The Complete Works: Short Stories, Novels, Plays, Poetry, Memoirs and more. Guy de Maupassant
tasting wines. After that, he exclaimed, “Excellent!” which in no way compromised him, and extending the glass toward his rival said: “Do you wish to taste it?”
But Doctor Honorat, decidedly, had no love for mineral waters, for he smilingly replied:
“Many thanks. ’Tis quite sufficient that you have appreciated it. I know the taste of them.”
He did know the taste of them all, and he appreciated it, too, though in quite a different fashion. Then, turning toward Pére Oriol said:
“’Tisn’t as good as your excellent vine-growth.” The old man was flattered. Christiane had seen, enough, and wanted to go away. Her brother and Paul once more forced a path for her through the populace. She followed them, leaning on her father’s arm. Suddenly she slipped and was near falling, and glancing down at her feet she saw that she had stepped on a piece of bleeding flesh, covered with black hairs and sticky with mud. It was a portion of the pug-dog, who had been mangled by the explosion and trampled underfoot by the crowd. She felt a choking sensation, and was so much moved that she could not restrain her tears. And she murmured, as she dried her eyes with her handkerchief: “Poor little animal! poor little animal!”
She wanted to know nothing more about it. She wished to go back, to shut herself up in her room. That day, which had begun so pleasantly, had ended sadly for her. Was it an omen? Her heart, shriveling up, beat with violent palpitations. They were now alone on the road, and in front of them they saw a tall hat and the two skirts of a frock-coat flapping like wings. It was Doctor Bonnefille, who had been the last to hear the news, and who was now rushing to the spot, glass in hand, like Doctor Latonne.
When he recognized the Marquis, he drew up. “What is this I hear, Marquis? They tell me it is a spring — a mineral spring?”
“Yes, my dear doctor.”
“Abundant?”
“Why, yes.”
“Is it true that — that they are there?”
Gontran replied with an air of gravity: “Why, yes, certainly; Doctor Latonne has even made the analysis already.”
Then Doctor Bonnefille began to run, while Christiane, a little tickled and enlivened by his face, said: “Well, no, I am not going back yet to the hotel. Let us go and sit down in the park.”
Andermatt had remained at the site of the knoll, watching the flowing of the water.
French
III
THE table d’hôte was noisy that evening at the Hotel Splendid. The blasting of the hillock and the discovery of the new spring gave a brisk impetus to conversation. The diners were not numerous, however, —— a score all told, — people usually taciturn and quiet, patients who, after having vainly tried all the well-known waters, had now turned to the new stations. At the end of the table occupied by the Ravenels and the Andermatts were, first, the Monecus, a little man with white hair and face and his daughter, a very pale, big girl, who sometimes rose up and went out in the middle of a meal, leaving her plate half full; fat M. Aubry-Pasteur, the exengineer; the Chaufours, a family in black, who might be met every day in the walks of the park behind a little vehicle which carried their deformed child, and the ladies Paille, mother and daughter, both of them widows, big and strong, strong everywhere, before and behind. “You may easily see,” said Gontran, “that they ate up their husbands; that’s how their stomachs got affected.” It was, indeed, for a stomach affection that they had come to the station.
Further on, a man of extremely red complexion, brick-colored, M. Riquier, whose digestion was also very indifferent, and then other persons with bad complexions, travelers of that mute class who usually enter the diningrooms of hotels with slow steps, the wife in front, the husband behind, bow as soon as they have passed the door, and then take their seats with a timid and modest air.
All the other end of the table was empty, although the plates and the covers were laid there for the guests of the future.
Andermatt talked in an animated fashion. He had spent the afternoon chatting with Doctor Latonne, giving vent in a flood of words to vast schemes with reference to Enval. The doctor had enumerated to him, with burning conviction, the wonderful qualities of his water, far superior to those of Chatel-Guyon, whose reputation nevertheless had been definitely established for the last ten years. Then, at the right, they had that hole of a place, Royat, at the height of success, and at the left, that other hole, Chatel-Guyon, which had lately been set afloat. What could they not do with Enval, if they knew how to set about it properly?
He said, addressing the engineer: “Yes, Monsieur, there’s where it all is, to know the way to set about it. It is all a matter of skill, of tact, of opportunism, and of audacity. In order to establish a spa, it is necessary to know how to launch it, nothing more, and in order to launch it, it is necessary to interest the great medical body of Paris in the matter. I, Monsieur, always succeed in what I undertake, because I always seek the practical method, the only one that should determine success in every particular case with which I occupy myself; and, as long as I have not discovered it, I do nothing — I wait. It is not enough to have the water, it is necessary to get people to drink it; and to get people to drink it, it is not enough to get it cried up as unrivaled in the newspapers and elsewhere; it is necessary to know how to get this discreetly said by the only men who have influence on the public that will drink it, on the invalids whom we require, on the peculiarly credulous public that pays for drugs — in short, by the physicians. You can only address a Court of Justice through the mouths of advocates; it will only hear them, and understands only them. So you can only address the patient through the doctors — he listens only to them.”
The Marquis, who greatly admired the practical common sense of his son-in-law, exclaimed:
“Ah! how true this is! Apart from this, my dear boy, you are unique for giving the right touch.” Andermatt, who was excited, went on: “There is a fortune to be made here. The country is admirable, the climate excellent. One thing alone disturbs my mind — would we have water enough for a large establishment? — for things that are only half done always miscarry. We would require a very large establishment, and consequently a great deal of water, enough of water to supply two hundred baths at the same time, with a rapid and continuous current; and the new spring added to the old one, would not supply fifty, whatever Doctor Latonne may say about it— “
M. Aubry-Pasteur interrupted him. “Oh! as for water, I will give you as much as you want of it.”
Andermatt was stupefied. “You?”
“Yes, I. That astonishes you? Let me explain myself. Last year, I was here about the same time as this year, for I really find myself improved by the Enval baths. Now one morning, I lay asleep in my own room, when a stout gentleman arrived. He was the president of the governing body of the establishment. He was in a state of great agitation, and the cause of it was this: the Bonnefille Spring had lowered so much that there were some apprehensions lest it might entirely disappear. Knowing that I was a mining engineer, he had come to ask me if I could not find a means of saving the establishment.
“I accordingly set about studying the geological system of the country. You know that in each stratum of the soil original disturbances have led to different changes and conditions in the surface of the ground. The question, therefore, was to discover how the mineral water came — by what fissures — and what were the direction, the origin, and the nature of these fissures. I first inspected the establishment with great care, and, noticing in a corner an old disused pipe of a bath, I observed that it was already almost stopped up with limestone. Now the water, by depositing the salts which it contained on the coatings of the ducts, had rapidly led to an obstruction of the passage. It would inevitably happen likewise in the natural passages in the soil, this soil being granitic. So it was that the Bonnefille Spring had stopped up.