The Celebrated Short Stories of Guy de Maupassant: 100+ Classic Tales in One Edition. Guy de Maupassant

The Celebrated Short Stories of Guy de Maupassant: 100+ Classic Tales in One Edition - Guy de Maupassant


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what about her? An enigma. She cannot be ignorant of everything. However — however — Well, I cannot understand it.

      “The dinner was very gay and cordial. On leaving the table the husband and his friend began to play cards, while I went out on the porch to look at the moonlight with madame. She seemed to be greatly affected by nature, and I judged that the moment for my happiness was near. That evening she was really delightful. The country had seemed to make her more tender. Her long, slender waist looked pretty on this stone porch beside a great vase in which grew some flowers. I felt like dragging her out under the trees, throwing myself at her feet and speaking to her words of love.

      “Her husband’s voice called ‘Louise!’

      “‘Yes, dear.’

      “‘You are forgetting the tea.’

      “‘I’ll go and see about it, my friend.’

      “We returned to the house, and she gave us some tea. When the two men had finished playing cards, they were visibly tired. I had to go to my room. I did not get to sleep till late, and then I slept badly.

      “An excursion was decided upon for the following afternoon, and we went in an open carriage to visit some ruins. She and I were in the back of the vehicle and they were opposite us, riding backward. The conversation was sympathetic and agreeable. I am an orphan, and it seemed to me as though I had just found my family, I felt so at home with them.

      “Suddenly, as she had stretched out her foot between her husband’s legs, he murmured reproachfully: ‘Louise, please don’t wear out your old shoes yourself. There is no reason for being neater in Paris than in the country.’

      “I lowered my eyes. She was indeed wearing worn-out shoes, and I noticed that her stockings were not pulled up tight.

      “She had blushed and hidden her foot under her dress. The friend was looking out in the distance with an indifferent and unconcerned look.

      “The husband offered me a cigar, which I accepted. For a few days it was impossible for me to be alone with her for two minutes; he was with us everywhere. He was delightful to me, however.

      “One morning he came to get me to take a walk before breakfast, and the conversation happened to turn on marriage. I spoke a little about solitude and about how charming life can be made by the affection of a woman. Suddenly he interrupted me, saying: ‘My friend, don’t talk about things you know nothing about. A woman who has no other reason for loving you will not love you long. All the little coquetries which make them so exquisite when they do not definitely belong to us cease as soon as they become ours. And then — the respectable women — that is to say our wives — are — are not — in fact do not understand their profession of wife. Do you understand?’

      “He said no more, and I could not guess his thoughts.

      “Two days after this conversation he called me to his room quite early, in order to show me a collection of engravings. I sat in an easy chair opposite the big door which separated his apartment from his wife’s, and behind this door I heard some one walking and moving, and I was thinking very little of the engravings, although I kept exclaiming: ‘Oh, charming! delightful! exquisite!’

      “He suddenly said: ‘Oh, I have a beautiful specimen in the next room. I’ll go and get it.’

      “He ran to the door quickly, and both sides opened as though for a theatrical effect.

      “In a large room, all in disorder, in the midst of skirts, collars, waists lying around on the floor, stood a tall, dried-up creature. The lower part of her body was covered with an old, worn-out silk petticoat, which was hanging limply on her shapeless form, and she was standing in front of a mirror brushing some short, sparse blond hairs. Her arms formed two acute angles, and as she turned around in astonishment I saw under a common cotton chemise a regular cemetery of ribs, which were hidden from the public gaze by well-arranged pads.

      “The husband uttered a natural exclamation and came back, closing the doors, and said: ‘Gracious! how stupid I am! Oh, how thoughtless! My wife will never forgive me for that!’

      “I already felt like thanking him. I left three days later, after cordially shaking hands with the two men and kissing the lady’s fingers. She bade me a cold good-by.”

      Karl Massouligny was silent. Some one asked: “But what was the friend?”

      “I don’t know — however — however he looked greatly distressed to see me leaving so soon.”

      Table of Contents

      The defendants, Cesaire-Isidore Brument and Prosper-Napoleon Cornu, appeared before the Court of Assizes of the Seine-Inferieure, on a charge of attempted murder, by drowning, of Mme. Brument, lawful wife of the first of the aforenamed.

      The two prisoners sat side by side on the traditional bench. They were two peasants; the first was small and stout, with short arms, short legs, and a round head with a red pimply face, planted directly on his trunk, which was also round and short, and with apparently no neck. He was a raiser of pigs and lived at Cacheville-la-Goupil, in the district of Criquetot.

      Cornu (Prosper-Napoleon) was thin, of medium height, with enormously long arms. His head was on crooked, his jaw awry, and he squinted. A blue blouse, as long as a shirt, hung down to his knees, and his yellow hair, which was scanty and plastered down on his head, gave his face a worn-out, dirty look, a dilapidated look that was frightful. He had been nicknamed “the cure” because he could imitate to perfection the chanting in church, and even the sound of the serpent. This talent attracted to his cafe — for he was a saloon keeper at Criquetot — a great many customers who preferred the “mass at Cornu” to the mass in church.

      Mme. Brument, seated on the witness bench, was a thin peasant woman who seemed to be always asleep. She sat there motionless, her hands crossed on her knees, gazing fixedly before her with a stupid expression.

      The judge continued his interrogation.

      “Well, then, Mme. Brument, they came into your house and threw you into a barrel full of water. Tell us the details. Stand up.”

      She rose. She looked as tall as a flag pole with her cap which looked like a white skull cap. She said in a drawling tone:

      “I was shelling beans. Just then they came in. I said to myself, ‘What is the matter with them? They do not seem natural, they seem up to some mischief.’ They watched me sideways, like this, especially Cornu, because he squints. I do not like to see them together, for they are two good-for-nothings when they are in company. I said: ‘What do you want with me?’ They did not answer. I had a sort of mistrust — — “

      The defendant Brument interrupted the witness hastily, saying:

      “I was full.”

      Then Cornu, turning towards his accomplice said in the deep tones of an organ:

      “Say that we were both full, and you will be telling no lie.”

      The judge, severely:

      “You mean by that that you were both drunk?”

      Brument: “There can be no question about it.”

      Cornu: “That might happen to anyone.”

      The judge to the victim: “Continue your testimony, woman Brument.”

      “Well, Brument said to me, ‘Do you wish to earn a hundred sous?’ ‘Yes,’ I replied, seeing that a hundred sous are not picked up in a horse’s tracks. Then he said: ‘Open your eyes and do as I do,’ and he went to fetch the large empty barrel which is under the rain pipe in the corner, and he turned it over and brought it into my kitchen, and stuck it down in the middle of the floor, and then he said to me: ‘Go and fetch water until


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