第14章

Andhewalkedon，turneddownthesecondstreettotheleft，thenthefirsttotherightandlookedfornumber15.Itwasanicelookinghouse，andonecouldseebehindtheclosedblindsthatthewindowswerelighteduponthefirstfloor.Thehalldoorwasleftpartlyopen，andalampwasburninginthevestibule.Thenon—commissionedofficerthoughttohimself：

"Thislooksallright."

Hewentinand，asnooneappeared，hecalledout：

"Hallothere，hallo！"

Alittlemaidappearedandlookedastonishedatseeingasoldier.Hesaid：

"Good—morning，mychild.Aretheladiesupstairs？"

"Yes，sir."

"Intheparlor？"

"Yes，sir."

"MayIgoup？"

"Yes，sir."

"Thedooroppositethestairs？"

"Yes，sir."

Heascendedthestairs，openedadoorandsawsittinginaroomwelllightedupbytwolamps，achandelier，andtwocandelabraswithcandlesinthem，fourladiesineveningdress，apparentlyexpectingsomeone.

Threeofthem，theyoungerones，remainedseated，withratheraformalair，onsomecrimsonvelvetchairs;whilethefourth，whowasaboutforty—five，wasarrangingsomeflowersinavase.Shewasverystout，andworeagreensilkdresswithlowneckandshortsleeves，allowingherredneck，coveredwithpowder，toescapeasahugeflowermightfromitscorolla.

Theofficersalutedthem，saying：

"Good—day，ladies."

Theolderwomanturnedround，appearedsurprised，butbowed.

"Good—morning，sir."

Hesatdown.Butseeingthattheydidnotwelcomehimeagerly，hethoughtthatpossiblyonlycommissionedofficerswereadmittedtothehouse，andthismadehimuneasy.Buthesaid：

"Bah，ifonecomesin，wecansoontell."

Hethenremarked：

"Areyouallwell？"

Thelargelady，nodoubtthemistressofthehouse，replied：

"Verywell，thankyou！"

Hecouldthinkofnothingelsetosay，andtheywereallsilent.Butatlast，beingashamedofhisbashfulness，andwithanawkwardlaugh，hesaid：

"Donotpeoplehaveanyamusementinthiscountry？Iwillpayforabottleofwine."

Hehadnotfinishedhissentencewhenthedooropened，andinwalkedPadoiedressedinablacksuit.

Varajougaveashoutofjoy，andrisingfromhisseat，herushedathisbrother—in—law，puthisarmsroundhimandwaltzedhimroundtheroom，shouting：

"HereisPadoie！HereisPadoie！HereisPadoie！"

Thenlettinggoofthetaxcollectorheexclaimedashelookedhimintheface：

"Oh，oh，oh，youscamp，youscamp！Youareoutforagoodtime，too.

Oh，youscamp！Andmysister！Areyoutiredofher，say？"

Ashethoughtofallthathemightgainthroughthisunexpectedsituation，theforcedloan，theinevitableblackmail，heflunghimselfontheloungeandlaughedsoheartilythatthepieceoffurniturecreakedallover.

Thethreeyoungladies，risingsimultaneously，madetheirescape，whiletheolderwomanretreatedtothedoorlookingasthoughshewereabouttofaint.

Andthentwogentlemenappearedineveningdress，andwearingtheribbonofanorder.Padoierusheduptothem.

"Oh，judge——heiscrazy，heiscrazy.Hewassenttousasaconvalescent.Youcanseethatheiscrazy."

Varajouwassittingupnow，andnotbeingabletounderstanditall，heguessedthathehadcommittedsomemonstrousfolly.Thenherose，andturningtohisbrother—in—law，said：

"Whathouseisthis？"

ButPadoie，becomingsuddenlyfurious，stammeredout：

"Whathouse——what——whathouseisthis？Wretch——scoundrel——villain——whathouse，indeed？Thehouseofthejudge——ofthejudgeoftheSupremeCourt—oftheSupremeCourt——oftheSupremeCourt——Oh，oh——rascal！——

rascal！——rascal！"

THEDIAMONDNECKLACE

Thegirlwasoneofthoseprettyandcharmingyoungcreatureswhosometimesareborn，asifbyaslipoffate，intoafamilyofclerks.

Shehadnodowry，noexpectations，nowayofbeingknown，understood，loved，marriedbyanyrichanddistinguishedman;sosheletherselfbemarriedtoalittleclerkoftheMinistryofPublicInstruction.

Shedressedplainlybecauseshecouldnotdresswell，butshewasunhappyasifshehadreallyfallenfromahigherstation;sincewithwomenthereisneithercastenorrank，forbeauty，graceandcharmtaketheplaceoffamilyandbirth.Naturalingenuity，instinctforwhatiselegant，asupplemindaretheirsolehierarchy，andoftenmakeofwomenofthepeopletheequalsoftheverygreatestladies.

Mathildesufferedceaselessly，feelingherselfborntoenjoyalldelicaciesandallluxuries.Shewasdistressedatthepovertyofherdwelling，atthebarenessofthewalls，attheshabbychairs，theuglinessofthecurtains.Allthosethings，ofwhichanotherwomanofherrankwouldneverevenhavebeenconscious，torturedherandmadeherangry.ThesightofthelittleBretonpeasantwhodidherhumblehouseworkarousedinherdespairingregretsandbewilderingdreams.ShethoughtofsilentantechambershungwithOrientaltapestry，illuminedbytallbronzecandelabra，andoftwogreatfootmeninkneebreecheswhosleepinthebigarmchairs，madedrowsybytheoppressiveheatofthestove.Shethoughtoflongreceptionhallshungwithancientsilk，ofthedaintycabinetscontainingpricelesscuriositiesandofthelittlecoquettishperfumedreceptionroomsmadeforchattingatfiveo’clockwithintimatefriends，withmenfamousandsoughtafter，whomallwomenenvyandwhoseattentiontheyalldesire.

Whenshesatdowntodinner，beforetheroundtablecoveredwithatableclothinusethreedays，oppositeherhusband，whouncoveredthesouptureenanddeclaredwithadelightedair，"Ah，thegoodsoup！

Idon’tknowanythingbetterthanthat，"shethoughtofdaintydinners，ofshiningsilverware，oftapestrythatpeopledthewallswithancientpersonagesandwithstrangebirdsflyinginthemidstofafairyforest;

andshethoughtofdeliciousdishesservedonmarvellousplatesandofthewhisperedgallantriestowhichyoulistenwithasphinxlikesmilewhileyouareeatingthepinkmeatofatroutorthewingsofaquail.

Shehadnogowns，nojewels，nothing.Andshelovednothingbutthat.

Shefeltmadeforthat.Shewouldhavelikedsomuchtoplease，tobeenvied，tobecharming，tobesoughtafter.

Shehadafriend，aformerschoolmateattheconvent，whowasrich，andwhomshedidnotliketogotoseeanymorebecauseshefeltsosadwhenshecamehome.

Butoneeveningherhusbandreachedhomewithatriumphantairandholdingalargeenvelopeinhishand.

"There，"saidhe，"thereissomethingforyou."

Shetorethepaperquicklyanddrewoutaprintedcardwhichborethesewords：

TheMinisterofPublicInstructionandMadameGeorgesRamponneaurequestthehonorofM.andMadameLoisel’scompanyatthepalaceoftheMinistryonMondayevening，January18th.

Insteadofbeingdelighted，asherhusbandhadhoped，shethrewtheinvitationonthetablecrossly，muttering：

"Whatdoyouwishmetodowiththat？"

"Why，mydear，Ithoughtyouwouldbeglad.Younevergoout，andthisissuchafineopportunity.Ihadgreattroubletogetit.Everyonewantstogo;itisveryselect，andtheyarenotgivingmanyinvitationstoclerks.Thewholeofficialworldwillbethere."

Shelookedathimwithanirritatedglanceandsaidimpatiently：

"Andwhatdoyouwishmetoputonmyback？"

Hehadnotthoughtofthat.Hestammered：

"Why，thegownyougotothetheatrein.Itlooksverywelltome."

Hestopped，distracted，seeingthathiswifewasweeping.Twogreattearsranslowlyfromthecornersofhereyestowardthecornersofhermouth.

"What’sthematter？What’sthematter？"heanswered.

Byaviolenteffortsheconqueredhergriefandrepliedinacalmvoice，whileshewipedherwetcheeks：

"Nothing.OnlyIhavenogown，and，therefore，Ican’tgotothisball.

GiveyourcardtosomecolleaguewhosewifeisbetterequippedthanI

am."

Hewasindespair.Heresumed：

"Come，letussee，Mathilde.Howmuchwoulditcost，asuitablegown，whichyoucoulduseonotheroccasions——somethingverysimple？"

Shereflectedseveralseconds，makinghercalculationsandwonderingalsowhatsumshecouldaskwithoutdrawingonherselfanimmediaterefusalandafrightenedexclamationfromtheeconomicalclerk.

Finallysherepliedhesitating：

"Idon’tknowexactly，butIthinkIcouldmanageitwithfourhundredfrancs."

Hegrewalittlepale，becausehewaslayingasidejustthatamounttobuyagunandtreathimselftoalittleshootingnextsummerontheplainofNanterre，withseveralfriendswhowenttoshootlarksthereofaSunday.

Buthesaid：

"Verywell.Iwillgiveyoufourhundredfrancs.Andtrytohaveaprettygown."

ThedayoftheballdrewnearandMadameLoiselseemedsad，uneasy，anxious.Herfrockwasready，however.Herhusbandsaidtoheroneevening：

"Whatisthematter？Come，youhaveseemedveryqueertheselastthreedays."

Andsheanswered：

"Itannoysmenottohaveasinglepieceofjewelry，notasingleornament，nothingtoputon.Ishalllookpoverty—stricken.Iwouldalmostrathernotgoatall."

"Youmightwearnaturalflowers，"saidherhusband."They’reverystylishatthistimeofyear.Fortenfrancsyoucangettwoorthreemagnificentroses."

Shewasnotconvinced.

"No;there’snothingmorehumiliatingthantolookpooramongotherwomenwhoarerich."

"Howstupidyouare！"herhusbandcried."Golookupyourfriend，MadameForestier，andaskhertolendyousomejewels.You’reintimateenoughwithhertodothat."

Sheutteredacryofjoy：

"True！Ineverthoughtofit."

Thenextdayshewenttoherfriendandtoldherofherdistress.

MadameForestierwenttoawardrobewithamirror，tookoutalargejewelbox，broughtitback，openeditandsaidtoMadameLoisel：

"Choose，mydear."

Shesawfirstsomebracelets，thenapearlnecklace，thenaVenetiangoldcrosssetwithpreciousstones，ofadmirableworkmanship.Shetriedontheornamentsbeforethemirror，hesitatedandcouldnotmakeuphermindtopartwiththem，togivethemback.Shekeptasking：

"Haven’tyouanymore？"

"Why，yes.Lookfurther;Idon’tknowwhatyoulike."

Suddenlyshediscovered，inablacksatinbox，asuperbdiamondnecklace，andherheartthrobbedwithanimmoderatedesire.Herhandstrembledasshetookit.Shefasteneditroundherthroat，outsideherhigh—neckedwaist，andwaslostinecstasyatherreflectioninthemirror.

Thensheasked，hesitating，filledwithanxiousdoubt：

"Willyoulendmethis，onlythis？"

"Why，yes，certainly."

Shethrewherarmsroundherfriend’sneck，kissedherpassionately，thenfledwithhertreasure.

Thenightoftheballarrived.MadameLoiselwasagreatsuccess.Shewasprettierthananyotherwomanpresent，elegant，graceful，smilingandwildwithjoy.Allthemenlookedather，askedhername，soughttobeintroduced.AlltheattachesoftheCabinetwishedtowaltzwithher.

Shewasremarkedbytheministerhimself.

Shedancedwithrapture，withpassion，intoxicatedbypleasure，forgettingallinthetriumphofherbeauty，inthegloryofhersuccess，inasortofcloudofhappinesscomprisedofallthishomage，admiration，theseawakeneddesiresandofthatsenseoftriumphwhichissosweettowoman’sheart.

Shelefttheballaboutfouro’clockinthemorning.Herhusbandhadbeensleepingsincemidnightinalittledesertedanteroomwiththreeothergentlemenwhosewiveswereenjoyingtheball.

Hethrewoverhershouldersthewrapshehadbrought，themodestwrapsofcommonlife，thepovertyofwhichcontrastedwiththeeleganceoftheballdress.Shefeltthisandwishedtoescapesoasnottoberemarkedbytheotherwomen，whowereenvelopingthemselvesincostlyfurs.

Loiselheldherback，saying："Waitabit.Youwillcatchcoldoutside.

Iwillcallacab."

Butshedidnotlistentohimandrapidlydescendedthestairs.Whentheyreachedthestreettheycouldnotfindacarriageandbegantolookforone，shoutingafterthecabmenpassingatadistance.

TheywenttowardtheSeineindespair，shiveringwithcold.Atlasttheyfoundonthequayoneofthoseancientnightcabswhich，asthoughtheywereashamedtoshowtheirshabbinessduringtheday，areneverseenroundParisuntilafterdark.

IttookthemtotheirdwellingintheRuedesMartyrs，andsadlytheymountedthestairstotheirflat.Allwasendedforher.Astohim，hereflectedthathemustbeattheministryatteno’clockthatmorning.

Sheremovedherwrapsbeforetheglasssoastoseeherselfoncemoreinallherglory.Butsuddenlysheutteredacry.Shenolongerhadthenecklacearoundherneck！

"Whatisthematterwithyou？"demandedherhusband，alreadyhalfundressed.

Sheturneddistractedlytowardhim.

"Ihave——Ihave——I’velostMadameForestier’snecklace，"shecried.

Hestoodup，bewildered.

"What！——how？Impossible！"

Theylookedamongthefoldsofherskirt，ofhercloak，inherpockets，everywhere，butdidnotfindit.

"You’resureyouhaditonwhenyoulefttheball？"heasked.

"Yes，Ifeltitinthevestibuleoftheminister’shouse."

"Butifyouhadlostitinthestreetweshouldhavehearditfall.Itmustbeinthecab."

"Yes，probably.Didyoutakehisnumber？"

"No.Andyou——didn’tyounoticeit？"

"No."

Theylooked，thunderstruck，ateachother.AtlastLoiselputonhisclothes.

"Ishallgobackonfoot，"saidhe，"overthewholeroute，toseewhetherIcanfindit."

Hewentout.Shesatwaitingonachairinherballdress，withoutstrengthtogotobed，overwhelmed，withoutanyfire，withoutathought.

Herhusbandreturnedaboutseveno’clock.Hehadfoundnothing.

Hewenttopoliceheadquarters，tothenewspaperofficestoofferareward;hewenttothecabcompanies——everywhere，infact，whitherhewasurgedbytheleastsparkofhope.

Shewaitedallday，inthesameconditionofmadfearbeforethisterriblecalamity.

Loiselreturnedatnightwithahollow，paleface.Hehaddiscoverednothing.

"Youmustwritetoyourfriend，"saidhe，"thatyouhavebrokentheclaspofhernecklaceandthatyouarehavingitmended.Thatwillgiveustimetoturnround."

Shewroteathisdictation.

Attheendofaweektheyhadlostallhope.Loisel，whohadagedfiveyears，declared：

"Wemustconsiderhowtoreplacethatornament."

Thenextdaytheytooktheboxthathadcontaineditandwenttothejewelerwhosenamewasfoundwithin.Heconsultedhisbooks.

"ItwasnotI，madame，whosoldthatnecklace;Imustsimplyhavefurnishedthecase."

Thentheywentfromjewelertojeweler，searchingforanecklaceliketheother，tryingtorecallit，bothsickwithchagrinandgrief.

Theyfound，inashopatthePalaisRoyal，astringofdiamondsthatseemedtothemexactlyliketheonetheyhadlost.Itwasworthfortythousandfrancs.Theycouldhaveitforthirty—six.

Sotheybeggedthejewelernottosellitforthreedaysyet.Andtheymadeabargainthatheshouldbuyitbackforthirty—fourthousandfrancs，incasetheyshouldfindthelostnecklacebeforetheendofFebruary.

Loiselpossessedeighteenthousandfrancswhichhisfatherhadlefthim.

Hewouldborrowtherest.

Hedidborrow，askingathousandfrancsofone，fivehundredofanother，fivelouishere，threelouisthere.Hegavenotes，tookupruinousobligations，dealtwithusurersandalltheraceoflenders.Hecompromisedalltherestofhislife，riskedsigninganotewithoutevenknowingwhetherhecouldmeetit;and，frightenedbythetroubleyettocome，bytheblackmiserythatwasabouttofalluponhim，bytheprospectofallthephysicalprivationsandmoraltorturesthathewastosuffer，hewenttogetthenewnecklace，layinguponthejeweler’scounterthirty—sixthousandfrancs.

WhenMadameLoiseltookbackthenecklaceMadameForestiersaidtoherwithachillymanner：

"Youshouldhavereturneditsooner;Imighthaveneededit."

Shedidnotopenthecase，asherfriendhadsomuchfeared.Ifshehaddetectedthesubstitution，whatwouldshehavethought，whatwouldshehavesaid？WouldshenothavetakenMadameLoiselforathief？

ThereafterMadameLoiselknewthehorribleexistenceoftheneedy.Sheboreherpart，however，withsuddenheroism.Thatdreadfuldebtmustbepaid.Shewouldpayit.Theydismissedtheirservant;theychangedtheirlodgings;theyrentedagarretundertheroof.

Shecametoknowwhatheavyhouseworkmeantandtheodiouscaresofthekitchen.Shewashedthedishes，usingherdaintyfingersandrosynailsongreasypotsandpans.Shewashedthesoiledlinen，theshirtsandthedishcloths，whichshedrieduponaline;shecarriedtheslopsdowntothestreeteverymorningandcarriedupthewater，stoppingforbreathateverylanding.Anddressedlikeawomanofthepeople，shewenttothefruiterer，thegrocer，thebutcher，abasketonherarm，bargaining，meetingwithimpertinence，defendinghermiserablemoney，soubysou.

Everymonththeyhadtomeetsomenotes，renewothers，obtainmoretime.

Herhusbandworkedevenings，makingupatradesman’saccounts，andlateatnightheoftencopiedmanuscriptforfivesousapage.

Thislifelastedtenyears.

Attheendoftenyearstheyhadpaideverything，everything，withtheratesofusuryandtheaccumulationsofthecompoundinterest.

MadameLoisellookedoldnow.Shehadbecomethewomanofimpoverishedhouseholds——strongandhardandrough.Withfrowsyhair，skirtsaskewandredhands，shetalkedloudwhilewashingthefloorwithgreatswishesofwater.Butsometimes，whenherhusbandwasattheoffice，shesatdownnearthewindowandshethoughtofthatgayeveningoflongago，ofthatballwhereshehadbeensobeautifulandsoadmired.

Whatwouldhavehappenedifshehadnotlostthatnecklace？Whoknows？

whoknows？Howstrangeandchangefulislife！Howsmallathingisneededtomakeorruinus！

ButoneSunday，havinggonetotakeawalkintheChampsElyseestorefreshherselfafterthelaborsoftheweek，shesuddenlyperceivedawomanwhowasleadingachild.ItwasMadameForestier，stillyoung，stillbeautiful，stillcharming.

MadameLoiselfeltmoved.Shouldshespeaktoher？Yes，certainly.Andnowthatshehadpaid，shewouldtellherallaboutit.Whynot？

Shewentup.

"Good—day，Jeanne."

Theother，astonishedtobefamiliarlyaddressedbythisplaingood—wife，didnotrecognizeheratallandstammered：

"But——madame！——Idonotknow————Youmusthavemistaken."

"No.IamMathildeLoisel."

Herfriendutteredacry.

"Oh，mypoorMathilde！Howyouarechanged！"

"Yes，Ihavehadaprettyhardlife，sinceIlastsawyou，andgreatpoverty——andthatbecauseofyou！"

"Ofme！Howso？"

"Doyourememberthatdiamondnecklaceyoulentmetowearattheministerialball？"

"Yes.Well？"

"Well，Ilostit."

"Whatdoyoumean？Youbroughtitback."

"Ibroughtyoubackanotherexactlylikeit.Andithastakenustenyearstopayforit.Youcanunderstandthatitwasnoteasyforus，foruswhohadnothing.Atlastitisended，andIamveryglad."

MadameForestierhadstopped.

"Yousaythatyouboughtanecklaceofdiamondstoreplacemine？"

"Yes.Younevernoticedit，then！Theywereverysimilar."

Andshesmiledwithajoythatwasatonceproudandingenuous.

MadameForestier，deeplymoved，tookherhands.

"Oh，mypoorMathilde！Why，mynecklacewaspaste！Itwasworthatmostonlyfivehundredfrancs！"

THEMARQUISDEFUMEROL

RogerdeTournevillewaswhiffingacigarandblowingoutsmallcloudsofsmokeeverynowandthen，ashesatastrideachairamidapartyoffriends.Hewastalking.

"Wewereatdinnerwhenaletterwasbroughtinwhichmyfatheropened.

Youknowmyfather，whothinksthatheiskingofFranceadinterim.

IcallhimDonQuixote，becausefortwelveyearshehasbeenrunningatiltagainstthewindmilloftheRepublic，withoutquiteknowingwhetheritwasinthecauseoftheBourbonsortheOrleanists.AtpresentheisbearingthelanceinthecauseoftheOrleanistsalone，becausethereisnooneelseleft.Inanycase，hethinkshimselfthefirstgentlemanofFrance，thebestknown，themostinfluential，theheadoftheparty;andasheisanirremovablesenator，hethinksthatthethronesoftheneighboringkingsareveryinsecure.

"Asformymother，sheismyfather’ssoul，sheisthesoulofthekingdomandofreligion，andthescourgeofallevil—thinkers.

"Well，aletterwasbroughtinwhilewewereatdinner，andmyfatheropenedandreadit，andthenhesaidtomother：’Yourbrotherisdying.’

Shegrewverypale.Myunclewasscarcelyevermentionedinthehouse，andIdidnotknowhimatall;allIknewfrompublictalkwas，thathehadled，andwasstillleading，agaylife.Afterhavingspenthisfortuneinfastliving，hewasnowinsmallapartmentsintheRuedesMartyrs.

"AnancientpeerofFranceandformercolonelofcavalry，itwassaidthathebelievedinneitherGodnordevil.Notbelieving，therefore，inafuturelifehehadabusedthepresentlifeineveryway，andhadbecomealivewoundinmymother’sheart.

"’Givemethatletter，Paul，’shesaid，andwhenshereadit，Iaskedforitinmyturn.Hereitis：

MonsieurleComte，IthinkIoughttoletyouknowthatyourbrother—in—law，theComteFumerol，isgoingtodie.Perhapsyouwouldliketomakesomearrangements，anddonotforgetItoldyou.

Yourservant，MELANIE.

"’Wemusttakecounsel，’papamurmured.’Inmyposition，Ioughttowatchoveryourbrother’slastmoments.’

"Mammacontinued：’IwillsendforAbbePoivronandaskhisadvice，andthenIwillgotomybrotherwiththeabbeandRoger.Remainhere，Paul，foryoumustnotcompromiseyourself;butawomancan，andoughttodothesethings.Forapoliticianinyourposition，itisanothermatter.

Itwouldbeafinethingforoneofyouropponentstobeabletobringoneofyourmostlaudableactionsupagainstyou.’’Youareright，’myfathersaid.’Doasyouthinkbest，mydearwife.’

"Aquarterofanhour，later，theAbbePoivroncameintothedrawing—

room，andthesituationwasexplainedtohim，analyzedanddiscussedinallitsbearings.IftheMarquisdeFumerol，oneofthegreatestnamesinFrance，weretodiewithouttheministrationsofreligion，itwouldassuredlybeaterribleblowtothenobilityingeneral，andtotheCountdeTournevilleinparticular，andthefreethinkerswouldbetriumphant.

Theliberalnewspaperswouldsingsongsofvictoryforsixmonths;mymother’snamewouldbedraggedthroughthemireandbroughtintotheproseofSocialisticjournals，andmyfather’snamewouldbesmirched.

Itwasimpossiblethatsuchathingshouldbe.

"Acrusadewasthereforeimmediatelydecidedupon，whichwastobeledbytheAbbePoivron，alittle，fat，clean，priestwithafaintperfumeabouthim，atruevicarofalargechurchinanobleandrichquarter.

"Thelandauwasorderedandweallthreesetout，mymother，thecureandI，toadministerthelastsacramentstomyuncle.

"IthadbeendecidedfirstofallweshouldseeMadameMelaniewhohadwrittentheletter，andwhowasmostlikelytheporter’swife，ormyuncle’sservant，andIdismounted，asanadvanceguard，infrontofaseven—storyhouseandwentintoadarkpassage，whereIhadgreatdifficultyinfindingtheporter’sden.Helookedatmedistrustfully，andIsaid：

"’MadameMelanie，ifyouplease.’’Don’tknowher！’’ButIhavereceivedaletterfromher.’’Thatmaybe，butIdon’tknowher.Areyouaskingforalodger？’’No，aservantprobably.Shewrotemeaboutaplace.’

’Aservant？——aservant？Perhapsitisthemarquis’.Goandsee，thefifthstoryontheleft.’

"AssoonashefoundIwasnotaskingforadoubtfulcharacterhebecamemorefriendlyandcameasfarasthecorridorwithme.Hewasatall，thinmanwithwhitewhiskers，themannersofabeadleandmajesticgestures.

"Iclimbedupalongspiralstaircase，therailingofwhichIdidnotventuretotouch，andIgavethreediscreetknocksattheleft—handdooronthefifthstory.Itopenedimmediately，andanenormousdirtywomanappearedbeforeme.Shebarredtheentrancewithherextendedarmswhichsheplacedagainstthetwodoorposts，andgrowled：

"’Whatdoyouwant？’’AreyouMadameMelanie？’’Yes.’’IamtheViscontedeTourneville.’’Ah！Allright！Comein.’’Well，thefactis，mymotherisdownstairswithapriest.’’Oh！Allright;goandbringthemup;butbecarefuloftheporter.’

"Iwentdownstairsandcameupagainwithmymother，whowasfollowedbytheabbe，andIfanciedthatIheardotherfootstepsbehindus.Assoonaswewereinthekitchen，Melanieoffereduschairs，andweallfoursatdowntodeliberate.

"’Isheveryill？’mymotherasked.’Oh！yes，madame;hewillnotbeherelong.’’Doesheseemdisposedtoreceiveavisitfromapriest？’

’Oh！Idonotthinkso.’’CanIseehim？’’Well——yesmadame——only——

only——thoseyoungladiesarewithhim.’’Whatyoungladies？’’Why——why——hisladyfriends，ofcourse.’’Oh！’Mammahadgrownscarlet，andtheAbbePoivronhadloweredhiseyes.

"Theaffairbegantoamuseme，andIsaid：’SupposeIgoinfirst？I

shallseehowhereceivesme，andperhapsIshallbeabletopreparehimtoreceiveyou.’

"Mymother，whodidnotsuspectanytrick，replied：’Yes，go，mydear.’

Butawoman’svoicecriedout：’Melanie！’

"Theservantranoutandsaid：’Whatdoyouwant，MademoiselleClaire？’

’Theomelette;quickly.’’Inaminute，mademoiselle.’Andcomingbacktous，sheexplainedthissummons.

"Theyhadorderedacheeseomeletteattwoo’clockasaslightcollation.

Andsheatoncebegantobreaktheeggsintoasaladbowl，andtowhipthemvigorously，whileIwentoutonthelandingandpulledthebell，soastoformallyannouncemyarrival.Melanieopenedthedoortome，andmademesitdowninanante—room，whileshewenttotellmyunclethatI

hadcome;thenshecamebackandaskedmetogoin，whiletheabbehidbehindthedoor，sothathemightappearatthefirstsignal.

"Iwascertainlyverymuchsurprisedatthesightofmyuncle，forhewasveryhandsome，verysolemnandveryelegant，theoldrake.

"Sitting，almostlying，inalargearmchair，hislegswrappedinblankets，hishands，hislong，whitehands，overthearmsofthechair，hewaswaitingfordeathwiththedignityofapatriarch.Hiswhitebeardfellonhischest，andhishair，whichwasalsowhite，mingledwithitonhischeeks.

"Standingbehindhisarmchair，asiftodefendhimagainstme，weretwoyoungwomen，wholookedatmewithboldeyes.Intheirpetticoatsandmorningwrappers，withbarearms，withcoalblackhairtwistedinaknotonthenapeoftheirneck，withembroidered，Orientalslippers，whichshowedtheiranklesandsilkstockings，theylookedlikethefiguresinsomesymbolicalpainting，bythesideofthedyingman.Betweentheeasy—chairandthebed，therewasatablecoveredwithawhitecloth，onwhichtwoplates，twoglasses，twoforksandtwoknives，werewaitingforthecheeseomelettewhichhadbeenorderedsometimebeforeofMelanie.

"Myunclesaidinaweak，almostbreathless，butclearvoice：

’Good—morning，mychild;itisratherlateinthedaytocomeandseeme;

ouracquaintanceshipwillnotlastlong.’Istammeredout，’Itwasnotmyfault，uncle：’’No;Iknowthat，’hereplied.’Itisyourfatherandmother’sfaultmorethanyours.Howarethey？’’Prettywell，thankyou.

Whentheyheardthatyouwereill，theysentmetoaskafteryou.’

’Ah！Whydidtheynotcomethemselves？’

"Ilookedupatthetwogirlsandsaidgently：’Itisnottheirfaultiftheycouldnotcome，uncle.Butitwouldbedifficultformyfather，andimpossibleformymothertocomeinhere.’Theoldmandidnotreply，butraisedhishandtowardmine，andItookthepale，coldhandandhelditinmyown.

"Thedooropened，Melaniecameinwiththeomeletteandputitonthetable，andthetwogirlsimmediatelysatdownatthetable，andbegantoeatwithouttakingtheireyesoffme.ThenIsaid：’Uncle，itwouldgivegreatpleasuretomymothertoembraceyou.’’Ialso，’hemurmured，’shouldlike————’Hesaidnomore，andIcouldthinkofnothingtoproposetohim，andtherewassilenceexceptforthenoiseoftheplatesandthatvaguesoundofeating.

"Now，theabbe，whowaslisteningbehindthedoor，seeingourembarrassment，andthinkingwehadwonthegame，thoughtthetimehadcometointerpose，andshowedhimself.Myunclewassostupefiedatsightofhimthatatfirstheremainedmotionless;andthenheopenedhismouthasifhemeanttoswallowupthepriest，andshoutedtohiminastrong，deep，furiousvoice：’Whatareyoudoinghere？’

"Theabbe，whowasusedtodifficultsituations，cameforwardintotheroom，murmuring：’Ihavecomeinyoursister’sname，MonsieurleMarquis;

shehassentme.Shewouldbehappy，monsieur——’

"Butthemarquiswasnotlistening.Raisingonehand，hepointedtothedoorwithaproud，tragicgesture，andsaidangrilyandbreathinghard：

’Leavethisroom——goout——robberofsouls.Gooutfromhere，youviolatorofconsciences.Gooutfromhere，youpick—lockofdyingmen’sdoors！’

"Theabberetreated，andIalsowenttothedoor，beatingaretreatwiththepriest;thetwoyoungwomen，whohadthebestofit，gotup，leavingtheiromeletteonlyhalfeaten，andwentandstoodoneithersideofmyuncle’seasy—chair，puttingtheirhandsonhisarmstocalmhim，andtoprotecthimagainstthecriminalenterprisesoftheFamily，andofReligion.

"TheabbeandIrejoinedmymotherinthekitchen，andMelanieagainoffereduschairs.’Iknewquitewellthatthismethodwouldnotwork;

wemusttrysomeothermeans，otherwisehewillescapeus.’Andtheybegandeliberatingafresh，mymotherbeingofoneopinionandtheabbeofanother，whileIheldathird.

"Wehadbeendiscussingthematterinalowvoiceforhalfanhour，perhaps，whenagreatnoiseoffurniturebeingmovedandofcriesutteredbymyuncle，morevehementandterribleeventhantheformerhadbeen，madeusallfourjumpup.

"Throughthedoorsandwallswecouldhearhimshouting：’Goout——out——

rascals——humbugs，getout，scoundrels——getout——getout！’

"Melanierushedin，butcamebackimmediatelytocallmetohelpher，andIhastenedin.Oppositetomyuncle，whowasterriblyexcitedbyanger，almoststandingupandvociferating，stoodtwomen，onebehindtheother，whoseemedtobewaitingtillheshouldbedeadwithrage.

"Byhisridiculouslongcoat，hislongEnglishshoes，hismannersofatutoroutofaposition，hishighcollar，whitenecktieandstraighthair，hishumblefaceofafalsepriestofabastardreligion，I

immediatelyrecognizedthefirstasaProtestantminister.

"Thesecondwastheporterofthehouse，whobelongedtothereformedreligionandhadfollowedus，andhavingseenourdefeat，hadgonetofetchhisownpastor，inhopesthathemightmeetabetterreception.

Myuncleseemedmadwithrage！IfthesightoftheCatholicpriest，ofthepriestofhisancestors，hadirritatedtheMarquisdeFumerol，whohadbecomeafreethinker，thesightofhisporter’sministermadehimaltogetherbesidehimself.Ithereforetookthetwomenbythearmandthrewthemoutoftheroomsoroughlythattheybumpedagainsteachothertwice，betweenthetwodoorswhichledtothestaircase;andthenI

disappearedinmyturnandreturnedtothekitchen，whichwasourheadquartersinordertotakecounselwithmymotherandtheabbe.

"ButMelaniecamebackinterror，sobbingout：

’Heisdying——heisdying——comeimmediately——heisdying.’

"Mymotherrushedout.Myunclehadfallentotheground，andlayfulllengthalongthefloor，withoutmoving.Ifancyhewasalreadydead.

Mymotherwassuperbatthatmoment！Shewentstraightuptothetwogirlswhowerekneelingbythebodyandtryingtoraiseitup，andpointingtothedoorwithirresistibleauthority，dignityandmajesty，shesaid：’Nowitistimeforyoutoleavetheroom.’

"Andtheywentoutwithoutawordofprotest.Imustadd，thatIwasgettingreadytoturnthemoutasunceremoniouslyasIhaddonetheparsonandtheporter.

"ThentheAbbePoivronadministeredthelastsacramentstomyunclewithallthecustomaryprayers，andremittedallhissins，whilemymothersobbedasshekneltnearherbrother.Suddenly，however，sheexclaimed：

’Herecognizedme;hepressedmyhand;Iamsureherecognizedme！！！——andthathethankedme！Oh，God，whathappiness！’

"Poormamma！Ifshehadknownorguessedforwhomthosethankswereintended！

"Theylaidmyuncleonhisbed;hewascertainlydeadthistime.

"’Madame，’Melaniesaid，’wehavenosheetstoburyhimin;allthelinenbelongstothesetwoyoungladies，’andwhenIlookedattheomelettewhichtheyhadnotfinished，Ifeltinclinedtolaughandtocryatthesametime.Therearesomehumorousmomentsandsomehumoroussituationsinlife，occasionally！

"Wegavemyuncleamagnificentfungal，withfivespeechesatthegrave.

BarondeCroiselles，thesenator，showedinadmirabletermsthatGodalwaysreturnsvictoriousintowell—bornsoulswhichhavetemporarilybeenledintoerror.AllthemembersoftheRoyalistandCatholicpartyfollowedthefuneralprocessionwiththeenthusiasmofvictors，astheyspokeofthatbeautifuldeathafterasomewhattroublouslife."

ViscountRogerceasedspeaking;hisaudiencewaslaughing.Thensomebodysaid："Bah！Thatisthestoryofallconversionsinextremis."

THETRIPOFLEHORLA

OnthemorningofJuly8thIreceivedthefollowingtelegram："Fineday.

Alwaysmypredictions.Belgianfrontier.Baggageandservantsleftatnoonatthesocialsession.Beginningofmanoeuvresatthree.SoIwillwaitforyouattheworksfromfiveo’clockon.Jovis."

Atfiveo’clocksharpIenteredthegasworksofLaVillette.ItmighthavebeenmistakenforthecolossalruinsofanoldtowninhabitedbyCyclops.Therewereimmensedarkavenuesseparatingheavygasometersstandingonebehindanother，likemonstrouscolumns，unequallyhighand，undoubtedly，inthepastthesupportsofsometremendous，somefearfulironedifice.

Theballoonwaslyinginthecourtyardandhadtheappearanceofacakemadeofyellowcloth，flattenedonthegroundunderarope.Thatiscalledplacingaballooninasweep—net，and，infact，itappearedlikeanenormousfish.

Twoorthreehundredpeoplewerelookingatit，sittingorstanding，andsomewereexaminingthebasket，anicelittlesquarebasketforahumancargo，bearingonitssideingoldlettersonamahoganyplatethewords：

LeHorla.

Suddenlythepeoplebegantostandback，forthegaswasbeginningtoenterintotheballoonthroughalongtubeofyellowcloth，whichlayonthesoil，swellingandundulatinglikeanenormousworm.Butanotherthought，anotherpictureoccurstoeverymind.Itisthusthatnatureitselfnourishesbeingsuntiltheirbirth.Thecreaturethatwillrisesoonbeginstomove，andtheattendantsofCaptainJovis，asLeHorlagrewlarger，spreadandputinplacethenetwhichcoversit，sothatthepressurewillberegularandequallydistributedateverypoint.

Theoperationisverydelicateandveryimportant，fortheresistanceofthecottonclothofwhichtheballoonismadeisfigurednotinproportiontothecontactsurfaceofthisclothwiththenet，butinproportiontothelinksofthebasket.

LeHorla，moreover，hasbeendesignedbyM.Mallet，constructedunderhisowneyesandmadebyhimself.EverythinghadbeenmadeintheshopsofM.Jovisbyhisownworkingstaffandnothingwasmadeoutside.

Wemustaddthateverythingwasnewinthisballoon，fromthevarnishtothevalve，thosetwoessentialpartsofaballoon.Bothmustrendertheclothgas—proof，asthesidesofashiparewaterproof.Theoldvarnishes，madewithabaseoflinseedoil，sometimesfermentedandthusburnedthecloth，whichinashorttimewouldtearlikeapieceofpaper.

Thevalveswereapttocloseimperfectlyafterbeingopenedandwhenthecoveringcalled"cataplasme"wasinjured.ThefallofM.L’Hosteintheopenseaduringthenightprovedtheimperfectionoftheoldsystem.

ThetwodiscoveriesofCaptainJovis，thevarnishprincipally，areofinestimablevalueintheartofballooning.

Thecrowdhasbeguntotalk，andsomemen，whoappeartobespecialists，affirmwithauthoritythatweshallcomedownbeforereachingthefortifications.Severalotherthingshavebeencriticizedinthisnoveltypeofballoonwithwhichweareabouttoexperimentwithsomuchpleasureandsuccess.

Itisgrowingslowlybutsurely.Somesmallholesandscratchesmadeintransithavebeendiscovered，andwecoverthemandplugthemwithalittlepieceofpaperappliedontheclothwhilewet.Thismethodofrepairingalarmsandmystifiesthepublic.

WhileCaptainJovisandhisassistantsarebusywiththelastdetails，thetravellersgotodineinthecanteenofthegas—works，accordingtotheestablishedcustom.

Whenwecomeoutagaintheballoonisswaying，enormousandtransparent，aprodigiousgoldenfruit，afantasticpearwhichisstillripening，coveredbythelastraysofthesettingsun.Nowthebasketisattached，thebarometersarebrought，thesiren，whichwewillblowtoourhearts’

content，isalsobrought，alsothetwotrumpets，theeatables，theovercoatsandraincoats，allthesmallarticlesthatcangowiththemeninthatflyingbasket.

Asthewindpushestheballoonagainstthegasometers，itisnecessarytosteadyitnowandthen，toavoidanaccidentatthestart.

CaptainJovisisnowreadyandcallsallthepassengers.

LieutenantMalletjumpsaboard，climbingfirstontheaerialnetbetweenthebasketandtheballoon，fromwhichhewillwatchduringthenightthemovementsofLeHorlaacrosstheskies，astheofficeronwatch，standingonstarboard，watchesthecourseofaship.

M.EtierineBeergetsinafterhim，thencomesM.PaulBessand，thenM.

PatriceEyriesandIgetinlast.

Butthebasketistooheavyfortheballoon，consideringthelongtriptobetaken，andM.Eyrieshastogetout，notwithoutgreatregret.

M.Joliet，standingerectontheedgeofthebasket，begstheladies，inverygallantterms，tostandasidealittle，forheisafraidhemightthrowsandontheirhatsinrising.Thenhecommands：

"Letitloose，"and，cuttingwithonestrokeofhisknifetheropesthatholdtheballoontotheground，hegivesLeHorlaitsliberty.

Inonesecondweflyskyward.Nothingcanbeheard;wefloat，werise，wefly，weglide.Ourfriendsshoutwithgleeandapplaud，butwehardlyhearthem，wehardlyseethem.Wearealreadysofar，sohigh！What？

Arewereallyleavingthesepeopledownthere？Isitpossible？Parisspreadsoutbeneathus，adarkbluishpatch，cutbyitsstreets，fromwhichrise，hereandthere，domes，towers，steeples，thenaroundittheplain，thecountry，traversedbylongroads，thinandwhite，amidstgreenfieldsofatenderordarkgreen，andwoodsalmostblack.

TheSeineappearslikeacoiledsnake，asleep，ofwhichweseeneitherheadnortail;itcrossesParis，andtheentirefieldresemblesanimmensebasinofprairiesandforestsdottedhereandtherebymountains，hardlyvisibleinthehorizon.

Thesun，whichwecouldnolongerseedownbelow，nowreappearsasthoughitwereabouttoriseagain，andourballoonseemstobelighted;itmustappearlikeastartothepeoplewhoarelookingup.M.Malleteveryfewsecondsthrowsacigarettepaperinto—spaceandsaysquietly："Wearerising，alwaysrising，"whileCaptainJovis，radiantwithjoy，rubshishandstogetherandrepeats："Eh？thisvarnish？Isn’titgood？"

Infact，wecanseewhetherwearerisingorsinkingonlybythrowingacigarettepaperoutofthebasketnowandthen.Ifthispaperappearstofalldownlikeastone，itmeansthattheballoonisrising;ifitappearstoshootskywardtheballoonisdescending.

Thetwobarometersmarkaboutfivehundredmeters，andwegazewithenthusiasticadmirationattheearthweareleavingandtowhichwearenotattachedinanyway;itlookslikeacoloredmap，animmenseplanofthecountry.Allitsnoises，however，risetoourearsverydistinctly，easilyrecognizable.Wehearthesoundofthewheelsrollinginthestreets，thesnapofawhip，thecriesofdrivers，therollingandwhistlingoftrainsandthelaughterofsmallboysrunningafteroneanother.Everytimewepassoveravillagethenoiseofchildren’svoicesisheardabovetherestandwiththegreatestdistinctness.Somemenarecallingus;thelocomotiveswhistle;weanswerwiththesiren，whichemitsplaintive，fearfullyshrillwailslikethevoiceofaweirdbeingwanderingthroughtheworld.

Weperceivelightshereandthere，someisolatedfireinthefarms，andlinesofgasinthetowns.Wearegoingtowardthenorthwest，afterroamingforsometimeoverthelittlelakeofEnghien.Nowweseeariver;itistheOise，andwebegintoargueabouttheexactspotwearepassing.IsthattownCreilorPontoise——theonewithsomanylights？

ButifwewereoverPontoisewecouldseethejunctionoftheSeineandtheOise;andthatenormousfiretotheleft，isn’tittheblastfurnacesofMontataire？SothenweareaboveCreil.Theviewissuperb;itisdarkontheearth，butwearestillinthelight，anditisnowpastteno’clock.Nowwebegintohearslightcountrynoises，thedoublecryofthequailinparticular，thenthemewingofcatsandthebarkingofdogs.

Surelythedogshavescentedtheballoon;theyhaveseenitandhavegiventhealarm.Wecanhearthembarkingallovertheplainandmakingtheidenticalnoisetheymakewhenbayingatthemoon.Thecowsalsoseemtowakeupinthebarns，forwecanhearthemlowing;allthebeastsarescaredandmovedbeforetheaerialmonsterthatispassing.

Thedeliciousodorsofthesoilrisetowardus，thesmellofhay，offlowers，ofthemoist，verdantearth，perfumingtheair—alightair，infact，solight，sosweet，sodelightfulthatIrealizeIneverwassofortunateastobreathebefore.Aprofoundsenseofwell—being，unknowntomeheretofore，pervadesme，awell—beingofbodyandspirit，composedofsupineness，ofinfiniterest，offorgetfulness，ofindifferencetoeverythingandofthisnovelsensationoftraversingspacewithoutanyofthesensationsthatmakemotionunbearable，withoutnoise，withoutshocksandwithoutfear.

Attimesweriseandthendescend.EveryfewminutesLieutenantMallet，suspendedinhiscobwebofnetting，saystoCaptainJovis："Wearedescending;throwdownhalfahandful."Andthecaptain，whoistalkingandlaughingwithus，withabagofballastbetweenhislegs，takesahandfulofsandoutofthebagandthrowsitoverboard.

Nothingismoreamusing，moredelicate，moreinterestingthanthemanoeuvringofaballoon.Itisanenormoustoy，freeanddocile，whichobeyswithsurprisingsensitiveness，butitisalso，andbeforeall，theslaveofthewind，whichwecannotcontrol.Apinchofsand，halfasheetofpaper，oneortwodropsofwater，thebonesofachickenwhichwehadjusteaten，thrownoverboard，makesitgoupquickly.

Abreathofcool，dampairrisingfromtheriverorthewoodwearetraversingmakestheballoondescendtwohundredmetres.Itdoesnotvarywhenpassingoverfieldsofripegrain，anditriseswhenitpassesovertowns.

Theearthsleepsnow，or，rather，mensleepontheearth，forthebeastsawakenedbythesightofourballoonannounceourapproacheverywhere.

Nowandthentherollingofatrainorthewhistlingofalocomotiveisplainlydistinguishable.Wesoundoursirenaswepassoverinhabitedplaces;andthepeasants，terrifiedintheirbeds，mustsurelytrembleandaskthemselvesiftheAngelGabrielisnotpassingby.

Astrongandcontinuousodorofgascanbeplainlyobserved.Wemusthaveencounteredacurrentofwarmair，andtheballoonexpands，losingitsinvisiblebloodbytheescape—valve，whichiscalledtheappendix，andwhichclosesofitselfassoonastheexpansionceases.

Wearerising.Theearthnolongergivesbacktheechoofourtrumpets;

wehaverisenalmosttwothousandfeet.Itisnotlightenoughforustoconsulttheinstruments;weonlyknowthatthericepaperfallsfromuslikedeadbutterflies，thatwearerising，alwaysrising.Wecannolongerseetheearth;alightmistseparatesusfromit;andaboveourheadtwinklesaworldofstars.

Asilverylightappearsbeforeusandmakestheskyturnpale，andsuddenly，asifitwererisingfromunknowndepthsbehindthehorizonbelowusrisesthemoonontheedgeofacloud.Itseemstobecomingfrombelow，whilewearelookingdownuponitfromagreatheight，leaningontheedgeofourbasketlikeanaudienceonabalcony.Clearandround，itemergesfromthecloudsandslowlyrisesinthesky.

Theearthnolongerseemstoexist，itisburiedinmilkyvaporsthatresembleasea.Wearenowaloneinspacewiththemoon，whichlookslikeanotherballoontravellingoppositeus;andourballoon，whichshinesintheair，appearslikeanother，largermoon，aworldwanderingintheskyamidthestars，throughinfinity.Wenolongerspeak，thinknorlive;wefloatalongthroughspaceindeliciousinertia.Theairwhichisbearingusuphasmadeofusallbeingswhichresembleitself，silent，joyous，irresponsiblebeings，intoxicatedbythisstupendousflight，peculiarlyalert，althoughmotionless.Oneisnolongerconsciousofone’sfleshorone’sbones;one’sheartseemstohaveceasedbeating;wehavebecomesomethingindescribable，birdswhodonotevenhavetoflaptheirwings.

Allmemoryhasdisappearedfromourminds，alltroublefromourthoughts;

wehavenomoreregrets，plansnorhopes.Welook，wefeel，wewildlyenjoythisfantasticjourney;nothingintheskybutthemoonandourselves！Weareawandering，travellingworld，likeoursisters，theplanets;andthislittleworldcarriesfivemenwhohavelefttheearthandwhohavealmostforgottenit.Wecannowseeasplainlyasindaylight;welookateachother，surprisedatthisbrightness，forwehavenothingtolookatbutourselvesandafewsilverycloudsfloatingbelowus.Thebarometersmarktwelvehundredmetres，thenthirteen，fourteen，fifteenhundred;andthelittlericepapersstillfallaboutus.

CaptainJovisclaimsthatthemoonhasoftenmadeballoonsactthus，andthattheupwardjourneywillcontinue.

Wearenowattwothousandmetres;wegouptotwothousandthreehundredandfifty;thentheballoonstops：Weblowthesirenandaresurprisedthatnooneanswersusfromthestars.

Wearenowgoingdownrapidly.M.Malletkeepscrying："Throwoutmoreballast！throwoutmoreballast！"Andthesandandstonesthatwethrowovercomebackintoourfaces，asiftheyweregoingup，thrownfrombelowtowardthestars，sorapidisourdescent.

Hereistheearth！Wherearewe？Itisnowpastmidnight，andwearecrossingabroad，dry，well—cultivatedcountry，withmanyroadsandwellpopulated.

Totherightisalargecityandfartherawaytotheleftisanother.

Butsuddenlyfromtheearthappearsabrightfairylight;itdisappears，reappearsandoncemoredisappears.Jovis，intoxicatedbyspace，exclaims："Look，lookatthisphenomenonofthemooninthewater.Onecanseenothingmorebeautifulatnight！"

Nothingindeedcangiveoneanideaofthewonderfulbrightnessofthesespotsoflightwhicharenotfire，whichdonotlooklikereflections，whichappearquicklyhereorthereandimmediatelygooutagain.Theseshininglightsappearonthewindingriversateveryturn，butonehardlyhastimetoseethemastheballoonpassesasquicklyasthewind.

Wearenowquiteneartheearth，andBeerexclaims：——"Lookatthat！

Whatisthatrunningoverthereinthefields？Isn’titadog？"Indeed，somethingisrunningalongthegroundwithgreatspeed，andthissomethingseemstojumpoverditches，roads，treeswithsucheasethatwecouldnotunderstandwhatitmightbe.Thecaptainlaughed："Itistheshadowofourballoon.Itwillgrowaswedescend."

Idistinctlyhearagreatnoiseoffoundriesinthedistance.And，accordingtothepolarstar，whichwehavebeenobservingallnight，’andwhichIhavesooftenwatchedandconsultedfromthebridgeofmylittleyachtontheMediterranean，weareheadingstraightforBelgium.

Oursirenandourtwohornsarecontinuallycalling.Afewcriesfromsometruckdriverorbelatedreveleranswerus.Webellow："Wherearewe？"Buttheballoonisgoingsorapidlythatthebewilderedmanhasnoteventimetoanswerus.ThegrowingshadowofLeHorla，aslargeasachild’sball，isfleeingbeforeusoverthefields，roadsandwoods.Itgoesalongsteadily，precedingusbyaboutaquarterofamile;andnowI

amleaningoutofthebasket，listeningtotheroaringofthewindinthetreesandacrosstheharvestfields.IsaytoCaptainJovis："Howthewindblows！"

Heanswers："No，thoseareprobablywaterfalls."Iinsist，sureofmyearthatknowsthesoundofthewind，fromhearingitsooftenwhistlethroughtherigging.ThenJovisnudgesme;hefearstofrightenhishappy，quietpassengers，forheknowsfullwellthatastormispursuingus.

Atlastamanmanagestounderstandus;heanswers："Nord！"Wegetthesamereplyfromanother.

Suddenlythelightsofatown，whichseemstobeofconsiderablesize，appearbeforeus.PerhapsitisLille.Asweapproachit，suchawonderfulflowoffireappearsbelowusthatIthinkmyselftransportedintosomefairylandwherepreciousstonesaremanufacturedforgiants.

Itseemsthatitisabrickfactory.Hereareothers，two，three.Thefusingmaterialbubbles，sparkles，throwsoutblue，red，yellow，greensparks，reflectionsfromgiantdiamonds，rubies，emeralds，turquoises，sapphires，topazes.Andnearbyaregreatfoundriesroaringlikeapocalypticlions;highchimneysbelchforththeircloudsofsmokeandflame，andwecanhearthenoiseofmetalstrikingagainstmetal.

"Wherearewe？"

Thevoiceofsomejokerorofacrazypersonanswers："Inaballoon！"

"Wherearewe？"

"AtLille！"

Wewerenotmistaken.Wearealreadyoutofsightofthetown，andweseeRoubaixtotheright，thensomewell—cultivated，rectangularfields，ofdifferentcolorsaccordingtothecrops，someyellow，somegrayorbrown.Butthecloudsaregatheringbehindus，hidingthemoon，whereastowardtheeasttheskyisgrowinglighter，becomingaclearbluetingedwithred.Itisdawn.Itgrowsrapidly，nowshowingusallthelittledetailsoftheearth，thetrains，thebrooks，thecows，thegoats.Andallthispassesbeneathuswithsurprisingspeed.Onehardlyhastimetonoticethatotherfields，othermeadows，otherhouseshavealreadydisappeared.Cocksarecrowing，butthevoiceofducksdrownseverything.Onemightthinktheworldtobepeopled，coveredwiththem，theymakesomuchnoise.

Theearlyrisingpeasantsarewavingtheirarmsandcryingtous："Letyourselvesdrop！"Butwegoalongsteadily，neitherrisingnorfalling，leaningovertheedgeofthebasketandwatchingtheworldfleeingunderourfeet.

Jovissightsanothercityfaroffinthedistance.Itapproaches;

everywhereareoldchurchspires.Theyaredelightful，seenthusfromabove.Wherearewe？IsthisCourtrai？IsitGhent？

Wearealreadyverynearit，andweseethatitissurroundedbywaterandcrossedineverydirectionbycanals.OnemightthinkitaVeniceofthenorth.Justaswearepassingsoneartoachurchtowerthatourlongguy—ropealmosttouchesit，thechimesbegintoringthreeo’clock.

Thesweet，clearsoundsrisetousfromthisfrailroofwhichwehavealmosttouchedinourwanderingcourse.Itisacharminggreeting，afriendlywelcomefromHolland.Weanswerwithoursiren，whoseraucousvoiceechoesthroughoutthestreets.

ItwasBruges.Butevehavehardlylostsightofitwhenmyneighbor，PaulBessand，asksme："Don’tyouseesomethingoverthere，totheright，infrontofus？Itlookslikeariver."

And，indeed，faraheadofusstretchesabrighthighway，inthelightofthedawningday.Yes，itlookslikeariver，animmenseriverfullofislands.

"Getreadyforthedescent，"criedthecaptain.HemakesM.Malletleavehisnetandreturntothebasket;thenwepackthebarometersandeverythingthatcouldbeinjuredbypossibleshocks.M.Bessandexclaims："Lookatthemastsovertheretotheleft！Weareatthesea！"

Fogshadhiddenitfromusuntilthen.Theseawaseverywhere，totheleftandoppositeus，whiletoourrighttheScheldt，whichhadjoinedtheMoselle，extendedasfarasthesea，itsmouthsvasterthanalake.

Itwasnecessarytodescendwithinaminuteortwo.Theropetotheescape—valve，whichhadbeenreligiouslyenclosedinalittlewhitebagandplacedinsightofallsothatnoonewouldtouchit，isunrolled，andM.MalletholdsitinhishandwhileCaptainJovislooksforafavorablelanding.

Behindusthethunderwasrumblingandnotasinglebirdfollowedourmadflight.

"Pull！"criedJovis.

Wewerepassingoveracanal.Thebaskettrembledandtippedoverslightly.Theguy—ropetouchedthetalltreesonbothbanks.Butourspeedissogreatthatthelongropenowtrailingdoesnotseemtoslowdown，andwepasswithfrightfulrapidityoveralargefarm，fromwhichthebewilderedchickens，pigeonsandducksflyaway，whilethecows，catsanddogsrun，terrified，towardthehouse.

Justone—halfbagofballastisleft.Jovisthrowsitoverboard，andLeHorlaflieslightlyacrosstheroof.

Thecaptainoncemorecries："Theescape—valve！"

M.Malletreachesfortheropeandhangstoit，andwedroplikeanarrow.Withaslashofaknifethecordwhichretainstheanchoriscut，andwedragthisgrapplebehindus，throughafieldofbeets.Herearethetrees.

"Takecare！Holdfast！Lookoutforyourheads！"

Wepassoverthem.Thenastrongshockshakesus.Theanchorhastakenhold.

"Lookout！Takeagoodhold！Raiseyourselvesbyyourwrists.Wearegoingtotouchground."

Thebasketdoesindeedstriketheearth.Thenitfliesupagain.Oncemoreitfallsandboundsupwardagain，andatlastitsettlesontheground，whiletheballoonstrugglesmadly，likeawoundedbeast.

Peasantsruntowardus，buttheydonotdareapproach.Theywerealongtimebeforetheydecidedtocomeanddeliverus，foronecannotsetfootonthegrounduntilthebagisalmostcompletelydeflated.

Then，almostatthesametimeasthebewilderedmen，someofwhomshowedtheirastonishmentbyjumping，withthewildgesturesofsavages，allthecowsthatweregrazingalongthecoastcametowardus，surroundingourballoonwithastrangeandcomicalcircleofhorns，bigeyesandblowingnostrils.

WiththehelpoftheaccommodatingandhospitableBelgianpeasants，wewereableinashorttimetopackupallourmaterialandcarryittothestationatHeyst，whereattwentyminutespasteightwetookthetrainforParis.

Thedescentoccurredatthree—fifteeninthemorning，precedingbyonlyafewsecondsthetorrentofrainandtheblindinglightningofthestormwhichhadbeenchasingusbeforeit.

ThankstoCaptainJovis，ofwhomIhadheardmuchfrommycolleague，PaulGinisty——forbothofthemhadfallentogetherandvoluntarilyintotheseaoppositeMentone——thankstothisbraveman，wewereabletosee，inasinglenight，fromfarupinthesky，thesettingofthesun，therisingofthemoonandthedawnofdayandtogofromParistothemouthoftheScheldtthroughtheskies.

[Thisstoryappearedin"Figaro"onJuly16，1887，underthetitle：

"FromParistoHeyst.]

FAREWELL！

Thetwofriendsweregettingneartheendoftheirdinner.ThroughthecafewindowstheycouldseetheBoulevard，crowdedwithpeople.TheycouldfeelthegentlebreezeswhicharewaftedoverParisonwarmsummereveningsandmakeyoufeellikegoingoutsomewhere，youcarenotwhere，underthetrees，andmakeyoudreamofmoonlitrivers，offirefliesandoflarks.

Oneofthetwo，HenriSimon，heavedadeepsighandsaid：

"Ah！Iamgrowingold.It’ssad.Formerly，oneveningslikethis，I

feltfulloflife.Now，Ionlyfeelregrets.Lifeisshort！"

Hewasperhapsforty—fiveyearsold，verybaldandalreadygrowingstout.

Theother，PierreCarnier，atrifleolder，butthinandlively，answered：

"Well，myboy，Ihavegrownoldwithoutnoticingitintheleast.Ihavealwaysbeenmerry，healthy，vigorousandalltherest.Asoneseesoneselfinthemirroreveryday，onedoesnotrealizetheworkofage，foritisslow，regular，anditmodifiesthecountenancesogentlythatthechangesareunnoticeable.Itisforthisreasonalonethatwedonotdieofsorrowaftertwoorthreeyearsofexcitement.Forwecannotunderstandthealterationswhichtimeproduces.Inordertoappreciatethemonewouldhavetoremainsixmonthswithoutseeingone’sownface——

then，oh，whatashock！

"Andthewomen，myfriend，howIpitythepoorbeings！Alltheirjoy，alltheirpower，alltheirlife，liesintheirbeauty，whichlaststenyears.

"AsIsaid，Iagedwithoutnoticingit;Ithoughtmyselfpracticallyayouth，whenIwasalmostfiftyyearsold.Notfeelingtheslightestinfirmity，Iwentabout，happyandpeaceful.

"Therevelationofmydeclinecametomeinasimpleandterriblemanner，whichoverwhelmedmeforalmostsixmonths——thenIbecameresigned.

"Likeallmen，Ihaveoftenbeeninlove，butmostespeciallyonce.

"Imetherattheseashore，atEtretat，abouttwelveyearsago，shortlyafterthewar.Thereisnothingprettierthanthisbeachduringthemorningbathinghour.Itissmall，shapedlikeahorseshoe，framedbyhighwhilecliffs，whicharepiercedbystrangeholescalledthe’Portes，’onestretchingoutintotheoceanlikethelegofagiant，theothershortanddumpy.Thewomengatheronthenarrowstripofsandinthisframeofhighrocks，whichtheymakeintoagorgeousgardenofbeautifulgowns.Thesunbeatsdownontheshores，onthemulticoloredparasols，ontheblue—greensea;andallisgay，delightful，smiling.

Yousitdownattheedgeofthewaterandyouwatchthebathers.Thewomencomedown，wrappedinlongbathrobes，whichtheythrowoffdaintilywhentheyreachthefoamyedgeoftheripplingwaves;andtheyrunintothewaterwitharapidlittlestep，stoppingfromtimetotimeforadelightfullittlethrillfromthecoldwater，ashortgasp.

"Veryfewstandthetestofthebath.Itistherethattheycanbejudged，fromtheankletothethroat.Especiallyonleavingthewaterarethedefectsrevealed，althoughwaterisapowerfulaidtoflabbyskin.

"ThefirsttimethatIsawthisyoungwomaninthewater，Iwasdelighted，entranced.Shestoodthetestwell.Therearefaceswhosecharmsappealtoyouatfirstglanceanddelightyouinstantly.Youseemtohavefoundthewomanwhomyouwereborntolove.Ihadthatfeelingandthatshock.

"Iwasintroduced，andwassoonsmittenworsethanIhadeverbeenbefore.Myheartlongedforher.Itisaterribleyetdelightfulthingthustobedominatedbyayoungwoman.Itisalmosttorture，andyetinfinitedelight.Herlook，hersmile，herhairflutteringinthewind，thelittlelinesofherface，theslightestmovementofherfeatures，delightedme，upsetme，entrancedme.Shehadcapturedme，bodyandsoul，byhergestures，hermanners，evenbyherclothes，whichseemedtotakeonapeculiarcharmassoonassheworethem.Igrewtenderatthesightofherveilonsomepieceoffurniture，herglovesthrownonachair.Hergownsseemedtomeinimitable.Nobodyhadhatslikehers.

"Shewasmarried，butherhusbandcameonlyonSaturday，andleftonMonday.Ididn’tcencernmyselfabouthim，anyhow.Iwasn’tjealousofhim，Idon’tknowwhy;neverdidacreatureseemtometobeoflessimportanceinlife，toattractmyattentionlessthanthisman.

"Butshe！howIlovedher！Howbeautiful，gracefulandyoungshewas！

Shewasyouth，elegance，freshnessitself！NeverbeforehadIfeltsostronglywhatapretty，distinguished，delicate，charming，gracefulbeingwomanis.NeverbeforehadIappreciatedtheseductivebeautytobefoundinthecurveofacheek，themovementofalip，thepinknessofanear，theshapeofthatfoolishorgancalledthenose.

"Thislastedthreemonths;thenIleftforAmerica，overwhelmedwithsadness.Buthermemoryremainedinme，persistent，triumphant.FromfarawayIwasasmuchhersasIhadbeenwhenshewasnearme.Yearspassedby，andIdidnotforgether.Thecharmingimageofherpersonwaseverbeforemyeyesandinmyheart.Andmyloveremainedtruetoher，aquiettendernessnow，somethinglikethebelovedmemoryofthemostbeautifulandthemostenchantingthingIhadevermetinmylife.

"Twelveyearsarenotmuchinalifetime！Onedoesnotfeelthemslipby.Theyearsfolloweachothergentlyandquickly，slowlyyetrapidly，eachoneislongandyetsosoonover！Theyaddupsorapidly，theyleavesofewtracesbehindthem，theydisappearsocompletely，that，whenoneturnsroundtolookbackoverbygoneyears，oneseesnothingandyetonedoesnotunderstandhowonehappenstobesoold.Itseemedtome，really，thathardlyafewmonthsseparatedmefromthatcharmingseasononthesandsofEtretat.

"LastspringIwenttodinewithsomefriendsatMaisons—Laffitte.

"Justasthetrainwasleaving，abig，fatlady，escortedbyfourlittlegirls，gotintomycar.Ihardlylookedatthismotherhen，verybig，veryround，withafaceasfullasthemoonframedinanenormous，beribbonedhat.

"Shewaspuffing，outofbreathfromhavingbeenforcedtowalkquickly.

Thechildrenbegantochatter.Iunfoldedmypaperandbegantoread.

"WehadjustpassedAsnieres，whenmyneighborsuddenlyturnedtomeandsaid：

"’Excuseme，sir，butareyounotMonsieurGarnier？’

"’Yes，madame.’

"Thenshebegantolaugh，thepleasedlaughofagoodwoman;andyetitwassad.

"’Youdonotseemtorecognizeme.’

"Ihesitated.ItseemedtomethatIhadseenthatfacesomewhere;butwhere？when？Ianswered：

"’Yes——andno.Icertainlyknowyou，andyetIcannotrecallyourname.’

"Sheblushedalittle：

"’MadameJulieLefevre.’

"NeverhadIreceivedsuchashock.Inaseconditseemedtomeasthoughitwerealloverwithme！IfeltthataveilhadbeentornfrommyeyesandthatIwasgoingtomakeahorribleandheartrendingdiscovery.

"Sothatwasshe！Thatbig，fat，commonwoman，she！ShehadbecomethemotherofthesefourgirlssinceIhadlasther.Andtheselittlebeingssurprisedmeasmuchastheirmother.Theywerepartofher;theywerebiggirls，andalreadyhadaplaceinlife.Whereasshenolongercounted，she，thatmarvelofdaintyandcharminggracefulness.ItseemedtomethatIhadseenherbutyesterday，andthisishowIfoundheragain！Wasitpossible？Apoignantgriefseizedmyheart;andalsoarevoltagainstnatureherself，anunreasoningindignationagainstthisbrutal，infariiousactofdestruction.

"Ilookedather，bewildered.ThenItookherhandinmine，andtearscametomyeyes.Iweptforherlostyouth.ForIdidnotknowthisfatlady.

"Shewasalsoexcited，andstammered：

"’Iamgreatlychanged，amInot？Whatcanyouexpect——everythinghasitstime！Yousee，Ihavebecomeamother，nothingbutagoodmother.

Farewelltotherest，thatisover.Oh！Ineverexpectedyoutorecognizemeifwemet.You，too，havechanged.IttookmequiteawhiletobesurethatIwasnotmistaken.Yourhairisallwhite.Justthink！Twelveyearsago！Twelveyears！Myoldestgirlisalreadyten.’

"Ilookedatthechild.AndIrecognizedinhersomethingofhermother’soldcharm，butsomethingasyetunformed，somethingwhichpromisedforthefuture.Andlifeseemedtomeasswiftasapassingtrain.

"Wehadreached.Maisons—Laffitte.Ikissedmyoldfriend’shand.I

hadfoundnothingutterbutthemostcommonplaceremarks.Iwastoomuchupsettotalk.

"Atnight，alone，athome，Istoodinfrontofthemirrorforalongtime，averylongtime.AndIfinallyrememberedwhatIhadbeen，finallysawinmymind’seyemybrownmustache，myblackhairandtheyouthfulexpressionofmyface.NowIwasold.Farewell！"

THEWOLF

ThisiswhattheoldMarquisd’ArvilletoldusafterSt.Hubert’sdinneratthehouseoftheBarondesRavels.

Wehadkilledastagthatday.Themarquiswastheonlyoneoftheguestswhohadnottakenpartinthischase.Heneverhunted.

Duringthatlongrepastwehadtalkedabouthardlyanythingbuttheslaughterofanimals.Theladiesthemselveswereinterestedinbloodyandexaggeratedtales，andtheoratorsimitatedtheattacksandthecombatsofmenagainstbeasts，raisedtheirarms，romancedinathunderingvoice.

M.dArvilletalkedwell，inacertainflowery，high—sounding，buteffectivestyle.Hemusthavetoldthisstoryfrequently，forhetolditfluently，neverhesitatingforwords，choosingthemwithskilltomakehisdescriptionvivid.

Gentlemen，Ihaveneverhunted，neitherdidmyfather，normygrandfather，normygreat—grandfather.Thislastwasthesonofamanwhohuntedmorethanallofyouputtogether.Hediedin1764.Iwilltellyouthestoryofhisdeath.

HisnamewasJean.Hewasmarried，fatherofthatchildwhobecamemygreat—grandfather，andhelivedwithhisyoungerbrother，Francoisd’Arville，inourcastleinLorraine，inthemidstoftheforest.

Francoisd’Arvillehadremainedabachelorforloveofthechase.

Theybothhuntedfromoneendoftheyeartotheother，withoutstoppingandseeminglywithoutfatigue.Theylovedonlyhunting，understoodnothingelse，talkedonlyofthat，livedonlyforthat.

Theyhadatheartthatonepassion，whichwasterribleandinexorable.

Itconsumedthem，hadcompletelyabsorbedthem，leavingroomfornootherthought.

Theyhadgivenordersthattheyshouldnotbeinterruptedinthechaseforanyreasonwhatever.Mygreat—grandfatherwasbornwhilehisfatherwasfollowingafox，andJeand’Arvilledidnotstopthechase，butexclaimed："Thedeuce！Therascalmighthavewaitedtillaftertheview—

halloo！"

HisbrotherFranqoiswasstillmoreinfatuated.Onrisinghewenttoseethedogs，thenthehorses，thenheshotlittlebirdsaboutthecastleuntilthetimecametohuntsomelargegame.

InthecountrysidetheywerecalledM.leMarquisandM.leCadet，thenoblesthennotbeingatalllikethechancenobilityofourtime，whichwishestoestablishanhereditaryhierarchyintitles;forthesonofamarquisisnomoreacount，northesonofaviscountabaron，thanasonofageneralisacolonelbybirth.Butthecontemptiblevanityoftodayfindsprofitinthatarrangement.

Myancestorswereunusuallytall，bony，hairy，violentandvigorous.

Theyounger，stilltallerthantheolder，hadavoicesostrongthat，accordingtoalegendofwhichhewasproud，alltheleavesoftheforestshookwhenheshouted.

Whentheywerebothmountedtosetouthunting，itmusthavebeenasuperbsighttoseethosetwogiantsstraddlingtheirhugehorses.

Now，towardthemidwinterofthatyear，1764，thefrostswereexcessive，andthewolvesbecameferocious.

Theyevenattackedbelatedpeasants，roamedatnightoutsidethehouses，howledfromsunsettosunrise，androbbedthestables.

Andsoonarumorbegantocirculate.Peopletalkedofacolossalwolfwithgrayfur，almostwhite，whohadeatentwochildren，gnawedoffawoman’sarm，strangledallthewatchdogsinthedistrict，andevencomewithoutfearintothefarmyards.Thepeopleinthehousesaffirmedthattheyhadfelthisbreath，andthatitmadetheflameofthelightsflicker.Andsoonapanicranthroughalltheprovince.Noonedaredgooutanymoreafternightfall.Thedarknessseemedhauntedbytheimageofthebeast.

Thebrothersd’Arvilledeterminedtofindandkillhim，andseveraltimestheybroughttogetherallthegentlemenofthecountrytoagreathunt.

Theybeattheforestsandsearchedthecovertsinvain;theynevermethim.Theykilledwolves，butnotthatone.Andeverynightafterabattuethebeast，asiftoavengehimself，attackedsometravellerorkilledsomeone’scattle，alwaysfarfromtheplacewheretheyhadlookedforhim.

Finally，onenighthestoleintothepigpenoftheChateaud’Arvilleandatethetwofattestpigs.

Thebrotherswererousedtoanger，consideringthisattackasadirectinsultandadefiance.Theytooktheirstrongbloodhounds，usedtopursuedangerousanimals，andtheysetofftohunt，theirheartsfilledwithrage.

Fromdawnuntilthehourwhentheempurpledsundescendedbehindthegreatnakedtrees，theybeatthewoodswithoutfindinganything.

Atlast，furiousanddisgusted，bothwerereturning，walkingtheirhorsesalongalaneborderedwithhedges，andtheymarvelledthattheirskillashuntsmenshouldbebaffledbythiswolf，andtheyweresuddenlyseizedwithamysteriousfear.

Theeldersaid：

"Thatbeastisnotanordinaryone.Youwouldsayithadamindlikeaman."

Theyoungeranswered：

"Perhapsweshouldhaveabulletblessedbyourcousin，thebishop，orpraysomepriesttopronouncethewordswhichareneeded."

Thentheyweresilent.

Jeancontinued：

"Lookhowredthesunis.Thegreatwolfwilldosomeharmto—night."

Hehadhardlyfinishedspeakingwhenhishorsereared;thatofFranqoisbegantokick.Alargethicketcoveredwithdeadleavesopenedbeforethem，andamammothbeast，entirelygray，jumpedupandranoffthroughthewood.

Bothutteredakindofgruntofjoy，andbendingoverthenecksoftheirheavyhorses，theythrewthemforwardwithanimpulsefromalltheirbody，hurlingthemonatsuchapace，urgingthem，hurryingthemaway，excitingthemsowithvoiceandwithgestureandwithspurthattheexperiencedridersseemedtobecarryingtheheavybeastsbetween4

theirthighsandtobearthemoffasiftheywereflying.

Thustheywent，plungingthroughthethickets，dashingacrossthebedsofstreams，climbingthehillsides，descendingthegorges，andblowingthehornasloudastheycouldtoattracttheirpeopleandthedogs.

Andnow，suddenly，inthatmadrace，myancestorstruckhisforeheadagainstanenormousbranchwhichsplithisskull;andhefelldeadontheground，whilehisfrightenedhorsetookhimselfoff，disappearinginthegloomwhichenvelopedthewoods.

Theyoungerd’Arvillestoppedquick，leapedtotheearth，seizedhisbrotherinhisarms，andsawthatthebrainswereescapingfromthewoundwiththeblood.

Thenhesatdownbesidethebody，restedthehead，disfiguredandred，onhisknees，andwaited，regardingtheimmobilefaceofhiselderbrother.

Littlebylittleafearpossessedhim，astrangefearwhichhehadneverfeltbefore，thefearofthedark，thefearofloneliness，thefearofthedesertedwood，andthefearalsooftheweirdwolfwhohadjustkilledhisbrothertoavengehimselfuponthemboth.

Thegloomthickened;theacutecoldmadethetreescrack.Francoisgotup，shivering，unabletoremaintherelonger，feelinghimselfgrowingfaint.Nothingwastobeheard，neitherthevoiceofthedogsnorthesoundofthehorns—allwassilentalongtheinvisiblehorizon;andthismournfulsilenceofthefrozennighthadsomethingaboutitterrificandstrange.

HeseizedinhisimmensehandsthegreatbodyofJean，straightenedit，andlaiditacrossthesaddletocarryitbacktothechateau;thenhewentonhiswaysoftly，hismindtroubledasifhewereinastupor，pursuedbyhorribleandfear—givingimages.

Andallatonce，inthegrowingdarknessagreatshapecrossedhispath.

Itwasthebeast.Ashockofterrorshookthehunter;somethingcold，likeadropofwater，seemedtoglidedownhisback，and，likeamonkhauntedofthedevil，hemadeagreatsignofthecross，dismayedatthisabruptreturnofthehorribleprowler.Buthiseyesfellagainontheinertbodybeforehim，andpassingabruptlyfromfeartoanger，heshookwithanindescribablerage.

Thenhespurredhishorseandrushedafterthewolf.

Hefolloweditthroughthecopses，theravines，andthetalltrees，traversingwoodswhichhenolongerrecognized，hiseyesfixedonthewhitespeckwhichfledbeforehimthroughthenight.

Hishorsealsoseemedanimatedbyaforceandstrengthhithertounknown.

Itgallopedstraightaheadwithoutstretchedneck，strikingagainsttrees，androcks，theheadandthefeetofthedeadmanthrownacrossthesaddle.Thelimbstoreouthishair;thebrow，beatingthehugetrunks，spatteredthemwithblood;thespurstoretheirraggedcoatsofbark.

Suddenlythebeastandthehorsemanissuedfromtheforestandrushedintoavalley，justasthemoonappearedabovethemountains.Thevalleyherewasstony，inclosedbyenormousrocks.

Francoisthenutteredayellofjoywhichtheechoesrepeatedlikeapealofthunder，andheleapedfromhishorse，hiscutlassinhishand.

Thebeast，withbristlinghair，thebackarched，awaitedhim，itseyesgleamingliketwostars.But，beforebeginningbattle，thestronghunter，seizinghisbrother，seatedhimonarock，and，placingstonesunderhishead，whichwasnomorethanamassofblood，heshoutedintheearsasifhewastalkingtoadeafman："Look，Jean;lookatthis！"

Thenheattackedthemonster.Hefelthimselfstrongenoughtooverturnamountain，tobruisestonesinhishands.Thebeasttriedtobitehim，aimingforhisstomach;buthehadseizedthefierceanimalbytheneck，withoutevenusinghisweapon，andhestrangleditgently，listeningtothecessationofbreathinginitsthroatandthebeatingsofitsheart.

Helaughed，wildwithjoy，pressingcloserandcloserhisformidableembrace，cryinginadeliriumofjoy，"Look，Jean，look！"Allresistanceceased;thebodyofthewolfbecamelimp.Hewasdead.

Franqoistookhimupinhisarmsandcarriedhimtothefeetoftheelderbrother，wherehelaidhim，repeating，inatendervoice："There，there，there，mylittleJean，seehim！"

Thenhereplacedonthesaddlethetwobodies，oneupontheother，androdeaway.

Hereturnedtothechateau，laughingandcrying，likeGargantuaatthebirthofPantagruel，utteringshoutsoftriumph，andboisterouswithjoyasherelatedthedeathofthebeast，andgrievingandtearinghisbeardintellingofthatofhisbrother.

Andoften，later，whenhetalkedagainofthatday，hewouldsay，withtearsinhiseyes："IfonlypoorJeancouldhaveseenmestranglethebeast，hewouldhavediedcontent，thatIamsure！"

Thewidowofmyancestorinspiredherorphansonwiththathorrorofthechasewhichhastransmitteditselffromfathertosonasfardownasmyself.

TheMarquisd’Arvillewassilent.Someoneasked：

"Thatstoryisalegend，isn’tit？"

Andthestorytelleranswered：

"Isweartoyouthatitistruefrombeginningtoend."

Thenaladydeclared，inalittle，softvoice"Allthesame，itisfinetohavepassionslikethat."

THEINN

ResemblinginappearanceallthewoodenhostelriesoftheHighAlpssituatedatthefootofglaciersinthebarrenrockygorgesthatintersectthesummitsofthemountains，theInnofSchwarenbachservesasarestingplacefortravellerscrossingtheGeminiPass.

ItremainsopenforsixmonthsintheyearandisinhabitedbythefamilyofJeanHauser;then，assoonasthesnowbeginstofallandtofillthevalleysoastomaketheroaddowntoLoecheimpassable，thefatherandhisthreesonsgoawayandleavethehouseinchargeoftheoldguide，GaspardHari，withtheyoungguide，UlrichKunsi，andSam，thegreatmountaindog.

Thetwomenandthedogremaintillthespringintheirsnowyprison，withnothingbeforetheireyesexcepttheimmensewhiteslopesoftheBalmhorn，surroundedbylight，glisteningsummits，andareshutin，blockedupandburiedbythesnowwhichrisesaroundthemandwhichenvelops，bindsandcrushesthelittlehouse，whichliespiledontheroof，coveringthewindowsandblockingupthedoor.

ItwasthedayonwhichtheHauserfamilyweregoingtoreturntoLoeche，aswinterwasapproaching，andthedescentwasbecomingdangerous.Threemulesstartedfirst，ladenwithbaggageandledbythethreesons.Thenthemother，JeanneHauser，andherdaughterLouisemountedafourthmuleandsetoffintheirturnandthefatherfollowedthem，accompaniedbythetwomenincharge，whoweretoescortthefamilyasfarasthebrowofthedescent.Firstofalltheypassedroundthesmalllake，whichwasnowfrozenover，atthebottomofthemassofrockswhichstretchedinfrontoftheinn，andthentheyfollowedthevalley，whichwasdominatedonallsidesbythesnow—coveredsummits.

Arayofsunlightfellintothatlittlewhite，glistening，frozendesertandilluminateditwithacoldanddazzlingflame.Nolivingthingappearedamongthisoceanofmountains.Therewasnomotioninthisimmeasurablesolitudeandnonoisedisturbedtheprofoundsilence.

Bydegreestheyoungguide，UlrichKunsi，atall，long—leggedSwiss，leftoldmanHauserandoldGaspardbehind，inordertocatchupthemulewhichborethetwowomen.Theyoungeronelookedathimasheapproachedandappearedtobecallinghimwithhersadeyes.Shewasayoung，fairhairedlittlepeasantgirl，whosemilk—whitecheeksandpalehairlookedasiftheyhadlosttheircolorbytheirlongabodeamidtheice.

Whenhehadgotuptotheanimalshewasridingheputhishandonthecrupperandrelaxedhisspeed.MotherHauserbegantotalktohim，enumeratingwiththeminutestdetailsallthathewouldhavetoattendtoduringthewinter.Itwasthefirsttimethathewasgoingtostayupthere，whileoldHarihadalreadyspentfourteenwintersamidthesnow，attheinnofSchwarenbach.

UlrichKunsilistened，withoutappearingtounderstandandlookedincessantlyatthegirl.Fromtimetotimehereplied："Yes，MadameHauser，"buthisthoughtsseemedfarawayandhiscalmfeaturesremainedunmoved.

TheyreachedLakeDaube，whosebroad，frozensurfaceextendedtotheendofthevalley.Ontherightonesawtheblack，pointed，rockysummitsoftheDaubenhornbesidetheenormousmorainesoftheLommernglacier，abovewhichrosetheWildstrubel.AstheyapproachedtheGemmipass，wherethedescentofLoechebegins，theysuddenlybeheldtheimmensehorizonoftheAlpsoftheValais，fromwhichthebroad，deepvalleyoftheRhoneseparatedthem.