple than to teach universal history,
+natural history, geography, botany, zoology, anatomy, etc., etc., in this
+manner?
+
+He had his ideas printed in pamphlets, and sent a copy to each deputy,
+ten to each minister, fifty to the President of the Republic, ten to each
+Parisian, and five to each provincial newspaper.
+
+Then he wrote on "Street Lending-Libraries."  His idea was to have little
+pushcarts full of books drawn about the streets.  Everyone would have a
+right to ten volumes a month in his home on payment of one sou.
+
+"The people," M. Caillard said, "will only disturb itself for the sake of
+its pleasures, and since it will not go to instruction, instruction must
+come to it," etc., etc.
+
+His essays attracted no attention, but he sent in his application, and he
+got the usual formal official reply.  He thought himself sure of success,
+but nothing came of it.
+
+Then he made up his mind to apply personally.  He begged for an interview
+with the Minister of Public Instruction, and he was received by a young
+subordinate, who was very grave and important, and kept touching the
+knobs of electric bells to summon ushers, and footmen, and officials
+inferior to himself.  He declared to M. Caillard that his matter was
+going on quite favorably, and advised him to continue his remarkable
+labors, and M. Caillard set at it again.
+
+M. Rosselin, the deputy, seemed now to take a great interest in his
+success, and gave him a lot of excellent, practical advice.  He, himself,
+was decorated, although nobody knew exactly what he had done to deserve
+such a distinction.
+
+He told Caillard what new studies he ought to undertake; he introduced
+him to learned societies which took up particularly obscure points of
+science, in the hope of gaining credit and honors thereby; and he even
+took him under his wing at the ministry.
+
+One day, when he came to lunch with his friend--for several months past
+he had constantly taken his meals there--he said to him in a whisper as
+he shook hands: "I have just obtained a great favor for you.  The
+Committee of Historical Works is going to intrust you with a commission.
+There are some researches to be made in various libraries in France."
+
+Caillard was so delighted that he could scarcely eat or drink, and a week
+later he set out.  He went from town to town, studying catalogues,
+rummaging in lofts full of dusty volumes, and was hated by all the
+librarians.
+
+One day, happening to be at Rouen, he thought he should like to go and
+visit his wife, whom he had not seen for more than a week, so he took the
+nine o'clock train, which would land him at home by twelve at night.
+
+He had his latchkey, so he went in without making any noise, delighted at
+the idea of the surprise he was going to give her.  She had locked
+herself in.  How tiresome!  However, he cried out through the door:
+
+"Jeanne, it is I!"
+
+She must have been very frightened, for he heard her jump out of her bed
+and speak to herself, as if she were in a dream.  Then she went to her
+dressing room, opened and closed the door, and went quickly up and down
+her room barefoot two or three times, shaking the furniture till the
+vases and glasses sounded.  Then at last she asked:
+
+"Is it you, Alexander?"
+
+"Yes, yes," he replied; "make haste and open the door."
+
+As soon as she had done so, she threw herself into his arms, exclaiming:
+
+"Oh, what a fright!  What a surprise!  What a pleasure!"
+
+He began to undress himself methodically, as he did everything, and took
+from a chair his overcoat, which he was in the habit of hanging up in the
+hall.  But suddenly he remained motionless, struck dumb with
+astonishment--there was a red ribbon in the buttonhole:
+
+"Why," he stammered, "this--this--this overcoat has got the ribbon in
+it!"
+
+In a second, his wife threw herself on him, and, taking it from his
+hands, she said:
+
+"No! you have made a mistake--give it to me."
+
+But he still held it by one of the sleeves, without letting it go,
+repeating in a half-dazed manner:
+
+"Oh!  Why?  Just explain-- Whose overcoat is it?  It is not mine, as it
+has the Legion of Honor on it."
+
+She tried to take it from him, terrified and hardly able to say:
+
+"Listen--listen!  Give it to me!  I must not tell you!  It is a secret.
+Listen to me!"
+
+But he grew angry and turned pale.
+
+"I want to know how this overcoat comes to be here?  It does not belong
+to me."
+
+Then she almost screamed at him:
+
+"Yes, it does; listen!  Swear to me--well--you are decorated!"
+
+She did not intend to joke at his expense.
+
+He was so overcome that he let the overcoat fall and dropped into an
+armchair.
+
+"I am--you say I am--decorated?"
+
+"Yes, but it is a secret, a great secret."
+
+She had put the glorious garment into a cupboard, and came to her husband
+pale and trembling.
+
+"Yes," she continued, "it is a new overcoat that I have had made for you.
+But I swore that I would not tell you anything about it, as it will not
+be officially announced for a month or six weeks, and you were not to
+have known till your return from your business journey.  M. Rosselin
+managed it for you."
+
+"Rosselin!" he contrived to utter in his joy.  "He has obtained the
+decoration for me?  He--Oh!"
+
+And he was obliged to drink a glass of water.
+
+A little piece of white paper fell to the floor out of the pocket of the
+overcoat.  Caillard picked it up; it was a visiting card, and he read
+out:
+
+"Rosselin-Deputy."
+
+"You see how it is," said his wife.
+
+He almost cried with joy, and, a week later, it was announced in the
+Journal Officiel that M. Caillard had been awarded the Legion of Honor on
+account of his exceptional services.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE TEST
+
+The Bondels were a happy family, and although they frequently quarrelled
+about trifles, they soon became friends again.
+
+Bondel was a merchant who had retired from active business after saving
+enough to allow him to live quietly; he had rented a little house at
+Saint-Germain and lived there with his wife.  He was a quiet man with
+very decided opinions; he had a certain degree of education and read
+serious newspapers; nevertheless, he appreciated the gaulois wit.
+Endowed with a logical mind, and that practical common sense which is the
+master quality of the industrial French bourgeois, he thought little, but
+clearly, and reached a decision only after careful consideration of the
+matter in hand.  He was of medium size, with a distinguished look, and
+was beginning to turn gray.
+
+His wife, who was full of serious qualities, had also several faults.
+She had a quick temper and a frankness that bordered upon violence.  She
+bore a grudge a long time.  She had once been pretty, but had now become
+too stout and too red; but in her neighborhood at Saint-Germain she still
+passed for a very beautiful woman, who exemplified health and an
+uncertain temper.
+
+Their dissensions almost always began at breakfast, over some trivial
+matter, and they often continued all day and even until the following
+day.  Their simple, common, limited life imparted seriousness to the most
+unimportant matters, and every topic of conversation became a subject of
+dispute.  This had not been so in the days when business occupied their
+minds, drew their hearts together, and gave them common interests and
+occupation.
+
+But at Saint-Germain they saw fewer people.  It had been necessary to
+make new acquaintances, to create for themselves a new world among
+strangers, a new existence devoid of occupations.  Then the monotony of
+loneliness had soured each of them a little; and the quiet happiness
+which they had hoped and waited for with the coming of riches did not
+appear.
+
+One June morning, just as they were sitting down to breakfast, Bondel
+asked:
+
+"Do you know the people who live in the little red cottage at the end of
+the Rue du Berceau?"
+
+Madame Bondel was out of sorts.  She answered:
+
+"Yes and no; I am acquainted with them, but I do not care to know them."
+
+"Why not?  They seem to be very nice."
+
+"Because--"
+
+"This morning I met the husband on the terrace and we took a little walk
+together."
+
+Seeing that there was danger in the air, Bendel added: "It was he who
+spoke to me first."
+
+His wife looked at him in a displeased manner.  She continued: "You would
+have done just as well to avoid him."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because there are rumors about them."
+
+"What kind?"
+
+"Oh! rumors such as one often hears!"
+
+M. Bondel was, unfortunately, a little hasty.  He exclaimed:
+
+"My dear, you know that I abhor gossip.  As for those people, I find them
+very pleasant."
+
+She asked testily: "The wife also?"
+
+"Why, yes; although I have barely seen her."
+
+The discussion gradually grew more heated, always on the same subject for
+lack of others.  Madame Bondel obstinately refused to say what she had
+heard about these neighbors, allowing things to be understood without
+saying exactly what they were.  Bendel would shrug his shoulders, grin,
+and exasperate his wife.  She finally cried out: "Well! that gentleman is
+deceived by his wife, there!"
+
+The husband answered quietly: "I can't see how that affects the honor of
+a man."
+
+She seemed dumfounded: "What! you don't see? --you don't see? --well,
+that's too much!  You don't see! --why, it's a public scandal! he is
+disgraced!"
+
+He answered: "Ah! by no means!  Should a man be considered disgraced
+because he is deceived, because he is betrayed, robbed?  No, indeed!
+I'll grant you that that may be the case for the wife, but as for him--"
+
+She became furious, exclaiming: "For him as well as for her.  They are
+both in disgrace; it's a public shame."
+
+Bondel, very calm, asked: "First of all, is it true?  Who can assert such
+a thing as long as no one has been caught in the act?"
+
+Madame Bondel was growing uneasy; she snapped: "What?  Who can assert it?
+Why, everybody!  everybody!  it's as clear as the nose on your face.
+Everybody knows it and is talking about it.  There is not the slightest
+doubt."
+
+He was grinning: "For a long time people thought that the sun revolved
+around the earth.  This man loves his wife and speaks of her tenderly and
+reverently.  This whole business is nothing but lies!"
+
+Stamping her foot, she stammered: "Do you think that that fool, that
+idiot, knows anything about it?"
+
+Bondel did not grow angry; he was reasoning clearly: "Excuse me.  This
+gentleman is no fool.  He seemed to me, on the contrary, to be very
+intelligent and shrewd; and you can't make me believe that a man with
+brains doesn't notice such a thing in his own house, when the neighbors,
+who are not there, are ignorant of no detail of this liaison--for I'll
+warrant that they know everything."
+
+Madame Bondel had a fit of angry mirth, which irritated her husband's
+nerves.  She laughed: "Ha! ha! ha! they're all the same!  There's not a
+man alive who could discover a thing like that unless his nose was stuck
+into it!"
+
+The discussion was wandering to other topics now.  She was exclaiming
+over the blindness of deceived husbands, a thing which he doubted and
+which she affirmed with such airs of personal contempt that he finally
+grew angry.  Then the discussion became an angry quarrel, where she took
+the side of the women and he defended the men.  He had the conceit to
+declare: "Well, I swear that if I had ever been deceived, I should have
+noticed it, and immediately, too.  And I should have taken away your
+desire for such things in such a manner that it would have taken more
+than one doctor to set you on foot again!"
+
+Boiling with anger, she cried out to him: "You! you! why, you're as big a
+fool as the others, do you hear!"
+
+He still maintained: "I can swear to you that I am not!"
+
+She laughed so impertinently that he felt his heart beat and a chill run
+down his back.  For the third time he said:
+
+"I should have seen it!"
+
+She rose, still laughing in the same manner.  She slammed the door and
+left the room, saying: "Well! if that isn't too much!"
+
+Bondel remained alone, ill at ease.  That insolent, provoking laugh had
+touched him to the quick.  He went outside, walked, dreamed.  The
+realization of the loneliness of his new life made him sad and morbid.
+The neighbor, whom he had met that morning, came to him with outstretched
+hands.  They continued their walk together.  After touching on various
+subjects they came to talk of their wives.  Both seemed to have something
+to confide, something inexpressible, vague, about these beings associated
+with their lives; their wives.  The neighbor was saying:
+
+"Really, at times, one might think that they bear some particular ill-
+will toward their husband, just because he is a husband.  I love my wife
+--I love her very much; I appreciate and respect her; well! there are
+times when she seems to have more confidence and faith in our friends
+than in me."
+
+Bondel immediately thought: "There is no doubt; my wife was right!"
+
+When he left this man he began to think things over again.  He felt in
+his soul a strange confusion of contradictory ideas, a sort of interior
+burning; that mocking, impertinent laugh kept ringing in his ears and
+seemed to say: "Why; you are just the same as the others, you fool!" That
+was indeed bravado, one of those pieces of impudence of which a woman
+makes use when she dares everything, risks everything, to wound and
+humiliate the man who has aroused her ire.  This poor man must also be
+one of those deceived husbands, like so many others.  He had said sadly:
+"There are times when she seems to have more confidence and faith in our
+friends than in me."  That is how a husband formulated his observations
+on the particular attentions of his wife for another man.  That was all.
+He had seen nothing more.  He was like the rest--all the rest!
+
+And how strangely Bondel's own wife had laughed as she said: "You, too--
+you, too."  How wild and imprudent these creatures are who can arouse
+such suspicions in the heart for the sole purpose of revenge!
+
+He ran over their whole life since their marriage, reviewed his mental
+list of their acquaintances, to see whether she had ever appeared to show
+more confidence in any one else than in himself.  He never had suspected
+any one, he was so calm, so sure of her, so confident.
+
+But, now he thought of it, she had had a friend, an intimate friend, who
+for almost a year had dined with them three times a week.  Tancret, good
+old Tancret, whom he, Bendel, loved as a brother and whom he continued to
+see on the sly, since his wife, he did not know why, had grown angry at
+the charming fellow.
+
+He stopped to think, looking over the past with anxious eyes.  Then he
+grew angry at himself for harboring this shameful insinuation of the
+defiant, jealous, bad ego which lives in all of us.  He blamed and
+accused himself when he remembered the visits and the demeanor of this
+friend whom his wife had dismissed for no apparent reason.  But,
+suddenly, other memories returned to him, similar ruptures due to the
+vindictive character of Madame Bondel, who never pardoned a slight.  Then
+he laughed frankly at himself for the doubts which he had nursed; and he
+remembered the angry looks of his wife as he would tell her, when he
+returned at night: "I saw good old Tancret, and he wished to be
+remembered to you," and he reassured himself.
+
+She would invariably answer: "When you see that gentleman you can tell
+him that I can very well dispense with his remembrances."  With what an
+irritated, angry look she would say these words!  How well one could feel
+that she did not and would not forgive--and he had suspected her even for
+a second?  Such foolishness!
+
+But why did she grow so angry?  She never had given the exact reason for
+this quarrel.  She still bore him that grudge!  Was it? --But no--no--and
+Bondel declared that he was lowering himself by even thinking of such
+things.
+
+Yes, he was undoubtedly lowering himself, but he could not help thinking
+of it, and he asked himself with terror if this thought which had entered
+into his mind had not come to stop, if he did not carry in his heart the
+seed of fearful torment.  He knew himself; he was a man to think over his
+doubts, as formerly he would ruminate over his commercial operations, for
+days and nights, endlessly weighing the pros and the cons.
+
+He was already becoming excited; he was walking fast and losing his
+calmness.  A thought cannot be downed.  It is intangible, cannot be
+caught, cannot be killed.
+
+Suddenly a plan occurred to him; it was bold, so bold that at first he
+doubted whether he would carry it out.
+
+Each time that he met Tancret, his friend would ask for news of Madame
+Bondel, and Bondel would answer: "She is still a little angry."  Nothing
+more.  Good Lord!  What a fool he had been!  Perhaps!
+
+Well, he would take the train to Paris, go to Tancret, and bring him back
+with him that very evening, assuring him that his wife's mysterious anger
+had disappeared.  But how would Madame Bondel act?  What a scene there
+would be!  What anger!  what scandal!  What of it?--that would be
+revenge!  When she should come face to face with him, unexpectedly, he
+certainly ought to be able to read the truth in their expressions.
+
+He immediately went to the station, bought his ticket, got into the car,
+and as soon as he felt him self being carried away by the train, he felt
+a fear, a kind of dizziness, at what he was going to do.  In order not to
+weaken, back down, and return alone, he tried not to think of the matter
+any longer, to bring his mind to bear on other affairs, to do what he had
+decided to do with a blind resolution; and he began to hum tunes from
+operettas and music halls until he reached Paris.
+
+As soon as he found himself walking along the streets that led to
+Tancret's, he felt like stopping, He paused in front of several shops,
+noticed the prices of certain objects, was interested in new things, felt
+like taking a glass of beer, which was not his usual custom; and as he
+approached his friend's dwelling he ardently hoped not meet him.  But
+Tancret was at home, alone, reading.  He jumped up in surprise, crying:
+"Ah! Bondel! what luck!"
+
+Bondel, embarrassed, answered: "Yes, my dear fellow, I happened to be in
+Paris, and I thought I'd drop in and shake hands with you."
+
+"That's very nice, very nice!  The more so that for some time you have
+not favored me with your presence very often."
+
+"Well, you see--even against one's will, one is often influenced by
+surrounding conditions, and as my wife seemed to bear you some ill-will"
+
+"Jove! 'seemed'--she did better than that, since she showed me the door."
+
+"What was the reason?  I never heard it."
+
+"Oh! nothing at all--a bit of foolishness--a discussion in which we did
+not both agree."
+
+"But what was the subject of this discussion?"
+
+"A lady of my acquaintance, whom you may perhaps know by name, Madame
+Boutin."
+
+"Ah! really.  Well, I think that my wife has forgotten her grudge, for
+this very morning she spoke to me of you in very pleasant terms."
+
+Tancret started and seemed so dumfounded that for a few minutes he could
+find nothing to say.  Then he asked: "She spoke of me--in pleasant
+terms?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You are sure?"
+
+"Of course I am.  I am not dreaming."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"And then--as I was coming to Paris I thought that I would please you by
+coming to tell you the good news."
+
+"Why, yes--why, yes--"
+
+Bondel appeared to hesitate; then, after a short pause, he added: "I even
+had an idea."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"To take you back home with me to dinner."
+
+Tancret, who was naturally prudent, seemed a little worried by this
+proposition, and he asked: "Oh! really--is it possible?  Are we not
+exposing ourselves to--to--a scene?"
+
+"No, no, indeed!"
+
+"Because, you know, Madame Bendel bears malice for a long time."
+
+"Yes, but I can assure you that she no longer bears you any ill--will.
+I am even convinced that it will be a great pleasure for her to see you
+thus, unexpectedly."
+
+"Really?"
+
+"Yes, really!"
+
+"Well, then! let us go along.  I am delighted.  You see, this
+misunderstanding was very unpleasant for me."
+
+They set out together toward the Saint-Lazare station, arm in arm.  They
+made the trip in silence.  Both seemed absorbed in deep meditation.
+Seated in the car, one opposite the other, they looked at each other
+without speaking, each observing that the other was pale.
+
+Then they left the train and once more linked arms as if to unite against
+some common danger.  After a walk of a few minutes they stopped, a little
+out of breath, before Bondel's house.  Bondel ushered his friend into the
+parlor, called the servant, and asked: "Is madame at home?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur."
+
+"Please ask her to come down at once."
+
+They dropped into two armchairs and waited.  Both were filled with the
+same longing to escape before the appearance of the much-feared person.
+
+A well-known, heavy tread could be heard descending the stairs.  A hand
+moved the knob, and both men watched the brass handle turn.  Then the
+door opened wide, and Madame Bondel stopped and looked to see who was
+there before she entered.  She looked, blushed, trembled, retreated a
+step, then stood motionless, her cheeks aflame and her hands resting
+against the sides of the door frame.
+
+Tancret, as pale as if about to faint, had arisen, letting fall his hat,
+which rolled along the floor.  He stammered out: "Mon Dieu--madame--it is
+I--I thought--I ventured--I was so sorry--"
+
+As she did not answer, he continued: "Will you forgive me?"
+
+Then, quickly, carried away by some impulse, she walked toward him with
+her hands outstretched; and when he had taken, pressed, and held these
+two hands, she said, in a trembling, weak little voice, which was new to
+her husband:
+
+"Ah! my dear friend--how happy I am!"
+
+And Bondel, who was watching them, felt an icy chill run over him, as if
+he had been dipped in a cold bath.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FOUND ON A DROWNED MAN
+
+Madame, you ask me whether I am laughing at you?  You cannot believe that
+a man has never been in love.  Well, then, no, no, I have never loved,
+never!
+
+Why is this?  I really cannot tell.  I have never experienced that
+intoxication of the heart which we call love!  Never have I lived in that
+dream, in that exaltation, in that state of madness into which the image
+of a woman casts us.  I have never been pursued, haunted, roused to fever
+heat, lifted up to Paradise by the thought of meeting, or by the
+possession of, a being who had suddenly become for me more desirable than
+any good fortune, more beautiful than any other creature, of more
+consequence than the whole world!  I have never wept, I have never
+suffered on account of any of you.  I have not passed my nights
+sleepless, while thinking of her.  I have no experience of waking
+thoughts bright with thought and memories of her.  I have never known the
+wild rapture of hope before her arrival, or the divine sadness of regret
+when she went from me, leaving behind her a delicate odor of violet
+powder.
+
+I have never been in love.
+
+I have also often asked myself why this is.  And truly I can scarcely
+tell.  Nevertheless I have found some reasons for it; but they are of a
+metaphysical character, and perhaps you will not be able to appreciate
+them.
+
+I suppose I am too critical of women to submit to their fascination.  I
+ask you to forgive me for this remark.  I will explain what I mean.  In
+every creature there is a moral being and a physical being.  In order to
+love, it would be necessary for me to find a harmony between these two
+beings which I have never found.  One always predominates; sometimes the
+moral, sometimes the physical.
+
+The intellect which we have a right to require in a woman, in order to
+love her, is not the same as the virile intellect.  It is more, and it is
+less.  A woman must be frank, delicate, sensitive, refined,
+impressionable.  She has no need of either power or initiative in
+thought, but she must have kindness, elegance, tenderness, coquetry and
+that faculty of assimilation which, in a little while, raises her to an
+equality with him who shares her life.  Her greatest quality must be
+tact, that subtle sense which is to the mind what touch is to the body.
+It reveals to her a thousand little things, contours, angles and forms on
+the plane of the intellectual.
+
+Very frequently pretty women have not intellect to correspond with their
+personal charms.  Now, the slightest lack of harmony strikes me and pains
+me at the first glance.  In friendship this is not of importance.
+Friendship is a compact in which one fairly shares defects and merits.
+We may judge of friends, whether man or woman, giving them credit for
+what is good, and overlooking what is bad in them, appreciating them at
+their just value, while giving ourselves up to an intimate, intense and
+charming sympathy.
+
+In order to love, one must be blind, surrender one's self absolutely, see
+nothing, question nothing, understand nothing.  One must adore the
+weakness as well as the beauty of the beloved object, renounce all
+judgment, all reflection, all perspicacity.
+
+I am incapable of such blindness and rebel at unreasoning subjugation.
+This is not all.  I have such a high and subtle idea of harmony that
+nothing can ever fulfill my ideal.  But you will call me a madman.
+Listen to me.  A woman, in my opinion, may have an exquisite soul and
+charming body without that body and that soul being in perfect harmony
+with one another.  I mean that persons who have noses made in a certain
+shape should not be expected to think in a certain fashion.  The fat have
+no right to make use of the same words and phrases as the thin.  You, who
+have blue eyes, madame, cannot look at life and judge of things and
+events as if you had black eyes.  The shade of your eyes should
+correspond, by a sort of fatality, with the shade of your thought.  In
+perceiving these things, I have the scent of a bloodhound.  Laugh if you
+like, but it is so.
+
+And yet, once I imagined that I was in love for an hour, for a day.
+I had foolishly yielded to the influence of surrounding circumstances.
+I allowed myself to be beguiled by a mirage of Dawn.  Would you like me
+to tell you this short story?
+
+I met, one evening, a pretty, enthusiastic little woman who took a poetic
+fancy to spend a night with me in a boat on a river.  I would have
+preferred a room and a bed; however, I consented to the river and the
+boat.
+
+It was in the month of June.  My fair companion chose a moonlight night
+in order the better to stimulate her imagination.
+
+We had dined at a riverside inn and set out in the boat about ten
+o'clock.  I thought it a rather foolish kind of adventure, but as my
+companion pleased me I did not worry about it.  I sat down on the seat
+facing her; I seized the oars, and off we starred.
+
+I could not deny that the scene was picturesque.  We glided past a wooded
+isle full of nightingales, and the current carried us rapidly over the
+river covered with silvery ripples.  The tree toads uttered their shrill,
+monotonous cry; the frogs croaked in the grass by the river's bank, and
+the lapping of the water as it flowed on made around us a kind of
+confused murmur almost imperceptible, disquieting, and gave us a vague
+sensation of mysterious fear.
+
+The sweet charm of warm nights and of streams glittering in the moonlight
+penetrated us.  It was delightful to be alive and to float along thus,
+and to dream and to feel at one's side a sympathetic and beautiful young
+woman.
+
+I was somewhat affected, somewhat agitated, somewhat intoxicated by the
+pale brightness of the night and the consciousness of my proximity to a
+lovely woman.
+
+"Come and sit beside me," she said.
+
+I obeyed.
+
+She went on:
+
+"Recite some poetry for me."
+
+This appeared to be rather too much.  I declined; she persisted.  She
+certainly wanted to play the game, to have a whole orchestra of
+sentiment, from the moon to the rhymes of poets.  In the end I had to
+yield, and, as if in mockery, I repeated to her a charming little poem by
+Louis Bouilhet, of which the following are the last verses:
+
+     "I hate the poet who with tearful eye
+     Murmurs some name while gazing tow'rds a star,
+     Who sees no magic in the earth or sky,
+     Unless Lizette or Ninon be not far.
+
+     "The bard who in all Nature nothing sees
+     Divine, unless a petticoat he ties
+     Amorously to the branches of the trees
+     Or nightcap to the grass, is scarcely wise.
+
+     "He has not heard the Eternal's thunder tone,
+     The voice of Nature in her various moods,
+     Who cannot tread the dim ravines alone,
+     And of no woman dream mid whispering woods."
+
+I expected some reproaches.  Nothing of the sort.  She murmured:
+
+"How true it is!"
+
+I was astonished.  Had she understood?
+
+Our boat had gradually approached the bank and become entangled in the
+branches of a willow which impeded its progress.  I placed my arm round
+my companion's waist, and very gently approached my lips towards her
+neck.  But she repulsed me with an abrupt, angry movement.
+
+"Have done, pray!  How rude you are!"
+
+I tried to draw her toward me.  She resisted, caught hold of the tree,
+and was near flinging us both into the water.  I deemed it prudent to
+cease my importunities.
+
+She said:
+
+"I would rather capsize you.  I feel so happy.  I want to dream.  This is
+so delightful."  Then, in a slightly malicious tone, she added:
+
+"Have you already forgotten the verses you repeated to me just now?"
+
+She was right.  I became silent.
+
+She went on:
+
+"Come, now!"
+
+And I plied the oars once more.
+
+I began to think the night long and my position ridiculous.
+
+My companion said to me:
+
+"Will you make me a promise?"
+
+"Yes.  What is it?"
+
+"To remain quiet, well-behaved and discreet, if I permit you--"
+
+"What?  Say what you mean!"
+
+"Here is what I mean: I want to lie down on my back at the bottom of the
+boat with you by my side.  But I forbid you to touch me, to embrace me--
+in short--to caress me."
+
+I promised.  She said warningly:
+
+"If you move, 'I'll capsize the boat."
+
+And then we lay down side by side, our eyes turned toward the sky, while
+the boat glided slowly through the water.  We were rocked by its gentle
+motion.  The slight sounds of the night came to us more distinctly in the
+bottom of the boat, sometimes causing us to start.  And I felt springing
+up within me a strange, poignant emotion, an infinite tenderness,
+something like an irresistible impulse to open my arms in order to
+embrace, to open my heart in order to love, to give myself, to give my
+thoughts, my body, my life, my entire being to some one.
+
+My companion murmured, like one in a dream:
+
+"Where are we; Where are we going?  It seems to me that I am leaving the
+earth.  How sweet it is!  Ah, if you loved me--a little!!!"
+
+My heart began to throb.  I had no answer to give.  It seemed to me that
+I loved her.  I had no longer any violent desire.  I felt happy there by
+her side, and that was enough for me.
+
+And thus we remained for a long, long time without stirring.  We had
+clasped each other's hands; some delightful force rendered us motionless,
+an unknown force stronger than ourselves, an alliance, chaste, intimate,
+absolute, of our beings lying there side by side, belonging to each other
+without contact.  What was this?  How do I know?  Love, perhaps?
+
+Little by little the dawn appeared.  It was three o'clock in the morning.
+Slowly a great brightness spread over the sky.  The boat knocked up
+against something.  I rose up.  We had come close to a tiny islet.
+
+But I remained enchanted, in an ecstasy.  Before us stretched the
+firmament, red, pink, violet, spotted with fiery clouds resembling golden
+vapor.  The river was glowing with purple and three houses on one side of
+it seemed to be burning.
+
+I bent toward my companion.  I was going to say, "Oh! look!" But I held
+my tongue, quite dazed, and I could no longer see anything except her.
+She, too, was rosy, with rosy flesh tints with a deeper tinge that was
+partly a reflection of the hue of the sky.  Her tresses were rosy; her
+eyes were rosy; her teeth were rosy; her dress, her laces, her smile, all
+were rosy.  And in truth I believed, so overpowering was the illusion,
+that the dawn was there in the flesh before me.
+
+She rose softly to her feet, holding out her lips to me; and I moved
+toward her, trembling, delirious feeling indeed that I was going to kiss
+Heaven, to kiss happiness, to kiss a dream that had become a woman, to
+kiss the ideal which had descended into human flesh.
+
+She said to me: "You have a caterpillar in your hair."  And, suddenly, I
+felt as sad as if I had lost all hope in life.
+
+That is all, madame.  It is puerile, silly, stupid.  But I am sure that
+since that day it would be impossible for me to love.  And yet--who can
+tell?
+
+[The young man upon whom this letter was found was yesterday taken out of
+the Seine between Bougival and Marly.  An obliging bargeman, who had
+searched the pockets in order to ascertain the name of the deceased,
+brought this paper to the author.]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE ORPHAN
+
+Mademoiselle Source had adopted this boy under very sad circumstances.
+She was at the time thirty-six years old.  Being disfigured through
+having as a child slipped off her nurse's lap into the fireplace and
+burned her face shockingly, she had determined not to marry, for she did
+not want any man to marry her for her money.
+
+A neighbor of hers, left a widow just before her child was born, died in
+giving birth, without leaving a sou.  Mademoiselle Source took the new-
+born child, put him out to nurse, reared him, sent him to a boarding-
+school, then brought him home in his fourteenth year, in order to have in
+her empty house somebody who would love her, who would look after her,
+and make her old age pleasant.
+
+She had a little country place four leagues from Rennes, and she now
+dispensed with a servant; her expenses having increased to more than
+double since this orphan's arrival, her income of three thousand francs
+was no longer sufficient to support three persons.
+
+She attended to the housekeeping and cooking herself, and sent out the
+boy on errands, letting him also occupy himself in cultivating the
+garden.  He was gentle, timid, silent, and affectionate.  And she
+experienced a deep happiness, a fresh happiness when he kissed her
+without surprise or horror at her disfigurement.  He called her "Aunt,"
+and treated her as a mother.
+
+In the evening they both sat down at the fireside, and she made nice
+little dainties for him.  She heated some wine and toasted a slice of
+bread, and it made a charming little meal before going to bed.  She often
+took him on her knees and covered him with kisses, murmuring tender words
+in his ear.  She called him: "My little flower, my cherub, my adored
+angel, my divine jewel."  He softly accepted her caresses, hiding his
+head on the old maid's shoulder.  Although he was now nearly fifteen, he
+had remained small and weak, and had a rather sickly appearance.
+
+Sometimes Mademoiselle Source took him to the city, to see two married
+female relatives of hers, distant cousins, who were living in the
+suburbs, and who were the only members of her family in existence.  The
+two women had always found fault with her, for having adopted this boy,
+on account of the inheritance; but for all that, they gave her a cordial
+welcome, having still hopes of getting a share for themselves, a third,
+no doubt, if what she possessed were only equally divided.
+
+She was happy, very happy, always occupied with her adopted child.  She
+bought books for him to improve his mind, and he became passionately fond
+of reading.
+
+He no longer climbed on her knee to pet her as he had formerly done; but,
+instead, would go and sit down in his little chair in the chimney-corner
+and open a volume.  The lamp placed at the edge of the Tittle table above
+his head shone on his curly hair, and on a portion of his forehead; he
+did not move, he did not raise his eyes or make any gesture.  He read on,
+interested, entirely absorbed in the story he was reading.
+
+Seated opposite to him, she would gaze at him earnestly, astonished at
+his studiousness, often on the point of bursting into tears.
+
+She said to him occasionally: "You will fatigue yourself, my treasure!"
+hoping that he would raise his head, and come across to embrace her; but
+he did not even answer her; he had not heard or understood what she was
+saying; he paid no attention to anything save what he read in those
+pages.
+
+For two years he devoured an incalculable number of volumes.  His
+character changed.
+
+After this, he asked Mademoiselle Source several times for money, which
+she gave him.  As he always wanted more, she ended by refusing, for she
+was both methodical and decided, and knew how to act rationally when it
+was necessary to do so.  By dint of entreaties he obtained a large sum
+from her one night; but when he begged her for more a few days later, she
+showed herself inflexible, and did not give way to him further, in fact.
+
+He appeared to be satisfied with her decision.
+
+He again became quiet, as he had formerly been, remaining seated for
+entire hours, without moving, plunged in deep reverie.  He now did not
+even talk to Madame Source, merely answering her remarks with short,
+formal words.  Nevertheless, he was agreeable and attentive in his manner
+toward her; but he never embraced her now.
+
+She had by this time grown slightly afraid of him when they sat facing
+one another at night on opposite sides of the fireplace.  She wanted to
+wake him up, to make him say something, no matter what, that would break
+this dreadful silence, which was like the darkness of a wood.  But he did
+not appear to listen to her, and she shuddered with the terror of a poor
+feeble woman when she had spoken to him five or six times successively
+without being able to get a word out of him.
+
+What was the matter with him?  What was going on in that closed-up head?
+When she had remained thus two or three hours opposite him, she felt as
+if she were going insane, and longed to rush away and to escape into the
+open country in order to avoid that mute, eternal companionship and also
+some vague danger, which she could not define, but of which she had a
+presentiment.
+
+She frequently wept when she was alone.  What was the matter with him?
+When she expressed a wish, he unmurmuringly carried it into execution.
+When she wanted anything brought from the city, he immediately went there
+to procure it.  She had no complaint to make of him; no, indeed!  And
+yet----
+
+Another year flitted by, and it seemed to her that a fresh change had
+taken place in the mind of the young man.  She perceived it; she felt it;
+she divined it.  How?  No matter!  She was sure she was not mistaken; but
+she could not have explained in what manner the unknown thoughts of this
+strange youth had changed.
+
+It seemed to her that, until now, he had been like a person in a
+hesitating frame of mind, who had suddenly arrived at a determination.
+This idea came to her one evening as she met his glance, a fixed,
+singular glance which she had not seen in his face before.
+
+Then he commenced to watch her incessantly, and she wished she could hide
+herself in order to avoid that cold eye riveted on her.
+
+He kept staring at her, evening after evening, for hours together, only
+averting his eyes when she said, utterly unnerved:
+
+"Do not look at me like that, my child!"
+
+Then he would lower his head.
+
+But the moment her back was turned she once more felt that his eyes were
+upon her.  Wherever she went, he pursued her with his persistent gaze.
+
+Sometimes, when she was walking in her little garden, she suddenly
+noticed him hidden behind a bush, as if he were lying in wait for her;
+and, again, when she sat in front of the house mending stockings while he
+was digging some vegetable bed, he kept continually watching her in a
+surreptitious manner, as he worked.
+
+It was in vain that she asked him:
+
+"What's the matter with you, my boy?  For the last three years, you have
+become very different.  I don't recognize you.  Do tell me what ails you,
+and what you are thinking of."
+
+He invariably replied, in a quiet, weary tone:
+
+"Why, nothing ails me, aunt!"
+
+And when she persisted:
+
+"Ah!  my child, answer me, answer me when I speak to you.  If you knew
+what grief you caused me, you would always answer, and you would not look
+at me that way.  Have you any trouble?  Tell me!  I'll comfort you!"
+
+He went away, with a tired air, murmuring:
+
+"But there is nothing the matter with me, I assure you."
+
+He had not grown much, having always a childish look, although his
+features were those of a man.  They were, however, hard and badly cut.
+He seemed incomplete, abortive, only half finished, and disquieting as a
+mystery.  He was a self-contained, unapproachable being, in whom there
+seemed always to be some active, dangerous mental labor going on.
+Mademoiselle Source was quite conscious of all this, and she could not
+sleep at night, so great was her anxiety.  Frightful terrors, dreadful
+nightmares assailed her.  She shut herself up in her own room, and
+barricaded the door, tortured by fear.
+
+What was she afraid of?  She could not tell.
+
+She feared everything, the night, the walls, the shadows thrown by the
+moon on the white curtains of the windows, and, above all, she feared
+him.
+
+Why?
+
+What had she to fear?  Did she know what it was?
+
+She could live this way no longer!  She felt certain that a misfortune
+threatened her, a frightful misfortune.
+
+She set forth secretly one morning, and went into the city to see her
+relatives.  She told them about the matter in a gasping voice.  The two
+women thought she was going mad and tried to reassure her.
+
+She said:
+
+"If you knew the way he looks at me from morning till night.  He never
+takes his eyes off me!  At times, I feel a longing to cry for help, to
+call in the neighbors, so much am I afraid.  But what could I say to
+them?  He does nothing but look at me."
+
+The two female cousins asked:
+
+"Is he ever brutal to you?  Does he give you sharp answers?"
+
+She replied:
+
+"No, never; he does everything I wish; he works hard: he is steady; but I
+am so frightened that I care nothing for that.  He is planning something,
+I am certain of that--quite certain.  I don't care to remain all alone
+like that with him in the country."
+
+The relatives, astonished at her words, declared that people would be
+amazed, would not understand; and they advised her to keep silent about
+her fears and her plans, without, however, dissuading her from coming to
+reside in the city, hoping in that way that the entire inheritance would
+eventually fall into their hands.
+
+They even promised to assist her in selling her house, and in finding
+another, near them.
+
+Mademoiselle Source returned home.  But her mind was so much upset that
+she trembled at the slightest noise, and her hands shook whenever any
+trifling disturbance agitated her.
+
+Twice she went again to consult her relatives, quite determined now not
+to remain any longer in this way in her lonely dwelling.  At last, she
+found a little cottage in the suburbs, which suited her, and she
+privately bought it.
+
+The signature of the contract took place on a Tuesday morning, and
+Mademoiselle Source devoted the rest of the day to the preparations for
+her change of residence.
+
+At eight o'clock in the evening she got into the diligence which passed
+within a few hundred yards of her house, and she told the conductor to
+put her down in the place where she usually alighted.  The man called out
+to her as he whipped his horses:
+
+"Good evening, Mademoiselle Source--good night!"
+
+She replied as she walked on:
+
+"Good evening, Pere Joseph."  Next morning, at half-past seven, the
+postman who conveyed letters to the village noticed at the cross-road,
+not far from the high road, a large splash of blood not yet dry.  He said
+to himself: "Hallo! some boozer must have had a nose bleed."
+
+But he perceived ten paces farther on a pocket handkerchief also stained
+with blood.  He picked it up.  The linen was fine, and the postman, in
+alarm, made his way over to the ditch, where he fancied he saw a strange
+object.
+
+Mademoiselle Source was lying at the bottom on the grass, her throat cut
+with a knife.
+
+An hour later, the gendarmes, the examining magistrate, and other
+authorities made an inquiry as to the cause of death.
+
+The two female relatives, called as witnesses, told all about the old
+maid's fears and her last plans.
+
+The orphan was arrested.  After the death of the woman who had adopted
+him, he wept from morning till night, plunged, at least to all
+appearance, in the most violent grief.
+
+He proved that he had spent the evening up to eleven o'clock in a cafe.
+Ten persons had seen him, having remained there till his departure.
+
+The driver of the diligence stated that he had set down the murdered
+woman on the road between half-past nine and ten o'clock.
+
+The accused was acquitted.  A will, drawn up a long time before, which
+had been left in the hands of a notary in Rennes, made him sole heir.
+So he inherited everything.
+
+For a long time, the people of the country boycotted him, as they still
+suspected him.  His house, that of the dead woman, was looked upon as
+accursed.  People avoided him in the street.
+
+But he showed himself so good-natured, so open, so familiar, that
+gradually these horrible doubts were forgotten.  He was generous,
+obliging, ready to talk to the humblest about anything, as long as they
+cared to talk to him.
+
+The notary, Maitre Rameau, was one of the first to take his part,
+attracted by his smiling loquacity.  He said at a dinner, at the tax
+collector's house:
+
+"A man who speaks with such facility and who is always in good humor
+could not have such a crime on his conscience."
+
+Touched by his argument, the others who were present reflected, and they
+recalled to mind the long conversations with this man who would almost
+compel them to stop at the road corners to listen to his ideas, who
+insisted on their going into his house when they were passing by his
+garden, who could crack a joke better than the lieutenant of the
+gendarmes himself, and who possessed such contagious gaiety that, in
+spite of the repugnance with which he inspired them, they could not keep
+from always laughing in his company.
+
+All doors were opened to him after a time.
+
+He is to-day the mayor of his township.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE BEGGAR
+
+He had seen better days, despite his present misery and infirmities.
+
+At the age of fifteen both his legs had been crushed by a carriage on the
+Varville highway.  From that time forth he begged, dragging himself along
+the roads and through the farmyards, supported by crutches which forced
+his shoulders up to his ears.  His head looked as if it were squeezed in
+between two mountains.
+
+A foundling, picked up out of a ditch by the priest of Les Billettes on
+the eve of All Saints' Day and baptized, for that reason, Nicholas
+Toussaint, reared by charity, utterly without education, crippled in
+consequence of having drunk several glasses of brandy given him by the
+baker (such a funny story!) and a vagabond all his life afterward--the
+only thing he knew how to do was to hold out his hand for alms.
+
+At one time the Baroness d'Avary allowed him to sleep in a kind of recess
+spread with straw, close to the poultry yard in the farm adjoining the
+chateau, and if he was in great need he was sure of getting a glass of
+cider and a crust of bread in the kitchen.  Moreover, the old lady often
+threw him a few pennies from her window.  But she was dead now.
+
+In the villages people gave him scarcely anything--he was too well known.
+Everybody had grown tired of seeing him, day after day for forty years,
+dragging his deformed and tattered person from door to door on his wooden
+crutches.  But he could not make up his mind to go elsewhere, because he
+knew no place on earth but this particular corner of the country, these
+three or four villages where he had spent the whole of his miserable
+existence.  He had limited his begging operations and would not for
+worlds have passed his accustomed bounds.
+
+He did not even know whether the world extended for any distance beyond
+the trees which had always bounded his vision.  He did not ask himself
+the question.  And when the peasants, tired of constantly meeting him in
+their fields or along their lanes, exclaimed: "Why don't you go to other
+villages instead of always limping about here?" he did not answer, but
+slunk away, possessed with a vague dread of the unknown--the dread of a
+poor wretch who fears confusedly a thousand things--new faces, taunts,
+insults, the suspicious glances of people who do not know him and the
+policemen walking in couples on the roads.  These last he always
+instinctively avoided, taking refuge in the bushes or behind heaps of
+stones when he saw them coming.
+
+When he perceived them in the distance, 'With uniforms gleaming in the
+sun, he was suddenly possessed with unwonted agility--the agility of a
+wild animal seeking its lair.  He threw aside his crutches, fell to the
+ground like a limp rag, made himself as small as possible and crouched
+like a bare under cover, his tattered vestments blending in hue with the
+earth on which he cowered.
+
+He had never had any trouble with the police, but the instinct to avoid
+them was in his blood.  He seemed to have inherited it from the parents
+he had never known.
+
+He had no refuge, no roof for his head, no shelter of any kind.  In
+summer he slept out of doors and in winter he showed remarkable skill in
+slipping unperceived into barns and stables.  He always decamped before
+his presence could be discovered.  He knew all the holes through which
+one could creep into farm buildings, and the handling of his crutches
+having made his arms surprisingly muscular he often hauled himself up
+through sheer strength of wrist into hay-lofts, where he sometimes
+remained for four or five days at a time, provided he had collected a
+sufficient store of food beforehand.
+
+He lived like the beasts of the field.  He was in the midst of men, yet
+knew no one, loved no one, exciting in the breasts of the peasants only a
+sort of careless contempt and smoldering hostility.  They nicknamed him
+"Bell," because he hung between his two crutches like a church bell
+between its supports.
+
+For two days he had eaten nothing.  No one gave him anything now.  Every
+one's patience was exhausted.  Women shouted to him from their doorsteps
+when they saw him coming:
+
+"Be off with you, you good-for-nothing vagabond!  Why, I gave you a piece
+of bread only three days ago!
+
+And he turned on his crutches to the next house, where he was received in
+the same fashion.
+
+The women declared to one another as they stood at their doors:
+
+"We can't feed that lazy brute all the year round!"
+
+And yet the "lazy brute" needed food every day.
+
+He had exhausted Saint-Hilaire, Varville and Les Billettes without
+getting a single copper or so much as a dry crust.  His only hope was in
+Tournolles, but to reach this place he would have to walk five miles
+along the highroad, and he felt so weary that he could hardly drag
+himself another yard.  His stomach and his pocket were equally empty, but
+he started on his way.
+
+It was December and a cold wind blew over the fields and whistled through
+the bare branches of the trees; the clouds careered madly across the
+black, threatening sky.  The cripple dragged himself slowly along,
+raising one crutch after the other with a painful effort, propping
+himself on the one distorted leg which remained to him.
+
+Now and then he sat down beside a ditch for a few moments' rest.  Hunger
+was gnawing his vitals, and in his confused, slow-working mind he had
+only one idea-to eat-but how this was to be accomplished he did not know.
+For three hours he continued his painful journey.  Then at last the sight
+of the trees of the village inspired him with new energy.
+
+The first peasant he met, and of whom he asked alms, replied:
+
+"So it's you again, is it, you old scamp?  Shall I never be rid of you?"
+
+And "Bell" went on his way.  At every door he got nothing but hard words.
+He made the round of the whole village, but received not a halfpenny for
+his pains.
+
+Then he visited the neighboring farms, toiling through the muddy land, so
+exhausted that he could hardly raise his crutches from the ground.  He
+met with the same reception everywhere.  It was one of those cold, bleak
+days, when the heart is frozen and the temper irritable, and hands do not
+open either to give money or food.
+
+When he had visited all the houses he knew, "Bell" sank down in the
+corner of a ditch running across Chiquet's farmyard.  Letting his
+crutches slip to the ground, he remained motionless, tortured by hunger,
+but hardly intelligent enough to realize to the full his unutterable
+misery.
+
+He awaited he knew not what, possessed with that vague hope which
+persists in the human heart in spite of everything.  He awaited in the
+corner of the farmyard in the biting December wind, some mysterious aid
+from Heaven or from men, without the least idea whence it was to arrive.
+A number of black hens ran hither and thither, seeking their food in the
+earth which supports all living things.  Ever now and then they snapped
+up in their beaks a grain of corn or a tiny insect; then they continued
+their slow, sure search for nutriment.
+
+"Bell" watched them at first without thinking of anything.  Then a
+thought occurred rather to his stomach than to his mind--the thought that
+one of those fowls would be good to eat if it were cooked over a fire of
+dead wood.
+
+He did not reflect that he was going to commit a theft.  He took up a
+stone which lay within reach, and, being of skillful aim, killed at the
+first shot the fowl nearest to him.  The bird fell on its side, flapping
+its wings.  The others fled wildly hither and thither, and "Bell,"
+picking up his crutches, limped across to where his victim lay.
+
+Just as he reached the little black body with its crimsoned head he
+received a violent blow in his back which made him let go his hold of his
+crutches and sent him flying ten paces distant.  And Farmer Chiquet,
+beside himself with rage, cuffed and kicked the marauder with all the
+fury of a plundered peasant as "Bell" lay defenceless before him.
+
+The farm hands came up also and joined their master in cuffing the lame
+beggar.  Then when they were tired of beating him they carried him off
+and shut him up in the woodshed, while they went to fetch the police.
+
+"Bell," half dead, bleeding and perishing with hunger, lay on the floor.
+Evening came--then night--then dawn.  And still he had not eaten.
+
+About midday the police arrived.  They opened the door of the woodshed
+with the utmost precaution, fearing resistance on the beggar's part, for
+Farmer Chiquet asserted that he had been attacked by him and had had
+great, difficulty in defending himself.
+
+The sergeant cried:
+
+"Come, get up!"
+
+But "Bell" could not move.  He did his best to raise himself on his
+crutches, but without success.  The police, thinking his weakness
+feigned, pulled him up by main force and set him between the crutches.
+
+Fear seized him--his native fear of a uniform, the fear of the game in
+presence of the sportsman, the fear of a mouse for a cat-and by the
+exercise of almost superhuman effort he succeeded in remaining upright.
+
+"Forward!" said the sergeant.  He walked.  All the inmates of the farm
+watched his departure.  The women shook their fists at him the men
+scoffed at and insulted him.  He was taken at last!  Good riddance!
+He went off between his two guards.  He mustered sufficient energy--the
+energy of despair--to drag himself along until the evening, too dazed to
+know what was happening to him, too frightened to understand.
+
+People whom he met on the road stopped to watch him go by and peasants
+muttered:
+
+"It's some thief or other."
+
+Toward evening he reached the country town.  He had never been so far
+before.  He did not realize in the least what he was there for or what
+was to become of him.  All the terrible and unexpected events of the last
+two days, all these unfamiliar faces and houses struck dismay into his
+heart.
+
+He said not a word, having nothing to say because he understood nothing.
+Besides, he had spoken to no one for so many years past that he had
+almost lost the use of his tongue, and his thoughts were too
+indeterminate to be put into words.
+
+He was shut up in the town jail.  It did not occur to the police that he
+might need food, and he was left alone until the following day.
+But when in the early morning they came to examine him he was found dead
+on the floor.  Such an astonishing thing!
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE RABBIT
+
+Old Lecacheur appeared at the door of his house between five and a
+quarter past five in the morning, his usual hour, to watch his men going
+to work.
+
+He was only half awake, his face was red, and with his right eye open and
+the left nearly closed, he was buttoning his braces over his fat stomach
+with some difficulty, at the same time looking into every corner of the
+farmyard with a searching glance.  The sun darted its oblique rays
+through the beech trees by the side of the ditch and athwart the apple
+trees outside, and was making the cocks crow on the dunghill, and the
+pigeons coo on the roof.  The smell of the cow stable came through the
+open door, and blended in the fresh morning air with the pungent odor of
+the stable, where the horses were neighing, with their heads turned
+toward the light.
+
+As soon as his trousers were properly fastened, Lecacheur came out, and
+went, first of all, toward the hen house to count the morning's eggs, for
+he had been afraid of thefts for some time; but the servant girl ran up
+to him with lifted arms and cried:
+
+"Master! master! they have stolen a rabbit during the night."
+
+"A rabbit?"
+
+"Yes, master, the big gray rabbit, from the hutch on the left"; whereupon
+the farmer completely opened his left eye, and said, simply:
+
+"I must see about that."
+
+And off he went to inspect it.  The hutch had been broken open and the
+rabbit was gone.  Then he became thoughtful, closed his right eye again,
+and scratched his nose, and after a little consideration, he said to the
+frightened girl, who was standing stupidly before her master:
+
+"Go and fetch the gendarmes; say I expect them as soon as possible."
+
+Lecacheur was mayor of the village, Pavigny-le-Gras, and ruled it like a
+master, on account of his money and position, and as soon as the servant
+had disappeared in the direction of the village, which was only about
+five hundred yards off, he went into the house to have his morning coffee
+and to discuss the matter with his wife, whom he found on her knees in
+front of the fire, trying to make it burn quickly, and as soon as he got
+to the door, he said:
+
+"Somebody has stolen the gray rabbit."
+
+She turned round so suddenly that she found herself sitting on the floor,
+and looking at her husband with distressed eyes, she said:
+
+"What is it, Cacheux?  Somebody has stolen a rabbit?"
+
+"The big gray one."
+
+She sighed.
+
+"What a shame!  Who can have done it?"
+
+She was a little, thin, active, neat woman, who knew all about farming.
+Lecacheur had his own ideas about the matter.
+
+"It must be that fellow, Polyte."
+
+His wife got up suddenly and said in a furious voice:
+
+"He did it! he did it!  You need not look for any one else.  He did it!
+You have said it, Cacheux!"
+
+All her peasant's fury, all her avarice, all her rage of a saving woman
+against the man of whom she had always been suspicious, and against the
+girl whom she had always suspected, showed themselves in the contraction
+of her mouth, and the wrinkles in the cheeks and forehead of her thin,
+exasperated face.
+
+"And what have you done?" she asked.
+
+"I have sent for the gendarmes."
+
+This Polyte was a laborer, who had been employed on the farm for a few
+days, and who had been dismissed by Lecacheur for an insolent answer.  He
+was an old soldier, and was supposed to have retained his habits of
+marauding and debauchery front his campaigns in Africa.  He did anything
+for a livelihood, but whether he were a mason, a navvy, a reaper, whether
+he broke stones or lopped trees, he was always lazy, and so he remained
+nowhere for long, and had, at times, to change his neighborhood to obtain
+work.
+
+From the first day that he came to the farm, Lecacheur's wife had
+detested him, and now she was sure that he had committed the theft.
+
+In about half an hour the two gendarmes arrived.  Brigadier Senateur was
+very tall and thin, and Gendarme Lenient short and fat.  Lecacheur made
+them sit down, and told them the affair, and then they went and saw the
+scene of the theft, in order to verify the fact that the hutch had been
+broken open, and to collect all the proofs they could.  When they got
+back to the kitchen, the mistress brought in some wine, filled their
+glasses, and asked with a distrustful look:
+
+"Shall you catch him?"
+
+The brigadier, who had his sword between his legs, appeared thoughtful.
+Certainly, he was sure of taking him, if he was pointed out to him, but
+if not, he could not answer for being able to discover him, himself, and
+after reflecting for a long time, he put this simple question:
+
+"Do you know the thief?"
+
+And Lecacheur replied, with a look of Normandy slyness in his eyes:
+
+"As for knowing him, I do not, as I did not see him commit the theft.
+If I had seen him, I should have made him eat it raw, skin and flesh,
+without a drop of cider to wash it down.  But as for saying who it is,
+I cannot, although I believe it is that good-for-nothing Polyte."
+
+Then he related at length his troubles with Polyte, his leaving his
+service, his bad reputation, things which had been told him, accumulating
+insignificant and minute proofs, and then, the brigadier, who had been
+listening very attentively while he emptied his glass and filled it again
+with an indifferent air, turned to his gendarme and said:
+
+"We must go and look in the cottage of Severin's wife."  At which the
+gendarme smiled and nodded three times.
+
+Then Madame Lecacheur came to them, and very quietly, with all a
+peasant's cunning, questioned the brigadier in her turn.  That shepherd
+Severin, a simpleton, a sort of brute who had been brought up and had
+grown up among his bleating flocks, and who knew scarcely anything
+besides them in the world, had nevertheless preserved the peasant's
+instinct for saving, at the bottom of his heart.  For years and years he
+must have hidden in hollow trees and crevices in the rocks all that he
+earned, either as a shepherd or by curing animals' sprains--for the
+bonesetter's secret had been handed down to him by the old shepherd whose
+place he took-by touch or word, and one day he bought a small property,
+consisting of a cottage and a field, for three thousand francs.
+
+A few months later it became known that he was going to marry a servant,
+notorious for her bad morals, the innkeeper's servant.  The young fellows
+said that the girl, knowing that he was pretty well off, had been to his
+cottage every night, and had taken him, captured him, led him on to
+matrimony, little by little night by night.
+
+And then, having been to the mayor's office and to church, she now lived
+in the house which her man had bought, while he continued to tend his
+flocks, day and night, on the plains.
+
+And the brigadier added:
+
+"Polyte has been sleeping there for three weeks, for the thief has no
+place of his own to go to!"
+
+The gendarme made a little joke:
+
+"He takes the shepherd's blankets."
+
+Madame Lecacheur, who was seized by a fresh access of rage, of rage
+increased by a married woman's anger against debauchery, exclaimed:
+
+"It is she, I am sure.  Go there.  Ah, the blackguard thieves!
+
+But the brigadier was quite unmoved.
+
+"One minute," he said.  "Let us wait until twelve o'clock, as he goes and
+dines there every day.  I shall catch them with it under their noses."
+
+The gendarme smiled, pleased at his chief's idea, and Lecacheur also
+smiled now, for the affair of the shepherd struck him as very funny;
+deceived husbands are always a joke.
+
+Twelve o'clock had just struck when the brigadier, followed by his man,
+knocked gently three times at the door of a little lonely house, situated
+at the corner of a wood, five hundred yards from the village.
+
+They had been standing close against the wall, so as not to be seen from
+within, and they waited.  As nobody answered, the brigadier knocked again
+in a minute or two.  It was so quiet that the house seemed uninhabited;
+but Lenient, the gendarme, who had very quick ears, said that he heard
+somebody moving about inside, and then Senateur got angry.  He would not
+allow any one to resist the authority of the law for a moment, and,
+knocking at the door with the hilt of his sword, he cried out:
+
+"Open the door, in the name of the law."
+
+As this order had no effect, he roared out:
+
+"If you do not obey, I shall smash the lock.  I am the brigadier of the
+gendarmerie, by G--!  Here, Lenient."
+
+He had not finished speaking when the door opened and Senateur saw before
+him a fat girl, with a very red, blowzy face, with drooping breasts, a
+big stomach and broad hips, a sort of animal, the wife of the shepherd
+Severin, and he went into the cottage.
+
+"I have come to pay you a visit, as I want to make a little search," he
+said, and he looked about him.  On the table there was a plate, a jug of
+cider and a glass half full, which proved that a meal was in progress.
+Two knives were lying side by side, and the shrewd gendarme winked at his
+superior officer.
+
+"It smells good," the latter said.
+
+"One might swear that it was stewed rabbit," Lenient added, much amused.
+
+"Will you have a glass of brandy?" the peasant woman asked.
+
+"No, thank you; I only want the skin of the rabbit that you are eating."
+
+She pretended not to understand, but she was trembling.
+
+"What rabbit?"
+
+The brigadier had taken a seat, and was calmly wiping his forehead.
+
+"Come, come, you are not going to try and make us believe that you live
+on couch grass.  What were you eating there all by yourself for your
+dinner?"
+
+"I?  Nothing whatever, I swear to you.  A mite of butter on my bread."
+
+"You are a novice, my good woman.  A mite of butter on your bread.
+You are mistaken; you ought to have said: a mite of butter on the rabbit.
+By G--,your butter smells good!  It is special butter, extra good butter,
+butter fit for a wedding; certainly, not household butter!"
+
+The gendarme was shaking with laughter, and repeated:
+
+"Not household butter certainly."
+
+As Brigadier Senateur was a joker, all the gendarmes had grown facetious,
+and the officer continued:
+
+"Where is your butter?"
+
+"My butter?"
+
+"Yes, your butter."
+
+"In the jar."
+
+"Then where is the butter jar?"
+
+"Here it is."
+
+She brought out an old cup, at the bottom of which there was a layer of
+rancid salt butter, and the brigadier smelled of it, and said, with a
+shake of his head:
+
+"It is not the same.  I want the butter that smells of the rabbit.  Come,
+Lenient, open your eyes; look under the sideboard, my good fellow, and I
+will look under the bed."
+
+Having shut the door, he went up to the bed and tried to move it; but it
+was fixed to the wall, and had not been moved for more than half a
+century, apparently.  Then the brigadier stooped, and made his uniform
+crack.  A button had flown off.
+
+"Lenient," he said.
+
+"Yes, brigadier?"
+
+"Come here, my lad, and look under the bed; I am too tall.  I will look
+after the sideboard."
+
+He got up and waited while his man executed his orders.
+
+Lenient, who was short and stout, took off his kepi, laid himself on his
+stomach, and, putting his face on the floor, looked at the black cavity
+under the bed, and then, suddenly, he exclaimed:
+
+"All right, here we are!"
+
+"What have you got?  The rabbit?"
+
+"No, the thief."
+
+"The thief!  Pull him out, pull him out!"
+
+The gendarme had put his arms under the bed and laid hold of something,
+and he was pulling with all his might, and at last a foot, shod in a
+thick boot, appeared, which he was holding in his right hand.  The
+brigadier took it, crying:
+
+"Pull!  Pull!"
+
+And Lenient, who was on his knees by that time, was pulling at the other
+leg.  But it was a hard job, for the prisoner kicked out hard, and arched
+up his back under the bed.
+
+"Courage!  courage!  pull!  pull!" Senateur cried, and they pulled him
+with all their strength, so that the wooden slat gave way, and he came
+out as far as his head; but at last they got that out also, and they saw
+the terrified and furious face of Polyte, whose arms remained stretched
+out under the bed.
+
+"Pull away!" the brigadier kept on exclaiming.  Then they heard a strange
+noise, and as the arms followed the shoulders, and the hands the arms,
+they saw in the hands the handle of a saucepan, and at the end of the
+handle the saucepan itself, which contained stewed rabbit.
+
+"Good Lord!  good Lord!" the brigadier shouted in his delight, while
+Lenient took charge of the man; the rabbit's skin, an overwhelming proof,
+was discovered under the mattress, and then the gendarmes returned in
+triumph to the village with their prisoner and their booty.
+
+A week later, as the affair had made much stir, Lecacheur, on going into
+the mairie to consult the schoolmaster, was told that the shepherd
+Severin had been waiting for him for more than an hour, and he found him
+sitting on a chair in a corner, with his stick between his legs.  When he
+saw the mayor, he got up, took off his cap, and said:
+
+"Good-morning, Maitre Cacheux"; and then he remained standing, timid and
+embarrassed.
+
+"What do you want?" the former said.
+
+"This is it, monsieur.  Is it true that somebody stole one of your
+rabbits last week?"
+
+"Yes, it is quite true, Severin."
+
+"Who stole the rabbit?"
+
+"Polyte Ancas, the laborer."
+
+"Right! right!  And is it also true that it was found under my bed?"
+
+"What do you mean, the rabbit?"
+
+"The rabbit and then Polyte."
+
+"Yes, my poor Severin, quite true, but who told you?"
+
+"Pretty well everybody.  I understand!  And I suppose you know all about
+marriages, as you marry people?"
+
+"What about marriage?"
+
+"With regard to one's rights."
+
+"What rights?"
+
+"The husband's rights and then the wife's rights."
+
+"Of course I do."
+
+"Oh!  Then just tell me, M'sieu Cacheux, has my wife the right to go to
+bed with Polyte?"
+
+"What, to go to bed with Polyte?"
+
+"Yes, has she any right before the law, and, seeing that she is my wife,
+to go to bed with Polyte?"
+
+"Why, of course not, of course not."
+
+"If I catch him there again, shall I have the right to thrash him and her
+also?"
+
+"Why--why--why, yes."
+
+"Very well, then; I will tell you why I want to know.  One night last
+week, as I had my suspicions, I came in suddenly, and they were not
+behaving properly.  I chucked Polyte out, to go and sleep somewhere else;
+but that was all, as I did not know what my rights were.  This time I did
+not see them; I only heard of it from others.  That is over, and we will
+not say any more about it; but if I catch them again--by G--, if I catch
+them again, I will make them lose all taste for such nonsense, Maitre
+Cacheux, as sure as my name is Severin."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+HIS AVENGER
+
+When M. Antoine Leuillet married the widow, Madame Mathilde Souris, he
+had already been in love with her for ten years.
+
+M. Souris has been his friend, his old college chum.  Leuillet was very
+much attached to him, but thought he was somewhat of a simpleton.  He
+would often remark: "That poor Souris who will never set the world on
+fire."
+
+When Souris married Miss Mathilde Duval, Leuillet was astonished and
+somewhat annoyed, as he was slightly devoted to her, himself.  She was
+the daughter of a neighbor, a former proprietor of a draper's
+establishment who had retired with quite a small fortune.  She married
+Souris for his money.
+
+Then Leuillet thought he would start a flirtation with his friend's wife.
+He was a good-looking man, intelligent and also rich.  He thought it
+would be all plain sailing, but he was mistaken.  Then he really began to
+admire her with an admiration that his friendship for the husband obliged
+him to keep within the bounds of discretion, making him timid and
+embarrassed.  Madame Souris believing that his presumptions had received
+a wholesome check now treated him as a good friend.  This went on for
+nine years.
+
+One morning a messenger brought Leuillet a distracted note from the poor
+woman.  Souris had just died suddenly from the rupture of an aneurism.
+He was dreadfully shocked, for they were just the same age.  But almost
+immediately a feeling of profound joy, of intense relief, of emancipation
+filled his being.  Madame Souris was free.
+
+He managed, however, to assume the sad, sympathetic expression that was
+appropriate, waited the required time, observed all social appearances.
+At the end of fifteen months he married the widow.
+
+This was considered to be a very natural, and even a generous action.  It
+was the act of a good friend of an upright man.
+
+He was happy at last, perfectly happy.
+
+They lived in the most cordial intimacy, having understood and
+appreciated each other from the first.  They had no secrets from one
+another and even confided to each other their most secret thoughts.
+Leuillet loved his wife now with a quiet and trustful affection; he loved
+her as a tender, devoted companion who is an equal and a confidante.
+But there lingered in his mind a strange and inexplicable bitterness
+towards the defunct Souris, who had first been the husband of this woman,
+who had had the flower of her youth and of her soul, and had even robbed
+her of some of her poetry.  The memory of the dead husband marred the
+happiness of the living husband, and this posthumous jealousy tormented
+his heart by day and by night.
+
+The consequence was he talked incessantly of Souris, asked about a
+thousand personal and secret minutia, wanted to know all about his habits
+and his person.  And he sneered at him even in his grave, recalling with
+self-satisfaction his whims, ridiculing his absurdities, dwelling on his
+faults.
+
+He would call to his wife all over the house:
+
+"Hallo, Mathilde!"
+
+"Here I am, dear."
+
+"Come here a moment."
+
+She would come, always smiling, knowing well that he would say something
+about Souris and ready to flatter her new husband's inoffensive mania.
+
+"Tell me, do you remember one day how Souris insisted on explaining to me
+that little men always commanded more affection than big men?"
+
+And he made some remarks that were disparaging to the deceased, who was a
+small man, and decidedly flattering to himself, Leuillet, who was a tall
+man.
+
+Mme. Leuillet allowed him to think he was right, quite right, and she
+laughed heartily, gently ridiculing her former husband for the sake of
+pleasing the present one, who always ended by saying:
+
+"All the same, what a ninny that Souris was!"
+
+They were happy, quite happy, and Leuillet never ceased to show his
+devotion to his wife.
+
+One night, however, as they lay awake, Leuillet said as he kissed his
+wife:
+
+"See here, dearie."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Was Souris--I don't exactly know how to say it--was Souris very loving?"
+
+She gave him a kiss for reply and murmured "Not as loving as you are, mon
+chat."
+
+He was flattered in his self-love and continued:
+
+"He must have been--a ninny--was he not?"
+
+She did not reply.  She only smiled slyly and hid her face in her
+husband's neck.
+
+"He must have been a ninny and not--not--not smart?"
+
+She shook her head slightly to imply, "No--not at all smart."
+
+He continued:
+
+"He must have been an awful nuisance, eh?"
+
+This time she was frank and replied:
+
+"Oh yes!"
+
+He kissed her again for this avowal and said:
+
+"What a brute he was!  You were not happy with him?"
+
+"No," she replied.  "It was not always pleasant."
+
+Leuillet was delighted, forming in his mind a comparison, much in his own
+favor, between his wife's former and present position.  He was silent for
+a time, and then with a burst of laughter he asked:
+
+"Tell me?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Will you be frank, very frank with me?"
+
+"Why yes, my dear."
+
+"Well then, tell me truly did you never feel tempted to--to--to deceive
+that imbecile Souris?"
+
+Mme. Leuillet said: "Oh!" pretending to be shocked and hid her face again
+on her husband's shoulder.  But he saw that she was laughing.
+
+"Come now, own up," he persisted.  "He looked like a ninny, that
+creature!  It would be funny, so funny!  Good old Souris!  Come, come,
+dearie, you do not mind telling me, me, of all people."
+
+He insisted on the "me" thinking that if she had wished to deceive Souris
+she would have chosen him, and he was trembling in anticipation of her
+avowal, sure that if she had not been a virtuous woman she would have
+encouraged his own attentions.
+
+But she did not answer, laughing still, as at the recollection of
+something exceedingly comical.
+
+Leuillet, in his turn began to laugh, thinking he might have been the
+lucky man, and he muttered amid his mirth: "That poor Souris, that poor
+Souris, oh, yes, he looked like a fool!"
+
+Mme. Leuillet was almost in spasms of laughter.
+
+"Come, confess, be frank.  You know I will not mind."
+
+Then she stammered out, almost choking with laughter: "Yes, yes."
+
+"Yes, what?" insisted her husband.  "Come, tell all."
+
+She was quieter now and putting her mouth to her husband's ear, she
+whispered: "Yes, I did deceive him."
+
+He felt a chill run down his back and to his very bones, and he stammered
+out, dumfounded: "You--you--deceived him--criminally?"
+
+She still thought he was amused and replied: "Yes--yes, absolutely."
+
+He was obliged to sit up to recover his breath, he was so shocked and
+upset at what he had heard.
+
+She had become serious, understanding too late what she had done.
+
+"With whom?" said Leuillet at length.
+
+She was silent seeking some excuse.
+
+"A young man," she replied at length.
+
+He turned suddenly toward her and said drily:
+
+"I did not suppose it was the cook.  I want to know what young man, do
+you hear?"
+
+She did not answer.
+
+He snatched the covers from her face, repeating:
+
+"I want to know what young man, do you hear?"
+
+Then she said sorrowfully: "I was only in fun."  But he was trembling
+with rage.  "What?  How?  You were only in fun?  You were making fun of
+me, then?  But I am not satisfied, do you hear?  I want the name of the
+young man!"
+
+She did not reply, but lay there motionless.
+
+He took her by the arm and squeezed it, saying: "Do you understand me,
+finally?  I wish you to reply when I speak to you."
+
+"I think you are going crazy," she said nervously, "let me alone!"
+
+He was wild with rage, not knowing what to say, exasperated, and he shook
+her with all his might, repeating:
+
+"Do you hear me, do you hear me?"
+
+She made an abrupt effort to disengage herself and the tips of her
+fingers touched her husband's nose.  He was furious, thinking she had
+tried to hit him, and he sprang upon her holding her down; and boxing her
+ears with all his might, he cried: "Take that, and that, there, there,
+wretch!"
+
+When he was out of breath and exhausted, he rose and went toward the
+dressing table to prepare a glass of eau sucree with orange flower, for
+he felt as if he should faint.
+
+She was weeping in bed, sobbing bitterly, for she felt as if her
+happiness was over, through her own fault.
+
+Then, amidst her tears, she stammered out:
+
+"Listen, Antoine, come here, I told you a lie, you will understand,
+listen."
+
+And prepared to defend herself now, armed with excuses and artifice, she
+raised her disheveled head with its nightcap all awry.
+
+Turning toward her, he approached, ashamed of having struck her, but
+feeling in the bottom of his heart as a husband, a relentless hatred
+toward this woman who had deceived the former husband, Souris.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MY UNCLE JULES
+
+A white-haired old man begged us for alms.  My companion, Joseph
+Davranche, gave him five francs.  Noticing my surprised look, he said:
+
+"That poor unfortunate reminds me of a story which I shall tell you, the
+memory of which continually pursues me.  Here it is:
+
+"My family, which came originally from Havre, was not rich.  We just
+managed to make both ends meet.  My father worked hard, came home late
+from the office, and earned very little.  I had two sisters.
+
+"My mother suffered a good deal from our reduced circumstances, and she
+often had harsh words for her husband, veiled and sly reproaches.  The
+poor man then made a gesture which used to distress me.  He would pass
+his open hand over his forehead, as if to wipe away perspiration which
+did not exist, and he would answer nothing.  I felt his helpless
+suffering.  We economized on everything, and never would accept an
+invitation to dinner, so as not to have to return the courtesy.  All our
+provisions were bought at bargain sales.  My sisters made their own
+gowns, and long discussions would arise on the price of a piece of braid
+worth fifteen centimes a yard.  Our meals usually consisted cf soup and
+beef, prepared with every kind of sauce.
+
+They say it is wholesome and nourishing, but I should have preferred a
+change.
+
+"I used to go through terrible scenes on account of lost buttons and torn
+trousers.
+
+"Every Sunday, dressed in our best, we would take our walk along the
+breakwater.  My father, in a frock coat, high hat and kid gloves, would
+offer his arm to my mother, decked out and beribboned like a ship on a
+holiday.  My sisters, who were always ready first, would await the signal
+for leaving; but at the last minute some one always found a spot on my
+father's frock coat, and it had to be wiped away quickly with a rag
+moistened with benzine.
+
+"My father, in his shirt sleeves, his silk hat on his head, would await
+the completion of the operation, while my mother, putting on her
+spectacles, and taking off her gloves in order not to spoil them, would
+make haste.
+
+"Then we set out ceremoniously.  My sisters marched on ahead, arm in arm.
+They were of marriageable age and had to be displayed.  I walked on the
+left of my mother and my father on her right.  I remember the pompous air
+of my poor parents in these Sunday walks, their stern expression, their
+stiff walk.  They moved slowly, with a serious expression, their bodies
+straight, their legs stiff, as if something of extreme importance
+depended upon their appearance.
+
+"Every Sunday, when the big steamers were returning from unknown and
+distant countries, my father would invariably utter the same words:
+
+"'What a surprise it would be if Jules were on that one!  Eh?'
+
+"My Uncle Jules, my father's brother, was the only hope of the family,
+after being its only fear.  I had heard about him since childhood, and it
+seemed to me that I should recognize him immediately, knowing as much
+about him as I did.  I knew every detail of his life up to the day of his
+departure for America, although this period of his life was spoken of
+only in hushed tones.
+
+"It seems that he had led a bad life, that is to say, he had squandered a
+little money, which action, in a poor family, is one of the greatest
+crimes.  With rich people a man who amuses himself only sows his wild
+oats.  He is what is generally called a sport.  But among needy families
+a boy who forces his parents to break into the capital becomes a good-
+for-nothing, a rascal, a scamp.  And this distinction is just, although
+the action be the same, for consequences alone determine the seriousness
+of the act.
+
+"Well, Uncle Jules had visibly diminished the inheritance on which my
+father had counted, after he had swallowed his own to the last penny.
+Then, according to the custom of the times, he had been shipped off to
+America on a freighter going from Havre to New York.
+
+"Once there, my uncle began to sell something or other, and he soon wrote
+that he was making a little money and that he soon hoped to be able to
+indemnify my father for the harm he had done him.  This letter caused a
+profound emotion in the family.  Jules, who up to that time had not been
+worth his salt, suddenly became a good man, a kind-hearted fellow, true
+and honest like all the Davranches.
+
+"One of the captains told us that he had rented a large shop and was
+doing an important business.
+
+"Two years later a second letter came, saying: 'My dear Philippe, I am
+writing to tell you not to worry about my health, which is excellent.
+Business is good.  I leave to-morrow for a long trip to South America.
+I may be away for several years without sending you any news.  If I
+shouldn't write, don't worry.  When my fortune is made I shall return to
+Havre.  I hope that it will not be too long and that we shall all live
+happily together .  .  .  .'
+
+"This letter became the gospel of the family.  It was read on the
+slightest provocation, and it was shown to everybody.
+
+"For ten years nothing was heard from Uncle Jules; but as time went on my
+father's hope grew, and my mother, also, often said:
+
+"'When that good Jules is here, our position will be different.  There is
+one who knew how to get along!'
+
+"And every Sunday, while watching the big steamers approaching from the
+horizon, pouring out a stream of smoke, my father would repeat his
+eternal question:
+
+"'What a surprise it would be if Jules were on that one!  Eh?'
+
+"We almost expected to see him waving his handkerchief and crying:
+
+"'Hey!  Philippe!'
+
+"Thousands of schemes had been planned on the strength of this expected
+return; we were even to buy a little house with my uncle's money
+--a little place in the country near Ingouville.  In fact, I wouldn't
+swear that my father had not already begun negotiations.
+
+"The elder of my sisters was then twenty-eight, the other twenty-six.
+They were not yet married, and that was a great grief to every one.
+
+"At last a suitor presented himself for the younger one.  He was a clerk,
+not rich, but honorable.  I have always been morally certain that Uncle
+Jules' letter, which was shown him one evening, had swept away the young
+man's hesitation and definitely decided him.
+
+"He was accepted eagerly, and it was decided that after the wedding the
+whole family should take a trip to Jersey.
+
+"Jersey is the ideal trip for poor people.  It is not far; one crosses a
+strip of sea in a steamer and lands on foreign soil, as this little
+island belongs to England.  Thus, a Frenchman, with a two hours' sail,
+can observe a neighboring people at home and study their customs.
+
+"This trip to Jersey completely absorbed our ideas, was our sole
+anticipation, the constant thought of our minds.
+
+"At last we left.  I see it as plainly as if it had happened yesterday.
+The boat was getting up steam against the quay at Granville; my father,
+bewildered, was superintending the loading of our three pieces of
+baggage; my mother, nervous, had taken the arm of my unmarried sister,
+who seemed lost since the departure of the other one, like the last
+chicken of a brood; behind us came the bride and groom, who always stayed
+behind, a thing that often made me turn round.
+
+"The whistle sounded.  We got on board, and the vessel, leaving the
+breakwater, forged ahead through a sea as flat as a marble table.  We
+watched the coast disappear in the distance, happy and proud, like all
+who do not travel much.
+
+"My father was swelling out his chest in the breeze, beneath his frock
+coat, which had that morning been very carefully cleaned; and he spread
+around him that odor of benzine which always made me recognize Sunday.
+Suddenly he noticed two elegantly dressed ladies to whom two gentlemen
+were offering oysters.  An old, ragged sailor was opening them with his
+knife and passing them to the gentlemen, who would then offer them to the
+ladies.  They ate them in a dainty manner, holding the shell on a fine
+handkerchief and advancing their mouths a little in order not to spot
+their dresses.  Then they would drink the liquid with a rapid little
+motion and throw the shell overboard.
+
+"My father was probably pleased with this delicate manner of eating
+oysters on a moving ship.  He considered it good form, refined, and,
+going up to my mother and sisters, he asked:
+
+"'Would you like me to offer you some oysters?'
+
+"My mother hesitated on account of the expense, but my two sisters
+immediately accepted.  My mother said in a provoked manner:
+
+"'I am afraid that they will hurt my stomach.  Offer the children some,
+but not too much, it would make them sick.'  Then, turning toward me, she
+added:
+
+"'As for Joseph, he doesn't need any.  Boys shouldn't be spoiled.'
+
+"However, I remained beside my mother, finding this discrimination
+unjust.  I watched my father as he pompously conducted my two sisters and
+his son-in-law toward the ragged old sailor.
+
+"The two ladies had just left, and my father showed my sisters how to eat
+them without spilling the liquor.  He even tried to give them an example,
+and seized an oyster.  He attempted to imitate the ladies, and
+immediately spilled all the liquid over his coat.  I heard my mother
+mutter:
+
+"'He would do far better to keep quiet.'
+
+"But, suddenly, my father appeared to be worried; he retreated a few
+steps, stared at his family gathered around the old shell opener, and
+quickly came toward us.  He seemed very pale, with a peculiar look.  In a
+low voice he said to my mother:
+
+"'It's extraordinary how that man opening the oysters looks like Jules.'
+
+"Astonished, my mother asked:
+
+"'What Jules?'
+
+"My father continued:
+
+"'Why, my brother.  If I did not know that he was well off in America, I
+should think it was he.'
+
+"Bewildered, my mother stammered:
+
+"'You are crazy!  As long as you know that it is not he, why do you say
+such foolish things?'
+
+"But my father insisted:
+
+"'Go on over and see, Clarisse!  I would rather have you see with your
+own eyes.'
+
+"She arose and walked to her daughters.  I, too, was watching the man.
+He was old, dirty, wrinkled, and did not lift his eyes from his work.
+
+"My mother returned.  I noticed that she was trembling.  She exclaimed
+quickly:
+
+"'I believe that it is he.  Why don't you ask the captain?  But be very
+careful that we don't have this rogue on our hands again!'
+
+"My father walked away, but I followed him.  I felt strangely moved.
+
+"The captain, a tall, thin man, with blond whiskers, was walking along
+the bridge with an important air as if he were commanding the Indian mail
+steamer.
+
+"My father addressed him ceremoniously, and questioned him about his
+profession, adding many compliments:
+
+"'What might be the importance of Jersey?  What did it produce?  What was
+the population?  The customs?  The nature of the soil?' etc., etc.
+
+"'You have there an old shell opener who seems quite interesting.  Do you
+know anything about him?'
+
+"The captain, whom this conversation began to weary, answered dryly:
+
+"'He is some old French tramp whom I found last year in America, and I
+brought him back.  It seems that he has some relatives in Havre, but that
+he doesn't wish to return to them because he owes them money.  His name
+is Jules--Jules Darmanche or Darvanche or something like that.  It seems
+that he was once rich over there, but you can see what's left of him
+now.'
+
+"My father turned ashy pale and muttered, his throat contracted, his eyes
+haggard.
+
+"'Ah!  ah!  very well, very well.  I'm not in the least surprised.  Thank
+you very much, captain.'
+
+"He went away, and the astonished sailor watched him disappear.  He
+returned to my mother so upset that she said to him:
+
+"'Sit down; some one will notice that something is the matter.'
+
+"He sank down on a bench and stammered:
+
+"'It's he!  It's he!'
+
+"Then he asked:
+
+"'What are we going to do?'
+
+"She answered quickly:
+
+"'We must get the children out of the way.  Since Joseph knows
+everything, he can go and get them.  We must take good care that our son-
+in-law doesn't find out.'
+
+"My father seemed absolutely bewildered.  He murmured:
+
+"'What a catastrophe!'
+
+"Suddenly growing furious, my mother exclaimed:
+
+"'I always thought that that thief never would do anything, and that he
+would drop down on us again!  As if one could expect anything from a
+Davranche!'
+
+"My father passed his hand over his forehead, as he always did when his
+wife reproached him.  She added:
+
+"'Give Joseph some money so that he can pay for the oysters.  All that it
+needed to cap the climax would be to be recognized by that beggar.  That
+would be very pleasant!  Let's get down to the other end of the boat, and
+take care that that man doesn't come near us!'
+
+"They gave me five francs and walked away.
+
+"Astonished, my sisters were awaiting their father.  I said that mamma
+had felt a sudden attack of sea-sickness, and I asked the shell opener:
+
+"'How much do we owe you, monsieur?'
+
+"I felt like laughing: he was my uncle!  He answered:
+
+"'Two francs fifty.'
+
+"I held out my five francs and he returned the change.  I looked at his
+hand; it was a poor, wrinkled, sailor's hand, and I looked at his face,
+an unhappy old face.  I said to myself:
+
+"'That is my uncle, the brother of my father, my uncle!'
+
+"I gave him a ten-cent tip.  He thanked me:
+
+"'God bless you, my young sir!'
+
+"He spoke like a poor man receiving alms.  I couldn't help thinking that
+he must have begged over there!  My sisters looked at me, surprised at my
+generosity.  When I returned the two francs to my father, my mother asked
+me in surprise:
+
+"'Was there three francs' worth?  That is impossible.'
+
+"I answered in a firm voice
+
+"'I gave ten cents as a tip.'
+
+"My mother started, and, staring at me, she exclaimed:
+
+"'You must be crazy!  Give ten cents to that man, to that vagabond--'
+
+"She stopped at a look from my father, who was pointing at his son-in-
+law.  Then everybody was silent.
+
+"Before us, on the distant horizon, a purple shadow seemed to rise out of
+the sea.  It was Jersey.
+
+"As we approached the breakwater a violent desire seized me once more to
+see my Uncle Jules, to be near him, to say to him something consoling,
+something tender.  But as no one was eating any more oysters, he had
+disappeared, having probably gone below to the dirty hold which was the
+home of the poor wretch."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE MODEL
+
+Curving like a crescent moon, the little town of Etretat, with its white
+cliffs, its white, shingly beach and its blue sea, lay in the sunlight at
+high noon one July day.  At either extremity of this crescent its two
+"gates," the smaller to the right, the larger one at the left, stretched
+forth--one a dwarf and the other a colossal limb--into the water, and the
+bell tower, almost as tall as the cliff, wide below, narrowing at the
+top, raised its pointed summit to the sky.
+
+On the sands beside the water a crowd was seated watching the bathers.
+On the terrace of, the Casino another crowd, seated or walking, displayed
+beneath the brilliant sky a perfect flower patch of bright costumes, with
+red and blue parasols embroidered with large flowers in silk.
+
+On the walk at the end of the terrace, other persons, the restful, quiet
+ones, were walking slowly, far from the dressy throng.
+
+A young man, well known and celebrated as a painter, Jean Sumner, was
+walking with a dejected air beside a wheeled chair in which sat a young
+woman, his wife.  A manservant was gently pushing the chair, and the
+crippled woman was gazing sadly at the brightness of the sky, the
+gladness of the day, and the happiness of others.
+
+They did not speak.  They did not look at each other.
+
+"Let us stop a while," said the young woman.
+
+They stopped, and the painter sat down on a camp stool that the servant
+handed him.
+
+Those who were passing behind the silent and motionless couple looked at
+them compassionately.  A whole legend of devotion was attached to them.
+He had married her in spite of her infirmity, touched by her affection
+for him, it was said.
+
+Not far from there, two young men were chatting, seated on a bench and
+looking out into the horizon.
+
+"No, it is not true; I tell you that I am well acquainted with Jean
+Sumner."
+
+"But then, why did he marry her?  For she was a cripple when she married,
+was she not?"
+
+"Just so.  He married her--he married her--just as every one marries,
+parbleu! because he was an idiot!"
+
+"But why?"
+
+"But why--but why, my friend?  There is no why.  People do stupid things
+just because they do stupid things.  And, besides, you know very well
+that painters make a specialty of foolish marriages.  They almost always
+marry models, former sweethearts, in fact, women of doubtful reputation,
+frequently.  Why do they do this?  Who can say?  One would suppose that
+constant association with the general run of models would disgust them
+forever with that class of women.  Not at all.  After having posed them
+they marry them.  Read that little book, so true, so cruel and so
+beautiful, by Alphonse Daudet: 'Artists' Wives.'
+
+"In the case of the couple you see over there the accident occurred in a
+special and terrible manner.  The little woman played a frightful comedy,
+or, rather, tragedy.  She risked all to win all.  Was she sincere?  Did
+she love Jean?  Shall we ever know?  Who is able to determine precisely
+how much is put on and how much is real in the actions of a woman?  They
+are always sincere in an eternal mobility of impressions.  They are
+furious, criminal, devoted, admirable and base in obedience to intangible
+emotions.  They tell lies incessantly without intention, without knowing
+or understanding why, and in spite of it all are absolutely frank in
+their feelings and sentiments, which they display by violent, unexpected,
+incomprehensible, foolish resolutions which overthrow our arguments, our
+customary poise and all our selfish plans.  The unforeseenness and
+suddenness of their determinations will always render them undecipherable
+enigmas as far as we are concerned.  We continually ask ourselves:
+
+'Are they sincere?  Are they pretending?'
+
+"But, my friend, they are sincere and insincere at one and the same time,
+because it is their nature to be extremists in both and to be neither one
+nor the other.
+
+"See the methods that even the best of them employ to get what they
+desire.  They are complex and simple, these methods.  So complex that we
+can never guess at them beforehand, and so simple that after having been
+victimized we cannot help being astonished and exclaiming: 'What!  Did
+she make a fool of me so easily as that?'
+
+"And they always succeed, old man, especially when it is a question of
+getting married.
+
+"But this is Sumner's story:
+
+"The little woman was a model, of course.  She posed for him.  She was
+pretty, very stylish-looking, and had a divine figure, it seems.  He
+fancied that he loved her with his whole soul.  That is another strange
+thing.  As soon as one likes a woman one sincerely believes that they
+could not get along without her for the rest of their life.  One knows
+that one has felt the same way before and that disgust invariably
+succeeded gratification; that in order to pass one's existence side by
+side with another there must be not a brutal, physical passion which soon
+dies out, but a sympathy of soul, temperament and temper.  One should
+know how to determine in the enchantment to which one is subjected
+whether it proceeds from the physical, from a certain sensuous
+intoxication, or from a deep spiritual charm.
+
+"Well, he believed himself in love; he made her no end of promises of
+fidelity, and was devoted to her.
+
+"She was really attractive, gifted with that fashionable flippancy that
+little Parisians so readily affect.  She chattered, babbled, made foolish
+remarks that sounded witty from the manner in which they were uttered.
+She used graceful gesture's which were calculated to attract a painter's
+eye.  When she raised her arms, when she bent over, when she got into a
+carriage, when she held out her hand to you, her gestures were perfect
+and appropriate.
+
+"For three months Jean never noticed that, in reality, she was like all
+other models.
+
+"He rented a little house for her for the summer at Andresy.
+
+"I was there one evening when for the first time doubts came into my
+friend's mind.
+
+"As it was a beautiful evening we thought we would take a stroll along
+the bank of the river.  The moon poured a flood of light on the trembling
+water, scattering yellow gleams along its ripples in the currents and all
+along the course of the wide, slow river.
+
+"We strolled along the bank, a little enthused by that vague exaltation
+that these dreamy evenings produce in us.  We would have liked to
+undertake some wonderful task, to love some unknown, deliciously poetic
+being.  We felt ourselves vibrating with raptures, longings, strange
+aspirations.  And we were silent, our beings pervaded by the serene and
+living coolness of the beautiful night, the coolness of the moonlight,
+which seemed to penetrate one's body, permeate it, soothe one's spirit,
+fill it with fragrance and steep it in happiness.
+
+"Suddenly Josephine (that is her name) uttered an exclamation:
+
+"'Oh, did you see the big fish that jumped, over there?'
+
+"He replied without looking, without thinking:
+
+"'Yes, dear.'
+
+"She was angry.
+
+"'No, you did not see it, for your back was turned.'
+
+"He smiled.
+
+"'Yes, that's true.  It is so delightful that I am not thinking of
+anything.'
+
+"She was silent, but at the end of a minute she felt as if she must say
+something and asked:
+
+"'Are you going to Paris to-morrow?'
+
+"'I do not know,' he replied.
+
+"She was annoyed again.
+
+"'Do you think it is very amusing to walk along without speaking?  People
+talk when they are not stupid.'
+
+"He did not reply.  Then, feeling with her woman's instinct that she was
+going to make him angry, she began to sing a popular air that had
+harassed our ears and our minds for two years:
+
+"'Je regardais en fair.'
+
+"He murmured:
+
+"'Please keep quiet.'
+
+"She replied angrily:
+
+"'Why do you wish me to keep quiet?'
+
+"'You spoil the landscape for us!' he said.
+
+"Then followed a scene, a hateful, idiotic scene, with unexpected
+reproaches, unsuitable recriminations, then tears.  Nothing was left
+unsaid.  They went back to the house.  He had allowed her to talk without
+replying, enervated by the beauty of the scene and dumfounded by this
+storm of abuse.
+
+"Three months later he strove wildly to free himself from those
+invincible and invisible bonds with which such a friendship chains our
+lives.  She kept him under her influence, tyrannizing over him, making
+his life a burden to him.  They quarreled continually, vituperating and
+finally fighting each other.
+
+"He wanted to break with her at any cost.  He sold all his canvases,
+borrowed money from his friends, realizing twenty thousand francs (he was
+not well known then), and left them for her one morning with a note of
+farewell.
+
+"He came and took refuge with me.
+
+"About three o'clock that afternoon there was a ring at the bell.  I went
+to the door.  A woman sprang toward me, pushed me aside, came in and went
+into my atelier.  It was she!
+
+"He had risen when he saw her coming.'
+
+"She threw the envelope containing the banknotes at his feet with a truly
+noble gesture and said in a quick tone:
+
+"'There's your money.  I don't want it!'
+
+"She was very pale, trembling and ready undoubtedly to commit any folly.
+As for him, I saw him grow pale also, pale with rage and exasperation,
+ready also perhaps to commit any violence.
+
+"He asked:
+
+"'What do you want?'
+
+"She replied:
+
+"'I do not choose to be treated like a common woman.  You implored me to
+accept you.  I asked you for nothing.  Keep me with you!'
+
+"He stamped his foot.
+
+"'No, that's a little too much!  If you think you are going--'
+
+"I had seized his arm.
+
+"'Keep still, Jean.  .  .  Let me settle it.'
+
+"I went toward her and quietly, little by little, I began to reason with
+her, exhausting all the arguments that are used under similar
+circumstances.  She listened to me, motionless, with a fixed gaze,
+obstinate and silent.
+
+"Finally, not knowing what more to say, and seeing that there would be a
+scene, I thought of a last resort and said:
+
+"'He loves you still, my dear, but his family want him to marry some one,
+and you understand--'
+
+"She gave a start and exclaimed:
+
+"'Ah! Ah!  Now I understand:
+
+"And turning toward him, she said:
+
+"'You are--you are going to get married?'
+
+"He replied decidedly" 'Yes.'
+
+"She took a step forward.
+
+"'If you marry, I will kill myself!  Do you hear?'
+
+"He shrugged his shoulders and replied:
+
+"'Well, then kill yourself!'
+
+"She stammered out, almost choking with her violent emotion:
+
+"'What do you say?  What do you say?  What do you say?  Say it again!'
+
+"He repeated:
+
+"'Well, then kill yourself if you like!'
+
+"With her face almost livid, she replied:
+
+"'Do not dare me!  I will throw myself from the window!'
+
+"He began to laugh, walked toward the window, opened it, and bowing with
+the gesture of one who desires to let some one else precede him, he said:
+
+"'This is the way.  After you!'
+
+"She looked at him for a second with terrible, wild, staring eyes.  Then,
+taking a run as if she were going to jump a hedge in the country, she
+rushed past me and past him, jumped over the sill and disappeared.
+
+"I shall never forget the impression made on me by that open window after
+I had seen that body pass through it to fall to the ground.  It appeared
+to me in a second to be as large as the heavens and as hollow as space.
+And I drew back instinctively, not daring to look at it, as though I
+feared I might fall out myself.
+
+"Jean, dumfounded, stood motionless.
+
+"They brought the poor girl in with both legs broken.  She will never
+walk again.
+
+"Jean, wild with remorse and also possibly touched with gratitude, made
+up his mind to marry her.
+
+"There you have it, old man."
+
+It was growing dusk.  The young woman felt chilly and wanted to go home,
+and the servant wheeled the invalid chair in the direction of the
+village.  The painter walked beside his wife, neither of them having
+exchanged a word for an hour.
+
+This story appeared in Le Gaulois, December 17, 1883.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A VAGABOND
+
+He was a journeyman carpenter, a good workman and a steady fellow,
+twenty-seven years old, but, although the eldest son, Jacques Randel had
+been forced to live on his family for two months, owing to the general
+lack of work.  He had walked about seeking work for over a month and had
+left his native town, Ville-Avary, in La Manche, because he could find
+nothing to do and would no longer deprive his family of the bread they
+needed themselves, when he was the strongest of them all.  His two
+sisters earned but little as charwomen.  He went and inquired at the town
+hall, and the mayor's secretary told him that he would find work at the
+Labor Agency, and so he started, well provided with papers and
+certificates, and carrying another pair of shoes, a pair of trousers and
+a shirt in a blue handkerchief at the end of his stick.
+
+And he had walked almost without stopping, day and night, along
+interminable roads, in sun and rain, without ever reaching that
+mysterious country where workmen find work.  At first he had the fixed
+idea that he must only work as a carpenter, but at every carpenter's shop
+where he applied he was told that they had just dismissed men on account
+of work being so slack, and, finding himself at the end of his resources,
+he made up his mind to undertake any job that he might come across on the
+road.  And so by turns he was a navvy, stableman, stonecutter; he split
+wood, lopped the branches of trees, dug wells, mixed mortar, tied up
+fagots, tended goats on a mountain, and all for a few pence, for he only
+obtained two or three days' work occasionally by offering himself at a
+shamefully low price, in order to tempt the avarice of employers and
+peasants.
+
+And now for a week he had found nothing, and had no money left, and
+nothing to eat but a piece of bread, thanks to the charity of some women
+from whom he had begged at house doors on the road.  It was getting dark,
+and Jacques Randel, jaded, his legs failing him, his stomach empty, and
+with despair in his heart, was walking barefoot on the grass by the side
+of the road, for he was taking care of his last pair of shoes, as the
+other pair had already ceased to exist for a long time.  It was a
+Saturday, toward the end of autumn.  The heavy gray clouds were being
+driven rapidly through the sky by the gusts of wind which whistled among
+the trees, and one felt that it would rain soon.  The country was
+deserted at that hour on the eve of Sunday.  Here and there in the fields
+there rose up stacks of wheat straw, like huge yellow mushrooms, and the
+fields looked bare, as they had already been sown for the next year.
+
+Randel was hungry, with the hunger of some wild animal, such a hunger as
+drives wolves to attack men.  Worn out and weakened with fatigue, he took
+longer strides, so as not to take so many steps, and with heavy head, the
+blood throbbing in his temples, with red eyes and dry mouth, he grasped
+his stick tightly in his hand, with a longing to strike the first
+passerby who might be going home to supper.
+
+He looked at the sides of the road, imagining he saw potatoes dug up and
+lying on the ground before his eyes; if he had found any he would have
+gathered some dead wood, made a fire in the ditch and have had a capital
+supper off the warm, round vegetables with which he would first of all
+have warmed his cold hands.  But it was too late in the year, and he
+would have to gnaw a raw beetroot which he might pick up in a field as he
+had done the day before.
+
+For the last two days he had talked to himself as he quickened his steps
+under the influence of his thoughts.  He had never thought much hitherto,
+as he had given all his mind, all his simple faculties to his mechanical
+work.  But now fatigue and this desperate search for work which he could
+not get, refusals and rebuffs, nights spent in the open air lying on the
+grass, long fasting, the contempt which he knew people with a settled
+abode felt for a vagabond, and that question which he was continually
+asked, "Why do you not remain at home?" distress at not being able to use
+his strong arms which he felt so full of vigor, the recollection of the
+relations he had left at home and who also had not a penny, filled him by
+degrees with rage, which had been accumulating every day, every hour,
+every minute, and which now escaped his lips in spite of himself in
+short, growling sentences.
+
+As he stumbled over the stones which tripped his bare feet, he grumbled:
+"How wretched!  how miserable!  A set of hogs--to let a man die of hunger
+--a carpenter--a set of hogs--not two sous--not two sous--and now it is
+raining--a set of hogs!"
+
+He was indignant at the injustice of fate, and cast the blame on men, on
+all men, because nature, that great, blind mother, is unjust, cruel and
+perfidious, and he repeated through his clenched teeth:
+
+"A set of hogs" as he looked at the thin gray smoke which rose from the
+roofs, for it was the dinner hour.  And, without considering that there
+is another injustice which is human, and which is called robbery and
+violence, he felt inclined to go into one of those houses to murder the
+inhabitants and to sit down to table in their stead.
+
+He said to himself: "I have no right to live now, as they are letting me
+die of hunger, and yet I only ask for work--a set of hogs!"  And the pain
+in his limbs, the gnawing in his heart rose to his head like terrible
+intoxication, and gave rise to this simple thought in his brain: "I have
+the right to live because I breathe and because the air is the common
+property of everybody.  So nobody has the right to leave me without
+bread!"
+
+A fine, thick, icy cold rain was coming down, and he stopped and
+murmured: "Oh, misery!  Another month of walking before I get home."  He
+was indeed returning home then, for he saw that he should more easily
+find work in his native town, where he was known--and he did not mind
+what he did--than on the highroads, where everybody suspected him.  As
+the carpentering business was not prosperous, he would turn day laborer,
+be a mason's hodman, a ditcher, break stones on the road.  If he only
+earned a franc a day, that would at any rate buy him something to eat.
+
+He tied the remains of his last pocket handkerchief round his neck to
+prevent the cold rain from running down his back and chest, but he soon
+found that it was penetrating the thin material of which his clothes were
+made, and he glanced about him with the agonized look of a man who does
+not know where to hide his body and to rest his head, and has no place of
+shelter in the whole world.
+
+Night came on and wrapped the country in obscurity, and in the distance,
+in a meadow, he saw a dark spot on the grass; it was a cow, and so he got
+over the ditch by the roadside and went up to her without exactly knowing
+what he was doing.  When he got close to her she raised her great head to
+him, and he thought: "If I only had a jug I could get a little milk."  He
+looked at the cow and the cow looked at him and then, suddenly giving her
+a kick in the side, he said: "Get up!"
+
+The animal got up slowly, letting her heavy udders bang down.  Then the
+man lay down on his back between the animal's legs and drank for a long
+time, squeezing her warm, swollen teats, which tasted of the cowstall,
+with both hands, and he drank as long as she gave any milk.  But the icy
+rain began to fall more heavily, and he saw no place of shelter on the
+whole of that bare plain.  He was cold, and he looked at a light which
+was shining among the trees in the window of a house.
+
+The cow had lain down again heavily, and he sat down by her side and
+stroked her head, grateful for the nourishment she had given him.  The
+animal's strong, thick breath, which came out of her nostrils like two
+jets of steam in the evening air, blew on the workman's face, and he
+said: "You are not cold inside there!" He put his hands on her chest and
+under her stomach to find some warmth there, and then the idea struck him
+that he might pass the night beside that large, warm animal.  So he found
+a comfortable place and laid his head on her side, and then, as he was
+worn out with fatigue, fell asleep immediately.
+
+He woke up, however, several times, with his back or his stomach half
+frozen, according as he put one or the other against the animal's flank.
+Then he turned over to warm and dry that part of his body which had
+remained exposed to the night air, and soon went soundly to sleep again.
+The crowing of a cock woke him; the day was breaking, it was no longer
+raining, and the sky was bright.  The cow was resting with her muzzle on
+the ground, and he stooped down, resting on his hands, to kiss those
+wide, moist nostrils, and said: "Good-by, my beauty, until next time.
+You are a nice animal.  Good-by."  Then he put on his shoes and went off,
+and for two hours walked straight before him, always following the same
+road, and then he felt so tired that he sat down on the grass.  It was
+broad daylight by that time, and the church bells were ringing; men in
+blue blouses, women in white caps, some on foot, some in carts, began to
+pass along the road, going to the neighboring villages to spend Sunday
+with friends or relations.
+
+A stout peasant came in sight, driving before him a score of frightened,
+bleating sheep, with the help of an active dog.  Randel got up, and
+raising his cap, said: "You do not happen to have any work for a man who
+is dying of hunger?" But the other, giving an angry look at the vagabond,
+replied: "I have no work for fellows whom I meet on the road."
+
+And the carpenter went back and sat down by the side of the ditch again.
+He waited there for a long time, watching the country people pass and
+looking for a kind, compassionate face before he renewed his request, and
+finally selected a man in an overcoat, whose stomach was adorned with a
+gold chain.  "I have been looking for work," he said, "for the last two
+months and cannot find any, and I have not a sou in my pocket."  But the
+would-be gentleman replied: "You should have read the notice which is
+stuck up at the entrance to the village: 'Begging is prohibited within
+the boundaries of this parish.' Let me tell you that I am the mayor, and
+if you do not get out of here pretty quickly I shall have you arrested."
+
+Randel, who was getting angry, replied: "Have me arrested if you like; I
+should prefer it, for, at any rate, I should not die of hunger."  And he
+went back and sat down by the side of his ditch again, and in about a
+quarter of an hour two gendarmes appeared on the road.  They were walking
+slowly side by side, glittering in the sun with their shining hats, their
+yellow accoutrements and their metal buttons, as if to frighten
+evildoers, and to put them to flight at a distance.  He knew that they
+were coming after him, but he did not move, for he was seized with a
+sudden desire to defy them, to be arrested by them, and to have his
+revenge later.
+
+They came on without appearing to have seen him, walking heavily, with
+military step, and balancing themselves as if they were doing the goose
+step; and then, suddenly, as they passed him, appearing to have noticed
+him, they stopped and looked at him angrily and threateningly, and the
+brigadier came up to him and asked: "What are you doing here?"  "I am
+resting," the man replied calmly.  "Where do you come from?"  "If I had
+to tell you all the places I have been to it would take me more than an
+hour."  "Where are you going to?"  "To Ville-Avary."  "Where is that?"
+"In La Manche."  "Is that where you belong?"  "It is."  "Why did you
+leave it?"  "To look for work."
+
+The brigadier turned to his gendarme and said in the angry voice of a man
+who is exasperated at last by an oft-repeated trick: "They all say that,
+these scamps.  I know all about it."  And then he continued: "Have you
+any papers?" "Yes, I have some."  "Give them to me."
+
+Randel took his papers out of his pocket, his certificates, those poor,
+worn-out, dirty papers which were falling to pieces, and gave them to the
+soldier, who spelled them through, hemming and hawing, and then, having
+seen that they were all in order, he gave them back to Randel with the
+dissatisfied look of a man whom some one cleverer than himself has
+tricked.
+
+After a few moments' further reflection, he asked him: "Have you any
+money on you?" "No."  "None whatever?"  "None."  "Not even a sou?" "Not
+even a son!" "How do you live then?" "On what people give me."  "Then you
+beg?"  And Randel answered resolutely: "Yes, when I can."
+
+Then the gendarme said: "I have caught you on the highroad in the act of
+vagabondage and begging, without any resources or trade, and so I command
+you to come with me."  The carpenter got up and said: "Wherever you
+please."  And, placing himself between the two soldiers, even before he
+had received the order to do so, he added: "Well, lock me up; that will
+at any rate put a roof over my head when it rains."
+
+And they set off toward the village, the red tiles of which could be seen
+through the leafless trees, a quarter of a league off.  Service was about
+to begin when they went through the village.  The square was full of
+people, who immediately formed two lines to see the criminal pass.
+He was being followed by a crowd of excited children.  Male and female
+peasants looked at the prisoner between the two gendarmes, with hatred in
+their eyes and a longing to throw stones at him, to tear his skin with
+their nails, to trample him under their feet.  They asked each other
+whether he had committed murder or robbery.  The butcher, who was an ex-
+'spahi', declared that he was a deserter.  The tobacconist thought that
+he recognized him as the man who had that very morning passed a bad half-
+franc piece off on him, and the ironmonger declared that he was the
+murderer of Widow Malet, whom the police had been looking for for six
+months.
+
+In the municipal court, into which his custodians took him, Randel saw
+the mayor again, sitting on the magisterial bench, with the schoolmaster
+by his side.  "Aha! aha!" the magistrate exclaimed, "so here you are
+again, my fine fellow.  I told you I should have you locked up.  Well,
+brigadier, what is he charged with?"
+
+"He is a vagabond without house or home, Monsieur le Maire, without any
+resources or money, so he says, who was arrested in the act of begging,
+but he is provided with good testimonials, and his papers are all in
+order."
+
+"Show me his papers," the mayor said.  He took them, read them, reread,
+returned them and then said: "Search him."  So they searched him, but
+found nothing, and the mayor seemed perplexed, and asked the workman:
+
+"What were you doing on the road this morning?" "I was looking for work."
+"Work?  On the highroad?"  "How do you expect me to find any if I hide in
+the woods?"
+
+They looked at each other with the hatred of two wild beasts which belong
+to different hostile species, and the magistrate continued: "I am going
+to have you set at liberty, but do not be brought up before me again."
+To which the carpenter replied: "I would rather you locked me up; I have
+had enough running about the country."  But the magistrate replied
+severely: "be silent."  And then he said to the two gendarmes: "You will
+conduct this man two hundred yards from the village and let him continue
+his journey."
+
+"At any rate, give me something to eat," the workman said, but the other
+grew indignant: "Have we nothing to do but to feed you?  Ah! ah! ah!
+that is rather too much!"  But Randel went on firmly: "If you let me
+nearly die of hunger again, you will force me to commit a crime, and
+then, so much the worse for you other fat fellows."
+
+The mayor had risen and he repeated: "Take him away immediately or I
+shall end by getting angry."
+
+The two gendarmes thereupon seized the carpenter by the arms and dragged
+him out.  He allowed them to do it without resistance, passed through the
+village again and found himself on the highroad once more; and when the
+men had accompanied him two hundred yards beyond the village, the
+brigadier said: "Now off with you and do not let me catch you about here
+again, for if I do, you will know it."
+
+Randel went off without replying or knowing where he was going.  He
+walked on for a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes, so stupefied that
+he no longer thought of anything.  But suddenly, as he was passing a
+small house, where the window was half open, the smell of the soup and
+boiled meat stopped him suddenly, and hunger, fierce, devouring,
+maddening hunger, seized him and almost drove him against the walls of
+the house like a wild beast.
+
+He said aloud in a grumbling voice: "In Heaven's name! they must give me
+some this time!"  And he began to knock at the door vigorously with his
+stick, and as no one came he knocked louder and called out: "Hey! hey!
+you people in there, open the door!"  And then, as nothing stirred, he
+went up to the window and pushed it wider open with his hand, and the
+close warm air of the kitchen, full of the smell of hot soup, meat and
+cabbage, escaped into the cold outer air, and with a bound the carpenter
+was in the house.  Two places were set at the table, and no doubt the
+proprietors of the house, on going to church, had left their dinner on
+the fire, their nice Sunday boiled beef and vegetable soup, while there
+was a loaf of new bread on the chimney-piece, between two bottles which
+seemed full.
+
+Randel seized the bread first of all and broke it with as much violence
+as if he were strangling a man, and then he began to eat voraciously,
+swallowing great mouthfuls quickly.  But almost immediately the smell of
+the meat attracted him to the fireplace, and, having taken off the lid of
+the saucepan, he plunged a fork into it and brought out a large piece of
+beef tied with a string.  Then he took more cabbage, carrots and onions
+until his plate was full, and, having put it on the table, he sat down
+before it, cut the meat into four pieces, and dined as if he had been at
+home.  When he had eaten nearly all the meat, besides a quantity of
+vegetables, he felt thirsty and took one of the bottles off the
+mantelpiece.
+
+Scarcely had he poured the liquor into his glass when he saw it was
+brandy.  So much the better; it was warming and would instill some fire
+into his veins, and that would be all right, after being so cold; and he
+drank some.  He certainly enjoyed it, for he had grown unaccustomed to
+it, and he poured himself out another glassful, which he drank at two
+gulps.  And then almost immediately he felt quite merry and light-hearted
+from the effects of the alcohol, just as if some great happiness filled
+his heart.
+
+He continued to eat, but more slowly, and dipping his bread into the
+soup.  His skin had become burning, and especially his forehead, where
+the veins were throbbing.  But suddenly the church bells began to ring.
+Mass was over, and instinct rather than fear, the instinct of prudence,
+which guides all beings and makes them clear-sighted in danger, made the
+carpenter get up.  He put the remains of the loaf into one pocket and the
+brandy bottle into the other, and he furtively went to the window and
+looked out into the road.  It was still deserted, so he jumped out and
+set off walking again, but instead of following the highroad he ran
+across the fields toward a wood he saw a little way off.
+
+He felt alert, strong, light-hearted, glad of what he had done, and so
+nimble that he sprang over the enclosure of the fields at a single bound,
+and as soon as he was under the trees he took the bottle out of his
+pocket again and began to drink once more, swallowing it down as lie
+walked, and then his ideas began to get confused, his eyes grew dim, and
+his legs as elastic as springs, and he started singing the old popular
+song:
+
+          "Oh! what joy, what joy it is,
+          To pick the sweet, wild strawberries."
+
+He was now walking on thick, damp, cool moss, and that soft carpet under
+his feet made him feel absurdly inclined to turn head over heels as he
+used to do when a child, so he took a run, turned a somersault, got up
+and began over again.  And between each time he began to sing again:
+
+          "Oh! what joy, what joy it is,
+          To pick the sweet, wild strawberries."
+
+Suddenly he found himself above a deep road, and in the road he saw a
+tall girl, a servant, who was returning to the village with two pails of
+milk.  He watched, stooping down, and with his eyes as bright as those of
+a dog who scents a quail, but she saw him raised her head and said: "Was
+that you singing like that?"  He did not reply, however, but jumped down
+into the road, although it was a fall of at least six feet and when she
+saw him suddenly standing in front of her, she exclaimed: "Oh! dear, how
+you frightened me!"
+
+But he did not hear her, for he was drunk, he was mad, excited by another
+requirement which was more imperative than hunger, more feverish than
+alcohol; by the irresistible fury of the man who has been deprived of
+everything for two months, and who is drunk; who is young, ardent and
+inflamed by all the appetites which nature has implanted in the vigorous
+flesh of men.
+
+The girl started back from him, frightened at his face, his eyes, his
+half-open mouth, his outstretched hands, but he seized her by the
+shoulders, and without a word, threw her down in the road.
+
+She let her two pails fall, and they rolled over noisily, and all the
+milk was spilt, and then she screamed lustily, but it was of no avail in
+that lonely spot.
+
+When she got up the thought of her overturned pails suddenly filled her
+with fury, and, taking off one of her wooden sabots, she threw it at the
+man to break his head if he did not pay her for her milk.
+
+But he, mistaking the reason of this sudden violent attack, somewhat
+sobered, and frightened at what he had done, ran off as fast as he could,
+while she threw stones at him, some of which hit him in the back.
+
+He ran for a long time, very long, until he felt more tired than he had
+ever been before.  His legs were so weak that they could scarcely carry
+him; all his ideas were confused, he lost recollection of everything and
+could no longer think about anything, and so he sat down at the foot of a
+tree, and in five minutes was fast asleep.  He was soon awakened,
+however, by a rough shake, and, on opening his eyes, he saw two cocked
+hats of shiny leather bending over him, and the two gendarmes of the
+morning, who were holding him and binding his arms.
+
+"I knew I should catch you again," said the brigadier jeeringly.  But
+Randel got up without replying.  The two men shook him, quite ready to
+ill treat him if he made a movement, for he was their prey now.  He had
+become a jailbird, caught by those hunters of criminals who would not let
+him go again.
+
+"Now, start!" the brigadier said, and they set off.  It was late
+afternoon, and the autumn twilight was setting in over the land, and in
+half an hour they reached the village, where every door was open, for the
+people had heard what had happened.  Peasants and peasant women and
+girls, excited with anger, as if every man had been robbed and every
+woman attacked, wished to see the wretch brought back, so that they might
+overwhelm him with abuse.  They hooted him from the first house in the
+village until they reached the Hotel de Ville, where the mayor was
+waiting for him to be himself avenged on this vagabond, and as soon as he
+saw him approaching he cried:
+
+"Ah!  my fine fellow! here we are!"  And he rubbed his hands, more
+pleased than he usually was, and continued: "I said so.  I said so, the
+moment I saw him in the road."
+
+And then with increased satisfaction:
+
+"Oh, you blackguard!  Oh, you dirty blackguard!  You will get your twenty
+years, my fine fellow!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE FISHING HOLE
+
+"Cuts and wounds which caused death."  Such was the charge upon which
+Leopold Renard, upholsterer, was summoned before the Court of Assizes.
+
+Round him were the principal witnesses, Madame Flameche, widow of the
+victim, and Louis Ladureau, cabinetmaker, and Jean Durdent, plumber.
+
+Near the criminal was his wife, dressed in black, an ugly little woman,
+who looked like a monkey dressed as a lady.
+
+This is how Renard (Leopold) recounted the drama.
+
+"Good heavens, it is a misfortune of which I was the prime victim all the
+time, and with which my will has nothing to do.  The facts are their own
+commentary, Monsieur le President.  I am an honest man, a hard-working
+man, an upholsterer, living in the same street for the last sixteen
+years, known, liked, respected and esteemed by all, as my neighbors can
+testify, even the porter's wife, who is not amiable every day.  I am fond
+of work, I am fond of saving, I like honest men and respectable
+amusements.  That is what has ruined me, so much the worse for me; but as
+my will had nothing to do with it, I continue to respect myself.
+
+"Every Sunday for the last five years my wife and I have spent the day at
+Passy.  We get fresh air, and, besides, we are fond of fishing.  Oh! we
+are as fond of it as we are of little onions.  Melie inspired me with
+that enthusiasm, the jade, and she is more enthusiastic than I am, the
+scold, seeing that all the mischief in this business is her fault, as you
+will see immediately.
+
+"I am strong and mild tempered, without a pennyworth of malice in me.
+But she! oh! la! la! she looks like nothing; she is short and thin.
+Very well, she does more mischief than a weasel.  I do not deny that she
+has some good qualities; she has some, and very important ones for a man
+in business.  But her character!  Just ask about it in the neighborhood,
+and even the porter's wife, who has just sent me about my business--she
+will tell you something about it.
+
+"Every day she used to find fault with my mild temper: 'I would not put
+up with this!  I would not put up with that.'  If I had listened to her,
+Monsieur le President, I should have had at least three hand-to-hand
+fights a month .  .  .  ."
+
+Madame Renard interrupted him: "And for good reasons, too; they laugh
+best who laugh last."
+
+He turned toward her frankly: "Well, I can't blame you, since you were
+not the cause of it."
+
+Then, facing the President again, he said:
+
+"I will continue.  We used to go to Passy every Saturday evening, so as
+to begin fishing at daybreak the next morning.  It is a habit which has
+become second nature with us, as the saying is.  Three years ago this
+summer I discovered a place, oh!  such a spot.  Oh, dear, dear!  In the
+shade, eight feet of water at least and perhaps ten, a hole with cavities
+under the bank, a regular nest for fish and a paradise for the fisherman.
+I might look upon that fishing hole as my property, Monsieur le
+President, as I was its Christopher Columbus.  Everybody in the
+neighborhood knew it, without making any opposition.  They would say:
+'That is Renard's place'; and nobody would have gone there, not even
+Monsieur Plumeau, who is well known, be it said without any offense, for
+poaching on other people's preserves.
+
+"Well, I returned to this place of which I felt certain, just as if I had
+owned it.  I had scarcely got there on Saturday, when I got into Delila,
+with my wife.  Delila is my Norwegian boat, which I had built by
+Fournaire, and which is light and safe.  Well, as I said, we got into the
+boat and we were going to set bait, and for setting bait there is none to
+be compared with me, and they all know it.  You want to know with what I
+bait?  I cannot answer that question; it has nothing to do with the
+accident.  I cannot answer; that is my secret.  There are more than three
+hundred people who have asked me; I have been offered glasses of brandy
+and liqueur, fried fish, matelotes, to make me tell.  But just go and try
+whether the chub will come.  Ah! they have tempted my stomach to get at
+my secret, my recipe.  Only my wife knows, and she will not tell it any
+more than I will.  Is not that so, Melie?"
+
+The president of the court interrupted him.
+
+"Just get to the facts as soon as you can," and the accused continued:
+"I am getting to them, I am getting to them.  Well, on Saturday, July 8,
+we left by the twenty-five past five train and before dinner we went to
+set bait as usual.  The weather promised to keep fine and I said to
+Melie: 'All right for tomorrow.'  And she replied: 'If looks like it,'
+We never talk more than that together.
+
+"And then we returned to dinner.  I was happy and thirsty, and that was
+the cause of everything.  I said to Melie: 'Look here, Melie, it is fine
+weather, suppose I drink a bottle of 'Casque a meche'.'  That is a weak
+white wine which we have christened so, because if you drink too much of
+it it prevents you from sleeping and takes the place of a nightcap.  Do
+you understand me?
+
+"She replied: 'You can do as you please, but you will be ill again and
+will not be able to get up tomorrow.'  That was true, sensible and
+prudent, clearsighted, I must confess.  Nevertheless I could not resist,
+and I drank my bottle.  It all came from that.
+
+"Well, I could not sleep.  By Jove! it kept me awake till two o'clock in
+the morning, and then I went to sleep so soundly that I should not have
+heard the angel sounding his trump at the last judgment.
+
+"In short, my wife woke me at six o'clock and I jumped out of bed,
+hastily put on my trousers and jersey, washed my face and jumped on board
+Delila.  But it was too late, for when I arrived at my hole it was
+already occupied!  Such a thing had never happened to me in three years,
+and it made me feel as if I were being robbed under my own eyes.  I said
+to myself: 'Confound it all! confound it!' And then my wife began to nag
+at me.  'Eh! what about your 'Casque a meche'?  Get along, you drunkard!
+Are you satisfied, you great fool?'  I could say nothing, because it was
+all true, but I landed all the same near the spot and tried to profit by
+what was left.  Perhaps after all the fellow might catch nothing and go
+away.
+
+"He was a little thin man in white linen coat and waistcoat and a large
+straw hat, and his wife, a fat woman, doing embroidery, sat behind him.
+
+"When she saw us take up our position close to them she murmured: 'Are
+there no other places on the river?'  My wife, who was furious, replied:
+'People who have any manners make inquiries about the habits of the
+neighborhood before occupying reserved spots.'
+
+"As I did not want a fuss, I said to her: 'Hold your tongue, Melie.  Let
+them alone, let them alone; we shall see.'
+
+"Well, we fastened Delila under the willows and had landed and were
+fishing side by side, Melie and I, close to the two others.  But here,
+monsieur, I must enter into details.
+
+"We had only been there about five minutes when our neighbor's line began
+to jerk twice, thrice; and then he pulled out a chub as thick as my
+thigh; rather less, perhaps, but nearly as big!  My heart beat, the
+perspiration stood on my forehead and Melie said to me: 'Well, you sot,
+did you see that?'
+
+"Just then Monsieur Bru, the grocer of Poissy, who is fond of gudgeon
+fishing, passed in a boat and called out to me: 'So somebody has taken
+your usual place, Monsieur Renard?'  And I replied: 'Yes, Monsieur Bru,
+there are some people in this world who do not know the rules of common
+politeness.'
+
+"The little man in linen pretended not to hear, nor his fat lump of a
+wife, either."
+
+Here the president interrupted him a second time: "Take care, you are
+insulting the widow, Madame Flameche, who is present."
+
+Renard made his excuses: "I beg your pardon, I beg your pardon; my anger
+carried me away.  Well, not a quarter of an hour had passed when the
+little man caught another chub, and another almost immediately, and
+another five minutes later.
+
+"Tears were in my eyes, and I knew that Madame Renard was boiling with
+rage, for she kept on nagging at me: 'Oh, how horrid!  Don't you see that
+he is robbing you of your fish?  Do you think that you will catch
+anything?  Not even a frog, nothing whatever.  Why, my hands are
+tingling, just to think of it.'
+
+"But I said to myself: 'Let us wait until twelve o'clock.  Then this
+poacher will go to lunch and I shall get my place again.  As for me,
+Monsieur le President, I lunch on that spot every Sunday.  We bring our
+provisions in Delila.  But there!  At noon the wretch produced a chicken
+in a newspaper, and while he was eating, he actually caught another chub!
+
+"Melie and I had a morsel also, just a bite, a mere nothing, for our
+heart was not in it.
+
+"Then I took up my newspaper to aid my digestion.  Every Sunday I read
+the Gil Blas in the shade by the side of the water.  It is Columbine's
+day, you know; Columbine, who writes the articles in the Gil Blas.
+I generally put Madame Renard into a rage by pretending to know this
+Columbine.  It is not true, for I do not know her and have never seen
+her, but that does not matter.  She writes very well, and then she says
+things that are pretty plain for a woman.  She suits me and there are not
+many of her sort.
+
+"Well, I began to tease my wife, but she got angry immediately, and very
+angry, so I held my tongue.  At that moment our two witnesses who are
+present here, Monsieur Ladureau and Monsieur Durdent, appeared on the
+other side of the river.  We knew each other by sight.  The little man
+began to fish again and he caught so many that I trembled with vexation
+and his wife said: 'It is an uncommonly good spot, and we will come here
+always, Desire.'  As for me, a cold shiver ran down my back, and Madame
+Renard kept repeating: 'You are not a man; you have the blood of a
+chicken in your veins'; and suddenly I said to her: 'Look here, I would
+rather go away or I shall be doing something foolish.'
+
+"And she whispered to me, as if she had put a red-hot iron under my nose:
+'You are not a man.  Now you are going to run away and surrender your
+place!  Go, then, Bazaine!'
+
+"I felt hurt, but yet I did not move, while the other fellow pulled out a
+bream: Oh, I never saw such a large one before, never!  And then my wife
+began to talk aloud, as if she were thinking, and you can see her tricks.
+She said: 'That is what one might call stolen fish, seeing that we set
+the bait ourselves.  At any rate, they ought to give us back the money we
+have spent on bait.'
+
+"Then the fat woman in the cotton dress said in her turn: 'Do you mean to
+call us thieves, madame?'  Explanations followed and compliments began to
+fly.  Oh, Lord!  those creatures know some good ones.  They shouted so
+loud that our two witnesses, who were on the other bank, began to call
+out by way of a joke: 'Less noise over there; you will interfere with
+your husbands' fishing.'
+
+"The fact is that neither the little man nor I moved any more than if we
+had been two tree stumps.  We remained there, with our eyes fixed on the
+water, as if we had heard nothing; but, by Jove! we heard all the same.
+'You are a thief!  You are nothing better than a tramp!  You are a
+regular jade!' and so on and so on.  A sailor could not have said more.
+
+"Suddenly I heard a noise behind me and turned round.  It was the other
+one, the fat woman, who had attacked my wife with her parasol.  Whack,
+whack!  Melie got two of them.  But she was furious, and she hits hard
+when she is in a rage.  She caught the fat woman by the hair and then
+thump!  thump!  slaps in the face rained down like ripe plums.  I should
+have let them fight it out: women together, men together.  It does not do
+to mix the blows.  But the little man in the linen jacket jumped up like
+a devil and was going to rush at my wife.  Ah! no, no, not that, my
+friend!  I caught the gentleman with the end of my fist, and crash!
+crash!  One on the nose, the other in the stomach.  He threw up his arms
+and legs and fell on his back into the river, just into the hole.
+
+"I should have fished him out most certainly, Monsieur le President, if I
+had had time.  But, to make matters worse, the fat woman had the upper
+hand and was pounding Melie for all she was worth.  I know I ought not to
+have interfered while the man was in the water, but I never thought that
+he would drown and said to myself: 'Bah, it will cool him.'
+
+"I therefore ran up to the women to separate them and all I received was
+scratches and bites.  Good Lord, what creatures!  Well, it took me five
+minutes, and perhaps ten, to separate those two viragos.  When I turned
+round there was nothing to be seen.
+
+The water was as smooth as a lake and the others yonder kept shouting:
+'Fish him out! fish him out!'  It was all very well to say that, but I
+cannot swim and still less dive.
+
+"At last the man from the dam came and two gentlemen with boathooks, but
+over a quarter of an hour had passed.  He was found at the bottom of the
+hole, in eight feet of water, as I have said.  There he was, the poor
+little man, in his linen suit!  Those are the facts such as I have sworn
+to.  I am innocent, on my honor."
+
+The witnesses having given testimony to the same effect, the accused was
+acquitted.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE SPASM
+
+The hotel guests slowly entered the dining-room and took their places.
+The waiters did not hurry themselves, in order to give the late comers a
+chance and thus avoid the trouble of bringing in the dishes a second
+time.  The old bathers, the habitues, whose season was almost over,
+glanced, gazed toward the door whenever it opened, to see what new faces
+might appear.
+
+This is the principal distraction of watering places.  People look
+forward to the dinner hour in order to inspect each day's new arrivals,
+to find out who they are, what they do, and what they think.  We always
+have a vague desire to meet pleasant people, to make agreeable
+acquaintances, perhaps to meet with a love adventure.  In this life of
+elbowings, unknown strangers assume an extreme importance.  Curiosity is
+aroused, sympathy is ready to exhibit itself, and sociability is the
+order of the day.
+
+We cherish antipathies for a week and friendships for a month; we see
+people with different eyes, when we view them through the medium of
+acquaintanceship at watering places.  We discover in men suddenly, after
+an hour's chat, in the evening after dinner, under the trees in the park
+where the healing spring bubbles up, a high intelligence and astonishing
+merits, and a month afterward we have completely forgotten these new
+friends, who were so fascinating when we first met them.
+
+Permanent and serious ties are also formed here sooner than anywhere
+else.  People see each other every day; they become acquainted very
+quickly, and their affection is tinged with the sweetness and unrestraint
+of long-standing intimacies.  We cherish in after years the dear and
+tender memories of those first hours of friendship, the memory of those
+first conversations in which a soul was unveiled, of those first glances
+which interrogate and respond to questions and secret thoughts which the
+mouth has not as yet uttered, the memory of that first cordial
+confidence, the memory of that delightful sensation of opening our hearts
+to those who seem to open theirs to us in return.
+
+And the melancholy of watering places, the monotony of days that are all
+alike, proves hourly an incentive to this heart expansion.
+
+Well, this evening, as on every other evening, we awaited the appearance
+of strange faces.
+
+Only two appeared, but they were very remarkable, a man and a woman--
+father and daughter.  They immediately reminded me of some of Edgar Poe's
+characters; and yet there was about them a charm, the charm associated
+with misfortune.  I looked upon them as the victims of fate.  The man was
+very tall and thin, rather stooped, with perfectly white hair, too white
+for his comparatively youthful physiognomy; and there was in his bearing
+and in his person that austerity peculiar to Protestants.  The daughter,
+who was probably twenty-four or twenty-five, was small in stature, and
+was also very thin, very pale, and she had the air of one who was worn
+out with utter lassitude.  We meet people like this from time to time,
+who seem too weak for the tasks and the needs of daily life, too weak to
+move about, to walk, to do all that we do every day.  She was rather
+pretty; with a transparent, spiritual beauty.  And she ate with extreme
+slowness, as if she were almost incapable of moving her arms.
+
+It must have been she, assuredly, who had come to take the waters.
+
+They sat facing me, on the opposite side of the table; and I at once
+noticed that the father had a very singular, nervous twitching.
+
+Every time he wanted to reach an object, his hand described a sort of
+zigzag before it succeeded in reaching what it was in search of, and
+after a little while this movement annoyed me so that I turned aside my
+head in order not to see it.
+
+I noticed, too, that the young girl, during meals, wore a glove on her
+left hand.
+
+After dinner I went for a stroll in the park of the bathing
+establishment.  This led toward the little Auvergnese station of Chatel-
+Guyon, hidden in a gorge at the foot of the high mountain, from which
+flowed so many boiling springs, arising from the deep bed of extinct
+volcanoes.  Over yonder, above our heads, the domes of extinct craters
+lifted their ragged peaks above the rest in the long mountain chain.  For
+Chatel-Guyon is situated at the entrance to the land of mountain domes.
+
+Beyond it stretches out the region of peaks, and, farther on again the
+region of precipitous summits.
+
+The "Puy de Dome" is the highest of the domes, the Peak of Sancy is the
+loftiest of the peaks, and Cantal is the most precipitous of these
+mountain heights.
+
+It was a very warm evening, and I was walking up and down a shady path,
+listening to the opening, strains of the Casino band, which was playing
+on an elevation overlooking the park.
+
+And I saw the father and the daughter advancing slowly in my direction.
+I bowed as one bows to one's hotel companions at a watering place; and
+the man, coming to a sudden halt, said to me:
+
+"Could you not, monsieur, tell us of a nice walk to take, short, pretty,
+and not steep; and pardon my troubling you?"
+
+I offered to show them the way toward the valley through which the little
+river flowed, a deep valley forming a gorge between two tall, craggy,
+wooded slopes.
+
+They gladly accepted my offer.
+
+And we talked, naturally, about the virtue of the waters.
+
+"Oh," he said, "my daughter has a strange malady, the seat of which is
+unknown.  She suffers from incomprehensible nervous attacks.  At one time
+the doctors think she has an attack of heart disease, at another time
+they imagine it is some affection of the liver, and at another they
+declare it to be a disease of the spine.  To-day this protean malady,
+that assumes a thousand forms and a thousand modes of attack, is
+attributed to the stomach, which is the great caldron and regulator of
+the body.  This is why we have come here.  For my part, I am rather
+inclined to think it is the nerves.  In any case it is very sad."
+
+Immediately the remembrance of the violent spasmodic movement of his hand
+came back to my mind, and I asked him:
+
+"But is this not the result of heredity?  Are not your own nerves
+somewhat affected?"
+
+He replied calmly:
+
+"Mine?  Oh, no-my nerves have always been very steady."
+
+Then, suddenly, after a pause, he went on:
+
+"Ah!  You were alluding to the jerking movement of my hand every time I
+try to reach for anything?  This arises from a terrible experience which
+I had.  Just imagine, this daughter of mine was actually buried alive!"
+
+I could only utter, "Ah!" so great were my astonishment and emotion.
+
+He continued:
+
+"Here is the story.  It is simple.  Juliette had been subject for some
+time to serious attacks of the heart.  We believed that she had disease
+of that organ, and were prepared for the worst.
+
+"One day she was carried into the house cold, lifeless, dead.  She had
+fallen down unconscious in the garden.  The doctor certified that life
+was extinct.  I watched by her side for a day and two nights.  I laid her
+with my own hands in the coffin, which I accompanied to the cemetery,
+where she was deposited in the family vault.  It is situated in the very
+heart of Lorraine.
+
+"I wished to have her interred with her jewels, bracelets, necklaces,
+rings, all presents which she had received from me, and wearing her first
+ball dress.
+
+"You may easily imagine my state of mind when I re-entered our home.
+She was the only one I had, for my wife had been dead for many years.
+I found my way to my own apartment in a half-distracted condition,
+utterly exhausted, and sank into my easy-chair, without the capacity to
+think or the strength to move.  I was nothing better now than a
+suffering, vibrating machine, a human being who had, as it were, been
+flayed alive; my soul was like an open wound.
+
+"My old valet, Prosper, who had assisted me in placing Juliette in her
+coffin, and aided me in preparing her for her last sleep, entered the
+room noiselessly, and asked:
+
+"'Does monsieur want anything?'
+
+"I merely shook my head in reply.
+
+"'Monsieur is wrong,' he urged.  'He will injure his health.  Would
+monsieur like me to put him to bed?'
+
+"I answered: 'No, let me alone!'
+
+"And he left the room.
+
+"I know not how many hours slipped away.  Oh, what a night, what a night!
+It was cold.  My fire had died out in the huge grate; and the wind, the
+winter wind, an icy wind, a winter hurricane, blew with a regular,
+sinister noise against the windows.
+
+"How many hours slipped away?  There I was without sleeping, powerless,
+crushed, my eyes wide open, my legs stretched out, my body limp,
+inanimate, and my mind torpid with despair.  Suddenly the great doorbell,
+the great bell of the vestibule, rang out.
+
+"I started so that my chair cracked under me.  The solemn, ponderous
+sound vibrated through the empty country house as through a vault.
+I turned round to see what the hour was by the clock.  It was just two in
+the morning.  Who could be coming at such an hour?
+
+"And, abruptly, the bell again rang twice.  The servants, without doubt,
+were afraid to get up.  I took a wax candle and descended the stairs.
+I was on the point of asking: 'Who is there?'
+
+"Then I felt ashamed of my weakness, and I slowly drew back the heavy
+bolts.  My heart was throbbing wildly.  I was frightened.  I opened the
+door brusquely, and in the darkness I distinguished a white figure,
+standing erect, something that resembled an apparition.
+
+"I recoiled petrified with horror, faltering:
+
+"'Who-who-who are you?'
+
+"A voice replied:
+
+"'It is I, father.'
+
+"It was my daughter.
+
+"I really thought I must be mad, and I retreated backward before this
+advancing spectre.  I kept moving away, making a sign with my hand,' as
+if to drive the phantom away, that gesture which you have noticed--that
+gesture which has remained with me ever since.
+
+"'Do not be afraid, papa,' said the apparition.  'I was not dead.
+Somebody tried to steal my rings and cut one of my fingers; the blood
+began to flow, and that restored me to life.'
+
+"And, in fact, I could see that her hand was covered with blood.
+
+"I fell on my knees, choking with sobs and with a rattling in my throat.
+
+"Then, when I had somewhat collected my thoughts, though I was still so
+bewildered that I scarcely realized the awesome happiness that had
+befallen me, I made her go up to my room and sit dawn in my easy-chair;
+then I rang excitedly for Prosper to get him to rekindle the fire and to
+bring some wine, and to summon assistance.
+
+"The man entered, stared at my daughter, opened his mouth with a gasp of
+alarm and stupefaction, and then fell back dead.
+
+"It was he who had opened the vault, who had mutilated and then abandoned
+my daughter; for he could not efface the traces of the theft.  He had not
+even taken the trouble to put back the coffin into its place, feeling
+sure, besides, that he would not be suspected by me, as I trusted him
+absolutely.
+
+"You see, monsieur, that we are very unfortunate people."
+
+He was silent.
+
+The night had fallen, casting its shadows over the desolate, mournful
+vale, and a sort of mysterious fear possessed me at finding myself by the
+side of those strange beings, of this young girl who had come back from
+the tomb, and this father with his uncanny spasm.
+
+I found it impossible to make any comment on this dreadful story.  I only
+murmured:
+
+"What a horrible thing!"
+
+Then, after a minute's silence, I added:
+
+"Let us go indoors.  I think it is growing cool."
+
+And we made our way back to the hotel.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+IN THE WOOD
+
+As the mayor was about to sit down to breakfast, word was brought to him
+that the rural policeman, with two prisoners, was awaiting him at the
+Hotel de Ville.  He went there at once and found old Hochedur standing
+guard before a middle-class couple whom he was regarding with a severe
+expression on his face.
+
+The man, a fat old fellow with a red nose and white hair, seemed utterly
+dejected; while the woman, a little roundabout individual with shining
+cheeks, looked at the official who had arrested them, with defiant eyes.
+
+"What is it?  What is it, Hochedur?"
+
+The rural policeman made his deposition: He had gone out that morning at
+his usual time, in order to patrol his beat from the forest of Champioux
+as far as the boundaries of Argenteuil.  He had not noticed anything
+unusual in the country except that it was a fine day, and that the wheat
+was doing well, when the son of old Bredel, who was going over his vines,
+called out to him: "Here, Daddy Hochedur, go and have a look at the
+outskirts of the wood.  In the first thicket you will find a pair of
+pigeons who must be a hundred and thirty years old between them!"
+
+He went in the direction indicated, entered the thicket, and there he
+heard words which made him suspect a flagrant breach of morality.
+Advancing, therefore, on his hands and knees as if to surprise a poacher,
+he had arrested the couple whom he found there.
+
+The mayor looked at the culprits in astonishment, for the man was
+certainly sixty, and the woman fifty-five at least, and he began to
+question them, beginning with the man, who replied in such a weak voice
+that he could scarcely be heard.
+
+"What is your name?"
+
+"Nicholas Beaurain."
+
+"Your occupation?"
+
+"Haberdasher, in the Rue des Martyrs, in Paris."
+
+"What were you doing in the wood?"
+
+The haberdasher remained silent, with his eyes on his fat paunch, and his
+hands hanging at his sides, and the mayor continued:
+
+"Do you deny what the officer of the municipal authorities states?"
+
+"No, monsieur."
+
+"So you confess it?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur."
+
+"What have you to say in your defence?"
+
+"Nothing, monsieur."
+
+"Where did you meet the partner in your misdemeanor?"
+
+"She is my wife, monsieur."
+
+"Your wife?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur."
+
+"Then--then--you do not live together-in Paris?"
+
+"I beg your pardon, monsieur, but we are living together!"
+
+"But in that case--you must be mad, altogether mad, my dear sir, to get
+caught playing lovers in the country at ten o'clock in the morning."
+
+The haberdasher seemed ready to cry with shame, and he muttered: "It was
+she who enticed me!  I told her it was very stupid, but when a woman once
+gets a thing into her head--you know--you cannot get it out."
+
+The mayor, who liked a joke, smiled and replied: "In your case, the
+contrary ought to have happened.  You would not be here, if she had had
+the idea only in her head."
+
+Then Monsieur Beauain was seized with rage and turning to his wife, he
+said: "Do you see to what you have brought us with your poetry?  And now
+we shall have to go before the courts at our age, for a breach of morals!
+And we shall have to shut up the shop, sell our good will, and go to some
+other neighborhood!  That's what it has come to."
+
+Madame Beaurain got up, and without looking at her husband, she explained
+herself without embarrassment, without useless modesty, and almost
+without hesitation.
+
+"Of course, monsieur, I know that we have made ourselves ridiculous.
+Will you allow me to plead my cause like an advocate, or rather like a
+poor woman?  And I hope that you will be kind enough to send us home, and
+to spare us the disgrace of a prosecution.
+
+"Years ago, when I was young, I made Monsieur Beaurain's acquaintance one
+Sunday in this neighborhood.  He was employed in a draper's shop, and I
+was a saleswoman in a ready-made clothing establishment.  I remember it
+as if it were yesterday.  I used to come and spend Sundays here
+occasionally with a friend of mine, Rose Leveque, with whom I lived in
+the Rue Pigalle, and Rose had a sweetheart, while I had none.  He used to
+bring us here, and one Saturday he told me laughing that he should bring
+a friend with him the next day.  I quite understood what he meant, but I
+replied that it would be no good; for I was virtuous, monsieur.
+
+"The next day we met Monsieur Beaurain at the railway station, and in
+those days he was good-looking, but I had made up my mind not to
+encourage him, and I did not.  Well, we arrived at Bezons.  It was a
+lovely day, the sort of day that touches your heart.  When it is fine
+even now, just as it used to be formerly, I grow quite foolish, and when
+I am in the country I utterly lose my head.  The green grass, the
+swallows flying so swiftly, the smell of the grass, the scarlet poppies,
+the daisies, all that makes me crazy.  It is like champagne when one is
+not accustomed to it!
+
+"Well, it was lovely weather, warm and bright, and it seemed to penetrate
+your body through your eyes when you looked and through your mouth when
+you breathed.  Rose and Simon hugged and kissed each other every minute,
+and that gave me a queer feeling!  Monsieur Beaurain and I walked behind
+them, without speaking much, for when people do not know each other, they
+do not find anything to talk about.  He looked timid, and I liked to see
+his embarrassment.  At last we got to the little wood; it was as cool as
+in a bath there, and we four sat down.  Rose and her lover teased me
+because I looked rather stern, but you will understand that I could not
+be otherwise.  And then they began to kiss and hug again, without putting
+any more restraint upon themselves than if we had not been there; and
+then they whispered together, and got up and went off among the trees,
+without saying a word.  You may fancy what I looked like, alone with this
+young fellow whom I saw for the first time.  I felt so confused at seeing
+them go that it gave me courage, and I began to talk.  I asked him what
+his business was, and he said he was a linen draper's assistant, as I
+told you just now.  We talked for a few minutes, and that made him bold,
+and he wanted to take liberties with me, but I told him sharply to keep
+his place.  Is not that true, Monsieur Beaurain?"
+
+Monsieur Beaurain, who was looking at his feet in confusion, did not
+reply, and she continued: "Then he saw that I was virtuous, and he began
+to make love to me nicely, like an honorable man, and from that time he
+came every Sunday, for he was very much in love with me.  I was very fond
+of him also, very fond of him!  He was a good-looking fellow, formerly,
+and in short he married me the next September, and we started in business
+in the Rue des Martyrs.
+
+"It was a hard struggle for some years, monsieur.  Business did not
+prosper, and we could not afford many country excursions, and, besides,
+we had got out of the way of them.  One has other things in one's head,
+and thinks more of the cash box than of pretty speeches, when one is in
+business.  We were growing old by degrees without perceiving it, like
+quiet people who do not think much about love.  One does not regret
+anything as long as one does not notice what one has lost.
+
+"And then, monsieur, business became better, and we were tranquil as to
+the future!  Then, you see, I do not exactly know what went on in my
+mind, no, I really do not know, but I began to dream like a little
+boarding-school girl.  The sight of the little carts full of flowers
+which are drawn about the streets made me cry; the smell of violets
+sought me out in my easy-chair, behind my cash box, and made my heart
+beat!  Then I would get up and go out on the doorstep to look at the blue
+sky between the roofs.  When one looks up at the sky from the street, it
+looks like a river which is descending on Paris, winding as it flows, and
+the swallows pass to and fro in it like fish.  These ideas are very
+stupid at my age!  But how can one help it, monsieur, when one has worked
+all one's life?  A moment comes in which one perceives that one could
+have done something else, and that one regrets, oh!  yes, one feels
+intense regret!  Just think, for twenty years I might have gone and had
+kisses in the woods, like other women.  I used to think how delightful it
+would be to lie under the trees and be in love with some one!  And I
+thought of it every day and every night!  I dreamed of the moonlight on
+the water, until I felt inclined to drown myself.
+
+"I did not venture to speak to Monsieur Beaurain about this at first.
+I knew that he would make fun of me, and send me back to sell my needles
+and cotton!  And then, to speak the truth, Monsieur Beaurain never said
+much to me, but when I looked in the glass, I also understood quite well
+that I no longer appealed to any one!
+
+"Well, I made up my mind, and I proposed to him an excursion into the
+country, to the place where we had first become acquainted.  He agreed
+without mistrusting anything, and we arrived here this morning, about
+nine o'clock.
+
+"I felt quite young again when I got among the wheat, for a woman's heart
+never grows old!  And really, I no longer saw my husband as he is at
+present, but just as he was formerly!  That I will swear to you,
+monsieur.  As true as I am standing here I was crazy.  I began to kiss
+him, and he was more surprised than if I had tried to murder him.
+He kept saying to me: 'Why, you must be mad!  You are mad this morning!
+What is the matter with you?' I did not listen to him, I only listened to
+my own heart, and I made him come into the wood with me.  That is all.
+I have spoken the truth, Monsieur le Maire, the whole truth."
+
+The mayor was a sensible man.  He rose from his chair, smiled, and said:
+"Go in peace, madame, and when you again visit our forests, be more
+discreet."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MARTINE
+
+It came to him one Sunday after mass.  He was walking home from church
+along the by-road that led to his house when he saw ahead of him Martine,
+who was also going home.
+
+Her father walked beside his daughter with the important gait of a rich
+farmer.  Discarding the smock, he wore a short coat of gray cloth and on
+his head a round-topped hat with wide brim.
+
+She, laced up in a corset which she wore only once a week, walked along
+erect, with her squeezed-in waist, her broad shoulders and prominent
+hips, swinging herself a little.  She wore a hat trimmed with flowers,
+made by a milliner at Yvetot, and displayed the back of her full, round,
+supple neck, reddened by the sun and air, on which fluttered little stray
+locks of hair.
+
+Benoist saw only her back; but he knew well the face he loved, without,
+however, having ever noticed it more closely than he did now.
+
+Suddenly he said: "Nom d'un nom, she is a fine girl, all the same, that
+Martine."  He watched her as she walked, admiring her hastily, feeling a
+desire taking possession of him.  He did not long to see her face again,
+no.  He kept gazing at her figure, repeating to himself: "Nom d'un nom,
+she is a fine girl."
+
+Martine turned to the right to enter "La Martiniere," the farm of her
+father, Jean Martin, and she cast a glance behind her as she turned
+round.  She saw Benoist, who looked to her very comical.  She called out:
+"Good-morning, Benoist."  He replied: "Good-morning, Martine; good-
+morning, mait Martin," and went on his way.
+
+When he reached home the soup was on the table.  He sat down opposite his
+mother beside the farm hand and the hired man, while the maid servant
+went to draw some cider.
+
+He ate a few spoonfuls, then pushed away his plate.  His mother said:
+
+"Don't you feel well?"
+
+"No.  I feel as if I had some pap in my stomach and that takes away my
+appetite."
+
+He watched the others eating, as he cut himself a piece of bread from
+time to time and carried it lazily to his mouth, masticating it slowly.
+He thought of Martine.  "She is a fine girl, all the same."  And to think
+that he had not noticed it before, and that it came to him, just like
+that, all at once, and with such force that he could not eat.
+
+He did not touch the stew.  His mother said:
+
+"Come, Benoist, try and eat a little; it is loin of mutton, it will do
+you good.  When one has no appetite, they should force themselves to
+eat."
+
+He swallowed a few morsels, then, pushing away his plate, said:
+
+"No.  I can't go that, positively."
+
+When they rose from table he walked round the farm, telling the farm hand
+he might go home and that he would drive up the animals as he passed by
+them.
+
+The country was deserted, as it was the day of rest.  Here and there in a
+field of clover cows were moving along heavily, with full bellies,
+chewing their cud under a blazing sun.  Unharnessed plows were standing
+at the end of a furrow; and the upturned earth ready for the seed showed
+broad brown patches of stubble of wheat and oats that had lately been
+harvested.
+
+A rather dry autumn wind blew across the plain, promising a cool evening
+after the sun had set.  Benoist sat down on a ditch, placed his hat on
+his knees as if he needed to cool off his head, and said aloud in the
+stillness of the country: "If you want a fine girl, she is a fine girl."
+
+He thought of it again at night, in his bed, and in the morning when he
+awoke.
+
+He was not sad, he was not discontented, he could not have told what
+ailed him.  It was something that had hold of him, something fastened in
+his mind, an idea that would not leave him and that produced a sort of
+tickling sensation in his heart.
+
+Sometimes a big fly is shut up in a room.  You hear it flying about,
+buzzing, and the noise haunts you, irritates you.  Suddenly it stops; you
+forget it; but all at once it begins again, obliging you to look up.
+You cannot catch it, nor drive it away, nor kill it, nor make it keep
+still.  As soon as it settles for a second, it starts off buzzing again.
+
+The recollection of Martine disturbed Benoist's mind like an imprisoned
+fly.
+
+Then he longed to see her again and walked past the Martiniere several
+times.  He saw her, at last, hanging out some clothes on a line stretched
+between two apple trees.
+
+It was a warm day.  She had on only a short skirt and her chemise,
+showing the curves of her figure as she hung up the towels.  He remained
+there, concealed by the hedge, for more than an hour, even after she had
+left.  He returned home more obsessed with her image than ever.
+
+For a month his mind was full of her, he trembled when her name was
+mentioned in his presence.  He could not eat, he had night sweats that
+kept him from sleeping.
+
+On Sunday, at mass, he never took his eyes off her.  She noticed it and
+smiled at him, flattered at his appreciation.
+
+One evening, he suddenly met her in the road.  She stopped short when she
+saw him coming.  Then he walked right up to her, choking with fear and
+emotion, but determined to speak to her.  He began falteringly:
+
+"See here, Martine, this cannot go on like this any longer."
+
+She replied as if she wanted to tease him:
+
+"What cannot go on any longer, Benoist?"
+
+"My thinking of you as many hours as there are in the day," he answered.
+
+She put her hands on her hips.
+
+"I do not oblige you to do so."
+
+"Yes, it is you," he stammered; "I cannot sleep, nor rest, nor eat, nor
+anything."
+
+"What do you need to cure you of all that?" she asked.
+
+He stood there in dismay, his arms swinging, his eyes staring, his mouth
+agape.
+
+She hit him a punch in the stomach and ran off.
+
+From that day they met each other along the roadside, in by-roads or else
+at twilight on the edge of a field, when he was going home with his
+horses and she was driving her cows home to the stable.
+
+He felt himself carried, cast toward her by a strong impulse of his heart
+and body.  He would have liked to squeeze her, strangle her, eat her,
+make her part of himself.  And he trembled with impotence, impatience,
+rage, to think she did not belong to him entirely, as if they were one
+being.
+
+People gossiped about it in the countryside.  They said they were
+engaged.  He had, besides, asked her if she would be his wife, and she
+had answered "Yes."
+
+They, were waiting for an opportunity to talk to their parents about it.
+
+But, all at once, she stopped coming to meet him at the usual hour.  He
+did not even see her as he wandered round the farm.  He could only catch
+a glimpse of her at mass on Sunday.  And one Sunday, after the sermon,
+the priest actually published the banns of marriage between Victoire-
+Adelaide Martin and Josephin-Isidore Vallin.
+
+Benoist felt a sensation in his hands as if the blood had been drained
+off.  He had a buzzing in the ears; and could hear nothing; and presently
+he perceived that his tears were falling on his prayer book.
+
+For a month he stayed in his room.  Then he went back to his work.
+
+But he was not cured, and it was always in his mind.  He avoided the
+roads that led past her home, so that he might not even see the trees in
+the yard, and this obliged him to make a great circuit morning and
+evening.
+
+She was now married to Vallin, the richest farmer in the district.
+Benoist and he did not speak now, though they had been comrades from
+childhood.
+
+One evening, as Benoist was passing the town hall, he heard that she was
+enceinte.  Instead of experiencing a feeling of sorrow, he experienced,
+on the contrary, a feeling of relief.  It was over, now, all over.  They
+were more separated by that than by her marriage.  He really preferred
+that it should be so.
+
+Months passed, and more months.  He caught sight of her, occasionally,
+going to the village with a heavier step than usual.  She blushed as she
+saw him, lowered her head and quickened her pace.  And he turned out of
+his way so as not to pass her and meet her glance.
+
+He dreaded the thought that he might one morning meet her face to face,
+and be obliged to speak to her.  What could he say to her now, after all
+he had said formerly, when he held her hands as he kissed her hair beside
+her cheeks?  He often thought of those meetings along the roadside.  She
+had acted horridly after all her promises.
+
+By degrees his grief diminished, leaving only sadness behind.  And one
+day he took the old road that led past the farm where she now lived.
+He looked at the roof from a distance.  It was there, in there, that she
+lived with another!  The apple trees were in bloom, the cocks crowed on
+the dung hill.  The whole dwelling seemed empty, the farm hands had gone
+to the fields to their spring toil.  He stopped near the gate and looked
+into the yard.  The dog was asleep outside his kennel, three calves were
+walking slowly, one behind the other, towards the pond.  A big turkey was
+strutting before the door, parading before the turkey hens like a singer
+at the opera.
+
+Benoist leaned against the gate post and was suddenly seized with a
+desire to weep.  But suddenly, he heard a cry, a loud cry for help coming
+from the house.  He was struck with dismay, his hands grasping the wooden
+bars of the gate, and listened attentively.  Another cry, a prolonged,
+heartrending cry, reached his ears, his soul, his flesh.  It was she who
+was crying like that!  He darted inside, crossed the grass patch, pushed
+open the door, and saw her lying on the floor, her body drawn up, her
+face livid, her eyes haggard, in the throes of childbirth.
+
+He stood there, trembling and paler than she was, and stammered:
+
+"Here I am, here I am, Martine!"
+
+She replied in gasps:
+
+"Oh, do not leave me, do not leave me, Benoist!"
+
+He looked at her, not knowing what to say, what to do.  She began to cry
+out again:
+
+"Oh, oh, it is killing me.  Oh, Benoist!"
+
+She writhed frightfully.
+
+Benoist was suddenly seized with a frantic longing to help her, to quiet
+her, to remove her pain.  He leaned over, lifted her up and laid her on
+her bed; and while she kept on moaning he began to take off her clothes,
+her jacket, her skirt and her petticoat.  She bit her fists to keep from
+crying out.  Then he did as he was accustomed to doing for cows, ewes,
+and mares: he assisted in delivering her and found in his hands a large
+infant who was moaning.
+
+He wiped it off and wrapped it up in a towel that was drying in front of
+the fire, and laid it on a bundle of clothes ready for ironing that was
+on the table.  Then he went back to the mother.
+
+He took her up and placed her on the floor again, then he changed the
+bedclothes and put her back into bed.  She faltered:
+
+"Thank you, Benoist, you have a noble heart."  And then she wept a little
+as if she felt regretful.
+
+He did not love her any longer, not the least bit.  It was all over.
+Why?  How?  He could not have said.  What had happened had cured him
+better than ten years of absence.
+
+She asked, exhausted and trembling:
+
+"What is it?"
+
+He replied calmly:
+
+"It is a very fine girl."
+
+Then they were silent again.  At the end of a few moments, the mother, in
+a weak voice, said:
+
+"Show her to me, Benoist."
+
+He took up the little one and was showing it to her as if he were holding
+the consecrated wafer, when the door opened, and Isidore Vallin appeared.
+
+He did not understand at first, then all at once he guessed.
+
+Benoist, in consternation, stammered out:
+
+"I was passing, I was just passing by when f heard her crying out, and I
+came--there is your child, Vallin!"
+
+Then the husband, his eyes full of tears, stepped forward, took the
+little mite of humanity that he held out to him, kissed it, unable to
+speak from emotion for a few seconds; then placing the child on the bed,
+he held out both hands to Benoist, saying:
+
+"Your hand upon it, Benoist.  From now on we understand each other.  If
+you are willing, we will be a pair of friends, a pair of friends!"  And
+Benoist replied: "Indeed I will, certainly, indeed I will."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ALL OVER
+
+Compte de Lormerin had just finished dressing.  He cast a parting glance
+at the large mirror which occupied an entire panel in his dressing-room
+and smiled.
+
+He was really a fine-looking man still, although quite gray.  Tall,
+slight, elegant, with no sign of a paunch, with a small mustache of
+doubtful shade, which might be called fair, he had a walk, a nobility, a
+"chic," in short, that indescribable something which establishes a
+greater difference between two men than would millions of money.  He
+murmured:
+
+"Lormerin is still alive!"
+
+And he went into the drawing-room where his correspondence awaited him.
+
+On his table, where everything had its place, the work table of the
+gentleman who never works, there were a dozen letters lying beside three
+newspapers of different opinions.  With a single touch he spread out all
+these letters, like a gambler giving the choice of a card; and he scanned
+the handwriting, a thing he did each morning before opening the
+envelopes.
+
+It was for him a moment of delightful expectancy, of inquiry and vague
+anxiety.  What did these sealed mysterious letters bring him?  What did
+they contain of pleasure, of happiness, or of grief?  He surveyed them
+with a rapid sweep of the eye, recognizing the writing, selecting them,
+making two or three lots, according to what he expected from them.  Here,
+friends; there, persons to whom he was indifferent; further on,
+strangers.  The last kind always gave him a little uneasiness.  What did
+they want from him?  What hand had traced those curious characters full
+of thoughts, promises, or threats?
+
+This day one letter in particular caught his eye.  It was simple,
+nevertheless, without seeming to reveal anything; but he looked at it
+uneasily, with a sort of chill at his heart.  He thought: "From whom can
+it be?  I certainly know this writing, and yet I can't identify it."
+
+He raised it to a level with his face, holding it delicately between two
+fingers, striving to read through the envelope, without making up his
+mind to open it.
+
+Then he smelled it, and snatched up from the table a little magnifying
+glass which he used in studying all the niceties of handwriting.  He
+suddenly felt unnerved.  "Whom is it from?  This hand is familiar to me,
+very familiar.  I must have often read its tracings, yes, very often.
+But this must have been a long, long time ago.  Whom the deuce can it be
+from?  Pooh!  it's only somebody asking for money."
+
+And he tore open the letter.  Then he read:
+
+     MY DEAR FRIEND: You have, without doubt, forgotten me, for it is now
+     twenty-five years since we saw each other.  I was young; I am old.
+     When I bade you farewell, I left Paris in order to follow into the
+     provinces my husband, my old husband, whom you used to call "my
+     hospital."  Do you remember him?  He died five years ago, and now I
+     am returning to Paris to get my daughter married, for I have a
+     daughter, a beautiful girl of eighteen, whom you have never seen.
+     I informed you of her birth, but you certainly did not pay much
+     attention to so trifling an event.
+
+     You are still the handsome Lormerin; so I have been told.  Well, if
+     you still recollect little Lise, whom you used to call Lison, come
+     and dine with her this evening, with the elderly Baronne de Vance
+     your ever faithful friend, who, with some emotion, although happy,
+     reaches out to you a devoted hand, which you must c1asp, but no
+     longer kiss, my poor Jaquelet.
+                                        LISE DE VANCE.
+
+Lormerin's heart began to throb.  He remained sunk in his armchair with
+the letter on his knees, staring straight before him, overcome by a
+poignant emotion that made the tears mount up to his eyes!
+
+If he had ever loved a woman in his life it was this one, little Lise,
+Lise de Vance, whom he called "Ashflower," on account of the strange
+color of her hair and the pale gray of her eyes.  Oh!  what a dainty,
+pretty, charming creature she was, this frail baronne, the wife of that
+gouty, pimply baron, who had abruptly carried her off to the provinces,
+shut her up, kept her in seclusion through jealousy, jealousy of the
+handsome Lormerin.
+
+Yes, he had loved her, and he believed that he too, had been truly loved.
+She familiarly gave him, the name of Jaquelet, and would pronounce that
+word in a delicious fashion.
+
+A thousand forgotten memories came back to him, far, off and sweet and
+melancholy now.  One evening she had called on him on her way home from a
+ball, and they went for a stroll in the Bois de Boulogne, she in evening
+dress, he in his dressing-jacket.  It was springtime; the weather was
+beautiful.  The fragrance from her bodice embalmed the warm air-the odor
+of her bodice, and perhaps, too, the fragrance of her skin.  What a
+divine night!  When they reached the lake, as the moon's rays fell across
+the branches into the water, she began to weep.  A little surprised, he
+asked her why.
+
+"I don't know.  The moon and the water have affected me.  Every time I
+see poetic things I have a tightening at the heart, and I have to cry."
+
+He smiled, affected himself, considering her feminine emotion charming--
+the unaffected emotion of a poor little woman, whom every sensation
+overwhelms.  And he embraced her passionately, stammering:
+
+"My little Lise, you are exquisite."
+
+What a charming love affair, short-lived and dainty, it had been and over
+all too quickly, cut short in the midst of its ardor by this old brute of
+a baron, who had carried off his wife, and never let any one see her
+afterward.
+
+Lormerin had forgotten, in fact, at the end of two or three months.  One
+woman drives out another so quickly in Paris, when one is a bachelor!  No
+matter; he had kept a little altar for her in his heart, for he had loved
+her alone!  He assured himself now that this was so.
+
+He rose, and said aloud : "Certainly, I will go and dine with her this
+evening!"
+
+And instinctively he turned toward the mirror to inspect himself from
+head to foot.  He reflected: "She must look very old, older than I look."
+And he felt gratified at the thought of showing himself to her still
+handsome, still fresh, of astonishing her, perhaps of filling her with
+emotion, and making her regret those bygone days so far, far distant!
+
+He turned his attention to the other letters.  They were of no
+importance.
+
+The whole day he kept thinking of this ghost of other days.  What was she
+like now?  How strange it was to meet in this way after twenty-five
+years!  But would he recognize her?
+
+He made his toilet with feminine coquetry, put on a white waistcoat,
+which suited him better with the coat than a black one, sent for the
+hairdresser to give him a finishing touch With the curling iron, for he
+had preserved his hair, and started very early in order to show his
+eagerness to see her.
+
+The first thing he saw on entering a pretty drawing-room newly furnished
+was his own portrait, an old faded photograph, dating from the days when
+he was a beau, hanging on the wall in an antique silk frame.
+
+He sat down and waited.  A door opened behind him.  He rose up abruptly,
+and, turning round, beheld an old woman with white hair who extended both
+hands toward him.
+
+He seized them, kissed them one after the other several times; then,
+lifting up his head, he gazed at the woman he had loved.
+
+Yes, it was an old lady, an old lady whom he did not recognize, and who,
+while she smiled, seemed ready to weep.
+
+He could not abstain from murmuring:
+
+"Is it you, Lise?"
+
+She replied:
+
+"Yes, it is I; it is I, indeed.  You would not have known me, would you?
+I have had so much sorrow--so much sorrow.  Sorrow has consumed my life.
+Look at me now--or, rather, don't look at me!  But how handsome you have
+kept--and young!  If I had by chance met you in the street I would have
+exclaimed: 'Jaquelet!'.  Now, sit down and let us, first of all, have a
+chat.  And then I will call my daughter, my grown-up daughter.  You'll
+see how she resembles me--or, rather, how I resembled her--no, it is not
+quite that; she is just like the 'me' of former days--you shall see!  But
+I wanted to be alone with you first.  I feared that there would be some
+emotion on my side, at the first moment.  Now it is all over; it is past.
+Pray be seated, my friend."
+
+He sat down beside her, holding her hand; but he did not know what to
+say; he did not know this woman--it seemed to him that he had never seen
+her before.  Why had he come to this house?  What could he talk about?
+Of the long ago?  What was there in common between him and her?  He could
+no longer recall anything in presence of this grandmotherly face.  He
+could no longer recall all the nice, tender things, so sweet, so bitter,
+that had come to his mind that morning when he thought of the other, of
+little Lise, of the dainty Ashflower.  What, then, had become of her, the
+former one, the one he had loved?  That woman of far-off dreams, the
+blonde with gray eyes, the young girl who used to call him "Jaquelet" so
+prettily?
+
+They remained side by side, motionless, both constrained, troubled,
+profoundly ill at ease.
+
+As they talked only commonplaces, awkwardly and spasmodically and slowly,
+she rose and pressed the button of the bell.
+
+"I am going to call Renee," she said.
+
+There was a tap at the door, then the rustle of a dress; then a young
+voice exclaimed:
+
+"Here I am, mamma!"
+
+Lormerin remained bewildered as at the sight of an apparition.
+
+He stammered:
+
+"Good-day, mademoiselle"
+
+Then, turning toward the mother:
+
+"Oh! it is you!
+
+In fact, it was she, she whom he had known in bygone days, the Lise who
+had vanished and come back!  In her he found the woman he had won twenty-
+five years before.  This one was even younger, fresher, more childlike.
+
+He felt a wild desire to open his arms, to clasp her to his heart again,
+murmuring in her ear:
+
+"Good-morning, Lison!"
+
+A man-servant announced:
+
+"Dinner is ready, madame."
+
+And they proceeded toward the dining-room.
+
+What passed at this dinner?  What did they say to him, and what could he
+say in reply?  He found himself plunged in one of those strange dreams
+which border on insanity.  He gazed at the two women with a fixed idea in
+his mind, a morbid, self-contradictory idea:
+
+"Which is the real one?"
+
+The mother smiled again repeating over and over:
+
+"Do you remember?" And it was in the bright eyes of the young girl that
+he found again his memories of the past.  Twenty times he opened his
+mouth to say to her: "Do you remember, Lison?" forgetting this white-
+haired lady who was looking at him tenderly.
+
+And yet, there were moments when, he no longer felt sure, when he lost
+his head.  He could see that the woman of to-day was not exactly the
+woman of long ago.  The other one, the former one, had in her voice, in
+her glances, in her entire being, something which he did not find again.
+And he made prodigious efforts of mind to recall his lady love, to seize
+again what had escaped from her, what this resuscitated one did not
+possess.
+
+The baronne said:
+
+"You have lost your old vivacity, my poor friend."
+
+He murmured:
+
+"There are many other things that I have lost!"
+
+But in his heart, touched with emotion, he felt his old love springing to
+life once more, like an awakened wild beast ready to bite him.
+
+The young girl went on chattering, and every now and then some familiar
+intonation, some expression of her mother's, a certain style of speaking
+and thinking, that resemblance of mind and manner which people acquire by
+living together, shook Lormerin from head to foot.  All these things
+penetrated him, making the reopened wound of his passion bleed anew.
+
+He got away early, and took a turn along the boulevard.  But the image of
+this young girl pursued him, haunted him, quickened his heart, inflamed
+his blood.  Apart from the two women, he now saw only one, a young one,
+the old one come back out of the past, and he loved her as he had loved
+her in bygone years.  He loved her with greater ardor, after an interval
+of twenty-five years.
+
+He went home to reflect on this strange and terrible thing, and to think
+what he should do.
+
+But, as he was passing, with a wax candle in his hand, before the glass,
+the large glass in which he had contemplated himself and admired himself
+before he started, he saw reflected there an elderly, gray-haired man;
+and suddenly he recollected what he had been in olden days, in the days
+of little Lise.  He saw himself charming and handsome, as he had been
+when he was loved!  Then, drawing the light nearer, he looked at himself
+more closely, as one inspects a strange thing with a magnifying glass,
+tracing the wrinkles, discovering those frightful ravages, which he had
+not perceived till now.
+
+And he sat down, crushed at the sight of himself, at the sight of his
+lamentable image, murmuring:
+
+"All over, Lormerin!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE PARROT
+
+Everybody in Fecamp knew Mother Patin's story.  She had certainly been
+unfortunate with her husband, for in his lifetime he used to beat her,
+just as wheat is threshed in the barn.
+
+He was master of a fishing bark and had married her, formerly, because
+she was pretty, although poor.
+
+Patin was a good sailor, but brutal.  He used to frequent Father Auban's
+inn, where he would usually drink four or five glasses of brandy, on
+lucky days eight or ten glasses and even more, according to his mood.
+The brandy was served to the customers by Father Auban's daughter, a
+pleasing brunette, who attracted people to the house only by her pretty
+face, for nothing had ever been gossiped about her.
+
+Patin, when he entered the inn, would be satisfied to look at her and to
+compliment her politely and respectfully.  After he had had his first
+glass of brandy he would already find her much nicer; at the second he
+would wink; at the third he would say.  "If you were only willing,
+Mam'zelle Desiree----" without ever finishing his sentence; at the fourth
+he would try to hold her back by her skirt in order to kiss her; and when
+he went as high as ten it was Father Auban who brought him the remaining
+drinks.
+
+The old innkeeper, who knew all the tricks of the trade, made Desiree
+walk about between the tables in order to increase the consumption of
+drinks; and Desiree, who was a worthy daughter of Father Auban, flitted
+around among the benches and joked with them, her lips smiling and her
+eyes sparkling.
+
+Patin got so well accustomed to Desiree's face that he thought of it even
+while at sea, when throwing out his nets, in storms or in calms, on
+moonlit or dark evenings.  He thought of her while holding the tiller in
+the stern of his boat, while his four companions were slumbering with
+their heads on their arms.  He always saw her, smiling, pouring out the
+yellow brandy with a peculiar shoulder movement and then exclaiming as
+she turned away: "There, now; are you satisfied?"
+
+He saw her so much in his mind's eye that he was overcome by an
+irresistible desire to marry her, and, not being able to hold out any
+longer, he asked for her hand.
+
+He was rich, owned his own vessel, his nets and a little house at the
+foot of the hill on the Retenue, whereas Father Auban had nothing.  The
+marriage was therefore eagerly agreed upon and the wedding took place as
+soon as possible, as both parties were desirous for the affair to be
+concluded as early as convenient.
+
+Three days after the wedding Patin could no longer understand how he had
+ever imagined Desiree to be different from other women.  What a fool he
+had been to encumber himself with a penniless creature, who had
+undoubtedly inveigled him with some drug which she had put in his brandy!
+
+He would curse all day lung, break his pipe with his teeth and maul his
+crew.  After he had sworn by every known term at everything that came his
+way he would rid himself of his remaining anger on the fish and lobsters,
+which he pulled from the nets and threw into the baskets amid oaths and
+foul language.  When he returned home he would find his wife, Father
+Auban's daughter, within reach of his mouth and hand, and it was not long
+before he treated her like the lowest creature in the world.  As she
+listened calmly, accustomed to paternal violence, he grew exasperated at
+her quiet, and one evening he beat her.  Then life at his home became
+unbearable.
+
+For ten years the principal topic of conversation on the Retenue was
+about the beatings that Patin gave his wife and his manner of cursing at
+her for the least thing.  He could, indeed, curse with a richness of
+vocabulary in a roundness of tone unequalled by any other man in Fecamp.
+As soon as his ship was sighted at the entrance of the harbor, returning
+from the fishing expedition, every one awaited the first volley he would
+hurl from the bridge as soon as he perceived his wife's white cap.
+
+Standing at the stern he would steer, his eye fixed on the bows and on
+the sail, and, notwithstanding the difficulty of the narrow passage and
+the height of the turbulent waves, he would search among the watching
+women and try to recognize his wife, Father Auban's daughter, the wretch!
+
+Then, as soon as he saw her, notwithstanding the noise of the wind and
+waves, he would let loose upon her with such power and volubility that
+every one would laugh, although they pitied her greatly.  When he arrived
+at the dock he would relieve his mind, while unloading the fish, in such
+an expressive manner that he attracted around him all the loafers of the
+neighborhood.  The words left his mouth sometimes like shots from a
+cannon, short and terrible, sometimes like peals of thunder, which roll
+and rumble for five minutes, such a hurricane of oaths that he seemed to
+have in his lungs one of the storms of the Eternal Father.
+
+When he left his ship and found himself face to face with her, surrounded
+by all the gossips of the neighborhood, he would bring up a new cargo of
+insults and bring her back to their dwelling, she in front, he behind,
+she weeping, he yelling at her.
+
+At last, when alone with her behind closed doors, he would thrash her on
+the slightest pretext.  The least thing was sufficient to make him raise
+his hand, and when he had once begun he did not stop, but he would throw
+into her face the true motive for his anger.  At each blow he would roar:
+"There, you beggar!  There, you wretch!  There, you pauper!  What a
+bright thing I did when I rinsed my mouth with your rascal of a father's
+apology for brandy.
+
+The poor woman lived in continual fear, in a ceaseless trembling of body
+and soul, in everlasting expectation of outrageous thrashings.
+
+This lasted ten years.  She was so timorous that she would grow pale
+whenever she spoke to any one, and she thought of nothing but the blows
+with which she was threatened; and she became thinner, more yellow and
+drier than a smoked fish.
+
+
+II
+
+One night, when her husband was at sea, she was suddenly awakened by the
+wild roaring of the wind!
+
+She sat up in her bed, trembling, but, as she hear nothing more, she lay
+down again; almost immediately there was a roar in the chimney which
+shook the entire house; it seemed to cross the heavens like a pack of
+furious animals snorting and roaring.
+
+Then she arose and rushed to the harbor.  Other women were arriving from
+all sides, carrying lanterns.  The men also were gathering, and all were
+watching the foaming crests of the breaking wave.
+
+The storm lasted fifteen hours.  Eleven sailors never returned; Patin was
+among them.
+
+In the neighborhood of Dieppe the wreck of his bark, the Jeune-Amelie,
+was found.  The bodies of his sailors were found near Saint-Valery, but
+his body was never recovered.  As his vessel seemed to have been cut in
+two, his wife expected and feared his return for a long time, for if
+there had been a collision he alone might have been picked up and carried
+afar off.
+
+Little by little she grew accustomed to the thought that she was rid of
+him, although she would start every time that a neighbor, a beggar or a
+peddler would enter suddenly.
+
+One afternoon, about four years after the disappearance of her husband,
+while she was walking along the Rue aux Juifs, she stopped before the
+house of an old sea captain who had recently died and whose furniture was
+for sale.  Just at that moment a parrot was at auction.  He had green
+feathers and a blue head and was watching everybody with a displeased
+look.  "Three francs!" cried the auctioneer.  "A bird that can talk like
+a lawyer, three francs!"
+
+A friend of the Patin woman nudged her and said:
+
+"You ought to buy that, you who are rich.  It would be good company for
+you.  That bird is worth more than thirty francs.  Anyhow, you can always
+sell it for twenty or twenty-five!"
+
+Patin's widow added fifty centimes, and the bird was given her in a
+little cage, which she carried away.  She took it home, and, as she was
+opening the wire door in order to give it something to drink, he bit her
+finger and drew blood.
+
+"Oh, how naughty he is!" she said.
+
+Nevertheless she gave it some hemp-seed and corn and watched it pruning
+its feathers as it glanced warily at its new home and its new mistress.
+On the following morning, just as day was breaking, the Patin woman
+distinctly heard a loud, deep, roaring voice calling: "Are you going to
+get up, carrion?"
+
+Her fear was so great that she hid her head under the sheets, for when
+Patin was with her as soon as he would open his eyes he would shout those
+well-known words into her ears.
+
+Trembling, rolled into a ball, her back prepared for the thrashing which
+she already expected, her face buried in the pillows, she murmured: "Good
+Lord!  he is here!  Good Lord!  he is here!  Good Lord!  he has come
+back!"
+
+Minutes passed; no noise disturbed the quiet room.  Then, trembling, she
+stuck her head out of the bed, sure that he was there, watching, ready to
+beat her.  Except for a ray of sun shining through the window, she saw
+nothing, and she said to her self: "He must be hidden."
+
+She waited a long time and then, gaining courage, she said to herself: "I
+must have dreamed it, seeing there is nobody here."
+
+A little reassured, she closed.  her eyes, when from quite near a furious
+voice, the thunderous voice of the drowned man, could be heard crying:
+"Say! when in the name of all that's holy are you going to get up, you
+b----?"
+
+She jumped out of bed, moved by obedience, by the passive obedience of a
+woman accustomed to blows and who still remembers and always will
+remember that voice!  She said: "Here I am, Patin; what do you want?"
+
+Put Patin did not answer.  Then, at a complete loss, she looked around
+her, then in the chimney and under the bed and finally sank into a chair,
+wild with anxiety, convinced that Patin's soul alone was there, near her,
+and that he had returned in order to torture her.
+
+Suddenly she remembered the loft, in order to reach which one had to take
+a ladder.  Surely he must have hidden there in order to surprise her.  He
+must have been held by savages on some distant shore, unable to escape
+until now, and he had returned, worse that ever.  There was no doubting
+the quality of that voice.  She raised her head and asked: "Are you up
+there, Patin?"
+
+Patin did not answer.  Then, with a terrible fear which made her heart
+tremble, she climbed the ladder, opened the skylight, looked, saw
+nothing, entered, looked about and found nothing.  Sitting on some straw,
+she began to cry, but while she was weeping, overcome by a poignant and
+supernatural terror, she heard Patin talking in the room below.
+
+He seemed less angry and he was saying: "Nasty weather!  Fierce wind!
+Nasty weather!  I haven't eaten, damn it!"
+
+She cried through the ceiling: "Here I am, Patin; I am getting your meal
+ready.  Don't get angry."
+
+She ran down again.  There was no one in the room.  She felt herself
+growing weak, as if death were touching her, and she tried to run and get
+help from the neighbors, when a voice near her cried out: "I haven't had
+my breakfast, by G--!"
+
+And the parrot in his cage watched her with his round, knowing, wicked
+eye.  She, too, looked at him wildly, murmuring: "Ah! so it's you!"
+
+He shook his head and continued: "Just you wait!  I'll teach you how to
+loaf."
+
+What happened within her?  She felt, she understood that it was he, the
+dead man, who had come back, who had disguised himself in the feathers of
+this bird in order to continue to torment her; that he would curse, as
+formerly, all day long, and bite her, and swear at her, in order to
+attract the neighbors and make them laugh.  Then she rushed for the cage
+and seized the bird, which scratched and tore her flesh with its claws
+and beak.  But she held it with all her strength between her hands.  She
+threw it on the ground and rolled over it with the frenzy of one
+possessed.  She crushed it and finally made of it nothing but a little
+green, flabby lump which no longer moved or spoke.  Then she wrapped it
+in a cloth, as in a shroud, and she went out in her nightgown, barefoot;
+she crossed the dock, against which the choppy waves of the sea were
+beating, and she shook the cloth and let drop this little, dead thing,
+which looked like so much grass.  Then she returned, threw herself on her
+knees before the empty cage, and, overcome by what she had done, kneeled
+and prayed for forgiveness, as if she had committed some heinous crime.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE PIECE OF STRING
+
+It was market-day, and from all the country round Goderville the peasants
+and their wives were coming toward the town.  The men walked slowly,
+throwing the whole body forward at every step of their long, crooked
+legs.  They were deformed from pushing the plough which makes the left-
+shoulder higher, and bends their figures side-ways; from reaping the
+grain, when they have to spread their legs so as to keep on their feet.
+Their starched blue blouses, glossy as though varnished, ornamented at
+collar and cuffs with a little embroidered design and blown out around
+their bony bodies, looked very much like balloons about to soar, whence
+issued two arms and two feet.
+
+Some of these fellows dragged a cow or a calf at the end of a rope.  And
+just behind the animal followed their wives beating it over the back with
+a leaf-covered branch to hasten its pace, and carrying large baskets out
+of which protruded the heads of chickens or ducks.  These women walked
+more quickly and energetically than the men, with their erect, dried-up
+figures, adorned with scanty little shawls pinned over their flat bosoms,
+and their heads wrapped round with a white cloth, enclosing the hair and
+surmounted by a cap.
+
+Now a char-a-banc passed by, jogging along behind a nag and shaking up
+strangely the two men on the seat, and the woman at the bottom of the
+cart who held fast to its sides to lessen the hard jolting.
+
+In the market-place at Goderville was a great crowd, a mingled multitude
+of men and beasts.  The horns of cattle, the high, long-napped hats of
+wealthy peasants, the headdresses of the women came to the surface of
+that sea.  And the sharp, shrill, barking voices made a continuous, wild
+din, while above it occasionally rose a huge burst of laughter from the
+sturdy lungs of a merry peasant or a prolonged bellow from a cow tied
+fast to the wall of a house.
+
+It all smelled of the stable, of milk, of hay and of perspiration, giving
+off that half-human, half-animal odor which is peculiar to country folks.
+
+Maitre Hauchecorne, of Breaute, had just arrived at Goderville and was
+making his way toward the square when he perceived on the ground a little
+piece of string.  Maitre Hauchecorne, economical as are all true Normans,
+reflected that everything was worth picking up which could be of any use,
+and he stooped down, but painfully, because he suffered from rheumatism.
+He took the bit of thin string from the ground and was carefully
+preparing to roll it up when he saw Maitre Malandain, the harness maker,
+on his doorstep staring at him.  They had once had a quarrel about a
+halter, and they had borne each other malice ever since.  Maitre
+Hauchecorne was overcome with a sort of shame at being seen by his enemy
+picking up a bit of string in the road.  He quickly hid it beneath his
+blouse and then slipped it into his breeches, pocket, then pretended to
+be still looking for something on the ground which he did not discover
+and finally went off toward the market-place, his head bent forward and
+his body almost doubled in two by rheumatic pains.
+
+He was at once lost in the crowd, which kept moving about slowly and
+noisily as it chaffered and bargained.  The peasants examined the cows,
+went off, came back, always in doubt for fear of being cheated, never
+quite daring to decide, looking the seller square in the eye in the
+effort to discover the tricks of the man and the defect in the beast.
+
+The women, having placed their great baskets at their feet, had taken out
+the poultry, which lay upon the ground, their legs tied together, with
+terrified eyes and scarlet combs.
+
+They listened to propositions, maintaining their prices in a decided
+manner with an impassive face or perhaps deciding to accept the smaller
+price offered, suddenly calling out to the customer who was starting to
+go away:
+
+"All right, I'll let you have them, Mait' Anthime."
+
+Then, little by little, the square became empty, and when the Angelus
+struck midday those who lived at a distance poured into the inns.
+
+At Jourdain's the great room was filled with eaters, just as the vast
+court was filled with vehicles of every sort--wagons, gigs, chars-a-
+bancs, tilburies, innumerable vehicles which have no name, yellow with
+mud, misshapen, pieced together, raising their shafts to heaven like two
+arms, or it may be with their nose on the ground and their rear in the
+air.
+
+Just opposite to where the diners were at table the huge fireplace, with
+its bright flame, gave out a burning heat on the backs of those who sat
+at the right.  Three spits were turning, loaded with chickens, with
+pigeons and with joints of mutton, and a delectable odor of roast meat
+and of gravy flowing over crisp brown skin arose from the hearth, kindled
+merriment, caused mouths to water.
+
+All the aristocracy of the plough were eating there at Mait' Jourdain's,
+the innkeeper's, a dealer in horses also and a sharp fellow who had made
+a great deal of money in his day.
+
+The dishes were passed round, were emptied, as were the jugs of yellow
+cider.  Every one told of his affairs, of his purchases and his sales.
+They exchanged news about the crops.  The weather was good for greens,
+but too wet for grain.
+
+Suddenly the drum began to beat in the courtyard before the house.  Every
+one, except some of the most indifferent, was on their feet at once and
+ran to the door, to the windows, their mouths full and napkins in their
+hand.
+
+When the public crier had finished his tattoo he called forth in a jerky
+voice, pausing in the wrong places:
+
+"Be it known to the inhabitants of Goderville and in general to all
+persons present at the market that there has been lost this morning on
+the Beuzeville road, between nine and ten o'clock, a black leather
+pocketbook containing five hundred francs and business papers.  You are
+requested to return it to the mayor's office at once or to Maitre Fortune
+Houlbreque, of Manneville.  There will be twenty francs reward."
+
+Then the man went away.  They heard once more at a distance the dull
+beating of the drum and the faint voice of the crier.  Then they all
+began to talk of this incident, reckoning up the chances which Maitre
+Houlbreque had of finding or of not finding his pocketbook again.
+
+The meal went on.  They were finishing their coffee when the corporal of
+gendarmes appeared on the threshold.
+
+He asked:
+
+"Is Maitre Hauchecorne, of Breaute, here?"
+
+Maitre Hauchecorne, seated at the other end of the table answered:
+
+"Here I am, here I am."
+
+And he followed the corporal.
+
+The mayor was waiting for him, seated in an armchair.  He was the notary
+of the place, a tall, grave man of pompous speech.
+
+"Maitre Hauchecorne," said he, "this morning on the Beuzeville road, you
+were seen to pick up the pocketbook lost by Maitre Houlbreque, of
+Manneville."
+
+The countryman looked at the mayor in amazement frightened already at
+this suspicion which rested on him, he knew not why.
+
+"I--I picked up that pocketbook?"
+
+"Yes, YOU."
+
+"I swear I don't even know anything about it."
+
+"You were seen."
+
+"I was seen--I?  Who saw me?"
+
+"M. Malandain, the harness-maker."
+
+Then the old man remembered, understood, and, reddening with anger, said:
+
+"Ah! he saw me, did he, the rascal?  He saw me picking up this string
+here, M'sieu le Maire."
+
+And fumbling at the bottom of his pocket, he pulled out of it the little
+end of string.
+
+But the mayor incredulously shook his head:
+
+"You will not make me believe, Maitre Hauchecorne, that M. Malandain, who
+is a man whose word can be relied on, has mistaken this string for a
+pocketbook."
+
+The peasant, furious, raised his hand and spat on the ground beside him
+as if to attest his good faith, repeating:
+
+"For all that, it is God's truth, M'sieu le Maire.  There!  On my soul's
+salvation, I repeat it."
+
+The mayor continued:
+
+"After you picked up the object in question, you even looked about for
+some time in the mud to see if a piece of money had not dropped out of
+it."
+
+The good man was choking with indignation and fear.
+
+"How can they tell--how can they tell such lies as that to slander an
+honest man!  How can they?"
+
+His protestations were in vain; he was not believed.
+
+He was confronted with M. Malandain, who repeated and sustained his
+testimony.  They railed at one another for an hour.  At his own request
+Maitre Hauchecorne was searched.  Nothing was found on him.
+
+At last the mayor, much perplexed, sent him away, warning him that he
+would inform the public prosecutor and ask for orders.
+
+The news had spread.  When he left the mayor's office the old man was
+surrounded, interrogated with a curiosity which was serious or mocking,
+as the case might be, but into which no indignation entered.  And he
+began to tell the story of the string.  They did not believe him.  They
+laughed.
+
+He passed on, buttonholed by every one, himself buttonholing his
+acquaintances, beginning over and over again his tale and his
+protestations, showing his pockets turned inside out to prove that he had
+nothing in them.
+
+They said to him:
+
+"You old rogue!"
+
+He grew more and more angry, feverish, in despair at not being believed,
+and kept on telling his story.
+
+The night came.  It was time to go home.  He left with three of his
+neighbors, to whom he pointed out the place where he had picked up the
+string, and all the way he talked of his adventure.
+
+That evening he made the round of the village of Breaute for the purpose
+of telling every one.  He met only unbelievers.
+
+He brooded over it all night long.
+
+The next day, about one in the afternoon, Marius Paumelle, a farm hand of
+Maitre Breton, the market gardener at Ymauville, returned the pocketbook
+and its contents to Maitre Holbreque, of Manneville.
+
+This man said, indeed, that he had found it on the road, but not knowing
+how to read, he had carried it home and given it to his master.
+
+The news spread to the environs.  Maitre Hauchecorne was informed.  He
+started off at once and began to relate his story with the denoument.  He
+was triumphant.
+
+"What grieved me," said he, "was not the thing itself, do you understand,
+but it was being accused of lying.  Nothing does you so much harm as
+being in disgrace for lying."
+
+All day he talked of his adventure.  He told it on the roads to the
+people who passed, at the cabaret to the people who drank and next Sunday
+when they came out of church.  He even stopped strangers to tell them
+about it.  He was easy now, and yet something worried him without his
+knowing exactly what it was.  People had a joking manner while they
+listened.  They did not seem convinced.  He seemed to feel their remarks
+behind his back.
+
+On Tuesday of the following week he went to market at Goderville,
+prompted solely by the need of telling his story.
+
+Malandain, standing on his doorstep, began to laugh as he saw him pass.
+Why?
+
+He accosted a farmer of Criquetot, who did not let hire finish, and
+giving him a punch in the pit of the stomach cried in his face: "Oh, you
+great rogue!"  Then he turned his heel upon him.
+
+Maitre Hauchecorne remained speechless and grew more and more uneasy.
+Why had they called him "great rogue"?
+
+When seated at table in Jourdain's tavern he began again to explain the
+whole affair.
+
+A horse dealer of Montivilliers shouted at him:
+
+"Get out, get out, you old scamp!  I know all about your old string."
+
+Hauchecorne stammered:
+
+"But since they found it again, the pocketbook!"
+
+But the other continued:
+
+"Hold your tongue, daddy; there's one who finds it and there's another
+who returns it.  And no one the wiser."
+
+The farmer was speechless.  He understood at last.  They accused him of
+having had the pocketbook brought back by an accomplice, by a
+confederate.
+
+He tried to protest.  The whole table began to laugh.
+
+He could not finish his dinner, and went away amid a chorus of jeers.
+
+He went home indignant, choking with rage, with confusion, the more cast
+down since with his Norman craftiness he was, perhaps, capable of having
+done what they accused him of and even of boasting of it as a good trick.
+He was dimly conscious that it was impossible to prove his innocence, his
+craftiness being so well known.  He felt himself struck to the heart by
+the injustice of the suspicion.
+
+He began anew to tell his tale, lengthening his recital every day, each
+day adding new proofs, more energetic declarations and more sacred oaths,
+which he thought of, which he prepared in his hours of solitude, for his
+mind was entirely occupied with the story of the string.  The more he
+denied it, the more artful his arguments, the less he was believed.
+
+"Those are liars proofs," they said behind his back.
+
+He felt this.  It preyed upon him and he exhausted himself in useless
+efforts.
+
+He was visibly wasting away.
+
+Jokers would make him tell the story of "the piece of string" to amuse
+them, just as you make a soldier who has been on a campaign tell his
+story of the battle.  His mind kept growing weaker and about the end of
+December he took to his bed.
+
+He passed away early in January, and, in the ravings of death agony, he
+protested his innocence, repeating:
+
+"A little bit of string--a little bit of string.  See, here it is, M'sieu
+le Maire."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+     VOLUME IX.
+
+TOINE
+MADAME HUSSON'S ROSIER
+THE ADOPTED SON
+A COWARD
+OLD MONGILET
+MOONLIGHT
+THE FIRST SNOWFALL
+SUNDAYS OF A BOURGEOIS
+A RECOLLECTION
+OUR LETTERS
+THE LOVE OF LONG AGO
+FRIEND JOSEPH
+THE EFFEMINATES
+OLD AMABLE
+
+
+
+
+
+
+TOINE
+
+He was known for thirty miles round was father Toine--fat Toine, Toine-
+my-extra, Antoine Macheble, nicknamed Burnt-Brandy--the innkeeper of
+Tournevent.
+
+It was he who had made famous this hamlet buried in a niche in the valley
+that led down to the sea, a poor little peasants' hamlet consisting of
+ten Norman cottages surrounded by ditches and trees.
+
+The houses were hidden behind a curve which had given the place the name
+of Tournevent.  It seemed to have sought shelter in this ravine overgrown
+with grass and rushes, from the keen, salt sea wind--the ocean wind that
+devours and burns like fire, that drys up and withers like the sharpest
+frost of winter, just as birds seek shelter in the furrows of the fields
+in time of storm.
+
+But the whole hamlet seemed to be the property of Antoine Macheble,
+nicknamed Burnt-Brandy, who was called also Toine, or Toine-My-Extra-
+Special, the latter in consequence of a phrase current in his mouth:
+
+"My Extra-Special is the best in France:"
+
+His "Extra-Special" was, of course, his cognac.
+
+For the last twenty years he had served the whole countryside with his
+Extra-Special and his "Burnt-Brandy," for whenever he was asked: "What
+shall I drink, Toine?" he invariably answered: "A burnt-brandy, my son-
+in-law; that warms the inside and clears the head--there's nothing better
+for your body."
+
+He called everyone his son-in-law, though he had no daughter, either
+married or to be married.
+
+Well known indeed was Toine Burnt-Brandy, the stoutest man in all
+Normandy.  His little house seemed ridiculously small, far too small and
+too low to hold him; and when people saw him standing at his door, as he
+did all day long, they asked one another how he could possibly get
+through the door.  But he went in whenever a customer appeared, for it
+was only right that Toine should be invited to take his thimbleful of
+whatever was drunk in his wine shop.
+
+His inn bore the sign: "The Friends' Meeting-Place"--and old Toine was,
+indeed, the friend of all.  His customers came from Fecamp and
+Montvilliers, just for the fun of seeing him and hearing him talk; for
+fat Toine would have made a tombstone laugh.  He had a way of chaffing
+people without offending them, or of winking to express what he didn't
+say, of slapping his thighs when he was merry in such a way as to make
+you hold your sides, laughing.  And then, merely to see him drink was a
+curiosity.  He drank everything that was offered him, his roguish eyes
+twinkling, both with the enjoyment of drinking and at the thought of the
+money he was taking in.  His was a double pleasure: first, that of
+drinking; and second, that of piling up the cash.
+
+You should have heard him quarrelling with his wife!  It was worth paying
+for to see them together.  They had wrangled all the thirty years they
+had been married; but Toine was good-humored, while his better-half grew
+angry.  She was a tall peasant woman, who walked with long steps like a
+stork, and had a head resembling that of an angry screech-owl.  She spent
+her time rearing chickens in a little poultry-yard behind the inn, and
+she was noted for her success in fattening them for the table.
+
+Whenever the gentry of Fecamp gave a dinner they always had at least one
+of Madame Toine's chickens to be in the fashion.
+
+But she was born ill-tempered, and she went through life in a mood of
+perpetual discontent.  Annoyed at everyone, she seemed to be particularly
+annoyed at her husband.  She disliked his gaiety, his reputation, his
+rude health, his embonpoint.  She treated him as a good-for-nothing
+creature because he earned his money without working, and as a glutton
+because he ate and drank as much as ten ordinary men; and not a day went
+by without her declaring spitefully:
+
+"You'd be better in the stye along with the pigs!  You're so fat it makes
+me sick to look at you!"
+
+And she would shout in his face:
+
+"Wait!  Wait a bit!  We'll see!  You'll burst one of these fine days like
+a sack of corn-you old bloat, you!"
+
+Toine would laugh heartily, patting his corpulent person, and replying:
+
+"Well, well, old hen, why don't you fatten up your chickens like that?
+just try!"
+
+And, rolling his sleeves back from his enormous arm, he said:
+
+"That would make a fine wing now, wouldn't it?"
+
+And the customers, doubled up with laughter, would thump the table with
+their fists and stamp their feet on the floor.
+
+The old woman, mad with rage, would repeat:
+
+"Wait a bit!  Wait a bit!  You'll see what'll happen.  He'll burst like a
+sack of grain!"
+
+And off she would go, amid the jeers and laughter of the drinkers.
+
+Toine was, in fact, an astonishing sight, he was so fat, so heavy, so
+red.  He was one of those enormous beings with whom Death seems to be
+amusing himself--playing perfidious tricks and pranks, investing with an
+irresistibly comic air his slow work of destruction.  Instead of
+manifesting his approach, as with others, in white hairs, in emaciation,
+in wrinkles, in the gradual collapse which makes the onlookers say: "Gad!
+how he has changed!" he took a malicious pleasure in fattening Toine, in
+making him monstrous and absurd, in tingeing his face with a deep
+crimson, in giving him the appearance of superhuman health, and the
+changes he inflicts on all were in the case of Toine laughable, comic,
+amusing, instead of being painful and distressing to witness.
+
+"Wait a bit!  Wait a bit!" said his wife.  "You'll see."
+
+At last Toine had an apoplectic fit, and was paralyzed in consequence.
+The giant was put to bed in the little room behind the partition of the
+drinking-room that he might hear what was said and talk to his friends,
+for his head was quite clear although his enormous body was helplessly
+inert.  It was hoped at first that his immense legs would regain some
+degree of power; but this hope soon disappeared, and Toine spent his days
+and nights in the bed, which was only made up once a week, with the help
+of four neighbors who lifted the innkeeper, each holding a limb, while
+his mattress was turned.
+
+He kept his spirits, nevertheless; but his gaiety was of a different
+kind--more timid, more humble; and he lived in a constant, childlike fear
+of his wife, who grumbled from morning till night:
+
+"Look at him there--the great glutton! the good-for-nothing creature, the
+old boozer!  Serve him right, serve him right!"
+
+He no longer answered her.  He contented himself with winking behind the
+old woman's back, and turning over on his other side--the only movement
+of which he was now capable.  He called this exercise a "tack to the
+north" or a "tack to the south."
+
+His great distraction nowadays was to listen to the conversations in the
+bar, and to shout through the wall when he recognized a friend's voice:
+
+"Hallo, my son-in-law!  Is that you, Celestin?"
+
+And Celestin Maloisel answered:
+
+"Yes, it's me, Toine.  Are you getting about again yet, old fellow?"
+
+"Not exactly getting about," answered Toine.  "But I haven't grown thin;
+my carcass is still good."
+
+Soon he got into the way of asking his intimates into his room to keep
+him company, although it grieved him to see that they had to drink
+without him.  It pained him to the quick that his customers should be
+drinking without him.
+
+"That's what hurts worst of all," he would say: "that I cannot drink my
+Extra-Special any more.  I can put up with everything else, but going
+without drink is the very deuce."
+
+Then his wife's screech-owl face would appear at the window, and she
+would break in with the words:
+
+"Look at him!  Look at him now, the good-for-nothing wretch!  I've got to
+feed him and wash him just as if he were a pig!"
+
+And when the old woman had gone, a cock with red feathers would sometimes
+fly up to the window sill and looking into the room with his round
+inquisitive eye, would begin to crow loudly.  Occasionally, too, a few
+hens would flutter as far as the foot of the bed, seeking crumbs on the
+floor.  Toine's friends soon deserted the drinking room to come and chat
+every afternoon beside the invalid's bed.  Helpless though he was, the
+jovial Toine still provided them with amusement.  He would have made the
+devil himself laugh.  Three men were regular in their attendance at the
+bedside: Celestin Maloisel, a tall, thin fellow, somewhat gnarled, like
+the trunk of an apple-tree; Prosper Horslaville, a withered little man
+with a ferret nose, cunning as a fox; and Cesaire Paumelle, who never
+spoke, but who enjoyed Toine's society all the same.
+
+They brought a plank from the yard, propped it upon the edge of the bed,
+and played dominoes from two till six.
+
+But Toine's wife soon became insufferable.  She could not endure that her
+fat, lazy husband should amuse himself at games while lying in his bed;
+and whenever she caught him beginning a game she pounced furiously on the
+dominoes, overturned the plank, and carried all away into the bar,
+declaring that it was quite enough to have to feed that fat, lazy pig
+without seeing him amusing himself, as if to annoy poor people who had to
+work hard all day long.
+
+Celestin Maloisel and Cesaire Paumelle bent their heads to the storm, but
+Prosper Horslaville egged on the old woman, and was only amused at her
+wrath.
+
+One day, when she was more angry than usual, he said:
+
+"Do you know what I'd do if I were you?"
+
+She fixed her owl's eyes on him, and waited for his next words.
+
+Prosper went on:
+
+"Your man is as hot as an oven, and he never leaves his bed--well, I'd
+make him hatch some eggs."
+
+She was struck dumb at the suggestion, thinking that Prosper could not
+possibly be in earnest.  But he continued:
+
+"I'd put five under one arm, and five under the other, the same day that
+I set a hen.  They'd all come out at the same time; then I'd take your
+husband's chickens to the hen to bring up with her own.  You'd rear a
+fine lot that way."
+
+"Could it be done?" asked the astonished old woman.
+
+"Could it be done?" echoed the man.  "Why not?  Since eggs can be hatched
+in a warm box why shouldn't they be hatched in a warm bed?"
+
+She was struck by this reasoning, and went away soothed and reflective.
+
+A week later she entered Toine's room with her apron full of eggs, and
+said:
+
+"I've just put the yellow hen on ten eggs.  Here are ten for you; try not
+to break them."
+
+"What do you want?" asked the amazed Toine.
+
+"I want you to hatch them, you lazy creature!" she answered.
+
+He laughed at first; then, finding she was serious, he got angry, and
+refused absolutely to have the eggs put under his great arms, that the
+warmth of his body might hatch them.
+
+But the old woman declared wrathfully:
+
+"You'll get no dinner as long as you won't have them.  You'll see what'll
+happen."
+
+Tome was uneasy, but answered nothing.
+
+When twelve o'clock struck, he called out:
+
+"Hullo, mother, is the soup ready?"
+
+"There's no soup for you, lazy-bones," cried the old woman from her
+kitchen.
+
+He thought she must be joking, and waited a while.  Then he begged,
+implored, swore, "tacked to the north" and "tacked to the south," and
+beat on the wall with his fists, but had to consent at last to five eggs
+being placed against his left side; after which he had his soup.
+
+When his friends arrived that afternoon they thought he must be ill, he
+seemed so constrained and queer.
+
+They started the daily game of dominoes.  But Tome appeared to take no
+pleasure in it, and reached forth his hand very slowly, and with great
+precaution.
+
+"What's wrong with your arm?" asked Horslaville.
+
+"I have a sort of stiffness in the shoulder," answered Toine.
+
+Suddenly they heard people come into the inn.  The players were silent.
+
+It was the mayor with the deputy.  They ordered two glasses of Extra-
+Special, and began to discuss local affairs.  As they were talking in
+somewhat low tones Toine wanted to put his ear to the wall, and,
+forgetting all about his eggs, he made a sudden "tack to the north,"
+which had the effect of plunging him into the midst of an omelette.
+
+At the loud oath he swore his wife came hurrying into the room, and,
+guessing what had happened, stripped the bedclothes from him with
+lightning rapidity.  She stood at first without moving or uttering a
+syllable, speechless with indignation at sight of the yellow poultice
+sticking to her husband's side.
+
+Then, trembling with fury, she threw herself on the paralytic, showering
+on him blows such as those with which she cleaned her linen on the
+seashore.  Tome's three friends were choking with laughter, coughing,
+spluttering and shouting, and the fat innkeeper himself warded his wife's
+attacks with all the prudence of which he was capable, that he might not
+also break the five eggs at his other side.
+
+Tome was conquered.  He had to hatch eggs, he had to give up his games of
+dominoes and renounce movement of any sort, for the old woman angrily
+deprived him of food whenever he broke an egg.
+
+He lay on his back, with eyes fixed on the ceiling, motionless, his arms
+raised like wings, warming against his body the rudimentary chickens
+enclosed in their white shells.
+
+He spoke now only in hushed tones; as if he feared a noise as much as
+motion, and he took a feverish interest in the yellow hen who was
+accomplishing in the poultry-yard the same task as he.
+
+"Has the yellow hen eaten her food all right?" he would ask his wife.
+
+And the old woman went from her fowls to her husband and from her husband
+to her fowls, devoured by anxiety as to the welfare of the little
+chickens who were maturing in the bed and in the nest.
+
+The country people who knew the story came, agog with curiosity, to ask
+news of Toine.  They entered his room on tiptoe, as one enters a sick-
+chamber, and asked:
+
+"Well!  how goes it?"
+
+"All right," said Toine; "only it keeps me fearfully hot."
+
+One morning his wife entered in a state of great excitement, and
+declared:
+
+"The yellow hen has seven chickens!  Three of the eggs were addled."
+
+Toine's heart beat painfully.  How many would he have?
+
+"Will it soon be over?" he asked, with the anguish of a woman who is
+about to become a mother.
+
+"It's to be hoped so!" answered the old woman crossly, haunted by fear of
+failure.
+
+They waited.  Friends of Toine who had got wind that his time was drawing
+near arrived, and filled the little room.
+
+Nothing else was talked about in the neighboring cottages.  Inquirers
+asked one another for news as they stood at their doors.
+
+About three o'clock Toine fell asleep.  He slumbered half his time
+nowadays.  He was suddenly awakened by an unaccustomed tickling under his
+right arm.  He put his left hand on the spot, and seized a little
+creature covered with yellow down, which fluttered in his hand.
+
+His emotion was so great that he cried out, and let go his hold of the
+chicken, which ran over his chest.  The bar was full of people at the
+time.  The customers rushed to Toine's room, and made a circle round him
+as they would round a travelling showman; while Madame Toine picked up
+the chicken, which had taken refuge under her husband's beard.
+
+No one spoke, so great was the tension.  It was a warm April day.
+Outside the window the yellow hen could be heard calling to her newly-
+fledged brood.
+
+Toine, who was perspiring with emotion and anxiety, murmured:
+
+"I have another now--under the left arm."
+
+His' wife plunged her great bony hand into the bed, and pulled out a
+second chicken with all the care of a midwife.
+
+The neighbors wanted to see it.  It was passed from one to another, and
+examined as if it were a phenomenon.
+
+For twenty minutes no more hatched out, then four emerged at the same
+moment from their shells.
+
+There was a great commotion among the lookers-on.  And Toine smiled with
+satisfaction, beginning to take pride in this unusual sort of paternity.
+There were not many like him!  Truly, he was a remarkable specimen of
+humanity!
+
+"That makes six!" he declared.  "Great heavens, what a christening we'll
+have!"
+
+And a loud laugh rose from all present.  Newcomers filled the bar.  They
+asked one another:
+
+"How many are there?"
+
+"Six."
+
+Toine's wife took this new family to the hen, who clucked loudly,
+bristled her feathers, and spread her wings wide to shelter her growing
+brood of little ones.
+
+"There's one more!" cried Toine.
+
+He was mistaken.  There were three!  It was an unalloyed triumph!  The
+last chicken broke through its shell at seven o'clock in the evening.
+All the eggs were good!  And Toine, beside himself with joy, his brood
+hatched out, exultant, kissed the tiny creature on the back, almost
+suffocating it.  He wanted to keep it in his bed until morning, moved by
+a mother's tenderness toward the tiny being which he had brought to life,
+but the old woman carried it away like the others, turning a deaf ear to
+her husband's entreaties.
+
+The delighted spectators went off to spread the news of the event, and
+Horslaville, who was the last to go, asked:
+
+"You'll invite me when the first is cooked, won't you, Toine?"
+
+At this idea a smile overspread the fat man's face, and he answered:
+
+"Certainly I'll invite you, my son-in-law."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MADAME HUSSON'S "ROSIER"
+
+We had just left Gisors, where I was awakened to hearing the name of the
+town called out by the guards, and I was dozing off again when a terrific
+shock threw me forward on top of a large lady who sat opposite me.
+
+One of the wheels of the engine had broken, and the engine itself lay
+across the track.  The tender and the baggage car were also derailed, and
+lay beside this mutilated engine, which rattled, groaned, hissed, puffed,
+sputtered, and resembled those horses that fall in the street with their
+flanks heaving, their breast palpitating, their nostrils steaming and
+their whole body trembling, but incapable of the slightest effort to rise
+and start off again.
+
+There were no dead or wounded; only a few with bruises, for the train was
+not going at full speed.  And we looked with sorrow at the great crippled
+iron creature that could not draw us along any more, and that blocked the
+track, perhaps for some time, for no doubt they would have to send to
+Paris for a special train to come to our aid.
+
+It was then ten o'clock in the morning, and I at once decided to go back
+to Gisors for breakfast.
+
+As I was walking along I said to myself:
+
+"Gisors, Gisors--why, I know someone there!
+
+Who is it?  Gisors?  Let me see, I have a friend in this town."  A name
+suddenly came to my mind, "Albert Marambot."  He was an old school friend
+whom I had not seen for at least twelve years, and who was practicing
+medicine in Gisors.  He had often written, inviting me to come and see
+him, and I had always promised to do so, without keeping my word.  But at
+last I would take advantage of this opportunity.
+
+I asked the first passer-by:
+
+"Do you know where Dr. Marambot lives?"
+
+He replied, without hesitation, and with the drawling accent of the
+Normans:
+
+"Rue Dauphine."
+
+I presently saw, on the door of the house he pointed out, a large brass
+plate on which was engraved the name of my old chum.  I rang the bell,
+but the servant, a yellow-haired girl who moved slowly, said with a
+Stupid air:
+
+"He isn't here, he isn't here."
+
+I heard a sound of forks and of glasses and I cried:
+
+"Hallo, Marambot!"
+
+A door opened and a large man, with whiskers and a cross look on his
+face, appeared, carrying a dinner napkin in his hand.
+
+I certainly should not have recognized him.  One would have said he was
+forty-five at least, and, in a second, all the provincial life which
+makes one grow heavy, dull and old came before me.  In a single flash of
+thought, quicker than the act of extending my hand to him, I could see
+his life, his manner of existence, his line of thought and his theories
+of things in general.  I guessed at the prolonged meals that had rounded
+out his stomach, his after-dinner naps from the torpor of a slow
+indigestion aided by cognac, and his vague glances cast on the patient
+while he thought of the chicken that was roasting before the fire.  His
+conversations about cooking, about cider, brandy and wine, the way of
+preparing certain dishes and of blending certain sauces were revealed to
+me at sight of his puffy red cheeks, his heavy lips and his lustreless
+eyes.
+
+"You do not recognize me.  I am Raoul Aubertin," I said.
+
+He opened his arms and gave me such a hug that I thought he would choke
+me.
+
+"You have not breakfasted, have you?"
+
+"No."
+
+"How fortunate!  I was just sitting down to table and I have an excellent
+trout."
+
+Five minutes later I was sitting opposite him at breakfast.  I said:
+
+"Are you a bachelor?"
+
+"Yes, indeed."
+
+"And do you like it here?"
+
+"Time does not hang heavy; I am busy.  I have patients and friends.
+I eat well, have good health, enjoy laughing and shooting.  I get along."
+
+"Is not life very monotonous in this little town?"
+
+"No, my dear boy, not when one knows how to fill in the time.  A little
+town, in fact, is like a large one.  The incidents and amusements are
+less varied, but one makes more of them; one has fewer acquaintances, but
+one meets them more frequently.  When you know all the windows in a
+street, each one of them interests you and puzzles you more than a whole
+street in Paris.
+
+"A little town is very amusing, you know, very amusing, very amusing.
+Why, take Gisors.  I know it at the tips of my fingers, from its
+beginning up to the present time.  You have no idea what queer history it
+has."
+
+"Do you belong to Gisors?"
+
+"I?  No.  I come from Gournay, its neighbor and rival.  Gournay is to
+Gisors what Lucullus was to Cicero.  Here, everything is for glory; they
+say 'the proud people of Gisors.'  At Gournay, everything is for the
+stomach; they say 'the chewers of Gournay.'  Gisors despises Gournay, but
+Gournay laughs at Gisors.  It is a very comical country, this."
+
+I perceived that I was eating something very delicious, hard-boiled eggs
+wrapped in a covering of meat jelly flavored with herbs and put on ice
+for a few moments.  I said as I smacked my lips to compliment Marambot:
+
+"That is good."
+
+He smiled.
+
+"Two things are necessary, good jelly, which is hard to get, and good
+eggs.  Oh, how rare good eggs are, with the yolks slightly reddish, and
+with a good flavor!  I have two poultry yards, one for eggs and the other
+for chickens.  I feed my laying hens in a special manner.  I have my own
+ideas on the subject.  In an egg, as in the meat of a chicken, in beef,
+or in mutton, in milk, in everything, one perceives, and ought to taste,
+the juice, the quintessence of all the food on which the animal has fed.
+How much better food we could have if more attention were paid to this!"
+
+I laughed as I said:
+
+"You are a gourmand?"
+
+"Parbleu.  It is only imbeciles who are not.  One is a gourmand as one is
+an artist, as one is learned, as one is a poet.  The sense of taste, my
+friend, is very delicate, capable of perfection, and quite as worthy of
+respect as the eye and the ear.  A person who lacks this sense is
+deprived of an exquisite faculty, the faculty of discerning the quality
+of food, just as one may lack the faculty of discerning the beauties of a
+book or of a work of art; it means to be deprived of an essential organ,
+of something that belongs to higher humanity; it means to belong to one
+of those innumerable classes of the infirm, the unfortunate, and the
+fools of which our race is composed; it means to have the mouth of an
+animal, in a word, just like the mind of an animal.  A man who cannot
+distinguish one kind of lobster from another; a herring--that admirable
+fish that has all the flavors, all the odors of the sea--from a mackerel
+or a whiting; and a Cresane from a Duchess pear, may be compared to a man
+who should mistake Balzac for Eugene Sue; a symphony of Beethoven for a
+military march composed by the bandmaster of a regiment; and the Apollo
+Belvidere for the statue of General de Blaumont.
+
+"Who is General de Blaumont?"
+
+"Oh, that's true, you do not know.  It is easy to tell that you do not
+belong to Gisors.  I told you just now, my dear boy, that they called the
+inhabitants of this town 'the proud people of Gisors,' and never was an
+epithet better deserved.  But let us finish breakfast first, and then I
+will tell you about our town and take you to see it."
+
+He stopped talking every now and then while he slowly drank a glass of
+wine which he gazed at affectionately as he replaced the glass on the
+table.
+
+It was amusing to see him, with a napkin tied around his neck, his cheeks
+flushed, his eyes eager, and his whiskers spreading round his mouth as it
+kept working.
+
+He made me eat until I was almost choking.  Then, as I was about to
+return to the railway station, he seized me by the arm and took me
+through the streets.  The town, of a pretty, provincial type, commanded
+by its citadel, the most curious monument of military architecture of the
+seventh century to be found in France, overlooks, in its turn, a long,
+green valley, where the large Norman cows graze and ruminate in the
+pastures.
+
+The doctor quoted:
+
+"'Gisors, a town of 4,000 inhabitants in the department of Eure,
+mentioned in Caesar's Commentaries: Caesaris ostium, then Caesartium,
+Caesortium, Gisortium, Gisors.'  I shall not take you to visit the old
+Roman encampment, the remains of which are still in existence."
+
+I laughed and replied:
+
+"My dear friend, it seems to me that you are affected with a special
+malady that, as a doctor, you ought to study; it is called the spirit of
+provincialism."
+
+He stopped abruptly.
+
+"The spirit of provincialism, my friend, is nothing but natural
+patriotism," he said.  "I love my house, my town and my province because
+I discover in them the customs of my own village; but if I love my
+country, if I become angry when a neighbor sets foot in it, it is because
+I feel that my home is in danger, because the frontier that I do not know
+is the high road to my province.  For instance, I am a Norman, a true
+Norman; well, in spite of my hatred of the German and my desire for
+revenge, I do not detest them, I do not hate them by instinct as I hate
+the English, the real, hereditary natural enemy of the Normans; for the
+English traversed this soil inhabited by my ancestors, plundered and
+ravaged it twenty times, and my aversion to this perfidious people was
+transmitted to me at birth by my father.  See, here is the statue of the
+general."
+
+"What general?"
+
+"General Blaumont!  We had to have a statue.  We are not 'the proud
+people of Gisors' for nothing!  So we discovered General de Blaumont.
+Look in this bookseller's window."
+
+He drew me towards the bookstore, where about fifteen red, yellow and
+blue volumes attracted the eye.  As I read the titles, I began to laugh
+idiotically.  They read:
+
+Gisors, its origin, its future, by M. X.  .  .  ., member of several
+learned societies; History of Gisors, by the Abbe A .  .  .  .; Gasors
+from the time of Caesar to the present day, by M. B.  .  .  ., Landowner;
+Gisors and its environs, by Doctor C.  D.  .  .  ; The Glories of Gisors,
+by a Discoverer.
+
+"My friend," resumed Marambot, "not a year, not a single year, you
+understand, passes without a fresh history of Gisors being published
+here; we now have twenty-three."
+
+"And the glories of Gisors?" I asked.
+
+"Oh, I will not mention them all, only the principal ones.  We had first
+General de Blaumont, then Baron Davillier, the celebrated ceramist who
+explored Spain and the Balearic Isles, and brought to the notice of
+collectors the wonderful Hispano-Arabic china.  In literature we have a
+very clever journalist, now dead, Charles Brainne, and among those who
+are living, the very eminent editor of the Nouvelliste de Rouen, Charles
+Lapierre . . . and many others, many others."
+
+We were traversing along street with a gentle incline, with a June sun
+beating down on it and driving the residents into their houses.
+
+Suddenly there appeared at the farther end of the street a drunken man
+who was staggering along, with his head forward his arms and legs limp.
+He would walk forward rapidly three, six, or ten steps and then stop.
+When these energetic movements landed him in the middle of the road he
+stopped short and swayed on his feet, hesitating between falling and a
+fresh start.  Then he would dart off in any direction, sometimes falling
+against the wall of a house, against which he seemed to be fastened, as
+though he were trying to get in through the wall.  Then he would suddenly
+turn round and look ahead of him, his mouth open and his eyes blinking in
+the sunlight, and getting away from the wall by a movement of the hips,
+he started off once more.
+
+A little yellow dog, a half-starved cur, followed him, barking; stopping
+when he stopped, and starting off when he started.
+
+
+"Hallo," said Marambot, "there is Madame Husson's 'Rosier'.
+
+"Madame Husson's 'Rosier'," I exclaimed in astonishment.  "What do you
+mean?"
+
+The doctor began to laugh.
+
+"Oh, that is what we call drunkards round here.  The name comes from an
+old story which has now become a legend, although it is true in all
+respects."
+
+"Is it an amusing story?"
+
+"Very amusing."
+
+"Well, then, tell it to me."
+
+"I will."
+
+
+There lived formerly in this town a very upright old lady who was a great
+guardian of morals and was called Mme. Husson.  You know, I am telling
+you the real names and not imaginary ones.  Mme. Husson took a special
+interest in good works, in helping the poor and encouraging the
+deserving.  She was a little woman with a quick walk and wore a black
+wig.  She was ceremonious, polite, on very good terms with the Almighty
+in the person of Abby Malon, and had a profound horror, an inborn horror
+of vice, and, in particular, of the vice the Church calls lasciviousness.
+Any irregularity before marriage made her furious, exasperated her till
+she was beside herself.
+
+Now, this was the period when they presented a prize as a reward of
+virtue to any girl in the environs of Paris who was found to be chaste.
+She was called a Rosiere, and Mme. Husson got the idea that she would
+institute a similar ceremony at Gisors.  She spoke about it to Abbe
+Malon, who at once made out a list of candidates.
+
+However, Mme. Husson had a servant, an old woman called Francoise, as
+upright as her mistress.  As soon as the priest had left, madame called
+the servant and said:
+
+"Here, Francoise, here are the girls whose names M. le cure has submitted
+to me for the prize of virtue; try and find out what reputation they bear
+in the district."
+
+And Francoise set out.  She collected all the scandal, all the stories,
+all the tattle, all the suspicions.  That she might omit nothing, she
+wrote it all down together with her memoranda in her housekeeping book,
+and handed it each morning to Mme. Husson, who, after adjusting her
+spectacles on her thin nose, read as follows:
+
+     Bread...........................four sous
+     Milk............................two sous
+     Butter .........................eight sous
+Malvina Levesque got into trouble last year with Mathurin Poilu.
+     Leg of mutton...................twenty-five sous
+     Salt............................one sou
+Rosalie Vatinel was seen in the Riboudet woods with Cesaire Pienoir, by
+Mme. Onesime, the ironer, on July the 20th about dusk.
+     Radishes........................one sou
+     Vinegar.........................two sous
+     Oxalic acid.....................two sous
+
+Josephine Durdent, who is not believed to have committed a fault,
+although she corresponds with young Oportun, who is in service in Rouen,
+and who sent her a present of a cap by diligence.
+
+
+Not one came out unscathed in this rigorous inquisition.  Francoise
+inquired of everyone, neighbors, drapers, the principal, the teaching
+sisters at school, and gathered the slightest details.
+
+As there is not a girl in the world about whom gossips have not found
+something to say, there was not found in all the countryside one young
+girl whose name was free from some scandal.
+
+But Mme. Husson desired that the "Rosiere" of Gisors, like Caesar's wife,
+should be above suspicion, and she was horrified, saddened and in despair
+at the record in her servant's housekeeping account-book.
+
+They then extended their circle of inquiries to the neighboring villages;
+but with no satisfaction.
+
+They consulted the mayor.  His candidates failed.  Those of Dr. Barbesol
+were equally unlucky, in spite of the exactness of his scientific
+vouchers.
+
+But one morning Francoise, on returning from one of her expeditions, said
+to her mistress:
+
+"You see, madame, that if you wish to give a prize to anyone, there is
+only Isidore in all the country round."
+
+Mme. Husson remained thoughtful.  She knew him well, this Isidore, the
+son of Virginie the greengrocer.  His proverbial virtue had been the
+delight of Gisors for several years, and served as an entertaining theme
+of conversation in the town, and of amusement to the young girls who
+loved to tease him.  He was past twenty-one, was tall, awkward, slow and
+timid; helped his mother in the business, and spent his days picking over
+fruit and vegetables, seated on a chair outside the door.
+
+He had an abnormal dread of a petticoat and cast down his eyes whenever a
+female customer looked at him smilingly, and this well-known timidity
+made him the butt of all the wags in the country.
+
+Bold words, coarse expressions, indecent allusions, brought the color to
+his cheeks so quickly that Dr. Barbesol had nicknamed him "the
+thermometer of modesty."  Was he as innocent as he looked? ill-natured
+people asked themselves.  Was it the mere presentiment of unknown and
+shameful mysteries or else indignation at the relations ordained as the
+concomitant of love that so strongly affected the son of Virginie the
+greengrocer?  The urchins of the neighborhood as they ran past the shop
+would fling disgusting remarks at him just to see him cast down his eyes.
+The girls amused themselves by walking up and down before him, cracking
+jokes that made him go into the store.  The boldest among them teased him
+to his face just to have a laugh, to amuse themselves, made appointments
+with him and proposed all sorts of things.
+
+So Madame Husson had become thoughtful.
+
+Certainly, Isidore was an exceptional case of notorious, unassailable
+virtue.  No one, among the most sceptical, most incredulous, would have
+been able, would have dared, to suspect Isidore of the slightest
+infraction of any law of morality.  He had never been seen in a cafe,
+never been seen at night on the street.  He went to bed at eight o'clock
+and rose at four.  He was a perfection, a pearl.
+
+But Mme. Husson still hesitated.  The idea of substituting a boy for a
+girl, a "rosier" for a rosiere," troubled her, worried her a little, and
+she resolved to consult Abbe Malon.
+
+The abbe responded:
+
+"What do you desire to reward, madame?  It is virtue, is it not, and
+nothing but virtue?  What does it matter to you, therefore, if it is
+masculine or feminine?  Virtue is eternal; it has neither sex nor
+country; it is 'Virtue.'"
+
+Thus encouraged, Mme. Husson went to see the mayor.
+
+He approved heartily.
+
+"We will have a fine ceremony," he said.  "And another year if we can
+find a girl as worthy as Isidore we will give the reward to her.  It will
+even be a good example that we shall set to Nanterre.  Let us not be
+exclusive; let us welcome all merit."
+
+Isidore, who had been told about this, blushed deeply and seemed happy.
+
+The ceremony was fixed for the 15th of August, the festival of the Virgin
+Mary and of the Emperor Napoleon.  The municipality had decided to make
+an imposing ceremony and had built the platform on the couronneaux, a
+delightful extension of the ramparts of the old citadel where I will take
+you presently.
+
+With the natural revulsion of public feeling, the virtue of Isidore,
+ridiculed hitherto, had suddenly become respected and envied, as it would
+bring him in five hundred francs besides a savings bank book, a mountain
+of consideration, and glory enough and to spare.  The girls now regretted
+their frivolity, their ridicule, their bold manners; and Isidore,
+although still modest and timid, had now a little contented air that
+bespoke his internal satisfaction.
+
+The evening before the 15th of August the entire Rue Dauphine was
+decorated with flags.  Oh, I forgot to tell you why this street had been
+called Rue Dauphine.
+
+It seems that the wife or mother of the dauphin, I do not remember which
+one, while visiting Gisors had been feted so much by the authorities that
+during a triumphal procession through the town she stopped before one of
+the houses in this street, halting the procession, and exclaimed:
+
+"Oh, the pretty house!  How I should like to go through it!  To whom does
+it belong?"
+
+They told her the name of the owner, who was sent for and brought, proud
+and embarrassed, before the princess.  She alighted from her carriage,
+went into the house, wishing to go over it from top to bottom, and even
+shut herself in one of the rooms alone for a few seconds.
+
+When she came out, the people, flattered at this honor paid to a citizen
+of Gisors, shouted "Long live the dauphine!" But a rhymester wrote some
+words to a refrain, and the street retained the title of her royal
+highness, for
+
+               "The princess, in a hurry,
+               Without bell, priest, or beadle,
+               But with some water only,
+               Had baptized it."
+
+But to come back to Isidore.
+
+They had scattered flowers all along the road as they do for processions
+at the Fete-Dieu, and the National Guard was present, acting on the
+orders of their chief, Commandant Desbarres, an old soldier of the Grand
+Army, who pointed with pride to the beard of a Cossack cut with a single
+sword stroke from the chin of its owner by the commandant during the
+retreat in Russia, and which hung beside the frame containing the cross
+of the Legion of Honor presented to him by the emperor himself.
+
+The regiment that he commanded was, besides, a picked regiment celebrated
+all through the province, and the company of grenadiers of Gisors was
+called on to attend all important ceremonies for a distance of fifteen to
+twenty leagues.  The story goes that Louis Philippe, while reviewing the
+militia of Eure, stopped in astonishment before the company from Gisors,
+exclaiming:
+
+"Oh, who are those splendid grenadiers?"
+
+"The grenadiers of Gisors,"replied the general.
+
+"I might have known it," murmured the king.
+
+So Commandant Desbarres came at the head of his men, preceded by the
+band, to get Isidore in his mother's store.
+
+After a little air had been played by the band beneath the windows, the
+"Rosier" himself appeared--on the threshold.  He was dressed in white
+duck from head to foot and wore a straw hat with a little bunch of orange
+blossoms as a cockade.
+
+The question of his clothes had bothered Mme. Husson a good deal, and she
+hesitated some time between the black coat of those who make their first
+communion and an entire white suit.  But Francoise, her counsellor,
+induced her to decide on the white suit, pointing out that the Rosier
+would look like a swan.
+
+Behind him came his guardian, his godmother, Mme. Husson, in triumph.
+She took his arm to go out of the store, and the mayor placed himself on
+the other side of the Rosier.  The drums beat.  Commandant Desbarres gave
+the order "Present arms!"  The procession resumed its march towards the
+church amid an immense crowd of people who has gathered from the
+neighboring districts.
+
+After a short mass and an affecting discourse by Abbe Malon, they
+continued on their way to the couronneaux, where the banquet was served
+in a tent.
+
+Before taking their seats at table, the mayor gave an address.  This is
+it, word for word.  I learned it by heart:
+
+"Young man, a woman of means, beloved by the poor and respected by the
+rich, Mme. Husson, whom the whole country is thanking here, through me,
+had the idea, the happy and benevolent idea, of founding in this town a
+prize for, virtue, which should serve as a valuable encouragement to the
+inhabitants of this beautiful country.
+
+"You, young man, are the first to be rewarded in this dynasty of goodness
+and chastity.  Your name will remain at the head of this list of the most
+deserving, and your life, understand me, your whole life, must correspond
+to this happy commencement.  To-day, in presence of this noble woman, of
+these soldier-citizens who have taken up their arms in your honor, in
+presence of this populace, affected, assembled to applaud you, or,
+rather, to applaud virtue, in your person, you make a solemn contract
+with the town, with all of us, to continue until your death the excellent
+example of your youth.
+
+"Do not forget, young man, that you are the first seed cast into this
+field of hope; give us the fruits that we expect of you."
+
+The mayor advanced three steps, opened his arms and pressed Isidore to
+his heart.
+
+The "Rosier" was sobbing without knowing why, from a confused emotion,
+from pride and a vague and happy feeling of tenderness.
+
+Then the mayor placed in one hand a silk purse in which gold tingled--
+five hundred francs in gold!--and in his other hand a savings bank book.
+And he said in a solemn tone:
+
+"Homage, glory and riches to virtue."
+
+Commandant Desbarres shouted "Bravo!" the grenadiers vociferated, and the
+crowd applauded.
+
+Mme. Husson wiped her eyes, in her turn.  Then they all sat down at the
+table where the banquet was served.
+
+The repast was magnificent and seemed interminable.  One course followed
+another; yellow cider and red wine in fraternal contact blended in the
+stomach of the guests.  The rattle of plates, the sound of voices, and of
+music softly played, made an incessant deep hum, and was dispersed abroad
+in the clear sky where the swallows were flying.  Mme. Husson
+occasionally readjusted her black wig, which would slip over on one side,
+and chatted with Abbe Malon.  The mayor, who was excited, talked politics
+with Commandant Desbarres, and Isidore ate, drank, as if he had never
+eaten or drunk before.  He helped himself repeatedly to all the dishes,
+becoming aware for the first time of the pleasure of having one's belly
+full of good things which tickle the palate in the first place.  He had
+let out a reef in his belt and, without speaking, and although he was a
+little uneasy at a wine stain on his white waistcoat, he ceased eating in
+order to take up his glass and hold it to his mouth as long as possible,
+to enjoy the taste slowly.
+
+It was time for the toasts.  They were many and loudly applauded.
+Evening was approaching and they had been at the table since noon.  Fine,
+milky vapors were already floating in the air in the valley, the light
+night-robe of streams and meadows; the sun neared the horizon; the cows
+were lowing in the distance amid the mists of the pasture.  The feast was
+over.  They returned to Gisors.  The procession, now disbanded, walked in
+detachments.  Mme. Husson had taken Isidore's arm and was giving him a
+quantity of urgent, excellent advice.
+
+They stopped at the door of the fruit store, and the "Rosier" was left at
+his mother's house.  She had not come home yet.  Having been invited by
+her family to celebrate her son's triumph, she had taken luncheon with
+her sister after having followed the procession as far as the banqueting
+tent.
+
+So Isidore remained alone in the store, which was growing dark.  He sat
+down on a chair, excited by the wine and by pride, and looked about him.
+Carrots, cabbages, and onions gave out their strong odor of vegetables in
+the closed room, that coarse smell of the garden blended with the sweet,
+penetrating odor of strawberries and the delicate, slight, evanescent
+fragrance of a basket of peaches.
+
+The "Rosier" took one of these and ate it, although he was as full as an
+egg.  Then, all at once, wild with joy, he began to dance about the
+store, and something rattled in his waistcoat.
+
+He was surprised, and put his hand in his pocket and brought out the
+purse containing the five hundred francs, which he had forgotten in his
+agitation.  Five hundred francs!  What a fortune!  He poured the gold
+pieces out on the counter and spread them out with his big hand with a
+slow, caressing touch so as to see them all at the same time.  There were
+twenty-five, twenty-five round gold pieces, all gold!  They glistened on
+the wood in the dim light and he counted them over and over, one by one.
+Then he put them back in the purse, which he replaced in his pocket.
+
+Who will ever know or who can tell what a terrible conflict took place in
+the soul of the "Rosier" between good and evil, the tumultuous attack of
+Satan, his artifices, the temptations which he offered to this timid
+virgin heart?  What suggestions, what imaginations, what desires were not
+invented by the evil one to excite and destroy this chosen one?  He
+seized his hat, Mme. Husson's saint, his hat, which still bore the little
+bunch of orange blossoms, and going out through the alley at the back of
+the house, he disappeared in the darkness.
+
+Virginie, the fruiterer, on learning that her son had returned, went home
+at once, and found the house empty.  She waited, without thinking
+anything about it at first; but at the end of a quarter of an hour she
+made inquiries.  The neighbors had seen Isidore come home and had not
+seen him go out again.  They began to look for him, but could not find
+him.  His mother, in alarm, went to the mayor.  The mayor knew nothing,
+except that he had left him at the door of his home.  Mme. Husson had
+just retired when they informed her that her protege had disappeared.
+She immediately put on her wig, dressed herself and went to Virginie's
+house.  Virginie, whose plebeian soul was readily moved, was weeping
+copiously amid her cabbages, carrots and onions.
+
+They feared some accident had befallen him.  What could it be?
+Commandant Desbarres notified the police, who made a circuit of the town,
+and on the high road to Pontoise they found the little bunch of orange
+blossoms.  It was placed on a table around which the authorities were
+deliberating.  The "Rosier" must have been the victim of some stratagem,
+some trick, some jealousy; but in what way?  What means had been employed
+to kidnap this innocent creature, and with what object?
+
+Weary of looking for him without any result, Virginie, alone, remained
+watching and weeping.
+
+The following evening, when the coach passed by on its return from Paris,
+Gisors learned with astonishment that its "Rosier" had stopped the
+vehicle at a distance of about two hundred metres from the town, had
+climbed up on it and paid his fare, handing over a gold piece and
+receiving the change, and that he had quietly alighted in the centre of
+the great city.
+
+There was great excitement all through the countryside.  Letters passed
+between the mayor and the chief of police in Paris, but brought no
+result.
+
+The days followed one another, a week passed.
+
+Now, one morning, Dr. Barbesol, who had gone out early, perceived,
+sitting on a doorstep, a man dressed in a grimy linen suit, who was
+sleeping with his head leaning against the wall.  He approached him and
+recognized Isidore.  He tried to rouse him, but did not succeed in doing
+so.  The ex-"Rosier" was in that profound, invincible sleep that is
+alarming, and the doctor, in surprise, went to seek assistance to help
+him in carrying the young man to Boncheval's drugstore.  When they lifted
+him up they found an empty bottle under him, and when the doctor sniffed
+at it, he declared that it had contained brandy.  That gave a suggestion
+as to what treatment he would require.  They succeeded in rousing him.
+
+Isidore was drunk, drunk and degraded by a week of guzzling, drunk and so
+disgusting that a ragman would not have touched him.  His beautiful white
+duck suit was a gray rag, greasy, muddy, torn, and destroyed, and he
+smelt of the gutter and of vice.
+
+He was washed, sermonized, shut up, and did not leave the house for four
+days.  He seemed ashamed and repentant.  They could not find on him
+either his purse, containing the five hundred francs, or the bankbook, or
+even his silver watch, a sacred heirloom left by his father, the
+fruiterer.
+
+On the fifth day he ventured into the Rue Dauphine, Curious glances
+followed him and he walked along with a furtive expression in his eyes
+and his head bent down.  As he got outside the town towards the valley
+they lost sight of him; but two hours later he returned laughing and
+rolling against the walls.  He was drunk, absolutely drunk.
+
+Nothing could cure him.
+
+Driven from home by his mother, he became a wagon driver, and drove the
+charcoal wagons for the Pougrisel firm, which is still in existence.
+
+His reputation as a drunkard became so well known and spread so far that
+even at Evreux they talked of Mme. Husson's "Rosier," and the sots of the
+countryside have been given that nickname.
+
+A good deed is never lost.
+
+
+Dr. Marambot rubbed his hands as he finished his story.  I asked:
+
+"Did you know the 'Rosier'?"
+
+"Yes.  I had the honor of closing his eyes."
+
+"What did he die of?"
+
+"An attack of delirium tremens, of course."
+
+We had arrived at the old citadel, a pile of ruined walls dominated by
+the enormous tower of St. Thomas of Canterbury and the one called the
+Prisoner's Tower.
+
+Marambot told me the story of this prisoner, who, with the aid of a nail,
+covered the walls of his dungeon with sculptures, tracing the reflections
+of the sun as it glanced through the narrow slit of a loophole.
+
+I also learned that Clothaire II had given the patrimony of Gisors to his
+cousin, Saint Romain, bishop of Rouen; that Gisors ceased to be the
+capital of the whole of Vexin after the treaty of Saint-Clair-sur-Epte;
+that the town is the chief strategic centre of all that portion of
+France, and that in consequence of this advantage she was taken and
+retaken over and over again.  At the command of William the Red, the
+eminent engineer, Robert de Bellesme, constructed there a powerful
+fortress that was attacked later by Louis le Gros, then by the Norman
+barons, was defended by Robert de Candos, was finally ceded to Louis le
+Gros by Geoffry Plantagenet, was retaken by the English in consequence of
+the treachery of the Knights-Templars, was contested by Philippe-Augustus
+and Richard the Lionhearted, was set on fire by Edward III of England,
+who could not take the castle, was again taken by the English in 1419,
+restored later to Charles VIII by Richard de Marbury, was taken by the
+Duke of Calabria occupied by the League, inhabited by Henry IV, etc.,
+etc.
+
+And Marambot, eager and almost eloquent, continued:
+
+"What beggars, those English!  And what sots, my boy; they are all
+'Rosiers,' those hypocrites!"
+
+Then, after a silence, stretching out his arm towards the tiny river that
+glistened in the meadows, he said:
+
+"Did you know that Henry Monnier was one of the most untiring fishermen
+on the banks of the Epte?"
+
+"No, I did not know it."
+
+"And Bouffe, my boy, Bouffe was a painter on glass."
+
+"You are joking!"
+
+"No, indeed.  How is it you do not know these things?"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE ADOPTED SON
+
+The two cottages stood beside each other at the foot of a hill near a
+little seashore resort.  The two peasants labored hard on the
+unproductive soil to rear their little ones, and each family had four.
+
+Before the adjoining doors a whole troop of urchins played and tumbled
+about from morning till night.  The two eldest were six years old, and
+the youngest were about fifteen months; the marriages, and afterward the
+births, having taken place nearly simultaneously in both families.
+
+The two mothers could hardly distinguish their own offspring among the
+lot, and as for the fathers, they were altogether at sea.  The eight
+names danced in their heads; they were always getting them mixed up; and
+when they wished to call one child, the men often called three names
+before getting the right one.
+
+The first of the two cottages, as you came up from the bathing beach,
+Rolleport, was occupied by the Tuvaches, who had three girls and one boy;
+the other house sheltered the Vallins, who had one girl and three boys.
+
+They all subsisted frugally on soup, potatoes and fresh air.  At seven
+o'clock in the morning, then at noon, then at six o'clock in the evening,
+the housewives got their broods together to give them their food, as the
+gooseherds collect their charges.  The children were seated, according to
+age, before the wooden table, varnished by fifty years of use; the mouths
+of the youngest hardly reaching the level of the table.  Before them was
+placed a bowl filled with bread, soaked in the water in which the
+potatoes had been boiled, half a cabbage and three onions; and the whole
+line ate until their hunger was appeased.  The mother herself fed the
+smallest.
+
+A small pot roast on Sunday was a feast for all; and the father on this
+day sat longer over the meal, repeating: "I wish we could have this every
+day."
+
+One afternoon, in the month of August, a phaeton stopped suddenly in
+front of the cottages, and a young woman, who was driving the horses,
+said to the gentleman sitting at her side:
+
+"Oh, look at all those children, Henri!  How pretty they are, tumbling
+about in the dust, like that!"
+
+The man did not answer, accustomed to these outbursts of admiration,
+which were a pain and almost a reproach to him.  The young woman
+continued:
+
+"I must hug them!  Oh, how I should like to have one of them--that one
+there--the little tiny one!"
+
+Springing down from the carriage, she ran toward the children, took one
+of the two youngest--a Tuvache child--and lifting it up in her arms, she
+kissed him passionately on his dirty cheeks, on his tousled hair daubed
+with earth, and on his little hands, with which he fought vigorously, to
+get away from the caresses which displeased him.
+
+Then she got into the carriage again, and drove off at a lively trot.
+But she returned the following week, and seating herself on the ground,
+took the youngster in her arms, stuffed him with cakes; gave candies to
+all the others, and played with them like a young girl, while the husband
+waited patiently in the carriage.
+
+She returned again; made the acquaintance of the parents, and reappeared
+every day with her pockets full of dainties and pennies.
+
+Her name was Madame Henri d'Hubieres.
+
+One morning, on arriving, her husband alighted with her, and without
+stopping to talk to the children, who now knew her well, she entered the
+farmer's cottage.
+
+They were busy chopping wood for the fire.  They rose to their feet in
+surprise, brought forward chairs, and waited expectantly.
+
+Then the woman, in a broken, trembling voice, began:
+
+"My good people, I have come to see you, because I should like--I should
+like to take--your little boy with me--"
+
+The country people, too bewildered to think, did not answer.
+
+She recovered her breath, and continued: "We are alone, my husband and I.
+We would keep it.  Are you willing?"
+
+The peasant woman began to understand.  She asked:
+
+"You want to take Charlot from us?  Oh, no, indeed!"
+
+Then M. d'Hubieres intervened:
+
+"My wife has not made her meaning clear.  We wish to adopt him, but he
+will come back to see you.  If he turns out well, as there is every
+reason to expect, he will be our heir.  If we, perchance, should have
+children, he will share equally with them; but if he should not reward
+our care, we should give him, when he comes of age, a sum of twenty
+thousand francs, which shall be deposited immediately in his name, with
+a lawyer.  As we have thought also of you, we should pay you, until your
+death, a pension of one hundred francs a month.  Do you understand me?"
+
+The woman had arisen, furious.
+
+"You want me to sell you Charlot?  Oh, no, that's not the sort of thing
+to ask of a mother!  Oh, no!  That would be an abomination!"
+
+The man, grave and deliberate, said nothing; but approved of what his
+wife said by a continued nodding of his head.
+
+Madame d'Hubieres, in dismay, began to weep; turning to her husband, with
+a voice full of tears, the voice of a child used to having all its wishes
+gratified, she stammered:
+
+"They will not do it, Henri, they will not do it."
+
+Then he made a last attempt: "But, my friends, think of the child's
+future, of his happiness, of--"
+
+The peasant woman, however, exasperated, cut him short:
+
+"It's all considered!  It's all understood!  Get out of here, and don't
+let me see you again--the idea of wanting to take away a child like
+that!"
+
+Madame d'Hubieres remembered that there were two children, quite little,
+and she asked, through her tears, with the tenacity of a wilful and
+spoiled woman:
+
+"But is the other little one not yours?"
+
+Father Tuvache answered: "No, it is our neighbors'.  You can go to them
+if you wish."  And he went back into his house, whence resounded the
+indignant voice of his wife.
+
+The Vallins were at table, slowly eating slices of bread which they
+parsimoniously spread with a little rancid butter on a plate between the
+two.
+
+M. d'Hubieres recommenced his proposals, but with more insinuations, more
+oratorical precautions, more shrewdness.
+
+The two country people shook their heads, in sign of refusal, but when
+they learned that they were to have a hundred francs a month, they
+considered the matter, consulting one another by glances, much disturbed.
+They kept silent for a long time, tortured, hesitating.  At last the
+woman asked: "What do you say to it, man?"  In a weighty tone he said:
+"I say that it's not to be despised."
+
+Madame d'Hubieres, trembling with anguish, spoke of the future of their
+child, of his happiness, and of the money which he could give them later.
+
+The peasant asked: "This pension of twelve hundred francs, will it be
+promised before a lawyer?"
+
+M. d'Hubieres responded: "Why, certainly, beginning with to-morrow."
+
+The woman, who was thinking it over, continued:
+
+"A hundred francs a month is not enough to pay for depriving us of the
+child.  That child would be working in a few years; we must have a
+hundred and twenty francs."
+
+Tapping her foot with impatience, Madame d'Hubieres granted it at once,
+and, as she wished to carry off the child with her, she gave a hundred
+francs extra, as a present, while her husband drew up a paper.  And the
+young woman, radiant, carried off the howling brat, as one carries away a
+wished-for knick-knack from a shop.
+
+The Tuvaches, from their door, watched her departure, silent, serious,
+perhaps regretting their refusal.
+
+Nothing more was heard of little Jean Vallin.  The parents went to the
+lawyer every month to collect their hundred and twenty francs.  They had
+quarrelled with their neighbors, because Mother Tuvache grossly insulted
+them, continually, repeating from door to door that one must be unnatural
+to sell one's child; that it was horrible, disgusting, bribery.
+Sometimes she would take her Charlot in her arms, ostentatiously
+exclaiming, as if he understood:
+
+"I didn't sell you, I didn't!  I didn't sell you, my little one!  I'm not
+rich, but I don't sell my children!"
+
+The Vallins lived comfortably, thanks to the pension.  That was the cause
+of the unappeasable fury of the Tuvaches, who had remained miserably
+poor.  Their eldest went away to serve his time in the army; Charlot
+alone remained to labor with his old father, to support the mother and
+two younger sisters.
+
+He had reached twenty-one years when, one morning, a brilliant carriage
+stopped before the two cottages.  A young gentleman, with a gold watch-
+chain, got out, giving his hand to an aged, white-haired lady.  The old
+lady said to him: "It is there, my child, at the second house."  And he
+entered the house of the Vallins as though at home.
+
+The old mother was washing her aprons; the infirm father slumbered at the
+chimney-corner.  Both raised their heads, and the young man said:
+
+"Good-morning, papa; good-morning, mamma!"
+
+They both stood up, frightened!  In a flutter, the peasant woman dropped
+her soap into the water, and stammered:
+
+"Is it you, my child?  Is it you, my child?"
+
+He took her in his arms and hugged her, repeating: "Good-morning, mamma,"
+while the old man, all a-tremble, said, in his calm tone which he never
+lost: "Here you are, back again, Jean," as if he had just seen him a
+month ago.
+
+When they had got to know one another again, the parents wished to take
+their boy out in the neighborhood, and show him.  They took him to the
+mayor, to the deputy, to the cure, and to the schoolmaster.
+
+Charlot, standing on the threshold of his cottage, watched him pass.
+In the evening, at supper, he said to the old people: "You must have been
+stupid to let the Vallins' boy be taken."
+
+The mother answered, obstinately: "I wouldn't sell my child."
+
+The father remained silent.  The son continued:
+
+"It is unfortunate to be sacrificed like that."
+
+Then Father Tuvache, in an angry tone, said:
+
+"Are you going to reproach us for having kept you?" And the young man
+said, brutally:
+
+"Yes, I reproach you for having been such fools.  Parents like you make
+the misfortune of their children.  You deserve that I should leave you."
+The old woman wept over her plate.  She moaned, as she swallowed the
+spoonfuls of soup, half of which she spilled: "One may kill one's self to
+bring up children!"
+
+Then the boy said, roughly: "I'd rather not have been born than be what I
+am.  When I saw the other, my heart stood still.  I said to myself: 'See
+what I should have been now!'"  He got up: "See here, I feel that I would
+do better not to stay here, because I would throw it up to you from
+morning till night, and I would make your life miserable.  I'll never
+forgive you for that!"
+
+The two old people were silent, downcast, in tears.
+
+He continued: "No, the thought of that would be too much.  I'd rather
+look for a living somewhere else."
+
+He opened the door.  A sound of voices came in at the door.  The Vallins
+were celebrating the return of their child.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+COWARD
+
+In society he was called "Handsome Signoles."  His name was Vicomte
+Gontran-Joseph de Signoles.
+
+An orphan, and possessed of an ample fortune, he cut quite a dash, as it
+is called.  He had an attractive appearance and manner, could talk well,
+had a certain inborn elegance, an air of pride and nobility, a good
+mustache, and a tender eye, that always finds favor with women.
+
+He was in great request at receptions, waltzed to perfection, and was
+regarded by his own sex with that smiling hostility accorded to the
+popular society man.  He had been suspected of more than one love affair,
+calculated to enhance the reputation of a bachelor.  He lived a happy,
+peaceful life--a life of physical and mental well-being.  He had won
+considerable fame as a swordsman, and still more as a marksman.
+
+"When the time comes for me to fight a duel," he said, "I shall choose
+pistols.  With such a weapon I am sure to kill my man."
+
+One evening, having accompanied two women friends of his with their
+husbands to the theatre, he invited them to take some ice cream at
+Tortoni's after the performance.  They had been seated a few minutes in
+the restaurant when Signoles noticed that a man was staring persistently
+at one of the ladies.  She seemed annoyed, and lowered her eyes.  At last
+she said to her husband:
+
+"There's a man over there looking at me.  I don't know him; do you?"
+
+The husband, who had noticed nothing, glanced across at the offender, and
+said:
+
+"No; not in the least."
+
+His wife continued, half smiling, half angry:
+
+"It's very tiresome!  He quite spoils my ice cream."
+
+The husband shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Nonsense!  Don't take any notice of him.  If we were to bother our heads
+about all the ill-mannered people we should have no time for anything
+else."
+
+But the vicomte abruptly left his seat.  He could not allow this insolent
+fellow to spoil an ice for a guest of his.  It was for him to take
+cognizance of the offence, since it was through him that his friends had
+come to the restaurant.  He went across to the man and said:
+
+"Sir, you are staring at those ladies in a manner I cannot permit.  I
+must ask you to desist from your rudeness."
+
+The other replied:
+
+"Let me alone, will you!"
+
+"Take care, sir," said the vicomte between his teeth, "or you will force
+me to extreme measures."
+
+The man replied with a single word--a foul word, which could be heard
+from one end of the restaurant to the other, and which startled every one
+there.  All those whose backs were toward the two disputants turned
+round; all the others raised their heads; three waiters spun round on
+their heels like tops; the two lady cashiers jumped, as if shot, then
+turned their bodies simultaneously, like two automata worked by the same
+spring.
+
+There was dead silence.  Then suddenly a sharp, crisp sound.  The vicomte
+had slapped his adversary's face.  Every one rose to interfere.  Cards
+were exchanged.
+
+When the vicomte reached home he walked rapidly up and down his room for
+some minutes.  He was in a state of too great agitation to think
+connectedly.  One idea alone possessed him: a duel.  But this idea
+aroused in him as yet no emotion of any kind.  He had done what he was
+bound to do; he had proved himself to be what he ought to be.  He would
+be talked about, approved, congratulated.  He repeated aloud, speaking as
+one does when under the stress of great mental disturbance:
+
+"What a brute of a man!" Then he sat down, and began to reflect.  He
+would have to find seconds as soon as morning came.  Whom should he
+choose?  He bethought himself of the most influential and best-known men
+of his acquaintance.  His choice fell at last on the Marquis de la Tour-
+Noire and Colonel Bourdin-a nobleman and a soldier.  That would be just
+the thing.  Their names would carry weight in the newspapers.  He was
+thirsty, and drank three glasses of water, one after another; then he
+walked up and down again.  If he showed himself brave, deter mined,
+prepared to face a duel in deadly earnest, his adversary would probably
+draw back and proffer excuses.  He picked up the card he had taken from
+his pocket and thrown on a table.  He read it again, as he had already
+read it, first at a glance in the restaurant, and afterward on the way
+home in the light of each gas lamp: "Georges Lamil, 51 Rue Moncey."  That
+was all.
+
+He examined closely this collection of letters, which seemed to him
+mysterious, fraught with many meanings.  Georges Lamil!  Who was the man?
+What was his profession?  Why had he stared so at the woman?  Was it not
+monstrous that a stranger, an unknown, should thus all at once upset
+one's whole life, simply because it had pleased him to stare rudely at a
+woman?  And the vicomte once more repeated aloud:
+
+"What a brute!"
+
+Then he stood motionless, thinking, his eyes still fixed on the card.
+Anger rose in his heart against this scrap of paper--a resentful anger,
+mingled with a strange sense of uneasiness.  It was a stupid business
+altogether!  He took up a penknife which lay open within reach, and
+deliberately stuck it into the middle of the printed name, as if he were
+stabbing some one.
+
+So he would have to fight!  Should he choose swords or pistols?--for he
+considered himself as the insulted party.  With the sword he would risk
+less, but with the pistol there was some chance of his adversary backing
+out.  A duel with swords is rarely fatal, since mutual prudence prevents
+the combatants from fighting close enough to each other for a point to
+enter very deep.  With pistols he would seriously risk his life; but, on
+the other hand, he might come out of the affair with flying colors, and
+without a duel, after all.
+
+"I must be firm," he said.  "The fellow will be afraid."
+
+The sound of his own voice startled him, and he looked nervously round
+the room.  He felt unstrung.  He drank another glass of water, and then
+began undressing, preparatory to going to bed.
+
+As soon as he was in bed he blew out the light and shut his eyes.
+
+"I have all day to-morrow," he reflected, "for setting my affairs in
+order.  I must sleep now, in order to be calm when the time comes."
+
+He was very warm in bed, but he could not succeed in losing
+consciousness.  He tossed and turned, remained for five minutes lying on
+his back, then changed to his left side, then rolled over to his right.
+He was thirsty again, and rose to drink.  Then a qualm seized him:
+
+"Can it be possible that I am afraid?"
+
+Why did his heart beat so uncontrollably at every well-known sound in his
+room?  When the clock was about to strike, the prefatory grating of its
+spring made him start, and for several seconds he panted for breath, so
+unnerved was he.
+
+He began to reason with himself on the possibility of such a thing:
+"Could I by any chance be afraid?"
+
+No, indeed; he could not be afraid, since he was resolved to proceed to
+the last extremity, since he was irrevocably determined to fight without
+flinching.  And yet he was so perturbed in mind and body that he asked
+himself:
+
+"Is it possible to be afraid in spite of one's self?"
+
+And this doubt, this fearful question, took possession of him.  If an
+irresistible power, stronger than his own will, were to quell his
+courage, what would happen?  He would certainly go to the place
+appointed; his will would force him that far.  But supposing, when there,
+he were to tremble or faint?  And he thought of his social standing, his
+reputation, his name.
+
+And he suddenly determined to get up and look at himself in the glass.
+He lighted his candle.  When he saw his face reflected in the mirror he
+scarcely recognized it.  He seemed to see before him a man whom he did
+not know.  His eyes looked disproportionately large, and he was very
+pale.
+
+He remained standing before the mirror.  He put out his tongue, as if to
+examine the state of his health, and all at once the thought flashed into
+his mind:
+
+"At this time the day after to-morrow I may be dead."
+
+And his heart throbbed painfully.
+
+"At this time the day after to-morrow I may be dead.  This person in
+front of me, this 'I' whom I see in the glass, will perhaps be no more.
+What!  Here I am, I look at myself, I feel myself to be alive--and yet in
+twenty-four hours I may be lying on that bed, with closed eyes, dead,
+cold, inanimate."
+
+He turned round, and could see himself distinctly lying on his back on
+the couch he had just quitted.  He had the hollow face and the limp hands
+of death.
+
+Then he became afraid of his bed, and to avoid seeing it went to his
+smoking-room.  He mechanically took a cigar, lighted it, and began
+walking back and forth.  He was cold; he took a step toward the bell, to
+wake his valet, but stopped with hand raised toward the bell rope.
+
+"He would see that I am afraid!"
+
+And, instead of ringing, he made a fire himself.  His hands quivered
+nervously as they touched various objects.  His head grew dizzy, his
+thoughts confused, disjointed, painful; a numbness seized his spirit, as
+if he had been drinking.
+
+And all the time he kept on saying:
+
+"What shall I do?  What will become of me?"
+
+His whole body trembled spasmodically; he rose, and, going to the window,
+drew back the curtains.
+
+The day--a summer day-was breaking.  The pink sky cast a glow on the
+city, its roofs, and its walls.  A flush of light enveloped the awakened
+world, like a caress from the rising sun, and the glimmer of dawn kindled
+new hope in the breast of the vicomte.  What a fool he was to let himself
+succumb to fear before anything was decided--before his seconds had
+interviewed those of Georges Lamil, before he even knew whether he would
+have to fight or not!
+
+He bathed, dressed, and left the house with a firm step.
+
+He repeated as he went:
+
+"I must be firm--very firm.  I must show that I am not afraid."
+
+His seconds, the marquis and the colonel, placed themselves at his
+disposal, and, having shaken him warmly by the hand, began to discuss
+details.
+
+"You want a serious duel?" asked the colonel.
+
+"Yes--quite serious," replied the vicomte.
+
+"You insist on pistols?" put in the marquis.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do you leave all the other arrangements in our hands?"
+
+With a dry, jerky voice the vicomte answered:
+
+"Twenty paces--at a given signal--the arm to be raised, not lowered--
+shots to be exchanged until one or other is seriously wounded."
+
+"Excellent conditions," declared the colonel in a satisfied tone.  "You
+are a good shot; all the chances are in your favor."
+
+And they parted.  The vicomte returned home to, wait for them.  His
+agitation, only temporarily allayed, now increased momentarily.  He felt,
+in arms, legs and chest, a sort of trembling--a continuous vibration; he
+could not stay still, either sitting or standing.  His mouth was parched,
+and he made every now and then a clicking movement of the tongue, as if
+to detach it from his palate.
+
+He attempted, to take luncheon, but could not eat.  Then it occurred to
+him to seek courage in drink, and he sent for a decanter of rum, of which
+he swallowed, one after another, six small glasses.
+
+A burning warmth, followed by a deadening of the mental faculties,
+ensued.  He said to himself:
+
+"I know how to manage.  Now it will be all right!"
+
+But at the end of an hour he had emptied the decanter, and his agitation
+was worse than ever.  A mad longing possessed him to throw himself on the
+ground, to bite, to scream.  Night fell.
+
+A ring at the bell so unnerved him that he had not the strength to rise
+to receive his seconds.
+
+He dared not even to speak to them, wish them good-day, utter a single
+word, lest his changed voice should betray him.
+
+"All is arranged as you wished," said the colonel.  "Your adversary
+claimed at first the privilege of the offended part; but he yielded
+almost at once, and accepted your conditions.  His seconds are two
+military men."
+
+"Thank you," said the vicomte.
+
+The marquis added:
+
+"Please excuse us if we do not stay now, for we have a good deal to see
+to yet.  We shall want a reliable doctor, since the duel is not to end
+until a serious wound has been inflicted; and you know that bullets are
+not to be trifled with.  We must select a spot near some house to which
+the wounded party can be carried if necessary.  In fact, the arrangements
+will take us another two or three hours at least."
+
+The vicomte articulated for the second time:
+
+"Thank you."
+
+"You're all right?" asked the colonel.  "Quite calm?"
+
+"Perfectly calm, thank you."
+
+The two men withdrew.
+
+When he was once more alone he felt as though he should go mad.  His
+servant having lighted the lamps, he sat down at his table to write some
+letters.  When he had traced at the top of a sheet of paper the words:
+"This is my last will and testament," he started from his seat, feeling
+himself incapable of connected thought, of decision in regard to
+anything.
+
+So he was going to fight!  He could no longer avoid it.  What, then,
+possessed him?  He wished to fight, he was fully determined to fight, and
+yet, in spite of all his mental effort, in spite of the exertion of all
+his will power, he felt that he could not even preserve the strength
+necessary to carry him through the ordeal.  He tried to conjure up a
+picture of the duel, his own attitude, and that of his enemy.
+
+Every now and then his teeth chattered audibly.  He thought he would
+read, and took down Chateauvillard's Rules of Dueling.  Then he said:
+
+"Is the other man practiced in the use of the pistol?  Is he well known?
+How can I find out?"
+
+He remembered Baron de Vaux's book on marksmen, and searched it from end
+to end.  Georges Lamil was not mentioned.  And yet, if he were not an
+adept, would he have accepted without demur such a dangerous weapon and
+such deadly conditions?
+
+He opened a case of Gastinne Renettes which stood on a small table, and
+took from it a pistol.  Next he stood in the correct attitude for firing,
+and raised his arm.  But he was trembling from head to foot, and the
+weapon shook in his grasp.
+
+Then he said to himself:
+
+"It is impossible.  I cannot fight like this."
+
+He looked at the little black, death-spitting hole at the end of the
+pistol; he thought of dishonor, of the whispers at the clubs, the smiles
+in his friends' drawing-rooms, the contempt of women, the veiled sneers
+of the newspapers, the insults that would be hurled at him by cowards.
+
+He still looked at the weapon, and raising the hammer, saw the glitter of
+the priming below it.  The pistol had been left loaded by some chance,
+some oversight.  And the discovery rejoiced him, he knew not why.
+
+If he did not maintain, in presence of his opponent, the steadfast
+bearing which was so necessary to his honor, he would be ruined forever.
+He would be branded, stigmatized as a coward, hounded out of society!
+And he felt, he knew, that he could not maintain that calm, unmoved
+demeanor.  And yet he was brave, since the thought that followed was not
+even rounded to a finish in his mind; but, opening his mouth wide, he
+suddenly plunged the barrel of the pistol as far back as his throat, and
+pressed the trigger.
+
+When the valet, alarmed at the report, rushed into the room he found his
+master lying dead upon his back.  A spurt of blood had splashed the white
+paper on the table, and had made a great crimson stain beneath the words:
+
+"This is my last will and testament."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+OLD MONGILET
+
+In the office old Mongilet was considered a type.  He was a good old
+employee, who had never been outside Paris but once in his life.
+
+It was the end of July, and each of us, every Sunday, went to roll in the
+grass, or soak in the water in the country near by.  Asnieres,
+Argenteuil, Chatou, Borgival, Maisons, Poissy, had their habitues and
+their ardent admirers.  We argued about the merits and advantages of all
+these places, celebrated and delightful to all Parsian employees.
+
+Daddy Mongilet declared:
+
+"You are like a lot of sheep!  It must be pretty, this country you talk
+of!"
+
+"Well, how about you, Mongilet?  Don't you ever go on an excursion?"
+
+"Yes, indeed.  I go in an omnibus.  When I have had a good luncheon,
+without any hurry, at the wine shop down there, I look up my route with a
+plan of Paris, and the time table of the lines and connections.  And then
+I climb up on the box, open my umbrella and off we go.  Oh, I see lots of
+things, more than you, I bet!  I change my surroundings.  It is as though
+I were taking a journey across the world, the people are so different in
+one street and another.  I know my Paris better than anyone.  And then,
+there is nothing more amusing than the entresols.  You would not believe
+what one sees in there at a glance.  One guesses at domestic scenes
+simply at sight of the face of a man who is roaring; one is amused on
+passing by a barber's shop, to see the barber leave his customer whose
+face is covered with lather to look out in the street.  One exchanges
+heartfelt glances with the milliners just for fun, as one has no time to
+alight.  Ah, how many things one sees!
+
+"It is the drama, the real, the true, the drama of nature, seen as the
+horses trot by.  Heavens!  I would not give my excursions in the omnibus
+for all your stupid excursions in the woods."
+
+"Come and try it, Mongilet, come to the country once just to see."
+
+"I was there once," he replied, "twenty years ago, and you will never
+catch me there again."
+
+"Tell us about it, Mongilet."
+
+"If you wish to hear it.  This is how it was:
+
+You knew Boivin, the old editorial clerk, whom we called Boileau?"
+
+"Yes, perfectly."
+
+"He was my office chum.  The rascal had a house at Colombes and always
+invited me to spend Sunday with him.  He would say:
+
+"'Come along, Maculotte [he called me Maculotte for fun].  You will see
+what a nice excursion we will take.'
+
+"I let myself be entrapped like an animal, and set out, one morning by
+the 8 o'clock train.  I arrived at a kind of town, a country town where
+there is nothing to see, and I at length found my way to an old wooden
+door with an iron bell, at the end of an alley between two walls.
+
+"I rang, and waited a long time, and at last the door was opened.  What
+was it that opened it?  I could not tell at the first glance.  A woman or
+an ape?  The creature was old, ugly, covered with old clothes that looked
+dirty and wicked.  It had chicken's feathers in its hair and looked as
+though it would devour me.
+
+"'What do you want?' she said.
+
+"'Mr.  Boivin.'
+
+"'What do you want of him, of Mr. Boivin?'
+
+"I felt ill at ease on being questioned by this fury.  I stammered:
+'Why-he expects me.'
+
+"'Ah, it is you who have come to luncheon?'
+
+"'Yes,' I stammered, trembling.
+
+"Then, turning toward the house, she cried in an angry tone:
+
+"'Boivin, here is your man!'
+
+"It was my friend's wife.  Little Boivin appeared immediately on the
+threshold of a sort of barrack of plaster covered with zinc, that looked
+like a foot stove.  He wore white duck trousers covered with stains and a
+dirty Panama hat.
+
+"After shaking my hands warmly, he took me into what he called his
+garden.  It was at the end of another alleyway enclosed by high walls and
+was a little square the size of a pocket handkerchief, surrounded by
+houses that were so high that the sun, could reach it only two or three
+hours in the day.  Pansies, pinks, wallflowers and a few rose bushes were
+languishing in this well without air, and hot as an oven from the
+refraction of heat from the roofs.
+
+"'I have no trees,' said Boivin, 'but the neighbors' walls take their
+place.  I have as much shade as in a wood.'
+
+"Then he took hold of a button of my coat and said in a low tone:
+
+"'You can do me a service.  You saw the wife.  She is not agreeable, eh?
+To-day, as I had invited you, she gave me clean clothes; but if I spot
+them all is lost.  I counted on you to water my plants.'
+
+"I agreed.  I took off my coat, rolled up my sleeves, and began to work
+the handle of a kind of pump that wheezed, puffed and rattled like a
+consumptive as it emitted a thread of water like a Wallace drinking
+fountain.  It took me ten minutes to water it and I was in a bath of
+perspiration.  Boivin directed me:
+
+"'Here--this plant--a little more; enough--now this one.'
+
+"The watering pot leaked and my feet got more water than the flowers.
+The bottoms of my trousers were soaking and covered with mud.  And twenty
+times running I kept it up, soaking my feet afresh each time, and
+perspiring anew as I worked the handle of the pump.  And when I was tired
+out and wanted to stop, Boivin, in a tone of entreaty, said as he put his
+hand on my arm:
+
+"Just one more watering pot full--just one, and that will be all.'
+
+"To thank me he gave me a rose, a big rose, but hardly had it touched my
+button-hole than it fell to pieces, leaving only a hard little green knot
+as a decoration.  I was surprised, but said nothing.
+
+"Mme. Boivin's voice was heard in the distance:
+
+'Are you ever coming?  When you know that luncheon is ready!'
+
+"We went toward the foot stove.  If the garden was in the shade, the
+house, on the other hand, was in the blazing sun, and the sweating room
+in the Turkish bath is not as hot as was my friend's dining room.
+
+"Three plates at the side of which were some half-washed forks, were
+placed on a table of yellow wood in the middle of which stood an
+earthenware dish containing boiled beef and potatoes.  We began to eat.
+
+"A large water bottle full of water lightly colored with wine attracted
+my attention.  Boivin, embarrassed, said to his wife:
+
+"'See here, my dear, just on a special occasion, are you not going to
+give us some plain wine?'
+
+"She looked at him furiously.
+
+"'So that you may both get tipsy, is that it, and stay here gabbing all
+day?  A fig for your special occasion!'
+
+"He said no more.  After the stew she brought in another dish of potatoes
+cooked with bacon.  When this dish was finished, still in silence, she
+announced:
+
+"'That is all!  Now get out!'
+
+"Boivin looked at her in astonishment.
+
+"'But the pigeon--the pigeon you plucked this morning?'
+
+"She put her hands on her hips:
+
+"'Perhaps you have not had enough?  Because you bring people here is no
+reason why we should devour all that there is in the house.  What is
+there for me to eat this evening?'
+
+"We rose.  Solvin whispered
+
+"'Wait for me a second, and we will skip.'
+
+"He went into the kitchen where his wife had gone, and I overheard him
+say:
+
+"'Give me twenty sous, my dear.'
+
+"'What do you want with twenty sons?'
+
+"'Why, one does not know what may happen.  It is always better to have
+some money.'
+
+"She yelled so that I should hear:
+
+"'No, I will not give it to you!  As the man has had luncheon here, the
+least he can do is to pay your expenses for the day.'
+
+"Boivin came back to fetch me.  As I wished to be polite I bowed to the
+mistress of the house, stammering:
+
+"'Madame--many thanks--kind welcome.'
+
+"'That's all right,' she replied.  'But do not bring him back drunk, for
+you will have to answer to me, you know!'
+
+"We set out.  We had to cross a perfectly bare plain under the burning
+sun.  I attempted to gather a flower along the road and gave a cry of
+pain.  It had hurt my hand frightfully.  They call these plants nettles.
+And, everywhere, there was a smell of manure, enough to turn your
+stomach.
+
+"Boivin said, 'Have a little patience and we will reach the river bank.'
+
+"We reached the river.  Here there was an odor of mud and dirty water,
+and the sun blazed down on the water so that it burned my eyes.  I begged
+Boivin to go under cover somewhere.  He took me into a kind of shanty
+filled with men, a river boatmen's tavern.
+
+"He said:
+
+"'This does not look very grand, but it is very comfortable.'
+
+"I was hungry.  I ordered an omelet.  But to and behold, at the second
+glass of wine, that beggar, Boivin, lost his head, and I understand why
+his wife gave him water diluted.
+
+"He got up, declaimed, wanted to show his strength, interfered in a
+quarrel between two drunken men who were fighting, and, but for the
+landlord, who came to the rescue, we should both have been killed.
+
+"I dragged him away, holding him up until we reached the first bush where
+I deposited him.  I lay down beside him and, it seems, I fell asleep.
+We must certainly have slept a long time, for it was dark when I awoke.
+Boivin was snoring at my side.  I shook him; he rose but he was still
+drunk, though a little less so.
+
+"We set out through the darkness across the plain.  Boivin said he knew
+the way.  He made me turn to the left, then to the right, then to the
+left.  We could see neither sky nor earth, and found ourselves lost in
+the midst of a kind of forest of wooden stakes, that came as high as our
+noses.  It was a vineyard and these were the supports.  There was not a
+single light on the horizon.  We wandered about in this vineyard for
+about an hour or two, hesitating, reaching out our arms without finding
+any limit, for we kept retracing our steps.
+
+"At length Boivin fell against a stake that tore his cheek and he
+remained in a sitting posture on the ground, uttering with all his might
+long and resounding hallos, while I screamed 'Help!  Help!' as loud as I
+could, lighting candle-matches to show the way to our rescuers, and also
+to keep up my courage.
+
+"At last a belated peasant heard us and put us on our right road.  I took
+Boivin to his home, but as I was leaving him on the threshold of his
+garden, the door opened suddenly and his wife appeared, a candle in her
+hand.  She frightened me horribly.
+
+"As soon as she saw her husband, whom she must have been waiting for
+since dark, she screamed, as she darted toward me:
+
+"'Ah, scoundrel, I knew you would bring him back drunk!'
+
+"My, how I made my escape, running all the way to the station, and as I
+thought the fury was pursuing me I shut myself in an inner room as the
+train was not due for half an hour.
+
+"That is why I never married, and why I never go out of Paris."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MOONLIGHT
+
+Madame Julie Roubere was expecting her elder sister, Madame Henriette
+Letore, who had just returned from a trip to Switzerland.
+
+The Letore household had left nearly five weeks before.  Madame Henriette
+had allowed her husband to return alone to their estate in Calvados,
+where some business required his attention, and had come to spend a few
+days in Paris with her sister.  Night came on.  In the quiet parlor
+Madame Roubere was reading in the twilight in an absent-minded way,
+raising her, eyes whenever she heard a sound.
+
+At last, she heard a ring at the door, and her sister appeared, wrapped
+in a travelling cloak.  And without any formal greeting, they clasped
+each other in an affectionate embrace, only desisting for a moment to
+give each other another hug.  Then they talked about their health, about
+their respective families, and a thousand other things, gossiping,
+jerking out hurried, broken sentences as they followed each other about,
+while Madame Henriette was removing her hat and veil.
+
+It was now quite dark.  Madame Roubere rang for a lamp, and as soon as it
+was brought in, she scanned her sister's face, and was on the point of
+embracing her once more.  But she held back, scared and astonished at the
+other's appearance.
+
+On her temples Madame Letore had two large locks of white hair.  All the
+rest of her hair was of a glossy, raven-black hue; but there alone, at
+each side of her head, ran, as it were, two silvery streams which were
+immediately lost in the black mass surrounding them.  She was,
+nevertheless, only twenty-four years old, and this change had come on
+suddenly since her departure for Switzerland.
+
+Without moving, Madame Roubere gazed at her in amazement, tears rising to
+her eyes, as she thought that some mysterious and terrible calamity must
+have befallen her sister.  She asked:
+
+"What is the matter with you, Henriette?"
+
+Smiling with a sad face, the smile of one who is heartsick, the other
+replied:
+
+"Why, nothing, I assure you.  Were you noticing my white hair?"
+
+But Madame Roubere impetuously seized her by the shoulders, and with a
+searching glance at her, repeated:
+
+"What is the matter with you?  Tell me what is the matter with you.  And
+if you tell me a falsehood, I'll soon find it out."
+
+They remained face to face, and Madame Henriette, who looked as if she
+were about to faint, had two pearly tears in the corners of her drooping
+eyes.
+
+Her sister continued:
+
+"What has happened to you?  What is the matter with you?  Answer me!"
+
+Then, in a subdued voice, the other murmured:
+
+"I have--I have a lover."
+
+And, hiding her forehead on the shoulder of her younger sister, she
+sobbed.
+
+Then, when she had grown a little calmer, when the heaving of her breast
+had subsided, she commenced to unbosom herself, as if to cast forth this
+secret from herself, to empty this sorrow of hers into a sympathetic
+heart.
+
+Thereupon, holding each other's hands tightly clasped, the two women went
+over to a sofa in a dark corner of the room, into which they sank, and
+the younger sister, passing her arm over the elder one's neck, and
+drawing her close to her heart, listened.
+
+
+"Oh! I know that there was no excuse for me; I do not understand myself,
+and since that day I feel as if I were mad.  Be careful, my child, about
+yourself--be careful!  If you only knew how weak we are, how quickly we
+yield, and fall.  It takes so little, so little, so little, a moment of
+tenderness, one of those sudden fits of melancholy which come over you,
+one of those longings to open, your arms, to love, to cherish something,
+which we all have at certain moments.
+
+"You know my husband, and you know how fond I am of him; but he is mature
+and sensible, and cannot even comprehend the tender vibrations of a
+woman's heart.  He is always the same, always good, always smiling,
+always kind, always perfect.  Oh!  how I sometimes have wished that he
+would clasp me roughly in his arms, that he would embrace me with those
+slow, sweet kisses which make two beings intermingle, which are like mute
+confidences!  How I have wished that he were foolish, even weak, so that
+he should have need of me, of my caresses, of my tears!
+
+"This all seems very silly; but we women are made like that.  How can we
+help it?
+
+"And yet the thought of deceiving him never entered my mind.  Now it has
+happened, without love, without reason, without anything, simply because
+the moon shone one night on the Lake of Lucerne.
+
+"During the month when we were travelling together, my husband, with his
+calm indifference, paralyzed my enthusiasm, extinguished my poetic ardor.
+When we were descending the mountain paths at sunrise, when as the four
+horses galloped along with the diligence, we saw, in the transparent
+morning haze, valleys, woods, streams, and villages, I clasped my hands
+with delight, and said to him: 'How beautiful it is, dear!  Give me a
+kiss!  Kiss me now!' He only answered, with a smile of chilling
+kindliness: 'There is no reason why we should kiss each other because you
+like the landscape.'
+
+"And his words froze me to the heart.  It seems to me that when people
+love each other, they ought to feel more moved by love than ever, in the
+presence of beautiful scenes.
+
+"In fact, I was brimming over with poetry which he kept me from
+expressing.  I was almost like a boiler filled with steam and
+hermetically sealed.
+
+"One evening (we had for four days been staying in a hotel at Fluelen)
+Robert, having one of his sick headaches, went to bed immediately after
+dinner, and I went to take a walk all alone along the edge of the lake.
+
+"It was a night such as one reads of in fairy tales.  The full moon
+showed itself in the middle of the sky; the tall mountains, with their
+snowy crests, seemed to wear silver crowns; the waters of the lake
+glittered with tiny shining ripples.  The air was mild, with that kind of
+penetrating warmth which enervates us till we are ready to faint, to be
+deeply affected without any apparent cause.  But how sensitive, how
+vibrating the heart is at such moments! how quickly it beats, and how
+intense is its emotion!
+
+"I sat down on the grass, and gazed at that vast, melancholy, and
+fascinating lake, and a strange feeling arose in me; I was seized with an
+insatiable need of love, a revolt against the gloomy dullness of my life.
+What! would it never be my fate to wander, arm in arm, with a man I
+loved, along a moon-kissed bank like this?  Was I never to feel on my
+lips those kisses so deep, delicious, and intoxicating which lovers
+exchange on nights that seem to have been made by God for tenderness?
+Was I never to know ardent, feverish love in the moonlit shadows of a
+summer's night?
+
+"And I burst out weeping like a crazy woman.  I heard something stirring
+behind me.  A man stood there, gazing at me.  When I turned my head
+round, he recognized me, and, advancing, said:
+
+"'You are weeping, madame?'
+
+"It was a young barrister who was travelling with his mother, and whom we
+had often met.  His eyes had frequently followed me.
+
+"I was so confused that I did not know what answer to give or what to
+think of the situation.  I told him I felt ill.
+
+"He walked on by my side in a natural and respectful manner, and began
+talking to me about what we had seen during our trip.  All that I had
+felt he translated into words; everything that made me thrill he
+understood perfectly, better than I did myself.  And all of a sudden he
+repeated some verses of Alfred de Musset.  I felt myself choking, seized
+with indescribable emotion.  It seemed to me that the mountains
+themselves, the lake, the moonlight, were singing to me about things
+ineffably sweet.
+
+"And it happened, I don't know how, I don't know why, in a sort of
+hallucination.
+
+"As for him, I did not see him again till the morning of his departure.
+
+"He gave me his card!"
+
+And, sinking into her sister's arms, Madame Letore broke into groans--
+almost into shrieks.
+
+Then, Madame Roubere, with a self-contained and serious air, said very
+gently:
+
+"You see, sister, very often it is not a man that we love, but love
+itself.  And your real lover that night was the moonlight."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE FIRST SNOWFALL
+
+The long promenade of La Croisette winds in a curve along the edge of the
+blue water.  Yonder, to the right, Esterel juts out into the sea in the
+distance, obstructing the view and shutting out the horizon with its
+pretty southern outline of pointed summits, numerous and fantastic.
+
+To the left, the isles of Sainte Marguerite and Saint Honorat, almost
+level with the water, display their surface, covered with pine trees.
+
+And all along the great gulf, all along the tall mountains that encircle
+Cannes, the white villa residences seem to be sleeping in the sunlight.
+You can see them from a distance, the white houses, scattered from the
+top to the bottom of the mountains, dotting the dark greenery with specks
+like snow.
+
+Those near the water have gates opening on the wide promenade which is
+washed by the quiet waves.  The air is soft and balmy.  It is one of
+those warm winter days when there is scarcely a breath of cool air.
+Above the walls of the gardens may be seen orange trees and lemon trees
+full of golden fruit.  Ladies are walking slowly across the sand of the
+avenue, followed by children rolling hoops, or chatting with gentlemen.
+
+A young woman has just passed out through the door of her coquettish
+little house facing La Croisette.  She stops for a moment to gaze at the
+promenaders, smiles, and with an exhausted air makes her way toward an
+empty bench facing the sea.  Fatigued after having gone twenty paces, she
+sits down out of breath.  Her pale face seems that of a dead woman.  She
+coughs, and raises to her lips her transparent fingers as if to stop
+those paroxysms that exhaust her.
+
+She gazes at the sky full of sunshine and swallows, at the zigzag summits
+of the Esterel over yonder, and at the sea, the blue, calm, beautiful
+sea, close beside her.
+
+She smiles again, and murmurs:
+
+"Oh! how happy I am!"
+
+She knows, however, that she is going to die, that she will never see the
+springtime, that in a year, along the same promenade, these same people
+who pass before her now will come again to breathe the warm air of this
+charming spot, with their children a little bigger, with their hearts all
+filled with hopes, with tenderness, with happiness, while at the bottom
+of an oak coffin, the poor flesh which is still left to her to-day will
+have decomposed, leaving only her bones lying in the silk robe which she
+has selected for a shroud.
+
+She will be no more.  Everything in life will go on as before for others.
+For her, life will be over, over forever.  She will be no more.  She
+smiles, and inhales as well as she can, with her diseased lungs, the
+perfumed air of the gardens.
+
+And she sinks into a reverie.
+
+She recalls the past.  She had been married, four years ago, to a Norman
+gentleman.  He was a strong young man, bearded, healthy-looking, with
+wide shoulders, narrow mind, and joyous disposition.
+
+They had been united through financial motives which she knew nothing
+about.  She would willingly have said No.  She said Yes, with a movement
+of the head, in order not to thwart her father and mother.  She was a
+Parisian, gay, and full of the joy of living.
+
+Her husband brought her home to his Norman chateau.  It was a huge stone
+building surrounded by tall trees of great age.  A high clump of pine
+trees shut out the view in front.  On the right, an opening in the trees
+presented a view of the plain, which stretched out in an unbroken level
+as far as the distant, farmsteads.  A cross-road passed before the gate
+and led to the high road three kilometres away.
+
+Oh!  she recalls everything, her arrival, her first day in her new abode,
+and her isolated life afterward.
+
+When she stepped out of the carriage, she glanced at the old building,
+and laughingly exclaimed:
+
+"It does not look cheerful!"
+
+Her husband began to laugh in his turn, and replied:
+
+"Pooh! we get used to it!  You'll see.  I never feel bored in it, for my
+part."
+
+That day they passed their time in embracing each other, and she did not
+find it too long.  This lasted fully a month.  The days passed one after
+the other in insignificant yet absorbing occupations.  She learned the
+value and the importance of the little things of life.  She knew that
+people can interest themselves in the price of eggs, which cost a few
+centimes more or less according to the seasons.
+
+It was summer.  She went to the fields to see the men harvesting.  The
+brightness of the sunshine found an echo in her heart.
+
+The autumn came.  Her husband went out shooting.  He started in the
+morning with his two dogs Medor and Mirza.  She remained alone, without
+grieving, moreover, at Henry's absence.  She was very fond of him, but
+she did not miss him.  When he returned home, her affection was
+especially bestowed on the dogs.  She took care of them every evening
+with a mother's tenderness, caressed them incessantly, gave them a
+thousand charming little names which she had no idea of applying to her
+husband.
+
+He invariably told her all about his sport.  He described the places
+where he found partridges, expressed his astonishment at not having
+caught any hares in Joseph Ledentu's clever, or else appeared indignant
+at the conduct of M. Lechapelier, of Havre, who always went along the
+edge of his property to shoot the game that he, Henry de Parville, had
+started.
+
+She replied: "Yes, indeed! it is not right," thinking of something else
+all the while.
+
+The winter came, the Norman winter, cold and rainy.  The endless floods
+of rain came down tin the slates of the great gabled roof, rising like a
+knife blade toward the sky.  The roads seemed like rivers of mud, the
+country a plain of mud, and no sound could be heard save that of water
+falling; no movement could be seen save the whirling flight of crows that
+settled down like a cloud on a field and then hurried off again.
+
+About four o'clock, the army of dark, flying creatures came and perched
+in the tall beeches at the left of the chateau, emitting deafening cries.
+During nearly an hour, they flew from tree top to tree top, seemed to be
+fighting, croaked, and made a black disturbance in the gray branches.
+She gazed at them each evening with a weight at her heart, so deeply was
+she impressed by the lugubrious melancholy of the darkness falling on the
+deserted country.
+
+Then she rang for the lamp, and drew near the fire.  She burned heaps of
+wood without succeeding in warming the spacious apartments reeking with
+humidity.  She was cold all day long, everywhere, in the drawing-room, at
+meals, in her own apartment.  It seemed to her she was cold to the marrow
+of her bones.  Her husband only came in to dinner; he was always out
+shooting, or else he was superintending sowing the seed, tilling the
+soil, and all the work of the country.
+
+He would come back jovial, and covered with mud, rubbing his hands as he
+exclaimed:
+
+"What wretched weather!"
+
+Or else:
+
+"A fire looks comfortable!"
+
+Or sometimes:
+
+"Well, how are you to-day?  Are you in good spirits?"
+
+He was happy, in good health, without desires, thinking of nothing save
+this simple, healthy, and quiet life.
+
+About December, when the snow had come, she suffered so much from the
+icy-cold air of the chateau which seemed to have become chilled in
+passing through the centuries just as human beings become chilled with
+years, that she asked her husband one evening:
+
+"Look here, Henry!  You ought to have a furnace put into the house; it
+would dry the walls.  I assure you that I cannot keep warm from morning
+till night."
+
+At first he was stunned at this extravagant idea of introducing a furnace
+into his manor-house.  It would have seemed more natural to him to have
+his dogs fed out of silver dishes.  He gave a tremendous laugh from the
+bottom of his chest as he exclaimed:
+
+"A furnace here!  A furnace here!  Ha! ha! ha!  what a good joke!"
+
+She persisted:
+
+"I assure you, dear, I feel frozen; you don't feel it because you are
+always moving about; but all the same, I feel frozen."
+
+He replied, still laughing:
+
+"Pooh!  you'll get used to it, and besides it is excellent for the
+health.  You will only be all the better for it.  We are not Parisians,
+damn it! to live in hot-houses.  And, besides, the spring is quite near."
+
+About the beginning of January, a great misfortune befell her.  Her
+father and mother died in a carriage accident.  She came to Paris for the
+funeral.  And her sorrow took entire possession of her mind for about six
+months.
+
+The mildness of the beautiful summer days finally roused her, and she
+lived along in a state of sad languor until autumn.
+
+When the cold weather returned, she was brought face to face, for the
+first time, with the gloomy future.  What was she to do?  Nothing.  What
+was going to happen to her henceforth?  Nothing.  What expectation, what
+hope, could revive her heart?  None.  A doctor who was consulted declared
+that she would never have children.
+
+Sharper, more penetrating still than the year before, the cold made her
+suffer continually.
+
+She stretched out her shivering hands to the big flames.  The glaring
+fire burned her face; but icy whiffs seemed to glide down her back and to
+penetrate between her skin and her underclothing.  And she shivered from
+head to foot.  Innumerable draughts of air appeared to have taken up
+their abode in the apartment, living, crafty currents of air as cruel as
+enemies.  She encountered them at every moment; they blew on her
+incessantly their perfidious and frozen hatred, now on her face, now on
+her hands, and now on her back.
+
+Once more she spoke of a furnace; but her husband listened to her request
+as if she were asking for the moon.  The introduction of such an
+apparatus at Parville appeared to him as impossible as the discovery of
+the Philosopher's Stone.
+
+Having been at Rouen on business one day, he brought back to his wife a
+dainty foot warmer made of copper, which he laughingly called a "portable
+furnace"; and he considered that this would prevent her henceforth from
+ever being cold.
+
+Toward the end of December she understood that she could not always live
+like this, and she said timidly one evening at dinner:
+
+"Listen, dear!  Are we, not going to spend a week or two in Paris before
+spring:"
+
+He was stupefied.
+
+"In Paris?  In Paris?  But what are we to do there?  Ah! no by Jove!  We
+are better off here.  What odd ideas come into your head sometimes."
+
+She faltered:
+
+"It might distract us a little."
+
+He did not understand.
+
+"What is it you want to distract you?  Theatres, evening parties, dinners
+in town?  You knew, however, when you came here, that you ought not to
+expect any distractions of this kind!"
+
+She saw a reproach in these words, and in the tone in which they were
+uttered.  She relapsed into silence.  She was timid and gentle, without
+resisting power and without strength of will.
+
+In January the cold weather returned with violence.  Then the snow
+covered the earth.
+
+One evening, as she watched the great black cloud of crows dispersing
+among the trees, she began to weep, in spite of herself.
+
+Her husband came in.  He asked in great surprise:
+
+"What is the matter with you?"
+
+He was happy, quite happy, never having dreamed of another life or other
+pleasures.  He had been born and had grown up in this melancholy
+district.  He felt contented in his own house, at ease in body and mind.
+
+He did not understand that one might desire incidents, have a longing for
+changing pleasures; he did not understand that it does not seem natural
+to certain beings to remain in the same place during the four seasons; he
+seemed not to know that spring, summer, autumn, and winter have, for
+multitudes of persons, fresh amusements in new places.
+
+She could say nothing in reply, and she quickly dried her eyes.  At last
+she murmured in a despairing tone:
+
+"I am--I--I am a little sad--I am a little bored."
+
+But she was terrified at having even said so much, and added very
+quickly:
+
+"And, besides--I am--I am a little cold."
+
+This last plea made him angry.
+
+"Ah! yes, still your idea of the furnace.  But look here, deuce take it!
+you have not had one cold since you came here."
+
+Night came on.  She went up to her room, for she had insisted on having a
+separate apartment.  She went to bed.  Even in bed she felt cold.  She
+thought:
+
+"It will be always like this, always, until I die."
+
+And she thought of her husband.  How could he have said:
+
+"You--have not had one cold since you came here"?
+
+She would have to be ill, to cough before he could understand what she
+suffered!
+
+And she was filled with indignation, the angry indignation of a weak,
+timid being.
+
+She must cough.  Then, perhaps, he would take pity on her.  Well, she
+would cough; he should hear her coughing; the doctor should be called in;
+he should see, her husband, he should see.
+
+She got out of bed, her legs and her feet bare, and a childish idea made
+her smile:
+
+"I want a furnace, and I must have it.  I shall cough so much that he'll
+have to put one in the house."
+
+And she sat down in a chair in her nightdress.  She waited an hour, two
+hours.  She shivered, but she did not catch cold.  Then she resolved on a
+bold expedient.
+
+She noiselessly left her room, descended the stairs, and opened the gate
+into the garden.
+
+The earth, covered with snows seemed dead.  She abruptly thrust forward
+her bare foot, and plunged it into the icy, fleecy snow.  A sensation of
+cold, painful as a wound, mounted to her heart.  However, she stretched
+out the other leg, and began to descend the steps slowly.
+
+Then she advanced through the grass saying to herself:
+
+"I'll go as far as the pine trees."
+
+She walked with quick steps, out of breath, gasping every time she
+plunged her foot into the snow.
+
+She touched the first pine tree with her hand, as if to assure herself
+that she had carried out her plan to the end; then she went back into the
+house.  She thought two or three times that she was going to fall, so
+numbed and weak did she feel.  Before going in, however, she sat down in
+that icy fleece, and even took up several handfuls to rub on her chest.
+
+Then she went in and got into bed.  It seemed to her at the end of an
+hour that she had a swarm of ants in her throat, and that other ants were
+running all over her limbs.  She slept, however.
+
+Next day she was coughing and could not get up.
+
+She had inflammation of the lungs.  She became delirious, and in her
+delirium she asked for a furnace.  The doctor insisted on having one put
+in.  Henry yielded, but with visible annoyance.
+
+She was incurable.  Her lungs were seriously affected, and those about
+her feared for her life.
+
+"If she remains here, she will not last until the winter," said the
+doctor.
+
+She was sent south.  She came to Cannes, made the acquaintance of the
+sun, loved the sea, and breathed the perfume of orange blossoms.
+
+Then, in the spring, she returned north.
+
+But she now lived with the fear of being cured, with the fear of the long
+winters of Normandy; and as soon as she was better she opened her window
+by night and recalled the sweet shores of the Mediterranean.
+
+And now she is going to die.  She knows it and she is happy.
+
+She unfolds a newspaper which she has not already opened, and reads this
+heading:
+
+"The first snow in Paris."
+
+She shivers and then smiles.  She looks across at the Esterel, which is
+becoming rosy in the rays of the setting sun.  She looks at the vast blue
+sky, so blue, so very blue, and the vast blue sea, so very blue also, and
+she rises from her seat.
+
+And then she returned to the house with slow steps, only stopping to
+cough, for she had remained out too long and she was cold, a little cold.
+
+She finds a letter from her husband.  She opens it, still smiling, and
+she reads:
+
+     "MY DEAR LOVE: I hope you are well, and that you do not regret too
+     much our beautiful country.  For some days last we have had a good
+     frost, which presages snow.  For my part, I adore this weather, and
+     you my believe that I do not light your damned furnace."
+
+She ceases reading, quite happy at the thought that she had her furnace
+put in.  Her right hand, which holds the letter, falls slowly on her lap,
+while she raises her left hand to her mouth, as if to calm the obstinate
+cough which is racking her chest.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SUNDAYS OF A BOURGEOIS
+
+                      PREPARATIONS FOR THE EXCURSION
+
+M. Patissot, born in Paris, after having failed in his examinations at
+the College Henri IV., like many others, had entered the government
+service through the influence of one of his aunts, who kept a tobacco
+store where the head of one of the departments bought his provisions.
+
+He advanced very slowly, and would, perhaps, have died a fourth-class
+clerk without the aid of a kindly Providence, which sometimes watches
+over our destiny.  He is today fifty-two years old, and it is only at
+this age that he is beginning to explore, as a tourist, all that part of
+France which lies between the fortifications and the provinces.
+
+The story of his advance might be useful to many employees, just as the
+tale of his excursions may be of value to many Parisians who will take
+them as a model for their own outings, and will thus, through his
+example, avoid certain mishaps which occurred to him.
+
+In 1854 he only enjoyed a salary of 1,800 francs.  Through a peculiar
+trait of his character he was unpopular with all his superiors, who let
+him languish in the eternal and hopeless expectation of the clerk's
+ideal, an increase of salary.  Nevertheless he worked; but he did not
+know how to make himself appreciated.  He had too much self-respect, he
+claimed.  His self-respect consisted in never bowing to his superiors in
+a low and servile manner, as did, according to him, certain of his
+colleagues, whom he would not mention.  He added that his frankness
+embarrassed many people, for, like all the rest, he protested against
+injustice and the favoritism shown to persons entirely foreign to the
+bureaucracy.  But his indignant voice never passed beyond the little cage
+where he worked.
+
+First as a government clerk, then as a Frenchman and finally as a man who
+believed in order he would adhere to whatever government was established,
+having an unbounded reverence for authority, except for that of his
+chiefs.
+
+Each time that he got the chance he would place himself where he could
+see the emperor pass, in order to have the honor of taking his hat off to
+him; and he would go away puffed up with pride at having bowed to the
+head of the state.
+
+From his habit of observing the sovereign he did as many others do; he
+imitated the way he trimmed his beard or arranged his hair, the cut of
+his clothes, his walk, his mannerisms.  Indeed, how many men in each
+country seemed to be the living images of the head of the government!
+Perhaps he vaguely resembled Napoleon III., but his hair was black;
+therefore he dyed it, and then the likeness was complete; and when he met
+another gentleman in the street also imitating the imperial countenance
+he was jealous and looked at him disdainfully.  This need of imitation
+soon became his hobby, and, having heard an usher at the Tuilleries
+imitate the voice of the emperor, he also acquired the same intonations
+and studied slowness.
+
+He thus became so much like his model that they might easily have been
+mistaken for each other, and certain high dignitaries were heard to
+remark that they found it unseemly and even vulgar; the matter was
+mentioned to the prime minister, who ordered that the employee should
+appear before him.  But at the sight of him he began to laugh and
+repeated two or three times: "That's funny, really funny!"  This was
+repeated, and the following day Patissot's immediate superior recommended
+that his subordinate receive an increase of salary of three hundred
+francs.  He received it immediately.
+
+From that time on his promotions came regularly, thanks to his ape-like
+faculty of imitation.  The presentiment that some high honor might come
+to him some day caused his chiefs to speak to him with deference.
+
+When the Republic was proclaimed it was a disaster for him.  He felt
+lost, done for, and, losing his head, he stopped dyeing his hair, shaved
+his face clean and had his hair cut short, thus acquiring a paternal and
+benevolent expression which could not compromise him in any way.
+
+Then his chiefs took revenge for the long time during which he had
+imposed upon them, and, having all turned Republican through an instinct
+of self preservation, they cut down his salary and delayed his promotion.
+He, too, changed his opinions.  But the Republic not being a palpable and
+living person whom one can resemble, and the presidents succeeding each
+other with rapidity, he found himself plunged in the greatest
+embarrassment, in terrible distress, and, after an unsuccessful imitation
+of his last ideal, M. Thiers, he felt a check put on all his attempts at
+imitation.  He needed a new manifestation of his personality.  He
+searched for a long time; then, one morning, he arrived at the office
+wearing a new hat which had on the side a small red, white and blue
+rosette.  His colleagues were astounded; they laughed all that day, the
+next day, all the week, all the month.  But the seriousness of his
+demeanor at last disconcerted them, and once more his superiors became
+anxious.  What mystery could be hidden under this sign?  Was it a simple
+manifestation of patriotism, or an affirmation of his allegiance to the
+Republic, or perhaps the badge of some powerful association?  But to wear
+it so persistently he must surely have some powerful and hidden
+protection.  It would be well to be on one's guard, especially as he
+received all pleasantries with unruffled calmness.  After that he was
+treated with respect, and his sham courage saved him; he was appointed
+head clerk on the first of January, 1880.  His whole life had been spent
+indoors.  He hated noise and bustle, and because of this love of rest and
+quiet he had remained a bachelor.  He spent his Sundays reading tales of
+adventure and ruling guide lines which he afterward offered to his
+colleagues.  In his whole existence he had only taken three vacations of
+a week each, when he was changing his quarters.  But sometimes, on a
+holiday, he would leave by an excursion train for Dieppe or Havre in
+order to elevate his mind by the inspiring sight of the sea.
+
+He was full of that common sense which borders on stupidity.  For a long
+time he had been living quietly, with economy, temperate through
+prudence, chaste by temperament, when suddenly he was assailed by a
+terrible apprehension.  One evening in the street he suddenly felt an
+attack of dizziness which made him fear a stroke of apoplexy.  He
+hastened to a physician and for five francs obtained the following
+prescription:
+
+     M. X-, fifty-five years old, bachelor, clerk.  Full-blooded,
+     danger of apoplexy.  Cold-water applications, moderate nourishment,
+     plenty of exercise.       MONTELLIER, M.D.
+
+Patissot was greatly distressed, and for a whole month, in his office, he
+kept a wet towel wrapped around his head like a turban while the water
+continually dripped on his work, which he would have to do over again.
+Every once in a while he would read the prescription over, probably in
+the hope of finding some hidden meaning, of penetrating into the secret
+thought of the physician, and also of discovering some forms of exercise
+which, might perhaps make him immune from apoplexy.
+
+Then he consulted his friends, showing them the fateful paper.  One
+advised boxing.  He immediately hunted up an instructor, and, on the
+first day, he received a punch in the nose which immediately took away
+all his ambition in this direction.  Single-stick made him gasp for
+breath, and he grew so stiff from fencing that for two days and two
+nights he could not get sleep.  Then a bright idea struck him.  It was to
+walk, every Sunday, to some suburb of Paris and even to certain places in
+the capital which he did not know.
+
+For a whole week his mind was occupied with thoughts of the equipment
+which you need for these excursions; and on Sunday, the 30th of May, he
+began his preparations.  After reading all the extraordinary
+advertisements which poor, blind and halt beggars distribute on the
+street corners, he began to visit the stores with the intention of
+looking about him only and of buying later on.  First of all, he visited
+a so-called American shoe store, where heavy travelling shoes were shown
+him.  The clerk brought out a kind of ironclad contrivance, studded with
+spikes like a harrow, which he claimed to be made from Rocky Mountain
+bison skin.  He was so carried away with them that he would willingly
+have bought two pair, but one was sufficient.  He carried them away under
+his arm, which soon be came numb from the weight.  He next invested in a
+pair of corduroy trousers, such as carpenters wear, and a pair of oiled
+canvas leggings.  Then he needed a knapsack for his provisions, a
+telescope so as to recognize villages perched on the slope of distant
+hills, and finally, a government survey map to enable him to find his way
+about without asking the peasants toiling in the fields.  Lastly, in
+order more comfortably to stand the heat, he decided to purchase a light
+alpaca jacket offered by the famous firm of Raminau, according to their
+advertisement, for the modest sum of six francs and fifty centimes.  He
+went to this store and was welcomed by a distinguished-looking young man
+with a marvellous head of hair, nails as pink as those of a lady and a
+pleasant smile.  He showed him the garment.  It did not correspond with
+the glowing style of the advertisement.  Then Patissot hesitatingly
+asked, "Well, monsieur, will it wear well?" The young man turned his eyes
+away in well-feigned embarrassment, like an honest man who does not wish
+to deceive a customer, and, lowering his eyes, he said in a hesitating
+manner: "Dear me, monsieur, you understand that for six francs fifty we
+cannot turn out an article like this for instance."  And he showed him a
+much finer jacket than the first one.  Patissot examined it and asked the
+price.  "Twelve francs fifty."  It was very tempting, but before
+deciding, he once more questioned the big young man, who was observing
+him attentively.  "And--is that good?  Do you guarantee it?" "Oh!
+certainly, monsieur, it is quite goad!  But, of course, you must not get
+it wet!  Yes, it's really quite good, but you understand that there are
+goods and goods.  It's excellent for the price.  Twelve francs fifty,
+just think.  Why, that's nothing at all.  Naturally a twenty-five-franc
+coat is much better.  For twenty-five francs you get a superior quality,
+as strong as linen, and which wears even better.  If it gets wet a little
+ironing will fix it right up.  The color never fades, and it does not
+turn red in the sunlight.  It is the warmest and lightest material out."
+He unfolded his wares, holding them up, shaking them, crumpling and
+stretching them in order to show the excellent quality of the cloth.  He
+talked on convincingly, dispelling all hesitation by words and gesture.
+Patissot was convinced; he bought the coat.  The pleasant salesman, still
+talking, tied up the bundle and continued praising the value of the
+purchase.  When it was paid for he was suddenly silent.  He bowed with a
+superior air, and, holding the door open, he watched his customer
+disappear, both arms filled with bundles and vainly trying to reach his
+hat to bow.
+
+M. Patissot returned home and carefully studied the map.  He wished to
+try on his shoes, which were more like skates than shoes, owing to the
+spikes.  He slipped and fell, promising himself to be more careful in the
+future.  Then he spread out all his purchases on a chair and looked at
+them for a long time.  He went to sleep with this thought: "Isn't it
+strange that I didn't think before of taking an excursion to the
+country?"
+
+During the whole week Patissot worked without ambition.  He was dreaming
+of the outing which he had planned for the following Sunday, and he was
+seized by a sudden longing for the country, a desire of growing tender
+over nature, this thirst for rustic scenes which overwhelms the Parisians
+in spring time.
+
+Only one person gave him any attention; it was a silent old copying clerk
+named Boivin, nicknamed Boileau.  He himself lived in the country and had
+a little garden which he cultivated carefully; his needs were small, and
+he was perfectly happy, so they said.  Patissot was now able to
+understand his tastes and the similarity of their ideals made them
+immediately fast friends.  Old man Boivin said to him:
+
+"Do I like fishing, monsieur?  Why, it's the delight of my life!"
+
+Then Patissot questioned him with deep interest.  Boivin named all the
+fish who frolicked under this dirty water--and Patissot thought he could
+see them.  Boivin told about the different hooks, baits, spots and times
+suitable for each kind.  And Patissot felt himself more like a fisherman
+than Boivin himself.  They decided that the following Sunday they would
+meet for the opening of the season for the edification of Patissot, who
+was delighted to have found such an experienced instructor.
+
+
+
+                            FISHING EXCURSION
+
+The day before the one when he was, for the first time in his life, to
+throw a hook into a river, Monsieur Patissot bought, for eighty centimes,
+"How to Become a Perfect Fisherman."  In this work he learned many useful
+things, but he was especially impressed by the style, and he retained the
+following passage:
+
+"In a word, if you wish, without books, without rules, to fish
+successfully, to the left or to the right, up or down stream, in the
+masterly manner that halts at no difficulty, then fish before, during and
+after a storm, when the clouds break and the sky is streaked with
+lightning, when the earth shakes with the grumbling thunder; it is then
+that, either through hunger or terror, all the fish forget their habits
+in a turbulent flight.
+
+"In this confusion follow or neglect all favorable signs, and just go on
+fishing; you will march to victory!"
+
+In order to catch fish of all sizes, he bought three well-perfected
+poles, made to be used as a cane in the city, which, on the river, could
+be transformed into a fishing rod by a simple jerk.  He bought some
+number fifteen hooks for gudgeon, number twelve for bream, and with his
+number seven he expected to fill his basket with carp.  He bought no
+earth worms because he was sure of finding them everywhere; but he laid
+in a provision of sand worms.  He had a jar full of them, and in the
+evening he watched them with interest.  The hideous creatures swarmed in
+their bath of bran as they do in putrid meat.  Patissot wished to
+practice baiting his hook.  He took up one with disgust, but he had
+hardly placed the curved steel point against it when it split open.
+Twenty times he repeated this without success, and he might have
+continued all night had he not feared to exhaust his supply of vermin.
+
+He left by the first train.  The station was full of people equipped with
+fishing lines.  Some, like Patissot's, looked like simple bamboo canes;
+others, in one piece, pointed their slender ends to the skies.  They
+looked like a forest of slender sticks, which mingled and clashed like
+swords or swayed like masts over an ocean of broad-brimmed straw hats.
+
+When the train started fishing rods could be seen sticking out of all the
+windows and doors, giving to the train the appearance of a huge, bristly
+caterpillar winding through the fields.
+
+Everybody got off at Courbevoie and rushed for the stage for Bezons.  A
+crowd of fishermen crowded on top of the coach, holding their rods in
+their hands, giving the vehicle the appearance of a porcupine.
+
+All along the road men were travelling in the same direction as though on
+a pilgrimage to an unknown Jerusalem.  They were carrying those long,
+slender sticks resembling those carried by the faithful returning from
+Palestine.  A tin box on a strap was fastened to their backs.  They were
+in a hurry.
+
+At Bezons the river appeared.  People were lined along bath banks, men in
+frock coats, others in duck suits, others in blouses, women, children and
+even young girls of marriageable age; all were fishing.
+
+Patissot started for the dam where his friend Boivin was waiting for him.
+The latter greeted him rather coolly.  He had just made the acquaintance
+of a big, fat man of about fifty, who seemed very strong and whose skin
+was tanned.  All three hired a big boat and lay off almost under the fall
+of the dam, where the fish are most plentiful.
+
+Boivin was immediately ready.  He baited his line and threw it out, and
+then sat motionless, watching the little float with extraordinary
+concentration.  From time to time he would jerk his line out of the water
+and cast it farther out.  The fat gentleman threw out his well-baited
+hooks, put his line down beside him, filled his pipe, lit it, crossed his
+arms, and, without another glance at the cork, he watched the water flow
+by.  Patissot once more began trying to stick sand worms on his hooks.
+After about five minutes of this occupation he called to Boivin;
+"Monsieur Boivin, would you be so kind as to help me put these creatures
+on my hook?  Try as I will, I can't seem to succeed."  Boivin raised his
+head: "Please don't disturb me, Monsieur Patissot; we are not here for
+pleasure!"  However, he baited the line, which Patissot then threw out,
+carefully imitating all the motions of his friend.
+
+The boat was tossing wildly, shaken by the waves, and spun round like a
+top by the current, although anchored at both ends.  Patissot, absorbed
+in the sport, felt a vague kind of uneasiness; he was uncomfortably heavy
+and somewhat dizzy.
+
+They caught nothing.  Little Boivin, very nervous, was gesticulating and
+shaking his head in despair.  Patissot was as sad as though some disaster
+had overtaken him.  The fat gentleman alone, still motionless, was
+quietly smoking without paying any attention to his line.  At last
+Patissot, disgusted, turned toward him and said in a mournful voice:
+
+"they are not biting, are they?"
+
+He quietly replied:
+
+"Of course not!"
+
+Patissot surprised, looked at him.
+
+"Do you ever catch many?"
+
+"Never!"
+
+"What!  Never?"
+
+The fat man, still smoking like a factory chimney, let out the following
+words, which completely upset his neighbor:
+
+"It would bother me a lot if they did bite.  I don't come here to fish; I
+come because I'm very comfortable here; I get shaken up as though I were
+at sea.  If I take a line along, it's only to do as others do."
+
+Monsieur Patissot, on the other hand, did not feel at all well.  His
+discomfort, at first vague, kept increasing, and finally took on a
+definite form.  He felt, indeed, as though he were being tossed by the
+sea, and he was suffering from seasickness.  After the first attack had
+calmed down, he proposed leaving, but Boivin grew so furious that they
+almost came to blows.  The fat man, moved by pity, rowed the boat back,
+and, as soon as Patissot had recovered from his seasickness, they
+bethought themselves of luncheon.
+
+Two restaurants presented themselves.  One of them, very small, looked
+like a beer garden, and was patronized by the poorer fishermen.  The
+other one, which bore the imposing name of "Linden Cottage," looked like
+a middle-class residence and was frequented by the aristocracy of the
+rod.  The two owners, born enemies, watched each other with hatred across
+a large field, which separated them, and where the white house of the dam
+keeper and of the inspector of the life-saving department stood out
+against the green grass.  Moreover, these two officials disagreed, one of
+them upholding the beer garden and the other one defending the Elms, and
+the internal feuds which arose in these three houses reproduced the whole
+history of mankind.
+
+Boivin, who knew the beer garden, wished to go there, exclaiming: "The
+food is very good, and it isn't expensive; you'll see.  Anyhow, Monsieur
+Patissot, you needn't expect to get me tipsy the way you did last Sunday.
+My wife was furious, you know; and she has sworn never to forgive you!"
+
+The fat gentleman declared that he would only eat at the Elms, because it
+was an excellent place and the cooking was as good as in the best
+restaurants in Paris.
+
+"Do as you wish," declared Boivin ; "I am going where I am accustomed to
+go."  He left.  Patissot, displeased at his friend's actions, followed
+the fat gentleman.
+
+They ate together, exchanged ideas, discussed opinions and found that
+they were made for each other.
+
+After the meal everyone started to fish again, but the two new friends
+left together.  Following along the banks, they stopped near the railroad
+bridge and, still talking, they threw their lines in the water.  The fish
+still refused to bite, but Patissot was now making the best of it.
+
+A family was approaching.  The father, whose whiskers stamped him as a
+judge, was holding an extraordinarily long rod; three boys of different
+sizes were carrying poles of different lengths, according to age; and the
+mother, who was very stout, gracefully manoeuvred a charming rod with a
+ribbon tied to the handle.  The father bowed and asked:
+
+"Is this spot good, gentlemen?" Patissot was going to speak, when his
+friend answered: "Fine!" The whole family smiled and settled down beside
+the fishermen.  The Patissot was seized with a wild desire to catch a
+fish, just one, any kind, any size, in order to win the consideration of
+these people; so he began to handle his rod as he had seen Boivin do in
+the morning.  He would let the cork follow the current to the end of the
+line, jerk the hooks out of the water, make them describe a large circle
+in the air and throw them out again a little higher up.  He had even, as
+he thought, caught the knack of doing this movement gracefully.  He had
+just jerked his line out rapidly when he felt it caught in something
+behind him.  He tugged, and a scream burst from behind him.  He
+perceived, caught on one of his hooks, and describing in the air a curve
+like a meteor, a magnificent hat which he placed right in the middle of
+the river.
+
+He turned around, bewildered, dropping his pole, which followed the hat
+down the stream, while the fat gentleman, his new friend, lay on his back
+and roared with laughter.  The lady, hatless and astounded, choked with
+anger; her husband was outraged and demanded the price of the hat, and
+Patissot paid about three times its value.
+
+Then the family departed in a very dignified manner.
+
+Patissot took another rod, and, until nightfall, he gave baths to sand
+worms.  His neighbor was sleeping peacefully on the grass.  Toward seven
+in the evening he awoke.
+
+"Let's go away from here!" he said.
+
+Then Patissot withdrew his line, gave a cry and sat down hard from
+astonishment.  At the end of the string was a tiny little fish.  When
+they looked at him more closely they found that he had been hooked
+through the stomach; the hook had caught him as it was being drawn out of
+the water.
+
+Patissot was filled with a boundless, triumphant joy; he wished to have
+the fish fried for himself alone.
+
+During the dinner the friends grew still more intimate.  He learned that
+the fat gentleman lived at Argenteuil and had been sailing boats for
+thirty years without losing interest in the sport.  He accepted to take
+luncheon with him the following Sunday and to take a sail in his friend's
+clipper, Plongeon.  He became so interested in the conversation that he
+forgot all about his catch.  He did not remember it until after the
+coffee, and he demanded that it be brought him.  It was alone in the
+middle of a platter, and looked like a yellow, twisted match, But he ate
+it with pride and relish, and at night, on the omnibus, he told his
+neighbors that he had caught fourteen pounds of fish during the day.
+
+
+                             TWO CELEBRITIES
+
+Monsieur Patissot had promised his friend, the boating man, that he would
+spend the following Sunday with him.  An unforeseen occurrence changed
+his plan.  One evening, on the boulevard, he met one of his cousins whom
+he saw but very seldom.  He was a pleasant journalist, well received in
+all classes of society, who offered to show Patissot many interesting
+things.
+
+"What are you going to do next Sunday?"
+
+"I'm going boating at Argenteuil."
+
+"Come on!  Boating is an awful bore; there is no variety to it.  Listen-
+I'll take you along with me.  I'll introduce you to two celebrities.  We
+will visit the homes of two artists."
+
+"But I have been ordered to go to the country!"
+
+"That's just where we'll go.  On the way we'll call on Meissonier, at his
+place in Poissy; then we'll walk over to Medan, where Zola lives.  I have
+been commissioned to obtain his next novel for our newspaper."
+
+Patissot, wild with joy, accepted the invitation.  He even bought a new
+frock coat, as his own was too much worn to make a good appearance.  He
+was terribly afraid of saying something foolish either to the artist or
+to the man of letters, as do people who speak of an art which they have
+never professed.
+
+He mentioned his fears to his cousin, who laughed and answered: "Pshaw!
+Just pay them compliments, nothing but compliments, always compliments;
+in that way, if you say anything foolish it will be overlooked.  Do you
+know Meissonier's paintings?"
+
+"I should say I do."
+
+"Have you read the Rougon-Macquart series?"
+
+"From first to last."
+
+"That's enough.  Mention a painting from time to time, speak of a novel
+here and there and add:
+
+'Superb!  Extraordinary!  Delightful technique!  Wonderfully powerful!'
+In that way you can always get along.  I know that those two are very
+blase about everything, but admiration always pleases an artist."
+
+Sunday morning they left for Poissy.
+
+Just a few steps from the station, at the end of the church square, they
+found Meissonier's property.  After passing through a low door, painted
+red, which led into a beautiful alley of vines, the journalist stopped
+and, turning toward his companion, asked:
+
+"What is your idea of Meissonier?"
+
+Patissot hesitated.  At last he decided: "A little man, well groomed,
+clean shaven, a soldierly appearance."  The other smiled: "All right,
+come along."  A quaint building in the form of a chalet appeared to the
+left; and to the right side, almost opposite, was the main house.  It was
+a strange-looking building, where there was a mixture of everything, a
+mingling of Gothic fortress, manor, villa, hut, residence, cathedral,
+mosque, pyramid, a, weird combination of Eastern and Western
+architecture.  The style was complicated enough to set a classical
+architect crazy, and yet there was something whimsical and pretty about
+it.  It had been invented and built under the direction of the artist.
+
+They went in; a collection of trunks encumbered a little parlor.  A
+little man appeared, dressed in a jumper.  The striking thing about him
+was his beard.  He bowed to the journalist, and said: "My dear sir, I
+hope that you will excuse me; I only returned yesterday, and everything
+is all upset here.  Please be seated."  The other refused, excusing
+himself: "My dear master, I only dropped in to pay my respects while
+passing by."  Patissot, very much embarrassed, was bowing at every word
+of his friend's, as though moving automatically, and he murmured,
+stammering: "What a su--su--superb property!" The artist, flattered,
+smiled, and suggested visiting it.
+
+He led them first to a little pavilion of feudal aspect, where his former
+studio was.  Then they crossed a parlor, a dining-room, a vestibule full
+of beautiful works of art, of beautiful Beauvais, Gobelin and Flanders
+tapestries.  But the strange external luxury of ornamentation became,
+inside, a revel of immense stairways.  A magnificent grand stairway, a
+secret stairway in one tower, a servants' stairway in another, stairways
+everywhere!  Patissot, by chance, opened a door and stepped back
+astonished.  It was a veritable temple, this place of which respectable
+people only mention the name in English, an original and charming
+sanctuary in exquisite taste, fitted up like a pagoda, and the decoration
+of which must certainly have caused a great effort.
+
+They next visited the park, which was complex, varied, with winding paths
+and full of old trees.  But the journalist insisted on leaving; and, with
+many thanks, he took leave of the master: As they left they met a
+gardener; Patissot asked him: "Has Monsieur Meissonier owned this place
+for a long time?" The man answered: "Oh, monsieur!  that needs
+explaining.  I guess he bought the grounds in 1846.  But, as for the
+house!  he has already torn down and rebuilt that five or six times.  It
+must have cost him at least two millions!"  As Patissot left he was
+seized with an immense respect for this man, not on account of his
+success, glory or talent, but for putting so much money into a whim,
+because the bourgeois deprive themselves of all pleasure in order to
+hoard money.
+
+After crossing Poissy, they struck out on foot along the road to Medan.
+The road first followed the Seine, which is dotted with charming islands
+at this place.  Then they went up a hill and crossed the pretty village
+of Villaines, went down a little; and finally reached the neighborhood
+inhabited by the author of the Rougon-Macquart series.
+
+A pretty old church with two towers appeared on the left.  They walked
+along a short distance, and a passing farmer directed them to the
+writer's dwelling.
+
+Before entering, they examined the house.  A large building, square and
+new, very high, seemed, as in the fable of the mountain and the mouse, to
+have given birth to a tiny little white house, which nestled near it.
+This little house was the original dwelling, and had been built by the
+former owner.  The tower had been erected by Zola.
+
+They rang the bell.  An enormous dog, a cross between a Saint Bernard and
+a Newfoundland, began to howl so terribly that Patissot felt a vague
+desire to retrace his steps.  But a servant ran forward, calmed
+"Bertrand," opened the door, and took the journalist's card in order to
+carry it to his master.
+
+"I hope that he will receive us!" murmured Patissot.  "It would be too
+bad if we had come all this distance not to see him."
+
+His companion smiled and answered: "Never fear, I have a plan for getting
+in."
+
+But the servant, who had returned, simply asked them to follow him.
+
+They entered the new building, and Patissot, who was quite enthusiastic,
+was panting as he climbed a stairway of ancient style which led to the
+second story.
+
+At the same time he was trying to picture to himself this man whose
+glorious name echoes at present in all corners of the earth, amid the
+exasperated hatred of some, the real or feigned indignation of society,
+the envious scorn of several of his colleagues, the respect of a mass of
+readers, and the frenzied admiration of a great number.  He expected to
+see a kind of bearded giant, of awe-inspiring aspect, with a thundering
+voice and an appearance little prepossessing at first.
+
+The door opened on a room of uncommonly large dimensions, broad and high,
+lighted by an enormous window looking out over the valley.  Old
+tapestries covered the walls; on the left, a monumental fireplace,
+flanked by two stone men, could have burned a century-old oak in one day.
+An immense table littered with books, papers and magazines stood in the
+middle of this apartment so vast and grand that it first engrossed the
+eye, and the attention was only afterward drawn to the man, stretched out
+when they entered on an Oriental divan where twenty persons could have
+slept.  He took a few steps toward them, bowed, motioned to two seats,
+and turned back to his divan, where he sat with one leg drawn under him.
+A book lay open beside him, and in his right hand he held an ivory paper-
+cutter, the end of which he observed from time to time with one eye,
+closing the other with the persistency of a near-sighted person.
+
+While the journalist explained the purpose of the visit, and the writer
+listened to him without yet answering, at times staring at him fixedly,
+Patissot, more and more embarrassed, was observing this celebrity.
+
+Hardly forty, he was of medium height, fairly stout, and with a good-
+natured look.  His head (very similar to those found in many Italian
+paintings of the sixteenth century), without being beautiful in the
+plastic sense of the word, gave an impression of great strength of
+character, power and intelligence.  Short hair stood up straight on the
+high, well-developed forehead.  A straight nose stopped short, as if cut
+off suddenly above the upper lip which was covered with a black mustache;
+over the whole chin was a closely-cropped beard.  The dark, often
+ironical look was piercing, one felt that behind it there was a mind
+always actively at work observing people, interpreting words, analyzing
+gestures, uncovering the heart.  This strong, round head was appropriate
+to his name, quick and short, with the bounding resonance of the two
+vowels.
+
+When the journalist had fully explained his proposition, the writer
+answered him that he did not wish to make any definite arrangement, that
+he would, however, think the matter over, that his plans were not yet
+sufficiently defined.  Then he stopped.  It was a dismissal, and the two
+men, a little confused, arose.  A desire seized Patissot ; he wished this
+well-known person to say something to him, anything, some word which he
+could repeat to his colleagues; and, growing bold, he stammered: "Oh,
+monsieur!  If you knew how I appreciate your works!"  The other bowed,
+but answered nothing.  Patissot became very bold and continued: "It is a
+great honor for me to speak to you to-day."  The writer once more bowed,
+but with a stiff and impatient look.  Patissot noticed it, and,
+completely losing his head, he added as he retreated: "What a su--su
+--superb property!"
+
+Then, in the heart of the man of letters, the landowner awoke, and,
+smiling, he opened the window to show them the immense stretch of view.
+An endless horizon broadened out on all sides, giving a view of Triel,
+Pisse-Fontaine, Chanteloup, all the heights of Hautrie, and the Seine as
+far as the eye could see.  The two visitors, delighted, congratulated
+him, and the house was opened to them.  They saw everything, down to the
+dainty kitchen, whose walls and even ceilings were covered with porcelain
+tiles ornamented with blue designs, which excited the wonder of the
+farmers.
+
+"How did you happen to buy this place?" asked the journalist.
+
+The novelist explained that, while looking for a cottage to hire for the
+summer, he had found the little house, which was for sale for several
+thousand francs, a song, almost nothing.  He immediately bought it.
+
+"But everything that you have added must have cost you a good deal!"
+
+The writer smiled, and answered: "Yes, quite a little."
+
+The two men left.  The journalist, taking Patissot by the arm, was
+philosophizing in a low voice:
+
+"Every general has his Waterloo," he said; "every Balzac has his Jardies,
+and every artist living in the country feels like a landed proprietor."
+
+They took the train at the station of Villaines, and, on the way home,
+Patissot loudly mentioned the names of the famous painter and of the
+great novelist as though they were his friends.  He even allowed people
+to think that he had taken luncheon with one and dinner with the other.
+
+
+                          BEFORE THE CELEBRATION
+
+The celebration is approaching and preliminary quivers are already
+running through the streets, just as the ripples disturb the water
+preparatory to a storm.  The shops, draped with flags, display a variety
+of gay-colored bunting materials, and the dry-goods people deceive one
+about the three colors as grocers do about the weight of candles.  Little
+by little, hearts warm up to the matter; people speak about it in the
+street after dinner; ideas are exchanged:
+
+"What a celebration it will be, my friend; what a celebration!"
+
+"Have you heard the news?  All the rulers are coming incognito, as
+bourgeois, in order to see it."
+
+"I hear that the Emperor of Russia has arrived; he expects to go about
+everywhere with the Prince of Wales."
+
+"It certainly will be a fine celebration!"
+
+It is going to a celebration; what Monsieur Patissot, Parisian bourgeois,
+calls a celebration; one of these nameless tumults which, for fifteen
+hours, roll from one end of the city to the other, every ugly specimen
+togged out in its finest, a mob of perspiring bodies, where side by side
+are tossed about the stout gossip bedecked in red, white and blue
+ribbons, grown fat behind her counter and panting from lack of breath,
+the rickety clerk with his wife and brat in tow, the laborer carrying his
+youngster astride his neck, the bewildered provincial with his foolish,
+dazed expression, the groom, barely shaved and still spreading the
+perfume of the stable.  And the foreigners dressed like monkeys, English
+women like giraffes, the water-carrier, cleaned up for the occasion, and
+the innumerable phalanx of little bourgeois, inoffensive little people,
+amused at everything.  All this crowding and pressing, the sweat and
+dust, and the turmoil, all these eddies of human flesh, trampling of
+corns beneath the feet of your neighbors, this city all topsy-turvy,
+these vile odors, these frantic efforts toward nothing, the breath of
+millions of people, all redolent of garlic, give to Monsieur Patissot all
+the joy which it is possible for his heart to hold.
+
+After reading the proclamation of the mayor on the walls of his district
+he had made his preparations.
+
+This bit of prose said:
+
+     I wish to call your attention particularly to the part of
+     individuals in this celebration.  Decorate your homes, illuminate
+     your windows.  Get together, open up a subscription in order to give
+     to your houses and to your street a more brilliant and more artistic
+     appearance than the neighboring houses and streets.
+
+Then Monsieur Patissot tried to imagine how he could give to his home an
+artistic appearance.
+
+One serious obstacle stood in the way.  His only window looked out on a
+courtyard, a narrow, dark shaft, where only the rats could have seen his
+three Japanese lanterns.
+
+He needed a public opening.  He found it.  On the first floor of his
+house lived a rich man, a nobleman and a royalist, whose coachman, also a
+reactionary, occupied a garret-room on the sixth floor, facing the
+street.  Monsieur Patissot supposed that by paying (every conscience can
+be bought) he could obtain the use of the room for the day.  He proposed
+five francs to this citizen of the whip for the use of his room from noon
+till midnight.  The offer was immediately accepted.
+
+Then he began to busy himself with the decorations.  Three flags, four
+lanterns, was that enough to give to this box an artistic appearance--to
+express all the noble feelings of his soul?  No; assuredly not!  But,
+notwithstanding diligent search and nightly meditation, Monsieur Patissot
+could think of nothing else.  He consulted his neighbors, who were
+surprised at the question; he questioned his colleagues--every one had
+bought lanterns and flags, some adding, for the occasion, red, white and
+blue bunting.
+
+Then he began to rack his brains for some original idea.  He frequented
+the cafes, questioning the patrons; they lacked imagination.  Then one
+morning he went out on top of an omnibus.  A respectable-looking
+gentleman was smoking a cigar beside him, a little farther away a laborer
+was smoking his pipe upside down, near the driver two rough fellows were
+joking, and clerks of every description were going to business for three
+cents.
+
+Before the stores stacks of flags were resplendent under the rising sun.
+Patissot turned to his neighbor.
+
+"It is going to be a fine celebration," he said.  The gentleman looked at
+him sideways and answered in a haughty manner:
+
+"That makes no difference to me!"
+
+"You are not going to take part in it?" asked the surprised clerk.  The
+other shook his head disdainfully and declared:
+
+"They make me tired with their celebrations!  Whose celebration is it?
+The government's?  I do not recognize this government, monsieur!"
+
+But Patissot, as government employee, took on his superior manner, and
+answered in a stern voice:
+
+"Monsieur, the Republic is the government."
+
+His neighbor was not in the least disturbed, and, pushing his hands down
+in his pockets, he exclaimed:
+
+"Well, and what then?  It makes no difference to me.  Whether it's for
+the Republic or something else, I don't care!  What I want, monsieur, is
+to know my government.  I saw Charles X. and adhered to him, monsieur; I
+saw Louis-Philippe and adhered to him, monsieur; I saw Napoleon and
+adhered to him; but I have never seen the Republic."
+
+Patissot, still serious, answered:
+
+"The Republic, monsieur, is represented by its president!"
+
+The other grumbled:
+
+"Well, them, show him to me!"
+
+Patissot shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Every one can see him; he's not shut up in a closet!"
+
+Suddenly the fat man grew angry.
+
+"Excuse me, monsieur, he cannot be seen.  I have personally tried more
+than a hundred times, monsieur.  I have posted myself near the Elysee; he
+did not come out.  A passer-by informed me that he was playing billiards
+in the cafe opposite; I went to the cafe opposite; he was not there.
+I had been promised that he would go to Melun for the convention; I went
+to Melun, I did not see him.  At last I became weary.  I did not even see
+Monsieur Gambetta, and I do not know a single deputy."
+
+He was, growing excited:
+
+"A government, monsieur, is made to be seen; that's what it's there for,
+and for nothing else.  One must be able to know that on such and such a
+day at such an hour the government will pass through such and such a
+street.  Then one goes there and is satisfied."
+
+Patissot, now calm, was enjoying his arguments.
+
+"It is true," he said, "that it is agreeable to know the people by whom
+one is governed."
+
+The gentleman continued more gently:
+
+"Do you know how I would manage the celebration?  Well, monsieur, I would
+have a procession of gilded cars, like the chariots used at the crowning
+of kings; in them I would parade all the members of the government, from
+the president to the deputies, throughout Paris all day long.  In that
+manner, at least, every one would know by sight the personnel of the
+state."
+
+But one of the toughs near the coachman turned around, exclaiming:
+
+"And the fatted ox, where would you put him?"
+
+A laugh ran round the two benches.  Patissot understood the objection,
+and murmured:
+
+"It might not perhaps be very dignified."
+
+The gentleman thought the matter over and admitted it.
+
+"Then," he said, "I would place them in view some place, so that every
+one could see them without going out of his way; on the Triumphal Arch at
+the Place de l'Etoile, for instance; and I would have the whole
+population pass before them.  That would be very imposing."
+
+Once more the tough turned round and said:
+
+"You'd have to take telescopes to see their faces."
+
+The gentleman did not answer; he continued:
+
+"It's just like the presentation of the flags!  There ought, to be some
+pretext, a mimic war ought to be organized, and the banners would be
+awarded to the troops as a reward.  I had an idea about which I wrote to
+the minister; but he has not deigned to answer me.  As the taking of the
+Bastille has been chosen for the date of the national celebration, a
+reproduction of this event might be made; there would be a pasteboard
+Bastille, fixed up by a scene-painter and concealing within its walls the
+whole Column of July.  Then, monsieur, the troop would attack.  That
+would be a magnificent spectacle as well as a lesson, to see the army
+itself overthrow the ramparts of tyranny.  Then this Bastille would be
+set fire to and from the midst of the flames would appear the Column with
+the genius of Liberty, symbol of a new order and of the freedom of the
+people."
+
+This time every one was listening to him and finding his idea excellent.
+An old gentleman exclaimed:
+
+"That is a great idea, monsieur, which does you honor.  It is to be
+regretted that the government did not adopt it."
+
+A young man declared that actors ought to recite the "Iambes" of Barbier
+through the streets in order to teach the people art and liberty
+simultaneously.
+
+These propositions excited general enthusiasm.  Each one wished to have
+his word; all were wrought up.  From a passing hand-organ a few strains
+of the Marseillaise were heard; the laborer started the song, and
+everybody joined in, roaring the chorus.  The exalted nature of the song
+and its wild rhythm fired the driver, who lashed his horses to a gallop.
+Monsieur Patissot was bawling at the top of his lungs, and the passengers
+inside, frightened, were wondering what hurricane had struck them.
+
+At last they stopped, and Monsieur Patissot, judging his neighbor to be a
+man of initiative, consulted him about the preparations which he expected
+to make:
+
+"Lanterns and flags are all right,"' said Patissot ; "but I prefer
+something better."
+
+The other thought for a long time, but found nothing.  Then, in despair,
+the clerk bought three flags and four lanterns.
+
+
+                          AN EXPERIMENT IN LOVE
+
+Many poets think that nature is incomplete without women, and hence,
+doubtless, come all the flowery comparisons which, in their songs, make
+our natural companion in turn a rose, a violet, a tulip, or something of
+that order.  The need of tenderness which seizes us at dusk, when the
+evening mist begins to roll in from the hills, and when all the perfumes
+of the earth intoxicate us, is but imperfectly satisfied by lyric
+invocations.  Monsieur Patissot, like all others, was seized with a wild
+desire for tenderness, for sweet kisses exchanged along a path where
+sunshine steals in at times, for the pressure of a pair of small hands,
+for a supple waist bending under his embrace.
+
+He began to look at love as an unbounded pleasure, and, in his hours of
+reverie, he thanked the Great Unknown for having put so much charm into
+the caresses of human beings.  But he needed a companion, and he did not
+know where to find one.  On the advice of a friend, he went to the
+Folies-Bergere.  There he saw a complete assortment.  He was greatly
+perplexed to choose between them, for the desires of his heart were
+chiefly composed of poetic impulses, and poetry did not seem to be the
+strong point of these young ladies with penciled eyebrows who smiled at
+him in such a disturbing manner, showing the enamel of their false teeth.
+At last his choice fell on a young beginner who seemed poor and timid and
+whose sad look seemed to announce a nature easily influenced-by poetry.
+
+He made an appointment with her for the following day at nine o'clock at
+the Saint-Lazare station.  She did not come, but she was kind enough to
+send a friend in her stead.
+
+She was a tall, red-haired girl, patriotically dressed in three colors,
+and covered by an immense tunnel hat, of which her head occupied the
+centre.  Monsieur Patissot, a little disappointed, nevertheless accepted
+this substitute.  They left for Maisons-Laffite, where regattas and a
+grand Venetian festival had been announced.
+
+As soon as they were in the car, which was already occupied by two
+gentlemen who wore the red ribbon and three ladies who must at least have
+been duchesses, they were so dignified, the big red-haired girl, who
+answered the name of Octavie, announced to Patissot, in a screeching
+voice, that she was a fine girl fond of a good time and loving the
+country because there she could pick flowers and eat fried fish.  She
+laughed with a shrillness which almost shattered the windows, familiarly
+calling her companion "My big darling."
+
+Shame overwhelmed Patissot, who as a government employee, had to observe
+a certain amount of decorum.  But Octavie stopped talking, glancing at
+her neighbors, seized with the overpowering desire which haunts all women
+of a certain class to make the acquaintance of respectable women.  After
+about five minutes she thought she had found an opening, and, drawing
+from her pocket a Gil-Blas, she politely offered it to one of the amazed
+ladies, who declined, shaking her head.  Then the big, red-haired girl
+began saying things with a double meaning, speaking of women who are
+stuck up without being any better than the others; sometimes she would
+let out a vulgar word which acted like a bomb exploding amid the icy
+dignity of the passengers.
+
+At last they arrived.  Patissot immediately wished to gain the shady
+nooks of the park, hoping that the melancholy of the forest would quiet
+the ruffled temper of his companion.  But an entirely different effect
+resulted.  As soon as she was amid the leaves and grass she began to sing
+at the top of her lungs snatches from operas which had stuck in her
+frivolous mind, warbling and trilling, passing from "Robert le Diable" to
+the "Muette," lingering especially on a sentimental love-song, whose last
+verses she sang in a voice as piercing as a gimlet.
+
+Then suddenly she grew hungry.  Patissot, who was still awaiting the
+hoped-for tenderness, tried in vain to retain her.  Then she grew angry,
+exclaiming:
+
+"I am not here for a dull time, am I?"
+
+He had to take her to the Petit-Havre restaurant, which was near the
+place where the regatta was to be held.
+
+She ordered an endless luncheon, a succession of dishes substantial
+enough to feed a regiment.  Then, unable to wait, she called for
+relishes.  A box of sardines was brought; she started in on it as though
+she intended to swallow the box itself.  But when she had eaten two or
+three of the little oily fish she declared that she was no longer hungry
+and that she wished to see the preparations for the race.
+
+Patissot, in despair and in his turn seized with hunger, absolutely
+refused to move.  She started off alone, promising to return in time for
+the dessert.  He began to eat in lonely silence, not knowing how to lead
+this rebellious nature to the realization of his dreams.
+
+As she did not return he set out in search of her.  She had found some
+friends, a troop of boatmen, in scanty garb, sunburned to the tips of
+their ears, and gesticulating, who were loudly arranging the details of
+the race in front of the house of Fourmaise, the builder.
+
+Two respectable-looking gentlemen, probably the judges, were listening
+attentively.  As soon as she saw Patissot, Octavie, who was leaning on
+the tanned arm of a strapping fellow who probably had more muscle than
+brains, whispered a few words in his ears.  He answered:
+
+"That's an agreement."
+
+She returned to the clerk full of joy, her eyes sparkling, almost
+caressing.
+
+"Let's go for a row," said she.
+
+Pleased to see her so charming, he gave in to this new whim and procured
+a boat.  But she obstinately refused to go to the races, notwithstanding
+Patissot's wishes.
+
+"I had rather be alone with you, darling."
+
+His heart thrilled.  At last!
+
+He took off his coat and began to row madly.
+
+An old dilapidated mill, whose worm-eaten wheels hung over the water,
+stood with its two arches across a little arm of the river.  Slowly they
+passed beneath it, and, when they were on the other side, they noticed
+before them a delightful little stretch of river, shaded by great trees
+which formed an arch over their heads.  The little stream flowed along,
+winding first to the right and then to the left, continually revealing
+new scenes, broad fields on one side and on the other side a hill covered
+with cottages.  They passed before a bathing establishment almost
+entirely hidden by the foliage, a charming country spot where gentlemen
+in clean gloves and beribboned ladies displayed all the ridiculous
+awkwardness of elegant people in the country.  She cried joyously:
+
+"Later on we will take a dip there."
+
+Farther on, in a kind of bay, she wished to stop, coaxing:
+
+"Come here, honey, right close to me."
+
+She put her arm around his neck and, leaning her head on his shoulder,
+she murmured:
+
+"How nice it is!  How delightful it is on the water!"
+
+Patissot was reveling in happiness.  He was thinking of those foolish
+boatmen who, without ever feeling the penetrating charm of the river
+banks and the delicate grace of the reeds, row along out of breath,
+perspiring and tired out, from the tavern where they take luncheon to the
+tavern where they take dinner.
+
+He was so comfortable that he fell asleep.  When he awoke, he was alone.
+He called, but no one answered.  Anxious, he climbed up on the side of
+the river, fearing that some accident might have happened.
+
+Then, in the distance, coming in his direction, he saw a long, slender
+gig which four oarsmen as black as negroes were driving through the water
+like an arrow.  It came nearer, skimming over the water; a woman was
+holding the tiller.  Heavens!  It looked--it was she!  In order to
+regulate the rhythm of the stroke, she was singing in her shrill voice a
+boating song, which she interrupted for a minute as she got in front of
+Patissot.  Then, throwing him a kiss, she cried:
+
+"You big goose!"
+
+
+                        A DINNER AND SOME OPINIONS
+
+On the occasion of the national celebration Monsieur Antoine Perdrix,
+chief of Monsieur Patissot's department, was made a knight of the Legion
+of Honor.  He had been in service for thirty years under preceding
+governments, and for ten years under the present one.  His employees,
+although grumbling a little at being thus rewarded in the person of their
+chief, thought it wise, nevertheless, to offer him a cross studded with
+paste diamonds.  The new knight, in turn, not wishing to be outdone,
+invited them all to dinner for the following Sunday, at his place at
+Asnieres.
+
+The house, decorated with Moorish ornaments, looked like a cafe concert,
+but its location gave it value, as the railroad cut through the whole
+garden, passing within a hundred and fifty feet of the porch.  On the
+regulation plot of grass stood a basin of Roman cement, containing
+goldfish and a stream of water the size of that which comes from a
+syringe, which occasionally made microscopic rainbows at which the guests
+marvelled.
+
+The feeding of this irrigator was the constant preoccupation of Monsieur
+Perdrix, who would sometimes get up at five o'clock in the morning in
+order to fill the tank.  Then, in his shirt sleeves, his big stomach
+almost bursting from his trousers, he would pump wildly, so that on
+returning from the office he could have the satisfaction of letting the
+fountain play and of imagining that it was cooling off the garden.
+
+On the night of the official dinner all the guests, one after the other,
+went into ecstasies over the surroundings, and each time they heard a
+train in the distance, Monsieur Perdrix would announce to them its
+destination: Saint-Germain, Le Havre, Cherbourg, or Dieppe, and they
+would playfully wave to the passengers leaning from the windows.
+
+The whole office force was there.  First came Monsieur Capitaine, the
+assistant chief; Monsieur Patissot, chief clerk; then Messieurs de
+Sombreterre and Vallin, elegant young employees who only came to the
+office when they had to; lastly Monsieur Rade, known throughout the
+ministry for the absurd doctrines which he upheld, and the copying clerk,
+Monsieur Boivin.
+
+Monsieur Rade passed for a character.  Some called him a dreamer or an
+idealist, others a revolutionary; every one agreed that he was very
+clumsy.  Old, thin and small, with bright eyes and long, white hair, he
+had all his life professed a profound contempt for administrative work.
+A book rummager and a great reader, with a nature continually in revolt
+against everything, a seeker of truth and a despiser of popular
+prejudices, he had a clear and paradoxical manner of expressing his
+opinions which closed the mouths of self-satisfied fools and of those
+that were discontented without knowing why.  People said: "That old fool
+of a Rade," or else: "That harebrained Rade"; and the slowness, of his
+promotion seemed to indicate the reason, according to commonplace minds.
+His freedom of speech often made--his colleagues tremble; they asked
+themselves with terror how he had been able to keep his place as long as
+he had.  As soon as they had seated themselves, Monsieur Perdrix thanked
+his "collaborators" in a neat little speech, promising them his
+protection, the more valuable as his power grew, and he ended with a
+stirring peroration in which he thanked and glorified a government so
+liberal and just that it knows how to seek out the worthy from among the
+humble.
+
+Monsieur Capitaine, the assistant chief, answered in the name of the
+office, congratulated, greeted, exalted, sang the praises of all; frantic
+applause greeted these two bits of eloquence.  After that they settled
+down seriously to the business of eating.
+
+Everything went well up to the dessert; lack of conversation went
+unnoticed.  But after the coffee a discussion arose, and Monsieur Rade
+let himself loose and soon began to overstep the bounds of discretion.
+
+They naturally discussed love, and a breath of chivalry intoxicated this
+room full of bureaucrats; they praised and exalted the superior beauty of
+woman, the delicacy of hex soul, her aptitude for exquisite things, the
+correctness of her judgment, and the refinement of her sentiments.
+Monsieur Rade began to protest, energetically refusing to credit the so-
+called "fair" sex with all the qualities they ascribed to it; then,
+amidst the general indignation, he quoted some authors:
+
+"Schopenhauer, gentlemen, Schopenhauer, the great philosopher, revered by
+all Germany, says: 'Man's intelligence must have been terribly deadened
+by love in order to call this sex with the small waist, narrow shoulders,
+large hips and crooked legs, the fair sex.  All its beauty lies in the
+instinct of love.  Instead of calling it the fair, it would have been
+better to call it the unaesthetic sex.  Women have neither the
+appreciation nor the knowledge of music, any more than they have of
+poetry or of the plastic arts; with them it is merely an apelike
+imitation, pure pretence, affectation cultivated from their desire to
+please.'"
+
+"The man who said that is an idiot," exclaimed Monsieur de Sombreterre.
+
+Monsieur Rade smilingly continued:
+
+"And how about Rousseau, gentlemen?  Here is his opinion: 'Women, as a
+rule, love no art, are skilled in none, and have no talent.'"
+
+Monsieur de Sombreterre disdainfully shrugged his shoulders:
+
+"Then Rousseau is as much of a fool as the other, that's all."
+
+Monsieur Rade, still smiling, went on:
+
+"And this is what Lord Byron said, who, nevertheless, loved women: 'They
+should be well fed and well dressed, but not allowed to mingle with
+society.  They should also be taught religion, but they should ignore
+poetry and politics, only being allowed to read religious works or cook-
+books.'"
+
+Monsieur Rade continued:
+
+"You see, gentlemen, all of them study painting and music.  But not a
+single one of them has ever painted a remarkable picture or composed a
+great opera!  Why, gentlemen?  Because they are the 'sexes sequior', the
+secondary sex in every sense of the word, made to be kept apart, in the
+background."
+
+Monsieur Patissot was growing angry, and exclaimed:
+
+"And how about Madame Sand, monsieur?"
+
+"She is the one exception, monsieur, the one exception.  I will quote to
+you another passage from another great philosopher, this one an
+Englishman, Herbert Spencer.  Here is what he says: 'Each sex is capable,
+under the influence of abnormal stimulation, of manifesting faculties
+ordinarily reserved for the other one.  Thus, for instance, in extreme
+cases a special excitement may cause the breasts of men to give milk;
+children deprived of their mothers have often thus been saved in time of
+famine.  Nevertheless, we do not place this faculty of giving milk among
+the male attributes.  It is the same with female intelligence, which, in
+certain cases, will give superior products, but which is not to be
+considered in an estimate of the feminine nature as a social factor.'"
+
+All Monsieur Patissot's chivalric instincts were wounded and he declared:
+
+"You are not a Frenchman, monsieur.  French gallantry is a form of
+patriotism."
+
+Monsieur Rade retorted:
+
+"I have very little patriotism, monsieur, as little as I can get along
+with."
+
+A coolness settled over the company, but he continued quietly:
+
+"Do you admit with me that war is a barbarous thing; that this custom of
+killing off people constitutes a condition of savagery; that it is
+odious, when life is the only real good, to see governments, whose duty
+is to protect the lives of their subjects, persistently looking for means
+of destruction?  Am I not right?  Well, if war is a terrible thing, what
+about patriotism, which is the idea at the base of it?  When a murderer
+kills he has a fixed idea; it is to steal.  When a good man sticks his
+bayonet through another good man, father of a family, or, perhaps, a
+great artist, what idea is he following out?"
+
+Everybody was shocked.
+
+"When one has such thoughts, one should not express them in public."
+
+M. Patissot continued:
+
+"There are, however, monsieur, principles which all good people
+recognize."
+
+M. Rade asked: "Which ones?"
+
+Then very solemnly, M. Patissot pronounced: "Morality, monsieur."
+
+M. Rade was beaming; he exclaimed:
+
+"Just let me give you one example, gentlemen, one little example.  What
+is your opinion of the gentlemen with the silk caps who thrive along the
+boulevard's on the delightful traffic which you know, and who make a
+living out of it?"
+
+A look of disgust ran round the table:
+
+"Well, gentlemen!  only a century ago, when an elegant gentleman, very
+ticklish about his honor, had for--friend--a beautiful and rich lady, it
+was considered perfectly proper to live at her expense and even to
+squander her whole fortune.  This game was considered delightful.  This
+only goes to show that the principles of morality are by no means
+settled--and that--"
+
+M. Perdrix, visibly embarrassed, stopped him:
+
+"M. Rade, you are sapping the very foundations of society.  One must
+always have principles.  Thus, in politics, here is M. de Sombreterre,
+who is a Legitimist; M. Vallin, an Orleanist; M. Patissot and myself,
+Republicans; we all have very different principles, and yet we agree very
+well because we have them."
+
+But M. Rade exclaimed:
+
+"I also have principles, gentlemen, very distinct ones."
+
+M. Patissot raised his head and coldly asked:
+
+"It would please me greatly to know them, monsieur."
+
+M. Rade did not need to be coaxed.
+
+"Here they are, monsieur:
+
+"First principle--Government by one person is a monstrosity.
+
+"Second principle--Restricted suffrage is an injustice.
+
+"Third principle--Universal suffrage is idiotic.
+
+"To deliver up millions of men, superior minds, scientists, even
+geniuses, to the caprice and will of a being who, in an instant of
+gaiety, madness, intoxication or love, would not hesitate to sacrifice
+everything for his exalted fancy, would spend the wealth of the country
+amassed by others with difficulty, would have thousands of men
+slaughtered on the battle-fields, all this appears to me--a simple
+logician--a monstrous aberration.
+
+"But, admitting that a country must govern itself, to exclude, on some
+always debatable pretext, a part of the citizens from the administration
+of affairs is such an injustice that it seems to me unworthy of a further
+discussion.
+
+"There remains universal suffrage.  I suppose that you will agree with me
+that geniuses are a rarity.  Let us be liberal and say that there are at
+present five in France.  Now, let us add, perhaps, two hundred men with a
+decided talent, one thousand others possessing various talents, and ten
+thousand superior intellects.  This is a staff of eleven thousand two
+hundred and five minds.  After that you have the army of mediocrities
+followed by the multitude of fools.  As the mediocrities and the fools
+always form the immense majority, it is impossible for them to elect an
+intelligent government.
+
+"In order to be fair I admit that logically universal suffrage seems to
+me the only admissible principle, but it is impracticable.  Here are the
+reasons why:
+
+"To make all the living forces of the country cooperate in the
+government, to represent all the interests, to take into account all the
+rights, is an ideal dream, but hardly practicable, because the only force
+which can be measured is that very one which should be neglected, the
+stupid strength of numbers, According to your method, unintelligent
+numbers equal genius, knowledge, learning, wealth and industry.  When you
+are able to give to a member of the Institute ten thousand votes to a
+ragman's one, one hundred votes for a great land-owner as against his
+farmer's ten, then you will have approached an equilibrium of forces and
+obtained a national representation which will really represent the
+strength of the nation.  But I challenge you to do it.
+
+"Here are my conclusions:
+
+"Formerly, when a man was a failure at every other profession he turned
+photographer; now he has himself elected a deputy.  A government thus
+composed will always be sadly lacking, incapable of evil as well as of
+good.  On the other hand, a despot, if he be stupid, can do a lot of
+harm, and, if he be intelligent (a thing which is very scarce), he may do
+good.
+
+"I cannot decide between these two forms of government; I declare myself
+to be an anarchist, that is to say, a partisan of that power which is the
+most unassuming, the least felt, the most liberal, in the broadest sense
+of the word, and revolutionary at the same time; by that I mean the
+everlasting enemy of this same power, which can in no way be anything but
+defective.  That's all!"
+
+Cries of indignation rose about the table, and all, whether Legitimist,
+Orleanist or Republican through force of circumstances, grew red with
+anger.  M. Patissot especially was choking with rage, and, turning toward
+M. Rade, he cried:
+
+"Then, monsieur, you believe in nothing?"
+
+The other answered quietly:
+
+"You're absolutely correct, monsieur."
+
+The anger felt by all the guests prevented M. Rade from continuing, and
+M. Perdrix, as chief, closed the discussion.
+
+"Enough, gentlemen!  We each have our opinion, and we have no intention
+of changing it."
+
+All agreed with the wise words.  But M. Rade, never satisfied, wished to
+have the last word.
+
+"I have, however, one moral," said he.  "It is simple and always
+applicable.  One sentence embraces the whole thought; here it is: 'Never
+do unto another that which you would not have him do unto you.' I defy
+you to pick any flaw in it, while I will undertake to demolish your most
+sacred principles with three arguments."
+
+This time there was no answer.  But as they were going home at night, by
+couples, each one was saying to his companion: "Really, M. Rade goes much
+too far.  His mind must surely be unbalanced.  He ought to be appointed
+assistant chief at the Charenton Asylum."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A RECOLLECTION
+
+How many recollections of youth come to me in the soft sunlight of early
+spring!  It was an age when all was pleasant, cheerful, charming,
+intoxicating.  How exquisite are the remembrances of those old
+springtimes!
+
+Do you recall, old friends and brothers, those happy years when life was
+nothing but a triumph and an occasion for mirth?  Do you recall the days
+of wanderings around Paris, our jolly poverty, our walks in the fresh,
+green woods, our drinks in the wine-shops on the banks of the Seine and
+our commonplace and delightful little flirtations?
+
+I will tell you about one of these.  It was twelve years ago and already
+appears to me so old, so old that it seems now as if it belonged to the
+other end of life, before middle age, this dreadful middle age from which
+I suddenly perceived the end of the journey.
+
+I was then twenty-five.  I had just come to Paris.  I was in a government
+office, and Sundays were to me like unusual festivals, full of exuberant
+happiness, although nothing remarkable occurred.
+
+Now it is Sunday every day, but I regret the time when I had only one
+Sunday in the week.  How enjoyable it was!  I had six francs to spend!
+
+On this particular morning I awoke with that sense of freedom that all
+clerks know so well--the sense of emancipation, of rest, of quiet and of
+independence.
+
+I opened my window.  The weather was charming.  A blue sky full of
+sunlight and swallows spread above the town.
+
+I dressed quickly and set out, intending to spend the day in the woods
+breathing the air of the green trees, for I am originally a rustic,
+having been brought up amid the grass and the trees.
+
+Paris was astir and happy in the warmth and the light.  The front of the
+houses was bathed in sunlight, the janitress' canaries were singing in
+their cages and there was an air of gaiety in the streets, in the faces
+of the inhabitants, lighting them up with a smile as if all beings and
+all things experienced a secret satisfaction at the rising of the
+brilliant sun.
+
+I walked towards the Seine to take the Swallow, which would land me at
+Saint-Cloud.
+
+How I loved waiting for the boat on the wharf:
+
+It seemed to me that I was about to set out for the ends of the world,
+for new and wonderful lands.  I saw the boat approaching yonder, yonder
+under the second bridge, looking quite small with its plume of smoke,
+then growing larger and ever larger, as it drew near, until it looked to
+me like a mail steamer.
+
+It came up to the wharf and I went on board.  People were there already
+in their Sunday clothes, startling toilettes, gaudy ribbons and bright
+scarlet designs.  I took up a position in the bows, standing up and
+looking at the quays, the trees, the houses and the bridges disappearing
+behind us.  And suddenly I perceived the great viaduct of Point du Jour
+which blocked the river.  It was the end of Paris, the beginning of the
+country, and behind the double row of arches the Seine, suddenly
+spreading out as though it had regained space and liberty, became all at
+once the peaceful river which flows through the plains, alongside the
+wooded hills, amid the meadows, along the edge of the forests.
+
+After passing between two islands the Swallow went round a curved verdant
+slope dotted with white houses.  A voice called out: "Bas Meudon" and a
+little further on, "Sevres," and still further, "Saint-Cloud."
+
+I went on shore and walked hurriedly through the little town to the road
+leading to the wood.
+
+I had brought with me a map of the environs of Paris, so that I might not
+lose my way amid the paths which cross in every direction these little
+forests where Parisians take their outings.
+
+As soon as I was unperceived I began to study my guide, which seemed to
+be perfectly clear.  I was to turn to the right, then to the left, then
+again to the left and I should reach Versailles by evening in time for
+dinner.
+
+I walked slowly beneath the young leaves, drinking in the air, fragrant
+with the odor of young buds and sap.  I sauntered along, forgetful of
+musty papers, of the offices, of my chief, my colleagues, my documents,
+and thinking of the good things that were sure to come to me, of all the
+veiled unknown contained in the future.  A thousand recollections of
+childhood came over me, awakened by these country odors, and I walked
+along, permeated with the fragrant, living enchantment, the emotional
+enchantment of the woods warmed by the sun of June.
+
+At times I sat down to look at all sorts of little flowers growing on a
+bank, with the names of which I was familiar.  I recognized them all just
+as if they were the ones I had seen long ago in the country.  They were
+yellow, red, violet, delicate, dainty, perched on long stems or close to
+the ground.  Insects of all colors and shapes, short, long, of peculiar
+form, frightful, and microscopic monsters, climbed quietly up the stalks
+of grass which bent beneath their weight.
+
+Then I went to sleep for some hours in a hollow and started off again,
+refreshed by my doze.
+
+In front of me lay an enchanting pathway and through its somewhat scanty
+foliage the sun poured down drops of light on the marguerites which grew
+there.  It stretched out interminably, quiet and deserted, save for an
+occasional big wasp, who would stop buzzing now and then to sip from a
+flower, and then continue his way.
+
+All at once I perceived at the end of the path two persons, a man and a
+woman, coming towards me.  Annoyed at being disturbed in my quiet walk, I
+was about to dive into the thicket, when I thought I heard someone
+calling me.  The woman was, in fact, shaking her parasol, and the man, in
+his shirt sleeves, his coat over one arm, was waving the other as a
+signal of distress.
+
+I went towards them.  They were walking hurriedly, their faces very red,
+she with short, quick steps and he with long strides.  They both looked
+annoyed and fatigued.
+
+The woman asked:
+
+"Can you tell me, monsieur, where we are?  My fool of a husband made us
+lose our way, although he pretended he knew the country perfectly."
+
+I replied confidently:
+
+"Madame, you are going towards Saint-Cloud and turning your back on
+Versailles."
+
+With a look of annoyed pity for her husband, she exclaimed:
+
+"What, we are turning our back on Versailles?  Why, that is just where we
+want to dine!"
+
+"I am going there also, madame."
+
+"Mon Dieu, mon Dieu, mon Dieu!" she repeated, shrugging her shoulders,
+and in that tone of sovereign contempt assumed by women to express their
+exasperation.
+
+She was quite young, pretty, a brunette with a slight shadow on her upper
+lip.
+
+As for him, he was perspiring and wiping his forehead.  It was assuredly
+a little Parisian bourgeois couple.  The man seemed cast down, exhausted
+and distressed.
+
+"But, my dear friend, it was you--" he murmured.
+
+She did not allow him to finish his sentence.
+
+"It was I!, Ah, it is my fault now!  Was it I who wanted to go out
+without getting any information, pretending that I knew how to find my
+way?  Was it I who wanted to take the road to the right on top of the
+hill, insisting that I recognized the road?  Was it I who undertook to
+take charge of Cachou--"
+
+She had not finished speaking when her husband, as if he had suddenly
+gone crazy, gave a piercing scream, a long, wild cry that could not be
+described in any language, but which sounded like 'tuituit'.
+
+The young woman did not appear to be surprised or moved and resumed:
+
+"No, really, some people are so stupid and they pretend they know
+everything.  Was it I who took the train to Dieppe last year instead of
+the train to Havre--tell me, was it I?  Was it I who bet that
+M. Letourneur lived in Rue des Martyres?  Was it I who would not believe
+that Celeste was a thief?"
+
+She went on, furious, with a surprising flow of language, accumulating
+the most varied, the most unexpected and the most overwhelming
+accusations drawn from the intimate relations of their daily life,
+reproaching her husband for all his actions, all his ideas, all his
+habits, all his enterprises, all his efforts, for his life from the time
+of their marriage up to the present time.
+
+He strove to check her, to calm her and stammered:
+
+"But, my dear, it is useless--before monsieur.  We are making ourselves
+ridiculous.  This does not interest monsieur."
+
+And he cast mournful glances into the thicket as though he sought to
+sound its peaceful and mysterious depths, in order to flee thither, to
+escape and hide from all eyes, and from time to time he uttered a fresh
+scream, a prolonged and shrill "tuituit."  I took this to be a nervous
+affection.
+
+The young woman, suddenly turning towards me: and changing her tone with
+singular rapidity, said:
+
+"If monsieur will kindly allow us, we will accompany him on the road, so
+as not to lose our way again, and be obliged, possibly, to sleep in the
+wood."
+
+I bowed.  She took my arm and began to talk about a thousand things--
+about herself, her life, her family, her business.  They were glovers in
+the Rue, Saint-Lazare.
+
+Her husband walked beside her, casting wild glances into the thick wood
+and screaming "tuituit" every few moments.
+
+At last I inquired:
+
+"Why do you scream like that?"
+
+"I have lost my poor dog," he replied in a tone of discouragement and
+despair.
+
+"How is that--you have lost your dog?"
+
+"Yes.  He was just a year old.  He had never been outside the shop.
+I wanted to take him to have a run in the woods.  He had never seen the
+grass nor the leaves and he was almost wild.  He began to run about and
+bark and he disappeared in the wood.  I must also add that he was greatly
+afraid of the train.  That may have driven him mad.  I kept on calling
+him, but he has not come back.  He will die of hunger in there."
+
+Without turning towards her husband, the young woman said:
+
+"If you had left his chain on, it would not have happened.  When people
+are as stupid as you are they do not keep a dog."
+
+"But, my dear, it was you--" he murmured timidly.
+
+She stopped short, and looking into his eyes as if she were going to tear
+them out, she began again to cast in his face innumerable reproaches.
+
+It was growing dark.  The cloud of vapor that covers the country at dusk
+was slowly rising and there was a poetry in the air, induced by the
+peculiar and enchanting freshness of the atmosphere that one feels in the
+woods at nightfall.
+
+Suddenly the young man stopped, and feeling his body feverishly,
+exclaimed:
+
+"Oh, I think that I--"
+
+She looked at him.
+
+"Well, what?"
+
+"I did not notice that I had my coat on my arm."
+
+"Well--?"
+
+"I have lost my pocketbook--my money was in it."
+
+She shook with anger and choked with indignation.
+
+"That was all that was lacking.  How stupid you are!  how stupid you are!
+Is it possible that I could have married such an idiot!  Well, go and
+look for it, and see that you find it.  I am going on to Versailles with
+monsieur.  I do not want to sleep in the wood."
+
+"Yes, my dear," he replied gently.  "Where shall I find you?"
+
+A restaurant had been recommended to me.  I gave him the address.
+
+He turned back and, stooping down as he searched the ground with anxious
+eyes, he moved away, screaming "tuituit" every few moments.
+
+We could see him for some time until the growing darkness concealed all
+but his outline, but we heard his mournful "tuituit," shriller and
+shriller as the night grew darker.
+
+As for me, I stepped along quickly and happily in the soft twilight, with
+this little unknown woman leaning on my arm.  I tried to say pretty
+things to her, but could think of nothing.  I remained silent, disturbed,
+enchanted.
+
+Our path was suddenly crossed by a high road.  To the right I perceived a
+town lying in a valley.
+
+What was this place?  A man was passing.  I asked him.  He replied:
+
+"Bougival."
+
+I was dumfounded.
+
+"What, Bougival?  Are you sure?"
+
+"Parbleu, I belong there!"
+
+The little woman burst into an idiotic laugh.
+
+I proposed that we should take a carriage and drive to Versailles.  She
+replied:
+
+"No, indeed.  This is very funny and I am very hungry.  I am really quite
+calm.  My husband will find his way all right.  It is a treat to me to be
+rid of him for a few hours."
+
+We went into a restaurant beside the water and I ventured to ask for a
+private compartment.  We had some supper.  She sang, drank champagne,
+committed all sorts of follies.
+
+That was my first serious flirtation.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+OUR LETTERS
+
+Eight hours of railway travel induce sleep for some persons and insomnia
+for others with me, any journey prevents my sleeping on the following
+night.
+
+At about five o'clock I arrived at the estate of Abelle, which belongs to
+my friends, the Murets d'Artus, to spend three weeks there.  It is a
+pretty house, built by one of their grandfathers in the style of the
+latter half of the last century.  Therefore it has that intimate
+character of dwellings that have always been inhabited, furnished and
+enlivened by the same people.  Nothing changes; nothing alters the soul
+of the dwelling, from which the furniture has never been taken out, the
+tapestries never unnailed, thus becoming worn out, faded, discolored, on
+the same walls.  None of the old furniture leaves the place; only from
+time to time it is moved a little to make room for a new piece, which
+enters there like a new-born infant in the midst of brothers and sisters.
+
+The house is on a hill in the center of a park which slopes down to the
+river, where there is a little stone bridge.  Beyond the water the fields
+stretch out in the distance, and here one can see the cows wandering
+around, pasturing on the moist grass; their eyes seem full of the dew,
+mist and freshness of the pasture.  I love this dwelling, just as one
+loves a thing which one ardently desires to possess.  I return here every
+autumn with infinite delight; I leave with regret.
+
+After I had dined with this friendly family, by whom I was received like
+a relative, I asked my friend, Paul Muret: "Which room did you give me
+this year?"
+
+"Aunt Rose's room."
+
+An hour later, followed by her three children, two little girls and a
+boy, Madame Muret d'Artus installed me in Aunt Rose's room, where I had
+not yet slept.
+
+When I was alone I examined the walls, the furniture, the general aspect
+of the room, in order to attune my mind to it.  I knew it but little, as
+I had entered it only once or twice, and I looked indifferently at a
+pastel portrait of Aunt Rose, who gave her name to the room.
+
+This old Aunt Rose, with her curls, looking at me from behind the glass,
+made very little impression on my mind.  She looked to me like a woman of
+former days, with principles and precepts as strong on the maxims of
+morality as on cooking recipes, one of these old aunts who are the
+bugbear of gaiety and the stern and wrinkled angel of provincial
+families.
+
+I never had heard her spoken of; I knew nothing of her life or of her
+death.  Did she belong to this century or to the preceding one?  Had she
+left this earth after a calm or a stormy existence?  Had she given up to
+heaven the pure soul of an old maid, the calm soul of a spouse, the
+tender one of a mother, or one moved by love?  What difference did it
+make?  The name alone, "Aunt Rose," seemed ridiculous, common, ugly.
+
+I picked up a candle and looked at her severe face, hanging far up in an
+old gilt frame.  Then, as I found it insignificant, disagreeable, even
+unsympathetic, I began to examine the furniture.  It dated from the
+period of Louis XVI, the Revolution and the Directorate.  Not a chair,
+not a curtain had entered this room since then, and it gave out the
+subtle odor of memories, which is the combined odor of wood, cloth,
+chairs, hangings, peculiar to places wherein have lived hearts that have
+loved and suffered.
+
+I retired but did not sleep.  After I had tossed about for an hour or
+two, I decided to get up and write some letters.
+
+I opened a little mahogany desk with brass trimmings, which was placed
+between the two windows, in hope of finding some ink and paper; but all I
+found was a quill-pen, very much worn, and chewed at the end.  I was
+about to close this piece of furniture, when a shining spot attracted my
+attention it looked like the yellow head of a nail.  I scratched it with
+my finger, and it seemed to move.  I seized it between two finger-nails,
+and pulled as hard as I could.  It came toward me gently.  It was a long
+gold pin which had been slipped into a hole in the wood and remained
+hidden there.
+
+Why?  I immediately thought that it must have served to work some spring
+which hid a secret, and I looked.  It took a long time.  After about two
+hours of investigation, I discovered another hole opposite the first one,
+but at the bottom of a groove.  Into this I stuck my pin: a little shelf
+sprang.  toward my face, and I saw two packages of yellow letters, tied
+with a blue ribbon.
+
+I read them.  Here are two of them:
+
+     So you wish me to return to you your letters, my dearest friend.
+     Here they are, but it pains me to obey.  Of what are you afraid?
+     That I might lose them?  But they are under lock and key.  Do you
+     fear that they might be stolen?  I guard against that, for they are
+     my dearest treasure.
+
+     Yes, it pains me deeply.  I wondered whether, perhaps you might not
+     be feeling some regret!  Not regret at having loved me, for I know
+     that you still do, but the regret of having expressed on white paper
+     this living love in hours when your heart did not confide in me, but
+     in the pen that you held in your hand.  When we love, we have need
+     of confession, need of talking or writing, and we either talk or
+     write.  Words fly away, those sweet words made of music, air and
+     tenderness, warm and light, which escape as soon as they are
+     uttered, which remain in the memory alone, but which one can neither
+     see, touch nor kiss, as one can with the words written by your hand.
+
+     Your letters?  Yes, I am returning them to you!  But with what
+     sorrow!
+
+     Undoubtedly, you must have had an after thought of delicate shame at
+     expressions that are ineffaceable.  In your sensitive and timid soul
+     you must have regretted having written to a man that you loved him.
+     You remembered sentences that called up recollections, and you said
+     to yourself: "I will make ashes of those words."
+
+     Be satisfied, be calm.  Here are your letters.  I love you.
+
+
+     MY FRIEND:
+
+     No, you have not understood me, you have not guessed.  I do not
+     regret, and I never shall, that I told you of my affection.
+
+     I will always write to you, but you must return my letters to me as
+     soon as you have read them.
+
+     I shall shock you, my friend, when I tell you the reason for this
+     demand.  It is not poetic, as you imagined, but practical.  I am
+     afraid, not of you, but of some mischance.  I am guilty.  I do not
+     wish my fault to affect others than myself.
+
+     Understand me well.  You and I may both die.  You might fall off
+     your horse, since you ride every day; you might die from a sudden
+     attack, from a duel, from heart disease, from a carriage accident,
+     in a thousand ways.  For, if there is only one death, there are more
+     ways of its reaching us than there are days or us to live.
+
+     Then your sisters, your brother, or your sister-in-law might find my
+     letters!  Do you think that they love me?  I doubt it.  And then,
+     even if they adored me, is it possible for two women and one man to
+     know a secret--such a secret!--and not to tell of it?
+
+     I seem to be saying very disagreeable things, speaking first of your
+     death, and then suspecting the discreetness of your relatives.
+
+     But don't all of us die sooner or later?  And it is almost certain
+     that one of us will precede the other under the ground.  We must
+     therefore foresee all dangers, even that one.
+
+     As for me, I will keep your letters beside mine, in the secret of my
+     little desk.  I will show them to you there, sleeping side by side
+     in their silken hiding place, full of our love, like lovers in a
+     tomb.
+
+     You will say to me: "But if you should die first, my dear, your
+     husband will find these letters."
+
+     Oh! I fear nothing.  First of all, he does not know the secret of my
+     desk, and then he will not look for it.  And even if he finds it
+     after my death, I fear nothing.
+
+     Did you ever stop to think of all the love letters that have been
+     found after death?  I have been thinking of this for a long time,
+     and that is the reason I decided to ask you for my letters.
+
+     Think that never, do you understand, never, does a woman burn, tear
+     or destroy the letters in which it is told her that she is loved.
+     That is our whole life, our whole hope, expectation and dream.
+     These little papers which bear our name in caressing terms are
+     relics which we adore; they are chapels in which we are the saints.
+     Our love letters are our titles to beauty, grace, seduction, the
+     intimate vanity of our womanhood; they are the treasures of our
+     heart.  No, a woman does not destroy these secret and delicious
+     archives of her life.
+
+     But, like everybody else, we die, and then--then these letters are
+     found!  Who finds them?  The husband.  Then what does he do?
+     Nothing.  He burns them.
+
+     Oh, I have thought a great deal about that!  Just think that every
+     day women are dying who have been loved; every day the traces and
+     proofs of their fault fall into the hands of their husbands, and
+     that there is never a scandal, never a duel.
+
+     Think, my dear, of what a man's heart is.  He avenges himself on a
+     living woman; he fights with the man who has dishonored her, kills
+     him while she lives, because, well, why?  I do not know exactly why.
+     But, if, after her death, he finds similar proofs, he burns them and
+     no one is the wiser, and he continues to shake hands with the friend
+     of the dead woman, and feels quite at ease that these letters should
+     not have fallen into strange hands, and that they are destroyed.
+
+     Oh, how many men I know among my friends who must have burned such
+     proofs, and who pretend to know nothing, and yet who would have
+     fought madly had they found them when she was still alive!  But she
+     is dead.  Honor has changed.  The tomb is the boundary of conjugal
+     sinning.
+
+     Therefore, I can safely keep our letters, which, in your hands,
+     would be a menace to both of us.  Do you dare to say that I am not
+     right?
+
+     I love you and kiss you.
+
+
+I raised my eyes to the portrait of Aunt Rose, and as I looked at her
+severe, wrinkled face, I thought of all those women's souls which we do
+not know, and which we suppose to be so different from what they really
+are, whose inborn and ingenuous craftiness we never can penetrate, their
+quiet duplicity; and a verse of De Vigny returned to my memory:
+
+          "Always this comrade whose heart is uncertain."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE LOVE OF LONG AGO
+
+The old-fashioned chateau was built on a wooded knoll in the midst of
+tall trees with dark-green foliage; the park extended to a great
+distance, in one direction to the edge of the forest, in another to the
+distant country.  A few yards from the front of the house was a huge
+stone basin with marble ladies taking a bath; other, basins were seen at
+intervals down to the foot of the slope, and a stream of water fell in
+cascades from one basin to another.
+
+From the manor house, which preserved the grace of a superannuated
+coquette, down to the grottos incrusted with shell-work, where slumbered
+the loves of a bygone age, everything in this antique demesne had
+retained the physiognomy of former days.  Everything seemed to speak
+still of ancient customs, of the manners of long ago, of former
+gallantries, and of the elegant trivialities so dear to our grandmothers.
+
+In a parlor in the style of Louis XV, whose walls were covered with
+shepherds paying court to shepherdesses, beautiful ladies in hoop-skirts,
+and gallant gentlemen in wigs, a very old woman, who seemed dead as soon
+as she ceased to move, was almost lying down in a large easy-chair, at
+each side of which hung a thin, mummy-like hand.
+
+Her dim eyes were gazing dreamily toward the distant horizon as if they
+sought to follow through the park the visions of her youth.  Through the
+open window every now and then came a breath of air laden with the odor
+of grass and the perfume of flowers.  It made her white locks flutter
+around her wrinkled forehead and old memories float through her brain.
+
+Beside her, on a tapestried stool, a young girl, with long fair hair
+hanging in braids down her back, was embroidering an altar-cloth.  There
+was a pensive expression in her eyes, and it was easy to see that she was
+dreaming, while her agile fingers flew over her work.
+
+But the old lady turned round her head, and said:
+
+"Berthe, read me something out of the newspapers, that I may still know
+sometimes what is going on in the world."
+
+The young girl took up a newspaper, and cast a rapid glance over it.
+
+"There is a great deal about politics, grandmamma; shall I pass that
+over?"
+
+"Yes, yes, darling.  Are there no love stories?  Is gallantry, then, dead
+in France, that they no longer talk about abductions or adventures as
+they did formerly?"
+
+The girl made a long search through the columns of the newspaper.
+
+"Here is one," she said.  "It is entitled 'A Love Drama!'"
+
+The old woman smiled through her wrinkles.  "Read that for me," she said.
+
+And Berthe commenced.  It was a case of vitriol throwing.  A wife, in
+order to avenge herself on her husband's mistress, had burned her face
+and eyes.  She had left the Court of Assizes acquitted, declared to be
+innocent, amid the applause of the crowd.
+
+The grandmother moved about excitedly in her chair, and exclaimed:
+
+"This is horrible--why, it is perfectly horrible!
+
+See whether you can find anything else to read to me, darling."
+
+Berthe again made a search; and farther down among the reports of
+criminal cases, she read:
+
+"'Gloomy Drama.  A shop girl, no longer young, allowed herself to be led
+astray by a young man.  Then, to avenge herself on her lover, whose heart
+proved fickle, she shot him with a revolver.  The unhappy man is maimed
+for life.  The jury, all men of moral character, condoning the illicit
+love of the murderess, honorably acquitted her.'"
+
+This time the old grandmother appeared quite shocked, and, in a trembling
+voice, she said:
+
+"Why, you people are mad nowadays.  You are mad!  The good God has given
+you love, the only enchantment in life.  Man has added to this gallantry
+the only distraction of our dull hours, and here you are mixing up with
+it vitriol and revolvers, as if one were to put mud into a flagon of
+Spanish wine."
+
+Berthe did not seem to understand her grandmother's indignation.
+
+"But, grandmamma, this woman avenged herself.  Remember she was married,
+and her husband deceived her."
+
+The grandmother gave a start.
+
+"What ideas have they been filling your head with, you young girls of
+today?"
+
+Berthe replied:
+
+"But marriage is sacred, grandmamma."
+
+The grandmother's heart, which had its birth in the great age of
+gallantry, gave a sudden leap.
+
+"It is love that is sacred," she said.  "Listen, child, to an old woman
+who has seen three generations, and who has had a long, long experience
+of men and women.  Marriage and love have nothing in common.  We marry to
+found a family, and we form families in order to constitute society.
+Society cannot dispense with marriage.  If society is a chain, each
+family is a link in that chain.  In order to weld those links, we always
+seek metals of the same order.  When we marry, we must bring together
+suitable conditions; we must combine fortunes, unite similar races and
+aim at the common interest, which is riches and children.  We marry only
+once my child, because the world requires us to do so, but we may love
+twenty times in one lifetime because nature has made us like this.
+Marriage, you see, is law, and love is an instinct which impels us,
+sometimes along a straight, and sometimes along a devious path.  The
+world has made laws to combat our instincts--it was necessary to make
+them; but our instincts are always stronger, and we ought not to resist
+them too much, because they come from God; while the laws only come from
+men.  If we did not perfume life with love, as much love as possible,
+darling, as we put sugar into drugs for children, nobody would care to
+take it just as it is."
+
+Berthe opened her eyes wide in astonishment.  She murmured:
+
+"Oh! grandmamma, we can only love once."
+
+The grandmother raised her trembling hands toward Heaven, as if again to
+invoke the defunct god of gallantries.  She exclaimed indignantly:
+
+"You have become a race of serfs, a race of common people.  Since the
+Revolution, it is impossible any longer to recognize society.  You have
+attached big words to every action, and wearisome duties to every corner
+of existence; you believe in equality and eternal passion.  People have
+written poetry telling you that people have died of love.  In my time
+poetry was written to teach men to love every woman.  And we! when we
+liked a gentleman, my child, we sent him a page.  And when a fresh
+caprice came into our hearts, we were not slow in getting rid of the last
+Lover--unless we kept both of them."
+
+The old woman smiled a keen smile, and a gleam of roguery twinkled in her
+gray eye, the intellectual, skeptical roguery of those people who did not
+believe that they were made of the same clay as the rest, and who lived
+as masters for whom common beliefs were not intended.
+
+The young girl, turning very pale, faltered out:
+
+"So, then, women have no honor?"
+
+The grandmother ceased to smile.  If she had kept in her soul some of
+Voltaire's irony, she had also a little of Jean Jacques's glowing
+philosophy: "No honor! because we loved, and dared to say so, and even
+boasted of it?  But, my child, if one of us, among the greatest ladies in
+France, had lived without a lover, she would have had the entire court
+laughing at her.  Those who wished to live differently had only to enter
+a convent.  And you imagine, perhaps, that your husbands will love but
+you alone, all their lives.  As if, indeed, this could be the case.
+I tell you that marriage is a thing necessary in order that society
+should exist, but it is not in the nature of our race, do you understand?
+There is only one good thing in life, and that is love.  And how you
+misunderstand it! how you spoil it!  You treat it as something solemn
+like a sacrament, or something to be bought, like a dress."
+
+The young girl caught the old woman's trembling hands in her own.
+
+"Hold your tongue, I beg of you, grandmamma!"
+
+And, on her knees, with tears in her eyes, she prayed to Heaven to bestow
+on her a great passion, one sole, eternal passion in accordance with the
+dream of modern poets, while the grandmother, kissing her on the
+forehead, quite imbued still with that charming, healthy reason with
+which gallant philosophers tinctured the thought of the eighteenth
+century, murmured:
+
+"Take care, my poor darling!  If you believe in such folly as that, you
+will be very unhappy."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FRIEND JOSEPH
+
+They had been great friends all winter in Paris.  As is always the case,
+they had lost sight of each other after leaving school, and had met again
+when they were old and gray-haired.  One of them had married, but the
+other had remained in single blessedness.
+
+M. de Meroul lived for six months in Paris and for six months in his
+little chateau at Tourbeville.  Having married the daughter of a
+neighboring, squire, he had lived a good and peaceful life in the
+indolence of a man who has nothing to do.  Of a calm and quiet
+disposition, and not over-intelligent he used to spend his time quietly
+regretting the past, grieving over the customs and institutions of the
+day and continually repeating to his wife, who would lift her eyes, and
+sometimes her hands, to heaven, as a sign of energetic assent: "Good
+gracious!  What a government!"
+
+Madame de Meroul resembled her husband intellectually as though she had
+been his sister.  She knew, by tradition, that one should above all
+respect the Pope and the King!
+
+And she loved and respected them from the bottom of her heart, without
+knowing them, with a poetic fervor, with an hereditary devotion, with the
+tenderness of a wellborn woman.  She was good to, the marrow of her
+bones.  She had had no children, and never ceased mourning the fact.
+
+On meeting his old friend, Joseph Mouradour, at a ball, M. de Meroul was
+filled with a deep and simple joy, for in their youth they had been
+intimate friends.
+
+After the first exclamations of surprise at the changes which time had
+wrought in their bodies and countenances, they told each other about
+their lives since they had last met.
+
+Joseph Mouradour, who was from the south of France, had become a
+government official.  His manner was frank; he spoke rapidly and without
+restraint, giving his opinions without any tact.  He was a Republican,
+one of those good fellows who do not believe in standing on ceremony, and
+who exercise an almost brutal freedom of speech.
+
+He came to his friend's house and was immediately liked for his easy
+cordiality, in spite of his radical ideas.  Madame de Meroul would
+exclaim:
+
+"What a shame!  Such a charming man!"
+
+Monsieur de Meroul would say to his friend in a serious and confidential
+tone of voice; "You have no idea the harm that you are doing your
+country."  He loved him all the same, for nothing is stronger than the
+ties of childhood taken up again at a riper age.  Joseph Mouradour
+bantered the wife and the husband, calling them "my amiable snails," and
+sometimes he would solemnly declaim against people who were behind the
+times, against old prejudices and traditions.
+
+When he was once started on his democratic eloquence, the couple,
+somewhat ill at ease, would keep silent from politeness and good-
+breeding; then the husband would try to turn the conversation into some
+other channel in order to avoid a clash.  Joseph Mouradour was only seen
+in the intimacy of the family.
+
+Summer came.  The Merouls had no greater pleasure than to receive their
+friends at their country home at Tourbeville.  It was a good, healthy
+pleasure, the enjoyments of good people and of country proprietors.  They
+would meet their friends at the neighboring railroad station and would
+bring them back in their carriage, always on the lookout for compliments
+on the country, on its natural features, on the condition of the roads,
+on the cleanliness of the farm-houses, on the size of the cattle grazing
+in the fields, on everything within sight.
+
+They would call attention to the remarkable speed with which their horse
+trotted, surprising for an animal that did heavy work part of the year
+behind a plow; and they would anxiously await the opinion of the newcomer
+on their family domain, sensitive to the least word, and thankful for the
+slightest good intention.
+
+Joseph Mouradour was invited, and he accepted the invitation.
+
+Husband and wife had come to the train, delighted to welcome him to their
+home.  As soon as he saw them, Joseph Mouradour jumped from the train
+with a briskness which increased their satisfaction.  He shook their
+hands, congratulated them, overwhelmed them with compliments.
+
+All the way home he was charming, remarking on the height of the trees,
+the goodness of the crops and the speed of the horse.
+
+When he stepped on the porch of the house, Monsieur de Meroul said, with
+a certain friendly solemnity:
+
+"Consider yourself at home now."
+
+Joseph Mouradour answered:
+
+"Thanks, my friend; I expected as much.  Anyhow, I never stand on
+ceremony with my friends.  That's how I understand hospitality."
+
+Then he went upstairs to dress as a farmer, he said, and he came back all
+togged out in blue linen, with a little straw hat and yellow shoes, a
+regular Parisian dressed for an outing.  He also seemed to become more
+vulgar, more jovial, more familiar; having put on with his country
+clothes a free and easy manner which he judged suitable to the
+surroundings.  His new manners shocked Monsieur and Madame de Meroul a
+little, for they always remained serious and dignified, even in the
+country, as though compelled by the two letters preceding their name to
+keep up a certain formality even in the closest intimacy.
+
+After lunch they all went out to visit the farms, and the Parisian
+astounded the respectful peasants by his tone of comradeship.
+
+In the evening the priest came to dinner, an old, fat priest, accustomed
+to dining there on Sundays, but who had been especially invited this day
+in honor of the new guest.
+
+Joseph, on seeing him, made a wry face.  Then he observed him with
+surprise, as though he were a creature of some peculiar race, which he
+had never been able to observe at close quarters.  During the meal he
+told some rather free stories, allowable in the intimacy of the family,
+but which seemed to the Merouls a little out of place in the presence of
+a minister of the Church.  He did not say, "Monsieur l'abbe," but simply,
+"Monsieur."  He embarrassed the priest greatly by philosophical
+discussions about diverse superstitions current all over the world.
+He said: "Your God, monsieur, is of those who should be respected, but
+also one of those who should be discussed.  Mine is called Reason; he has
+always been the enemy of yours."
+
+The Merouls, distressed, tried to turn the trend of the conversation.
+The priest left very early.
+
+Then the husband said, very quietly:
+
+"Perhaps you went a little bit too far with the priest."
+
+But Joseph immediately exclaimed:
+
+"Well, that's pretty good!  As if I would be on my guard with a
+shaveling!  And say, do me the pleasure of not imposing him on me any
+more at meals.  You can both make use of him as much as you wish, but
+don't serve him up to your friends, hang it!"
+
+"But, my friends, think of his holy--"
+
+Joseph Mouradour interrupted him:
+
+"Yes, I know; they have to be treated like 'rosieres.'  But let them
+respect my convictions, and I will respect theirs!"
+
+That was all for that day.
+
+As soon as Madame de Meroul entered the parlor, the next morning, she
+noticed in the middle of the table three newspapers which made her start
+the Voltaire, the Republique-Francaise and the Justice.  Immediately
+Joseph Mouradour, still in blue, appeared on the threshold, attentively
+reading the Intransigeant.  He cried:
+
+"There's a great article in this by Rochefort.  That fellow is a wonder!"
+
+He read it aloud, emphasizing the parts which especially pleased him, so
+carried away by enthusiasm that he did not notice his friend's entrance.
+Monsieur de Meroul was holding in his hand the Gaulois for himself, the
+Clarion for his wife.
+
+The fiery prose of the master writer who overthrew the empire, spouted
+with violence, sung in the southern accent, rang throughout the peaceful
+parsons seemed to spatter the walls and century-old furniture with a hail
+of bold, ironical and destructive words.
+
+The man and the woman, one standing, the other sitting, were listening
+with astonishment, so shocked that they could not move.
+
+In a burst of eloquence Mouradour finished the last paragraph, then
+exclaimed triumphantly:
+
+"Well! that's pretty strong!"
+
+Then, suddenly, he noticed the two sheets which his friend was carrying,
+and he, in turn, stood speechless from surprise.  Quickly walking toward
+him he demanded angrily:
+
+"What are you doing with those papers?"
+
+Monsieur de Meroul answered hesitatingly:
+
+"Why--those--those are my papers!"
+
+"Your papers!  What are you doing--making fun of me?  You will do me the
+pleasure of reading mine; they will limber up your ideas, and as for
+yours--there! that's what I do with them."
+
+And before his astonished host could stop him, he had seized the two
+newspapers and thrown them out of the window.  Then he solemnly handed
+the Justice to Madame de Meroul, the Voltaire to her husband, while he
+sank down into an arm-chair to finish reading the Intransigeant.
+
+The couple, through delicacy, made a pretense of reading a little, they
+then handed him back the Republican sheets, which they handled gingerly,
+as though they might be poisoned.
+
+He laughed and declared:
+
+"One week of this regime and I will have you converted to my ideas."
+
+In truth, at the end of a week he ruled the house.  He had closed the
+door against the priest, whom Madame de Meroul had to visit secretly; he
+had forbidden the Gaulois and the Clarion to be brought into the house,
+so that a servant had to go mysteriously to the post-office to get them,
+and as soon as he entered they would be hidden under sofa cushions; he
+arranged everything to suit himself--always charming, always good-
+natured, a jovial and all-powerful tyrant.
+
+Other friends were expected, pious and conservative friends.  The unhappy
+couple saw the impossibility of having them there then, and, not knowing
+what to do, one evening they announced to Joseph Mouradour that they
+would be obliged to absent themselves for a few days, on business, and
+they begged him to stay on alone.  He did not appear disturbed, and
+answered:
+
+"Very well, I don't mind!  I will wait here as long as you wish.  I have
+already said that there should be no formality between friends.  You are
+perfectly right-go ahead and attend to your business.  It will not offend
+me in the least; quite the contrary, it will make me feel much more
+completely one of the family.  Go ahead, my friends, I will wait for
+you!"
+
+Monsieur and Madame de Meroul left the following day.
+
+He is still waiting for them.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE EFFEMINATES
+
+How often we hear people say, "He is charming, that man, but he is a
+girl, a regular girl."  They are alluding to the effeminates, the bane of
+our land.
+
+For we are all girl-like men in France--that is, fickle, fanciful,
+innocently treacherous, without consistency in our convictions or our
+will, violent and weak as women are.
+
+But the most irritating of girl--men is assuredly the Parisian and the
+boulevardier, in whom the appearance of intelligence is more marked and
+who combines in himself all the attractions and all the faults of those
+charming creatures in an exaggerated degree in virtue of his masculine
+temperament.
+
+Our Chamber of Deputies is full of girl-men.  They form the greater
+number of the amiable opportunists whom one might call "The Charmers."
+These are they who control by soft words and deceitful promises, who know
+how to shake hands in such a manner as to win hearts, how to say "My dear
+friend" in a certain tactful way to people he knows the least, to change
+his mind without suspecting it, to be carried away by each new idea, to
+be sincere in their weathercock convictions, to let themselves be
+deceived as they deceive others, to forget the next morning what he
+affirmed the day before.
+
+The newspapers are full of these effeminate men.  That is probably where
+one finds the most, but it is also where they are most needed.  The
+Journal des Debats and the Gazette de France are exceptions.
+
+Assuredly, every good journalist must be somewhat effeminate--that is, at
+the command of the public, supple in following unconsciously the shades
+of public opinion, wavering and varying, sceptical and credulous, wicked
+and devout, a braggart and a true man, enthusiastic and ironical, and
+always convinced while believing in nothing.
+
+Foreigners, our anti-types, as Mme. Abel called them, the stubborn
+English and the heavy Germans, regard us with a certain amazement mingled
+with contempt, and will continue to so regard us till the end of time.
+They consider us frivolous.  It is not that, it is that we are girls.
+And that is why people love us in spite of our faults, why they come back
+to us despite the evil spoken of us; these are lovers' quarrels!  The
+effeminate man, as one meets him in this world, is so charming that he
+captivates you after five minutes' chat.  His smile seems made for you;
+one cannot believe that his voice does not assume specially tender
+intonations on their account.  When he leaves you it seems as if one had
+known him for twenty years.  One is quite ready to lend him money if he
+asks for it.  He has enchanted you, like a woman.
+
+If he commits any breach of manners towards you, you cannot bear any
+malice, he is so pleasant when you next meet him.  If he asks your pardon
+you long to ask pardon of him.  Does he tell lies?  You cannot believe
+it.  Does he put you off indefinitely with promises that he does not
+keep?  One lays as much store by his promises as though he had moved
+heaven and earth to render them a service.
+
+When he admires anything he goes into such raptures that he convinces
+you.  He once adored Victor Hugo, whom he now treats as a back number.
+He would have fought for Zola, whom he has abandoned for Barbey and
+d'Aurevilly.  And when he admires, he permits no limitation, he would
+slap your face for a word.  But when he becomes scornful, his contempt is
+unbounded and allows of no protest.
+
+In fact, he understands nothing.
+
+Listen to two girls talking.
+
+"Then you are angry with Julia?"  "I slapped her face."  "What had she
+done?"  "She told Pauline that I had no money thirteen months out of
+twelve, and Pauline told Gontran--you understand."  "You were living
+together in the Rue Clanzel?"  "We lived together four years in the Rue
+Breda; we quarrelled about a pair of stockings that she said I had worn--
+it wasn't true--silk stockings that she had bought at Mother Martin's.
+Then I gave her a pounding and she left me at once.  I met her six months
+ago and she asked me to come and live with her, as she has rented a flat
+that is twice too large."
+
+One goes on one's way and hears no more.  But on the following Sunday as
+one is on the way to Saint Germain two young women get into the same
+railway carriage.  One recognizes one of them at once; it is Julia's
+enemy.  The other is Julia!
+
+And there are endearments, caresses, plans.  "Say, Julia--listen, Julia,"
+etc.
+
+The girl-man has his friendships of this kind.  For three months he
+cannot bear to leave his old Jack, his dear Jack.  There is no one but
+Jack in the world.  He is the only one who has any intelligence, any
+sense, any talent.  He alone amounts to anything in Paris.  One meets
+them everywhere together, they dine together, walk about in company, and
+every evening walk home with each other back and forth without being able
+to part with one another.
+
+Three months later, if Jack is mentioned:
+
+"There is a drinker, a sorry fellow, a scoundrel for you.  I know him
+well, you may be sure.  And he is not even honest, and ill-bred," etc.,
+etc.
+
+Three months later, and they are living together.
+
+But one morning one hears that they have fought a duel, then embraced
+each other, amid tears, on the duelling ground.
+
+Just now they are the dearest friends in the world, furious with each
+other half the year, abusing and loving each other by turns, squeezing
+each other's hands till they almost crush the bones, and ready to run
+each other through the body for a misunderstanding.
+
+For the relations of these effeminate men are uncertain.  Their temper is
+by fits and starts, their delight unexpected, their affection turn-about-
+face, their enthusiasm subject to eclipse.  One day they love you, the
+next day they will hardly look at you, for they have in fact a girl's
+nature, a girl's charm, a girl's temperament, and all their sentiments
+are like the affections of girls.
+
+They treat their friends as women treat their pet dogs.
+
+It is the dear little Toutou whom they hug, feed with sugar, allow to
+sleep on the pillow, but whom they would be just as likely to throw out
+of a window in a moment of impatience, whom they turn round like a sling,
+holding it by the tail, squeeze in their arms till they almost strangle
+it, and plunge, without any reason, in a pail of cold water.
+
+Then, what a strange thing it is when one of these beings falls in love
+with a real girl!  He beats her, she scratches him, they execrate each
+other, cannot bear the sight of each other and yet cannot part, linked
+together by no one knows what mysterious psychic bonds.  She deceives
+him, he knows it, sobs and forgives her.  He despises and adores her
+without seeing that she would be justified in despising him.  They are
+both atrociously unhappy and yet cannot separate.  They cast invectives,
+reproaches and abominable accusations at each other from morning till
+night, and when they have reached the climax and are vibrating with rage
+and hatred, they fall into each other's arms and kiss each other
+ardently.
+
+The girl-man is brave and a coward at the same time.  He has, more than
+another, the exalted sentiment of honor, but is lacking in the sense of
+simple honesty, and, circumstances favoring him, would defalcate and
+commit infamies which do not trouble his conscience, for he obeys without
+questioning the oscillations of his ideas, which are always impulsive.
+
+To him it seems permissible and almost right to cheat a haberdasher.  He
+considers it honorable not to pay his debts, unless they are gambling
+debts--that is, somewhat shady.  He dupes people whenever the laws of
+society admit of his doing so.  When he is short of money he borrows in
+all ways, not always being scrupulous as to tricking the lenders, but he
+would, with sincere indignation, run his sword through anyone who should
+suspect him of only lacking in politeness.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+OLD AMABLE
+
+                                  PART I
+
+The humid gray sky seemed to weigh down on the vast brown plain.  The
+odor of autumn, the sad odor of bare, moist lands, of fallen leaves, of
+dead grass made the stagnant evening air more thick and heavy.  The
+peasants were still at work, scattered through the fields, waiting for
+the stroke of the Angelus to call them back to the farmhouses, whose
+thatched roofs were visible here and there through the branches of the
+leafless trees which protected the apple-gardens against the wind.
+
+At the side of the road, on a heap of clothes, a very small boy seated
+with his legs apart was playing with a potato, which he now and then let
+fall on his dress, whilst five women were bending down planting slips of
+colza in the adjoining plain.  With a slow, continuous movement, all
+along the mounds of earth which the plough had just turned up, they drove
+in sharp wooden stakes and in the hole thus formed placed the plant,
+already a little withered, which sank on one side; then they patted down
+the earth and went on with their work.
+
+A man who was passing, with a whip in his hand, and wearing wooden shoes,
+stopped near the child, took it up and kissed it.  Then one of the women
+rose up and came across to him.  She was a big, red haired girl, with
+large hips, waist and shoulders, a tall Norman woman, with yellow hair in
+which there was a blood-red tint.
+
+She said in a resolute voice:
+
+"Why, here you are, Cesaire--well?"
+
+The man, a thin young fellow with a melancholy air, murmured:
+
+"Well, nothing at all--always the same thing."
+
+"He won't have it?"
+
+"He won't have it."
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"What do you say I ought to do?"
+
+"Go see the cure."
+
+"I will."
+
+"Go at once!"
+
+"I will."
+
+And they stared at each other.  He held the child in his arms all the
+time.  He kissed it once more and then put it down again on the woman's
+clothes.
+
+In the distance, between two farm-houses, could be seen a plough drawn by
+a horse and driven by a man.  They moved on very gently, the horse, the
+plough and the laborer, in the dim evening twilight.
+
+The woman went on:
+
+"What did your father say?"
+
+"He said he would not have it."
+
+"Why wouldn't he have it?"
+
+The young man pointed toward the child whom he had just put back on the
+ground, then with a glance he drew her attention to the man drawing the
+plough yonder there.
+
+And he said emphatically:
+
+"Because 'tis his--this child of yours."
+
+The girl shrugged her shoulders and in an angry tone said:
+
+"Faith, every one knows it well--that it is Victor's.  And what about it
+after all?  I made a slip.  Am I the only woman that did?  My mother also
+made a slip before me, and then yours did the same before she married
+your dad!  Who is it that hasn't made a slip in the country?  I made a
+slip with Victor because he took advantage of me while I was asleep in
+the barn, it's true, and afterward it happened between us when I wasn't
+asleep.  I certainly would have married him if he weren't a servant man.
+Am I a worse woman for that?"
+
+The man said simply:
+
+"As for me, I like you just as you are, with or without the child.  It's
+only my father that opposes me.  All the same, I'll see about settling
+the business."
+
+She answered:
+
+"Go to the cure at once."
+
+"I'm going to him."
+
+And he set forth with his heavy peasant's tread, while the girl, with her
+hands on her hips, turned round to plant her colza.
+
+In fact, the man who thus went off, Cesaire Houlbreque, the son of deaf
+old Amable Houlbreque, wanted to marry, in spite of his father, Celeste
+Levesque, who had a child by Victor Lecoq, a mere laborer on her parents'
+farm, who had been turned out of doors for this act.
+
+The hierarchy of caste, however, does not exist in the country, and if
+the laborer is thrifty, he becomes, by taking a farm in his turn, the
+equal of his former master.
+
+So Cesaire Houlbieque went off, his whip under his arm, brooding over his
+own thoughts and lifting up one after the other his heavy wooden shoes
+daubed with clay.  Certainly he desired to marry Celeste Levesque.  He
+wanted her with her child because she was the wife he wanted.  He could
+not say why, but he knew it, he was sure of it.  He had only to look at
+her to be convinced of it, to feel quite queer, quite stirred up, simply
+stupid with happiness.  He even found a pleasure in kissing the little
+boy, Victor's little boy, because he belonged to her.
+
+And he gazed, without hate, at the distant outline of the man who was
+driving his plough along the horizon.
+
+But old Amable did not want this marriage.  He opposed it with the
+obstinacy of a deaf man, with a violent obstinacy.
+
+Cesaire in vain shouted in his ear, in that ear which still heard a few
+sounds:
+
+"I'll take good care of you, daddy.  I tell you she's a good girl and
+strong, too, and also thrifty."
+
+The old man repeated:
+
+"As long as I live I won't see her your wife."
+
+And nothing could get the better of him, nothing could make him waver.
+One hope only was left to Cesaire.  Old Amable was afraid of the cure
+through the apprehension of death which he felt drawing nigh; he had not
+much fear of God, nor of the Devil, nor of Hell, nor of Purgatory, of
+which he had no conception, but he dreaded the priest, who represented to
+him burial, as one might fear the doctors through horror of diseases.
+For the last tight days Celeste, who knew this weakness of the old man,
+had been urging Cesaire to go and find the cure, but Cesaire always
+hesitated, because he had not much liking for the black robe, which
+represented to him hands always stretched out for collections or for
+blessed bread.
+
+However, he had made up his mind, and he proceeded toward the presbytery,
+thinking in what manner he would speak about his case.
+
+The Abbe Raffin, a lively little priest, thin and never shaved, was
+awaiting his dinner-hour while warming his feet at his kitchen fire.
+
+As soon as he saw the peasant entering he asked, merely turning his head:
+
+"Well, Cesaire, what do you want?"
+
+"I'd like to have a talk with you, M. le Cure."
+
+The man remained standing, intimidated, holding his cap in one hand and
+his whip in the other.
+
+"Well, talk."
+
+Cesaire looked at the housekeeper, an old woman who dragged her feet
+while putting on the cover for her master's dinner at the corner of the
+table in front of the window.
+
+He stammered:
+
+"'Tis--'tis a sort of confession."
+
+Thereupon the Abbe Raffin carefully surveyed his peasant.  He saw his
+confused countenance, his air of constraint, his wandering eyes, and he
+gave orders to the housekeeper in these words:
+
+"Marie, go away for five minutes to your room, while I talk to Cesaire."
+
+The servant cast on the man an angry glance and went away grumbling.
+
+The clergyman went on:
+
+"Come, now, tell your story."
+
+The young fellow still hesitated, looked down at his wooden shoes, moved
+about his cap, then, all of a sudden, he made up his mind:
+
+"Here it is: I want to marry Celeste Levesque."
+
+"Well, my boy, what's there to prevent you?"
+
+"The father won't have it."
+
+"Your father?"
+
+"Yes, my father."
+
+"What does your father say?"
+
+"He says she has a child."
+
+"She's not the first to whom that happened, since our Mother Eve."
+
+"A child by Victor Lecoq, Anthime Loisel's servant man."
+
+"Ha! ha!  So he won't have it?"
+
+"He won't have it."
+
+"What! not at all?"
+
+"No, no more than an ass that won't budge an inch, saving your presence."
+
+"What do you say to him yourself in order to make him decide?"
+
+"I say to him that she's a good girl, and strong, too, and thrifty also."
+
+"And this does not make him agree to it.  So you want me to speak to
+him?"
+
+"Exactly.  You speak to him."
+
+"And what am I to tell your father?"
+
+"Why, what you tell people in your sermons to make them give you sous."
+
+In the peasant's mind every effort of religion consisted in loosening the
+purse strings, in emptying the pockets of men in order to fill the
+heavenly coffer.  It was a kind of huge commercial establishment, of
+which the cures were the clerks; sly, crafty clerks, sharp as any one
+must be who does business for the good God at the expense of the country
+people.
+
+He knew full well that the priests rendered services, great services to
+the poorest, to the sick and dying, that they assisted, consoled,
+counselled, sustained, but all this by means of money, in exchange for
+white pieces, for beautiful glittering coins, with which they paid for
+sacraments and masses, advice and protection, pardon of sins and
+indulgences, purgatory and paradise according to the yearly income and
+the generosity of the sinner.
+
+The Abbe Raffin, who knew his man and who never lost his temper, burst
+out laughing.
+
+"Well, yes, I'll tell your father my little story; but you, my lad,
+you'll come to church."
+
+Houlbreque extended his hand in order to give a solemn assurance:
+
+"On the word of a poor man, if you do this for me, I promise that I
+will."
+
+"Come, that's all right.  When do you wish me to go and find your
+father?"
+
+"Why, the sooner the better-to-night, if you can."
+
+"In half an hour, then, after supper."
+
+"In half an hour."
+
+"That's understood.  So long, my lad."
+
+"Good-by till we meet again, Monsieur le Cure; many thanks."
+
+"Not at all, my lad."
+
+And Cesaire Houlbreque returned home, his heart relieved of a great
+weight.
+
+He held on lease a little farm, quite small, for they were not rich, his
+father and he.  Alone with a female servant, a little girl of fifteen,
+who made the soup, looked after the fowls, milked the cows and churned
+the butter, they lived frugally, though Cesaire was a good cultivator.
+But they did not possess either sufficient lands or sufficient cattle to
+earn more than the indispensable.
+
+The old man no longer worked.  Sad, like all deaf people, crippled with
+pains, bent double, twisted, he went through the fields leaning on his
+stick, watching the animals and the men with a hard, distrustful eye.
+Sometimes he sat down on the side of the road and remained there without
+moving for hours, vaguely pondering over the things that had engrossed
+his whole life, the price of eggs, and corn, the sun and the rain which
+spoil the crops or make them grow.  And, worn out with rheumatism, his
+old limbs still drank in the humidity of the soul, as they had drunk in
+for the past sixty years, the moisture of the walls of his low house
+thatched with damp straw.
+
+He came back at the close of the day, took his place at the end of the
+table in the kitchen and when the earthen bowl containing the soup had
+been placed before him he placed round it his crooked fingers, which
+seemed to have kept the round form of the bowl and, winter and summer, he
+warmed his hands, before commencing to eat, so as to lose nothing, not
+even a particle of the heat that came from the fire, which costs a great
+deal, neither one drop of soup into which fat and salt have to be put,
+nor one morsel of bread, which comes from the wheat.
+
+Then he climbed up a ladder into a loft, where he had his straw-bed,
+while his son slept below stairs at the end of a kind of niche near the
+chimneypiece and the servant shut herself up in a kind of cellar, a black
+hole which was formerly used to store the potatoes.
+
+Cesaire and his father scarcely ever talked to each other.  From time to
+time only, when there was a question of selling a crop or buying a calf,
+the young man would ask his father's advice, and, making a speaking-
+trumpet of his two hands, he would bawl out his views into his ear, and
+old Amable either approved of them or opposed them in a slow, hollow
+voice that came from the depths of his stomach.
+
+So one evening Cesaire, approaching him as if about to discuss the
+purchase of a horse or a heifer, communicated to him at the top of his
+voice his intention to marry Celeste Levesque.
+
+Then the father got angry.  Why?  On the score of morality?  No,
+certainly.  The virtue of a girl is of slight importance in the country.
+But his avarice, his deep, fierce instinct for saving, revolted at the
+idea that his son should bring up a child which he had not begotten
+himself.  He had thought suddenly, in one second, of the soup the little
+fellow would swallow before becoming useful on the farm.  He had
+calculated all the pounds of bread, all the pints of cider that this brat
+would consume up to his fourteenth year, and a mad anger broke loose from
+him against Cesaire, who had not bestowed a thought on all this.
+
+He replied in an unusually strong voice:
+
+"Have you lost your senses?"
+
+Thereupon Cesaire began to enumerate his reasons, to speak about
+Celeste's good qualities, to prove that she would be worth a thousand
+times what the child would cost.  But the old man doubted these
+advantages, while he could have no doubts as to the child's existence;
+and he replied with emphatic repetition, without giving any further
+explanation:
+
+"I will not have it!  I will not have it!  As long as I live, this won't
+be done!"  And at this point they had remained for the last three months
+without one or the other giving in, resuming at least once a week the
+same discussion, with the same arguments, the same words, the same
+gestures and the same fruitlessness.
+
+It was then that Celeste had advised Cesaire to go and ask for the cure's
+assistance.
+
+On arriving home the peasant found his father already seated at table,
+for he came late through his visit to the presbytery.
+
+They dined in silence, face to face, ate a little bread and butter after
+the soup and drank a glass of cider.  Then they remained motionless in
+their chairs, with scarcely a glimmer of light, the little servant girl
+having carried off the candle in order to wash the spoons, wipe the
+glasses and cut the crusts of bread to be ready for next morning's
+breakfast.
+
+There was a knock, at the door, which was immediately opened, and the
+priest appeared.  The old man raised toward him an anxious eye full of
+suspicion, and, foreseeing danger, he was getting ready to climb up his
+ladder when the Abbe Raffin laid his hand on his shoulder and shouted
+close to his temple:
+
+"I want to have a talk with you, Father Amable."
+
+Cesaire had disappeared, taking advantage of the door being open.  He did
+not want to listen, for he was afraid and did not want his hopes to
+crumble slowly with each obstinate refusal of his father.  He preferred
+to learn the truth at once, good or bad, later on; and he went out into
+the night.  It was a moonless, starless night, one of those misty nights
+when the air seems thick with humidity.  A vague odor of apples floated
+through the farmyard, for it was the season when the earliest applies
+were gathered, the "early ripe," as they are called in the cider country.
+As Cesaire passed along by the cattlesheds the warm smell of living
+beasts asleep on manure was exhaled through the narrow windows, and he
+heard the stamping of the horses, who were standing at the end of the
+stable, and the sound of their jaws tearing and munching the hay on the
+racks.
+
+He went straight ahead, thinking about Celeste.  In this simple nature,
+whose ideas were scarcely more than images generated directly by objects,
+thoughts of love only formulated themselves by calling up before the mind
+the picture of a big red-haired girl standing in a hollow road and
+laughing, with her hands on her hips.
+
+It was thus he saw her on the day when he first took a fancy for her.  He
+had, however, known her from infancy, but never had he been so struck by
+her as on that morning.  They had stopped to talk for a few minutes and
+then he went away, and as he walked along he kept repeating:
+
+"Faith, she's a fine girl, all the same.  'Tis a pity she made a slip
+with Victor."
+
+Till evening he kept thinking of her and also on the following morning.
+
+When he saw her again he felt something tickling the end of his throat,
+as if a cock's feather had been driven through his mouth into his chest,
+and since then, every time he found himself near her, he was astonished
+at this nervous tickling which always commenced again.
+
+In three months he made up his mind to marry her, so much did she please
+him.  He could not have said whence came this power over him, but he
+explained it in these words:
+
+"I am possessed by her," as if the desire for this girl within him were
+as dominating as one of the powers of hell.  He scarcely bothered himself
+about her transgression.  It was a pity, but, after all, it did her no
+harm, and he bore no grudge against Victor Lecoq.
+
+But if the cure should not succeed, what was he to do?  He did not dare
+to think of it, the anxiety was such a torture to him.
+
+He reached the presbytery and seated himself near the little gateway to
+wait for the priest's return.
+
+He was there perhaps half an hour when he heard steps on the road, and
+although the night was very dark, he presently distinguished the still
+darker shadow of the cassock.
+
+He rose up, his legs giving way under him, not even venturing to speak,
+not daring to ask a question.
+
+The clergyman perceived him and said gaily:
+
+"Well, my lad, it's all right."
+
+Cesaire stammered:
+
+"All right, 'tisn't possible."
+
+"Yes, my lad, but not without trouble.  What an old ass your father is!"
+
+The peasant repeated:
+
+"'Tisn't possible!"
+
+"Why, yes.  Come and look me up to-morrow at midday in order to settle
+about the publication of the banns."
+
+The young man seized the cure's hand.  He pressed it, shook it, bruised
+it as he stammered:
+
+"True-true-true, Monsieur le Cure, on the word of an honest man, you'll
+see me to-morrow-at your sermon."
+
+
+                                 PART II
+
+The wedding took place in the middle of December.  It was simple, the
+bridal pair not being rich.  Cesaire, attired in new clothes, was ready
+since eight o'clock in the morning to go and fetch his betrothed and
+bring her to the mayor's office, but it was too early.  He seated himself
+before the kitchen table and waited for the members of the family and the
+friends who were to accompany him.
+
+For the last eight days it had been snowing, and the brown earth, the
+earth already fertilized by the autumn sowing, had become a dead white,
+sleeping under a great sheet of ice.
+
+It was cold in the thatched houses adorned with white caps, and the round
+apples in the trees of the enclosures seemed to be flowering, covered
+with white as they had been in the pleasant month of their blossoming.
+
+This day the big clouds to the north, the big great snow clouds, had
+disappeared and the blue sky showed itself above the white earth on which
+the rising sun cast silvery reflections.
+
+Cesaire looked straight before him through the window, thinking of
+nothing, quite happy.
+
+The door opened, two women entered, peasant women in their Sunday
+clothes, the aunt and the cousin of the bridegroom; then three men, his
+cousins; then a woman who was a neighbor.  They sat down on chairs and
+remained, motionless and silent, the women on one side of the kitchen,
+the men on the other, suddenly seized with timidity, with that
+embarrassed sadness which takes possession of people assembled for a
+ceremony.  One of the cousins soon asked:
+
+"Is it not the hour?"
+
+Cesaire replied:
+
+"I am much afraid it is."
+
+"Come on!  Let us start," said another.
+
+Those rose up.  Then Cesaire, whom a feeling of uneasiness had taken
+possession of, climbed up the ladder of the loft to see whether his
+father was ready.  The old man, always as a rule an early riser, had not
+yet made his appearance.  His son found him on his bed of straw, wrapped
+up in his blanket, with his eyes open and a malicious gleam in them.
+
+He bawled into his ear: "Come, daddy, get up.  It's time for the
+wedding."
+
+The deaf man murmured-in a doleful tone:
+
+"I can't get up.  I have a sort of chill over me that freezes my back.
+I can't stir."
+
+The young man, dumbfounded, stared at him, guessing that this was a
+dodge.
+
+"Come, daddy; you must make an effort."
+
+"I can't do it."
+
+"Look here!  I'll help you."
+
+And he stooped toward the old man, pulled off his blanket, caught him by
+the arm and lifted him up.  But old Amable began to whine, "Ooh!  ooh!
+ooh!  What suffering!  Ooh!  I can't.  My back is stiffened up.  The cold
+wind must have rushed in through this cursed roof."
+
+"Well, you'll get no dinner, as I'm having a spread at Polyte's inn.
+This will teach you what comes of acting mulishly."
+
+And he hurried down the ladder and started out, accompanied by his
+relatives and guests.
+
+The men had turned up the bottoms of their trousers so as not to get them
+wet in the snow.  The women held up their petticoats and showed their
+lean ankles with gray woollen stockings and their bony shanks resembling
+broomsticks.  And they all moved forward with a swinging gait, one behind
+the other, without uttering a word, moving cautiously, for fear of losing
+the road which was-hidden beneath the flat, uniform, uninterrupted
+stretch of snow.
+
+As they approached the farmhouses they saw one or two persons waiting to
+join them, and the procession went on without stopping and wound its way
+forward, following the invisible outlines of the road, so that it
+resembled a living chaplet of black beads undulating through the white
+countryside.
+
+In front of the bride's door a large group was stamping up and down the
+open space awaiting the bridegroom.  When he appeared they gave him a
+loud greeting, and presently Celeste came forth from her room, clad in a
+blue dress, her shoulders covered with a small red shawl and her head
+adorned with orange flowers.
+
+But every one asked Cesaire:
+
+"Where's your father?"
+
+He replied with embarrassment:
+
+"He couldn't move on account of the pains."
+
+And the farmers tossed their heads with a sly, incredulous air.
+
+They directed their steps toward the mayor's office.  Behind the pair
+about to be wedded a peasant woman carried Victor's child, as if it were
+going to be baptized; and the risen, in pairs now, with arms linked,
+walked through the snow with the movements of a sloop at sea.
+
+After having been united by the mayor in the little municipal house the
+pair were made one by the cure, in his turn, in the modest house of God.
+He blessed their union by promising them fruitfulness, then he preached
+to them on the matrimonial virtues, the simple and healthful virtues of
+the country, work, concord and fidelity, while the child, who was cold,
+began to fret behind the bride.
+
+As soon as the couple reappeared on the threshold of the church shots
+were discharged from the ditch of the cemetery.  Only the barrels of the
+guns could be seen whence came forth rapid jets of smoke; then a head
+could be seen gazing at the procession.  It was Victor Lecoq celebrating
+the marriage of his old sweetheart, wishing her happiness and sending her
+his good wishes with explosions of powder.  He had employed some friends
+of his, five or six laboring men, for these salvos of musketry.  It was
+considered a nice attention.
+
+The repast was given in Polyte Cacheprune's inn.  Twenty covers were laid
+in the great hall where people dined on market days, and the big leg of
+mutton turning before the spit, the fowls browned under their own gravy,
+the chitterlings sputtering over the bright, clear fire filled the house
+with a thick odor of live coal sprinkled with fat--the powerful, heavy
+odor of rustic fare.
+
+They sat down to table at midday and the soup was poured at once into the
+plates.  All faces had already brightened up; mouths opened to utter loud
+jokes and eyes were laughing with knowing winks.  They were going to
+amuse themselves and no mistake.
+
+The door opened, and old Amable appeared.  He seemed in a bad humor and
+his face wore a scowl as he dragged himself forward on his sticks,
+whining at every step to indicate his suffering.  As soon as they saw him
+they stopped talking, but suddenly his neighbor, Daddy Malivoire, a big
+joker, who knew all the little tricks and ways of people, began to yell,
+just as Cesaire used to do, by making a speaking-trumpet of his hands.
+
+"Hallo, my cute old boy, you have a good nose on you to be able to smell
+Polyte's cookery from your own house!"
+
+A roar of laughter burst forth from the throats of those present.
+Malivoire, excited by his success, went on:
+
+"There's nothing for the rheumatics like a chitterling poultice!  It
+keeps your belly warm, along with a glass of three-six!"
+
+The men uttered shouts, banged the table with their fists, laughed,
+bending on one side and raising up their bodies again as if they were
+working a pump.  The women clucked like hens, while the servants
+wriggled, standing against the walls.  Old Amable was the only one that
+did not laugh, and, without making any reply, waited till they made room
+for him.
+
+They found a place for him in the middle of the table, facing his
+daughter-in-law, and, as soon as he was seated, he began to eat.  It was
+his son who was paying, after all; it was right he should take his share.
+With each ladleful of soup that went into his stomach, with each mouthful
+of bread or meat crushed between his gums, with each glass of cider or
+wine that flowed through his gullet he thought he was regaining something
+of his own property, getting back a little of his money which all those
+gluttons were devouring, saving in fact a portion of his own means.  And
+he ate in silence with the obstinacy of a miser who hides his coppers,
+with the same gloomy persistence with which he formerly performed his
+daily labors.
+
+But all of a sudden he noticed at the end of the table Celeste's child on
+a woman's lap, and his eye remained fixed on the little boy.  He went on
+eating, with his glance riveted on the youngster, into whose mouth the
+woman who minded him every now and then put a little morsel which he
+nibbled at.  And the old man suffered more from the few mouthfuls sucked
+by this little chap than from all that the others swallowed.
+
+The meal lasted till evening.  Then every one went back home.
+
+Cesaire raised up old Amable.
+
+"Come, daddy, we must go home," said he.
+
+And he put the old man's two sticks in his hands.
+
+Celeste took her child in her arms, and they went on slowly through the
+pale night whitened by the snow.  The deaf old man, three-fourths tipsy,
+and even more malicious under the influence of drink, refused to go
+forward.  Several times he even sat down with the object of making his
+daughter-in-law catch cold, and he kept whining, without uttering a word,
+giving vent to a sort of continuous groaning as if he were in pain.
+
+When they reached home he at once climbed up to his loft, while Cesaire
+made a bed for the child near the deep niche where he was going to lie
+down with his wife.  But as the newly wedded pair could not sleep
+immediately, they heard the old man for a long time moving about on his
+bed of straw, and he even talked aloud several times, whether it was that
+he was dreaming or that he let his thoughts escape through his mouth, in
+spite of himself, not being able to keep them back, under the obsession
+of a fixed idea.
+
+When he came down his ladder next morning he saw his daughter-in-law
+looking after the housekeeping.
+
+She cried out to him:
+
+"Come, daddy, hurry on!  Here's some good soup."
+
+And she placed at the end of the table the round black earthen bowl
+filled with steaming liquid.  He sat down without giving any answer,
+seized the hot bowl, warmed his hands with it in his customary fashion,
+and, as it was very cold, even pressed it against his breast to try to
+make a little of the living heat of the boiling liquid enter into him,
+into his old body stiffened by so many winters.
+
+Then he took his sticks and went out into the fields, covered with ice,
+till it was time for dinner, for he had seen Celeste's youngster still
+asleep in a big soap-box.
+
+He did not take his place in the household.  He lived in the thatched
+house, as in bygone days, but he seemed not to belong to it any longer,
+to be no longer interested in anything, to look upon those people, his
+son, the wife and the child as strangers whom he did not know, to whom he
+never spoke.
+
+The winter glided by.  It was long and severe.
+
+Then the early spring made the seeds sprout forth again, and the peasants
+once more, like laborious ants, passed their days in the fields, toiling
+from morning till night, under the wind and under the rain, along the
+furrows of brown earth which brought forth the bread of men.
+
+The year promised well for the newly married pair.  The crops grew thick
+and strong.  There were no late frosts, and the apples bursting into
+bloom scattered on the grass their rosy white snow which promised a hail
+of fruit for the autumn.
+
+Cesaire toiled hard, rose early and left off work late, in order to save
+the expense of a hired man.
+
+His wife said to him sometimes:
+
+"You'll make yourself ill in the long run."
+
+He replied:
+
+"Certainly not.  I'm a good judge."
+
+Nevertheless one evening he came home so fatigued that he had to get to
+bed without supper.  He rose up next morning at the usual hour, but he
+could not eat, in spite of his fast on the previous night, and he had to
+come back to the house in the middle of the afternoon in order to go to
+bed again.  In the course of the night he began to cough; he turned round
+on his straw couch, feverish, with his forehead burning, his tongue dry
+and his throat parched by a burning thirst.
+
+However, at daybreak he went toward his grounds, but next morning the
+doctor had to be sent for and pronounced him very ill with inflammation
+of the lungs.
+
+And he no longer left the dark recess in which he slept.  He could be
+heard coughing, gasping and tossing about in this hole.  In order to see
+him, to give his medicine and to apply cupping-glasses they had to-bring
+a candle to the entrance.  Then one could see his narrow head with his
+long matted beard underneath a thick lacework of spiders' webs, which
+hung and floated when stirred by the air.  And the hands of the sick man
+seemed dead under the dingy sheets.
+
+Celeste watched him with restless activity, made him take physic, applied
+blisters to him, went back and forth in the house, while old Amable
+remained at the edge of his loft, watching at a distance the gloomy
+cavern where his son lay dying.  He did not come near him, through hatred
+of the wife, sulking like an ill-tempered dog.
+
+Six more days passed, then one morning, as Celeste, who now slept on the
+ground on two loose bundles of straw, was going to see whether her man
+was better, she no longer heard his rapid breathing from the interior of
+his recess.  Terror stricken, she asked:
+
+"Well Cesaire, what sort of a night had you?"
+
+He did not answer.  She put out her hand to touch him, and the flesh on
+his face felt cold as ice.  She uttered a great cry, the long cry of a
+woman overpowered with fright.  He was dead.
+
+At this cry the deaf old man appeared at the top of his ladder, and when
+he saw Celeste rushing to call for help, he quickly descended, placed his
+hand on his son's face, and suddenly realizing what had happened, went to
+shut the door from the inside, to prevent the wife from re-entering and
+resuming possession of the dwelling, since his son was no longer living.
+
+Then he sat down on a chair by the dead man's side.
+
+Some of the neighbors arrived, called out and knocked.  He did not hear
+them.  One of them broke the glass of the window and jumped into the
+room.  Others followed.  The door was opened again and Celeste
+reappeared, all in tears, with swollen face and bloodshot eyes.  Then old
+Amable, vanquished, without uttering a word, climbed back to his loft.
+
+The funeral took place next morning.  Then, after the ceremony, the
+father-in-law and the daughter-in-law found themselves alone in the
+farmhouse with the child.
+
+It was the usual dinner hour.  She lighted the fire, made some soup and
+placed the plates on the table, while the old man sat on the chair
+waiting without appearing to look at her.  When the meal was ready she
+bawled in his ear
+
+"Come, daddy, you must eat."  He rose up, took his seat at the end of the
+table, emptied his soup bowl, masticated his bread and butter, drank his
+two glasses of cider and then took himself off.
+
+It was one of those warm days, one of those enjoyable days when life
+ferments, pulsates, blooms all over the surface of the soil.
+
+Old Amable pursued a little path across the fields.  He looked at the
+young wheat and the young oats, thinking that his son was now under the
+earth, his poor boy!  He walked along wearily, dragging his legs after
+him in a limping fashion.  And, as he was all alone in the plain, all
+alone under the blue sky, in the midst of the growing crops, all alone
+with the larks which he saw hovering above his head, without hearing
+their light song, he began to weep as he proceeded on his way.
+
+Then he sat down beside a pond and remained there till evening, gazing at
+the little birds that came there to drink.  Then, as the night was
+falling, he returned to the house, supped without saying a word and
+climbed up to his loft.  And his life went on as in the past.  Nothing
+was changed, except that his son Cesaire slept in the cemetery.
+
+What could he, an old man, do?  He could work no longer; he was now good
+for nothing except to swallow the soup prepared by his daughter-in-law.
+And he ate it in silence, morning and evening, watching with an eye of
+rage the little boy also taking soup, right opposite him, at the other
+side of the table.  Then he would go out, prowl about the fields after
+the fashion of a vagabond, hiding behind the barns where he would sleep
+for an hour or two as if he were afraid of being seen and then come back
+at the approach of night.
+
+But Celeste's mind began to be occupied by graver anxieties.  The farm
+needed a man to look after it and cultivate it.  Somebody should be there
+always to go through the fields, not a mere hired laborer, but a regular
+farmer, a master who understood the business and would take an interest
+in the farm.  A lone woman could not manage the farming, watch the price
+of corn and direct the sale and purchase of cattle.  Then ideas came into
+her head, simple practical ideas, which she had turned over in her head
+at night.  She could not marry again before the end of the year, and it
+was necessary at once to take care of pressing interests, immediate
+interests.
+
+Only one man could help her out of her difficulties, Victor Lecoq, the
+father of her child.  He was strong and understood farming; with a little
+money in his pocket he would make an excellent cultivator.  She was aware
+of his skill, having known him while he was working on her parents' farm.
+
+So one morning, seeing him passing along the road with a cart of manure,
+she went out to meet him.  When he perceived her, he drew up his horses
+and she said to him as if she had met him the night before:
+
+"Good-morrow, Victor--are you quite well, the same as ever?"
+
+He replied:
+
+"I'm quite well, the same as ever--and how are you?"
+
+"Oh, I'd be all right, only that I'm alone in the house, which bothers me
+on account of the farm."
+
+Then they remained chatting for a long time, leaning against the wheel of
+the heavy cart.  The man every now and then lifted up his cap to scratch
+his forehead and began thinking, while she, with flushed cheeks, went on
+talking warmly, told him about her views, her plans; her projects for the
+future.  At last he said in a low tone:
+
+"Yes, it can be done."
+
+She opened her hand like a countryman clinching a bargain and asked:
+
+"Is it agreed?"
+
+He pressed her outstretched hand.
+
+"'Tis agreed."
+
+"It's settled, then, for next Sunday?"
+
+"It's settled for next Sunday"
+
+"Well, good-morning, Victor."
+
+"Good-morning, Madame Houlbreque."
+
+
+                                 PART III
+
+This particular Sunday was the day of the village festival, the annual
+festival in honor of the patron saint, which in Normandy is called the
+assembly.
+
+For the last eight days quaint-looking vehicles in which live the
+families of strolling fair exhibitors, lottery managers, keepers of
+shooting galleries and other forms of amusement or exhibitors of
+curiosities whom the peasants call "wonder-makers" could be seen coming
+along the roads drawn slowly by gray or sorrel horses.
+
+The dirty wagons with their floating curtains, accompanied by a
+melancholy-looking dog, who trotted, with his head down, between the
+wheels, drew up one after the other on the green in front of the town
+hall.  Then a tent was erected in front of each ambulant abode, and
+inside this tent could be seen, through the holes in the canvas,
+glittering things which excited the envy or the curiosity of the village
+youngsters.
+
+As soon as the morning of the fete arrived all the booths were opened,
+displaying their splendors of glass or porcelain, and the peasants on
+their way to mass looked with genuine satisfaction at these modest shops
+which they saw again, nevertheless, each succeeding year.
+
+Early in the afternoon there was a crowd on the green.  From every
+neighboring village the farmers arrived, shaken along with their wives
+and children in the two-wheeled open chars-a-bancs, which rattled along,
+swaying like cradles.  They unharnessed at their friends' houses and the
+farmyards were filled with strange-looking traps, gray, high, lean,
+crooked, like long-clawed creatures from the depths of the sea.  And each
+family, with the youngsters in front and the grown-up ones behind, came
+to the assembly with tranquil steps, smiling countenances and open hands,
+big hands, red and bony, accustomed to work and apparently tired of their
+temporary rest.
+
+A clown was blowing a trumpet.  The barrel-organ accompanying the
+carrousel sent through the air its shrill jerky notes.  The lottery-wheel
+made a whirring sound like that of cloth tearing, and every moment the
+crack of the rifle could be heard.  And the slow-moving throng passed on
+quietly in front of the booths resembling paste in a fluid condition,
+with the motions of a flock of sheep and the awkwardness of heavy animals
+who had escaped by chance.
+
+The girls, holding one another's arms in groups of six or eight, were
+singing; the youths followed them, making jokes, with their caps over
+their ears and their blouses stiffened with starch, swollen out like blue
+balloons.
+
+The whole countryside was there--masters, laboring men and women
+servants.
+
+Old Amable himself, wearing his old-fashioned green frock coat, had
+wished to see the assembly, for he never failed to attend on such an
+occasion.
+
+He looked at the lotteries, stopped in front of the shooting galleries to
+criticize the shots and interested himself specially in a very simple
+game which consisted in throwing a big wooden ball into the open mouth of
+a mannikin carved and painted on a board.
+
+Suddenly he felt a tap on his shoulder.  It was Daddy Malivoire, who
+exclaimed:
+
+"Ha, daddy!  Come and have a glass of brandy."
+
+And they sat down at the table of an open-air restaurant.
+
+They drank one glass of brandy, then two, then three, and old Amable once
+more began wandering through the assembly.  His thoughts became slightly
+confused, he smiled without knowing why, he smiled in front of the
+lotteries, in front of the wooden horses and especially in front of the
+killing game.  He remained there a long time, filled with delight, when
+he saw a holiday-maker knocking down the gendarme or the cure, two
+authorities whom he instinctively distrusted.  Then he went back to the
+inn and drank a glass of cider to cool himself.  It was late, night came
+on.  A neighbor came to warn him:
+
+"You'll get back home late for the stew, daddy."
+
+Then he set out on his way to the farmhouse.  A soft shadow, the warm
+shadow of a spring night, was slowly descending on the earth.
+
+When he reached the front door he thought he saw through the window which
+was lighted up two persons in the house.  He stopped, much surprised,
+then he went in, and he saw Victor Lecoq seated at the table, with a
+plate filled with potatoes before him, taking his supper in the very same
+place where his son had sat.
+
+And he turned round suddenly as if he wanted to go away.  The night was
+very dark now.  Celeste started up and shouted at him:
+
+"Come quick, daddy!  Here's some good stew to finish off the assembly
+with."
+
+He complied through inertia and sat down, watching in turn the man, the
+woman and the child.  Then he began to eat quietly as on ordinary days.
+
+Victor Lecoq seemed quite at home, talked from time to time to Celeste,
+took up the child in his lap and kissed him.  And Celeste again served
+him with food, poured out drink for him and appeared happy while speaking
+to him.  Old Amable's eyes followed them attentively, though he could not
+hear what they were saying.
+
+When he had finished supper (and he had scarcely eaten anything, there
+was such a weight at his heart) he rose up, and instead of ascending to
+his loft as he did every night he opened the gate of the yard and went
+out into the open air.
+
+When he had gone, Celeste, a little uneasy, asked:
+
+"What is he going to do?"
+
+Victor replied in an indifferent tone:
+
+"Don't bother yourself.  He'll come back when he's tired."
+
+Then she saw after the house, washed the plates and wiped the table,
+while the man quietly took off his clothes.  Then he slipped into the
+dark and hollow bed in which she had slept with Cesaire.
+
+The yard gate opened and old Amable again appeared.  As soon as he
+entered the house he looked round on every side with the air of an old
+dog on the scent.  He was in search of Victor Lecoq.  As he did not see
+him, he took the candle off the table and approached the dark niche in
+which his son had died.  In the interior of it he perceived the man lying
+under the bed clothes and already asleep.  Then the deaf man noiselessly
+turned round, put back the candle and went out into the yard.
+
+Celeste had finished her work.  She put her son into his bed, arranged
+everything and waited for her father-in-law's return before lying down
+herself.
+
+She remained sitting on a chair, without moving her hands and with her
+eyes fixed on vacancy.
+
+As he did not come back, she murmured in a tone of impatience and
+annoyance:
+
+"This good-for-nothing old man will make us burn four sous' worth of
+candles."
+
+Victor answered from under the bed clothes:
+
+"It's over an hour since he went out.  We ought to see whether he fell
+asleep on the bench outside the door."
+
+"I'll go and see," she said.
+
+She rose up, took the light and went out, shading the light with her hand
+in order to see through the darkness.
+
+She saw nothing in front of the door, nothing on the bench, nothing on
+the dung heap, where the old man used sometimes to sit in hot weather.
+
+But, just as she was on the point of going in again, she chanced to raise
+her eyes toward the big apple tree, which sheltered the entrance to the
+farmyard, and suddenly she saw two feet--two feet at the height of her
+face belonging to a man who was hanging.
+
+She uttered terrible cries:
+
+"Victor!  Victor!  Victor!"
+
+He ran out in his shirt.  She could not utter another word, and turning
+aside her head so as not to see, she pointed toward the tree with her
+outstretched arm.
+
+Not understanding what she meant, he took the candle in order to find
+out, and in the midst of the foliage lit up from below he saw old Amable
+hanging high up with a stable-halter round his neck.
+
+A ladder was leaning against the trunk of the apple tree.
+
+Victor ran to fetch a bill-hook, climbed up the tree and cut the halter.
+But the old man was already cold and his tongue protruded horribly with a
+frightful grimace.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+     VOLUME X.
+
+THE CHRISTENING
+THE FARMER'S WIFE
+THE DEVIL
+THE SNIPE
+THE WILL
+WALTER SCHNAFF'S ADVENTURE
+AT SEA
+MINUET
+THE SON
+THAT PIG OF A MORIN
+SAINT ANTHONY
+LASTING LOVE
+PIERROT
+A NORMANDY JOKE
+FATHER MATTHEW
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE CHRISTENING
+
+"Well doctor, a little brandy?"
+
+"With pleasure."
+
+The old ship's surgeon, holding out his glass, watched it as it slowly
+filled with the golden liquid.  Then, holding it in front of his eyes, he
+let the light from the lamp stream through it, smelled it, tasted a few
+drops and smacked his lips with relish.  Then he said:
+
+"Ah!  the charming poison!  Or rather the seductive murderer, the
+delightful destroyer of peoples!
+
+"You people do not know it the way I do.  You may have read that
+admirable book entitled L'Assommoir, but you have not, as I have, seen
+alcohol exterminate a whole tribe of savages, a little kingdom of
+negroes--alcohol calmly unloaded by the barrel by red-bearded English
+seamen.
+
+"Right near here, in a little village in Brittany near Pont-l'Abbe, I
+once witnessed a strange and terrible tragedy caused by alcohol.  I was
+spending my vacation in a little country house left me by my father.
+You know this flat coast where the wind whistles day and night, where one
+sees, standing or prone, these giant rocks which in the olden times were
+regarded as guardians, and which still retain something majestic and
+imposing about them.  I always expect to see them come to life and start
+to walk across the country with the slow and ponderous tread of giants,
+or to unfold enormous granite wings and fly toward the paradise of the
+Druids.
+
+"Everywhere is the sea, always ready on the slightest provocation to rise
+in its anger and shake its foamy mane at those bold enough to brave its
+wrath.
+
+"And the men who travel on this terrible sea, which, with one motion of
+its green back, can overturn and swallow up their frail barks--they go
+out in the little boats, day and night, hardy, weary and drunk.  They are
+often drunk.  They have a saying which says: 'When the bottle is full you
+see the reef, but when it is empty you see it no more.'
+
+"Go into one of their huts; you will never find the father there.  If you
+ask the woman what has become of her husband, she will stretch her arms
+out over the dark ocean which rumbles and roars along the coast.
+He remained, there one night, when he had had too much to drink; so did
+her oldest son.  She has four more big, strong, fair-haired boys.  Soon
+it will be their time.
+
+"As I said, I was living in a little house near Pont-l'Abbe.  I was there
+alone with my servant, an old sailor, and with a native family which took
+care of the grounds in my absence.  It consisted of three persons, two
+sisters and a man, who had married one of them, and who attended to the
+garden.
+
+"A short time before Christmas my gardener's wife presented him with a
+boy.  The husband asked me to stand as god-father.  I could hardly deny
+the request, and so he borrowed ten francs from me for the cost of the
+christening, as he said.
+
+"The second day of January was chosen as the date of the ceremony.  For a
+week the earth had been covered by an enormous white carpet of snow,
+which made this flat, low country seem vast and limitless.  The ocean
+appeared to be black in contrast with this white plain; one could see it
+rolling, raging and tossing its waves as though wishing to annihilate its
+pale neighbor, which appeared to be dead, it was so calm, quiet and cold.
+
+"At nine o'clock the father, Kerandec, came to my door with his sister-
+in-law, the big Kermagan, and the nurse, who carried the infant wrapped
+up in a blanket.  We started for the church.  The weather was so cold
+that it seemed to dry up the skin and crack it open.  I was thinking of
+the poor little creature who was being carried on ahead of us, and I said
+to myself that this Breton race must surely be of iron, if their children
+were able, as soon as they were born, to stand such an outing.
+
+"We came to the church, but the door was closed; the priest was late.
+
+"Then the nurse sat down on one of the steps and began to undress the
+child.  At first I thought there must have been some slight accident, but
+I saw that they were leaving the poor little fellow naked completely
+naked, in the icy air.  Furious at such imprudence, I protested:
+
+"'Why, you are crazy!  You will kill the child!'
+
+"The woman answered quietly: 'Oh, no, sir; he must wait naked before the
+Lord.'
+
+"The father and the aunt looked on undisturbed.  It was the custom.  If
+it were not adhered to misfortune was sure to attend the little one.
+
+"I scolded, threatened and pleaded.  I used force to try to cover the
+frail creature.  All was in vain.  The nurse ran away from me through the
+snow, and the body of the little one turned purple.  I was about to leave
+these brutes when I saw the priest coming across the country, followed.
+by the sexton and a young boy.  I ran towards him and gave vent to my
+indignation.  He showed no surprise nor did he quicken his pace in the
+least.  He answered:
+
+"'What can you expect, sir?  It's the custom.  They all do it, and it's
+of no use trying to stop them.'
+
+"'But at least hurry up!' I cried.
+
+"He answered: 'But I can't go any faster.'
+
+"He entered the vestry, while we remained outside on the church steps.
+I was suffering.  But what about the poor little creature who was howling
+from the effects of the biting cold.
+
+"At last the door opened.  He went into the church.  But the poor child
+had to remain naked throughout the ceremony.  It was interminable.  The
+priest stammered over the Latin words and mispronounced them horribly.
+He walked slowly and with a ponderous tread.  His white surplice chilled
+my heart.  It seemed as though, in the name of a pitiless and barbarous
+god, he had wrapped himself in another kind of snow in order to torture
+this little piece of humanity that suffered so from the cold.
+
+"Finally the christening was finished according to the rites and I saw
+the nurse once more take the frozen, moaning child and wrap it up in the
+blanket.
+
+"The priest said to me: 'Do you wish to sign the register?'
+
+"Turning to my gardener, I said: "Hurry up and get home quickly so that
+you can warm that child.'  I gave him some advice so as to ward off, if
+not too late, a bad attack of pneumonia.  He promised to follow my
+instructions and left with his sister-in-law and the nurse.  I followed
+the priest into the vestry, and when I had signed he demanded five francs
+for expenses.
+
+"As I had already given the father ten francs, I refused to pay twice.
+The priest threatened to destroy the paper and to annul the ceremony.
+I, in turn, threatened him with the district attorney.  The dispute was
+long, and I finally paid five francs.
+
+"As soon as I reached home I went down to Kerandec's to find out whether
+everything was all right.  Neither father, nor sister-in-law, nor nurse
+had yet returned.  The mother, who had remained alone, was in bed,
+shivering with cold and starving, for she had had nothing to eat since
+the day before.
+
+"'Where the deuce can they have gone?' I asked.  She answered without
+surprise or anger, 'They're going to drink something to celebrate: It was
+the custom.  Then I thought, of my ten francs which were to pay the
+church and would doubtless pay for the alcohol.
+
+"I sent some broth to the mother and ordered a good fire to be built in
+the room.  I was uneasy and furious and promised myself to drive out
+these brutes, wondering with terror what was going to happen to the poor
+infant.
+
+"It was already six, and they had not yet returned.  I told my servant to
+wait for them and I went to bed.  I soon fell asleep and slept like a
+top.  At daybreak I was awakened by my servant, who was bringing me my
+hot water.
+
+"As soon as my eyes were open I asked: 'How about Kerandec?'
+
+"The man hesitated and then stammered: 'Oh! he came back, all right,
+after midnight, and so drunk that he couldn't walk, and so were Kermagan
+and the nurse.  I guess they must have slept in a ditch, for the little
+one died and they never even noticed it.'
+
+"I jumped up out of bed, crying:
+
+"'What!  The child is dead?'
+
+"'Yes, sir.  They brought it back to Mother Kerandec.  When she saw it
+she began to cry, and now they are making her drink to console her.'
+
+"'What's that?  They are making her drink!'
+
+"'Yes, sir.  I only found it out this morning.  As Kerandec had no more
+brandy or money, he took some wood alcohol, which monsieur gave him for
+the lamp, and all four of them are now drinking that.  The mother is
+feeling pretty sick now.'
+
+"I had hastily put on some clothes, and seizing a stick, with the
+intention of applying it to the backs of these human beasts, I hastened
+towards the gardener's house.
+
+"The mother was raving drunk beside the blue body of her dead baby.
+Kerandec, the nurse, and the Kermagan woman were snoring on the floor.
+I had to take care of the mother, who died towards noon."
+
+The old doctor was silent.  He took up the brandy-bottle and poured out
+another glass.  He held it up to the lamp, and the light streaming
+through it imparted to the liquid the amber color of molten topaz.  With
+one gulp he swallowed the treacherous drink.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE FARMER'S WIFE
+
+Said the Baron Rene du Treilles to me:
+
+"Will you come and open the hunting season with me at my farm at
+Marinville?  I shall be delighted if you will, my dear boy.  In the first
+place, I am all alone.  It is rather a difficult ground to get at, and
+the place I live in is so primitive that I can invite only my most
+intimate friends."
+
+I accepted his invitation, and on Saturday we set off on the train going
+to Normandy.  We alighted at a station called Almivare, and Baron Rene,
+pointing to a carryall drawn by a timid horse and driven by a big
+countryman with white hair, said:
+
+"Here is our equipage, my dear boy."
+
+The driver extended his hand to his landlord, and the baron pressed it
+warmly, asking:
+
+"Well, Maitre Lebrument, how are you?"
+
+"Always the same, M'sieu le Baron."
+
+We jumped into this swinging hencoop perched on two enormous wheels, and
+the young horse, after a violent swerve, started into a gallop, pitching
+us into the air like balls.  Every fall backward on the wooden bench gave
+me the most dreadful pain.
+
+The peasant kept repeating in his calm, monotonous voice:
+
+"There, there!  All right all right, Moutard, all right!"
+
+But Moutard scarcely heard, and kept capering along like a goat.
+
+Our two dogs behind us, in the empty part of the hencoop, were standing
+up and sniffing the air of the plains, where they scented game.
+
+The baron gazed with a sad eye into the distance at the vast Norman
+landscape, undulating and melancholy, like an immense English park, where
+the farmyards, surrounded by two or four rows of trees and full of
+dwarfed apple trees which hid the houses, gave a vista as far as the eye
+could see of forest trees, copses and shrubbery such as landscape
+gardeners look for in laying out the boundaries of princely estates.
+
+And Rene du Treilles suddenly exclaimed:
+
+"I love this soil; I have my very roots in it."
+
+He was a pure Norman, tall and strong, with a slight paunch, and of the
+old race of adventurers who went to found kingdoms on the shores of every
+ocean.  He was about fifty years of age, ten years less perhaps than the
+farmer who was driving us.
+
+The latter was a lean peasant, all skin and bone, one of those men who
+live a hundred years.
+
+After two hours' travelling over stony roads, across that green and
+monotonous plain, the vehicle entered one of those orchard farmyards and
+drew up before in old structure falling into decay, where an old maid-
+servant stood waiting beside a young fellow, who took charge of the
+horse.
+
+We entered the farmhouse.  The smoky kitchen was high and spacious.  The
+copper utensils and the crockery shone in the reflection of the hearth.
+A cat lay asleep on a chair, a dog under the table.  One perceived an
+odor of milk, apples, smoke, that indescribable smell peculiar to old
+farmhouses; the odor of the earth, of the walls, of furniture, the odor
+of spilled stale soup, of former wash-days and of former inhabitants, the
+smell of animals and of human beings combined, of things and of persons,
+the odor of time, and of things that have passed away.
+
+I went out to have a look at the farmyard.  It was very large, full of
+apple trees, dwarfed and crooked, and laden with fruit which fell on the
+grass around them.  In this farmyard the Norman smell of apples was as
+strong as that of the bloom of orange trees on the shores of the south of
+France.
+
+Four rows of beeches surrounded this inclosure.  They were so tall that
+they seemed to touch the clouds at this hour of nightfall, and their
+summits, through which the night winds passed, swayed and sang a
+mournful, interminable song.
+
+I reentered the house.
+
+The baron was warming his feet at the fire, and was listening to the
+farmer's talk about country matters.  He talked about marriages, births
+and deaths, then about the fall in the price of grain and the latest news
+about cattle.  The "Veularde" (as he called a cow that had been bought at
+the fair of Veules) had calved in the middle of June.  The cider had not
+been first-class last year.  Apricots were almost disappearing from the
+country.
+
+Then we had dinner.  It was a good rustic meal, simple and abundant, long
+and tranquil.  And while we were dining I noticed the special kind of
+friendly familiarity which had struck me from the start between the baron
+and the peasant.
+
+Outside, the beeches continued sighing in the night wind, and our two
+dogs, shut up in a shed, were whining and howling in an uncanny fashion.
+The fire was dying out in the big fireplace.  The maid-servant had gone
+to bed.  Maitre Lebrument said in his turn:
+
+"If you don't mind, M'sieu le Baron, I'm going to bed.  I am not used to
+staying up late."
+
+The baron extended his hand toward him and said: "Go, my friend," in so
+cordial a tone that I said, as soon as the man had disappeared:
+
+"He is devoted to you, this farmer?"
+
+"Better than that, my dear fellow!  It is a drama, an old drama, simple
+and very sad, that attaches him to me.  Here is the story:
+
+"You know that my father was colonel in a cavalry regiment.  His orderly
+was this young fellow, now an old man, the son of a farmer.  When my
+father retired from the army he took this former soldier, then about
+forty; as his servant.  I was at that time about thirty.  We were living
+in our old chateau of Valrenne, near Caudebec-en-Caux.
+
+"At this period my mother's chambermaid was one of the prettiest girls
+you could see, fair-haired, slender and sprightly in manner, a genuine
+soubrette of the old type that no longer exists.  To-day these creatures
+spring up into hussies before their time.  Paris, with the aid of the
+railways, attracts them, calls them, takes hold of them, as soon as they
+are budding into womanhood, these little sluts who in old times remained
+simple maid-servants.  Every man passing by, as recruiting sergeants did
+formerly, looking for recruits, with conscripts, entices and ruins them--
+these foolish lassies--and we have now only the scum of the female sex
+for servant maids, all that is dull, nasty, common and ill-formed, too
+ugly, even for gallantry.
+
+"Well, this girl was charming, and I often gave her a kiss in dark
+corners; nothing more, I swear to you!  She was virtuous, besides; and I
+had some respect for my mother's house, which is more than can be said of
+the blackguards of the present day.
+
+"Now, it happened that my man-servant, the ex-soldier, the old farmer you
+have just seen, fell madly in love with this girl, perfectly daft.  The
+first thing we noticed was that he forgot everything, he paid no
+attention to anything.
+
+"My father said incessantly:
+
+"'See here, Jean, what's the matter with you?  Are you ill?'
+
+"He replied:
+
+"'No, no, M'sieu le Baron.  There's nothing the matter with me.'
+
+"He grew thin; he broke glasses and let plates fall when waiting on the
+table.  We thought he must have been attacked by some nervous affection,
+and sent for the doctor, who thought he could detect symptoms of spinal
+disease.  Then my father, full of anxiety about his faithful man-servant,
+decided to place him in a private hospital.  When the poor fellow heard
+of my father's intentions he made a clean breast of it.
+
+"'M'sieu le Baron'
+
+"'Well, my boy?'
+
+"'You see, the thing I want is not physic.'
+
+"'Ha!  what is it, then?'
+
+"'It's marriage!'
+
+"My father turned round and stared at him in astonishment.
+
+"'What's that you say, eh?'
+
+"'It's marriage."
+
+"'Marriage!  So, then, you jackass, you're to love.'
+
+"'That's how it is, M'sieu le Baron.'
+
+"And my father began to laugh so immoderately that my mother called out
+through the wall of the next room:
+
+"'What in the world is the matter with you, Gontran?'
+
+"He replied:
+
+"'Come here, Catherine.'
+
+"And when she came in he told her, with tears in his eyes from sheer
+laughter, that his idiot of a servant-man was lovesick.
+
+"But my mother, instead of laughing, was deeply affected.
+
+"'Who is it that you have fallen in love with, my poor fellow?' she
+asked.
+
+"He answered without hesitation:
+
+"'With Louise, Madame le Baronne.'
+
+"My mother said with the utmost gravity: 'We must try to arrange this
+matter the best way we can.'
+
+"So Louise was sent for and questioned by my mother; and she said in
+reply that she knew all about Jean's liking for her, that in fact Jean
+had spoken to her about it several times, but that she did not want him.
+She refused to say why.
+
+"And two months elapsed during which my father and mother never ceased to
+urge this girl to marry Jean.  As she declared she was not in love with
+any other man, she could not give any serious reason for her refusal.  My
+father at last overcame her resistance by means of a big present of
+money, and started the pair of them on a farm--this very farm.  I did not
+see them for three years, and then I learned that Louise had died of
+consumption.  But my father and mother died, too, in their turn, and it
+was two years more before I found myself face to face with Jean.
+
+"At last one autumn day about the end of October the idea came into my
+head to go hunting on this part of my estate, which my father had told me
+was full of game.
+
+"So one evening, one wet evening, I arrived at this house.  I was shocked
+to find my father's old servant with perfectly white hair, though he was
+not more than forty-five or forty-six years of age.  I made him dine with
+me, at the very table where we are now sitting.  It was raining hard.
+We could hear the rain battering at the roof, the walls, and the windows,
+flowing in a perfect deluge into the farmyard; and my dog was howling in
+the shed where the other dogs are howling to-night.
+
+"All of a sudden, when the servant-maid had gone to bed, the man said in
+a timid voice:
+
+"'M'sieu le Baron.'
+
+"'What is it, my dear Jean?'
+
+"'I have something to tell you.'
+
+"'Tell it, my dear Jean.'
+
+"'You remember Louise, my wife.'
+
+"'Certainly, I remember her.'
+
+"'Well, she left me a message for you.'
+
+"'What was it?'
+
+"'A--a--well, it was what you might call a confession.'
+
+"'Ha--and what was it about?'
+
+
+"'It was--it was--I'd rather, all the same, tell you nothing about it--
+but I must--I must.  Well, it's this--it wasn't consumption she died of
+at all.  It was grief--well, that's the long and short of it.  As soon as
+she came to live here after we were married, she grew thin; she changed
+so that you wouldn't know her, M'sieu le Baron.  She was just as I was
+before I married her, but it was just the opposite, just the opposite.
+
+"'I sent for the doctor.  He said it was her liver that was affected--he
+said it was what he called a "hepatic" complaint--I don't know these big
+words, M'sieu le Baron.  Then I bought medicine for her, heaps on heaps
+of bottles that cost about three hundred francs.  But she'd take none of
+them; she wouldn't have them; she said: "It's no use, my poor Jean; it
+wouldn't do me any good."  I saw well that she had some hidden trouble;
+and then I found her one time crying, and I didn't know what to do, no,
+I didn't know what to do.  I bought her caps, and dresses, and hair oil,
+and earrings.  Nothing did her any good.  And I saw that she was going to
+die.  And so one night at the end of November, one snowy night, after she
+had been in bed the whole day, she told me to send for the cure.  So I
+went for him.  As soon as he came--
+
+"Jean," she said, "I am going to make a confession to you.  I owe it to
+you, Jean.  I have never been false to you, never! never, before or after
+you married me.  M'sieu le Cure is there, and can tell you so; he knows
+my soul.  Well, listen, Jean.  If I am dying, it is because I was not
+able to console myself for leaving the chateau, because I was too fond of
+the young Baron Monsieur Rene, too fond of him, mind you, Jean, there was
+no harm in it!  This is the thing that's killing me.  When I could see
+him no more I felt that I should die.  If I could only have seen him, I
+might have lived, only seen him, nothing more.  I wish you'd tell him
+some day, by and by, when I am no longer here.  You will tell him, swear
+you, will, Jean--swear it--in the presence of M'sieu le Cure!  It will
+console me to know that he will know it one day, that this was the cause
+of my death!  Swear it!"
+
+'Well, I gave her my promise, M'sieu It Baron, and on the faith of an
+honest man I have kept my word.'
+
+"And then he ceased speaking, his eyes filling with tears.
+
+"Good God!  my dear boy, you can't form any idea of the emotion that
+filled me when I heard this poor devil, whose wife I had killed without
+suspecting it, telling me this story on that wet night in this very
+kitchen.
+
+"I exclaimed: 'Ah! my poor Jean! my poor Jean!'
+
+"He murmured: 'Well, that's all, M'sieu le Baron.  I could not help it,
+one way or the other--and now it's all over!'
+
+"I caught his hand across the table, and I began to weep.
+
+"He asked, 'Will you come and see her grave?' I nodded assent, for I
+couldn't speak.  He rose, lighted a lantern, and we walked through the
+blinding rain by the light of the lantern.
+
+"He opened a gate, and I saw some crosses of black wood.
+
+"Suddenly he stopped before a marble slab and said: 'There it is,' and he
+flashed the lantern close to it so that I could read the inscription:
+
+                     "'TO LOUISE HORTENSE MARINET,
+               "'Wife of Jean-Francois Lebrument, Farmer,
+            "'SHE WAS A FAITHFUL WIFE.  GOD REST HER SOUL.'
+
+"We fell on our knees in the damp grass, he and I, with the lantern
+between us, and I saw the rain beating on the white marble slab.  And I
+thought of the heart of her sleeping there in her grave.  Ah! poor heart!
+poor heart!  "Since then I come here every year.  And I don't know why,
+but I feel as if I were guilty of some crime in the presence of this man
+who always looks as if he forgave me."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE DEVIL
+
+The peasant and the doctor stood on opposite sides of the bed, beside the
+old, dying woman.  She was calm and resigned and her mind quite clear as
+she looked at them and listened to their conversation.  She was going to
+die, and she did not rebel at it, for her time was come, as she was
+ninety-two.
+
+The July sun streamed in at the window and the open door and cast its hot
+flames on the uneven brown clay floor, which had been stamped down by
+four generations of clodhoppers.  The smell of the fields came in also,
+driven by the sharp wind and parched by the noontide heat.  The grass-
+hoppers chirped themselves hoarse, and filled the country with their
+shrill noise, which was like that of the wooden toys which are sold to
+children at fair time.
+
+The doctor raised his voice and said: "Honore, you cannot leave your
+mother in this state; she may die at any moment."  And the peasant, in
+great distress, replied: "But I must get in my wheat, for it has been
+lying on the ground a long time, and the weather is just right for it;
+what do you say about it, mother?"  And the dying old woman, still
+tormented by her Norman avariciousness, replied yes with her eyes and her
+forehead, and thus urged her son to get in his wheat, and to leave her to
+die alone.
+
+But the doctor got angry, and, stamping his foot, he said: "You are no
+better than a brute, do you hear, and I will not allow you to do it, do
+you understand?  And if you must get in your wheat today, go and fetch
+Rapet's wife and make her look after your mother; I will have it, do you
+understand me?  And if you do not obey me, I will let you die like a dog,
+when you are ill in your turn; do you hear?"
+
+The peasant, a tall, thin fellow with slow movements, who was tormented
+by indecision, by his fear of the doctor and his fierce love of saving,
+hesitated, calculated, and stammered out: "How much does La Rapet charge
+for attending sick people?"  "How should I know?" the doctor cried.
+"That depends upon how long she is needed.  Settle it with her, by
+Heaven!  But I want her to be here within an hour, do you hear?"
+
+So the man decided.  "I will go for her," he replied; "don't get angry,
+doctor."  And the latter left, calling out as he went: "Be careful, be
+very careful, you know, for I do not joke when I am angry!"  As soon as
+they were alone the peasant turned to his mother and said in a resigned
+voice: "I will go and fetch La Rapet, as the man will have it.  Don't
+worry till I get back."
+
+And he went out in his turn.
+
+La Rapet, old was an old washerwoman, watched the dead and the dying of
+the neighborhood, and then, as soon as she had sewn her customers into
+that linen cloth from which they would emerge no more, she went and took
+up her iron to smooth out the linen of the living.  Wrinkled like a last
+year's apple, spiteful, envious, avaricious with a phenomenal avarice,
+bent double, as if she had been broken in half across the loins by the
+constant motion of passing the iron over the linen, one might have said
+that she had a kind of abnormal and cynical love of a death struggle.
+She never spoke of anything but of the people she had seen die, of the
+various kinds of deaths at which she had been present, and she related
+with the greatest minuteness details which were always similar, just as a
+sportsman recounts his luck.
+
+When Honore Bontemps entered her cottage, he found her preparing the
+starch for the collars of the women villagers, and he said: "Good-
+evening; I hope you are pretty well, Mother Rapet?"
+
+She turned her head round to look at him, and said: "As usual, as usual,
+and you?"  "Oh! as for me, I am as well as I could wish, but my mother is
+not well."  "Your mother?"  "Yes, my mother!"  "What is the matter with
+her?"  "She is going to turn up her toes, that's what's the matter with
+her!"
+
+The old woman took her hands out of the water and asked with sudden
+sympathy: "Is she as bad as all that?"  "The doctor says she will not
+last till morning."  "Then she certainly is very bad!"  Honore hesitated,
+for he wanted to make a few preparatory remarks before coming to his
+proposition; but as he could hit upon nothing, he made up his mind
+suddenly.
+
+"How much will you ask to stay with her till the end?  You know that I am
+not rich, and I can not even afford to keep a servant girl.  It is just
+that which has brought my poor mother to this state--too much worry and
+fatigue!  She did the work of ten, in spite of her ninety-two years.  You
+don't find any made of that stuff nowadays!"
+
+La Rapet answered gravely: "There are two prices: Forty sous by day and
+three francs by night for the rich, and twenty sous by day and forty by
+night for the others.  You shall pay me the twenty and forty."  But the,
+peasant reflected, for he knew his mother well.  He knew how tenacious of
+life, how vigorous and unyielding she was, and she might last another
+week, in spite of the doctor's opinion; and so he said resolutely: "No, I
+would rather you would fix a price for the whole time until the end.
+I will take my chance, one way or the other.  The doctor says she will
+die very soon.  If that happens, so much the better for you, and so much
+the worse for her, but if she holds out till to-morrow or longer, so much
+the better for her and so much the worse for you!"
+
+The nurse looked at the man in astonishment, for she had never treated a
+death as a speculation, and she hesitated, tempted by the idea of the
+possible gain, but she suspected that he wanted to play her a trick.
+"I can say nothing until I have seen your mother," she replied.
+
+"Then come with me and see her."
+
+She washed her hands, and went with him immediately.
+
+They did not speak on the road; she walked with short, hasty steps, while
+he strode on with his long legs, as if he were crossing a brook at every
+step.
+
+The cows lying down in the fields, overcome by the heat, raised their
+heads heavily and lowed feebly at the two passers-by, as if to ask them
+for some green grass.
+
+When they got near the house, Honore Bontemps murmured: "Suppose it is
+all over?"  And his unconscious wish that it might be so showed itself in
+the sound of his voice.
+
+But the old woman was not dead.  She was lying on her back, on her
+wretched bed, her hands covered with a purple cotton counterpane,
+horribly thin, knotty hands, like the claws of strange animals, like
+crabs, half closed by rheumatism, fatigue and the work of nearly a
+century which she had accomplished.
+
+La Rapet went up to the bed and looked at the dying woman, felt her
+pulse, tapped her on the chest, listened to her breathing, and asked her
+questions, so as to hear her speak; and then, having looked at her for
+some time, she went out of the room, followed by Honore.  Her decided
+opinion was that the old woman would not last till night.  He asked:
+"Well?" And the sick-nurse replied: "Well, she may last two days, perhaps
+three.  You will have to give me six francs, everything included."
+
+"Six francs! six francs!" he shouted.  "Are you out of your mind?  I tell
+you she cannot last more than five or six hours!"  And they disputed
+angrily for some time, but as the nurse said she must go home, as the
+time was going by, and as his wheat would not come to the farmyard of its
+own accord, he finally agreed to her terms.
+
+"Very well, then, that is settled; six francs, including everything,
+until the corpse is taken out."
+
+And he went away, with long strides, to his wheat which was lying on the
+ground under the hot sun which ripens the grain, while the sick-nurse
+went in again to the house.
+
+She had brought some work with her, for she worked without ceasing by the
+side of the dead and dying, sometimes for herself, sometimes for the
+family which employed her as seamstress and paid her rather more in that
+capacity.  Suddenly, she asked: "Have you received the last sacraments,
+Mother Bontemps?"
+
+The old peasant woman shook her head, and La Rapet, who was very devout,
+got up quickly:
+
+"Good heavens, is it possible?  I will go and fetch the cure"; and she
+rushed off to the parsonage so quickly that the urchins in the street
+thought some accident had happened, when they saw her running.
+
+The priest came immediately in his surplice, preceded by a choir boy who
+rang a bell to announce the passage of the Host through the parched and
+quiet country.  Some men who were working at a distance took off their
+large hats and remained motionless until the white vestment had
+disappeared behind some farm buildings; the women who were making up the
+sheaves stood up to make the sign of the cross; the frightened black hens
+ran away along the ditch until they reached a well-known hole, through
+which they suddenly disappeared, while a foal which was tied in a meadow
+took fright at the sight of the surplice and began to gallop round and
+round, kicking cut every now and then.  The acolyte, in his red cassock,
+walked quickly, and the priest, with his head inclined toward one
+shoulder and his square biretta on his head, followed him, muttering some
+prayers; while last of all came La Rapet, bent almost double as if she
+wished to prostrate herself, as she walked with folded hands as they do
+in church.
+
+Honore saw them pass in the distance, and he asked: "Where is our priest
+going?"  His man, who was more intelligent, replied: "He is taking the
+sacrament to your mother, of course!"
+
+The peasant was not surprised, and said: "That may be," and went on with
+his work.
+
+Mother Bontemps confessed, received absolution and communion, and the
+priest took his departure, leaving the two women alone in the suffocating
+room, while La Rapet began to look at the dying woman, and to ask herself
+whether it could last much longer.
+
+The day was on the wane, and gusts of cooler air began to blow, causing a
+view of Epinal, which was fastened to the wall by two pins, to flap up
+and down; the scanty window curtains, which had formerly been white, but
+were now yellow and covered with fly-specks, looked as if they were going
+to fly off, as if they were struggling to get away, like the old woman's
+soul.
+
+Lying motionless, with her eyes open, she seemed to await with
+indifference that death which was so near and which yet delayed its
+coming.  Her short breathing whistled in her constricted throat.  It
+would stop altogether soon, and there would be one woman less in the
+world; no one would regret her.
+
+At nightfall Honore returned, and when he went up to the bed and saw that
+his mother was still alive, he asked: "How is she?" just as he had done
+formerly when she had been ailing, and then he sent La Rapet away, saying
+to her: "To-morrow morning at five o'clock, without fail."  And she
+replied: "To-morrow, at five o'clock."
+
+She came at daybreak, and found Honore eating his soup, which he had made
+himself before going to work, and the sick-nurse asked him: "Well, is
+your mother dead?"  "She is rather better, on the contrary," he replied,
+with a sly look out of the corner of his eyes.  And he went out.
+
+La Rapet, seized with anxiety, went up to the dying woman, who remained
+in the same state, lethargic and impassive, with her eyes open and her
+hands clutching the counterpane.  The nurse perceived that this might go
+on thus for two days, four days, eight days, and her avaricious mind was
+seized with fear, while she was furious at the sly fellow who had tricked
+her, and at the woman who would not die.
+
+Nevertheless, she began to work, and waited, looking intently at the
+wrinkled face of Mother Bontemps.  When Honore returned to breakfast he
+seemed quite satisfied and even in a bantering humor.  He was decidedly
+getting in his wheat under very favorable circumstances.
+
+La Rapet was becoming exasperated; every minute now seemed to her so much
+time and money stolen from her.  She felt a mad inclination to take this
+old woman, this, headstrong old fool, this obstinate old wretch, and to
+stop that short, rapid breath, which was robbing her of her time and
+money, by squeezing her throat a little.  But then she reflected on the
+danger of doing so, and other thoughts came into her head; so she went up
+to the bed and said: "Have you ever seen the Devil?"  Mother Bontemps
+murmured: "No."
+
+Then the sick-nurse began to talk and to tell her tales which were likely
+to terrify the weak mind of the dying woman.  Some minutes before one
+dies the Devil appears, she said, to all who are in the death throes.
+He has a broom in his hand, a saucepan on his head, and he utters loud
+cries.  When anybody sees him, all is over, and that person has only a
+few moments longer to live.  She then enumerated all those to whom the
+Devil had appeared that year: Josephine Loisel, Eulalie Ratier, Sophie
+Padaknau, Seraphine Grospied.
+
+Mother Bontemps, who had at last become disturbed in mind, moved about,
+wrung her hands, and tried to turn her head to look toward the end of the
+room.  Suddenly La Rapet disappeared at the foot of the bed.  She took a
+sheet out of the cupboard and wrapped herself up in it; she put the iron
+saucepan on her head, so that its three short bent feet rose up like
+horns, and she took a broom in her right hand and a tin pail in her left,
+which she threw up suddenly, so that it might fall to the ground noisily.
+
+When it came down, it certainly made a terrible noise.  Then, climbing
+upon a chair, the nurse lifted up the curtain which hung at the bottom of
+the bed, and showed herself, gesticulating and uttering shrill cries into
+the iron saucepan which covered her face, while she menaced the old
+peasant woman, who was nearly dead, with her broom.
+
+Terrified, with an insane expression on her face, the dying woman made a
+superhuman effort to get up and escape; she even got her shoulders and
+chest out of bed; then she fell back with a deep sigh.  All was over, and
+La Rapet calmly put everything back into its place; the broom into the
+corner by the cupboard the sheet inside it, the saucepan on the hearth,
+the pail on the floor, and the chair against the wall.  Then, with
+professional movements, she closed the dead woman's large eyes, put a
+plate on the bed and poured some holy water into it, placing in it the
+twig of boxwood that had been nailed to the chest of drawers, and
+kneeling down, she fervently repeated the prayers for the dead, which she
+knew by heart, as a matter of business.
+
+And when Honore returned in the evening he found her praying, and he
+calculated immediately that she had made twenty sows out of him, for she
+had only spent three days and one night there, which made five francs
+altogether, instead of the six which he owed her.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE SNIPE
+
+Old Baron des Ravots had for forty years been the champion sportsman of
+his province.  But a stroke of paralysis had kept him in his chair for
+the last five or six years.  He could now only shoot pigeons from the
+window of his drawing-room or from the top of his high doorsteps.
+
+He spent his time in reading.
+
+He was a good-natured business man, who had much of the literary spirit
+of a former century.  He worshipped anecdotes, those little risque
+anecdotes, and also true stories of events that happened in his
+neighborhood.  As soon as a friend came to see him he asked:
+
+"Well, anything new?"
+
+And he knew how to worm out information like an examining lawyer.
+
+On sunny days he had his large reclining chair, similar to a bed, wheeled
+to the hall door.  A man servant behind him held his guns, loaded them
+and handed them to his master.  Another valet, hidden in the bushes, let
+fly a pigeon from time to time at irregular intervals, so that the baron
+should be unprepared and be always on the watch.
+
+And from morning till night he fired at the birds, much annoyed if he
+were taken by surprise and laughing till he cried when the animal fell
+straight to the earth or, turned over in some comical and unexpected
+manner.  He would turn to the man who was loading the gun and say, almost
+choking with laughter:
+
+"Did that get him, Joseph?  Did you see how he fell?" Joseph invariably
+replied:
+
+"Oh, monsieur le baron never misses them."
+
+In autumn, when the shooting season opened, he invited his friends as he
+had done formerly, and loved to hear them firing in the distance.  He
+counted the shots and was pleased when they followed each other rapidly.
+And in the evening he made each guest give a faithful account of his day.
+They remained three hours at table telling about their sport.
+
+They were strange and improbable adventures in which the romancing spirit
+of the sportsmen delighted.  Some of them were memorable stories and were
+repeated regularly.  The story of a rabbit that little Vicomte de Bourril
+had missed in his vestibule convulsed them with laughter each year anew.
+Every five minutes a fresh speaker would say:
+
+"I heard 'birr!  birr!' and a magnificent covey rose at ten paces from
+me.  I aimed.  Pif!  paf!  and I saw a shower, a veritable shower of
+birds.  There were seven of them!"
+
+And they all went into raptures, amazed, but reciprocally credulous.
+
+But there was an old custom in the house called "The Story of the Snipe."
+
+Whenever this queen of birds was in season the same ceremony took place
+at each dinner.  As they worshipped this incomparable bird, each guest
+ate one every evening, but the heads were all left in the dish.
+
+Then the baron, acting the part of a bishop, had a plate brought to him
+containing a little fat, and he carefully anointed the precious heads,
+holding them by the tip of their slender, needle-like beak.  A lighted
+candle was placed beside him and everyone was silent in an anxiety of
+expectation.
+
+Then he took one of the heads thus prepared, stuck a pin through it and
+stuck the pin on a cork, keeping the whole contrivance steady by means of
+little crossed sticks, and carefully placed this object on the neck of a
+bottle in the manner of a tourniquet.
+
+All the guests counted simultaneously in a loud tone--
+
+"One-two-three."
+
+And the baron with a fillip of the finger made this toy whirl round.
+
+The guest to whom the long beak pointed when the head stopped became the
+possessor of all the heads, a feast fit for a king, which made his
+neighbors look askance.
+
+He took them one by one and toasted them over the candle.  The grease
+sputtered, the roasting flesh smoked and the lucky winner ate the head,
+holding it by the beak and uttering exclamations of enjoyment.
+
+And at each head the diners, raising their glasses, drank to his health.
+
+When he had finished the last head he was obliged, at the baron's orders,
+to tell an anecdote to compensate the disappointed ones.
+
+Here are some of the stories.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE WILL
+
+I knew that tall young fellow, Rene de Bourneval.  He was an agreeable
+man, though rather melancholy and seemed prejudiced against everything,
+was very skeptical, and he could with a word tear down social hypocrisy.
+He would often say:
+
+"There are no honorable men, or, at least, they are only relatively so
+when compared with those lower than themselves."
+
+He had two brothers, whom he never saw, the Messieurs de Courcils.  I
+always supposed they were by another father, on account of the difference
+in the name.  I had frequently heard that the family had a strange
+history, but did not know the details.  As I took a great liking to Rene
+we soon became intimate friends, and one evening, when I had been dining
+with him alone, I asked him, by chance: "Are you a son of the first or
+second marriage?" He grew rather pale, and then flushed, and did not
+speak for a few moments; he was visibly embarrassed.  Then he smiled in
+the melancholy, gentle manner, which was peculiar to him, and said:
+
+"My dear friend, if it will not weary you, I can give you some very
+strange particulars about my life.  I know that you are a sensible man,
+so I do not fear that our friendship will suffer by my I revelations; and
+should it suffer, I should not care about having you for my friend any
+longer.
+
+"My mother, Madame de Courcils, was a poor little, timid woman, whom her
+husband had married for the sake of her fortune, and her whole life was
+one of martyrdom.  Of a loving, timid, sensitive disposition, she was
+constantly being ill-treated by the man who ought to have been my father,
+one of those boors called country gentlemen.  A month after their
+marriage he was living a licentious life and carrying on liaisons with
+the wives and daughters of his tenants.  This did not prevent him from
+having three children by his wife, that is, if you count me in.  My
+mother said nothing, and lived in that noisy house like a little mouse.
+Set aside, unnoticed, nervous, she looked at people with her bright,
+uneasy, restless eyes, the eyes of some terrified creature which can
+never shake off its fear.  And yet she was pretty, very pretty and fair,
+a pale blonde, as if her hair had lost its color through her constant
+fear.
+
+"Among the friends of Monsieur de Courcils who constantly came to her
+chateau, there was an ex-cavalry officer, a widower, a man who was
+feared, who was at the same time tender and violent, capable of the most
+determined resolves, Monsieur de Bourneval, whose name I bear.  He was a
+tall, thin man, with a heavy black mustache.  I am very like him.  He was
+a man who had read a great deal, and his ideas were not like those of
+most of his class.  His great-grandmother had been a friend of
+J. J. Rousseau's, and one might have said that he had inherited something
+of this ancestral connection.  He knew the Contrat Social, and the
+Nouvelle Heloise by heart, and all those philosophical books which
+prepared in advance the overthrow of our old usages, prejudices,
+superannuated laws and imbecile morality.
+
+"It seems that he loved my mother, and she loved him, but their liaison
+was carried on so secretly that no one guessed at its existence.  The
+poor, neglected, unhappy woman must have clung to him in despair, and in
+her intimacy with him must have imbibed all his ways of thinking,
+theories of free thought, audacious ideas of independent love; but being
+so timid she never ventured to speak out, and it was all driven back,
+condensed, shut up in her heart.
+
+"My two brothers were very hard towards her, like their father, and never
+gave her a caress, and, accustomed to seeing her count for nothing in the
+house, they treated her rather like a servant.  I was the only one of her
+sons who really loved her and whom she loved.
+
+"When she died I was seventeen, and I must add, in order that you may
+understand what follows, that a lawsuit between my father and mother had
+been decided in my mother's favor, giving her the bulk of the property,
+and, thanks to the tricks of the law, and the intelligent devotion of a
+lawyer to her interests, the right to make her will in favor of whom she
+pleased.
+
+"We were told that there was a will at the lawyer's office and were
+invited to be present at the reading of it.  I can remember it, as if it
+were yesterday.  It was an imposing scene, dramatic, burlesque and
+surprising, occasioned by the posthumous revolt of that dead woman, by
+the cry for liberty, by the demands of that martyred one who had been
+crushed by our oppression during her lifetime and who, from her closed
+tomb, uttered a despairing appeal for independence.
+
+"The man who believed he was my father, a stout, ruddy-faced man, who
+looked like a butcher, and my brothers, two great fellows of twenty and
+twenty-two, were waiting quietly in their chairs.  Monsieur de Bourneval,
+who had been invited to be present, came in and stood behind me.  He was
+very pale and bit his mustache, which was turning gray.  No doubt he was
+prepared for what was going to happen.  The lawyer double-locked the door
+and began to read the will, after having opened, in our presence, the
+envelope, sealed with red wax, of the contents of which he was ignorant."
+
+My friend stopped talking abruptly, and rising, took from his writing-
+table an old paper, unfolded it, kissed it and then continued: "This is
+the will of my beloved mother:
+
+     "'I, the undersigned, Anne Catherine-Genevieve-Mathilde de
+     Croixluce, the legitimate wife of Leopold-Joseph Gontran de Councils
+     sound in body and mind, here express my last wishes.
+
+     I first of all ask God, and then my dear son Rene to pardon me for
+     the act I am about to commit.  I believe that my child's heart is
+     great enough to understand me, and to forgive me.  I have suffered
+     my whole life long.  I was married out of calculation, then
+     despised, misunderstood, oppressed and constantly deceived by my
+     husband.
+
+     "'I forgive him, but I owe him nothing.
+
+     "'My elder sons never loved me, never petted me, scarcely treated me
+     as a mother, but during my whole life I did my duty towards them,
+     and I owe them nothing more after my death.  The ties of blood
+     cannot exist without daily and constant affection.  An ungrateful
+     son is less than, a stranger; he is a culprit, for he has no right
+     to be indifferent towards his mother.
+
+     "'I have always trembled before men, before their unjust laws, their
+     inhuman customs, their shameful prejudices.  Before God, I have no
+     longer any fear.  Dead, I fling aside disgraceful hypocrisy; I dare
+     to speak my thoughts, and to avow and to sign the secret of my
+     heart.
+
+     "'I therefore leave that part of my fortune of which the law allows
+     me to dispose, in trust to my dear lover, Pierre-Germer-Simon de
+     Bourneval, to revert afterwards to our dear son Rene.
+
+     "'(This bequest is specified more precisely in a deed drawn
+     up by a notary.)
+
+     "'And I declare before the Supreme Judge who hears me, that I should
+     have cursed heaven and my own existence, if I had not found the
+     deep, devoted, tender, unshaken affection of my lover; if I had not
+     felt in his arms that the Creator made His creatures to love,
+     sustain and console each other, and to weep together in the hours of
+     sadness.
+
+     "'Monsieur de Courcils is the father of my two eldest sons; Rene,
+     alone, owes his life to Monsieur de Bourneval.  I pray the Master of
+     men and of their destinies, to place father and son above social
+     prejudices, to make them love each other until they die, and to love
+     me also in my coffin.
+
+     "'These are my last thoughts, and my last wish.
+
+     "'MATHILDE DE CROIXLUCE.'
+
+
+"Monsieur de Courcils had risen and he cried:
+
+"'It is the will of a madwoman.'
+
+"Then Monsieur de Bourneval stepped forward and said in a loud,
+penetrating voice: 'I, Simon de Bourneval, solemnly declare that this
+writing contains nothing but the strict truth, and I am ready to prove it
+by letters which I possess.'
+
+"On hearing that, Monsieur de Courcils went up to him, and I 'thought
+that they were going to attack each other.  There they stood, both of
+them tall, one stout and the other thin, both trembling.  My mother's
+husband stammered out: 'You are a worthless wretch!'  And the other
+replied in a loud, dry voice: 'We will meet elsewhere, monsieur.
+I should have already slapped your ugly face and challenged you long
+since if I had not, before everything else, thought of the peace of mind
+during her lifetime of that poor woman whom you caused to suffer so
+greatly.'
+
+"Then, turning to me, he said: 'You are my son; will you come with me?
+I have no right to take you away, but I shall assume it, if you are
+willing to come with me: I shook his hand without replying, and we went
+out together.  I was certainly three parts mad.
+
+"Two days later Monsieur de Bourneval killed Monsieur de Courcils in a
+duel.  My brothers, to avoid a terrible scandal, held their tongues.
+I offered them and they accepted half the fortune which my mother had
+left me.  I took my real father's name, renouncing that which the law
+gave me, but which was not really mine.  Monsieur de Bourneval died three
+years later and I am still inconsolable."
+
+He rose from his chair, walked up and down the room, and, standing in
+front of me, said:
+
+"Well, I say that my mother's will was one of the most beautiful, the
+most loyal, as well as one of the grandest acts that a woman could
+perform.  Do you not think so?"
+
+I held out both hands to him, saying:
+
+"I most certainly do, my friend."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+WALTER SCHNAFFS' ADVENTURE
+
+Ever since he entered France with the invading army Walter Schnaffs had
+considered himself the most unfortunate of men.  He was large, had
+difficulty in walking, was short of breath and suffered frightfully with
+his feet, which were very flat and very fat.  But he was a peaceful,
+benevolent man, not warlike or sanguinary, the father of four children
+whom he adored, and married to a little blonde whose little tendernesses,
+attentions and kisses he recalled with despair every evening.  He liked
+to rise late and retire early, to eat good things in a leisurely manner
+and to drink beer in the saloon.  He reflected, besides, that all that is
+sweet in existence vanishes with life, and he maintained in his heart a
+fearful hatred, instinctive as well as logical, for cannon, rifles,
+revolvers and swords, but especially for bayonets, feeling that he was
+unable to dodge this dangerous weapon rapidly enough to protect his big
+paunch.
+
+And when night fell and he lay on the ground, wrapped in his cape beside
+his comrades who were snoring, he thought long and deeply about those he
+had left behind and of the dangers in his path.  "If he were killed what
+would become of the little ones?  Who would provide for them and bring
+them up?" Just at present they were not rich, although he had borrowed
+when he left so as to leave them some money.  And Walter Schnaffs wept
+when he thought of all this.
+
+At the beginning of a battle his legs became so weak that he would have
+fallen if he had not reflected that the entire army would pass over his
+body.  The whistling of the bullets gave him gooseflesh.
+
+For months he had lived thus in terror and anguish.
+
+His company was marching on Normandy, and one day he was sent to
+reconnoitre with a small detachment, simply to explore a portion of the
+territory and to return at once.  All seemed quiet in the country;
+nothing indicated an armed resistance.
+
+But as the Prussians were quietly descending into a little valley
+traversed by deep ravines a sharp fusillade made them halt suddenly,
+killing twenty of their men, and a company of sharpshooters, suddenly
+emerging from a little wood as large as your hand, darted forward with
+bayonets at the end of their rifles.
+
+Walter Schnaffs remained motionless at first, so surprised and bewildered
+that he did not even think of making his escape.  Then he was seized with
+a wild desire to run away, but he remembered at once that he ran like a
+tortoise compared with those thin Frenchmen, who came bounding along like
+a lot of goats.  Perceiving a large ditch full of brushwood covered with
+dead leaves about six paces in front of him, he sprang into it with both
+feet together, without stopping to think of its depth, just as one jumps
+from a bridge into the river.
+
+He fell like an arrow through a thick layer of vines and thorny brambles
+that tore his face and hands and landed heavily in a sitting posture on a
+bed of stones.  Raising his eyes, he saw the sky through the hole he had
+made in falling through.  This aperture might betray him, and he crawled
+along carefully on hands and knees at the bottom of this ditch beneath
+the covering of interlacing branches, going as fast as he could and
+getting away from the scene of the skirmish.  Presently he stopped and
+sat down, crouched like a hare amid the tall dry grass.
+
+He heard firing and cries and groans going on for some time.  Then the
+noise of fighting grew fainter and ceased.  All was quiet and silent.
+
+Suddenly something stirred, beside him.  He was frightfully startled.  It
+was a little bird which had perched on a branch and was moving the dead
+leaves.  For almost an hour Walter Schnaffs' heart beat loud and rapidly.
+
+Night fell, filling the ravine with its shadows.  The soldier began to
+think.  What was he to do?  What was to become of him?  Should he rejoin
+the army?  But how?  By what road?  And he began over again the horrible
+life of anguish, of terror, of fatigue and suffering that he had led
+since the commencement of the war.  No!  He no longer had the courage!
+He would not have the energy necessary to endure long marches and to face
+the dangers to which one was exposed at every moment.
+
+But what should he do?  He could not stay in this ravine in concealment
+until the end of hostilities.  No, indeed!  If it were not for having to
+eat, this prospect would not have daunted him greatly.  But he had to
+eat, to eat every day.
+
+And here he was, alone, armed and in uniform, on the enemy's territory,
+far from those who would protect him.  A shiver ran over him.
+
+All at once he thought: "If I were only a prisoner!" And his heart
+quivered with a longing, an intense desire to be taken prisoner by the
+French.  A prisoner, he would be saved, fed, housed, sheltered from
+bullets and swords, without any apprehension whatever, in a good, well-
+kept prison.  A prisoner!  What a dream:
+
+His resolution was formed at once.
+
+"I will constitute myself a prisoner."
+
+He rose, determined to put this plan into execution without a moment's
+delay.  But he stood motionless, suddenly a prey to disturbing
+reflections and fresh terrors.
+
+Where would he make himself a prisoner and how?  In What direction?  And
+frightful pictures, pictures of death came into his mind.
+
+He would run terrible danger in venturing alone through the country with
+his pointed helmet.
+
+Supposing he should meet some peasants.  These peasants seeing a Prussian
+who had lost his way, an unprotected Prussian, would kill him as if he
+were a stray dog!  They would murder him with their forks, their picks,
+their scythes and their shovels.  They would make a stew of him, a pie,
+with the frenzy of exasperated, conquered enemies.
+
+If he should meet the sharpshooters!  These sharpshooters, madmen without
+law or discipline, would shoot him just for amusement to pass an hour; it
+would make them laugh to see his head.  And he fancied he was already
+leaning against a wall in-front of four rifles whose little black
+apertures seemed to be gazing at him.
+
+Supposing he should meet the French army itself.  The vanguard would take
+him for a scout, for some bold and sly trooper who had set off alone to
+reconnoitre, and they would fire at him.  And he could already hear, in
+imagination, the irregular shots of soldiers lying in the brush, while he
+himself, standing in the middle of the field, was sinking to the earth,
+riddled like a sieve with bullets which he felt piercing his flesh.
+
+He sat down again in despair.  His situation seemed hopeless.
+
+It was quite a dark, black and silent night.  He no longer budged,
+trembling at all the slight and unfamiliar sounds that occur at night.
+The sound of a rabbit crouching at the edge of his burrow almost made him
+run.  The cry of an owl caused him positive anguish, giving him a nervous
+shock that pained like a wound.  He opened his big eyes as wide as
+possible to try and see through the darkness, and he imagined every
+moment that he heard someone walking close beside him.
+
+After interminable hours in which he suffered the tortures of the damned,
+he noticed through his leafy cover that the sky was becoming bright.  He
+at once felt an intense relief.  His limbs stretched out, suddenly
+relaxed, his heart quieted down, his eyes closed; he fell asleep.
+
+When he awoke the sun appeared to be almost at the meridian.  It must be
+noon.  No sound disturbed the gloomy silence.  Walter Schnaffs noticed
+that he was exceedingly hungry.
+
+He yawned, his mouth watering at the thought of sausage, the good sausage
+the soldiers have, and he felt a gnawing at his stomach.
+
+He rose from the ground, walked a few steps, found that his legs were
+weak and sat down to reflect.  For two or three hours he again considered
+the pros and cons, changing his mind every moment, baffled, unhappy, torn
+by the most conflicting motives.
+
+Finally he had an idea that seemed logical and practical.  It was to
+watch for a villager passing by alone, unarmed and with no dangerous
+tools of his trade, and to run to him and give himself up, making him
+understand that he was surrendering.
+
+He took off his helmet, the point of which might betray him, and put his
+head out of his hiding place with the utmost caution.
+
+No solitary pedestrian could be perceived on the horizon.  Yonder, to the
+right, smoke rose from the chimney of a little village, smoke from
+kitchen fires!  And yonder, to the left, he saw at the end of an avenue
+of trees a large turreted chateau.  He waited till evening, suffering
+frightfully from hunger, seeing nothing but flights of crows, hearing
+nothing but the silent expostulation of his empty stomach.
+
+And darkness once more fell on him.
+
+He stretched himself out in his retreat and slept a feverish sleep,
+haunted by nightmares, the sleep of a starving man.
+
+Dawn again broke above his head and he began to make his observations.
+But the landscape was deserted as on the previous day, and a new fear
+came into Walter Schnaffs' mind--the fear of death by hunger!  He
+pictured himself lying at full length on his back at the bottom of his
+hiding place, with his two eyes closed, and animals, little creatures of
+all kinds, approached and began to feed on his dead body, attacking it
+all over at once, gliding beneath his clothing to bite his cold flesh,
+and a big crow pecked out his eyes with its sharp beak.
+
+He almost became crazy, thinking he was going to faint and would not be
+able to walk.  And he was just preparing to rush off to the village,
+determined to dare anything, to brave everything, when he perceived three
+peasants walking to the fields with their forks across their shoulders,
+and he dived back into his hiding place.
+
+But as soon as it grew dark he slowly emerged from the ditch and started
+off, stooping and fearful, with beating heart, towards the distant
+chateau, preferring to go there rather than to the village, which seemed
+to him as formidable as a den of tigers.
+
+The lower windows were brilliantly lighted.  One of them was open and
+from it escaped a strong odor of roast meat, an odor which suddenly
+penetrated to the olfactories and to the stomach of Walter Schnaffs,
+tickling his nerves, making him breathe quickly, attracting him
+irresistibly and inspiring his heart with the boldness of desperation.
+
+And abruptly, without reflection, he placed himself, helmet on head, in
+front of the window.
+
+Eight servants were at dinner around a large table.  But suddenly one of
+the maids sat there, her mouth agape, her eyes fixed and letting fall her
+glass.  They all followed the direction of her gaze.
+
+They saw the enemy!
+
+Good God!  The Prussians were attacking the chateau!
+
+There was a shriek, only one shriek made up of eight shrieks uttered in
+eight different keys, a terrific screaming of terror, then a tumultuous
+rising from their seats, a jostling, a scrimmage and a wild rush to the
+door at the farther end.  Chairs fell over, the men knocked the women
+down and walked over them.  In two seconds the room was empty, deserted,
+and the table, covered with eatables, stood in front of Walter Schnaffs,
+lost in amazement and still standing at the window.
+
+After some moments of hesitation he climbed in at the window and
+approached the table.  His fierce hunger caused him to tremble as if he
+were in a fever, but fear still held him back, numbed him.  He listened.
+The entire house seemed to shudder.  Doors closed, quick steps ran along
+the floor above.  The uneasy Prussian listened eagerly to these confused
+sounds.  Then he heard dull sounds, as though bodies were falling to the
+ground at the foot of the walls, human beings jumping from the first
+floor.
+
+Then all motion, all disturbance ceased, and the great chateau became as
+silent as the grave.
+
+Walter Schnaffs sat down before a clean plate and began to eat.  He took
+great mouthfuls, as if he feared he might be interrupted before he had
+swallowed enough.  He shovelled the food into his mouth, open like a
+trap, with both hands, and chunks of food went into his stomach, swelling
+out his throat as it passed down.  Now and then he stopped, almost ready
+to burst like a stopped-up pipe.  Then he would take the cider jug and
+wash down his esophagus as one washes out a clogged rain pipe.
+
+He emptied all the plates, all the dishes and all the bottles.  Then,
+intoxicated with drink and food, besotted, red in the face, shaken by
+hiccoughs, his mind clouded and his speech thick, he unbuttoned his
+uniform in order to breathe or he could not have taken a step.  His eyes
+closed, his mind became torpid; he leaned his heavy forehead on his
+folded arms on the table and gradually lost all consciousness of things
+and events.
+
+The last quarter of the moon above the trees in the park shed a faint
+light on the landscape.  It was the chill hour that precedes the dawn.
+
+Numerous silent shadows glided among the trees and occasionally a blade
+of steel gleamed in the shadow as a ray of moonlight struck it.
+
+The quiet chateau stood there in dark outline.  Only two windows were
+still lighted up on the ground floor.
+
+Suddenly a voice thundered:
+
+"Forward!  nom d'un nom!  To the breach, my lads!"
+
+And in an instant the doors, shutters and window panes fell in beneath a
+wave of men who rushed in, breaking, destroying everything, and took the
+house by storm.  In a moment fifty soldiers, armed to the teeth, bounded
+into the kitchen, where Walter Schnaffs was peacefully sleeping, and
+placing to his breast fifty loaded rifles, they overturned him, rolled
+him on the floor, seized him and tied his head and feet together.
+
+He gasped in amazement, too besotted to understand, perplexed, bruised
+and wild with fear.
+
+Suddenly a big soldier, covered with gold lace, put his foot on his
+stomach, shouting:
+
+"You are my prisoner.  Surrender!"
+
+The Prussian heard only the one word "prisoner" and he sighed, "Ya, ya,
+ya."
+
+He was raised from the floor, tied in a chair and examined with lively
+curiosity by his victors, who were blowing like whales.  Several of them
+sat down, done up with excitement and fatigue.
+
+He smiled, actually smiled, secure now that he was at last a prisoner.
+
+Another officer came into the room and said:
+
+"Colonel, the enemy has escaped; several seem to have been wounded.  We
+are in possession."
+
+The big officer, who was wiping his forehead, exclaimed: "Victory!"
+
+And he wrote in a little business memorandum book which he took from his
+pocket:
+
+"After a desperate encounter the Prussians were obliged to beat a
+retreat, carrying with them their dead and wounded, the number of whom is
+estimated at fifty men.  Several were taken prisoners."
+
+The young officer inquired:
+
+"What steps shall I take, colonel?"
+
+"We will retire in good order," replied the colonel, "to avoid having to
+return and make another attack with artillery and a larger force of men."
+
+And he gave the command to set out.
+
+The column drew up in line in the darkness beneath the walls of the
+chateau and filed out, a guard of six soldiers with revolvers in their
+hands surrounding Walter Schnaffs, who was firmly bound.
+
+Scouts were sent ahead to reconnoitre.  They advanced cautiously, halting
+from time to time.
+
+At daybreak they arrived at the district of La Roche-Oysel, whose
+national guard had accomplished this feat of arms.
+
+The uneasy and excited inhabitants were expecting them.  When they saw
+the prisoner's helmet tremendous shouts arose.  The women raised their 10
+arms in wonder, the old people wept.  An old grandfather threw his crutch
+at the Prussian and struck the nose of one of their own defenders.
+
+The colonel roared:
+
+"See that the prisoner is secure!"
+
+At length they reached the town hall.  The prison was opened and Walter
+Schnaffs, freed from his bonds, cast into it.  Two hundred armed men
+mounted guard outside the building.
+
+Then, in spite of the indigestion that had been troubling him for some
+time, the Prussian, wild with joy, began to dance about, to dance
+frantically, throwing out his arms and legs and uttering wild shouts
+until he fell down exhausted beside the wall.
+
+He was a prisoner-saved!
+
+That was how the Chateau de Charnpignet was taken from the enemy after
+only six hours of occupation.
+
+Colonel Ratier, a cloth merchant, who had led the assault at the head of
+a body of the national guard of La Roche-Oysel, was decorated with an
+order.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+AT SEA
+
+The following paragraphs recently appeared in the papers:
+
+"Boulogne-Sur-Mer, January 22.--Our correspondent writes:
+
+"A fearful accident has thrown our sea-faring population, which has
+suffered so much in the last two years, into the greatest consternation.
+The fishing smack commanded by Captain Javel, on entering the harbor was
+wrecked on the rocks of the harbor breakwater.
+
+"In spite of the efforts of the life boat and the shooting of life lines
+from the shore four sailors and the cabin boy were lost.
+
+"The rough weather continues.  Fresh disasters are anticipated."
+
+Who is this Captain Javel?  Is he the brother of the one-armed man?
+
+If the poor man tossed about in the waves and dead, perhaps, beneath his
+wrecked boat, is the one I am thinking of, he took part, just eighteen
+years ago, in another tragedy, terrible and simple as are all these
+fearful tragedies of the sea.
+
+Javel, senior, was then master of a trawling smack.
+
+The trawling smack is the ideal fishing boat.  So solidly built that it
+fears no weather, with a round bottom, tossed about unceasingly on the
+waves like a cork, always on top, always thrashed by the harsh salt winds
+of the English Channel, it ploughs the sea unweariedly with bellying
+sail, dragging along at its side a huge trawling net, which scours the
+depths of the ocean, and detaches and gathers in all the animals asleep
+in the rocks, the flat fish glued to the sand, the heavy crabs with their
+curved claws, and the lobsters with their pointed mustaches.
+
+When the breeze is fresh and the sea choppy, the boat starts in to trawl.
+The net is fastened all along a big log of wood clamped with iron and is
+let down by two ropes on pulleys at either end of the boat.  And the
+boat, driven by the wind and the tide, draws along this apparatus which
+ransacks and plunders the depths of the sea.
+
+Javel had on board his younger brother, four sailors and a cabin boy.  He
+had set sail from Boulogne on a beautiful day to go trawling.
+
+But presently a wind sprang up, and a hurricane obliged the smack to run
+to shore.  She gained the English coast, but the high sea broke against
+the rocks and dashed on the beach, making it impossible to go into port,
+filling all the harbor entrances with foam and noise and danger.
+
+The smack started off again, riding on the waves, tossed, shaken,
+dripping, buffeted by masses of water, but game in spite of everything;
+accustomed to this boisterous weather, which sometimes kept it roving
+between the two neighboring countries without its being able to make port
+in either.
+
+At length the hurricane calmed down just as they were in the open, and
+although the sea was still high the captain gave orders to cast the net.
+
+So it was lifted overboard, and two men in the bows and two in the stern
+began to unwind the ropes that held it.  It suddenly touched bottom, but
+a big wave made the boat heel, and Javel, junior, who was in the bows
+directing the lowering of the net, staggered, and his arm was caught in
+the rope which the shock had slipped from the pulley for an instant.  He
+made a desperate effort to raise the rope with the other hand, but the
+net was down and the taut rope did not give.
+
+The man cried out in agony.  They all ran to his aid.  His brother left
+the rudder.  They all seized the rope, trying to free the arm it was
+bruising.  But in vain.  "We must cut it," said a sailor, and he took
+from his pocket a big knife, which, with two strokes, could save young
+Javel's arm.
+
+But if the rope were cut the trawling net would be lost, and this net was
+worth money, a great deal of money, fifteen hundred francs.  And it
+belonged to Javel, senior, who was tenacious of his property.
+
+"No, do not cut, wait, I will luff," he cried, in great distress.  And he
+ran to the helm and turned the rudder.  But the boat scarcely obeyed it,
+being impeded by the net which kept it from going forward, and prevented
+also by the force of the tide and the wind.
+
+Javel, junior, had sunk on his knees, his teeth clenched, his eyes
+haggard.  He did not utter a word.  His brother came back to him, in
+dread of the sailor's knife.
+
+"Wait, wait," he said.  "We will let down the anchor."
+
+They cast anchor, and then began to turn the capstan to loosen the
+moorings of the net.  They loosened them at length and disengaged the
+imprisoned arm, in its bloody woolen sleeve.
+
+Young Javel seemed like an idiot.  They took off his jersey and saw a
+horrible sight, a mass of flesh from which the blood spurted as if from a
+pump.  Then the young man looked at his arm and murmured: "Foutu" (done
+for).
+
+Then, as the blood was making a pool on the deck of the boat, one of the
+sailors cried: "He will bleed to death, we must bind the vein."
+
+So they took a cord, a thick, brown, tarry cord, and twisting it around
+the arm above the wound, tightened it with all their might.  The blood
+ceased to spurt by slow degrees, and, presently, stopped altogether.
+
+Young Javel rose, his arm hanging at his side.  He took hold of it with
+the other hand, raised it, turned it over, shook it.  It was all mashed,
+the bones broken, the muscles alone holding it together.  He looked at it
+sadly, reflectively.  Then he sat down on a folded sail and his comrades
+advised him to keep wetting the arm constantly to prevent it from
+mortifying.
+
+They placed a pail of water beside him, and every few minutes he dipped a
+glass into it and bathed the frightful wound, letting the clear water
+trickle on to it.
+
+"You would be better in the cabin," said his brother.  He went down, but
+came up again in an hour, not caring to be alone.  And, besides, he
+preferred the fresh air.  He sat down again on his sail and began to
+bathe his arm.
+
+They made a good haul.  The broad fish with their white bellies lay
+beside him, quivering in the throes of death; he looked at them as he
+continued to bathe his crushed flesh.
+
+As they were about to return to Boulogne the wind sprang up anew, and the
+little boat resumed its mad course, bounding and tumbling about, shaking
+up the poor wounded man.
+
+Night came on.  The sea ran high until dawn.  As the sun rose the English
+coast was again visible, but, as the weather had abated a little, they
+turned back towards the French coast, tacking as they went.
+
+Towards evening Javel, junior, called his comrades and showed them some
+black spots, all the horrible tokens of mortification in the portion of
+the arm below the broken bones.
+
+The sailors examined it, giving their opinion.
+
+"That might be the 'Black,'" thought one.
+
+"He should put salt water on it," said another.
+
+They brought some salt water and poured it on the wound.  The injured man
+became livid, ground his teeth and writhed a little, but did not exclaim.
+
+Then, as soon as the smarting had abated, he said to his brother:
+
+"Give me your knife."
+
+The brother handed it to him.
+
+"Hold my arm up, quite straight, and pull it."
+
+They did as he asked them.
+
+Then he began to cut off his arm.  He cut gently, carefully, severing al
+the tendons with this blade that was sharp as a razor.  And, presently,
+there was only a stump left.  He gave a deep sigh and said:
+
+"It had to be done.  It was done for."
+
+He seemed relieved and breathed loud.  He then began again to pour water
+on the stump of arm that remained.
+
+The sea was still rough and they could not make the shore.
+
+When the day broke, Javel, junior, took the severed portion of his arm
+and examined it for a long time.  Gangrene had set in.  His comrades also
+examined it and handed it from one to the other, feeling it, turning it
+over, and sniffing at it.
+
+"You must throw that into the sea at once," said his brother.
+
+But Javel, junior, got angry.
+
+"Oh, no!  Oh, no!  I don't want to.  It belongs to me, does it not, as it
+is my arm?"
+
+And he took and placed it between his feet.
+
+"It will putrefy, just the same," said the older brother.  Then an idea
+came to the injured man.  In order to preserve the fish when the boat was
+long at sea, they packed it in salt, in barrels.  He asked:
+
+"Why can I not put it in pickle?"
+
+"Why, that's a fact," exclaimed the others.
+
+Then they emptied one of the barrels, which was full from the haul of the
+last few days; and right at the bottom of the barrel they laid the
+detached arm.  They covered it with salt, and then put back the fish one
+by one.
+
+One of the sailors said by way of joke:
+
+"I hope we do not sell it at auction."
+
+And everyone laughed, except the two Javels.
+
+The wind was still boisterous.  They tacked within sight of Boulogne
+until the following morning at ten o'clock.  Young Javel continued to
+bathe his wound.  From time to time he rose and walked from one end to
+the other of the boat.
+
+His brother, who was at the tiller, followed him with glances, and shook
+his head.
+
+At last they ran into harbor.
+
+The doctor examined the wound and pronounced it to be in good condition.
+He dressed it properly and ordered the patient to rest.  But Javel would
+not go to bed until he got back his severed arm, and he returned at once
+to the dock to look for the barrel which he had marked with a cross.
+
+It was emptied before him and he seized the arm, which was well preserved
+in the pickle, had shrunk and was freshened.  He wrapped it up in a towel
+he had brought for the purpose and took it home.
+
+His wife and children looked for a long time at this fragment of their
+father, feeling the fingers, and removing the grains of salt that were
+under the nails.  Then they sent for a carpenter to make a little coffin.
+
+The next day the entire crew of the trawling smack followed the funeral
+of the detached arm.  The two brothers, side by side, led the procession;
+the parish beadle carried the corpse under his arm.
+
+Javel, junior, gave up the sea.  He obtained a small position on the
+dock, and when he subsequently talked about his accident, he would say
+confidentially to his auditors:
+
+"If my brother had been willing to cut away the net, I should still have
+my arm, that is sure.  But he was thinking only of his property."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MINUET
+
+Great misfortunes do not affect me very much, said John Bridelle, an old
+bachelor who passed for a sceptic.  I have seen war at quite close
+quarters; I walked across corpses without any feeling of pity.  The great
+brutal facts of nature, or of humanity, may call forth cries of horror or
+indignation, but do not cause us that tightening of the heart, that
+shudder that goes down your spine at sight of certain little heartrending
+episodes.
+
+The greatest sorrow that anyone can experience is certainly the loss of a
+child, to a mother; and the loss of his mother, to a man.  It is intense,
+terrible, it rends your heart and upsets your mind; but one is healed of
+these shocks, just as large bleeding wounds become healed.  Certain
+meetings, certain things half perceived, or surmised, certain secret
+sorrows, certain tricks of fate which awake in us a whole world of
+painful thoughts, which suddenly unclose to us the mysterious door of
+moral suffering, complicated, incurable; all the deeper because they
+appear benign, all the more bitter because they are intangible, all the
+more tenacious because they appear almost factitious, leave in our souls
+a sort of trail of sadness, a taste of bitterness, a feeling of
+disenchantment, from which it takes a long time to free ourselves.
+
+I have always present to my mind two or three things that others would
+surely not have noticed, but which penetrated my being like fine, sharp
+incurable stings.
+
+You might not perhaps understand the emotion that I retained from these
+hasty impressions.  I will tell you one of them.  She was very old, but
+as lively as a young girl.  It may be that my imagination alone is
+responsible for my emotion.
+
+I am fifty.  I was young then and studying law.  I was rather sad,
+somewhat of a dreamer, full of a pessimistic philosophy and did not care
+much for noisy cafes, boisterous companions, or stupid girls.  I rose
+early and one of my chief enjoyments was to walk alone about eight
+o'clock in the morning in the nursery garden of the Luxembourg.
+
+You people never knew that nursery garden.  It was like a forgotten
+garden of the last century, as pretty as the gentle smile of an old lady.
+Thick hedges divided the narrow regular paths,--peaceful paths between
+two walls of carefully trimmed foliage.  The gardener's great shears were
+pruning unceasingly these leafy partitions, and here and there one came
+across beds of flowers, lines of little trees looking like schoolboys out
+for a walk, companies of magnificent rose bushes, or regiments of fruit
+trees.
+
+An entire corner of this charming spot was in habited by bees.  Their
+straw hives skillfully arranged at distances on boards had their
+entrances--as large as the opening of a thimble--turned towards the sun,
+and all along the paths one encountered these humming and gilded flies,
+the true masters of this peaceful spot, the real promenaders of these
+quiet paths.
+
+I came there almost every morning.  I sat down on a bench and read.
+Sometimes I let my book fall on my knees, to dream, to listen to the life
+of Paris around me, and to enjoy the infinite repose of these old-
+fashioned hedges.
+
+But I soon perceived that I was not the only one to frequent this spot as
+soon as the gates were opened, and I occasionally met face to face, at a
+turn in the path, a strange little old man.
+
+He wore shoes with silver buckles, knee-breeches, a snuff-colored frock
+coat, a lace jabot, and an outlandish gray hat with wide brim and long-
+haired surface that might have come out of the ark.
+
+He was thin, very thin, angular, grimacing and smiling.  His bright eyes
+were restless beneath his eyelids which blinked continuously.  He always
+carried in his hand a superb cane with a gold knob, which must have been
+for him some glorious souvenir.
+
+This good man astonished me at first, then caused me the intensest
+interest.  I watched him through the leafy walls, I followed him at a
+distance, stopping at a turn in the hedge so as not to be seen.
+
+And one morning when he thought he was quite alone, he began to make the
+most remarkable motions.  First he would give some little springs, then
+make a bow; then, with his slim legs, he would give a lively spring in
+the air, clapping his feet as he did so, and then turn round cleverly,
+skipping and frisking about in a comical manner, smiling as if he had an
+audience, twisting his poor little puppet-like body, bowing pathetic and
+ridiculous little greetings into the empty air.  He was dancing.
+
+I stood petrified with amazement, asking myself which of us was crazy, he
+or I.
+
+He stopped suddenly, advanced as actors do on the stage, then bowed and
+retreated with gracious smiles, and kissing his hand as actors do, his
+trembling hand, to the two rows of trimmed bushes.
+
+Then he continued his walk with a solemn demeanor.
+
+After that I never lost sight of him, and each morning he began anew his
+outlandish exercises.
+
+I was wildly anxious to speak to him.  I decided to risk it, and one day,
+after greeting him, I said:
+
+"It is a beautiful day, monsieur."
+
+He bowed.
+
+"Yes, sir, the weather is just as it used to be."
+
+A week later we were friends and I knew his history.  He had been a
+dancing master at the opera, in the time of Louis XV.  His beautiful cane
+was a present from the Comte de Clermont.  And when we spoke about
+dancing he never stopping talking.
+
+One day he said to me:
+
+"I married La Castris, monsieur.  I will introduce you to her if you wish
+it, but she does not get here till later.  This garden, you see, is our
+delight and our life.  It is all that remains of former days.  It seems
+as though we could not exist if we did not have it.  It is old and
+distingue, is it not?  I seem to breathe an air here that has not changed
+since I was young.  My wife and I pass all our afternoons here, but I
+come in the morning because I get up early."
+
+As soon as I had finished luncheon I returned to the Luxembourg, and
+presently perceived my friend offering his arm ceremoniously to a very
+old little lady dressed in black, to whom he introduced me.  It was La
+Castris, the great dancer, beloved by princes, beloved by the king,
+beloved by all that century of gallantry that seems to have left behind
+it in the world an atmosphere of love.
+
+We sat down on a bench.  It was the month of May.  An odor of flowers
+floated in the neat paths; a hot sun glided its rays between the branches
+and covered us with patches of light.  The black dress of La Castris
+seemed to be saturated with sunlight.
+
+The garden was empty.  We heard the rattling of vehicles in the distance.
+
+"Tell me," I said to the old dancer, "what was the minuet?"
+
+He gave a start.
+
+"The minuet, monsieur, is the queen of dances, and the dance of queens,
+do you understand?  Since there is no longer any royalty, there is no
+longer any minuet."
+
+And he began in a pompous manner a long dithyrambic eulogy which I could
+not understand.  I wanted to have the steps, the movements, the
+positions, explained to me.  He became confused, was amazed at his
+inability to make me understand, became nervous and worried.
+
+Then suddenly, turning to his old companion who had remained silent and
+serious, he said:
+
+"Elise, would you like--say--would you like, it would be very nice of
+you, would you like to show this gentleman what it was?"
+
+She turned eyes uneasily in all directions, then rose without saying a
+word and took her position opposite him.
+
+Then I witnessed an unheard-of thing.
+
+They advanced and retreated with childlike grimaces, smiling, swinging
+each other, bowing, skipping about like two automaton dolls moved by some
+old mechanical contrivance, somewhat damaged, but made by a clever
+workman according to the fashion of his time.
+
+And I looked at them, my heart filled with extraordinary emotions, my
+soul touched with an indescribable melancholy.  I seemed to see before me
+a pathetic and comical apparition, the out-of-date ghost of a former
+century.
+
+They suddenly stopped.  They had finished all the figures of the dance.
+For some seconds they stood opposite each other, smiling in an
+astonishing manner.  Then they fell on each other's necks sobbing.
+
+I left for the provinces three days later.  I never saw them again.
+When I returned to Paris, two years later, the nursery had been
+destroyed.  What became of them, deprived of the dear garden of former
+days, with its mazes, its odor of the past, and the graceful windings of
+its hedges?
+
+Are they dead?  Are they wandering among modern streets like hopeless
+exiles?  Are they dancing--grotesque spectres--a fantastic minuet in the
+moonlight, amid the cypresses of a cemetery, along the pathways bordered
+by graves?
+
+Their memory haunts me, obsesses me, torments me, remains with me like a
+wound.  Why?  I do not know.
+
+No doubt you think that very absurd?
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE SON
+
+The two old friends were walking in the garden in bloom, where spring was
+bringing everything to life.
+
+One was a senator, the other a member of the French Academy, both serious
+men, full of very logical but solemn arguments, men of note and
+reputation.
+
+They talked first of politics, exchanging opinions; not on ideas, but on
+men, personalities in this regard taking the predominance over ability.
+Then they recalled some memories.  Then they walked along in silence,
+enervated by the warmth of the air.
+
+A large bed of wallflowers breathed out a delicate sweetness.  A mass of
+flowers of all species and color flung their fragrance to the breeze,
+while a cytisus covered with yellow clusters scattered its fine pollen
+abroad, a golden cloud, with an odor of honey that bore its balmy seed
+across space, similar to the sachet-powders of perfumers.
+
+The senator stopped, breathed in the cloud of floating pollen, looked at
+the fertile shrub, yellow as the sun, whose seed was floating in the air,
+and said:
+
+"When one considers that these imperceptible fragrant atoms will create
+existences at a hundred leagues from here, will send a thrill through the
+fibres and sap of female trees and produce beings with roots, growing
+from a germ, just as we do, mortal like ourselves, and who will be
+replaced by other beings of the same order, like ourselves again!"
+
+And, standing in front of the brilliant cytisus, whose live pollen was
+shaken off by each breath of air, the senator added:
+
+"Ah, old fellow, if you had to keep count of all your children you would
+be mightily embarrassed.  Here is one who generates freely, and then lets
+them go without a pang and troubles himself no more about them."
+
+"We do the same, my friend," said the academician.
+
+"Yes, I do not deny it; we let them go sometimes," resumed the senator,
+"but we are aware that we do, and that constitutes our superiority."
+
+"No, that is not what I mean," said the other, shaking his head.
+"You see, my friend, that there is scarcely a man who has not some
+children that he does not know, children--'father unknown'--whom he has
+generated almost unconsciously, just as this tree reproduces.
+
+"If we had to keep account of our amours, we should be just as
+embarrassed as this cytisus which you apostrophized would be in counting
+up his descendants, should we not?
+
+"From eighteen to forty years, in fact, counting in every chance cursory
+acquaintanceship, we may well say that we have been intimate with two or
+three hundred women.
+
+"Well, then, my friend, among this number can you be sure that you have
+not had children by at least one of them, and that you have not in the
+streets, or in the bagnio, some blackguard of a son who steals from and
+murders decent people, i.e., ourselves; or else a daughter in some
+disreputable place, or, if she has the good fortune to be deserted by her
+mother, as cook in some family?
+
+"Consider, also, that almost all those whom we call 'prostitutes' have
+one or two children of whose paternal parentage they are ignorant,
+generated by chance at the price of ten or twenty francs.  In every
+business there is profit and loss.  These wildings constitute the 'loss'
+in their profession.  Who generated them?  You--I--we all did, the men
+called 'gentlemen'!  They are the consequences of our jovial little
+dinners, of our gay evenings, of those hours when our comfortable
+physical being impels us to chance liaisons.
+
+"Thieves, marauders, all these wretches, in fact, are our children.
+And that is better for us than if we were their children, for those
+scoundrels generate also!
+
+"I have in my mind a very horrible story that I will relate to you.  It
+has caused me incessant remorse, and, further than that, a continual
+doubt, a disquieting uncertainty, that, at times, torments me
+frightfully.
+
+"When I was twenty-five I undertook a walking tour through Brittany with
+one of my friends, now a member of the cabinet.
+
+"After walking steadily for fifteen or twenty days and visiting the
+Cotes-du-Nord and part of Finistere we reached Douarnenez.  From there we
+went without halting to the wild promontory of Raz by the bay of Les
+Trepaases, and passed the night in a village whose name ends in 'of.'
+The next morning a strange lassitude kept my friend in bed; I say bed
+from habit, for our couch consisted simply of two bundles of straw.
+
+"It would never do to be ill in this place.  So I made him get up, and we
+reached Andierne about four or five o'clock in the evening.
+
+"The following day he felt a little better, and we set out again.  But on
+the road he was seized with intolerable pain, and we could scarcely get
+as far as Pont Labbe.
+
+"Here, at least, there was an inn.  My friend went to bed, and the
+doctor, who had been sent for from Quimper, announced that he had a high
+fever, without being able to determine its nature.
+
+"Do you know Pont Labbe?  No?  Well, then, it is the most Breton of all
+this Breton Brittany, which extends from the promontory of Raz to the
+Morbihan, of this land which contains the essence of the Breton manners,
+legends and customs.  Even to-day this corner of the country has scarcely
+changed.  I say 'even to-day,' for I now go there every year, alas!
+
+"An old chateau laves the walls of its towers in a great melancholy pond,
+melancholy and frequented by flights of wild birds.  It has an outlet in
+a river on which boats can navigate as far as the town.  In the narrow
+streets with their old-time houses the men wear big hats, embroidered
+waistcoats and four coats, one on top of the other; the inside one, as
+large as your hand, barely covering the shoulder-blades, and the outside
+one coming to just above the seat of the trousers.
+
+"The girls, tall, handsome and fresh have their bosoms crushed in a cloth
+bodice which makes an armor, compresses them, not allowing one even to
+guess at their robust and tortured neck.  They also wear a strange
+headdress.  On their temples two bands embroidered in colors frame their
+face, inclosing the hair, which falls in a shower at the back of their
+heads, and is then turned up and gathered on top of the head under a
+singular cap, often woven with gold or silver thread.
+
+"The servant at our inn was eighteen at most, with very blue eyes, a pale
+blue with two tiny black pupils, short teeth close together, which she
+showed continually when she laughed, and which seemed strong enough to
+grind granite.
+
+"She did not know a word of French, speaking only Breton, as did most of
+her companions.
+
+"As my friend did not improve much, and although he had no definite
+malady, the doctor forbade him to continue his journey yet, ordering
+complete rest.  I spent my days with him, and the little maid would come
+in incessantly, bringing either my dinner or some herb tea.
+
+"I teased her a little, which seemed to amuse her, but we did not chat,
+of course, as we could not understand each other.
+
+"But one night, after I had stayed quite late with my friend and was
+going back to my room, I passed the girl, who was going to her room.
+It was just opposite my open door, and, without reflection, and more for
+fun than anything else, I abruptly seized her round the waist, and before
+she recovered from her astonishment I had thrown her down and locked her
+in my room.  She looked at me, amazed, excited, terrified, not daring to
+cry out for fear of a scandal and of being probably driven out, first by
+her employers and then, perhaps, by her father.
+
+"I did it as a joke at first.  She defended herself bravely, and at the
+first chance she ran to the door, drew back the bolt and fled.
+
+"I scarcely saw her for several days.  She would not let me come near
+her.  But when my friend was cured and we were to get out on our travels
+again I saw her coming into my room about midnight the night before our
+departure, just after I had retired.
+
+"She threw herself into my arms and embraced me passionately, giving me
+all the assurances of tenderness and despair that a woman can give when
+she does not know a word of our language.
+
+"A week later I had forgotten this adventure, so common and frequent when
+one is travelling, the inn servants being generally destined to amuse
+travellers in this way.
+
+"I was thirty before I thought of it again, or returned to Pont Labbe.
+
+"But in 1876 I revisited it by chance during a trip into Brittany, which
+I made in order to look up some data for a book and to become permeated
+with the atmosphere of the different places.
+
+"Nothing seemed changed.  The chateau still laved its gray wall in the
+pond outside the little town; the inn was the same, though it had been
+repaired, renovated and looked more modern.  As I entered it I was
+received by two young Breton girls of eighteen, fresh and pretty, bound
+up in their tight cloth bodices, with their silver caps and wide
+embroidered bands on their ears.
+
+"It was about six o'clock in the evening.  I sat down to dinner, and as
+the host was assiduous in waiting on me himself, fate, no doubt, impelled
+me to say:
+
+"'Did you know the former proprietors of this house?  I spent about ten
+days here thirty years ago.  I am talking old times.'
+
+"'Those were my parents, monsieur,' he replied.
+
+"Then I told him why we had stayed over at that time, how my comrade had
+been delayed by illness.  He did not let me finish.
+
+"'Oh, I recollect perfectly.  I was about fifteen or sixteen.  You slept
+in the room at the end and your friend in the one I have taken for
+myself, overlooking the street.'
+
+"It was only then that the recollection of the little maid came vividly
+to my mind.  I asked : 'Do you remember a pretty little servant who was
+then in your father's employ, and who had, if my memory does not deceive
+me, pretty eyes and freshlooking teeth?'
+
+"'Yes, monsieur; she died in childbirth some time after.'
+
+"And, pointing to the courtyard where a thin, lame man was stirring up
+the manure, he added:
+
+"'That is her son.'
+
+"I began to laugh:
+
+"'He is not handsome and does not look much like his mother.  No doubt he
+looks like his father.'
+
+"'That is very possible,' replied the innkeeper; 'but we never knew whose
+child it was.  She died without telling any one, and no one here knew of
+her having a beau.  Every one was hugely astonished when they heard she
+was enceinte, and no one would believe it.'
+
+"A sort of unpleasant chill came over me, one of those painful surface
+wounds that affect us like the shadow of an impending sorrow.  And I
+looked at the man in the yard.  He had just drawn water for the horses
+and was carrying two buckets, limping as he walked, with a painful effort
+of his shorter leg.  His clothes were ragged, he was hideously dirty,
+with long yellow hair, so tangled that it looked like strands of rope
+falling down at either side of his face.
+
+"'He is not worth much,' continued the innkeeper; 'we have kept him for
+charity's sake.  Perhaps he would have turned out better if he had been
+brought up like other folks.  But what could one do, monsieur?  No
+father, no mother, no money!  My parents took pity on him, but he was not
+their child, you understand.'
+
+"I said nothing.
+
+"I slept in my old room, and all night long I thought of this frightful
+stableman, saying to myself: 'Supposing it is my own son?  Could I have
+caused that girl's death and procreated this being?  It was quite
+possible!'
+
+"I resolved to speak to this man and to find out the exact date of his
+birth.  A variation of two months would set my doubts at rest.
+
+"I sent for him the next day.  But he could not speak French.  He looked
+as if he could not understand anything, being absolutely ignorant of his
+age, which I had inquired of him through one of the maids.  He stood
+before me like an idiot, twirling his hat in 'his knotted, disgusting
+hands, laughing stupidly, with something of his mother's laugh in the
+corners of his mouth and of his eyes.
+
+"The landlord, appearing on the scene, went to look for the birth
+certificate of this wretched being.  He was born eight months and twenty-
+six days after my stay at Pont Labbe, for I recollect perfectly that we
+reached Lorient on the fifteenth of August.  The certificate contained
+this description: 'Father unknown.' The mother called herself Jeanne
+Kerradec.
+
+"Then my heart began to beat rapidly.  I could not utter a word, for I
+felt as if I were choking.  I looked at this animal whose long yellow
+hair reminded me of a straw heap, and the beggar, embarrassed by my gaze,
+stopped laughing, turned his head aside, and wanted to get away.
+
+"All day long I wandered beside the little river, giving way to painful
+reflections.  But what was the use of reflection?  I could be sure of
+nothing.  For hours and hours I weighed all the pros and cons in favor of
+or against the probability of my being the father, growing nervous over
+inexplicable suppositions, only to return incessantly to the same
+horrible uncertainty, then to the still more atrocious conviction that
+this man was my son.
+
+"I could eat no dinner, and went to my room.
+
+I lay awake for a long time, and when I finally fell asleep I was haunted
+by horrible visions.  I saw this laborer laughing in my face and calling
+me 'papa.'  Then he changed into a dog and bit the calves of my legs, and
+no matter how fast I ran he still followed me, and instead of barking,
+talked and reviled me.  Then he appeared before my colleagues at the
+Academy, who had assembled to decide whether I was really his father; and
+one of them cried out: 'There can be no doubt about it!  See how he
+resembles him.' And, indeed, I could see that this monster looked like
+me.  And I awoke with this idea fixed in my mind and with an insane
+desire to see the man again and assure myself whether or not we had
+similar features.
+
+"I joined him as he was going to mass (it was Sunday) and I gave him five
+francs as I gazed at him anxiously.  He began to laugh in an idiotic
+manner, took the money, and then, embarrassed afresh at my gaze, he ran
+off, after stammering an almost inarticulate word that, no doubt, meant
+'thank you.'
+
+"My day passed in the same distress of mind as on the previous night.
+I sent for the landlord, and, with the greatest caution, skill and tact,
+I told him that I was interested in this poor creature, so abandoned by
+every one and deprived of everything, and I wished to do something for
+him.
+
+"But the man replied: 'Oh, do not think of it, monsieur; he is of no
+account; you will only cause yourself annoyance.  I employ him to clean
+out the stable, and that is all he can do.  I give him his board and let
+him sleep with the horses.  He needs nothing more.  If you have an old
+pair of trousers, you might give them to him, but they will be in rags in
+a week.'
+
+"I did not insist, intending to think it over.
+
+"The poor wretch came home that evening frightfully drunk, came near
+setting fire to the house, killed a horse by hitting it with a pickaxe,
+and ended up by lying down to sleep in the mud in the midst of the
+pouring rain, thanks to my donation.
+
+"They begged me next day not to give him any more money.  Brandy drove
+him crazy, and as soon as he had two sous in his pocket he would spend
+it in drink.  The landlord added: 'Giving him money is like trying to
+kill him.'  The man had never, never in his life had more than a few
+centimes, thrown to him by travellers, and he knew of no destination for
+this metal but the wine shop.
+
+"I spent several hours in my room with an open book before me which I
+pretended to read, but in reality looking at this animal, my son! my son!
+trying to discover if he looked anything like me.  After careful scrutiny
+I seemed to recognize a similarity in the lines of the forehead and the
+root of the nose, and I was soon convinced that there was a resemblance,
+concealed by the difference in garb and the man's hideous head of hair.
+
+"I could not stay here any longer without arousing suspicion, and I went
+away, my heart crushed, leaving with the innkeeper some money to soften
+the existence of his servant.
+
+"For six years now I have lived with this idea in my mind, this horrible
+uncertainty, this abominable suspicion.  And each year an irresistible
+force takes me back to Pont Labbe.  Every year I condemn myself to the
+torture of seeing this animal raking the manure, imagining that he
+resembles me, and endeavoring, always vainly, to render him some
+assistance.  And each year I return more uncertain, more tormented, more
+worried.
+
+"I tried to have him taught, but he is a hopeless idiot.  I tried to make
+his life less hard.  He is an irreclaimable drunkard, and spends in drink
+all the money one gives him, and knows enough to sell his new clothes in
+order to get brandy.
+
+"I tried to awaken his master's sympathy, so that he should look after
+him, offering to pay him for doing so.  The innkeeper, finally surprised,
+said, very wisely: 'All that you do for him, monsieur, will only help to
+destroy him.  He must be kept like a prisoner.  As soon as he has any
+spare time, or any comfort, he becomes wicked.  If you wish to do good,
+there is no lack of abandoned children, but select one who will
+appreciate your attention.'
+
+"What could I say?
+
+"If I allowed the slightest suspicion of the doubts that tortured me to
+escape, this idiot would assuredly become cunning, in order to blackmail
+me, to compromise me and ruin me.  He would call out 'papa,' as in my
+dream.
+
+"And I said to myself that I had killed the mother and lost this
+atrophied creature, this larva of the stable, born and raised amid the
+manure, this man who, if brought up like others, would have been like
+others.
+
+"And you cannot imagine what a strange, embarrassed and intolerable
+feeling comes over me when he stands before me and I reflect that he came
+from myself, that he belongs to me through the intimate bond that links
+father and son, that, thanks to the terrible law of heredity, he is my
+own self in a thousand ways, in his blood and his flesh, and that he has
+even the same germs of disease, the same leaven of emotions.
+
+"I have an incessant restless, distressing longing to see him, and the
+sight of him causes me intense suffering, as I look down from my window
+and watch him for hours removing and carting the horse manure, saying to
+myself: 'That is my son.'
+
+"And I sometimes feel an irresistible longing to embrace him.  I have
+never even touched his dirty hand."
+
+The academician was silent.  His companion, a tactful man, murmured:
+"Yes, indeed, we ought to take a closer interest in children who have no
+father."
+
+A gust of wind passing through the tree shook its yellow clusters,
+enveloping in a fragrant and delicate mist the two old men, who inhaled
+in the fragrance with deep breaths.
+
+The senator added: "It is good to be twenty-five and even to have
+children like that."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THAT PIG OF A MORIN
+
+"Here, my friend," I said to Labarbe, "you have just repeated those five
+words, that pig of a Morin.  Why on earth do I never hear Morin's name
+mentioned without his being called a pig?"
+
+Labarbe, who is a deputy, looked at me with his owl-like eyes and said:
+"Do you mean to say that you do not know Morin's story and you come from
+La Rochelle?" I was obliged to declare that I did not know Morin's story,
+so Labarbe rubbed his hands and began his recital.
+
+"You knew Morin, did you not, and you remember his large linen-draper's
+shop on the Quai de la Rochelle?"
+
+"Yes, perfectly."
+
+"Well, then.  You must know that in 1862 or '63 Morin went to spend a
+fortnight in Paris for pleasure; or for his pleasures, but under the
+pretext of renewing his stock, and you also know what a fortnight in
+Paris means to a country shopkeeper; it fires his blood.  The theatre
+every evening, women's dresses rustling up against you and continual
+excitement; one goes almost mad with it.  One sees nothing but dancers in
+tights, actresses in very low dresses, round legs, fat shoulders, all
+nearly within reach of one's hands, without daring, or being able, to
+touch them, and one scarcely tastes food.  When one leaves the city one's
+heart is still all in a flutter and one's mind still exhilarated by a
+sort of longing for kisses which tickles one's lips.
+
+"Morin was in that condition when he took his ticket for La Rochelle by
+the eight-forty night express.  As he was walking up and down the
+waiting-room at the station he stopped suddenly in front of a young lady
+who was kissing an old one.  She had her veil up, and Morin murmured with
+delight: 'By Jove what a pretty woman!'
+
+"When she had said 'good-by' to the old lady she went into the waiting-
+room, and Morin followed her; then she went on the platform and Morin
+still followed her; then she got into an empty carriage, and he again
+followed her.  There were very few travellers on the express.  The engine
+whistled and the train started.  They were alone.  Morin devoured her
+with his eyes.  She appeared to be about nineteen or twenty and was fair,
+tall, with a bold look.  She wrapped a railway rug round her and
+stretched herself on the seat to sleep.
+
+"Morin asked himself: 'I wonder who she is?' And a thousand conjectures,
+a thousand projects went through his head.  He said to himself: 'So many
+adventures are told as happening on railway journeys that this may be one
+that is going to present itself to me.  Who knows?  A piece of good luck
+like that happens very suddenly, and perhaps I need only be a little
+venturesome.  Was it not Danton who said: "Audacity, more audacity and
+always audacity"?  If it was not Danton it was Mirabeau, but that does
+not matter.  But then I have no audacity, and that is the difficulty.
+Oh!  If one only knew, if one could only read people's minds!  I will bet
+that every day one passes by magnificent opportunities without knowing
+it, though a gesture would be enough to let me know her mind.'
+
+"Then he imagined to himself combinations which conducted him to triumph.
+He pictured some chivalrous deed or merely some slight service which he
+rendered her, a lively, gallant conversation which ended in a
+declaration.
+
+"But he could find no opening, had no pretext, and he waited for some
+fortunate circumstance, with his heart beating and his mind topsy-turvy.
+The night passed and the pretty girl still slept, while Morin was
+meditating his own fall.  The day broke and soon the first ray of
+sunlight appeared in the sky, a long, clear ray which shone on the face
+of the sleeping girl and woke her.  She sat up, looked at the country,
+then at Morin and smiled.  She smiled like a happy woman, with an
+engaging and bright look, and Morin trembled.  Certainly that smile was
+intended for him; it was discreet invitation, the signal which he was
+waiting for.  That smile meant to say: 'How stupid, what a ninny, what a
+dolt, what a donkey you are, to have sat there on your seat like a post
+all night!
+
+"'Just look at me, am I not charming?  And you have sat like that for the
+whole night, when you have been alone with a pretty woman, you great
+simpleton!'
+
+"She was still smiling as she looked at him; she even began to laugh; and
+he lost his head trying to find something suitable to say, no matter
+what.  But he could think of nothing, nothing, and then, seized with a
+coward's courage, he said to himself:
+
+'So much the worse, I will risk everything,' and suddenly, without the
+slightest warning, he went toward her, his arms extended, his lips
+protruding, and, seizing her in his arms, he kissed her.
+
+"She sprang up immediately with a bound, crying out: 'Help!  help!' and
+screaming with terror; and then she opened the carriage door and waved
+her arm out, mad with terror and trying to jump out, while Morin, who was
+almost distracted and feeling sure that she would throw herself out, held
+her by the skirt and stammered: 'Oh, madame!  oh, madame!'
+
+"The train slackened speed and then stopped.  Two guards rushed up at the
+young woman's frantic signals.  She threw herself into their arms,
+stammering: 'That man wanted--wanted--to--to--' And then she fainted.
+
+"They were at Mauze station, and the gendarme on duty arrested Morin.
+When the victim of his indiscreet admiration had regained her
+consciousness, she made her charge against him, and the police drew it
+up.  The poor linen draper did not reach home till night, with a
+prosecution hanging over him for an outrage to morals in a public place.
+
+
+II
+
+"At that time I was editor of the Fanal des Charentes, and I used to meet
+Morin every day at the Cafe du Commerce, and the day after his adventure.
+he came to see me, as he did not know what to do.  I did not hide my
+opinion from him, but said to him: 'You are no better than a pig.  No
+decent man behaves like that.'
+
+"He cried.  His wife had given him a beating, and he foresaw his trade
+ruined, his name dragged through the mire and dishonored, his friends
+scandalized and taking no notice of him.  In the end he excited my pity,
+and I sent for my colleague, Rivet, a jocular but very sensible little
+man, to give us his advice.
+
+"He advised me to see the public prosecutor, who was a friend of mine,
+and so I sent Morin home and went to call on the magistrate.  He told me
+that the woman who had been insulted was a young lady, Mademoiselle
+Henriette Bonnel, who had just received her certificate as governess in
+Paris and spent her holidays with her uncle and aunt, who were very
+respectable tradespeople in Mauze.  What made Morin's case all the more
+serious was that the uncle had lodged a complaint, but the public
+official had consented to let the matter drop if this complaint were
+withdrawn, so we must try and get him to do this.
+
+"I went back to Morin's and found him in bed, ill with excitement and
+distress.  His wife, a tall raw-boned woman with a beard, was abusing him
+continually, and she showed me into the room, shouting at me: 'So you
+have come to see that pig of a Morin.  Well, there he is, the darling!'
+And she planted herself in front of the bed, with her hands on her hips.
+I told him how matters stood, and he begged me to go and see the girl's
+uncle and aunt.  It was a delicate mission, but I undertook it, and the
+poor devil never ceased repeating: 'I assure you I did not even kiss her;
+no, not even that.  I will take my oath to it!'
+
+"I replied: 'It is all the same; you are nothing but a pig.' And I took a
+thousand francs which he gave me to employ as I thought best, but as I
+did not care to venture to her uncle's house alone, I begged Rivet to go
+with me, which he agreed to do on condition that we went immediately, for
+he had some urgent business at La Rochelle that afternoon.  So two hours
+later we rang at the door of a pretty country house.  An attractive girl
+came and opened the door to us assuredly the young lady in question, and
+I said to Rivet in a low voice: 'Confound it!  I begin to understand
+Morin!'
+
+"The uncle, Monsieur Tonnelet, subscribed to the Fanal, and was a fervent
+political coreligionist of ours.  He received us with open arms and
+congratulated us and wished us joy; he was delighted at having the two
+editors in his house, and Rivet whispered to me: 'I think we shall be
+able to arrange the matter of that pig of a Morin for him.'
+
+"The niece had left the room and I introduced the delicate subject.
+I waved the spectre of scandal before his eyes; I accentuated the
+inevitable depreciation which the young lady would suffer if such an
+affair became known, for nobody would believe in a simple kiss, and the
+good man seemed undecided, but he could not make up his mind about
+anything without his wife, who would not be in until late that evening.
+But suddenly he uttered an exclamation of triumph: 'Look here, I have an
+excellent idea; I will keep you here to dine and sleep, and when my wife
+comes home I hope we shall be able to arrange matters:
+
+"Rivet resisted at first, but the wish to extricate that pig of a Morin
+decided him, and we accepted the invitation, and the uncle got up
+radiant, called his niece and proposed that we should take a stroll in
+his grounds, saying: 'We will leave serious matters until the morning.'
+Rivet and he began to talk politics, while I soon found myself lagging a
+little behind with 'the girl who was really charming--charming--and with
+the greatest precaution I began to speak to her about her adventure and
+try to make her my ally.  She did not, however, appear the least
+confused, and listened to me like a person who was enjoying the whole
+thing very much.
+
+"I said to her: 'Just think, mademoiselle, how unpleasant it will be for
+you.  You will have to appear in court, to encounter malicious looks, to
+speak before everybody and to recount that unfortunate occurrence in the
+railway carriage in public.  Do you not think, between ourselves, that it
+would have been much better for you to have put that dirty scoundrel back
+in his place without calling for assistance, and merely to change your
+carriage?' She began to laugh and replied: 'What you say is quite true,
+but what could I do?  I was frightened, and when one is frightened one
+does not stop to reason with one's self.  As soon as I realized the
+situation I was very sorry, that I had called out, but then it was too
+late.  You must also remember that the idiot threw himself upon me like a
+madman, without saying a word and looking like a lunatic.  I did not even
+know what he wanted of me.'
+
+"She looked me full in the face without being nervous or intimidated and
+I said to myself: 'She is a queer sort of girl, that: I can quite see how
+that pig Morin came to make a mistake,' and I went on jokingly: 'Come,
+mademoiselle, confess that he was excusable, for, after all, a man cannot
+find himself opposite such a pretty girl as you are without feeling a
+natural desire to kiss her.'
+
+"She laughed more than ever and showed her teeth and said: 'Between the
+desire and the act, monsieur, there is room for respect.'  It was an odd
+expression to use, although it was not very clear, and I asked abruptly:
+'Well, now, suppose I were to kiss you, what would you do?'  She stopped
+to look at me from head to foot and then said calmly: 'Oh, you?  That is
+quite another matter.'
+
+"I knew perfectly well, by Jove, that it was not the same thing at all,
+as everybody in the neighborhood called me 'Handsome Labarbe'--I was
+thirty years old in those days--but I asked her: 'And why, pray?'  She
+shrugged her shoulders and replied: 'Well!  because you are not so stupid
+as he is.'  And then she added, looking at me slyly: 'Nor so ugly,
+either: And before she could make a movement to avoid me I had implanted
+a hearty kiss on her cheek.  She sprang aside, but it was too late, and
+then she said: 'Well, you are not very bashful, either!  But don't do
+that sort of thing again.'
+
+"I put on a humble look and said in a low voice: 'Oh, mademoiselle! as
+for me, if I long for one thing more than another it is to be summoned
+before a magistrate for the same reason as Morin.'
+
+"'Why?' she asked.  And, looking steadily at her, I replied: 'Because you
+are one of the most beautiful creatures living; because it would be an
+honor and a glory for me to have wished to offer you violence, and
+because people would have said, after seeing you: "Well, Labarbe has
+richly deserved what he has got, but he is a lucky fellow, all the
+same.'"
+
+"She began to laugh heartily again and said: 'How funny you are!'  And
+she had not finished the word 'funny' before I had her in my arms and was
+kissing her ardently wherever I could find a place, on her forehead, on
+her eyes, on her lips occasionally, on her cheeks, all over her head,
+some part of which she was obliged to leave exposed, in spite of herself,
+to defend the others; but at last she managed to release herself,
+blushing and angry.  'You are very unmannerly, monsieur,' she said, 'and
+I am sorry I listened to you.'
+
+"I took her hand in some confusion and stammered out: 'I beg your pardon.
+I beg your pardon, mademoiselle.  I have offended you; I have acted like
+a brute!  Do not be angry with me for what I have done.  If you knew--'
+I vainly sought for some excuse, and in a few moments she said: 'There is
+nothing for me to know, monsieur.'  But I had found something to say, and
+I cried: 'Mademoiselle, I love you!'
+
+"She was really surprised and raised her eyes to look at me, and I went
+on: 'Yes, mademoiselle, and pray listen to me.  I do not know Morin, and
+I do not care anything about him.  It does not matter to me the least if
+he is committed for trial and locked up meanwhile.  I saw you here last
+year, and I was so taken with you that the thought of you has never left
+me since, and it does not matter to me whether you believe me or not.
+I thought you adorable, and the remembrance of you took such a hold on me
+that I longed to see you again, and so I made use of that fool Morin as a
+pretext, and here I am.  Circumstances have made me exceed the due limits
+of respect, and I can only beg you to pardon me.'
+
+"She looked at me to see if I was in earnest and was ready to smile
+again.  Then she murmured: 'You humbug!'  But I raised my hand and said
+in a sincere voice (and I really believe that I was sincere): 'I swear to
+you that I am speaking the truth,' and she replied quite simply: 'Don't
+talk nonsense!'
+
+"We were alone, quite alone, as Rivet and her uncle had disappeared down
+a sidewalk, and I made her a real declaration of love, while I squeezed
+and kissed her hands, and she listened to it as to something new and
+agreeable, without exactly knowing how much of it she was to believe,
+while in the end I felt agitated, and at last really myself believed what
+I said.  I was pale, anxious and trembling, and I gently put my arm round
+her waist and spoke to her softly, whispering into the little curls over
+her ears.  She seemed in a trance, so absorbed in thought was she.
+
+"Then her hand touched mine, and she pressed it, and I gently squeezed
+her waist with a trembling, and gradually firmer, grasp.  She did not
+move now, and I touched her cheek with my lips, and suddenly without
+seeking them my lips met hers.  It was a long, long kiss, and it would
+have lasted longer still if I had not heard a hm! hm! just behind me, at
+which she made her escape through the bushes, and turning round I saw
+Rivet coming toward me, and, standing in the middle of the path, he said
+without even smiling: 'So that is the way you settle the affair of that
+pig of a Morin.'  And I replied conceitedly: 'One does what one can, my
+dear fellow.  But what about the uncle?  How have you got on with him?
+I will answer for the niece.'  'I have not been so fortunate with him,'
+he replied.
+
+"Whereupon I took his arm and we went indoors,
+
+
+III
+
+"Dinner made me lose my head altogether.  I sat beside her, and my hand
+continually met hers under the tablecloth, my foot touched hers and our
+glances met.
+
+"After dinner we took a walk by moonlight, and I whispered all the tender
+things I could think of to her.  I held her close to me, kissed her every
+moment, while her uncle and Rivet were arguing as they walked in front of
+us.  They went in, and soon a messenger brought a telegram from her aunt,
+saying that she would not return until the next morning at seven o'clock
+by the first train.
+
+"'Very well, Henriette,' her uncle said, 'go and show the gentlemen their
+rooms.' She showed Rivet his first, and he whispered to me: 'There was no
+danger of her taking us into yours first.'  Then she took me to my room,
+and as soon as she was alone with me I took her in my arms again and
+tried to arouse her emotion, but when she saw the danger she escaped out
+of the room, and I retired very much put out and excited and feeling
+rather foolish, for I knew that I should not sleep much, and I was
+wondering how I could have committed such a mistake, when there was a
+gentle knock at my door, and on my asking who was there a low voice
+replied: 'I'
+
+"I dressed myself quickly and opened the door, and she came in.
+'I forgot to ask you what you take in the morning,' she said; 'chocolate,
+tea or coffee?' I put my arms round her impetuously and said, devouring
+her with kisses: 'I will take--I will take--'
+
+"But she freed herself from my arms, blew out my candle and disappeared
+and left me alone in the dark, furious, trying to find some matches, and
+not able to do so.  At last I got some and I went into the passage,
+feeling half mad, with my candlestick in my hand.
+
+"What was I about to do?  I did not stop to reason, I only wanted to find
+her, and I would.  I went a few steps without reflecting, but then I
+suddenly thought: 'Suppose I should walk into the uncle's room what
+should I say?'  And I stood still, with my head a void and my heart
+beating.  But in a few moments I thought of an answer: 'Of course, I
+shall say that I was looking for Rivet's room to speak to him about an
+important matter,' and I began to inspect all the doors, trying to find
+hers, and at last I took hold of a handle at a venture, turned it and
+went in.  There was Henriette, sitting on her bed and looking at me in
+tears.  So I gently turned the key, and going up to her on tiptoe I said:
+'I forgot to ask you for something to read, mademoiselle.'
+
+"I was stealthily returning to my room when a rough hand seized me and a
+voice--it was Rivet's -whispered in my ear: 'So you have not yet quite
+settled that affair of Morin's?'
+
+"At seven o'clock the next morning Henriette herself brought me a cup of
+chocolate.  I never have drunk anything like it, soft, velvety, perfumed,
+delicious.  I could hardly take away my lips from the cup, and she had
+hardly left the room when Rivet came in.  He seemed nervous and
+irritable, like a man who had not slept, and he said to me crossly:
+
+'If you go on like this you will end by spoiling the affair of that pig
+of a Morin!'
+
+"At eight o'clock the aunt arrived.  Our discussion was very short, for
+they withdrew their complaint, and I left five hundred francs for the
+poor of the town.  They wanted to keep us for the day, and they arranged
+an excursion to go and see some ruins.  Henriette made signs to me to
+stay, behind her parents' back, and I accepted, but Rivet was determined
+to go, and though I took him aside and begged and prayed him to do this
+for me, he appeared quite exasperated and kept saying to me: 'I have had
+enough of that pig of a Morin's affair, do you hear?'
+
+"Of course I was obliged to leave also, and it was one of the hardest
+moments of my life.  I could have gone on arranging that business as long
+as I lived, and when we were in the railway carriage, after shaking hands
+with her in silence, I said to Rivet: 'You are a mere brute!'  And he
+replied: 'My dear fellow, you were beginning to annoy me confoundedly.'
+
+"On getting to the Fanal office, I saw a crowd waiting for us, and as
+soon as they saw us they all exclaimed: 'Well, have you settled the
+affair of that pig of a Morin?'  All La Rochelle was excited about it,
+and Rivet, who had got over his ill-humor on the journey, had great
+difficulty in keeping himself from laughing as he said: 'Yes, we have
+managed it, thanks to Labarbe: And we went to Morin's.
+
+"He was sitting in an easy-chair with mustard plasters on his legs and
+cold bandages on his head, nearly dead with misery.  He was coughing with
+the short cough of a dying man, without any one knowing how he had caught
+it, and his wife looked at him like a tigress ready to eat him, and as
+soon as he saw us he trembled so violently as to make his hands and knees
+shake, so I said to him immediately: 'It is all settled, you dirty scamp,
+but don't do such a thing again.'
+
+"He got up, choking, took my hands and kissed them as if they had
+belonged to a prince, cried, nearly fainted, embraced Rivet and even
+kissed Madame Morin, who gave him such a push as to send him staggering
+back into his chair; but he never got over the blow; his mind had been
+too much upset.  In all the country round, moreover, he was called
+nothing but 'that pig of a Morin,' and that epithet went through him like
+a sword-thrust every time he heard it.  When a street boy called after
+him 'Pig!' he turned his head instinctively.  His friends also
+overwhelmed him with horrible jokes and used to ask him, whenever they
+were eating ham, 'Is it a bit of yourself?' He died two years later.
+
+"As for myself, when I was a candidate for the Chamber of Deputies in
+1875, I called on the new notary at Fousserre, Monsieur Belloncle, to
+solicit his vote, and a tall, handsome and evidently wealthy lady
+received me.  'You do not know me again?' she said.  And I stammered out:
+'Why--no--madame.'  'Henriette Bonnel.'  'Ah!'  And I felt myself turning
+pale, while she seemed perfectly at her ease and looked at me with a
+smile.
+
+"As soon as she had left me alone with her husband he took both my hands,
+and, squeezing them as if he meant to crush them, he said: 'I have been
+intending to go and see you for a long time, my dear sir, for my wife has
+very often talked to me about you.  I know--yes, I know under what
+painful circumstances you made her acquaintance, and I know also how
+perfectly you behaved, how full of delicacy, tact and devotion you showed
+yourself in the affair--'  He hesitated and then said in a lower tone, as
+if he had been saying something low and coarse, 'in the affair of that
+pig of a Morin.'"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SAINT ANTHONY
+
+They called him Saint Anthony, because his name was Anthony, and also,
+perhaps, because he was a good fellow, jovial, a lover of practical
+jokes, a tremendous eater and a heavy drinker and a gay fellow, although
+he was sixty years old.
+
+He was a big peasant of the district of Caux, with a red face, large
+chest and stomach, and perched on two legs that seemed too slight for the
+bulk of his body.
+
+He was a widower and lived alone with his two men servants and a maid on
+his farm, which he conducted with shrewd economy.  He was careful of his
+own interests, understood business and the raising of cattle, and
+farming.  His two sons and his three daughters, who had married well,
+were living in the neighborhood and came to dine with their father once a
+month.  His vigor of body was famous in all the countryside.  "He is as
+strong as Saint Anthony," had become a kind of proverb.
+
+At the time of the Prussian invasion Saint Anthony, at the wine shop,
+promised to eat an army, for he was a braggart, like a true Norman, a bit
+of a, coward and a blusterer.  He banged his fist on the wooden table,
+making the cups and the brandy glasses dance, and cried with the assumed
+wrath of a good fellow, with a flushed face and a sly look in his eye:
+"I shall have to eat some of them, nom de Dieu!"  He reckoned that the
+Prussians would not come as far as Tanneville, but when he heard they
+were at Rautot he never went out of the house, and constantly watched the
+road from the little window of his kitchen, expecting at any moment to
+see the bayonets go by.
+
+One morning as he was eating his luncheon with the servants the door
+opened and the mayor of the commune, Maitre Chicot, appeared, followed by
+a soldier wearing a black copper-pointed helmet.  Saint Anthony bounded
+to his feet and his servants all looked at him, expecting to see him
+slash the Prussian.  But he merely shook hands with the mayor, who said:
+
+"Here is one for you, Saint Anthony.  They came last night.  Don't do
+anything foolish, above all things, for they talked of shooting and
+burning everything if there is the slightest unpleasantness, I have given
+you warning.  Give him something to eat; he looks like a good fellow.
+Good-day.  I am going to call on the rest.  There are enough for all."
+And he went out.
+
+Father Anthony, who had turned pale, looked at the Prussian.  He was a
+big, young fellow with plump, white skin, blue eyes, fair hair, unshaven
+to his cheek bones, who looked stupid, timid and good.  The shrewd Norman
+read him at once, and, reassured, he made him a sign to sit down.  Then
+he said: "Will you take some soup?"
+
+The stranger did not understand.  Anthony then became bolder, and pushing
+a plateful of soup right under his nose, he said: "Here, swallow that,
+big pig!
+
+The soldier ,answered "Ya," and began to eat greedily, while the farmer,
+triumphant, feeling he had regained his reputation, winked his eye at the
+servants, who were making strange grimaces, what with their terror and
+their desire to laugh.
+
+When the Prussian had devoured his soup, Saint Anthony gave him another
+plateful, which disappeared in like manner; but he flinched at the third
+which the farmer tried to insist on his eating, saying: "Come, put that
+into your stomach; 'twill fatten you or it is your own fault, eh, pig!"
+
+The soldier, understanding only that they wanted to make him eat all his
+soup, laughed in a contented manner, making a sign to show that he could
+not hold any more.
+
+Then Saint Anthony, become quite familiar, tapped him on the stomach,
+saying: "My, there is plenty in my pig's belly!"  But suddenly he began
+to writhe with laughter, unable to speak.  An idea had struck him which
+made him choke with mirth.  "That's it, that's it, Saint Anthony and his
+pig.  There's my pig!"  And the three servants burst out laughing in
+their turn.
+
+The old fellow was so pleased that he had the brandy brought in, good
+stuff, 'fil en dix', and treated every one.  They clinked glasses with
+the Prussian, who clacked his tongue by way of flattery to show that he
+enjoyed it.  And Saint Anthony exclaimed in his face: "Eh, is not that
+superfine?  You don't get anything like that in your home, pig!"
+
+From that time Father Anthony never went out without his Prussian.  He
+had got what he wanted.  This was his vengeance, the vengeance of an old
+rogue.  And the whole countryside, which was in terror, laughed to split
+its sides at Saint Anthony's joke.  Truly, there was no one like him when
+it came to humor.  No one but he would have thought of a thing like that.
+He was a born joker!
+
+He went to see his neighbors every day, arm in arm with his German, whom
+he introduced in a jovial manner, tapping him on the shoulder: "See, here
+is my pig; look and see if he is not growing fat, the animal!"
+
+And the peasants would beam with smiles.  "He is so comical, that
+reckless fellow, Antoine!"
+
+"I will sell him to you, Cesaire, for three pistoles" (thirty francs).
+
+"I will take him, Antoine, and I invite you to eat some black pudding."
+
+"What I want is his feet."
+
+"Feel his belly; you will see that it is all fat."
+
+And they all winked at each other, but dared not laugh too loud, for fear
+the Prussian might finally suspect they were laughing at him.  Anthony,
+alone growing bolder every day, pinched his thighs, exclaiming, "Nothing
+but fat"; tapped him on the back, shouting, "That is all bacon"; lifted
+him up in his arms as an old Colossus that could have lifted an anvil,
+declaring, "He weighs six hundred and no waste."
+
+He had got into the habit of making people offer his "pig" something to
+eat wherever they went together.  This was the chief pleasure, the great
+diversion every day.  "Give him whatever you please, he will swallow
+everything."  And they offered the man bread and butter, potatoes, cold
+meat, chitterlings, which caused the remark, "Some of your own, and
+choice ones."
+
+The soldier, stupid and gentle, ate from politeness, charmed at these
+attentions, making himself ill rather than refuse, and he was actually
+growing fat and his uniform becoming tight for him.  This delighted Saint
+Anthony, who said: "You know, my pig, that we shall have to have another
+cage made for you."
+
+They had, however, become the best friends in the world, and when the old
+fellow went to attend to his business in the neighborhood the Prussian
+accompanied him for the simple pleasure of being with him.
+
+The weather was severe; it was freezing hard.  The terrible winter of
+1870 seemed to bring all the scourges on France at one time.
+
+Father Antoine, who made provision beforehand, and took advantage of
+every opportunity, foreseeing that manure would be scarce for the spring
+farming, bought from a neighbor who happened to be in need of money all
+that he had, and it was agreed that he should go every evening with his
+cart to get a load.
+
+So every day at twilight he set out for the farm of Haules, half a league
+distant, always accompanied by his "pig."  And each time it was a
+festival, feeding the animal.  All the neighbors ran over there as they
+would go to high mass on Sunday.
+
+But the soldier began to suspect something, be mistrustful, and when they
+laughed too loud he would roll his eyes uneasily, and sometimes they
+lighted up with anger.
+
+One evening when he had eaten his fill he refused to swallow another
+morsel, and attempted to rise to leave the table.  But Saint Anthony
+stopped him by a turn of the wrist and, placing his two powerful hands on
+his shoulders, he sat him down again so roughly that the chair smashed
+under him.
+
+A wild burst of laughter broke forth, and Anthony, beaming, picked up his
+pig, acted as though he were dressing his wounds, and exclaimed: "Since
+you will not eat, you shall drink, nom de Dieu!"  And they went to the
+wine shop to get some brandy.
+
+The soldier rolled his eyes, which had a wicked expression, but he drank,
+nevertheless; he drank as long as they wanted him, and Saint Anthony held
+his head to the great delight of his companions.
+
+The Norman, red as a tomato, his eyes ablaze, filled up the glasses and
+clinked, saying: "Here's to you!".  And the Prussian, without speaking a
+word, poured down one after another glassfuls of cognac.
+
+It was a contest, a battle, a revenge!  Who would drink the most, nom
+d'un nom!  They could neither of them stand any more when the liter was
+emptied.  But neither was conquered.  They were tied, that was all.  They
+would have to begin again the next day.
+
+They went out staggering and started for home, walking beside the dung
+cart which was drawn along slowly by two horses.
+
+Snow began to fall and the moonless night was sadly lighted by this dead
+whiteness on the plain. The men began to feel the cold, and this
+aggravated their intoxication.  Saint Anthony, annoyed at not being the
+victor, amused himself by shoving his companion so as to make him fall
+over into the ditch.  The other would dodge backwards, and each time he
+did he uttered some German expression in an angry tone, which made the
+peasant roar with laughter.  Finally the Prussian lost his temper, and
+just as Anthony was rolling towards him he responded with such a terrific
+blow with his fist that the Colossus staggered.
+
+Then, excited by the brandy, the old man seized the pugilist round the
+waist, shook him for a few moments as he would have done with a little
+child, and pitched him at random to the other side of the road.  Then,
+satisfied with this piece of work, he crossed his arms and began to laugh
+afresh.
+
+But the soldier picked himself up in a hurry, his head bare, his helmet
+having rolled off, and drawing his sword he rushed over to Father
+Anthony.
+
+When he saw him coming the peasant seized his whip by the top of the
+handle, his big holly wood whip, straight, strong and supple as the sinew
+of an ox.
+
+The Prussian approached, his head down, making a lunge with his sword,
+sure of killing his adversary.  But the old fellow, squarely hitting the
+blade, the point of which would have pierced his stomach, turned it
+aside, and with the butt end of the whip struck the soldier a sharp blow
+on the temple and he fell to the ground.
+
+Then he, gazed aghast, stupefied with amazement, at the body, twitching
+convulsively at first and then lying prone and motionless.  He bent over
+it, turned it on its back, and gazed at it for some time.  The man's eyes
+were closed, and blood trickled from a wound at the side of his forehead.
+Although it was dark, Father Anthony could distinguish the bloodstain on
+the white snow.
+
+He remained there, at his wit's end, while his cart continued slowly on
+its way.
+
+What was he to do?  He would be shot!  They would burn his farm, ruin his
+district!  What should he do?  What should he do?  How could he hide the
+body, conceal the fact of his death, deceive the Prussians?  He heard
+voices in the distance, amid the utter stillness of the snow.  All at
+once he roused himself, and picking up the helmet he placed it on his
+victim's head.  Then, seizing him round the body, he lifted him up in his
+arms, and thus running with him, he overtook his team, and threw the body
+on top of the manure.  Once in his own house he would think up some plan.
+
+He walked slowly, racking his brain, but without result.  He saw, he
+felt, that he was lost.  He entered his courtyard.  A light was shining
+in one of the attic windows; his maid was not asleep.  He hastily backed
+his wagon to the edge of the manure hollow.  He thought that by
+overturning the manure the body lying on top of it would fall into the
+ditch and be buried beneath it, and he dumped the cart.
+
+As he had foreseen, the man was buried beneath the manure.  Anthony
+evened it down with his fork, which he stuck in the ground beside it.
+He called his stableman, told him to put up the horses, and went to his
+room.
+
+He went to bed, still thinking of what he had best do, but no ideas came
+to him.  His apprehension increased in the quiet of his room.  They would
+shoot him!  He was bathed in perspiration from fear, his teeth chattered,
+he rose shivering, not being able to stay in bed.
+
+He went downstairs to the kitchen, took the bottle of brandy from the
+sideboard and carried it upstairs.  He drank two large glasses, one after
+another, adding a fresh intoxication to the late one, without quieting
+his mental anguish.  He had done a pretty stroke of work, nom de Dieu,
+idiot!
+
+He paced up and down, trying to think of some stratagem, some
+explanations, some cunning trick, and from time to time he rinsed his
+mouth with a swallow of "fil en dix" to give him courage.
+
+But no ideas came to him, not one.
+
+Towards midnight his watch dog, a kind of cross wolf called "Devorant,"
+began to howl frantically.  Father Anthony shuddered to the marrow of his
+bones, and each time the beast began his long and lugubrious wail the old
+man's skin turned to goose flesh.
+
+He had sunk into a chair, his legs weak, stupefied, done up, waiting
+anxiously for "Devorant" to set up another howl, and starting
+convulsively from nervousness caused by terror.
+
+The clock downstairs struck five.  The dog was still howling.  The
+peasant was almost insane.  He rose to go and let the dog loose, so that
+he should not hear him.  He went downstairs, opened the hall door, and
+stepped out into the darkness.  The snow was still falling.  The earth
+was all white, the farm buildings standing out like black patches.  He
+approached the kennel.  The dog was dragging at his chain.  He unfastened
+it.  "Devorant" gave a bound, then stopped short, his hair bristling, his
+legs rigid, his muzzle in the air, his nose pointed towards the manure
+heap.
+
+Saint Anthony, trembling from head to foot, faltered:
+
+"What's the matter with you, you dirty hound?" and he walked a few steps
+forward, gazing at the indistinct outlines, the sombre shadow of the
+courtyard.
+
+Then he saw a form, the form of a man sitting on the manure heap!
+
+He gazed at it, paralyzed by fear, and breathing hard.  But all at once
+he saw, close by, the handle of the manure fork which was sticking in the
+ground.  He snatched it up and in one of those transports of fear that
+will make the greatest coward brave he rushed forward to see what it was.
+
+It was he, his Prussian, come to life, covered with filth from his bed of
+manure which had kept him warm.  He had sat down mechanically, and
+remained there in the snow which sprinkled down, all covered with dirt
+and blood as he was, and still stupid from drinking, dazed by the blow
+and exhausted from his wound.
+
+He perceived Anthony, and too sodden to understand anything, he made an
+attempt to rise.  But the moment the old man recognized him, he foamed
+with rage like a wild animal.
+
+"Ah, pig!  pig!" he sputtered.  "You are not dead!  You are going to
+denounce me now--wait--wait!"
+
+And rushing on the German with all the strength of leis arms he flung the
+raised fork like a lance and buried the four prongs full length in his
+breast.
+
+The soldier fell over on his back, uttering a long death moan, while the
+old peasant, drawing the fork out of his breast, plunged it over and over
+again into his abdomen, his stomach, his throat, like a madman, piercing
+the body from head to foot, as it still quivered, and the blood gushed
+out in streams.
+
+Finally he stopped, exhausted by his arduous work, swallowing great
+mouthfuls of air, calmed down at the completion of the murder.
+
+As the cocks were beginning to crow in the poultry yard and it was near
+daybreak, he set to work to bury the man.
+
+He dug a hole in the manure till he reached the earth, dug down further,
+working wildly, in a frenzy of strength with frantic motions of his arms
+and body.
+
+When the pit was deep enough he rolled the corpse into it with the fork,
+covered it with earth, which he stamped down for some time, and then put
+back the manure, and he smiled as he saw the thick snow finishing his
+work and covering up its traces with a white sheet.
+
+He then stuck the fork in the manure and went into the house.  His
+bottle, still half full of brandy stood on the table.  He emptied it at a
+draught, threw himself on his bed and slept heavily.
+
+He woke up sober, his mind calm and clear, capable of judgment and
+thought.
+
+At the end of an hour he was going about the country making inquiries
+everywhere for his soldier.  He went to see the Prussian officer to find
+out why they had taken away his man.
+
+As everyone knew what good friends they were, no one suspected him.  He
+even directed the research, declaring that the Prussian went to see the
+girls every evening.
+
+An old retired gendarme who had an inn in the next village, and a pretty
+daughter, was arrested and shot.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+LASTING LOVE
+
+It was the end of the dinner that opened the shooting season.  The
+Marquis de Bertrans with his guests sat around a brightly lighted table,
+covered with fruit and flowers.  The conversation drifted to love.
+Immediately there arose an animated discussion, the same eternal
+discussion as to whether it were possible to love more than once.
+Examples were given of persons who had loved once; these were offset by
+those who had loved violently many times.  The men agreed that passion,
+like sickness, may attack the same person several times, unless it
+strikes to kill.  This conclusion seemed quite incontestable.  The women,
+however, who based their opinion on poetry rather than on practical
+observation, maintained that love, the great passion, may come only once
+to mortals.  It resembles lightning, they said, this love.  A heart once
+touched by it becomes forever such a waste, so ruined, so consumed, that
+no other strong sentiment can take root there, not even a dream.  The
+marquis, who had indulged in many love affairs, disputed this belief.
+
+"I tell you it is possible to love several times with all one's heart and
+soul.  You quote examples of persons who have killed themselves for love,
+to  prove the impossibility of a second passion.  I wager that if they
+had not foolishly committed suicide, and so destroyed the possibility of
+a second experience, they would have found a new love, and still another,
+and so on till death.  It is with love as with drink.  He who has once
+indulged is forever a slave.  It is a thing of temperament."
+
+They chose the old doctor as umpire.  He thought it was as the marquis
+had said, a thing of temperament.
+
+"As for me," he said, "I once knew of a love which lasted fifty-five
+years without one day's respite, and which ended only with death."  The
+wife of the marquis clasped her hands.
+
+"That is beautiful!  Ah, what a dream to be loved in such a way!  What
+bliss to live for fifty-five years enveloped in an intense, unwavering
+affection!  How this happy being must have blessed his life to be so
+adored!"
+
+The doctor smiled.
+
+"You are not mistaken, madame, on this point the loved one was a man.
+You even know him; it is Monsieur Chouquet, the chemist.  As to the
+woman, you also know her, the old chair-mender, who came every year to
+the chateau."  The enthusiasm of the women fell.  Some expressed their
+contempt with "Pouah!" for the loves of common people did not interest
+them.  The doctor continued: "Three months ago I was called to the
+deathbed of the old chair-mender.  The priest had preceded me.  She
+wished to make us the executors of her will.  In order that we might
+understand her conduct, she told us the story of her life.  It is most
+singular and touching: Her father and mother were both chair-menders.
+She had never lived in a house.  As a little child she wandered about
+with them, dirty, unkempt, hungry.  They visited many towns, leaving
+their horse, wagon and dog just outside the limits, where the child
+played in the grass alone until her parents had repaired all the broken
+chairs in the place.  They seldom spoke, except to cry, 'Chairs!  Chairs!
+Chair-mender!'
+
+"When the little one strayed too far away, she would be called back by
+the harsh, angry voice of her father.  She never heard a word of
+affection.  When she grew older, she fetched and carried the broken
+chairs.  Then it was she made friends with the children in the street,
+but their parents always called them away and scolded them for speaking
+to the barefooted child.  Often the boys threw stones at her.  Once a
+kind woman gave her a few pennies.  She saved them most carefully.
+"One day--she was then eleven years old--as she was walking through a
+country town she met, behind the cemetery, little Chouquet, weeping
+bitterly, because one of his playmates had stolen two precious liards
+(mills).  The tears of the small bourgeois, one of those much-envied
+mortals, who, she imagined, never knew trouble, completely upset her.
+She approached him and, as soon as she learned the cause of his grief,
+she put into his hands all her savings.  He took them without hesitation
+and dried his eyes.  Wild with joy, she kissed him.  He was busy counting
+his money, and did not object.  Seeing that she was not repulsed, she
+threw her arms round him and gave him a hug--then she ran away.
+
+"What was going on in her poor little head?  Was it because she had
+sacrificed all her fortune that she became madly fond of this youngster,
+or was it because she had given him the first tender kiss?  The mystery
+is alike for children and for those of riper years.  For months she
+dreamed of that corner near the cemetery and of the little chap.
+She stole a sou here and, there from her parents on the chair money or
+groceries she was sent to buy.  When she returned to the spot near the
+cemetery she had two francs in her pocket, but he was not there.  Passing
+his father's drug store, she caught sight of him behind the counter.
+He was sitting between a large red globe and a blue one.  She only loved
+him the more, quite carried away at the sight of the brilliant-colored
+globes.  She cherished the recollection of it forever in her heart.
+The following year she met him near the school.  playing marbles.
+She rushed up to him, threw her arms round him, and kissed him so
+passionately that he screamed, in fear.  To quiet him, she gave him all
+her money.  Three francs and twenty centimes!  A real gold mine, at which
+he gazed with staring eyes.
+
+"After this he allowed her to kiss him as much as she wished.  During the
+next four years she put into his hands all her savings, which he pocketed
+conscientiously in exchange for kisses.  At one time it was thirty sons,
+at another two francs.  Again, she only had twelve sous.  She wept with
+grief and shame, explaining brokenly that it had been a poor year.  The
+next time she brought five francs, in one whole piece, which made her
+laugh with joy.  She no longer thought of any one but the boy, and he
+watched for her with impatience; sometimes he would run to meet her.
+This made her heart thump with joy.  Suddenly he disappeared.  He had
+gone to boarding school.  She found this out by careful investigation.
+Then she used great diplomacy to persuade her parents to change their
+route and pass by this way again during vacation.  After a year of
+scheming she succeeded.  She had not seen him for two years, and scarcely
+recognized him, he was so changed, had grown taller, better looking and
+was imposing in his uniform, with its brass buttons.  He pretended not to
+see her, and passed by without a glance.  She wept for two days and from
+that time loved and suffered unceasingly.
+
+"Every year he came home and she passed him, not daring to lift her eyes.
+He never condescended to turn his head toward her.  She loved him madly,
+hopelessly.  She said to me:
+
+"'He is the only man whom I have ever seen.  I don't even know if another
+exists.'  Her parents died.  She continued their work.
+
+"One day, on entering the village, where her heart always remained, she
+saw Chouquet coming out of his pharmacy with a young lady leaning on his
+arm.  She was his wife.  That night the chairmender threw herself into
+the river.  A drunkard passing the spot pulled her out and took her to
+the drug store.  Young Chouquet came down in his dressing gown to revive
+her.  Without seeming to know who she was he undressed her and rubbed
+her; then he said to her, in a harsh voice:
+
+"'You are mad!  People must not do stupid things like that.'  His voice
+brought her to life again.  He had spoken to her!  She was happy for a
+long time.  He refused remuneration for his trouble, although she
+insisted.
+
+"All her life passed in this way.  She worked, thinking always of him.
+She began to buy medicines at his pharmacy; this gave her a chance to
+talk to him and to see him closely.  In this way, she was still able to
+give him money.
+
+"As I said before, she died this spring.  When she had closed her
+pathetic story she entreated me to take her earnings to the man she
+loved.  She had worked only that she might leave him something to remind
+him of her after her death.  I gave the priest fifty francs for her
+funeral expenses.  The next morning I went to see the Chouquets.  They
+were finishing breakfast, sitting opposite each other, fat and red,
+important and self-satisfied.  They welcomed me and offered me some
+coffee, which I accepted.  Then I began my story in a trembling voice,
+sure that they would be softened, even to tears.  As soon as Chouquet
+understood that he had been loved by 'that vagabond!  that chair-mender!
+that wanderer!' he swore with indignation as though his reputation had
+been sullied, the respect of decent people lost, his personal honor,
+something precious and dearer to him than life, gone.  His exasperated
+wife kept repeating: 'That beggar!  That beggar!'
+
+"Seeming unable to find words suitable to the enormity, he stood up and
+began striding about.  He muttered : 'Can you understand anything so
+horrible, doctor?  Oh, if I had only known it while she was alive, I
+should have had her thrown into prison.  I promise you she would not have
+escaped.'
+
+"I was dumfounded; I hardly knew what to think or say, but I had to
+finish my mission.  'She commissioned me,' I said, 'to give you her
+savings, which amount to three thousand five hundred francs.  As what I
+have just told you seems to be very disagreeable, perhaps you would
+prefer to give this money to the poor.'
+
+"They looked at me, that man and woman,' speechless with amazement.
+I took the few thousand francs from out of my pocket.  Wretched-looking
+money from every country.  Pennies and gold pieces all mixed together.
+Then I asked:
+
+"'What is your decision?'
+
+"Madame Chouquet spoke first.  'Well, since it is the dying woman's wish,
+it seems to me impossible to refuse it.'
+
+"Her husband said, in a shamefaced manner: 'We could buy something for
+our children with it.'
+
+"I answered dryly: 'As you wish.'
+
+"He replied: 'Well, give it to us anyhow, since she commissioned you to
+do so; we will find a way to put it to some good purpose.'
+
+"I gave them the money, bowed and left.
+
+"The next day Chouquet came to me and said brusquely:
+
+"'That woman left her wagon here--what have you done with it?'
+
+"'Nothing; take it if you wish.'
+
+"'It's just what I wanted,' he added, and walked off.  I called him back
+and said:
+
+"'She also left her old horse and two dogs.  Don't you need them?'
+
+"He stared at me surprised: 'Well, no!  Really, what would I do with
+them?'
+
+"'Dispose of them as you like.'
+
+"He laughed and held out his hand to me.  I shook it.  What could I do?
+The doctor and the druggist in a country village must not be at enmity.
+I have kept the dogs.  The priest took the old horse.  The wagon is
+useful to Chouquet, and with the money he has bought railroad stock.
+That is the only deep, sincere love that I have ever known in all my
+life."
+
+The doctor looked up.  The marquise, whose eyes were full of tears,
+sighed and said:
+
+"There is no denying the fact, only women know how to love."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PIERROT
+
+Mme. Lefevre was a country dame, a widow, one of these half peasants,
+with ribbons and bonnets with trimming on them, one of those persons who
+clipped her words and put on great airs in public, concealing the soul of
+a pretentious animal beneath a comical and bedizened exterior, just as
+the country-folks hide their coarse red hands in ecru silk gloves.
+
+She had a servant, a good simple peasant, called Rose.
+
+The two women lived in a little house with green shutters by the side of
+the high road in Normandy, in the centre of the country of Caux.  As they
+had a narrow strip of garden in front of the house, they grew some
+vegetables.
+
+One night someone stole twelve onions.  As soon as Rose became aware of
+the theft, she ran to tell madame, who came downstairs in her woolen
+petticoat.  It was a shame and a disgrace!  They had robbed her, Mme.
+Lefevre!  As there were thieves in the country, they might come back.
+
+And the two frightened women examined the foot tracks, talking, and
+supposing all sorts of things.
+
+"See, they went that way!  They stepped on the wall, they jumped into the
+garden!"
+
+And they became apprehensive for the future.  How could they sleep in
+peace now!
+
+The news of the theft spread.  The neighbor came, making examinations and
+discussing the matter in their turn, while the two women explained to
+each newcomer what they had observed and their opinion.
+
+A farmer who lived near said to them:
+
+"You ought to have a dog."
+
+That is true, they ought to have a dog, if it were only to give the
+alarm.  Not a big dog.  Heavens!  what would they do with a big dog?  He
+would eat their heads off.  But a little dog (in Normandy they say
+"quin"), a little puppy who would bark.
+
+As soon as everyone had left, Mme. Lefevre discussed this idea of a dog
+for some time.  On reflection she made a thousand objections, terrified
+at the idea of a bowl full of soup, for she belonged to that race of
+parsimonious country women who always carry centimes in their pocket to
+give alms in public to beggars on the road and to put in the Sunday
+collection plate.
+
+Rose, who loved animals, gave her opinion and defended it shrewdly.  So
+it was decided that they should have a dog, a very small dog.
+
+They began to look for one, but could find nothing but big dogs, who
+would devour enough soup to make one shudder.  The grocer of Rolleville
+had one, a tiny one, but he demanded two francs to cover the cost of
+sending it.  Mme. Lefevre declared that she would feed a "quin," but
+would not buy one.
+
+The baker, who knew all that occurred, brought in his wagon one morning a
+strange little yellow animal, almost without paws, with the body of a
+crocodile, the head of a fox, and a curly tail--a true cockade, as big as
+all the rest of him.  Mme. Lefevre thought this common cur that cost
+nothing was very handsome.  Rose hugged it and asked what its name was.
+
+"Pierrot," replied the baker.
+
+The dog was installed in an old soap box and they gave it some water
+which it drank.  They then offered it a piece of bread.  He ate it.  Mme.
+Lefevre, uneasy, had an idea.
+
+"When he is thoroughly accustomed to the house we can let him run.  He
+can find something to eat, roaming about the country."
+
+They let him run, in fact, which did not prevent him from being famished.
+Also he never barked except to beg for food, and then he barked
+furiously.
+
+Anyone might come into the garden, and Pierrot would run up and fawn on
+each one in turn and not utter a bark.
+
+Mme. Lefevre, however, had become accustomed to the animal.  She even
+went so far as to like it and to give it from time to time pieces of
+bread soaked in the gravy on her plate.
+
+But she had not once thought of the dog tax, and when they came to
+collect eight francs--eight francs, madame--for this puppy who never even
+barked, she almost fainted from the shock.
+
+It was immediately decided that they must get rid of Pierrot.  No one
+wanted him.  Every one declined to take him for ten leagues around.  Then
+they resolved, not knowing what else to do, to make him "piquer du mas."
+
+"Piquer du mas" means to eat chalk.  When one wants to get rid of a dog
+they make him "Piquer du mas."
+
+In the midst of an immense plain one sees a kind of hut, or rather a very
+small roof standing above the ground.  This is the entrance to the clay
+pit.  A big perpendicular hole is sunk for twenty metres underground and
+ends in a series of long subterranean tunnels.
+
+Once a year they go down into the quarry at the time they fertilize the
+ground.  The rest of the year it serves as a cemetery for condemned dogs,
+and as one passed by this hole plaintive howls, furious or despairing
+barks and lamentable appeals reach one's ear.
+
+Sportsmen's dogs and sheep dogs flee in terror from this mournful place,
+and when one leans over it one perceives a disgusting odor of
+putrefaction.
+
+Frightful dramas are enacted in the darkness.
+
+When an animal has suffered down there for ten or twelve days, nourished
+on the foul remains of his predecessors, another animal, larger and more
+vigorous, is thrown into the hole.  There they are, alone, starving, with
+glittering eyes.  They watch each other, follow each other, hesitate in
+doubt.  But hunger impels them; they attack each other, fight desperately
+for some time, and the stronger eats the weaker, devours him alive.
+
+When it was decided to make Pierrot "piquer du mas" they looked round for
+an executioner.  The laborer who mended the road demanded six sous to
+take the dog there.  That seemed wildly exorbitant to Mme. Lefevre.  The
+neighbor's hired boy wanted five sous; that was still too much.  So Rose
+having observed that they had better carry it there themselves, as in
+that way it would not be brutally treated on the way and made to suspect
+its fate, they resolved to go together at twilight.
+
+They offered the dog that evening a good dish of soup with a piece of
+butter in it.  He swallowed every morsel of it, and as he wagged his tail
+with delight Rose put him in her apron.
+
+They walked quickly, like thieves, across the plain.  They soon perceived
+the chalk pit and walked up to it.  Mme. Lefevre leaned over to hear if
+any animal was moaning.  No, there were none there; Pierrot would be
+alone.  Then Rose, who was crying, kissed the dog and threw him into the
+chalk pit, and they both leaned over, listening.
+
+First they heard a dull sound, then the sharp, bitter, distracting cry of
+an animal in pain, then a succession of little mournful cries, then
+despairing appeals, the cries of a dog who is entreating, his head raised
+toward the opening of the pit.
+
+He yelped, oh, how he yelped!
+
+They were filled with remorse, with terror, with a wild inexplicable
+fear, and ran away from the spot.  As Rose went faster Mme. Lefevre
+cried: "Wait for me, Rose, wait for me!"
+
+At night they were haunted by frightful nightmares.
+
+Mme. Lefevre dreamed she was sitting down at table to eat her soup, but
+when she uncovered the tureen Pierrot was in it.  He jumped out and bit
+her nose.
+
+She awoke and thought she heard him yelping still.  She listened, but she
+was mistaken.
+
+She fell asleep again and found herself on a high road, an endless road,
+which she followed.  Suddenly in the middle of the road she perceived a
+basket, a large farmer's basket, lying there, and this basket frightened
+her.
+
+She ended by opening it, and Pierrot, concealed in it, seized her hand
+and would not let go.  She ran away in terror with the dog hanging to the
+end of her arm, which he held between his teeth.
+
+At daybreak she arose, almost beside herself, and ran to the chalk pit.
+
+He was yelping, yelping still; he had yelped all night.  She began to sob
+and called him by all sorts of endearing names.  He answered her with all
+the tender inflections of his dog's voice.
+
+
+Then she wanted to see him again, promising herself that she would give
+him a good home till he died.
+
+She ran to the chalk digger, whose business it was to excavate for chalk,
+and told him the situation.  The man listened, but said nothing.  When
+she had finished he said:
+
+"You want your dog?  That will cost four francs."  She gave a jump.  All
+her grief was at an end at once.
+
+"Four francs!" she said.  "You would die of it!  Four francs!"
+
+"Do you suppose I am going to bring my ropes, my windlass, and set it up,
+and go down there with my boy and let myself be bitten, perhaps, by your
+cursed dog for the pleasure of giving it back to you?  You should not
+have thrown it down there."
+
+She walked away, indignant.  Four francs!
+
+As soon as she entered the house she called Rose and told her of the
+quarryman's charges.  Rose, always resigned, repeated:
+
+"Four francs!  That is a good deal of money, madame."  Then she added:
+"If we could throw him something to eat, the poor dog, so he will not die
+of hunger."
+
+Mme. Lefevre approved of this and was quite delighted.  So they set out
+again with a big piece of bread and butter.
+
+They cut it in mouthfuls, which they threw down one after the other,
+speaking by turns to Pierrot.  As soon as the dog finished one piece he
+yelped for the next.
+
+They returned that evening and the next day and every day.  But they made
+only one trip.
+
+One morning as they were just letting fall the first mouthful they
+suddenly heard a tremendous barking in the pit.  There were two dogs
+there.  Another had been thrown in, a large dog.
+
+"Pierrot!" cried Rose.  And Pierrot yelped and yelped.  Then they began
+to throw down some food.  But each time they noticed distinctly a
+terrible struggle going on, then plaintive cries from Pierrot, who had
+been bitten by his companion, who ate up everything as he was the
+stronger.
+
+It was in vain that they specified, saying:
+
+"That is for you, Pierrot."  Pierrot evidently got nothing.
+
+The two women, dumfounded, looked at each other and Mme. Lefevre said in
+a sour tone:
+
+"I could not feed all the dogs they throw in there!  We must give it up."
+
+And, suffocating at the thought of all the dogs living at her expense,
+she went away, even carrying back what remained of the bread, which she
+ate as she walked along.
+
+Rose followed her, wiping her eyes on the corner of her blue apron.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A NORMANDY JOKE
+
+It was a wedding procession that was coming along the road between the
+tall trees that bounded the farms and cast their shadow on the road.
+At the head were the bride and groom, then the family, then the invited
+guests, and last of all the poor of the neighborhood.  The village
+urchins who hovered about the narrow road like flies ran in and out of
+the ranks or climbed up the trees to see it better.
+
+The bridegroom was a good-looking young fellow, Jean Patu, the richest
+farmer in the neighborhood, but he was above all things, an ardent
+sportsman who seemed to take leave of his senses in order to satisfy that
+passion, and who spent large sums on his dogs, his keepers, his ferrets
+and his guns.  The bride, Rosalie Roussel, had been courted by all the
+likely young fellows in the district, for they all thought her handsome
+and they knew that she would have a good dowry.  But she had chosen Patu;
+partly, perhaps, because she liked him better than she did the others,
+but still more, like a careful Normandy girl, because he had more crown
+pieces.
+
+As they entered the white gateway of the husband's farm, forty shots
+resounded without their seeing those who fired, as they were hidden in
+the ditches.  The noise seemed to please the men, who were slouching
+along heavily in their best clothes, and Patu left his wife, and running
+up to a farm servant whom he perceived behind a tree, took his gun and
+fired a shot himself, as frisky as a young colt.  Then they went on,
+beneath the apple trees which were heavy with fruit, through the high
+grass and through the midst of the calves, who looked at them with their
+great eyes, got up slowly and remained standing, with their muzzles
+turned toward the wedding party.
+
+The men became serious when they came within measurable distance of the
+wedding dinner.  Some of them, the rich ones, had on tall, shining silk
+hats, which seemed altogether out of place there; others had old head-
+coverings with a long nap, which might have been taken for moleskin,
+while the humblest among them wore caps.  All the women had on shawls,
+which they wore loosely on their back, holding the tips ceremoniously
+under their arms.  They were red, parti-colored, flaming shawls, and
+their brightness seemed to astonish the black fowls on the dung-heap, the
+ducks on the side of the pond and the pigeons on the thatched roofs.
+
+The extensive farm buildings seemed to be waiting there at the end of
+that archway of apple trees, and a sort of vapor came out of open door
+and windows and an almost overpowering odor of eatables was exhaled from
+the vast building, from all its openings and from its very walls.  The
+string of guests extended through the yard; but when the foremost of them
+reached the house, they broke the chain and dispersed, while those behind
+were still coming in at the open gate.  The ditches were now lined with
+urchins and curious poor people, and the firing did not cease, but came
+from every side at once, and a cloud of smoke, and that odor which has
+the same intoxicating effect as absinthe, blended with the atmosphere.
+The women were shaking their dresses outside the door, to get rid of the
+dust, were undoing their cap-strings and pulling their shawls over their
+arms, and then they went into the house to lay them aside altogether for
+the time.  The table was laid in the great kitchen that would hold a
+hundred persons; they sat down to dinner at two o'clock; and at eight
+o'clock they were still eating, and the men, in their shirt-sleeves, with
+their waistcoats unbuttoned and with red faces, were swallowing down the
+food and drink as if they had been whirlpools.  The cider sparkled
+merrily, clear and golden in the large glasses, by the side of the dark,
+blood-colored wine, and between every dish they made a "hole," the
+Normandy hole, with a glass of brandy which inflamed the body and put
+foolish notions into the head.  Low jokes were exchanged across the table
+until the whole arsenal of peasant wit was exhausted.  For the last
+hundred years the same broad stories had served for similar occasions,
+and, although every one knew them, they still hit the mark and made both
+rows of guests roar with laughter.
+
+At one end of the table four young fellows, who were neighbors, were
+preparing some practical jokes for the newly married couple, and they
+seemed to have got hold of a good one by the way they whispered and
+laughed, and suddenly one of them, profiting by a moment of silence,
+exclaimed: "The poachers will have a good time to-night, with this moon!
+I say, Jean, you will not be looking at the moon, will you?"  The
+bridegroom turned to him quickly and replied: "Only let them come, that's
+all!"  But the other young fellow began to laugh, and said: "I do not
+think you will pay much attention to them!"
+
+The whole table was convulsed with laughter, so that the glasses shook,
+but the bridegroom became furious at the thought that anybody would
+profit by his wedding to come and poach on his land, and repeated:
+"I only say-just let them come!"
+
+Then there was a flood of talk with a double meaning which made the bride
+blush somewhat, although she was trembling with expectation; and when
+they had emptied the kegs of brandy they all went to bed.  The young
+couple went into their own room, which was on the ground floor, as most
+rooms in farmhouses are.  As it was very warm, they opened the window and
+closed the shutters.  A small lamp in bad taste, a present from the
+bride's father, was burning on the chest of drawers, and the bed stood
+ready to receive the young people.
+
+The young woman had already taken off her wreath and her dress, and she
+was in her petticoat, unlacing her boots, while Jean was finishing his
+cigar and looking at her out of the corners of his eyes.  Suddenly, with
+a brusque movement, like a man who is about to set to work, he took off
+his coat.  She had already taken off her boots, and was now pulling off
+her stockings, and then she said to him: "Go and hide yourself behind the
+curtains while I get into bed."
+
+He seemed as if he were about to refuse; but at last he did as she asked
+him, and in a moment she unfastened her petticoat, which slipped down,
+fell at her feet and lay on the ground.  She left it there, stepped over
+it in her loose chemise and slipped into the bed, whose springs creaked
+beneath her weight.  He immediately went up to the bed, and, stooping
+over his wife, he sought her lips, which she hid beneath the pillow, when
+a shot was heard in the distance, in the direction of the forest of
+Rapees, as he thought.
+
+He raised himself anxiously, with his heart beating, and running to the
+window, he opened the shutters.  The full moon flooded the yard with
+yellow light, and the reflection of the apple trees made black shadows at
+their feet, while in the distance the fields gleamed, covered with the
+ripe corn.  But as he was leaning out, listening to every sound in the
+still night, two bare arms were put round his neck, and his wife
+whispered, trying to pull him back: "Do leave them alone; it has nothing
+to do with you.  Come to bed."
+
+He turned round, put his arms round her, and drew her toward him, but
+just as he was laying her on the 'bed, which yielded beneath her weight,
+they heard another report, considerably nearer this time, and Jean,
+giving way to his tumultuous rage, swore aloud: "Damn it!  They will
+think I do not go out and see what it is because of you!  Wait, wait a
+few minutes!" He put on his shoes again, took down his gun, which was
+always hanging within reach against the wall, and, as his wife threw
+herself on her knees in her terror, imploring him not to go, he hastily
+freed himself, ran to the window and jumped into the yard.
+
+She waited one hour, two hours, until daybreak, but her husband did not
+return.  Then she lost her head, aroused the house, related how angry
+Jean was, and said that he had gone after the poachers, and immediately
+all the male farm-servants, even the boys, went in search of their
+master.  They found him two leagues from the farm, tied hand and foot,
+half dead with rage, his gun broken, his trousers turned inside out, and
+with three dead hares hanging round his neck, and a placard on his chest
+with these words: "Who goes on the chase loses his place."
+
+In later years, when he used to tell this story of his wedding night,
+he usually added: "Ah! as far as a joke went it was a good joke.  They
+caught me in a snare, as if I had been a rabbit, the dirty brutes, and
+they shoved my head into a bag.  But if I can only catch them some day
+they had better look out for themselves!"
+
+That is how they amuse themselves in Normandy on a wedding day.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FATHER MATTHEW
+
+We had just left Rouen and were galloping along the road to Jumieges.
+The light carriage flew along across the level country.  Presently the
+horse slackened his pace to walk up the hill of Cantelen.
+
+One sees there one of the most magnificent views in the world.  Behind us
+lay Rouen, the city of churches, with its Gothic belfries, sculptured
+like ivory trinkets; before us Saint Sever, the manufacturing suburb,
+whose thousands of smoking chimneys rise amid the expanse of sky,
+opposite the thousand sacred steeples of the old city.
+
+On the one hand the spire of the cathedral, the highest of human
+monuments, on the other the engine of the power-house, its rival, and
+almost as high, and a metre higher than the tallest pyramid in Egypt.
+
+Before us wound the Seine, with its scattered islands and bordered by
+white banks, covered with a forest on the right and on the left immense
+meadows, bounded by another forest yonder in the distance.
+
+Here and there large ships lay at anchor along the banks of the wide
+river.  Three enormous steam boats were starting out, one behind the
+other, for Havre, and a chain of boats, a bark, two schooners and a brig,
+were going upstream to Rouen, drawn by a little tug that emitted a cloud
+of black smoke.
+
+My companion, a native of the country, did not glance at this wonderful
+landscape, but he smiled continually; he seemed to be amused at his
+thoughts.  Suddenly he cried:
+
+"Ah, you will soon see something comical--Father Matthew's chapel.  That
+is a sweet morsel, my boy."
+
+I looked at him in surprise.  He continued:
+
+"I will give you a whiff of Normandy that will stay by you.  Father
+Matthew is the handsomest Norman in the province and his chapel is one of
+the wonders of the world, nothing more nor less.  But I will first give
+you a few words of explanation.
+
+"Father Matthew, who is also called Father 'La Boisson,' is an old
+sergeant-major who has come back to his native land.  He combines in
+admirable proportions, making a perfect whole, the humbug of the old
+soldier and the sly roguery of the Norman.  On his return to Normandy,
+thanks to influence and incredible cleverness, he was made doorkeeper of
+a votive chapel, a chapel dedicated to the Virgin and frequented chiefly
+by young women who have gone astray .  .  .  .  He composed and had
+painted a special prayer to his 'Good Virgin.'  This prayer is a
+masterpiece of unintentional irony, of Norman wit, in which jest is
+blended with fear of the saint and with the superstitious fear of the
+secret influence of something.  He has not much faith in his protectress,
+but he believes in her a little through prudence, and he is considerate
+of her through policy.
+
+"This is how this wonderful prayer begins:
+
+"'Our good Madame Virgin Mary, natural protectress of girl mothers in
+this land and all over the world, protect your servant who erred in a
+moment of forgetfulness .  .  .'
+
+"It ends thus:
+
+"'Do not forget me, especially when you are with your holy spouse, and
+intercede with God the Father that he may grant me a good husband, like
+your own.'
+
+"This prayer, which was suppressed by the clergy of the district, is sold
+by him privately, and is said to be very efficacious for those who recite
+it with unction.
+
+"In fact he talks of the good Virgin as the valet de chambre of a
+redoubted prince might talk of his master who confided in him all his
+little private secrets.  He knows a number of amusing anecdotes at his
+expense which he tells confidentially among friends as they sit over
+their glasses.
+
+"But you will see for yourself.
+
+"As the fees coming from the Virgin did not appear sufficient to him, he
+added to the main figure a little business in saints.  He has them all,
+or nearly all.  There was not room enough in the chapel, so he stored
+them in the wood-shed and brings them forth as soon as the faithful ask
+for them.  He carved these little wooden statues himself--they are
+comical in the extreme--and painted them all bright green one year when
+they were painting his house.  You know that saints cure diseases, but
+each saint has his specialty, and you must not confound them or make any
+blunders.  They are as jealous of each other as mountebanks.
+
+"In order that they may make no mistake, the old women come and consult
+Matthew.
+
+"'For diseases of the ear which saint is the best?'
+
+"'Why, Saint Osyme is good and Saint Pamphilius is not bad.'  But that is
+not all.
+
+"As Matthew has some time to spare, he drinks; but he drinks like a
+professional, with conviction, so much so that he is intoxicated
+regularly every evening.  He is drunk, but he is aware of it.  He is so
+well aware of it that he notices each day his exact degree of
+intoxication.  That is his chief occupation; the chapel is a secondary
+matter.
+
+"And he has invented--listen and catch on--he has invented the
+'Saoulometre.'
+
+"There is no such instrument, but Matthew's observations are as precise
+as those of a mathematician.  You may hear him repeating incessantly:
+'Since Monday I have had more than forty-five,' or else 'I was between
+fifty-two and fifty-eight,' or else 'I had at least sixty-six to
+seventy,' or 'Hullo, cheat, I thought I was in the fifties and here I
+find I had had seventy-five!'
+
+"He never makes a mistake.
+
+"He declares that he never reached his limit, but as he acknowledges that
+his observations cease to be exact when he has passed ninety, one cannot
+depend absolutely on the truth of that statement.
+
+"When Matthew acknowledges that he has passed ninety, you may rest
+assured that he is blind drunk.
+
+"On these occasions his wife, Melie, another marvel, flies into a fury.
+She waits for him at the door of the house, and as he enters she roars at
+him:
+
+"'So there you are, slut, hog, giggling sot!'
+
+"Then Matthew, who is not laughing any longer, plants himself opposite
+her and says in a severe tone:
+
+"'Be still, Melie; this is no time to talk; wait till to-morrow.'
+
+"If she keeps on shouting at him, he goes up to her and says in a shaky
+voice:
+
+"'Don't bawl any more.  I have had about ninety; I am not counting any
+more.  Look out, I am going to hit you!'
+
+"Then Melie beats a retreat.
+
+"If, on the following day, she reverts to the subject, he laughs in her
+face and says:
+
+"'Come, come!  We have said enough.  It is past.  As long as I have not
+reached my limit there is no harm done.  But if I go, past that I will
+allow you to correct me, my word on it!'"
+
+We had reached the top of the hill.  The road entered the delightful
+forest of Roumare.
+
+Autumn, marvellous autumn, blended its gold and purple with the remaining
+traces of verdure.  We passed through Duclair.  Then, instead of going on
+to Jumieges, my friend turned to the left and, taking a crosscut, drove
+in among the trees.
+
+And presently from the top of a high hill we saw again the magnificent
+valley of the Seine and the winding river beneath us.
+
+At our right a very small slate-covered building, with a bell tower as
+large as a sunshade, adjoined a pretty house with green Venetian blinds,
+and all covered with honeysuckle and roses.
+
+"Here are some friends!" cried a big voice, and Matthew appeared on the
+threshold.  He was a man about sixty, thin and with a goatee and long,
+white mustache.
+
+My friend shook him by the hand and introduced me, and Matthew took us
+into a clean kitchen, which served also as a dining-room.  He said:
+
+"I have no elegant apartment, monsieur.  I do not like to get too far
+away from the food.  The saucepans, you see, keep me company."  Then,
+turning to my friend:
+
+"Why did you come on Thursday?  You know quite well that this is the day
+I consult my Guardian Saint.  I cannot go out this afternoon."
+
+And running to the door, he uttered a terrific roar: "Melie!" which must
+have startled the sailors in the ships along the stream in the valley
+below.
+
+Melie did not reply.
+
+Then Matthew winked his eye knowingly.
+
+"She is not pleased with me, you see, because yesterday I was in the
+nineties."
+
+My friend began to laugh.  "In the nineties, Matthew!  How did you manage
+it?"
+
+"I will tell you," said Matthew.  "Last year I found only twenty rasieres
+(an old dry measure) of apricots.  There are no more, but those are the
+only things to make cider of.  So I made some, and yesterday I tapped the
+barrel.  Talk of nectar!  That was nectar.  You shall tell me what you
+think of it.  Polyte was here, and we sat down and drank a glass and
+another without being satisfied (one could go on drinking it until to-
+morrow), and at last, with glass after glass, I felt a chill at my
+stomach.  I said to Polyte: 'Supposing we drink a glass of cognac to warm
+ourselves?'  He agreed.  But this cognac, it sets you on fire, so that we
+had to go back to the cider.  But by going from chills to heat and heat
+to chills, I saw that I was in the nineties.  Polyte was not far from his
+limit."
+
+The door opened and Melie appeared.  At once, before bidding us good-day,
+she cried:
+
+"Great hog, you have both of you reached your limit!"
+
+"Don't say that, Melie; don't say that," said Matthew, getting angry.
+"I have never reached my limit."
+
+They gave us a delicious luncheon outside beneath two lime trees, beside
+the little chapel and overlooking the vast landscape.  And Matthew told
+us, with a mixture of humor and unexpected credulity, incredible stories
+of miracles.
+
+We had drunk a good deal of delicious cider, sparkling and sweet, fresh
+and intoxicating, which he preferred to all other drinks, and were
+smoking our pipes astride our chairs when two women appeared.
+
+They were old, dried up and bent.  After greeting us they asked for Saint
+Blanc.  Matthew winked at us as he replied:
+
+"I will get him for you."  And he disappeared in his wood shed.  He
+remained there fully five minutes.  Then he came back with an expression
+of consternation.  He raised his hands.
+
+"I don't know where he is.  I cannot find him.  I am quite sure that I
+had him."  Then making a speaking trumpet of his hands, he roared once
+more:
+
+"Meli-e-a!"
+
+"What's the matter?" replied his wife from the end of the garden.
+
+"Where's Saint Blanc?  I cannot find him in the wood shed."
+
+Then Melie explained it this way:
+
+"Was not that the one you took last week to stop up a hole in the rabbit
+hutch?"
+
+Matthew gave a start.
+
+"By thunder, that may be!"  Then turning to the women, he said:
+
+"Follow me."
+
+They followed him.  We did the same, almost choking with suppressed
+laughter.
+
+Saint Blanc was indeed stuck into the earth like an ordinary stake,
+covered with mud and dirt, and forming a corner for the rabbit hutch.
+
+As soon as they perceived him, the two women fell on their knees, crossed
+themselves and began to murmur an "Oremus."  But Matthew darted toward
+them.
+
+"Wait," he said, "you are in the mud; I will get you a bundle of straw."
+
+He went to fetch the straw and made them a priedieu.  Then, looking at
+his muddy saint and doubtless afraid of bringing discredit on his
+business, he added:
+
+"I will clean him off a little for you."
+
+He took a pail of water and a brush and began to scrub the wooden image
+vigorously, while the two old women kept on praying.
+
+When he had finished he said:
+
+"Now he is all right."  And he took us back to the house to drink another
+glass.
+
+As he was carrying the glass to his lips he stopped and said in a rather
+confused manner:
+
+"All the same, when I put Saint Blanc out with the rabbits I thought he
+would not make any more money.  For two years no one had asked for him.
+But the saints, you see, they are never out of date."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+     VOLUME XI.
+
+THE UMBRELLA
+BELHOMME'S BEAST
+DISCOVERY
+THE ACCURSED BREAD
+THE DOWRY
+THE DIARY OF A MAD MAN
+THE MASK
+THE PENGUINS ROCK
+A FAMILY
+SUICIDES
+AN ARTIFICE
+DREAMS
+SIMON'S PAPA
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE UMBRELLA
+
+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.
+
+Oreille was continually saying to his wife:
+
+"You really might be more liberal, as we have no children, and never
+spend our income."
+
+"You don't know what may happen," she used to reply.  "It is better to
+have too much than too little."
+
+She was a little woman of about forty, very active, rather hasty,
+wrinkled, very neat and tidy, and with a very short temper.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Oreille was very angry, and peremptorily told his wife to get him a new
+one, a good silk one, for twenty francs, and to bring him the bill, so
+that he might see that it was all right.
+
+She bought him one for eighteen francs, and said, getting red with anger
+as she gave it to her husband:
+
+"This will last you for five years at least."
+
+Oreille felt quite triumphant, and received a small ovation at the office
+with his new acquisition.
+
+When he went home in the evening his wife said to him, looking at the
+umbrella uneasily:
+
+"You should not leave it fastened up with the elastic; it will very
+likely cut the silk.  You must take care of it, for I shall not buy you a
+new one in a hurry."
+
+She took it, unfastened it, and 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.
+
+"What is that?" she screamed.
+
+Her husband replied quietly, without looking at it:
+
+"What is it?  What do you mean?"
+
+She was choking with rage, and could hardly get out a word.
+
+"You--you--have--burned--your umbrella!  Why--you must be--mad!  Do you
+wish to ruin us outright?"
+
+He turned round, and felt that he was growing pale.
+
+"What are you talking about?"
+
+"I say that you have burned your umbrella.  Just look here."
+
+And rushing at him, as if she were going to beat him, she violently
+thrust the little circular burned hole under his nose.
+
+He was so utterly struck dumb at the sight of it that he could only
+stammer out:
+
+"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."
+
+"You have been playing tricks with it at the office; you have been
+playing the fool and opening it, to show it off!" she screamed.
+
+"I only opened it once, to let them see what a nice one it was, that is
+all, I swear."
+
+But she shook with rage, and got up one of those conjugal scenes which
+make a peaceable man dread the domestic hearth more than a battlefield
+where bullets are raining.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Oh! you brute! you brute!  You did it on purpose, but I will pay you out
+for it.  You shall not have another."
+
+And then the scene began again, and after the storm had raged for an
+hour, he at last was 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.
+
+A ring at the bell saved him; it was a friend whom they were expecting to
+dinner.
+
+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:
+
+"Very well, then, when it rains he may have the kitchen umbrella, for I
+will not give him a new silk one."
+
+Oreille utterly rebelled at such an idea.
+
+"All right," he said; "then I shall resign my post.  I am not going to
+the office with the kitchen umbrella."
+
+The friend interposed.
+
+"Have this one re-covered; it will not cost much."
+
+But Mme. Oreille, being in the temper that she was, said:
+
+"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!"
+
+The friend, who was only a poor man of the middle classes, had an
+inspiration:
+
+"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."
+
+On hearing this advice the little woman calmed down immediately, and
+then, after a moment's reflection, she said to her husband:
+
+"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."
+
+M. Oreille fairly jumped, he was so startled at the proposal.
+
+"I would not do it for my life!  It is eighteen francs lost, that is all.
+It will not ruin us."
+
+The next morning he took a walking-stick when he went out, and, luckily,
+it was a fine day.
+
+Left at home 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"I will go, and we will see what will happen."
+
+But first of all she was obliged to prepare the umbrella so that the
+disaster might be complete, and the reason of it quite evident.  She took
+a 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.
+
+But the nearer she got, the slower she walked.  What was she going to
+say, and what reply would she get?
+
+She looked at the numbers of the houses; there were still twenty-eight.
+That was all right, so she had time to consider, and she walked slower
+and slower.  Suddenly she saw a door on which was a large brass plate
+with "La Maternelle Fire 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.
+
+At last she said to herself:
+
+"I must go in, however, so I may as well do it sooner as later."
+
+She could not help noticing, however, how her heart beat as she entered.
+She went into an enormous room with grated 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?"
+
+He replied in a sonorous voice:
+
+"The first door on the left; that is the department you want."
+
+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.
+
+She knocked at a door which she saw on the first landing, and a clear
+voice said, in answer:
+
+"Come in!"
+
+She obeyed mechanically, and found herself in a large room where three
+solemn gentlemen, all with a decoration in their buttonholes, were
+standing talking.
+
+One of them asked her: "What do you want, madame?"
+
+She could hardly get out her words, but stammered: "I have come--I have
+come on account of an accident, something--".
+
+He very politely pointed out a seat to her,
+
+"If you will kindly sit down I will attend to you in a moment."
+
+And, returning to the other two, he went on with the conversation.
+
+"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--"
+
+One of the others interrupted him:
+
+"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.
+
+Oh! if she could only have gone away with them, how gladly she would have
+done it; she would have run away and given up everything.  But it was too
+late, for the gentleman came back, and said, bowing:
+
+"What can I do for you, madame?"
+
+She could scarcely speak, but at last she managed to say:
+
+"I have come-for this."
+
+The manager looked at the object which she held out to him in mute
+astonishment.
+
+With trembling fingers she tried to undo the elastic, and succeeding,
+after several attempts, she hastily opened the damaged remains of the
+umbrella.
+
+"It looks to me to be in a very bad state of health," he said
+compassionately.
+
+"It cost me twenty francs," she said, with some hesitation.
+
+He seemed astonished.  "Really!  As much as that?"
+
+"Yes, it was a capital article, and I wanted you to see the condition it
+is in."
+
+"Yes, yes, I see; very well.  But I really do not understand what it can
+have to do with me."
+
+She began to feel uncomfortable; perhaps this company did not pay for
+such small articles, and she said:
+
+"But--it is burned."
+
+He could not deny it.
+
+"I see that very well," he replied.
+
+She remained open-mouthed, not knowing what to say next; then, suddenly
+recollecting that she had left out the main thing, she said hastily:
+
+"I am Mme. Oreille; we are assured in La Maternelle, and I have come to
+claim the value of this damage."
+
+"I only want you to have it re-covered," she added quickly, fearing a
+positive refusal.
+
+The manager was rather embarrassed, and said: "But, really, madame, we do
+not sell umbrellas; we cannot undertake such kinds of repairs."
+
+The little woman felt her courage reviving; she was not going to give up
+without a struggle; she was not even afraid any more, and said:
+
+"I only want you to pay me the cost of repairing it; I can quite well get
+it done myself."
+
+The gentleman seemed rather confused.
+
+"Really, madame, it is such a very small matter!  We are never asked to
+give compensation for such trivial losses.  You must allow that we cannot
+make good pocket-handkerchiefs, gloves, brooms, slippers, all the small
+articles which are every day exposed to the chances of being burned."
+
+She got red in the face, and felt inclined to fly into a rage.
+
+"But, monsieur, last December one of our 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."
+
+The manager, guessing that she was telling a lie, said, with a smile:
+
+"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."
+
+She was not the least put out, and replied:
+
+"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."
+
+As he saw that he had no chance of getting rid of her, and that he would
+only be wasting his time, he said resignedly:
+
+"Will you kindly tell me how the damage was done?"
+
+She felt that she had won the victory, and said:
+
+"This is how it happened, monsieur: In our hall there is a bronze stick
+and umbrella stand, and the other day, when I came in, I put my umbrella
+into it.  I must tell you that just above there is a shelf for the
+candlesticks and matches.  I 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."
+
+The manager interrupted her to make a joke.
+
+"I suppose they were government matches, then?"
+
+She did not understand him, and went on:
+
+"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."
+
+The manager had taken his cue, and asked her: "What do you estimate the
+damage at?"
+
+She did not know what to say, as she was not certain what value to put on
+it, but at last she replied:
+
+"Perhaps you had better get it done yourself.  I will leave it to you."
+
+He, however, naturally refused.
+
+"No, madame, I cannot do that.  Tell me the amount of your claim, that is
+all I want to know."
+
+"Well, I think that-- Look here, monsieur, I do not want to make any
+money out of you, so I will tell you what we will do.  I will take my
+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?"
+
+"Perfectly, madame; we will settle it so.  Here is a note for the
+cashier, who will repay you whatever it costs you."
+
+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.
+
+She went briskly through the streets, looking out for a really good
+umbrella maker, and when she found a shop which appeared to be a first-
+class one, she went in, and said, confidently:
+
+"I want this umbrella re-covered in silk, good silk.  Use the very best
+and strongest you have; I don't mind what it costs."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+BELHOMME'S BEAST
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Monsieur le cure de Gorgeville."
+
+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.
+
+"The schoolmaster of Rollebose-les-Grinets."
+
+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.
+
+"Maitre Poiret, two seats."
+
+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.
+
+"Maitre Rabot, two seats."
+
+Rabot hesitated, being of an undecided nature.  He asked:
+
+"You mean me?"
+
+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.
+
+Rabot slipped into the wagon like a rat entering a hole.
+
+"Maitre Caniveau."
+
+A large peasant, heavier than an ox, made the springs bend, and was in
+turn engulfed in the interior of the yellow chest.
+
+"Maitre Belhomme."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Cesaire Horlaville closed the door, climbed up on his box and snapped his
+whip.
+
+The three horses awoke and, tossing their heads, shook their bells.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"Well, Maitre Caniveau," said he, "how are you getting along?"
+
+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:
+
+"Pretty well, Monsieur le cure, pretty well.  And how are you?"
+
+"Oh! I'm always well and healthy."
+
+"And you, Maitre Poiret?" asked the abbe.
+
+"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'."
+
+"Well, what can you expect?  Times are hard."
+
+"Hub!  I should say they were hard," sounded the rather virile voice of
+Rabot's big consort.
+
+As she was from a neighboring village, the priest only knew her by name.
+
+"Is that you, Blondel?" he said.
+
+"Yes, I'm the one that married Rabot."
+
+Rabot, slender, timid, and self-satisfied, bowed smilingly, bending his
+head forward as though to say: "Yes, I'm the Rabot whom Blondel married."
+
+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.
+
+"You must have an awful toothache," said the priest.
+
+The peasant stopped moaning for a minute and answered:
+
+"No, Monsieur le cure, it is not the teeth.  It's my ear-away down at the
+bottom of my ear."
+
+"Well, what have you got in your ear?  A lump of wax?"
+
+"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."
+
+"A bug!  Are you sure?"
+
+"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.
+
+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.
+
+"It's more likely to be a worm," said the priest.
+
+Maitre  Belhomme, his head resting against the door, for he had been the
+last one to enter, was still moaning.
+
+"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!"
+
+"Have you seen the doctor?" asked Caniveau.
+
+"I should say not!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+The fear of the doctor seemed to cure Belhomme.  He straightened up
+without, however, dropping his handkerchief.
+
+"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?"
+
+Caniveau was laughing.
+
+"No, I don't know.  Where are you going?"
+
+"I am going to Havre, to see Chambrelan."
+
+"Who is Chambrelan?"
+
+"The healer, of course."
+
+"What healer?"
+
+"The healer who cured my father."
+
+"Your father?"
+
+"Yes, the healer who cured my father years ago."
+
+"What was the matter with your father?"
+
+"A draught caught him in the back, so that he couldn't move hand or
+foot."
+
+"Well, what did your friend Chambrelan do to him?"
+
+"He kneaded his back with both hands as though he were making bread!
+And he was all right in a couple of hours!"
+
+Belhomme thought that Chambrelan must also have used some charm, but he
+did not dare say so before the priest.  Caniveau replied, laughing:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+However, as Belhomme seemed angry at their making fun of him, the priest
+changed the conversation and turning to Rabot's big wife, said:
+
+"You have a large family, haven't you?"
+
+"Oh, yes, Monsieur le cure--and it's a pretty hard matter to bring them
+up!"
+
+Rabot agreed, nodding his head as though to say: "Oh, yes, it's a hard
+thing to bring up!"
+
+"How many children?"
+
+She replied authoritatively in a strong, clear voice:
+
+"Sixteen children, Monsieur le cure, fifteen of them by my husband!"
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+But Belhomme began to moan again:
+
+"Oh-oh-oh!  It's scratching about in the bottom of my ear!  Oh, dear, oh,
+dear!"
+
+The coach just then stopped at the Cafe Polyto.  The priest said:
+
+"If someone were to pour a little water into your ear, it might perhaps
+drive it out.  Do you want to try?"
+
+"Sure! I am willing."
+
+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.
+
+But Caniveau, who was already peering into Belhomme's ear to see if he
+couldn't discover the beast, shouted:
+
+"Gosh!  What a mess!  You'll have to clear that out, old man.  Your
+rabbit could never get through that; his feet would stick."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 Poirat'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 is goes up again!  Oh--oh--oh--what
+torture!"
+
+Caniveau was getting impatient.  "It's the water that is making the bug
+angry.  It is probably more accustomed to wine."
+
+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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Cesaire Horlaville himself, whip in hand, had come in to observe the
+proceedings.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+DISCOVERY
+
+The steamer was crowded with people and the crossing promised to be good.
+I was going from Havre to Trouville.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"It's disgusting, the boat is full of English people!"
+
+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!"
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Sidoine repeated, with growing anger:
+
+"Disgusting!  Can we never stop their coming to France?"
+
+I asked, smiling:
+
+"What have you got against them?  As far as I am concerned, they don't
+worry me."
+
+He snapped out:
+
+"Of course they don't worry you!  But I married one of them."
+
+I stopped and laughed at him.
+
+"Go ahead and tell me about it.  Does she make you very unhappy?"
+
+He shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"No, not exactly."
+
+"Then she--is not true to you?"
+
+"Unfortunately, she is.  That would be cause for a divorce, and I could
+get rid of her."
+
+"Then I'm afraid I don't understand!"
+
+"You don't understand?  I'm not surprised.  Well, she simply learned how
+to speak French--that's all!  Listen.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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!
+
+"What an infinity of dreams is caused by two such eyes!  How well they
+answer the dim, eternal question of our heart!
+
+"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!
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"Now she talks--badly--very badly.  She makes as many mistakes as ever--
+but I can understand her.
+
+"I have opened my doll to look inside--and I have seen.  And now I have
+to talk to her!
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"I have married a parrot to whom some old English governess might have
+taught French.  Do you understand?"
+
+The harbor of Trouville was now showing its wooden piers covered with
+people.
+
+I said:
+
+"Where is your wife?"
+
+He answered:
+
+"I took her back to Etretat."
+
+"And you, where are you going?"
+
+"I?  Oh, I am going to rest up here at Trouville."
+
+Then, after a pause, he added:
+
+"You have no idea what a fool a woman can be at times!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE ACCURSED BREAD
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"That is right, dear, that is right."
+
+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!"
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"You may be quite sure that everything will be in first-rate style."
+
+They asked to be allowed to bring a friend, Madame Florence, the cook on
+the first floor, and Anna agreed to everything.
+
+The wedding was fixed for the last Tuesday of the month.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 he called for.
+
+The singer announced "The Accursed Bread," and, extending his right arm,
+which made his coat ruck up into his neck, he began.
+
+It was decidedly long, three verses of eight lines each, with the last
+line and the last but one repeated twice.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Amid the general emotion Monsieur Sauvetanin said:
+
+"That is the right sort of song; very different from the nasty, risky
+things one generally hears at weddings."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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:
+
+"Children, I warn you all to eat not of that bread."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE DOWRY
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Mademoiselle Cordier was graceful and fresh-looking, although a trifle
+awkward; nevertheless, she was a handsome girl, and one to be desired.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+When the first week was over, he said to his young companion:
+
+"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!"
+
+She was ready to dance for joy.
+
+"Oh!  yes, yes.  Let us go as soon as possible."
+
+He continued:
+
+"And then, as we must forget nothing, ask your father to have your dowry
+ready; I shall pay Maitre Papillon on this trip."
+
+She answered:
+
+"All right: I will tell him to-morrow morning."
+
+And he took her in his arms once more, to renew those sweet games of love
+which she had so enjoyed for the past week.
+
+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.
+
+The father-in-law said:
+
+"I tell you it is very imprudent to carry so much money about in a
+pocketbook."  And the young lawyer smiled.
+
+"Don't worry; I am accustomed to such things.  You understand that, in my
+profession, I sometimes have as much as a million about me.  In this
+manner, at least we avoid a great amount of red tape and delay.  You
+needn't worry."
+
+The conductor was crying:
+
+"All aboard for Paris!"
+
+They scrambled into a car, where two old ladies were already seated.
+
+Lebrument whispered into his wife's ear:
+
+"What a bother!  I won't be able to smoke."
+
+She answered in a low voice
+
+"It annoys me too, but not an account of your cigar."
+
+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.
+
+As soon as they were in front of the Saint-Lazare Station, Maitre
+Lebrument said to his wife:
+
+"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."
+
+She immediately assented.
+
+"Oh!  yes.  Let's eat at the restaurant.  Is it far?"
+
+He answered:
+
+"Yes, it's quite a distance, but we will take the omnibus."
+
+She was surprised:
+
+"Why don't we take a cab?"
+
+He began to scold her smilingly:
+
+"Is that the way you save money?  A cab for a five minutes' ride at six
+cents a minute!  You would deprive yourself of nothing."
+
+"That's so," she said, a little embarrassed.
+
+A big omnibus was passing by, drawn by three big horses, which were
+trotting along.  Lebrument called out:
+
+"Conductor!  Conductor!"
+
+The heavy carriage stopped.  And the young lawyer, pushing his wife, said
+to her quickly:
+
+"Go inside; I'm going up on top, so that I may smoke at least one
+cigarette before lunch."
+
+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.
+
+And she sat there motionless, between a fat man who smelled of cheap
+tobacco and an old woman who smelled of garlic.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The young woman remained motionless.
+
+"Why didn't he come inside with me?" she was saying to herself.  An
+unaccountable sadness seemed to be hanging over her.  He really need not
+have acted so.
+
+The sisters motioned to the conductor to stop, and they got off one after
+the other, leaving in their wake the pungent smell of camphor.  The 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.
+
+"It's further than I imagined," thought Jeanne.
+
+The undertaker went out, and was replaced by a coachman who seemed to
+bring the atmosphere of the stable with him.  The young girl had as a
+successor a messenger, the odor of whose feet showed that he was
+continually walking.
+
+The lawyer's wife began to feel ill at ease, nauseated, ready to cry
+without knowing why.
+
+Other persons left and others entered.  The stage went on through
+interminable streets, stopping at stations and starting again.
+
+"How far it is!" thought Jeanne.  "I hope he hasn't gone to sleep!  He
+has been so tired the last few days."
+
+Little by little all the passengers left.  She was left alone, all alone.
+The conductor cried:
+
+"Vaugirard!"
+
+Seeing that she did not move, he repeated:
+
+"Vaugirard!"
+
+She looked at him, understanding that he was speaking to her, as there
+was no one else there.  For the third time the man said:
+
+"Vaugirard!"
+
+Then she asked:
+
+"Where are we?"
+
+He answered gruffly:
+
+"We're at Vaugirard, of course!  I have been yelling it for the last half
+hour!"
+
+"Is it far from the Boulevard?" she said.
+
+"Which boulevard?"
+
+"The Boulevard des Italiens."
+
+"We passed that a long time ago!"
+
+"Would you mind telling my husband?"
+
+"Your husband!  Where is he?"
+
+"On the top of the bus."
+
+"On the top!  There hasn't been anybody there for a long time."
+
+She started, terrified.
+
+"What?  That's impossible!  He got on with me.  Look well!  He must be
+there."
+
+The conductor was becoming uncivil:
+
+"Come on, little one, you've talked enough!  You can find ten men for
+every one that you lose.  Now run along.  You'll find another one
+somewhere."
+
+Tears were coming to her eyes.  She insisted:
+
+"But, monsieur, you are mistaken; I assure you that you must be mistaken.
+He had a big portfolio under his arm."
+
+The man began to laugh:
+
+"A big portfolio!  Oh, yes!  He got off at the Madeleine.  He got rid of
+you, all right!  Ha! ha! ha!"
+
+The stage had stopped.  She got out and, in spite of herself, she looked
+up instinctively to the roof of the bus.  It was absolutely deserted.
+
+Then she began to cry, and, without thinking that anybody was listening
+or watching her, she said out loud:
+
+"What is going to become of me?"
+
+An inspector approached:
+
+"What's the matter?"
+
+The conductor answered, in a bantering tone of voice:
+
+"It's a lady who got left by her husband during the trip."
+
+The other continued:
+
+"Oh! that's nothing.  You go about your business."
+
+Then he turned on his heels and walked away.
+
+She began to walk straight ahead, too bewildered, too crazed even to
+understand what had happened to her.  Where was she to go?  What could
+she do?  What could have happened to him?  How could he have made such a
+mistake?  How could he have been so forgetful?
+
+She had two francs in her pocket.  To whom could she go?  Suddenly she
+remembered her cousin Barral, one of the assistants in the offices of the
+Ministry of the Navy.
+
+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.
+
+She jumped out of the carriage.
+
+"Henry!" she cried.
+
+He stopped, astonished:
+
+"Jeanne!  Here--all alone!  What are you doing?  Where have you come
+from?"
+
+Her eyes full of tears, she stammered:
+
+"My husband has just got lost!"
+
+"Lost!  Where?"
+
+"On an omnibus."
+
+"On an omnibus?"
+
+Weeping, she told him her whole adventure.
+
+He listened, thought, and then asked:
+
+"Was his mind clear this morning?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Good.  Did he have much money with him?"
+
+"Yes, he was carrying my dowry."
+
+"Your dowry!  The whole of it?"
+
+"The whole of it--in order to pay for the practice which he bought."
+
+"Well, my dear cousin, by this time your husband must be well on his way
+to Belgium."
+
+She could not understand.  She kept repeating:
+
+"My husband--you say--"
+
+"I say that he has disappeared with your--your capital--that's all!"
+
+She stood there, a prey to conflicting emotions, sobbing.
+
+"Then he is--he is--he is a villain!"
+
+And, faint from excitement, she leaned her head on her cousin's shoulder
+and wept.
+
+As people were stopping to look at them, he pushed her gently into the
+vestibule of his house, and, supporting her with his arm around her
+waist, he led her up the stairs, and as his astonished servant opened the
+door, he ordered:
+
+"Sophie, run to the restaurant and get a luncheon for two.  I am not
+going to the office to-day."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE DIARY OF A MADMAN
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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?
+
+l0th 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?
+
+15th August.  The temptation has come to me.  It pervades my whole being;
+my hands tremble with the desire to kill.
+
+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.
+
+Then I took scissors, short-nail scissors, and I cut its throat with
+three slits, quite gently.  It opened its bill, it struggled to escape
+me, but I held it, oh! I held it--I could have held a mad dog--and I saw
+the blood trickle.
+
+And then I did as assassins do--real ones.  I washed the scissors, I
+washed my hands.  I sprinkled water and took the body, the corpse, to the
+garden to hide it.  I buried it under a strawberry-plant.  It will never
+be found.  Every day I shall eat a strawberry from that plant.  How one
+can enjoy life when one knows how!
+
+My servant cried; he thought his bird flown.  How could he suspect me?
+Ah! ah!
+
+25th August.  I must kill a man!  I must----
+
+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.
+
+He stops to see me pass and says, "Good-day, Mr. President."
+
+And the thought enters my head, "Shall I kill him?"
+
+I answer: "You are alone, my boy?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"All alone in the wood?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+The wish to kill him intoxicated me like wine.  I approached him quite
+softly, persuaded that he was going to run away.  And, suddenly, I seized
+him by the throat.  He looked at me with terror in his eyes--such eyes!
+He held my wrists in his little hands and his body writhed like a feather
+over the fire.  Then he moved no more.  I threw the body in the ditch,
+and some weeds on top of it.  I returned home, and dined well.  What a
+little thing it was!  In the evening I was very gay, light, rejuvenated;
+I passed the evening at the Prefect's.  They found me witty.  But I have
+not seen blood!  I am tranquil.
+
+31st August.  The body has been discovered.  They are hunting for the
+assassin.  Ah! ah!
+
+1st September.  Two tramps have been arrested.  Proofs are lacking.
+
+2d September.  The parents have been to see me.  They wept!  Ah! ah!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+25th October.  The affair of the fisherman makes a great stir.  His
+nephew, who fished with him, is charged with the murder.
+
+26th October.  The examining magistrate affirms that the nephew is
+guilty.  Everybody in town believes it.  Ah! ah!
+
+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?
+
+28th October.  The nephew has all but confessed, they have badgered him
+so.  Ah! ah! justice!
+
+15th November.  There are overwhelming proofs against the nephew, who was
+his uncle's heir.  I shall preside at the sessions.
+
+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!
+
+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
+
+Now, I shall wait, I can wait.  It would take such a little thing to let
+myself be caught.
+
+
+The manuscript contained yet other pages, but without relating any new
+crime.
+
+Alienist physicians to whom the awful story has been submitted declare
+that there are in the world many undiscovered madmen as adroit and as
+much to be feared as this monstrous lunatic.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE MASK
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 cut 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?"
+
+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:
+
+"I will take you home myself."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"For goodness sake!  What's the matter?"
+
+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."
+
+The doctor continued: "But he can hardly speak."
+
+"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!"
+
+The doctor, surprised, insisted:
+
+"But why does he dance like that at his age?"
+
+She shrugged her shoulders and turned red from the anger which was slowly
+rising within her and she cried out:
+
+"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."
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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?"
+
+"Very," agreed the doctor, who was beginning to be highly amused.
+
+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!"
+
+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!"
+
+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."
+
+"Really?  What did he do?"
+
+"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!"
+
+The doctor asked: "Are you married?"
+
+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."
+
+"But what was his business?"
+
+"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."
+
+"Martel?--who is Martel?"
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"He would begin to take his soup and then he would say: 'One more,
+Madeleine.'
+
+"And I would think: 'Here it comes!  Goodness!  what a man!  Why did I
+ever meet him?'
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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!'
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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?'
+
+"'No.'
+
+"'I found white hairs.'
+
+"He started up as if I had tickled him and said angrily: 'It's not true!'
+
+"'Yes, it is.  There are four of them over your left temple.'
+
+"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.'
+
+"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.
+
+"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!"
+
+She was looking at her old snoring husband fondty, 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:
+
+"Would you mind giving me your address?  If he should grow worse, I could
+go and get you."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE PENGUINS' ROCK
+
+This is the season for penguins.
+
+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.
+
+One sees them again the following spring.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+There are not many of them, a hundred at most, as if one single family,
+maintaining the tradition, made this annual pilgrimage.
+
+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.
+
+It was an April evening in one of the later years.  Three of the old
+sportsmen had arrived; one was missing--M. d'Arnelles.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"Yes, I had no time to change my clothes."
+
+They retired on leaving the table, for they had to set out before
+daybreak in order to take the birds unawares.
+
+There is nothing so pretty as this sport, this early morning expedition.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The sky became clearer, the shadows seemed to melt away.  The coast still
+seemed veiled, the great white coast, perpendicular as a wall.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+They know their limitation and the danger to which it subjects them, and
+cannot make up their minds to fly away.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"No, to-morrow."
+
+The following day they set out again.  This time M, d'ArneUes 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.
+
+"Yes, indeed, I have to leave soon, and that annoys me."
+
+"What, you must leave?  And why?"
+
+"Oh, I have some business that calls me back.  I cannot stay any longer."
+
+They then talked of other matters.
+
+As soon as breakfast was over the valet in black appeared.  M. d'Arnelles
+ordered his carriage, arid 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:
+
+"Come now, this cannot be a matter o£ such importance, for you have
+already waited two days."
+
+M. d'Arnelles, altogether perplexed, began to think, evidently baffled,
+divided between pleasure and duty, unhappy and disturbed.
+
+After reflecting for some time he stammered:
+
+"The fact is--the fact is--I am not alone here.  I have my son-in-law."
+
+There were exclamations and shouts of "Your son-in-law!  Where is he?"
+
+He suddenly appeared confused and his face grew red.
+
+"What!  do you not know?  Why--why--he is in the coach house.  He is
+dead."
+
+They were all silent in amazement.
+
+M. d'Arnelles continued, more and more disturbed:
+
+"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."
+
+Then one of the sportsmen, bolder than the rest said:
+
+"Well, but--since he is dead--it seems to me that he can wait a day
+longer."
+
+The others chimed in:
+
+"That cannot be denied."
+
+M. d'Arnelles appeared to be relieved of a great weight, but a little
+uneasy, nevertheless, he asked:
+
+"But, frankly--do you think--"
+
+The three others, as one man, replied:
+
+"Parbleu!  my dear boy, two days more or less can make no difference in
+his present condition."
+
+And, perfectly calmly, the father-in-law turned to the undertaker's
+assistant, and said:
+
+"Well, then, my friend, it will be the day after tomorrow."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A FAMILY
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!
+
+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:
+
+"What did you expect?  Good living, a good table and good nights!  Eating
+and sleeping, that is my existence!"
+
+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."
+
+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:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"That is my den," said Simon, so that I might compliment him on it.  "It
+is charming," I replied.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+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."
+
+I was then shown to my room, to change my dress for dinner, and hearing a
+great clatter behind me on the stairs, I turned round and saw that all
+the children were following me behind their father; to do me honor, no
+doubt.
+
+My windows looked out 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"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.
+
+I was seized with pity for this saddening and ridiculous Tantalus, and
+interposed on his behalf:
+
+"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."
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SUICIDES
+
+To Georges Legrand.
+
+Hardly a day goes by without our reading a news item like the following
+in some newspaper:
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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."
+
+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 highstrung people can understand.
+
+Here it is:
+
+"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.
+
+"I was brought up by simple-minded parents who were unquestioning
+believers.  And I believed as they did.
+
+"My dream lasted a long time.  The last veil has just been torn from my
+eyes.
+
+"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.'
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"I therefore opened my desk, intending to choose among my old papers and
+destroy the majority of them.
+
+"At first I was bewildered by this array of documents, yellowed by age,
+then I chose one.
+
+"Oh! if you cherish life, never disturb the burial place of old letters!
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.'
+
+"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!
+
+"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.
+
+"One last letter remained.  It was written by me and dictated fifty years
+ago by my writing teacher.  Here it is:
+
+     "'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.'
+
+"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!
+
+"My revolver is here, on the table.  I am loading it .  .  .  .  Never
+reread your old letters!"
+
+
+And that is how many men come to kill themselves; and we search in vain
+to discover some great sorrow in their lives.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+AN ARTIFICE
+
+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.
+
+"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?"
+
+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.
+
+"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."
+
+The young woman, however, seemed incredulous.
+
+"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:"
+
+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.
+
+"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.'
+
+"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.
+
+"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 a merchant in the town, who
+was said to have married the prettiest girl in the neighborhood.
+
+"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.'
+
+"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.'
+
+"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.
+
+"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.'
+
+"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.
+
+"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!
+
+"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:
+
+'Good-by, my darling!'
+
+"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:
+
+'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.'
+
+"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.'
+
+"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.'
+
+"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.
+
+"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."
+
+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?"
+
+He gave her a gallant bow, and replied:
+
+"So that I may offer you my services if they should be needed."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+DREAMS
+
+They had just dined together, five old friends, a writer, a doctor and
+three rich bachelors without any profession.
+
+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:
+
+"When you've nothing to do from morning till night, the days are long."
+
+"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."
+
+The third idler remarked:
+
+"I would pay a great deal for anything that would help me to pass just
+two pleasant hours every day."
+
+The writer, who had just thrown his overcoat across his arm, turned round
+to them, and said:
+
+"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."
+
+The doctor burst out laughing, and, while he chewed his cigar, he said:
+
+"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."
+
+One of the three idlers murmured:
+
+"What a pity!"
+
+Then, after a minute's pause, he added:
+
+"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."
+
+"Why without dreams?" asked the guest sitting next to him.
+
+The other replied:
+
+"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."
+
+"And what's to prevent you?" asked the writer.
+
+The doctor flung away the end of his cigar.
+
+"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."
+
+The writer shrugged his shoulders:
+
+"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."
+
+But the doctor, without stirring from his seat, said:
+
+"No; ether, nothing but ether; and I would suggest that you literary men
+should use it sometimes."
+
+The three rich bachelors drew closer to the doctor.
+
+One of them said:
+
+"Explain to us the effects of it."
+
+And the doctor replied:
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"It was when I was attacked by violent neuralgia that I made use of this
+remedy, which since then I have, perhaps, slightly abused.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"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.
+
+"It lasted a long, long time.  I still kept inhaling the ether from my
+flagon.  Suddenly I perceived that it was empty."
+
+The four men exclaimed at the same time:
+
+"Doctor, a prescription at once for a liter of ether!"
+
+But the doctor, putting on his hat, replied:
+
+"As to that, certainly not; go and let some one else poison you!"
+
+And he left them.
+
+Ladies and gentlemen, what is your opinion on the subject?
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SIMON'S PAPA
+
+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.
+
+The fact was that, that morning, Simon, the son of La Blanchotte, had,
+for the first time, attended school.
+
+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.
+
+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."
+
+Just then La Blanchotte's son appeared in the doorway of the school.
+
+He was seven or eight years old, rather pale, very neat, with a timid and
+almost awkward manner.
+
+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:
+
+"What is your name, you?"
+
+He answered: "Simon."
+
+"Simon what?" retorted the other.
+
+The child, altogether bewildered, repeated: "Simon."
+
+The lad shouted at him: "One is named Simon something--that is not a
+name--Simon indeed."
+
+The child, on the brink of tears, replied for the third time:
+
+"My name is Simon."
+
+The urchins began to laugh.  The triumphant tormentor cried: "You can see
+plainly that he has no papa."
+
+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."
+
+"Where is he?" demanded the boy.
+
+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.
+
+"And no more have you," he said; "no more have you a papa."
+
+"Yes," replied the other, "I have one."
+
+"Where is he?" rejoined Simon.
+
+"He is dead," declared the brat, with superb dignity; "he is in the
+cemetery, is my papa."
+
+A murmur of approval rose 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.
+
+The boy who chanced to be next Simon suddenly put his tongue out at him
+with a mocking air and shouted at him:
+
+"No papa! No papa!"
+
+Simon seized him by the hair with both hands and 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:
+
+"Go and tell your papa."
+
+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:
+
+"No papa!  No papa!"
+
+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.
+
+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:
+
+"He is dead."
+
+And some one had said:
+
+"He is quite happy now."
+
+And Simon wished to drown himself also, because he had no father, just
+like the wretched being who had no money.
+
+He reached the water and watched it flowing.  Some fish were sporting
+briskly in the clear stream and occasionally made a little bound and
+caught the flies flying on the surface.  He stopped crying in order to
+watch them, for their maneuvers 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:
+
+"I am going to drown myself because I have no papa."
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Suddenly a heavy hand was placed upon his shoulder, and a rough voice
+asked him:
+
+"What is it that causes you so much grief, my little man?"
+
+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:
+
+"They beat me--because--I--I have no--papa--no papa."
+
+"What!" said the man, smiling; "why, everybody has one."
+
+The child answered painfully amid his spasms of grief:
+
+"But I--I--I have none."
+
+Then the workman became serious.  He had recognized La Blanchotte's son,
+and, although himself a new arrival in the neighborhood, he had a vague
+idea of her history.
+
+"Well," said he, "console yourself, my boy, and come with me home to your
+mother.  They will give you--a papa."
+
+And so they started on the way, the big fellow holding the little fellow
+by the hand, and the man smiled, for he was 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.
+
+They arrived in front of a very neat little white house.
+
+"There it is," exclaimed the child, and he cried, "Mamma!"
+
+A woman appeared, and the workman instantly left off smiling, for he 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:
+
+"See, madame, I have brought you back your little boy who had lost
+himself near the river."
+
+But Simon flung his arms about his mother's neck and told her, as he
+again began to cry:
+
+"No, mamma, I wished to drown myself, because the others had beaten me--
+had beaten me--because I have no papa."
+
+A burning redness covered the young woman's cheeks; and, hurt to the
+quick, she embraced her child passionately, while the tears coursed down
+her face.  The man, much moved, stood there, not knowing how to get away.
+
+But Simon suddenly ran to him and said:
+
+"Will you be my papa?"
+
+A deep silence ensued.  La Blanchotte, dumb and tortured with shame,
+leaned herself against the wall, both her hands upon her heart.  The
+child, seeing that no answer was made him, replied:
+
+"If you will not, I shall go back and drown myself."
+
+The workman took the matter as a jest and answered, laughing:
+
+"Why, yes, certainly I will."
+
+"What is your name," went on the child, "so that I may tell the others
+when they wish to know your name?"
+
+"Philip," answered the man:
+
+Simon was silent a moment so that he might get the name well into his
+head; then he stretched out his arms, quite consoled, as he said:
+
+"Well, then, Philip, you are my papa."
+
+The workman, lifting him from the ground, kissed him hastily on both
+cheeks, and then walked away 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."
+
+Yells of delight burst out from all sides.
+
+"Philip who?  Philip what?  What on earth is Philip?  Where did you pick
+up your Philip?"
+
+Simon answered nothing; and, immovable in 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+One day, however, the lad who had first attacked him said to him:
+
+"You have lied.  You have not a papa named Philip."
+
+"Why do you say that?" demanded Simon, much disturbed.
+
+The youth rubbed his hands.  He replied:
+
+"Because if you had one he would be your mamma's husband."
+
+Simon was confused by the truth of this reasoning; nevertheless, he
+retorted:
+
+"He is my papa, all the same."
+
+"That can very well be," exclaimed the urchin with a sneer, "but that is
+not being your papa altogether."
+
+La Blanchotte's little one bowed his head and went off dreaming in the
+direction of the forge belonging to old Loizon, where Philip worked.
+This forge was 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.
+
+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:
+
+"Say, Philip, the Michaude boy told me just now that you were not
+altogether my papa."
+
+"Why not?" asked the blacksmith,
+
+The child replied with all innocence:
+
+"Because you are not my mamma's husband."
+
+No one laughed.  Philip remained standing, leaning his forehead upon the
+back of his great hands, which 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:
+
+"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."
+
+"That is true," remarked the three others.
+
+The smith continued:
+
+"Is it the girl's fault if she went wrong?  She had been promised
+marriage; and I know more than one who is much respected to-day, and who
+sinned every bit as much."
+
+"That is true," responded the three men in chorus.
+
+He resumed:
+
+"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."
+
+"This is also true," said the others.
+
+Then nothing was heard but the bellows which fanned the fire of the
+furnace.  Philip hastily bent himself down to Simon:
+
+"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.
+
+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:
+
+"It is ill to come thus when night has fallen, Mr. Philip."
+
+He wished to answer, but stammered and stood confused before her.
+
+She resumed:
+
+"You understand, do you not, that it will not do for me to be talked
+about again."
+
+"What does that matter to me, if you will be my wife!"
+
+No voice replied to him, but he believed that he heard in the shadow of
+the room the sound of a 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:
+
+"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."
+
+On the morrow, when the school was full and lessons were about to begin,
+little Simon stood up, quite pale with trembling lips:
+
+"My papa," said he in a clear voice, "is Philip Remy, the blacksmith, and
+he has promised to pull the ears of all who does me any harm."
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+     VOLUME XII.
+
+THE CHILD
+A COUNTRY EXCURSION
+ROSE
+ROSALIE PRUDENT
+REGRET
+A SISTER'S CONFESSION
+COCO
+A DEAD WOMAN'S SECRET
+A HUMBLE DRAMA
+MADEMOISELLE COCOTTE
+THE CORSICAN BANDIT
+THE GRAVE
+
+
+
+
+
+THE CHILD
+
+Lemonnier had remained a widower with one child.  He had loved his wife
+devotedly, with a tender and exalted love, without a slip, during their
+entire married life.  He was a good, honest man, perfectly simple,
+sincere, without suspicion or malice.
+
+He fell in love with a poor neighbor, proposed and was accepted.  He was
+making a very comfortable living out of the wholesale cloth business, and
+he did not for a minute suspect that the young girl might have accepted
+him for anything else but himself.
+
+She made him happy.  She was everything to him; he only thought of her,
+looked at her continually, with worshiping eyes.  During meals he would
+make any number of blunders, in order not to have to take his eyes from
+the beloved face; he would pour the wine in his plate and the water in
+the salt-cellar, then he would laugh like a child, repeating:
+
+"You see, I love you too much; that makes me crazy."
+
+She would smile with a calm and resigned look; then she would look away,
+as though embarrassed by the adoration of her husband, and try to make
+him talk about something else; but he would take her hand under the table
+and he would hold it in his, whispering:
+
+"My little Jeanne, my darling little Jeanne!"
+
+She sometimes lost patience and said:
+
+"Come, come, be reasonable; eat and let me eat."
+
+He would sigh and break off a mouthful of bread, which he would then chew
+slowly.
+
+For five years they had no children.  Then suddenly she announced to him
+that this state of affairs would soon cease.  He was wild with joy.  He
+no longer left her for a minute, until his old nurse, who had brought him
+up and who often ruled the house, would push him out and close the door
+behind him, in order to compel him to go out in the fresh air.
+
+He had grown very intimate with a young man who had known his wife since
+childhood, and who was one of the prefect's secretaries.  M. Duretour
+would dine three times a week with the Lemonniers, bringing flowers to
+madame, and sometimes a box at the theater; and often, at the end of the
+dinner, Lemonnier, growing tender, turning towards his wife, would
+explain: "With a companion like you and a friend like him, a man is
+completely happy on earth."
+
+She died in childbirth.  The shock almost killed him.  But the sight of
+the child, a poor, moaning little creature, gave him courage.
+
+He loved it with a passionate and sorrowful love, with a morbid love in
+which stuck the memory of death, but in which lived something of his
+worship for the dead mother.  It was the flesh of his wife, her being
+continued, a sort of quintessence of herself.  This child was her very
+life transferred to another body; she had disappeared that it might
+exist, and the father would smother it in with kisses.  But also, this
+child had killed her; he had stolen this beloved creature, his life was
+at the cost of hers.  And M. Lemonnier would place his son in the cradle
+and would sit down and watch him.  He would sit this way by the hour,
+looking at him, dreaming of thousands of things, sweet or sad.  Then,
+when the little one was asleep, he would bend over him and sob.
+
+The child grew.  The father could no longer spend an hour away from him;
+he would stay near him, take him out for walks, and himself dress him,
+wash him, make him eat.  His friend, M. Duretour, also seemed to love the
+boy; he would kiss him wildly, in those frenzies of tenderness which are
+characteristic of parents.  He would toss him in his arms, he would trot
+him on his knees, by the hour, and M. Lemonnier, delighted, would mutter:
+
+"Isn't he a darling?  Isn't he a darling?"
+
+And M. Duretour would hug the child in his arms and tickle his neck with
+his mustache.
+
+Celeste, the old nurse, alone, seemed to have no tenderness for the
+little one.  She would grow angry at his pranks, and seemed impatient at
+the caresses of the two men.  She would exclaim:
+
+"How can you expect to bring a child up like that?  You'll make a perfect
+monkey out of him."
+
+Years went by, and Jean was nine years old.  He hardly knew how to read;
+he had been so spoiled, and only did as he saw fit.  He was willful,
+stubborn and quick-tempered.  The father always gave in to him and let
+him have his own way.  M. Duretour would always buy him all the toys he
+wished, and he fed him on cake and candies.  Then Celeste would grow
+angry and exclaim:
+
+"It's a shame, monsieur, a shame.  You are spoiling this child.  But it
+will have to stop; yes, sir, I tell you it will have to stop, and before
+long, too."
+
+M. Lemonnier would answer, smiling:
+
+"What can you expect?  I love him too much, I can't resist him; you must
+get used to it."
+
+Jean was delicate, rather.  The doctor said that he was anaemic,
+prescribed iron, rare meat and broth.
+
+But the little fellow loved only cake and refused all other nourishment;
+and the father, in despair, stuffed him with cream-puffs and chocolate
+eclairs.
+
+One evening, as they were sitting down to supper, Celeste brought on the
+soup with an air of authority and an assurance which she did not usually
+have.  She took off the cover and, dipping the ladle into the dish, she
+declared:
+
+"Here is some broth such as I have never made; the young one will have to
+take some this time."
+
+M. Lemonnier, frightened, bent his head.  He saw a storm brewing.
+
+Celeste took his plate, filled it herself and placed it in front of him.
+
+He tasted the soup and said:
+
+"It is, indeed, excellent."
+
+The servant took the boy's plate and poured a spoonful of soup in it.
+Then she retreated a few steps and waited.
+
+Jean smelled the food and pushed his plate away with an expression of
+disgust.  Celeste, suddenly pale, quickly stepped forward and forcibly
+poured a spoonful down the child's open mouth.
+
+He choked, coughed, sneezed, spat; howling, he seized his glass and threw
+it at his nurse.  She received it full in the stomach.  Then,
+exasperated, she took the young shaver's head under her arm and began
+pouring spoonful after spoonful of soup down his throat.  He grew as red
+as a beet, and he would cough it up, stamping, twisting, choking, beating
+the air with his hands.
+
+At first the father was so surprised that he could not move.  Then,
+suddenly, he rushed forward, wild with rage, seized the servant by the
+throat and threw her up against the wall stammering:
+
+"Out! Out! Out! you brute!"
+
+But she shook him off, and, her hair streaming down her back, her eyes
+snapping, she cried out:
+
+"What's gettin' hold of you?  You're trying to thrash me because I am
+making this child eat soup when you are filling him with sweet stuff!"
+
+He kept repeating, trembling from head to foot:
+
+"Out! Get out-get out, you brute!"
+
+Then, wild, she turned to him and, pushing her face up against his, her
+voice trembling:
+
+"Ah!--you think-you think that you can treat me like that?  Oh! no.  And
+for whom?--for that brat who is not even yours.  No, not yours!  No, not
+yours--not yours!  Everybody knows it, except yourself!  Ask the grocer,
+the butcher, the baker, all of them, any one of them!"
+
+She was growling and mumbling, choked with passion; then she stopped and
+looked at him.
+
+He was motionless livid, his arms hanging by his sides.  After a short
+pause, he murmured in a faint, shaky voice, instinct with deep feeling:
+
+"You say? you say?  What do you say?"
+
+She remained silent, frightened by his appearance.  Once more he stepped
+forward, repeating:
+
+"You say--what do you say?"
+
+Then in a calm voice, she answered:
+
+"I say what I know, what everybody knows."
+
+He seized her and, with the fury of a beast, he tried to throw her down.
+But, although old, she was strong and nimble.  She slipped under his arm,
+and running around the table once more furious, she screamed:
+
+"Look at him, just look at him, fool that you are!  Isn't he the living
+image of M. Durefour? just look at his nose and his eyes!  Are yours like
+that?  And his hair!  Is it like his mother's?  I tell you that everyone
+knows it, everyone except yourself!  It's the joke of the town!  Look at
+him!"
+
+She went to the door, opened it, and disappeared.
+
+Jean, frightened, sat motionless before his plate of soup.
+
+At the end of an hour, she returned gently, to see how matters stood.
+The child, after doing away with all the cakes and a pitcher full of
+cream and one of syrup, was now emptying the jam-pot with his soup-spoon.
+
+The father had gone out.
+
+Celeste took the child, kissed him, and gently carried him to his room
+and put him to bed.  She came back to the dining-room, cleared the table,
+put everything in place, feeling very uneasy all the time.
+
+Not a single sound could be heard throughout the house.  She put her ear
+against's her master's door.  He seemed to be perfectly still.  She put
+her eye to the keyhole.  He was writing, and seemed very calm.
+
+Then she returned to the kitchen and sat down, ready for any emergency.
+She slept on a chair and awoke at daylight.
+
+She did the rooms as she had been accustomed to every morning; she swept
+and dusted, and, towards eight o'clock, prepared M. Lemonnier's
+breakfast.
+
+But she did not dare bring it to her master, knowing too well how she
+would be received; she waited for him to ring.  But he did not ring.
+Nine o'clock, then ten o'clock went by.
+
+Celeste, not knowing what to think, prepared her tray and started up with
+it, her heart beating fast.
+
+She stopped before the door and listened.  Everything was still.  She
+knocked; no answer.  Then, gathering up all her courage, she opened the
+door and entered.  With a wild shriek, she dropped the breakfast tray
+which she had been holding in her hand.
+
+In the middle of the room, M. Lemonnier was hanging by a rope from a ring
+in the ceiling.  His tongue was sticking out horribly.  His right slipper
+was lying on the ground, his left one still on his foot.  An upturned
+chair had rolled over to the bed.
+
+Celeste, dazed, ran away shrieking.  All the neighbors crowded together.
+The physician declared that he had died at about midnight.
+
+A letter addressed to M. Duretdur was found on the table of the suicide.
+It contained these words:
+
+"I leave and entrust the child to you!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A COUNTRY EXCURSION
+
+For five months they had been talking of going to take luncheon in one of
+the country suburbs of Paris on Madame Dufour's birthday, and as they
+were looking forward very impatiently to the outing, they rose very early
+that morning.  Monsieur Dufour had borrowed the milkman's wagon and drove
+himself.  It was a very tidy, two-wheeled conveyance, with a cover
+supported by four iron rods, with curtains that had been drawn up, except
+the one at the back, which floated out like a sail.  Madame Dufour,
+resplendent in a wonderful, cherry colored silk dress, sat by the side of
+her husband.
+
+The old grandmother and a girl sat behind them on two chairs, and a boy
+with yellow hair was lying at the bottom of the wagon, with nothing to be
+seen of him except his head.
+
+When they reached the bridge of Neuilly, Monsieur Dufour said: "Here we
+are in the country at last!" and at that signal his wife grew sentimental
+about the beauties of nature.  When they got to the crossroads at
+Courbevoie they were seized with admiration for the distant landscape.
+On the right was Argenteuil with its bell tower, and above it rose the
+hills of Sannois and the mill of Orgemont, while on the left the aqueduct
+of Marly stood out against the clear morning sky, and in the distance
+they could see the terrace of Saint-Germain; and opposite them, at the
+end of a low chain of hills, the new fort of Cormeilles.  Quite in the
+distance; a very long way off, beyond the plains and village, one could
+see the sombre green of the forests.
+
+The sun was beginning to burn their faces, the dust got into their eyes,
+and on either side of the road there stretched an interminable tract of
+bare, ugly country with an unpleasant odor.  One might have thought that
+it had been ravaged by a pestilence, which had even attacked the
+buildings, for skeletons of dilapidated and deserted houses, or small
+cottages, which were left in an unfinished state, because the contractors
+had not been paid, reared their four roofless walls on each side.
+
+Here and there tall factory chimneys rose up from the barren soil.  The
+only vegetation on that putrid land, where the spring breezes wafted an
+odor of petroleum and slate, blended with another odor that was even less
+agreeable.  At last, however, they crossed the Seine a second time, and
+the bridge was a delight.  The river sparkled in the sun, and they had a
+feeling of quiet enjoyment, felt refreshed as they drank in the purer air
+that was not impregnated by the black smoke of factories nor by the
+miasma from the deposits of night soil.  A man whom they met told them
+that the name of the place was Bezons.  Monsieur Dufour pulled up and
+read the attractive announcement outside an eating house: Restaurant
+Poulin, matelottes and fried fish, private rooms, arbors, and swings.
+
+"Well, Madame Dufour, will this suit you?  Will you make up your mind at
+last?"
+
+She read the announcement in her turn and then looked at the house for
+some time.
+
+It was a white country inn, built by the roadside, and through the open
+door she could see the bright zinc of the counter, at which sat two
+workmen in their Sunday clothes.  At last she made up her mind and said:
+
+"Yes, this will do; and, besides, there is a view."
+
+They drove into a large field behind the inn, separated from the river by
+the towing path, and dismounted.  The husband sprang out first and then
+held out his arms for his wife, and as the step was very high Madame
+Dufour, in order to reach him, had to show the lower part of her limbs,
+whose former slenderness had disappeared in fat, and Monsieur Dufour, who
+was already getting excited by the country air, pinched her calf, and
+then, taking her in his arms, he set her on the ground, as if she had
+been some enormous bundle.  She shook the dust out of the silk dress and
+then looked round to see in what sort of a place she was.
+
+She was a stout woman, of about thirty-six, full-blown, and delightful to
+look at.  She could hardly breathe, as her corsets were laced too
+tightly, and their pressure forced her superabundant bosom up to her
+double chin.  Next the girl placed her hand on her father's shoulder and
+jumped down lightly.  The boy with the yellow hair had got down by
+stepping on the wheel, and he helped Monsieur Dufour to lift his
+grandmother out.  Then they unharnessed the horse, which they had tied to
+a tree, and the carriage fell back, with both shafts in the air.  The men
+took off their coats and washed their hands in a pail of water and then
+went and joined the ladies, who had already taken possession of the
+swings.
+
+Mademoiselle Dufour was trying to swing herself standing up, but she
+could not succeed in getting a start.  She was a pretty girl of about
+eighteen, one of those women who suddenly excite your desire when you
+meet them in the street and who leave you with a vague feeling of
+uneasiness and of excited senses.  She was tall, had a small waist and
+large hips, with a dark skin, very large eyes and very black hair.  Her
+dress clearly marked the outlines of her firm, full figure, which was
+accentuated by the motion of her hips as she tried to swing herself
+higher.  Her arms were stretched upward to hold the rope, so that her
+bosom rose at every movement she made.  Her hat, which a gust of wind had
+blown off, was hanging behind her, and as the swing gradually rose higher
+and higher, she showed her delicate limbs up to the knees each time, and
+the breeze from her flying skirts, which was more heady than the fumes of
+wine, blew into the faces of the two men, who were looking at her and
+smiling.
+
+Sitting in the other swing, Madame Dufour kept saying in a monotonous
+voice:
+
+"Cyprian, come and swing me; do come and swing me, Cyprian!"
+
+At last he went, and turning up his shirt sleeves, as if undertaking a
+hard piece of work, with much difficulty he set his wife in motion.  She
+clutched the two ropes and held her legs out straight, so as not to touch
+the ground.  She enjoyed feeling dizzy at the motion of the swing, and
+her whole figure shook like a jelly on a dish, but as she went higher and
+higher; she became too giddy and was frightened.  Each time the swing
+came down she uttered a piercing scream, which made all the little
+urchins in the neighborhood come round, and down below, beneath the
+garden hedge, she vaguely saw a row of mischievous heads making various
+grimaces as they laughed.
+
+When a servant girl came out they ordered luncheon.
+
+"Some fried fish, a rabbit saute, salad and dessert," Madame Dufour said,
+with an important air.
+
+"Bring two quarts of beer and a bottle of claret," her husband said.
+
+"We will have lunch on the grass," the girl added.
+
+The grandmother, who had an affection for cats, had been running after
+one that belonged to the house, trying to coax it to come to her for the
+last ten minutes.  The animal, who was no doubt secretly flattered by her
+attentions, kept close to the good woman, but just out of reach of her
+hand, and quietly walked round the trees, against which she rubbed
+herself, with her tail up, purring with pleasure.
+
+"Hello!" suddenly exclaimed the young man with the yellow hair, who was
+wandering about.  "Here are two swell boats!"  They all went to look at
+them and saw two beautiful canoes in a wooden shed; they were as
+beautifully finished as if they had been ornamental furniture.  They hung
+side by side, like two tall, slender girls, in their narrow shining
+length, and made one wish to float in them on warm summer mornings and
+evenings along the flower-covered banks of the river, where the trees dip
+their branches into the water, where the rushes are continually rustling
+in the breeze and where the swift kingfishers dart about like flashes of
+blue lightning.
+
+The whole family looked at them with great respect.
+
+"Oh, they are indeed swell boats!"  Monsieur Dufour repeated gravely, as
+he examined them like a connoiseur.  He had been in the habit of rowing
+in his younger days, he said, and when he had spat in his hands--and he
+went through the action of pulling the oars--he did not care a fig for
+anybody.  He had beaten more than one Englishman formerly at the
+Joinville regattas.  He grew quite excited at last and offered to make a
+bet that in a boat like that he could row six leagues an hour without
+exerting himself.
+
+"Luncheon is ready," the waitress said, appearing at the entrance to the
+boathouse, and they all hurried off.  But two young men had taken the
+very seats that Madame Dufour had selected and were eating their
+luncheon.  No doubt they were the owners of the sculls, for they were in
+boating costume.  They were stretched out, almost lying on the chairs;
+they were sun-browned and their thin cotton jerseys, with short sleeves,
+showed their bare arms, which were as strong as a blacksmith's.  They
+were two strong, athletic fellows, who showed in all their movements that
+elasticity and grace of limb which can only be acquired by exercise and
+which is so different to the deformity with which monotonous heavy work
+stamps the mechanic.
+
+They exchanged a rapid smile when they saw the mother and then a glance
+on seeing the daughter.
+
+"Let us give up our place," one of them said; "it will make us acquainted
+with them."
+
+The other got up immediately, and holding his black and red boating cap
+in his hand, he politely offered the ladies the only shady place in the
+garden.  With many excuses they accepted, and that it might be more
+rural, they sat on the grass, without either tables or chairs.
+
+The two young men took their plates, knives, forks, etc., to a table a
+little way off and began to eat again, and their bare arms, which they
+showed continually, rather embarrassed the girl.  She even pretended to
+turn her head aside and not to see them, while Madame Dufour, who was
+rather bolder, tempted by feminine curiosity, looked at them every
+moment, and, no doubt, compared them with the secret unsightliness of her
+husband.  She had squatted herself on ground, with her legs tucked under
+her, after the manner of tailors, and she kept moving about restlessly,
+saying that ants were crawling about her somewhere.  Monsieur Dufour,
+annoyed at the presence of the polite strangers, was trying to find a
+comfortable position which he did not, however, succeed in doing, and the
+young man with the yellow hair was eating as silently as an ogre.
+
+"It is lovely weather, monsieur," the stout lady said to one of the
+boating men.  She wished to be friendly because they had given up their
+place.
+
+"It is, indeed, madame," he replied.  "Do you often go into the country?"
+
+"Oh, only once or twice a year to get a little fresh air.  And you,
+monsieur?"
+
+"I come and sleep here every night."
+
+"Oh, that must be very nice!"
+
+"Certainly it is, madame."  And he gave them such a practical account of
+his daily life that it awakened afresh in the hearts of these shopkeepers
+who were deprived of the meadows and who longed for country walks, to
+that foolish love of nature which they all feel so strongly the whole
+year round behind the counter in their shop.
+
+The girl raised her eyes and looked at the oarsman with emotion and
+Monsieur Dufour spoke for the first time.
+
+"It is indeed a happy life," he said.  And then he added: "A little more
+rabbit, my dear?"
+
+"No, thank you," she replied, and turning to the young men again, and
+pointing to their arms, asked: "Do you never feel cold like that?"
+
+They both began to laugh, and they astonished the family with an account
+of the enormous fatigue they could endure, of their bathing while in a
+state of tremendous perspiration, of their rowing in the fog at night;
+and they struck their chests violently to show how hollow they sounded.
+
+"Ah!  You look very strong," said the husband, who did not talk any more
+of the time when he used to beat the English.  The girl was looking at
+them sideways now, and the young fellow with the yellow hair, who had
+swallowed some wine the wrong way, was coughing violently and
+bespattering Madame Dufour's cherry-colored silk dress.  She got angry
+and sent for some water to wash the spots.
+
+Meanwhile it had grown unbearably hot, the sparkling river looked like a
+blaze of fire and the fumes of the wine were getting into their heads.
+Monsieur Dufour, who had a violent hiccough, had unbuttoned his waistcoat
+and the top button of his trousers, while his wife, who felt choking, was
+gradually unfastening her dress.  The apprentice was shaking his yellow
+wig in a happy frame of mind, and kept helping himself to wine, and the
+old grandmother, feeling the effects of the wine, was very stiff and
+dignified.  As for the girl, one noticed only a peculiar brightness in
+her eyes, while the brown cheeks became more rosy.
+
+The coffee finished, they suggested singing, and each of them sang or
+repeated a couplet, which the others applauded frantically.  Then they
+got up with some difficulty, and while the two women, who were rather
+dizzy, were trying to get a breath of air, the two men, who were
+altogether drunk, were attempting gymnastics.  Heavy, limp and with
+scarlet faces they hung or, awkwardly to the iron rings, without being
+able to raise themselves.
+
+Meanwhile the two boating men had got their boats into the water, and
+they came back and politely asked the ladies whether they would like a
+row.
+
+"Would you like one, Monsieur Dufour?" his wife exclaimed.  "Please
+come!"
+
+He merely gave her a drunken nod, without understanding what she said.
+Then one of the rowers came up with two fishing rods in his hands, and
+the hope of catching a gudgeon, that great vision of the Parisian
+shopkeeper, made Dufour's dull eyes gleam, and he politely allowed them
+to do whatever they liked, while he sat in the shade under the bridge,
+with his feet dangling over the river, by the side of the young man with
+the yellow hair, who was sleeping soundly.
+
+One of the boating men made a martyr of himself and took the mother.
+
+"Let us go to the little wood on the Ile aux Anglais!" he called out as
+he rowed off.  The other boat went more slowly, for the rower was looking
+at his companion so intently that by thought of nothing else, and his
+emotion seemed to paralyze his strength, while the girl, who was sitting
+in the bow, gave herself up to the enjoyment of being on the water.  She
+felt a disinclination to think, a lassitude in her limbs and a total
+enervation, as if she were intoxicated, and her face was flushed and her
+breathing quickened.  The effects of the wine, which were increased by
+the extreme heat, made all the trees on the bank seem to bow as she
+passed.  A vague wish for enjoyment and a fermentation of her blood
+seemed to pervade her whole body, which was excited by the heat of the
+day, and she was also disturbed at this tete-a-tete on the water, in a
+place which seemed depopulated by the heat, with this young man who
+thought her pretty, whose ardent looks seemed to caress her skin and were
+as penetrating and pervading as the sun's rays.
+
+Their inability to speak increased their emotion, and they looked about
+them.  At last, however, he made an effort and asked her name.
+
+"Henriette," she said.
+
+"Why, my name is Henri," he replied.  The sound of their voices had
+calmed them, and they looked at the banks.  The other boat had passed
+them and seemed to be waiting for them, and the rower called out:
+
+"We will meet you in the wood; we are going as far as Robinson's, because
+Madame Dufour is thirsty."  Then he bent over his oars again and rowed
+off so quickly that he was soon out of sight.
+
+Meanwhile a continual roar, which they had heard for some time, came
+nearer, and the river itself seemed to shiver, as if the dull noise were
+rising from its depths.
+
+"What is that noise?" she asked.  It was the noise of the weir which cut
+the river in two at the island, and he was explaining it to her, when,
+above the noise of the waterfall, they heard the song of a bird, which
+seemed a long way off.
+
+"Listen!" he said; "the nightingales are singing during the day, so the
+female birds must be sitting."
+
+A nightingale!  She had never heard one before, and the idea of listening
+to one roused visions of poetic tenderness in her heart.  A nightingale!
+That is to say, the invisible witness of her love trysts which Juliet
+invoked on her balcony; that celestial music which it attuned to human
+kisses, that eternal inspirer of all those languorous romances which open
+an ideal sky to all the poor little tender hearts of sensitive girls!
+
+She was going to hear a nightingale.
+
+"We must not make a noise," her companion said, "and then we can go into
+the wood, and sit down close beside it."
+
+The boat seemed to glide.  They saw the trees on the island, the banks of
+which were so low that they could look into the depths of the thickets.
+They stopped, he made the boat fast, Henriette took hold of Henri's arm,
+and they went beneath the trees.
+
+"Stoop," he said, so she stooped down, and they went into an inextricable
+thicket of creepers, leaves and reed grass, which formed an
+undiscoverable retreat, and which the young man laughingly called "his
+private room."
+
+Just above their heads, perched in one of the trees which hid them, the
+bird was still singing.  He uttered trills and roulades, and then loud,
+vibrating notes that filled the air and seemed to lose themselves on the
+horizon, across the level country, through that burning silence which
+weighed upon the whole landscape.  They did not speak for fear of
+frightening it away.  They were sitting close together, and, slowly,
+Henri's arm stole round the girl's waist and squeezed it gently.  She
+took that daring hand without any anger, and kept removing it whenever he
+put it round her; without, however, feeling at all embarrassed by this
+caress, just as if it had been something quite natural, which she was
+resisting just as naturally.
+
+She was listening to the bird in ecstasy.  She felt an infinite longing
+for happiness, for some sudden demonstration of tenderness, for the
+revelation of superhuman poetry, and she felt such a softening at her
+heart, and relaxation of her nerves, that she began to cry, without
+knowing why.  The young man was now straining her close to him, yet she
+did not remove his arm; she did not think of it.  Suddenly the
+nightingale stopped, and a voice called out in the distance:
+
+"Henriette!"
+
+"Do not reply," he said in a low voice; "you will drive the bird away."
+
+But she had no idea of doing so, and they remained in the same position
+for some time.  Madame Dufour had sat down somewhere or other, for from
+time to time they heard the stout lady break out into little bursts of
+laughter.
+
+The girl was still crying; she was filled with strange sensations.
+Henri's head was on her shoulder, and suddenly he kissed her on the lips.
+She was surprised and angry, and, to avoid him, she stood up.
+
+They were both very pale when they left their grassy retreat.  The blue
+sky appeared to them clouded and the ardent sun darkened; and they felt
+tile solitude and the silence.  They walked rapidly, side by side,
+without speaking or touching each other, for they seemed to have become
+irreconcilable enemies, as if disgust and hatred had arisen between them,
+and from time to time Henriette called out: "Mamma!"
+
+By and by they heard a noise behind a bush, and the stout lady appeared,
+looking rather confused, and her companion's face was wrinkled with
+smiles which he could not check.
+
+Madame Dufour took his arm, and they returned to the boats, and Henri,
+who was ahead, walked in silence beside the young girl.  At last they got
+back to Bezons.  Monsieur Dufour, who was now sober, was waiting for them
+very impatiently, while the young man with the yellow hair was having a
+mouthful of something to eat before leaving the inn.  The carriage was
+waiting in the yard, and the grandmother, who had already got in, was
+very frightened at the thought of being overtaken by night before they
+reached Paris, as the outskirts were not safe.
+
+They all shook bands, and the Dufour family drove off.
+
+"Good-by, until we meet again!" the oarsmen cried, and the answer they
+got was a sigh and a tear.
+
+
+Two months later, as Henri was going along the Rue des Martyrs, he saw
+Dufour, Ironmonger, over a door, and so he went in, and saw the stout
+lady sitting at the counter.  They recognized each other immediately, and
+after an interchange of polite greetings, he asked after them all.
+
+"And how is Mademoiselle Henriette?" he inquired specially.
+
+"Very well, thank you; she is married."
+
+"Ah!"  He felt a certain emotion, but said: "Whom did she marry?"
+
+"That young man who accompanied us, you know; he has joined us in
+business."
+
+"I remember him perfectly."
+
+He was going out, feeling very unhappy, though scarcely knowing why, when
+madame called him back.
+
+"And how is your friend?" she asked rather shyly.
+
+"He is very well, thank you."
+
+"Please give him our compliments, and beg him to come and call, when he
+is in the neighborhood."
+
+She then added: "Tell him it will give me great pleasure."
+
+"I will be sure to do so.  Adieu!"
+
+"Do not say that; come again very soon."
+
+The next year, one very hot Sunday, all the details of that adventure,
+which Henri had never forgotten, suddenly came back to him so clearly
+that he returned alone to their room in the wood, and was overwhelmed
+with astonishment when he went in.  She was sitting on the grass, looking
+very sad, while by her side, still in his shirt sleeves, the young man
+with the yellow hair was sleeping soundly, like some animal.
+
+She grew so pale when she saw Henri that at first he thought she was
+going to faint; then, however, they began to talk quite naturally.
+But when he told her that he was very fond of that spot, and went there
+frequently on Sundays to indulge in memories, she looked into his eyes
+for a long time.
+
+"I too, think of it," she replied.
+
+"Come, my dear," her husband said, with a yawn.  "I think it is time for
+us to be going."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ROSE
+
+The two young women appear to be buried under a blanket of flowers.  They
+are alone in the immense landau, which is filled with flowers like a
+giant basket.  On the front seat are two small hampers of white satin
+filled with violets, and on the bearskin by which their knees are covered
+there is a mass of roses, mimosas, pinks, daisies, tuberoses and orange
+blossoms, interwoven with silk ribbons; the two frail bodies seem buried
+under this beautiful perfumed bed, which hides everything but the
+shoulders and arms and a little of the dainty waists.
+
+The coachman's whip is wound with a garland of anemones, the horses'
+traces are dotted with carnations, the spokes of the wheels are clothed
+in mignonette, and where the lanterns ought to be are two enormous round
+bouquets which look as though they were the eyes of this strange,
+rolling, flower-bedecked creature.
+
+The landau drives rapidly along the road, through the Rue d'Antibes,
+preceded, followed, accompanied, by a crowd of other carriages covered
+with flowers, full of women almost hidden by a sea of violets.  It is the
+flower carnival at Cannes.
+
+The carriage reaches the Boulevard de la Fonciere, where the battle is
+waged.  All along the immense avenue a double row of flower-bedecked
+vehicles are going and coming like an endless ribbon.  Flowers are thrown
+from one to the other.  They pass through the air like balls, striking
+fresh faces, bouncing and falling into the dust, where an army of
+youngsters pick them up.
+
+A thick crowd is standing on the sidewalks looking on and held in check
+by the mounted police, who pass brutally along pushing back the curious
+pedestrians as though to prevent the common people from mingling with the
+rich.
+
+In the carriages, people call to each other, recognize each other and
+bombard each other with roses.  A chariot full of pretty women, dressed
+in red, like devils, attracts the eyes of all.  A gentleman, who looks
+like the portraits of Henry IV., is throwing an immense bouquet which is
+held back by an elastic.  Fearing the shock, the women hide their eyes
+and the men lower their heads, but the graceful, rapid and obedient
+missile describes a curve and returns to its master, who immediately
+throws it at some new face.
+
+The two young women begin to throw their stock of flowers by handfuls,
+and receive a perfect hail of bouquets; then, after an hour of warfare,
+a little tired, they tell the coachman to drive along the road which
+follows the seashore.
+
+The sun disappears behind Esterel, outlining the dark, rugged mountain
+against the sunset sky.  The clear blue sea, as calm as a mill-pond,
+stretches out as far as the horizon, where it blends with the sky; and
+the fleet, anchored in the middle of the bay, looks like a herd of
+enormous beasts, motionless on the water, apocalyptic animals, armored
+and hump-backed, their frail masts looking like feathers, and with eyes
+which light up when evening approaches.
+
+The two young women, leaning back under the heavy robes, look out lazily
+over the blue expanse of water.  At last one of them says:
+
+"How delightful the evenings are!  How good everything seems!  Don't you
+think so, Margot?"
+
+"Yes, it is good.  But there is always something lacking."
+
+"What is lacking?  I feel perfectly happy.  I don't need anything else."
+
+"Yes, you do.  You are not thinking of it.  No matter how contented we
+may be, physically, we always long for something more--for the heart."
+
+The other asked with a smile:
+
+"A little love?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+They stopped talking, their eyes fastened on the distant horizon, then
+the one called Marguerite murmured: "Life without that seems to me
+unbearable.  I need to be loved, if only by a dog.  But we are all alike,
+no matter what you may say, Simone."
+
+"Not at all, my dear.  I had rather not be loved at all than to be loved
+by the first comer.  Do you think, for instance, that it would be
+pleasant to be loved by--by--"
+
+She was thinking by whom she might possibly be loved, glancing across the
+wide landscape.  Her eyes, after traveling around the horizon, fell on
+the two bright buttons which were shining on the back of the coachman's
+livery, and she continued, laughing: "by my coachman?"
+
+Madame Margot barely smiled, and said in a low tone of voice:
+
+"I assure you that it is very amusing to be loved by a servant.  It has
+happened to me two or three times.  They roll their eyes in such a funny
+manner--it's enough to make you die laughing!  Naturally, the more in
+love they are, the more severe one must be with them, and then, some day,
+for some reason, you dismiss them, because, if anyone should notice it,
+you would appear so ridiculous."
+
+Madame Simone was listening, staring straight ahead of her, then she
+remarked:
+
+"No, I'm afraid that my footman's heart would not satisfy me.  Tell me
+how you noticed that they loved you."
+
+"I noticed it the same way that I do with other men--when they get
+stupid."
+
+"The others don't seem stupid to me, when they love me."
+
+"They are idiots, my dear, unable to talk, to answer, to understand
+anything."
+
+"But how did you feel when you were loved by a servant?  Were you--moved
+--flattered?"
+
+"Moved?  no, flattered--yes a little.  One is always flattered to be
+loved by a man, no matter who he may be."
+
+"Oh, Margot!"
+
+"Yes, indeed, my dear!  For instance, I will tell you of a peculiar
+incident which happened to me.  You will see how curious and complex our
+emotions are, in such cases.
+
+"About four years ago I happened to be without a maid.  I had tried five
+or six, one right after the other, and I was about ready to give up in
+despair, when I saw an advertisement in a newspaper of a young girl
+knowing how to cook, embroider, dress hair, who was looking for a
+position and who could furnish the best of references.  Besides all these
+accomplishments, she could speak English.
+
+"I wrote to the given address, and the next day the person in question
+presented herself.  She was tall, slender, pale, shy-looking.  She had
+beautiful black eyes and a charming complexion; she pleased me
+immediately.  I asked for her certificates; she gave me one in English,
+for she came, as she said, from Lady Rymwell's, where she had been for
+ten years.
+
+"The certificate showed that the young girl had left of her own free
+will, in order to return to France, and the only thing which they had had
+to find fault in her during her long period of service was a little
+French coquettishness.
+
+"This prudish English phrase even made me smile, and I immediately
+engaged this maid.
+
+"She came to me the same day.  Her name was Rose.
+
+"At the end of a month I would have been helpless without her.  She was a
+treasure, a pearl, a phenomenon.
+
+"She could dress my hair with infinite taste; she could trim a hat better
+than most milliners, and she could even make my dresses.
+
+"I was astonished at her accomplishments.  I had never before been waited
+on in such a manner.
+
+"She dressed me rapidly and with a surprisingly light touch.  I never
+felt her fingers on my skin, and nothing is so disagreeable to me as
+contact with a servant's hand.  I soon became excessively lazy; it was so
+pleasant to be dressed from head to foot, and from lingerie to gloves, by
+this tall, timid girl, always blushing a little, and never saying a word.
+After my bath she would rub and massage me while I dozed a little on my
+couch; I almost considered her more of a friend than a servant.
+
+"One morning the janitor asked, mysteriously, to speak to me.  I was
+surprised, and told him to come in.  He was a good, faithful man, an old
+soldier, one of my husband's former orderlies.
+
+"He seemed to be embarrassed by what he had to say to me.  At last he
+managed to mumble:
+
+"'Madame, the superintendent of police is downstairs.'
+
+"I asked quickly:
+
+"'What does he wish?'
+
+"'He wishes to search the house.'
+
+"Of course the police are useful, but I hate them.  I do not think that
+it is a noble profession.  I answered, angered and hurt:
+
+"'Why this search?  For what reason?  He shall not come in.'
+
+"The janitor continued:
+
+"'He says that there is a criminal hidden in the house.'
+
+"This time I was frightened and I told him to bring the inspector to me,
+so that I might get some explanation.  He was a man with good manners and
+decorated with the Legion of Honor.  He begged my pardon for disturbing
+me, and then informed me that I had, among my domestics, a convict.
+
+"I was shocked; and I answered that I could guarantee every servant in
+the house, and I began to enumerate them.
+
+"'The janitor, Pierre Courtin, an old soldier.'
+
+"'It's not he.'
+
+"'A stable-boy, son of farmers whom I know, and a groom whom you have
+just seen.'
+
+"'It's not he.'
+
+"'Then, monsieur, you see that you must be mistaken.'
+
+"'Excuse me, madame, but I am positive that I am not making a mistake.
+
+As the conviction of a notable criminal is at stake, would you be so kind
+as to send for all your servants?"
+
+"At first I refused, but I finally gave in, and sent downstairs for
+everybody, men and women.
+
+"The inspector glanced at them and then declared:
+
+"'This isn't all.'
+
+"'Excuse me, monsieur, there is no one left but my maid, a young girl
+whom you could not possibly mistake for a convict.'
+
+"He asked:
+
+"'May I also see her?'
+
+"'Certainly.'
+
+"I rang for Rose, who immediately appeared.  She had hardly entered the
+room, when the inspector made a motion, and two men whom I had not seen,
+hidden behind the door, sprang forward, seized her and tied her hands
+behind her back.
+
+"I cried out in anger and tried to rush forward to defend her.  The
+inspector stopped me:
+
+"'This girl, madame, is a man whose name is Jean Nicolas Lecapet,
+condemned to death in 1879 for assaulting a woman and injuring her so
+that death resulted.  His sentence was commuted to imprisonment for life.
+He escaped four months ago.  We have been looking for him ever since.'
+
+"I was terrified, bewildered.  I did not believe him.  The commissioner
+continued, laughing:
+
+"'I can prove it to you.  His right arm is tattooed.'
+
+"'The sleeve was rolled up.  It was true.  The inspector added, with bad
+taste:
+
+"'You can trust us for the other proofs.'
+
+"And they led my maid away!
+
+"Well, would you believe me, the thing that moved me most was not anger
+at having thus been played upon, deceived and made ridiculous, it was not
+the shame of having thus been dressed and undressed, handled and touched
+by this man--but a deep humiliation--a woman's humiliation.  Do you
+understand?"
+
+"I am afraid I don't."
+
+"Just think--this man had been condemned for--for assaulting a woman.
+Well!  I thought of the one whom he had assaulted--and--and I felt
+humiliated--There!  Do you understand now?"
+
+Madame Margot did not answer.  She was looking straight ahead, her eyes
+fastened on the two shining buttons of the livery, with that sphinx-like
+smile which women sometimes have.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ROSALIE PRUDENT
+
+There was a real mystery in this affair which neither the jury, nor the
+president, nor the public prosecutor himself could understand.
+
+The girl Prudent (Rosalie), servant at the Varambots', of Nantes, having
+become enceinte without the knowledge of her masters, had, during the
+night, killed and buried her child in the garden.
+
+It was the usual story of the infanticides committed by servant girls.
+But there was one inexplicable circumstance about this one.  When the
+police searched the girl Prudent's room they discovered a complete
+infant's outfit, made by Rosalie herself, who had spent her nights for
+the last three months in cutting and sewing it.  The grocer from whom she
+had bought her candles, out of her own wages, for this long piece of work
+had come to testify.  It came out, moreover, that the sage-femme of the
+district, informed by Rosalie of her condition, had given her all
+necessary instructions and counsel in case the event should happen at a
+time when it might not be possible to get help.  She had also procured a
+place at Poissy for the girl Prudent, who foresaw that her present
+employers would discharge her, for the Varambot couple did not trifle
+with morality.
+
+There were present at the trial both the man and the woman, a middle-
+class pair from the provinces, living on their income.  They were so
+exasperated against this girl, who had sullied their house, that they
+would have liked to see her guillotined on the spot without a trial.
+The spiteful depositions they made against her became accusations in
+their mouths.
+
+The defendant, a large, handsome girl of Lower Normandy, well educated
+for her station in life, wept continuously and would not answer to
+anything.
+
+The court and the spectators were forced to the opinion that she had
+committed this barbarous act in a moment of despair and madness, since
+there was every indication that she had expected to keep and bring up her
+child.
+
+The president tried for the last time to make her speak, to get some
+confession, and, having urged her with much gentleness, he finally made
+her understand that all these men gathered here to pass judgment upon her
+were not anxious for her death and might even have pity on her.
+
+Then she made up her mind to speak.
+
+"Come, now, tell us, first, who is the father of this child?" he asked.
+
+Until then she had obstinately refused to give his name.
+
+But she replied suddenly, looking at her masters who had so cruelly
+calumniated her:
+
+"It is Monsieur Joseph, Monsieur Varambot's nephew."
+
+The couple started in their seats and cried with one voice-- "That's not
+true!  She lies!  This is infamous!"
+
+The president had them silenced and continued "Go on, please, and tell us
+how it all happened."
+
+Then she suddenly began to talk freely, relieving her pent-up heart, that
+poor, solitary, crushed heart--laying bare her sorrow, her whole sorrow,
+before those severe men whom she had until now taken for enemies and
+inflexible judges.
+
+"Yes, it was Monsieur Joseph Varambot, when he came on leave last year."
+
+"What does Mr. Joseph Varambot do?"
+
+"He is a non-commissioned officer in the artillery, monsieur.  Well, he
+stayed two months at the house, two months of the summer.  I thought
+nothing about it when he began to look at me, and then flatter me, and
+make love to me all day long.  And I let myself be taken in, monsieur.
+He kept saying to me that I was a handsome girl, that I was good company,
+that I just suited him--and I, I liked him well enough.  What could I do?
+One listens to these things when one is alone--all alone--as I was.  I am
+alone in the world, monsieur.  I have no one to talk to--no one to tell
+my troubles to.  I have no father, no mother, no brother, no sister,
+nobody.  And when he began to talk to me it was as if I had a brother who
+had come back.  And then he asked me to go with him to the river one
+evening, so that we might talk without disturbing any one.  I went--I
+don't know--I don't know how it happened.  He had his arm around me.
+Really I didn't want to--no--no-- I could not--I felt like crying, the
+air was so soft--the moon was shining.  No, I swear to you--I could not--
+he did what he wanted.  That went on three weeks, as long as he stayed.
+I could have followed him to the ends of the world.  He went away.  I did
+not know that I was enceinte.  I did not know it until the month after--"
+
+She began to cry so bitterly that they had to give her time to collect
+herself.
+
+Then the president resumed with the tone of a priest at the confessional:
+"Come, now, go on."
+
+She began to talk again: "When I realized my condition I went to see
+Madame Boudin, who is there to tell you, and I asked her how it would be,
+in case it should come if she were not there.  Then I made the outfit,
+sewing night after night, every evening until one o'clock in the morning;
+and then I looked for another place, for I knew very well that I should
+be sent away, but I wanted to stay in the house until the very last, so
+as to save my pennies, for I have not got very much and I should need my
+money for the little one."
+
+"Then you did not intend to kill him?"
+
+"Oh, certainly not, monsieur!"
+
+"Why did you kill him, then?"
+
+"It happened this way.  It came sooner than I expected.  It came upon me
+in the kitchen, while I was doing the dishes.  Monsieur and Madame
+Varambot were already asleep, so I went up, not without difficulty,
+dragging myself up by the banister, and I lay down on the bare floor.
+It lasted perhaps one hour, or two, or three; I don't know, I had such
+pain; and then I pushed him out with all my strength.  I felt that he
+came out and I picked him up.
+
+"Ah!  but I was glad, I assure you!  I did all that Madame Boudin told me
+to do.  And then I laid him on my bed.  And then such a pain griped me
+again that I thought I should die.  If you knew what it meant, you there,
+you would not do so much of this.  I fell on my knees, and then toppled
+over backward on the floor; and it griped me again, perhaps one hour,
+perhaps two.  I lay there all alone--and then another one comes--another
+little one--two, yes, two, like this.  I took him up as I did the first
+one, and then I put him on the bed, the two side by side.  Is it
+possible, tell me, two children, and I who get only twenty francs a
+month?  Say, is it possible?  One, yes, that can be managed by going
+without things, but not two.  That turned my head.  What do I know about
+it?  Had I any choice, tell me?
+
+"What could I do?  I felt as if my last hour had come.  I put the pillow
+over them, without knowing why.  I could not keep them both; and then I
+threw myself down, and I lay there, rolling over and over and crying
+until I saw the daylight come into the window.  Both of them were quite
+dead under the pillow.  Then I took them under my arms and went down the
+stairs out in the vegetable garden.  I took the gardener's spade and I
+buried them under the earth, digging as deep a hole as I could, one here
+and the other one there, not together, so that they might not talk of
+their mother if these little dead bodies can talk.  What do I know about
+it?
+
+"And then, back in my bed, I felt so sick that I could not get up.  They
+sent for the doctor and he understood it all.  I'm telling you the truth,
+Your Honor.  Do what you like with me; I'm ready."
+
+Half of the jury were blowing their noses violently to keep from crying.
+The women in the courtroom were sobbing.
+
+The president asked her:
+
+"Where did you bury the other one?"
+
+"The one that you have?" she asked.
+
+"Why, this one--this one was in the artichokes."
+
+"Oh, then the other one is among the strawberries, by the well."
+
+And she began to sob so piteously that no one could hear her unmoved.
+
+The girl Rosalie Prudent was acquitted.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+REGRET
+
+Monsieur Saval, who was called in Mantes "Father Saval," had just risen
+from bed.  He was weeping.  It was a dull autumn day; the leaves were
+falling.  They fell slowly in the rain, like a heavier and slower rain.
+M. Saval was not in good spirits.  He walked from the fireplace to the
+window, and from the window to the fireplace.  Life has its sombre days.
+It would no longer have any but sombre days for him, for he had reached
+the age of sixty-two.  He is alone, an old bachelor, with nobody about
+him.  How sad it is to die alone, all alone, without any one who is
+devoted to you!
+
+He pondered over his life, so barren, so empty.  He recalled former days,
+the days of his childhood, the home, the house of his parents; his
+college days, his follies; the time he studied law in Paris, his father's
+illness, his death.  He then returned to live with his mother.  They
+lived together very quietly, and desired nothing more.  At last the
+mother died.  How sad life is!  He lived alone since then, and now, in
+his turn, he, too, will soon be dead.  He will disappear, and that will
+be the end.  There will be no more of Paul Saval upon the earth.  What a
+frightful thing!  Other people will love, will laugh.  Yes, people will
+go on amusing themselves, and he will no longer exist!  Is it not strange
+that people can laugh, amuse themselves, be joyful under that eternal
+certainty of death?  If this death were only probable, one could then
+have hope; but no, it is inevitable, as inevitable as that night follows
+the day.
+
+If, however, his life had been full!  If he had done something; if he had
+had adventures, great pleasures, success, satisfaction of some kind or
+another.  But no, nothing.  He had done nothing, nothing but rise from
+bed, eat, at the same hours, and go to bed again.  And he had gone on
+like that to the age of sixty-two years.  He had not even taken unto
+himself a wife, as other men do.  Why?  Yes, why was it that he had not
+married?  He might have done so, for he possessed considerable means.
+Had he lacked an opportunity?  Perhaps!  But one can create
+opportunities.  He was indifferent; that was all.  Indifference had been
+his greatest drawback, his defect, his vice.  How many men wreck their
+lives through indifference!  It is so difficult for some natures to get
+out of bed, to move about, to take long walks, to speak, to study any
+question.
+
+He had not even been loved.  No woman had reposed on his bosom, in a
+complete abandon of love.  He knew nothing of the delicious anguish of
+expectation, the divine vibration of a hand in yours, of the ecstasy of
+triumphant passion.
+
+What superhuman happiness must overflow your heart, when lips encounter
+lips for the first time, when the grasp of four arms makes one being of
+you, a being unutterably happy, two beings infatuated with one another.
+
+M. Saval was sitting before the fire, his feet on the fender, in his
+dressing gown.  Assuredly his life had been spoiled, completely spoiled.
+He had, however, loved.  He had loved secretly, sadly, and indifferently,
+in a manner characteristic of him in everything.  Yes, he had loved his
+old friend, Madame Sandres, the wife of his old companion, Sandres.
+Ah! if he had known her as a young girl!  But he had met her too late;
+she was already married.  Unquestionably, he would have asked her hand!
+How he had loved her, nevertheless, without respite, since the first day
+he set eyes on her!
+
+He recalled his emotion every time he saw her, his grief on leaving her,
+the many nights that he could not sleep, because he was thinking of her.
+
+On rising in the morning he was somewhat more rational than on the
+previous evening.
+
+Why?
+
+How pretty she was formerly, so dainty, with fair curly hair, and always
+laughing.  Sandres was not the man she should have chosen.  She was now
+fifty-two years of age.  She seemed happy.  Ah! if she had only loved him
+in days gone by; yes, if she had only loved him!  And why should she not
+have loved him, he, Saval, seeing that he loved her so much, yes, she,
+Madame Sandres!
+
+If only she could have guessed.  Had she not guessed anything, seen
+anything, comprehended anything?  What would she have thought?  If he had
+spoken, what would she have answered?
+
+And Saval asked himself a thousand other things.  He reviewed his whole
+life, seeking to recall a multitude of details.
+
+He recalled all the long evenings spent at the house of Sandres, when the
+latter's wife was young, and so charming.
+
+He recalled many things that she had said to him, the intonations of her
+voice, the little significant smiles that meant so much.
+
+He recalled their walks, the three of them together, along the banks of
+the Seine, their luncheon on the grass on Sundays, for Sandres was
+employed at the sub-prefecture.  And all at once the distinct
+recollection came to him of an afternoon spent with her in a little wood
+on the banks of the river.
+
+They had set out in the morning, carrying their provisions in baskets.
+It was a bright spring morning, one of those days which intoxicate one.
+Everything smells fresh, everything seems happy.  The voices of the birds
+sound more joyous, and-they fly more swiftly.  They had luncheon on the
+grass, under the willow trees, quite close to the water, which glittered
+in the sun's rays.  The air was balmy, charged with the odors of fresh
+vegetation; they drank it in with delight.  How pleasant everything was
+on that day!
+
+After lunch, Sandres went to sleep on the broad of his back.  "The best
+nap he had in his life," said he, when he woke up.
+
+Madame Sandres had taken the arm of Saval, and they started to walk along
+the river bank.
+
+She leaned tenderly on his arm.  She laughed and said to him: "I am
+intoxicated, my friend, I am quite intoxicated."  He looked at her, his
+heart going pit-a-pat.  He felt himself grow pale, fearful that he might
+have looked too boldly at her, and that the trembling of his hand had
+revealed his passion.
+
+She had made a wreath of wild flowers and water-lilies, and she asked
+him: "Do I look pretty like that?"
+
+As he did not answer--for he could find nothing to say, he would have
+liked to go down on his knees--she burst out laughing, a sort of annoyed,
+displeased laugh, as she said: "Great goose, what ails you?  You might at
+least say something."
+
+He felt like crying, but could not even yet find a word to say.
+
+All these things came back to him now, as vividly as on the day when they
+took place.  Why had she said this to him, "Great goose, what ails you?
+You might at least say something!"
+
+And he recalled how tenderly she had leaned on his arm.  And in passing
+under a shady tree he had felt her ear brushing his cheek, and he had
+moved his head abruptly, lest she should suppose he was too familiar.
+
+When he had said to her: "Is it not time to return?" she darted a
+singular look at him.  "Certainly," she said, "certainly," regarding him
+at the same time in a curious manner.  He had not thought of it at the
+time, but now the whole thing appeared to him quite plain.
+
+"Just as you like, my friend.  If you are tired let us go back."
+
+And he had answered: "I am not fatigued; but Sandres may be awake now."
+
+And she had said: "If you are afraid of my husband's being awake, that is
+another thing.  Let us return."
+
+On their way back she remained silent, and leaned no longer on his arm.
+Why?
+
+At that time it had never occurred to him, to ask himself "why."  Now he
+seemed to apprehend something that he had not then understood.
+
+Could it?
+
+M. Saval felt himself blush, and he got up at a bound, as if he were
+thirty years younger and had heard Madame Sandres say, "I love you."
+
+Was it possible?  That idea which had just entered his mind tortured him.
+Was it possible that he had not seen, had not guessed?
+
+Oh! if that were true, if he had let this opportunity of happiness pass
+without taking advantage of it!
+
+He said to himself : "I must know.  I cannot remain in this state of
+doubt.  I must know!" He thought: "I am sixty-two years of age, she is
+fifty-eight; I may ask her that now without giving offense."
+
+He started out.
+
+The Sandres' house was situated on the other side of the street, almost
+directly opposite his own.  He went across and knocked at the door, and a
+little servant opened it.
+
+"You here at this hour, Saval!  Has some accident happened to you?"
+
+"No, my girl," he replied; "but go and tell your mistress that I want to
+speak to her at once."
+
+"The fact is madame is preserving pears for the winter, and she is in the
+preserving room.  She is not dressed, you understand."
+
+"Yes, but go and tell her that I wish to see her on a very important
+matter."
+
+The little servant went away, and Saval began to walk, with long, nervous
+strides, up and down the drawing-room.  He did not feel in the least
+embarrassed, however.  Oh! he was merely going to ask her something, as
+he would have asked her about some cooking recipe.  He was sixty-two
+years of age!
+
+The door opened and madame appeared.  She was now a large woman, fat and
+round, with full cheeks and a sonorous laugh.  She walked with her arms
+away from her sides and her sleeves tucked up, her bare arms all covered
+with fruit juice.  She asked anxiously:
+
+"What is the matter with you, my friend?  You are not ill, are you?"
+
+"No, my dear friend; but I wish to ask you one thing, which to me is of
+the first importance, something which is torturing my heart, and I want
+you to promise that you will answer me frankly."
+
+She laughed, "I am always frank.  Say on."
+
+"Well, then.  I have loved you from the first day I ever saw you.  Can
+you have any doubt of this?"
+
+She responded, laughing, with something of her former tone of voice.
+
+"Great goose! what ails you?  I knew it from the very first day!"
+
+
+Saval began to tremble.  He stammered out: "You knew it?  Then .  .  ."
+
+He stopped.
+
+She asked:
+
+"Then?
+
+He answered:
+
+"Then--what did you think?  What--what--what would you have answered?"
+
+She broke into a peal of laughter.  Some of the juice ran off the tips of
+her fingers on to the carpet.
+
+"What?"
+
+"I?  Why, you did not ask me anything.  It was not for me to declare
+myself!"
+
+He then advanced a step toward her.
+
+"Tell me--tell me .  .  .  .  You remember the day when Sandres went to
+sleep on the grass after lunch .  .  .  when we had walked together as
+far as the bend of the river, below .  .  ."
+
+He waited, expectantly.  She had ceased to laugh, and looked at him,
+straight in the eyes.
+
+"Yes, certainly, I remember it."
+
+He answered, trembling all over:
+
+"Well--that day--if I had been--if I had been--venturesome--what would
+you have done?"
+
+She began to laugh as only a happy woman can laugh, who has nothing to
+regret, and responded frankly, in a clear voice tinged with irony:
+
+"I would have yielded, my friend."
+
+She then turned on her heels and went back to her jam-making.
+
+Saval rushed into the street, cast down, as though he had met with some
+disaster.  He walked with giant strides through the rain, straight on,
+until he reached the river bank, without thinking where he was going.
+He then turned to the right and followed the river.  He walked a long
+time, as if urged on by some instinct.  His clothes were running with
+water, his hat was out of shape, as soft as a rag, and dripping like a
+roof.  He walked on, straight in front of him.  At last, he came to the
+place where they had lunched on that day so long ago, the recollection of
+which tortured his heart.  He sat down under the leafless trees, and
+wept.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A SISTER'S CONFESSION
+
+Marguerite de Therelles was dying.  Although she was-only fifty-six years
+old she looked at least seventy-five.  She gasped for breath, her face
+whiter than the sheets, and had spasms of violent shivering, with her
+face convulsed and her eyes haggard as though she saw a frightful vision.
+
+Her elder sister, Suzanne, six years older than herself, was sobbing on
+her knees beside the bed.  A small table close to the dying woman's couch
+bore, on a white cloth, two lighted candles, for the priest was expected
+at any moment to administer extreme unction and the last communion.
+
+The apartment wore that melancholy aspect common to death chambers; a
+look of despairing farewell.  Medicine bottles littered the furniture;
+linen lay in the corners into which it had been kicked or swept.  The
+very chairs looked, in their disarray, as if they were terrified and had
+run in all directions.  Death--terrible Death--was in the room, hidden,
+awaiting his prey.
+
+This history of the two sisters was an affecting one.  It was spoken of
+far and wide; it had drawn tears from many eyes.
+
+Suzanne, the elder, had once been passionately loved by a young man,
+whose affection she returned.  They were engaged to be married, and the
+wedding day was at hand, when Henry de Sampierre suddenly died.
+
+The young girl's despair was terrible, and she took an oath never to
+marry.  She faithfully kept her vow and adopted widow's weeds for the
+remainder of her life.
+
+But one morning her sister, her little sister Marguerite, then only
+twelve years old, threw herself into Suzanne's arms, sobbing: "Sister, I
+don't want you to be unhappy.  I don't want you to mourn all your life.
+I'll never leave you--never, never, never!  I shall never marry, either.
+I'll stay with you always--always!"
+
+Suzanne kissed her, touched by the child's devotion, though not putting
+any faith in her promise.
+
+But the little one kept her word, and, despite her parents'
+remonstrances, despite her elder sister's prayers, never married.
+She was remarkably pretty and refused many offers.  She never left her
+sister.
+
+They spent their whole life together, without a single day's separation.
+They went everywhere together and were inseparable.  But Marguerite was
+pensive, melancholy, sadder than her sister, as if her sublime sacrifice
+had undermined her spirits.  She grew older more quickly; her hair was
+white at thirty; and she was often ill, apparently stricken with some
+unknown, wasting malady.
+
+And now she would be the first to die.
+
+She had not spoken for twenty-four hours, except to whisper at daybreak:
+
+"Send at once for the priest."
+
+And she had since remained lying on her back, convulsed with agony, her
+lips moving as if unable to utter the dreadful words that rose in her
+heart, her face expressive of a terror distressing to witness.
+
+Suzanne, distracted with grief, her brow pressed against the bed, wept
+bitterly, repeating over and over again the words:
+
+"Margot, my poor Margot, my little one!"
+
+She had always called her "my little one," while Marguerite's name for
+the elder was invariably "sister."
+
+A footstep sounded on the stairs.  The door opened.  An acolyte appeared,
+followed by the aged priest in his surplice.  As soon as she saw him the
+dying woman sat up suddenly in bed, opened her lips, stammered a few
+words and began to scratch the bed-clothes, as if she would have made
+hole in them.
+
+Father Simon approached, took her hand, kissed her on the forehead and
+said in a gentle voice:
+
+"May God pardon your sins, my daughter.  Be of good courage.  Now is the
+moment to confess them--speak!"
+
+Then Marguerite, shuddering from head to foot, so that the very bed shook
+with her nervous movements, gasped:
+
+"Sit down, sister, and listen."
+
+The priest stooped toward the prostrate Suzanne, raised her to her feet,
+placed her in a chair, and, taking a hand of each of the sisters,
+pronounced:
+
+"Lord God!  Send them strength!  Shed Thy mercy upon them."
+
+And Marguerite began to speak.  The words issued from her lips one by
+one--hoarse, jerky, tremulous.
+
+"Pardon, pardon, sister!  pardon me!  Oh, if only you knew how I have
+dreaded this moment all my life!"
+
+Suzanne faltered through her tears:
+
+"But what have I to pardon, little one?  You have given me everything,
+sacrificed all to me.  You are an angel."
+
+But Marguerite interrupted her:
+
+"Be silent, be silent!  Let me speak!  Don't stop me!  It is terrible.
+Let me tell all, to the very end, without interruption.  Listen.  You
+remember--you remember--Henry--"
+
+Suzanne trembled and looked at her sister.  The younger one went on:
+
+"In order to understand you must hear everything.  I was twelve years
+old--only twelve--you remember, don't you?  And I was spoilt; I did just
+as I pleased.  You remember how everybody spoilt me?  Listen.  The first
+time he came he had on his riding boots; he dismounted, saying that he
+had a message for father.  You remember, don't you?  Don't speak.
+Listen.  When I saw him I was struck with admiration.  I thought him so
+handsome, and I stayed in a corner of the drawing-room all the time he
+was talking.  Children are strange--and terrible.  Yes, indeed, I dreamt
+of him.
+
+"He came again--many times.  I looked at him with all my eyes, all my
+heart.  I was large for my age and much more precocious than--any one
+suspected.  He came often.  I thought only of him.  I often whispered to
+myself:
+
+"'Henry-Henry de Sampierre!'
+
+"Then I was told that he was going to marry you.  That was a blow!  Oh,
+sister, a terrible blow--terrible!  I wept all through three sleepless
+nights.
+
+He came every afternoon after lunch.  You remember, don't you?  Don't
+answer.  Listen.  You used to make cakes that he was very fond of--with
+flour, butter and milk.  Oh, I know how to make them.  I could make them
+still, if necessary.  He would swallow them at one mouthful and wash them
+down with a glass of wine, saying: 'Delicious!' Do you remember the way
+he said it?
+
+"I was jealous--jealous!  Your wedding day was drawing near.  It was only
+a fortnight distant.  I was distracted.  I said to myself: 'He shall not
+marry Suzanne--no, he shall not!  He shall marry me when I am old enough!
+I shall never love any one half so much.' But one evening, ten days
+before the wedding, you went for a stroll with him in the moonlight
+before the house--and yonder--under the pine tree, the big pine tree--he
+kissed you--kissed you--and held you in his arms so long--so long!  You
+remember, don't you?  It was probably the first time.  You were so pale
+when you carne back to the drawing-room!
+
+"I saw you.  I was there in the shrubbery.  I was mad with rage!  I would
+have killed you both if I could!
+
+"I said to myself: 'He shall never marry Suzanne--never!  He shall marry
+no one!  I could not bear it.'  And all at once I began to hate him
+intensely.
+
+"Then do you know what I did?  Listen.  I had seen the gardener prepare
+pellets for killing stray dogs.  He would crush a bottle into small
+pieces with a stone and put the ground glass into a ball of meat.
+
+"I stole a small medicine bottle from mother's room.  I ground it fine
+with a hammer and hid the glass in my pocket.  It was a glistening
+powder.  The next day, when you had made your little cakes; I opened them
+with a knife and inserted the glass.  He ate three.  I ate one myself.  I
+threw the six others into the pond.  The two swans died three days later.
+You remember?  Oh, don't speak!  Listen, listen.  I, I alone did not die.
+But I have always been ill.  Listen--he died--you know--listen--that was
+not the worst.  It was afterward, later--always--the most terrible--
+listen.
+
+"My life, all my life--such torture!  I said to myself: 'I will never
+leave my sister.  And on my deathbed I will tell her all.'  And now I
+have told.  And I have always thought of this moment--the moment when all
+would be told.  Now it has come.  It is terrible--oh!--sister--
+
+"I have always thought, morning and evening, day and night: 'I shall have
+to tell her some day!' I waited.  The horror of it!  It is done.  Say
+nothing.  Now I am afraid--I am afraid!  Oh!  Supposing I should see him
+again, by and by, when I am dead!  See him again!  Only to think of it!
+I dare not--yet I must.  I am going to die.  I want you to forgive me.
+I insist on it.  I cannot meet him without your forgiveness.  Oh, tell
+her to forgive me, Father!  Tell her.  I implore you!  I cannot die
+without it."
+
+She was silent and lay back, gasping for breath, still plucking at the
+sheets with her fingers.
+
+Suzanne had hidden her face in her hands and did not move.  She was
+thinking of him whom she had loved so long.  What a life of happiness
+they might have had together!  She saw him again in the dim and distant
+past-that past forever lost.  Beloved dead!  how the thought of them
+rends the heart!  Oh! that kiss, his only kiss!  She had retained the
+memory of it in her soul.  And, after that, nothing, nothing more
+throughout her whole existence!
+
+The priest rose suddenly and in a firm, compelling voice said:
+
+"Mademoiselle Suzanne, your sister is dying!"
+
+Then Suzanne, raising her tear-stained face, put her arms round her
+sister, and kissing her fervently, exclaimed:
+
+"I forgive you, I forgive you, little one!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+COCO
+
+Throughout the whole countryside the Lucas farn, was known as "the
+Manor."  No one knew why.  The peasants doubtless attached to this word,
+"Manor," a meaning of wealth and of splendor, for this farm was
+undoubtedly the largest, richest and the best managed in the whole
+neighborhood.
+
+The immense court, surrounded by five rows of magnificent trees, which
+sheltered the delicate apple trees from the harsh wind of the plain,
+inclosed in its confines long brick buildings used for storing fodder and
+grain, beautiful stables built of hard stone and made to accommodate
+thirty horses, and a red brick residence which looked like a little
+chateau.
+
+Thanks for the good care taken, the manure heaps were as little offensive
+as such things can be; the watch-dogs lived in kennels, and countless
+poultry paraded through the tall grass.
+
+Every day, at noon, fifteen persons, masters, farmhands and the women
+folks, seated themselves around the long kitchen table where the soup was
+brought in steaming in a large, blue-flowered bowl.
+
+The beasts-horses, cows, pigs and sheep-were fat, well fed and clean.
+Maitre Lucas, a tall man who was getting stout, would go round three
+times a day, overseeing everything and thinking of everything.
+
+A very old white horse, which the mistress wished to keep until its
+natural death, because she had brought it up and had always used it, and
+also because it recalled many happy memories, was housed, through sheer
+kindness of heart, at the end of the stable.
+
+A young scamp about fifteen years old, Isidore Duval by name, and called,
+for convenience, Zidore, took care of this pensioner, gave him his
+measure of oats and fodder in winter, and in summer was supposed to
+change his pasturing place four times a day, so that he might have plenty
+of fresh grass.
+
+The animal, almost crippled, lifted with difficulty his legs, large at
+the knees and swollen above the hoofs.  His coat, which was no longer
+curried, looked like white hair, and his long eyelashes gave to his eyes
+a sad expression.
+
+When Zidore took the animal to pasture, he had to pull on the rope with
+all his might, because it walked so slowly; and the youth, bent over and
+out of breath, would swear at it, exasperated at having to care for this
+old nag.
+
+The farmhands, noticing the young rascal's anger against Coco, were
+amused and would continually talk of the horse to Zidore, in order to
+exasperate him.  His comrades would make sport with him.  In the village
+he was called Coco-Zidore.
+
+The boy would fume, feeling an unholy desire to revenge himself on the
+horse.  He was a thin, long-legged, dirty child, with thick, coarse,
+bristly red hair.  He seemed only half-witted, and stuttered as though
+ideas were unable to form in his thick, brute-like mind.
+
+For a long time he had been unable to understand why Coco should be kept,
+indignant at seeing things wasted on this useless beast.  Since the horse
+could no longer work, it seemed to him unjust that he should be fed;
+he revolted at the idea of wasting oats, oats which were so expensive,
+on this paralyzed old plug.  And often, in spite of the orders of Maitre
+Lucas, he would economize on the nag's food, only giving him half
+measure.  Hatred grew in his confused, childlike mind, the hatred of a
+stingy, mean, fierce, brutal and cowardly peasant.
+
+When summer came he had to move the animal about in the pasture.  It was
+some distance away.  The rascal, angrier every morning, would start, with
+his dragging step, across the wheat fields.  The men working in the
+fields would shout to him, jokingly:
+
+"Hey, Zidore, remember me to Coco."
+
+He would not answer; but on the way he would break off a switch, and, as
+soon as he had moved the old horse, he would let it begin grazing; then,
+treacherously sneaking up behind it, he would slash its legs.  The animal
+would try to escape, to kick, to get away from the blows, and run around
+in a circle about its rope, as though it had been inclosed in a circus
+ring.  And the boy would slash away furiously, running along behind, his
+teeth clenched in anger.
+
+Then he would go away slowly, without turning round, while the horse
+watched him disappear, his ribs sticking out, panting as a result of his
+unusual exertions.  Not until the blue blouse of the young peasant was
+out of sight would he lower his thin white head to the grass.
+
+As the nights were now warm, Coco was allowed to sleep out of doors, in
+the field behind the little wood.  Zidore alone went to see him.
+The boy threw stones at him to amuse himself.  He would sit down on an
+embankment about ten feet away and would stay there about half an hour,
+from time to time throwing a sharp stone at the old horse, which remained
+standing tied before his enemy, watching him continually and not daring
+to eat before he was gone.
+
+This one thought persisted in the mind of the young scamp: "Why feed this
+horse, which is no longer good for anything?"  It seemed to him that this
+old nag was stealing the food of the others, the goods of man and God,
+that he was even robbing him, Zidore, who was working.
+
+Then, little by little, each day, the boy began to shorten the length of
+rope which allowed the horse to graze.
+
+The hungry animal was growing thinner, and starving.  Too feeble to break
+his bonds, he would stretch his head out toward the tall, green, tempting
+grass, so near that he could smell, and yet so far that he could not
+touch it.
+
+But one morning Zidore had an idea: it was, not to move Coco any more.
+He was tired of walking so far for that old skeleton. He came, however,
+in order to enjoy his vengeance.  The beast watched him anxiously.  He
+did not beat him that day.  He walked around him with his hands in his
+pockets.  He even pretended to change his place, but he sank the stake in
+exactly the same hole, and went away overjoyed with his invention.
+
+The horse, seeing him leave, neighed to call him back; but the rascal
+began to run, leaving him alone, entirely alone in his field, well tied
+down and without a blade of grass within reach.
+
+Starving, he tried to reach the grass which he could touch with the end
+of his nose.  He got on his knees, stretching out his neck and his long,
+drooling lips.  All in vain.  The old animal spent the whole day in
+useless, terrible efforts.  The sight of all that green food, which
+stretched out on all sides of him, served to increase the gnawing pangs
+of hunger.
+
+The scamp did not return that day.  He wandered through the woods in
+search of nests.
+
+The next day he appeared upon the scene again.  Coco, exhausted, had lain
+down.  When he saw the boy, he got up, expecting at last to have his
+place changed.
+
+But the little peasant did not even touch the mallet, which was lying on
+the ground.  He came nearer, looked at the animal, threw at his head a
+clump of earth which flattened out against the white hair, and he started
+off again, whistling.
+
+The horse remained standing as long as he could see him; then, knowing
+that his attempts to reach the near-by grass would be hopeless, he once
+more lay down on his side and closed his eyes.
+
+The following day Zidore did not come.
+
+When he did come at last, he found Coco still stretched out; he saw that
+he was dead.
+
+Then he remained standing, looking at him, pleased with what he had done,
+surprised that it should already be all over.  He touched him with his
+foot, lifted one of his legs and then let it drop, sat on him and
+remained there, his eyes fixed on the grass, thinking of nothing.  He
+returned to the farm, but did not mention the accident, because he wished
+to wander about at the hours when he used to change the horse's pasture.
+He went to see him the next day.  At his approach some crows flew away.
+Countless flies were walking over the body and were buzzing around it.
+When he returned home, he announced the event.  The animal was so old
+that nobody was surprised.  The master said to two of the men:
+
+"Take your shovels and dig a hole right where he is."
+
+The men buried the horse at the place where he had died of hunger.
+And the grass grew thick, green and vigorous, fed by the poor body.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+DEAD WOMAN'S SECRET
+
+The woman had died without pain, quietly, as a woman should whose life
+had been blameless.  Now she was resting in her bed, lying on her back,
+her eyes closed, her features calm, her long white hair carefully
+arranged as though she had done it up ten minutes before dying.  The
+whole pale countenance of the dead woman was so collected, so calm, so
+resigned that one could feel what a sweet soul had lived in that body,
+what a quiet existence this old soul had led, how easy and pure the death
+of this parent had been.
+
+Kneeling beside the bed, her son, a magistrate with inflexible
+principles, and her daughter, Marguerite, known as Sister Eulalie, were
+weeping as though their hearts would break.  She had, from childhood up,
+armed them with a strict moral code, teaching them religion, without
+weakness, and duty, without compromise.  He, the man, had become a judge
+and handled the law as a weapon with which he smote the weak ones without
+pity.  She, the girl, influenced by the virtue which had bathed her in
+this austere family, had become the bride of the Church through her
+loathing for man.
+
+They had hardly known their father, knowing only that he had made their
+mother most unhappy, without being told any other details.
+
+The nun was wildly-kissing the dead woman's hand, an ivory hand as white
+as the large crucifix lying across the bed.  On the other side of the
+long body the other hand seemed still to be holding the sheet in the
+death grasp; and the sheet had preserved the little creases as a memory
+of those last movements which precede eternal immobility.
+
+A few light taps on the door caused the two sobbing heads to look up, and
+the priest, who had just come from dinner, returned.  He was red and out
+of breath from his interrupted digestion, for he had made himself a
+strong mixture of coffee and brandy in order to combat the fatigue of the
+last few nights and of the wake which was beginning.
+
+He looked sad, with that assumed sadness of the priest for whom death is
+a bread winner.  He crossed himself and approaching with his professional
+gesture: "Well, my poor children!  I have come to help you pass these
+last sad hours."  But Sister Eulalie suddenly arose.  "Thank you,
+"father, but my brother and I prefer to remain alone with her.  This is
+our last chance to see her, and we wish to be together, all three of us,
+as we--we--used to be when we were small and our poor mo--mother----"
+
+Grief and tears stopped her; she could not continue.
+
+Once more serene, the priest bowed, thinking of his bed.  "As you wish,
+my children."  He kneeled, crossed himself, prayed, arose and went out
+quietly, murmuring: "She was a saint!"
+
+They remained alone, the dead woman and her children.  The ticking of the
+clock, hidden in the shadow, could be heard distinctly, and through the
+open window drifted in the sweet smell of hay and of woods, together with
+the soft moonlight.  No other noise could be heard over the land except
+the occasional croaking of the frog or the chirping of some belated
+insect.  An infinite peace, a divine melancholy, a silent serenity
+surrounded this dead woman, seemed to be breathed out from her and to
+appease nature itself.
+
+Then the judge, still kneeling, his head buried in the bed clothes, cried
+in a voice altered by grief and deadened by the sheets and blankets:
+"Mamma, mamma, mamma!"  And his sister, frantically striking her forehead
+against the woodwork, convulsed, twitching and trembling as in an
+epileptic fit, moaned: "Jesus, Jesus, mamma, Jesus!" And both of them,
+shaken by a storm of grief, gasped and choked.
+
+The crisis slowly calmed down and they began to weep quietly, just as on
+the sea when a calm follows a squall.
+
+A rather long time passed and they arose and looked at their dead.
+And the memories, those distant memories, yesterday so dear, to-day so
+torturing, came to their minds with all the little forgotten details,
+those little intimate familiar details which bring back to life the one
+who has left.  They recalled to each other circumstances, words, smiles,
+intonations of the mother who was no longer to speak to them.  They saw
+her again happy and calm.  They remembered things which she had said, and
+a little motion of the hand, like beating time, which she often used when
+emphasizing something important.
+
+And they loved her as they never had loved her before.  They measured the
+depth of their grief, and thus they discovered how lonely they would find
+themselves.
+
+It was their prop, their guide, their whole youth, all the best part of
+their lives which was disappearing.  It was their bond with life, their
+mother, their mamma, the connecting link with their forefathers which
+they would thenceforth miss.  They now became solitary, lonely beings;
+they could no longer look back.
+
+The nun said to her brother: "You remember how mamma used always to read
+her old letters; they are all there in that drawer.  Let us, in turn,
+read them; let us live her whole life through tonight beside her!  It
+would be like a road to the cross, like making the acquaintance of her
+mother, of our grandparents, whom we never knew, but whose letters are
+there and of whom she so often spoke, do you remember?"
+
+Out of the drawer they took about ten little packages of yellow paper,
+tied with care and arranged one beside the other.  They threw these
+relics on the bed and chose one of them on which the word "Father" was
+written.  They opened and read it.
+
+It was one of those old-fashioned letters which one finds in old family
+desk drawers, those epistles which smell of another century.  The first
+one started: "My dear," another one: "My beautiful little girl," others:
+"My dear child," or: "My dear (laughter."  And suddenly the nun began to
+read aloud, to read over to the dead woman her whole history, all her
+tender memories.  The judge, resting his elbow on the bed, was listening
+with his eyes fastened on his mother.  The motionless body seemed happy.
+
+Sister Eulalie, interrupting herself, said suddenly:
+
+"These ought to be put in the grave with her; they ought to be used as a
+shroud and she ought to be buried in it."  She took another package, on
+which no name was written.  She began to read in a firm voice: "My adored
+one, I love you wildly.  Since yesterday I have been suffering the
+tortures of the damned, haunted by our memory.  I feel your lips against
+mine, your eyes in mine, your breast against mine.  I love you, I love
+you!  You have driven me mad.  My arms open, I gasp, moved by a wild
+desire to hold you again.  My whole soul and body cries out for you,
+wants you.  I have kept in my mouth the taste of your kisses--"
+
+The judge had straightened himself up.  The nun stopped reading.  He
+snatched the letter from her and looked for the signature.  There was
+none, but only under the words, "The man who adores you," the name
+"Henry."  Their father's name was Rene.  Therefore this was not from him.
+The son then quickly rummaged through the package of letters, took one
+out and read: "I can no longer live without your caresses."  Standing
+erect, severe as when sitting on the bench, he looked unmoved at the dead
+woman.  The nun, straight as a statue, tears trembling in the corners of
+her eyes, was watching her brother, waiting.  Then he crossed the room
+slowly, went to the window and stood there, gazing out into the dark
+night.
+
+When he turned around again Sister Eulalie, her eyes dry now, was still
+standing near the bed, her head bent down.
+
+He stepped forward, quickly picked up the letters and threw them pell-
+mell back into the drawer.  Then he closed the curtains of the bed.
+
+When daylight made the candles on the table turn pale the son slowly left
+his armchair, and without looking again at the mother upon whom he had
+passed sentence, severing the tie that united her to son and daughter, he
+said slowly: "Let us now retire, sister."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A HUMBLE DRAMA
+
+Meetings that are unexpected constitute the charm of traveling.  Who has
+not experienced the joy of suddenly coming across a Parisian, a college
+friend, or a neighbor, five hundred miles from home?  Who has not passed
+a night awake in one of those small, rattling country stagecoaches, in
+regions where steam is still a thing unknown, beside a strange young
+woman, of whom one has caught only a glimpse in the dim light of the
+lantern, as she entered the carriage in front of a white house in some
+small country town?
+
+And the next morning, when one's head and ears feel numb with the
+continuous tinkling of the bells and the loud rattling of the windows,
+what a charming sensation it is to see your pretty neighbor open her
+eyes, startled, glance around her, arrange her rebellious hair with her
+slender fingers, adjust her hat, feel with sure hand whether her corset
+is still in place, her waist straight, and her skirt not too wrinkled.
+
+She glances at you coldly and curiously.  Then she leans back and no
+longer seems interested in anything but the country.
+
+In spite of yourself, you watch her; and in spite of yourself you keep on
+thinking of her.  Who is she?  Whence does she come?  Where is she going?
+In spite of yourself you spin a little romance around her.  She is
+pretty; she seems charming!  Happy he who .  .  .  Life might be
+delightful with her.  Who knows?  She is perhaps the woman of our dreams,
+the one suited to our disposition, the one for whom our heart calls.
+
+And how delicious even the disappointment at seeing her get out at the
+gate of a country house!  A man stands there, who is awaiting her, with
+two children and two maids.  He takes her in his arms and kisses as he
+lifts her out.  Then she stoops over the little ones, who hold up their
+hands to her; she kisses them tenderly; and then they all go away
+together, down a path, while the maids catch the packages which the
+driver throws down to them from the coach.
+
+Adieu!  It is all over.  You never will see her again!  Adieu to the
+young woman who has passed the night by your side.  You know her no more,
+you have not spoken to her; all the same, you feel a little sad to see
+her go.  Adieu!
+
+I have had many of these souvenirs of travel, some joyous and some sad.
+
+Once I was in Auvergne, tramping through those delightful French
+mountains, that are not too high, not too steep, but friendly and
+familiar.  I had climbed the Sancy, and entered a little inn, near a
+pilgrim's chapel called Notre-Dame de Vassiviere, when I saw a queer,
+ridiculous-looking old woman breakfasting alone at the end table.
+
+She was at least seventy years old, tall, skinny, and angular, and her
+white hair was puffed around her temples in the old-fashioned style.
+She was dressed like a traveling Englishwoman, in awkward, queer
+clothing, like a person who is indifferent to dress.  She was eating an
+omelet and drinking water.
+
+Her face was peculiar, with restless eyes and the expression of one with
+whom fate has dealt unkindly.  I watched her, in spite of myself,
+thinking: "Who is she?  What is the life of this woman?  Why is she
+wandering alone through these mountains?"
+
+She paid and rose to leave, drawing up over her shoulders an astonishing
+little shawl, the two ends of which hung over her arms.  From a corner of
+the room she took an alpenstock, which was covered with names traced with
+a hot iron; then she went out, straight, erect, with the long steps of a
+letter-carrier who is setting out on his route.
+
+A guide was waiting for her at the door, and both went away.  I watched
+them go down the valley, along the road marked by a line of high wooden
+crosses.  She was taller than her companion, and seemed to walk faster
+than he.
+
+Two hours later I was climbing the edge of the deep funnel that incloses
+Lake Pavin in a marvelous and enormous basin of verdure, full of trees,
+bushes, rocks, and flowers.  This lake is so round that it seems as if
+the outline had been drawn with a pair of compasses, so clear and blue
+that one might deem it a flood of azure come down from the sky, so
+charming that one would like to live in a but on the wooded slope which
+dominates this crater, where the cold, still water is sleeping.
+The Englishwoman was standing there like a statue, gazing upon the
+transparent sheet down in the dead volcano.  She was straining her eyes
+to penetrate below the surface down to the unknown depths, where
+monstrous trout which have devoured all the other fish are said to live.
+As I was passing close by her, it seemed to me that two big tears were
+brimming her eyes.  But she departed at a great pace, to rejoin her
+guide, who had stayed behind in an inn at the foot of the path leading to
+the lake.
+
+I did not see her again that day.
+
+The next day, at nightfall, I came to the chateau of Murol.  The old
+fortress, an enormous tower standing on a peak in the midst of a large
+valley, where three valleys intersect, rears its brown, uneven, cracked
+surface into the sky; it is round, from its large circular base to the
+crumbling turrets on its pinnacles.
+
+It astonishes the eye more than any other ruin by its simple mass, its
+majesty, its grave and imposing air of antiquity.  It stands there,
+alone, high as a mountain, a dead queen, but still the queen of the
+valleys stretched out beneath it.  You go up by a slope planted with
+firs, then you enter a narrow gate, and stop at the foot of the walls, in
+the first inclosure, in full view of the entire country.
+
+Inside there are ruined halls, crumbling stairways, unknown cavities,
+dungeons, walls cut through in the middle, vaulted roofs held up one
+knows not how, and a mass of stones and crevices, overgrown with grass,
+where animals glide in and out.
+
+I was exploring this ruin alone.
+
+Suddenly I perceived behind a bit of wall a being, a kind of phantom,
+like the spirit of this ancient and crumbling habitation.
+
+I was taken aback with surprise, almost with fear, when I recognized the
+old lady whom I had seen twice.
+
+She was weeping, with big tears in her eyes, and held her handkerchief in
+her hand.
+
+I turned around to go away, when she spoke to me, apparently ashamed to
+have been surprised in her grief.
+
+"Yes, monsieur, I am crying.  That does not happen often to me."
+
+"Pardon me, madame, for having disturbed you," I stammered, confused, not
+knowing what to say.  "Some misfortune has doubtless come to you."
+
+"Yes.  No--I am like a lost dog," she murmured, and began to sob, with
+her handkerchief over her eyes.
+
+Moved by these contagious tears, I took her hand, trying to calm her.
+Then brusquely she told me her history, as if no longer ably to bear her
+grief alone.
+
+"Oh! Oh!  Monsieur--if you knew--the sorrow in which I live--in what
+sorrow.
+
+"Once I was happy.  I have a house down there--a home.  I cannot go back
+to it any more; I shall never go back to it again, it is too hard to
+bear.
+
+"I have a son.  It is he! it is he!  Children don't know.  Oh, one has
+such a short time to live!  If I should see him now I should perhaps not
+recognize him.  How I loved him?  How I loved him!  Even before he was
+born, when I felt him move.  And after that!  How I have kissed and
+caressed and cherished him!  If you knew how many nights I have passed in
+watching him sleep, and how many in thinking of him.  I was crazy about
+him.  When he was eight years old his father sent him to boarding-school.
+That was the end.  He no longer belonged to me.  Oh, heavens!  He came to
+see me every Sunday.  That was all!
+
+"He went to college in Paris.  Then he came only four times a year, and
+every time I was astonished to see how he had changed, to find him taller
+without having seen him grow.  They stole his childhood from me, his
+confidence, and his love which otherwise would not have gone away from
+me; they stole my joy in seeing him grow, in seeing him become a little
+man.
+
+"I saw him four times a year.  Think of it!  And at every one of his
+visits his body, his eye, his movements, his voice his laugh, were no
+longer the same, were no longer mine.  All these things change so quickly
+in a child; and it is so sad if one is not there to see them change; one
+no longer recognizes him.
+
+"One year he came with down on his cheek!  He! my son!  I was dumfounded
+--would you believe it?  I hardly dared to kiss him.  Was it really he,
+my little, little curly head of old, my dear; dear child, whom I had held
+in his diapers or my knee, and who had nursed at my breast with his
+little greedy lips--was it he, this tall, brown boy, who no longer knew
+how to kiss me, who seemed to love me as a matter of duty, who called me
+'mother' for the sake of politeness, and who kissed me on the forehead,
+when I felt like crushing him in my arms?
+
+"My husband died.  Then my parents, and then my two sisters.  When Death
+enters a house it seems as if he were hurrying to do his utmost, so as
+not to have to return for a long time after that.  He spares only one or
+two to mourn the others.
+
+"I remained alone.  My tall son was then studying law.  I was hoping to
+live and die near him, and I went to him so that we could live together.
+But he had fallen into the ways of young men, and he gave me to
+understand that I was in his way.  So I left.  I was wrong in doing so,
+but I suffered too much in feeling myself in his way, I, his mother!  And
+I came back home.
+
+"I hardly ever saw him again.
+
+'He married.  What a joy!  At last we should be together for good.
+I should have grandchildren.  His wife was an Englishwoman, who took a
+dislike to me.  Why?  Perhaps she thought that I loved him too much.
+
+"Again I was obliged to go away.  And I was alone.  Yes, monsieur.
+
+"Then he went to England, to live with them, with his wife's parents.
+Do you understand?  They have him--they have my son for themselves.
+They have stolen him from me.  He writes to me once a month.  At first he
+came to see me.  But now he no longer comes.
+
+"It is now four years since I saw him last.  His face then was wrinkled
+and his hair white.  Was that possible?  This man, my son, almost an old
+man?  My little rosy child of old?  No doubt I shall never see him again.
+
+"And so I travel about all the year.  I go east and west, as you see,
+with no companion.
+
+"I am like a lost dog.  Adieu, monsieur!  don't stay here with me for it
+hurts me to have told you all this."
+
+I went down the hill, and on turning round to glance back, I saw the old
+woman standing on a broken wall, looking out upon the mountains, the long
+valley and Lake Chambon in the distance.
+
+And her skirt and the queer little shawl which she wore around her thin
+shoulders were fluttering tike a flag in the wind.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MADEMOISELLE COCOTTE
+
+We were just leaving the asylum when I saw a tall, thin man in a corner
+of the court who kept on calling an imaginary dog.  He was crying in a
+soft, tender voice: "Cocotte!  Come here, Cocotte, my beauty!" and
+slapping his thigh as one does when calling an animal.  I asked the
+physician, "Who is that man?" He answered: "Oh! he is not at all
+interesting.  He is a coachman named Francois, who became insane after
+drowning his dog."
+
+I insisted: "Tell me his story.  The most simple and humble things are
+sometimes those which touch our hearts most deeply."
+
+Here is this man's adventure, which was obtained from a friend of his, a
+groom:
+
+There was a family of rich bourgeois who lived in a suburb of Paris.
+They had a villa in the middle of a park, at the edge of the Seine.
+Their coachman was this Francois, a country fellow, somewhat dull, kind-
+hearted, simple and easy to deceive.
+
+One evening, as he was returning home, a dog began to follow him.  At
+first he paid no attention to it, but the creature's obstinacy at last
+made him turn round.  He looked to see if he knew this dog.  No, he had
+never seen it.  It was a female dog and frightfully thin.  She was
+trotting behind him with a mournful and famished look, her tail between
+her legs, her ears flattened against her head and stopping and starting
+whenever he did.
+
+He tried to chase this skeleton away and cried:
+
+"Run along!  Get out!  Kss! kss!" She retreated a few steps, then sat
+down and waited.  And when the coachman started to walk again she
+followed along behind him.
+
+He pretended to pick up some stones.  The animal ran a little farther
+away, but came back again as soon as the man's back was turned.
+
+Then the coachman Francois took pity on the beast and called her.  The
+dog approached timidly.  The man patted her protruding ribs, moved by the
+beast's misery, and he cried: "Come! come here!"  Immediately she began
+to wag her tail, and, feeling herself taken in, adopted, she began to run
+along ahead of her new master.
+
+He made her a bed on the straw in the stable, then he ran to the kitchen
+for some bread.  When she had eaten all she could she curled up and went
+to sleep.
+
+When his employers heard of this the next day they allowed the coachman
+to keep the animal.  It was a good beast, caressing and faithful,
+intelligent and gentle.
+
+Nevertheless Francois adored Cocotte, and he kept repeating: "That beast
+is human.  She only lacks speech."
+
+He had a magnificent red leather collar made for her which bore these
+words engraved on a copper plate: "Mademoiselle Cocotte, belonging to the
+coachman Francois."
+
+She was remarkably prolific and four times a year would give birth to a
+batch of little animals belonging to every variety of the canine race.
+Francois would pick out one which he would leave her and then he would
+unmercifully throw the others into the river.  But soon the cook joined
+her complaints to those of the gardener.  She would find dogs under the
+stove, in the ice box, in the coal bin, and they would steal everything
+they came across.
+
+Finally the master, tired of complaints, impatiently ordered Francois to
+get rid of Cocotte.  In despair the man tried to give her away.  Nobody
+wanted her.  Then he decided to lose her, and he gave her to a teamster,
+who was to drop her on the other side of Paris, near Joinville-le-Pont.
+
+Cocotte returned the same day.  Some decision had to be taken.  Five
+francs was given to a train conductor to take her to Havre.  He was to
+drop her there.
+
+Three days later she returned to the stable, thin, footsore and tired
+out.
+
+The master took pity on her and let her stay.  But other dogs were
+attracted as before, and one evening, when a big dinner party was on,
+a stuffed turkey was carried away by one of them right under the cook's
+nose, and she did not dare to stop him.
+
+This time the master completely lost his temper and said angrily to
+Francois: "If you don't throw this beast into the water before--to-morrow
+morning, I'll put you out, do you hear?"
+
+The man was dumbfounded, and he returned to his room to pack his trunk,
+preferring to leave the place.  Then he bethought himself that he could
+find no other situation as long as he dragged this animal about with him.
+He thought of his good position, where he was well paid and well fed, and
+he decided that a dog was really not worth all that.  At last he decided
+to rid himself of Cocotte at daybreak.
+
+He slept badly.  He rose at dawn, and taking a strong rope, went to get
+the dog.  She stood up slowly, shook herself, stretched and came to
+welcome her master.
+
+Then his courage forsook him, and he began to pet her affectionately,
+stroking her long ears, kissing her muzzle and calling her tender names.
+
+But a neighboring clock struck six.  He could no longer hesitate.
+He opened the door, calling: "Come!" The beast wagged her tail,
+understanding that she was to be taken out.
+
+They reached the beach, and he chose a place where the water seemed deep.
+Then he knotted the rope round the leather collar and tied a heavy stone
+to the other end.  He seized Cocotte in his arms and kissed her madly, as
+though he were taking leave of some human being.  He held her to his
+breast, rocked her and called her "my dear little Cocotte, my sweet
+little Cocotte," and she grunted with pleasure.
+
+Ten times he tried to throw her into the water and each time he lost
+courage.
+
+But suddenly he made up his mind and threw her as far from him as he
+could.  At first she tried to swim, as she did when he gave her a bath,
+but her head, dragged down by the stone, kept going under, and she looked
+at her master with wild, human glances as she struggled like a drowning
+person.  Then the front part of her body sank, while her hind legs waved
+wildly out of the water.  Finally those also disappeared.
+
+Then, for five minutes, bubbles rose to the surface as though the river
+were boiling, and Francois, haggard, his heart beating, thought that he
+saw Cocotte struggling in the mud, and, with the simplicity of a peasant,
+he kept saying to himself: "What does the poor beast think of me now?"
+
+He almost lost his mind.  He was ill for a month and every night he
+dreamed of his dog.  He could feel her licking his hands and hear her
+barking.  It was necessary to call in a physician.  At last he recovered,
+and toward the 2nd of June his employers took him to their estate at
+Biesard, near Rouen.
+
+There again he was near the Seine.  He began to take baths.  Each morning
+he would go down with the groom and they would swim across the river.
+
+One day, as they were disporting themselves in the water, Francois
+suddenly cried to his companion: "Look what's coming!  I'm going to give
+you a chop!"
+
+It was an enormous, swollen corpse that was floating down with its feet
+sticking straight up in the air.
+
+Francois swam up to it, still joking: "Whew! it's not fresh.  What a
+catch, old man!  It isn't thin, either!" He kept swimming about at a
+distance from the animal that was in a state of decomposition.  Then,
+suddenly, he was silent and looked at it: attentively.  This time he came
+near enough to touch, it.  He looked fixedly at the collar, then he
+stretched out his arm, seized the neck, swung the corpse round and drew
+it up close to him and read on the copper which had turned green and
+which still stuck to the discolored leather: "Mademoiselle Cocotte,
+belonging to the coachman Francois."
+
+The dead dog had come more than a hundred miles to find its master.
+
+He let out a frightful shriek and began to swim for the beach with all
+his might, still howling; and as soon as he touched land he ran away
+wildly, stark naked, through the country.  He was insane!
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE CORSICAN BANDIT
+
+The road ascended gently through the forest of Aitone.  The large pines
+formed a solemn dome above our heads, and that mysterious sound made by
+the wind in the trees sounded like the notes of an organ.
+
+After walking for three hours, there was a clearing, and then at
+intervals an enormous pine umbrella, and then we suddenly came to the
+edge of the forest, some hundred meters below, the pass leading to the
+wild valley of Niolo.
+
+On the two projecting heights which commanded a view of this pass, some
+old trees, grotesquely twisted, seemed to have mounted with painful
+efforts, like scouts sent in advance of the multitude in the rear.  When
+we turned round, we saw the entire forest stretched beneath our feet,
+like a gigantic basin of verdure, inclosed by bare rocks whose summits
+seemed to reach the sky.
+
+We resumed our walk, and, ten minutes later, found ourselves in the pass.
+
+Then I beheld a remarkable landscape.  Beyond another forest stretched a
+valley, but a valley such as I had never seen before; a solitude of
+stone, ten leagues long, hollowed out between two high mountains, without
+a field or a tree to be seen.  This was the Niolo valley, the fatherland
+of Corsican liberty, the inaccessible citadel, from which the invaders
+had never been able to drive out the mountaineers.
+
+My companion said to me: "This is where all our bandits have taken
+refuge?"
+
+Ere long we were at the further end of this gorge, so wild, so
+inconceivably beautiful.
+
+Not a blade of grass, not a plant-nothing but granite.  As far as our
+eyes could reach, we saw in front of us a desert of glittering stone,
+heated like an oven by a burning sun, which seemed to hang for that very
+purpose right above the gorge.  When we raised our eyes towards the
+crests, we stood dazzled and stupefied by what we saw.  They looked like
+a festoon of coral; all the summits are of porphyry; and the sky overhead
+was violet, purple, tinged with the coloring of these strange mountains.
+Lower down, the granite was of scintillating gray, and seemed ground to
+powder beneath our feet.  At our right, along a long and irregular
+course, roared a tumultuous torrent.  And we staggered along under this
+heat, in this light, in this burning, arid, desolate valley cut by this
+torrent of turbulent water which seemed to be ever hurrying onward,
+without fertilizing the rocks, lost in this furnace which greedily drank
+it up without being saturated or refreshed by it.
+
+But, suddenly, there was visible at our right a little wooden cross sunk
+in a little heap of stones.  A man had been killed there; and I said to
+my companion.
+
+"Tell me about your bandits."
+
+He replied:
+
+"I knew the most celebrated of them, the terrible St. Lucia.  I will tell
+you his history.
+
+"His father was killed in a quarrel by a young man of the district, it is
+said; and St. Lucia was left alone with his sister.  He was a weak, timid
+youth, small, often ill, without any energy.  He did not proclaim
+vengeance against the assassin of his father.  All his relatives came to
+see him, and implored of him to avenge his death; he remained deaf to
+their menaces and their supplications.
+
+"Then, following the old Corsican custom, his sister, in her indignation
+carried away his black clothes, in order that he might not wear mourning
+for a dead man who had not been avenged.  He was insensible to even this
+affront, and rather than take down from the rack his father's gun, which
+was still loaded, he shut himself up, not daring to brave the looks of
+the young men of the district.
+
+"He seemed to have even forgotten the crime, and lived with his sister in
+the seclusion of their dwelling.
+
+But, one day, the man who was suspected of having committed the murder,
+was about to get married.  St. Lucia did not appear to be moved by this
+news, but, out of sheer bravado, doubtless, the bridegroom, on his way to
+the church, passed before the house of the two orphans.
+
+"The brother and the sister, at their window, were eating frijoles, when
+the young man saw the bridal procession going by.  Suddenly he began to
+tremble, rose to his feet without uttering a word, made the sign of the
+cross, took the gun which was hanging over the fireplace, and went out.
+
+"When he spoke of this later on, he said: 'I don't know what was the
+matter with me; it was like fire in my blood; I felt that I must do it,
+that, in spite of everything, I could not resist, and I concealed the gun
+in a cave on the road to Corte.
+
+"An hour later, he came back, with nothing in his hand, and with his
+habitual air of sad weariness.  His sister believed that there was
+nothing further in his thoughts.
+
+But when night fell he disappeared.
+
+"His enemy had, the same evening, to repair to Corte on foot, accompanied
+by his two groomsmen.
+
+"He was walking along, singing as he went, when St. Lucia stood before
+him, and looking straight in the murderer's face, exclaimed: 'Now is the
+time!' and shot him point-blank in the chest.
+
+"One of the men fled; the other stared at, the young man, saying:
+
+"'What have you done, St. Lucia?' and he was about to hasten to Corte for
+help, when St. Lucia said in a stern tone:
+
+"'If you move another step, I'll shoot you in the leg.'
+
+"The other, aware of his timidity hitherto, replied: 'You would not dare
+to do it!' and was hurrying off when he fell instantaneously, his thigh
+shattered by a bullet.
+
+"And St. Lucia, coming over to where he lay, said:
+
+"'I am going to look at your wound; if it is not serious, I'll leave you
+there; if it is mortal I'll finish you off."
+
+"He inspected the wound, considered it mortal, and slowly reloading his
+gun, told the wounded man to say a prayer, and shot him through the head.
+
+"Next day he was in the mountains.
+
+"And do you know what this St. Lucia did after this?
+
+"All his family were arrested by the gendarmes.  His uncle, the cure, who
+was suspected of having incited him to this deed of vengeance, was
+himself put in prison, and accused by the dead man's relatives.  But he
+escaped, took a gun in his turn, and went to join his nephew in the
+brush.
+
+"Next, St. Lucia killed, one after the other, his uncle's accusers, and
+tore out their eyes to teach the others never to state what they had seen
+with their eyes.
+
+"He killed all the relatives, all the connections of his enemy's family.
+He slew during his life fourteen gendarmes, burned down the houses of his
+adversaries, and was, up to the day of his death, the most terrible of
+all the bandits whose memory we have preserved."
+
+The sun disappeared behind Monte Cinto and the tall shadow of the granite
+mountain went to sleep on the granite of the valley.  We quickened our
+pace in order to reach before night the little village of Albertaccio,
+nothing but a pile of stones welded into the stone flanks of a wild
+gorge.  And I said as I thought of the bandit:
+
+"What a terrible custom your vendetta is!"
+
+My companion answered with an air of resignation:
+
+"What would you have?  A man must do his duty!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE GRAVE
+
+The seventeenth of July, one thousand eight hundred and eighty-three, at
+half-past two in the morning, the watchman in the cemetery of Besiers,
+who lived in a small cottage on the edge of this field of the dead, was
+awakened by the barking of his dog, which was shut up in the kitchen.
+
+Going down quickly, he saw the animal sniffing at the crack of the door
+and barking furiously, as if some tramp had been sneaking about the
+house.  The keeper, Vincent, therefore took his gun and went out.
+
+His dog, preceding him, at once ran in the direction of the Avenue
+General Bonnet, stopping short at the monument of Madame Tomoiseau.
+
+The keeper, advancing cautiously, soon saw a faint light on the side of
+the Avenue Malenvers, and stealing in among the graves, he came upon a
+horrible act of profanation.
+
+A man had dug up the coffin of a young woman who had been buried the
+evening before and was dragging the corpse out of it.
+
+A small dark lantern, standing on a pile of earth, lighted up this
+hideous scene.
+
+Vincent sprang upon the wretch, threw him to the ground, bound his hands
+and took him to the police station.
+
+It was a young, wealthy and respected lawyer in town, named Courbataille.
+
+He was brought into court.  The public prosecutor opened the case by
+referring to the monstrous deeds of the Sergeant Bertrand.
+
+A wave of indignation swept over the courtroom.  When the magistrate sat
+down the crowd assembled cried: "Death!  death!" With difficulty the
+presiding judge established silence.
+
+Then he said gravely:
+
+"Defendant, what have you to say in your defense?"
+
+Courbataille, who had refused counsel, rose.  He was a handsome fellow,
+tall, brown, with a frank face, energetic manner and a fearless eye.
+
+Paying no attention to the whistlings in the room, he began to speak in a
+voice that was low and veiled at first, but that grew more firm as he
+proceeded.
+
+"Monsieur le President, gentlemen of the jury: I have very little to say.
+The woman whose grave I violated was my sweetheart.  I loved her.
+
+"I loved her, not with a sensual love and not with mere tenderness of
+heart and soul, but with an absolute, complete love, with an overpowering
+passion.
+
+"Hear me:
+
+"When I met her for the first time I felt a strange sensation.  It was
+not astonishment nor admiration, nor yet that which is called love at
+first sight, but a feeling of delicious well-being, as if I had been
+plunged into a warm bath.  Her gestures seduced me, her voice enchanted
+me, and it was with infinite pleasure that I looked upon her person.
+It seemed to me as if I had seen her before and as if I had known her a
+long time.  She had within her something of my spirit.
+
+"She seemed to me like an answer to a cry uttered by my soul, to that
+vague and unceasing cry with which we call upon Hope during our whole
+life.
+
+"When I knew her a little better, the mere thought of seeing her again
+filled me with exquisite and profound uneasiness; the touch of her hand
+in mine was more delightful to me than anything that I had imagined; her
+smile filled me with a mad joy, with the desire to run, to dance, to
+fling myself upon the ground.
+
+"So we became lovers.
+
+"Yes, more than that: she was my very life.  I looked for nothing further
+on earth, and had no further desires.  I longed for nothing further.
+
+"One evening, when we had gone on a somewhat long walk by the river, we
+were overtaken by the rain, and she caught cold.  It developed into
+pneumonia the next day, and a week later she was dead.
+
+"During the hours of her suffering astonishment and consternation
+prevented my understanding and reflecting upon it, but when she was dead
+I was so overwhelmed by blank despair that I had no thoughts left.
+I wept.
+
+"During all the horrible details of the interment my keen and wild grief
+was like a madness, a kind of sensual, physical grief.
+
+"Then when she was gone, when she was under the earth, my mind at once
+found itself again, and I passed through a series of moral sufferings so
+terrible that even the love she had vouchsafed to me was dear at that
+price.
+
+"Then the fixed idea came to me: I shall not see her again.
+
+"When one dwells on this thought for a whole day one feels as if he were
+going mad.  Just think of it!  There is a woman whom you adore, a unique
+woman, for in the whole universe there is not a second one like her.
+This woman has given herself to you and has created with you the
+mysterious union that is called Love.  Her eye seems to you more vast
+than space, more charming than the world, that clear eye smiling with her
+tenderness.  This woman loves you.  When she speaks to you her voice
+floods you with joy.
+
+"And suddenly she disappears!  Think of it!  She disappears, not only for
+you, but forever.  She is dead.  Do you understand what that means?
+Never, never, never, not anywhere will she exist any more.  Nevermore
+will that eye look upon anything again; nevermore will that voice, nor
+any voice like it, utter a word in the same way as she uttered it.
+
+"Nevermore will a face be born that is like hers.  Never, never!  The
+molds of statues are kept; casts are kept by which one can make objects
+with the same outlines and forms.  But that one body and that one face
+will never more be born again upon the earth.  And yet millions and
+millions of creatures will be born, and more than that, and this one
+woman will not reappear among all the women of the future.  Is it
+possible?  It drives one mad to think of it.
+
+"She lived for twenty-years, not more, and she has disappeared forever,
+forever, forever!  She thought, she smiled, she loved me.  And now
+nothing!  The flies that die in the autumn are as much as we are in this
+world.  And now nothing!  And I thought that her body, her fresh body, so
+warm, so sweet, so white, so lovely, would rot down there in that box
+under the earth.  And her soul, her thought, her love--where is it?
+
+"Not to see her again!  The idea of this decomposing body, that I might
+yet recognize, haunted me.  I wanted to look at it once more.
+
+"I went out with a spade, a lantern and a hammer; I jumped over the
+cemetery wall and I found the grave, which had not yet been closed
+entirely; I uncovered the coffin and took up a board.  An abominable
+odor, the stench of putrefaction, greeted my nostrils.  Oh, her bed
+perfumed with orris!
+
+"Yet I opened the coffin, and, holding my lighted lantern down into it I
+saw her.  Her face was blue, swollen, frightful.  A black liquid had
+oozed out of her mouth.
+
+"She!  That was she!  Horror seized me.  But I stretched out my arm to
+draw this monstrous face toward me.  And then I was caught.
+
+"All night I have retained the foul odor of this putrid body, the odor of
+my well beloved, as one retains the perfume of a woman after a love
+embrace.
+
+"Do with me what you will."
+
+A strange silence seemed to oppress the room.  They seemed to be waiting
+for something more.  The jury retired to deliberate.
+
+When they came back a few minutes later the accused showed no fear and
+did not even seem to think.
+
+The president announced with the usual formalities that his judges
+declared him to be not guilty.
+
+He did not move and the room applauded.
+
+     The Grave appeared in Gil Blas, July 29, 1883, under the signature
+     of "Maufrigneuse."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+     VOLUME XIII.
+
+OLD JUDAS
+THE LITTLE CASK
+BOITELLE
+A WIDOW
+THE ENGLISHMEN OF ETRETAT
+MAGNETISM
+A FATHERS CONFESSION
+A MOTHER OF MONSTERS
+AN UNCOMFORTABLE BED
+A PORTRAIT
+THE DRUNKARD
+THE WARDROBE
+THE MOUNTAIN POOL
+A CREMATION
+MISTI
+MADAME HERMET
+THE MAGIC COUCH
+
+
+
+
+OLD JUDAS
+
+This entire stretch of country was amazing; it was characterized by a
+grandeur that was almost religious, and yet it had an air of sinister
+desolation.
+
+A great, wild lake, filled with stagnant, black water, in which thousands
+of reeds were waving to and fro, lay in the midst of a vast circle of
+naked hills, where nothing grew but broom, or here and there an oak
+curiously twisted by the wind.
+
+Just one house stood on the banks of that dark lake, a small, low house
+inhabited by Uncle Joseph, an old boatman, who lived on what he could
+make by his fishing.  Once a week he carried the fish he caught into the
+surrounding villages, returning with the few provisions that he needed
+for his sustenance.
+
+I went to see this old hermit, who offered to take me with him to his
+nets, and I accepted.
+
+His boat was old, worm-eaten and clumsy, and the skinny old man rowed
+with a gentle and monotonous stroke that was soothing to the soul,
+already oppressed by the sadness of the land round about.
+
+It seemed to me as if I were transported to olden times, in the midst of
+that ancient country, in that primitive boat, which was propelled by a
+man of another age.
+
+He took up his nets and threw the fish into the bottom of the boat, as
+the fishermen of the Bible might have done.  Then he took me down to the
+end of the lake, where I suddenly perceived a ruin on the other side of
+the bank a dilapidated hut, with an enormous red cross on the wall that
+looked as if it might have been traced with blood, as it gleamed in the
+last rays of the setting sun.
+
+"What is that?" I asked.
+
+"That is where Judas died," the man replied, crossing himself.
+
+I was not surprised, being almost prepared for this strange answer.
+
+Still I asked:
+
+"Judas?  What Judas?"
+
+"The Wandering Jew, monsieur," he added.
+
+I asked him to tell me this legend.
+
+But it was better than a legend, being a true story, and quite a recent
+one, since Uncle Joseph had known the man.
+
+This hut had formerly been occupied by a large woman, a kind of beggar,
+who lived on public charity.
+
+Uncle Joseph did not remember from whom she had this hut.  One evening an
+old man with a white beard, who seemed to be at least two hundred years
+old, and who could hardly drag himself along, asked alms of this forlorn
+woman, as he passed her dwelling.
+
+"Sit down, father," she replied; "everything here belongs to all the
+world, since it comes from all the world."
+
+He sat down on a stone before the door.  He shared the woman's bread, her
+bed of leaves, and her house.
+
+He did not leave her again, for he had come to the end of his travels.
+
+"It was Our Lady the Virgin who permitted this, monsieur," Joseph added,
+"it being a woman who had opened her door to a Judas, for this old
+vagabond was the Wandering Jew.  It was not known at first in the
+country, but the people suspected it very soon, because he was always
+walking; it had become a sort of second nature to him."
+
+And suspicion had been aroused by still another thing.  This woman, who
+kept that stranger with her, was thought to be a Jewess, for no one had
+ever seen her at church.  For ten miles around no one ever called her
+anything else but the Jewess.
+
+When the little country children saw her come to beg they cried out:
+"Mamma, mamma, here is the Jewess!"
+
+The old man and she began to go out together into the neighboring
+districts, holding out their hands at all the doors, stammering
+supplications into the ears of all the passers.  They could be seen at
+all hours of the day, on by-paths, in the villages, or again eating
+bread, sitting in the noon heat under the shadow of some solitary tree.
+And the country people began to call the beggar Old Judas.
+
+One day he brought home in his sack two little live pigs, which a farmer
+had given him after he had cured the farmer of some sickness.
+
+Soon he stopped begging, and devoted himself entirely to his pigs.
+He took them out to feed by the lake, or under isolated oaks, or in the
+near-by valleys.  The woman, however, went about all day begging, but she
+always came back to him in the evening.
+
+He also did not go to church, and no one ever had seen him cross himself
+before the wayside crucifixes.  All this gave rise to much gossip:
+
+One night his companion was attacked by a fever and began to tremble like
+a leaf in the wind.  He went to the nearest town to get some medicine,
+and then he shut himself up with her, and was not seen for six days.
+
+The priest, having heard that the "Jewess" was about to die, came to
+offer the consolation of his religion and administer the last sacrament.
+Was she a Jewess?  He did not know.  But in any case, he wished to try to
+save her soul.
+
+Hardly had he knocked at the door when old Judas appeared on the
+threshold, breathing hard, his eyes aflame, his long beard agitated,
+like rippling water, and he hurled blasphemies in an unknown language,
+extending his skinny arms in order to prevent the priest from entering.
+
+The priest attempted to speak, offered his purse and his aid, but the old
+man kept on abusing him, making gestures with his hands as if throwing;
+stones at him.
+
+Then the priest retired, followed by the curses of the beggar.
+
+The companion of old Judas died the following day.  He buried her
+himself, in front of her door.  They were people of so little account
+that no one took any interest in them.
+
+Then they saw the man take his pigs out again to the lake and up the
+hillsides.  And he also began begging again to get food.  But the people
+gave him hardly anything, as there was so much gossip about him.  Every
+one knew, moreover, how he had treated the priest.
+
+Then he disappeared.  That was during Holy Week, but no one paid any
+attention to him.
+
+But on Easter Sunday the boys and girls who had gone walking out to the
+lake heard a great noise in the hut.  The door was locked; but the boys
+broke it in, and the two pigs ran out, jumping like gnats.  No one ever
+saw them again.
+
+The whole crowd went in; they saw some old rags on the floor, the
+beggar's hat, some bones, clots of dried blood and bits of flesh in the
+hollows of the skull.
+
+His pigs had devoured him.
+
+"This happened on Good Friday, monsieur."  Joseph concluded his story,
+"three hours after noon."
+
+"How do you know that?" I asked him.
+
+"There is no doubt about that," he replied.
+
+I did not attempt to make him understand that it could easily happen that
+the famished animals had eaten their master, after he had died suddenly
+in his hut.
+
+As for the cross on the wall, it had appeared one morning, and no one
+knew what hand traced it in that strange color.
+
+Since then no one doubted any longer that the Wandering Jew had died on
+this spot.
+
+I myself believed it for one hour.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE CASK
+
+He was a tall man of forty or thereabout, this Jules Chicot, the
+innkeeper of Spreville, with a red face and a round stomach, and said by
+those who knew him to be a smart business man.  He stopped his buggy in
+front of Mother Magloire's farmhouse, and, hitching the horse to the
+gatepost, went in at the gate.
+
+Chicot owned some land adjoining that of the old woman, which he had been
+coveting for a long while, and had tried in vain to buy a score of times,
+but she had always obstinately refused to part with it.
+
+"I was born here, and here I mean to die," was all she said.
+
+He found her peeling potatoes outside the farmhouse door.  She was a
+woman of about seventy-two, very thin, shriveled and wrinkled, almost
+dried up in fact and much bent but as active and untiring as a girl.
+Chicot patted her on the back in a friendly fashion and then sat down by
+her on a stool.
+
+"Well mother, you are always pretty well and hearty, I am glad to see."
+
+"Nothing to complain of, considering, thank you.  And how are you,
+Monsieur Chicot?"
+
+"Oh, pretty well, thank you, except a few rheumatic pains occasionally;
+otherwise I have nothing to complain of."
+
+"So much the better."
+
+And she said no more, while Chicot watched her going on with her work.
+Her crooked, knotted fingers, hard as a lobster's claws, seized the
+tubers, which were lying in a pail, as if they had been a pair of
+pincers, and she peeled them rapidly, cutting off long strips of skin
+with an old knife which she held in the other hand, throwing the potatoes
+into the water as they were done.  Three daring fowls jumped one after
+the other into her lap, seized a bit of peel and then ran away as fast as
+their legs would carry them with it in their beak.
+
+Chicot seemed embarrassed, anxious, with something on the tip of his
+tongue which he could not say.  At last he said hurriedly:
+
+"Listen, Mother Magloire--"
+
+"Well, what is it?"
+
+"You are quite sure that you do not want to sell your land?"
+
+"Certainly not; you may make up your mind to that.  What I have said I
+have said, so don't refer to it again."
+
+"Very well; only I think I know of an arrangement that might suit us both
+very well."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Just this.  You shall sell it to me and keep it all the same.  You don't
+understand?  Very well, then follow me in what I am going to say."
+
+The old woman left off peeling potatoes and looked at the innkeeper
+attentively from under her heavy eyebrows, and he went on:
+
+"Let me explain myself.  Every month I will give you a hundred and fifty
+francs.  You understand me! suppose!  Every month I will come and bring
+you thirty crowns,  and it will not make the slightest difference in your
+life--not the very slightest.  You will have your own home just as you
+have now, need not trouble yourself about me, and will owe me nothing;
+all you will have to do will be to take my money.  Will that arrangement
+suit you?"
+
+He looked at her good-humoredly, one might almost have said benevolently,
+and the old woman returned his looks distrustfully, as if she suspected a
+trap, and said:
+
+"It seems all right as far as I am concerned, but it will not give you
+the farm."
+
+"Never mind about that," he said; "you may remain here as long as it
+pleases God Almighty to let you live; it will be your home.  Only you
+will sign a deed before a lawyer making it over to me; after your death.
+You have no children, only nephews and nieces for whom you don't care a
+straw.  Will that suit you?  You will keep everything during your life,
+and I will give you the thirty crowns a month.  It is pure gain as far as
+you are concerned."
+
+The old woman was surprised, rather uneasy, but, nevertheless, very much
+tempted to agree, and answered:
+
+"I don't say that I will not agree to it, but I must think about it.
+Come back in a week, and we will talk it over again, and I will then give
+you my definite answer."
+
+And Chicot went off as happy as a king who had conquered an empire.
+
+Mother Magloire was thoughtful, and did not sleep at all that night; in
+fact, for four days she was in a fever of hesitation.  She suspected that
+there was something underneath the offer which was not to her advantage;
+but then the thought of thirty crowns a month, of all those coins
+clinking in her apron, falling to her, as it were, from the skies,
+without her doing anything for it, aroused her covetousness.
+
+She went to the notary and told him about it.  He advised her to accept
+Chicot's offer, but said she ought to ask for an annuity of fifty instead
+of thirty, as her farm was worth sixty thousand francs at the lowest
+calculation.
+
+"If you live for fifteen years longer," he said, "even then he will only
+have paid forty-five thousand francs for it."
+
+The old woman trembled with joy at this prospect of getting fifty crowns
+a month, but she was still suspicious, fearing some trick, and she
+remained a long time with the lawyer asking questions without being able
+to make up her mind to go.  At last she gave him instructions to draw up
+the deed and returned home with her head in a whirl, just as if she had
+drunk four jugs of new cider.
+
+When Chicot came again to receive her answer she declared, after a lot of
+persuading, that she could not make up her mind to agree to his proposal,
+though she was all the time trembling lest he should not consent to give
+the fifty crowns, but at last, when he grew urgent, she told him what she
+expected for her farm.
+
+He looked surprised and disappointed and refused.
+
+Then, in order to convince him, she began to talk about the probable
+duration of her life.
+
+"I am certainly not likely to live more than five or six years longer.
+I am nearly seventy-three, and far from strong, even considering my age.
+The other evening I thought I was going to die, and could hardly manage
+to crawl into bed."
+
+But Chicot was not going to be taken in.
+
+"Come, come, old lady, you are as strong as the church tower, and will
+live till you are a hundred at least; you will no doubt see me put under
+ground first."
+
+The whole day was spent in discussing the money, and as the old woman
+would not give in, the innkeeper consented to give the fifty crowns, and
+she insisted upon having ten crowns over and above to strike the bargain.
+
+Three years passed and the old dame did not seem to have grown a day
+older.  Chicot was in despair, and it seemed to him as if he had been
+paying that annuity for fifty years, that he had been taken in, done,
+ruined.  From time to time he went to see the old lady, just as one goes
+in July to see when the harvest is likely to begin.  She always met him
+with a cunning look, and one might have supposed that she was
+congratulating herself on the trick she had played him.  Seeing how well
+and hearty she seemed he very soon got into his buggy again, growling to
+himself:
+
+"Will you never die, you old hag?"
+
+He did not know what to do, and he felt inclined to strangle her when he
+saw her.  He hated her with a ferocious, cunning hatred, the hatred of a
+peasant who has been robbed, and began to cast about for some means of
+getting rid of her.
+
+One day he came to see her again, rubbing his hands as he did the first
+time he proposed the bargain, and, after having chatted for a few
+minutes, he said:
+
+"Why do you never come and have a bit of dinner at my place when you are
+in Spreville?  The people are talking about it, and saying we are not on
+friendly terms, and that pains me.  You know it will cost you nothing if
+you come, for I don't look at the price of a dinner.  Come whenever you
+feel inclined; I shall be very glad to see you."
+
+Old Mother Magloire did not need to be asked twice, and the next day but
+one, as she had to go to the town in any case, it being market day, she
+let her man drive her to Chicot's place, where the buggy was put in the
+barn while she went into the house to get her dinner.
+
+The innkeeper was delighted and treated her like a lady, giving her roast
+fowl, black pudding, leg of mutton and bacon and cabbage.  But she ate
+next to nothing.  She had always been a small eater, and had generally
+lived on a little soup and a crust of bread and butter.
+
+Chicot was disappointed and pressed her to eat more, but she refused, and
+she would drink little, and declined coffee, so he asked her:
+
+"But surely you will take a little drop of brandy or liqueur?"
+
+"Well, as to that, I don't know that I will refuse."  Whereupon he
+shouted out:
+
+"Rosalie, bring the superfine brandy--the special--you know."
+
+The servant appeared, carrying a long bottle ornamented with a paper
+vine-leaf, and he filled two liqueur glasses.
+
+"Just try that; you will find it first rate."
+
+The good woman drank it slowly in sips, so as to make the pleasure last
+all the longer, and when she had finished her glass, she said:
+
+"Yes, that is first rate!"
+
+Almost before she had said it Chicot had poured her out another glassful.
+She wished to refuse, but it was too late, and she drank it very slowly,
+as she had done the first, and he asked her to have a third.  She
+objected, but he persisted.
+
+"It is as mild as milk, you know; I can drink ten or a dozen glasses
+without any ill effects; it goes down like sugar and does not go to the
+head; one would think that it evaporated on the tongue: It is the most
+wholesome thing you can drink."
+
+She took it, for she really enjoyed it, but she left half the glass.
+
+Then Chicot, in an excess of generosity, said:
+
+"Look here, as it is so much to your taste, I will give you a small keg
+of it, just to show that you and I are still excellent friends."  So she
+took one away with her, feeling slightly overcome by the effects of what
+she had drunk.
+
+The next day the innkeeper drove into her yard and took a little iron-
+hooped keg out of his gig.  He insisted on her tasting the contents, to
+make sure it was the same delicious article, and, when they had each of
+them drunk three more glasses, he said as he was going away:
+
+"Well, you know when it is all gone there is more left; don't be modest,
+for I shall not mind.  The sooner it is finished the better pleased I
+shall be."
+
+Four days later he came again.  The old woman was outside her door
+cutting up the bread for her soup.
+
+He went up to her and put his face close to hers, so that he might smell
+her breath; and when he smelt the alcohol he felt pleased.
+
+"I suppose you will give me a glass of the Special?" he said.  And they
+had three glasses each.
+
+Soon, however, it began to be whispered abroad that Mother Magloire was
+in the habit of getting drunk all by herself.  She was picked up in her
+kitchen, then in her yard, then in the roads in the neighborhood, and she
+was often brought home like a log.
+
+The innkeeper did not go near her any more, and, when people spoke to him
+about her, he used to say, putting on a distressed look:
+
+"It is a great pity that she should have taken to drink at her age, but
+when people get old there is no remedy.  It will be the death of her in
+the long run."
+
+And it certainly was the death of her.  She died the next winter.  About
+Christmas time she fell down, unconscious, in the snow, and was found
+dead the next morning.
+
+And when Chicot came in for the farm, he said:
+
+"It was very stupid of her; if she had not taken to drink she would
+probably have lived ten years longer."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+BOITELLE
+
+Father Boitelle (Antoine) made a specialty of undertaking dirty jobs all
+through the countryside.  Whenever there was a ditch or a cesspool to be
+cleaned out, a dunghill removed, a sewer cleansed, or any dirt hole
+whatever, he way always employed to do it.
+
+He would come with the instruments of his trade, his sabots covered with
+dirt, and set to work, complaining incessantly about his occupation.
+When people asked him then why he did this loathsome work, he would reply
+resignedly:
+
+"Faith, 'tis for my children, whom I must support.  This brings me in
+more than anything else:'
+
+He had, indeed, fourteen children.  If any one asked him what had become
+of them, he would say with an air of indifference:
+
+"There are only eight of them left in the house.  One is out at service
+and five are married."
+
+When the questioner wanted to know whether they were well married, he
+replied vivaciously:
+
+"I did not oppose them.  I opposed them in nothing.  They married just as
+they pleased.  We shouldn't go against people's likings, it turns out
+badly.  I am a night scavenger because my parents went against my
+likings.  But for that I would have become a workman like the others."
+
+Here is the way his parents had thwarted him in his likings:
+
+He was at the time a soldier stationed at Havre, not more stupid than
+another, or sharper either, a rather simple fellow, however.  When he was
+not on duty, his greatest pleasure was to walk along the quay, where the
+bird dealers congregate.  Sometimes alone, sometimes with a soldier from
+his own part of the country, he would slowly saunter along by cages
+containing parrots with green backs and yellow heads from the banks of
+the Amazon, or parrots with gray backs and red heads from Senegal, or
+enormous macaws, which look like birds reared in hot-houses, with their
+flower-like feathers, their plumes and their tufts.  Parrots of every
+size, who seem painted with minute care by the miniaturist, God Almighty,
+and the little birds, all the smaller birds hopped about, yellow, blue
+and variegated, mingling their cries with the noise of the quay; and
+adding to the din caused by unloading the vessels, as well as by
+passengers and vehicles, a violent clamor, loud, shrill and deafening, as
+if from some distant forest of monsters.
+
+Boitelle would pause, with wondering eyes, wide-open mouth, laughing and
+enraptured, showing his teeth to the captive cockatoos, who kept nodding
+their white or yellow topknots toward the glaring red of his breeches and
+the copper buckle of his belt.  When he found a bird that could talk he
+put questions to it, and if it happened at the time to be disposed to
+reply and to hold a conversation with him he would carry away enough
+amusement to last him till evening.  He also found heaps of amusement in
+looking at the monkeys, and could conceive no greater luxury for a rich
+man than to own these animals as one owns cats and dogs.  This kind of
+taste for the exotic he had in his blood, as people have a taste for the
+chase, or for medicine, or for the priesthood.  He could not help
+returning to the quay every time the gates of the barracks opened, drawn
+toward it by an irresistible longing.
+
+On one occasion, having stopped almost in ecstasy before an enormous
+macaw, which was swelling out its plumes, bending forward and bridling up
+again as if making the court curtseys of parrot-land, he saw the door of
+a little cafe adjoining the bird dealer's shop open, and a young negress
+appeared, wearing on her head a red silk handkerchief.  She was sweeping
+into the street the corks and sand of the establishment.
+
+Boitelle's attention was soon divided between the bird and the woman, and
+he really could not tell which of these two beings he contemplated with
+the greater astonishment and delight.
+
+The negress, having swept the rubbish into the street, raised her eyes,
+and, in her turn, was dazzled by the soldier's uniform.  There she stood
+facing him with her broom in her hands as if she were bringing him a
+rifle, while the macaw continued bowing.  But at the end of a few seconds
+the soldier began to feel embarrassed at this attention, and he walked
+away quietly so as not to look as if he were beating a retreat.
+
+But he came back.  Almost every day he passed before the Cafe des
+Colonies, and often he could distinguish through the window the figure of
+the little black-skinned maid serving "bocks" or glasses of brandy to the
+sailors of the port.  Frequently, too, she would come out to the door on
+seeing him; soon, without even having exchanged a word, they smiled at
+one another like acquaintances; and Boitelle felt his heart touched when
+he suddenly saw, glittering between the dark lips of the girl, a shining
+row of white teeth.  At length, one day he ventured to enter, and was
+quite surprised to find that she could speak French like every one else.
+The bottle of lemonade, of which she was good enough to accept a
+glassful, remained in the soldier's recollection memorably delicious, and
+it became a custom with him to come and absorb in this little tavern on
+the quay all the agreeable drinks which he could afford.
+
+For him it was a treat, a happiness, on which his thoughts dwelt
+constantly, to watch the black hand of the little maid pouring something
+into his glass while her teeth laughed more than her eyes.  At the end of
+two months they became fast friends, and Boitelle, after his first
+astonishment at discovering that this negress had as good principles as
+honest French girls, that she exhibited a regard for economy, industry,
+religion and good conduct, loved her more on that account, and was so
+charmed with her that he wanted to marry her.
+
+He told her his intentions, which made her dance with joy.  She had also
+a little money, left her by, a female oyster dealer, who had picked her
+up when she had been left on the quay at Havre by an American captain.
+This captain had found her, when she was only about six years old, lying
+on bales of cotton in the hold of his ship, some hours after his
+departure from New York.  On his arrival in Havre he abandoned to the
+care of this compassionate oyster dealer the little black creature, who
+had been hidden on board his vessel, he knew not why or by whom.
+
+The oyster woman having died, the young negress became a servant at the
+Colonial Tavern.
+
+Antoine Boitelle added: "This will be all right if my parents don't
+oppose it.  I will never go against them, you understand, never!  I'm
+going to say a word or two to them the first time I go back to the
+country."
+
+On the following week, in fact, having obtained twenty-four hours' leave,
+he went to see his family, who cultivated a little farm at Tourteville,
+near Yvetot.
+
+He waited till the meal was finished, the hour when the coffee baptized
+with brandy makes people more open-hearted, before informing his parents
+that he had found a girl who satisfied his tastes, all his tastes, so
+completely that there could not exist any other in all the world so
+perfectly suited to him.
+
+The old people, on hearing this, immediately assumed a cautious manner
+and wanted explanations.  He had concealed nothing from them except the
+color of her skin.
+
+She was a servant, without much means, but strong, thrifty, clean, well-
+conducted and sensible.  All these things were better than money would be
+in the hands of a bad housewife.  Moreover, she had a few sous, left her
+by a woman who had reared her, a good number of sous, almost a little
+dowry, fifteen hundred francs in the savings bank.  The old people,
+persuaded by his talk, and relying also on their own judgment, were
+gradually weakening, when he came to the delicate point.  Laughing in
+rather a constrained fashion, he said:
+
+"There's only one thing you may not like.  She is not a white slip."
+
+They did not understand, and he had to explain at some length and very
+cautiously, to avoid shocking them, that she belonged to the dusky race
+of which they had only seen samples in pictures at Epinal.  Then they
+became restless, perplexed, alarmed, as if he had proposed a union with
+the devil.
+
+The mother said: "Black?  How much of her is black?  Is the whole of
+her?"
+
+He replied: "Certainly.  Everywhere, just as you are white everywhere."
+
+The father interposed: "Black?  Is it as black as the pot?"
+
+The son answered: "Perhaps a little less than that.  She is black, but
+not disgustingly black.  The cure's cassock is black, but it is not
+uglier than a surplice which is white."
+
+The father said: "Are there more black people besides her in her
+country?"
+
+And the son, with an air of conviction, exclaimed: "Certainly!"
+
+But the old man shook his head.
+
+"That must be unpleasant."
+
+And the son:
+
+"It isn't more disagreeable than anything else when you get accustomed to
+it."
+
+The mother asked:
+
+"It doesn't soil the underwear more than other skins, this black skin?"
+
+"Not more than your own, as it is her proper color."
+
+Then, after many other questions, it was agreed that the parents should
+see this girl before coming; to any decision, and that the young fellow,
+whose, term of military service would be over in a month, should bring
+her to the house in order that they might examine her and decide by
+talking the matter over whether or not she was too dark to enter the
+Boitelle family.
+
+Antoine accordingly announced that on Sunday, the 22d of May, the day of
+his discharge, he would start for Tourteville with his sweetheart.
+
+She had put on, for this journey to the house of her lover's parents, her
+most beautiful and most gaudy clothes, in which yellow, red and blue were
+the prevailing colors, so that she looked as if she were adorned for a
+national festival.
+
+At the terminus, as they were leaving Havre, people stared at her, and
+Boitelle was proud of giving his arm to a person who commanded so much
+attention.  Then, in the third-class carriage, in which she took a seat
+by his side, she aroused so much astonishment among the country folks
+that the people in the adjoining compartments stood up on their benches
+to look at her over the wooden partition which divides the compartments.
+A child, at sight of her, began to cry with terror, another concealed his
+face in his mother's apron.  Everything went off well, however, up to
+their arrival at their destination.  But when the train slackened its
+rate of motion as they drew near Yvetot, Antoine felt: ill at ease, as he
+would have done at a review when; he did not know his drill practice.
+Then, as he; leaned his head out, he recognized in the distance: his
+father, holding the bridle of the horse harnessed to a carryall, and his
+mother, who had come forward to the grating, behind which stood those who
+were expecting friends.
+
+He alighted first, gave his hand to his sweetheart, and holding himself
+erect, as if he were escorting a general, he went to meet his family.
+
+The mother, on seeing this black lady in variegated costume in her son's
+company, remained so stupefied that she could not open her mouth; and the
+father found it hard to hold the horse, which the engine or the negress
+caused to rear continuously.  But Antoine, suddenly filled with unmixed
+joy at seeing once more the old people, rushed forward with open arms,
+embraced his mother, embraced his father, in spite of the nag's fright,
+and then turning toward his companion, at whom the passengers on the
+platform stopped to stare with amazement, he proceeded to explain:
+
+"Here she is!  I told you that, at first sight, she is not attractive;
+but as soon as you know her, I can assure you there's not a better sort
+in the whole world.  Say good-morning to her so that she may not feel
+badly."
+
+Thereupon Mere Boitelle, almost frightened out of her wits, made a sort
+of curtsy, while the father took off his cap, murmuring:
+
+"I wish you good luck!"
+
+Then, without further delay, they climbed into the carryall, the two
+women at the back, on seats which made them jump up and down as the
+vehicle went jolting along the road, and the two men in front on the
+front seat.
+
+Nobody spoke.  Antoine, ill at ease, whistled a barrack-room air; his
+father whipped the nag; and his mother, from where she sat in the corner,
+kept casting sly glances at the negress, whose forehead and cheekbones
+shone in the sunlight like well-polished shoes.
+
+Wishing to break the ice, Antoine turned round.
+
+"Well," said he, "we don't seem inclined to talk."
+
+"We must have time," replied the old woman.
+
+He went on:
+
+"Come!  Tell us the little story about that hen of yours that laid eight
+eggs."
+
+It was a funny anecdote of long standing in the family.  But, as his
+mother still remained silent, paralyzed by her emotion, he undertook
+himself to tell the story, laughing as he did so at the memorable
+incident.  The father, who knew it by heart brightened at the opening
+words of the narrative; his wife soon followed his example; and the
+negress herself, when he reached the drollest part of it, suddenly gave
+vent to a laugh, such a loud, rolling torrent of laughter that the horse,
+becoming excited, broke into a gallop for a while.
+
+This served to cement their acquaintance.  They all began to chat.
+
+They had scarcely reached the house and had all alighted, when Antoine
+conducted his sweetheart to a room, so that she might take off her dress,
+to avoid staining it, as she was going to prepare a nice dish, intended
+to win the old people's affections through their stomachs.  He drew his
+parents outside the house, and, with beating heart, asked:
+
+"Well, what do you say now?"
+
+The father said nothing.  The mother, less timid, exclaimed:
+
+"She is too black.  No, indeed, this is too much for me.  It turns my
+blood."
+
+"You will get used to it," said Antoine.
+
+"Perhaps so, but not at first."
+
+They went into the house, where the good woman was somewhat affected at
+the spectacle of the negress engaged in cooking.  She at once proceeded
+to assist her, with petticoats tucked up, active in spite of her age.
+
+The meal was an excellent one, very long, very enjoyable.  When they were
+taking a turn after dinner, Antoine took his father aside.
+
+"Well, dad, what do you say about it?"
+
+The peasant took care never to compromise himself.
+
+"I have no opinion about it.  Ask your mother."
+
+So Antoine went back to his mother, and, detaining her behind the rest,
+said:
+
+"Well, mother, what do you think of her?"
+
+"My poor lad, she is really too black.  If she were only a little less
+black, I would not go against you, but this is too much.  One would think
+it was Satan!"
+
+He did not press her, knowing how obstinate the old woman had always
+been, but he felt a tempest of disappointment sweeping over his heart.
+He was turning over in his mind what he ought to do, what plan he could
+devise, surprised, moreover, that she had not conquered them already as
+she had captivated himself.  And they, all four, walked along through the
+wheat fields, having gradually relapsed into silence.  Whenever they
+passed a fence they saw a countryman sitting on the stile, and a group of
+brats climbed up to stare at them, and every one rushed out into the road
+to see the "black" whore young Boitelle had brought home with him.  At a
+distance they noticed people scampering across the fields just as when
+the drum beats to draw public attention to some living phenomenon.  Pere
+and Mere Boitelle, alarmed at this curiosity, which was exhibited
+everywhere through the country at their approach, quickened their pace,
+walking side by side, and leaving their son far behind.  His dark
+companion asked what his parents thought of her.
+
+He hesitatingly replied that they had not yet made up their minds.
+
+But on the village green people rushed out of all the houses in a flutter
+of excitement; and, at the sight of the gathering crowd, old Boitelle
+took to his heels, and regained his abode, while Antoine; swelling with
+rage, his sweetheart on his arm, advanced majestically under the staring
+eyes, which opened wide in amazement.
+
+He understood that it was at an end, and there was no hope for him, that
+he could not marry his negress.  She also understood it; and as they drew
+near the farmhouse they both began to weep.  As soon as they had got back
+to the house, she once more took off her dress to aid the mother in the
+household duties, and followed her everywhere, to the dairy, to the
+stable, to the hen house, taking on herself the hardest part of the work,
+repeating always: "Let me do it, Madame Boitelle," so that, when night
+came on, the old woman, touched but inexorable, said to her son: "She is
+a good girl, all the same.  It's a pity she is so black; but indeed she
+is too black.  I could not get used to it.  She must go back again.  She
+is too, too black!"
+
+And young Boitelle said to his sweetheart:
+
+"She will not consent.  She thinks you are too black.  You must go back
+again.  I will go with you to the train.  No matter--don't fret.  I am
+going to talk to them after you have started."
+
+He then took her to the railway station, still cheering her with hope,
+and, when he had kissed her, he put her into the train, which he watched
+as it passed out of sight, his eyes swollen with tears.
+
+In vain did he appeal to the old people.  They would never give their
+consent.
+
+And when he had told this story, which was known all over the country,
+Antoine Boitelle would always add:
+
+"From that time forward I have had no heart for anything--for anything at
+all.  No trade suited me any longer, and so I became what I am--a night
+scavenger."
+
+People would say to him:
+
+"Yet you got married."
+
+"Yes, and I can't say that my wife didn't please me, seeing that I have
+fourteen children; but she is not the other one, oh, no--certainly not!
+The other one, mark you, my negress, she had only to give me one glance,
+and I felt as if I were in Heaven."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A WIDOW
+
+This story was told during the hunting season at the Chateau Baneville.
+The autumn had been rainy and sad.  The red leaves, instead of rustling
+under the feet, were rotting under the heavy downfalls.
+
+The forest was as damp as it could be.  From it came an odor of must, of
+rain, of soaked grass and wet earth; and the sportsmen, their backs
+hunched under the downpour, mournful dogs, with tails between their legs
+and hairs sticking to their sides, and the young women, with their
+clothes drenched, returned every evening, tired in body and in mind.
+
+After dinner, in the large drawing-room, everybody played lotto, without
+enjoyment, while the wind whistled madly around the house.  Then they
+tried telling stories like those they read in books, but no one was able
+to invent anything amusing.  The hunters told tales of wonderful shots
+and of the butchery of rabbits; and the women racked their brains for
+ideas without revealing the imagination of Scheherezade.  They were about
+to give up this diversion when a young woman, who was idly caressing the
+hand of an old maiden aunt, noticed a little ring made of blond hair,
+which she had often seen, without paying any attention to it.
+
+She fingered it gently and asked, "Auntie, what is this ring?  It looks
+as if it were made from the hair of a child."
+
+The old lady blushed, grew pale, then answered in a trembling voice: "It
+is sad, so sad that I never wish to speak of it.  All the unhappiness of
+my life comes from that.  I was very young then, and the memory has
+remained so painful that I weep every time I think of it."
+
+Immediately everybody wished to know the story, but the old lady refused
+to tell it.  Finally, after they had coaxed her for a long time, she
+yielded.  Here is the story:
+
+"You have often heard me speak of the Santeze family, now extinct.  I
+knew the last three male members of this family.  They all died in the
+same manner; this hair belongs to the last one.  He was thirteen when he
+killed himself for me.  That seems strange to you, doesn't it?
+
+"Oh! it was a strange family--mad, if you will, but a charming madness,
+the madness of love.  From father to son, all had violent passions which
+filled their whole being, which impelled them to do wild things, drove
+them to frantic enthusiasm, even to crime.  This was born in them, just
+as burning devotion is in certain souls.  Trappers have not the same
+nature as minions of the drawing-room.  There was a saying: 'As
+passionate as a Santeze.'  This could be noticed by looking at them.
+They all had wavy hair, falling over their brows, curly beards and large
+eyes whose glance pierced and moved one, though one could not say why.
+
+"The grandfather of the owner of this hair, of whom it is the last
+souvenir, after many adventures, duels and elopements, at about sixty-
+five fell madly in love with his farmer's daughter.  I knew them both.
+She was blond, pale, distinguished-looking, with a slow manner of
+talking, a quiet voice and a look so gentle that one might have taken her
+for a Madonna.  The old nobleman took her to his home and was soon so
+captivated with her that he could not live without her for a minute.
+His daughter and daughter-in-law, who lived in the chateau, found this
+perfectly natural, love was such a tradition in the family.  Nothing in
+regard to a passion surprised them, and if one spoke before them of
+parted lovers, even of vengeance after treachery, both said in the same
+sad tone: 'Oh, how he must have suffered to come to that point!' That was
+all.  They grew sad over tragedies of love, but never indignant, even
+when they were criminal.
+
+"Now, one day a young man named Monsieur de Gradelle, who had been
+invited for the shooting, eloped with the young girl.
+
+"Monsieur de Santeze remained calm as if nothing had happened, but one
+morning he was found hanging in the kennels, among his dogs.
+
+"His son died in the same manner in a hotel in Paris during a journey
+which he made there in 1841, after being deceived by a singer from the
+opera.
+
+"He left a twelve-year-old child and a widow, my mother's sister.  She
+came to my father's house with the boy, while we were living at
+Bertillon.  I was then seventeen.
+
+"You have no idea how wonderful and precocious this Santeze child was.
+One might have thought that all the tenderness and exaltation of the
+whole race had been stored up in this last one.  He was always dreaming
+and walking about alone in a great alley of elms leading from the chateau
+to the forest.  I watched from my window this sentimental boy, who walked
+with thoughtful steps, his hands behind his back, his head bent, and at
+times stopping to raise his eyes as if he could see and understand things
+that were not comprehensible at his age.
+
+"Often, after dinner on clear evenings, he would say to me: 'Let us go
+outside and dream, cousin.'  And we would go outside together in the
+park.  He would stop quickly before a clearing where the white vapor of
+the moon lights the woods, and he would press my hand, saying: 'Look!
+look! but you don't understand me; I feel it.  If you understood me, we
+should be happy.  One must love to know!  I would laugh and then kiss
+this child, who loved me madly.
+
+"Often, after dinner, he would sit on my mother's knees.  'Come, auntie,'
+he would say, 'tell me some love-stories.'  And my mother, as a joke,
+would tell him all the old legends of the family, all the passionate
+adventures of his forefathers, for thousands of them were current, some
+true and some false.  It was their reputation for love and gallantry
+which was the ruin of every one of these-men; they gloried in it and then
+thought that they had to live up to the renown of their house.
+
+"The little fellow became exalted by these tender or terrible stories,
+and at times he would clap his hands, crying: 'I, too, I, too, know how
+to love, better than all of them!'
+
+"Then, he began to court me in a timid and tender manner, at which every
+one laughed, it was, so amusing.  Every morning I had some flowers picked
+by him, and every evening before going to his room he would kiss my hand
+and murmur: 'I love you!'
+
+"I was guilty, very guilty, and I grieved continually about it, and I
+have been doing penance all my life; I have remained an old maid--or,
+rather, I have lived as a widowed fiancee, his widow.
+
+"I was amused at this childish tenderness, and I even encouraged him.
+I was coquettish, as charming as with a man, alternately caressing and
+severe.  I maddened this child.  It was a game for me and a joyous
+diversion for his mother and mine.  He was twelve!  think of it!  Who
+would have taken this atom's passion seriously?  I kissed him as often as
+he wished; I even wrote him little notes, which were read by our
+respective mothers; and he answered me by passionate letters, which I
+have kept.  Judging himself as a man, he thought that our loving intimacy
+was secret.  We had forgotten that he was a Santeze.
+
+"This lasted for about a year.  One evening in the park he fell at my
+feet and, as he madly kissed the hem of my dress, he kept repeating: 'I
+love you!  I love you!  I love you!  If ever you deceive me, if ever you
+leave me for another, I'll do as my father did.'  And he added in a
+hoarse voice, which gave me a shiver: 'You know what he did!'
+
+"I stood there astonished.  He arose, and standing on the tips of his
+toes in order to reach my ear, for I was taller than he, he pronounced my
+first name: 'Genevieve!' in such a gentle, sweet, tender tone that I
+trembled all over.  I stammered: 'Let us return! let us return!'  He said
+no more and followed me; but as we were going up the steps of the porch,
+he stopped me, saying: 'You know, if ever you leave me, I'll kill
+myself.'
+
+"This time I understood that I had gone too far, and I became quite
+reserved.  One day, as he was reproaching me for this, I answered: 'You
+are now too old for jesting and too young for serious love.  I'll wait.'
+
+"I thought that this would end the matter.  In the autumn he was sent to
+a boarding-school.  When he returned the following summer I was engaged
+to be married.  He understood immediately, and for a week he became so
+pensive that I was quite anxious.
+
+"On the morning of the ninth day I saw a little paper under my door as I
+got up.  I seized it, opened it and read: 'You have deserted me and you
+know what I said.  It is death to which you have condemned me.  As I do
+not wish to be found by another than you, come to the park just where I
+told you last year that I loved you and look in the air.'
+
+"I thought that I should go mad.  I dressed as quickly as I could and ran
+wildly to the place that he had mentioned.  His little cap was on the
+ground in the mud.  It had been raining all night.  I raised my eyes and
+saw something swinging among the leaves, for the wind was blowing a gale.
+
+"I don't know what I did after that.  I must have screamed at first, then
+fainted and fallen, and finally have run to the chateau.  The next thing
+that I remember I was in bed, with my mother sitting beside me.
+
+"I thought that I had dreamed all this in a frightful nightmare.
+I stammered: 'And what of him, what of him, Gontran?'  There was no
+answer.  It was true!
+
+"I did not dare see him again, but I asked for a lock of his blond hair.
+Here--here it is!"
+
+And the old maid stretched out her trembling hand in a despairing
+gesture.  Then she blew her nose several times, wiped her eyes and
+continued:
+
+"I broke off my marriage--without saying why.  And I--I always have
+remained the--the widow of this thirteen-year-old boy."  Then her head
+fell on her breast and she wept for a long time.
+
+As the guests were retiring for the night a large man, whose quiet she
+had disturbed, whispered in his neighbor's ear: "Isn't it unfortunate to,
+be so sentimental?"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE ENGLISHMAN OF ETRETAT
+
+A great English poet has just crossed over to France in order to greet
+Victor Hugo.  All the newspapers are full of his name and he is the great
+topic of conversation in all drawing-rooms.  Fifteen years ago I had
+occasion several times to meet Algernon Charles Swinburne.  I will
+attempt to show him just as I saw him and to give an idea of the strange
+impression he made on me, which will remain with me throughout time.
+
+I believe it was in 1867 or in 1868 that an unknown young Englishman came
+to Etretat and bought a little but hidden under great trees.  It was said
+that he lived there, always alone, in a strange manner; and he aroused
+the inimical surprise of the natives, for the inhabitants were sullen and
+foolishly malicious, as they always are in little towns.
+
+They declared that this whimsical Englishman ate nothing but boiled.
+roasted or stewed monkey; that he would see no one; that he talked to
+himself hours at a time and many other surprising things that made people
+think that he was different from other men.  They were surprised that he
+should live alone with a monkey.  Had it been a cat or a dog they would
+have said nothing.  But a monkey!  Was that not frightful?  What savage
+tastes the man must have!
+
+I knew this young man only from seeing him in the streets.  He was short,
+plump, without being fat, mild-looking, and he wore a little blond
+mustache, which was almost invisible.
+
+Chance brought us together.  This savage had amiable and pleasing
+manners, but he was one of those strange Englishmen that one meets here
+and there throughout the world.
+
+Endowed with remarkable intelligence, he seemed to live in a fantastic
+dream, as Edgar Poe must have lived.  He had translated into English a
+volume of strange Icelandic legends, which I ardently desired to see
+translated into French.  He loved the supernatural, the dismal and
+grewsome, but he spoke of the most marvellous things with a calmness that
+was typically English, to which his gentle and quiet voice gave a
+semblance of reality that was maddening.
+
+Full of a haughty disdain for the world, with its conventions, prejudices
+and code of morality, he had nailed to his house a name that was boldly
+impudent.  The keeper of a lonely inn who should write on his door:
+"Travellers murdered here!" could not make a more sinister jest.  I never
+had entered his dwelling, when one day I received an invitation to
+luncheon, following an accident that had occurred to one of his friends,
+who had been almost drowned and whom I had attempted to rescue.
+
+Although I was unable to reach the man until he had already been rescued,
+I received the hearty thanks of the two Englishmen, and the following day
+I called upon them.
+
+The friend was a man about thirty years old.  He bore an enormous head on
+a child's body--a body without chest or shoulders.  An immense forehead,
+which seemed to have engulfed the rest of the man, expanded like a dome
+above a thin face which ended in a little pointed beard.  Two sharp eyes
+and a peculiar mouth gave one the impression of the head of a reptile,
+while the magnificent brow suggested a genius.
+
+A nervous twitching shook this peculiar being, who walked, moved, acted
+by jerks like a broken spring.
+
+This was Algernon Charles Swinburne, son of an English admiral and
+grandson, on the maternal side, of the Earl of Ashburnham.
+
+He strange countenance was transfigured when he spoke.  I have seldom
+seen a man more impressive, more eloquent, incisive or charming in
+conversation.  His rapid, clear, piercing and fantastic imagination
+seemed to creep into his voice and to lend life to his words.  His
+brusque gestures enlivened his speech, which penetrated one like a
+dagger, and he had bursts of thought, just as lighthouses throw out
+flashes of fire, great, genial lights that seemed to illuminate a whole
+world of ideas.
+
+The home of the two friends was pretty and by no means commonplace.
+Everywhere were paintings, some superb, some strange, representing
+different conceptions of insanity.  Unless I am mistaken, there was a
+water-color which represented the head of a dead man floating in a rose-
+colored shell on a boundless ocean, under a moon with a human face.
+
+Here and there I came across bones.  I clearly remember a flayed hand on
+which was hanging some dried skin and black muscles, and on the snow-
+white bones could be seen the traces of dried blood.
+
+The food was a riddle which I could not solve.  Was it good?  Was it bad?
+I could not say.  Some roast monkey took away all desire to make a steady
+diet of this animal, and the great monkey who roamed about among us at
+large and playfully pushed his head into my glass when I wished to drink
+cured me of any desire I might have to take one of his brothers as a
+companion for the rest of my days.
+
+As for the two men, they gave me the impression of two strange, original,
+remarkable minds, belonging to that peculiar race of talented madmen from
+among whom have arisen Poe, Hoffmann and many others.
+
+If genius is, as is commonly believed, a sort of aberration of great
+minds, then Algernon Charles Swinburne is undoubtedly a genius.
+
+Great minds that are healthy are never considered geniuses, while this
+sublime qualification is lavished on brains that are often inferior but
+are slightly touched by madness.
+
+At any rate, this poet remains one of the first of his time, through his
+originality and polished form.  He is an exalted lyrical singer who
+seldom bothers about the good and humble truth, which French poets are
+now seeking so persistently and patiently.  He strives to set down
+dreams, subtle thoughts, sometimes great, sometimes visibly forced, but
+sometimes magnificent.
+
+
+Two years later I found the house closed and its tenants gone.  The
+furniture was being sold.  In memory of them I bought the hideous flayed
+hand.  On the grass an enormous square block of granite bore this simple
+word: "Nip."  Above this a hollow stone offered water to the birds.  It
+was the grave of the monkey, who had been hanged by a young, vindictive
+negro servant.  It was said that this violent domestic had been forced to
+flee at the point of his exasperated master's revolver.  After wandering
+about without home or food for several days, he returned and began to
+peddle barley-sugar in the streets.  He was expelled from the country
+after he had almost strangled a displeased customer.
+
+The world would be gayer if one could often meet homes like that.
+
+     This story appeared in the "Gaulois," November 29, 1882.  It was the
+     original sketch for the introductory study of Swinburne, written by
+     Maupassant for the French translation by Gabriel Mourey of "Poems
+     and Ballads."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MAGNETISM
+
+It was a men's dinner party, and they were sitting over their cigars and
+brandy and discussing magnetism.  Donato's tricks and Charcot's
+experiments.  Presently, the sceptical, easy-going men, who cared nothing
+for religion of any sort, began telling stories of strange occurrences,
+incredible things which, nevertheless, had really occurred, so they said,
+falling back into superstitious beliefs, clinging to these last remnants
+of the marvellous, becoming devotees of this mystery of magnetism,
+defending it in the name of science.  There was only one person who
+smiled, a vigorous young fellow, a great ladies' man who was so
+incredulous that he would not even enter upon a discussion of such
+matters.
+
+He repeated with a sneer:
+
+"Humbug! humbug! humbug!  We need not discuss Donato, who is merely a
+very smart juggler.  As for M. Charcot, who is said to be a remarkable
+man of science, he produces on me the effect of those story-tellers of
+the school of Edgar Poe, who end by going mad through constantly
+reflecting on queer cases of insanity.  He has authenticated some cases
+of unexplained and inexplicable nervous phenomena; he makes his way into
+that unknown region which men are exploring every day, and unable always
+to understand what he sees, he recalls, perhaps, the ecclesiastical
+interpretation of these mysteries.  I should like to hear what he says
+himself."
+
+The words of the unbeliever were listened to with a kind of pity, as if
+he had blasphemed in an assembly of monks.
+
+One of these gentlemen exclaimed:
+
+"And yet miracles were performed in olden times."
+
+"I deny it," replied the other: "Why cannot they be performed now?"
+
+Then, each mentioned some fact, some fantastic presentiment some instance
+of souls communicating with each other across space, or some case of the
+secret influence of one being over another.  They asserted and maintained
+that these things had actually occurred, while the sceptic angrily
+repeated:
+
+"Humbug! humbug! humbug!"
+
+At last he rose, threw away his cigar, and with his hands in his pockets,
+said: "Well, I also have two stories to tell you, which I will afterwards
+explain.  Here they are:
+
+"In the little village of Etretat, the men, who are all seafaring folk,
+go every year to Newfoundland to fish for cod.  One night the little son
+of one of these fishermen woke up with a start, crying out that his
+father was dead.  The child was quieted, and again he woke up exclaiming
+that his father was drowned.  A month later the news came that his father
+had, in fact, been swept off the deck of his smack by a billow.  The
+widow then remembered how her son had woke up and spoken of his father's
+death.  Everyone said it was a miracle, and the affair caused a great
+sensation.  The dates were compared, and it was found that the accident
+and the dream were almost coincident, whence they concluded that they had
+happened on the same night and at the same hour.  And there is a mystery
+of magnetism."
+
+The story-teller stopped suddenly.
+
+Thereupon, one of those who had heard him, much affected by the
+narrative, asked:
+
+"And can you explain this?"
+
+"Perfectly, monsieur.  I have discovered the secret.  The circumstance
+surprised me and even perplexed me very much; but you see, I do not
+believe on principle.  Just as others begin by believing, I begin by
+doubting; and when I cannot understand, I continue to deny that there can
+be any telepathic communication between souls; certain that my own
+intelligence will be able to explain it.  Well, I kept on inquiring into
+the matter, and by dint of questioning all the wives of the absent
+seamen, I was convinced that not a week passed without one of them, or
+one of their children dreaming and declaring when they woke up that the
+father was drowned.  The horrible and continual fear of this accident
+makes them always talk about it.  Now, if one of these frequent
+predictions coincides, by a very simple chance, with the death of the
+person referred to, people at once declare it to be a miracle; for they
+suddenly lose sight of all the other predictions of misfortune that have
+remained unfulfilled.  I have myself known fifty cases where the persons
+who made the prediction forgot all about it a week after wards.  But, if,
+then one happens to die, then the recollection of the thing is
+immediately revived, and people are ready to believe in the intervention
+of God, according to some, and magnetism, according to others."
+
+One of the smokers remarked:
+
+"What you say is right enough; but what about your second story?"
+
+"Oh!  my second story is a very delicate matter to relate.  It happened
+to myself, and so I don't place any great value on my own view of the
+matter.  An interested party can never give an impartial opinion.
+However, here it is:
+
+"Among my acquaintances was a young woman on whom I had never bestowed a
+thought, whom I had never even looked at attentively, never taken any
+notice of.
+
+"I classed her among the women of no importance, though she was not bad-
+looking; she appeared, in fact, to possess eyes, a nose, a mouth, some
+sort of hair--just a colorless type of countenance.  She was one of those
+beings who awaken only a chance, passing thought, but no special
+interest, no desire.
+
+"Well, one night, as I was writing some letters by my fireside before
+going to bed, I was conscious, in the midst of that train of sensuous
+visions that sometimes pass through one's brain in moments of idle
+reverie, of a kind of slight influence, passing over me, a little flutter
+of the heart, and immediately, without any cause, without any logical
+connection of thought, I saw distinctly, as if I were touching her, saw
+from head to foot, and disrobed, this young woman to whom I had never
+given more that three seconds' thought at a time.  I suddenly discovered
+in her a number of qualities which I had never before observed, a sweet
+charm, a languorous fascination; she awakened in me that sort of restless
+emotion that causes one to pursue a woman.  But I did not think of her
+long.  I went to bed and was soon asleep.  And I dreamed.
+
+"You have all had these strange dreams which make you overcome the
+impossible, which open to you double-locked doors, unexpected joys,
+tightly folded arms?
+
+"Which of us in these troubled, excising, breathless slumbers, has not
+held, clasped, embraced with rapture, the woman who occupied his
+thoughts?  And have you ever noticed what superhuman delight these happy
+dreams give us?  Into what mad intoxication they cast you! with what
+passionate spasms they shake you! and with what infinite, caressing,
+penetrating tenderness they fill your heart for her whom you hold clasped
+in your arms in that adorable illusion that is so like reality!
+
+"All this I felt with unforgettable violence.  This woman was mine, so
+much mine that the pleasant warmth of her skin remained in my fingers,
+the odor of her skin, in my brain, the taste of her kisses, on my lips,
+the sound of her voice lingered in my ears, the touch of her clasp still
+clung to me, and the burning charm of her tenderness still gratified my
+senses long after the delight but disillusion of my awakening.
+
+"And three times that night I had the same dream.
+
+"When the day dawned she haunted me, possessed me, filled my senses to
+such an extent that I was not one second without thinking of her.
+
+"At last, not knowing what to do, I dressed myself and went to call on
+her.  As I went upstairs to her apartment, I was so overcome by emotion
+that I trembled, and my heart beat rapidly.
+
+"I entered the apartment.  She rose the moment she heard my name
+mentioned; and suddenly our eyes met in a peculiar fixed gaze.
+
+"I sat down.  I stammered out some commonplaces which she seemed not to
+hear.  I did not know what to say or do.  Then, abruptly, clasping my
+arms round her, my dream was realized so suddenly that I began to doubt
+whether I was really awake.  We were friends after this for two years."
+
+"What conclusion do you draw from it?" said a voice.
+
+The story-teller seemed to hesitate.
+
+"The conclusion I draw from it--well, by Jove, the conclusion is that it
+was just a coincidence!  And then--who can tell?  Perhaps it was some
+glance of hers which I had not noticed and which came back that night to
+me through one of those mysterious and unconscious--recollections that
+often bring before us things ignored by our own consciousness,
+unperceived by our minds!"
+
+"Call it whatever you like," said one of his table companions, when the
+story was finished; "but if you don't believe in magnetism after that, my
+dear boy, you are an ungrateful fellow!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A FATHER'S CONFESSION
+
+All Veziers-le-Rethel had followed the funeral procession of M. Badon-
+Leremince to the grave, and the last words of the funeral oration
+pronounced by the delegate of the district remained in the minds of all:
+"He was an honest man, at least!"
+
+An honest man he had been in all the known acts of his life, in his
+words, in his examples, his attitude, his behavior, his enterprises, in
+the cut of his beard and the shape of his hats.  He never had said a word
+that did not set an example, never had given an alms without adding a
+word of advice, never had extended his hand without appearing to bestow a
+benediction.
+
+He left two children, a boy and a girl.  His son was counselor general,
+and his daughter, having married a lawyer, M. Poirel de la Voulte, moved
+in the best society of Veziers.
+
+They were inconsolable at the death of their father, for they loved him
+sincerely.
+
+As soon as the ceremony was over, the son, daughter and son-in-law
+returned to the house of mourning, and, shutting themselves in the
+library, they opened the will, the seals of which were to be broken by
+them alone and only after the coffin had been placed in the ground.
+This wish was expressed by a notice on the envelope.
+
+M. Poirel de la Voulte tore open the envelope, in his character of a
+lawyer used to such operations, and having adjusted his spectacles, he
+read in a monotonous voice, made for reading the details of contracts:
+
+     My children, my dear children, I could not sleep the eternal sleep
+     in peace if I did not make to you from the tomb a confession, the
+     confession of a crime, remorse for which has ruined my life.  Yes,
+     I committed a crime, a frightful, abominable crime.
+
+     I was twenty-six years old, and I had just been called to the bar in
+     Paris, and was living the life off young men from the provinces who
+     are stranded in this town without acquaintances, relatives, or
+     friends.
+
+     I took a sweetheart.  There are beings who cannot live alone.  I was
+     one of those.  Solitude fills me with horrible anguish, the solitude
+     of my room beside my fire in the evening.  I feel then as if I were
+     alone on earth, alone, but surrounded by vague dangers, unknown and
+     terrible things; and the partition that separates me from my
+     neighbor, my neighbor whom I do not know, keeps me at as great a
+     distance from him as the stars that I see through my window.  A sort
+     of fever pervades me, a fever of impatience and of fear, and the
+     silence of the walls terrifies me.  The silence of a room where one
+     lives alone is so intense and so melancholy It is not only a silence
+     of the mind; when a piece of furniture cracks a shudder goes through
+     you for you expect no noise in this melancholy abode.
+
+     How many times, nervous and timid from this motionless silence, I
+     have begun to talk, to repeat words without rhyme or reason, only to
+     make some sound.  My voice at those times sounds so strange that I
+     am afraid of that, too.  Is there anything more dreadful than
+     talking to one's self in an empty house?  One's voice sounds like
+     that of another, an unknown voice talking aimlessly, to no one, into
+     the empty air, with no ear to listen to it, for one knows before
+     they escape into the solitude of the room exactly what words will be
+     uttered.  And when they resound lugubriously in the silence, they
+     seem no more than an echo, the peculiar echo of words whispered by
+     ones thought.
+
+     My sweetheart was a young girl like other young girls who live in
+     Paris on wages that are insufficient to keep them.  She was gentle,
+     good, simple.  Her parents lived at Poissy.  She went to spend
+     several days with them from time to time.
+
+     For a year I lived quietly with her, fully decided to leave her when
+     I should find some one whom I liked well enough to marry.  I would
+     make a little provision for this one, for it is an understood thing
+     in our social set that a woman's love should be paid for, in money
+     if she is poor, in presents if she is rich.
+
+     But one day she told me she was enceinte.  I was thunderstruck, and
+     saw in a second that my life would be ruined.  I saw the fetter that
+     I should wear until my death, everywhere, in my future family life,
+     in my old age, forever; the fetter of a woman bound to my life
+     through a child; the fetter of the child whom I must bring up, watch
+     over, protect, while keeping myself unknown to him, and keeping him
+     hidden from the world.
+
+     I was greatly disturbed at this news, and a confused longing, a
+     criminal desire, surged through my mind; I did not formulate it, but
+     I felt it in my heart, ready to come to the surface, as if some one
+     hidden behind a portiere should await the signal to come out.  If
+     some accident might only happen!  So many of these little beings die
+     before they are born!
+
+     Oh!  I did not wish my sweetheart to die!  The poor girl, I loved
+     her very much!  But I wished, possibly, that the child might die
+     before I saw it.
+
+     He was born.  I set up housekeeping in my little bachelor apartment,
+     an imitation home, with a horrible child.  He looked like all
+     children; I did not care for him.  Fathers, you see, do not show
+     affection until later.  They have not the instinctive and passionate
+     tenderness of mothers; their affection has to be awakened gradually,
+     their mind must become attached by bonds formed each day between
+     beings that live in each other's society.
+
+     A year passed.  I now avoided my home, which was too small, where
+     soiled linen, baby-clothes and stockings the size of gloves were
+     lying round, where a thousand articles of all descriptions lay on
+     the furniture, on the arm of an easy-chair, everywhere.  I went out
+     chiefly that I might not hear the child cry, for he cried on the
+     slightest pretext, when he was bathed, when he was touched, when he
+     was put to bed, when he was taken up in the morning, incessantly.
+
+     I had made a few acquaintances, and I met at a reception the woman
+     who was to be your mother.  I fell in love with her and became
+     desirous to marry her.  I courted her; I asked her parents' consent
+     to our marriage and it was granted.
+
+     I found myself in this dilemma: I must either marry this young girl
+     whom I adored, having a child already, or else tell the truth and
+     renounce her, and happiness, my future, everything; for her parents,
+     who were people of rigid principles, would not give her to me if
+     they knew.
+
+     I passed a month of horrible anguish, of mortal torture, a month
+     haunted by a thousand frightful thoughts; and I felt developing in
+     me a hatred toward my son, toward that little morsel of living,
+     screaming flesh, who blocked my path, interrupted my life, condemned
+     me to an existence without hope, without all those vague
+     expectations that make the charm of youth.
+
+     But just then my companion's mother became ill, and I was left alone
+     with the child.
+
+     It was in December, and the weather was terribly cold.  What a
+     night!
+
+     My companion had just left.  I had dined alone in my little dining-
+     room and I went gently into the room where the little one was
+     asleep.
+
+     I sat down in an armchair before the fire.  The wind was blowing,
+     making the windows rattle, a dry, frosty wind; and I saw trough the
+     window the stars shining with that piercing brightness that they
+     have on frosty nights.
+
+     Then the idea that had obsessed me for a month rose again to the
+     surface.  As soon as I was quiet it came to me and harassed me.  It
+     ate into my mind like a fixed idea, just as cancers must eat into
+     the flesh.  It was there, in my head, in my heart, in my whole body,
+     it seemed to me; and it swallowed me up as a wild beast might have.
+     I endeavored to drive it away, to repulse it, to open my mind to
+     other thoughts, as one opens a window to the fresh morning breeze to
+     drive out the vitiated air; but I could not drive it from my brain,
+     not even for a second.  I do not know how to express this torture.
+     It gnawed at my soul, and I felt a frightful pain, a real physical
+     and moral pain.
+
+     My life was ruined!  How could I escape from this situation?  How
+     could I draw back, and how could I confess?
+
+     And I loved the one who was to become your mother with a mad
+     passion, which this insurmountable obstacle only aggravated.
+
+     A terrible rage was taking possession of me, choking me, a rage that
+     verged on madness!  Surely I was crazy that evening!
+
+     The child was sleeping.  I got up and looked at it as it slept.  It
+     was he, this abortion, this spawn, this nothing, that condemned me
+     to irremediable unhappiness!
+
+     He was asleep, his mouth open, wrapped in his bed-clothes in a crib
+     beside my bed, where I could not sleep.
+
+     How did I ever do what I did?  How do I know?  What force urged me
+     on?  What malevolent power took possession of me?  Oh! the
+     temptation to crime came to me without any forewarning.  All I
+     recall is that my heart beat tumultuously.  It beat so hard that I
+     could hear it, as one hears the strokes of a hammer behind a
+     partition.  That is all I can recall--the beating of my heart!
+     In my head there was a strange confusion, a tumult, a senseless
+     disorder, a lack of presence of mind.  It was one of those hours of
+     bewilderment and hallucination when a man is neither conscious of
+     his actions nor able to guide his will.
+
+     I gently raised the coverings from the body of the child; I turned
+     them down to the foot of the crib, and he lay there uncovered and
+     naked.
+
+     He did not wake.  Then I went toward the window, softly, quite
+     softly, and I opened it.
+
+     A breath of icy air glided in like an assassin; it was so cold that
+     I drew aside, and the two candles flickered.  I remained standing
+     near the window, not daring to turn round, as if for fear of seeing
+     what was doing on behind me, and feeling the icy air continually
+     across my forehead, my cheeks, my hands, the deadly air which kept
+     streaming in.  I stood there a long time.
+
+     I was not thinking, I was not reflecting.  All at once a little
+     cough caused me to shudder frightfully from head to foot, a shudder
+     that I feel still to the roots of my hair.  And with a frantic
+     movement I abruptly closed both sides of the window and, turning
+     round, ran over to the crib.
+
+     He was still asleep, his mouth open, quite naked.  I touched his
+     legs; they were icy cold and I covered them up.
+
+     My heart was suddenly touched, grieved, filled with pity,
+     tenderness, love for this poor innocent being that I had wished to
+     kill.  I kissed his fine, soft hair long and tenderly; then I went
+     and sat down before the fire.
+
+     I reflected with amazement with horror on what I had done, asking
+     myself whence come those tempests of the soul in which a man loses
+     all perspective of things, all command over himself and acts as in a
+     condition of mad intoxication, not knowing whither he is going--like
+     a vessel in a hurricane.
+
+     The child coughed again, and it gave my heart a wrench.  Suppose it
+     should die!  O God!  O God!  What would become of me?
+
+     I rose from my chair to go and look at him, and with a candle in my
+     hand I leaned over him.  Seeing him breathing quietly I felt
+     reassured, when he coughed a third time.  It gave me such a shock
+     tat I started backward, just as one does at sight of something
+     horrible, and let my candle fall.
+
+     As I stood erect after picking it up, I noticed that my temples were
+     bathed in perspiration, that cold sweat which is the result of
+     anguish of soul.  And I remained until daylight bending over my son,
+     becoming calm when he remained quiet for some time, and filled with
+     atrocious pain when a weak cough came from his mouth.
+
+     He awoke with his eyes red, his throat choked, and with an air of
+     suffering.
+
+     When the woman came in to arrange my room I sent her at once for a
+     doctor.  He came at the end of an hour, and said, after examining
+     the child:
+
+     "Did he not catch cold?"
+
+     I began to tremble like a person with palsy, and I faltered:
+
+     "No, I do not think so."
+
+     And then I said:
+
+     "What is the matter?  Is it serious?"
+
+     "I do not know yet," he replied.  "I will come again this evening."
+
+     He came that evening.  My son had remained almost all day in a
+     condition of drowsiness, coughing from time to time.  During the
+     night inflammation of the lungs set in.
+
+     That lasted ten days.  I cannot express what I suffered in those
+     interminable hours that divide morning from night, right from
+     morning.
+
+     He died.
+
+     And since--since that moment, I have not passed one hour, not a
+     single hour, without the frightful burning recollection, a gnawing
+     recollection, a memory that seems to wring my heart, awaking in me
+     like a savage beast imprisoned in the depth of my soul.
+
+     Oh! if I could have gone mad!
+
+
+M. Poirel de la Voulte raised his spectacles with a motion that was
+peculiar to him whenever he finished reading a contract; and the three
+heirs of the defunct looked at one another without speaking, pale and
+motionless.
+
+At the end of a minute the lawyer resumed:
+
+"That must be destroyed."
+
+The other two bent their heads in sign of assent.  He lighted a candle,
+carefully separated the pages containing the damaging confession from
+those relating to the disposition of money, then he held them over the
+candle and threw them into the fireplace.
+
+And they watched the white sheets as they burned, till they were
+presently reduced to little crumbling black heaps.  And as some words
+were still visible in white tracing, the daughter, with little strokes of
+the toe of her shoe, crushed the burning paper, mixing it with the old
+ashes in the fireplace.
+
+Then all three stood there watching it for some time, as if they feared
+that the destroyed secret might escape from the fireplace.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A MOTHER OF MONSTERS
+
+I recalled this horrible story, the events of which occurred long ago,
+and this horrible woman, the other day at a fashionable seaside resort,
+where I saw on the beach a well-known young, elegant and charming
+Parisienne, adored and respected by everyone.
+
+I had been invited by a friend to pay him a visit in a little provincial
+town.  He took me about in all directions to do the honors of the place,
+showed me noted scenes, chateaux, industries, ruins.  He pointed out
+monuments, churches, old carved doorways, enormous or distorted trees,
+the oak of St. Andrew, and the yew tree of Roqueboise.
+
+When I had exhausted my admiration and enthusiasm over all the sights,
+my friend said with a distressed expression on his face, that there was
+nothing left to look at.  I breathed freely.  I would now be able to rest
+under the shade of the trees.  But, all at once, he uttered an
+exclamation:
+
+"Oh, yes!  We have the 'Mother of Monsters'; I must take you to see her."
+
+"Who is that, the 'Mother of Monsters'?" I asked.
+
+"She is an abominable woman," he replied, "a regular demon, a being who
+voluntarily brings into the world deformed, hideous, frightful children,
+monstrosities, in fact, and then sells them to showmen who exhibit such
+things.
+
+"These exploiters of freaks come from time to time to find out if she has
+any fresh monstrosity, and if it meets with their approval they carry it
+away with them, paying the mother a compensation.
+
+"She has eleven of this description.  She is rich.
+
+"You think I am joking, romancing, exaggerating.  No, my friend; I am
+telling you the truth, the exact truth.
+
+"Let us go and see this woman.  Then I will tell you her history."
+
+He took me into one of the suburbs.  The woman lived in a pretty little
+house by the side of the road.  It was attractive and well kept.  The
+garden was filled with fragrant flowers.  One might have supposed it to
+be the residence of a retired lawyer.
+
+A maid ushered us into a sort of little country parlor, and the wretch
+appeared.  She was about forty.  She was a tall, big woman with hard
+features, but well formed, vigorous and healthy, the true type of a
+robust peasant woman, half animal, and half woman.
+
+She was aware of her reputation and received everyone with a humility
+that smacked of hatred.
+
+"What do the gentlemen wish?" she asked.
+
+"They tell me that your last child is just like an ordinary child, that
+he does not resemble his brothers at all," replied my friend.  "I wanted
+to be sure of that.  Is it true?"
+
+She cast on us a malicious and furious look as she said:
+
+"Oh, no, oh, no, my poor sir!  He is perhaps even uglier than the rest.
+I have no luck, no luck!
+
+They are all like that, it is heartbreaking!  How can the good God be so
+hard on a poor woman who is all alone in the world, how can He?"
+She spoke hurriedly, her eyes cast down, with a deprecating air as of a
+wild beast who is afraid.  Her harsh voice became soft, and it seemed
+strange to hear those tearful falsetto tones issuing from that big, bony
+frame, of unusual strength and with coarse outlines, which seemed fitted
+for violent action, and made to utter howls like a wolf.
+
+"We should like to see your little one," said my friend.
+
+I fancied she colored up.  I may have been deceived.  After a few moments
+of silence, she said in a louder tone:
+
+"What good will that do you?"
+
+"Why do you not wish to show it to us?" replied my friend.  "There are
+many people to whom you will show it; you know whom I mean."
+
+She gave a start, and resuming her natural voice, and giving free play to
+her anger, she screamed:
+
+"Was that why you came here?  To insult me?  Because my children are like
+animals, tell me?  You shall not see him, no, no, you shall not see him!
+Go away, go away!  I do not know why you all try to torment me like
+that."
+
+She walked over toward us, her hands on her hips.  At the brutal tone of
+her voice, a sort of moaning, or rather a mewing, the lamentable cry of
+an idiot, came from the adjoining room.  I shivered to the marrow of my
+bones.  We retreated before her.
+
+"Take care, Devil" (they called her the Devil); said my friend, "take
+care; some day you will get yourself into trouble through this."
+
+She began to tremble, beside herself with fury, shaking her fist and
+roaring:
+
+"Be off with you!  What will get me into trouble?  Be off with you,
+miscreants!"
+
+She was about to attack us, but we fled, saddened at what we had seen.
+When we got outside, my friend said:
+
+"Well, you have seen her, what do you think of her?"
+
+"Tell me the story of this brute," I replied.
+
+And this is what he told me as we walked along the white high road, with
+ripe crops on either side of it which rippled like the sea in the light
+breeze that passed over them.
+
+"This woman was one a servant on a farm.  She was an honest girl, steady
+and economical.  She was never known to have an admirer, and never
+suspected of any frailty.  But she went astray, as so many do.
+
+"She soon found herself in trouble, and was tortured with fear and shame.
+Wishing to conceal her misfortune, she bound her body tightly with a
+corset of her own invention, made of boards and cord.  The more she
+developed, the more she bound herself with this instrument of torture,
+suffering martyrdom, but brave in her sorrow, not allowing anyone to see,
+or suspect, anything.  She maimed the little unborn being, cramping it
+with that frightful corset, and made a monster of it.  Its head was
+squeezed and elongated to a point, and its large eyes seemed popping out
+of its head.  Its limbs, exaggeratedly long, and twisted like the stalk
+of a vine, terminated in fingers like the claws of a spider.  Its trunk
+was tiny, and round as a nut.
+
+"The child was born in an open field, and when the weeders saw it, they
+fled away, screaming, and the report spread that she had given birth to a
+demon.  From that time on, she was called 'the Devil.'
+
+"She was driven from the farm, and lived on charity, under a cloud.  She
+brought up the monster, whom she hated with a savage hatred, and would
+have strangled, perhaps, if the priest had not threatened her with
+arrest.
+
+"One day some travelling showmen heard about the frightful creature, and
+asked to see it, so that if it pleased them they might take it away.
+They were pleased, and counted out five hundred francs to the mother.
+At first, she had refused to let them see the little animal, as she was
+ashamed; but when she discovered it had a money value, and that these
+people were anxious to get it, she began to haggle with them, raising her
+price with all a peasant's persistence.
+
+"She made them draw up a paper, in which they promised to pay her four
+hundred francs a year besides, as though they had taken this deformity
+into their employ.
+
+"Incited by the greed of gain, she continued to produce these phenomena,
+so as to have an assured income like a bourgeoise.
+
+"Some of them were long, some short, some like crabs-all bodies-others
+like lizards.  Several died, and she was heartbroken.
+
+"The law tried to interfere, but as they had no proof they let her
+continue to produce her freaks.
+
+She has at this moment eleven alive, and they bring in, on an average,
+counting good and bad years, from five to six thousand francs a year.
+One, alone, is not placed, the one she was unwilling to show us.  But she
+will not keep it long, for she is known to all the showmen in the world,
+who come from time to time to see if she has anything new.
+
+"She even gets bids from them when the monster is valuable."
+
+My friend was silent.  A profound disgust stirred my heart, and a feeling
+of rage, of regret, to think that I had not strangled this brute when I
+had the opportunity.
+
+I had forgotten this story, when I saw on the beach of a fashionable
+resort the other day, an elegant, charming, dainty woman, surrounded by
+men who paid her respect as well as admiration.
+
+I was walking along the beach, arm in arm with a friend, the resident
+physician.  Ten minutes later, I saw a nursemaid with three children, who
+were rolling in the sand.  A pair of little crutches lay on the ground,
+and touched my sympathy.  I then noticed that these three children were
+all deformed, humpbacked, or crooked; and hideous.
+
+"Those are the offspring of that charming woman you saw just now," said
+the doctor.
+
+I was filled with pity for her, as well as for them, and exclaimed:
+"Oh, the poor mother!  How can she ever laugh!"
+
+"Do not pity her, my friend.  Pity the poor children," replied the
+doctor.  "This is the consequence of preserving a slender figure up to
+the last.  These little deformities were made by the corset.  She knows
+very well that she is risking her life at this game.  But what does she
+care, as long as lie can be beautiful and have admirers!"
+
+And then I recalled that other woman, the peasant, the "Devil," who sold
+her children, her monsters.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+AN UNCOMFORTABLE BED
+
+One autumn I went to spend the hunting season with some friends in a
+chateau in Picardy.
+
+My friends were fond of practical jokes.  I do not care to know people
+who are not.
+
+When I arrived, they gave me a princely reception, which at once awakened
+suspicion in my mind.  They fired off rifles, embraced me, made much of
+me, as if they expected to have great fun at my expense.
+
+I said to myself:
+
+"Look out, old ferret!  They have something in store for you."
+
+During the dinner the mirth was excessive, exaggerated, in fact.
+I thought: "Here are people who have more than their share of amusement,
+and apparently without reason.  They must have planned some good joke.
+Assuredly I am to be the victim of the joke.  Attention!"
+
+During the entire evening every one laughed in an exaggerated fashion.
+I scented a practical joke in the air, as a dog scents game.  But what
+was it?  I was watchful, restless.  I did not let a word, or a meaning,
+or a gesture escape me.  Every one seemed to me an object of suspicion,
+and I even looked distrustfully at the faces of the servants.
+
+The hour struck for retiring; and the whole household came to escort me
+to my room.  Why?
+
+They called to me: "Good-night."  I entered the apartment, shut the door,
+and remained standing, without moving a single step, holding the wax
+candle in my hand.
+
+I heard laughter and whispering in the corridor.  Without doubt they were
+spying on me.  I cast a glance round the walls, the furniture, the
+ceiling, the hangings, the floor.  I saw nothing to justify suspicion.
+I heard persons moving about outside my door.  I had no doubt they were
+looking through the keyhole.
+
+An idea came into my head: "My candle may suddenly go out and leave me in
+darkness."
+
+Then I went across to the mantelpiece and lighted all the wax candles
+that were on it.  After that I cast another glance around me without
+discovering anything.  I advanced with short steps, carefully examining
+the apartment.  Nothing.  I inspected every article, one after the other.
+Still nothing.  I went over to the window.  The shutters, large wooden
+shutters, were open.  I shut them with great care, and then drew the
+curtains, enormous velvet curtains, and placed a chair in front of them,
+so as to have nothing to fear from outside.
+
+Then I cautiously sat down.  The armchair was solid.  I did not venture
+to get into the bed.  However, the night was advancing; and I ended by
+coming to the conclusion that I was foolish.  If they were spying on me,
+as I supposed, they must, while waiting for the success of the joke they
+had been preparing for me, have been laughing immoderately at my terror.
+So I made up my mind to go to bed.  But the bed was particularly
+suspicious-looking.  I pulled at the curtains.  They seemed to be secure.
+
+All the same, there was danger.  I was going perhaps to receive a cold
+shower both from overhead, or perhaps, the moment I stretched myself out,
+to find myself sinking to the floor with my mattress.  I searched in my
+memory for all the practical jokes of which I ever had experience.  And I
+did not want to be caught.  Ah! certainly not! certainly not!  Then I
+suddenly bethought myself of a precaution which I considered insured
+safety.  I caught hold of the side of the mattress gingerly, and very
+slowly drew it toward me.  It came away, followed by the sheet and the
+rest of the bedclothes.  I dragged all these objects into the very middle
+of the room, facing the entrance door.  I made my bed over again as best
+I could at some distance from the suspected bedstead and the corner which
+had filled me with such anxiety.  Then I extinguished all the candles,
+and, groping my way, I slipped under the bed clothes.
+
+For at least another hour I remained awake, starting at the slightest
+sound.  Everything seemed quiet in the chateau.  I fell asleep.
+
+I must have been in a deep sleep for a long time, but all of a sudden I
+was awakened with a start by the fall of a heavy body tumbling right on
+top of my own, and, at the same time, I received on my face, on my neck,
+and on my chest a burning liquid which made me utter a howl of pain.  And
+a dreadful noise, as if a sideboard laden with plates and dishes had
+fallen down, almost deafened me.
+
+I was smothering beneath the weight that was crushing me and preventing
+me from moving.  I stretched out my hand to find out what was the nature
+of this object.  I felt a face, a nose, and whiskers.  Then, with all my
+strength, I launched out a blow at this face.  But I immediately received
+a hail of cuffings which made me jump straight out of the soaked sheets,
+and rush in my nightshirt into the corridor, the door of which I found
+open.
+
+Oh, heavens!  it was broad daylight.  The noise brought my friends
+hurrying into my apartment, and we found, sprawling over my improvised
+bed, the dismayed valet, who, while bringing me my morning cup of tea,
+had tripped over this obstacle in the middle of the floor and fallen on
+his stomach, spilling my breakfast over my face in spite of himself.
+
+The precautions I had taken in closing the shutters and going to sleep in
+the middle of the room had only brought about the practical joke I had
+been trying to avoid.
+
+Oh, how they all laughed that day!
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A PORTRAIT
+
+Hello! there's Milial!" said somebody near me.  I looked at the man who
+had been pointed out as I had been wishing for a long time to meet this
+Don Juan.
+
+He was no longer young.  His gray hair looked a little like those fur
+bonnets worn by certain Northern peoples, and his long beard, which fell
+down over his chest, had also somewhat the appearance of fur.  He was
+talking to a lady, leaning toward her, speaking in a low voice and
+looking at her with an expression full of respect and tenderness.
+
+I knew his life, or at least as much as was known of it.  He had loved
+madly several times, and there had been certain tragedies with which his
+name had been connected.  When I spoke to women who were the loudest in
+his praise, and asked them whence came this power, they always answered,
+after thinking for a while: "I don't know--he has a certain charm about
+him."
+
+He was certainly not handsome.  He had none of the elegance that we
+ascribe to conquerors of feminine hearts.  I wondered what might be his
+hid den charm.  Was it mental?  I never had heard of a clever saying of
+his.  In his glance?  Perhaps.  Or in his voice?  The voices of some
+beings have a certain irresistible attraction, almost suggesting the
+flavor of things good to eat.  One is hungry for them, and the sound of
+their words penetrates us like a dainty morsel.  A friend was passing.
+I asked him: "Do you know Monsieur Milial?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Introduce us."
+
+A minute later we were shaking hands and talking in the doorway.  What he
+said was correct, agreeable to hear; it contained no irritable thought.
+The voice was sweet, soft, caressing, musical; but I had heard others
+much more attractive, much more moving.  One listened to him with
+pleasure, just as one would look at a pretty little brook.  No tension of
+the mind was necessary in order to follow him, no hidden meaning aroused
+curiosity, no expectation awoke interest.  His conversation was rather
+restful, but it did not awaken in one either a desire to answer, to
+contradict or to approve, and it was as easy to answer him as it was to
+listen to him.  The response came to the lips of its own accord, as soon
+as he had finished talking, and phrases turned toward him as if he had
+naturally aroused them.
+
+One thought soon struck me.  I had known him for a quarter of an hour,
+and it seemed as if he were already one of my old friends, that I had
+known all about him for a long time; his face, his gestures, his voice,
+his ideas.  Suddenly, after a few minutes of conversation, he seemed
+already to be installed in my intimacy.  All constraint disappeared
+between us, and, had he so desired, I might have confided in him as one
+confides only in old friends.
+
+Certainly there was some mystery about him.  Those barriers that are
+closed between most people and that are lowered with time when sympathy,
+similar tastes, equal intellectual culture and constant intercourse
+remove constraint--those barriers seemed not to exist between him and me,
+and no doubt this was the case between him and all people, both men and
+women, whom fate threw in his path.
+
+After half an hour we parted, promising to see each other often, and he
+gave me his address after inviting me to take luncheon with him in two
+days.
+
+I forgot what hour he had stated, and I arrived too soon; he was not yet
+home.  A correct and silent domestic showed me into a beautiful, quiet,
+softly lighted parlor.  I felt comfortable there, at home.  How often I
+have noticed the influence of apartments on the character and on the
+mind!  There are some which make one feel foolish; in others, on the
+contrary, one always feels lively.  Some make us sad, although well
+lighted and decorated in light-colored furniture; others cheer us up,
+although hung with sombre material.  Our eye, like our heart, has its
+likes and dislikes, of which it does not inform us, and which it secretly
+imposes on our temperament.  The harmony of furniture, walls, the style
+of an ensemble, act immediately on our mental state, just as the air from
+the woods, the sea or the mountains modifies our physical natures.
+
+I sat down on a cushion-covered divan and felt myself suddenly carried
+and supported by these little silk bags of feathers, as if the outline of
+my body had been marked out beforehand on this couch.
+
+Then I looked about.  There was nothing striking about the room; every-
+where were beautiful and modest things, simple and rare furniture,
+Oriental curtains which did not seem to come from a department store but
+from the interior of a harem; and exactly opposite me hung the portrait
+of a woman.  It was a portrait of medium size, showing the head and the
+upper part of the body, and the hands, which were holding a book.  She
+was young, bareheaded; ribbons were woven in her hair; she was smiling
+sadly.  Was it because she was bareheaded, was it merely her natural
+expression?  I never have seen a portrait of a lady which seemed so much
+in its place as that one in that dwelling.  Of all those I knew I have
+seen nothing like that one.  All those that I know are on exhibition,
+whether the lady be dressed in her gaudiest gown, with an attractive
+headdress and a look which shows that she is posing first of all before
+the artist and then before those who will look at her or whether they
+have taken a comfortable attitude in an ordinary gown.  Some are standing
+majestically in all their beauty, which is not at all natural to them in
+life.  All of them have something, a flower or, a jewel, a crease in the
+dress or a curve of the lip, which one feels to have been placed there
+for effect by the artist.  Whether they wear a hat or merely their hair
+one can immediately notice that they are not entirely natural.  Why?
+One cannot say without knowing them, but the effect is there.  They seem
+to be calling somewhere, on people whom they wish to please and to whom
+they wish to appear at their best advantage; and they have studied their
+attitudes, sometimes modest, Sometimes haughty.
+
+What could one say about this one?  She was at home and alone.  Yes, she
+was alone, for she was smiling as one smiles when thinking in solitude of
+something sad or sweet, and not as one smiles when one is being watched.
+She seemed so much alone and so much at home that she made the whole
+large apartment seem absolutely empty.  She alone lived in it, filled it,
+gave it life.  Many people might come in and converse, laugh, even sing;
+she would still be alone with a solitary smile, and she alone would give
+it life with her pictured gaze.
+
+That look also was unique.  It fell directly on me, fixed and caressing,
+without seeing me.  All portraits know that they are being watched, and
+they answer with their eyes, which see, think, follow us without leaving
+us, from the very moment we enter the apartment they inhabit.  This one
+did not see me; it saw nothing, although its look was fixed directly on
+me.  I remembered the surprising verse of Baudelaire:
+
+And your eyes, attractive as those of a portrait.
+
+They did indeed attract me in an irresistible manner; those painted eyes
+which had lived, or which were perhaps still living, threw over me a
+strange, powerful spell.  Oh, what an infinite and tender charm, like a
+passing breeze, like a dying sunset of lilac rose and blue, a little sad
+like the approaching night, which comes behind the sombre frame and out
+of those impenetrable eyes!  Those eyes, created by a few strokes from a
+brush, hide behind them the mystery of that which seems to be and which
+does not exist, which can appear in the eyes of a woman, which can make
+love blossom within us.
+
+The door opened and M. Milial entered.  He excused himself for being
+late.  I excused myself for being ahead of time.  Then I said: "Might I
+ask you who is this lady?"
+
+He answered: "That is my mother.  She died very young."
+
+Then I understood whence came the inexplicable attraction of this man.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE DRUNKARD
+
+The north wind was blowing a hurricane, driving through the sky big,
+black, heavy clouds from which the rain poured down on the earth with
+terrific violence.
+
+A high sea was raging and dashing its huge, slow, foamy waves along the
+coast with the rumbling sound of thunder.  The waves followed each other
+close, rolling in as high as mountains, scattering the foam as they
+broke.
+
+The storm engulfed itself in the little valley of Yport, whistling and
+moaning, tearing the shingles from the roofs, smashing the shutters,
+knocking down the chimneys, rushing through the narrow streets in such
+gusts that one could walk only by holding on to the walls, and children
+would have been lifted up like leaves and carried over the houses into
+the fields.
+
+The fishing smacks had been hauled high up on land, because at high tide
+the sea would sweep the beach.  Several sailors, sheltered behind the
+curved bottoms of their boats, were watching this battle of the sky and
+the sea.
+
+Then, one by one, they went away, for night was falling on the storm,
+wrapping in shadows the raging ocean and all the battling elements.
+
+Just two men remained, their hands plunged deep into their pockets,
+bending their backs beneath the squall, their woolen caps pulled down
+over their ears; two big Normandy fishermen, bearded, their skin tanned
+through exposure, with the piercing black eyes of the sailor who looks
+over the horizon like a bird of prey.
+
+One of them was saying:
+
+"Come on, Jeremie, let's go play dominoes.  It's my treat."
+
+The other hesitated a while, tempted on one hand by the game and the
+thought of brandy, knowing well that, if he went to Paumelle's, he would
+return home drunk; held back, on the other hand, by the idea of his wife
+remaining alone in the house.
+
+He asked:
+
+"Any one might think that you had made a bet to get me drunk every night.
+Say, what good is it doing you, since it's always you that's treating?"
+
+Nevertheless he was smiling at the idea of all this brandy drunk at the
+expense of another.  He was smiling the contented smirk of an avaricious
+Norman.
+
+Mathurin, his friend, kept pulling him by the sleeve.
+
+"Come on, Jeremie.  This isn't the kind of a night to go home without
+anything to warm you up.  What are you afraid of?  Isn't your wife going
+to warm your bed for you?"
+
+Jeremie answered:
+
+"The other night I couldn't find the door--I had to be fished out of the
+ditch in front of the house!"
+
+He was still laughing at this drunkard's recollection, and he was
+unconsciously going toward Paumelle's Cafe, where a light was shining in
+the window; he was going, pulled by Mathurin and pushed by the wind,
+unable to resist these combined forces.
+
+The low room was full of sailors, smoke and noise.  All these men, clad
+in woolens, their elbows on the tables, were shouting to make themselves
+heard.  The more people came in, the more one had to shout in order to
+overcome the noise of voices and the rattling of dominoes on the marble
+tables.
+
+Jeremie and Mathurin sat down in a corner and began a game, and the
+glasses were emptied in rapid succession into their thirsty throats.
+
+Then they played more games and drank more glasses.  Mathurin kept
+pouring and winking to the saloon keeper, a big, red-faced man, who
+chuckled as though at the thought of some fine joke; and Jeremie kept
+absorbing alcohol and wagging his head, giving vent to a roar of laughter
+and looking at his comrade with a stupid and contented expression.
+
+All the customers were going away.  Every time that one of them would
+open the door to leave a gust of wind would blow into the cafe, making
+the tobacco smoke swirl around, swinging the lamps at the end of their
+chains and making their flames flicker, and suddenly one could hear the
+deep booming of a breaking wave and the moaning of the wind.
+
+Jeremie, his collar unbuttoned, was taking drunkard's poses, one leg
+outstretched, one arm hanging down and in the other hand holding a
+domino.
+
+They were alone now with the owner, who had come up to them, interested.
+
+He asked:
+
+"Well, Jeremie, how goes it inside?  Feel less thirsty after wetting your
+throat?"
+
+Jeremie muttered:
+
+"The more I wet it, the drier it gets inside."
+
+The innkeeper cast a sly glance at Mathurin.  He said:
+
+"And your brother, Mathurin, where's he now?"
+
+The sailor laughed silently:
+
+"Don't worry; he's warm, all right."
+
+And both of them looked toward Jeremie, who was triumphantly putting down
+the double six and announcing:
+
+"Game!"
+
+Then the owner declared:
+
+"Well, boys, I'm goin' to bed.  I will leave you the lamp and the bottle;
+there's twenty cents' worth in it.  Lock the door when you go, Mathurin,
+and slip the key under the mat the way you did the other night."
+
+Mathurin answered:
+
+"Don't worry; it'll be all right."
+
+Paumelle shook hands with his two customers and slowly went up the wooden
+stairs.  For several minutes his heavy step echoed through the little
+house.  Then a loud creaking announced that he had got into bed.
+
+The two men continued to play.  From time to time a more violent gust of
+wind would shake the whole house, and the two drinkers would look up, as
+though some one were about to enter.  Then Mathurin would take the bottle
+and fill Jeremie's glass.  But suddenly the clock over the bar struck
+twelve.  Its hoarse clang sounded like the rattling of saucepans.  Then
+Mathurin got up like a sailor whose watch is over.
+
+"Come on, Jeremie, we've got to get out."
+
+The other man rose to his feet with difficulty, got his balance by
+leaning on the table, reached the door and opened it while his companion
+was putting out the light.
+
+As soon as they were in the street Mathurin locked the door and then
+said:
+
+"Well, so long.  See you to-morrow night!"
+
+And he disappeared in the darkness.
+
+Jeremie took a few steps, staggered, stretched out his hands, met a wall
+which supported him and began to stumble along.  From time to time a gust
+of wind would sweep through the street, pushing him forward, making him
+run for a few steps; then, when the wind would die down, he would stop
+short, having lost his impetus, and once more he would begin to stagger
+on his unsteady drunkard's legs.
+
+He went instinctively toward his home, just as birds go to their nests.
+Finally he recognized his door, and began to feel about for the keyhole
+and tried to put the key in it.  Not finding the hole, he began to swear.
+Then he began to beat on the door with his fists, calling for his wife to
+come and help him:
+
+"Melina!  Oh, Melina!"
+
+As he leaned against the door for support, it gave way and opened, and
+Jeremie, losing his prop, fell inside, rolling on his face into the
+middle of his room, and he felt something heavy pass over him and escape
+in the night.
+
+He was no longer moving, dazed by fright, bewildered, fearing the devil,
+ghosts, all the mysterious beings of darkness, and he waited a long time
+without daring to move.  But when he found out that nothing else was
+moving, a little reason returned to him, the reason of a drunkard.
+
+Gently he sat up.  Again he waited a long time, and at last, growing
+bolder, he called:
+
+"Melina!"
+
+His wife did not answer.
+
+Then, suddenly, a suspicion crossed his darkened mind, an indistinct,
+vague suspicion.  He was not moving; he was sitting there in the dark,
+trying to gather together his scattered wits, his mind stumbling over
+incomplete ideas, just as his feet stumbled along.
+
+Once more he asked:
+
+"Who was it, Melina?  Tell me who it was.  I won't hurt you!"
+
+He waited, no voice was raised in the darkness.  He was now reasoning
+with himself out loud.
+
+"I'm drunk, all right!  I'm drunk!  And he filled me up, the dog; he did
+it, to stop my goin' home.  I'm drunk!"
+
+And he would continue:
+
+"Tell me who it was, Melina, or somethin'll happen to you."
+
+After having waited again, he went on with the slow and obstinate logic
+of a drunkard:
+
+"He's been keeping me at that loafer Paumelle's place every night, so as
+to stop my going home.  It's some trick.  Oh, you damned carrion!"
+
+Slowly he got on his knees.  A blind fury was gaining possession of him,
+mingling with the fumes of alcohol.
+
+He continued:
+
+"Tell me who it was, Melina, or you'll get a licking--I warn you!"
+
+He was now standing, trembling with a wild fury, as though the alcohol
+had set his blood on fire.  He took a step, knocked against a chair,
+seized it, went on, reached the bed, ran his hands over it and felt the
+warm body of his wife.
+
+Then, maddened, he roared:
+
+"So!  You were there, you piece of dirt, and you wouldn't answer!"
+
+And, lifting the chair, which he was holding in his strong sailor's grip,
+he swung it down before him with an exasperated fury.  A cry burst from
+the bed, an agonizing, piercing cry.  Then he began to thrash around like
+a thresher in a barn.  And soon nothing more moved.  The chair was broken
+to pieces, but he still held one leg and beat away with it, panting.
+
+At last he stopped to ask:
+
+"Well, are you ready to tell me who it was?"
+
+Melina did not answer.
+
+Then tired out, stupefied from his exertion, he stretched himself out on
+the ground and slept.
+
+When day came a neighbor, seeing the door open, entered.  He saw Jeremie
+snoring on the floor, amid the broken pieces of a chair, and on the bed a
+pulp of flesh and blood.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE WARDROBE
+
+As we sat chatting after dinner, a party of men, the conversation turned
+on women, for lack of something else.
+
+One of us said:
+
+"Here's a funny thing that happened to me on, that very subject."  And he
+told us the following story:
+
+One evening last winter I suddenly felt overcome by that overpowering
+sense of misery and languor that takes possession of one from time to
+time.  I was in my own apartment, all alone, and I was convinced that if
+I gave in to my feelings I should have a terrible attack of melancholia,
+one of those attacks that lead to suicide when they recur too often.
+
+I put on my overcoat and went out without the slightest idea of what I
+was going to do.  Having gone as far as the boulevards, I began to wander
+along by the almost empty cafes.  It was raining, a fine rain that
+affects your mind as it does your clothing, not one of those good
+downpours which come down in torrents, driving breathless passers-by into
+doorways, but a rain without drops that deposits on your clothing an
+imperceptible spray and soon covers you with a sort of iced foam that
+chills you through.
+
+What should I do?  I walked in one direction and then came back, looking
+for some place where I could spend two hours, and discovering for the
+first time that there is no place of amusement in Paris in the evening.
+At last I decided to go to the Folies-Bergere, that entertaining resort
+for gay women.
+
+There were very few people in the main hall.  In the long horseshoe curve
+there were only a few ordinary looking people, whose plebeian origin was
+apparent in their manners, their clothes, the cut of their hair and
+beard, their hats, their complexion.  It was rarely that one saw from
+time to time a man whom you suspected of having washed himself
+thoroughly, and his whole make-up seemed to match.  As for the women,
+they were always the same, those frightful women you all know, ugly,
+tired looking, drooping, and walking along in their lackadaisical manner,
+with that air of foolish superciliousness which they assume, I do not
+know why.
+
+I thought to myself that, in truth, not one of those languid creatures,
+greasy rather than fat, puffed out here and thin there, with the contour
+of a monk and the lower extremities of a bow-legged snipe, was worth the
+louis that they would get with great difficulty after asking five.
+
+But all at once I saw a little creature whom I thought attractive, not in
+her first youth, but fresh, comical and tantalizing.  I stopped her, and
+stupidly, without thinking, I made an appointment with her for that
+night.  I did not want to go back to my own home alone, all alone;
+I preferred the company and the caresses of this hussy.
+
+And I followed her.  She lived in a great big house in the Rue des
+Martyrs.  The gas was already extinguished on the stairway.  I ascended
+the steps slowly, lighting a candle match every few seconds, stubbing my
+foot against the steps, stumbling and angry as I followed the rustle of
+the skirt ahead of me.
+
+She stopped on the fourth floor, and having closed the outer door she
+said:
+
+"Then you will stay till to-morrow?"
+
+"Why, yes.  You know that that was the agreement."
+
+"All right, my dear, I just wanted to know.  Wait for me here a minute, I
+will be right back."
+
+And she left me in the darkness.  I heard her shutting two doors and then
+I thought I heard her talking.  I was surprised and uneasy.  The thought
+that she had a protector staggered me.  But I have good fists and a solid
+back.  "We shall see," I said to myself.
+
+I listened attentively with ear and mind.  Some one was stirring about,
+walking quietly and very carefully.  Then another door was opened and I
+thought I again heard some one talking, but in a very low tone.
+
+She came back carrying a lighted candle.
+
+"You may come in," she said.
+
+She said "thou" in speaking to me, which was an indication of possession.
+I went in and after passing through a dining room in which it was very
+evident that no one ever ate, I entered a typical room of all these
+women, a furnished room with red curtains and a soiled eiderdown bed
+covering.
+
+"Make yourself at home, 'mon chat'," she said.
+
+I gave a suspicious glance at the room, but there seemed no reason for
+uneasiness.
+
+As she took off her wraps she began to laugh.
+
+"Well, what ails you?  Are you changed into a pillar of salt?  Come,
+hurry up."
+
+I did as she suggested.
+
+Five minutes later I longed to put on my things and get away.  But this
+terrible languor that had overcome me at home took possession of me
+again, and deprived me of energy enough to move and I stayed in spite of
+the disgust that I felt for this association.  The unusual attractiveness
+that I supposed I had discovered in this creature over there under the
+chandeliers of the theater had altogether vanished on closer
+acquaintance, and she was nothing more to me now than a common woman,
+like all the others, whose indifferent and complaisant kiss smacked of
+garlic.
+
+I thought I would say something.
+
+"Have you lived here long?" I asked.
+
+"Over six months on the fifteenth of January."
+
+"Where were you before that?"
+
+"In the Rue Clauzel.  But the janitor made me very uncomfortable and I
+left."
+
+And she began to tell me an interminable story of a janitor who had
+talked scandal about her.
+
+But, suddenly, I heard something moving quite close to us.  First there
+was a sigh, then a slight, but distinct, sound as if some one had turned
+round on a chair.
+
+I sat up abruptly and asked.
+
+"What was that noise?"
+
+She answered quietly and confidently:
+
+"Do not be uneasy, my dear boy, it is my neighbor.  The partition is so
+thin that one can hear everything as if it were in the room.  These are
+wretched rooms, just like pasteboard."
+
+I felt so lazy that I paid no further attention to it.  We resumed our
+conversation.  Driven by the stupid curiosity that prompts all men to
+question these creatures about their first experiences, to attempt to
+lift the veil of their first folly, as though to find in them a trace of
+pristine innocence, to love them, possibly, in a fleeting memory of their
+candor and modesty of former days, evoked by a word, I insistently asked
+her about her earlier lovers.
+
+I knew she was telling me lies.  What did it matter?  Among all these
+lies I might, perhaps, discover something sincere and pathetic.
+
+"Come," said I, "tell me who he was."
+
+"He was a boating man, my dear."
+
+"Ah!  Tell me about it.  Where were you?"
+
+"I was at Argenteuil."
+
+"What were you doing?"
+
+"I was waitress in a restaurant."
+
+"What restaurant?"
+
+"'The Freshwater Sailor.' Do you know it?"
+
+"I should say so, kept by Bonanfan."
+
+"Yes, that's it."
+
+"And how did he make love to you, this boating man?"
+
+"While I was doing his room.  He took advantage of me."
+
+But I suddenly recalled the theory of a friend of mine, an observant and
+philosophical physician whom constant attendance in hospitals has brought
+into daily contact with girl-mothers and prostitutes, with all the shame
+and all the misery of women, of those poor women who have become the
+frightful prey of the wandering male with money in his pocket.
+
+"A woman," he said, "is always debauched by a man of her own class and
+position.  I have volumes of statistics on that subject.  We accuse the
+rich of plucking the flower of innocence among the girls of the people.
+This is not correct.  The rich pay for what they want.  They may gather
+some, but never for the first time."
+
+Then, turning to my companion, I began to laugh.
+
+"You know that I am aware of your history.  The boating man was not the
+first."
+
+"Oh, yes, my dear, I swear it:"
+
+"You are lying, my dear."
+
+"Oh, no, I assure you."
+
+"You are lying; come, tell me all."
+
+She seemed to hesitate in astonishment.  I continued:
+
+"I am a sorcerer, my dear girl, I am a clairvoyant.  If you do not tell
+me the truth, I will go into a trance sleep and then I can find out."
+
+She was afraid, being as stupid as all her kind.  She faltered:
+
+"How did you guess?"
+
+"Come, go on telling me," I said.
+
+"Oh, the first time didn't amount to anything.
+
+There was a festival in the country.  They had sent for a special chef,
+M. Alexandre.  As soon as he came he did just as he pleased in the house.
+He bossed every one, even the proprietor and his wife, as if he had been
+a king.  He was a big handsome man, who did not seem fitted to stand
+beside a kitchen range.  He was always calling out, 'Come, some butter-
+some eggs--some Madeira!'  And it had to be brought to him at once in a
+hurry, or he would get cross and say things that would make us blush all
+over.
+
+"When the day was over he would smoke a pipe outside the door.  And as I
+was passing by him with a pile of plates he said to me, like that: 'Come,
+girlie, come down to the water with me and show me the country.'  I went
+with him like a fool, and we had hardly got down to the bank of the river
+when he took advantage of me so suddenly that I did not even know what he
+was doing.  And then he went away on the nine o'clock train.  I never saw
+him again."
+
+"Is that all?" I asked.
+
+She hesitated.
+
+"Oh, I think Florentin belongs to him."
+
+"Who is Florentin?"
+
+"My little boy."
+
+"Oh!  Well, then, you made the boating man believe that he was the
+father, did you not?"
+
+"You bet!"
+
+"Did he have any money, this boating man?"
+
+"Yes, he left me an income of three hundred francs, settled on
+Florentin."
+
+I was beginning to be amused and resumed:
+
+"All right, my girl, all right.  You are all of you less stupid than one
+would imagine, all the same.  And how old is he now, Florentin?"
+
+She replied:
+
+"He is now twelve.  He will make his first communion in the spring."
+
+"That is splendid.  And since then you have carried on your business
+conscientiously?"
+
+She sighed in a resigned manner.
+
+"I must do what I can."
+
+But a loud noise just then coming from the room itself made me start up
+with a bound.  It sounded like some one falling and picking themselves up
+again by feeling along the wall with their hands.
+
+I had seized the candle and was looking about me, terrified and furious.
+She had risen also and was trying to hold me back to stop me, murmuring:
+
+"That's nothing, my dear, I assure you it's nothing."
+
+But I had discovered what direction the strange noise came from.  I
+walked straight towards a door hidden at the head of the bed and I opened
+it abruptly and saw before me, trembling, his bright, terrified eyes
+opened wide at sight of me, a little pale, thin boy seated beside a large
+wicker chair off which he had fallen.
+
+As soon as he saw me he began to cry.  Stretching out his arms to his
+mother, he cried:
+
+"It was not my fault, mamma, it was not my fault.  I was asleep, and I
+fell off.  Do not scold me, it was not my fault."
+
+I turned to the woman and said:
+
+"What does this mean?"
+
+She seemed confused and worried, and said in a broken voice:
+
+"What do you want me to do?  I do not earn enough to put him to school!
+I have to keep him with me, and I cannot afford to pay for another room,
+by heavens!  He sleeps with me when I am alone.  If any one comes for one
+hour or two he can stay in the wardrobe; he keeps quiet, he understands
+it.  But when people stay all night, as you have done, it tires the poor
+child to sleep on a chair.
+
+It is not his fault.  I should like to see you sleep all night on a
+chair--you would have something to say."
+
+She was getting angry and excited and was talking loud.
+
+The child was still crying.  A poor delicate timid little fellow, a
+veritable child of the wardrobe, of the cold, dark closet, a child who
+from time to time was allowed to get a little warmth in the bed if it
+chanced to be unoccupied.
+
+I also felt inclined to cry.
+
+And I went home to my own bed.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE MOUNTAIN POOL
+
+                                   Saint Agnes, May 6.
+MY DEAR FRIEND:
+You asked me to write to you often and to tell you in particular about
+the things I might see.  You also begged me to rummage among my
+recollections of travels for some of those little anecdotes gathered from
+a chance peasant, from an innkeeper, from some strange traveling
+acquaintance, which remain as landmarks in the memory.  With a landscape
+depicted in a few lines, and a little story told in a few sentences you
+think one can give the true characteristics of a country, make it living,
+visible, dramatic.  I will try to do as you wish.  I will, therefore,
+send you from time to time letters in which I will mention neither you
+nor myself, but only the landscape and the people who move about in it.
+And now I will begin.
+
+Spring is a season in which one ought, it seems to me, to drink and eat
+the landscape.  It is the season of chills, just as autumn is the season
+of reflection.  In spring the country rouses the physical senses, in
+autumn it enters into the soul.
+
+I desired this year to breathe the odor of orange blossoms and I set out
+for the South of France just at the time that every one else was
+returning home.  I visited Monaco, the shrine of pilgrims, rival of Mecca
+and Jerusalem, without leaving any gold in any one else's pockets, and I
+climbed the high mountain beneath a covering of lemon, orange and olive
+branches.
+
+Have you ever slept, my friend, in a grove of orange trees in flower?
+The air that one inhales with delight is a quintessence of perfumes.  The
+strong yet sweet odor, delicious as some dainty, seems to blend with our
+being, to saturate us, to intoxicate us, to enervate us, to plunge us
+into a sleepy, dreamy torpor.  As though it were an opium prepared by the
+hands of fairies and not by those of druggists.
+
+This is a country of ravines.  The surface of the mountains is cleft,
+hollowed out in all directions, and in these sinuous crevices grow
+veritable forests of lemon trees.  Here and there where the steep gorge
+is interrupted by a sort of step, a kind of reservoir has been built
+which holds the water of the rain storms.
+
+They are large holes with slippery walls with nothing for any one to
+grasp hold of should they fall in.
+
+I was walking slowly in one of these ascending valleys or gorges,
+glancing through the foliage at the vivid-hued fruit that remained on the
+branches.  The narrow gorge made the heavy odor of the flowers still more
+penetrating; the air seemed to be dense with it.  A feeling of lassitude
+came over me and I looked for a place to sit down.  A few drops of water
+glistened in the grass.  I thought that there was a spring near by and I
+climbed a little further to look for it.  But I only reached the edge of
+one of these large, deep reservoirs.
+
+I sat down tailor fashion, with my legs crossed under me, and remained
+there in a reverie before this hole, which looked as if it were filled
+with ink, so black and stagnant was the liquid it contained.  Down
+yonder, through the branches, I saw, like patches, bits of the
+Mediterranean gleaming so that they fairly dazzled my eyes.  But my
+glance always returned to the immense somber well that appeared to be
+inhabited by no aquatic animals, so motionless was its surface.
+Suddenly a voice made me tremble.  An old gentleman who was picking
+flowers--this country is the richest in Europe for herbalists--asked me:
+
+"Are you a relation of those poor children, monsieur?"
+
+I looked at him in astonishment.
+
+"What children, monsieur?"
+
+He seemed embarrassed and answered with a bow:
+
+"I beg your pardon.  On seeing you sitting thus absorbed in front of this
+reservoir I thought you were recalling the frightful tragedy that
+occurred here."
+
+Now I wanted to know about it, and I begged him to tell me the story.
+
+It is very dismal and very heart-rending, my dear friend, and very
+trivial at the same time.  It is a simple news item.  I do not know
+whether to attribute my emotion to the dramatic manner in which the story
+was told to me, to the setting of the mountains, to the contrast between
+the joy of the sunlight and the flowers and this black, murderous hole,
+but my heart was wrung, all my nerves unstrung by this tale which,
+perhaps, may not appear so terribly harrowing to you as you read it in
+your room without having the scene of the tragedy before your eyes.
+
+It was one spring in recent years.  Two little boys frequently came to
+play on the edge of this cistern while their tutor lay under a tree
+reading a book.  One warm afternoon a piercing cry awoke the tutor who
+was dozing and the sound of splashing caused by something falling into
+the water made him jump to his feet abruptly.  The younger of the
+children, eight years of age, was shouting, as he stood beside the
+reservoir, the surface of which was stirred and eddying at the spot where
+the older boy had fallen in as he ran along the stone coping.
+
+Distracted, without waiting or stopping to think what was best to do, the
+tutor jumped into the black water and did not rise again, having struck
+his head at the bottom of the cistern.
+
+At the same moment the young boy who had risen to the surface was waving
+his stretched-out arms toward his brother.  The little fellow on land lay
+down full length, while the other tried to swim, to approach the wall,
+and presently the four little hands clasped each other, tightened in each
+other's grasp, contracted as though they were fastened together.  They
+both felt the intense joy of an escape from death, a shudder at the
+danger past.
+
+The older boy tried to climb up to the edge, but could not manage it, as
+the wall was perpendicular, and his brother, who was too weak, was
+sliding slowly towards the hole.
+
+Then they remained motionless, filled anew with terror.  And they waited.
+
+The little fellow squeezed his brother's hands with all his might and
+wept from nervousness as he repeated: "I cannot drag you out, I cannot
+drag you out."  And all at once he began to shout, "Help!  Help!" But his
+light voice scarcely penetrated beyond the dome of foliage above their
+heads.
+
+They remained thus a long time, hours and hours, facing each other, these
+two children, with one thought, one anguish of heart and the horrible
+dread that one of them, exhausted, might let go the hands of the other.
+And they kept on calling, but all in vain.
+
+At length the older boy, who was shivering with cold, said to the little
+one: "I cannot hold out any longer.  I am going to fall.  Good-by, little
+brother."  And the other, gasping, replied: "Not yet, not yet, wait."
+
+Evening came on, the still evening with its stars mirrored in the water.
+The older lad, his endurance giving out, said: "Let go my hand, I am
+going to give you my watch."  He had received it as a present a few days
+before, and ever since it had been his chief amusement.  He was able to
+get hold of it, and held it out to the little fellow who was sobbing and
+who laid it down on the grass beside him.
+
+It was night now.  The two unhappy beings, exhausted, had almost loosened
+their grasp.  The elder, at last, feeling that he was lost, murmured once
+more: "Good-by, little brother, kiss mamma and papa."  And his numbed
+fingers relaxed their hold.  He sank and did not rise again .  .  .  .
+The little fellow, left alone, began to shout wildly: "Paul! Paul!"  But
+the other did not come to the surface.
+
+Then he darted across the mountain, falling among the stones, overcome by
+the most frightful anguish that can wring a child's heart, and with a
+face like death reached the sitting-room, where his parents were waiting.
+He became bewildered again as he led them to the gloomy reservoir.  He
+could not find his way.  At last he reached the spot.  "It is there; yes,
+it is there!"
+
+But the cistern had to be emptied, and the proprietor would not permit it
+as he needed the water for his lemon trees.
+
+The two bodies were found, however, but not until the next day.
+
+You see, my dear friend, that this is a simple news item.  But if you had
+seen the hole itself your heart would have been wrung, as mine was, at
+the thought of the agony of that child hanging to his brother's hands, of
+the long suspense of those little chaps who were accustomed only to laugh
+and to play, and at the simple incident of the giving of the watch.
+
+I said to myself: "May Fate preserve me from ever receiving a similar
+relic!"  I know of nothing more terrible than such a recollection
+connected with a familiar object that one cannot dispose of.  Only think
+of it; each time that he handles this sacred watch the survivor will
+picture once more the horrible scene; the pool, the wall, the still
+water, and the distracted face of his brother-alive, and yet as lost as
+though he were already dead.  And all through his life, at any moment,
+the vision will be there, awakened the instant even the tip of his finger
+touches his watch pocket.
+
+And I was sad until evening.  I left the spot and kept on climbing,
+leaving the region of orange trees for the region of olive trees, and the
+region of olive trees for the region of pines; then I came to a valley of
+stones, and finally reached the ruins of an ancient castle, built, they
+say, in the tenth century by a Saracen chief, a good man, who was
+baptized a Christian through love for a young girl.  Everywhere around me
+were mountains, and before me the sea, the sea with an almost
+imperceptible patch on it: Corsica, or, rather, the shadow of Corsica.
+But on the mountain summits, blood-red in the glow of the sunset, in the
+boundless sky and on the sea, in all this superb landscape that I had
+come here to admire I saw only two poor children, one lying prone on the
+edge of a hole filled with black water, the other submerged to his neck,
+their hands intertwined, weeping opposite each other, in despair.
+And it seemed as though I continually heard a weak, exhausted voice
+saying: "Good-by, little brother, I am going to give you my watch."
+
+This letter may seem rather melancholy, dear friend.  I will try to be
+more cheerful some other day.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A CREMATION
+
+Last Monday an Indian prince died at Etretat, Bapu Sahib Khanderao
+Ghatay, a relation of His Highness, the Maharajah Gaikwar, prince of
+Baroda, in the province of Guzerat, Presidency of Bombay.
+
+For about three weeks there had been seen walking in the streets about
+ten young East Indians, small, lithe, with dark skins, dressed all in
+gray and wearing on their heads caps such as English grooms wear.  They
+were men of high rank who had come to Europe to study the military
+institutions of the principal Western nations.  The little band consisted
+of three princes, a nobleman, an interpreter and three servants.
+
+The head of the commission had just died, an old man of forty-two and
+father-in-law of Sampatro Kashivao Gaikwar, brother of His Highness, the
+Gaikwar of Baroda.
+
+The son-in-law accompanied his father-in-law.
+
+The other East Indians were called Ganpatrao Shravanrao Gaikwar, cousin
+of His Highness Khasherao Gadhav; Vasudev Madhav Samarth, interpreter and
+secretary; the slaves: Ramchandra Bajaji, Ganu bin Pukiram Kokate,
+Rhambhaji bin Fabji.
+
+On leaving his native land the one who died recently was overcome with
+terrible grief, and feeling convinced that he would never return he
+wished to give up the journey, but he had to obey the wishes of his noble
+relative, the Prince of Baroda, and he set out.
+
+They came to spend the latter part of the summer at Etretat, and people
+would go out of curiosity every morning to see them taking their bath at
+the Etablissment des Roches-Blanches.
+
+Five or six days ago Bapu Sahib Khanderao Ghatay was taken with pains in
+his gums; then the inflammation spread to the throat and became
+ulceration.  Gangrene set in and, on Monday, the doctors told his young
+friends that their relative was dying.  The final struggle was already
+beginning, and the breath had almost left the unfortunate man's body when
+his friends seized him, snatched him from his bed and laid him on the
+stone floor of the room, so that, stretched out on the earth, our mother,
+he should yield up his soul, according to the command of Brahma.
+
+They then sent to ask the mayor, M. Boissaye, for a permit to burn the
+body that very day so as to fulfill the prescribed ceremonial of the
+Hindoo religion.  The mayor hesitated, telegraphed to the prefecture to
+demand instructions, at the same time sending word that a failure to
+reply would be considered by him tantamount to a consent.  As he had
+received no reply at 9 o'clock that evening, he decided, in view of the
+infectious character of the disease of which the East Indian had died,
+that the cremation of the body should take place that very night, beneath
+the cliff, on the beach, at ebb tide.
+
+The mayor is being criticized now for this decision, though he acted as
+an intelligent, liberal and determined man, and was upheld and advised by
+the three physicians who had watched the case and reported the death.
+
+They were dancing at the Casino that evening.  It was an early autumn
+evening, rather chilly.  A pretty strong wind was blowing from the ocean,
+although as yet there was no sea on, and swift, light, ragged clouds were
+driving across the sky.  They came from the edge of the horizon, looking
+dark against the background of the sky, but as they approached the moon
+they grew whiter and passed hurriedly across her face, veiling it for a
+few seconds without completely hiding it.
+
+The tall,, straight cliffs that inclose the rounded beach of Etretat and
+terminate in two celebrated arches, called "the Gates," lay in shadow,
+and made two great black patches in the softly lighted landscape.
+
+It had rained all day.
+
+The Casino orchestra was playing waltzes, polkas and quadrilles.  A rumor
+was presently circulated among the groups of dancers.  It was said that
+an East Indian prince had just died at the Hotel des Bains and that the
+ministry had been approached for permission to burn the body.  No one
+believed it, or at least no one supposed that such a thing could occur so
+foreign was the custom as yet to our customs, and as the night was far
+advanced every one went home.
+
+At midnight, the lamplighter, running from street to street,
+extinguished, one after another, the yellow jets of flame that lighted up
+the sleeping houses, the mud and the puddles of water.  We waited,
+watching for the hour when the little town should be quiet and deserted.
+
+Ever since noon a carpenter had been cutting up wood and asking himself
+with amazement what was going to be done with all these planks sawn up
+into little bits, and why one should destroy so much good merchandise.
+This wood was piled up in a cart which went along through side streets as
+far as the beach, without arousing the suspicion of belated persons who
+might meet it.  It went along on the shingle at the foot of the cliff,
+and having dumped its contents on the beach the three Indian servants
+began to build a funeral pile, a little longer than it was wide.  They
+worked alone, for no profane hand must aid in this solemn duty.
+
+It was one o'clock in the morning when the relations of the deceased were
+informed that they might accomplish their part of the work.
+
+The door of the little house they occupied was open, and we perceived,
+lying on a stretcher in the small, dimly lighted vestibule the corpse
+covered with white silk.  We could see him plainly as he lay stretched
+out on his back, his outline clearly defined beneath this white veil.
+
+The East Indians, standing at his feet, remained motionless, while one of
+them performed the prescribed rites, murmuring unfamiliar words in a low,
+monotonous tone.  He walked round and round the corpse; touching it
+occasionally, then, taking an urn suspended from three slender chains, he
+sprinkled it for some time with the sacred water of the Ganges, that East
+Indians must always carry with them wherever they go.
+
+Then the stretcher was lifted by four of them who started off at a slow
+march.  The moon had gone down, leaving the muddy, deserted streets in
+darkness, but the body on the stretcher appeared to be luminous, so
+dazzlingly white was the silk, and it was a weird sight to see, passing
+along through the night, the semi-luminous form of this corpse, borne by
+those men, the dusky skin of whose faces and hands could scarcely be
+distinguished from their clothing in the darkness.
+
+Behind the corpse came three Indians, and then, a full head taller than
+themselves and wrapped in an ample traveling coat of a soft gray color,
+appeared the outline of an Englishman, a kind and superior man, a friend
+of theirs, who was their guide and counselor in their European travels.
+
+Beneath the cold, misty sky of this little northern beach I felt as if I
+were taking part in a sort of symbolical drama.  It seemed to me that
+they were carrying there, before me, the conquered genius of India,
+followed, as in a funeral procession, by the victorious genius of England
+robed in a gray ulster.
+
+On the shingly beach the four bearers halted a few moments to take
+breath, and then proceeded on their way.  They now walked quickly,
+bending beneath the weight of their burden.  At length they reached the
+funeral pile.  It was erected in an indentation, at the very foot of the
+cliff, which rose above it perpendicularly a hundred meters high,
+perfectly white but looking gray in the night.
+
+The funeral pile was about three and a half feet high.  The corpse was
+placed on it and then one of the Indians asked to have the pole star
+pointed out to him.  This was done, and the dead Rajah was laid with his
+feet turned towards his native country.  Then twelve bottles of kerosene
+were poured over him and he was covered completely with thin slabs of
+pine wood.  For almost another hour the relations and servants kept
+piling up the funeral pyre which looked like one of those piles of wood
+that carpenters keep in their yards.  Then on top of this was poured the
+contents of twenty bottles of oil, and on top of all they emptied a bag
+of fine shavings.  A few steps further on, a flame was glimmering in a
+little bronze brazier, which had remained lighted since the arrival of
+the corpse.
+
+The moment had arrived.  The relations went to fetch the fire.  As it was
+barely alight, some oil was poured on it, and suddenly a flame arose
+lighting up the great wall of rock from summit to base.  An Indian who
+was leaning over the brazier rose upright, his two hands in the air, his
+elbows bent, and all at once we saw arising, all black on the immense
+white cliff, a colossal shadow, the shadow of Buddha in his hieratic
+posture.  And the little pointed toque that the man wore on his head even
+looked like the head-dress of the god.
+
+The effect was so striking and unexpected that I felt my heart beat as
+though some supernatural apparition had risen up before me.
+
+That was just what it was--the ancient and sacred image, come from the
+heart of the East to the ends of Europe, and watching over its son whom
+they were going to cremate there.
+
+It vanished.  They brought fire.  The shavings on top of the pyre were
+lighted and then the wood caught fire and a brilliant light illumined the
+cliff, the shingle and the foam of the waves as they broke on the beach.
+
+It grew brighter from second to second, lighting up on the sea in the
+distance the dancing crest of the waves.
+
+The breeze from the ocean blew in gusts, increasing the heat of the flame
+which flattened down, twisted, then shot up again, throwing out millions
+of sparks.  They mounted with wild rapidity along the cliff and were lost
+in the sky, mingling with the stars, increasing their number.  Some sea
+birds who had awakened uttered their plaintive cry, and, describing long
+curves, flew, with their white wings extended, through the gleam from the
+funeral pyre and then disappeared in the night.
+
+Before long the pile of wood was nothing but a mass of flame, not red but
+yellow, a blinding yellow, a furnace lashed by the wind.  And, suddenly,
+beneath a stronger gust, it tottered, partially crumbling as it leaned
+towards the sea, and the corpse came to view, full length, blackened on
+his couch of flame and burning with long blue flames:
+
+The pile of wood having crumbled further on the right the corpse turned
+over as a man does in bed.  They immediately covered him with fresh wood
+and the fire started up again more furiously than ever.
+
+The East Indians, seated in a semi-circle on the shingle, looked out with
+sad, serious faces.  And the rest of us, as it was very cold, had drawn
+nearer to the fire until the smoke and sparks came in our faces.  There
+was no odor save that of burning pine and petroleum.
+
+Hours passed; day began to break.  Toward five o'clock in the morning
+nothing remained but a heap of ashes.  The relations gathered them up,
+cast some of them to the winds, some in the sea, and kept some in a brass
+vase that they had brought from India.  They then retired to their home
+to give utterance to lamentations.
+
+These young princes and their servants, by the employment of the most
+inadequate appliances succeeded in carrying out the cremation of their
+relation in the most perfect manner, with singular skill and remarkable
+dignity.  Everything was done according to ritual, according to the rigid
+ordinances of their religion.  Their dead one rests in peace.
+
+The following morning at daybreak there was an indescribable commotion in
+Etretat.  Some insisted that they had burned a man alive, others that
+they were trying to hide a crime, some that the mayor would be put in
+jail, others that the Indian prince had succumbed to an attack of
+cholera.
+
+The men were amazed, the women indignant.  A crowd of people spent the
+day on the site of the funeral pile, looking for fragments of bone in the
+shingle that was still warm.  They found enough bones to reconstruct ten
+skeletons, for the farmers on shore frequently throw their dead sheep
+into the sea.  The finders carefully placed these various fragments in
+their pocketbooks.  But not one of them possesses a true particle of the
+Indian prince.
+
+That very night a deputy sent by the government came to hold an inquest.
+He, however, formed an estimate of this singular case like a man of
+intelligence and good sense.  But what should he say in his report?
+
+The East Indians declared that if they had been prevented in France from
+cremating their dead they would have taken him to a freer country where
+they could have carried out their customs.
+
+Thus, I have seen a man cremated on a funeral pile, and it has given me a
+wish to disappear in the same manner.
+
+In this way everything ends at once.  Man expedites the slow work of
+nature, instead of delaying it by the hideous coffin in which one
+decomposes for months.  The flesh is dead, the spirit has fled.  Fire
+which purifies disperses in a few hours all that was a human being; it
+casts it to the winds, converting it into air and ashes, and not into
+ignominious corruption.
+
+This is clean and hygienic.  Putrefaction beneath the ground in a closed
+box where the body becomes like pap, a blackened, stinking pap, has about
+it something repugnant and disgusting.  The sight of the coffin as it
+descends into this muddy hole wrings one's heart with anguish.  But the
+funeral pyre which flames up beneath the sky has about it something
+grand, beautiful and solemn.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MISTI
+
+I was very much interested at that time in a droll little woman.  She was
+married, of course, as I have a horror of unmarried flirts.  What
+enjoyment is there in making love to a woman who belongs to nobody and
+yet belongs to any one?  And, besides, morality aside, I do not
+understand love as a trade.  That disgusts me somewhat.
+
+The especial attraction in a married woman to a bachelor is that she
+gives him a home, a sweet, pleasant home where every one takes care of
+you and spoils you, from the husband to the servants.  One finds
+everything combined there, love, friendship, even fatherly interest, bed
+and board, all, in fact, that constitutes the happiness of life, with
+this incalculable advantage, that one can change one's family from time
+to time, take up one's abode in all kinds of society in turn: in summer,
+in the country with the workman who rents you a room in his house; in
+winter with the townsfolk, or even with the nobility, if one is
+ambitious.
+
+I have another weakness; it is that I become attached to the husband as
+well as the wife.  I acknowledge even that some husbands, ordinary or
+coarse as they may be, give me a feeling of disgust for their wives,
+however charming they may be.  But when the husband is intellectual or
+charming I invariably become very much attached to him.  I am careful if
+I quarrel with the wife not to quarrel with the husband.  In this way I
+have made some of my best friends, and have also proved in many cases the
+incontestable superiority of the male over the female in the human
+species.  The latter makes all sorts of trouble-scenes, reproaches, etc.;
+while the former, who has just as good a right to complain, treats you,
+on the contrary, as though you were the special Providence of his hearth.
+
+Well, my friend was a quaint little woman, a brunette, fanciful,
+capricious, pious, superstitious, credulous as a monk, but charming.
+She had a way of kissing one that I never saw in any one else--but that
+was not the attraction--and such a soft skin!  It gave me intense delight
+merely to hold her hands.  And an eye--her glance was like a slow caress,
+delicious and unending.  Sometimes I would lean my head on her knee and
+we would remain motionless, she leaning over me with that subtle,
+enigmatic, disturbing smile that women have, while my eyes would be
+raised to hers, drinking sweetly and deliciously into my heart, like a
+form of intoxication, the glance of her limpid blue eyes, limpid as
+though they were full of thoughts of love, and blue as though they were a
+heaven of delights.
+
+Her husband, inspector of some large public works, was frequently away
+from home and left us our evenings free.  Sometimes I spent them with her
+lounging on the divan with my forehead on one of her knees; while on the
+other lay an enormous black cat called "Misti," whom she adored.  Our
+fingers would meet on the cat's back and would intertwine in her soft
+silky fur.  I felt its warm body against my cheek, trembling with its
+eternal purring, and occasionally a paw would reach out and place on my
+mouth, or my eyelid, five unsheathed claws which would prick my eyelids,
+and then be immediately withdrawn.
+
+Sometimes we would go out on what we called our escapades.  They were
+very innocent, however.  They consisted in taking supper at some inn in
+the suburbs, or else, after dining at her house or at mine, in making the
+round of the cheap cafes, like students out for a lark.
+
+We would go into the common drinking places and take our seats at the end
+of the smoky den on two rickety chairs, at an old wooden table.  A cloud
+of pungent smoke, with which blended an odor of fried fish from dinner,
+filled the room.  Men in smocks were talking in loud tones as they drank
+their petits verres, and the astonished waiter placed before us two
+cherry brandies.
+
+She, trembling, charmingly afraid, would raise her double black veil as
+far as her nose, and then take up her glass with the enjoyment that one
+feels at doing something delightfully naughty.  Each cherry she swallowed
+made her feel as if she had done something wrong, each swallow of the
+burning liquor had on her the affect of a delicate and forbidden
+enjoyment.
+
+Then she would say to me in a low tone: "Let us go."  And we would leave,
+she walking quickly with lowered head between the drinkers who watched
+her going by with a look of displeasure.  And as soon as we got into the
+street she would give a great sigh of relief, as if we had escaped some
+terrible danger.
+
+Sometimes she would ask me with a shudder:
+
+"Suppose they, should say something rude to me in those places, what
+would you do?"  "Why, I would defend you, parbleu!"  I would reply in a
+resolute manner.  And she would squeeze my arm for happiness, perhaps
+with a vague wish that she might be insulted and protected, that she
+might see men fight on her account, even those men, with me!
+
+One evening as we sat at a table in a tavern at Montmartre, we saw an old
+woman in tattered garments come in, holding in her hand a pack of dirty
+cards.  Perceiving a lady, the old woman at once approached us and
+offered to tell my friend's fortune.  Emma, who in her heart believed in
+everything, was trembling with longing and anxiety, and she made a place
+beside her for the old woman.
+
+The latter, old, wrinkled, her eyes with red inflamed rings round them,
+and her mouth without a single tooth in it, began to deal her dirty cards
+on the table.  She dealt them in piles, then gathered them up, and then
+dealt them out again, murmuring indistinguishable words.  Emma, turning
+pale, listened with bated breath, gasping with anxiety and curiosity.
+
+The fortune-teller broke silence.  She predicted vague happenings:
+happiness and children, a fair young man, a voyage, money, a lawsuit, a
+dark man, the return of some one, success, a death.  The mention of this
+death attracted the younger woman's attention.  "Whose death?  When?  In
+what manner?"
+
+The old woman replied: "Oh, as to that, these cards are not certain
+enough.  You must come to my place to-morrow; I will tell you about it
+with coffee grounds which never make a mistake."
+
+Emma turned anxiously to me:
+
+"Say, let us go there to-morrow.  Oh, please say yes.  If not, you cannot
+imagine how worried I shall be."
+
+I began to laugh.
+
+"We will go if you wish it, dearie."
+
+The old woman gave us her address.  She lived on the sixth floor, in a
+wretched house behind the Buttes-Chaumont.  We went there the following
+day.
+
+Her room, an attic containing two chairs and a bed, was filled with
+strange objects, bunches of herbs hanging from nails, skins of animals,
+flasks and phials containing liquids of various colors.  On the table a
+stuffed black cat looked out of eyes of glass.  He seemed like the demon
+of this sinister dwelling.
+
+Emma, almost fainting with emotion, sat down on a chair and exclaimed:
+
+"Oh, dear, look at that cat; how like it is to Misti."
+
+And she explained to the old woman that she had a cat "exactly like that,
+exactly like that!"
+
+The old woman replied gravely:
+
+"If you are in love with a man, you must not keep it."
+
+Emma, suddenly filled with fear, asked:
+
+"Why not?"
+
+The old woman sat down familiarly beside her and took her hand.
+
+"It was the undoing of my life," she said.
+
+My friend wanted to hear about it.  She leaned against the old woman,
+questioned her, begged her to tell.  At length the woman agreed to do so.
+
+"I loved that cat," she said, "as one would love a brother.  I was young
+then and all alone, a seamstress.  I had only him, Mouton.  One of the
+tenants had given it to me.  He was as intelligent as a child, and gentle
+as well, and he worshiped me, my dear lady, he worshiped me more than one
+does a fetish.  All day long he would sit on my lap purring, and all
+night long on my pillow; I could feel his heart beating, in fact.
+
+"Well, I happened to make an acquaintance, a fine young man who was
+working in a white-goods house.  That went on for about three months on a
+footing of mere friendship.  But you know one is liable to weaken, it may
+happen to any one, and, besides, I had really begun to love him.  He was
+so nice, so nice, and so good.  He wanted us to live together, for
+economy's sake.  I finally allowed him to come and see me one evening.  I
+had not made up my mind to anything definite; oh, no!  But I was pleased
+at the idea that we should spend an hour together.
+
+"At first he behaved very well, said nice things to me that made my heart
+go pit-a-pat.  And then he kissed me, madame, kissed me as one does when
+they love.  I remained motionless, my eyes closed, in a paroxysm of
+happiness.  But, suddenly, I felt him start violently and he gave a
+scream, a scream that I shall never forget.  I opened my eyes and saw
+that Mouton had sprung at his face and was tearing the skin with his
+claws as if it had been a linen rag.  And the blood was streaming down
+like rain, madame.
+
+"I tried to take the cat away, but he held on tight, scratching all the
+time; and he bit me, he was so crazy.  I finally got him and threw him
+out of the window, which was open, for it was summer.
+
+"When I began to bathe my poor friend's face, I noticed that his eyes
+were destroyed, both his eyes!
+
+"He had to go to the hospital.  He died of grief at the end of a year.
+I wanted to keep him with me and provide for him, but he would not agree
+to it.  One would have supposed that he hated me after the occurrence.
+
+"As for Mouton, his back was broken by the fall, The janitor picked up
+his body.  I had him stuffed, for in spite of all I was fond of him.
+If he acted as he did it was because he loved me, was it not?"
+
+The old woman was silent and began to stroke the lifeless animal whose
+body trembled on its iron framework.
+
+Emma, with sorrowful heart, had forgotten about the predicted death--or,
+at least, she did not allude to it again, and she left, giving the woman
+five francs.
+
+As her husband was to return the following day, I did not go to the house
+for several days.  When I did go I was surprised at not seeing Misti.
+I asked where he was.
+
+She blushed and replied:
+
+"I gave him away.  I was uneasy."
+
+I was astonished.
+
+"Uneasy?  Uneasy?  What about?"
+
+She gave me a long kiss and said in a low tone:
+
+"I was uneasy about your eyes, my dear."
+
+     Misti appeared in.  Gil Blas of January 22, 1884, over the signature
+     of "MAUFRIGNEUSE."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MADAME HERMET
+
+Crazy people attract me.  They live in a mysterious land of weird dreams,
+in that impenetrable cloud of dementia where all that they have witnessed
+in their previous life, all they have loved, is reproduced for them in an
+imaginary existence, outside of all laws that govern the things of this
+life and control human thought.
+
+For them there is no such thing as the impossible, nothing is improbable;
+fairyland is a constant quantity and the supernatural quite familiar.
+The old rampart, logic; the old wall, reason; the old main stay of
+thought, good sense, break down, fall and crumble before their
+imagination, set free and escaped into the limitless realm of fancy, and
+advancing with fabulous bounds, and nothing can check it.  For them
+everything happens, and anything may happen.  They make no effort to
+conquer events, to overcome resistance, to overturn obstacles.  By a
+sudden caprice of their flighty imagination they become princes,
+emperors, or gods, are possessed of all the wealth of the world, all the
+delightful things of life, enjoy all pleasures, are always strong, always
+beautiful, always young, always beloved!  They, alone, can be happy in
+this world; for, as far as they are concerned, reality does not exist.
+I love to look into their wandering intelligence as one leans over an
+abyss at the bottom of which seethes a foaming torrent whose source and
+destination are both unknown.
+
+But it is in vain that we lean over these abysses, for we shall never
+discover the source nor the destination of this water.  After all, it is
+only water, just like what is flowing in the sunlight, and we shall learn
+nothing by looking at it.
+
+It is likewise of no use to ponder over the intelligence of crazy people,
+for their most weird notions are, in fact, only ideas that are already
+known, which appear strange simply because they are no longer under the
+restraint of reason.  Their whimsical source surprises us because we do
+not see it bubbling up.  Doubtless the dropping of a little stone into
+the current was sufficient to cause these ebullitions.  Nevertheless
+crazy people attract me and I always return to them, drawn in spite of
+myself by this trivial mystery of dementia.
+
+One day as I was visiting one of the asylums the physician who was my
+guide said:
+
+"Come, I will show you an interesting case."
+
+And he opened the door of a cell where a woman of about forty, still
+handsome, was seated in a large armchair, looking persistently at her
+face in a little hand mirror.
+
+As soon as she saw us she rose to her feet, ran to the other end of the
+room, picked up a veil that lay on a chair, wrapped it carefully round
+her face, then came back, nodding her head in reply to our greeting.
+
+"Well," said the doctor, "how are you this morning?"
+
+She gave a deep sigh.
+
+"Oh, ill, monsieur, very ill.  The marks are increasing every day."
+
+He replied in a tone of conviction:
+
+"Oh, no; oh, no; I assure you that you are mistaken."
+
+She drew near to him and murmured:
+
+"No.  I am certain of it.  I counted ten pittings more this morning,
+three on the right cheek, four on the left cheek, and three on the
+forehead.  It is frightful, frightful!  I shall never dare to let any one
+see me, not even my son; no, not even him!  I am lost, I am disfigured
+forever."
+
+She fell back in her armchair and began to sob.
+
+The doctor took a chair, sat down beside her, and said soothingly in a
+gentle tone:
+
+"Come, let me see; I assure you it is nothing.  With a slight
+cauterization I will make it all disappear."
+
+She shook her head in denial, without speaking.  He tried to touch her
+veil, but she seized it with both hands so violently that her fingers
+went through it.
+
+He continued to reason with her and reassure her.
+
+"Come, you know very well that I remove those horrid pits every time and
+that there is no trace of them after I have treated them.  If you do not
+let me see them I cannot cure you."
+
+"I do not mind your seeing them," she murmured, "but I do not know that
+gentleman who is with you."
+
+"He is a doctor also, who can give you better care than I can."
+
+She then allowed her face to be uncovered, but her dread, her emotion,
+her shame at being seen brought a rosy flush to her face and her neck,
+down to the collar of her dress.  She cast down her eyes, turned her face
+aside, first to the right; then to the left, to avoid our gaze and
+stammered out:
+
+"Oh, it is torture to me to let myself be seen like this!  It is
+horrible, is it not?  Is it not horrible?"
+
+I looked at her in much surprise, for there was nothing on her face, not
+a mark, not a spot, not a sign of one, nor a scar.
+
+She turned towards me, her eyes still lowered, and said:
+
+"It was while taking care of my son that I caught this fearful disease,
+monsieur.  I saved him, but I am disfigured.  I sacrificed my beauty to
+him, to my poor child.  However, I did my duty, my conscience is at rest.
+If I suffer it is known only to God."
+
+The doctor had drawn from his coat pocket a fine water-color paint brush.
+
+"Let me attend to it," he said, "I will put it all right."
+
+She held out her right cheek, and he began by touching it lightly with
+the brush here and there, as though he were putting little points of
+paint on it.  He did the same with the left cheek, then with the chin,
+and the forehead, and then exclaimed:
+
+"See, there is nothing there now, nothing at all!"
+
+She took up the mirror, gazed at her reflection with profound, eager
+attention, with a strong mental effort to discover something, then she
+sighed:
+
+"No.  It hardly shows at all.  I am infinitely obliged to you."
+
+The doctor had risen.  He bowed to her, ushered me out and followed me,
+and, as soon as he had locked the door, said:
+
+"Here is the history of this unhappy woman."
+
+Her name is Mme. Hermet.  She was once very beautiful, a great coquette,
+very much beloved and very much in-love with life.
+
+She was one of those women who have nothing but their beauty and their
+love of admiration to sustain, guide or comfort them in this life.  The
+constant anxiety to retain her freshness, the care of her complexion, of
+her hands, her teeth, of every portion of body that was visible, occupied
+all her time and all her attention.
+
+She became a widow, with one son.  The boy was brought up as are all
+children of society beauties.  She was, however, very fond of him.
+
+He grew up, and she grew older.  Whether she saw the fatal crisis
+approaching, I cannot say.  Did she, like so many others, gaze for hours
+and hours at her skin, once so fine, so transparent and free from
+blemish, now beginning to shrivel slightly, to be crossed with a thousand
+little lines, as yet imperceptible, that will grow deeper day by day,
+month by month?  Did she also see slowly, but surely, increasing traces
+of those long wrinkles on the forehead, those slender serpents that
+nothing can check?  Did she suffer the torture, the abominable torture of
+the mirror, the little mirror with the silver handle which one cannot
+make up one's mind to lay down on the table, but then throws down in
+disgust only to take it up again in order to look more closely, and still
+more closely at the hateful and insidious approaches of old age?  Did she
+shut herself up ten times, twenty times a day, leaving her friends
+chatting in the drawing-room, and go up to her room where, under the
+protection of bolts and bars, she would again contemplate the work of
+time on her ripe beauty, now beginning to wither, and recognize with
+despair the gradual progress of the process which no one else had as yet
+seemed to perceive, but of which she, herself, was well aware.  She knows
+where to seek the most serious, the gravest traces of age.  And the
+mirror, the little round hand-glass in its carved silver frame, tells her
+horrible things; for it speaks, it seems to laugh, it jeers and tells her
+all that is going to occur, all the physical discomforts and the
+atrocious mental anguish she will suffer until the day of her death,
+which will be the day of her deliverance.
+
+Did she weep, distractedly, on her knees, her forehead to the ground, and
+pray, pray, pray to Him who thus slays his creatures and gives them youth
+only that he may render old age more unendurable, and lends them beauty
+only that he may withdraw it almost immediately?  Did she pray to Him,
+imploring Him to do for her what He has never yet done for any one, to
+let her retain until her last day her charm, her freshness and her
+gracefulness?  Then, finding that she was imploring in vain an inflexible
+Unknown who drives on the years, one after another, did she roll on the
+carpet in her room, knocking her head against the furniture and stifling
+in her throat shrieks of despair?
+
+Doubtless she suffered these tortures, for this is what occurred:
+
+One day (she was then thirty-five) her son aged fifteen, fell ill.
+
+He took to his bed without any one being able to determine the cause or
+nature of his illness.
+
+His tutor, a priest, watched beside him and hardly ever left him, while
+Mme. Hermet came morning and evening to inquire how he was.
+
+She would come into the room in the morning in her night wrapper,
+smiling, all powdered and perfumed, and would ask as she entered the
+door:
+
+"Well, George, are you better?"
+
+The big boy, his face red, swollen and showing the ravages of fever,
+would reply:
+
+"Yes, little mother, a little better."
+
+She would stay in the room a few seconds, look at the bottles of
+medicine, and purse her lips as if she were saying "phew," and then would
+suddenly exclaim: "Oh, I forgot something very important," and would run
+out of the room leaving behind her a fragrance of choice toilet perfumes.
+
+In the evening she would appear in a decollete dress, in a still greater
+hurry, for she was always late, and she had just time to inquire:
+
+"Well, what does the doctor say?"
+
+The priest would reply:
+
+"He has not yet given an opinion, madame."
+
+But one evening the abbe replied: "Madame, your son has got the small-
+pox."
+
+She uttered a scream of terror and fled from the room.
+
+When her maid came to her room the following morning she noticed at once
+a strong odor of burnt sugar, and she found her mistress, with wide-open
+eyes, her face pale from lack of sleep, and shivering with terror in her
+bed.
+
+As soon as the shutters were opened Mme. Herrnet asked:
+
+"How is George?"
+
+"Oh, not at all well to-day, madame."
+
+She did not rise until noon, when she ate two eggs with a cup of tea, as
+if she herself had been ill, and then she went out to a druggist's to
+inquire about prophylactic measures against the contagion of small-pox.
+
+She did not come home until dinner time, laden with medicine bottles, and
+shut herself up at once in her room, where she saturated herself with
+disinfectants.
+
+The priest was waiting for her in the dining-room.  As soon as she saw
+him she exclaimed in a voice full of emotion:
+
+"Well?"
+
+"No improvement.  The doctor is very anxious:"
+
+She began to cry and could eat nothing, she was so worried.
+
+The next day, as soon as it was light, she sent to inquire for her son,
+but there was no improvement and she spent the whole day in her room,
+where little braziers were giving out pungent odors.  Her maid said also
+that you could hear her sighing all the evening.
+
+She spent a whole week in this manner, only going out for an hour or two
+during the afternoon to breathe the air.
+
+She now sent to make inquiries every hour, and would sob when the reports
+were unfavorable.
+
+On the morning of the eleventh day the priest, having been announced,
+entered her room, his face grave and pale, and said, without taking the
+chair she offered him:
+
+"Madame, your son is very ill and wishes to see you."
+
+She fell on her knees, exclaiming:
+
+"Oh, my God!  Oh, my God!  I would never dare!  My God!  My God!  Help
+me!"
+
+The priest continued:
+
+"The doctor holds out little hope, madame, and George is expecting you!"
+
+And he left the room.
+
+Two hours later as the young lad, feeling himself dying, again asked for
+his mother, the abbe went to her again and found her still on her knees,
+still weeping and repeating:
+
+"I will not .  .  .  .  I will not.  .  .  .  I am too much afraid .  .
+.  .  I will not.  .  .  ."
+
+He tried to persuade her, to strengthen her, to lead her.  He only
+succeeded in bringing on an attack of "nerves" that lasted some time and
+caused her to shriek.
+
+The doctor when he came in the evening was told of this cowardice and
+declared that he would bring her in himself, of her own volition, or by
+force.  But after trying all manner of argument and just as he seized her
+round the waist to carry her into her son's room, she caught hold of the
+door and clung to it so firmly that they could not drag her away.  Then
+when they let go of her she fell at the feet of the doctor, begging his
+forgiveness and acknowledging that she was a wretched creature.  And then
+she exclaimed: "Oh, he is not going to die; tell me that he is not going
+to die, I beg of you; tell him that I love him, that I worship him. . ."
+
+The young lad was dying.  Feeling that he had only a few moments more to
+live, he entreated that his mother be persuaded to come and bid him a
+last farewell.  With that sort of presentiment that the dying sometimes
+have, he had understood, had guessed all, and he said: "If she is afraid
+to come into the room, beg her just to come on the balcony as far as my
+window so that I may see her, at least, so that I may take a farewell
+look at her, as I cannot kiss her."
+
+The doctor and the abbe, once more, went together to this woman and
+assured her: "You will run no risk, for there will be a pane of glass
+between you and him."
+
+She consented, covered up her head, and took with her a bottle of
+smelling salts.  She took three steps on the balcony; then, all at once,
+hiding her face in her hands, she moaned: "No .  .  .  no .  .  .  I
+would never dare to look at him .  .  .  never.  .  .  .  I am too much
+ashamed .  .  .  too much afraid .  .  .  .  No .  .  .  I cannot."
+
+They endeavored to drag her along, but she held on with both hands to the
+railings and uttered such plaints that the passers-by in the street
+raised their heads.  And the dying boy waited, his eyes turned towards
+that window, waited to die until he could see for the last time the
+sweet, beloved face, the worshiped face of his mother.
+
+He waited long, and night came on.  Then he turned over with his face to
+the wall and was silent.
+
+When day broke he was dead.  The day following she was crazy.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE MAGIC COUCH
+
+The Seine flowed past my house, without a ripple on its surface, and
+gleaming in the bright morning sunlight.  It was a beautiful, broad,
+indolent silver stream, with crimson lights here and there; and on the
+opposite side of the river were rows of tall trees that covered all the
+bank with an immense wall of verdure.
+
+The sensation of life which is renewed each day, of fresh, happy, loving
+life trembled in the leaves, palpitated in the air, was mirrored in the
+water.
+
+The postman had just brought my papers, which were handed to me, and I
+walked slowly to the river bank in order to read them.
+
+In the first paper I opened I noticed this headline, "Statistics of
+Suicides," and I read that more than 8,500 persons had killed themselves
+in that year.
+
+In a moment I seemed to see them!  I saw this voluntary and hideous
+massacre of the despairing who were weary of life.  I saw men bleeding,
+their jaws fractured, their skulls cloven, their breasts pierced by a
+bullet, slowly dying, alone in a little room in a hotel, giving no
+thought to their wound, but thinking only of their misfortunes.
+
+I saw others seated before a tumbler in which some matches were soaking,
+or before a little bottle with a red label.
+
+They would look at it fixedly without moving; then they would drink and
+await the result; then a spasm would convulse their cheeks and draw their
+lips together; their eyes would grow wild with terror, for they did not
+know that the end would be preceded by so much suffering.
+
+They rose to their feet, paused, fell over and with their hands pressed
+to their stomachs they felt their internal organs on fire, their entrails
+devoured by the fiery liquid, before their minds began to grow dim.
+
+I saw others hanging from a nail in the wall, from the fastening of the
+window, from a hook in the ceiling, from a beam in the garret, from a
+branch of a tree amid the evening rain.  And I surmised all that had
+happened before they hung there motionless, their tongues hanging out of
+their mouths.  I imagined the anguish of their heart, their final
+hesitation, their attempts to fasten the rope, to determine that it was
+secure, then to pass the noose round their neck and to let themselves
+fall.
+
+I saw others lying on wretched beds, mothers with their little children,
+old men dying of hunger, young girls dying for love, all rigid,
+suffocated, asphyxiated, while in the center of the room the brasier
+still gave forth the fumes of charcoal.
+
+And I saw others walking at night along the deserted bridges.  These were
+the most sinister. The water flowed under the arches with a low sound.
+They did not see it .  .  .  they guessed at it from its cool breath!
+They longed for it and they feared it.  They dared not do it!  And yet,
+they must.  A distant clock sounded the hour and, suddenly, in the vast
+silence of the night, there was heard the splash of a body falling into
+the river, a scream or two, the sound of hands beating the water, and all
+was still.  Sometimes, even, there was only the sound of the falling body
+when they had tied their arms down or fastened a stone to their feet.
+Oh, the poor things, the poor things, the poor things, how I felt their
+anguish, how I died in their death!  I went through all their
+wretchedness; I endured in one hour all their tortures.  I knew all the
+sorrows that had led them to this, for I know the deceitful infamy of
+life, and no one has felt it more than I have.
+
+How I understood them, these who weak, harassed by misfortune, having
+lost those they loved, awakened from the dream of a tardy compensation,
+from the illusion of another existence where God will finally be just,
+after having been ferocious, and their minds disabused of the mirages of
+happiness, have given up the fight and desire to put an end to this
+ceaseless tragedy, or this shameful comedy.
+
+Suicide!  Why, it is the strength of those whose strength is exhausted,
+the hope of those who no longer believe, the sublime courage of the
+conquered!  Yes, there is at least one door to this life we can always
+open and pass through to the other side.  Nature had an impulse of pity;
+she did not shut us up in prison.  Mercy for the despairing!
+
+As for those who are simply disillusioned, let them march ahead with free
+soul and quiet heart.  They have nothing to fear since they may take
+their leave; for behind them there is always this door that the gods of
+our illusions cannot even lock.
+
+I thought of this crowd of suicides: more than eight thousand five
+hundred in one year.  And it seemed to me that they had combined to send
+to the world a prayer, to utter a cry of appeal, to demand something that
+should come into effect later when we understood things better.  It
+seemed to me that all these victims, their throats cut, poisoned, hung,
+asphyxiated, or drowned, all came together, a frightful horde, like
+citizens to the polls, to say to society:
+
+"Grant us, at least, a gentle death!  Help us to die, you who will not
+help us to live!  See, we are numerous, we have the right to speak in
+these days of freedom, of philosophic independence and of popular
+suffrage.  Give to those who renounce life the charity of a death that
+will not be repugnant nor terrible."
+
+I began to dream, allowing my fancy to roam at will in weird and
+mysterious fashion on this subject.
+
+I seemed to be all at once in a beautiful city.  It was Paris; but at
+what period?  I walked about the streets, looking at the houses, the
+theaters, the public buildings, and presently found myself in a square
+where I remarked a large building; very handsome, dainty and attractive.
+I was surprised on reading on the facade this inscription in letters of
+gold, "Suicide Bureau."
+
+Oh, the weirdness of waking dreams where the spirit soars into a world of
+unrealities and possibilities!  Nothing astonishes one, nothing shocks
+one; and the unbridled fancy makes no distinction between the comic and
+the tragic.
+
+I approached the building where footmen in knee-breeches were seated in
+the vestibule in front of a cloak-room as they do at the entrance of a
+club.
+
+I entered out of curiosity.  One of the men rose and said:
+
+"What does monsieur wish?"
+
+"I wish to know what building this is."
+
+"Nothing more?"
+
+"Why, no."
+
+"Then would monsieur like me to take him to the Secretary of the Bureau?"
+
+I hesitated, and asked:
+
+"But will not that disturb him?"
+
+"Oh, no, monsieur, he is here to receive those who desire information."
+
+"Well, lead the way."
+
+He took me through corridors where old gentlemen were chatting, and
+finally led me into a beautiful office, somewhat somber, furnished
+throughout in black wood.  A stout young man with a corporation was
+writing a letter as he smoked a cigar, the fragrance of which gave
+evidence of its quality.
+
+He rose.  We bowed to each other, and as soon as the footman had retired
+he asked:
+
+"What can I do for you?"
+
+"Monsieur," I replied, "pardon my curiosity.  I had never seen this
+establishment.  The few words inscribed on the facade filled me with
+astonishment, and I wanted to know what was going on here."
+
+He smiled before replying, then said in a low tone with a complacent air:
+
+"Mon Dieu, monsieur, we put to death in a cleanly and gentle--I do not
+venture to say agreeable manner those persons who desire to die."
+
+I did not feel very shocked, for it really seemed to me natural and
+right.  What particularly surprised me was that on this planet, with its
+low, utilitarian, humanitarian ideals, selfish and coercive of all true
+freedom, any one should venture on a similar enterprise, worthy of an
+emancipated humanity.
+
+"How did you get the idea?" I asked.
+
+"Monsieur," he replied, "the number of suicides increased so enormously
+during the five years succeeding the world exposition of 1889 that some
+measures were urgently needed.  People killed themselves in the streets,
+at fetes, in restaurants, at the theater, in railway carriages, at the
+receptions held by the President of the Republic, everywhere.  It was not
+only a horrid sight for those who love life, as I do, but also a bad
+example for children.  Hence it became necessary to centralize suicides."
+
+"What caused this suicidal epidemic?"
+
+"I do not know.  The fact is, I believe, the world is growing old.
+People begin to see things clearly and they are getting disgruntled.
+It is the same to-day with destiny as with the government, we have found
+out what it is; people find that they are swindled in every direction,
+and they just get out of it all.  When one discovers that Providence
+lies, cheats, robs, deceives human beings just as a plain Deputy deceives
+his constituents, one gets angry, and as one cannot nominate a fresh
+Providence every three months as we do with our privileged
+representatives, one just gets out of the whole thing, which is decidedly
+bad."
+
+"Really!"
+
+"Oh, as for me, I am not complaining."
+
+"Will you inform me how you carry on this establishment?"
+
+"With pleasure.  You may become a member when you please.  It is a club."
+
+"A club!"
+
+"Yes, monsieur, founded by the most eminent men in the country, by men of
+the highest intellect and brightest intelligence.  And," he added,
+laughing heartily, "I swear to you that every one gets a great deal of
+enjoyment out of it."
+
+"In this place?"
+
+"Yes, in this place."
+
+"You surprise me."
+
+"Mon Dieu, they enjoy themselves because they have not that fear of death
+which is the great killjoy in all our earthly pleasures."
+
+"But why should they be members of this club if they do not kill
+themselves?"
+
+"One may be a member of the club without being obliged for that reason to
+commit suicide."
+
+"But then?"
+
+"I will explain.  In view of the enormous increase in suicides, and of
+the hideous spectacle they presented, a purely benevolent society was
+formed for the protection of those in despair, which placed at their
+disposal the facilities for a peaceful, painless, if not unforeseen
+death."
+
+"Who can have authorized such an institution?"
+
+"General Boulanger during his brief tenure of power.  He could never
+refuse anything.  However, that was the only good thing he did.  Hence, a
+society was formed of clear-sighted, disillusioned skeptics who desired
+to erect in the heart of Paris a kind of temple dedicated to the contempt
+for death.  This place was formerly a dreaded spot that no one ventured
+to approach.  Then its founders, who met together here, gave a grand
+inaugural entertainment with Mmes. Sarah Bernhardt, Judic, Theo, Granier,
+and twenty others, and Mme. de Reske, Coquelin, Mounet-Sully, Paulus,
+etc., present, followed by concerts, the comedies of Dumas, of Meilhac,
+Halevy and Sardon.  We had only one thing to mar it, one drama by Becque
+which seemed sad, but which subsequently had a great success at the
+Comedie-Francaise.  In fact all Paris came.  The enterprise was
+launched."
+
+"In the midst of the festivities!  What a funereal joke!"
+
+"Not at all.  Death need not be sad, it should be a matter of
+indifference.  We made death cheerful, crowned it with flowers, covered
+it with perfume, made it easy.  One learns to aid others through example;
+one can see that it is nothing."
+
+"I can well understand that they should come to the entertainments; but
+did they come to .  .  .  Death?"
+
+"Not at first; they were afraid."
+
+"And later?"
+
+"They came."
+
+"Many of them?"
+
+"In crowds.  We have had more than forty in a day.  One finds hardly any
+more drowned bodies in the Seine."
+
+"Who was the first?"
+
+"A club member."
+
+"As a sacrifice to the cause?"
+
+"I don't think so.  A man who was sick of everything, a 'down and out'
+who had lost heavily at baccarat for three months."
+
+"Indeed?"
+
+"The second was an Englishman, an eccentric.  We then advertised in the
+papers, we gave an account of our methods, we invented some attractive
+instances.  But the great impetus was given by poor people."
+
+"How do you go to work?"
+
+"Would you like to see?  I can explain at the same time."
+
+"Yes, indeed."
+
+He took his hat, opened the door, allowed me to precede him, and we
+entered a card room, where men sat playing as they, play in all gambling
+places.  They were chatting cheerfully, eagerly.  I have seldom seen such
+a jolly, lively, mirthful club.
+
+As I seemed surprised, the secretary said:
+
+"Oh, the establishment has an unheard of prestige.  All the smart people
+all over the world belong to it so as to appear as though they held death
+in scorn.  Then, once they get here, they feel obliged to be cheerful
+that they may not appear to be afraid.  So they joke and laugh and talk
+flippantly, they are witty and they become so.  At present it is
+certainly the most frequented and the most entertaining place in Paris.
+The women are even thinking of building an annex for themselves."
+
+"And, in spite of all this, you have many suicides in the house?"
+
+"As I said, about forty or fifty a day.  Society people are rare, but
+poor devils abound.  The middle class has also a large contingent.
+
+"And how .  .  .  do they do?"
+
+"They are asphyxiated .  .  .  very slowly."
+
+"In what manner?"
+
+"A gas of our own invention.  We have the patent.  On the other side of
+the building are the public entrances--three little doors opening on
+small streets.  When a man or a woman present themselves they are
+interrogated.  Then they are offered assistance, aid, protection.  If a
+client accepts, inquiries are made; and sometimes we have saved their
+lives."
+
+"Where do you get your money?"
+
+"We have a great deal.  There are a large number of shareholders.
+Besides it is fashionable to contribute to the establishment.  The names
+of the donors are published in Figaro.  Then the suicide of every rich
+man costs a thousand francs.  And they look as if they were lying in
+state.  It costs the poor nothing."
+
+"How can you tell who is poor?"
+
+"Oh, oh, monsieur, we can guess!  And, besides, they must bring a
+certificate of indigency from the commissary of police of their district.
+If you knew how distressing it is to see them come in!  I visited their
+part of our building once only, and I will never go again.  The place
+itself is almost as good as this part, almost as luxurious and
+comfortable; but they themselves .  .  .  they themselves!!!  If you
+could see them arriving, the old men in rags coming to die; persons who
+have been dying of misery for months, picking up their food at the edges
+of the curbstone like dogs in the street; women in rags, emaciated, sick,
+paralyzed, incapable of making a living, who say to us after they have
+told us their story: 'You see that things cannot go on like that, as I
+cannot work any longer or earn anything.'  I saw one woman of eighty-
+seven who had lost all her children and grandchildren, and who for the
+last six weeks had been sleeping out of doors.  It made me ill to hear of
+it.  Then we have so many different cases, without counting those who say
+nothing, but simply ask: 'Where is it?'  These are admitted at once and
+it is all over in a minute."
+
+With a pang at my heart I repeated:
+
+"And .  .  .  where is it?"
+
+"Here," and he opened a door, adding:
+
+"Go in; this is the part specially reserved for club members, and the one
+least used.  We have so far had only eleven annihilations here."
+
+"Ah!  You call that an .  .  .  annihilation!"
+
+"Yes, monsieur.  Go in."
+
+I hesitated.  At length I went in.  It was a wide corridor, a sort of
+greenhouse in which panes of glass of pale blue, tender pink and delicate
+green gave the poetic charm of landscapes to the inclosing walls.
+In this pretty salon there were divans, magnificent palms, flowers,
+especially roses of balmy fragrance, books on the tables, the Revue des
+Deuxmondes, cigars in government boxes, and, what surprised me, Vichy
+pastilles in a bonbonniere.
+
+As I expressed my surprise, my guide said:
+
+"Oh, they often come here to chat."  He continued: "The public corridors
+are similar, but more simply furnished."
+
+In reply to a question of mine, he pointed to a couch covered with creamy
+crepe de Chine with white embroidery, beneath a large shrub of unknown
+variety at the foot of which was a circular bed of mignonette.
+
+The secretary added in a lower tone:
+
+"We change the flower and the perfume at will, for our gas, which is
+quite imperceptible, gives death the fragrance of the suicide's favorite
+flower.  It is volatilized with essences.  Would you like to inhale it
+for a second?"
+
+"'No, thank you," I said hastily, "not yet .  .  .  ."
+
+He began to laugh.
+
+"Oh, monsieur, there is no danger.  I have tried it myself several
+times."
+
+I was afraid he would think me a coward, and I said:
+
+"Well, I'll try it."
+
+"Stretch yourself out on the 'endormeuse."'
+
+A little uneasy I seated myself on the low couch covered with crepe de
+Chine and stretched myself full length, and was at once bathed in a
+delicious odor of mignonette.  I opened my mouth in order to breathe it
+in, for my mind had already become stupefied and forgetful of the past
+and was a prey, in the first stages of asphyxia, to the enchanting
+intoxication of a destroying and magic opium.
+
+Some one shook me by the arm.
+
+"Oh, oh, monsieur," said the secretary, laughing, "it looks to me as if
+you were almost caught."
+
+But a voice, a real voice, and no longer a dream voice, greeted me with
+the peasant intonation:
+
+"Good morning, m'sieu.  How goes it?"
+
+My dream was over.  I saw the Seine distinctly in the sunlight, and,
+coming along a path, the garde champetre of the district, who with his
+right hand touched his kepi braided in silver.  I replied:
+
+"Good morning, Marinel.  Where are you going?"
+
+"I am going to look at a drowned man whom they fished up near the
+Morillons.  Another who has thrown himself into the soup.  He even took
+off his trousers in order to tie his legs together with them."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Entire Original Maupassant Short Stories
+