A Chambermaid's Diary. Octave Mirbeau

A Chambermaid's Diary - Octave  Mirbeau


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of brandy, Captain Mauger desired to do me the honors of the garden. Rose excused herself for her inability to accompany us, because of her asthma, and counselled us not to stay too long.

      "Besides," said she, jokingly, "I am watching you."

      The captain took me through the paths, among the beds bordered with box and filled with flowers. He told me the names of the prettiest ones, remarking each time that there were no such to be seen in the garden of that pig of a Lanlaire. Suddenly he plucked a little orange-colored flower, odd and charming, twirled the stem gently in his fingers, and asked me:

      "Did you ever eat any of these?"

      I was so surprised by this preposterous question that I stood with mouth closed. The captain declared:

      "Well, I have eaten them. They are perfect to the taste. I have eaten all the flowers that are here. Some are good; some are not so good; and some don't amount to much. But, as for me, I eat everything."

      He winked, clacked his tongue, tapped his belly, and repeated in a louder voice, in which an accent of defiance was uppermost:

      "I eat everything, I do."

      The way in which the captain had just proclaimed this strange confession of faith revealed to me that his vanity in life was to eat everything. I amused myself in humoring his mania.

      "And you are right, Captain."

      "Surely," he answered, not without pride. "And it is not only plants that I eat; I eat animals also—animals that nobody else has eaten—animals that are not known. I eat everything, I do."

      We continued our walk among the flower-beds, through the narrow paths where pretty corollas, blue, yellow, and red, were swaying in the breeze. And, as he looked at the flowers, it seemed to me that the captain's belly gave little starts of joy. His tongue passed over his chapped lips with a slight smack.

      He said to me further:

      "And I am going to confess to you. There are no insects, no birds, no earth-worms that I have not eaten. I have eaten skunks and snakes, rats and crickets and caterpillars. I have eaten everything. It is well known in the neighborhood. When they find a beast, dead or alive, a beast unknown to anybody, they say to themselves: 'I must take it to Captain Mauger.' They bring it to me, and I eat it. In winter especially, when it is very cold, unknown birds pass this way, coming from America, or from a greater distance perhaps. They bring them to me, and I eat them. I will bet that there is not a man in the world who has eaten as many things as I have. I eat everything."

      The walk over, we returned to sit down under the acacia. And I was getting ready to leave, when the captain cried:

      "Oh! I must show you something curious—something that you have never seen, I am sure."

      And he called in a loud voice:

      "Kléber! Kléber!"

      Between two calls he explained to me:

      "Kléber is my ferret. A phenomenon!"

      And he called again:

      "Kléber! Kléber!"

      Then, on a branch above us, between green and golden leaves, there appeared a pink snout and two little black, sharp, bright eyes.

      "Oh! I knew well that he was not far away. Come, come here, Kléber! Psstt!"

      The animal crept along the branch, ventured upon the trunk, and descended carefully, burying its claws in the bark. His body, covered with white fur and marked with pale yellow spots, had the supple movements, the graceful undulations, of a serpent. He touched ground, and in two bounds was on the knees of the captain, who began to caress him joyfully.

      "Oh! the good Kléber! Oh! the charming little Kléber!"

      He turned to me:

      "Did you ever see a ferret as tame as that? He follows me about the garden everywhere, like a little dog. I have only to call him, and he is there directly, his tail frisking, his head lifted. He eats with us, sleeps with us. Indeed, I love the little beast as if he were a person. Why, Mademoiselle Célestine, I have refused three hundred francs for him. I would not sell him for a thousand francs—no, not for two thousand francs. Here, Kléber."

      The animal lifted its head toward its master; then it climbed upon him, mounted his shoulders, and, after a thousand caresses and a thousand pretty tricks, rolled itself around the captain's neck, like a handkerchief. Rose said nothing. She seemed vexed.

      Then an infernal idea flashed into my mind.

      "I will bet you," I said, suddenly—"I will bet you, Captain, that you would not eat your ferret."

      The captain looked at me with profound astonishment, and then with infinite sadness. His eyes became round, his lips quivered.

      "Kléber?" he stammered; "eat Kléber?"

      Evidently this question had never occurred to him, who had eaten everything. A sort of new world, strangely comestible, appeared before him.

      "I will bet," I repeated, ferociously, "that you would not eat your ferret."

      Bewildered, distressed, moved by a mysterious and invincible shock, the old captain had risen from his bench. He was extraordinarily agitated.

      "Just say that again, and see!" he stammered.

      For the third time, violently, separating each word, I said:

      "I will bet that you would not eat your ferret."

      "I would not eat my ferret? What's that you say? You say that I would not eat it? Yes, you say that? Well, you shall see. I tell you that I eat everything."

      He seized the ferret. As one breaks a loaf of bread, he broke the little beast's back with a snap, and threw it, dead without a shock, without a spasm, on the sandy path, shouting to Rose:

      "Make me a stew out of that for dinner!"

      And, madly gesticulating, he ran to shut himself up in the house.

      For some minutes I felt a real and unspeakable horror. Still completely dazed by the abominable action that I had just committed, I rose to go. I was very pale. Rose accompanied me. With a smile she confided to me:

      "I am not sorry for what has just happened. He was too fond of his ferret. I do not wish him to love anything. He loves his flowers already too much to suit me."

      After a short silence, she added:

      "But he will never forgive you for that. He is not a man to be defied. An old soldier, you know!"

      Then, a few steps farther on:

      "Pay attention, my little one. They are beginning to gossip about you in the neighborhood. It seems that you were seen the other day, in the garden, with Monsieur Lanlaire. It is very imprudent, believe me. He will get you into trouble, if he hasn't already done so. You want to look out for yourself."

      And, as she closed the gate behind me:

      "Well, au revoir! Now I must go to make my stew."

      All day long I saw before my eyes the body of the poor little ferret, lying there on the sandy path.

      This evening, at dinner, when dessert was being served, Madame said to me, very severely:

      "If you like prunes, you have only to ask me for them; I will see if I can give you any; but I forbid you to take them."

      I answered:

      "I am not a thief, Madame, and I do not like prunes."

      Madame insisted:

      "I tell you that you have taken some prunes."

      I replied:

      "If Madame thinks me a thief, Madame has only to pay me and let me go."

      Madame snatched the plate of prunes from my hand.

      "Monsieur


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