The Works of

Guy de Maupassant

VOLUME I

BOULE DE SUIF

AND OTHER STORIES

NATIONAL LIBRARY COMPANY

NEW YORK

1909

BIGELOW, SMITH & CO. 

 * * * * *

CONTENTS

 PAGEINTRODUCTION x

BOULE DE SUIF 1

MISS HARRIET 54

FRANCESCA AND CARLOTTA RONDOLI 82

CHÂLI 117

THE UMBRELLA 131

MY UNCLE SOSTHENES 143

HE? 152

A PHILOSOPHER 162

ALWAYS LOCK THE DOOR! 171

A MEETING 179

THE LITTLE CASK 190

HOW HE GOT THE LEGION OF HONOR 198

THE ACCURSED BREAD 206

WHAT WAS REALLY THE MATTER WITH ANDREW 213

MY LANDLADY 221

THE HORLA, OR MODERN GHOSTS 228

LOVE. THREE PAGES FROM A SPORTSMAN'S BOOK 263

THE HOLE 270

SAVED 279

BELLFLOWER 286

THE MARQUIS DE FUMEROL 293

THE SIGNAL 303

THE DEVIL 311

EPIPHANY 321

IN THE WOOD 336

A FAMILY 343

JOSEPH 350

THE INN 358

UGLY 376

WORKS OF GUY DE MAUPASSANT

INTRODUCTION

BY

ARTHUR SYMONS

The first aim of art, no doubt, is the representation of things as theyare. But then things are as our eyes see them and as our minds makethem; and it is thus of primary importance for the critic to distinguishthe precise qualities of the eyes and minds which make the world intoimaginative literature. Reality may be so definite and so false, just asit may be so fantastic and so true; and, among work which we canapprehend as dealing justly with reality, there may be quite as muchdifference in all that constitutes outward form and likeness as there isbetween a Dutch interior by Peter van der Hooch, the portrait of a kingby Velasquez, and the image of a woman smiling by Leonardo da Vinci. Thesoul, for instance, is at heart as real as the body; but, as we can hearit only through the body speaking, and see it only through bodily eyes, and measure it, often enough, only in the insignificant moment of itsaction, it may come to seem to us, at all events less realizable; andthus it is that we speak of those who have vividly painted exteriorthings as realists. Properly speaking, Maupassant is no more a realistthan Maeterlinck. He paints a kind of reality which it is easier for usto recognize; that is all. 

Every artist has his own vision of the world. Maupassant's vision was ofsolid superficies, of texture which his hands could touch, of actionswhich his mind could comprehend from the mere sight of its incidents. He saw the world as the Dutch painters saw it, and he was as great amaster of form, of rich and sober color, of the imitation of the outwardgestures of life, and of the fashion of external things. He had the sameview of humanity, and shows us, with the same indifference, the sameviolent ferment of life--the life of full-blooded people who have toelbow their way through the world. His sense of desire, of greed, of allthe baser passions, was profound: he had the terrible logic ofanimalism. Love-making, drunkenness, cheating, quarreling, the mereidleness of sitting drowsily in a chair, the gross life of the farmyardand the fields, civic dissensions, the sordid provincial dance of theseven deadly sins, he saw in the same direct, unilluminating way as theDutch painters; finding, indeed, no beauty in any of these things, butgetting his beauty in the deft arrangement of them, in the mere act ofplacing them in a picture. The world existed for him as somethingformless which could be cut up into little pictures. He saw no fartherthan the lines of his frame. The interest of the thing began inside thatframe, and what remained outside was merely material. 

A story of Maupassant, more than almost anything in the world, gives youthe impression of manual dexterity. It is adequately thought out, but itdoes not impress you by its thought; it is clearly seen, but it does notimpress you specially by the fidelity of its detail; it has just enoughof ordinary human feeling for the limits it has imposed on itself. Whatimpresses you is the extreme ingenuity of its handling; the way in whichthis juggler keeps his billiard-balls harmoniously rising and falling inthe air. Often, indeed, you cannot help noticing the conscious smilewhich precedes the trick, and the confident bow which concludes it. Hedoes not let you into the secret of the trick, but he prevents you fromignoring that it is after all, only a trick which you have beenwatching. 

There is a philosophy of one kind or another behind the work of everyartist. Maupassant's was a simple one, sufficient for his needs as heunderstood them, though perhaps really consequent upon his artisticmethods, rather than at the root of them. It was the philosophy ofcynicism: the most effectual means of limiting one's outlook, ofconcentrating all one's energies on the task in hand. Maupassant wrotefor men of the world, and men of the world are content with the wisdomof their counting-houses. The man of the world is perfectly willing toadmit that he is no better than you, because he takes it for grantedthat you will admit yourself to be no better than he. It is a way ofavoiding comparison. To Maupassant this cynical point of view wasinvaluable for his purpose. He wanted to tell stories just for thepleasure of telling them; he wanted to concern himself with his storysimply as a story; incidents interested him, not ideas, nor evencharacters, and he wanted every incident to be immediately effective. Now cynicism, in France, supplies a sufficient basis for all theserequirements; it is the equivalent, for popular purposes, of that appealto the average which in England is sentimentality. Compare, forinstance, the admirable story "Boule de Suif, " perhaps the best storywhich Maupassant ever wrote, with a story of somewhat similarmotive--Bret Harte's "Outcasts of Poker Flat. " Both stories arepathetic; but the pathos of the American (who had formed himself uponDickens, and in the English tradition) becomes sentimental, and gets itssuccess by being sentimental; while the pathos of the Frenchman (who hasformed himself on Flaubert, and on French lines) gets its successprecisely by being cynical. 

And then the particular variety of Maupassant's cynicism was just thatvariation of the artistic idea upon the temperament which puts the bestfinish upon work necessarily so limited, obliged to be so clenching, asthe short story. Flaubert's gigantic dissatisfaction with life, hisreally philosophic sense of its vanity, would have overweighted a writerso thoroughly equipped for his work as the writer of "Boule de Suif" and"La Maison Tellier. " Maupassant had no time, he allowed himself nospace, to reason about life; the need was upon him to tell story afterstory, each with its crisis, its thrill, its summing up of a singleexistence or a single action. The sharp, telling thrust that hisconception of art demanded could be given only by a very specious, notvery profound, very forthright, kind of cynicism, like the half kindly, half contemptuous laugh of the man who tells a good story at the club. For him it was the point of the epigram. 

Maupassant was the man of his period, and his period was that ofNaturalism. In "Les Soirees de Medan, " the volume in which "Boule deSuif" appeared, there is another story called "Sac au Dos, " in whichanother novelist made his appearance among the five who "publiclyaffirmed their literary tendencies" about the central figure of Zola. J. K. Huysmans, then but at the outset of his slow and painful coursethrough schools and experiments, was in time to sum up the newtendencies of a new period, as significantly as Maupassant summed up inhis short and brilliant, and almost undeviating career, the tendenciesof that period in which Taine and science seemed to have at last foundout the physical basis of life. Now it is a new realism which appeals tous: it is the turn of the soul. The battle which the "Soirees de Medan"helped to win has been won; having gained our right to deal with humbleand unpleasant and sordidly tragic things in fiction, we are free toconcern ourselves with other things. But though the period has passed, and will not return, the masterpieces of the period remain. Among thesemasterpieces are the novels and short stories of Guy de Maupassant. 

 ARTHUR SYMONS. 

BOULE DE SUIF

For several days, straggling remnants of the routed army had passedthrough the town. There was no question of organized troops, it wassimply a disjointed rabble, the men unshaven and dirty, their uniformsin tatters, slouching along without regimental colors, withoutorder--worn out, broken down, incapable of thought or resolution, marching from pure habit and dropping with fatigue the moment theystopped. The majority belonged to the militia, men of peaceful pursuits, retired tradespeople, sinking under the weight of their accouterments;quick-witted little moblets as prone to terror as they were toenthusiasm, as ready to attack as they were to fly; and here and there afew red trousers, remnants of a company mowed down in one of the bigbattles; somber-coated artillerymen, side by side with these variousuniforms of the infantry, and now and then the glittering helmet of aheavily booted dragoon who followed with difficulty the march of thelighter-footed soldiers of the line. 

Companies of franc-tireurs, heroically named "Avengers of the Defeat, ""Citizens of the Tomb, " "Companies in Death, " passed in their turn, looking like a horde of bandits. 

Their chiefs--formerly drapers or corn-dealers, retired soap-boilers orsuet-refiners, warriors of circumstance created officers for their moneyor the length of their moustaches, heaped with arms, flannels, and goldlace--talked loudly, discussed plans of campaign, and gave you tounderstand that they were the sole support of France in her death-agony;but they were generally in terror of their own soldiers, men "of thesack and cord, " most of them brave to foolhardiness, all of them givento pillage and debauchery. 

Report said that the Prussians were about to enter Rouen. The NationalGuard, which for two months past had made the most carefulreconnoiterings in the neighboring wood, even to the extent ofoccasionally shooting their own sentries and putting themselves inbattle array if a rabbit stirred in the brushwood, had now retired totheir domestic hearths; their arms, their uniforms, all the murderousapparatus with which they had been wont to strike terror to the heartsof all beholders for three leagues round, had vanished. 

Finally, the last of the French soldiery crossed the Seine on their wayto Pont-Audemer by Saint Sever and Bourg-Achard; and then, last of all, came their despairing general tramping on foot between two orderlies, powerless to attempt any action with these disjointed fragments of hisforces, himself utterly dazed and bewildered by the downfall of a peopleaccustomed to victory and now so disastrously beaten in spite of itstraditional bravery. 

After that a profound calm, the silence of terrified suspense, fell overthe city. Many a rotund bourgeois, emasculated by a purely commerciallife, awaited the arrival of the victors with anxiety, trembling lesttheir meat-skewers and kitchen carving-knives should come under thecategory of arms. 

Life seemed to have come to a standstill, the shops were closed, thestreets silent. From time to time an inhabitant, intimidated by theirsilence, would flit rapidly along the pavement, keeping close to thewalls. 

In this anguish of suspense, men longed for the coming of the enemy. 

In the latter part of the day following the departure of the Frenchtroops, some Uhlans, appearing from goodness knows where, traversed thecity hastily. A little later, a black mass descended from the directionof Sainte-Catherine, while two more invading torrents poured in from theroads from Darnetal and Bois-guillaume. The advance guards of the threecorps converged at the same moment into the square of the Hotel deVille, while battalion after battalion of the German army wound inthrough the adjacent streets, making the pavement ring under their heavyrhythmic tramp. 

Orders shouted in strange and guttural tones were echoed back by theapparently dead and deserted houses, while from behind the closedshutters eyes peered furtively at the conquerors, masters by right ofmight, of the city and the lives and fortunes of its inhabitants. Thepeople in their darkened dwellings fell a prey to the helplessbewilderment which comes over men before the floods, the devastatingupheavals of the earth, against which all wisdom and all force areunavailing. The same phenomenon occurs each time that the establishedorder of things is overthrown, when public security is at an end, andwhen all that the laws of man or of nature protect is at the mercy ofsome blind elemental force. The earthquake burying an entire populationunder its falling houses; the flood that carries away the drowned bodyof the peasant with the carcasses of his cattle and the beams torn fromhis roof-tree; or the victorious army massacring those who defend theirlives, and making prisoners of the rest--pillaging in the name of thesword, and thanking God to the roar of cannon--are so many appallingscourges which overthrow all faith in eternal justice, all theconfidence we are taught to place in the protection of Providence andthe reason of man. 

Small detachments now began knocking at the doors and then disappearinginto the houses. It was the occupation after the invasion. It nowbehooved the vanquished to make themselves agreeable to the victors. 

After a while, the first alarms having subsided, a new sense oftranquillity began to establish itself. In many families the Prussianofficer shared the family meals. Not infrequently he was a gentleman, and out of politeness expressed his commiseration with France and hisrepugnance at having to take part in such a war. They were gratefulenough to him for this sentiment--besides, who knew when they might notbe glad of his protection? By gaining his good offices one might havefewer men to feed. And why offend a person on whom one was utterlydependent? That would not be bravery but temerity, a quality of whichthe citizens of Rouen could no longer be accused as in the days of thoseheroic defenses by which the city had made itself famous. Above all, they said, with the unassailable urbanity of the Frenchman, it wassurely permissible to be on politely familiar terms in private, providedone held aloof from the foreign soldier in public. In the street, therefore, they ignored one another's existence, but once indoors theywere perfectly ready to be friendly, and each evening found the Germanstaying longer at the family fireside. 

The town itself gradually regained its wonted aspect. The Frenchinhabitants did not come out much, but the Prussian soldiers swarmed inthe streets. For the rest, the blue hussar officers who trailed theirmighty implements of death so arrogantly over the pavement did notappear to entertain a vastly deeper grade of contempt for the simpletownsfolk than did the officers of the Chasseurs who had drunk in thesame cafés the year before. Nevertheless there was a something in theair; something subtle and indefinable, an intolerably unfamiliaratmosphere like a widely diffused odor--the odor of invasion. It filledthe private dwellings and the public places, it affected the taste offood, and gave one the impression of being on a journey, far away fromhome, among barbarous and dangerous tribes. 

The conquerors demanded money--a great deal of money. The inhabitantspaid and went on paying; for the matter of that, they were rich. But thewealthier a Normandy tradesman becomes, the more keenly he suffers ateach sacrifice each time he sees the smallest particle of his fortunepass into the hands of another. 

Two or three leagues beyond the town, however, following the course ofthe river about Croisset Dieppedalle or Biessard, the sailors and thefishermen would often drag up the swollen corpse of some uniformedGerman, killed by a knife-thrust or a kick, his head smashed in by astone, or thrown into the water from some bridge. The slime of the riverbed swallowed up many a deed of vengeance, obscure, savage, andlegitimate; unknown acts of heroism, silent onslaughts more perilous tothe doer than battles in the light of day and without the trumpetblasts of glory. 

For hatred of the Alien is always strong enough to arm some intrepidbeings who are ready to die for an Idea. 

At last, seeing that though the invaders had subjected the city to theirinflexible discipline they had not committed any of the horrors withwhich rumor had accredited them throughout the length of their triumphalprogress, the worthy tradespeople took heart of grace and the commercialspirit began once more to stir within them. Some of them who had graveinterests at stake at Havre, then occupied by the French army, purposedtrying to reach that port by going overland to Dieppe and there takingship. 

They took advantage of the influence of German officers whoseacquaintance they had made, and a passport was obtained from the generalin command. 

Having therefore engaged a large diligence with four horses for thejourney, and ten persons having entered their names at the livery stableoffice, they resolved to start on the Tuesday morning before daybreak, to avoid all public remark. 

For some days already the ground had been hard with frost, and on theMonday, about three o'clock in the afternoon, thick dark clouds comingup from the north brought the snow, which fell without intermission allthe evening and during the whole night. 

At half past four the travelers were assembled in the courtyard of theHotel de Normandie, from whence they were to start. 

They were all still half asleep, their teeth chattering with cold inspite of their thick wraps. It was difficult to distinguish one fromanother in the darkness, their heaped-up winter clothing making themlook like fat priests in long cassocks. Two of the men, however, recognized each other; they were joined by a third, and they began totalk. "I am taking my wife with me, " said one. "So am I. " "And I too. "The first one added: "We shall not return to Rouen, and if the Prussianscome to Havre we shall slip over to England. "

They were all like-minded and all had the same project. 

Meanwhile there was no sign of the horses being put in. A small lanterncarried by a hostler appeared from time to time out of one dark doorwayonly to vanish instantly into another. There was a stamping of horses'hoofs deadened by the straw of the litter, and the voice of a manspeaking to the animals and cursing sounded from the depths of thestables. A faint sound of bells gave evidence of harnessing, and becamepresently a clear and continuous jingle timed by the movement of thebeast, now stopping, now going on again with a brisk shake, andaccompanied by the dull tramp of hob-nailed sabots. 

A door closed sharply. All sound ceased. The frozen travelers weresilent, standing stiff and motionless. A veil of white snow-flakesglistened incessantly as it fell to the ground, blotting out the shapeof things, powdering everything with an icy froth; and in the utterstillness of the town, quiet and buried under its winter pall, nothingwas audible but this faint, fluttering, and indefinable rustle offalling snow--more a sensation than a sound--the intermingling ofethereal atoms seeming to fill space, to cover the world. 

The man reappeared with his lantern, dragging after him by a rope adejected and unwilling horse. He pushed it against the pole, fixed thetraces, and was occupied for a long time in buckling the harness, havingonly the use of one hand as he carried the lantern in the other. As heturned away to fetch the other horse he caught sight of the motionlessgroup of travelers, by this time white with snow. "Why don't you getinside the carriage?" he said, "you would at least be under cover. "

It had never occurred to them, and they made a rush for it. The threemen packed their wives into the upper end and then got in themselves, after which other distinct and veiled forms took the remaining seatswithout exchanging a word. 

The floor of the vehicle was covered with straw into which the feetsank. The ladies at the end, who had brought little copper charcoalfoot-warmers, proceeded to light them, and for some time discussed theirmerits in subdued tones, repeating to one another things which they hadknown all their lives. 

At last, the diligence having been furnished with six horses instead offour on account of the difficulties of the road, a voice outside asked, "Is everybody here?" A voice from within answered "Yes, " and theystarted. 

The conveyance advanced slowly--slowly--the wheels sinking in the snow;the whole vehicle groaned and creaked, the horses slipped, wheezed, andsmoked, and the driver's gigantic whip cracked incessantly, flying fromside to side, twining and untwining like a slender snake, and cuttingsharply across one or other of the six humping backs, which wouldthereupon straighten up with a more violent effort. 

Imperceptibly the day grew. The airy flakes which a traveler--aRouennais "pur sang"--once likened to a shower of cotton, had ceased tofall; a dirty gray light filtered through the heavy thick clouds whichserved to heighten the dazzling whiteness of the landscape, where now along line of trees crusted with icicles would appear, now a cottage witha hood of snow. 

In the light of this melancholy dawn the occupants of the diligencebegan to examine one another curiously. 

Right at the end, in the best seats, opposite to one another, dozedMadame and Monsieur Loiseau, whole-sale wine merchant of the Rue GrandPont. 

The former salesman of a master who had become bankrupt, Loiseau hadbought up the stock and made his fortune. He sold very bad wine at verylow prices to the small country retail dealers, and enjoyed thereputation among his friends and acquaintances of being an unmitigatedrogue, a thorough Norman full of trickery and jovial humor. 

His character for knavery was so well established that one evening atthe Prefecture, Monsieur Tournel, a man of keen and trenchant wit, author of certain fables and songs--a local glory--seeing the ladiesgrowing drowsy, proposed a game of "L'oiseau vole. "[1] The pun itselfflew through the prefect's reception rooms and afterwards through thetown, and for a whole month called up a grin on every face in theprovince. 

Loiseau was himself a noted wag and famous for his jokes both good andbad, and nobody ever mentioned him without adding immediately, "ThatLoiseau is simply priceless!"

He was of medium height with a balloon-like stomach and a rubicund faceframed in grizzled whiskers. His wife--tall, strong, resolute, loud invoice and rapid of decision--represented order and arithmetic in thebusiness, which he enlivened by his jollity and bustling activity. 

Beside them, in a more dignified attitude as befitted his superiorstation, sat Monsieur Carré-Lamadon, a man of weight; an authority oncotton, proprietor of three branch businesses, officer of the Legion ofHonor and member of the General Council. All the time of the Empire hehad remained leader of a friendly opposition, for the sole purpose ofmaking a better thing out of it when he came round to the cause which hehad fought with polite weapons, to use his own expression. MadameCarré-Lamadon, who was much younger than her husband, was theconsolation of all officers of good family who might be quartered at theRouen garrison. She sat there opposite to her husband, very small, verydainty, very pretty, wrapped in her furs, and regarding the lamentableinterior of the vehicle with despairing eyes. 

Their neighbors, the Count and Countess Hubert de Breville, bore one ofthe most ancient and noble names in Normandy. The Count, an elderlygentleman of dignified appearance, did all in his power to accentuate byevery artifice of the toilet his natural resemblance to Henri Quatre, who, according to a legend of the utmost glory to the family, hadhonored with his royal embraces a Dame de Breville, whose husband had, in consequence, been made Count and Governor of the province. 

A colleague of Monsieur Carré-Lamadon in the General Council, CountHubert represented the Orleanist faction in the department. The historyof his marriage with the daughter of a small tradesman of Nantes hadalways remained a mystery. But as the Countess had an air of grandeur, understood better than any one else the art of receiving, passed evenfor having been beloved by one of the sons of Louis Philippe, theneighboring nobility bowed down to her, and her salon held the firstplace in the county, the only one which preserved the traditions of theviel le galanterie and to which the entreé was difficult. 

The fortune of the Brevilles--all in Government Funds--was reported toyield them an income of five hundred thousand francs. 

The six passengers occupied the upper end of the conveyance, therepresentatives of revenued society, serene in the consciousness of itsstrength--honest well-to-do people possessed of Religion and Principles. 

By some strange chance all the women were seated on the same side, theCountess having two sisters of Mercy for neighbors, wholly occupied infingering their long rosaries and mumbling Paters and Aves. One of themwas old and so deeply pitted with the small-pox that she looked as ifshe had received a charge of grape shot full in the face; the other wasvery shadowy and frail, with a pretty unhealthy little face, a narrowphthisical chest, consumed by that devouring faith which creates martyrsand ecstatics. 

Seated opposite to the two nuns were a man and woman who excited a gooddeal of attention. 

The man, who was well known, was Cornudet, "the demon, " the terror ofall respectable, law-abiding people. For twenty years he had dipped hisgreat red beard into the beer mugs of all the democratic café's. In thecompany of kindred spirits he had managed to run through a comfortablelittle fortune inherited from his father, a confectioner, and he lookedforward with impatience to the Republic, when he should obtain thewell-merited reward for so many revolutionary draughts. On the Fourth ofSeptember--probably through some practical joke--he understood that hehad been appointed prefect, but on attempting to enter upon his dutiesthe clerks, who had remained sole masters of the offices, refused torecognize him, and he was constrained to retire. For the rest, he was agood fellow, inoffensive and serviceable, and had busied himself withincomparable industry in organizing the defense of the town; had hadholes dug all over the plain, cut down all the young trees in theneighboring woods, scattered pitfalls up and down all the high roads, and at the threatened approach of the enemy--satisfied with hispreparations--had fallen back with all haste on the town. He nowconsidered that he would be more useful in Havre, where freshentrenchments would soon become necessary. 

The woman, one of the so-called "gay" sisterhood, was noted for herprecocious stoutness, which had gained her the nickname of "Boule deSuif"--"ball of fat. " She was a little roly-poly creature, cushionedwith fat, with podgy fingers squeezed in at the joints like rows ofthick, short sausages; her skin tightly stretched and shiny, her bustenormous, and yet with it all so wholesomely, temptingly fresh andappetizing that it was a pleasure to look at her. Her face was like aruddy apple--a peony rose just burst into bloom--and out of it gazed apair of magnificent dark eyes overshadowed by long thick lashes thatdeepened their blackness; and lower down, a charming little mouth, dewyto the kiss, and furnished with a row of tiny milk-white teeth. Over andabove all this she was, they said, full of inestimable qualities. 

No sooner was her identity recognized than a whisper ran through theladies in which the words "prostitute" and "public scandal, " were soconspicuously distinct that she raised her head and retaliated bysweeping her companions with such a bold and defiant look that deepsilence instantly fell upon them, and they all cast down their eyes withthe exception of Loiseau, who watched her with a kindling eye. 

However, conversation was soon resumed between the three ladies, whomthe presence of this "person" had suddenly rendered friendly--almostintimate. It seemed to them that they must, as it were, raise a rampartof their dignity as spouses between them and this shameless creature whomade a traffic of herself; for legalized love always takes a high handwith her unlicensed sister. 

The three men too, drawn to one another by a conservative instinct atsight of Cornudet, talked money in a certain tone of contempt for theimpecunious. Count Hubert spoke of the damage inflicted on him by thePrussians, of the losses which would result to him from the seizing ofcattle and from ruined crops, but with all the assurance of a greatlanded proprietor, ten times millionaire, whom these ravages mightinconvenience for the space of a year at most. Monsieur Carré-Lamadon, of great experience in the cotton industry, had taken the precaution tosend six hundred thousand francs across to England as provision againsta rainy day. As for Loiseau, he made arrangements to sell all the winein his cellars to the French commission of supplies, consequently theGovernment owed him a formidable sum, which he counted upon receiving atHavre. 

The three exchanged rapid and amicable glances. Although differing inposition they felt themselves brothers in money, and of the greatfreemasonry of those who possess, of those who can make the gold jinglewhen they put their hands in the breeches-pockets. 

The diligence went so slowly that by ten o'clock in the morning they hadnot made four leagues. The men got out three times and climbed the hillon foot. They began to grow anxious, for they were to have lunched atTotes, and now they despaired of reaching that place before night. Everybody was on the look-out for some inn by the way, when the vehiclestuck fast in a snowdrift, and it took two hours to get it out. 

Meanwhile the pangs of hunger began to affect them severely both in mindand body, and yet not an inn, not a tavern even, was to be seen; theapproach of the Prussians and the passage of the famished French troopshad frightened away all trade. 

The gentlemen foraged diligently for the provisions in the farms by theroadside; but they failed to obtain so much as a piece of bread, for themistrustful peasant hid all reserve stores for fear of being pillaged bythe soldiers, who, having no food supplied to them, took by forceeverything they could lay their hands on. 

Towards one o'clock Loiseau announced that he felt a very decided voidin his stomach. Everybody had been suffering in the same manner for along time, and the violent longing for food had extinguishedconversation. 

From time to time some one would yawn, to be almost immediately imitatedby another and then each of the rest in turn, and according to theirdisposition, manners, or social standing, would open their mouthnoisily, or modestly cover with the hand the gaping cavity from whichthe breath issued in a vapor. 

Boule de Suif had several times stooped down as if feeling for somethingunder her skirts. She hesitated a moment, looked at her companions, andthen composedly resumed her former position. The faces were pale anddrawn. Loiseau declared he would give a thousand francs for a ham. Hiswife made a faint movement as to protest, but restrained herself. Italways affected her painfully to hear of money being thrown away, norcould she even understand a joke upon the subject. 

"To tell the truth, " said the Count, "I do not feel quite myselfeither--how could I have omitted to think of bringing provisions?" Andeverybody reproached themselves with the same neglectfulness. 

Cornudet, however, had a flask of rum which he offered round. It wascoldly refused. Loiseau alone accepted a mouthful, and handed back theflask with thanks saying, "That's good! that warms you up and keeps thehunger off a bit. " The alcohol raised his spirits somewhat, and heproposed that they should do the same as on the little ship in thesong--eat the fattest of the passengers. This indirect but obviousallusion to Boule De Suif shocked the gentle people. Nobody respondedand only Cornudet smiled. The two Sisters of Mercy had ceased to telltheir beads and sat motionless, their hands buried in their widesleeves, their eyes obstinately lowered, doubtless engaged in offeringback to Heaven the sacrifice of suffering which it sent them. 

At last, at three o'clock, when they were in the middle of aninterminable stretch of bare country without a single village in sight, Boule de Suif, stooping hurriedly, drew from under the seat a largebasket covered with a white napkin. 

Out of it she took, first of all, a little china plate and a delicatesilver drinking-cup, and then an immense dish, in which two whole fowlsready carved lay stiffened in their jelly. Other good things werevisible in the basket: patties, fruits, pastry--in fact provisions for athree days' journey in order to be independent of inn cookery. The necksof four bottles protruded from between the parcels of food. She took thewing of a fowl and began to eat it daintily with one of those littlerolls which they call "Regence" in Normandy. 

Every eye was fixed upon her. As the odor of the food spread through thecarriage nostrils began to quiver and mouths to fill with water, whilethe jaws, just below the ears contracted painfully. The dislikeentertained by the ladies for this abandoned young woman grew savage, almost to the point of longing to murder her or at least to turn her outinto the snow, her and her drinking-cup and her basket and herprovisions. 

Loiseau, however, was devouring the dish of chicken with his eyes. "Madame has been more prudent than we, " he said. "Some people alwaysthink of everything. "

She turned her head in his direction. "If you would care for any, Monsieur--? It is not comfortable to fast for so long. "

He bowed. "Ma foi!--frankly, I won't refuse. I can't stand this anylonger--the fortune of war, is it not, madame?" And with a comprehensivelook he added: "In moments such as this we are only too glad to find anyone who will oblige us. " He had a newspaper which he spread on his kneeto save his trousers, and with the point of a knife which he alwayscarried in his pocket he captured a drumstick all glazed with jelly, tore it with his teeth, and then proceeded to chew it with satisfactionso evident that a deep groan of distress went up from the whole party. 

Upon this Boule de Suif in a gentle and humble tone invited the twoSisters to share the collation. They both accepted on the spot, andwithout raising their eyes began to eat very hurriedly, after stammeringa few words of thanks. Nor did Cornudet refuse his neighbor's offer, andwith the Sisters they formed a kind of table by spreading out newspaperson their knees. 

The jaws opened and shut without a pause, biting, chewing, gulpingferociously. Loiseau, hard at work in his corner, urged his wife in alow voice to follow his example. She resisted for some time, then, aftera pang which gripped her very vitals, she gave in. Whereupon herhusband, rounding off his phrases, asked if their "charmingfellow-traveler" would permit him to offer a little something to MadameLoiseau. 

"Why, yes, certainly, Monsieur, " she answered with a pleasant smile, andhanded him the dish. 

There was a moment of embarrassment when the first bottle of claret wasuncorked--there was but the one drinking-cup. Each one wiped it beforepassing it to the rest. Cornudet alone, from an impulse of gallantry nodoubt, placed his lips on the spot still wet from the lips of hisneighbor. 

Then it was that, surrounded by people who were eating, suffocated bythe fragrant odor of the viands, the Count and Countess de Breville andMonsieur and Madame Carré-Lamadon suffered the agonies of that torturewhich has ever been associated with the name of Tantalus. Suddenly theyoung wife of the cotton manufacturer gave a deep sigh. Every headturned towards her; she was as white as the snow outside, her eyesclosed, her head fell forward--she had fainted. Her husband, distraughtwith fear, implored assistance of the whole company. All lost theirheads till the elder of the two Sisters, who supported the unconsciouslady, forced Boule de Suif's drinking-cup between her lips and made herswallow a few drops of wine. The pretty creature stirred, opened hereyes, smiled and then declared in an expiring voice that she felt quitewell now. But to prevent her being overcome again in the same manner, the Sister induced her to drink a full cup of wine, adding, "It issimply hunger--nothing else. "

At this Boule de Suif, blushing violently, looked at the four starvingpassengers and faltered shyly, "Mon Dieu! If I might make so bold as tooffer the ladies and gentlemen--" She stopped short, fearing a ruderebuff. 

Loiseau, however, at once threw himself into the breach. "Parbleu! undersuch circumstances we are all companions in misfortune and bound to helpeach other. Come, ladies, don't stand on ceremony--take what you can getand be thankful: who knows whether we shall be able to find so much asa house where we can spend the night? At this rate we shall not reachTotes till to-morrow afternoon. "

They still hesitated, nobody having the courage to take upon themselvesthe responsibility of the decisive "Yes. " Finally the Count seized thebull by the horns. Adopting his most grandiose air, he turned with a bowto the embarrassed young woman and said, "We accept your offer withthanks, madame. "

The first step only was difficult. The Rubicon once crossed, they fellto with a will. They emptied the basket, which contained, besides theprovisions already mentioned; a pate de foie gras, a lark pie, a pieceof smoked tongue, some pears, a slab of gingerbread, mixed biscuits, anda cup of pickled onions and gherkins in vinegar--for, like all women, Boule de Suif adored crudities. 

They could not well eat the young woman's provisions and not speak toher, so they conversed--stiffly at first, and then, seeing that sheshowed no signs of presuming, with less reserve. Mesdames de Brevilleand Carré-Lamadon, having a great deal of "savoir vivre, " knew how tomake themselves agreeable with tact and delicacy. The Countess, inparticular, exhibited the amiable condescension of the extremelyhigh-born lady whom no contact can sully, and was charming. But bigMadame Loiseau, who had the soul of a gendarme, remained unmoved, speaking little and eating much. 

The conversation naturally turned upon the war. They related horribledeeds committed by the Prussians and examples of the bravery of theFrench; all these people who were flying rendering full homage to thecourage of those who remained behind. Incidents of personal experiencesoon followed, and Boule de Suif told, with that warmth of coloringwhich women of her type often employ in expressing their naturalfeelings, how she had come to leave Rouen. 

"I thought at first I should be able to hold out, " she said, "for I hadplenty of provisions in my house, and would much rather feed a fewsoldiers than turn out of my home and go goodness knows where. But whenI saw them--these Prussians--it was too much for me. They made my bloodboil with rage, and I cried the whole day for shame. Oh, if I had onlybeen a man!--well, there! I watched them from my window--fat pigs thatthey were with their spiked helmets--and my servant had to hold my handsto prevent me throwing the furniture down on the top of them. Then someof them came to be quartered on me, and I flew at the throat of thefirst one--they are not harder to strangle than any one else--and wouldhave finished him too if they had not dragged me off by the hair. Ofcourse I had to lie low after that. So as soon as I found an opportunityI left--and here I am. "

Everybody congratulated her. She rose considerably in the estimation ofher companions, who had not shown themselves of such valiant mettle, andlistening to her tale, Cornudet smiled the benignant and approving smileof an apostle--as a priest might on hearing a devout person praise theAlmighty; democrats with long beards having the monopoly of patriotismas the men of the cassock possess that of religion. He then took up theparable in a didactic tone with the phraseology culled from the noticesposted each day on the walls, and finished up with a flourish ofeloquence in which he scathingly alluded to "that blackguard of aBadinguet. "[2]

But Boule de Suif fired up at this for she was a Bonapartist. She turnedupon him with scarlet cheeks and stammering with indignation, "Ah! Ishould just like to have seen any of you in his place! A nice mess youwould have made of it! It is men of your sort that ruined him, poor man. There would be nothing for it but to leave France for good if we weregoverned by cowards like you!"

Cornudet, nothing daunted, preserved a disdainful and superior smile, but there was a feeling in the air that high words would soon follow, whereupon the Count interposed, and managed, not without difficulty, toquiet the infuriated young woman by asserting authoritatively that everysincere opinion was to be respected. Nevertheless the Countess and themanufacturer's wife, who nourished in their hearts the unreasoninghatred of all well-bred people for the Republic and at the same timethat instinctive weakness of all women for uniformed and despoticgovernments, felt drawn, in spite of themselves, to this woman of thestreet who had so much sense of the fitness of things and whose opinionsso closely resembled their own. 

The basket was empty--this had not been difficult among ten ofthem--they only regretted it was not larger. The conversation was keptup for some little time longer, although somewhat more coldly after theyhad finished eating. 

The night fell, the darkness grew gradually more profound, and the cold, to which digestion rendered them more sensitive, made even Boule de Suifshiver in spite of her fat. Madame de Breville thereupon offered herher charcoal foot-warmer, which had been replenished several times sincethe morning; she accepted with alacrity, for her feet were like ice. Mesdames Carré-Lamadon and Loiseau lent theirs to the two Sisters. 

The driver had lit his lanterns, which shed a vivid light over the cloudof vapor that hung over the steaming back of the horses and over thesnow at each side of the road, which seemed to open out under theshifting reflection of the lights. 

Inside the conveyance nothing could be distinguished any longer, butthere was a sudden movement between Boule de Suif and Cornudet, andLoiseau, peering through the gloom, fancied he saw the man with thebeard start back quickly as if he had received a well-directed butnoiseless blow. 

Tiny points of fire appeared upon the road in front. It was Totes. Thetravelers had been driving for eleven hours, which, with the fourhalf-hours for food and rest to the horses, made thirteen. They enteredthe town and stopped in front of the Hotel de la Commerce. 

The door opened. A familiar sound caused every passenger to tremble--itwas the clink of a scabbard on the stones. At the same moment a Germanvoice called out something. 

Although the diligence had stopped, nobody attempted to get out, asthough they expected to be massacred on setting foot to the ground. Thedriver then appeared holding up one of the lanterns, which suddenlyillumined the vehicle to its farthest corner and revealed the two rowsof bewildered faces with their open mouths and startled eyes wide withalarm. 

Beside the driver in the full glare of the light stood a Germanofficer, a tall young man excessively slender and blonde, compressedinto his uniform like a girl in her stays, and wearing, well over oneear, a flat black wax-cloth cap like the "Boots" of an English hotel. His preposterously long moustache, which was drawn out stiff andstraight, and tapered away indefinitely to each side till it finishedoff in a single thread so thin that it was impossible to say where itended, seemed to weigh upon the corners of his mouth and form a deepfurrow in either cheek. 

In Alsatian-French and stern accents he invited the passengers todescend: "Vill you get out, chentlemen and laties?"

The two Sisters were the first to obey with the docility of holy womenaccustomed to unfaltering submission. The Count and Countess appearednext, followed by the manufacturer and his wife, and after them Loiseaupushing his better half in front of him. As he set foot to the ground heremarked to the officer, more from motives of prudence than politeness, "Good evening, Monsieur, " to which the other with the insolence of theman in possession, vouchsafed no reply but a stare. 

Boule de Suif and Cornudet, though the nearest the door, were the lastto emerge--grave and haughty in face of the enemy. The buxom young womanstruggled hard to command herself and be calm; the democrat tugged athis long rusty beard with a tragic and slightly trembling hand. Theysought to preserve their dignity, realizing that in such encounters eachone, to a certain extent, represents his country; and the two beingsimilarly disgusted at the servile readiness of their companions, sheendeavored to show herself prouder than her fellow travelers who werehonest women, while he, feeling that he must set an example, continuedin his attitude his mission of resistance begun by digging pitfalls inthe high roads. 

They all entered the huge kitchen of the inn, and the German, havingbeen presented with the passport signed by the general in command--whereeach traveler's name was accompanied by a personal description and astatement as to his or her profession--he proceeded to scrutinize theparty for a long time, comparing the persons with the written notices. 

Finally, he exclaimed unceremoniously, "C'est pien--that's all right, "and disappeared. 

They breathed again more freely. Hunger having reasserted itself, supperwas ordered. It would take half an hour to prepare, so while twoservants were apparently busied about it the travelers dispersed to lookat their rooms. These were all together down each side of a long passageending in a door with ground glass panels. 

At last, just as they were sitting down to table, the innkeeper himselfappeared. He was a former horse-dealer, a stout asthmatic man withperpetual wheezings and blowings and rattlings of phlegm in his throat. His father had transmitted to him the name of Follenvie. 

"Mademoiselle Elizabeth Rousset?" he said. 

Boule de Suif started and turned round. "That is my name. "

"Mademoiselle, the Prussian officer wants to speak to you at once. "

"To me?"

"Yes, if you really are Mademoiselle Elizabeth Rousset. "

She hesitated, thought for a moment, and then declared roundly: "Thatmay be, but I'm not going. "

There was a movement round about her--everybody was much exercised as tothe reason of this summons. The Count came over to her. 

"You may do wrong to refuse, madame, for it may entail considerableannoyance not only to yourself but on the rest of your companions. It isa fatal mistake ever to offer resistance to people who are stronger thanourselves. The step can have no possible danger for you--it is probablyabout some little formality that has been omitted. "

One and all concurred with him, implored and urged and scolded, tillthey ended by convincing her; for they were all apprehensive of theresults of her contumacy. 

"Well, I do it for you sure enough!" she said at last. The Countesspressed her hand. "And we are most grateful to you. "

She left the room, and the others agreed to wait for her beforebeginning the meal. Each one lamented at not having been asked forinstead of this hot-headed, violent young woman, and mentally preparedany number of platitudes for the event of being called in their turn. 

At the end of ten minutes she returned, crimson with rage, choking, snorting, --"Oh, the blackguard; the low blackguard!" she stammered. 

They all crowded round her to know what had happened, but she would notsay, and the Count becoming insistent, she answered with much dignity, "No, it does not concern anybody! I can't speak of it. "

They then seated themselves round a great soup tureen from which steameda smell of cabbage. In spite of this little contretemps the supper wasa gay one. The cider, of which the Loiseaus and the two nuns partookfrom motives of economy, was good. The rest ordered wine and Cornudetcalled for beer. He had a particular way with him of uncorking thebottle, of making the liquid froth, of gazing at it while he tilted theglass, which he then held up between his eye and the light to criticisethe color; while he drank, his great beard, which had the tints of hisfavorite beverage, seemed to quiver fondly, his eyes squinting that hemight not lose sight of his tankard for a moment, and altogether he hadthe appearance of fulfilling the sole function for which he had beenborn. You would have said that he established in his own mind someconnection or affinity between the two great passions that monopolizedhis life--Ale and Revolution--and most assuredly he never dipped intothe one without thinking of the other. 

Monsieur and Madame Follenvie supped at the farther end of the table. The husband--puffing and blowing like a bursting locomotive--had toomuch cold on the chest to be able to speak and eat at the same time, buthis wife never ceased talking. She described her every impression at thearrival of the Prussians and all they did and all they said, execratingthem in the first place because they cost so much, and secondly becauseshe had two sons in the army. She addressed herself chiefly to theCountess, as it flattered her to be able to say she had conversed with alady of quality. 

She presently lowered her voice and proceeded to recount some ratherdelicate matters, her husband breaking in from time to time with--"Youhad much better hold your tongue, Madame Follenvie, "--to which she paidnot the slightest attention, but went on. 

"Well, madame, as I was saying--these men, they do nothing but eatpotatoes and pork and pork and potatoes from morning till night. And asfor their habits--! And you should see them exercising for hours anddays together out there in the fields--It's forward march and backwardmarch, and turn this way and turn that. If they even worked in thefields or mended the roads in their own country! But, no, madame, thesesoldiers are no good to anybody, and the poor people have to keep themand feed them simply that they may learn how to massacre. I know I amonly a poor ignorant old woman, but when I see these men wearingthemselves out by tramping up and down from morning till night, I cannothelp saying to myself, if there are some people who make a lot of usefuldiscoveries, why should others give themselves so much trouble to doharm? After all, isn't it an abomination to kill anybody, no matterwhether they are Prussians, or English, or Poles, or French? If yourevenge yourself on some one who has harmed you that is wicked, and youare taken up and punished; but let them shoot down our sons as if theywere game, and it is all right, and they give medals to the man whokills the most. No, no, look you, I shall never be able to see any rhymeor reason in that!"

"War is barbarous if one attacks an unoffending neighbor--it is a sacredduty if one defends one's country, " remarked Cornudet in a declamatorytone. 

The old woman nodded assent. "Yes--defending oneself, of course, thatis quite another thing; but wouldn't it be better to kill all thesekings who do this for their pleasure?"

Cornudet's eyes flashed. "Bravo, citizeness!" he cried. 

Monsieur Carré-Lamadon was lost in thought. Although he was an ardentadmirer of famous military men, the sound common sense of this peasantwoman's observations made him reflect upon the wealth which wouldnecessarily accrue to the country if all these unemployed andconsequently ruinous hands--so much unproductive force--were availablefor the great industrial works that would take centuries to complete. 

Loiseau meanwhile had left his seat and gone over beside the innkeeper, to whom he began talking in a low voice. The fat man laughed, coughed, and spat, his unwieldy stomach shaking with mirth at his neighbor'sjokes, and he bought six hogsheads of claret from him for the springwhen the Prussians would have cleared out. 

Supper was scarcely over when, dropping with fatigue, everybody went offto bed. 

Loiseau, however, who had made certain observations, let his wife go tobed and proceeded to glue first his ear and then his eye to the keyhole, endeavoring to penetrate what he called "the mysteries of the corridor. "

After about half an hour he heard a rustling, and hurrying to thekeyhole, he perceived Boule de Suif looking ampler than ever in adressing-gown of blue cashmere trimmed with white lace. She had a candlein her hand and was going towards the end of the corridor. Then a doorat one side opened cautiously, and when she returned after a fewminutes, Cornudet in his shirt sleeves was following her. They weretalking in a low voice and presently stood still; Boule de Suifapparently defending the entrance of her room with much energy. Unfortunately Loiseau was unable to hear what they said till, at thelast, as they raised their voices somewhat, he caught a word or two. Cornudet was insisting eagerly. "Look here, " he said, "you are reallyvery ridiculous--what difference can it make to you?"

And she with an offended air retorted, "No!--let me tell you there aremoments when that sort of thing won't do; and besides--here--it would bea crying shame. "

He obviously did not understand. "Why?"

At this she grew angry. "Why?" and she raised her voice still more, "youdon't see why? and there are Prussians in the house--in the next roomfor all you know!"

He made no reply. This display of patriotic prudery evidently arousedhis failing dignity, for with a brief salute he made for his own door ontiptoe. 

Loiseau deeply thrilled and amused, executed a double shuffle in themiddle of the room, donned his nightcap, and slipped into the blanketswhere the bony figure of his spouse already reposed. 

The whole house sank to silence. But anon there arose from somewhere--itmight have been the cellar, it might have been the attics--impossible todetermine the direction--a rumbling--sonorous, even, regular, dull, prolonged roar as of a boiler under high steam pressure: MonsieurFollenvie slept. 

It had been decided that they should start at eight o'clock the nextmorning, so they were all assembled in the kitchen by that hour; but thediligence, roofed with snow, stood solitary in the middle of thecourtyard without horses or driver. The latter was sought for in vaineither in the stables or the coachhouse. The men of the party thenresolved to beat the country round for him, and went out accordingly. They found themselves in the public square with the church at one end, and low-roofed houses down each side in which they caught sight ofPrussian soldiers. The first one they came upon was peeling potatoes;farther on another was washing out a barber's shop; while a third, bearded to the eyes, was soothing a crying child and rocking it to andfro on his knee to quiet it. The big peasant woman whose men were all"with the army in the war" were ordering about their docile conquerorsand showing them by signs what work they wanted done--chopping wood, grinding coffee, fetching water; one of them was even doing the washingfor his hostess, a helpless old crone. 

The Count, much astonished, stopped the beadle, who happened to come outof the vestry at that moment, and asked the meaning of it all. 

"Oh, " replied the old church rat, "these are not at all bad. From what Ihear they are not Prussians, either; they come from farther off, butwhere I can't say; and they have all left a wife and children at home. Iam very sure the women down there are crying for their men, too, and itwill all make a nice lot of misery for them as well as for us. We arenot so badly off here for the moment, because they do not harm and areworking just as if they were in their own homes. You see, Monsieur, thepoor always help one another; it is the great people who make thewars. "

Cornudet, indignant at the friendly understanding established betweenthe victors and the vanquished, retired from the scene, preferring toshut himself up in the inn. Loiseau of course must have his joke. "Theyare re-populating, " he said. Monsieur Carré-Lamadon found a more fittingexpression. "They are repairing. "

But the driver was nowhere to be found. At last he was unearthed in thevillage café hobnobbing fraternally with the officer's orderly. 

"Did you not have orders to have the diligence ready by eight o'clock?"the Count asked him. 

"Oh, yes, but I got another order later on. "

"What?"

"Not to put the horses in at all. "

"Who gave you that order?"

"Ma foi--the Prussian commandant. "

"Why?"

"I don't know--you had better ask him. I am told not to harness thehorses, and so I don't harness them--there you are. "

"Did he tell you so himself?"

"No, Monsieur, the innkeeper brought me the message from him. "

"When was that?"

"Last night, just as I was going to bed. "

The three men returned much disconcerted. They asked for MonsieurFollenvie, but were informed by the servant that on account of hisasthma he never got up before ten o'clock--he had even positivelyforbidden them to awaken him before then except in case of fire. 

Then they asked to see the officer, but that was absolutely impossible, although he lodged at the inn. 

Monsieur Follenvie alone was authorized to approach him on non-militarymatters. So they had to wait. The women returned to their rooms andoccupied themselves as best they could. 

Cornudet installed himself in the high chimney-corner of the kitchen, where a great fire was burning. He had one of the little coffee-roomtables brought to him and a can of beer, and puffed away placidly at hispipe, which enjoyed among the democrats almost equal consideration withhimself, as if in serving Cornudet it served the country also. The pipewas a superb meerschaum, admirably colored, black as the teeth of itsowner, but fragrant, curved, shining familiar to his hand, and thenatural complement to his physiognomy. He sat there motionless, his eyesfixed alternately on the flame of the hearth and the foam on the top ofhis tankard, and each time after drinking he passed his bony fingerswith a self-satisfied gesture through his long greasy hair, while hewiped the fringe of froth from his moustache. 

Under the pretext of stretching his legs, Loiseau went out and palmedoff his wines on the country retail dealers. The Count and themanufacturer talked politics. They forecast the future of France, theone putting his faith in the Orleans, the other in an unknown savior, ahero who would come to the fore when things were at their very worst--aDu Guesclin, a Joan of Arc perhaps, or even another Napoleon I. Ah, ifonly the Prince Imperial were not so young! Cornudet listened to themwith the smile of a man who could solve the riddle of Fate if he would. His pipe perfumed the whole kitchen with its balmy fragrance. 

On the stroke of ten Monsieur Follenvie made his appearance. Theyinstantly attacked him with questions, but he had but one answer whichhe repeated two or three times without variation. "The officer said tome, 'Monsieur Follenvie, you will forbid them to harness the horses forthese travelers to-morrow morning. They are not to leave till I give mypermission. You understand?' That is all. "

They demanded to see the officer; the Count sent up his card, on whichMonsieur Carré-Lamadon added his name and all his titles. The Prussiansent word that he would admit the two men to his presence after he hadlunched, that is to say, about one o'clock. 

The ladies came down and they all managed to eat a little in spite oftheir anxiety. Boule de Suif looked quite ill and very much agitated. 

They were just finishing coffee when the orderly arrived to fetch thetwo gentlemen. 

Loiseau joined them, but when they proposed to bring Cornudet along togive more solemnity to their proceedings, he declared haughtily thatnothing would induce him to enter into any communication whatsoever withthe Germans, and he returned to his chimney-corner and ordered anotherbottle of beer. 

The three men therefore went upstairs without him, and were shown intothe best room of the inn, where they were received by the officerlolling in an armchair, his heels on the chimney-piece, smoking a longporcelain pipe, and arrayed in a flamboyant dressing-gown, taken, nodoubt, from the abandoned dwelling-house of some bourgeois of inferiortaste. He did not rise, he vouchsafed them no greeting of anydescription, he did not even look at them--a brilliant sample of thevictorious military cad. 

At last after some moments waiting he said: "Vat do you vant?"

The Count acted as spokesman. 

"We wish to leave, Monsieur. "

"No. "

"May I take the liberty of asking the reason for this refusal?"

"Pecause I do not shoose. "

"With all due respect, Monsieur, I would draw your attention to the factthat your general gave us a permit for Dieppe, and I cannot see that wehave done anything to justify your hard measures. "

"I do not shoose--dat's all--you can co town. "

They all bowed and withdrew. 

The afternoon was miserable. They could make nothing of this caprice ofthe German's, and the most far-fetched ideas tortured their minds. Thewhole party remained in the kitchen engaging in endless discussions, imagining the most improbable things. Were they to be kept ashostages?--but if so, to what end?--or taken prisoners--or asked a largeransom? This last suggestion threw them into a cold perspiration offear. The wealthiest were seized with the worst panic and saw themselvesforced, if they valued their lives, to empty bags of gold into therapacious hands of this soldier. They racked their brains for plausiblelies to dissemble their riches, to pass themselves off as poor--verypoor. Loiseau pulled off his watch-chain and hid it in his pocket. Asnight fell their apprehensions increased. The lamp was lighted, and asthere were still two hours till supper Madame Loiseau proposed a gameof "trente et un. " It would be some little distraction, at any rate. Theplan was accepted; even Cornudet, who had put out his pipe from motivesof politeness, taking a hand. 

The Count shuffled the cards, dealt, Boule de Suif had "trente et un" atthe first deal; and very soon the interest in the game allayed the fearswhich beset their minds. Cornudet, however, observed that the twoLoiseaus were in league to cheat. 

 * * * * *

Just as they were sitting down to the evening meal Monsieur appeared andsaid in his husky voice: "The Prussian officer wishes to know ifMademoiselle Elizabeth Rousset has not changed her mind yet?"

Boule de Suif remained standing and turned very pale, then suddenly herface flamed and she fell into such a paroxysm of rage that she could notspeak. At last she burst out: "You can tell that scoundrel--that lowscum of a Prussian--that I won't--and I never will--do you hear?--never!never! never!"

The fat innkeeper retired. They instantly surrounded Boule de Suif, questioning, entreating her to disclose the mystery of her visit. Atfirst she refused, but presently, carried away by her indignation, shetold them in plain terms what he demanded of her. 

The general indignation was so violent that nobody was shocked. Cornudetbrought his beer glass down on the table with such a bang that it broke. There was a perfect babel of invective against the base wretch, ahurricane of wrath, a union of all for resistance, as if each had beenrequired to contribute a portion of the sacrifice demanded of the one. The Count protested with disgust that these people behaved really as ifthey were early barbarians. The women, in particular, accorded her themost lively and affectionate sympathy. The nuns, who only appeared atmeals, dropped their eyes and said nothing. 

The first fury of the storm having abated, they sat down to supper, butthere was little conversation and a good deal of thoughtful abstraction. 

The ladies retired early; the men, while they smoked, got up a game ofecarté, which Monsieur Follenvie was invited to join, as they intendedpumping him skillfully as to the means that could be employed forovercoming the officer's opposition to their departure. Unfortunately, he would absorb himself wholly in his cards, and neither listened towhat they said nor gave any answer to their questions, but repeatedincessantly, "Play, gentlemen, play!" His attention was so deeplyengaged that he forgot to cough, with the result of eliciting organtones from his chest; his wheezing lungs running through the whole gamutof asthma from notes of the profoundest bass to the shrill, hoarse crowof the young cock. 

He refused to go to bed when his wife, who was dropping with sleep, cameto fetch him. She therefore departed alone, for on her devolved the "dayduty, " and she always rose with the sun, while her husband took the"night day, " and was always ready to sit up all night with friends. Hemerely called out, "Mind you put my chicken broth in front of the fire!"and returned to his cards. When they were convinced that there wasnothing to be got out of him, they declared that it was high time to goto bed, and left him. 

They were up again pretty early the next day, filled with an indefinitehope, a still keener desire to be gone, and a horror of another day tobe got through in this odious tavern. 

Alas! the horses were still in the stable and the coachman remainedinvisible. For lack of something better to do, they sadly wandered roundthe diligence. 

Lunch was very depressing, and a certain chilliness had sprung up withregard to Boule de Suif, for the night--which brings counsel--hadsomewhat modified the heat of their opinions. They were almost vexedwith the girl now for not having gone to the Prussian secretly, and thusprepared a pleasant surprise for her companions in the morning. Whatcould be simpler, and, after all, who would have been any the wiser? Shemight have saved appearances by telling the officer that she could notbear to see their distress any longer. It could make so very littledifference to her one way or another!

But, as yet, nobody confessed to these thoughts. 

In the afternoon, as they were feeling bored to extinction, the Countproposed a walk round the village. Everybody wrapped up carefully andthe little party started, with the exception of Cornudet, who preferredsitting by the fire, and the two Sisters, who passed their days in thechurch or with the curé. 

The cold--grown more intense each day--nipped their noses and earsviciously, and the feet became so painful that every step was anguish;but when they caught sight of the open stretch of country it appeared tothem so appallingly lugubrious under its illimitable white covering thatthey turned back with one accord, their hearts constricted, theirspirits below zero. The four ladies walked in front, the three menfollowing a little behind. 

Loiseau, who thoroughly took in the situation, suddenly broke out, "Howlong was this fool of a girl going to keep them hanging on in thishole?" The Count, courteous as ever, observed that one could not demandso painful a sacrifice of any woman--the offer must come from her. Monsieur Carré-Lamadon remarked that if--as there was every reason tobelieve--the French made an offensive counter-march by way of Dieppe, the collision could only take place at Totes. This reflection greatlyalarmed the other two. "Why not escape on foot?" suggested Loiseau. TheCount shrugged his shoulders. "How can you think of such a thing in thissnow--and with our wives? Besides which, we should instantly be pursued, caught in ten minutes, and brought back prisoners at the mercy of thesesoldiers. " This was incontestable--there was nothing more to be said. 

The ladies talked dress, but a certain constraint seemed to have risenup between them. 

All at once, at the end of the street, the officer came in sight, histall figure, like a wasp in uniform, silhouetted against the dazzlingbackground of snow, and walking with his knees well apart, with thatmovement peculiar to the military when endeavoring to save theircarefully polished boots from the mud. 

In passing the ladies he bowed, but only stared contemptuously at themen, who, be it said, had the dignity not to lift their hats, thoughLoiseau made a faint gesture in that direction. 

Boule de Suif blushed up to her eyes, and the three married women feltit a deep humiliation to have encountered this soldier while they werein the company of the young woman he had treated so cavalierly. 

The conversation then turned upon him, his general appearance, his face. Madame Carré-Lamadon, who had known a great many officers and wascompetent to judge of them "en connoisseur, " considered this one reallynot half bad--she even regretted that he was not French, he would havemade such a fascinating hussar, and would certainly have been much runafter. 

Once indoors again, they did not know what to do with themselves. Sharpwords were exchanged on the most insignificant pretexts. The silentdinner did not last long, and they shortly afterwards went to bed, hoping to kill time by sleep. 

They came down next morning with jaded faces and tempers on the thinedge. The women scarcely addressed a word to Boule de Suif. 

Presently the church bell began to ring; it was for a christening. Boulede Suif had a child out at nurse with some peasants near Yvetot. She didnot see it once in a year and never gave it a thought, but the idea ofthis baby which was going to be baptized filled her heart with suddenand violent tenderness for her own, and nothing would satisfy her butthat she should assist at the ceremony. 

No sooner was she gone than they all looked at one another and proceededto draw up their chairs; for everybody felt that things had come to thatpoint that something must be decided upon. Loiseau had an inspiration:that they should propose to the officer to keep Boule de Suif and letthe rest go. 

Monsieur Follenvie undertook the mission, but returned almostimmediately. The German, who had some knowledge of human nature, hadsimply turned him out of the room. He meant to retain the whole partyso long as his desire was unsatisfied. 

At this Madame Loiseau's plebeian tendencies got the better of her. "Butsurely we are not going to sit down calmly here and die of old age! Asthat is her trade, I don't see that she has any right to refuse one manmore than another. Why, she took anybody she could get in Rouen, down tothe very cab drivers. Oh, yes, I know it positively from the coachman ofthe Prefecture, who bought his wine at our shop. And now, when it lieswith her to get us out of this scrape, she pretends to beparticular--the brazen hussy! For my part, I consider the officer hasbehaved very well! He has probably not had a chance for some time, andthere were three here whom, no doubt, he would have preferred; butno--he is content to take the one who is public property. He respectsmarried women. Remember, he is master here. He had only to say 'I will, 'and he could have taken us by force with his soldiers!"

A little shudder ran through the other two women. Pretty little MadameCarré-Lamadon's eyes shone and she turned rather pale as though shealready felt herself forcibly seized by the officer. 

The men, who had been arguing the matter in a corner, now joined them. Loiseau, foaming with rage, was for delivering up "the hussy" bound handand foot to the enemy. But the Count, coming of three generations ofambassadors, and gifted with the physique of the diplomatist, was on theside of skill as opposed to brute force. 

"She must be persuaded, " he said. Whereupon they conspired. 

The women drew up closer together, voices were lowered, and thediscussion became general, each one offering his or her advice. Nothingwas said to shock the proprieties. The ladies, in particular, were mostexpert in felicitous turns of phrase, charming subtleties of speech forexpressing the most ticklish things. A foreigner would have understoodnothing, the language was so carefully veiled. But as the slight coatingof modesty with which every woman of the world is enveloped is hardlymore than skin deep, they expanded under the influence of this equivocaladventure, enjoying themselves wildly at bottom, thoroughly in theirelement, dabbling in sensuality with the gusto of an epicurean cookpreparing a toothsome delicacy for somebody else. 

The story finally appeared to them so funny that they quite recoveredtheir spirits. The Count indulged in some rather risky pleasantries, butso well put that they raised a responsive smile; Loiseau, in his turn, rapped out some decidedly strong jokes which nobody took in bad part, and the brutal proposition expressed by his wife swayed all their minds:"As that is her trade, why refuse one man more than another?" LittleMadame Carré-Lamadon seemed even to think that in her place she wouldrefuse this one less readily than another. 

They were long in preparing the blockade, as if against an investedfortress. Each one agreed upon the part they would play, the argumentsthey would bring forward, the maneuvers they would execute. Theyarranged the plan of attack, the stratagems to be employed, and thesurprises of the assault for forcing this living citadel to receive theenemy within its gates. Cornudet alone held aloof, completely outsidethe affair. 

They were so profoundly occupied with the matter in hand that they neverheard Boule de Suif enter the room. But the Count breathed a low warning"Hush!" and they lifted their heads. She was there. The talking ceasedabruptly, and a certain feeling of embarrassment prevented them fromaddressing her at first, till the Countess, more versed than the othersin the duplicities of the drawing-room, asked how she had enjoyed thechristening. 

Still full of emotion at what she had witnessed, Boule de Suif describedevery detail--the people's faces, their attitudes, even the appearanceof the church. It was so nice to pray now and then, she added. 

Till luncheon, however, the ladies confined themselves merely to beingagreeable to her in order to increase her confidence in them and herdocility to their counsels. But once seated at the table, the attackbegan. It first took the form of a desultory conversation on devotion toa cause. Examples from ancient history were cited: Judith andHolofernes, and then, without any apparent connection, Lucretia andSextus, Cleopatra admitting to her couch all the hostile generals, andreducing them to the servility of slaves. Then began a fantastichistory, which had sprung up in the minds of these ignorantmillionaires, in which the women of Rome were seen on their way toCapua, to rock Hannibal to sleep in their arms, and his officers alongwith him, and the phalanxes of the mercenaries. The women were mentionedwho had arrested the course of conquerors, made of their bodies arampart, a means of dominating, a weapon; who had vanquished by theirheroic embraces beings hideous or repulsive, and sacrificed theirchastity to vengeance or patriotism. 

And all this in so discreet and moderate a manner, with now and then alittle burst of warm enthusiasm, admirably calculated to exciteemulation. To hear them you would have finally come to the conclusionthat woman's sole mission here below was to perpetually sacrifice herperson, to abandon herself continually to the caprices of the warrior. 

The two Sisters appeared to be deaf to it all, sunk in profound thought. Boule de Suif said nothing. 

They allowed her all the afternoon for reflection, but instead ofcalling her "Madame, " as they had done up till now, they addressed hersimply as "Mademoiselle"--nobody could have said exactly why--as if tosend her down a step in the esteem she had gained, and force her to feelthe shame of her position. 

In the evening just as the soup was being brought to the table MonsieurFollenvie made his appearance again with the same message as before:"The Prussian officer sends to ask Mademoiselle Elizabeth Rousset if shehad not changed her mind. "

"No, Monsieur, " Boule de Suif replied curtly. 

At supper the coalition weakened. Loiseau made three jokes that hungfire; everybody beat their brains for fresh instances to the point; andfound none, when the Countess, possibly without premeditation and onlyfrom a vague desire to render homage to religion, interrogated the olderof the two Sisters on the main incidents in the lives of the saints. Now, several of them had committed acts which would be counted crimes inour eyes, but the Church readily pardons such misdeeds when they areaccomplished for the glory of God or the benefit of our neighbors. Thenby one of those tacit agreements, those veiled complaisances in whichevery one who wears ecclesiastical habit excels, or perhaps simply froma happy want of intelligence, a helpful stupidity, the old nun broughtformidable support to the conspiracy. They had imagined her timid; sheproved herself bold, verbose, violent. She was not troubled by any ofthe shilly-shallyings of casuistry, her doctrine was like a bar of iron, her faith never wavered, her conscience knew no scruples. She consideredAbraham's sacrifice a very simple affair, for she herself would haveinstantly killed father or mother at an order from above, and nothing, she averred, could displease the Lord if the intention were commendable. The Countess, taking advantage of the sacred authority of her unexpectedally, drew her on to make an edifying paraphrase, as it were, on thewell-known moral maxim: "The end justifies the means. "

"Then, Sister, " she inquired, "you think God approves of every pathwaythat leads to Him, and pardons the deed if the motive be a pure one?"

"Who can doubt it, Madame? An action blamable in itself is oftenrendered meritorious by the impulse which inspires it. "

And she continued in the same strain, unraveling the intricacies of thewill of the Almighty, predicting His decisions, making Him interestHimself in matters which, of a truth, did not concern Him at all. 

All this was skillfully and discreetly wrapped up, but each word of thepious woman in the big white cap made a breach in the indignantresistance of the courtesan. The conversation then glancing offslightly, the woman of the pendent rosaries went on to speak of thereligious houses of her Order, of her superior, of herself and herfragile little companion, her dear little Sister St. Nicephora. Theyhad been sent for to Havre to nurse the hundreds of soldiers there downwith small-pox. She described the condition of these poor wretches, gavedetails of their disorder; and while they were thus stopped upon theroad by the whim of this Prussian, many French soldiers might die whomperhaps they could have saved. That was her specialty--nursing soldiers. She had been in the Crimea, in Italy, in Austria; and relating hercampaigns, she suddenly revealed herself as one of those Sisters of thefife and drum who seem made for following the camp, picking up thewounded in the thick of battle, and better than any officer for quellingwith a word the great hulking undisciplined recruits--a regular SisterRataplan, her ravaged face all riddled with pits, calling up an image ofthe devastations of war. 

No one spoke after her for fear of spoiling the excellent effect. 

Immediately after dinner they hurried to their rooms, not to reappeartill pretty late the next morning. 

Luncheon passed off quietly. They allowed the seed sown yesterday timeto grow and bear fruit. 

In the afternoon the Countess proposed a walk, whereupon the Count, following the preconcerted arrangement, took Boule de Suif's arm andfell behind with her a little. He adopted that familiar, paternal, somewhat contemptuous tone which elderly men affect towards such girls, calling her "my dear child, " treating her from the height of his socialposition and indisputable respectability. 

He came to the point without further preamble. "So you prefer to keep ushere exposed like yourself to all the violence which must inevitablyfollow a check to the Prussian arms, rather than consent to accord oneof those favors you have so often dispensed in your time?"

Boule de Suif did not reply. 

He then appealed to her kindness of heart, her reason, her sentiment. Heknew how to remain "Monsieur le Comte, " yet showing himself at the sametime chivalrous, flattering--in a word, altogether amiable. He exaltedthe sacrifice she would be making for them, touched upon theirgratitude, and with a final flash of roguishness, "Besides, my dear, hemay think himself lucky--he will not find many such pretty girls as youin his own country!"

Boule de Suif said nothing and rejoined the rest of the party. 

When they returned, she went straight to her room and did not come downagain. The anxiety was terrible. What was she going to do? Howunspeakably mortifying if she still persisted in her refusal!

The dinner-hour arrived, they waited for her in vain. MonsieurFollenvie, entering presently, announced that Mademoiselle Rousset wasindisposed, and that there was consequently no need to delay supper anylonger. They all pricked up their ears. The Countess approached theinnkeeper with a whispered "All right?"

"Yes. "

For propriety's sake he said nothing to his companions, but he made thema slight sign of the head. A great sigh of relief went up from everyheart, every face lit up with joy. 

"Saperlipopette!" cried Loiseau, "I will stand champagne if there issuch a thing in this establishment!"

Madame Loiseau suffered a pang of anguish when the innkeeper returnedwith four bottles in his hands. Everybody suddenly turned communicativeand cheerful, and their hearts overflowed with brotherly love. The Countseemed all at once to become aware that Madame Carré-Lamadon wascharming; the manufacturer paid compliments to the Countess. Conversation became lively, sprightly, and full of sparkle. 

By the end of the repast the women themselves were indulging indecidedly risky witticisms. Eyes grew bright, tongues were loosened, agood deal of wine had been consumed. The Count, who, even in his cups, retained his characteristic air of diplomatic gravity, made some highlyspiced comparisons on the subject of the end of the winter season at thePole and the joy of ice-bound mariners at sight of an opening to thesouth. 

Loiseau, now in full swing, rose, and lifting high his glass ofchampagne, "To our deliverance!" he cried. Everybody started to theirfeet with acclamation. Even the two Sisters of Mercy, yielding to thesolicitations of the ladies, consented to take a sip of the effervescingwine which they had never tasted before. They pronounced it to be verylike lemonade, though, on the whole, more refined. 

"What a pity there is no piano, " said Loiseau as a crowning point to thesituation, "we might have finished up with a little hop. "

Cornudet had not uttered a word, nor made a sign of joining in thegeneral hilarity; he was apparently plunged in the gravest abstractions, only pulling viciously at his great beard from time to time as if todraw it out longer than before. At last, about midnight, when thecompany was preparing to separate, Loiseau came hiccoughing over tohim, and digging him in the ribs: "You seem rather down in the mouththis evening, citizen--haven't said a word. "

Cornudet threw up his head angrily, and sweeping the company with aflashing and terrible look: "I tell you all that what you have doneto-day is an infamy!"

He rose, made his way to the door, exclaimed once again, "An infamy!"and vanished. 

This somewhat dashed their spirits for the moment. Loiseau, nonplussedat first, soon regained his aplomb and burst into a roar of laughter. "Sour grapes, old man--sour grapes!"

The others not understanding the allusion, he proceeded to relate the"mysteries of the corridor. " This was followed by an uproarious revivalof gayety. The ladies were in a frenzy of delight, the Count andMonsieur Carré-Lamadon laughed till they cried. They could not believeit. 

"Do you mean to say he wanted--"

"I tell you I saw it with my own eyes. "

"And she refused?"

"Because the Prussian was in the next room. "

"It is incredible. "

"As true as I stand here!"

The Count nearly choked; the manufacturer held both his sides. 

"And you can understand that he does not quite see the joke of the thingthis evening--oh, no--not at all!"

And they all three went off again, breathless, choking, sick withlaughter. 

After that they parted for the night. But Madame Loiseau remarked to herhusband when they were alone that that little cat of a Carré-Lamadonhad laughed on the wrong side of her mouth all the evening. "You knowhow it is with these women--they dote upon a uniform, and whether it isFrench or Prussian matters precious little to them. But, Lord--it seemsto me a poor way of looking at things. "

Apparently nobody got much sleep that night, for it was long before thelights ceased to shine under the doors. Champagne, they say, often hasthat disturbing effect; it makes one restless and wakeful. 

Next morning a brilliant winter sun shone on the dazzling snow. Thediligence was by this time ready and waiting before the door, while aflock of white pigeons, muffled in their thick plumage, struttedsolemnly in and out among the feet of the six horses, seeking what theymight devour. 

The driver, enveloped in his sheepskin, sat on the box smoking his pipe, and the radiant travelers were busily laying in provisions for the restof the journey. 

They were only waiting now for Boule de Suif. She appeared. 

She looked agitated and downcast as she advanced timidly towards herfellow travelers, who all, with one movement, turned away their heads asif they had not seen her. The Count, with a dignified movement, took hiswife by the arm and drew her away from this contaminating contact. 

The poor thing stopped short, bewildered; then gathering up her courageshe accosted the wife of the manufacturer with a humble "Good morning, Madame. " The other merely replied with an impertinent little nod, accompanied by a stare of outraged virtue. Everybody seemed suddenlyextremely busy, and they avoided her as if she had brought the plaguein her skirts. They then precipitated themselves into the vehicle, whereshe arrived the last and by herself, and resumed in silence the seat shehad occupied during the first part of the journey. 

They affected not to see her, not to recognize her; only Madame Loiseau, glancing round at her with scorn and indignation, said half audibly toher husband, "It's a good thing that I am not sitting beside her!"

The heavy conveyance jolted off, and the journey recommenced. 

No one spoke for the first little while. Boule de Suif did not ventureto raise her eyes. She felt incensed at her companions, and at the sametime deeply humiliated at having yielded to their persuasions, and letherself be sullied by the kisses of this Prussian into whose arms theyhad hypocritically thrust her. 

The Countess was the first to break the uncomfortable silence. Turningto Madame Carré-Lamadon, she said, "You know Madame d'Etrelles, Ithink?"

"Oh, yes; she is a great friend of mine. "

"What a charming woman!"

"Fascinating! So truly refined; very cultivated, too, and an artist tothe tips of her fingers--she sings delightfully, and draws toperfection. "

The manufacturer was talking to the Count, and through the rattleof the crazy windowpanes one caught a word here and there;shares--dividends--premium--settling day--and the like. Loiseau, who hadappropriated an old pack of cards from the inn, thick with the grease ofthe five years' rubbing on dirty tables, started a game of bezique withhis wife. The two Sisters pulled up the long rosaries hanging at theirwaists, made the sign of the cross, and suddenly began moving their lipsrapidly, faster and faster, hurrying their vague babble as if for awager; kissing a medal from time to time, crossing themselves again, andthen resuming their rapid and monotonous murmur. 

Cornudet sat motionless--thinking. 

At the end of the three hours' steady traveling Loiseau gathered up hiscards and remarked facetiously, "It's turning hungry. "

His wife then produced a parcel, which she untied, and brought out apiece of cold veal. This she cut up into thin, firm slices, and bothbegan to eat. 

"Supposing we do the same?" said the Countess, and proceeded to unpackthe provisions prepared for both couples. In one of those oblong disheswith a china hare upon the cover to indicate that a roast hare liesbeneath, was a succulent selection of cold viands--brown slices of juicyvenison mingled with other meats. A delicious square of gruyere cheesewrapped in newspaper still bore imprinted on its dewy surface the words"General News. "

The two Sisters brought out a sausage smelling of garlic, and Cornudet, plunging his hands into the vast pockets of his loose greatcoat, drew upfour hard-boiled eggs from one and a big crust of bread from the other. He peeled off the shells and threw them into the straw under his feet, and proceeded to bite into the egg, dropping pieces of the yolk into hislong beard, from whence they shone out like stars. 

In the hurry and confusion of the morning Boule de Suif had omitted totake thought for the future, and she looked on, furious, choking withmortification, at these people all munching away so placidly. A stormof rage convulsed her, and she opened her mouth to hurl at them thetorrent of abuse that rose to her lips, but she could not speak, suffocated by her indignation. 

Nobody looked at her, nobody thought of her. She felt herself drowningin the flood of contempt shown towards her by these honest scoundrelswho had first sacrificed her and then cast her off like some useless andunclean thing. Then her thoughts reverted to her great basket full ofgood things which they had so greedily devoured--the two fowls in theirglittering coat of jelly, her patties, her pears, her four bottles ofclaret; and her fury suddenly subsided like the breaking of anoverstrung chord and she felt that she was on the verge of tears. Shemade the most strenuous efforts to overcome it--straightened herself upand choked back her sobs as children do, but the tears would rise. Theyglittered for a moment on her lashes, and presently two big drops rolledslowly over her cheeks. Others gathered in quick succession like waterdripping from a rock and splashed onto the ample curve of her bosom. Shesat up very straight, her eyes fixed, her face pale and rigid, hopingthat nobody would notice. 

But the Countess saw her and nudged her husband. He shrugged hisshoulders as much as to say, "What can you expect? It is not my fault. "Madame Loiseau gave a silent chuckle of triumph and murmured, "She iscrying for shame. " The two Sisters had resumed their devotions aftercarefully wrapping up the remnants of their sausages. 

Then Cornudet, while digesting his eggs, stretched his long legs underthe opposite seat, leaned back, smiled like a man who has just thoughtof a capital joke, and began to softly whistle the Marseillaise. 

The faces clouded; the popular air seemed unpleasing to his neighbors;they became nervous--irritable--looking as if they were ready to throwback their heads and howl like dogs at the sound of a barrel organ. Hewas perfectly aware of this, but did not stop. From time to time hehummed a few of the words: "Liberty, cherished liberty, Fight thou onthe side of thy defenders. "

They drove at a much quicker pace to-day, the snow being harder; and allthe way to Dieppe, during the long, dull hours of the journey, throughall the jolting and rattling of the conveyance, in the falling shades ofevening and later in the profound darkness, he continued with unabatedpersistency his vengeful and monotonous whistling; forcing his weariedand exasperated fellow travelers to follow the song from end to end andto remember every word that corresponded to each note. 

And Boule de Suif wept on, and at times a sob which she could notrepress broke out between two couplets in the darkness. 

MISS HARRIET

There were seven of us in a break, four women and three men, one ofwhich latter was on the box seat beside the coachman, and we werefollowing, at a foot pace, the broad highway which serpentines along thecoast. 

Setting out from Etretat at break of day, in order to visit the ruins ofTancarville, we were still asleep, benumbed by the fresh air of themorning. The women, especially, who were little accustomed to theseearly excursions, let their eyelids fall and rise every moment, noddingtheir heads or yawning, quite insensible to the emotion of the breakingof day. 

It was autumn. On both sides of the road, the bare fields stretched out, yellowed by the corn and wheat stubble which covered the soil, like abeard that had been badly shaved. The spongy earth seemed to smoke. Thelarks were singing, high up in the air, while other birds piped in thebushes. 

The sun rose at length in front of us, a bright red on the plane of thehorizon; and in proportion as it ascended, growing clearer from minuteto minute, the country seemed to awake, to smile, to shake itself, stretch itself, like a young girl who is leaving her bed, in her whitevapor chemise. The Count of Etraille, who was seated on the box, cried:

"Look! look! a hare!" and he extended his arm towards the left, pointingto a piece of hedge. The animal threaded its way along, almost concealedby the field, raising only its large ears. Then it swerved across adeep rut, stopped, pursued again its easy course, changed its direction, stopped anew, disturbed, spying out every danger, undecided as to theroute it should take; when suddenly it began to run with great bounds ofthe hind legs, disappearing finally, in a large patch of beet-root. Allthe men had woke up to watch the course of the beast. 

René Lemanoir then exclaimed:

"We are not at all gallant this morning, " and regarding his neighbor, the little Baroness of Serennes, who struggled against sleep, he said toher in a subdued voice: "You are thinking of your husband, Baroness. Reassure yourself; he will not return before Saturday, so you have stillfour days. "

She responded to him with a sleepy smile: "How rude you are. " Then, shaking off her torpor, she added: "Now, let somebody say something thatwill make us all laugh. You, Monsieur Chenal, who have the reputation ofpossessing a larger fortune than the Duke of Richelieu, tell us a lovestory in which you have been mixed up, anything you like. "

Léon Chenal, an old painter, who had once been very handsome, verystrong, very proud of his physique, and very amiable, took his longwhite beard in his hand and smiled, then, after a few moments'reflection, he became suddenly grave. 

"Ladies, it will not be an amusing tale; for I am going to relate to youthe most lamentable love affair of my life, and I sincerely hope thatnone of my friends have ever passed through a similar experience. "

I

I was at the time twenty-five years of age, and I was making daubs alongthe coast of Normandy. I call "making daubs" that wandering about, witha bag on one's back, from mountain to mountain, under the pretext ofstudying and of sketching nature. I know nothing more enjoyable thanthat happy-go-lucky wandering life, in which one is perfectly free, without shackles of any kind, without care, without preoccupation, without thinking even of to-morrow. One goes in any direction onepleases, without any guide, save his fancy, without any counselor savehis eyes. One pulls up, because a running brook seduces one, because oneis attracted, in front of an inn, by the smell of potatoes frying. Sometimes it is the perfume of clematis which decides one in his choice, or the naïve glance of the servant at an inn. Do not despise me for myaffection for these rustics. These girls have a soul as well as feeling, not to mention firm cheeks and fresh lips; while their hearty andwilling kisses have the flavor of wild fruit. Love always has its price, come whence it may. A heart that beats when you make your appearance, aneye that weeps when you go away, are things so rare, so sweet, soprecious, that they must never be despised. 

I have had rendezvoux in ditches in which cattle repose, and in barnsamong the straw, still steaming from the heat of the day. I haverecollections of canvas being spread on rude and elastic benches, and ofhearty and fresh, free kisses, more delicate and unaffectedly sincerethan the subtle attractions of charming and distinguished women. 

But what one loves most amidst all these varied adventures is thecountry, the woods, the risings of the sun, the twilight, the light ofthe moon. These are, for the painter, honeymoon trips with nature. Oneis alone with her in that long and tranquil rendezvous. You go to bed inthe fields, amidst marguerites and wild poppies, and, with eyes wideopen, you watch the going down of the sun, and descry in the distancethe little village, with its pointed clock tower, which sounds the hourof midnight. 

You sit down by the side of a spring which gushes out from the foot ofan oak, amidst a covering of fragile herbs, upright and redolent oflife. You go down on your knees, bend forward, you drink that cold andpellucid water which wets your moustache and nose, you drink it with aphysical pleasure, as though you kissed the spring, lip to lip. Sometimes, when you encounter a deep hole, along the course of thesetiny brooks, you plunge into it, quite naked, and you feel on your skin, from head to foot, like an icy and delicious caress, the lovely andgentle quivering of the current. 

You are gay on the hills, melancholy on the verge of pools, exalted whenthe sun is crowned in an ocean of blood-red shadows, and when it castson the rivers its red reflection. And, at night, under the moon, whichpasses across the vault of heaven, you think of things, and singularthings, which would never have occurred to your mind under the brilliantlight of day. 

So, in wandering through the same country where we are this year, I cameto the little village of Benouville, on the Falaise, between Yport andEtretat. I came from Fécamp, following the coast, a high coast, and asperpendicular as a wall, with its projecting and rugged rocks fallingperpendicularly into the sea. I had walked since the morning on theshaven grass, as smooth and as yielding as a carpet. And singinglustily, I walked with long strides, looking sometimes at the slow andambling flight of a gull, with its short, white wings, sailing in theblue heavens, sometimes on the green sea, at the brown sails of afishing bark. In short, I had passed a happy day, a day of listlessnessand of liberty. 

I was shown a little farm house, where travelers were put up, a kind ofinn, kept by a peasant, which stood in the center of a Norman court, which was surrounded by a double row of beeches. 

Quitting the Falaise, I gained the hamlet, which was hemmed in by greattrees, and I presented myself at the house of Mother Lecacheur. 

She was an old, wrinkled and austere rustic, who seemed always tosuccumb to the pressure of new customs with a kind of contempt. 

It was the month of May: the spreading apple-trees covered the courtwith a whirling shower of blossoms which rained unceasingly both uponpeople 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, there will be noharm in looking. "

In five minutes we were in perfect accord, and I deposited my bag uponthe bare floor of a rustic room, furnished with a bed, two chairs, atable, and a wash-stand. The room looked into the large and smokykitchen, where the lodgers took their meals with the people of the farmand the farmer, who was a widower. 

I washed my hands, after which I went out. The old woman fricasseed achicken for dinner in a large fireplace, in which hung the stew pot, black with smoke. 

"You have travelers, then, at the present time?" I said to her. 

She answered, in an offended tone of voice:

"I have a lady, an English lady, who has attained to years of maturity. She is going to occupy my other room. "

I obtained, by means of an extra five sous a day, the privilege ofdining out in the court when the weather was fine. 

My cover was then placed in front of the door, and I commenced to gnawwith my teeth the lean members of the Normandy chicken, to drink theclear cider, and to munch the hunk of white bread, which was four daysold, though excellent. 

Suddenly, the wooden barrier which gave into the highway, was opened, and a strange person directed her steps towards the house. She was veryslender, very tall, enveloped in a Scotch shawl with red borders, andone might have believed that she had no arms, if one had not seen a longhand appear just above the haunches, holding a white tourist umbrella. The face of a mummy, surrounded with sausage rolls of plaited, grayhair, which bounded at every step she took, made me think, I know notwhy, of a sour herring adorned with curling papers. Lowering her eyes, she passed quickly in front of me, and entered the house. 

That singular apparition made me yearn. She undoubtedly was myneighbor, the aged English lady of whom our hostess had spoken. 

I did not see her again that day. The next day, when I had installedmyself to commence painting, at the end of that beautiful valley, whichyou know, and which extends as far as Etretat, I perceived, in liftingmy eyes suddenly, something singularly attired, standing on the crest ofthe declivity; one might indeed say, a pole decked out with flags. Itwas she. On seeing me, she suddenly disappeared. I re-entered the houseat midday for lunch, and took my seat at the common table, so as to makethe acquaintance of this old original. But she did not respond to mypolite advances, was insensible even to my little attentions. I pouredwater out for her with great alacrity; I passed her the dishes withgreat eagerness. A slight, almost imperceptible movement of the head, and an English word, murmured so low that I did not understand it, wereher only acknowledgments. 

I ceased occupying myself with her, although she had disturbed mythoughts. 

At the end of three days, I knew as much about her as did MadameLecacheur herself. 

She was called Miss Harriet. Seeking out a secluded village in which topass the summer, she had been attracted to Benouville, some six monthsbefore, and did not seem disposed to quit it. She never spoke at table, ate rapidly, reading all the while a small book, treating of someprotestant propaganda. She gave a copy of it to everybody. The curéhimself had received no less than four copies, conveyed by an urchin towhom she had paid two sous' commission. She said sometimes to ourhostess, abruptly, without preparing her in the least for thedeclaration:

"I love the Savior more than all; I admire him in all creation; I adorehim in all nature, I carry him always in my heart. "

And she would immediately present the old woman with one of herbrochures which were destined to convert the universe. 

In the village she was not liked. In fact, the schoolmaster had declaredthat she was an atheist, and that a kind of reprobation weighed down onher. The curé, who had been consulted by Madame Lecacheur, responded:

"She is a heretic, but God does not wish the death of the sinner, and Ibelieve her to be a person of pure morals. "

These words, "Atheist, " "Heretic, " words which no one can preciselydefine, threw doubts into some minds. It was asserted, however, thatthis English woman was rich, and that she had passed her life intraveling through every country in the world, because her family hadthrown her off. Why had her family thrown her off. Because of hernatural impiety?

She was, in fact, one of those people of exalted principles, one ofthose opinionated puritans, of which England produces so many, one ofthose good and insupportable old women who haunt the table d'hôtes ofevery hotel in Europe, who spoil Italy, impoison Switzerland, render thecharming cities of the Mediterranean uninhabitable, carry everywheretheir fantastic manias, their petrified vestal manners, theirindescribable toilettes and a certain odor of India rubber, which makesone believe that at night they slip themselves into a case of thatmaterial. 

When I encounter one of these people some fine day in a hotel, I actlike the birds, who see a manakin in a field. 

This woman, however, appeared so singular that she did not displease me. 

Madame Lecacheur, hostile by instinct to everything that was not rustic, felt in her narrow soul a kind of hatred for the ecstatic extravagancesof the old girl. She had found a phrase by which to describe her, aphrase assuredly contemptible, which she had got, I know not whence, upon her lips, invented by I know not what confused and mysterioustravail of soul. She said: "That woman is a demoniac. " This phrase, culled by that austere and sentimental creature, seemed to meirresistibly comic. I myself, never called her now anything else, but"the demoniac, " exercising a singular pleasure in pronouncing aloud thisword on perceiving her. 

I would ask Mother Lecacheur: "Well, what is our demoniac about to-day?"

To which my rustic friend responded, with an air of having beenscandalized:

"What do you think, sir, she has picked up a toad which has had its pawbattered, and carried it to her room, and has put it in her wash-stand, and dressed it up like a man. If that is not profanation, I should liketo know what is!"

On another occasion, when walking along the Falaise, she had bought alarge fish which had just been caught, simply to throw it back into thesea again. The sailor, from whom she had bought it, though paidhandsomely, was greatly provoked at this act, more exasperated, indeed, than if she had put her hand into his pocket and taken his money. For awhole month he could not speak of the circumstance without getting intoa fury and denouncing it as an outrage. Oh yes! She was indeed ademoniac, this Miss Harriet, and Mother Lecacheur must have had aninspiration of genius in thus christening her. 

The stable-boy, who was called Sapeur, because he had served in Africain his youth, entertained other aversions. He said, with a roguish air:"She is an old hag who has lived her days. "

If the poor woman had but known!

The little, kind-hearted Céleste, did not wait upon her willingly, but Iwas never able to understand why. Probably, her only reason was that shewas a stranger, of another race, of a different tongue, and of anotherreligion. She was, in good truth, a demoniac!

She passed her time wandering about the country, adoring and searchingfor God in nature. I found her one evening on her knees in a cluster ofbushes. Having discovered something red through the leaves, I brushedaside the branches and Miss Harriet at once rose to her feet, confusedat having been found thus, fixed on me eyes as terrible as those of awild cat, surprised in open day. 

Sometimes, when I was working among the rocks, I would suddenly descryher on the banks of the Falaise like a semaphore signal. Shepassionately gazed at the vast sea, glittering in the sunlight, and theboundless sky empurpled with fire. Sometimes I would distinguish her atthe bottom of a valley, walking quickly, with an English, elastic step;and I would go towards her, attracted I know not by what, simply to seeher illuminated visage, her dried-up, ineffable features, which seemedto glow with interior and profound happiness. 

I would often encounter her also in the corner of a field sitting on thegrass, under the shadow of an apple tree, with her little Bible lyingopen on her knee, which she looked at meditatively at the distance. 

I could no longer tear myself away from that quiet country neighborhood, being bound to it by a thousand links of love for its sweeping and softlandscapes. At this farm I was unknown to the world, far removed fromeverything, but in close proximity to the soil, the good, healthy, beautiful and green soil. And, must I avow it; there was somethingbesides curiosity which retained me at the residence of MotherLecacheur. I wished to become acquainted a little with this strange MissHarriet, and to know what passed in the solitary souls of thosewandering old, English dames. 

II

We became acquainted in a rather singular manner. I had just finished astudy, which appeared to me to display play brain power; and so it must, as it was sold for ten thousand francs, fifteen years later. It was assimple, however, as that two and two make four, and had nothing to dowith academic rules. The whole of the right side of my canvasrepresented a rock, an enormous rock, covered with sea-wrack, brown, yellow, and red, across which the sun poured like a stream of oil. Thelight, without which one could see the stars concealed in the background, fell upon the stone, and gilded it as if by fire. That was all. A first stupid attempt at dealing with light, burning rays, the sublime. 

On the left was the sea, not the blue sea, the slate-colored sea, but ajade of a sea, as greenish, milky and thick as the overcast sky. 

I was so pleased with my work that I danced from sheer delight as Icarried it back to the inn. I had wished that the whole world could haveseen it at one and the same moment. I can remember that I showed it to acow, which was browsing by the wayside, exclaiming at the same time:"Look at that, my old beauty, you shall not often see its like again. "

When I had reached the front of the house, I immediately called out toMother Lecacheur, shouting with all my might:

"Ohè! Ohè! my mistress, come here and look at this. "

The rustic advanced and regarded my work with her stupid eyes whichdistinguished nothing, and which did not even recognize whether thepicture was the representation of an ox or a house. 

Miss Harriet returned to the house, and she passed in rear of me just atthe moment when, holding out my canvas at arm's length, I was exhibitingit to the female innkeeper. The demoniac could not help but see it, forI took care to exhibit the thing in such a way that it could not escapeher notice. She stopped abruptly and stood motionless, stupefied. It washer rock which was depicted, the one which she climbed to dream away hertime undisturbed. 

She uttered a British "Aoh, " which was at once so accentuated and soflattering, that I turned round to her, smiling, and said:

"This is my last work, Mademoiselle. "

She murmured ecstatically, comically and tenderly:

"Oh! Monsieur, you must understand what it is to have a palpitation. "

I colored up, of course, and was more excited by that compliment than ifit had come from a queen. I was seduced, conquered, vanquished. I couldhave embraced her; upon my honor. 

I took a seat at the table beside her, as I had always done. For thefirst time, she spoke, drawling out in a loud voice:

"Oh! I love nature so much. "

I offered her some bread, some water, some wine. She now accepted thesewith the vacant smile of a mummy. I then began to converse with herabout the scenery. 

After the meal, we rose from the table together and we walked leisurelyacross the court; then, being attracted by the fiery glow which thesetting sun cast over the surface of the sea, I opened the outside gatewhich opened in the direction of the Falaise, and we walked on side byside, as satisfied as any two persons could be, who have just learned tounderstand and penetrate each other's motives and feelings. 

It was a muggy, relaxing evening, one of those enjoyable evenings, whichimpart happiness to mind and body alike. All is joy, all is charm. Theluscious and balmy air, loaded with the perfumes of herbs, the perfumesof grass-wrack, which caresses the odor of the wild flowers, caressesthe potato with its marine flavor, caresses the soul with a penetratingsweetness. We were going to the brink of the abyss, which overlookedthe vast sea, and which rolled past us at the distance of less than ahundred meters. 

And we drank with open mouth and expanded chest that fresh breath whichcame from the ocean and which glided slowly over the skin, salted by itslong contact with the waves. 

Wrapped up in her square shawl, inspired by the balmy air and with teethfirmly set, the English woman gazed fixedly at the great sun ball, as itdescended towards the sea. Soon its rim touched the waters, just in rearof a ship which appeared on the horizon, until, by degrees, it wasswallowed up by the ocean. It was seen to plunge, diminish, and finallyto disappear. 

Miss Harriet contemplated with a passionate regard the last glimmer ofthe flaming orb of day. 

She muttered: "Aoh! I loved ... I loved ... " I saw a tear start in hereye. She continued: "I wish I were a little bird, so that I could mountup into the firmament. "

She remained standing as I had often before seen her, perched on theriver's banks, her face as red as her purple shawl. I should have likedto have sketched her in my album. It would have been an ecstaticcaricature. 

I turned my face away from her so as to be able to laugh. 

I then spoke to her of painting, as I would have done to a fellowartist, using the technical terms common among the devotees of theprofession. She listened attentively to me, eagerly seeking to definethe sense of the obscure words, so as to penetrate my thoughts. Fromtime to time, she would exclaim: "Oh! I understand, I understand. Thishas been very interesting. "

We returned home. 

The next day, on seeing me, she approached me eagerly, holding out herhand; and we became firm friends immediately. 

She was a brave creature who had a kind of elastic soul, which becameenthusiastic at a bound. She lacked equilibrium, like all women who arespinsters at the age of fifty. She seemed to be pickled in vinegarinnocence, though her heart still retained something of youth and ofgirlish effervescence. She loved both nature and animals with a ferventardor, a love like old wine, fermented through age, with a sensual lovethat she had never bestowed on men. 

One thing is certain, that a bitch in pup, a mare roaming in a meadowwith a foal at its side, a bird's nest full of young ones, squeaking, with their open mouths and enormous heads, made her quiver with the mostviolent emotion. 

Poor solitary beings! Tristias and wanderers from table d'hôte to tabled'hôte, poor beings, ridiculous and lamentable. I love you ever since Ibecame acquainted with Miss Harriet!

I soon discovered that she had something she would like to tell me, butshe dare not, and I was amused at her timidity. When I started out inthe morning with my box on my back, she accompanied me as far as the endof the village, silent, but evidently struggling inwardly to find wordswith which to begin a conversation. Then she left me abruptly, and, witha jaunty step, walked away quickly. 

One day, however, she plucked up courage:

"I would like to see how you paint pictures? Will you? I have been verycurious. "[3]

And she colored up as though she had given utterance to words extremelyaudacious. 

I conducted her to the bottom of the Petit-Val, where I had commenced alarge picture. 

She remained standing near me, following all my gestures withconcentrated attention. Then, suddenly, fearing, perhaps, that she wasdisturbing me she said to me: "Thank you, " and walked away. 

But in a short time she became more familiar, and accompanied me everyday, her countenance exhibiting visible pleasure. She carried herfolding stool under her arm, and would not consent to my carrying it, and she sat always by my side. She would remain there for hours, immovable and mute, following with her eye the point of my brush, in itsevery movement. When I would obtain, by a large splatch of color spreadon with a knife, a striking and unexpected effect, she would, in spiteof herself, give vent to a half-suppressed "Ah!" of astonishment, ofjoy, of admiration. She had the most tender respect for my canvases, analmost religious respect for that human reproduction of a part ofnature's work divine. My studies appeared to her as a kind of picturesof sanctity, and sometimes she spoke to me of God, with the idea ofconverting me. 

Oh! He was a queer good-natured being, this God of hers. He was a sortof village philosopher without any great resources, and without greatpower; for she always figured him to herself as a being quivering overinjustices committed under his eyes, and as though he was helpless toprevent them. 

She was, however, on excellent terms with him, affecting even to be theconfidant of his secrets and of his contrarieties. She said:

"God wills, or God does not will, " just like a sergeant announcing to arecruit: "The colonel has commanded. "

At the bottom of her heart, she deplored my ignorance of the intentionsof the Eternal, which she strove, and felt herself compelled to impartto me. 

Almost every day, I found in my pockets, in my hat when I lifted it fromthe ground, in my box of colors, in my polished shoes, standing in themornings in front of my door, those little pious brochures, which she, no doubt, received directly from Paradise. 

I treated her as one would an old friend, with unaffected cordiality. But I soon perceived that she had changed somewhat in her manner; but, for a while, I paid little attention to it. 

When I walked about, whether to the bottom of the valley, or throughsome country lanes, I would see her suddenly appear, as though she werereturning from a rapid walk. She would then sit down abruptly, out ofbreath, as though she had been running, or overcome by some profoundemotion. Her face would be red, that English red which is denied to thepeople of all other countries; then, without any reason, she would growpale, become the color of the ground and seem ready to faint away. Gradually, however, I would see her regain her ordinary color, whereuponshe would begin to speak. 

Then, without warning, she would break off in the middle of a sentence, spring up from her seat, and march off so rapidly and so strangely, thatit would, sometimes, put me to my wits ends to try and discover whetherI had done or said anything to displease or offend her. 

I finally came to the conclusion that this arose from her early habitsand training, somewhat modified, no doubt, in honor of me, since thefirst days of our acquaintanceship. 

When she returned to the farm, after walking for hours on thewind-beaten coast, her long curled hair would be shaken out and hangingloose, as though it had broken away from its bearings. It was seldomthat this gave her any concern; looking sometimes as though she had justreturned from dining _sans cèremonie_; her locks having becomedishevelled by the breezes. 

She would then go up to her room in order to adjust what I called herglass lamps; and when I would say to her, in the familiar gallantry, which, however, always offended her:

"You are as beautiful as a planet to-day, Miss Harriet, " a little bloodwould immediately mount into her cheeks, the blood of a young maiden, the blood of sweet fifteen. 

Then she would become abruptly savage and cease coming to watch mepaint. I thought thus:

"This is only a fit of temper she is passing through. "

But it did not always pass away. When I spoke to her sometimes, shewould answer me, either with an air of affected indifference, or insullen anger; and became by turns rude, impatient, and nervous. For atime I never saw her except at meals, and we spoke but little. Iconcluded, at length, that I must have offended her in something: and, accordingly, I said to her one evening:

"Miss Harriet, why is it that you do not act towards me as formerly?What have I done to displease you? You are causing me much pain!"

She responded, in an angry tone, in a manner altogether _sui generis_:

"I be always with you the same as formerly. [4] It is not true, nottrue, " and she ran upstairs and shut herself up in her room. 

At times she would look upon me with strange eyes. Since that time Ihave often said to myself that those who are condemned to death mustlook thus when they are informed that their last day has come. In hereye there lurked a species of folly, a folly at once mysterious andviolent; and even more; a fever, an exasperated desire, impatient, andat once incapable of being realized and unrealizable!

Nay, it seemed to me that there was also going on within her a combat, in which her heart struggled against an unknown force that she wished toovercome, and even, perhaps, something else. But what could I know? Whatcould I know?

III

This was indeed a singular revelation. 

For some time I had commenced to work, as soon as daylight appeared, ona picture, the subject of which was as follows:

A deep ravine, steep banks, dominated by two declivities, lined withbrambles and long rows of trees, hidden, drowned in that milky vapor, clad in that musty robe which sometimes floats over valleys, at break ofday. And at the extreme end of that thick and transparent fog, you seecoming or, rather already come, a human couple, a stripling and amaiden, embraced, inter-laced, she, with head leaning on him, he, inclined towards her, and lips to lips. 

A first ray of the sun glistening through the branches, has traversedthat fog of the dawn, has illuminated it with a rosy reflection, justbehind the rustic lovers, on which can be seen their vague shadows in aclear silver. It was well done, yes, indeed, well done. 

I was working on the declivity which led to the Val d'Etretat. Thisparticular morning, I had, by chance, the sort of floating vapor, whichwas necessary for my purpose. Suddenly, an object appeared in front ofme, a kind of phantom; it was Miss Harriet. On seeing me, she took toflight. 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 mysketch. She said nothing, but stood for a long time, motionless, regarding it; and, suddenly, she burst into tears. She weptspasmodically, like men who have been struggling hard against sheddingtears, but who can do so no longer, and abandon themselves to grief, though still resisting. I got up, trembling, moved myself by the sightof a sorrow I did not comprehend, and I took her by the hand with animpulse of brusque affection, a true French impulse which impels onequicker than one thinks. 

She let her hands rest in mine for a few seconds, and I felt them quiveras if her whole nervous system was twisting and turning. Then shewithdrew her hands abruptly, or, rather tore them out of mine. 

I recognized that shiver, as soon as I had felt it; I was deceived innothing. Ah! the live shiver of a woman, whether she is fifteen or fiftyyears of age, whether she is one of the people or one of the _monde_, goes so straight to my heart that I never had any compunctions inunderstanding it!

Her whole frail being trembled, vibrated, swooned. I knew it. She walkedaway before I had time to say a word, leaving me as surprised as if Ihad witnessed a miracle, and as troubled as if I had committed a crime. 

I did not go in to breakfast. I went to make a tour on the banks of theFalaise, feeling that I would just as lieve weep as laugh, looking onthe adventure as both comic and deplorable, and my position asridiculous, fain to believe that I had lost my head. 

I asked myself what I ought to do. I debated with myself whether I oughtto take my leave of the place and almost immediately my resolution wasformed. 

Somewhat sad and perplexed, I wandered about until dinner time, and Ientered the farm house just when the soup had been served up. 

I sat down at the table, as usual. Miss Harriet was there, munching awaysolemnly, without speaking to anyone, without even lifting eyes. Shewore, however, her usual expression, both of countenance and manner. 

I waited, patiently, till the meal had been finished, when, turningtowards the landlady I said: "See here, Madame Lecacheur, it will not belong now before I shall have to take my leave of you. "

The good woman, at once surprised and troubled, replied in a quiveringvoice: "My dear sir, what is it I have just heard you say? you are goingto leave us, after I have become so much accustomed to you?"

I regarded Miss Harriet from the corner of my eye. Her countenance didnot change in the least; but the under-servant came towards me with eyeswide open. She was a fat girl, of about eighteen years of age, rosy, fresh, as strong as a horse, yet possessing the rare attribute in one inher position--she was very neat and clean. I had embraced her at oddtimes, in out of the way corners, in the manner of a mountain guide, nothing more. 

The dinner being at length over, I went to smoke my pipe under the appletrees, walking up and down at my ease, from one end of the court to theother. All the reflections which I had made during the day, the strangediscovery of the morning, that grotesque love and passionate attachmentfor me, the recollections which that revelation had suddenly called up, recollections at once charming and perplexing, perhaps, also, that lookwhich the servant had cast on me at the announcement of mydeparture--all these things, mixed up and combined, put me now in ajolly humor of body, recalling the tickling sensation of kisses on thelips, and in the veins, something which urged me on to commit somefolly. 

Night having come on, casting its dark shadows under the trees, Idescried Céleste, who had gone to shut the hen coops, at the other endof the enclosure. I darted towards her, running so noiselessly that sheheard nothing, and as she got up from closing the small traps by whichthe chickens got in and out, I clasped her in my arms and rained on hercoarse, fat face a shower of kisses. She made a struggle, laughing allthe same, as she was accustomed to do in such circumstances. Whereforedid I suddenly loose my grip of her? Why did I at once experience ashock? What was it that I heard behind me?

It was Miss Harriet who had come upon us, who had seen us, and who stoodin front of us, as motionless as a specter. Then she disappeared in thedarkness. 

I was ashamed, embarrassed, more desperate at having been surprised byher than if she had caught me committing some criminal act. 

I slept badly that night; I was completely enervated and haunted by sadthoughts. I seemed to hear loud weeping; but in this I was no doubtdeceived. Moreover, I thought several times that I heard some onewalking up and down in the house, and who had opened my door from theoutside. 

Towards morning, I was overcome by fatigue and sleep seized on me. I gotup late and did not go downstairs until breakfast time, being still in abewildered state, not knowing what kind of face to put on. 

No one had seen Miss Harriet. We waited for her at table, but she didnot appear. At length Mother Lecacheur went to her room. The Englishwoman had gone out. She must have set out at break of day, as she waswont to do, in order to see the sun rise. 

Nobody seemed astonished at this and we began to eat in silence. 

The weather was hot, very hot, one of those still, boiling days, whennot a leaf stirs. The table had been placed out of doors, under an appletree; and from time to time Sapeur had gone to the cellar to draw a jugof cider, everybody was so thirsty. Céleste brought the dishes from thekitchen, a ragout of mutton with potatoes, a cold rabbit and a salad. Afterwards she placed before us a dish of strawberries, the first of theseason. 

As I wanted to wash and refresh these, I begged the servant to go andbring a pitcher of cold water. 

In about five minutes she returned, declaring that the well was dry. Shehad lowered the pitcher to the full extent of the cord, and had touchedthe bottom, but on drawing the pitcher up again, it was empty. MotherLecacheur, anxious to examine the thing for herself, went and lookeddown the hole. She returned announcing that one could see clearlysomething in the well, something altogether unusual. But this, no doubt, was pottles of straw, which, out of spite, had been cast down it by aneighbor. 

I wished also to look down the well, hoping I would be able to clear upthe mystery, and perched myself close to its brink. I perceived, indistinctly, a white object. What could it be? I then conceived theidea of lowering a lantern at the end of a cord. When I did so, theyellow flame danced on the layers of stone and gradually became clearer. All the four of us were leaning over the opening, Sapeur and Célestehaving now joined us. The lantern rested on a black and white, indistinct mass, singular, incomprehensible. Sapeur exclaimed:

"It is a horse. I see the hoofs. It must have escaped from the meadow, during the night, and fallen in headlong. "

But, suddenly, a cold shiver attacked my spine, I first recognized afoot, then a clothed limb; the body was entire, but the other limb haddisappeared under the water. 

I groaned and trembled so violently that the light of the lamp dancedhither and thither over the object, discovering a 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 scenesin Africa. 

Mother Lecacheur and Céleste began to scream and to shriek, and ranaway. 

But it was necessary to recover the corpse of the dead. I attached thevalet securely by the loins to the end of the pulley-rope, and I loweredhim slowly, and watched him disappear in the darkness. In the one handhe had a lantern, and held on by the rope with the other. Soon Irecognized his voice, which seemed to come from the center of the earth, crying:

"Stop. "

I then saw him fish something out of the water. It was the other limb. He then bound the two feet together, and shouted anew:

"Haul up. "

I commenced to wind him 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. Whenhis head appeared at the brink, I asked:

"Well, what is it?" as though I only expected that he would inform me ofwhat he had discovered at the bottom. 

We both got on to the stone slab at the edge of the well, and, face toface, we hoisted the body. 

Mother Lecacheur and Céleste watched us from a distance, concealed fromview behind the wall of the house. When they saw, issuing from the hole, the black slippers and the white stockings of the drowned person, theydisappeared. 

Sapeur seized the ankles of the poor chaste woman, and we drew it up, sloping, as it was, in the most immodest posture. The head was shockingto look at, being bruised and black; and the long, gray hair, hangingdown tangled and disordered. 

"In the name of all that is holy, how lean she is!" exclaimed Sapeur, ina contemptuous tone. 

We carried her into the room, and as the women did not put in anappearance, I, with the assistance of the stable lad, dressed the corpsefor burial. 

I washed her disfigured face. To the touch of my hand, an eye wasslightly opened, which regarded me with that pale regard, with that coldlook, with that terrible look that corpses have, which seemed to comefrom beyond life. I plaited up, as well as I could, her disheveled hair, and I adjusted on her forehead, a novel and singularly formed lock. ThenI took off her dripping wet garments, baring, not without a feeling ofshame, as though I had been guilty of some profanation, her shouldersand her chest, and her long arms, as slim as the twigs of branches. 

I next went to fetch some flowers, corn poppies, blue beetles, marguerites, and fresh and perfumed herbs, with which to strew herfuneral couch. 

I being the only person near her, it was necessary for me to perform theusual ceremonies. In a letter found in her pocket, written at the lastmoment, it was ordered that her body was to be buried in the village inwhich she had passed the last days of her life. A frightful thought thenpressed on my heart. Was it not on my account that she wished to be laidto rest in this place?

Towards the evening, all the female gossips of the locality came to viewthe remains of the defunct; but I would not allow a single person toenter; I wanted to be alone; and I watched by the corpse the wholenight. 

I looked at the corpse by the flickering lights of the candles, thismiserable woman, wholly unknown, who had died lamentably and so far awayfrom home. Had she left no friends, no relations behind her? What hadher infancy been? What had been her life? Whence had she hailed thitherthus, all alone, wanderer, lost like a dog driven from its home? Whatsecrets of sufferings and despair were sealed up in that disagreeablebody, in that spent, tarnished body--tarnished during the whole of itsexistence, that impenetrable envelope which had driven her far away fromall affection, from all love?

How many unhappy beings there are! I felt that there weighed upon thathuman creature the eternal injustice of implacable nature! It was allover with her, without her ever having experienced, perhaps, that whichsustains the greatest outcasts--to wit, the hope of being loved foronce! Otherwise, why should she thus have concealed herself, fled fromthe face of the others? Why did she love everything so tenderly and sopassionately, everything living that was not a man?

I recognized, also, that she believed in a God, and that she hoped toreceive compensation from the latter for all the miseries she hadendured. She had begun now to decompose, and to become, in turn, aplant. She who had blossomed in the sun, was now to be eaten up by thecattle, carried away in seeds, and flesh of beasts, would become againhuman flesh. But that which is called the soul, had been extinguished atthe bottom of the dark well. She suffered no longer. She had changedher life for that of others yet to be born. 

Hours passed away in this silent and sinister communion with the dead. Apale light at length announced the dawn of a new day, when a bright rayglistened on the bed, shed a dash of fire on the bed clothes and on herhands. This was the hour she had so much loved, when the awakened birdsbegan to sing in the trees. 

I opened the window to its fullest extent, I drew back the curtains, sothat the whole heavens might look in upon us, and bending towards theglassy corpse, I took in my hands the mutilated head; then, slowly, without terror or disgust, I imprinted a kiss, a long kiss, upon thoselips, which had never before received any. 

 * * * * *

Léon Chenal remained silent. The women wept. We heard on the box seatthe Count d'Etraille, who blows his nose, from time to time. Thecoachman alone had gone to sleep. The horses, which felt no longer thesting of the whip, had slowed their pace and dragged along softly, andthe brake, hardly advancing at all, became suddenly torpid, as if it hadbeen charged with sorrow. 

FRANCESCA AND CARLOTTA RONDOLI

I

No (said my friend Charles Jouvent), I do not know Italy; I started tosee it thoroughly twice, and each time I was stopped at the frontier andcould not manage to get any further. And yet my two attempts gave me acharming idea of the manners of that beautiful country. I must, however, some time or other visit its cities, as well as the museums and works ofart with which it abounds. I will also make another attempt to penetrateinto the interior, which I have not yet succeeded in doing. 

You don't understand me, so I will explain myself: In the spring of 1874I was seized with an irresistible desire to see Venice, Florence, Rome, and Naples. I am, as you know, not a great traveler; it appears to me auseless and fatiguing business. Nights spent in a train, the disturbedslumbers of the railway carriage, with the attendant headache, andstiffness in every limb, the sudden waking in that rolling box, theunwashed feeling with your eyes and hair full of dust, the smell of thecoal on which one's lungs feed, those bad dinners in the draughtyrefreshment rooms are, according to my ideas, a horrible way ofbeginning a pleasure trip. 

After this introduction by the express, we have the miseries of thehotel; of some great hotel full of people, and yet so empty; the strangeroom, and the dubious bed! I am most particular about my bed; it is thesanctuary of life. We intrust our almost naked and fatigued bodies to itso that they may be reanimated by reposing between soft sheets andfeathers. 

There we find the most delightful hours of our existence, the hours oflove and of sleep. The bed is sacred, and should be respected, venerated, and loved by us as the best and most delightful of ourearthly possessions. 

I cannot lift up the sheets of an hotel bed without a shiver of disgust. What have its occupants been doing in it the night before? Perhapsdirty, revolting people have slept in it. I begin, then, to think of allthe horrible people with whom one rubs shoulders every day, people withsuspicious-looking skin which makes one think of the feet and all therest! I call to mind those who carry about with them the sickening smellof garlic or of humanity. I think of those who are deformed andpurulent, of the perspiration emanating from the sick, and of everythingthat is ugly and filthy in man. 

And all this, perhaps, in the bed in which I am going to sleep! The mereidea of it makes me feel ill as I get in. 

And then the hotel dinners--those dreary _table d'hôte_ dinners in themidst of all sorts of extraordinary people, or else those terriblesolitary dinners at a small table in a restaurant, feebly lighted up bya wretched composite candle under a shade. 

Again, those terribly dull evenings in some unknown town! Do you knowanything more wretched than when it is getting dark on such an occasion?One goes about as if almost in a dream, looking at faces which one hasnever seen before and will never see again; listening to people talkingabout matters which are quite indifferent to you in a language thatperhaps you do not understand. You have a terrible feeling, almost as ifyou were lost, and you continue to walk on so as not to be obliged toreturn to the hotel, where you would feel more lost still because youare _at home_, in a home which belongs to anyone who can pay for it, andat last you fall into a chair of some well-lit café, whose gilding andlights overwhelm you a thousand times more than the shadows in thestreets. Then you feel so abominably lonely sitting in front of theglass of flat _bock_, [5] that a kind of madness seizes you, the longingto go somewhere or other, no matter where, as long as you need notremain in front of that marble table and in the dazzling brightness. 

And then, suddenly, you perceive that you are really alone in the world, always and everywhere; but that in places which we know the familiarjostlings give us the illusion only of human fraternity. At such momentsof self-abandonment and somber isolation in distant cities one thinksbroadly, clearly, and profoundly. Then one suddenly sees the whole oflife outside the vision of eternal hope, outside the deceptions of ourinnate habits, and of our expectations of happiness, of which we indulgein dreams never to be realized. 

It is only by going a long distance that we can fully understand howshort-lived and empty everything near at hand is; by searching for theunknown we perceive how commonplace and evanescent everything is; onlyby wandering over the face of the earth can we understand how small theworld is, and how very much alike everywhere. 

How well I know, and how I hate and almost fear those haphazard walksthrough unknown streets; and this was the reason why, as nothing wouldinduce me to undertake a tour in Italy by myself, I made up my mind toaccompany my friend Paul Pavilly. 

You know Paul, and how woman is everything, the world, life itself, tohim. There are many men like that, to whom existence becomes poeticaland idealized by the presence of women. The earth is inhabitable onlybecause they are there; the sun shines and is warm because it lightsupon them; the air is soft and balmy because it blows upon their skinand ruffles the short hairs on their temples, and the moon is charmingbecause it makes them dream and imparts a languorous charm to love. Every act and action of Paul's has woman for its motive; all histhoughts, all his efforts and hopes are centered on them. 

When I mentioned Italy to Paul he at first absolutely refused to leaveParis. I, however, began to tell him of the adventures I had on mytravels. I assured him that all Italian women are charming, and I madehim hope for the most refined pleasures at Naples, thanks to certainletters of introduction which I had; and so at last he allowed himselfto be persuaded. 

II

We took the express one Thursday evening, Paul and I. Hardly anyone goesSouth at that time of the year, so that we had the carriage toourselves, and both of us were in a bad temper on leaving Paris, sorryfor having yielded to the temptation of this journey, and regrettingMarly, the Seine, and our lazy boating excursions, and all thosepleasures in and near Paris which are so dear to every true Parisian. 

As soon as the train started Paul stuck himself into his corner, andsaid, "It is most idiotic to go all that way, " and as it was too latefor him to change his mind then, I said, "Well, you should not havecome. "

He gave me no answer, and I felt very much inclined to laugh when I sawhow 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 otheras the mark of his primitive race. How many people have jaws like abull-dog, or heads like goats, rabbits, foxes, horses, or oxen. Paul isa squirrel turned into a man. He has its bright, quick eyes, its oldhair, pointed nose, its small, fine, supple, active body, and a certainmysterious resemblance in his general bearing: in fact, a similarity ofmovements, of gestures, and of bearing which might almost be taken for arecollection. 

At last we both went to sleep with that uncomfortable slumber of therailway carriage, which is interrupted by horrible cramps in the armsand neck, and by the sudden stoppages of the train. 

We woke up as we were going along the Rhone. Soon the continued noise ofthe grasshoppers came in through the window, that cry which seems to bethe voice of the warm earth, the song of Provence; and seemed to instillinto our looks, our breasts, and our souls the light and happy feelingof the South, that odor of the parched earth, of the stony and lightsoil of the olive, with its gray-green foliage. 

When the train stopped again a railway servant ran along the traincalling out "Valence" in a sonorous voice, with an accent that againgave us a taste of that Provence which the shrill note of thegrasshoppers had already imparted to us. 

Nothing new happened until we got to Marseilles, where we got out tobreakfast, but when we returned to our carriage we found a womaninstalled there. 

Paul, with a delightful look at me, gave his short moustache amechanical twirl, and passed his fingers through his hair, which hadbecome slightly out of order with the night's journey. Then he sat downopposite the newcomer. 

Whenever I happen to see a striking new face, either while traveling orin society, I always have the strongest inclination to find out whatcharacter, mind, and intellectual capacities are hidden beneath thosefeatures. 

She was a young and pretty woman, a native of the South of Francecertainly, with splendid eyes, beautiful wavy black hair, which was sothick, long, and strong that it seemed almost too heavy for her head. She was dressed with a certain Southern elegant bad taste which made herlook a little vulgar. Her regular features had none of the grace andfinish of the refined races, of that slight delicacy which members ofthe aristocracy inherit from their birth, and which is the hereditarymark of thinner blood. 

Her bracelets were too big to be of gold; she wore earrings with largewhite stones which were certainly not diamonds, and she belongedunmistakably to the commonalty. One would have guessed that she wouldtalk too loud, and shout on every occasion with exaggerated gestures. 

When the train started she remained motionless in her place, in theattitude of a woman who was in a rage, without even looking at us. 

Paul began to talk to me, evidently with an eye to effect, trying toattract her attention, like shopkeepers who expose their choice wares tocatch the notice of passers-by. 

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 the least care. "

He was quite excited. 

"She is an uncommonly fresh and pretty girl. What eyes she has, and howcross she looks. She must have been dreadfully worried, for she takes nonotice 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 extremelypretty woman, that is all. If one could only speak to her! But I don'tknow how to begin. Cannot you give me an idea? Can't you guess who sheis?"

"Upon my word, I cannot. However, I should rather think she is somestrolling actress who is going to rejoin her company after a loveadventure. "

He seemed quite upset, as if I had said something insulting. 

"What makes you think that? On the contrary, I think she looks mostrespectable. "

"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 circusrider, but most likely a dancer. Her whole style smacks very much of thetheater. "

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 istwenty; dancing and reciting are among them, without counting anotherlittle business which is, perhaps, her sole occupation. "

"Take your seats for Nice, Vintimiglia, " the guards and porters calledout. 

We got in; our fellow passenger was eating an orange, and certainly shedid not do it elegantly. She had spread her pocket-handkerchief on herknees, and the way in which she tore off the peel and opened her mouthto put in the figs, and then spat the pips out of the window, showedthat her education had been decidedly vulgar. 

She seemed, also, more put out than ever, and swallowed the fruit withan exceedingly comic air of rage. 

Paul devoured her with his eyes, and tried to attract her attention andexcite her curiosity, but in spite of his talk and of the manner inwhich he brought in well-known names, she did not pay the leastattention to him. 

After passing Fréjus and St. Raphael, the train passed through averitable garden, a paradise of roses, and groves of oranges and lemonscovered with fruit and flowers at the same time. That delightful coastfrom 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 narrowvalley and on every slope, the most exquisite flowers are growingluxuriantly. And the roses! fields, hedges, groves of roses. They climbup the walls, blossom on the roofs, hang from the trees, peep out fromamong the bushes; they are white, red, yellow, large and small, single, with a simple self-colored dress, or full and heavy in brillianttoilets. 

Their continual breath makes the air heavy and relaxing, while the stillmore penetrating odor of the orange blossoms sweetens the atmospheretill it might almost be called the sugar-plum of the smell. 

The shore, with its brown rocks, was bathed by the motionlessMediterranean. The hot summer sun stretched like a fiery cloth over themountains, over the long expanses of sand, and over the hard, fixed bluesea. The train went on, through the tunnels, along the slopes, above thewater, on straight, wall-like viaducts, and a soft, vague, saltishsmell, 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 fellowtraveler engrossed all his attention. 

When we got to Cannes, as he wished to speak to me he signed to me toget out again, and as soon as I had done so he took me by the arm. 

"Do you know, she is really charming. Just look at her eyes; and I neversaw anything like her hair. "

"Don't excite yourself, " I replied, "or else tackle her, if you have anyintentions that way. She does not look impregnable, I fancy, althoughshe appears 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; Ican never make advances to a woman in the street. I follow them, goround and round them, and quite closely to them, but I never know whatto say at first. I only once tried to enter into conversation with awoman in that way. As I clearly saw that she was waiting for me to makeovertures, and as I felt bound to say something, I stammered out, 'Ihope you are quite well, madam?' She laughed in my face, and I made myescape. "

I promised Paul to do all I could to bring about a conversation, andwhen we had taken our places again, I politely asked our neighbor:

"Have you any objection to the smell of tobacco, madam?"

She merely replied, "_Non capisco_. "[6]

So she was Italian! I felt an absurd inclination to laugh. As Paul didnot understand a word of that language, I was obliged to act as hisinterpreter, so I said in Italian:

"I asked you, madam, whether you had any objection to tobacco smoke?"

With an angry look she replied, "_Che mi fa_. "[7]

She had neither turned her head nor looked at me, and I really did notknow whether to take this "What does it matter to me" for anauthorization, a refusal, a real sign of indifference, or for a mere"Leave me alone. "

"Madame, " I replied, "if you mind the smell of tobacco in the least--"

She again said, "_Mica_, "[8] in a tone of voice which seemed to mean, "Iwish to goodness you would leave me alone!" It was, however, a kind ofpermission, so I said to Paul:

"You can smoke. "

He looked at me in that curious sort of way that people have when theytry to understand others who are talking in a strange language beforethem, and asked me:

"What did you say to her?"

"I asked if we might smoke, and she said we might do whatever we liked. "

Whereupon I lighted my cigar. 

"Did she not say anything more?"

"If you had counted her words you would have noticed that she usedexactly six, two of which gave me to understand that she knew no French, so four remained, and a lot 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 whichseemed habitual to her, "Do you know at what time we shall get toGenoa?"

"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 anyservice to you, we shall be very happy, as you are quite alone. " But sheinterrupted with such a "_Mica_" that I did not venture on another word. 

"What did she say?" Paul asked. 

"She said that she thought you were charming. "

But he was in no humor for joking, and begged me, dryly, not to makefun of him, so I translated her question and my polite offer, which hadbeen so rudely rejected. 

Then he really became as agitated as a squirrel in a cage. 

"If we only knew, " he said, "what hotel she was going to, we would go tothe same. Try and find out, so as to have another opportunity for makingher speak. "

It was not particularly easy, and I did not know what pretext to invent, anxious as I was to make the acquaintance of this unapproachable person. 

We passed Nice, Monaco, Mentone, and the train stopped at the frontierfor the examination of luggage. 

Although I hate those badly brought-up people who breakfast and dine inrailway-carriages, I went and bought a quantity of good things to makeone 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 andmade her irritable, but very little would suffice, a mere word or someagreeable offer, to decide her and overcome her. 

We started again, and we three were still alone. I spread my eatablesout on the seat. I cut up the fowl, put the slices of ham neatly on apiece of paper, and then carefully laid out our dessert, thestrawberries, plums, cherries, and cakes, close to the girl. 

When she saw that we were going to eat she took a piece of chocolate andtwo 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 want to do, but it is rather a difficultmatter. "

As she, however, glanced from time to time at our provisions, I feltsure that she would still be hungry when she had finished what she had, 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 notdrunk anything. It is Italian wine, and as we are now in your owncountry, we should be very pleased to see such a pretty Italian mouthaccept the offer of its French neighbors. "

She shook her head slightly, evidently wishing to refuse, but verydesirous of accepting, and her mica _this_ time was almost polite. Itook the bottle, 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 tormented with thirst, and then gave it back to me withouteven saying "Thank you. "

Then I offered her the cherries. "Please take some, " I said; "we shallbe so pleased if you will. "

Out of her corner she looked at all the fruit spread out before her, andsaid so rapidly that I could scarcely follow her: "_A me non piaccionone le ciliegie ne le susine; amo soltano le fragole_. "

"What does she say?" Paul asked. 

"That she does not care for cherries or plums, but only forstrawberries. "

I put a newspaper full of wild strawberries on her lap, and she ate themquickly, throwing them into her mouth from some distance in a coquettishand charming manner. 

When she had finished the little red heap which we had seen rapidlydiminishing, crushed and disappearing under the rapid action of herhands, 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 rapidmovements of her jaws like some carnivorous animal. Then she made up hermind to have some cherries, which she "did not like, " then some plums, then some little cakes. Then she said, "I have had enough, " and sat backin her corner. 

I was much amused, and tried to make her eat more, pressing her, infact, till she suddenly got in a rage again, and flung such a furious_mica_ at me, that I would no longer run the risk of spoiling herdigestion. 

I turned to my friend. "My poor Paul, " I said, "I am afraid we have hadour trouble for nothing. "

The night came on, one of those hot summer nights which extend theirwarm shade over the burning and exhausted earth. Here and there, in thedistance by the sea on capes and promontories, bright stars began toshine on the dark horizon, which I was, at times, almost inclined toconfound with lighthouses. 

The scent of the orange-trees became more penetrating, and we breathedwith delight, distending our lungs to inhale it more deeply. The balmyair was soft, delicious, almost divine. 

Suddenly I noticed something like a shower of stars under the denseshade of the trees along the line, where it was quite dark. It mighthave been taken for drops of light, leaping, flying, playing and runningamong the leaves, or for small stars fallen from the skies in order tohave an excursion on the earth; but they were only fireflies dancing astrange fiery ballet in the perfumed air. 

One of them happened to come into our carriage, and shed itsintermittent light, which seemed to be extinguished one moment and to beburning the next. I covered the carriage-lamp with its blue shade, andwatched the strange fly careering about in its fiery flight. Suddenly itsettled on the dark hair of our neighbor, who was half dozing afterdinner. Paul seemed delighted, with his eyes fixed on the bright, sparkling spot which looked like a living jewel on the forehead of thesleeping woman. 

The Italian woke up at about eleven o'clock, with the bright insectstill in her hair. When I saw her move, I said: "We are just getting toGenoa, madam, " and she murmured, without answering me, as if possessedby 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 go with you now, as soon as we get out of thetrain?"

"I am quite willing; but where do you want to go to? Where shall I takeyou to?"

She shrugged her shoulders with an air of supreme indifference. 

"Wherever you like; what does it matter to me?" She repeated her _Che mifa_? twice. 

"But we are going to the hotel. "

"Very well, let us all go to the hotel, " she said, in a contemptuousvoice. 

I turned to Paul, and said:

"She wants to know if 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 mostirritable voice. I told her that we were going to the hotel, and shesaid: 'Very well, let us all go there!' I suppose she is without ahalfpenny. She certainly has a very strange way of makingacquaintances. "

Paul, who was very much excited, exclaimed:

"I am quite agreeable. Tell her that we will take her wherever shelikes. " Then, after a moment's hesitation, he said uneasily:

"We must know, however, with whom she wants 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 take you with us, but my friend wants to knowwhether you will take my arm or his?"

She opened her black eyes wide with vague surprise, and said, "_Che mifa_?"

I was obliged to explain myself. "In Italy, I believe, when a man looksafter a woman, fulfills 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 nochance. "

"All the better for you, " he replied, in a rage. Then, after thinkingfor a few moments, he went on:

"Do you really care about taking this creature with you? She will spoilour journey. What are we to do with this woman, who looks like I don'tknow what? They will not take us in at any decent hotel. "

I, however, just began to find the Italian much nicer than I had thoughther at first, and I was now very anxious to take her with us. The ideadelighted me. I already felt those little shivers which the expectationof a night of love sends through the veins. 

I replied, "My dear fellow, we have accepted and it is too late torecede. 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. Shejumped out lightly, and I gave her my arm, which she took with an air ofseeming repugnance. As soon as we had claimed our luggage we started offinto the town, Paul walking in utter silence. 

"To what hotel shall we go?" I asked him. "It may be difficult to getinto the _City of Paris_ with a woman, especially with this Italian. "

Paul interrupted me. "Yes, with an Italian who looks more like astrumpet than a duchess. However, that is no business of mine. Do justas you please. "

I was in a state of perplexity. I had written to the _City of Paris_ toretain our rooms, and now I did not know what to do. 

Two commissionaires followed us with our luggage. I continued: "Youmight as well go on first, and say that we are coming; and give thelandlord to understand that I have a--a friend with me, so that weshould like rooms quite by themselves for us three, so as not to bebrought in contact with other travelers. He will understand, and we willdecide according to his answer. "

But Paul growled, "Thank you; such sort of commissions and such parts donot suit me by any means. I did not come here to get ready yourapartments or to minister to your pleasures. "

But I was urgent: "Look here, don't be angry. It is surely far better togo to a good hotel than to a bad one, and it is not difficult to ask thelandlord 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 remainedon the other side of the street dragging along my fair Italian, who didnot say a word, and followed by 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 there areonly two bedrooms. You must settle it as you can. "

I followed him, rather ashamed of going in with such a strangecompanion. 

There were two bedrooms separated by a small sitting-room. I ordered acold 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 youlike. "

She replied with her eternal _Che mi fa_? I thereupon took her littleblack wooden box, just like servants use, and took it into the room onthe right, which I had chosen for her, ... For us. A bit of paper wasfastened on to the box, on which was written, _Mademoiselle FrancescaRondoli, Genoa_. 

"Your name is Francesca?" I asked, and she nodded her head, withoutreplying. 

"We shall have supper directly, " I continued. "Meanwhile, I daresay youwould like to arrange your dress a little?"

She answered with a _mica_, a word which she employed just as frequentlyas _Che mi fa_, but I went on: "It is always pleasant after a journey. "

Then I suddenly remembered that she had not, perhaps, the necessaryobjects, for she appeared to me in a very singular position, as if shehad just escaped from some disagreeable adventure, and I brought her mydressing-case. 

I put out all the little instruments for cleanliness and comfort whichit contained: a nailbrush, a new toothbrush--for I always carry aselection of them about with me--my nail-scissors, a nail-file, andsponges. 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, put my finetowels over the water-jug, and placed a piece of new soap near thebasin. 

She watched my movements with a vexed look in her wide open eyes, without appearing either astonished or satisfied at my forethought. 

"Here is all that you require, " I then said; "I will tell you whensupper is ready. "

When I returned to the sitting-room I found that Paul had takenpossession of the other room, and had shut himself in, so I sat down towait. 

A waiter went backwards and forwards, bringing plates and glasses. Helaid the table slowly, then put a cold fowl on it, and told me that allwas 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, asif I were in a hairdresser's and perfumer's shop. 

The Italian was sitting on her box in an attitude either of thoughtfuldiscontent or absent-mindedness. The towel was still folded over thewater-jug that was quite full, and the soap, untouched and dry, waslaying beside the empty basin; but one would have thought that the youngwoman had drunk half of the bottles of scent. The eau de cologne, however, had been spared, as only about a third of it had gone; but tomake up for that she had used a surprising amount of lavender-water andnew-mown hay. A cloud of violet-powder, a vague white mist, seemed stillto be floating in the air, from the effects of her over-powdering herface and neck. It seemed to cover her eyelashes, eyebrows, and the hairon her temples like snow, while her cheeks were plastered with it, andlayers of it covered her nostrils, the corners of her eyes, and herchin. 

When she got up she exhaled such a strong odor of scent that it almostmade me feel faint. 

When she sat down to supper, I found that Paul was in a most execrabletemper, and I could get nothing out of him but blame, irritable words, and disagreeable compliments. 

Mademoiselle Francesca ate like an ogre, and as soon as she had finishedher meal she threw herself upon the sofa. As for me, I saw the decisivemoment approaching for settling how we were to apportion the rooms. Idetermined to take the bull by the horns, and sitting down by theItalian I said gallantly, kissing her hand:

"As we have only two bedrooms, will you allow me to share yours withyou?"

"Do just as you like, " she said. "It is all the same to me. _Che mifa_?"

Her indifference vexed me. 

"But you are sure you do not mind my being in your room with you?" Isaid. 

"It is all the same to me; do just as you like. "

"Should you like to go to bed at once?"

"Yes; I am very sleepy. "

She got up, yawned, gave Paul her hand, who took it with a furious look, and I lighted her into our room. A disquieting feeling haunted me. "Hereis all you want, " I said again. 

This time I took care to pour half the water into the basin, and to puta towel near the soap. 

Then I went back to Paul. As soon as I got into the room, he said, "Youhave got a nice sort of camel there!" and I answered, laughing. "Mydear friend, don't speak ill of sour grapes, " and he replied, ill-temperedly:

"Just take care how this ends, my good fellow. "

I almost trembled with that feeling of fear which assails us after somesuspicious love escapade--that fear which spoils our pleasant meetings, our unexpected caresses, our chance kisses. However, I put a bold faceon the matter. "At any rate, the girl is no adventuress. "

But the fellow had me in his power; he had seen the shadow of my anxietyon my face. 

"What do you know about her? You really astonish me. You pick up anItalian woman traveling alone by railway, and she volunteers, with mostsingular cynicism, to go and to be your mistress in the first hotel youcome to. You take her with you, and then you declare that she is nota----! And you persuade yourself that you are not running more risk thanif you were to go and spend the night with a woman who had thesmall-pox. "

He laughed with an unpleasant and angry laugh. I sat down, a prey touneasiness. What was I to do, for he was right after all? And a strugglebegan within me, between desire and fear. 

He went on: "Do as you like, I have warned you, so, do not complain ofthe consequences. "

But I saw an ironical gayety in his eyes, such a delight in his revenge, and he made fun of me so jovially that I did not hesitate any longer. Igave him my hand, and said, "Good night. You know the old saying: _Avictory without peril is a triumph without glory_, and upon my word, thevictory is worth the danger. "

And with a firm step I went into Francesca's room. 

I stopped short at the door in surprise and astonishment. She wasalready asleep. Sleep had overcome her when she had finished undressing, and she was reposing in the charming attitude of one of Titian's women. 

It seemed as if she had lain down from sheer fatigue in order to takeoff her stockings, for they were lying on the bed. Then she had thoughtof something pleasant, no doubt, for she had waited to finish herreverie before moving, and then, closing her eyes, she had lostconsciousness. A nightgown, embroidered about the neck such as one buysin cheap ready-made shops, was lying on the chair. 

She was charming, young, firm and fresh. 

There is nothing prettier than a pretty woman asleep, and in a moment, seeing her thus in all her naïve charms, I was going to forget myfriend's prudent counsels, but, suddenly turning to the toilet-table, Isaw everything in the same state as I left it, and I sat down, anxious, and a prey to irresolution. 

I remained thus for a long time, not able to make up my mind either whatto do. Retreat was impossible, and I must either pass the night on achair, or go to bed myself at my own risk and peril. 

I had no thoughts of sleeping either here or there, for my head was tooexcited and my eyes too occupied. 

I moved about without stopping, feverish uncomfortable, enervated. ThenI began to reason with myself, certainly with a view to capitulation. "If I lie down that does not bind me to anything, and I shall certainlybe more comfortable on a mattress than on a chair. "

I undressed slowly, and then, stepping over the sleeping girl, Istretched myself out against the wall, turning my back on temptation. 

In this position I remained for a long time without going to sleep, whensuddenly my neighbor woke up. She opened her eyes with astonishment, andstill with that discontented look in them; then, perceiving that she wasundressed, she got up, and calmly put on her nightgown with as muchindifference as if I had not been present. 

Returning, she did not trouble herself at all about me, and immediatelywent quietly to sleep again with her head resting on her right arm. 

As for me, I began to meditate on human weakness and fatuity, and then Iwent to sleep also. 

She got up early, like a woman who is used to work in the morning. Shewoke me up by doing so, and I watched her through my half-closedeyelids. 

She came and went without hurrying herself, as if she were astonished athaving nothing to do. At length she went to the toilet-table, and in amoment she emptied all the scent that remained in my bottles. Shecertainly also used some water, but very little. 

When she was quite dressed, she sat down on her box again, and holdingone knee between her hands, she seemed to be thinking. 

At that moment I first pretended to notice her, and said:

"Good morning, Francesca. "

Without seeming in at all a better temper than the previous night, shemurmured, "Good morning. "

When I asked her whether she slept well, she nodded _Yes_, and jumpingout of bed, I went and kissed her. 

She turned her face towards me like a child who is being kissed againstits will; but I took her tenderly in my arms, and gently put my lips onher large eyes, which she closed with evident distaste under my kisseson her fresh cheeks 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, Isaid: "_Mica! mica! mica_! in reply to everything. I shall call youMademoiselle _Mica_, I think. "

For the first time I fancied that I saw the shadow of a smile on herlips, 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 totry to please you. Let us 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 youlike. "

"Very well, Mademoiselle _Mica_, we will have a carriage and go for adrive. "

"As you please, " she said. 

Paul was waiting for us in the dining-room, looking as bored as thirdparties generally do in love affairs. I assumed a delighted air, andshook 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 mighttake a carriage, for a drive in the neighborhood. "

We breakfasted nearly in silence and then started. I dragged Francescafrom palace to palace, and she either looked at nothing or merely justglanced carelessly at all the various masterpieces. Paul followed us, growling all sorts of disagreeable things. Then we all three took asilent drive into the country and returned to dinner. 

The next day it was the same thing and the next day again; so on thethird Paul said to me: "Look here, I am going to leave you; I am notgoing to stop here for three weeks watching you make love to thiscreature. "

I was perplexed and annoyed, for to my great surprise I had becomesingularly attached to Francesca. A man is but weak and foolish, carriedaway by the merest trifle, and a coward every time that his senses areexcited or mastered. I clung to this unknown girl, silent anddissatisfied as she always was. I liked her somewhat ill-tempered face, the dissatisfied droop of her mouth, the weariness of her look; I likedher fatigued movements, the contemptuous way in which she yielded to mydesires, the very indifference of her caresses. A secret bond, thatmysterious bond of animal love, the secret attachment of that possessionwhich does not satiate, bound me to her. I told Paul so, quite frankly. He treated me as if I had been a fool, and then said:

"Very well, take her with you. "

But she obstinately refused to leave Genoa, without giving any reason. Ibesought, I reasoned, I promised, but all was of no avail, and so Istayed on. 

Paul declared that he would go by himself, and went so far as to pack uphis 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 desires, all mydemands, and all my propositions with her perpetual _Che mi fa_, orwith her no less perpetual _Mica_. 

My friend got more and more furious, but my only answer was, "You can goif 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 to now? We had three weeks at our disposal, and here is a fortnight gone! I cannot continue my journey now; and, inany 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 for, mostlikely. You are not going to bring a man all the way from Paris in orderto shut him up at an hotel in Genoa with an Italian adventuress. "

When I told him, very calmly, to return to Paris, he exclaimed that hewas going to do so the very next day; but the next day he was stillthere, still in a rage and swearing. 

By this time we began to be known in the streets through which wewandered from morning till night. Sometimes French people would turnround astonished at meeting their fellow-countrymen in the company ofthis girl with her striking costume, and who looked singularly out ofplace, 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 procure her so littlepleasure? Who was she? Where did she come from? What was she doing? Hadshe any plan or idea? Where did she live? As an adventuress, or bychance meetings? I tried in vain to find out and to explain it. Thebetter I knew her the more enigmatical she became. She was not one ofthose who make a living by any profession of venal love. She ratherseemed to me to be a girl of poor family who had been seduced and takenaway, and then cast aside and lost. What did she think was going tobecome of her, or whom was she waiting for? She certainly did not appearto be trying to make a conquest of me, or to get any real profit out ofme. 

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 unfetteredand my senses enchained, never wearied of holding her in my arms, thatproud and quarrelsome woman, captivated by my senses, or rather seduced, overcome by a youthful, healthy, powerful charm, which emanated from hersweet-smelling person and from the robust lines of her body. 

Another week passed, and the term of my journey was drawing on, for Ihad to be back in Paris by July 11. By this time Paul had come to takehis part in the adventure, though still grumbling at me, while Iinvented pleasures, distractions, and excursions to amuse my mistressand my friend; and in order to do this I gave myself a large amount oftrouble. 

One day I proposed an excursion to Sta Margarita, that charming littletown in the midst of gardens, hidden at the foot of a slope whichstretches far into the sea up to the village of Portofino. We all threewere following the excellent road which goes along the foot of themountain. Suddenly Francesca said to me: "I shall not be able to go withyou to-morrow; I must go and see some of my relations. "

That was all; I did not ask her any questions, as I was quite sure shewould not answer me. 

The next morning she got up very early; then, as I remained in bed, shesat down at the foot of it, and said in a constrained and hesitatingvoice:

"If I do not come back to-night, shall you come and fetch me?"

"Most certainly I shall, " was my reply. "Where must I come to?"

Then she explained: "You must go into the Street Victor-Emmanuel, downthe Passage Falene, and go into the furniture shop at the bottom, in acourt, and there you must ask for Mme. Rondoli--That is where it is. "

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 chance, and bolt; as it is, ourtime is up. Two days, more or less, make no difference. Let us start atonce; go and pack up your things. Off we go!"

But I refused. I could not, as I told him, leave the girl in such amanner, after having lived with her for nearly three weeks. At any rate, I ought to say good-bye to her, and make her accept a present; Icertainly had no intention of behaving badly to her. 

But he would not listen; he pressed and worried me, but I would not giveway. 

I remained indoors for several hours, expecting Francesca's return, butshe did not come, and at last, at dinner, Paul said with a triumphantair: "She has thrown you over, my dear fellow; it is certainly verystrange. "

I must acknowledge that I was surprised and rather vexed. He laughed inmy face, and made fun of me. 

"It is not exactly a bad way of getting rid of you, though ratherprimitive. 'Just wait for me, I shall be back in a moment, ' they oftensay. How long are you going to wait? I should not wonder if you werefoolish enough to go and look for her at the address she gave you. 'DoesMme. Rondoli live here, please?' 'No, Sir. ' I'll bet that you arelonging to go there. "

"Not in the least, " I protested, "and I assure you that if she does notcome back to-morrow morning I shall start by the express at eighto'clock. I shall have waited twenty-four hours, and that is enough; myconscience will be quite clear. "

I spent an uneasy and unpleasant evening, for I really had at heart avery tender feeling for her. I went to bed at twelve o'clock, and hardlyslept at all. I got up at six, called Paul, packed up my things, and twohours later we started for France together. 

III

The next year, at just about the same period, I was seized, as one iswith a periodical fever, with a new desire to go to Italy, and Iimmediately made up my mind to carry it into effect. There is no doubtthat every well-educated man ought to see Florence, Venice, and Rome. Ithas, also, the additional advantage of providing many subjects ofconversation in society, and of giving one an opportunity for bringingforward artistic generalities which appear profound. 

This time I went alone, and I arrived at Genoa at the same time as theyear before, but without any adventure on the road. I went to the samehotel, and actually happened to have the same room. 

I was scarcely in bed when the recollection of Francesca which, sincethe evening before, had been floating vaguely through my mind, hauntedme 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 atfirst, which gradually grew stronger and more intense. At last I made upmy mind to spend the next day in Genoa to try and find her, and if Ishould not succeed, I would take the evening train. 

Early in the morning I set out on my search. I remembered the directionsshe had given me when she left me, perfectly--Victor-Emmanuel Street, etc. , etc. , house of the furniture-dealer, at the bottom of the yard onthe right. 

I found it without the least difficulty, and I knocked at the door of asomewhat dilapidated-looking dwelling. A fat woman opened it, who musthave been very handsome, but who actually was only very dirty. Althoughshe was too fat, she still bore the lines of majestic beauty; her untidyhair fell over her forehead and shoulders, and one fancied one could seeher fat body floating about in an enormous dressing-gown covered withspots 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 byrequesting 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 seeher 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 scarcely done so whenthe Italian put out her arms as if to embrace me. "Oh! you are theFrenchman; how glad I am to see you! But what grief you caused the poorchild. She waited for you a month; yes, a whole month. At first shethought you would come to fetch her. She wanted to see whether you lovedher. If you only knew how she cried when she saw that you were notcoming! She cried till she seemed to have no tears left. Then she wentto the hotel, but you had gone. She thought that most likely you weretraveling in Italy, and that you would return by Genoa to fetch her, asshe 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 hervery much, and who gives her everything that she wants. Just look atwhat she sent me; they are very pretty, are they not?"

And she showed me, with quite Southern animation, her heavy braceletsand necklace. "I have also, " she continued, "earrings with stones inthem, a silk dress, and some rings; but I only wear them on grandoccasions. Oh! she is very happy, Sir, very happy. She will be sopleased when I tell her you have been here. But pray come in and sitdown. You will take something or other, surely?"

But I refused, as I now wished to get away by the first train; but shetook 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 tableand a few chairs. 

She continued: "O! She is very happy now, very happy. When you met herin the train she was very miserable, for her lover had just left her atMarseilles, and she was coming back, poor child. But she liked you atonce, though she was still rather sad, you understand. Now she has allshe wants, and she writes and tells me everything that she does. Hisname is Bellemin, and they say he is a great painter in your country. Hemet her in the street here, and fell in love with her out of hand. Butyou will take a glass of syrup?--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 disappointmentwas dispelled by what Mother Rondoli said. I was obliged, however, todrink a glass of her syrup. 

"So you are quite alone?" she continued. "How sorry I am that Francescais not here now; she would have been company for you all the time youstayed. It is not very amusing to go about all by oneself, and she willbe 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 thewalks very well. She is my second daughter, Sir. "

No doubt she took my look of surprise for consent, for she opened theinner 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 muchmore 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, with her hairhanging down, and whose youthful figure showed unmistakably beneath anold 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 lastyear. He is quite alone, and has come to look for her, poor fellow; so Itold 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 yourblue dress and your hat with the flowers, and make haste. "

As soon as she had left the room the old woman explained herself: "Ihave two others, but they are much younger. It costs a lot of money tobring up four children. Luckily the eldest is off my hands at present. "

Then she told all about herself, about her husband, who had been anemployé on the railway, but who was dead, and she expatiated on the goodqualities of Carlotta, her second girl, who soon returned, dressed, asher sister had been, in a striking, peculiar manner. 

Her mother examined her from head to foot, and, after finding everythingright, she said:

"Now, my children, you can go. " Then turning to the girl, she said: "Besure you are back by ten o'clock to-night; you know the door is lockedthen. " The answer was:

"All right, mamma; don't alarm yourself. "

She took my arm, and we went wandering about the streets, just as I haddone the previous year with her sister. 

We returned to the hotel for lunch, and then I took my new friend toSanta Margarita, just as I had done with her sister the year previously. 

And she did not go home that night, although the door was to be closedat ten o'clock!

During the whole fortnight which I had at my disposal I took Carlotta toall the places of interest in and about Genoa. She gave me no cause toregret the other. 

She cried when I left her, and the morning of my departure I gave herfour bracelets for her mother, besides a substantial token of myaffection for herself. 

One of these days I intend to return to Italy, and I cannot helpremembering, with a certain amount of uneasiness, mingled with hope, that Mme. Rondoli has two more daughters. 

CHÂLI

Admiral de la Vallee, who seemed to be half asleep in his armchair, saidin a voice which sounded like an old woman's:

"I had a very singular little love adventure once; would you like tohear it?"

He spoke from the depths of his great chair, with that everlasting dry, wrinkled smile on his lips, that smile _à la Voltaire_, which madepeople take him for a terrible skeptic. 

I

I was thirty years of age and first lieutenant in the navy, when I wasintrusted with an astronomical expedition to Central India. The EnglishGovernment provided me with all the necessary means for carrying out myenterprise, and I was soon busied with a few followers in that strange, surprising, prodigious country. 

It would take me ten volumes to relate that journey. I went throughwonderfully magnificent regions, and was received by strangely handsomeprinces, who entertained me with incredible magnificence. For two monthsit seemed to me as if I were walking in a poem, and that I was goingabout in a fairy kingdom, on the back of imaginary elephants. In themidst of wild forests I discovered extraordinary ruins, delicate andchiseled like jewels, fine as lace and enormous as mountains, thosefabulous, divine monuments which are so graceful that one falls in lovewith their form like one falls in love with a woman, and that one feelsa physical and sensual pleasure in looking at them. As Victor Hugo says, "_Whilst wide-awake, I was walking in a dream_. "

Towards the end of my journey I reached Ganhard, which was formerly oneof the most prosperous towns in Central India, but is now much decayedand governed by a wealthy, arbitrary, violent, generous, and cruelprince. His name is Rajah Maddan, a true Oriental potentate, delicateand barbarous, affable and sanguinary, combining feminine grace withpitiless ferocity. 

The city lies at the bottom of a valley, on the banks of a little lakewhich is surrounded by pagodas, which bathe their walls in the water. 

At a distance the city looks like a white spot which grows larger as oneapproaches it, and by degrees one discovers the domes and spires, allthe slender and graceful summits of Indian monuments. 

At about an hour's distance from the gates, I met a superbly caparisonedelephant, surrounded by a guard of honor which the sovereign had sentme, and I was conducted to the palace with great ceremony. 

I should have liked to have taken the time to put on my gala uniform, but royal impatience would not admit of it. He was anxious to make myacquaintance, to know what he might expect from me, and then he wouldsee. 

I was introduced into a great hall surrounded by galleries, in the midstof bronze-colored soldiers in splendid uniforms, while all about werestanding men dressed in striking robes studded with precious stones. 

I saw a shining mass, a kind of sitting sun reposing on a bench likeour garden benches, without a back; it was the rajah who was waiting forme, motionless, in a robe of the purest canary color. He had some ten orfifteen million francs worth of diamonds on him, and by itself, on hisforehead glistened the famous star of Delhi, which has always belongedto the illustrious dynasty of the Pariharas of Mundore, from whom myhost was descended. 

He was a man of about five-and-twenty, who seemed to have some negroblood in his veins, although he belonged to the purest Hindoo race. Hehad large, almost motionless, rather vague eyes, fat lips, a curlybeard, low forehead, and dazzling sharp white teeth, which he frequentlyshowed with a mechanical smile. He got up and gave me his hand in theEnglish fashion, and then made me sit down beside him on a bench whichwas so high that my feet hardly touched the ground, and I was veryuncomfortable on it. 

He immediately proposed a tiger hunt for the next day; war and huntingwere his chief occupations, and he could hardly understand how one couldcare for anything else. He was evidently fully persuaded that I had onlycome all that distance to amuse him a little, and to be the companion ofhis pleasures. 

As I stood greatly in need of his assistance, I tried to flatter histastes, and he was so pleased with me that he immediately wished to showme how his trained boxers fought, and he led the way into a kind ofarena situated within the palace. 

At his command two naked men appeared, their hands covered with steelclaws. They immediately began to attack each other, trying to strike oneanother with this sharp weapon, which left long cuts, from which theblood flowed freely down their dark skin. 

It lasted for a long time, till their bodies were a mass of wounds, andthe combatants were tearing each other's flesh with this sort of rakemade of pointed blades. One of them had his jaw smashed, while the earof the other was split into three pieces. 

The prince looked on with ferocious pleasure, uttered grunts of delight, and imitated all their movements with careless gestures, crying outconstantly:

"Strike, strike hard!"

One fell down unconscious, and had to be carried out of the arena, covered with blood, while the rajah uttered a sigh of regret because itwas over so soon. 

He turned to me to know my opinion; I was disgusted, but I congratulatedhim loudly. He then gave orders that I was to be conducted toCouch-Mahal (the palace of pleasure), where I was to be lodged. 

This bijou palace was situated at the extremity of the royal park, andone of its walls was built into the sacred lake of Vihara. It wassquare, with three rows of galleries with colonnades of most beautifulworkmanship. At each angle there were light, lofty or low towers, standing either singly or in pairs: no two were alike, and they lookedlike flowers growing out of that graceful plant of Orientalarchitecture. All were surmounted by fantastic roofs, like coquettishladies' caps. 

In the middle of the edifice a large dome raised its round cupola like alarge white woman's breast, beside a beautiful clock-tower. 

The whole building was covered with sculpture from top to bottom, withthose exquisite arabesques which delight the eye, of motionlessprocessions of delicate figures whose attitudes and gestures in stonetold the story of Indian manners and customs. 

The rooms were lighted by windows with dentelated arches, looking on tothe gardens. On the marble floor were designs of graceful bouquets inonyx, lapis-lazuli, and agate. 

I had scarcely had time to finish my toilet when Haribada, a courtdignitary who was specially charged to communicate between the princeand me, announced his sovereign's visit. 

The saffron-colored rajah appeared, again shook hands with me, and beganto tell me a thousand different things, constantly asking me for myopinion, which I had great difficulty in giving him. Then he wished toshow me the ruins of the former palace at the other extremity of thegardens. 

It was a real forest of stones inhabited by a large tribe of apes. Onour approach the males began to run along the walls, making the mosthideous faces at us, while the females ran away, showing their barerumps, and carrying off their young in their arms. The rajah shoutedwith laughter and pinched my arm to draw my attention, and to testifyhis own delight, and sat down in the midst of the ruins, while aroundus, squatting on the top of the walls, perching on every eminence, anumber of animals with white whiskers put out their tongues and shooktheir fists at us. 

When he had seen enough of this, the yellow rajah rose and began to walksedately on, keeping me always at his side, happy at having shown mesuch things on the very day of my arrival, and reminding me that a grandtiger-hunt was to take place the next day, in my honor. 

I was present at it, at a second, a third, at ten, twenty in succession. We hunted all the animals which the country produces in turn; thepanther, the bear, elephant, antelope, the hippopotamus and thecrocodile--what do I know of, half the beasts in creation I should say. I was disgusted at seeing so much blood flow, and tired of thismonotonous pleasure. 

At length the prince's ardor abated and, at my urgent request, he leftme a little leisure for work, and contented himself by loading me withcostly presents. He sent me jewels, magnificent stuffs, and well-brokenanimals of all sorts, which Haribada presented to me with apparently asgrave respect as if I had been the sun himself although he heartilydespised me at the bottom of his heart. 

Every day a procession of servants brought me in covered dishes, aportion of each course that was served at the royal table; every day heseemed to take an extreme pleasure in getting up some new entertainmentfor me--dances by the Bayaderes, jugglers, reviews of the troops, and Iwas obliged to pretend to be most delighted with it, so as not to hurthis feelings when he wished to show me his wonderful country in all itscharm and all its splendor. 

As soon as I was left alone for a few moments I either worked or went tosee the monkeys, whose company pleased me a great deal better than thatof their royal master. 

One evening, however, on coming back from a walk, I found Haribadaoutside the gate of my palace. He told me in mysterious tones that agift from the king was waiting for me in my room, and he said that hismaster begged me to excuse him for not having sooner thought of offeringme that of which I had been deprived for such a long time. 

After these obscure remarks the ambassador bowed and withdrew. 

When I went in I saw six little girls standing against the wallmotionless, side-by-side, like smelts on a skewer. The eldest wasperhaps ten and the youngest eight years old. For the first moment Icould not understand why this girls' school had taken up its abode in myrooms; then, however, I divined the prince's delicate attention: he hadmade me a present of a harem, and had chosen it very young from anexcess of generosity. There, the more unripe the fruit is, in the higherestimation it is held. 

For some time I remained confused and embarrassed, ashamed in thepresence of these children, who looked at me with great grave eyes whichseemed already to divine what I should want of them. 

I did not know what to say to them; I felt inclined to send them back;but one cannot return the presents of a prince; it would have been amortal insult. I was obliged, therefore, to keep them, and to installthis troop of children in my rooms. 

They stood motionless, looking at me, waiting for my orders, trying toread my thoughts in my eyes. Confound such a present! How dreadfully itwas in my way. At last, thinking that I must be looking ratherridiculous, I asked the eldest her name. 

"Châli, " she replied. 

This little creature, with her beautiful skin, which was slightlyyellow, like old ivory, was a marvel, a perfect statue, with her faceand its long and severe lines. 

I then asked, in order to see what she would reply, and also, perhaps, to embarrass her:

"What have you come here for?"

She replied, in her soft, harmonious voice:

"I have come to be altogether at my lord's disposal, and to do whateverhe wishes. "

She was evidently quite resigned. 

I put the same question to the youngest, who answered immediately in hershrill voice:

"I am here to do whatever you ask me, my master. "

This one was like a little mouse, and was very taking, just as they allwere, so I took her in my arms and kissed her. The others made amovement to go away, thinking, no doubt, that I had made my choice; butI ordered them to stay, and sitting down in the Indian fashion, I madethem all sit round me, and began to tell them fairy-tales, for I spoketheir language tolerably well. 

They listened very attentively, and trembled, wringing their hands inagony. Poor little things, they were not thinking any longer of thereason why they were sent to me. 

When I had finished my story, I called Latchmân, my confidentialservant, and made him bring sweetmeats and cakes, of which they ateenough to make themselves ill; then, as I began to find the adventurerather funny, I organized games to amuse my wives. 

One of these diversions had an enormous success. I made a bridge of mylegs, and the six children ran underneath, the smallest beginning andthe tallest always knocking against them a little, because she did notstoop enough. It made them shout with laughter, and these young voicessounding beneath the low vaults of my sumptuous palace, seemed to wakeit up and to people it with childlike gaiety, filling it with life. 

Next I took great interest in seeing to the sleeping apartments of myinnocent concubines, and in the end I saw them safely locked up underthe surveillance of four female servants, whom the prince had sent me atthe same time in order to take care of my sultanas. 

For a week I took the greatest pleasure in acting the papa towardsthese living dolls. We had capital games of _hide-and-seek_, _puss-in-the-corner_, &c. , which gave them the greatest pleasure, forevery day I taught them a new game, to their intense delight. 

My house now seemed to be one large class, and my little friends, dressed in beautiful silk stuffs, and in materials embroidered with goldand silver, ran up and down the long galleries and the quiet rooms likelittle human animals. 

At last, one evening, without my knowing exactly how it happened, theoldest of them, the one called Châli, and who looked so like an ivorystatue, became my wife. 

She was an adorable little creature, timid and gentle, who soon got tolove me ardently, with some degree of shame, with hesitation as ifafraid of European justice, with reserve and scruples, and yet withpassionate tenderness. I cherished her as if I had been her father. 

I beg your pardon, ladies; I am going rather too far. 

The others continued to play in the palace, like a lot of happy kittens, and Châli never left me except when I went to the prince. 

We passed delicious hours together in the ruins of the old castle, amongthe monkeys, who had become our friends. 

She used to lie on my knees, and remain there, turning all sorts ofthings over in her little sphinx's head, or perhaps not thinking ofanything, retaining that beautiful, charming, hereditary pose of thatnoble and dreamy people, the hieratic pose of the sacred statues. 

In a large brass dish I had brought provisions, cakes, fruits. The apescame nearer and nearer, followed by their young ones, who were moretimid; at last they sat down round us in a circle, without daring tocome any nearer, waiting for me to distribute my delicacies. Then, almost invariably, a male more daring than the rest would come to mewith outstretched hand, like a beggar, and I would give him something, which he would take to his wife. All the others immediately began toutter furious cries, cries of rage and jealousy; and I could not makethe terrible racket cease except by throwing each one his share. 

As I was very comfortable in the ruins I had my instruments broughtthere, so that I might be able to work. As soon, however, as they sawthe copper fittings on my scientific instruments, the monkeys, no doubttaking them for some deadly engines, fled on all sides, uttering themost piercing cries. 

I often also spent my evenings with Châli on one of the externalgalleries that looked on to the lake of Vihara. Without speaking welooked at the bright moon gliding over the sky and throwing a mantle oftrembling silver over the water, and down there, on the further shore, the row of small pagodas like elegant mushrooms with their stalks in thewater. Taking the thoughtful head of my little mistress between myhands, I printed a long, soft kiss on her polished brow, on her greateyes, which were full of the secret of that ancient and fabulous land, and on her calm lips which opened to my caress. I felt a confused, powerful, above all, a poetical, sensation, the sensation that Ipossessed a whole race in this little girl, that mysterious race fromwhich all the others seem to have taken their origin. 

The prince, however, continued to load me with presents. One day he sentme a very unexpected object, which excited a passionate admiration inChâli. It was merely one of those cardboard boxes covered with shellsstuck on outside, and they can be bought at any European seaside resortfor a penny or two. But there it was a jewel beyond price, and no doubtwas the first that had found its way into the kingdom. I put it on atable and left it there, wondering at the value which was set upon thistrumpery article out of a bazaar. 

But Châli never got tired of looking at it, of admiring it ecstatically. From time to time she would say to me, "May I touch it?" And when I hadgiven her permission she raised the lid, closed it again with thegreatest precaution, touched the shells very gently, and the contactseemed to give her real physical pleasure. 

However, I had finished my work, and it was time for me to return. I wasa long time in making up my mind, kept back by my tenderness for mylittle friend, but at last I was obliged to fix the day of my departure. 

The prince got up fresh hunting excursions and fresh wrestling matches, and after a fortnight of these pleasures I declared that I could stay nolonger, and he gave me my liberty. 

My farewell from Châli was heartrending. She wept, lying beside me, withher head on my breast, shaken with sobs. I did not know how to consoleher; my kisses were no good. 

All at once an idea struck me, and getting up I went and got theshell-box, and putting it into her hands, I said, "That is for you; itis yours. "

Then I saw her smile at first. Her whole face was lighted up withinternal joy, with that profound joy when impossible dreams are suddenlyrealized, and she embraced me ardently. 

All the same, she wept bitterly when I bade her a last farewell. 

I gave paternal kisses and cakes to all the rest of my wives, and then Istarted. 

II

Two years had passed when my duties again called me to Bombay, and, because I knew the country and the language well, I was left there toundertake another mission. 

I finished what I had to do as quickly as possible, and as I had aconsiderable amount of spare time on my hands I determined to go and seemy friend the King of Ganhard and my dear little Châli once more, thoughI expected to find her much changed. 

The rajah received me with every demonstration of pleasure, and hardlyleft me for a moment during the first day of my visit. At night, however, when I was alone, I sent for Haribada, and after severalmisleading questions I said to him:

"Do you know what has become of little Châli, whom the rajah gave me?"

He immediately assumed a sad and troubled look, and said, in evidentembarrassment:

"We had better not speak of her. "

"Why? She was a dear little woman. "

"She turned out badly, Sir. "

"What--Châli? What has become of her? Where is she?"

"I mean to say that she came to a bad end. "

"A bad end! Is she dead?"

"Yes. She committed a very dreadful action. "

I was very much distressed. I felt my heart beat, and my breast wasoppressed with grief, and insisted on knowing what she had done and whathad happened to her. 

The man became more and more embarrassed, and murmured, "You had betternot ask about it. "

"But I want to know. "

"She stole--"

"Who--Châli? What did she steal?"

"Something that belonged to you. "

"To me? What do you mean?"

"The day you left she stole that little box which the prince had givenyou; it was found in her hands. "

"What box are you talking about?"

"The box covered with shells. "

"But I gave it to her. "

The Indian looked at me with stupefaction, then replied: "Well, shedeclared with the most sacred oaths that you had given it to her, butnobody could believe that you could have given a king's present to aslave, and so the rajah had her punished. "

"How was she punished? What was done to her?"

"She was tied up in a sack, and thrown into the lake from this window, from the window of the room in which we are, where she had committed thetheft. "

I felt the most terrible grief that I ever experienced, and I made asign to Haribada to go away, so that he might not see my tears; and Ispent the night on the gallery that looked on to the lake, on thegallery where I had so often held the poor child on my knees. 

I pictured to myself her pretty little body lying decomposed in a sackin the dark waters beneath me, which we had so often looked at togetherformerly. 

The next day I left again, in spite of the rajah's entreaties andevident vexation; and I now still feel as if I had never loved any womanbut Châli. 

THE UMBRELLA

Mme. Oreille was a very economical woman; she thoroughly knew the valueof a halfpenny, and possessed a whole storehouse of strict principleswith regard to the multiplication of money, so that her cook found thegreatest difficulty in making what the servants call their_market-penny_, while her husband was hardly allowed any pocket-money atall. They were, however, very comfortably off, and had no children; butit really pained Mme. Oreille to see any money spent; it was liketearing at her heartstrings when she had to take any of those nicecrown-pieces out of her pocket; and whenever she had to spend anything, no matter how necessary it was, 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 neverspend our income. "

"You don't know what may happen, " she used to reply. "It is better tohave 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 very often used to complain of all the privations she madehim endure; some of them were particularly painful to him, as theytouched his vanity. 

He was one of the upper clerks in the War Office, and only kept on therein obedience to his wife's wish, so as to increase their income, whichthey did not nearly spend. 

For two years he had always come to the office with the same old patchedumbrella, to the great amusement of his fellow-clerks. At last he gottired 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 articleswhich large houses sell as an advertisement. When the others in theoffice saw the article, which was being sold in Paris by the thousands, they began their jokes again, and Oreille had a dreadful time of it withthem, and they even made a song about it, which he heard from morningtill night all over the immense building. 

Oreille was very angry, and peremptorily told his wife to get him a newone, a good silk one, for twenty francs, and to bring him the bill, sothat he might see that it was all right. 

She bought him one for eighteen francs, and said, getting red with angeras she gave it to her husband:

"This will last you for five years at least. "

Oreille felt quite triumphant, and obtained a small ovation at theoffice with his new acquisition. 

When he went home in the evening, his wife said to him, looking at theumbrella uneasily:

"You should not leave it fastened up with the elastic; it will verylikely cut the silk. You must take care of it, for I shall not buy you anew one in a hurry. "

She took it, unfastened it, and remained dumbfounded with astonishmentand rage; in the middle of the silk there was a hole as big as asixpenny-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 doyou mean?"

She was choking with rage, and could hardly get out a word. 

"You--you--have burnt--your umbrella! Why--you must be--mad! Do you wishto ruin us outright?"

He turned round, and felt that he was growing pale. 

"What are you talking about?"

"I say that you have burnt your umbrella. Just look here--"

And rushing at him as if she were going to beat him, she violentlythrust the little circular burnt hole under his nose. 

He was so utterly struck dumb at the sight of it that he could onlystammer 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 beenplaying 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 isall, I declare. "

But she shook with rage, and got up one of those conjugal scenes whichmake a peaceable man dread the domestic hearth more than a battlefieldwhere bullets are raining. 

She mended it with a piece of silk cut out of the old umbrella, whichwas of a different color, and the next day Oreille went off very humblywith the mended article in his hand. He put it into a cupboard, andthought no more about it than one thinks of some unpleasantrecollection. 

But he had scarcely got home that evening when his wife took theumbrella from him, opened it, and nearly had a fit when she saw what hadbefallen it, for the disaster was irreparable. It was covered with smallholes, which, evidently, proceeded from burns, just as if someone hademptied 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 tosay anything. He also, when he saw the damage, remained almost struckstupid, in a state of frightened consternation. 

They looked at each other, then he looked on to the floor; and the nextmoment she threw the useless article at his head, screaming out in atransport of the most violent rage, for she had recovered her voice bythat time:

"Oh! you brute! you brute! You did it on purpose, but I will pay you outfor it. You shall not have another. "

And then the scene began again, and after the storm had raged for anhour, he, at last, was enabled to explain himself. He declared that hecould not understand it at all, and that it could only proceed frommalice or from vengeance. 

A ring at the bell saved him; it was a friend whom they were expectingfor 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 bespoilt, and they were certainly worth more than the umbrella. But thelittle woman, who was still in a rage, replied:

"Very well, then, when it rains he may have the kitchen umbrella, for Iwill 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 tothe 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 eighteenare twenty-six. Just fancy, twenty-six francs for an umbrella! It isutter madness!"

The friend, who was only a poor man of the middle-classes, had aninspiration:

"Make your Fire Assurance pay for it. The companies pay for all articlesthat are burnt, as long as the damage has been done in your own house. "

On hearing this advice the little woman calmed down immediately, andthen, 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 makethem 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 hereighteen francs by any means. She had put the umbrella on thedining-room table, and she looked at it without being able to come toany determination. 

Every moment she thought of the Assurance Company, but she did not dareto encounter the quizzical looks of the gentlemen who might receive her, for she was very timid before people, and grew red 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 shehad been wounded. She tried not to think of it any more, and yet everymoment the recollection of the loss struck her painfully. What was sheto do, however? Time went on, and she could not decide; but suddenly, like all cowards, on becoming determined, she made up her mind. 

"I will go, and we will see what will happen. "

But first of all she was obliged to prepare the umbrella so that thedisaster might be complete, and the reason of it quite evident. She tooka match from the mantelpiece, and between the ribs she burnt a hole asbig as the palm of her hand; then she delicately rolled it up, fastenedit with the elastic band, put on her bonnet and shawl, and went quicklytowards 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 slowerand slower. Suddenly she saw a door on which was a large brass platewith "_La Maternelle_ Fire Assurance Office" engraved on it. Already!She waited for a moment, for she felt nervous and almost ashamed; thenshe went past, came back, went past again, and came back again. 

At last she said to herself:

"I must go in, however, so I may as well do it sooner as later. "

She could not help noticing, however, how her heart beat as she entered. 

She went into an enormous room with grated wicket openings all round, and a man behind each of them, and as a gentleman, carrying a number ofpapers, passed her, she stopped him and said, timidly:

"I beg your pardon, Monsieur, but can you tell me where I must apply forpayment for anything that has been accidentally burnt?"

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, tomake no claim, to sacrifice her eighteen francs. But the idea of thatsum revived her courage, and she went upstairs, out of breath, stoppingat almost every other step. 

She knocked at a door which she saw on the first landing, and a clearvoice said, in answer:

"Come in!"

She obeyed mechanically, and found herself in a large room where threesolemn gentlemen, all with a decoration in their buttonholes, werestanding talking. 

One of them asked her: "What do you want, Madame?"

She could hardly get out her words, but stammered: "I have come--I havecome 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 anyobligation to you for more than four hundred thousand francs, and we canpay 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 your leave. " And theywent out after mutual ceremonious bows. 

Oh! If she could only have gone away with them, how gladly she wouldhave done it; she would have run away and given up everything. But itwas 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 muteastonishment. 

With trembling fingers she tried to undo the elastic, and succeeded, after several attempts, and hastily opened the damaged remains of theumbrella. 

"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 state it isin. "

"Very well, I see; very well. But I really do not understand what it canhave to do with me. "

She began to feel uncomfortable; perhaps this Company did not pay forsuch small articles, and she said:

"But--it is burnt. "

He could not deny it. 

"I see that very well, " he replied. 

She remained open-mouthed, not knowing what to say next; then suddenlyforgetting that she had left out the main thing, she said hastily:

"I am Mme. Oreille; we are assured in _La Maternelle_, and I have cometo claim the value of this damage. "

"I only want you to have it re-covered, " she added quickly, fearing apositive refusal. 

The manager was rather embarrassed, and said:

"But, really, Madame, we do not sell umbrellas; we cannot undertake suchkinds of repairs. "

The little woman felt her courage reviving; she was not going to give upwithout 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 wellget it done myself. "

The gentleman seemed rather confused. 

"Really, Madame, it is such a very small matter! We are never asked togive compensation for such trivial losses. You must allow that we cannotmake good pocket-handkerchiefs, gloves, brooms, slippers, all the smallarticles which are every day exposed to the chances of being burnt. "

She got red, and felt inclined to fly into a rage. 

"But, Monsieur, last December one of our chimneys caught fire, andcaused at least five hundred francs' damage; M. Oreille made no claim onthe Company, and so it is only just that it should pay for my umbrellanow. "

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 fivehundred francs, and should now claim five or six francs for mending anumbrella. "

She was not the least put out, and replied:

"I beg pardon, Monsieur, the five hundred francs affected M. Oreille'spocket, 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 wouldonly 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 bronzestick-and umbrella-stand, and the other day, when I came in, I put myumbrella into it. I must tell you that just above there is a shelf forthe candlesticks and matches. I put out my hand, took three or fourmatches, and struck one, but it missed fire, so I struck another, whichignited, 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 Ifancied that I smelt something burning, and I have always been terriblyafraid of fire. If ever we have an accident it will not be my fault, Iassure you. I am terribly nervous since our chimney was on fire, as Itold you; so I got up, and hunted about everywhere, sniffing like a dogafter game, and at last I noticed that my umbrella was burning. Mostlikely a match had fallen between the folds and burnt it. You can seehow it has damaged it. "

The manager had taken his clue, and asked her:

"What do you estimate the damage at?"

She did not know what to say, as she was not certain what amount to puton 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 isall I want to know. "

"Well!--I think that--Look here, Monsieur, I do not want to make anymoney out of you, so I will tell you what we will do. I will take myumbrella to the maker, who will re-cover it in good, durable silk, andI will bring the bill to you. Will that suit you, Monsieur?"

"Perfectly, Madame; we will settle it so. Here is a note for thecashier, 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 hismind. 

She went briskly through the streets, looking out for a really goodumbrella-maker, and when she found a shop which appeared to be a firstclass one, she went in, and said, confidently:

"I want this umbrella recovered in silk, good silk. Use the very bestand strongest you have; I don't mind what it costs. "

MY UNCLE SOSTHENES

My Uncle Sosthenes was a Freethinker, like so many others are, from purestupidity; people are very often religious in the same way. The meresight of a priest threw him into a violent rage; he shook his fist andgrimaced at him, and touched a piece of iron when the priest's back wasturned, forgetting that the latter action showed a belief after all, thebelief in the evil eye. Now when beliefs are unreasonable one shouldhave all or none at all. I myself am a Freethinker; I revolt at all thedogmas which have invented the fear of death, but I feel no angertowards places of worship, be they Catholic, Apostolic, Roman, Protestant, Greek, Russian, Buddhist, Jewish, or Mohammedan. I have apeculiar manner of looking at them and explaining them. A place ofworship represents the homage paid by man to THE UNKNOWN. The moreextended our thoughts and our views become, the more _the unknown_diminishes, and the more places of worship will decay. I, however, inthe place of church furniture, in the place of pulpits, reading desks, altars, and so on, would fit them up with telescopes, microscopes, andelectrical machines; that is all. 

My uncle and I differed on nearly every point. He was a patriot, while Iwas not, for after all patriotism is a kind of religion; it is the eggfrom which wars are hatched. 

My uncle was a Freemason, and I used to declare that they are stupiderthan old women devotees. That is my opinion, and I maintain it; if wemust 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 palmsof each other's hands. I see no harm in it, for they put into practicethe Christian precept: "Do unto others as ye would they should do untoyou. " The only difference consists in the tickling, but it does not seemworth 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; Freethought will killclericalism. Freemasonry is the headquarters of those who aredemolishing all deities. "

"Very well, my dear uncle, " I would reply (in my heart I felt inclinedto 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 caseof lowering the prices. And then, if you only admitted Freethinkersamong you I could understand it, but you admit anybody. You have anumber 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 asociety with such an organization a bulwark against clericalism, I thinkit is an extremely weak one. "

"My dear boy, " my uncle would reply, with a wink, "our most formidableactions are political; slowly and surely we are everywhere underminingthe monarchical spirit. "

Then I broke out: "Yes, you are very clever! If you tell me thatFreemasonry is an election-machine, I will grant it you. I will neverdeny that it is used as a machine to control stove for candidates ofall shades; if you say that it is only used to hoodwink people, to drillthem to go to the voting-urn as soldiers are sent under fire, I agreewith you; if you declare that it is indispensable to all politicalambitions because it changes all its members into electoral agents, Ishould say to you, 'That is as clear as the sun. ' But when you tell methat it serves to undermine the monarchical spirit, I can only laugh inyour face. 

"Just consider that vast and democratic association which had PrinceNapoleon for its Grand Master under the Empire; which has the CrownPrince 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 theroyalists of the globe belong. "

"You are quite right, " my uncle said; "but all these persons are servingour 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 Freemasonto dinner. 

On meeting they shook hands in a manner that was irresistibly funny; onecould see that they were going through a series of secret mysteriouspressures. When I wished to put my uncle in a rage, I had only to tellhim that dogs also have a manner which savors very much of Freemasonry, when they greet one another on meeting. 

Then my uncle would take his friend into a corner to tell him somethingimportant, and at dinner they had a peculiar way of looking at eachother, and of drinking to each other, in a manner as if to say: "We knowall about it, don't we?"

And to think that there are millions on the face of the globe who areamused at such monkey tricks! I would sooner be a Jesuit. 

 * * * * *

Now in our town there really was an old Jesuit who was my uncle'sdetestation. Every time he met him, or if he only saw him at a distance, he used to say: "Go on, you toad!" And then, taking my arm, he wouldwhisper to me:

"Look here, that fellow will play me a trick some day or other, I feelsure of it. "

My uncle spoke quite truly, and this was how it happened and through myfault also. 

It was close on Holy Week, and my uncle made up his mind to give adinner on Good Friday, a real dinner with his favorite chitterlings andblackpuddings. 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 youmanifest? 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 todine with him at one of the best restaurants in the town, and as he wasgoing 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 frequentedrestaurant in the town, and my uncle ordered dinner in a loud voice forsix o'clock. 

We sat down punctually, and at ten o'clock he had not finished yet. Fiveof us had drunk eighteen bottles of fine still wines, and four ofchampagne. Then my uncle proposed what he was in the habit of calling:"The archbishop's turn. " Each man put six small glasses in front of him, each of them filled with a different liquor, and then they had all to beemptied at one gulp, one after another, while one of the waiters countedtwenty. It was very stupid, but my uncle thought it was very suitable tothe occasion. 

At eleven o'clock he was as drunk as a fly. So we had to take him homein a cab and put him to bed, and one could easily foresee that hisanti-clerical demonstration would end in a terrible fit of indigestion. 

As I was going back to my lodgings, being rather drunk myself, with acheerful Machiavelian drunkenness which quite satisfied all my instinctsof skepticism, an idea struck me. 

I arranged my necktie, put on a look of great distress, and went andrang loudly at the old Jesuit's door. As he was deaf he made me wait along while, but at length he appeared at his window in a cotton nightcapand asked what I wanted. 

I shouted out at the top of my voice:

"Make haste, reverend Sir, and open the door; a poor, despairing, sickman is in need of your spiritual ministrations. "

The good, kind man put on his trousers as quickly as he could, and camedown without his cassock. I told him in a breathless voice that myuncle, the Freethinker, had been taken suddenly ill, and fearing it wasgoing to be something serious he had been seized with a sudden fear ofdeath, and wished to see him and talk to him; to have his advice andcomfort, to make his peace with the Church, and to confess, so as to beable to cross the dreaded threshold at peace with himself; and I addedin a mocking tone:

"At any rate he wishes it, and if it does him no good it can do him noharm. "

The old Jesuit, who was startled, delighted, and almost trembling, saidto me:

"Wait a moment, my son, I will come with you;" but I replied: "Pardonme, reverend Father, if I do not go with you; but my convictions willnot allow me to do so. I even refused to come and fetch you; so I begyou not to say that you have seen me, but to declare that you had apresentiment--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 thatstronghold of Freethought. 

I hid under a neighboring gateway to wait for events. Had he been well, my uncle would have half-murdered the Jesuit, but I knew that he wouldscarcely be able to move an arm, and I asked myself, gleefully, whatsort of a scene would take place between these antagonists, whatexplanation would be given? and what would be the issue of the situationwhich my uncle's indignation would render more tragic still?

I laughed till I had to hold my sides, and said to myself, half aloud:"Oh! what a joke, what a joke!"

Meanwhile it was getting very cold, and I noticed that the Jesuit stayeda long time, and thought: "They are having an explanation, I suppose. "

One, two, three hours passed, and still the reverend Father did not comeout. What had happened? Had my uncle died in a fit when he saw him, orhad he killed the cassocked gentleman? Perhaps they had mutuallydevoured each other? This last supposition appeared very unlikely, forI fancied that my uncle was quite incapable of swallowing a grain morenourishment at that moment. 

At last the day broke. 

I was very uneasy, and, not venturing to go into the house myself, Iwent to one of my friends who lived opposite. I knocked him up, explained matters to him, much to his amusement and astonishment, andtook possession of his window. 

At nine o'clock he relieved me, and I got a little sleep. At two o'clockI, in my turn, replaced him. We were utterly astonished. 

At six o'clock the Jesuit left, with a very happy and satisfied look onhis face, and we saw him go away with a quiet step. 

Then, timid and ashamed, I went and knocked at my uncle's door; and whenthe servant opened it I did not dare to ask her any questions, but wentupstairs without saying a word. 

My uncle was lying pale, exhausted, with weary, sorrowful eyes and heavyarms, on his bed. A little religious picture was fastened to one of thebed-curtains with a pin. 

"Why, uncle, " I said, "you 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 manwhom I have made such fun of--had a divine revelation of my state, andcame to see me. "

I was seized with an almost uncontrollable desire to laugh, and withdifficulty 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. It was a revelation. "

I pretended to sneeze, so as not to burst out laughing; I felt inclinedto roll on the ground with amusement. 

In about a minute I managed to say, indignantly: "And you received him, uncle, you? You, a Freethinker, a Freemason? You did not have him thrownout-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 devotedlyall night long. He was perfect; no doubt he saved my life; those men areall a little bit of a doctor. "

"Oh! he looked after you all night? But you said just now that he hadonly been gone a very short time. "

"That is quite true; I kept him to breakfast after all his kindness. Hehad 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 much out ofplace, and then added:

"Don't joke, Gaston; such things are out of place at times. He has shownme more devotion than many a relation would have done, and I expect tohave 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 Iread a little book which he happened to have in his pocket, and whichwas not by any means badly written. "

"A religious book, uncle?"

"Yes, and no, or rather--no. It is the history of their missions inCentral Africa, and is rather a book of travels and adventures. Whatthese men have done is very grand. "

I began to feel that matters were going badly, so I got up. "Well, good-bye, uncle, " I said, "I see you are going to leave Freemasonry forreligion; 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 notcertain. "

I went out, altogether overwhelmed. 

My joke turned out very badly for me! My uncle became radicallyconverted, 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 andhalf-a-dozen of the other; but the worst of it is that he has just madehis will--yes, made his will--and he has disinherited me in favor ofthat rascally Jesuit!

HE?

My dear friend, you cannot understand it by any possible means, you say, and I perfectly believe you. You think I am going mad? It may be so, butnot for the reasons which you suppose. 

Yes, I am going to get married, and I will give you what has led me totake that step. 

My ideas and my convictions have not changed at all. I look upon alllegalized cohabitation as utterly stupid, for I am certain that ninehusbands out of ten are cuckolds; and they get no more than theirdeserts for having been idiotic enough to fetter their lives, andrenounce their freedom in love, the only happy and good thing in theworld, and for having clipped the wings of fancy, which continuallydrives us on towards all women, &c. , &c. , &c. You know what I mean. Morethan ever I feel that I am incapable of loving one woman alone, becauseI shall always adore all the others too much. I should like to have athousand arms, a thousand mouths, and a thousand--_temperaments_, to beable to strain an army of these charming creatures in my embrace at thesame moment. 

And yet I am going to get married!

I may add that I know very little of the girl who is going to become mywife to-morrow; I have only seen her four or five times. I know thatthere is nothing unpleasing about her, and that is enough for mypurpose. She is small, fair, and stout; so of course the day afterto-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 suchas you may find by the gross, well adapted for matrimony, without anyapparent faults, and with no particularly striking qualities. People sayof her:

"Mlle. Lajolle is a very nice girl, " and to-morrow they will say: "Whata very nice woman Madame Raymon is. " She belongs, in a word, to thatimmense number of girls whom one is glad to have for one's wife till themoment comes, when one discovers that one happens to prefer all theother 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 reasonthat urged me on to this senseless act; the fact, however, is that I amfrightened of being alone!

I don't know how to tell you or to make you understand me, but my stateof 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 thereis someone close to me, touching me, a being who can speak and saysomething, no matter what it be. 

I wish to be able to awaken somebody by my side, so that I may be ableto 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 wakingsoul close to me, someone whose reason is at work; so that when Ihastily light the candle I may see some human face by myside--because--because--I am ashamed to confess it--because I am afraidof 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 Ishould kill him without trembling. I am not afraid of ghosts, nor do Ibelieve in the supernatural. I am not afraid of dead people, for Ibelieve in the total annihilation of every being that disappears fromthe face of this earth. 

Well, --yes, well, it must be told; I am afraid of myself, afraid of thathorrible sensation of incomprehensible fear. 

You may laugh, if you like. It is terrible, and I cannot get over it. Iam afraid of the walls, of the furniture, of the familiar objects, whichare animated, as far as I am concerned, by a kind of animal life. Aboveall, I am afraid of my own dreadful thoughts, of my reason, which seemsas if it were about to leave me, driven away by a mysterious andinvisible agony. 

At first I feel a vague uneasiness in my mind which causes a cold shiverto run all over me. I look round, and of course nothing is to be seen, and I wish there were something there, no matter what, as long as itwere something tangible: I am frightened, merely because I cannotunderstand my own terror. 

If I speak, I am afraid of my own voice. If I walk, I am afraid of Iknow not what, behind the door, behind the curtains, in the cupboard, orunder my bed, and yet all the time I know there is nothing anywhere, andI turn round suddenly because I am afraid of what is behind me, althoughthere is nothing there, and I know it. 

I get agitated; I feel that my fear increases, and so I shut myself upin 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 remainthus for an indefinite time, remembering that my candle is alight on thetable by my bedside, and that I ought to put it out, and yet--I dare notdo it!

It is very terrible, is it not, to be like that?

Formerly I felt nothing of all that; I came home quite comfortably, andwent up and down in my rooms without anything disturbing my calmness ofmind. Had anyone told me that I should be attacked by a malady--for Ican call it nothing else--of most improbable fear, such a stupid andterrible malady as it is, I should have laughed outright. I wascertainly never afraid of opening the door in the dark; I went to bedslowly without locking it, and never got up in the middle of the nightto 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 myselfwhat 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 evenwithout energy to read. A fine rain was falling, and I felt unhappy, aprey to one of those fits of despondency, without any apparent causewhich makes us feel inclined to cry, or to talk, no matter to whom, soas to shake off our depressing thoughts. 

I felt that I was alone, and my rooms seemed to me to be more empty thanthey had ever done before, while I was surrounded by a sensation ofinfinite and overwhelming solitude. What was I to do? I sat down, butthen a kind of nervous impatience agitated my legs, so I got up andbegan to walk about again. I was rather feverish, for my hands, which Ihad clasped behind me, as one often does when walking slowly, almostseemed to burn one another. Then suddenly a cold shiver ran down myback, and I thought the damp air might have penetrated into my room, soI lit the fire for the first time that year, and sat down again andlooked at the flames. But soon I felt that I could not possibly remainquiet, and so I got up again and determined to go out, to pull myselftogether, and to find a friend to bear me company. 

I could not find anyone, so I went on to the boulevards to try and meetsome acquaintance or other there. 

It was wretched everywhere, and the wet pavement glistened in thegaslight, while the oppressive warmth of the almost impalpable rain layheavily over the streets and seemed to obscure the light from the lamps. 

I went on slowly, saying to myself, "I shall not find a soul to talkto. "

I glanced into several cafés, from the Madeleine as far as the FaubourgPoissonière, and saw many unhappy-looking individuals sitting at thetables, who did not seem even to have enough energy left to finish therefreshments they had ordered. 

For a long time I wandered aimlessly up and down, and about midnight Istarted off for home; I was very calm and very tired. My concierge[9]opened the door at once, which was quite unusual for him, and I thoughtthat another lodger had no doubt just come in. 

When I go out I always double-lock the door of my room, and I found itmerely closed, which surprised me; but I supposed that some letters hadbeen brought up for me in the course of the evening. 

I went in, and found my fire still burning, so that it lighted up theroom a little, and, in the act of taking up a candle, I noticed somebodysitting in my armchair by the fire, warming his feet, with his backtowards me. 

I was not in the slightest degree frightened. I thought very naturallythat some friend or other had come to see me. No doubt the porter, whomI had told when I went out, had lent him his own key. In a moment Iremembered all the circumstances of my return, how the street door hadbeen opened immediately, and that my own door was only latched, and notlocked. 

I could see nothing of my friend but his head, and he had evidently goneto sleep while waiting for me, so I went up to him to rouse him. I sawhim quite clearly; his right arm was hanging down and his legs werecrossed, while his head, which was somewhat inclined to the left of thearmchair, seemed to indicate that he was asleep. "Who can it be?" Iasked myself. I could not see clearly, as the room was rather dark, so Iput out my hand to touch him on the shoulder, and it came in contactwith 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 someterrible danger had suddenly appeared in my way; then I turned roundagain, impelled by some imperious desire of looking at the armchairagain, and I remained standing upright, panting with fear, so upset thatI could not collect my thoughts, and ready to drop. 

But I am a cool man, and soon recovered myself. I thought: "It is a merehallucination, that is all, " and I immediately began to reflect aboutthis phenomenon. Thoughts fly very quickly at such moments. 

I had been suffering from a hallucination, that was an incontestablefact. My mind had been perfectly lucid and had acted regularly andlogically, so there was nothing the matter with the brain. It was onlymy eyes that had been deceived; they had had a vision, one of thosevisions which lead simple folk to believe in miracles. It was a nervousaccident to the optical apparatus, nothing more; the eyes were rathercongested, perhaps. 

I lit my candle, and when I stooped down to the fire in so doing, Inoticed that I was trembling, and I raised myself up with a jump, as ifsomebody had touched me from behind. 

I was certainly not by any means quiet. 

I walked up and down a little, and hummed a tune or two. 

Then I double-locked my door, and felt rather reassured; now, at anyrate, nobody could come in. 

I sat down again, and thought over my adventure for a long time; then Iwent to bed, and blew out my light. 

For some minutes all went well; I lay quietly on my back, but then anirresistible desire seized me to look round the room, and I turned on tomy side. 

My fire was nearly out, and the few glowing embers threw a faint lighton to the floor by the chair, where I fancied I saw the man sittingagain. 

I quickly struck a match, but I had been mistaken, for there was nothingthere; I got up, however, and hid the chair behind my bed, and tried toget to sleep as the room was now dark, but I had not forgotten myselffor more than five minutes when in my dream I saw all the scene which Ihad witnessed as clearly as if it were reality. I woke up with a start, and having lit the candle, I sat up in bed, without venturing even totry and 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 sleptpeacefully till noon. 

It was all past and over. I had been feverish, had had the nightmare; Idon't know what. I had been ill, in a word, but yet I thought that I wasa great fool. 

I enjoyed myself thoroughly that evening; I went and dined at arestaurant; afterwards I went to the theater, and then started home. Butas I got near the house I was seized by a strange feeling of uneasinessonce more; 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 afraidof being deceived again; I was afraid of some fresh hallucination, afraid lest fear should take possession of me. 

Far more than an hour I wandered up and down the pavement; then Ithought that I was really too foolish, and at last I returned home. Ipanted so that I could scarcely get upstairs, and I remained standingoutside my door for more than ten minutes; then suddenly I took courage, and screwed myself together. I inserted my key into the lock, and wentin with a candle in my hand. I kicked open my half-open bedroom door, and gave a frightened look towards the fireplace; there was nothingthere. A--h!

What a relief and what a delight! What a deliverance! I walked up anddown briskly and boldly, but I was not altogether reassured, and keptturning round with a jump; the very shadows in the corner disquieted me. 

I slept badly, and was constantly disturbed by imaginary noises, but Idid not see _him_; no, that was all over. 

Since that time I have been afraid of being alone at night. I feel thatthe specter is there, close to me, around me; but it has not appeared tome again. And supposing it did, what would it matter, since I do notbelieve in it, and know that it is nothing?

It still worries me, however, because I am constantly thinking of it:_his right arm hanging down and his head inclined to the left like a manwho was asleep_.... Enough of that, in Heaven's name! I don't want tothink about it!

Why, however, am I so persistently possessed with this idea? His feetwere close to the fire!

He haunts me; it is very stupid, but so it is. Who and what is HE? Iknow that he does not exist except in my cowardly imagination, in myfears, and in my agony! There--enough of that!... 

Yes, it is all very well for me to reason with myself, _to stiffenmyself_, so to say; but I cannot remain at home, because I know he isthere. 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. Heremains invisible, but that does not prevent his being there. He isbehind the doors, in the closed cupboards, in the wardrobe, under thebed, in every dark corner. If I open the door or the cupboard, if I takethe candle to look under the bed and throw a light on to the darkplaces, he is there no longer, but I feel that he is behind me. I turnround, certain that I shall not see him, that I shall never see himagain; but he is, for all that, none the less behind me. 

It is very stupid, it is dreadful; but what am I to do? I cannot helpit. 

But if there were two of us in the place, I feel certain that he wouldnot be there any longer, for he is there just because I am alone; simplyand solely because I am alone!

A PHILOSOPHER

Blérot had been my most intimate friend from childhood; we had nosecrets from each other, and were united heart and soul by a brotherlyintimacy and a boundless confidence in each other, and I had beenintrusted with the secret of all his love affairs, as he had been withmine. 

When he told me that he was going to get married I was hurt, just as ifhe had been guilty of a treacherous act with regard to me. I felt thatit must interfere with that cordial and absolute affection which hadunited us hitherto. His wife would come between us. The intimacy of themarriage-bed establishes a kind of complicity of mysterious alliancebetween two persons, even when they have ceased to love each other. Manand wife are like two discreet partners who will not let anyone elseinto their secrets. But that close bond which the conjugal kiss fastensis widely loosened on the day on which the woman takes a lover. 

I remember Blérot's wedding as if it were but yesterday. I would not bepresent at the signing of the marriage contract, as I have no particularliking for such ceremonies, but I only went to the civil wedding and tothe church. 

His wife, whom I had never seen before, was a tall, slight girl, withpale hair, pale cheeks, pale hands, and eyes to match. She walked with aslightly undulating motion, as if she were on board a ship, and seemedto advance with a succession of long, graceful curtsies. 

Blérot seemed very much in love with her. He looked at her constantly, and I felt a shiver of an immoderate desire for her pass through myframe. 

I went to see him in a few days, and he said to me:

"You do not know how happy I am; I am madly in love with her; but thenshe is ... She is ... " He did not finish his sentence, but he put thetips of his fingers to his lips with a gesture which signified:

"Divine! delicious! perfect!" and a good deal more besides. 

I asked, laughing, "What! all that?"

"Everything that you can imagine, " was his answer. 

He introduced me to her. She was very pleasant, on easy terms with me, as was natural, and begged me to look upon their house as my own. I feltthat he, Blérot, did not belong to me any longer. Our intimacy wasaltogether checked, and we hardly found a word to say to each other. 

I soon took my leave, and shortly afterwards went to the East, andreturned by way of Russia, Germany, Sweden, and Holland, after anabsence of eighteen months from Paris. 

The morning after my arrival, as I was walking along the boulevards tobreathe the air once more, I saw a pale man with sunken cheeks comingtowards me, who was as much like Blérot as it was possible for aphysically emaciated man to be to a strong, ruddy, rather stout man. Ilooked at him in surprise, and asked myself: "Can it possibly be he?"But he saw me, and came towards me with outstretched arms, and weembraced in the middle of the boulevard. 

After we had gone up and down once or twice from the Rue Druot to theVaudeville Theater, just as we were taking leave of each other--for healready seemed quite done up with walking--I said to him:

"You don't look at all well. Are you ill?"

"I do feel rather out of sorts, " was all he said. 

He looked like a man who was going to die, and I felt a flood ofaffection for my old friend, the only real one that I had ever had. Isqueezed his hands. 

"What is the matter with you? Are you in pain?"

"A little tired; but it is nothing. "

"What does your doctor say?"

"He calls it anæmia, and has ordered me to eat no white meat and to taketincture of iron. "

A suspicion flashed across me. 

"Are you happy?" I asked him. 

"Yes, very happy; my wife is charming, and I love her more than ever. "

But I noticed that he grew rather red and seemed embarrassed, as if hewas afraid of any further questions, so I took him by the arm and pushedhim into a café, which was nearly empty at that time of day. I forcedhim to sit down, and looking him straight in the face, I said:

"Look here, old fellow, just tell me the exact truth. "

"I have nothing to tell you, " he stammered. 

"That is not true, " I replied firmly. "You are ill, mentally perhaps, and you dare not reveal your secret to anyone. Something or other isdoing you harm, and I mean you to tell me what it is. Come, I am waitingfor you to begin. "

Again he got very red, stammered, and turning his head away, he said:

"It is very idiotic--but I--I am done for!"

As he did not go on, I said:

"Just tell me what it is. "

"Well, I have got a wife who is killing me, that is all, " he saidabruptly, almost desperately. 

I did not understand at first. "Does she make you unhappy? How? What isit?"

"No, " he replied in a low voice, as if he were confessing some crime; "Ilove her too much, that is all. "

I was thunderstruck at this brutal avowal, and then I felt inclined tolaugh, but at length I managed to reply:

"But surely, at least so it seems to me, you might manage to--to loveher a little less. "

He had got very pale again, and at length made up his mind to speak tome openly, as he used to do formerly. 

"No, " he said, "that is impossible; and I am dying from it I know; it iskilling me, and I am really frightened. Some days, like to-day, I feelinclined to leave her, to go away altogether, to start for the other endof the world, so as to live for a long time; and then, when the eveningcomes, I return home in spite of myself, but slowly, and feelinguncomfortable. I go upstairs hesitatingly and ring, and when I go in Isee her there sitting in her easy chair, and she says, 'How late youare, ' I kiss her, and we sit down to dinner. During the meal I think tomyself: 'I will go directly it is over, and take the train forsomewhere, no matter where;' but when we get back to the drawing-room Iam so tired that I have not the courage to get up out of my chair, andso I remain, and then--and then--I succumb again. "

I could not help smiling again. He saw it, and said: "You may laugh, butI assure you it is very horrible. "

"Why don't you tell your wife?" I asked him. "Unless she be a regularmonster she would understand. "

He shrugged his shoulders. "It is all very well for you to talk. I don'ttell her because I know her nature. Have you ever heard it said ofcertain women, 'She has just married a third time?' Well, and that makesyou laugh like you did just now, and yet it is true. What is to be done?It is neither her fault nor mine. She is so, because nature has made herso; I assure you, my dear old friend, she has the temperament of aMessalina. She does not know it, but I do; so much the worse for me. Sheis charming, gentle, tender, and thinks that our conjugal intercourse, which is wearing me out and killing me, is natural and quite moderate. She seems like an ignorant schoolgirl, and she really is ignorant, poorchild. 

"Every day I form energetic resolutions, for you must understand that Iam dying. But one look of her eyes, one of those looks in which I canread the ardent desire of her lips, is enough for me, and I succumb atonce, saying to myself: 'This is really the end; I will have no more ofher death-giving kisses, ' and then, when I have yielded again, like Ihave to-day, I go out and walk on ahead, thinking of death, and sayingto myself that I am lost, that all is over. 

"I am so mentally ill that I went for a walk to Père Lachaise cemeteryyesterday. I looked at all the graves, standing in a row like dominoes, and I thought to myself: 'I shall soon be there, ' and then I returnedhome, quite determined to pretend to be ill, and so escape, but I couldnot. 

"Oh! You don't know what it is. Ask a smoker who is poisoning himselfwith nicotine whether he can give up his delicious and deadly habit. Hewill tell you that he has tried a hundred times without success, and hewill, perhaps, add: 'So much the worse, but I had rather die than gowithout tobacco. ' That is just the case with me. When once one is in theclutches of such a passion or such a vice, one must give oneself up toit entirely. "

He got up and gave me his hand. I felt seized with a tumult of rage, andwith hatred for this woman, this careless, charming, terrible woman; andas he was buttoning up his coat to go out I said to him, brutallyperhaps:

"But, in God's name, why don't you let her have a lover, rather thankill yourself like that?"

He shrugged his shoulders without replying, and went off. 

For six months I did not see him. Every morning I expected a letter ofinvitation to his funeral, but I would not go to his house from acomplicated feeling of contempt for him and for that woman; of anger, ofindignation, of a thousand sensations. 

One lovely spring morning I was walking in the Champs Elysées. It wasone of those warm days which makes our eyes bright and stir up in us atumultuous feeling of happiness from the mere sense of existence. Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and turning round I saw my oldfriend, looking well, stout and rosy. 

He gave me both hands, beaming with pleasure, and exclaimed:

"Here you are, you erratic individual!"

I looked at him, utterly thunderstruck. 

"Well, on my word--yes. By Jove! I congratulate you; you have indeedchanged in the last six months!"

He flushed scarlet, and said, with an embarrassed laugh:

"One can but do one's best. "

I looked at him so obstinately that he evidently felt uncomfortable, soI went on:

"So--now--you are--completely cured?"

He stammered, hastily:

"Yes, perfectly, thank you. " Then changing his tone, "How lucky that Ishould have come across you, old fellow. I hope we shall often meetnow. "

But I would not give up my idea; I wanted to know how matters reallystood, so I asked:

"Don't you remember what you told me six months ago? Isuppose--I--eh--suppose you resist now?"

"Please don't talk any more about it, " he replied, uneasily; "forgetthat I mentioned it to you; leave me alone. But, you know, I have nointention of letting you go; you must come and dine at my house. "

A sudden fancy took me to see for myself how matters stood, so that Imight understand all about it, and I accepted. 

His wife received me in a most charming manner, and she was, as a matterof fact, a most attractive woman. Her long hands, her neck and cheekswere beautifully white and delicate, and marked her breeding, and herwalk was undulating and delightful. 

René gave her a brotherly kiss on the forehead and said:

"Has not Lucien come yet?"

"Not yet, " she replied, in a clear, soft voice; "you know he is almostalways rather late. "

At that moment the bell rang, and a tall man was shown in. He was dark, with a thick beard, and looked like a modern Hercules. We wereintroduced to each other; his name was Lucien Delabarre. 

René and he shook hands in a most friendly manner, and then we went todinner. 

It was a most enjoyable meal, without the least constraint. My oldfriend spoke with me constantly, in the old familiar cordial manner, just as he used to do. It was: "You know, old fellow!"--"I say, oldfellow!"--"Just listen a moment, old fellow!" Suddenly he exclaimed:

"You don't know how glad I am to see you again; it takes me back to oldtimes. "

I looked at his wife and the other man. Their attitude was perfectlycorrect, though I fancied once or twice that they exchanged a rapid andfurtive look. 

As soon as dinner was over René turned to his wife, and said:

"My dear, I have just met Pierre again, and I am going to carry him offfor a walk and a chat along the boulevards to remind us of old times. Iam leaving you in very good company. "

The young woman smiled, and said to me, as she shook hands with me:

"Don't keep him too long. "

As we went along, arm-in-arm, I could not help saying to him, for I wasdetermined to know how matters stood:

"I say, what has happened? Do tell me!"

He, however, interrupted me roughly, and answered like a man who hasbeen disturbed without any reason. 

"Just look here, old fellow leave one alone with your questions. "

Then he added, half aloud, as if talking to himself:

"After all, it would have been too stupid to have let oneself go to potlike that. "

I did not press him. We walked on quickly and began to talk. All of asudden he whispered in my ear:

"I say, suppose we go and have a bottle of 'fizz' with some girls! Eh?"

I could not prevent myself from laughing heartily. 

"Just as you like; come along, let us go. "

ALWAYS LOCK THE DOOR!

The four glasses which were standing in front of the diners were nowstill nearly half full, which is a sign, as a general rule, that theguests are quite so. They were beginning to speak without waiting for ananswer; no one took any notice of anything except what was going oninside him, either in his mind or stomach; voices grew louder, gesturesmore animated, eyes brighter. 

It was a bachelors' dinner of confirmed old bachelors. They hadinstituted this regular banquet twenty years before, christening it "TheCelibate, " and at the time there were fourteen of them, all fullydetermined never to marry. Now there were only four of them left; threewere dead and the other seven were married. 

These four stuck firmly to it, and, as far as lay in their power, theyscrupulously observed the rules which had been laid down at thebeginning of their curious association. They had sworn, hand-in-hand, toturn aside every woman they could from the right path, and theirfriends' wives for choice, and more especially those of their mostintimate friends. For this reason, as soon as any of them left thesociety, in order to set up in domestic life for himself, he took careto quarrel definitely with all his former companions. 

Besides this, they were pledged at every dinner to relate most minutelytheir last adventures, which had given rise to this familiar phraseamongst them:

"To lie like an old bachelor. "

They professed, moreover, the most profound contempt for woman whom theytalked of as an animal made solely for their pleasure. Every moment theyquoted Schopenhauer, who was their god, and his well-known essay "OnWomen;" they wished that harems and towers might be reintroduced, andhad the ancient maxim: "Mulier, perpetuus infans, "[10] woven into theirtable-linen, and below it, the line of Alfred de Vigny's:

_La femme, enfant malade et douze fois impure. _[11]

So that by dint of despising women they lived only for them, while alltheir efforts and all their desires were directed towards them. 

Those of them who had married called them old fops, made fun of them, and--feared them. 

When they began to feel the exhilarating effects of the champagne, thiswas the moment that their old bachelor experiences began. 

On the day in question, these old fellows, for they were old by thistime, and the older they got the more extraordinary _good fortune_ inthe way of love affairs they had to relate, were quite inexhaustible. For the last month, to hear them, each of them had played the gallantwith at least one woman a day; and what women! the youngest, thenoblest, the richest, and the most beautiful!

After they had finished their tales, one of them, he who having spokenfirst had been obliged to listen to all the others, rose and said:

"Now that we have finished drawing the long-bow, I should like to tellyou, not my last, but my first adventure, --I mean the first adventureof my life, my first fall, --for it is a moral fall after all, in thearms of Venus. Oh! I am not going to tell you my first--what shall Icall it?--my first appearance; certainly not. The leap over the firsthedge (I am speaking figuratively) has nothing interesting about it. Itis generally rather a disagreeable one, and one picks oneself up ratherabashed, with one charming illusion the less, with a vague feeling ofdisappointment and sadness. That _realization_ of love the first timeone experiences it is rather repugnant; we had dreamt of it as being sodifferent, so delicate, so refined. It leaves a physical and moral senseof disgust behind it, just like as when one has happened to have putone's hand into some clammy matter and feels in a hurry to _wash_ itoff. You may _rub_ it as hard as you like, but the moral feelingremains. 

"Yes! but one very soon gets quite used to it; there is no doubt aboutthat. For my part, however, I am very sorry it was not in my power togive the Creator the benefit of my advice when He was arranging theselittle matters. I wonder what _I_ should have done? I am not quite sure, but I think with the English savant, John Stuart Mill, I should havemanaged differently; I should have found some more convenient and morepoetical combination; yes--more poetical. 

"I really think that the Creator showed Himself to be too much of anaturalist ... Too ... What shall I say? His invention lacks poetry. 

"However, what I am going to tell you is about my first woman of theworld, the first woman in society I ever made love to;--I beg yourpardon, I ought to say the first woman of the world that ever triumphedover me. For at first it is _we_ who allow ourselves to be taken, while, later on--well, then it is quite another matter. 

"She was a friend of my mother's, a charming woman in every way. Whensuch women are chaste, it is generally from sheer stupidity, and whenthey are in love they are furiously so. And then--_we_ are accused ofcorrupting _them_! Yes, yes, of course! With them it is always therabbit that begins and never the sportsman. I know all about it; theydon't seem to put their fingers near us, but they do it all the same, and do what they like with us, without it being noticed, and then theyactually accuse us of having ruined them, dishonored them, humiliatedthem, and all the rest of it. 

"The woman in question certainly had a great desire to be humiliated byme. She may have been about thirty-five, while I was scarcelytwo-and-twenty. I no more thought of dishonoring her than I did ofturning Trappist. Well, one day when I was calling on her, and while Iwas looking at her dress with considerable astonishment, for she had ona morning wrapper which was open as wide as a church-door when the bellsare ringing for service, she took my hand and squeezed it--squeezed it, you know, like they will do at such moments--and said, with a deep sigh, one of those sighs, you know, which come from right down the bottom ofthe chest: 'Oh! don't look at me like that, child!' I got as red as atomato, and felt more nervous than usual, naturally. I was very muchinclined to bolt, but she held my hand tightly, and putting it onto herwell-developed bust, she said: 'Just feel how my heart beats!' Of courseit was beating, and I began to understand what was the matter, but Idid not know what to do. I have changed considerably since then. 

"As I remained standing there, with one hand on the soft covering of herheart, while I held my hat in the other, and continuing to look at herwith a confused, silly smile--a timid, frightened smile--she suddenlydrew back, and said in an irritated voice:

"'Young man, what are you doing? You are indecent and badly brought up. '

"You may be sure I took my hand away quickly, stopped smiling, andstammering out some excuse, I got up and took my leave as if I had lostmy head. 

"But I was caught, and dreamt of her. I thought her charming, adorable;I fancied that I loved her, that I had always loved her, and Idetermined to see her again. 

"When I saw her again she gave me a little smile like an actress mightbehind the scenes. Oh, how that little smile upset me! And she shookhands with a long, significant pressure. 

"From that day it seems that I made love to her; at least, she declaredafterwards that I had ruined her, captured her, dishonored her, withrare Machiavelism, with consummate cleverness, with the perseverance ofa mathematician, and the cunning of an Apaché Indian. 

"But one thing troubled me strangely; where was my triumph to beaccomplished? I lived with my family, and on this point my family wasmost particular. I was not bold enough to venture to go to an hotel inbroad daylight with a woman on my arm, and I did not know whom to askfor advice. 

"Now, my fair friend had often said in joke that every young man oughtto have a room for himself somewhere or other from home. We lived inParis, and this was a sort of inspiration. I took a room, and she came. She came one day in November; I should have liked to put off her visitbecause I had no fire, and I had no fire because the chimney smoked. Thevery evening before, I had spoken to my landlord, a retired shopkeeper, about it, and he had promised that he would send for the chimneysweep ina day or two to get it all put to rights. 

"As soon as she came in, I said:

"'There is no fire because my chimney smokes. '

"She did not even appear to hear me, but stammered: 'That does notmatter, I have... ;' and when I looked surprised, she stopped short inconfusion, and then went on: 'I don't know what I am saying; I ammad.... I have lost my head.... Oh! what am I doing? Why did I come? Howunhappy I am! What a disgrace, what a disgrace!' And she threw herselfsobbing into my arms. 

"I thought that she really felt remorse, and swore that I would respecther. Then, however, she sank down at my knees, sighing: 'But don't yousee that I love you, that you have overcome me, that it seems as thoughyou had thrown a charm over me?'

"Then I thought it was about time to show myself a man. But shetrembled, got up, ran and hid behind a wardrobe, crying out: 'Oh! don'tlook at me; no! no! If only you did not see me, if we were only in thedark! I am ashamed in the light. Cannot you imagine it? What a dreadfuldream! Oh! this light, this light!'

"I rushed to the window; I closed the outside shutters, drew thecurtains, and hung a coat over a ray of light that peeped in, and then, stretching out my hands so as not to fall over the chairs, with my heartbeating, and felt for her, and found her. 

"It was a fresh journey for the two of us then, groping our way, withour hands united, towards the other corner where the sofa stood. I don'tsuppose we went straight, for first of all I knocked against themantelpiece, and then against a chest of drawers, before finding what wewanted. After we sat down I forgot everything, and we almost went tosleep in each other's arms. 

"I was half dreaming; but in my dream I fancied that someone was callingme and crying for help; then I received a violent blow, and opened myeyes. 

"'O--h!' The setting sun, magnificent and red, shone full into the roomthrough the door, which was wide open, and seemed to look at us from theverge of the horizon, illuminating us both, especially my companion, whowas screaming, struggling, and twisting, and trying with hands and feetto get under the sofa, while in the middle of the room stood my landlordby the side of the concierge[12] and a chimneysweep, as black as thedevil, who were looking at us with stupid eyes. 

"I stood up in rage, ready to jump at his throat, and shouted:

"'What the deuce are you doing in my room?'

"The chimneysweep laughed so that he let his brush fall on the floor. The porter looked as if he were going out of his mind, and the landlordstammered:

"'But, Monsieur, it was--it was--about the chimney--the chimney, thechimney which--'

"'Go to the devil!' I roared. So he took off his hat, which he had kepton in his confusion, and said, in a confused but very civil manner:

"'I beg your pardon, Monsieur; if I had known, I should not havedisturbed you; I should not have come. The concierge told me you hadgone out. Pray excuse me. ' And they all went out. 

"Ever since that time I never draw the curtains but am always verycareful to lock the door first. "

A MEETING

It was all an accident, a pure accident. Tired of standing, Barond'Etraille went, as all the Princess's rooms were open on thatparticular evening, into an empty bedroom, which appeared almost darkafter coming out of the brilliantly lighted drawing-rooms. 

He looked round for a chair in which to have a doze, as he was sure hiswife would not go away before daylight. As soon as he got inside thedoor he saw the big bed with its azure-and-gold hangings, in the middleof the great room, looking like a catafalque in which love was buried, for the Princess was no longer young. Behind it, a large bright spotlooked like a lake seen at a distance from the window. It was a largelooking-glass, which, discreetly covered with dark drapery, that, however, was very rarely let down, seemed to look at the bed, which wasits accomplice. One might almost fancy that it felt regrets, and thatone was going to see in it charming shapes of naked women, and thegentle movement of arms about to embrace them. 

The Baron stood still for a moment, smiling, rather moved, on thethreshold of this chamber dedicated to love. But suddenly somethingappeared in the looking-glass, as if the phantoms which he had evokedhad risen up before him. A man and a woman who had been sitting on a lowcouch hidden in the shade had got up, and the polished surface, reflecting their figures, showed that they were kissing each otherbefore separating. 

The Baron recognized his wife and the Marquis de Cervigné. He turned andwent away like a man who is fully master of himself, and waited till itwas day before taking away the Baroness; but he had no longer anythoughts of sleeping. 

As soon as they were alone he said. 

"Madame, I saw you just now in Princess de Raynes' room; I need say nomore, and I am not fond either of reproaches, acts of violence, or ofridicule. As I wish to avoid all such things, we shall separate withoutany scandal. Our lawyers will settle your position according to myorders. You will be free to live as you please when you are no longerunder my roof; but, as you will continue to bear my name, I must warnyou 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 dearlyduring the first period of their married life; but his ardor had cooled, and now he often had a caprice, either in a theater or in society, though he always preserved a certain liking for the Baroness. 

She was very young, hardly four-and-twenty, small, slight--tooslight--and very fair. She was a true Parisian doll: clever, spoilt, elegant, coquettish, witty, with more charm than real beauty. He used tosay 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 have got tothe wine it is very good, but there is too little of it, unfortunately. "

He walked up and down the room in great agitation, and thinking of athousand things. At one moment he felt in a great rage, and feltinclined to give the Marquis a good thrashing or to smack his facepublicly, in the club. But he thought that would not do, it would not beat all _the thing_; he would be laughed at, and not the Marquis, and ashe felt that his anger proceeded more from wounded vanity than from abroken heart he went to bed, but could not go to sleep. 

A few days afterwards it was known in Paris that the Baron and Baronessd'Etraille had agreed to an amicable separation on account ofincompatibility of temper. Nobody suspected anything, nobody laughed, and nobody was astonished. 

The Baron, however, to avoid meeting her, traveled for a year, then hespent the summer at the seaside, and the autumn in shooting, returningto Paris for the winter. He did not meet his wife once. 

He did not even know what people said about her. At any rate, she tookcare to save appearances, and that was all he asked for. 

He got dreadfully bored, traveled again, restored his old castle ofVillebosc, which took him two years; then for over a year he receivedrelays of friends there, till at last, tired of all these commonplace, so-called pleasures, he returned to his mansion in the Rue de Lills, just six years after their separation. 

He was then forty-five, with a good crop of gray hair, rather stout, andwith that melancholy look of people who have been handsome, soughtafter, and much liked, and who are deteriorating daily. 

A month after his return to Paris he took cold on coming out of hisclub, and had a bad cough, so his medical man ordered him to Nice forthe rest of the winter. 

He started by the express on Monday evening. He was late, and got to thestation only a very short time before the departure of the train, andhad barely time to get into a carriage, with only one occupant, who wassitting in a corner so wrapped in furs and cloaks that he could not evenmake out whether it were a man or a woman, as nothing of the figurecould be seen. When he perceived that he could not find out, he put onhis traveling-cap, rolled himself up in his rugs, and stretched himselfout comfortably to sleep. 

He did not wake up till the day was breaking, and looked immediately athis fellow-traveler. He had not stirred all night, and seemed still tobe sound asleep. 

M. D'Etraille made use of the opportunity to brush his hair and hisbeard, and to try and freshen himself up a little generally, for anight's traveling changes one's looks very much when one has attained toa 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. 

When one grows older one wakes up in a very different state. Dull eyes, red, swollen cheeks, dry lips, the hair and beard all disarranged, impart an old, fatigued, wornout look to the face. 

The Baron opened his traveling dressing-case, and made himself as tidyas he could, and then he waited. 

The engine whistled and the train stopped, and his neighbor moved. Nodoubt he was awake. They started off again, and then an oblique ray ofsun shone into the carriage just on to the sleeper, who moved again, shook himself, and then calmly showed his face. 

It was a young, fair, pretty, stout woman, and the Baron looked at herin amazement. He did not know what to believe. He could really havesworn 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 muchbetter than it did him. 

She looked at him quietly, did not seem to recognize him, and thenslowly laid aside her wraps. She had that calm assurance of a woman whois sure of herself, the insolent audacity of a first awakening, knowingand feeling that she was in her full beauty and freshness. 

The Baron really lost his head. Was it his wife, or somebody else whowas as like her as any sister could be? As he had not seen her for sixyears he might be mistaken. 

She yawned, and he knew her by her gesture, and she turned and looked athim again, calmly, indifferently, as if she scarcely saw him, and thenlooked out at the country again. 

He was upset and dreadfully perplexed, and waited, looking at hersideways, steadfastly. 

Yes; it was certainly his wife. How could he possibly have doubted?There could certainly not be two noses like that, and a thousandrecollections flashed through him, slight details of her body, abeauty-spot on one of her thighs, and another opposite to it on herback. How often he had kissed them! He felt the old feeling of theintoxication of love stealing over him, and he called to mind the sweetodor 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. Hethought her riper, more developed, more of a woman, more seductive, moredesirable, adorably desirable. 

And this strange, unknown woman, whom he had accidentally met in arailway-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 hehad found her again certainly, but so changed that he scarcely knew her. It was another, and yet she at the same time. It was another who hadbeen born, and had formed and grown since he had left her. It was she, indeed; she whom he had possessed but who was now altered, with a moreassured smile and greater self-possession. There were two women in one, mingling a great past of what was new and unknown with many sweetrecollections of the past. There was something singular, disturbing, exciting about it--a kind of mystery of love in which there floated adelicious confusion. It was his wife in a new body and in new fleshwhich lips had never pressed. 

And he thought that in six years everything changes in us, only theoutline can be recognized, and sometimes even that disappears. 

The blood, the hair, the skin all change, and is reconstituted, and whenpeople have not seen each other for a long time, when they meet theyfind another totally different being, although it be the same and bearthe same name. 

And the heart also can change. Ideas may be modified and renewed, sothat in forty years of life we may, by gradual and constanttransformations, become four or five totally new and different beings. 

He dwelt on this thought till it troubled him; it had first takenpossession of him when he surprised her in the Princess's room. He wasnot the least angry; it was not the same woman that he was lookingat--that thin, excitable little doll of those days. 

What was he to do? How should he address her? and what could he say toher? Had she recognized him?

The train stopped again. He got up, bowed, and said: "Bertha, do youwant anything I could bring you?... "

She looked at him from head to foot, and answered, without showing theslightest surprise or confusion, or anger, but with the most perfectindifference:

"I do not want anything, --thank you. "

He got out and walked up and down the platform a little in order torecover 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 asif he were running away. Should he be polite or importunate? That wouldlook as if he were asking for forgiveness. Should he speak as if he wereher master? He would look like a fool, and besides, he really had noright to do so. 

He got in again and took his place. 

During his absence she had hastily arranged her dress and hair, and wasnow lying stretched out on the seat, radiant, and without showing anyemotion. 

He turned to her, and said: "My dear Bertha, since this singular chancehas brought us together after a separation of six years--a quitefriendly separation--are we to continue to look upon each other asirreconcilable enemies? We are shut up together, _tête-à-tête_, which isso much the better or so much the worse. I am not going to get intoanother carriage, so don't you think it is preferable to talk as friendstill 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 hadplenty 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 howyou have improved in the last six years. I do not know any woman whocould give me that delightful sensation which I experienced just nowwhen you emerged from your wraps. I could really have thought such achange impossible.... "

Without moving her head or looking at him, she said: "I cannot say thesame 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 youintend to offer me your love? It must, therefore, be a matter of perfectindifference to you what I think about you. But I see it is a painfulsubject, so let us talk of something else. What have you been doingsince I last saw you?"

He felt rather out of countenance, and stammered:

"I? I have traveled, shot, and grown old, as you see. And you?"

She said, quite calmly: "I have taken care of appearances, as youordered me. "

He was very near saying something brutal, but he checked himself, andkissed his wife's hand:

"And I thank you, " he said. 

She was surprised. He was indeed cool and always master of himself. 

He went on: "As you have acceded to my first request, shall we now talkwithout any bitterness?"

She made a little movement of surprise. 

"Bitterness? I don't feel any; you are a complete stranger to me; I amonly trying to keep up a difficult conversation. "

He was still looking at her, carried away in spite of her harshness, andhe felt seized with a brutal desire, 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. "

He grew rather pale. 

"I am forty-five;" and then he added: "I forgot to ask after Princess deRaynes. 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 hesaid:

"My dear Bertha, I have changed my mind. You are my wife, and I expectyou to come with me to-day. You have, I think, improved both morally andphysically, 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; buthis 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 getting to Marseilles, and the train whistled and slackenedspeed. The Baroness got up, carefully rolled up her wraps, and thenturning to her husband, she said:

"My dear Raymond, do not make a bad use of the _tête-à-tête_ which I hadcarefully prepared. I wished to take precautions, according to youradvice, so that I might have nothing to fear from you or from otherpeople, 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 inpeace. In a few moments, when we get to the station, you will see thePrincess de Raynes and Countess Hermit waiting for me with theirhusbands. I wished them to see us, and to know that we had spent thenight together in the railway-carriage. Don't be alarmed; they will tellit everywhere as a most surprising fact. 

"I told you just now that I had most carefully followed your advice andsaved appearances. Anything else does not matter, does it? Well, inorder to do so, I wished to be seen with you. You told me carefully toavoid any scandal, and I am avoiding it, for, I am afraid--I amafraid--"

She waited till the train had quite stopped, and as her friends ran upto open the carriage-door, she said:

"I am afraid that I am in the family-way. "

The Princess stretched out her arms to embrace her, and the Baronesssaid, pointing to the Baron, who was dumb with astonishment, and wastrying to get at the truth:

"You do not recognize Raymond? He has certainly changed a good deal, andhe agreed to come with me so that I might not travel alone. We takelittle trips like this, occasionally, like good friends who cannot livetogether. We are going to separate here; he has had enough of mealready. "

She put out her hand, which he took mechanically, and then she jumpedout on to the platform among her friends, who were waiting for her. 

The Baron hastily shut the carriage-door, for he was too much disturbedto 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 toldhim a lie or was speaking the truth. 

THE LITTLE CASK

Jules Chicot, the innkeeper, who lived at Épreville, pulled up histilbury in front of Mother Magloire's farmhouse. He was a tall man ofabout forty, with a red face and a round stomach, and was generally saidto be _a very knowing customer_. 

He hitched his horse up to the gatepost and went in. He owned some landadjoining that of the old woman's, which he had been coveting for a longwhile, and had tried in vain to buy a score of times, but she had alwaysobstinately 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 awoman of about seventy-two, very thin, shriveled and wrinkled, almostdried up in fact, and much bent, but as active and untiring as a girl. Chicot patted her on the back in a very friendly fashion, and then satdown 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, Mons. Chicot?"

"Oh! pretty well, thank you, except a few rheumatic pains occasionally;otherwise, I should have nothing to complain of. "

"That's all the better!"

And she said no more, while Chicot watched her going on with her work. Her crooked, knotty fingers, hard as a lobster's claws, seized thetubers, which were lying in a pail, as if they had been a pair ofpincers, and she peeled them rapidly, cutting off long strips of skinwith an old knife which she held in the other hand, throwing thepotatoes into the water as they were done. Three daring fowls jumped oneafter the other into her lap, seized a bit of peel, and then ran away asfast as their legs would carry them with it in their beak. 

Chicot seemed embarrassed, anxious, with something on the tip of histongue which he could not get out. At last he said hurriedly:

"I say, Mother Magloire--"

"Well, what is it?"

"You are quite sure that you do not want to sell your farm?"

"Certainly not; you may make up your mind to that. What I have said, Ihave said, so don't refer to it again. "

"Very well; only I fancy I have thought of an arrangement that mightsuit us both very well. "

"What is it?"

"Here you are. You shall sell it to me, and keep it all the same. Youdon't understand? Very well, so just follow me in what I am going tosay. "

The old woman left off peeling her potatoes, and looked at the innkeeperattentively from under her bushy eyebrows, and he went on:

"Let me explain myself. Every month I will give you one hundred andfifty francs. You understand me, I suppose? Every month I will come andbring you thirty crowns[13] and it will not make the slightestdifference in your life--not the very slightest. You will have your ownhome just as you have now, will not trouble yourself about me, and willowe me nothing; all you will have to do will be to take my money. Willthat arrangement suit you?"

He looked at her good-humoredly, one might almost have saidbenevolently, and the old woman returned his looks distrustfully, as ifshe suspected a trap, and said:

"It seems all right, as far as I am concerned, but it will not give youthe farm. "

"Never mind about that, " he said, "you will remain here as long as itpleases God Almighty to let you live; it will be your home. Only youwill 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 astraw. 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 asyou are concerned. "

The old woman was surprised, rather uneasy, but nevertheless, very muchtempted 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 thengive you my definite answer. "

And Chicot went off, as happy as a king who has conquered an empire. 

Mother Magloire was thoughtful, and did not sleep at all that night; infact, for four days she was in a fever of hesitation. She _smelt_, so tosay, that there was something underneath the offer which was not to heradvantage; but then the thought of thirty crowns a month, of all thosecoins chinking in her apron, falling to her, as it were, from the skies, without her doing anything for it, filled her with covetousness. 

She went to the notary, and told him about it. He advised her to acceptChicot's offer, but said she ought to ask for an annuity of fiftyinstead of thirty, as her farm was worth sixty thousand francs at thelowest calculation. 

"If you live for fifteen years longer, " he said, "even then he will onlyhave paid forty-five thousand francs for it. "

The old woman trembled with joy at this prospect of getting fifty crownsa month; but she was still suspicious, fearing some trick, and sheremained a long time with the lawyer, asking questions without beingable to make up her mind to go. At last she gave him instructions todraw up the deed, and returned home with her head in a whirl, just as ifshe had drunk four jugs of new cider. 

When Chicot came again to receive her answer she took a lot ofpersuading, and declared that she could not make up her mind to agree tohis proposal, though she was all the time on tenter-hooks lest he shouldnot 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 probableduration of her life. 

"I am certainly not likely to live for more than five or six yearslonger. I am nearly seventy-three, and far from strong, even consideringmy age. The other evening I thought I was going to die, and couldhardly 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 willlive till you are a hundred at least; you will be sure to see me putunderground first. "

The whole day was spent in discussing the money, and as the old womanwould not give way, the landlord consented to give the fifty crowns, andshe insisted upon having ten crowns over and above to strike thebargain. 

 * * * * *

Three years passed by, and the old dame did not seem to have grown a dayolder. Chicot was in despair, and it seemed to him as if he had beenpaying that annuity for fifty years, that he had been taken in, done, that he was ruined. From time to time he went to see his annuitant, justas one goes in July to see when the harvest is likely to begin. Shealways met him with a cunning look, and one would have felt inclined tothink that she was congratulating herself on the trick she had playedhim. Seeing how well and hearty she seemed, he very soon got into histilbury again, growling to himself:

"Will you never die, you old brute?"

He did not know what to do, and he felt inclined to strangle her when hesaw her. He hated her with a ferocious, cunning hatred, the hatred of apeasant who has been robbed, and began to cast about for means ofgetting rid of her. 

One day he came to see her again, rubbing his hands like he did thefirst time when he proposed the bargain, and, after having chatted for afew minutes, he said:

"Why do you never come and have a bit of dinner at my place when you arein Épreville? The people are talking about it, and saying that we arenot on friendly terms, and that pains me. You know it will cost younothing if you come, for I don't look at the price of a dinner. Comewhenever you feel inclined; I shall be very glad to see you. "

Old Mother Magloire did not need to be told twice, and the next day butone, as she was going to town in any case, it being market-day, in hergig, driven by her man, she, without any demur, put her trap up inChicot's stable, and went in search of her promised dinner. 

The publican was delighted, and treated her like a lady, giving herroast fowl, blackpudding, leg of mutton, and bacon and cabbage. But sheate next to nothing. She had always been a small eater, and hadgenerally 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 next to nothing either, and declined any coffee, sohe 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 heshouted out:

"Rosalie, bring the superfine brandy, --_the special_, --you know. "

The servant appeared, carrying a long bottle ornamented with a papervine-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 lastall the longer, and when she had finished her glass, draining the lastdrops so as to make the pleasure last all the longer, she said:

"Yes, that is first-rate!"

Almost before she had said it, Chicot had poured her out anotherglassful. She wished to refuse, but it was too late, and she drank itvery slowly, like she had done the first, and he asked her to have athird. She objected, but he persisted. 

"It is as mild as milk, you know; I can drink ten or a dozen without anyill effects; it goes down like sugar, and leaves no signs in the head, one would think that it evaporated on the tongue. It is the mostwholesome thing you can drink. "

She took it, for she really wished to have it, but she left half theglass. 

Then Chicot, in an excess of generosity, said:

"Look here, as it is so much to your taste, I will give you a small kegof it, just to show that you and I are still excellent friends. " So shetook one away with her, feeling slightly overcome by the effects of whatshe had drunk. 

The next day the innkeeper drove into her yard, and took a littleiron-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 eachof 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 bemodest, for I shall not mind. The sooner it is finished, the betterpleased I shall be. "

Four days later he came again. The old woman was outside her doorcutting up the bread for her soup. 

He went up to her, and put his face close to hers, so that he mightsmell 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 theyhad three glasses each. 

Soon, however, it began to be whispered abroad that Mother Magloire wasin the habit of getting drunk all by herself. She was picked up in herkitchen, then in her yard, then in the roads in the neighborhood, andshe was often brought home like a log. 

Chicot did not go near her any more, and, when people spoke to him abouther, he used to say, putting on a distressed look:

"It is a great pity that she should have taken to drink at her age; butwhen people get old there is no remedy. It will be the death of her inthe long run. "

And it certainly was the death of her. She died the next winter. AboutChristmas-time she fell down, unconscious, in the snow, and was founddead 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 might verywell have lived for ten years longer. "

HOW HE GOT THE LEGION OF HONOR

Some people are born with a predominant instinct, with some vocation orsome desire which has been evoked as soon as they begin to speak or tothink. 

Ever since he was a child M. Caillard had only had one idea in hishead--to be decorated. When he was still quite a small boy he used towear a zinc Cross of the Legion of Honor in his tunic, just like otherchildren wear a soldier's cap, and he took his mother's hand in thestreet with a proud look, sticking out his little chest with its redribbon and metal star so that it might show to advantage. 

His studies were not a success, and he failed in his Examination forBachelor 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, like many rich middle-class people do, mixing withtheir own particular set, without going among other people, and proud ofknowing a Deputy, who might perhaps be a Minister some day, while twoChiefs of Division were among their friends. 

But Mons. Caillard could not get rid of his one absorbing idea, and hefelt constantly unhappy because he had not the right to wear a littlebit of colored ribbon in his buttonhole. 

When he met any men who were decorated, on the boulevards, he looked atthem askance, with intense jealousy. Sometimes, when he had nothing todo in the afternoon, he would count them, and say to himself: "Just letme see how many I shall meet between the Madeleine and the Rue Druot. "

Then he would walk slowly, looking at every coat with a practiced eyefor the little bit of red ribbon, and when he had got to the end of hiswalk he always said the numbers out aloud. "Eight officers and seventeenknights. As many as that! It is stupid to sow the Cross broadcast inthat fashion. I wonder how many I shall meet going back?"

And he returned slowly, unhappy when the crowd of passers-by interferedwith his seeing them. 

He knew the places where most were to be found. They swarmed in thePalais Royal. Fewer were seen in the Avenue de l'Opera than in the Ruede la Paix, while the right side of the boulevard was more frequented bythem than the left. 

They also seemed to prefer certain cafés and theaters. Whenever he saw agroup of white-haired old gentlemen standing together in the middle ofthe pavement, interfering with the traffic, he used to say to himself:"They are officers of the Legion of Honor, " and he felt inclined to takeoff his hat to them. 

He had often remarked that the officers had a different bearing to themere knights. They carried their head differently, and one felt thatthey enjoyed a higher official consideration, and a more widely-extendedimportance. 

Sometimes again the worthy man would be seized with a furious hatred foreveryone who was decorated; he felt like a Socialist towards them. 

Then, when he got home, excited at meeting so many Crosses--just like apoor hungry wretch is on passing some dainty provision shop--he used toask in a loud voice:

"When shall we get rid of this wretched Government?" And his wife wouldbe surprised, and ask:

"What is the matter with you to-day?"

"I am indignant, " he replied, "at the injustice I see going on aroundus. Oh! the Communards were certainly right!"

After dinner he would go out again and look at the shops where all thedecorations were sold, and he examined all the emblems of various shapesand colors. He would have liked to possess them all, and to have walkedgravely at the head of a procession with his crush-hat under his arm andhis breast covered with decorations, radiant as a star, amid a buzz ofadmiring 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 toobtain the Legion of Honor unless he is some public functionary. SupposeI try to get appointed an officer of the Academy!"

But he did not know how to set about it, and spoke to his wife on thesubject, 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 howto 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, theDeputy, he might be able to advise me. You understand I cannot broachthe subject to him directly. It is rather difficult and delicate, butcoming from you it might seem quite natural. "

Mme. Caillard did what he asked her, and M. Rosselin promised to speakto the Minister about it, and then Caillard began to worry him, till theDeputy told him he must make a formal application and put forward hisclaims. 

"What were his claims?" he said. "He was not even a Bachelor of Arts. "

However, he set to work and produced a pamphlet, with the title, "ThePeople's Right to Instruction, " but he could not finish it for want ofideas. 

He sought for easier subjects, and began several in succession. Thefirst was, "The Instruction of Children by means of the Eye. " He wantedgratuitous theaters to be established in every poor quarter of Paris forlittle children. Their parents were to take them there when they werequite young, and, by means of a magic-lantern, all the notions of humanknowledge were to be imparted to them. There were to be regular courses. The sight would educate the mind, while the pictures would remainimpressed on the brain, and thus science would, so to say, be madevisible. What could be more simple than to teach universal history, natural history, geography, botany, zoology, anatomy, &c. , &c. , thus?

He had his ideas printed in tract form, and sent a copy to each Deputy, ten to each Minister, fifty to the President of the Republic, ten toeach Parisian and five to each provincial newspaper. 

Then he wrote on "Street Lending-Libraries. " His idea was to havelittle carts full of books drawn about the streets, like orange-cartsare. Every householder or lodger would have a right to ten volumes amonth by means of a halfpenny subscription. 

"The people, " M. Caillard said, "will only disturb itself for the sakeof its pleasures, and since it will not go to instruction, instructionmust come to it, " &c. , &c. 

His essays attracted no attention, but he sent in his application, andhe got the usual formal official reply. He thought himself sure ofsuccess, but nothing came of it. 

Then he made up his mind to apply personally. He begged for an interviewwith the Minister of Public Instruction, and he was received by a youngsubordinate, who already was very grave and important, and who kepttouching the knobs of electric-bells to summon ushers, and footmen, andofficials inferior to himself. He declared to M. Caillard that hismatter was going on quite favorably, and advised him to continue hisremarkable labors, and M. Caillard set at it again. 

M. Rosselin, the Deputy, seemed now to take a great interest in hissuccess, and gave him a lot of excellent, practical advice. He wasdecorated, although nobody knew exactly what he had done to deserve sucha distinction. 

He told Caillard what new studies he ought to undertake; he introducedhim to learned Societies which took up particularly obscure points ofscience, in the hope of gaining credit and honors thereby; and he eventook him under his wing at the Ministry. 

One day, when he came to lunch with his friend (for several months pasthe had constantly taken his meals there), he said to him in a whisper ashe shook hands: "I have just obtained a great favor for you. TheCommittee 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 aweek later he set out. He went from town to town, studying catalogues, rummaging in lofts full of dusty volumes, and was hated by all thelibrarians. 

One day, happening to be at Rouen, he thought he should like to go andembrace his wife, whom he had not seen for more than a week, so he tookthe 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, delightedat the idea of the surprise he was going to give her. She had lockedherself 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 bed andspeak to herself, as if she were in a dream. Then she went to herdressing-room, opened and closed the door, and went quickly up and downher room barefoot two or three times, shaking the furniture till thevases 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, like he did everything, andfrom a chair he took his overcoat, which he was in the habit of hangingup in the hall. But, suddenly, he remained motionless, struck dumb withastonishment--there was a red ribbon in the buttonhole!

"Why, " he stammered, "this--this--this--this overcoat has got therosette 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 ithas the Legion of Honor on it. "

She tried to take it from him, terrified, and hardly able to say:

"Listen ... Listen ... Give it me ... I must not tell you ... It is asecret ... Listen to me. "

But he grew angry, and turned pale:

"I want to know how this overcoat comes to be here? It does not belongto 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 anarmchair. 

"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 herhusband pale and trembling. 

"Yes, " she continued, "it is a new overcoat that I have had made foryou. But I swore that I would not tell you anything about it, as it willnot be officially announced for a month or six weeks, and you were notto have known till your return from your business journey. M. Rosselinmanaged it for you. "

"Rosselin!" he contrived to utter in his joy; "he has obtained thedecoration 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 theovercoat. Caillard picked it up; it was a visiting-card, and he readout:

"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 Honoron account of his exceptional services. 

THE ACCURSED BREAD

Daddy Taille had three daughters: Anna, the eldest, who was scarcelyever 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'sbutton-manufactory. He was a very upright man, very well thought of, abstemious; in fact a sort of model workman. He lived at Havre, in theRue d'Angoulême. 

When Anna ran away the old man flew into a fearful rage. He threatenedto kill the seducer, who was head clerk in a large draper'sestablishment in that town. Then, when he was told by various peoplethat she was keeping very steady and investing money in Governmentsecurities, that she was no gadabout, but was kept by a Mons. 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, asked some ofher old friends who had been to see her how she was getting on; and whentold that she had her own furniture, and that her mantelpiece wascovered with vases and the walls with pictures, that there were clocksand carpets everywhere, he gave a broad, contented smile. He had beenworking for thirty years to get together a wretched five or six thousandfrancs. This girl was evidently no fool. 

One fine morning the son of Touchard, the cooper, at the other end ofthe 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 agood position. He was decidedly lucky with his girls. 

The marriage was agreed upon, and it was settled that it should be agrand affair, and the wedding dinner was to be held at Sainte-Adresse, at Mother Lusa's restaurant. It would cost a lot certainly; but nevermind, it did not matter just for once in a way. 

But one morning, just as the old man was going home to breakfast withhis two daughters the door opened suddenly, and Anna appeared. She waselegantly dressed, wore rings and an expensive bonnet, and lookedundeniably pretty and nice. She threw her arms round her father's neckbefore he could say a word, then fell into her sister's arms with manytears, and then asked for a plate, so that she might share the familysoup. 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 totake place at Sainte-Adresse, --certainly not. It should take place ather house, and would cost her father nothing. She had settled everythingand arranged everything, so it was "no good to say any more aboutit, --there!"

"Very well, my dear! very well!" the old man said, "we will leave itso. " But then he felt some doubt. Would the Touchards consent? But Rose, the bride-elect, was surprised and asked, "Why should they object, Ishould like to know? Just leave that to me, I will talk to Philip aboutit. "

She mentioned it to her lover the very same day, and he declared thatit would suit him exactly. Father and Mother Touchard were naturallydelighted 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, asM. Dubois is made of money. "

They asked to be allowed to bring a friend, Mme. Florence, the cook onthe first floor, and Anna agreed to everything. 

The wedding was fixed for the last Tuesday of the month. 

II

After the civil formalities and the religious ceremony the wedding partywent to Anna's house. Among those whom the Tailles had brought was acousin of a certain age, a M. Sauvetanin, a man given to philosophicalreflections, serious, and always very self-possessed, and Mme. Lamonoois, an old aunt. 

M. Sauvetanin had been told off to give Anna his arm, as they werelooked 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 hercompanion'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 theyrolled their eyes and turned their heads in all directions to admirethis mysterious and luxurious dwelling. 

The table was laid in the drawing-room as the dining-room had beenthought too small. Extra knives, forks, and spoons had been hired froma neighboring restaurant, and decanters full of wine under the rays ofthe sun which shown 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, squinted at the lowwide bed, and made funny and suggestive signs to the men, with many awink and a nod. Daddy Taille, who thought a great deal of himself, looked with fatherly pride at his child's well-furnished rooms, and wentfrom one to the other holding his hat in his hand, making a mentalinventory of everything, and walking like a verger in a church. 

Anna went backwards and forwards, ran about giving orders and hurryingon the wedding feast. Soon she appeared at the door of the dining-room, and cried: "Come here, all of you, for a moment, " and when the twelveguests did as they were asked they saw twelve glasses of Madeira on asmall table. 

Rose and her husband had their arms round each other's waists, and werekissing each other in every corner. Mons. Sauvetanin never took his eyesoff Anna; he no doubt felt that ardor, that sort of expectation whichall men, even if they are old and ugly, feel for women of a certainstamp, as if they owed a little of themselves, professionally, to allmales. 

They sat down, and the wedding-breakfast began; the relations sitting atone end of the table and the young people at the other. Mme. Touchard, the mother, presided on the right and the bride on the left. Anna lookedafter everybody, saw that the glasses were kept filled and the plateswell supplied. The guests evidently felt a certain respectfulembarrassment at the sight of all the sumptuousness of the rooms and atthe lavish manner in which they were treated. They all ate heartily ofthe good things provided, but there were no jokes such as are prevalentat weddings of that sort; it was all too grand, and it made them feeluncomfortable. Old Madame Touchard, who was fond of a bit of fun, triedto enliven matters a little, and at the beginning of the dessert sheexclaimed: "I say, Philip, do sing us something. " The neighbors in theirstreet considered that he had the finest voice in all Havre. 

The bridegroom got up, smiled, and turning to his sister-in-law, frompoliteness and gallantry, tried to think of something suitable for theoccasion, something serious and correct, to harmonize with theseriousness of the repast. 

Anna had a satisfied look on her face, and leaned back in her chair tolisten, and all assumed looks of attention, though prepared to smileshould smiles be 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 lastline and the last line but one repeated twice. 

All went well for the first two verses; they were the usual commonplacesabout bread gained by honest labor and by dishonesty. The aunt and thebride wept outright. The cook, who was present, at the end of the firstverse looked at a roll which she held in her hand with running eyes, asif they applied to her, while all applauded vigorously. At the end ofthe second verse the two servants, who were standing with their backsto the wall, joined loudly in the chorus, and the aunt and the bridewept outright. Daddy Taille blew his nose with the noise of a trombone, and old Touchard brandished a whole loaf half over the table, and thecook shed silent tears on the crust which she was still holding. 

Amidst the general emotion M. Sauvetanin said:

"That is the right sort of song; very different to the nasty, riskythings one generally hears at weddings. "

Anna, who was visibly affected, kissed her hand to her sister, andpointed to her husband with an affectionate nod, as if to congratulateher. 

Intoxicated by his success, the young man continued, and unfortunatelythe last verse contained the words about the bread of dishonor gained byyoung girls who had been led astray from the paths of virtue. No onetook 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 theother without understanding the reason for this sudden coldness, and thecook hastily dropped the crust as if it were poisoned. 

Mons. Sauvetanin said solemnly, in order to save the situation: "Thatlast couplet is not at all necessary;" and Daddy Taille, who had got redup to the ears, looked round the table fiercely. 

Then Anna, with her eyes swimming in tears, told the servants, in thefaltering voice of a woman trying to stifle her sobs, to bring thechampagne. 

All the guests were suddenly seized with exuberant joy, and all theirfaces became radiant again. And when old Touchard, who had seen, felt, and understood nothing of what was going on, and, pointing to the guestsso 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 goldfoil appear, burst out singing, as if electrified by the sight:

"Children, I warn you all to eat not of that bread. "

WHAT WAS REALLY THE MATTER WITH ANDREW

The lawyer's house looked on to the Square. Behind it, there was a nice, well-kept garden, with a back entrance into a narrow street which wasalmost always deserted, and from which it was separated by a wall. 

At the bottom of that garden Maitre[14] Moreau's wife had promised, forthe first time, to meet Captain Sommerive, who had been making love toher for a long time. 

Her husband had gone to Paris for a week, so she was quite free for thetime being. The Captain had begged so hard, and had used such lovingwords, she was certain that he loved her so ardently, and she felt soisolated, so misunderstood, so neglected amidst all the law businesswhich seemed to be her husband's sole pleasure, that she had given awayher heart without even asking herself whether it would give her anythingelse at some future time. 

Then, after some months of platonic love, of pressing of hands, ofkisses rapidly stolen behind a door, the Captain had declared that hewould ask permission to exchange, and leave the town immediately, if shewould not grant him a meeting, a real meeting, during her husband'sabsence; and so at length she yielded to his importunity. 

Just then she was waiting, close against the wall, with a beating heart, trembling at the slightest sound, and when at length she heard somebodyclimbing up the wall, she very nearly ran away. 

Suppose it were not he, but a thief? But no; someone called out softly, "_Matilda_!" and when she replied, "_Etienne_!" a man jumped on to thepath with a crash. 

It was he, --and what a kiss!

For a long time they remained in each other's arms, with united lips. But suddenly a fine rain began to fall, and the drops from the leavesfell on to her neck and made her start. Whereupon he said:

"Matilda, my adored one, my darling, my angel, let us go indoors. It istwelve o'clock, we can have nothing to fear; please let us go to yourroom. "

"No, dearest; I am too frightened. "

But he held her in his arms, and whispered in her ear:

"Your servants sleep on the third floor, looking on to the Square, andyour room, on the first, looks on to the garden, so nobody can hear us. I love you so that I wish to love you entirely, from head to foot. " Andhe embraced her vehemently. 

She resisted still, frightened and even ashamed. But he put his armsround her, lifted her up, and carried her off under the rain, which wasby this time descending in torrents. 

The door was open; they groped their way upstairs; and when they were inthe room he bolted the door while she lit a match. 

Then she fell, half fainting, into a chair, while he knelt down besideher. 

At last, she said, panting:

"No! no! Etienne, please let me remain a virtuous woman; I should betoo angry with you afterwards; and after all, it is so horrid, socommon. Cannot we love each other with a spiritual love only?... Oh!Etienne!"

But he was inexorable, and then she tried to get up and escape from hisattacks. 

In her fright she ran to the bed in order to hide herself behind thecurtains; but it was a dangerous place of refuge, and he followed her. But in haste he took off his sword too quickly, and it fell on the floorwith a crash. 

And then--a prolonged, shrill child's cry came from the next room, thedoor of which had remained open. 

"You have awakened the child, " she whispered, "and perhaps he will notgo to sleep again. "

He was only fifteen months old, and slept in a room opening out of hers, so that she might be able to hear him. 

The Captain exclaimed, ardently:

"What does it matter, Matilda? How I love you; you must come to me, Matilda. "

But she struggled, and resisted in her fright. 

"No! no! Just listen how he is crying; he will wake up the nurse, andwhat should we do if she were to come? We should be lost. Just listen tome, Etienne. When he screams at night his father always takes him intoour bed, and he is quiet immediately; it is the only means of keepinghim still. Do let me take him.... "

The child roared, uttered shrill screams, which pierced the thickestwalls, so as to be heard by passers-by in the streets. 

In his consternation, the Captain got up, and Matilda jumped out andtook the child into her bed, when he was quiet at once. 

Etienne sat astride on a chair, and made a cigarette, and in about fiveminutes Andrew went to sleep again. 

"I will take him back, " his mother said; and she took him back verycarefully to his bed. 

When she returned, the Captain was waiting for her with open arms, andput his arms round her in a transport of love, while she, embracing himmore closely, said, stammering:

"Oh! Etienne, my darling, if you only knew how I love you; how.... "

Andrew began to cry again, and he, in a rage, exclaimed:

"Confound it all, won't the little brute be quiet?"

No, the little brute would not be quiet, but howled all the louder, onthe contrary. 

She thought she heard a noise downstairs; no doubt the nurse was coming, so she jumped up, and took the child into bed, and he grew quietdirectly. 

Three times she put him back, and three times she had to fetch himagain, and an hour before daybreak the Captain had to go, swearing likethe proverbial trooper; and, to calm his impatience, Matilda promised toreceive him again the next night. 

Of course he came, more impatient and ardent than ever, excited by thedelay. 

He took care to put his sword carefully into a corner; he took off hisboots like a thief, and spoke so low that Matilda could hardly hear him. At last, he was just going to be really happy when the floor, or somepiece of furniture, or perhaps the bed itself, creaked; it sounded asif something had broken; and in a moment a cry, feeble at first, butwhich grew louder every moment, made itself heard. Andrew was awakeagain. 

He _yapped_ like a fox, and there was not the slightest doubt that if hewent on like that the whole house would awake; so his mother, notknowing what to do, got up and brought him. The Captain was more furiousthan ever, but did not move, and very carefully he put out his hand, took a small piece of the child's skin between his two fingers, nomatter where it was, the thighs or elsewhere, and pinched it. The littleone struggled and screamed in a deafening manner, but his tormentorpinched everywhere furiously and more vigorously. He took a morsel offlesh and twisted and turned it, and then let go in order to take holdof another piece, and then another and another. 

The child screamed like a chicken that is having its throat cut, or adog that is being mercilessly beaten. His mother caressed him, kissedhim, and tried to stifle his cries by her tenderness; but Andrew grewpurple, as if he were going into convulsions, and kicked and struggledwith his little arms and legs in an alarming manner. 

The Captain said, softly:

"Try and take him back to his cradle; perhaps he will be quiet. "

And Matilda went into the other room with the child in her arms. 

As soon as he was out of his mother's bed he cried less loudly, and whenhe was in his own he was quiet, with exception of a few broken sobs. 

The rest of the night was tranquil. 

The next night he came again. As he happened to speak rather loudly, Andrew awoke again and began to scream. His mother went and fetched himimmediately, but the Captain pinched so hard and long that the child wasnearly suffocated by its cries, and its eyes turned in its head and itfoamed at the mouth; as soon as it was back in its cradle it was quiet, and in four days Andrew did not cry any more to come into his mother'sbed. 

On Saturday evening the lawyer returned, and took his place again at thedomestic hearth and in the conjugal chamber. 

As he was tired with his journey he went to bed early; but he had notlong lain down when he said to his wife:

"Why, how is it that Andrew is not crying? Just go and fetch him, Matilda; I like to feel that he is between us. "

She got up and brought the child, but as soon as he saw that he was inthat bed, in which he had been so fond of sleeping a few dayspreviously, he wriggled and screamed so violently in his fright that shehad to take him back to his cradle. 

M. Moreau could not get over his surprise. "What a very funny thing!What is the matter with him this evening? I suppose he is sleepy?"

"He has been like that all the time that you were away; I have neverbeen able to have him in bed with me once. "

In the morning the child woke up and began to laugh and play with histoys. 

The lawyer, who was an affectionate man, got up, kissed his offspring, and took him into his arms to carry him to their bed. Andrew laughed, with that vacant laugh of little creatures whose ideas are still vague. He suddenly saw the bed and his mother in it, and his happy little facepuckered up, till suddenly he began to scream furiously, and struggledas if he were going to be put to the torture. 

In his astonishment his father said:

"There must be something the matter with the child, " and mechanically helifted up his little nightshirt. 

He uttered a prolonged "O--o--h!" of astonishment. The child's calves, thighs, and buttocks were covered with blue spots as big as halfpennies. 

"Just look, Matilda!" the father exclaimed; "this is horrible!" And themother rushed forward in a fright. It was horrible; no doubt thebeginning of some sort of leprosy, of one of those strange affections ofthe skin which doctors are often at a loss to account for. 

The parents looked at one another in consternation. 

"We must send for the doctor, " the father said. 

But Matilda, pale as death, was looking at her child, who was spottedlike a leopard. Then suddenly uttering a violent cry, as if she had seensomething that filled her with horror, she exclaimed:

"Oh! the wretch!"

In his astonishment M. Moreau asked: "What are you talking about? Whatwretch?"

She got red up to the roots of her hair, and stammered:

"Oh, nothing! but I think I can guess--it must be--we ought to send forthe doctor ... It must be that wretch of a nurse who has been pinchingthe poor child to make him keep quiet when he cries. "

In his rage the lawyer sent for the nurse, and very nearly beat her. She denied it most impudently, but was instantly dismissed, and theMunicipality having been informed of her conduct, she will find it ahard matter to get another situation. 

MY LANDLADY

At that time (George Kervelen said) I was living in furnished lodgingsin the Rue des Saints-Pères. 

When my father had made up his mind that I should go to Paris tocontinue my law studies, there had been a long discussion about settlingeverything. My allowance had been fixed at first at two thousand fivehundred francs, but my poor mother was so anxious, that she said to myfather that if I spent my money badly I might not take enough to eat, and then my health would suffer, and so it was settled that acomfortable boarding-house should be found for me, and that the amountshould be paid to the proprietor himself, or herself, every month. 

Some of our neighbors told us of a certain Mme. Kergaran, a native ofBrittany, who took in boarders, and so my father arranged matters byletter with this respectable person, at whose house I and my luggagearrived one evening. 

Mme. Kergaran was a woman of about forty. She was very stout, had avoice like a drill-sergeant, and decided everything in a very abruptmanner. Her house was narrow, with only one window opening on to thestreet on each story, which rather gave it the appearance of a ladder ofwindows, or better, perhaps, of a slice of a house sandwiched in betweentwo others. 

The landlady lived on the first floor with her servant, the kitchen anddining-room were on the second, and four boarders from Brittany livedon the third and fourth, and I had two rooms on the fifth. 

A little dark corkscrew staircase led up to these attics. All day longMme. Kergaran was up and down these stairs like a captain on board ship. Ten times a day she would go into each room, noisily superintendingeverything, seeing that the beds were properly made, the clothes wellbrushed, if the attendance were all that it should be; in a word, shelooked after her boarders like a mother, and better than a mother. 

I soon made the acquaintance of my four fellow-countrymen. Two weremedical and two were law students, but all impartially endured thelandlady's despotic yoke. They were as frightened of her as a boyrobbing an orchard would be of a rural policeman. 

I, however, immediately felt that I wished to be independent; it is mynature to rebel. I declared at once that I meant to come in at whatevertime I liked, for Mme. Kergaran had fixed twelve o'clock at night as thelimit. On hearing this she looked at me for a few moments, and thensaid:

"It is quite impossible; I cannot have Annette awakened at any hour ofthe night. You can have nothing to do out-of-doors at such a time. "

I replied firmly that, according to the law, she was obliged to open thedoor for me at any time. 

"If you refuse, " I said, "I shall get a policeman to witness the fact, and go and get a bed at some hotel, at your expense, in which I shall befully justified. You will, therefore, be obliged either to open the doorfor me or to get rid of me. Do which you please. "

I laughed in her face as I told her my conditions. She could not speakfor a moment for surprise, then she tried to negotiate, but I was firm, and she was obliged to yield; and so it was agreed that I should have alatchkey, on my solemn undertaking that no one else should know it. 

My energy made such a wholesome impression on her that from that timeshe treated me with marked favor; she was most attentive, and evenshowed me a sort of rough tenderness which was not at all unpleasing. Sometimes when I was in a jovial mood I would kiss her by surprise, ifonly for the sake of getting the box on the ears which she gave meimmediately afterwards. When I managed to duck my head quickly enough, her hand would pass over me as swiftly as a ball, and I would run awaylaughing, while she would call after me:

"Oh! you wretch, I will pay you out for that. "

However, we soon became real friends. 

It was not long before I made the acquaintance of a girl who wasemployed in a shop, and whom I constantly met. You know what such sortof love affairs are in Paris. One fine day, going to a lecture, you meeta work-girl going to work arm-in-arm with a friend. You look at her andfeel that pleasant little shock which the eye of some women gives you. The next day at the same time, going through the same street, you meether again, and the next, and the succeeding days. At last you speak, andthe love affair follows its course just like an illness. 

Well, by the end of three weeks I was on that footing with Emma whichprecedes a fall. The fall would indeed have taken place much sooner hadI known where to bring it about. The girl lived at home, and utterlyrefused to go to an hotel. I did not know how to manage, but at last Itook the desperate resolve to take her to my room some night at abouteleven o'clock, under the pretense of giving her a cup of tea. Mme. Kergaran always went to bed at ten, so that we could get in by means ofmy latchkey without exciting any attention, and go down again in an houror two in the same way. 

After a good deal of entreaty on my part, Emma accepted my invitation. 

I did not spend a very pleasant day, for I was by no means easy in mymind. I was afraid of complications, of a catastrophe, of some scandal. At night I went into a café, and drank two cups of coffee, and three orfour glasses of cognac, to give me courage, and when I heard the clockstrike half-past ten, I went slowly to the place of meeting, where shewas already waiting for me. She took my arm in a coaxing manner, and weset off slowly towards my lodgings. The nearer we got to the door themore nervous I got, and I thought to myself--"If only Mme. Kergaran isin bed already. "

I said to Emma two or three times:

"Above all things, don't make any noise on the stairs, " to which shereplied, laughing:

"Are you afraid of being heard?"

"No, " I said, "but I am afraid of waking the man who sleeps in the roomnext to me, who is not at all well. "

When I got near the house I felt as frightened as a man does who isgoing to the dentist's. All the windows were dark, so no doubt everybodywas asleep, and I breathed again. I opened the door as carefully as athief, let my fair companion in, shut it behind me, and went upstairs ontiptoe, holding my breath, and striking wax-matches lest the girlshould make a false step. 

As we passed the landlady's door I felt my heart beating very quickly, but we reached the second floor, then the third, and at last the fifth, and got into my room. Victory!

However, I only dared to speak in a whisper, and took off my boots so asnot to make any noise. The tea, which I made over a spirit-lamp, wassoon drunk, and then I became pressing, till little by little, as if inplay, I, one by one, took off my companion's clothes, who yielded whileresisting, blushing, confused. 

She had absolutely nothing more on except a short white petticoat whenmy door suddenly opened, and Mme. Kergaran appeared with a candle in herhand, in exactly the same costume as Emma. 

I jumped away from her and remained standing up, looking at the twowomen, who were looking at each other. What was going to happen?

My landlady said, in a lofty tone of voice which I had never heard fromher before:

"Monsieur Kervelen, I will not have prostitutes in my house. "

"But, Madame Kergaran, " I stammered, "the young lady is a friend ofmine. She just came in to have a cup of tea. "

"People don't take tea in their chemise. You will please make thisperson go directly. "

Emma, in a natural state of consternation, began to cry, and hid herface in her petticoat, and I lost my head, not knowing what to do orsay. My landlady added, with irresistible authority:

"Help her to dress, and take her out at once. "

It was certainly the only thing I could do, so I picked up her dressfrom the floor, put it over her head, and began to fasten it as best Icould. She helped me, crying all the time, hurrying and making all sortsof mistakes and unable to find either buttonholes or laces, while Mme. Kergaran stood by motionless, with the candle in her hand, looking at uswith the severity of a judge. 

As soon as Emma was dressed, without even stopping to button her boots, she rushed past the landlady and ran down stairs. I followed her in myslippers and half undressed, and kept repeating: "Mademoiselle!Mademoiselle!"

I felt that I ought to say something to her, but I could not findanything. I overtook her just by the street-door, and tried to take herinto my arms, but she pushed me violently away, saying in a low, nervousvoice:

"Leave me alone, leave me alone!" and so ran out into the street, closing the door behind her. 

When I went upstairs again I found that Mme. Kergaran was waiting on thefirst landing, and I went up slowly, expecting, and ready for, anything. 

Her door was open, and she called me in, saying in a severe voice:

"I want to speak to you, M. Kervelen. "

I went in, with my head bent. She put her candle on the mantelpiece, andthen, folding her arms over her expansive bosom, which a fine whitedressing-jacket hardly covered, she said:

"So, Monsieur Kervelen, you think my house is a house of ill-fame?"

I was not at all proud. I murmured:

"Oh, dear, no! But, Mme. Kergaran, you must not be angry; you know whatyoung men are. "

"I know, " was her answer, "that I will not have such creatures here, soyou will understand that. I expect to have my house respected, and Iwill not have it lose its reputation, you understand me? I know.... "

She went on thus for at least twenty minutes, overwhelming me with thegood name of her house, with reasons for her indignation, and loading mewith severe reproofs. I went to bed crestfallen, and resolved neveragain to try such an experiment, so long, at least, as I continued to bea lodger of Mme. Kergaran. 

THE HORLA, OR MODERN GHOSTS

_May 8. _ What a beautiful day! I have spent all the morning lying in thegrass in front of my house, under the enormous plantain tree whichcovers it, and shades and shelters the whole of it. I like this part ofthe country and I am fond of living here because I am attached to it bydeep roots, profound and delicate roots which attach a man to the soilon which his ancestors were born and died, which attach him to whatpeople think and what they eat, to the usages as well as to the food, local expressions, the peculiar language of the peasants, to the smellof the soil, of the villages and of the atmosphere itself. 

I love my house in which I grew up. From my windows I can see the Seinewhich flows by the side of my garden, on the other side of the road, almost through my grounds, the great wide Seine, which goes to Rouen andHavre, and which is covered with boats passing to and fro. 

On the left, down yonder, lies Rouen, that large town with its blueroofs, under its pointed, Gothic towers. They are innumerable, delicateor broad, dominated by the spire of the cathedral, and full of bellswhich sound through the blue air on fine mornings, sending their sweetand distant iron clang, to me; their metallic sound which the breezewafts in my direction, now stronger and now weaker, according as thewind is stronger or lighter. 

What a delicious morning it was!

About eleven o'clock, a long line of boats drawn by a steam-tug, as bigas a fly, and which scarcely puffed while emitting its thick smoke, passed my gate. 

After two English schooners, whose red flag fluttered towards the sky, there came a magnificent Brazilian three-master; it was perfectly whiteand wonderfully clean and shining. I saluted it, I hardly know why, except that the sight of the vessel gave me great pleasure. 

_May 12. _ I have had a slight feverish attack for the last few days, andI feel ill, or rather I feel low-spirited. 

Whence do these mysterious influences come, which change our happinessinto discouragement, and our self-confidence into diffidence? One mightalmost say that the air, the invisible air, is full of unknowableForces, whose mysterious presence we have to endure. I wake up in thebest spirits, with an inclination to sing in my throat. Why? I go downby the side of the water, and suddenly, after walking a short distance, I return home wretched, as if some misfortune were awaiting me there. Why? Is it a cold shiver which, passing over my skin, has upset mynerves and given me low spirits? Is it the form of the clouds, or thecolor of the sky, or the color of the surrounding objects which is sochangeable, which have troubled my thoughts as they passed before myeyes? Who can tell? Everything that surrounds us, everything that we seewithout looking at it, everything that we touch without knowing it, everything that we handle without feeling it, all that we meet withoutclearly distinguishing it, has a rapid, surprising and inexplicableeffect upon us and upon our organs, and through them on our ideas and onour heart itself. 

How profound that mystery of the Invisible is! We cannot fathom it withour miserable senses, with our eyes which are unable to perceive what iseither too small or too great, too near to, or too far from us; neitherthe inhabitants of a star nor of a drop of water ... With our ears thatdeceive us, for they transmit to us the vibrations of the air insonorous notes. They are fairies who work the miracle of changing thatmovement into noise, and by that metamorphosis give birth to music, which makes the mute agitation of nature musical ... With our sense ofsmell which is smaller than that of a dog ... With our sense of tastewhich can scarcely distinguish the age of a wine!

Oh! If we only had other organs which would work other miracles in ourfavor, what a number of fresh things we might discover around us!

_May 16. _ I am ill, decidedly! I was so well last month! I am feverish, horribly feverish, or rather I am in a state of feverish enervation, which makes my mind suffer as much as my body. I have without ceasingthat horrible sensation of some danger threatening me, that apprehensionof some coming misfortune or of approaching death, that presentimentwhich is, no doubt, an attack of some illness which is still unknown, which germinates in the flesh and in the blood. 

_May 18. _ I have just come from consulting my medical man, for I couldno longer get any sleep. He found that my pulse was high, my eyesdilated, my nerves highly strung, but no alarming symptoms. I must havea course of shower baths and of bromide of potassium. 

_May 25. _ No change! My state is really very peculiar. As the eveningcomes on, an incomprehensible feeling of disquietude seizes me, just asif night concealed some terrible menace towards me. I dine quickly, andthen try to read, but I do not understand the words, and can scarcelydistinguish the letters. Then I walk up and down my drawing-room, oppressed by a feeling of confused and irresistible fear, the fear ofsleep and fear of my bed. 

About ten o'clock I go up to my room. As soon as I have got in I doublelock, and bolt it: I am frightened ... Of what? Up till the present timeI have been frightened of nothing ... I open my cupboards, and lookunder my bed; I listen ... I listen ... To what? How strange it is thata simple feeling of discomfort, impeded or heightened circulation, perhaps the irritation of a nervous thread, a slight congestion, a smalldisturbance in the imperfect and delicate functions of our livingmachinery, can turn the most light-hearted of men into a melancholy one, and make a coward of the bravest? Then, I go to bed, and I wait forsleep as a man might wait for the executioner. I wait for its comingwith dread, and my heart beats and my legs tremble, while my whole bodyshivers beneath the warmth of the bedclothes, until the moment when Isuddenly fall asleep, as one would throw oneself into a pool of stagnantwater in order to drown oneself. I do not feel as I used to do formerly, this perfidious sleep which is close to me and watching me, which isgoing to seize me by the head, to close my eyes and annihilate me, coming over me. 

I sleep--a long time--two or three hours perhaps--then a dream--no--anightmare lays hold on me. I feel that I am in bed and asleep ... I feelit and I know it ... And I feel also that somebody is coming close tome, is looking at me, touching me, is getting on to my bed, is kneelingon my chest, is taking my neck between his hands and squeezing it ... Squeezing it with all his might in order to strangle me. 

I struggle, bound by that terrible powerlessness which paralyzes us inour dreams; I try to cry out--but I cannot; I want to move--I cannot; Itry, with the most violent efforts and out of breath, to turn over andthrow off this being which is crushing and suffocating me--I cannot!

And then suddenly, I wake up, shaken and bathed in perspiration; I lighta candle and find that I am alone, and after that crisis, which occursevery night, I at length fall asleep and slumber tranquilly tillmorning. 

_June 2. _ My state has grown worse. What is the matter with me? Thebromide does me no good, and the shower baths have no effect whatever. Sometimes, in order to tire myself out, though I am fatigued enoughalready, I go for a walk in the forest of Roumare. I used to think atfirst that the fresh light and soft air, impregnated with the odor ofherbs and leaves, would instill new blood into my veins and impart freshenergy to my heart. I turned into a broad ride in the wood, and then Iturned towards La Bouille, through a narrow path, between two rows ofexceedingly tall trees, which placed a thick, green, almost black roofbetween the sky and me. 

A sudden shiver ran through me, not a cold shiver, but a shiver ofagony, and so I hastened my steps, uneasy at being alone in the wood, frightened stupidly and without reason, at the profound solitude. Suddenly it seemed to me as if I were being followed, that somebody waswalking at my heels, close, quite close to me, near enough to touch me. 

I turned round suddenly, but I was alone. I saw nothing behind me exceptthe straight, broad ride, empty and bordered by high trees, horriblyempty; on the other side it also extended until it was lost in thedistance, and looked just the same, terrible. 

I closed my eyes. Why? And then I began to turn round on one heel veryquickly, just like a top. I nearly fell down, and opened my eyes; thetrees were dancing round me and the earth heaved; I was obliged to sitdown. Then, ah! I no longer remembered how I had come! What a strangeidea! What a strange, strange idea! I did not the least know. I startedoff to the right, and got back into the avenue which had led me into themiddle of the forest. 

_June 3. _ I have had a terrible night. I shall go away for a few weeks, for no doubt a journey will set me up again. 

_July 2. _ I have come back, quite cured, and have had a most delightfultrip into the bargain. I have been to Mount Saint-Michel, which I hadnot seen before. 

What a sight, when one arrives as I did, at Avranches towards the end ofthe day! The town stands on a hill, and I was taken into the publicgarden at the extremity of the town. I uttered a cry of astonishment. Anextraordinarily large bay lay extended before me, as far as my eyescould reach, between two hills which were lost to sight in the mist; andin the middle of this immense yellow bay, under a clear, golden sky, apeculiar hill rose up, somber and pointed in the midst of the sand. Thesun had just disappeared, and under the still flaming sky the outlineof that fantastic rock stood out, which bears on its summit a fantasticmonument. 

At daybreak I went to it. The tide was low as it had been the nightbefore, and I saw that wonderful abbey rise up before me as I approachedit. After several hours walking, I reached the enormous mass of rockswhich supports the little town, dominated by the great church. Havingclimbed the steep and narrow street, I entered the most wonderful Gothicbuilding that has ever been built to God on earth, as large as a town, full of low rooms which seem buried beneath vaulted roofs, and loftygalleries supported by delicate columns. 

I entered this gigantic granite jewel which is as light as a bit oflace, covered with towers, with slender belfries to which spiralstaircases ascend, and which raise their strange heads that bristle withchimeras, with devils, with fantastic animals, with monstrous flowers, and which are joined together by finely carved arches, to the blue skyby day, and to the black sky by night. 

When I had reached the summit, I said to the monk who accompanied me:"Father, how happy you must be here!" And he replied: "It is very windy, Monsieur;" and so we began to talk while watching the rising tide, whichran over the sand and covered it with a steel cuirass. 

And then the monk told me stories, all the old stories belonging to theplace, legends, nothing but legends. 

One of them struck me forcibly. The country people, those belonging tothe Mornet, declare that at night one can hear talking going on in thesand, and then that one hears two goats bleat, one with a strong, theother with a weak voice. Incredulous people declare that it is nothingbut the cry of the sea birds, which occasionally resembles bleatings, and occasionally human lamentations; but belated fishermen swear thatthey have met an old shepherd, whose head, which is covered by hiscloak, they can never see, wandering on the downs, between two tides, round the little town placed so far out of the world, and who is guidingand walking before them, a he-goat with a man's face, and a she-goatwith a woman's face, and both of them with white hair; and talkingincessantly, quarreling in a strange language, and then suddenly ceasingto talk in order to bleat with all their might. 

"Do you believe it?" I asked the monk. "I scarcely know, " he replied, and I continued: "If there are other beings besides ourselves on thisearth, how comes it that we have not known it for so long a time, or whyhave you not seen them? How is it that I have not seen them?" Hereplied: "Do we see the hundred thousandth part of what exists? Lookhere; there is the wind, which is the strongest force in nature, whichknocks down men, and blows down buildings, uproots trees, raises the seainto mountains of water, destroys cliffs and casts great ships onto thebreakers; the wind which kills, which whistles, which sighs, whichroars, --have you ever seen it, and can you see it? It exists for allthat, however. "

I was silent before this simple reasoning. That man was a philosopher, or perhaps a fool; I could not say which exactly, so I held my tongue. What he had said, had often been in my own thoughts. 

_July 3. _ I have slept badly; certainly there is some feverish influencehere, for my coachman is suffering in the same way as I am. When I wentback home yesterday, I noticed his singular paleness, and I asked him:"What is the matter with you, Jean?" "The matter is that I never get anyrest, and my nights devour my days. Since your departure, Monsieur, there has been a spell over me. "

However, the other servants are all well, but I am very frightened ofhaving another attack, myself. 

_July 4. _ I am decidedly taken again; for my old nightmares havereturned. Last night I felt somebody leaning on me who was sucking mylife from between my lips with his mouth. Yes, he was sucking it out ofmy neck, like a leech would have done. Then he got up, satiated, and Iwoke up, so beaten, crushed and annihilated that I could not move. Ifthis continues for a few days, I shall certainly go away again. 

_July 5. _ Have I lost my reason? What has happened, what I saw lastnight is so strange, that my head wanders when I think of it!

As I do now every evening, I had locked my door, and then, beingthirsty, I drank half a glass of water, and I accidentally noticed thatthe water-bottle was full up to the cut-glass stopper. 

Then I went to bed and fell into one of my terrible sleeps, from which Iwas aroused in about two hours by a still more terrible shock. 

Picture to yourself a sleeping man who is being murdered and who wakesup with a knife in his chest, and who is rattling in his throat, coveredwith blood, and who can no longer breathe and is going to die and doesnot understand anything at all about it--there it is. 

Having recovered my senses, I was thirsty again, so I lit a candle andwent to the table on which my water-bottle was. I lifted it up andtilted it over my glass, but nothing came out. It was empty! It wascompletely empty! At first I could not understand it at all, and thensuddenly I was seized by such a terrible feeling that I had to sit down, or rather I fell into a chair! Then I sprang up with a bound to lookabout me, and then I sat down again, overcome by astonishment and fear, in front of the transparent crystal bottle! I looked at it with fixedeyes, trying to conjecture, and my hands trembled! Somebody had drunkthe water, but who? I? I without any doubt. It could surely only be I?In that case I was a somnambulist. I lived, without knowing it, thatdouble mysterious life which makes us doubt whether there are not twobeings in us, or whether a strange, unknowable and invisible being doesnot at such moments, when our soul is in a state of torpor, animate ourcaptive body which obeys this other being, as it does us ourselves, andmore than it does ourselves. 

Oh! Who will understand my horrible agony? Who will understand theemotion of a man who is sound in mind, wide awake, full of sound sense, and who looks in horror at the remains of a little water that hasdisappeared while he was asleep, through the glass of a water-bottle!And I remained there until it was daylight, without venturing to go tobed again. 

_July 6. _ I am going mad. Again all the contents of my water-bottle havebeen drunk during the night;--or rather, I have drunk it!

But is it I? Is it I? Who could it be? Who? Oh! God! Am I going mad? Whowill save me?

_July 10. _ I have just been through some surprising ordeals. Decidedly Iam mad! And yet!... 

On July 6, before going to bed, I put some wine, milk, water, bread andstrawberries on my table. Somebody drank--I drank--all the water and alittle of the milk, but neither the wine, bread nor the strawberrieswere touched. 

On the seventh of July I renewed the same experiment, with the sameresults, and on July 8, I left out the water and the milk and nothingwas touched. 

Lastly, on July 9 I put only water and milk on my table, taking care towrap up the bottles in white muslin and to tie down the stoppers. Then Irubbed my lips, my beard and my hands with pencil lead, and went to bed. 

Irresistible sleep seized me, which was soon followed by a terribleawakening. I had not moved, and my sheets were not marked. I rushed tothe table. The muslin round the bottles remained intact; I undid thestring, trembling with fear. All the water had been drunk, and so hadthe milk! Ah! Great God!... 

I must start for Paris immediately. 

_July 12. _ Paris. I must have lost my head during the last few days! Imust be the plaything of my enervated imagination, unless I am really asomnambulist, or that I have been brought under the power of one ofthose influences which have been proved to exist, but which havehitherto been inexplicable, which are called suggestions. In any case, my mental state bordered on madness, and twenty-four hours of Parissufficed to restore me to my equilibrium. 

Yesterday after doing some business and paying some visits whichinstilled fresh and invigorating mental air into me, I wound up myevening at the _Théâtre-Français_. A play by Alexandre Dumas theYounger was being acted, and his active and powerful mind completed mycure. Certainly solitude is dangerous for active minds. We require menwho can think and can talk, around us. When we are alone for a longtime, we people space with phantoms. 

I returned along the boulevards to my hotel in excellent spirits. Amidthe jostling of the crowd I thought, not without irony, of my terrorsand surmises of the previous week, because I believed, yes, I believed, that an invisible being lived beneath my roof. How weak our head is, andhow quickly it is terrified and goes astray, as soon as we are struck bya small, incomprehensible fact. 

Instead of concluding with these simple words: "I do not understandbecause the cause escapes me, " we immediately imagine terrible mysteriesand supernatural powers. 

_July 14. _ _Fête_ of the Republic. I walked through the streets, and thecrackers and flags amused me like a child. Still it is very foolish tobe merry on a fixed date, by a Government decree. The populace, animbecile flock of sheep, now steadily patient, and now in ferociousrevolt. Say to it: "Amuse yourself, " and it amuses itself. Say to it:"Go and fight with your neighbor, " and it goes and fights. Say to it:"Vote for the Emperor, " and it votes for the Emperor, and then say toit: "Vote for the Republic, " and it votes for the Republic. 

Those who direct it are also stupid; but instead of obeying men, theyobey principles, which can only be stupid, sterile and false, for thevery reason that they are principles, that is to say, ideas which areconsidered as certain and unchangeable, in this world where one iscertain of nothing, since light is an illusion and noise is an illusion. 

_July 16. _ I saw some things yesterday that troubled me very much. 

I was dining with my cousin Madame Sablé, whose husband is colonel ofthe 76th Chasseurs at Limoges. There were two young women there, one ofwhom had married a medical man, Dr. Parent, who devotes himself a greatdeal to nervous diseases and the extraordinary manifestations to whichat this moment experiments in hypnotism and suggestion give rise. 

He related to us at some length the remarkable results obtained byEnglish scientists and the doctors of the medical school at Nancy, andthe facts which he adduced, appeared to me so strange, that I declaredthat I was altogether incredulous. 

"We are, " he declared, "on the point of discovering one of the mostimportant secrets of nature, I mean to say, one of its most importantsecrets on this earth, for there are certainly some which are of adifferent kind of importance up in the stars, yonder. Ever since man hasthought, since he has been able to express and write down his thoughts, he has felt himself close to a mystery which is impenetrable to hiscoarse and imperfect senses, and he endeavors to supplement the want ofpower of his organs, by the efforts of his intellect. As long as thatintellect still remained in its elementary stage, this intercourse withinvisible spirits, assumed forms which were commonplace thoughterrifying. Thence sprang the popular belief in the supernatural, thelegends of wandering spirits, of fairies, of gnomes, ghosts, I mighteven say the legend of God, for our conceptions of the workman-creator, from whatever religion they may have come down to us, are certainly themost mediocre, the stupidest and the most unacceptable inventions thatever sprang from the frightened brain of any human creatures. Nothing istruer than what Voltaire says: 'God made man in His own image, but manhas certainly paid Him back again. '"

"But for rather more than a century, men seem to have had a presentimentof something new. Mesmer and some others have put us on an unexpectedtrack, and especially within the last two or three years, we havearrived at really surprising results. "

My cousin, who is also very incredulous, smiled, and Doctor Parent saidto her: "Would you like me to try and send you to sleep, Madame?" "Yes, certainly. "

She sat down in an easy-chair, and he began to look at her fixedly, soas to fascinate her. I suddenly felt myself somewhat uncomfortable, witha beating heart and a choking feeling in my throat. I saw that MadameSablé's eyes were growing heavy, her mouth twitched and her bosomheaved, and at the end of ten minutes she was asleep. 

"Stand behind her, " the doctor said to me, and so I took a seat behindher. He put a visiting-card into her hands, and said to her: "This is alooking-glass; what do you see in it?" And she replied: "I see mycousin. " "What is he doing?" "He is twisting his moustache. " "And now?""He is taking a photograph out of his pocket. " "Whose photograph is it?""His own. "

That was true, and that photograph had been given me that same eveningat the hotel. 

"What is his attitude in this portrait?" "He is standing up with his hatin his hand. "

So she saw on that card, on that piece of white paste-board, as if shehad seen it in a looking-glass. 

The young women were frightened, and exclaimed: "That is quite enough!Quite, quite enough!"

But the doctor said to her authoritatively: "You will get up at eighto'clock to-morrow morning; then you will go and call on your cousin athis hotel and ask him to lend you five thousands francs which yourhusband demands of you, and which he will ask for when he sets out onhis coming journey. "

Then he woke her up. 

On returning to my hotel, I thought over this curious _séance_ and I wasassailed by doubts, not as to my cousin's absolute and undoubted goodfaith, for I had known her as well as if she had been my own sister eversince she was a child, but as to a possible trick on the doctor's part. Had not he, perhaps, kept a glass hidden in his hand, which he showed tothe young woman in her sleep, at the same time as he did the card?Professional conjurors do things which are just as singular. 

So I went home and to bed, and this morning, at about half past eight, Iwas awakened by my footman, who said to me: "Madame Sablé has asked tosee you immediately, Monsieur, " so I dressed hastily and went to her. 

She sat down in some agitation, with her eyes on the floor, and withoutraising her veil she said to me: "My dear cousin, I am going to ask agreat favor of you. " "What is it, cousin?" "I do not like to tell you, and yet I must. I am in absolute want of five thousand francs. " "What, you?" "Yes, I, or rather my husband, who has asked me to procure themoney for him. "

I was so stupefied that I stammered out my answers. I asked myselfwhether she had not really been making fun of me with Doctor Parent, ifit were not merely a very well-acted farce which had been got upbeforehand. On looking at her attentively, however, my doubtsdisappeared. She was trembling with grief, so painful was this step toher, and I was sure that her throat was full of sobs. 

I knew that she was very rich and so I continued: "What! Has not yourhusband five thousand francs at his disposal! Come, think. Are you surethat he commissioned you to ask me for them?"

She hesitated for a few seconds, as if she were making a great effort tosearch her memory, and then she replied: "Yes ... Yes, I am quite sureof it. " "He has written to you?"

She hesitated again and reflected, and I guessed the torture of herthoughts. She did not know. She only knew that she was to borrow fivethousand francs of me for her husband. So she told a lie. "Yes, he haswritten to me. " "When pray? You did not mention it to me yesterday. " "Ireceived his letter this morning. " "Can you show it me?" "No; no ... No... It contained private matters ... Things too personal to ourselves... I burnt it. " "So your husband runs into debt?"

She hesitated again, and then murmured: "I do not know. " Thereupon Isaid bluntly: "I have not five thousand francs at my disposal at thismoment, my dear cousin. "

She uttered a kind of a cry as if she were in pain and said: "Oh! oh Ibeseech you, I beseech you to get them for me.... "

She got excited and clasped her hands as if she were praying to me! Iheard her voice change its tone; she wept and stammered, harassed anddominated by the irresistible order that she had received. 

"Oh! oh! I beg you to ... If you knew what I am suffering.... I wantthem to-day. "

I had pity on her: "You shall have them by and by, I swear to you. " "Oh!thank you! thank you! How kind you are. "

I continued: "Do you remember what took place at your house last night?""Yes. " "Do you remember that Doctor Parent sent you to sleep?" "Yes. ""Oh! Very well then; he ordered you to come to me this morning to borrowfive thousand francs, and at this moment you are obeying thatsuggestion. "

She considered for a few moments, and then replied: "But as it is myhusband who wants them.... "

For a whole hour I tried to convince her, but could not succeed, andwhen she had gone I went to the doctor. He was just going out, and helistened to me with a smile, and said: "Do you believe now?" "Yes, Icannot help it. " "Let us go to your cousin's. "

She was already dozing on a couch, overcome with fatigue. The doctorfelt her pulse, looked at her for some time with one hand raised towardsher eyes which she closed by degrees under the irresistible power ofthis magnetic influence, and when she was asleep, he said:

"Your husband does not require the five thousand francs any longer! Youmust, therefore, forget that you asked your cousin to lend them to you, and, if he speaks to you about it, you will not understand him. "

Then he woke her up, and I took out a pocketbook and said: "Here is whatyou asked me for this morning, my dear cousin. " But she was sosurprised, that I did not venture to persist; nevertheless, I tried torecall the circumstance to her, but she denied it vigorously, thoughtthat I was making fun of her, and in the end, very nearly lost hertemper. 

 * * * * *

There! I have just come back, and I have not been able to eat any lunch, for this experiment has altogether upset me. 

_July 19. _ Many people to whom I have told the adventure, have laughedat me. I no longer know what to think. The wise man says: Perhaps?

_July 21. _ I dined at Bougival, and then I spent the evening at aboatmen's ball. Decidedly everything depends on place and surroundings. It would be the height of folly to believe in the supernatural on the_île de la Grenouillière_[15] ... But on the top of MontSaint-Michel?... And in India? We are terribly under the influence ofour surroundings. I shall return home next week. 

_July 30. _ I came back to my own house yesterday. Everything is going onwell. 

_August 2. _ Nothing new. It is splendid weather, and I spent my days inwatching the Seine flow past. 

_August 4. _ Quarrels among my servants. They declare that the glassesare broken in the cupboards at night. The footman accuses the cook, whoaccuses the needle woman, who accuses the other two. Who is the culprit?A clever person, to be able to tell. 

_August 6. _ This time, I am not mad. I have seen ... I have seen ... Ihave seen!... I can doubt no longer ... I have seen it!... 

I was walking at two o'clock among my rose trees, in the full sunlight... In the walk bordered by autumn roses which are beginning to fall. AsI stopped to look at a _Géant de Bataille_, which had three splendidblooms, I distinctly saw the stalk of one of the roses bend, close tome, as if an invisible hand had bent it, and then break, as if that handhad picked it! Then the flower raised itself, following the curve whicha hand would have described in carrying it towards a mouth, and itremained suspended in the transparent air, all alone and motionless, aterrible red spot, three yards from my eyes. In desperation I rushed atit to take it! I found nothing; it had disappeared. Then I was seizedwith furious rage against myself, for it is not allowable for areasonable and serious man to have such hallucinations. 

But was it a hallucination? I turned round to look for the stalk, and Ifound it immediately under the bush, freshly broken, between two otherroses which remained on the branch, and I returned home then, with amuch disturbed mind; for I am certain now, as certain as I am of thealternation of day and night, that there exists close to me an invisiblebeing that lives on milk and on water, which can touch objects, takethem and change their places; which is, consequently, endowed with amaterial nature, although it is imperceptible to our senses, and whichlives as I do, under my roof.... 

_August 7. _ I slept tranquilly. He drank the water out of my decanter, but did not disturb my sleep. 

I ask myself whether I am mad. As I was walking just now in the sun bythe river side, doubts as to my own sanity arose in me; not vague doubtssuch as I have had hitherto, but precise and absolute doubts. I haveseen mad people, and I have known some who have been quite intelligent, lucid, even clear-sighted in every concern of life, except on one point. They spoke clearly, readily, profoundly on everything, when suddenlytheir thoughts struck upon the breakers of their madness and broke topieces there, and were dispersed and foundered in that furious andterrible sea, full of bounding waves, fogs and squalls, which is called_madness_. 

I certainly should think that I was mad, absolutely mad, if I were notconscious, did not perfectly know my state, if I did not fathom it byanalyzing it with the most complete lucidity. I should, in fact, be areasonable man who was laboring under a hallucination. Some unknowndisturbance must have been excited in my brain, one of thosedisturbances which physiologists of the present day try to note and tofix precisely, and that disturbance must have caused a profound gulf inmy mind and in the order and logic of my ideas. Similar phenomena occurin the dreams which lead us through the most unlikely phantasmagoria, without causing us any surprise, because our verifying apparatus and oursense of control has gone to sleep, while our imaginative faculty wakesand works. Is it not possible that one of the imperceptible keys of thecerebral finger-board has been paralyzed in me? Some men lose therecollection of proper names, or of verbs or of numbers or merely ofdates, in consequence of an accident. The localization of all theparticles of thought has been proved nowadays; what then would there besurprising in the fact that my faculty of controlling the unreality ofcertain hallucinations should be destroyed for the time being!

I thought of all this as I walked by the side of the water. The sun wasshining brightly on the river and made earth delightful, while it filledmy looks with love for life, for the swallows, whose agility is alwaysdelightful in my eyes, for the plants by the riverside, whose rustlingis a pleasure to my ears. 

By degrees, however, an inexplicable feeling of discomfort seized me. Itseemed to me as if some unknown force were numbing and stopping me, werepreventing me from going further and were calling me back. I felt thatpainful wish to return which oppresses you when you have left a belovedinvalid at home, and when you are seized by a presentiment that he isworse. 

I, therefore, returned in spite of myself, feeling certain that I shouldfind some bad news awaiting me, a letter or a telegram. There wasnothing, however, and I was more surprised and uneasy than if I had hadanother fantastic vision. 

_August 8. _ I spent a terrible evening, yesterday. He does not showhimself any more, but I feel that he is near me, watching me, looking atme, penetrating me, dominating me and more redoubtable when he hideshimself thus, than if he were to manifest his constant and invisiblepresence by supernatural phenomena. However, I slept. 

_August 9. _ Nothing, but I am afraid. 

_August 10. _ Nothing; what will happen to-morrow?

_August 11. _ Still nothing; I cannot stop at home with this fear hangingover me and these thoughts in my mind; I shall go away. 

_August 12. _ Ten o'clock at night. All day long I have been trying toget away, and have not been able. I wished to accomplish this simple andeasy act of liberty--go out--get into my carriage in order to go toRouen--and I have not been able to do it. What is the reason?

_August 13. _ When one is attacked by certain maladies, all the springsof our physical being appear to be broken, all our energies destroyed, all our muscles relaxed, our bones to have become as soft as our flesh, and our blood as liquid as water. I am experiencing that condition in mymoral being in a strange and distressing manner. I have no longer anystrength, any courage, any self-control, nor even any power to set myown will in motion. I have no power left to _will_ anything, but someone does it for me and I obey. 

_August 14. _ I am lost! Somebody possesses my soul and governs it!Somebody orders all my acts, all my movements, all my thoughts. I am nolonger anything in myself, nothing except an enslaved and terrifiedspectator of all the things which I do. I wish to go out; I cannot. Hedoes not wish to, and so I remain, trembling and distracted in thearmchair in which he keeps me sitting. I merely wish to get up and torouse myself, so as to think that I am still master of myself: I cannot!I am riveted to my chair, and my chair adheres to the ground in such amanner that no force could move us. 

Then suddenly, I must, I must go to the bottom of my garden to pick somestrawberries and eat them, and I go there. I pick the strawberries and Ieat them! Oh! my God! my God! Is there a God? If there be one, deliverme! save me! succor me! Pardon! Pity! Mercy! Save me! Oh! whatsufferings! what torture! what horror!

_August 15. _ Certainly this is the way in which my poor cousin waspossessed and swayed, when she came to borrow five thousand francs ofme. She was under the power of a strange will which had entered intoher, like another soul, like another parasitic and ruling soul. Is theworld coming to an end?

But who is he, this invisible being that rules me. This unknowablebeing, this rover of a supernatural race?

Invisible beings exist, then! How is it then that since the beginning ofthe world they have never manifested themselves in such a mannerprecisely as they do to me? I have never read anything which resembleswhat goes on in my house. Oh! If I could only leave it, if I could onlygo away and flee, so as never to return. I should be saved, but Icannot. 

_August 16. _ I managed to escape to-day for two hours, like a prisonerwho finds the door of his dungeon accidentally open. I suddenly feltthat I was free and that he was far away, and so I gave orders to putthe horses in as quickly as possible, and I drove to Rouen. Oh! Howdelightful to be able to say to a man who obeyed you: "Go to Rouen!"

I made him pull up before the library, and I begged them to lend me Dr. Herrmann Herestauss's treatise on the unknown inhabitants of the ancientand modern world. 

Then, as I was getting into my carriage, I intended to say: "To therailway station!" but instead of this I shouted, --I did not say, but Ishouted--in such a loud voice that all the passers-by turned round:"Home!" and I fell back onto the cushion of my carriage, overcome bymental agony. He had found me out and regained possession of me. 

_August 17. _ Oh! What a night! what a night! And yet it seems to me thatI ought to rejoice. I read until one o'clock in the morning! Herestauss, Doctor of Philosophy and Theogony, wrote the history and themanifestations of all those invisible beings which hover around man, orof whom he dreams. He describes their origin, their domains, theirpower; but none of them resembles the one which haunts me. One might saythat man, ever since he has thought, has had a foreboding of, and feareda new being, stronger than himself, his successor in this world, andthat, feeling him near, and not being able to foretell the nature ofthat master, he has, in his terror, created the whole race of hiddenbeings, of vague phantoms born of fear. 

Having, therefore, read until one o'clock in the morning, I went and satdown at the open window, in order to cool my forehead and my thoughts, in the calm night air. It was very pleasant and warm! How I should haveenjoyed such a night formerly!

There was no moon, but the stars darted out their rays in the darkheavens. Who inhabits those worlds? What forms, what living beings, whatanimals are there yonder? What do those who are thinkers in thosedistant worlds, know more than we do? What can they do more than we can?What do they see which we do not know? Will not one of them, some day orother, traversing space, appear on our earth to conquer it, just as theNorsemen formerly crossed the sea in order to subjugate nations morefeeble than themselves?

We are so weak, so unarmed, so ignorant, so small, we who live on thisparticle of mud which turns round in a drop of water. 

I fell asleep, dreaming thus in the cool night air, and then, havingslept for about three quarters of an hour, I opened my eyes withoutmoving, awakened by I know not what confused and strange sensation. Atfirst I saw nothing, and then suddenly it appeared to me as if a page ofa book which had remained open on my table, turned over of its ownaccord. Not a breath of air had come in at my window, and I wassurprised and waited. In about four minutes, I saw, I saw, yes I sawwith my own eyes another page lift itself up and fall down on theothers, as if a finger had turned it over. My armchair was empty, appeared empty, but I knew that he was there, he, and sitting in myplace, and that he was reading. With a furious bound, the bound of anenraged wild beast that wishes to disembowel its tamer, I crossed myroom to seize him, to strangle him, to kill him!... But before I couldreach it, my chair fell over as if somebody had ran away from me ... Mytable rocked, my lamp fell and went out, and my window closed as if somethief had been surprised and had fled out into the night, shutting itbehind him. 

So he had run away: he had been afraid: he, afraid of me!

So ... So ... To-morrow ... Or later ... Some day or other ... I shouldbe able to hold him in my clutches and crush him against the ground! Donot dogs occasionally bite and strangle their masters?

_August 18. _ I have been thinking the whole day long. Oh! yes, I willobey him, follow his impulses, fulfill all his wishes, show myselfhumble, submissive, a coward. He is the stronger; but an hour willcome.... 

_August 19. _ I know, ... I know ... I know all! I have just read thefollowing in the _Revue du Monde Scientifique_: "A curious piece of newscomes to us from Rio de Janeiro. Madness, an epidemic of madness, whichmay be compared to that contagious madness which attacked the people ofEurope in the Middle Ages, is at this moment raging in the Province ofSan-Paulo. The frightened inhabitants are leaving their houses, deserting their villages, abandoning their land, saying that they arepursued, possessed, governed like human cattle by invisible, thoughtangible beings, a species of vampire, which feed on their life whilethey are asleep, and who, besides, drink water and milk withoutappearing to touch any other nourishment. 

"Professor Don Pedro Henriques, accompanied by several medical savants, has gone to the Province of San-Paulo, in order to study the origin andthe manifestations of this surprising madness on the spot, and topropose such measures to the Emperor as may appear to him to be mostfitted to restore the mad population to reason. "

Ah! Ah! I remember now that fine Brazilian three-master which passed infront of my windows as it was going up the Seine, on the 8th of lastMay! I thought it looked so pretty, so white and bright! That Being wason board of her, coming from there, where its race sprang from. And itsaw me! It saw my house which was also white, and he sprang from theship onto the land. Oh! Good heavens!

Now I know, I can divine. The reign of man is over, and he has come. Hewhom disquieted priests exorcised, whom sorcerers evoked on dark nights, without yet seeing him appear, to whom the presentiments of thetransient masters of the world lent all the monstrous or graceful formsof gnomes, spirits, genii, fairies and familiar spirits. After thecoarse conceptions of primitive fear, more clear-sighted men foresaw itmore clearly. Mesmer divined him, and ten years ago physiciansaccurately discovered the nature of his power, even before he exercisedit himself. They played with that weapon of their new Lord, the sway ofa mysterious will over the human soul, which had become enslaved. Theycalled it magnetism, hypnotism, suggestion ... What do I know? I haveseen them amusing themselves like impudent children with this horriblepower! Woe to us! Woe to man! He has come, the ... The ... What does hecall himself ... The ... I fancy that he is shouting out his name to meand I do not hear him ... The ... Yes ... He is shouting it out ... I amlistening ... I cannot ... Repeat ... It ... Horla ... I have heard ... The Horla, ... It is he ... The Horla ... He has come!

Ah! the vulture has eaten the pigeon, the wolf has eaten the lamb; thelion has devoured the buffalo with sharp horns; man has killed the lionwith an arrow, with a sword, with gunpowder; but the Horla will make ofman what we have made of the horse and of the ox: his chattel, his slaveand his food, by the mere of his will. Woe to us!

But, nevertheless, the animal sometimes revolts and kills the man whohas subjugated it.... I should also like ... I shall be able to ... ButI must know him, touch him, see him! Learned men say that beasts' eyes, as they differ from ours, do not distinguish like ours do.... And my eyecannot distinguish this newcomer who is oppressing me. 

Why? Oh! Now I remember the words of the monk at Mont Saint-Michel: "Canwe see the hundred-thousandth part of what exists? Look here; there isthe wind which is the strongest force in nature, which knocks men, andblows down buildings, uproots trees, raises the sea into mountains ofwater, destroys cliffs and casts great ships onto the breakers; the windwhich kills, which whistles, which sighs, which roars, --have you everseen it, and can you see it? It exists for all that, however!"

And I went on thinking: my eyes are so weak, so imperfect, that they donot even distinguish hard bodies, if they are as transparent asglass!... If a glass without tinfoil behind it were to bar my way, Ishould run into it, just like a bird which has flown into a room breaksits head against the windowpanes. A thousand things, moreover, deceivehim and lead him astray. How should it then be surprising that he cannotperceive a fresh body which is traversed by the light. 

A new being! Why not? It was assuredly bound to come! Why should we bethe last? We do not distinguish it, like all the others created beforeus? The reason is, that its nature is more perfect, its body finer andmore finished than ours, that ours is so weak, so awkwardly conceived, encumbered with organs that are always tired, always on the strain likelocks that are too complicated, which lives like a plant and like abeast, nourishing itself with difficulty on air, herbs and flesh, ananimal machine, which is a prey to maladies, to malformations, to decay;broken-winded, badly regulated, simple and eccentric, ingeniously badlymade, a coarse and a delicate work, the outline of a being which mightbecome intelligent and grand. 

We are only a few, so few in this world, from the oyster up to man. Whyshould there not be one more, when once that period is accomplishedwhich separates the successive apparitions from all the differentspecies?

Why not one more? Why not, also, other trees with immense, splendidflowers, perfuming whole regions? Why not other elements besides fire, air, earth and water? There are four, only four, those nursing fathersof various beings! What a pity! Why are they not forty, four hundred, four thousand! How poor everything is, how mean and wretched! grudginglygiven, dryly invented, clumsily made! Ah! the elephant and thehippopotamus, what grace! And the camel, what elegance!

But, the butterfly you will say, a flying flower! I dream of one thatshould be as large as a hundred worlds, with wings whose shape, beauty, colors and motion I cannot even express. But I see it ... It fluttersfrom star to star, refreshing them and perfuming them with the light andharmonious breath of its flight!... And the people up there look at itas it passes in an ecstacy of delight!... 

 * * * * *

What is the matter with me? It is he, the Horla, who haunts me, and whomakes me think of these foolish things! He is within me, he is becomingmy soul; I shall kill him!

_August 19. _ I shall kill him. I have seen him! Yesterday I sat down atmy table and pretended to write very assiduously. I knew quite well thathe would come prowling round me, quite close to me, so close that Imight perhaps be able to touch him, to seize him. And then!... Then Ishould have the strength of desperation; I should have my hands, myknees, my chest, my forehead, my teeth to strangle him, to crush him, tobite him, to tear him to pieces. And I watched for him with all myoverexcited organs. 

I had lighted my two lamps and the eight wax candles on my mantelpiece, as if, by this light, I could have discovered him. 

My bed, my old oak bed with its columns was opposite to me; on my rightwas the fireplace; on my left the door, which was carefully closed, after I had left it open for some time, in order to attract him; behindme was a very high wardrobe with a looking-glass in it, which served meto dress by every day, and in which I was in the habit of looking atmyself from head to foot every time I passed it. 

So I pretended to be writing in order to deceive him, for he also waswatching me, and suddenly I felt, I was certain that he was reading overmy shoulder, that he was there, almost touching my ear. 

I got up so quickly, with my hands extended, that I almost fell. Eh!well?... It was as bright as at midday, but I did not see myself in theglass!... It was empty, clear, profound, full of light! But my figurewas not reflected in it ... And I, I was opposite to it! I saw thelarge, clear glass from top to bottom, and I looked at it with unsteadyeyes; and I did not dare to advance; I did not venture to make amovement, nevertheless, feeling perfectly that he was there, but that hewould escape me again, he whose imperceptible body had absorbed myreflection. 

How frightened I was! And then suddenly I began to see myself through amist in the depths of the looking-glass, in a mist as it were through asheet of water; and it seemed to me as if this water were flowing slowlyfrom left to right, and making my figure clearer every moment. It waslike the end of an eclipse. Whatever it was that hid me, did not appearto possess any clearly defined outlines, but a sort of opaquetransparency, which gradually grew clearer. 

At last I was able to distinguish myself completely, as I do every daywhen I look at myself. 

I had seen it! And the horror of it remained with me, and makes meshudder even now. 

_August 20. _ How could I kill it, as I could not get hold of it? Poison?But it would see me mix it with the water; and then, would our poisonshave any effect on its impalpable body? No ... No ... No doubt about thematter ... Then? ... Then?... 

_August 21. _ I sent for a blacksmith from Rouen, and ordered ironshutters of him for my room, such as some private hotels in Paris haveon the ground floor, for fear of thieves, and he is going to make me asimilar door as well. I have made myself out as a coward, but I do notcare about that!... 

_September 10. _ Rouen, Hotel Continental. It is done; ... It isdone.... But is he dead? My mind is thoroughly upset by what I haveseen. 

Well, then, yesterday, the locksmith having put on the iron shutters anddoor, I left everything open until midnight, although it was gettingcold. 

Suddenly I felt that he was there, and joy, mad joy took possession ofme. I got up softly, and I walked to the right and left for sometime, sothat he might not guess anything; then I took off my boots and put on myslippers carelessly; then I fastened the iron shutters and going back tothe door quickly I double-locked it with a padlock, putting the key intomy pocket. 

Suddenly I noticed that he was moving restlessly round me, that in histurn he was frightened and was ordering me to let him out. I nearlyyielded, though I did not yet, but putting my back to the door, I halfopened, just enough to allow me to go out backwards, and as I am verytall, my head touched the lintel. I was sure that he had not been ableto escape, and I shut him up quite alone, quite alone. What happiness! Ihad him fast. Then I ran downstairs; in the drawing-room, which wasunder my bedroom, I took the two lamps and I poured all the oil onto thecarpet, the furniture, everywhere; then I set the fire to it and made myescape, after having carefully double-locked the door. 

I went and hid myself at the bottom of the garden, in a clump of laurelbushes. How long it was! how long it was! Everything was dark, silent, motionless, not a breath of air and not a star, but heavy banks ofclouds which one could not see, but which weighed, oh! so heavily on mysoul. 

I looked at my house and waited. How long it was! I already began tothink that the fire had gone out of its own accord, or that he hadextinguished it, when one of the lower windows gave way under theviolence of the flames, and a long, soft, caressing sheet of red flamemounted up the white wall, and kissed it as high as the roof. The lightfell onto the trees, the branches, and the leaves, and a shiver of fearpervaded them also! The birds awoke; a dog began to howl, and it seemedto me as if the day were breaking! Almost immediately two other windowsflew into fragments, and I saw that the whole of the lower part of myhouse was nothing but a terrible furnace. But a cry, a horrible, shrill, heartrending cry, a woman's cry, sounded through the night, and twogarret windows were opened! I had forgotten the servants! I saw theterror-struck faces, and their frantically waving arms!... 

Then, overwhelmed with horror, I set off to run to the village, shouting: "Help! help! fire! fire!" I met some people who were alreadycoming onto the scene, and I went back with them to see!

By this time the house was nothing but a horrible and a magnificentfuneral pile, a monstrous funeral pile which lit up the whole country, afuneral pile where men were burning, and where he was burning also, He, He, my prisoner, that new Being, the new master, the Horla!

Suddenly the whole roof fell in between the walls, and a volcano offlames darted up to the sky. Through all the windows which opened ontothat furnace, I saw the flames darting, and I thought that he was there, in that kiln, dead. 

Dead? perhaps?... His body? Was not his body, which was transparent, indestructible by such means as would kill ours?

If he was not dead?... Perhaps time alone has power over that Invisibleand Redoubtable Being. Why this transparent, unrecognizable body, thisbody belonging to a spirit, if it also had to fear ills, infirmities andpremature destruction?

Premature destruction? All human terror springs from that! After man theHorla. After him who can die every day, at any hour, at any moment, byany accident, he came who was only to die at his own proper hour andminute, because he had touched the limits of his existence!

No ... No ... Without any doubt ... He is not dead.... Then ... Then ... I suppose I must kill myself!... 

LOVE

THREE PAGES FROM A SPORTSMAN'S BOOK

I have just read among the General News in one of the papers, a drama ofpassion. He killed her and then he killed himself, so he must have lovedher. What matter He or She? Their love alone matters to me; and it doesnot interest me because it moves me or astonishes me, or because itsoftens me or makes me think, but because it recalls to my mind aremembrance of my youth, a strange recollection of a hunting adventurewhere Love appeared to me, as the Cross appeared to the earlyChristians, in the midst of the heavens. 

I was born with all the instincts and the senses of primitive man, tempered by the arguments and the feelings of a civilized being. I ampassionately fond of shooting, and the sight of the bleeding animal, with the blood on its feathers and on my hands, affect my heart so, asalmost to make it stop. 

That year the cold weather set in suddenly towards the end of autumn, and I was invited by one of my cousins, Karl de Rauville, to go with himand shoot ducks on the marshes, at daybreak. 

My cousin, who was a jolly fellow of forty, with red hair, very stoutand bearded, a country gentleman, an amiable semi-brute, of a happydisposition and endowed with that Gallic wit which makes even mediocrityagreeable, lived in a house, half farmhouse, half château, situated ina broad valley through which a river ran. The hills right and left werecovered with woods, old seignorial woods where magnificent trees stillremained, and where the rarest feathered game in that part of France wasto be found. Eagles were shot there occasionally, and birds of passage, those which rarely come into our over-populated part of the country, almost infallibly stopped amid these branches, which were centuries old, as if they knew or recognized a little corner of a forest of ancienttimes which had remained there to serve them as a shelter during theirshort nocturnal halting place. 

In the valley there were large meadows watered by trenches and separatedby hedges; then, further on the river, which up to that point had beencanalized, expanded into a vast marsh. That marsh, which was the bestshooting ground which I ever saw, was my cousin's chief care, who keptit like a park. Among the number of rushes that covered it, and made itliving, rustling and rough, narrow passages had been made, through whichthe flat-bottomed boats, which were impelled and steered by poles, passed along silently over the dead water, brushed up against the reedsand made the swift fish take refuge among the weeds, and the wild fowldive, whose pointed, black heads disappeared suddenly. 

I am passionately fond of the water; the sea, although it is too vast, too full of movement, impossible to hold, the rivers, which are sobeautiful, but which pass on, flee away and go, and above all themarshes, where the whole unknown existence of aquatic animalspalpitates. The marsh is an entire world to itself on earth, a differentworld which has its own life, its settled inhabitants and its passingtravelers, its voices, its noises, and above all its mystery. Nothing ismore disturbing, nothing, more disquieting, more terrifyingoccasionally, than a fen. Why should this terror hang over these lowplains covered with water? Is it the vague rustling of the rushes, thestrange Will-o'-the-wisps, the profound silence which envelops them oncalm nights, or is it the strange mists, which hang over the rushes likea shroud; or else it is the imperceptible splashing, so slight and sogentle, and sometimes more terrifying than the cannons of men or thethunders of skies, which make these marshes resemble countries whichnone has dreamed of, terrible countries concealing an unknown anddangerous secret. 

No, something else belongs to it, another mystery, more profound andgraver floats amid these thick mists, perhaps the mystery of thecreation itself! For was it not in stagnant and muddy water, amid theheavy humidity of moist land under the heat of the sun, that the firstgerm of life vibrated and expanded to the day?

 * * * * *

I arrived at my cousin's in the evening. It was freezing hard enough tosplit stones. 

During dinner, in the large room whose sideboards, walls and ceilingswere covered with stuffed birds, with extended wings or perched onbranches to which they were nailed, hawks, herons, owls, nightjars, buzzards, tiercels, vultures, falcons, my cousin, who himself resembledsome strange animal from a cold country, dressed in a sealskin jacket, told me what preparations he had made for that same night. 

We were to start at half past three in the morning, so as to arrive atthe place which he had chosen for our watching place at about half pastfour. On that spot a hut had been built of lumps of ice, so as toshelter us somewhat from the terrible wind which precedes daybreak, thatwind which is so cold that it tears the flesh as if with a saw, cuts itlike the blade of a knife and pricks it like a poisoned sting, twists itlike a pair of pincers, and burns it like fire. 

My cousin rubbed his hands: "I have never known such a frost, " he said;"it is already twelve degrees below zero at six o'clock in the evening. "

I threw myself onto my bed immediately after we had finished our meal, and I went to sleep by the light of a bright fire burning in the grate. 

At three o'clock he woke me. In my turn, I put on a sheepskin, and Ifound my cousin Karl covered with a bearskin. After having each of usswallowed two cups of scalding coffee, followed by glasses of liqueurbrandy, we started, accompanied by a gamekeeper and our dogs, Plongeonand Pierrot. 

From the first moment that I got outside, I felt chilled to the verymarrow. It was one of those nights on which the earth seems dead withcold. The frozen air becomes resisting and palpable, such pain does itcause; no breath of wind moves it, it is fixed and motionless; it bites, pierces through you, dries, kills the trees, the plants, the insects, the small birds themselves that fall from the branches onto the hardground, and become hard themselves under the grip of the cold. 

The moon, which was in her last quarter and was inclining all to oneside, seemed fainting in the midst of space, and so weak that she didnot seem able to take her departure, and so she remained up yonder, alsoseized and paralyzed by the severity of the weather. She shed acold, mournful light over the world, that dying and wan light which shegives us every month, at the end of her resurrection. 

Karl and I went side by side, our backs bent, our hands in our pocketsand our guns under our arms. Our boots, which were wrapped in wool, sothat we might be able to walk without slipping on the frozen river, madeno sound, and I looked at the white vapor which our dogs' breath made. 

We were soon on the edge of the marsh, and we went into one of theselanes of dry rushes which ran through this low forest. 

Our elbows, which touched the long, ribbonlike leaves, left a slightnoise behind us, and I was seized, as I had never been before, by thepowerful singular emotion which marshes cause in me. This one was dead, dead from cold, since we were walking on it, in the middle of itspopulation of dried rushes. 

Suddenly, at the turn of one of the lanes, I perceived the ice-hut whichhad been constructed to shelter us. I went in, and as we had nearly anhour to wait before the wandering birds would awake, I rolled myself upin my rug in order to try and get warm. 

Then, lying on my back, I began to look at the misshapen moon, which hadfour horns, through the vaguely transparent walls of this polar house. 

But the frost of the frozen marshes, the cold of these walls, the coldfrom the firmament penetrated me so terribly, that I began to cough. 

My cousin Karl became uneasy. "So much the worse if we do not kill muchto-day, " he said, "I do not want you to catch cold; we will light afire. " And he told the gamekeeper to cut some rushes. 

We made a pile in the middle of our hut, which had a hole in the middleof the roof to let out the smoke, and when the red flames rose up to theclear, crystal cloisons they began to melt, gently, imperceptibly, as ifthese stones of ice had sweated. Karl, who had remained outside, calledout to me: "Come and look here!" I went out of the hut and remained, struck with astonishment. Our hut, in the shape of a cone, looked likean enormous diamond with a heart of fire, which had been suddenlyplanted there in the midst of the frozen water of the marsh. And insidewe saw two fantastic forms, those of our dogs, who were warmingthemselves at the fire. 

But a peculiar cry, a lost, a wandering cry, passed over our heads, andthe light from our hearth showed us the wild birds. Nothing moves one somuch as the first clamor of life which one does not see, and which ispassing through the somber air so quickly and so far off, before thefirst streak of the winter's day appears on the horizon. It seems to meat this glacial hour of dawn, as if that passing cry which is carriedaway by the wings of a bird, is the sigh of a soul from the world!

"Put out the fire, " Karl said. "It is getting daylight. "

The sky was, in fact, beginning to grow pale, and the flights of ducksmade long, rapid spots, which were soon obliterated, on the sky. 

A stream of light burst out into the night; Karl had fired, and the twodogs ran forward. 

And then, nearly every minute, now he, now I, aimed rapidly as soon asthe shadow of a flying flock appeared above the rushes. And Pierrot andPlongeon, out of breath but happy, retrieved the bleeding birds for us, whose eyes still, occasionally, looked at us. 

The sun had risen, and it was a bright day with a blue sky, and we werethinking of taking our departure, when two birds with extended necks andoutstretched wings, glided rapidly over our heads. I fired, and one ofthem fell almost at my feet. It was a teal, with a silver breast, andthen, in the blue space above me, I heard a voice, the voice of a bird. It was a short, repeated, heartrending lament; and the bird, the littleanimal that had been spared began to turn round in the blue sky, overour heads, looking at its dead companion which I was holding in my hand. 

Karl was on his knees, his gun to his shoulder watching it eagerly, until it should be within shot. "You have killed the duck, " he said, "and the drake will not fly away. "

He certainly did not fly away; he turned round over our headscontinually, and continued his cries. Never have any groans of sufferingpained me so much as that desolate appeal, as that lamentable reproachof this poor bird which was lost in space. 

Occasionally he took a flight under the menace of the gun which followedhis flight, and seemed ready to continue his flight alone, but as hecould not make up his mind to this, he soon returned to find his mate. 

"Leave her on the ground, " Karl said to me, "he will come within shot byand by. " And he did indeed come near us, careless of danger, infatuatedby his animals' love, by his affection for that other animal which I hadjust killed. 

Karl fired, and it was as if somebody had cut the string which held thebird suspended. I saw something black descend, and I heard the noise ofa fall among the rushes. And Pierrot brought it to me. 

I put them--they were already cold--into the same bag, and I returned toParis the same evening. 

THE HOLE

CUTS AND WOUNDS WHICH CAUSED DEATH. That was the heading of the chargewhich brought Leopold Renard, upholsterer, before the Assize Court. 

Round him were the principal witnesses, Madame Flamèche, widow of thevictim, and Louis Ladureau, cabinetmaker, and Jean Durdent, plumber. 

Near the criminal was his wife, dressed in black, a little ugly 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 first victim allthe time, and with which my will has nothing to do. The facts are theirown commentary, Monsieur le Président. I am an honest man, a hardworking man, an upholsterer in the same street for the last sixteenyears, known, liked, respected and esteemed by all, as my neighbors havetestified, even the porter who is not _folâtre_ every day. I am fond ofwork, I am fond of saving, I like honest men, and respectable pleasures. That is what has ruined me, so much the worse for me; but as my will hadnothing to do with it, I continue to respect myself. 

"Every Sunday for the last five years, my wife and I have been to spendthe day at Passy. We get fresh air, without counting that we are fond offishing. Oh! we are as fond of it as we are of small onions. Mélieinspired me with that passion, the jade, and she is more enthusiasticthan I am, the scold, seeing that all the mischief in this business isher 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; verywell, she does more mischief than a weasel. I do not deny that she hassome good qualities; she has some, and very important ones for a man inbusiness. But her character! Just ask about it in the neighborhood, andeven the porter's wife, who has just sent me about my business ... Shewill tell you something about it. 

"Every day she used to find fault with my mild temper: 'I would not putup with this! I would not put up with that. ' If I had listened to her, Monsieur le Président, I should have had at least three bouts offisticuffs a month.... "

Madame Renard interrupted him: "And for good reasons too; they laughbest who laugh last. "

He turned towards her frankly: "Oh! very well, I can charge you, sinceyou were the cause of it. "

Then, facing the President again he said:

"I will continue. We used to go to Passy every Saturday evening, so asto be able to begin fishing at daybreak the next morning. It is a habitwhich has become a second nature with us, as the saying is. Three yearsago this summer I discovered a place, oh! such a spot! Oh! there! in theshade, eight feet of water at least and perhaps ten, a hole with_retour_ under the bank, a regular nest for fish and a paradise for thefisherman. I might look upon that hole as my property, Monsieur lePrésident, as I was its Christopher Columbus. Everybody in theneighborhood knew it, without making any opposition. They used to say:'That is Renard's place;' and nobody would have gone to it, not evenMonsieur Plumsay, who is well known, be it said without any offense, forboning other peoples' places. 

"Well, I returned to my place of which I felt certain, just as if I hadowned it. I had scarcely got there on Saturday, when I got into_Delila_, with my wife. _Delila_ is my Norwegian boat, which I had builtby Fourmaise, and which is light and safe. Well, as I said, we got intothe boat and we were going to bait, and for baiting, there is nobody tobe compared with me, and they all know it. You want to know with what Ibait? I cannot answer that question; it has nothing to do with theaccident; I cannot answer, that is my secret. There are more than threehundred people who have asked me; I have been offered glasses of brandyand liquors, fried fish, matelotes, [16] to make me tell! But just go andtry whether the chub will come. Ah! they have patted my stomach to getat my secret, my recipe.... Only my wife knows ... And she will not tellit, any more than I shall!... Is not that so Mélie?"

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 toground-bait as usual. The weather promised to keep fine, and I said toMélie: 'All right for to-morrow!' And she replied: 'It looks like it. 'We never talk more than that together. 

"And then we returned to dinner. I was happy and thirsty, and that wasthe cause of everything. I said to Mélie: 'Look here Mélie, it is fineweather, so suppose I drink a bottle of _Casque à mèche_. ' That is alittle white wine which we have christened so, because if you drink toomuch of it it prevents you from sleeping and takes the place of anightcap. Do you understand me?

"She replied: 'You can do as you please, but you will be ill again, andI will not be able to get up to-morrow. ' That was true, sensible andprudent, clear-sighted, I must confess. Nevertheless, I could notwithstand it, and I drank my bottle. It all comes from that. 

"Well, I could not sleep. By Jove! It kept me awake till two o'clock inthe morning, and then I went to sleep so soundly that I should not haveheard the angel shouting at the last Judgment. 

"In short, my wife woke me at six o'clock, and I jumped out of bed, hastily put on my trousers and jersey, washed my face and jumped onboard _Delila_. But it was too late, for when I arrived at my hole itwas already taken! 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 saidto myself, 'Confound it all! confound it!' And then my wife began to nagat me. 'Eh! What about your _Casque à mèche_! Get along, you drunkard!Are you satisfied, you great fool?' I could say nothing, because it wasall quite true, and so I landed all the same near the spot and tried toprofit by what was left. Perhaps after all the fellow might catchnothing, and go away. 

"He was a little thin man, in white linen coat and waistcoat, and with alarge straw hat, and his wife, a fat woman who was doing embroidery, wasbehind him. 

"When she saw us take up our position close to their place, shemurmured: 'I suppose there are no other places on the river!' And mywife, who was furious, replied: 'People who know how to behave, makeinquiries about the habits of the neighborhood before occupying reservedspots. '

"As I did not want a fuss, I said to her: 'Hold your tongue, Mélie. Letthem go on, let them go on; we shall see. '

"Well, we had fastened _Delila_ under the willow trees, and had landedand were fishing side by side, Mélie and I, close to the two others; buthere, Monsieur, I must enter into details. 

"We had only been there about five minutes when our male neighbor'sfloat began to go down two or three times, and then he pulled out a chubas thick as my thigh, rather less, perhaps, but nearly as big! My heartbeat, and the perspiration stood on my forehead, and Mélie said to me:'Well, you sot, did you see that?'

"Just then, Monsieur Bru, the grocer of Poissy, who is fond of gudgeonfishing, passed in a boat, and called out to me; 'So somebody has takenyour usual place, Monsieur Renard?' And I replied: 'Yes, Monsieur Bru, there are some people in this world who do not know the usages of commonpoliteness. '

"The little man in linen pretended not to hear, nor his fat lump of awife, either. "

Here the President interrupted him a second time: "Take care, you areinsulting the widow, Madame Flamèche, who is present. "

Renard made his excuses: "I beg your pardon, I beg pardon, my angercarried me away. Well, not a quarter of an hour had passed when thelittle man caught another chub and another almost immediately, andanother five minutes later. 

"The tears were in my eyes, and then I knew that Madame Renard wasboiling with rage, for she kept on nagging at me: 'Oh! how horrid! Don'tyou see that he is robbing you of your fish? Do you think that you willcatch anything? Not even a frog, nothing whatever. Why my hands areburning, just to think of it. '

"But I said to myself: 'Let us wait until twelve o'clock. Then thispoaching fellow will go to lunch, and I shall get my place again. ' Asfor me, Monsieur le Président, I lunch on the spot every Sunday; webring our provisions in _Delila_. But there! At twelve o'clock, thewretch produced a fowl out of a newspaper, and while he was eating, actually he caught another chub!

"Mélie and I had a morsel also, just a thumb-piece, a mere nothing, forour heart was not in it. 

"Then I took up my newspaper, to aid my digestion. Every Sunday I readthe _Gil Blas_ in the shade like that, by the side of the water. It isColumbine's day, you know, Columbine who writes the articles in the _GilBlas_. I generally put Madame Renard into a passion by pretending toknow this Columbine. It is not true, for I do not know her, and havenever seen her, but that does not matter; she writes very well, andthen she says things straight out for a woman. She suits me, and thereare not many of her sort. 

"Well, I began to tease my wife, but she got angry immediately, and veryangry, and so I held my tongue, and at that moment our two witnesses whoare present here, Monsieur Ladureau and Monsieur Durdent appeared on theother side of the river. We knew each other by sight. The little manbegan to fish again, and he caught so many that I trembled withvexation, and his wife said: 'It is an uncommonly good spot, and we willcome here always Desiré. ' As for me, a cold shiver ran down my back, andMadame Renard kept repeating: 'You are not a man; you have the blood ofa chicken in your veins;' and suddenly I said to her: 'Look here, Iwould rather go away, or I shall only be doing something foolish. '

"And she whispered to me as if she had put a red-hot iron under my nose:'You are not a man. Now you are going to run away, and surrender yourplace! Off you go, Bazaine!'

"Well, I felt that, but yet I did not move, while the other fellowpulled out a bream, oh! I never saw such a large one before, never! Andthen my wife began to talk aloud, as if she were thinking, and you cansee her trickery. She said: 'That is what one might call stolen fish, seeing that we baited the place ourselves. At any rate, they ought togive us back the money we have spent on bait. '

"Then the fat woman in the cotton dress said in turn: 'Do you mean tocall us thieves, Madame?' And they began to explain, and then they cameto words. Oh! Lord! those creatures know some good ones. They shoutedso loud, that our two witnesses, who were on the other bank, began tocall out by way of a joke: 'Less noise over there; you will prevent yourhusbands from fishing. '

"The fact is that neither of us moved any more than if we had been twotree-stumps. We remained there, with our noses over the water, as if wehad heard nothing, but by Jove, we heard all the same. 'You are a mereliar. --You are nothing better than a streetwalker. --You are only atrollop. --You are a regular strumpet. ' And so on, and so on; a sailorcould not have said more. 

"Suddenly I heard a noise behind me, and turned round. It was the otherone, the fat woman, who had fallen onto my wife with her parasol. _Whack! whack_! Mélie got two of them, but she was furious, and she hitshard when she is in a rage, so she caught the fat woman by the hair andthen, _thump, thump_, and slaps in the face rained down like ripe plums. I should have let them go on; women among themselves; men amongthemselves; it does not do to mix the blows, but the little man in thelinen 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 ofmy 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, justinto the hole. 

"I should have fished him out most certainly, Monsieur le Président, ifI had had the time. But unfortunately the fat woman got the better ofit, and she was drubbing Mélie terribly. I know that I ought not to haveassisted her while the man was drinking his fill, but I never thoughtthat 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 receivedwas scratches and bites. Good Lord, what creatures! Well, it took mefive minutes, and perhaps ten to separate those two viragoes, and when Iturned round, there was nothing more to be seen, and the water was assmooth as a lake, while the others yonder kept shouting: 'Fish him out!'and though it was all very well to say that, I cannot swim and stillless dive!

"At last the man from the dam came, and two gentlemen with boat hooks, but it had taken over a quarter of an hour. He was found at the bottomof the hole in eight feet of water, as I have said, but he had got it, the poor little man in his linen suit! There are the facts, such as Ihave sworn to. I am innocent, on my honor. "

 * * * * *

The witnesses having deposed to the same effect, the accused wasacquitted. 

SAVED

The little Marquise de Rennedon came rushing in like a ball smashing awindow, and she began to laugh before she spoke, to laugh until shecried, like she had done a month previously, when she had told herfriend that she had betrayed the marquis in order to have her revenge, and only once, because he was really too stupid and too jealous. 

The little Baroness de Grangerie had thrown the book which she wasreading on the sofa, and looked at Annette curiously. She was alreadylaughing herself, and at last she asked:

"What have you been doing now?" "Oh! ... My dear!... My dear! it is toofunny ... Too funny.... Just fancy ... I am saved!... Saved!... Saved!"... "How do you mean, saved!" "Yes, saved!" "From what?" "From myhusband, my dear, saved! Delivered! free! free! free!" "How free? inwhat?" "In what? Divorce! Yes, a divorce! I have my divorce!" "You aredivorced?" "No, not yet; how stupid you are! One does not get divorcedin three hours! But I have my proofs that he has deceived me ... Caughtin the very act ... Just think!... In the very act.... I have got himtight.... " "Oh! do tell me all about it! So he deceived you?" "Yes, thatis to say no ... Yes and no ... I do not know. At any rate, I haveproofs, and that is the chief thing. " "How did you manage it?"

"How did I manage it?... This is how! I have been energetic, veryenergetic. For the last three months he has been odious, altogetherodious, brutal, coarse, a despot, in one word, vile. So I said tomyself: This cannot last, I must have a divorce! But how? for it is notvery easy? I tried to make him beat me, but he would not. He put me outfrom morning till night, made me go out when I did not wish to, and toremain at home when I wanted to dine out; he made my life unbearable forme from one week's end to the other, but he never struck me. 

"Then I tried to find out whether he had a mistress. Yes, he had one, but he took a thousand precautions in going to see her, and they couldnever be caught together. Guess what I did then?" "I cannot guess. " "Oh!you could never guess. I asked my brother to procure me a photograph ofthe creature. " "Of your husband's mistress?" "Yes. It cost Jacquesfifteen louis, the price of an evening, from seven o'clock untilmidnight, including a dinner, at three louis an hour, and he obtainedthe photograph into the bargain. " "It appears to me that he might haveobtained it anyhow by means of some artifice and without ... Without ... Without being obliged to take the original at the same time. " "Oh! sheis pretty, and Jacques did not mind the least. And then, I wanted somedetails about her, physical details about her figure, her breast, hercomplexion, a thousand things, in fact. "

"I do not understand you. " "You shall see. When I had learned all that Iwanted to know, I went to a ... How shall I put it ... To a man ofbusiness ... You know ... One of those men who transact business of allsorts ... Agents of ... Of ... Of publicity and complicity ... One ofthose men ... Well, you understand what I mean. " "Pretty nearly, Ithink. And what did you say to him?" "I said to him, showing thephotograph of Clarisse (her name is Clarisse): 'Monsieur, I want alady's maid who resembles this photograph. I require one who is pretty, elegant, neat and sharp. I will pay her whatever is necessary, and if itcosts me ten thousand francs so much the worse. I shall not require herfor more than three months. '"

"The man looked extremely astonished, and said: 'Do you require a maidof an irreproachable character, Madame?' I blushed, and stammered. 'Yes, of course, for honesty. ' He continued: ... 'And ... Then ... As regardsmorals.... ' I did not venture to reply, so I only made a sign with myhead, which signified: _no_. Then suddenly, I comprehended that he had ahorrible suspicion and losing my presence of mind, I exclaimed: 'Oh, Monsieur, ... It is for my husband, in order that I may surprisehim.... '

"Then the man began to laugh, and from his looks I gathered that I hadregained his esteem. He even thought I was brave, and I would willinglyhave made a bet that at that moment he was longing to shake hands withme. However, he said to me: 'In a week, Madame, I shall have what yourequire; I will answer for my success, and you shall not pay me until Ihave succeeded. So this is a photograph of your husband's mistress?''Yes, Monsieur, ' 'A handsome woman, and not too stout. And what scent?'

"I did not understand, and repeated: 'What scent?' He smiled: 'Yes, Madame, the perfume is essential to seduce a man, for it unconsciouslybrings to his mind certain reminiscences which dispose him to action;the perfume creates an obscure confusion in his mind, and disturbs andenervates him by recalling his pleasures to him. You must also try tofind out what your husband is in the habit of eating when he dines withhis lady, and you might give him the same dishes the day you catch him. Oh! we have got him, Madame, we have got him. '

"I went away delighted, for here I had lighted on a very intelligentman. 

"Three days later, I saw a tall, dark girl arrive at my house; she wasvery handsome and her looks were modest and bold at the same time, thepeculiar look of a female rake. She behaved very properly towards me, and as I did not exactly know what she was, I called her _Mademoiselle_, but she said immediately: 'Oh! pray, Madame, only call me Rose. ' And shebegan to talk. 

"'Well, Rose, you know why you have come here?' 'I can guess it, Madame. ' 'Very good, my girl ... And that will not ... Be too muchbother for you?' 'Oh! madame, this will be the eighth divorce that Ishall have caused; I am used to it. ' 'Why, that is capital. Will it takeyou long to succeed?' 'Oh! Madame, that depends entirely on Monsieur'stemperament. When I have seen Monsieur for five minutes alone I shallbe able to tell you exactly. ' 'You will see him soon, my child, but Imust tell you that he is not handsome. ' 'That does not matter to me, Madame. I have already separated some very ugly ones. But I must askyou, Madame, whether you have discovered his favorite perfume?' 'Yes, Rose, --verbena. ' 'So much the better, Madame, for I am also very fond ofthat scent! Can you also tell me, Madame, whether Monsieur's mistresswears silk underclothing and nightdresses?' 'No, my child, cambric andlace. ' 'Oh! then she is altogether of superior station, for silkunderclothing is getting quite common. ' 'What you say is quite true!''Well, Madame, I will enter your service. ' And so, as a matter of fact, she did immediately, and as if she had done nothing else all her life. 

"An hour later my husband came home. Rose did not even raise her eyes tohim, but he raised his eyes to her. She already smelt strongly ofverbena, and in five minutes she left the room, and he immediately askedme: 'Who is that girl?' 'Why ... My new lady's maid. ' 'Where did youpick her up?' 'Baroness de Grangerie got her for me with the bestreferences. ' 'Ah! she is rather pretty!' 'Do you think so?' 'Why, yes... For a lady's maid. '

"I was delighted, for I felt that he was already biting, and that sameevening Rose said to me: 'I can now promise you that it will not takemore than a fortnight. Monsieur is very easily caught!' 'Ah! you havetried already?' 'No, Madame, he only asked what my name was ... So thathe might hear what my voice was like. ' 'Very well, my dear Rose. Get onas quick as you can. ' 'Do not be alarmed, Madame; I shall only resistlong enough not to make myself depreciated. '

"At the end of a week my husband scarcely ever went out; I saw himroaming about the house the whole afternoon, and what was mostsignificant in the matter was, that he no longer prevented me from goingout. And I, I was out of doors nearly the whole day long, ... In order... In order to leave him at liberty. 

"On the ninth day, while Rose was undressing me, she said to me with atimid air: 'It happened this morning, Madame. ' I was rather surprised, or rather overcome even, not at the part itself, but at the way in whichshe told me, and I stammered out: 'And ... And ... It went off well?''Oh! yes, very well, Madame. For the last three days he has beenpressing me, but I did not wish matters to proceed too quickly. You willtell me when you want us to be caught, Madame. ' 'Yes, certainly. Here!... Let us say Thursday. ' 'Very well, Madame, I shall grant nothingmore until then, so as to keep Monsieur on the alert. ' 'You are sure notto fail?' 'Oh! quite sure, Madame. I will excite him, so as to make himbe there at the very moment which you may appoint. ' 'Let us say fiveo'clock, then. ' 'Very well, Madame, and where?' 'Well ... In mybedroom. ' 'Very good, Madame, in your bedroom. '

"You will understand what I did then, my dear. I went and fetched Mammaand Papa first of all, and then my uncle d'Orvelin, the President, andMonsieur Raplet, the Judge, my husband's friend. I had not told themwhat I was going to show them, but I made them all go on tiptoe as faras the door of my room. I waited until five o'clock exactly, and oh! howmy heart beat! I had made the porter come upstairs as well, so as tohave an additional witness! And then ... And then at the moment when theclock began to strike, I opened the door wide.... Ah! ah! ah! Here hewas evidently, ... It was quite evident, my dear.... Oh! what a face!... If you had only seen his face!... And he turned round, the idiot! Oh!how funny he looked.... I laughed, I laughed.... And papa was angry andwanted to give my husband a beating.... And the porter, a good servant, helped him to dress himself ... Before us ... Before us.... He buttonedhis braces for him ... What a joke it was!... As for Rose, she wasperfect, absolutely perfect.... She cried ... Oh! she cried very well. She is an invaluable girl.... If you ever want her, don't forget!

"And here I am.... I came immediately to tell you of the affair ... Directly. I am free. Long live divorce!"

And she began to dance in the middle of the drawing-room, while thelittle baroness, who was thoughtful and vexed, said:

"Why did you not invite me to see it?"

BELLFLOWER[17]

How strange those old recollections are which haunt us, without ourbeing able to get rid of them!

This one is so very old that I cannot understand how it has clung sovividly and tenaciously to my memory. Since then I have seen so manysinister things, which were either affecting or terrible, that I amastonished at not being able to pass a single day without the face ofMother Bellflower recurring to my mind's eye, just as I knew herformerly, 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 thosecountry houses called _châteaux_, and which are merely old houses withpointed roofs, which are surrounded by three or four farms. 

The village, a large village, almost a small market town, was a fewhundred yards off, and lay closely round the church, a red brick church, which had become black with age. 

Well, every Thursday Mother Bellflower came between half-past six andseven in the morning, and went immediately into the linen-room and beganto work. She was a tall, thin, bearded or rather hairy woman, for shehad a beard all over her face, a surprising, an unexpected beard, growing in tufts, in curly bunches, which looked as if they had beensown by a madman over that great face of a gendarme in petticoats. Shehad them on her nose, under her nose, round her nose, on her chin, onher cheeks; and her eyebrows, which were extraordinarily thick and long, and quite gray, bushy and bristling, looked exactly like a pair ofmoustaches stuck on there by mistake. 

She limped, but not like lame people generally do, but like a ship atanchor. When she planted her great, bony, swerving body on her soundleg, she seemed to be preparing to mount some enormous wave, and thensuddenly she dipped as if to disappear in an abyss, and buried herselfin the ground. Her walk reminded one of a storm, as she balanced herselfat the same time, and her head, which was always covered with anenormous white cap, whose ribbons fluttered down her back, seemed totraverse the horizon from North to South and from South to North, ateach of her movements. 

I adored Mother Bellflower. As soon as I was up I went into thelinen-room, where I found her installed at work, with a foot-warmerunder her feet. As soon as I arrived, she made me take the foot-warmerand sit upon it, so that I might not catch cold in that large, chillyroom under the roof. 

She told me stories, while mending the linen with her long crookednimble fingers; her eyes behind her magnifying spectacles, for age hadimpaired her sight, appeared enormous to me, strangely profound, double. 

She had, as far as I can remember, the things which she told me and bywhich my childish heart was moved, the large heart of a poor woman. Shetold me what had happened in the village, how a cow had escaped from thecowhouse and had been found the next morning in front of Prosper Malet'smill, looking at the sails turning, or about a hen's egg, which hadbeen found in the church belfry without anyone being able to understandwhat creature had been there to lay it, or the story of Jean-Jean Pila'sdog, who had been ten leagues to bring back his master's breeches, whicha tramp had stolen while they were hanging up to dry out of doors, afterhe had been in the rain. She told me these simple adventures in such amanner, that in my mind they assumed the proportions ofnever-to-be-forgotten dramas, of grand and mysterious poems; and theingenious stories invented by the poets which my mother told me in theevening had none of the flavor, none of the fullness nor of the vigor ofthe peasant woman's narratives. 

Well, one Thursday, when I had spent all the morning in listening toMother Clochette, I wanted to go up stairs to her again during the dayafter 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 onthe ground by the side of her chair, with her face to the ground and herarms stretched out, but still holding her needle in one hand and one ofmy shirts in the other. One of her legs in a blue stocking, the longerone, no doubt, was extended under her chair, and her spectaclesglistened against the wall, as they had rolled away from her. 

I ran away uttering shrill cries. They all came running, and in a fewminutes I was told that Mother Clochette was dead. 

I cannot describe the profound, poignant, terrible emotion which stirredmy childish heart. I went slowly down into the drawing-room and wentand hid myself in a dark corner, in the depths of a great, old armchair, where I knelt and wept. I remained there for a long time no doubt, fornight 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 ofthe accident, of which I understood nothing, however. Then he sat downand had a glass of liquor and biscuit. 

He went on talking, and what he then said will remain engraved on mymind 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 arrivalhere, and I had only not even had time to wash my hands after gettingoff the diligence before I was sent for in all haste, for it was a badcase, very bad. 

"She was seventeen, and a pretty girl, very pretty! Would any onebelieve it? I have never told her story before, and nobody except myselfand one other person, who is no longer living in this part of thecountry, 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 wasgood-looking and had the bearing of a sub-officer. All the girls ranafter him, and he acted the disdainful, and besides that, he was verymuch afraid of his superior, the schoolmaster, old Grabu, whooccasionally got out of bed the wrong foot first. 

"Old Grabu already employed pretty Hortense, who has just died here, andwho was afterwards nicknamed Clochette. The assistant master singledout the pretty young girl, who was no doubt flattered at being chosen bythis impregnable conqueror; at any rate, she fell in love with him, andhe succeeded in persuading her to give him a first meeting in thehay-loft behind the school, at night, after she had done her day'ssewing. 

"She pretended to go home, but instead of going downstairs when she leftthe Grabu's, she went upstairs and hid among the hay, to wait for herlover. He soon joined her, and he was beginning to say pretty things toher, when the door of the hay-loft opened and the schoolmaster appeared, and asked: 'What are you doing up there, Sigisbert?' Feeling sure thathe would be caught, the young schoolmaster lost his presence of mind andreplied stupidly: 'I came up here to rest a little among the bundles ofhay, Monsieur Grabu. '

"The loft was very large and absolutely dark, and Sigisbert pushed thefrightened girl to the further end and said: 'Go there and hideyourself. I shall lose my situation, so get away and hide yourself. '

"When the schoolmaster heard the whispering, he continued: 'Why, you arenot by yourself?' 'Yes, I am, Monsieur Grabu!' 'But you are not, for youare 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 alight. 

"Then the young man, who was a coward such as one frequently meets, losthis head, and he repeated, having grown furious all of a sudden: 'Hideyourself, so that he may not find you. You will deprive me of my breadfor my whole life; you will ruin my whole career.... Do hide yourself!'They could hear the key turning in the lock again, and Hortense ran tothe window, which looked out onto the street, opened it quickly, andthen in a low and determined voice she said: 'You will come and pick meup when he is gone, ' and she jumped out. 

"Old Grabu found nobody, and went down again in great surprise, and aquarter of an hour later Monsieur Sigisbert came to me and related hisadventure. The girl had remained at the foot of the wall unable to getup, as she had fallen from the second story, and I went with him tofetch her. It was raining in torrents, and I brought the unfortunategirl home with me, for the right leg was broken in three places, and thebones had come out through the flesh. She did not complain, and merelysaid, with admirable resignation: 'I am punished, well punished!'

"I sent for assistance and for the workgirl's friends and told them amade-up story of a runaway carriage which had knocked her down and lamedher, outside my door. They believed me, and the gendarmes for a wholemonth tried in vain to find the author of this accident. 

"That is all! And I say that this woman was a heroine, and belonged tothe race of those who accomplished the grandest deeds in history. 

"That was her only love affair, and she died a virgin. She was a martyr, a noble soul, a sublimely devoted woman! And if I did not absolutelyadmire her, I should not have told you this story, which I would nevertell anyone during her life: you understand why. "

The doctor ceased; Mamma cried and Papa said some words which I did notcatch; then they left the room, and I remained on my knees in thearmchair and sobbed, while I heard a strange noise of heavy footstepsand something knocking against the side of the staircase. 

They were carrying away Clochette's body. 

THE MARQUIS DE FUMEROL

Roger de Toumeville was sitting astride a chair in the midst of hisfriends and talking; he held a cigar in his hand, and from time to timetook a whiff and blew out a small cloud of smoke. 

"We were at dinner when a letter was brought in and my father opened it. You know my father, who thinks that he is king of France _ad interim_. Icall him Don Quixote, because for twelve years he has been running atilt against the windmill of the Republic, without quite knowing whetherit was in the name of the Bourbons or of the Orleans. At present he isholding the lance in the name of the Orleans alone, because there isnobody else but them left. In any case, he thinks himself the firstgentleman in France, the best known, the most influential, the head ofthe party; and as he is an irremovable senator, he thinks that theneighboring kings' thrones are very insecure. 

"As for my mother, she is my father's soul, she is the soul of thekingdom and of religion, the right arm of God, and the scourge ofevil-thinkers. 

"Well, so a letter was brought in while we were at dinner, and my fatheropened and read it, and then he said to my mother: 'Your brother isdying. ' She grew very pale. My uncle was scarcely ever mentioned in thehouse, and I did not know him at all; all I knew from public talk was, that he had led, and was still leading, the life of a buffoon. Afterhaving spent his fortune with an incalculable number of women, he hadonly retained two mistresses, with whom he was living in smallapartments in the Rue des Martyrs. 

"An ex-peer of France and ex-colonel of cavalry, it was said that hebelieved in neither God nor devil. Not believing, therefore, in a futurelife he had abused this present life in every way, and he had become theliving wound of my mother's heart. 

"'Give me that letter, Paul, ' she said, and when she had read it, Iasked for it in my turn. Here it is. 

 _Monsieur le comte, I thinks I ought to lett you knaw that your brother-law, count Fumeroll is going to dye. Perhapps you would make preparations and not forgett that I told you. _

 _Your servant_, MÉLANI. 

"'We must think, ' papa murmured. 'In my position, I ought to watch overyour brother's last moments. '

"Mamma continued: 'I will send for Abbé Poivron and ask his advice, andthen I will go to my brother's with the abbé and Roger. Stop here Paul, for you must not compromise yourself, but a woman can, and ought to dothese things. But for a politician in your position, it is anothermatter. It would be a fine thing for one of your opponents to be able tobring one of your most laudable actions up against you. ' 'You areright, ' my father said. 'Do as you think best, my dear wife. '

"A quarter of an hour later, the Abbé Poivron came into thedrawing-room, and the situation was explained to him, analyzed anddiscussed in all its bearings. If the Marquis de Fumerol, one of thegreatest names in France, were to die without the succor of religion, it would assuredly be a terrible blow for the nobility in general, andfor the Count de Toumeville in particular, and the freethinkers would betriumphant. The evilly disposed newspapers would sing songs of victoryfor six months; my mother's name would be dragged through the mire andbrought into the prose of Socialistic journals, and my father's would bebespattered. It was impossible that such a thing should occur. 

"A crusade was therefore immediately decided upon, which was to be ledby the Abbé Poivron, a little fat, clean, slightly scented priest, atrue vicar of a large church in a noble and rich quarter. 

"The landau was ordered and we started all three, my mother, the Curéand I, to administer the last sacraments to my uncle. 

"It had been decided first of all we should see Madame Mélani who hadwritten the letter, and who was most likely the porter's wife, or myuncle's servant, and I got down as a scout in front of a seven-storiedhouse and went into a dark passage, where I had great difficulty infinding the porter's den. He looked at me distrustfully, and said:

"'Madame Mélani, if you please. ' 'Don't know her!' 'But I have receiveda letter from her. ' 'That may be, but don't know her. Are you asking forsome kept woman?' 'No, a servant probably. She wrote me about a place. ''A servant?... A servant?... Perhaps it is the Marquis's. Go and see, the fifth story on the left. '

"As soon as he found I was not asking for a kept woman, he became morefriendly and came as far as the passage with me. He was a tall, thinman with white whiskers, the manners of a beadle and majestic movements. 

"I climbed up a long spiral staircase, whose balusters I did not ventureto touch, and I gave three discreet knocks at the left-hand door on thefifth story. It opened immediately, and an enormous dirty woman appearedbefore me, who barred the entrance with her open arms which she leantagainst the two doorposts, and grumbled:

"'What do you want?' 'Are you Madame Mélani?' 'Yes. ' 'I am the Viscountede Toumeville. ' 'Ah! All right! Come in. ' 'Well, the fact is my motheris downstairs with a priest. ' 'Oh! All right; go and bring them up; buttake care of the porter. '

"I went downstairs and came up again with my mother, who was followed bythe abbé, and I fancied that I heard other footsteps behind us. As soonas we were in the kitchen, Mélani offered us chairs, and we all four satdown to deliberate. 

"'Is he very ill?' my mother asked. 'Oh! yes, Madame; he will not behere 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 grownscarlet, and the Abbé Poivron had lowered his eyes. 

"The affair began to amuse me, and I said: 'Suppose I go in first? Ishall see how he receives me, and perhaps I shall be able to prepare hisheart for you. '

"My mother who did not suspect any trick, replied: 'Yes, go my dear. 'But a woman's voice cried out: 'Mélani!'

"The fat servant ran out and said: 'What do you want, MademoiselleClaire?' 'The omelette, quickly. ' 'In a minute, Mademoiselle. ' Andcoming back to us, she explained this summons. 

"'They ordered a cheese omelette at two o'clock as a slight collation. 'And immediately she began to break the eggs into a salad bowl, and beganto whip them vigorously, while I went out onto the landing and pulledthe bell, so as to announce my official arrival. Mélani opened the doorto me, and made me sit down in an ante-room, while she went to tell myuncle, that I had come; then she came back and asked me to go in, whilethe Abbé hid behind the door, so that he might appear at the first sign. 

"I was certainly very much surprised at seeing my uncle, for he was veryhandsome, very solemn and very elegant, was the old rake. 

"Sitting, almost lying in a large armchair, his legs wrapped inblankets, with his hands, his long, white hands, over the arms of thechair, he was waiting death with Biblical dignity. His white beard fellonto his chest, and his hair, which was also white, mingled with it onhis cheeks. 

"Standing behind his armchair, as if to defend him against me, were twoyoung women, two stout young women, who looked at me with the bold eyesof prostitutes. In their petticoats and morning wrappers, with barearms, with coal black hair twisted up onto the nape of their neck, withembroidered Oriental slippers which showed their ankles and silkstockings, they looked like the immoral figures of some symbolicalpainting, by the side of the dying man. Between the easy-chair and thebed, there was a table covered with a white cloth, on which two plates, two glasses, two forks and two knives, were waiting for the cheeseomelette which had been ordered some time before of Mélani. 

"My uncle said in weak, almost breathless but clear voice: 'Goodmorning, my child: it is rather late in the day to come and see me; ouracquaintance will not last long. ' I stammered out: 'It was not my fault, uncle, ' ... And he replied: 'No; I know that. It is your father andmother's fault more than yours.... How are they?' 'Pretty well, thankyou. 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 ifthey could not come, uncle. But it would be difficult for my father, andimpossible for my mother to come in here.... ' The old man did not reply, but raised his hand towards mine, and I took the pale, cold hand andkept it in my own. 

"The door opened, Mélani came in with the omelette and put it on thetable, and the two girls immediately sat down in front of their platesand began to eat without taking their eyes off me. Then I said: 'Uncle, it would be a great pleasure for my mother to embrace you. ' 'I also ... 'he murmured, 'should like.... ' He said no more, and I could think ofnothing to propose to him, and nothing more was heard except the noiseof the plates and that vague movement of eating mouths. 

"Now the Abbé, who was listening behind the door, seeing ourembarrassment, and thinking we had won the game, thought the time hadcome to interpose, and showed himself. My uncle was so stupefied at thatapparition, that at first he remained motionless; but then he opened hismouth as if he meant to swallow up the priest, and shouted to him in astrong, deep, furious voice: 'What are you doing here?'

"The Abbé, who was used to difficult situations came further in theroom, murmuring: 'I have come in your sister's name, Monsieur leMarquis; she has sent me.... She would be so happy, Monsieur.... '

"But the Marquis was not listening. Raising one hand, he pointed to thedoor with a proud and tragic gesture, and he said angrily and gaspingfor breath: 'Leave this room ... Go out ... Robber of souls.... Go outfrom here, you violator of consciences.... Go out from here, youpicklock of dying men's doors!'

"The Abbé went backwards, and I also went to the door, beating a retreatwith the clergyman; and the two little women who were avenged got up, leaving their omelette only half eaten, and went and stood on eitherside of my uncle's armchair, putting their hands on his arms to calmhim, and to protect him against the criminal enterprises of the Familyand of Religion. 

"The Abbé and I rejoined my mother in the kitchen, and Mélani againoffered us chairs, 'I knew quite well that it would not go of its ownaccord; we must try some other means, otherwise he will escape us. ' Andthey began deliberating afresh, my mother being of one opinion and theAbbé 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 criesuttered by my uncle, more vehement and terrible even, than the formerhad 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 ... Getout!... '

"Mélani rushed in, but came back immediately to call me to help her, andI hastened in. Opposite to my uncle who was terribly excited by anger, almost standing up and vociferating, two men, one behind the other, seemed to be waiting till he should be dead with rage. 

"By his long, ridiculous coat, his long English shoes, by his manners ofa tutor out of a situation, by his high collar, white necktie andstraight hair, by his humble face of a priest, I immediately recognizedthe first as a Protestant minister. 

"The second was the porter of the house, who belonged to the reformedreligion and had followed us, and having seen our defeat had gone tofetch his own priest, in hopes of a better fate. My uncle seemed madwith rage! If the sight of the Catholic priest, of the priest of hisancestors, had irritated the Marquis de Fumerol, who had become afreethinker, the sight of his porter's minister made him altogetherbeside himself. I therefore took the two men by the arm and threw themout of the room so violently that they embraced each other twice, between the two doors which led to the staircase, and then I disappearedin my turn and returned to the kitchen, which was our headquarters, inorder to take counsel with my mother and the Abbé. 

"But Mélani came back in terror, sobbing out: 'He is dying ... He isdying ... Come immediately ... He is dying.... '

"My mother rushed out. My uncle had fallen onto the ground, full lengthalong the floor, and did not move. I fancy he was already dead. Mymother was superb at that moment! She went straight up to the two girlswho were kneeling by the body and trying to raise it up, and pointing tothe door with irresistible authority, dignity and majesty, she said:'Now it is for you to go out. '

"And they went out without a protest, and without saying a word. I mustadd, that I was getting ready to turn them out as unceremoniously as Ihad done the parson and the porter. 

"Then the Abbé Poivron administered the last sacrament to my uncle withall the customary prayers and remitted all his sins, while my mothersobbed, kneeling near her brother. Suddenly, however, she exclaimed: 'Herecognized me; he pressed my hand; I am sure he recognized me!!!... Andthat he thanked me! Oh, God, what happiness!'

"Poor Mamma! If she had known or guessed to whom those thanks ought tohave been addressed!

"They laid my uncle on his bed; he was certainly dead that time. 

"'Madame, ' Mélani said, 'we have no sheets to bury him in; all the linenbelongs to those two young ladies, ' and when I looked at the omelettewhich they had not finished, I felt inclined to laugh and to cry at thesame time. There are some strange moments and some strange sensations inlife, occasionally!

"We gave my uncle a magnificent funeral, with five speeches at thegrave. Baron de Croiselles, the Senator, showed in admirable terms, thatGod always returns victorious into well-born souls which have goneastray for a moment. All the members of the Royalist and Catholic partyfollowed the funeral procession with the enthusiasm of triumphers, speaking of that beautiful death, after a somewhat restless life. "

 * * * * *

Viscount Roger ceased speaking, and those around him laughed. Thensomebody said: "Bah! That is the story of conversions _in Extremis_. "

THE SIGNAL

The little Marchioness de Rennedon was still asleep in her closed andperfumed bedroom, in her soft, low bed, between her sheets of delicatecambric, fine as lace and caressing as a kiss; she was sleeping aloneand tranquil, the happy and profound sleep of divorced women. 

She was awakened by loud voices in the little blue drawing-room, and sherecognized her dear friend, the little Baroness de Grangerie, who wasdisputing with the lady's maid, because the latter would not allow herto go into her mistress' room. So the little Marchioness got up, openedthe door, drew back the door-hangings and showed her head, nothing buther fair head, hidden under a cloud of hair. 

"What is the matter with you, that you have come so early?" she asked. "It is not nine o'clock yet. "

The little baroness who was very pale, nervous and feverish, replied: "Imust speak to you. Something horrible has happened to me. " "Come in, mydear. "

She went in, they kissed each other, and the little Marchioness got backinto her bed while the lady's maid opened the windows to let in lightand air, and then when she had left the room, Madame de Rennedon wenton: "Well, tell me what it is. "

Madame de Grangerie began to cry, shedding those pretty, bright tearswhich make woman more charming, and she stammered without wiping hereyes, so as not to make them red: "Oh! my dear, what has happened to meis abominable, abominable. I have not slept all night, not a minute; doyou hear, not a minute. Here, just feel my heart, how it is beating. "

And, taking her friend's hand, she put it on her breast, on that firm, round covering of women's hearts which often suffices men, and preventsthem from seeking beneath. But her breast was really beating violently. 

She continued: "It happened to me yesterday during the day, at aboutfour o'clock ... Or half-past four; I cannot say exactly. You know myapartments, and you know that my little drawing-room, where I alwayssit, looks onto the Rue Saint-Lazare, and that I have a mania forsitting at the window to look at the people passing. The neighborhood ofthe railway station is very gay; so full of motion and lively.... Well, that is just what I like! So, yesterday, I was sitting in the low chairwhich I have placed in my window recess; the window was open and I wasnot thinking of anything; I was breathing the fresh air. You rememberhow fine it was yesterday!

"Suddenly, I remarked that there was also a woman sitting at the window, a woman in red; I was in mauve, you know, my pretty mauve costume. I didnot know the woman, a new lodger, who had been there a month, and as ithad been raining for a month, I had not yet seen her, but I sawimmediately that she was a bad girl. At first I was very much shockedand disgusted that she should be at the window like I was; and then, bydegrees, it amused me to examine her. She was resting her elbows on thewindow ledge, and looking at the men, and the men looked at her also, all or nearly all. One might have said that they were apprisedbeforehand by some means as they got near the house, which they scentedas dogs scent game, for they suddenly raised their heads, and exchangeda swift look with her, a freemason's look. Hers said: 'Will you?'

"Theirs replied: 'I have no time, ' or else: 'another day;' or else: 'Ihave not got a half penny;' or else: 'Will you hide yourself, youwretch!'

"You cannot imagine how funny it was to see her carrying on such a pieceof work, though, after all, it is her regular business. 

"Sometimes she shut the window suddenly, and I saw a gentleman go in. She had caught him like a fisherman hooks a gudgeon. Then I looked at mywatch, and I found that they stopped from twelve to twenty minutes, never longer. In the end she really infatuated me, the spider! And thenthe creature is so ugly. 

"I asked myself: How does she manage to make herself understood soquickly, so well and so completely? Does she add a sign of the head or amotion of the hands to her looks? And I took my opera-glasses to watchher proceedings. Oh! they were very simple: first of all a glance, thena smile, then a slight sign with the head, which meant: 'Are you comingup?' But it was so slight, so vague, so discreet, that it required agreat deal of knack to succeed as she did. And I asked myself: 'I wonderif I could do that little movement, from below upwards, which was at thesame time bold and pretty, as well as she does, ' for her gesture wasvery pretty. 

"I went and tried it before the looking-glass, and, my dear, I did itbetter than she, a great deal better! I was enchanted, and resumed myplace at the window. 

"She caught nobody more then, poor girl, nobody. She certainly had noluck. It must really be very terrible to earn one's bread in that way, terrible and amusing occasionally, for really some of these men onemeets in the street are rather nice. 

"After that they all came on my side of the road and none on hers; thesun had turned. They came one after the other, young, old, dark, fair, gray, white. I saw some who looked very nice, really very nice, my dear, far better than my husband or than yours, I mean than your late husband, as you have got a divorce. Now you can choose. 

"I said to myself! If I give them the sign, will they understand me, whoam a respectable woman? And I was seized with a mad longing to make thatsign to them. I had a longing, the longing of a pregnant woman ... Aterrible longing; you know, one of those longings which one cannotresist! I have some like that occasionally. How stupid such things are, don't you think so? I believe that we woman have the souls of monkeys. Ihave been told (and it was a physician who told me) that the brain of amonkey was very like ours. Of course we must imitate some one or other. We imitate our husbands, when we love them, during the first monthsafter our marriage, and then our lovers, our female friends, ourconfessors, when they are nice. We assume their ways of thought, theirmanners of speech, their words, their gestures, everything. It is verystupid. 

"However, as for me, when I am too much tempted to do a thing I alwaysdo it, and so I said to myself: 'I will try it once, on one man only, just to see. What can happen to me? Nothing whatever! We shall exchangea smile and that will be all, and I shall deny it, most certainly. '

"So I began to make my choice. I wanted someone nice, very nice, andsuddenly I saw a tall, fair, very good-looking fellow coming along. Ilike fair men, as you know. I looked at him, he looked at me; I smiled, he smiled; I made the movement; oh! but scarcely; he replied _yes_ withhis head, and there he was, my dear! He came in at the large door of thehouse. 

"You cannot imagine what passed through my mind then! I thought I shouldgo mad. Oh! how frightened I was. Just think, he will speak to theservants! To Joseph, who is devoted to my husband! Joseph wouldcertainly think that I had known that gentleman for a long time. 

"What could I do, just tell me? And he would ring in a moment. Whatcould I do, tell me? I thought I would go and meet him, and tell him hehad made a mistake, and beg him to go away. He would have pity on awoman, on a poor woman: So I rushed to the door and opened it, just atthe moment when he was going to ring the bell, and I stammered out, quite stupidly: 'Go away, Monsieur, go away; you have made a mistake, aterrible mistake; I took you for one of my friends whom you are verylike. Have pity on me, Monsieur. '

"But he only began to laugh, my dear, and replied: 'Good morning, mydear, I know all about your little story, you may be sure. You aremarried, and so you want forty francs instead of twenty, and you shallhave them, so just show the way. '

"And he pushed me in, closed the door, and as I remained standingbefore him, horror-struck, he kissed me, put his arm round my waist andmade me go back into the drawing-room, which had remained open. Then hebegan to look at everything, like an auctioneer, and continued: 'ByJove, it is very nice in your rooms, very well. You must be very down onyour luck just now, to do the window business!'

"Then I began to beg him again: 'Oh! Monsieur, go away, please go away!My husband will be coming in soon, it is just his time. I swear that youhave made a mistake!' But he answered quite coolly: 'Come, my beauty, Ihave had enough of this nonsense, and if your husband comes in, I willgive him five francs to go and have a drink at the café opposite. ' Andthen, seeing Raoul's photograph on the chimney-piece, he asked me: 'Isthat your ... Your husband?' 'Yes, that is he. ' 'He looks a nice, disagreeable sort of fellow. And who is this? One of your friends?'

"It was your photograph, my dear, you know, the one in ball dress. I didnot know any longer what I was saying, and I stammered: 'Yes, it is oneof my friends. ' 'She is very nice; you shall introduce me to her. '

"Just then the clock struck five, and Raoul comes home every day at halfpast! Suppose he were to come home before the other had gone, just fancywhat would have happened! Then ... Then ... I completely lost my head... Altogether.... I thought ... I thought ... That ... That ... Thebest thing would be ... To get rid ... Of ... Of this man ... As quicklyas possible.... The sooner it was over ... You understand ... And ... And there ... As it must be done ... And I was obliged, my dear ... Hewould not have gone away without it.... Well I ... I locked thedrawing-room door.... There!"

 * * * * *

The little Marchioness de Rennedon had begun to laugh, to laugh madly, with her head buried in her pillow, so that the whole bed shook, andwhen she was a little calmer she asked: "And ... And ... Was hegood-looking?" "Yes. " "And yet you complain?" "But ... But ... Don't yousee, my dear, he said ... He said ... He should come again to-morrow ... At the same time ... And I ... I am terribly frightened.... You have noidea how tenacious he is and obstinate.... What can I do ... Tell me ... What can I do?"

The little Marchioness sat up in bed to reflect, and then she suddenlysaid: "Have him arrested!"

The little Baroness looked stupefied, and stammered out: "What do yousay? What are you thinking of? Have him arrested? Under what pretext?""That is very simple. Go to the Commissary of Police and say that agentleman has been following you about for three months; that he had theinsolence to go up to your apartments yesterday; that he has threatenedyou with another visit to-morrow, and that you demand the protection ofthe law, and they will give you two police officers, who will arresthim. "

"But, my dear, suppose he tells.... " "They will not believe him, yousilly thing, if you have told your tale cleverly to the commissary, butthey will believe you, who are an irreproachable woman, and insociety. " "Oh! I shall never dare to do it. " "You must dare, my dear, oryou are lost. " "But think that he will ... He will insult me if he isarrested. " "Very well, you will have witnesses, and he will besentenced. " "Sentenced to what?" "To pay damages. In such cases, onemust be pitiless!" "Ah! speaking of damages.... There is one thing thatworries me very much ... Very much indeed.... He left me two twentyfranc pieces on the mantelpiece. " "Two twenty franc pieces?" "Yes. " "Nomore?" "No. " "That is very little. It would have humiliated me. Well?""Well! What am I to do with that money?"

The little Marchioness hesitated for a few seconds, and then she repliedin a serious voice:

"My dear ... You must make ... You must make your husband a littlepresent with it.... That will be only fair!"

THE DEVIL

The peasant was standing opposite the doctor, by the bedside of thedying old woman, and she, calmly resigned and quite lucid, looked atthem and listened to their talking. She was going to die, and she didnot rebel at it, for her time was over, as she was ninety-two. 

The July sun streamed in at the window and the open door and cast itshot flames onto the uneven brown clay floor, which had been stamped downby four generations of clod-hoppers. The smell of the fields came inalso, driven by the sharp wind, and parched by the noontide heat. Thegrasshoppers chirped themselves hoarse, and filled the country withtheir shrill noise, which was like that of the wooden crickets which aresold to children at fair time. 

The doctor raised his voice and said: "Honoré, you cannot leave yourmother in this state; she may die at any moment. " And the peasant, ingreat distress replied: "But I must get in my wheat, for it has beenlying 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, stilltormented by her Norman avariciousness, replied _yes_ with her eyes andher forehead, and so urged her son to get in his wheat, and to leave herto 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 youto do it, do you understand? And if you must get in your wheat to-day, go and fetch Rapet's wife and make her look after your mother. I willhave it, do you understand me? And if you do not obey me, I will let youdie like a dog, when you are ill in your turn; do you hear me?"

The peasant, a tall, thin fellow with slow movements, who was tormentedby indecision, by his fear of the doctor and his fierce love of saving, hesitated, calculated and stammered out: "How much does la Rapet chargefor attending sick people?" "How should I know?" the doctor cried. "Thatdepends upon how long she is wanted for. Settle it with her, by Jove!But I want her to be here within an hour, do you hear?"

So the man made up his mind: "I will go for her, " he replied; "don't getangry, doctor. " And the latter left, calling out as he went: "Take care, you know, for I do not joke when I am angry!" And as soon as they werealone, the peasant turned to his mother and said in a resigned voice: "Iwill go and fetch la Rapet, as the man will have it. Don't go off whileI am away. "

And he went out in his turn. 

 * * * * *

La Rapet, who was an old washerwoman, watched the dead and the dying ofthe neighborhood, and then, as soon as she had sown her customers intothat linen cloth from which they would emerge no more, she went and tookup her iron to smooth the linen of the living. Wrinkled like a lastyear's apple, spiteful, envious, avaricious with a phenomenal avarice, bent double, as if she had been broken in half across the loins, by theconstant movement of the iron over the linen, one might have said thatshe had a kind of monstrous and cynical affection for a death struggle. She never spoke of anything but of the people she had seen die, of thevarious kinds of deaths at which she had been present, and she relatedwith the greatest minuteness, details which were always the same, justlike a sportsman recounts his shots. 

When Honoré Bontemps entered her cottage, he found her preparing thestarch for the collars of the village women, and he said: "Good evening;I hope you are pretty well, Mother Rapet?"

She turned her head round to look at him, and said: "Fairly well, fairlywell, and you?" "Oh! as for me, I am as well as I could wish, but mymother is very poorly. " "Your mother?" "Yes, my mother!" "What's thematter with her?" "She is going to turn up her toes, that's what's thematter with her!"

The old woman took her hands out of the water and asked with suddensympathy: "Is she as bad as all that?" "The doctor says she will notlast till morning. " "Then she certainly is very bad!" Honoré hesitated, for he wanted to make a few preambulatory remarks before coming to hisproposal, but as he could hit upon nothing, he made up his mindsuddenly. 

"How much are you going to ask to stop with her till the end? You knowthat I am not rich, and I cannot even afford to keep a servant-girl. Itis just that which has brought my poor mother to this state, too muchwork and fatigue! She used to work for ten, in spite of her ninety-twoyears. You don't find any made of that stuff nowadays!... "

La Rapet answered gravely: "There are two prices: Forty sous by day andthree francs by night for the rich, and twenty sous by day, and forty bynight for the others. You shall pay me the twenty and forty. " But thepeasant reflected, for he knew his mother well. He knew how tenacious oflife, vigorous and unyielding she was, and she might last another week, in spite of the doctor's opinion, and so he said resolutely: "No, Iwould rather you would fix a price until the end. I will take my chance, one way or the other. The doctor says she will die very soon. If thathappens so much the better for you, and so much the worse for me, but ifshe holds out till to-morrow or longer, so much the better for me and somuch the worse for you!"

The nurse looked at the man in astonishment, for she had never treated adeath as a speculative job, and she hesitated, tempted by the idea ofthe possible gain, but almost immediately she suspected that he wantedto juggle her, "I can say nothing until I have seen your mother, " shereplied. "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 atevery step. 

The cows lying down in the fields, overcome by the heat, raised theirheads heavily and lowed feebly at the two passers-by, as if to ask themfor some green grass. 

When they got near the house, Honoré Bontemps murmured: "Suppose it isall over?" And the unconscious wish which he had that it might be so, showed itself in the sound of his voice. 

But the old woman was not dead. She was lying on her back, on herwretched bed, her hands covered with a pink cotton counterpane, horriblythin, knotty hands, like strange animals, like crabs, and closed byrheumatism, fatigue, and the work of nearly a century which she hadaccomplished. 

La Rapet went up to the bed and looked at the dying woman, felt herpulse, tapped her on the chest, listened to her breathing, and asked herquestions, so as to hear her speak: and then, having looked at her forsome time longer, she went out of the room, followed by Honoré. Herdecided opinion was that the old woman would not last out the night, andhe asked: "Well?" And the sick-nurse replied: "Well, she may last twodays, perhaps three. You will have to give me six francs, everythingincluded. "

"Six francs! six francs!" he shouted. "Are you out of your mind? I tellyou that she cannot last more than five or six hours!" And they disputedangrily for some time, but as the nurse said she would go home, as thetime was going by, and as his wheat would not come to the farmyard ofits own accord, he agreed to her terms at last:

"Very well then, that is settled; six francs including everything, untilthe corpse is taken out. " "That is settled, six francs. "

And he went away, with long strides, to his wheat, which was lying onthe ground under the hot sun, which ripens the grain, while thesick-nurse returned to the house. 

She had brought some work with her, for she worked without stopping bythe side of the dead and the dying, sometimes for herself, sometimes forthe family which employed her as seamstress also, paying her rathermore in that capacity. Suddenly she asked: "Have you received the lastsacraments, Mother Bontemps?"

The old peasant woman said "no" with her head, and la Rapet, who wasvery devout, got up quickly: "Good heavens, is it possible? I will goand fetch the Curé;" and she rushed off to the parsonage so quickly, that the urchins in the street thought some accident had happened, whenthey saw her trotting off like that. 

 * * * * *

The priest came immediately in his surplice, preceded by a choir-boy, who rang a bell, to announce the passage of the Host through the parchedand quiet country. Some men, who were working at a distance, took offtheir large hats and remained motionless until the white vestment haddisappeared behind some farm buildings; the women who were making up thesheaves, stood up to make the sign of the cross; the frightened blackhens ran away along the ditch until they reached a well-known holethrough which they suddenly disappeared, while a foal, which was tied upin a meadow, took fright at the sight of the surplice and began to turnround at the length of its rope, kicking violently. The choir-boy, inhis red cassock, walked quickly, and the priest, with his head inclinedtowards one shoulder, and with his square biretta on his head, followedhim, muttering some prayers, and last of all came la Rapet, bent almostdouble, as if she wished to prostrate herself as she walked with foldedhands, as if she were in church. 

Honoré saw them pass in the distance, and he asked: "Where is our priestgoing to?" And his man, who was more acute, replied: "He is taking thesacrament to your mother, of course!"

The peasant was not surprised, and said: "That is quite possible, " andwent on with his work. 

Mother Bontemps confessed, received absolution and communion, and thepriest took his departure, leaving the two women alone in thesuffocating cottage, 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 a cooler air came in stronger puffs, andmade a view of Epinal, which was fastened to the wall by two pins, flapup and down, the scanty window curtains, which had formerly been white, but were now yellow and covered with fly-specks, looked as if they weregoing to fly off and seemed to struggle to get away, like the oldwoman's soul. 

She lying motionless, with her eyes open, seemed to await that deathwhich was so near and which yet delayed its coming, with perfectindifference. Her short breath whistled in her tightening throat. Itwould stop altogether soon, and there would be one woman less in theworld, whom nobody would regret. 

At nightfall Honoré returned, and when he went up to the bed and sawthat his mother was still alive, he asked: "How is she?" just as he haddone formerly, when she had been unwell, and then he sent la Rapet away, saying to her: "To-morrow morning at five o'clock, without fail. " Andshe replied: "To-morrow, at five o'clock. "

She came at daybreak, and found Honoré eating his soup, which he hadmade himself, before going to work, and the sick-nurse asked him: "Well, is your mother dead?" "She is rather better, on the contrary, " hereplied, with a malignant look out of the corner of his eyes. And hewent out. 

La Rapet was seized with anxiety, and went up to the dying woman, whoremained in the same state, lethargic and impassive, with her eyes openand her hands clutching the counterpane. The nurse perceived that thismight go on thus for two days, four days, eight days, and her avariciousmind was seized with fear, while she was excited to furious rage againstthe cunning fellow who had tricked her, and against the woman, who wouldnot die. 

Nevertheless, she began to work and waited with her looks fixed on thewrinkled face of Mother Bontemps, and when Honoré returned to breakfasthe seemed quite satisfied and even in a bantering humor, for he wasdecidedly carrying in his wheat under very favorable circumstances. 

 * * * * *

La Rapet was getting exasperated; every minute passed now seemed to herso much time and money stolen from her. She felt a mad inclination totake this old ass, this headstrong old fool, this obstinate old wretch, and to stop that short, rapid breath, which was robbing her of her timeand money, by squeezing her throat a little. But then, she reflected onthe danger of doing so, and other thoughts came into her head, so shewent up to the bed and said to her: "Have you ever seen the Devil?"Mother Bontemps whispered: "No. "

Then the sick-nurse began to talk and to tell her tales which werelikely to terrify her weak and dying mind. Some minutes before one diedthe Devil appeared, she said, to all who were in their death throes. Hehad a broom in his hand, a saucepan on his head, and he uttered loudcries. When anybody had seen him, all was over, and that person had onlya few moments longer to live; and she enumerated all those to whom theDevil had appeared that year: Josephine Loisel, Eulalie Ratier, SophiePadagnau, Séraphine Grospied. 

Mother Bontemps, who was at last most disturbed in mind, moved about, wrung her hands, and tried to turn her head to look at the bottom of theroom, and suddenly la Rapet disappeared at the foot of the bed. She tooka sheet out of the cupboard and wrapped herself up in it; she put theiron pot onto her head, so that its three short bent feet rose up likehorns, and she took a broom in her right hand and a tin pail in herleft, which she threw up suddenly, so that it might fall to the groundnoisily. 

And certainly when it came down, it made a terrible noise; then, climbing onto a chair, the nurse lifted up the curtain which hung at thebottom of the bed, and showed herself, gesticulating and uttering shrillcries into the pot which covered her face, while she menaced the oldpeasant woman, who was nearly dead, with her broom. 

Terrified, with a mad look on her face, the dying woman made asuperhuman effort to get up and escape; she even got her shoulders andchest out of bed; then she fell back with a deep sigh. All was over, andla Rapet calmly put everything back into its place; the broom into thecorner by the cupboard, the sheet inside it, the pot on the hearth, thepail on the floor and the chair against the wall. Then, withprofessional movements, she closed the dead woman's enormous eyes, puta plate on the bed and poured some holy water into it, dipped the twigof boxwood into it, and kneeling down, she fervently repeated theprayers for the dead, which she knew by heart, as a matter of business. 

And when Honoré returned in the evening, he found her praying, and hecalculated immediately that she had made twenty sous out of him, for shehad only spent three days and one night there, which made five francsaltogether, instead of the six which he owed her. 

EPIPHANY

"Ah!" said Captain Count de Garens, "I should rather think that I doremember it, that supper of the Kings, during the war!

"I was at the time quarter-master of cavalry, and for a fortnight hadbeen lurking about as a scout in front of the German advanced guard. Theevening before we had cut down a few Uhlans and had lost three men, oneof whom was that poor little Raudeville. You remember Joseph deRaudeville well, of course. 

"Well, on that day my captain ordered me to take six troopers and to goand occupy the village of Porterin, where there had been five fights inthree weeks, and to hold it all night. There were not twenty houses leftstanding, not a dozen houses in that wasp's nest. So I took tentroopers, and set out at about four o'clock and at five o'clock, whileit was still pitch dark, we reached the first houses of Porterin. Ihalted and ordered Marchas, you know Pierre de Marchas, who afterwardsmarried little Martel-Auvelin, the daughter of the Marquis deMartel-Auvelin, to go alone into the village, and to report to me whathe saw. 

"I had chosen nothing but volunteers, and all of good family. It ispleasant when on service not to be forced to be on intimate terms withunpleasant fellows. This Marchas was as sharp as possible, as cunning asa fox and as supple as a serpent. He could scent the Prussians as wellas a dog can scent a hare, could find victuals where we should havedied of hunger without him, and he 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 noPrussians here for three days. It is a sinister place, is this village. I have been talking to a Sister of Mercy, who is attending to four orfive wounded men in an abandoned convent. '

"I ordered them to ride on, and we penetrated into the principal street. On the right and left we could vaguely see roofless walls, which werehardly visible in the profound darkness. Here and there a light wasburning in a room; some family had remained to keep its house standingas much as they were able; a family of brave, or of poor, people. Therain had begun to fall, a fine, icy cold rain, which froze us before itwetted us through, by merely touching our cloaks. The horses stumbledagainst 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 aplace for us to lodge in, and a rare good one. ' And soon we stoppedbefore a small house, evidently belonging to some owner of the middleclasses, quite enclosed, built near the street and with a garden in therear. 

"Marchas broke open the lock by means of a big stone which he picked upnear the garden gate; then he mounted the steps, smashed in the frontdoor with his feet and shoulders, lit a bit of wax candle, which he wasnever without, and went before us into the comfortable apartments ofsome rich private individual, guiding us with admirable assurance, asif he had lived in this house which he now saw for the first time. 

"Two troopers remained outside to take care of our horses, and Marchassaid to stout Ponderel, who followed him: 'The stables must be on theleft; I saw that as we came in; go and put the animals up there, for wedo not want 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 shallpost my sentinels at the country approaches and I will return to youhere?' 'How many man men are you going to take?' 'Five. The others willrelieve them at five o'clock in the evening. ' 'Very well. Leave me fourto look after provisions, to do the cooking and to set the table. I willgo and find out where the wine is hidden away. '

"I went off, to reconnoiter the deserted streets, until they ended inthe open country, so as to post my sentries there. 

"Half an hour later I was back, and I found Marchas lounging in a greatarmchair, the covering of which he had taking off, from love of luxuryas he said. He was warming his feet at the fire, and smoking anexcellent cigar, whose perfume filled the room. He was alone, his elbowsresting on the arms of the chair, his shoulders, his cheeks flushed, hiseyes bright, and looking delighted. 

"I heard the noise of plates and dishes in the next room, and Marchassaid to me, smiling in a beatific manner: 'This is famous; I found thechampagne under the flight of steps outside, the brandy--fifty bottlesof the very finest--in the kitchen garden under a pear tree, which didnot look to me to be quite straight, when I looked at it by the lightof my lantern. As for solids, we have two fowls, a goose, a duck andthree pigeons. They are being cooked at this moment. It is a delightfulpart of the country. '

"I had sat down opposite to him, and the fire in the grate was burningmy nose and cheeks. 'Where did you find this wood?' I asked. 'Splendidwood, ' he replied. 'The owner's carriage. It is the paint which iscausing all this flame, an essence of punch and varnish. A capitalhouse!'

"I laughed for I found the creature was funny, and he went on: 'Fancythis being the Epiphany! I have had a bean put into the goose, but thereis 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 findsome, of course. Some women, ' 'Women?... You must be mad?' 'I managed tofind 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 isa sure sign. Go and look, old fellow. '

"He looked so grave, so convinced, that I could not tell whether he wasjoking or not, and so I replied: 'Look here, Marchas, are you having ajoke with me?' 'I never joke on duty. ' 'But where the devil do youexpect me to find any women?' 'Where you like, there must be two orthree remaining in the neighborhood, so ferret them out and bring themhere. '

"I got up, for it was too hot in front of the fire, and Marchas went on:'Do you want an idea?' 'Yes. ' 'Go and see the priest. ' 'The priest? Whatfor?' 'Ask him to supper, and beg him to bring a woman with him. ' 'Thepriest! 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 hismust be horribly dull, he will come. But tell him that we want one womanat least, a lady, of course, since we are all men of the world. He issure to know his female parishioners on the tips of his fingers, and ifthere is one to suit us, and you manage it well, he will indicate her toyou. '

"'Come, come, Marchas, what are you thinking of?' 'My dear Garens, youcan do this quite well. It will even be very funny. We are well bred, byjove! and we will put on our most distinguished manners and our grandeststyle. Tell the Abbé who we are, make him laugh, soften him, seduce himand persuade him!' 'No, it is impossible. '

"He drew his chair close to mine, and as he knew my weak side, the scampcontinued: 'Just think what a swaggering thing it will be to do, and howamusing to tell about; the whole army will talk about it, and it willgive you a famous reputation. '

"I hesitated, for the adventure rather tempted me, and so he persisted:'Come, my little Garens. You are the head of this detachment, and youalone can go and call on the head of the church in this neighborhood. Ibeg of you to go, and I promise you that after the war, I will relatethe whole affair in verse in the _Revue des Deux Mondes_. You owe thismuch to your men, for you have made them march enough during the lastmonth. '

"I got up at last and asked: 'Where is the parsonage?' 'Take the secondturning at the end of the street, you will see an avenue, and at the endof the avenue you will find the church. The parsonage is beside it. ' AsI went out, he called out: 'Tell him the bill of fare, to make himhungry!'

 * * * * *

"I discovered the ecclesiastic's little house without any difficulty; itwas by the side of a large, ugly, brick church. I knocked at the doorwith my fist, as there was neither bell nor knocker, and a loud voicefrom inside asked: 'Who is there?' To which I replied: 'A quarter-masterof the hussars. '

"I heard the noise of bolts and of a key being turned, and I foundmyself face to face with a tall priest with a large stomach, the chestof a prize-fighter, formidable hands projecting from turned up sleeves, a red face and the looks of a kind man. I gave him a military salute andsaid: 'Good day, Monsieur le Curé. '

"He had feared a surprise, some marauders' ambush, and he smiled as hereplied: 'Good day, my friend; come in. ' I followed him into a smallroom with a red tiled floor, in which a small fire was burning, verydifferent to Marchas' furnace, and he gave me a chair and said: 'Whatcan I do for you?' 'Monsieur, allow me first of all to introducemyself;' and I gave him my card, which he took and read half aloud: _TheComte de Garens_. 

"I continued: 'There are eleven of us here, Monsieur l'Abbé, five ongrand guard, and six installed at the house of an unknown inhabitant. The names of the six are, Garens, (that is I), Pierre de Marchas, Ludovic de Ponderel, Baron d'Etreillis, Karl Massouligny, the painter'sson and Joseph Herbon, a young musician. I have come to ask you, intheir name and my own, to do us the honor of supping with us. It is anEpiphany supper, Monsieur le Curé, and we should like to make it alittle cheerful. '

"The priest smiled and murmured: 'It seems to me to be hardly a suitableoccasion for amusing oneself. ' And I replied: 'We are fighting everyday, Monsieur. Fourteen of our comrades have been killed in a month, andthree fell, as late as yesterday. That is war. We stake our lives everymoment, have we not, therefore, the right to amuse ourselves freely? Weare Frenchmen, we like to laugh, and we can laugh everywhere. Ourfathers laughed on the scaffold! This evening we should like to brightenourselves up a little, like gentlemen, and not like soldiers; youunderstand me, I hope. Are we wrong?'

"He replied quickly: 'You are quite right, my friend, and I accept yourinvitation with great pleasure. ' Then he called out: 'Hermance!'

"An old bent, wrinkled, horrible, peasant woman appeared and said: 'Whatdo you want?' 'I shall not dine at home, my daughter. ' 'Where are yougoing to dine then?' 'With some gentlemen, hussars. '

"I felt inclined to say: 'Bring your servant with you, just to seeMarchas's face, ' but I did not venture to, but continued: 'Do you knowanyone among your parishioners, male or female, whom I could invite aswell?' He hesitated, reflected, and then said: 'No, I do not knowanybody!'

"I persisted: 'Nobody! Come, Monsieur, think; It would be very nice tohave some ladies, I mean to say, some married couples! I know nothingabout your parishioners. The baker and his wife, the grocer, the ... The... The ... Watchmaker ... The ... Shoemaker ... The ... The chemistwith Mrs. Chemist.... We have a good spread, and plenty of wine, and weshould be enchanted to leave pleasant recollections of ourselves behindus, with the people here. '

"The priest thought again for a long time, and then resolutely: 'No, there is nobody. ' I began to laugh. 'By Jove, Monsieur le Curé, it isvery vexing 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 amarried Municipal Concilor or schoolmaster?' 'No, all the ladies havegone away. ' 'What, is there not in the whole place some good tradesman'swife with her good tradesman, to whom we might give this pleasure, forit would be a pleasure to them, a great pleasure under presentcircumstances?'

"But suddenly the Curé began to laugh, and he laughed so violently thathe fairly shook. And exclaimed: 'Ha! ha! ha! I have got what you want, yes. I have got what you want! Ha! ha! ha! We will laugh and enjoyourselves, my children, we will have some fun. How pleased the ladieswill be, I say, how delighted they will be. Ha! ha!... Where are youstaying?'

"I described the house, and he understood where it was. 'Very good, ' hesaid. 'It belongs to Monsieur Bertin Lavaille. I will be there in halfan hour, with four ladies!!!... Ha! ha! ha! four ladies!!!... '

"He went out with me, still laughing, and left me, repeating; 'That iscapital; in half an hour at Bertin-Lavaille's house. '

"I returned quickly, very much astonished and very much puzzled. 'Coversfor how many?' Marchas asked, as soon as he saw me. 'Eleven. There aresix of us hussars, besides the priest and four ladies. ' He wasthunderstruck, and I triumphant, and he repeated: 'Four ladies! Did yousay, 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 blueaprons were setting out the plates and glasses. 'There are some womencoming!' Marchas cried. And three men began to dance and to cheer withall their might. 

"Everything was ready, and we were waiting. We waited for nearly anhour, while a delicious smell of roast poultry pervaded the whole house. At last, however, a knock against the shutters, made us all jump up atthe same moment. Stout Ponderel ran to open the door, and in less than aminute a little Sister of Mercy appeared in the doorway. She was thin, wrinkled and timid, and successively saluted the four bewildered hussarswho saw her enter. Behind her, the noise of sticks sounded on the tiledfloor in the vestibule, and as soon as she had come into thedrawing-room, I saw three old heads in white caps, following each otherone by one, who came in balancing themselves with different movements, one canting to the right, while the other canted to the left. And threeworthy women showed themselves, limping, dragging their legs behindthem, crippled by illness and deformed through old age, three infirm oldwomen, past service, the only three pensioners in the establishmentwhich Sister Saint-Benedict managed, who were able to walk. 

"She had turned round to her invalids, full of anxiety for them, andthen seeing my quarter-master's stripes, she said to me: 'I am muchobliged to you for thinking of these poor women. They have very littlepleasure in life, and you are at the same time giving them a great treatand doing them a great honor. '

"I saw the priest, who had remained in the obscurity of the passage, andwho was laughing heartily, and I began to laugh in my turn, especiallywhen I saw Marchas's face. Then motioning the nun to the seats I said:'Sit down, Sister: we are very proud and very happy that you haveaccepted our unpretentious invitation. '

"She took three chairs which stood against the wall, set them before thefire, led her three old women to them, settled them on them, took theirsticks and shawls which she put into a corner, and then, pointing to thefirst, a thin woman with an enormous stomach, who was evidentlysuffering from the dropsy, she said: 'This is Mother Paumelle, whosehusband 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 issixty-seven. She is nearly blind, for her face was terribly singed in afire, and her right leg was half burnt 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 laPutois, an idiot. She is only forty-four. '

"I bowed to the three women as if I were presented to some RoyalHighness, and turning to the priest I said: 'You are an excellent manMonsieur l'Abbé, to whom all of us here owe a debt of gratitude. '

"Everybody was laughing, in fact, except Marchas, who seemed furious andjust then Karl Massouligny cried: 'Sister Saint-Benedict, supper is onthe 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 easytask, for her swollen stomach seemed heavier than a lump of iron. 

"Stout Ponderel gave her arm to Mother Jean-Jean, who bemoaned hercrutch, and little Joseph Herbon took the idiot, la Putois to thedining-room, which was filled with the odor of the viands. 

"As soon as we were opposite our plates, the Sister clapped her handsthree times, and, with the precision of soldiers presenting arms, thewomen made a rapid sign of the cross, and then the priest slowlyrepeated the _Benedictus_ in Latin. Then we sat down, and the two fowlsappeared, brought in by Marchas, who chose to wait on them, as to sitdown as a guest, to this ridiculous repast. 

"But I cried: 'Bring the champagne at once!' and a cork flew out withthe noise of a pistol, and in spite of the resistance of the priest andthe kind Sister, the three hussars sitting by the side of the threeinvalids, emptied their three full glasses down their throats, by force. 

"Massouligny, who possessed the faculty of making himself at home, andon being on good terms with everyone, wherever he was, made love toMother Paumelle, in the drollest manner. The dropsical woman, who hadretained her cheerfulness in spite of her misfortunes, answered himbanteringly in a high falsetto voice which appeared as if it were puton, and she laughed so heartily at her neighbor's jokes, that her largestomach looked as if it were going to rise up and get onto the table. Little Herbon had seriously undertaken the task of making the idiotdrunk, and Baron d'Etreillis whose wits were not always particularlysharp, was questioning old Jean-Jean about the life, the habits, and therules in the hospital. 

"The nun said to Massouligny in consternation: 'Oh! oh! you will makeher ill; pray do not make her laugh like that, Monsieur. Oh!Monsieur.... ' Then she got up and rushed at Herbon to take a full glassout of his hands which he was hastily emptying down la Putois' throat, while the priest shook with laughter, and said to the Sister: 'Nevermind, just this once, it will not hurt her. Do leave them alone. '

"After the two fowls they ate the duck, which was flanked by the threepigeons and the blackbird, and then the goose appeared, smoking, golden-colored, and diffusing a warm odor of hot, browned fat meat. LaPaumelle who was getting lively, clapped her hands; la Jean-Jean leftoff answering the Baron's numerous questions, and la Putois utteredgrunts of pleasure, half cries and half sighs, like little children dowhen one shows them sweets. 'Allow me to take charge of this animal, 'the _Curé_ said. 'I understand these sort of operations better than mostpeople. ' 'Certainly, Monsieur l'Abbé, ' and the Sister said: 'How wouldit be to open the window a little; they are too warm, and I am afraidthey will be ill. '

"I turned to Marchas: 'Open the window for a minute. ' He did so, thecold outer air as it came in, made the candles flare, and the smokefrom the goose, which the _Curé_ was scientifically carving, with atable napkin round his neck, whirl about. We watched him doing it, without speaking now, for we were interested in his attractivehandiwork, and seized with renewed appetite at the sight of thatenormous golden-colored bird, whose limbs fell one after another intothe brown gravy at the bottom of the dish. And at that moment, in themidst of that greedy silence which kept us all attentive, the distantreport of a shot came in at the open window. 

 * * * * *

"I started to my feet so quickly, that my chair fell down behind me, andI shouted: 'Mount, all of you! You, Marchas, will take two men and goand see what it is. I shall expect you back here in five minutes. ' Andwhile the three riders went off at full gallop through the night, I gotinto the saddle with my three remaining hussars, in front of the stepsof the villa, while the _Curé_, the Sister and the three old womenshowed their frightened faces at the window. 

"We heard nothing more, except the barking of a dog in the distance. Therain had ceased, and it was cold, very cold, and soon I heard the gallopof a horse, of a single horse, coming back. It was Marchas, and I calledout to him: 'Well?' 'It is nothing; François has wounded an old peasantwho refused to answer his challenge: "Who goes there?" and who continuedto advance, in spite of the order to keep off; but they are bringing himhere, and we shall see what is the matter. '

"I gave orders for the horses to be put back into the stable, and I sentmy two soldiers to meet the others, and returned to the house. Then the_Curé_, Marchas and I took a mattress into the room to put the woundedman on; the Sister tore up a table napkin, in order to make lint, whilethe three frightened women remained huddled up in a corner. 

"Soon I heard the rattle of sabres on the road, and I took a candle toshow a light to the men who were returning; and they soon appeared, carrying that inert, soft, long and sinister object which a human bodybecomes when life no longer sustains it. 

 * * * * *

"They put the wounded man on the mattress that had been prepared forhim, and I saw at the first glance that he was dying. He had the deathrattle and was spitting up blood, which ran out of the corners of hismouth, forced out of his mouth by his gasps. The man was covered withit! His cheeks, his beard, his hair, his neck and his clothes seemed tohave been rubbed, to have been dipped in a red tub; and that blood stuckto him, and had become a dull color, which was horrible to look at. 

"The old man, wrapped up in a large shepherd's cloak, occasionallyopened his dull, vacant eyes, which seemed stupid with astonishment, like those of animals which a sportsman kills, and which fall at hisfeet, more than half dead already, stupefied with fear and astonishment. 

"The _Curé_ exclaimed: 'Ah! there is old Placide, the shepherd, from lesMarlins. He is deaf, poor man, and heard nothing. Ah! Oh God! they havekilled the unhappy man!' The Sister had opened his blouse and shirt, andwas looking at a little blue hole in the middle of his chest, which wasnot bleeding any more. 'There is nothing to be done, ' she said. 

"The shepherd was gasping terribly and bringing up blood with every lastbreath, and in his throat, to the very depth of his lungs, they couldhear an ominous and continued gurgling. The Curé, standing in front ofhim, raised his right hand, made the sign of the cross, and in a slowand solemn voice pronounced the Latin words which purify men's souls, but before they were finished the old man was shaken by a rapid shock, as if something had broken inside him; he no longer breathed. He wasdead. 

"When I turned round, I saw a sight which was even more horrible thanthe death struggle of this unfortunate man; the three old women werestanding up huddled close together; hideous, and grimacing with fear andhorror. I went up to them, and they began to utter shrill screams, whilela Jean-Jean, whose leg had been burnt, and could not longer supporther, fell to the ground at full length. 

"Sister Saint-Benedict left the dead man, ran up to her infirm oldwomen, and without a word or a look for me, wrapped their shawls roundthem, gave them their crutches, pushed them to the door, made them goout, and disappeared with them into the dark night. 

"I saw that I could not even let a hussar accompany them, for the mererattle of a sword would have sent them mad with fear. 

"The _Curé_ was still looking at the dead man; but at last he turnedround to me and said:

"'Oh! What a horrible thing!'"

IN THE WOOD

The Mayor was just going to sit down to breakfast, when he was told thatthe rural policeman was waiting for him at the Mansion-house with twoprisoners, and he went there immediately, and found old Hochedurstanding up and watching a middle-class couple of mature years, with asevere look. 

The man, a fat old fellow with a red nose and white hair, seemed utterlydejected; while the woman, a little roundabout, fat woman, with shiningcheeks, looked at the agent of the authorities 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 athis usual time, in order to go on his beat from the forest of Champiouxas far as the boundaries of Argenteuil. He had not noticed anythingunusual in the country except that it was a fine day, and that the wheatwas doing well, when the son of old Bredel, who was going over his vinesa second time, called out to him: "Here, Daddy Hochedur, go and have alook into the skirts of the wood, in the first thicket, and you willcatch a pair of pigeons there that must be a hundred and thirty yearsold between them!"

He went in the direction that had been indicated to him, and had goneinto the thicket, and there he heard words and gasps, which made himsuspect a flagrant breach of morality. Advancing, therefore, on hishands and knees, as if to surprise a poacher, he had arrested the couplewho were there present, at the very moment when they were going toabandon themselves to their natural instincts. 

The Mayor looked at the culprits in astonishment, for the man wascertainly sixty, and the woman fifty-five at least, and so he began toquestion them, beginning with the man, who replied in such a weak voicethat he could scarcely be heard. 

"What is your name?" "Nicolas Beaurain. " "Your occupation?""Haberdasher, in the Rue des Martyrs, in Paris. " "What were you doing inthe wood?" The haberdasher remained silent, with his eyes on his fatstomach; and his hand resting on his thighs, and the Mayor continued:"Do you deny what the officer of the municipal authorities states?" "No, Monsieur. " "So you confess it?" "Yes, Monsieur. " "What have you to sayin your defense?" "Nothing, Monsieur. " "Where did you meet the partnerin your misdemeanor?" "She is my wife, Monsieur. " "Your wife?" "Yes, Monsieur. " "Then ... Then ... You do not live together ... In Paris?" "Ibeg your pardon, Monsieur, but we are living together!" "But in thatcase ... You must be mad, altogether mad, my dear sir, to get caughtlike that, in the country at ten o'clock in the morning. "

The haberdasher seemed ready to cry with shame, and he murmured: "It wasshe who enticed me! I told her it was very stupid, but when a woman hasgot a thing into her head ... You know ... You cannot get it out ofit. "

The Mayor, who liked open speaking, smiled and replied: "In your case, the contrary ought to have happened. You would not be here, if she hadhad the idea only in her head!" Then Monsieur Beaurain was seized withrage, and turning to his wife, he said: "Do you see to what you havebrought us with your poetry? And now we shall have to go before theCourts, at our age, for a breach of morals! And we shall have to shut upthe shop, sell our good will and go to some other neighborhood! That'swhat it has come to!"

Madame Beaurain got up, and without looking at her husband, sheexplained herself without any 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 apoor woman; and I hope that you will be kind enough to send us home, andto spare us the disgrace of a prosecution. 

"Years ago, when I was young, I made Monsieur Beaurain's acquaintance onSunday in this neighborhood. He was employed in a draper's shop, and Iwas a young lady in a ready made clothing establishment. I remember it, as if it were yesterday. I used to come and spend Sundays hereoccasionally with a friend of mine, Rose Levéque, with whom I lived inthe Rue Pigalle, and Rose had a sweetheart, while I had not. He used tobring us here, and one Saturday, he told me, laughing, that he shouldbring 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 inthose days he was good-looking, but I had made up my mind not to yieldto him, and I did not yield. Well, we arrived at Bezons. It was a lovelyday, the sort of day that tickles your heart. When it is fine, even now, just as it used to be formerly, I grow quite foolish, and when I am inthe country I utterly lose my head. The verdure, the swallows flying soswiftly, the smell of the grass, the scarlet poppies, the daisies, allthat makes me quite excited! It is like champagne when one is not usedto it!

"Well, it was lovely weather, warm and bright, and it seemed topenetrate into your body by your eyes when you looked, and by your mouthwhen you breathed. Rose and Simon hugged and kissed each other everyminute, and that gave me something to look at! Monsieur Beaurain and Iwalked behind them, without speaking much, for when people do not knoweach other they do not find anything to talk about. He looked timid, andI liked to see his embarrassment. At last we got to the little wood; itwas as cool as in a bath there, and we all four sat down. Rose and herlover joked me because I looked rather stern, but you will understandthat could not be otherwise. And then they began to kiss and hug again, without putting any more restraint upon themselves than if we had notbeen there; and then they whispered together, and then got up and wentoff among the trees, without saying a word. You may fancy what I lookedlike, alone with this young fellow, whom I saw for the first time. Ifelt so confused at seeing them go that it gave me courage and I beganto talk. I asked him what his business was, and he said he was a linendraper's assistant, as I told you just now. We talked for a few minutesand that made him bold, and he wanted to take liberties with me, but Itold him sharply to keep his own place. Is not that true, MonsieurBeaurain?"

Monsieur Beaurain, who was looking at his feet in confusion, did notreply, and she continued: "Then he saw that I was virtuous, and he beganto make love to me nicely, like an honorable man, and from that time hecame every Sunday, for he was very much in love with me. I was very fondof 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 inbusiness in the Rue des Martyrs. 

"It was a hard struggle for some years, Monsieur. Business did notprosper, and we could not afford many country excursions, and then wehad grown unaccustomed to them. One has other things in one's head, andthinks more of the cash box than of pretty speeches, when one is inbusiness. We were growing old by degrees without perceiving it, likequiet people who do not think much about love. One does not regretanything as long as one does not notice what one has lost. 

"And after that, Monsieur, business went better, and we became tranquilas to the future! Then, you see, I do not exactly know what passedwithin me, no, I really do not know, but I began to dream like a littleboarding-school girl. The sight of the little carts full of flowerswhich are drawn about the streets, made me cry; the smell of violetssought me out in my easy-chair, behind my cash box, and made my heartbeat! Then I used to get up and go onto the doorstep to look at theblue sky between the roofs. When one looks at the sky from a street, itlooks like a river which descends on Paris, winding as it flows, and theswallows pass to and fro in it like fish. This sort of things is verystupid at my age! But what can one do, Monsieur? when one has worked allone's life? A moment comes in which one perceives that one could havedone something else, and then, one regrets, oh! yes, one feels greatregret! Just think that for twenty years I might have gone and hadkisses in the woods, like other women. I used to think how delightful itwould be to lie under the trees, loving some one! And I thought of iteveryday and every night! I dreamt of the moonlight on the water, untilI felt inclined to drown myself. 

"I did not venture to speak to Monsieur Beaurain about this at first. Iknew that he would make fun of me, and send me back to sell my needlesand cotton! And then, to speak the truth, Monsieur Beaurain never saidmuch to me, but when I looked in the glass, I also understood quitewell, that I also no longer appealed to anyone!

"Well, I made up my mind, and I proposed an excursion into the countryto him, to the place where we had first become acquainted. He agreedwithout any distrust, and we arrived here this morning, about nineo'clock. 

"I felt quite young again when I got among the corn, for a woman's heartnever grows old! And really, I no longer saw my husband as he is atpresent, but just like he was formerly! That I will swear to you, Monsieur. As true as I am standing here, I was intoxicated. I began tokiss 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 onlylistened to my own heart, and I made him come into the woods with me.... There it is.... I have spoken the truth, Monsieur le Maire, the wholetruth. "

The Mayor was a sensible man. He rose from his chair, smiled, and said:"Go in peace, Madame, and sin no more ... Under the trees. "

A FAMILY

I was going to see my friend Simon Radevin once more, whom I had not hada sight of for fifteen years. Formerly he used to be my most intimatefriend, and I used to spend long, quiet and happy evenings with him; hewas one of those men to whom one tells one's most intimate affairs ofthe heart, for whom one finds, when conversing tranquilly, rare, clever, ingenious and refined thoughts, which excite the mind and put it at itsease. 

For years we had scarcely been separated; we had lived, traveled, thought and dreamt together; had liked the same things with the sameliking, had admired the same books, comprehended the same works, shivered with the same sensations, and very often laughed at the sameindividuals, whom we understood completely, by merely exchanging aglance. 

Then he married; quite unexpectedly he married a little girl from theprovinces, who had come to Paris in search of a husband. How ever couldthat little, thin, insipidly fair girl, with her weak hands, her light, vacant eyes, and her clear silly voice, who was exactly like a hundredthousand marriageable dolls, have picked up that intelligent, cleveryoung fellow? Can anyone understand these things? No doubt he had hopedfor happiness, simple, quiet and long-enduring happiness, in the arms ofa good, tender and faithful woman; he had seen all that in thetransparent looks of that school girl with light hair. 

He had not dreamt of the fact that an active, living and vibrating mangrows tired as soon as he has comprehended the stupid reality, unlessindeed, he becomes so brutalized that he understands nothing morewhatever. 

What would he be like when I met him again? Still lively, witty, lighthearted and enthusiastic, or in a state of mental torpor throughprovincial life? A man can change a great deal in the course of fifteenyears!

 * * * * *

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 tome with open arms, exclaiming: "George!" I embraced him, but I had notrecognized him, and then I said, in astonishment: "By Jove! You have notgrown thin!" And he replied with a laugh: "What did you expect? Goodliving, a good table and good nights! Eating and sleeping, that is myexistence!"

I looked at him closely, trying to find the features I held so dear inthat broad face. His eyes alone had not altered, but I no longer saw thesame looks in them, and I said to myself: "If the looks be thereflection of the mind, the thoughts in that head are not what they usedto be formerly; those thoughts which I knew so well. "

Yet his eyes were bright, full of pleasure and friendship, but they hadnot that clear, intelligent expression, which expresses as much as wordsdo, the value of the mind. Suddenly he said to me: "Here are my twoeldest children. " A girl of fourteen, who was almost a woman, and a boyof thirteen, in the dress of a boy from a _Lycée_, came forward in ahesitating and awkward manner, and I said in a low voice: "Are theyyours?" "Of course they are, " he replied laughing. "How many have you?""Five! There are three more indoors. "

He said that in a proud, self-satisfied, almost triumphant manner, and Ifelt profound pity, mingled with a feeling of vague contempt for thisvainglorious and simple reproducer of his species, who spent his nightsin his country house in making children. 

I got into a carriage, which he drove himself, and we set off throughthe town, a dull, sleepy, gloomy town, where nothing was moving in thestreets except a few dogs and two or three maidservants. Here and therea shopkeeper standing at his door took off his hat, and Simon returnedhis salute and told me the man's name; no doubt to show me that he knewall the inhabitants personally, and the thought struck me that he wasthinking of becoming a candidate for the Chamber of Deputies, that dreamof all who have buried themselves in the provinces. 

We were soon out of the town, and the carriage turned into a garden, which had some pretensions to being a park, and stopped in front of aturretted house, which tried to pass for a château. 

"That is my den, " Simon said, so that he might be complimented on it, and I replied that it was delightful. 

A lady appeared on the steps, dressed up for a visitor, her hair donefor a visitor, and with phrases ready prepared for a visitor. She was nolonger the light haired, insipid girl I had seen in church fifteen yearspreviously, but a stout lady in curls and flounces, one of those ladieswithout any fixed age, without intellect, without any of those thingswhich constitute a woman. In short, she was a mother, a stout, commonplace mother, the human layer and brood mare, that machine offlesh which procreates without any other mental preoccupation, excepther children and her housekeeping book. 

She welcomed me, and I went into the hall, where three children, rangedaccording to their height, seemed set out for review, like firemenbefore a mayor, and I said: "Ah! ah! so these are the others?" AndSimon, who was radiant with pleasure, named them: "Jean, Sophie andGontran. "

The door of the drawing-room was open. I went in and in the depths of aneasy-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 oldman's ears: "This is a friend of Simon's, papa. " The old gentleman triedto say "good day" to me, and he muttered: "Oua, oua, oua, " and waved hishand, 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 madegrandpapa's acquaintance. He is priceless, is that old man; he is thedelight of the children, and he is so greedy that he almost killshimself at every meal; you have no idea what he would eat if he wereallowed to do as he pleased. But you will see, you will see. He likesall the sweets as if they were so many girls. You have never seenanything funnier; you will see it presently. "

I was then shown to my room to change my dress for dinner, and hearinga great clatter behind me on the stairs, I turned round and saw that allthe children were following me behind their father; to do me honor, nodoubt. 

My windows looked out onto a plain, bare, interminable plain, an oceanof grass, of wheat, and of oats, without a clump of trees or any risingground, a striking and melancholy picture of the life which they must beleading in that house. 

A bell rang; it was for dinner, and so I went downstairs. Madame Radevintook my arm in a ceremonious manner, and we went into the dining-room. Afootman wheeled in the old man's armchair, who gave a greedy and curiouslook at the dessert, as he with difficulty turned his shaking head fromone dish to the other. 

Simon rubbed his hands: "You will be amused, " he said; and all thechildren understood that I was going to be indulged with the sight oftheir greedy grandfather, and they began to laugh accordingly, whiletheir mother merely smiled and shrugged her shoulders, and Simon, makinga speaking trumpet of his hands, shouted at the old man: "This eveningthere is sweet rice cream, " and the wrinkled face of the grandfatherbrightened, and he trembled more violently all over, showing that he hadunderstood and was very pleased. The dinner began. 

"Just look!" Simon whispered. The grandfather did not like the soup, andhe refused to eat it; but he was made to, on account of his health, andthe footman forced the spoon into his mouth, while the old man blewenergetically, so as not to swallow the soup, which was thus scatteredlike a stream of water onto the table and over his neighbors. Thechildren shook with delight at the spectacle, while their father, whowas also amused, said: "Is not the old man funny?"

During the whole meal, they were all taken up solely with him. Hedevoured the dishes which were put on the table, with his eyes, and hetried to seize them and pull them to himself with his trembling hands. They put them almost within his reach, to see his useless efforts, histrembling clutches at them, the piteous appeal of his whole nature, ofhis eyes, of his mouth and of his nose as he smelt them, and heslobbered onto his table napkin with eagerness, while utteringinarticulate grunts. And the whole family was highly amused at thishorrible and grotesque scene. 

Then they put a tiny morsel onto his plate, which he ate with feverishgluttony, in order to get something more as soon as possible, and whenthe rice-cream was brought in, he nearly had a fit, and groaned withgreediness, and Gontran called out to him: "You have eaten too muchalready; you will 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 hishelping, a very small piece; and as he ate the first mouthful of thepudding, he made a comical and greedy noise in his throat, and amovement with his neck like ducks do when they swallow too large amorsel, and then, when he had done, he began to stamp his feet, so as toget more. 

I was seized with pity for this saddening and ridiculous Tantalus, and Iinterposed on his behalf: "Please, will you not give him a little morerice?" But Simon replied: "Oh! no, my dear fellow, if he were to eattoo much, it might harm him, at his age. "

I held my tongue, and thought over these words. Oh! ethics! Oh! logic!Oh! wisdom! At his age! So they deprived him of his only remainingpleasure out of regard for his health! His health! What would he do withit, inert and trembling wreck that he was? They were taking care of hislife, so they said. His life? How many days? Ten, twenty, fifty, or ahundred? Why? For his own sake? Or to preserve for some time longer thespectacle of his impotent greediness in the family. 

There was nothing left for him to do in this life, nothing whatever. Hehad one single wish left, one sole pleasure; why not grant him that lastsolace constantly, until he died?

After playing cards for a long time, I went up to my room and to bed; Iwas low-spirited and sad, sad, sad! I sat at my window, but I heardnothing but the beautiful warbling of a bird in a tree, somewhere in thedistance. No doubt the bird was singing thus in a low voice during thenight, and to lull his mate, who was sleeping on her eggs. 

And I thought of my poor friend's five children, and pictured him tomyself, snoring by the side of his ugly wife. 

JOSEPH

They were both of them drunk, quite drunk, little Baroness Andrée de laFraisières and little Countess Noemi de Gardens. They had been diningalone together, in the large room which faced the sea. The soft breezeof a summer evening blew in at the open window, soft and fresh at thesame time, a breeze that smelt of the sea. The two young women, extendedin their lounging chairs, sipped their Chartreuse from time to time, asthey smoked their cigarettes, and they were talking most confidentially, telling each other details which nothing but this charming intoxicationcould have induced their pretty lips to utter. 

Their husbands had returned to Paris that afternoon, and had left themalone on that little deserted beach, which they had chosen so as toavoid those gallant marauders who are constantly met with in fashionablewatering places. As they were absent for five days in the week, theyobjected to country excursions, luncheons on the grass, swimming lessonsand those sudden familiarities which spring up in the idle life ofwatering places. Dieppe, Etratat, Trouville seemed to them to be placesto be avoided, and they had rented a house which had been built andabandoned by an eccentric individual in the valley of Roqueville, nearFécamp, and there they buried their wives for the whole summer. 

They were drunk. Not knowing what to hit upon to amuse themselves, thelittle Baroness had suggested a good dinner and champagne. To beginwith, they had found great amusement in cooking this dinner themselves, and then they had eaten it merrily, and had drunk freely, in order toallay the thirst which the heat of the fire had excited. Now they werechatting and talking nonsense, while gently gargling their throats withChartreuse. In fact they did not in the least know any longer what theywere saying. 

The Countess, with her legs in the air on the back of a chair, wasfurther gone than her friend. 

"To complete an evening like this, " she said, "we ought to have a loverapiece. If I had foreseen this some time ago, I would have sent for acouple from Paris, and I would have let you have one.... " "I can alwaysfind one, " the other replied; "I could have one this very evening, if Iwished. " "What nonsense! At Roqueville, my dear? It would have to besome peasant, then. " "No, not altogether. " "Well, tell me all about it. ""What do you want me to tell you?" "About your lover. " "My dear, I donot want to live without being loved, for I should fancy I was dead if Iwere not loved. " "So should I. " "Is not that so?" "Yes. Men cannotunderstand it! And especially our husbands!" "No, not in the least. Howcan you expect it to be different? The love which we want is made up ofbeing spoilt, of gallantries and of pretty words and actions. That isthe nourishment of our hearts; it is indispensable to our life, indispensable, indispensable.... " "Indispensable. "

"I must feel that somebody is thinking of me, always, everywhere. When Igo to sleep and when I wake up, I must know that somebody loves mesomewhere, that I am being dreamt of, longed for. Without that, I shouldbe wretched, wretched! Oh! yes, unhappy enough to do nothing but cry. ""I am just the same. "

"You must remember that anything else is impossible. When a husband hasbeen nice for six months, or a year, or two years, he necessarilybecomes a brute, yes, a regular brute.... He does not put himself outfor anything, but shows himself just as he is, and makes a scene on theslightest provocation, or without any provocation whatever. One cannotlove a man with whom one lives constantly. " "That is quite true. " "Isn'tit?... What was I saying? I cannot the least remember?" "You were sayingthat all husbands are brutes!" "Yes, brutes ... All of them. " "That isquite true. " "And then?" "What do you mean?" "What was I saying justthen?" "I don't know because you did not say it!" "But I had somethingto tell you. " "Oh! yes, that is true; well?... " "Oh! I have got it.... ""Well, I am listening. " "I was telling you that I can find loverseverywhere. " "How do you manage it?" "Like this. Now follow mecarefully. When I get to some fresh place, I take notes and make mychoice. " "You make your choice?" "Yes, of course I do. First of all, Itake notes. I ask questions. Above all, a man must be discreet, rich andgenerous; is not that so?" "It is quite true!" "And then he must pleaseme, as a man. " "Of course. " "Then I bait the hook for him. " "You baitthe hook?" "Yes, just as one does to catch fish. Have you never fishedwith a hook and line?" "No, never. " "You are wrong; It is very amusing, and besides that, it is instructive. Well then, I bait the hook.... ""How do you do it?" "How stupid you are. Does not one catch the man onewants to catch, without their having any choice? And they really thinkthat they choose ... The fools ... But it is we who choose ... Always.... Just think, when one is not ugly, nor stupid, as is the casewith us, all men aspire to us, all ... Without exception. We look themover from morning till night, and when we have selected one, we fish forhim.... " "But that does not tell me how you do it?" "How I do it?... Why, I do nothing; I allow myself to be looked at, that is all. " "Youallow yourself to be looked at?... " "Why yes; that is quite enough. Whenone has allowed oneself to be looked at several times following, a manimmediately thinks you the most lovely, most seductive of women, andthen he begins to make love to you. I give him to understand that he isnot so bad looking, without saying anything to him, of course, and hefalls in love, like a dog. I have him fast, and it lasts a longer or ashorter time, according to his qualities. "

"And do you catch all whom you please, like that?" "Nearly all. " "Oh! Sothere are some who resist?" "Sometimes. " "Why?" "Oh! Why? A man is aJoseph for three reasons. Because he is in love with another woman. Because he is excessively timid, or because he is ... How shall I sayit? ... Incapable of carrying out the conquest of a woman to theend.... " "Oh! my dear!... Do you really believe?... " "I am sure ofit.... There are many of this latter class, many, many ... Many morethan people think. Oh! they look just like everybody else ... They strutlike peacocks.... No, when I said peacocks ... I made a mistake, forthey could not display themselves. " "Oh! my dear.... " "As to the timid, they are sometimes unspeakably stupid. They are the sort of men, whoought not to undress themselves, even when they are going to bed alone, when there is a looking-glass in their room. With them, one must beenergetic, make use of looks, and squeeze their hands, and even that isuseless sometimes. They never know how or where to begin. When onefaints in their presence ... As a last resource ... They try to bringyou round ... And if you do not recover your senses immediately ... Theygo and get assistance. 

"Those whom I prefer myself, are other women's lovers. I carry them byassault ... At ... At ... At the point of the bayonet, my dear!" "Thatis all very well, but when there are no men, like here, for instance?""I find them!" "You find them. But where?" "Everywhere. But that remindsme of my story. 

"Now listen. Just two years ago, my husband made me pass the summer onhis estate at Bougrolles. There was nothing there ... You know what Imean, nothing, nothing, nothing, whatever! In the neighboring countryhouses there were a few disgusting boors, who cared for nothing butshooting, and who lived in country houses which had not even a bathroom, men who perspire, go to bed covered with perspiration, and whom it wouldbe impossible to improve, because their principles of life are dirty. Now just guess what I did!" "I cannot possibly. " "Ha! ha! ha! I hadjust been reading a number of George Sand's novels which exalt the manof the people, novels in which the workmen are sublime, and all the menof the world are criminals. In addition to this I had seen Ruy Blas thewinter before, and it had struck me very much. Well, one of our farmershad a son, a good-looking young fellow of two and twenty who had studiedfor a priest, but had left the seminary in disgust. Well, I took him asfootman!" "Oh!... And then?... What afterwards?"

"Then ... Then, my dear, I treated him very haughtily, and showed him agood deal of my person. I did not entice this rustic on, I simplyinflamed him!... " "Oh! Andrée!" "Yes, and I enjoyed the fun very much. People say that servants count for nothing! Well he did not count formuch. I used to ring to give him his orders every morning while my maidwas dressing me, and every evening as well, while she was undressingme. " "Oh! Andrée!"

"My dear he caught fire like a thatched roof. Then, at meals, I usedcontinually to talk about cleanliness, about taking care of one'sperson, about baths and shower baths, until at the end of a fortnight hebathed in the river morning and night, and used to scent himself enoughto poison the whole château. I was even obliged to forbid him to useperfumes, telling him, with furious looks, that men ought never to usescent except Eau de Cologne. "

"Oh! Andrée!"

"Then, I took it into my head to get together a library suitable to thecountry. I sent for a few hundred moral novels, which I lent to all ourpeasants, and all my servants. A few books ... A few ... Poetical books... Such as excite the mind of ... Schoolboys and schoolgirls ... Hadfound their way into my collection ... And I gave them to my footman. That taught him life ... A funny sort of life. " "Oh! Andrée!"

"Then I grew familiar with him, and used to say thou[18] to him. I hadgiven him the name of Joseph. And, my dear, he was in a state ... In aterrible state.... He got as thin as ... As a barn-door cock ... Androlled his eyes like an idiot. I was extremely amused; it was one of themost delightful summers I ever spent.... " "And then?... " "Then?... Oh!yes.... Well, one day when my husband was away from home, I told him toorder the basket carriage and to drive me into the woods. It was warm, very warm.... There!" "Oh Andrée, do tell me all about it.... It is soamusing.... " "Here have a glass of Chartreuse, otherwise I shall emptythe decanter myself. Well, I felt ill, on the road. " "How?" "You arevery stupid. I told him that I was not feeling well, and that he mustlay me on the grass, and when I was lying there, I told him I waschoking, and that he must unlace me. And then, when I was unlaced, Ifainted. " "Did you go right off?" "Oh! dear no, not the least. " "Well?"

"Well, I was obliged to remain unconscious for nearly an hour, as hecould find no means of bringing me round. But I was very patient, anddid not open my eyes. "

"Oh! Andrée!... And what did you say to him?" "I? Nothing at all! Howwas I to know anything, as I was unconscious? I thanked him, and toldhim to help me into the carriage, and he drove me back to the Château;but he nearly upset us in turning into the gate!" "Oh! Andrée! And isthat all?... " "That is all.... " "You did not faint more than that once?""Only once, of course! I did not want to take such a fellow for mylover. " "Did you keep him long after that?" "Yes, of course. I have himstill. Why should I have sent him away? I had nothing to complain of. ""Oh! Andrée! And is he in love with you still?" "Of course he is. ""Where is he?"

The little Baroness put out her hand to the wall and touched theelectric bell, and the door opened almost immediately, and a tallfootman came in who diffused a scent of Eau de Cologne all round him. "Joseph, " she said to him, "I am afraid I am going to faint; send mylady's maid to me. "

The man stood motionless, like a soldier before his officer, and fixedan ardent look on his mistress, who continued: "Go quickly, you greatidiot, we are not in the wood to-day, and Rosalie will attend to mebetter than you would. " He turned on his heels and went, and the littleBaroness asked nervously: "But what shall you say to your maid?" "Ishall tell her what we have been doing! No, I shall merely get her tounlace me; it will relieve my chest, for I can scarcely breathe. I amdrunk ... My dear ... So drunk that I should fall, if I were to get upfrom my chair. "

THE INN

Like all the wooden inns in the higher Alps, which are situated in therocky and bare gorges which intersect the white summits of themountains, the inn of Schwarenbach stands as a refuge for travelers whoare crossing the Gemmi. 

It remains open for six months in the year, and is inhabited by thefamily of Jean Hauser; then, as soon as the snow begins to fall, andfills the valley so as to make the road down to Loëche impassable, thefather and his three sons go away, and leave the house in charge of theold guide, Gaspard Hari, with the young guide, Ulrich Kunzi, and Sam, the great mountain dog. 

The two men and the dog remained till the spring in their snowy prison, with nothing before their eyes except the immense, white slopes of theBalmhorn; they were surrounded by light, glistening summits, and shutup, blocked up and buried by the snow which rose around them, and whichenveloped, bound and crushed the little house, which lay piled on theroof, reached to the windows and blocked up the door. 

It was the day on which the Hauser family were going to return toLoëche, as winter was approaching, and the descent was becomingdangerous. Three mules started first, laden with baggage and led by thethree sons. Then the mother, Jean Hauser and her daughter Louise mounteda 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 asfar as the brow of the descent. First of all they passed round the smalllake, which was now frozen over, at the bottom of the mass of rockswhich 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, frozendesert, and illuminated it with a cold and dazzling flame; no livingthing appeared among this ocean of hills; there was nothing more in thisimmeasurable solitude, and no noise disturbed the profound silence. 

By degrees the young guide Ulrich Kunzi, a tall, long legged Swiss, leftdaddy Hauser and old Gaspard behind, in order to catch up to the mule, which carried the two women. The younger one looked at him as heapproached, and appeared to be calling him, with her sad eyes. She was ayoung, light haired peasant girl, whose milk white cheeks and pale hairlooked as if they had lost their color by their long abode amidst theice. When he had got up with the animal which carried them, he put hishand on the crupper, and relaxed his speed. Mother Hauser began to talkto him, and enumerated with the minutest details all that he would haveto attend to during the winter. It was the first time that he was goingto stop up there, while old Hari had already spent fourteen wintersamidst the snow, at the inn of Schwarenbach. 

Ulrich Kunzi listened, without appearing to understand, and lookedincessantly at the girl. From time to time he replied: "Yes, MadameHauser;" but his thoughts seemed far away, and his calm featuresremained unmoved. 

They reached Lake Daube, whose broad, frozen surface extended to thebottom of the valley. On the right, the Daubenhorn showed its blackrocks, rising up in a peak above the enormous moraines of the Lömmeonglacier, which rose above the Wildstrubel. As they approached the neckof the Gemmi, where the descent to Loëche begins, they suddenly beheldthe 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 pointedmountain summits, which glistened in the sun; the Mischabel with its twopeaks, the huge group of the Weisshorn, the heavy Brunegghorn, the loftyand formidable pyramid of Mont Cervin, that slayer of men, and theDent-Blanche, that terrible coquette. 

Then, beneath them, in a tremendous hole, at the bottom of a terribleabyss, they perceived Loëche, where houses looked as grains of sandwhich had been thrown in that enormous crevice, which finishes andcloses the Gemmi, and which opens, down below, onto the Rhone. 

The mule stopped at the edge of the path, which goes turning andtwisting continually, and which comes back fantastically and strangely, along the side of the mountain, as far as the almost invisible littlevillage at its feet. The women jumped into the snow, and the two old menjoined them. "Well, " father Hauser said, "good-bye, and keep up yourspirits till next year, my friends, " and old Hari replied: "Till nextyear. "

They embraced each other, and then Madame Hauser in her turn, offeredher cheek, and the girl did the same. 

When Ulrich Kunzi's turn came, he whispered in Louise's ear: "Do notforget 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 twowomen, he commenced the descent, and soon all three disappeared at thefirst turn in the road, while the two men returned to the inn atSchwarenbach. 

They walked slowly, side by side, without speaking. It was over, andthey would be alone together for four or five months. Then Gaspard Baribegan to relate his life last winter. He had remained with MichaelCanol, who was too old now to stand it; for an accident might happenduring that long solitude. They had not been dull, however; the onlything was to make up one's mind to it from the first, and in the end onewould find plenty of distraction, games and other means of whiling awaythe time. 

Ulrich Kunzi listened to him with his eyes on the ground, for in histhoughts he was following those who were descending to the village. Theysoon came in sight of the inn, which was, however, scarcely visible, sosmall did it look, a black speck at the foot of that enormous billow ofsnow, and when they opened the door, Sam, the great curly dog, began toromp round them. 

"Come, my boy, " old Gaspard said, "we have no women now, so we must getour own dinner ready. Go and peel the potatoes. " And they both sat downon wooden stools, and began to put the bread into the soup. 

The next morning seemed very long to Kunzi. Old Hari smoked and spatonto the hearth, while the young man looked out of the window at thesnow-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 neck of the Gemmi, he laid himself down onhis stomach and looked at Loëche. 

The village, in its rocky pit, was not yet buried under the snow, although it came quite close to it, but it was stopped short by the pinewoods which protected it. Its low houses looked like paving stones in alarge meadow, from up there. Hauser's little daughter was there now, inone of those gray colored houses. In which? Ulrich Kunzi was too faraway to be able to make them out separately. How he would have liked togo 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, andwhen he saw his mate come in, he proposed a game of cards to him, andthey sat down opposite each other, on either side of the table. Theyplayed for a long time, a simple game called _brisque_, and then theyhad supper and went to bed. 

The following days were like the first, bright and cold, without anymore snow. Old Gaspard spent his afternoons in watching the eagles andother rare birds which ventured onto those frozen heights, while Ulrichreturned regularly to the neck of the Gemmi to look at the village. Thenthey played at cards, dice or dominoes, and lost and won a trifle, justto create an interest in the game. 

One morning Hari, who was up first, called his companion. A moving deepand light cloud of white spray was falling on them noiselessly, and wasby degrees burying them under a thick, dark coverlet of foam, and thatlasted four days and four nights. It was necessary to free the door andthe windows, to dig out a passage and to cut steps to get over thisfrozen powder, which a twelve hours frost had made as hard as thegranite of the moraines. 

They lived like prisoners, and did not venture outside their abode. Theyhad divided their duties, which they performed regularly. Ulrich Kunziundertook the scouring, washing, and everything that belonged tocleanliness. He also chopped up the wood, while Gaspard Hari did thecooking and attended to the fire. Their regular and monotonous work wasinterrupted by long games at cards or dice, and they never quarreled, but were always calm and placid. They were never even impatient orill-humored, nor did they ever use hard words, for they had laid in astock of patience for their wintering on the top of the mountain. 

Sometimes old Gaspard took his rifle and went after chamois, andoccasionally he killed one. Then there was a feast in the inn atSchwarenbach, and they reveled in fresh meat. One morning he went out asusual. The thermometer outside marked eighteen degrees of frost, and asthe sun had not yet risen, the hunter hoped to surprise the animals atthe approaches to the Wildstrubel, and Ulrich, being alone, remained inbed until ten o'clock. He was of a sleepy nature, but he would not havedared to give way like that to his inclination in the presence of theold guide, who was ever an early riser. He breakfasted leisurely withSam, who also spent his days and nights in sleeping in front of thefire; then he felt low-spirited and even frightened at the solitude, andwas seized by a longing for his daily game of cards, as one is by thedesire of an invincible habit, and so he went out to meet his companion, who was to return at four o'clock. 

The snow had leveled the whole deep valley, filled up the _crevasses_, obliterated all signs of the two lakes and covered the rocks, so thatbetween the high summits there was nothing but an immense, white, regular, dazzling and frozen surface. For three weeks, Ulrich had notbeen to the edge of the precipice, from which he had looked down ontothe village, and he wanted to go there before climbing the slopes whichled to Wildstrubel. Loëche was now also covered by the snow, and thehouses could scarcely be distinguished, covered as they were by thatwhite cloak. 

Then turning to the right, he reached the Lämmern glacier. He went alongwith a mountaineer's long strides, striking the snow, which was as hardas a rock, with his iron-shod stick, and with his piercing eyes, helooked for the little black, moving speck in the distance, on thatenormous, white expanse. 

When he reached the end of the glacier he stopped and asked himselfwhether the old man had taken that road, and then he began to walk alongthe moraines with rapid and uneasy steps. The day was declining; thesnow was assuming a rosy tint, and a dry, frozen wind blew in roughgusts over its crystal surface. Ulrich uttered a long, shrill, vibratingcall; his voice sped through the deathlike silence in which themountains were sleeping; it reached the distance, over profound andmotionless waves of glacial foam, like the cry of a bird over the wavesof the sea; then it died away and nothing answered him. 

He set to walk again. The sun had sunk yonder behind the mountain tops, which were still purple with the reflection from the sky; but the depthsof the valley were becoming gray, and suddenly the young man feltfrightened. It seemed to him as if the silence, the cold, the solitude, the winter death of these mountains were taking possession of him, weregoing to stop and to freeze his blood, to make his limbs grow stiff, andto turn him into a motionless and frozen object; and he set off running, fleeing towards his dwelling. The old man, he thought, would havereturned during his absence. He had taken another road; he would, nodoubt, 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. Ulrichwalked faster and opened the door; Sam ran up to him to greet him, butGaspard Hari had not returned. Kunzi, in his alarm, turned roundsuddenly, as if he had expected to find his comrade hidden in a corner. Then he re-lighted the fire and made the soup; hoping every moment tosee the old man come in. From time to time he went out, to see if hewere not coming in. It was quite night now, that wan night of themountains, a livid night, with the crescent moon, yellow and dim andjust disappearing behind the mountain tops, lit up on the edge of thehorizon. 

Then the young man went in and sat down to warm his hands and his feet, while he pictured to himself every possible accident. Gaspard might havebroken a leg, have fallen into a crevasse, taken a false step anddislocated his ankle. And perhaps he was lying on the snow, overcome andstiff with the cold, in agony of mind, lost and perhaps shouting forhelp, 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 ortwenty guides to walk for a week in all directions, to find a man inthat immense space. Ulrich Kunzi, however, made up his mind to set outwith Sam, if Gaspard did not return by one in the morning; and he madehis preparations. 

He put provisions for two days into a bag, took his steel climbingirons, tied a long, thin, strong rope round his waist and looked to seethat his iron-shod stick and his axe, which served to cut steps in theice, were in order. Then he waited. The fire was burning on the hearthand the great dog was snoring in front of it, and the clock was tickingas regularly as a heart beating, in its case of resounding wood. 

He waited, with his ears on the alert for distant sounds, and heshivered when the wind blew against the roof and the walls. It strucktwelve, and he trembled. Then, as he felt frightened and shuddering, heput some water on the fire, so that he might have some hot coffee beforestarting, and when the clock struck one he got up, woke Sam, opened thedoor and went off in the direction of the Wildstrubel. For five hours hemounted, scaling the rocks by means of his climbing irons, cutting intothe ice, advancing continually and occasionally hauling up the dog, whoremained below at the foot of some slope that was too steep for him, bymeans of the rope. It was about six o'clock when he reached one of thesummits to which old Gaspard often came after chamois, and he waitedtill it should be daylight. 

The sky was growing pale over head, and suddenly a strange light, springing, nobody could tell whence, illuminated the immense ocean ofpale mountain summits, which stretched for a thousand leagues aroundhim. One might have said that this vague brightness arose from the snowitself, in order to spread itself into space. By degrees the highest, distant summits assumed a delicate, fleshlike rose color, and the redsun appeared behind the ponderous giants of the Bernese Alps. 

Ulrich Kunzi set off again, walking like a hunter, bent and looking forany traces, and saying to his dog: "Seek, old fellow, seek!"

He was descending the mountain now, scanning the depths closely, andfrom time to time shouting, uttering a loud, prolonged cry, which soondied away in that silent vastness. Then, he put his ear to the ground, to listen; he thought he could distinguish a voice, and so he began torun, and shouted again, but he heard nothing more and sat down, worn outand in despair. Towards midday, he breakfasted and gave Sam, who was astired as himself, something to eat also, and then he recommenced hissearch. 

When evening came he was still walking, and he had walked more thanthirty 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 thesnow and crouched in it with his dog, under a blanket which he hadbrought with him. And the man and the dog lay side by side, warmingthemselves one against the other, but frozen to the marrow, nevertheless. Ulrich scarcely slept, his mind haunted by visions and hislimbs 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 grief, while hisheart was beating so that he almost fell with excitement, when hethought he heard a noise. 

Suddenly he imagined that he also was going to die of cold in the midstof this vast solitude, and the terror of such a death roused hisenergies and gave him renewed vigor. He was descending towards 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 untilfour o'clock in the afternoon. The house was empty, and the young manmade a fire, had something to eat and went to sleep, so worn out that hedid not think of anything more. 

He slept for a long time, for a very long time, an unconquerable sleep. But suddenly a voice, a cry, a name: "Ulrich, " aroused him from hisprofound torpor and made him sit up in bed. Had he been dreaming? Was itone of those strange appeals which cross the dreams of disquieted minds?No, he heard it still, that reverberating cry, --which had entered at hisears and remained in his flesh, --to the tips of his sinewy fingers. Certainly, somebody had cried out, and called: "Ulrich!" There wassomebody there, near the house, there could be no doubt of that, and heopened the door and shouted: "Is it you, Gaspard?" with all the strengthof his lungs. But there was no reply, no murmur, no groan, nothing. Itwas quite dark, and the snow looked wan. 

The wind had risen, that icy wind that cracks the rocks, and leavesnothing alive on those deserted heights, and it came in sudden gusts, which were more parching and more deadly than the burning wind of thedesert, and again Ulrich shouted: "Gaspard! Gaspard! Gaspard!" And thenhe waited again. Everything was silent on the mountain! Then he shookwith terror and with a bound he was inside the inn, when he shut andbolted the door, and then he fell into a chair, trembling all over, forhe felt certain that his comrade had called him, at the moment he wasexpiring. 

He was sure of that, as sure as one is of being alive, or of eating apiece of bread. Old Gaspard Hari had been dying for two days and threenights somewhere, in some hole, in one of those deep, untrodden ravineswhose whiteness is more sinister than subterranean darkness. He had beendying for two days and three nights and he had just then died, thinkingof his comrade. His soul, almost before it was released, had taken itsflight to the inn where Ulrich was sleeping, and it had called him bythat terrible and mysterious power which the spirits of the dead have, to haunt the living. That voiceless soul had cried to the wornout soulof the sleeper; it had uttered its last farewell, or its reproach, orits curse on the man who had not searched carefully enough. 

And Ulrich felt that it was there, quite close to him, behind the wall, behind the door which he had just fastened. It was wandering about, likea night bird, which lightly touches a lighted window with his wings, and the terrified young man was ready to scream with horror. He wantedto run away, but did not dare to go out; he did not dare, and he shouldnever dare to do it in the future, for that phantom would remain thereday and night, round the inn, as long as the old man's body was notrecovered and had not been deposited in the consecrated earth of achurchyard. 

When it was daylight, Kunzi recovered some of his courage at the returnof the bright sun. He prepared his meal, gave his dog some food, andthen remained motionless on a chair, tortured at heart as he thought ofthe old man lying on the snow, and then, as soon as night once morecovered the mountains, new terrors assailed him. He now walked up anddown the dark kitchen, which was scarcely lighted by the flame of onecandle, and he walked from one end of it to the other with greatstrides, listening, listening whether the terrible cry of the othernight would again break the dreary silence outside. He felt himselfalone, unhappy man, as no man had ever been alone before! He was alonein this immense desert of snow, alone five thousand feet above theinhabited earth, above human habitations, above that stirring, noisy, palpitating life, alone under an icy sky! A mad longing impelled him torun away, no matter where, to get down to Loëche by flinging himselfover the precipice; but he did not even dare to open the door, as hefelt sure that the other, the dead man, would bar his road, so that hemight not be obliged to remain up there alone. 

Towards midnight, tired with walking, wornout by grief and fear, he atlast fell into a doze in his chair, for he was as afraid of his bed, asone is of a haunted spot. But suddenly the strident cry of the otherevening pierced his ears, and it was so shrill that Ulrich stretchedout his arms to repulse the ghost, and he fell onto his back with hischair. 

Sam, who was awakened by the noise, began to howl, like frightened dogsdo howl, and he walked all about the house, trying to find out where thedanger came from; but when he got to the door, he sniffed beneath it, smelling vigorously, with his coat bristling and his tail stiff, whilehe growled angrily. Kunzi, who was terrified, jumped up, and holding hischair by one leg, he cried: "Don't come in, don't come in, or I shallkill you. " And the dog, excited by this threat, barked angrily at thatinvisible enemy who defied his master's voice. By degrees, however, hequieted 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 drankoff several glasses, one after another, at a gulp. His ideas becamevague, 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 hethought of Gaspard Hari, he began to drink again, and went on drinkinguntil he fell onto the ground, overcome by intoxication. And there heremained on his face, dead drunk, his limbs benumbed, and snoring, withhis face to the ground. But scarcely had he digested the maddening andburning liquor, than the same cry, "Ulrich, " woke him like a bulletpiercing his brain, and he got up, still staggering, stretching out hishands to save himself from falling, and calling to Sam to help him. Andthe dog, who appeared to be going mad, like his master, rushed to thedoor, scratched it with his claws, and gnawed it with his long whiteteeth, while the young man, with his neck thrown back, and his head inthe air, drank the brandy in draughts, as if it had been cold water, sothat it might by and by send his thoughts, his frantic terror and hismemory, to sleep again. 

In three weeks he had consumed all his stock of ardent spirits, but hiscontinual drunkenness only lulled his terror, which awoke more furiouslythan ever, as soon as it was impossible for him to calm it. His fixedidea then, which had been intensified by a month of drunkenness, andwhich was continually increasing in his absolute solitude, penetratedhim like a gimlet. He now walked about his house like a wild beast inits 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 byfatigue, he heard the voice which made him leap to his feet. 

At last one night, like cowards do when driven to extremities, he sprangto the door and opened it, to see who was calling him, and to force himto keep quiet, but such a gust of cold wind blew into his face that itchilled him to the bone, and he closed and bolted the door againimmediately, without noticing that Sam had rushed out. Then, as he wasshivering with cold, he threw some wood on the fire, and sat down infront of it to warm himself, but suddenly he started, for somebody wasscratching at the wall, and crying. In desperation he called out: "Goaway!" but was answered by another long, sorrowful wail. 

Then, all his remaining senses forsook him, from sheer fright. Herepeated: "Go away!" and turned round to try to find some corner inwhich to hide, while the other person went round the house, still cryingand rubbing against the wall. Ulrich went to the oak sideboard, whichwas full of plates and dishes and of provisions, and lifting it up withsuperhuman strength, he dragged it to the door, so as to form abarricade. Then piling up all the rest of the furniture, the mattresses, palliasses and chairs, he stopped up the windows like one does whenassailed by an enemy. 

But the person outside now uttered long, plaintive, mournful groans, towhich the young man replied by similar groans, and thus days and nightspassed, without their ceasing to howl at each other. The one wascontinually walking round the house, and scraped the walls with hisnails so vigorously that it seemed as if he wished to destroy them, while the other, inside, followed all his movements, stooping down, andholding his ear to the walls, and replying to all his appeals withterrible cries. One evening, however, Ulrich heard nothing more, and hesat down, so overcome by fatigue, that he went to sleep immediately, andawoke in the morning without a thought, without any recollection of whathad happened, just as if his head had been emptied during his heavysleep, but he felt hungry, and he ate. 

The winter was over, and the Gemmi pass was practicable again, so theHauser family started off to return to their inn. As soon as they hadreached the top of the ascent, the women mounted their mule, and spokeabout the two men who they would meet again shortly. They were, indeed, rather surprised that neither of them had come down a few days before, as soon as the road became usable, in order to tell them all about theirlong winter sojourn. At last, however, they saw the inn, still coveredwith snow, like a quilt. The door and the window were closed, but alittle 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 whichhad been torn to pieces by the eagles, a large skeleton lying on itsside. 

They all looked closely at it, and the mother said: "That must be Sam, "and then she shouted: "Hi! Gaspard!" A cry from the interior of thehouse answered her, and a sharp cry, that one might have thought someanimal had uttered it. Old Hauser repeated: "Hi! Gaspard!" and theyheard 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 beamto serve as a battering-ram, and hurled it against the door with alltheir might. The wood gave way, and the boards flew into splinters; thenthe house was shaken by a loud voice, and inside, behind the sideboard, which was overturned, they saw a man standing upright, with his hairfalling onto his shoulders, and a beard descending to his breast, withshining eyes and nothing but rags to cover him. They did not recognizehim, but Louise Hauser exclaimed: "It is Ulrich, mother. " And her motherdeclared 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 replyto any of their questions, and they were obliged to take him to Loëche, where the doctors found that he was mad, and nobody ever knew what hadbecome of his companion. 

Little Louise Hauser nearly died that summer of decline, which themedical men attributed to the cold air of the mountains. 

UGLY

Certainly, at this blessed epoch of Equality of mediocrity, ofrectangular abomination, as Edgar Poe says, at this delightful period, when everybody dreams of resembling everybody else, so that it hasbecome impossible to tell the President of the Republic from a waiter;in these days, which are the forerunners of that promising, blissfulday, when everything in this world will be of a dully, neuteruniformity, certainly at such an epoch, one has the right, or rather itis one's duty, to be ugly. 

He, however, assuredly, exercised that right with the most cruel vigor, and he fulfilled that duty with the fiercest heroism, and to makematters worse, the mysterious irony of fate had caused him to be bornwith the name of Lebeau, while an ingenious godfather, the unconsciousaccomplice of the pranks of destiny, had given him the Christian name ofAntinous. [19]

Even among our contemporaries, who were already on the high road to thecoming ideal of universal ugliness, Antinous Lebeau was remarkable forhis ugliness, and one might have said that he positively threw zeal, toomuch zeal, into the matter, though he was not hideous like Mirabeau, whomade the people exclaim: "Oh! the beautiful monster!"

Alas! No. He was without any beauty, even without the beauty ofugliness. He was ugly, that was all; nothing more nor less; in short, hewas uglily ugly. He was not humpbacked, nor knock-kneed, norpot-bellied; his legs were not like a pair of tongs, and his arms wereneither too long nor too short, and yet, there was an utter lack ofuniformity about him, not only in painters' eyes, but also ineverybody's, for nobody could meet him in the street without turning tolook after him, and thinking: "Good heavens! What an object. "

His hair was of no particular color; a light chestnut, mixed withyellow. There was not much of it, but still, he was not absolutely bald, but quite bald enough to allow his butter-colored pate to show. Butter-colored? Hardly! The color of margarine would be more applicable, and such pale margarine. 

His face was also like margarine, but of adulterated margarine, certainly. By the side of it, his _cranium_, the color of unadulteratedmargarine, looked almost like butter, by comparison. 

There was very little to say about his mouth! Less than little; the sumtotal was--nothing. It was a chimerical mouth. 

But take it, that I have said nothing about him, and let us replace thisvain description by the useful formula: _Impossible to describe him_. But you must not forget that Antinous Lebeau was ugly, that the factimpressed everybody as soon as they saw him, and that nobody rememberedever having seen an uglier person; and let us add, that as the climax ofhis misfortune, he thought so himself. 

From this you will see that he was not a fool, but, then, he was notill-natured, either; but, of course, he was unhappy. An unhappy manthinks only of his wretchedness, and people take his night cap for afool's cap, while, on the other hand, goodness is only esteemed when itis cheerful. Consequently, Antinous Lebeau passed for a fool, and anill-tempered fool, and he was not even pitied because he was so ugly. 

He had only one pleasure in life, and that was to go and roam about thedarkest streets on dark nights, and to hear the street-walkers say:

"Come home with me, you handsome, dark man!"

It was, alas! a furtive pleasure, and he knew that it was not true. For, occasionally, when the woman was old or drunk and he profited by theinvitation, as soon as the candle was lighted in the garret, they nolonger murmured the fallacious: _handsome, dark man_; and when they sawhim, the old women grew still older, and the drunken women got sober. And more than one, although hardened against disgust, and ready for allrisks, said to him, and in spite of his liberal payment:

"My little man, you are most confoundedly ugly, I must say. "

At last, however, he renounced even that lamentable pleasure, when heheard the still more lamentable words which a wretched woman could nothelp uttering when he went home with her:

"Well, he must have been very hungry!"

Alas! He was hungry, unhappy man; hungry for love, for something thatshould resemble love, were it ever so little; he longed not to live likea pariah any more, not to be exiled and proscribed in his ugliness. Andthe ugliest, the most repugnant woman would have appeared beautiful tohim, if she would only have not consented to think him ugly, or, at anyrate, not to tell him so, and not to let him see that she felt horrorat him on that account. 

The consequence was, that, when he one day met a poor, blear-eyedcreature, with her face covered with scabs, and bearing evident signs ofalcoholism, with a driveling mouth, and ragged and filthy petticoats, towhom he gave liberal alms, for which she kissed his hand, he took herhome with him, had her clean dressed and taken care of, made her hisservant, and then his housekeeper. Next he raised her to the rank of hismistress, and, finally, of course, he married her. 

She was almost as ugly as he was! She really was; but only, almost. Almost, but certainly not quite; for she was hideous, and herhideousness had its charm and its beauty, no doubt; that something bywhich a woman can attract a man. And she had proved that by deceivinghim, and she let him see it better still, by seducing another man. 

That other was actually uglier than he was. 

He was certainly uglier, that collection of every physical and moralugliness, that companion of beggars whom she had picked up among herformer vagrant associates, that jailbird, that dealer in little girls, that vagabond covered with filth, with legs like a toad's, with a mouthlike a lamprey, and a death's head, in which the nose had been replacedby two holes. 

"And you have wronged me with a wretch like that, " the poor cuckoldsaid. "And in my own house! and in such a manner that I might catch youin the very act! And why, why, you wretch? Why, seeing that he is uglierthan I am?"

"Oh! no, " she exclaimed. "You may say what you like, but do not say thathe is uglier than you are. "

And the unhappy man stood there, vanquished and overcome by her lastwords, which she uttered without understanding all the horror which hewould feel at them. 

"Because, you see, he has his own particular ugliness, while you aremerely ugly like everybody else is. "

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Literally, "The bird flies"--a pun on the verb voler, which meansboth "to fly" and "to steal. "

[2] Nickname for Napoleon III. 

[3] _Jevôdre voir vô comment vô faites le painture? Velé vô? Je été trèscurièux. _

[4] _J'êtê joujours avec vô la même qu-autre fois. _

[5] Munich beer--often brewed in France!--which is much affected by theParisians in summer. 

[6] I do not understand. 

[7] What does it matter to me?

[8] Not at all. 

[9] Hall-porter. 

[10] Woman is a perpetual child. 

[11] Woman, a sick child and twelve times impure. 

[12] Porter who opens the front door, which is common to all thelodgers, and is closed at night. 

[13] The old name, still applied locally to a five-franc piece. 

[14] Maitre (Master) is the official title of French lawyers. 

[15] Frog-island. 

[16] A preparation of several kinds of fish, with a sharpsauce. --TRANSLATOR. 

[17] Clochette. 

[18] The second person singular is used in French--as in German--amongstrelations and intimate friends, and to servants. --TRANSLATOR. 

[19] A youth of extraordinary beauty, page to the Emperor Hadrian (A. D. 117-138), and the object of his extravagant affection. He was drowned inthe Nile, whether accidentally, or whether he drowned himself to escapefrom the life he was leading, is uncertain. --TRANSLATOR. 

 * * * * *

Transcriber's Notes:

Missing full stops have been added for ease of reading. 

Discrepancies in spelling have been standardized across stories. 

Unusual spellings have been retained. 

The book is titled "Illustrated", but there are no illustrations forthis edition. 

The Short Story "The Accursed Bread" has a subsection marked "II", but there is no subsection "I". 

The Table of Contents in the book lists the story, "Love" at Page 263, however the text shows it starting on page 262. The Table of Contentshas been adjusted accordingly.