第17章

Almostsuffocatedbythefearfulemotionthisnewsrousedinhim，hestoodthere，hisfacecoveredwithsoap，forhewasintheactofshaving.

Whenhehadsufficientlyrecoveredtothinkandspeakhecried："Itisnottrue;youlie，Melanie！"

Butthepeasantwomanputherhandonherheart，saying："MayourLordjudgemeifIlie，MonsieurleCure！Itellyou，shegoesthereeverynightwhenyoursisterhasgonetobed.Theymeetbytheriverside;youhaveonlytogothereandsee，betweenteno’clockandmidnight."

Heceasedscrapinghischin，andbegantowalkupanddownimpetuously，ashealwaysdidwhenhewasindeepthought.Whenhebeganshavingagainhecuthimselfthreetimesfromhisnosetohisear.

Alldaylonghewassilent，fullofangerandindignation.Tohispriestlyhatredofthisinvinciblelovewasaddedtheexasperationofherspiritualfather，ofherguardianandpastor，deceivedandtrickedbyachild，andtheselfishemotionshownbyparentswhentheirdaughterannouncesthatshehaschosenahusbandwithoutthem，andinspiteofthem.

Afterdinnerhetriedtoreadalittle，butcouldnot，growingmoreand，moreangry.Whenteno’clockstruckheseizedhiscane，aformidableoakstick，whichhewasaccustomedtocarryinhisnocturnalwalkswhenvisitingthesick.Andhesmiledattheenormousclubwhichhetwirledinathreateningmannerinhisstrong，countryfist.Thenheraiseditsuddenlyand，grittinghisteeth，broughtitdownonachair，thebrokenbackofwhichfelloveronthefloor.

Heopenedthedoortogoout，butstoppedonthesill，surprisedbythesplendidmoonlight，ofsuchbrillianceasisseldomseen.

And，ashewasgiftedwithanemotionalnature，onesuchashadallthosepoeticdreamers，theFathersoftheChurch，hefeltsuddenlydistractedandmovedbyallthegrandandserenebeautyofthispalenight.

Inhislittlegarden，allbathedinsoftlight，hisfruittreesinarowcastonthegroundtheshadowoftheirslenderbranches，scarcelyinfullleaf，whilethegianthoneysuckle，clingingtothewallofhishouse，exhaledadelicioussweetness，fillingthewarmmoonlitatmospherewithakindofperfumedsoul.

Hebegantotakelongbreaths，drinkingintheairasdrunkardsdrinkwine，andhewalkedalongslowly，delighted，marveling，almostforgettinghisniece.

Assoonashewasoutsideofthegarden，hestoppedtogazeupontheplainallfloodedwiththecaressinglight，bathedinthattender，languishingcharmofserenenights.Ateachmomentwasheardtheshort，metallicnoteofthecricket，anddistantnightingalesshookouttheirscatterednotes——theirlight，vibrantmusicthatsetsonedreaming，withoutthinking，amusicmadeforkisses，fortheseductionofmoonlight.

Theabbewalkedonagain，hisheartfailing，thoughheknewnotwhy.Heseemedweakened，suddenlyexhausted;hewantedtositdown，torestthere，tothink，toadmireGodinHisworks.

Downyonder，followingtheundulationsofthelittleriver，agreatlineofpoplarswoundinandout.Afinemist，awhitehazethroughwhichthemoonbeamspassed，silveringitandmakingitgleam，hungaroundandabovethemountains，coveringallthetortuouscourseofthewaterwithakindoflightandtransparentcotton.

Theprieststoppedonceagain，hissoulfilledwithagrowingandirresistibletenderness.

Andadoubt，avaguefeelingofdisquietcameoverhim;hewasaskingoneofthosequestionsthathesometimesputtohimself.

"WhydidGodmakethis？Sincethenightisdestinedforsleep，unconsciousness，repose，forgetfulnessofeverything，whymakeitmorecharmingthanday，softerthandawnorevening？Anddoeswhythisseductiveplanet，morepoeticthanthesun，thatseemsdestined，sodiscreetisit，toilluminatethingstoodelicateandmysteriousforthelightofday，makethedarknesssotransparent？

"Whydoesnotthegreatestoffeatheredsongsterssleepliketheothers？

Whydoesitpourforthitsvoiceinthemysteriousnight？

"Whythishalf—veilcastovertheworld？Whythesetremblingsoftheheart，thisemotionofthespirit，thisenervationofthebody？Whythisdisplayofenchantmentsthathumanbeingsdonotsee，sincetheyarelyingintheirbeds？Forwhomisdestinedthissublimespectacle，thisabundanceofpoetrycastfromheaventoearth？"

Andtheabbecouldnotunderstand.

Butsee，outthere，ontheedgeofthemeadow，underthearchoftreesbathedinashiningmist，twofiguresarewalkingsidebyside.

Themanwasthetaller，andheldhisarmabouthissweetheart’sneckandkissedherbroweverylittlewhile.Theyimpartedlife，allatonce，totheplacidlandscapeinwhichtheywereframedasbyaheavenlyhand.

Thetwoseemedbutasinglebeing，thebeingforwhomwasdestinedthiscalmandsilentnight，andtheycametowardthepriestasalivinganswer，theresponsehisMastersenttohisquestionings.

Hestoodstill，hisheartbeating，allupset;anditseemedtohimthathesawbeforehimsomebiblicalscene，likethelovesofRuthandBoaz，theaccomplishmentofthewilloftheLord，insomeofthosegloriousstoriesofwhichthesacredbookstell.TheversesoftheSongofSongsbegantoringinhisears，theappealofpassion，allthepoetryofthispoemrepletewithtenderness.

Andhesaiduntohimself："PerhapsGodhasmadesuchnightsasthesetoidealizetheloveofmen."

Heshrankbackfromthiscouplethatstilladvancedwitharmsintertwined.Yetitwashisniece.ButheaskedhimselfnowifhewouldnotbedisobeyingGod.AnddoesnotGodpermitlove，sinceHesurroundsitwithsuchvisiblesplendor？

Andhewentbackmusing，almostashamed，asifhehadintrudedintoatemplewherehehad，norighttoenter.

WAITER，A"BOCK"

WhydidIgointothatbeerhallonthatparticularevening？Idonotknow.Itwascold;afinerain，aflyingmist，veiledthegaslampswithatransparentfog，madethesidewalksreflectthelightthatstreamedfromtheshopwindows——lightingupthesoftslushandthemuddyfeetofthepassers—by.

Iwasgoingnowhereinparticular;wassimplyhavingashortwalkafterdinner.IhadpassedtheCreditLyonnais，theRueVivienne，andseveralotherstreets.Isuddenlydescriedalargebeerhallwhichwasmorethanhalffull.Iwalkedinside，withnoobjectinview.Iwasnottheleastthirsty.

Iglancedroundtofindaplacethatwasnottoocrowded，andwentandsatdownbythesideofamanwhoseemedtometobeold，andwhowassmokingatwo—sousclaypipe，whichwasasblackascoal.Fromsixtoeightglassespileduponthetableinfrontofhimindicatedthenumberof"bocks"hehadalreadyabsorbed.AtaglanceIrecognizeda"regular，"oneofthosefrequentersofbeerhouseswhocomeinthemorningwhentheplaceopens，anddonotleavetilleveningwhenitisabouttoclose.Hewasdirty，baldontopofhishead，withafringeofiron—grayhairfallingonthecollarofhisfrockcoat.Hisclothes，muchtoolargeforhim，appearedtohavebeenmadeforhimatatimewhenhewascorpulent.Onecouldguessthathedidnotwearsuspenders，forhecouldnottaketenstepswithouthavingtostoptopulluphistrousers.Didhewearavest？Themerethoughtofhisbootsandofthatwhichtheycoveredfilledmewithhorror.Thefrayedcuffswereperfectlyblackattheedges，aswerehisnails.

AssoonasIhadseatedmyselfbesidehim，thisindividualsaidtomeinaquiettoneofvoice：

"Howgoesit？"

Iturnedsharplyroundandcloselyscannedhisfeatures，whereuponhecontinued：

"Iseeyoudonotrecognizeme."

"No，Idonot."

"DesBarrets."

Iwasstupefied.ItwasCountJeandesBarrets，myoldcollegechum.

Iseizedhimbythehand，andwassodumbfoundedthatIcouldfindnothingtosay.AtlengthImanagedtostammerout：

"Andyou，howgoesitwithyou？"

Herespondedplacidly：

"IgetalongasIcan."

"Whatareyoudoingnow？"Iasked.

"YouseewhatIamdoing，"heansweredquitresignedly.

Ifeltmyfacegettingred.Iinsisted：

"Buteveryday？"

"Everydayitisthesamething，"washisreply，accompaniedwithathickpuffoftobaccosmoke.

Hethentappedwithasouonthetopofthemarbletable，toattracttheattentionofthewaiter，andcalledout：

"Waiter，two’bocks.’"

Avoiceinthedistancerepeated：

"Twobocksforthefourthtable."

Anothervoice，moredistantstill，shoutedout：

"Heretheyare！"

Immediatelyamanwithawhiteapronappeared，carryingtwo"bocks，"

whichhesetdown，foaming，onthetable，spillingsomeoftheyellowliquidonthesandyfloorinhishaste.

DesBarretsemptiedhisglassatasingledraughtandreplaceditonthetable，whilehesuckedinthefoamthathadbeenleftonhismustache.

Henextasked：

"Whatistherenew？"

Ireallyhadnothingnewtotellhim.Istammered：

"Nothing，oldman.Iamabusinessman."

Inhismonotonoustoneofvoicehesaid：

"Indeed，doesitamuseyou？"

"No，butwhatcanIdo？Onemustdosomething！"

"Whyshouldone？"

"Soastohaveoccupation."

"What’stheuseofanoccupation？Formypart，Idonothingatall，asyousee，neveranything.WhenonehasnotasouIcanunderstandwhyoneshouldwork.Butwhenonehasenoughtoliveon，what’stheuse？Whatisthegoodofworking？Doyouworkforyourself，orforothers？Ifyouworkforyourself，youdoitforyourownamusement，whichisallright;

ifyouworkforothers，youareafool."

Then，layinghispipeonthemarbletable，hecalledoutanew：

"Waiter，a’bock.’"Andcontinued："Itmakesmethirstytokeepcallingso.Iamnotaccustomedtothatsortofthing.Yes，yes，Idonothing.

Iletthingsslide，andIamgrowingold.IndyingIshallhavenothingtoregret.Myonlyremembrancewillbethisbeerhall.Nowife，nochildren，nocares，nosorrows，nothing.Thatisbest."

Hethenemptiedtheglasswhichhadbeenbroughthim，passedhistongueoverhislips，andresumedhispipe.

Ilookedathiminastonishment，andsaid：

"Butyouhavenotalwaysbeenlikethat？"

"Pardonme;eversinceIleftcollege."

"Thatisnotaproperlifetolead，mydearfellow;itissimplyhorrible.Come，youmusthavesomethingtodo，youmustlovesomething，youmusthavefriends."

"No，Igetupatnoon，Icomehere，Ihavemybreakfast，Idrinkmybeer，Iremainuntiltheevening，Ihavemydinner，Idrinkbeer.Thenabouthalf—pastoneinthemorning，Igohometobed，becausetheplaceclosesup;thatannoysmemorethananything.InthelasttenyearsIhavepassedfullysixyearsonthisbench，inmycorner;andtheotherfourinmybed，nowhereelse.Isometimeschatwiththeregularcustomers."

"ButwhenyoucametoPariswhatdidyoudoatfirst？"

"IpaidmydevoirstotheCafedeMedicis."

"Whatnext？"

"NextIcrossedthewaterandcamehere."

"Whydidyoutakethattrouble？"

"Whatdoyoumean？Onecannotremainallone’slifeintheLatinQuarter.Thestudentsmaketoomuchnoise.NowIshallnotmoveagain.

Waiter，a’bock.’"

Ibegantothinkthathewasmakingfunofme，andIcontinued：

"Comenow，befrank.Youhavebeenthevictimofsomegreatsorrow;somedisappointmentinlove，nodoubt！Itiseasytoseethatyouareamanwhohashadsometrouble.Whatageareyou？"

"Iamthirty，butIlookforty—five，atleast."

Ilookedhimstraightintheface.Hiswrinkled，ill—shavenfacegaveonetheimpressionthathewasanoldman.Onthetopofhisheadafewlonghairswavedoveraskinofdoubtfulcleanliness.Hehadenormouseyelashes，aheavymustache，andathickbeard.SuddenlyIhadakindofvision，Iknownotwhy，ofabasinfilledwithdirtywaterinwhichallthathairhadbeenwashed.Isaidtohim：

"Youcertainlylookolderthanyourage.Yousurelymusthaveexperiencedsomegreatsorrow."

Hereplied：

"ItellyouthatIhavenot.IamoldbecauseInevergooutintotheair.Nothingmakesamandeterioratemorethanthelifeofacafe."

Istillcouldnotbelievehim.

"Youmustsurelyalsohavebeenmarried？Onecouldnotgetasbald—

headedasyouarewithouthavingbeeninlove."

Heshookhishead，shakingdandruffdownonhiscoatashedidso.

"No，Ihavealwaysbeenvirtuous."

And，raisinghiseyestowardthechandelierwhichheatedourheads，hesaid：

"IfIambald，itisthefaultofthegas.Itdestroysthehair.

Waiter，a’bock.’Areyounotthirsty？"

"No，thankyou.Butyoureallyinterestme.Sincewhenhaveyoubeensomorbid？Yourlifeisnotnormal，itisnotnatural.Thereissomethingbeneathitall."

"Yes，anditdatesfrommyinfancy.IreceivedagreatshockwhenIwasveryyoung，andthatturnedmylifeintodarknesswhichwilllasttotheend."

"Whatwasit？"

"Youwishtoknowaboutit？Well，then，listen.Yourecall，ofcourse，thecastleinwhichIwasbroughtup，foryouusedtospendfiveorsixmonthsthereduringvacation.Yourememberthatlargegraybuilding，inthemiddleofagreatpark，andthelongavenuesofoakswhichopenedtothefourpointsofthecompass.Youremembermyfatherandmother，bothofwhomwereceremonious，solemn，andsevere.

"Iworshippedmymother;Iwasafraidofmyfather;butIrespectedboth，accustomedalwaysasIwastoseeeveryonebowbeforethem.TheywereMonsieurleComteandMadamelaComtessetoallthecountryround，andourneighbors，theTannemares，theRavelets，theBrennevilles，showedthemtheutmostconsideration.

"Iwasthenthirteenyearsold.Iwashappy，pleasedwitheverything，asoneisatthatage，fullofthejoyoflife.

"Well，towardtheendofSeptember，afewdaysbeforereturningtocollege，asIwasplayingaboutintheshrubberyofthepark，amongthebranchesandleaves，asIwascrossingapath，Isawmyfatherandmother，whowerewalkingalong.

"Irecallitasthoughitwereyesterday.Itwasaverywindyday.Thewholelineoftreesswayedbeneaththegustsofwind，groaning，andseemingtouttercries—thosedull，deepcriesthatforestsgiveoutduringatempest.

"Thefallingleaves，turningyellow，flewawaylikebirds，circlingandfalling，andthenrunningalongthepathlikeswiftanimals.

"Eveningcameon.Itwasdarkinthethickets.Themotionofthewindandofthebranchesexcitedme，mademetearaboutasifIwerecrazy，andhowlinimitationofthewolves.

"AssoonasIperceivedmyparents，Icreptfurtivelytowardthem，underthebranches，inordertosurprisethem，asthoughIhadbeenaveritableprowler.ButIstoppedinfearafewpacesfromthem.Myfather，whowasinaterriblepassion，cried：

"’Yourmotherisafool;moreover，itisnotaquestionofyourmother.

Itisyou.ItellyouthatIneedthismoney，andIwantyoutosignthis.’

"Mymotherrepliedinafirmvoice：

"’Iwillnotsignit.ItisJean’sfortune.IshallguarditforhimandIwillnotallowyoutosquanderitwithstrangewomen，asyouhaveyourownheritage.’

"Thenmyfather，tremblingwithrage，wheeledroundand，seizinghiswifebythethroat，begantoslapherwithallhismightfullinthefacewithhisdisengagedhand.

"Mymother’shatfelloff，herhairbecameloosenedandfelloverhershoulders;shetriedtoparrytheblows，butshecouldnotdoso.Andmyfather，likeamadman，keptonstrikingher.Mymotherrolledoverontheground，coveringherfacewithherhands.Thenheturnedheroveronherbackinordertoslapherstillmore，pullingawayherhands，whichwerecoveringherface.

"Asforme，myfriend，itseemedasthoughtheworldwascomingtoanend，thattheeternallawshadchanged.Iexperiencedtheoverwhelmingdreadthatonehasinpresenceofthingssupernatural，inpresenceofirreparabledisasters.Mychildishmindwasbewildered，distracted.

Ibegantocrywithallmymight，withoutknowingwhy;apreytoafearfuldread，sorrow，andastonishment.Myfatherheardme，turnedround，and，onseeingme，startedtowardme.Ibelievethathewantedtokillme，andIfledlikeahuntedanimal，runningstraightaheadintothethicket.

"Iranperhapsforanhour，perhapsfortwo.Iknownot.Darknesssetin.Isankonthegrass，exhausted，andlaytheredismayed，franticwithfear，anddevouredbyasorrowcapableofbreakingforevertheheartofapoorchild.Iwascold，hungry，perhaps.Atlengthdaybroke.Iwasafraidtogetup，towalk，toreturnhome，torunfarther，fearingtoencountermyfather，whomIdidnotwishtoseeagain.

"Ishouldprobablyhavediedofmiseryandofhungeratthefootofatreeiftheparkguardhadnotdiscoveredmeandledmehomebyforce.

"Ifoundmyparentslookingasusual.Mymotheralonespoketome"’Howyoufrightenedme，younaughtyboy.Ilayawakethewholenight.’

"Ididnotanswer，butbegantoweep.Myfatherdidnotutterasingleword.

"EightdayslaterIreturnedtoschool.

"Well，myfriend，itwasalloverwithme.Ihadwitnessedtheothersideofthings，thebadside.Ihavenotbeenabletoperceivethegoodsidesincethatday.Whathastakenplaceinmymind，whatstrangephenomenonhaswarpedmyideas，Idonotknow.ButInolongerhadatasteforanything，awishforanything，aloveforanybody，adesireforanythingwhatever，anyambition，oranyhope.AndIalwaysseemypoormotherontheground，inthepark，myfatherbeatingher.Mymotherdiedsomeyearslater;my，fatherstilllives.Ihavenotseenhimsince.

Waiter，a’bock.’"

Awaiterbroughthimhis"bock，"whichheswallowedatagulp.But，intakinguphispipeagain，tremblingashewas，hebrokeit."Confoundit！"hesaid，withagestureofannoyance."Thatisarealsorrow.Itwilltakemeamonthtocoloranother！"

Andhecalledoutacrossthevasthall，nowreekingwithsmokeandfullofmendrinking，hiseverlasting："Garcon，un’bock’——andanewpipe."

AFTER

Mydarlings，"saidthecomtesse，"youmightgotobed."

Thethreechildren，twogirlsandaboy，roseandkissedtheirgrandmother.Thentheysaidgood—nighttoM.leCure，whohaddinedatthechateau，aswashiscustomeveryThursday.

TheAbbeMauduitliftedtwoofthechildrenonhisknees，passinghislongarmscladinblackroundtheirnecks，andkissingthemtenderlyontheforeheadashedrewtheirheadstowardhimasafathermight.

Thenhesetthemdownontheground，andthelittlebeingswentoff，theboyahead，andthegirlsfollowing.

"Youarefondofchildren，M.leCure，"saidthecomtesse.

"Veryfond，madame."

Theoldwomanraisedherbrighteyestowardthepriest.

"And——hasyoursolitudeneverweighedtooheavilyonyou？"

"Yes，sometimes."

Hebecamesilent，hesitated，andthenadded："ButIwasnevermadeforordinarylife."

"Whatdoyouknowaboutit？"

"Oh！Iknowverywell.Iwasmadetobeapriest;Ifollowedmyvocation.

Thecomtessekeptstaringathim：

"Comenow，M.leCure，tellmethis——tellmehowitwasyouresolvedtorenounceforeverallthatmakestherestofuslovelife——allthatconsolesandsustainsus？Whatisitthatdroveyou，impelledyou，toseparateyourselffromthegreatnaturalpathofmarriageandthefamily？

Youareneitheranenthusiastnorafanatic，neitheragloomypersonnorasadperson.Wasitsomeincident，somesorrow，thatledyoutotakelifevows？"

TheAbbeMauduitroseandapproachedthefire，then，holdingtowardtheflamehisbigshoes，suchascountrypriestsgenerallywear，heseemedstillhesitatingastowhatreplyheshouldmake.

Hewasatalloldmanwithwhitehair，andforthelasttwentyyearshadbeenpastoroftheparishofSaint—Antoine—du—Rocher.Thepeasantssaidofhim："There’sagoodmanforyou！"Andindeedhewasagoodman，benevolent，friendlytoall，gentle，and，tocrownall，generous.LikeSaintMartin，hewouldhavecuthiscloakintwo.Helaughedreadily，andweptalso，onslightprovocation，justlikeawoman——whichprejudicedhimmoreorlessinthehardmindsofthecountryfolk.

TheoldComtessedeSaville，livinginretirementinherchateauofRocher，inordertobringuphergrandchildren，afterthesuccessivedeathsofhersonandherdaughter—in—law，wasverymuchattachedtohercure，andusedtosayofhim："Whatahearthehas！"

HecameeveryThursdaytospendtheeveningwiththecomtesse，andtheywereclosefriends，withthefrankandhonestfriendshipofoldpeople.

Shepersisted：

"Lookhere，M.leCure！itisyourturnnowtomakeaconfession！"

Herepeated："Iwasnotmadeforordinarylife.Isawitfortunatelyintime，andIhavehadmanyproofssincethatImadenomistakeonthepoint：

"Myparents，whoweremercersinVerdiers，andwerequitewelltodo，hadgreatambitionsforme.TheysentmetoaboardingschoolwhileIwasveryyoung.Nooneknowswhataboymaysufferatschoolthroughthemerefactofseparation，ofisolation.Thismonotonouslifewithoutaffectionisgoodforsome，anddetestableforothers.Youngpeopleareoftenmoresensitivethanonesupposes，andbyshuttingthemupthustoosoon，farfromthosetheylove，wemaydeveloptoanexaggeratedextentasensitivenesswhichisoverwroughtandmaybecomesicklyanddangerous.

"Iscarcelyeverplayed;Ihadnocompanions;Ipassedmyhoursinhomesickness;Ispentthewholenightweepinginmybed.Isoughttobringbeforemymindrecollectionsofhome，triflingmemoriesoflittlethings，littleevents.IthoughtincessantlyofallIhadleftbehindthere.Ibecamealmostimperceptiblyanover—sensitiveyouthtowhomtheslightestannoyanceswereterriblegriefs.

"InthiswayIremainedtaciturn，self—absorbed，withoutexpansion，withoutconfidants.Thismentalexcitementwasgoingonsecretlyandsurely.Thenervesofchildrenarequicklyaffected，andoneshouldseetoitthattheyliveatranquillifeuntiltheyarealmostfullydeveloped.Butwhoeverreflectsthat，forcertainboys，anunjustimpositionmaybeasgreatapangasthedeathofafriendinlateryears？Whocanexplainwhycertainyoungtemperamentsareliabletoterribleemotionsfortheslightestcause，andmayeventuallybecomemorbidandincurable？

"Thiswasmycase.Thisfacultyofregretdevelopedinmetosuchanextentthatmyexistencebecameamartyrdom.

"Ididnotspeakaboutit;Isaidnothingaboutit;butgraduallyI

becamesosensitivethatmysoulresembledanopenwound.Everythingthataffectedmegavemepainfultwitchings，frightfulshocks，andconsequentlyimpairedmyhealth.Happyarethemenwhomnaturehasbuttressedwithindifferenceandarmedwithstoicism.

"Ireachedmysixteenthyear.Anexcessivetimidityhadarisenfromthisabnormalsensitiveness.Feelingmyselfunprotectedfromalltheattacksofchanceorfate，Ifearedeverycontact，everyapproach，everycurrent.

IlivedasthoughIwerethreatenedbyanunknownandalwaysexpectedmisfortune.Ididnotventureeithertospeakordoanythinginpublic.

Ihad，indeed，thefeelingthatlife，isabattle，adreadfulconflictinwhichonereceivesterribleblows，grievous，mortalwounds.Inplaceofcherishing，likeallmen，acheerfulanticipationofthemorrow，Ihadonlyaconfusedfearofit，andfeltinmyownmindadesiretoconcealmyselftoavoidthatcombatinwhichIwouldbevanquishedandslain.

"Assoonasmystudieswerefinished，theygavemesixmonths’timetochooseacareer.Averysimpleoccurrenceshowedmeclearly，allofasudden，thediseasedconditionofmymind，mademeunderstandthedanger，anddeterminedmetofleefromit.

"Verdiersisalittletownsurroundedwithplainsandwoods.Inthecentralstreetstandsmyparents’house.InowpassedmydaysfarfromthisdwellingwhichIhadsomuchregretted，somuchdesired.Dreamshadreawakenedinme，andIwalkedaloneinthefieldsinordertoletthemescapeandflyaway.Myfatherandmother，quiteoccupiedwithbusiness，andanxiousaboutmyfuture，talkedtomeonlyabouttheirprofitsoraboutmypossibleplans.Theywerefondofmeafterthemannerofhardheaded，practicalpeople;theyhadmorereasonthanheartintheiraffectionforme.Ilivedimprisonedinmythoughts，andvibratingwithmyeternalsensitiveness.

"Now，oneevening，afteralongwalk，asIwasmakingmywayhomewithgreatstridessoasnottobelate，Isawadogtrottingtowardme.Hewasaspeciesofredspaniel，verylean，withlongcurlyears.

"Whenhewastenpacesawayfrommehestopped.Ididthesame.Thenhebeganwagginghistail，andcameovertomewithshortstepsandnervousmovementsofhiswholebody，bendingdownonhispawsasifappealingtome，andsoftlyshakinghishead.Ispoketohim.Hethenbegantocrawlalonginsuchasad，humble，suppliantmannerthatIfeltthetearscomingintomyeyes.Iapproachedhim;heranaway，thenhecamebackagain;andIbentdownononekneetryingtocoaxhimtoapproachme，withsoftwords.Atlast，hewaswithinreachofmyhands，andIgentlyandverycarefullystrokedhim.

"Hegainedcourage，graduallyroseand，placinghispawsonmyshoulders，begantolickmyface.Hefollowedmetothehouse.

"ThiswasreallythefirstbeingIhadpassionatelyloved，becausehereturnedmyaffection.Myattachmenttothisanimalwascertainlyexaggeratedandridiculous.Itseemedtomeinaconfusedsortofwaythatweweretwobrothers，lostonthisearth，andthereforeisolatedandwithoutdefense，oneaswellastheother.Heneveragainquittedmyside.Hesleptatthefootofmybed，ateatthetableinspiteoftheobjectionsofmyparents，andfollowedmeinmysolitarywalks.

"Ioftenstoppedatthesideofaditch，andsatdowninthegrass.Samimmediatelyrushedup，laydownatmyfeet，andliftedupmyhandwithhismuzzlethatImightcaresshim.

"OnedaytowardtheendofJune，aswewereontheroadfromSaint—PierredeChavrol，IsawthediligencefromPavereaucomingalong.Itsfourhorsesweregoingatagallop，withitsyellowbody，anditsimperialwiththeblackleatherhood.Thecoachmancrackedhiswhip;acloudofdustroseupunderthewheelsoftheheavyvehicle，thenfloatedbehind，justasacloudwoulddo.

"Suddenly，asthevehiclecameclosetome，Sam，perhapsfrightenedbythenoiseandwishingtojoinme，jumpedinfrontofit.Ahorse’shoofknockedhimdown.Isawhimrollover，turnround，fallbackagainbeneaththehorses’feet，thenthecoachgavetwojolts，andbehinditI

sawsomethingquiveringinthedustontheroad.Hewasnearlycutintwo;allhisintestineswerehangingoutandbloodwasspurtingfromthewound.Hetriedtogetup，towalk，buthecouldonlymovehistwofrontpaws，andscratchthegroundwiththem，asiftomakeahole.Thetwootherswerealreadydead.Andhehowleddreadfully，madwithpain.

"Hediedinafewminutes.IcannotdescribehowmuchIfeltandsuffered.Iwasconfinedtomyroomforamonth.

"Onenight，myfather，enragedatseeingmesoaffectedbysuchatriflingoccurrence，exclaimed：

"’Howwillitbewhenyouhaverealgriefs——ifyouloseyourwifeorchildren？’

"HiswordshauntedmeandIbegantoseemyconditionclearly.I

understoodwhyallthesmallmiseriesofeachdayassumedinmyeyestheimportanceofacatastrophe;IsawthatIwasorganizedinsuchawaythatIsuffereddreadfullyfromeverything，thateverypainfulimpressionwasmultipliedbymydiseasedsensibility，andanatrociousfearoflifetookpossessionofme.Iwaswithoutpassions，withoutambitions;I

resolvedtosacrificepossiblejoysinordertoavoidsuresorrows.

Existenceisshort，butImadeupmymindtospenditintheserviceofothers，inrelievingtheirtroublesandenjoyingtheirhappiness.Havingnodirectexperienceofeitheroneortheother，Ishouldonlyexperienceamilderformofemotion.

"Andifyouonlyknewhow，inspiteofthis，miserytorturesme，ravagesme！Butwhatwouldformerlyhavebeenanintolerableafflictionhasbecomecommiseration，pity.

"Thesesorrowswhichcrossmypathateverymoment，Icouldnotendureiftheyaffectedmedirectly.Icouldnothaveseenoneofmychildrendiewithoutdyingmyself.AndIhave，inspiteofeverything，preservedsuchamysterious，overwhelmingfearofeventsthatthesightofthepostmanenteringmyhousemakesashiverpasseverydaythroughmyveins，andyetIhavenothingtobeafraidofnow."

TheAbbeMauduitceasedspeaking.Hestaredintothefireinthehugegrate，asifhesawtheremysteriousthings，alltheunknownoftheexistencehemighthavepassedhadhebeenmorefearlessinthefaceofsuffering.

Headded，then，inasubduedtone：

"Iwasright.Iwasnotmadeforthisworld."

Thecomtessesaidnothingatfirst;butatlength，afteralongsilence，sheremarked：

"Formypart，ifIhadnotmygrandchildren，IbelieveIwouldnothavethecouragetolive."

Andthecureroseupwithoutsayinganotherword.

Astheservantswereasleepinthekitchen，sheaccompaniedhimherselftothedoor，whichlookedoutonthegarden，andshesawhistallshadow，litupbythereflectionofthelamp，disappearingthroughthegloomofnight.

Thenshecamebackandsatdownbeforethefire，andponderedovermanythingsweneverthinkofwhenweareyoung.

FORGIVENESS

Shehadbeenbroughtupinoneofthosefamilieswholiveentirelytothemselves，apartfromalltherestoftheworld.Suchfamiliesknownothingofpoliticalevents，althoughtheyarediscussedattable;forchangesintheGovernmenttakeplaceatsuchadistancefromthemthattheyarespokenofasonespeaksofahistoricalevent，suchasthedeathofLouisXVIorthelandingofNapoleon.

Customsaremodifiedincourseoftime，fashionssucceedoneanother，butsuchvariationsaretakennoaccountofintheplacidfamilycirclewheretraditionalusagesprevailyearafteryear.Andifsomescandalousepisodeorotheroccursintheneighborhood，thedisreputablestorydiesanaturaldeathwhenitreachesthethresholdofthehouse.Thefatherandmothermay，perhaps，exchangeafewwordsonthesubjectwhenalonetogethersomeevening，buttheyspeakinhushedtones——forevenwallshaveears.Thefathersays，withbatedbreath：

"You’veheardofthatterribleaffairintheRivoilfamily？"

Andthemotheranswers：

"Whowouldhavedreamedofsuchathing？It’sdreadful."

Thechildrensuspectednothing，andarriveintheirturnatyearsofdiscretionwitheyesandmindblindfolded，ignorantoftherealsideoflife，notknowingthatpeopledonotthinkastheyspeak，anddonotspeakastheyact;orawarethattheyshouldliveatwar，oratallevents，inastateofarmedpeace，withtherestofmankind;notsuspectingthefactthatthesimplearealwaysdeceived，thesinceremadesportof，thegoodmaltreated.

Somegoontillthedayoftheirdeathinthisblindprobityandloyaltyandhonor，sopure—mindedthatnothingcanopentheireyes.

Others，undeceived，butwithoutfullyunderstanding，makemistakes，aredismayed，andbecomedesperate，believingthemselvestheplaythingsofacruelfate，thewretchedvictimsofadversecircumstances，andexceptionallywickedmen.

TheSavignolsmarriedtheirdaughterBerthaattheageofeighteen.SheweddedayoungParisian，GeorgeBaronbyname，whohaddealingsontheStockExchange.Hewashandsome，well—mannered，andapparentlyallthatcouldbedesired.Butinthedepthsofhishearthesomewhatdespisedhisold—fashionedparents—in—law，whomhespokeofamonghisintimatesas"mydearoldfossils."

Hebelongedtoagoodfamily，andthegirlwasrich.TheysettleddowninParis.

ShebecameoneofthoseprovincialParisianswhosenameislegion.Sheremainedincompleteignoranceofthegreatcity，ofitssocialside，itspleasuresanditscustoms——justassheremainedignorantalsooflife，itsperfidyanditsmysteries.

Devotedtoherhouse，sheknewscarcelyanythingbeyondherownstreet;

andwhensheventuredintoanotherpartofParisitseemedtoherthatshehadaccomplishedalongandarduousjourneyintosomeunknown，unexploredcity.Shewouldthensaytoherhusbandintheevening：

"Ihavebeenthroughtheboulevardsto—day."

Twoorthreetimesayearherhusbandtookhertothetheatre.Thesewereeventstheremembranceofwhichnevergrewdim;theyprovidedsubjectsofconversationforlongafterward.

Sometimesthreemonthsafterwardshewouldsuddenlyburstintolaughter，andexclaim：

"Doyourememberthatactordressedupasageneral，whocrowedlikeacock？"

Herfriendswerelimitedtotwofamiliesrelatedtoherown.Shespokeofthemas"theMartinets"and"theMichelins."

Herhusbandlivedashepleased，cominghomewhenitsuitedhim——

sometimesnotuntildawn——allegingbusiness，butnotputtinghimselfoutovermuchtoaccountforhismovements，wellawarethatnosuspicionwouldeverenterhiswife’sguilelesssoul.

Butonemorningshereceivedananonymousletter.

Shewasthunderstruck——toosimple—mindedtounderstandtheinfamyofunsignedinformationandtodespisetheletter，thewriterofwhichdeclaredhimselfinspiredbyinterestinherhappiness，hatredofevil，andloveoftruth.

Thismissivetoldherthatherhusbandhadhadfortwoyearspast，asweetheart，ayoungwidownamedMadameRosset，withwhomhespentallhisevenings.

Berthaknewneitherhowtodissemblehergriefnorhowtospyonherhusband.Whenhecameinforlunchshethrewtheletterdownbeforehim，burstintotears，andfledtoherroom.

Hehadtimetotakeinthesituationandtopreparehisreply.Heknockedathiswife’sdoor.Sheopeneditatonce，butdarednotlookathim.Hesmiled，satdown，drewhertohisknee，andinatoneoflightraillerybegan：

"Mydearchild，asamatteroffact，IhaveafriendnamedMadameRosset，whomIhaveknownforthelasttenyears，andofwhomIhaveaveryhighopinion.ImayaddthatIknowscoresofotherpeoplewhosenamesIhavenevermentionedtoyou，seeingthatyoudonotcareforsociety，orfreshacquaintances，orfunctionsofanysort.But，tomakeshortworkofsuchvileaccusationsasthis，Iwantyoutoputonyourthingsafterlunch，andwe’llgotogetherandcallonthislady，whowillverysoonbecomeafriendofyours，too，Iamquitesure."

Sheembracedherhusbandwarmly，and，movedbythatfemininespiritofcuriositywhichwillnotbelulledonceitisaroused，consentedtogoandseethisunknownwidow，ofwhomshewas，inspiteofeverything，justtheleastbitjealous.Shefeltinstinctivelythattoknowadangeristobealreadyarmedagainstit.

Sheenteredasmall，tastefullyfurnishedflatonthefourthfloorofanattractivehouse.Afterwaitingfiveminutesinadrawing—roomrenderedsomewhatdarkbyitsmanycurtainsandhangings，adooropened，andaverydark，short，ratherplumpyoungwomanappeared，surprisedandsmiling.

Georgeintroducedthem：

"Mywife——MadameJulieRosset."

Theyoungwidowutteredahalf—suppressedcryofastonishmentandjoy，andranforwardwithhandsoutstretched.Shehadnothoped，shesaid，tohavethispleasure，knowingthatMadameBaronneversawanyone，butshewasdelightedtomakeheracquaintance.ShewassofondofGeorge（shesaid"George"inafamiliar，sisterlysortofway）that，shehadbeenmostanxioustoknowhisyoungwifeandtomakefriendswithher，too.

Bytheendofamonththetwonewfriendswereinseparable.Theysaweachothereveryday，sometimestwiceaday，anddinedtogethereveryevening，sometimesatonehouse，sometimesattheother.Georgenolongerdesertedhishome，nolongertalkedofpressingbusiness.Headoredhisownfireside，hesaid.

When，afteratime，aflatinthehousewhereMadameRossetlivedbecamevacantMadameBaronhastenedtotakeit，inordertobenearherfriendandspendevenmoretimewithherthanhitherto.

Andfortwowholeyearstheirfriendshipwaswithoutacloud，afriendshipofheartandmind——absolute，tender，devoted.BerthacouldhardlyspeakwithoutbringinginJulie’sname.ToherMadameRossetrepresentedperfection.

Shewasutterlyhappy，calmandcontented.

ButMadameRossetfellill.Berthahardlyleftherside.Shespenthernightswithher，distractedwithgrief;evenherhusbandseemedinconsolable.

Onemorningthedoctor，afterleavingtheinvalid’sbedside，tookGeorgeandhiswifeaside，andtoldthemthatheconsideredJulie’sconditionverygrave.

Assoonashehadgonethegrief—strickenhusbandandwifesatdownoppositeeachotherandgavewaytotears.Thatnighttheybothsatupwiththepatient.Berthatenderlykissedherfriendfromtimetotime，whileGeorgestoodatthefootofthebed，hiseyesgazingsteadfastlyontheinvalid’sface.

Thenextdayshewasworse.

Buttowardeveningshedeclaredshefeltbetter，andinsistedthatherfriendsshouldgobacktotheirownapartmenttodinner.

Theyweresittingsadlyinthedining—room，scarcelyevenattemptingtoeat，whenthemaidgaveGeorgeanote.Heopenedit，turnedpaleasdeath，and，risingfromthetable，saidtohiswifeinaconstrainedvoice：

"Waitforme.Imustleaveyouamoment.Ishallbebackintenminutes.Don’tgoawayonanyaccount."

Andhehurriedtohisroomtogethishat.

Berthawaitedforhim，apreytofreshanxiety.But，docileineverything，shewouldnotgobacktoherfriendtillhereturned.

Atlength，ashedidnotreappear，itoccurredtohertovisithisroomandseeifhehadtakenhisgloves.Thiswouldshowwhetherornothehadhadacalltomake.

Shesawthematthefirstglance.Besidethemlayacrumpledpaper，evidentlythrowndowninhaste.

SherecognizeditatonceasthenoteGeorgehadreceived.

Andaburningtemptation，thefirstthathadeverassailedherurgedhertoreaditanddiscoverthecauseofherhusband’sabruptdeparture.Herrebelliousconscienceprotester’butadevouringandfearfulcuriosityprevailed.Sheseizedthepaper，smootheditout，recognizedthetremulous，penciledwritingasJulie’s，andread：

"Comealoneandkissme，mypoordear.Iamdying."

Atfirstshedidnotunderstand，theideaofJulie’sdeathbeingheruppermostthought.Butallatoncethetruemeaningofwhatshereadburstinaflashuponher;thispencilednotethrewaluridlightuponherwholeexistence，revealedthewholeinfamoustruth，allthetreacheryandperfidyofwhichshehadbeenthevictim.Sheunderstoodthelongyearsofdeceit，thewayinwhichshehadbeenmadetheirpuppet.Shesawthemagain，sittingsidebysideintheevening，readingbylamplightoutofthesamebook，glancingateachotherattheendofeachpage.

Andherpoor，indignant，suffering，bleedingheartwascastintothedepthsofadespairwhichknewnobounds.

Footstepsdrewnear;shefled，andshutherselfinherownroom.

Presentlyherhusbandcalledher：

"Comequickly！MadameRossetisdying."

Berthaappearedatherdoor，andwithtremblinglipsreplied：

"Gobacktoheralone;shedoesnotneedme."

Helookedatherstupidly，dazedwithgrief，andrepeated：

"Comeatonce！She’sdying，Itellyou！"

Berthaanswered：

"YouwouldratheritwereI."

Thenatlastheunderstood，andreturnedalonetothedyingwoman’sbedside.

Hemournedheropenly，shamelessly，indifferenttothesorrowofthewifewhonolongerspoketohim，nolongerlookedathim;whopassedherlifeinsolitude，hedgedroundwithdisgust，withindignantanger，andprayingnightanddaytoGod.

Theystilllivedinthesamehouse，however，andsatoppositeeachotherattable，insilenceanddespair.

Graduallyhissorrowgrewlessacute;butshedidnotforgivehim.

Andsotheirlifewenton，hardandbitterforthemboth.

Forawholeyeartheyremainedascompletestrangerstoeachotherasiftheyhadnevermet.Berthanearlylostherreason.

Atlastonemorningshewentoutveryearly，andreturnedabouteighto’clockbearinginherhandsanenormousbouquetofwhiteroses.

Andshesentwordtoherhusbandthatshewantedtospeaktohim.

Hecame—anxiousanduneasy.

"Wearegoingouttogether，"shesaid."Pleasecarrytheseflowers;theyaretooheavyforme."

Acarriagetookthemtothegateofthecemetery，wheretheyalighted.

Then，hereyesfillingwithtears，shesaidtoGeorge：

"Takemetohergrave."

Hetrembled，andcouldnotunderstandhermotive;butheledtheway，stillcarryingtheflowers.Atlasthestoppedbeforeawhitemarbleslab，towhichhepointedwithoutaword.

Shetookthebouquetfromhim，and，kneelingdown，placeditonthegrave.Thensheofferedupasilent，heartfeltprayer.

Behindherstoodherhusband，overcomebyrecollectionsofthepast.

Sherose，andheldoutherhandstohim.

"Ifyouwishit，wewillbefriends，"shesaid.

INTHESPRING

Withthefirstdayofspring，whentheawakeningearthputsonitsgarmentofgreen，andthewarm，fragrantairfansourfacesandfillsourlungsandappearseventopenetratetoourhearts，weexperienceavague，undefinedlongingforfreedom，forhappiness，adesiretorun，towanderaimlessly，tobreatheinthespring.Thepreviouswinterhavingbeenunusuallysevere，thisspringfeelingwaslikeaformofintoxicationinMay，asiftherewereanoverabundantsupplyofsap.

OnemorningonwakingIsawfrommywindowtheblueskyglowinginthesunabovetheneighboringhouses.Thecanarieshanginginthewindowsweresingingloudly，andsoweretheservantsoneveryfloor;acheerfulnoiseroseupfromthestreets，andIwentout，myspiritsasbrightastheday，togo——Ididnotexactlyknowwhere.EverybodyImetseemedtobesmiling;anairofhappinessappearedtopervadeeverythinginthewarmlightofreturningspring.Onemightalmosthavesaidthatabreezeoflovewasblowingthroughthecity，andthesightoftheyoungwomenwhomIsawinthestreetsintheirmorningtoilets，inthedepthsofwhoseeyestherelurkedahiddentenderness，andwhowalkedwithlanguidgrace，filledmyheartwithagitation.

Withoutknowinghoworwhy，IfoundmyselfonthebanksoftheSeine.

SteamboatswerestartingforSuresnes，andsuddenlyIwasseizedbyanunconquerabledesiretotakeawalkthroughthewoods.ThedeckoftheMouchewascoveredwithpassengers，forthesuninearlyspringdrawsoneoutofthehouse，inspiteofthemselves，andeverybodymovesabout，goesandcomesandtalkstohisneighbor.

Ihadagirlneighbor;alittlework—girl，nodoubt，whopossessedthetrueParisiancharm：alittlehead，withlightcurlyhair，whichlookedlikeashimmeroflightasitdancedinthewind，camedowntoherears，anddescendedtothenapeofherneck，whereitbecamesuchfine，light—

coloredclownthatonecouldscarcelyseeit，butfeltanirresistibledesiretoshowerkissesonit.

Undermypersistentgaze，sheturnedherheadtowardme，andthenimmediatelylookeddown，whileaslightcreaseatthesideofhermouth，thatwasreadytobreakoutintoasmile，alsoshowedafine，silky，paledownwhichthesunwasgildingalittle.

Thecalmrivergrewwider;theatmospherewaswarmandperfectlystill，butamurmuroflifeseemedtofillallspace.

Myneighborraisedhereyesagain，andthistime，asIwasstilllookingather，shesmileddecidedly.Shewascharming，andinherpassingglanceIsawathousandthings，whichIhadhithertobeenignorantof，forIperceivedunknowndepths，allthecharmoftenderness，allthepoetrywhichwedreamof，allthehappinesswhichwearecontinuallyinsearchof.Ifeltaninsanelongingtoopenmyarmsandtocarryheroffsomewhere，soastowhisperthesweetmusicofwordsofloveintoherears.

Iwasjustabouttoaddressherwhensomebodytouchedmeontheshoulder，andasIturnedroundinsomesurprise，Isawanordinary—lookingman，whowasneitheryoungnorold，andwhogazedatmesadly.

"Ishouldliketospeaktoyou，"hesaid.

Imadeagrimace，whichhenodoubtsaw，forheadded：

"Itisamatterofimportance."

Igotup，therefore，andfollowedhimtotheotherendoftheboatandthenhesaid：

"Monsieur，whenwintercomes，withitscold，wetandsnowyweather，yourdoctorsaystoyouconstantly：’Keepyourfeetwarm，guardagainstchills，colds，bronchitis，rheumatismandpleurisy.’

"Thenyouareverycareful，youwearflannel，aheavygreatcoatandthickshoes，butallthisdoesnotpreventyoufrompassingtwomonthsinbed.

Butwhenspringreturns，withitsleavesandflowers，itswarm，softbreezesanditssmellofthefields，allofwhichcausesyouvaguedisquietandcauselessemotion，nobodysaystoyou：

"’Monsieur，bewareoflove！Itislyinginambusheverywhere;itiswatchingforyouateverycorner;allitssnaresarelaid，allitsweaponsaresharpened，allitsguilesareprepared！Bewareoflove！

Bewareoflove！Itismoredangerousthanbrandy，bronchitisorpleurisy！Itneverforgivesandmakeseverybodycommitirreparablefollies.’

"Yes，monsieur，IsaythattheFrenchGovernmentoughttoputlargepublicnoticesonthewalls，withthesewords：’Returnofspring.Frenchcitizens，bewareoflove！’justastheyput：’Bewareofpaint：

"However，asthegovernmentwillnotdothis，Imustsupplyitsplace，andIsaytoyou：’Bewareoflove！’foritisjustgoingtoseizeyou，anditismydutytoinformyouofit，justasinRussiatheyinformanyonethathisnoseisfrozen."

Iwasmuchastonishedatthisindividual，andassumingadignifiedmanner，Isaid：

"Really，monsieur，youappeartometobeinterferinginamatterwhichisnoconcernofyours."

Hemadeanabruptmovementandreplied：

"Ah！monsieur，monsieur！IfIseethatamanisindangerofbeingdrownedatadangerousspot，oughtItolethimperish？SojustlistentomystoryandyouwillseewhyIventuredtospeaktoyoulikethis.

"Itwasaboutthistimelastyearthatitoccurred.But，firstofall，ImusttellyouthatIamaclerkintheAdmiralty，whereourchiefs，thecommissioners，taketheirgoldlaceasquill—drivingofficialsseriously，andtreatuslikeforecastlemenonboardaship.Well，frommyofficeIcouldseeasmallbitofblueskyandtheswallows，andIfeltinclinedtodanceamongmyportfolios.

"Myyearningforfreedomgrewsointensethat，inspiteofmyrepugnance，Iwenttoseemychief，ashort，bad—temperedman，whowasalwaysinarage.WhenItoldhimthatIwasnotwell，helookedatmeandsaid：

’Idonotbelieveit，monsieur，butbeoffwithyou！Doyouthinkthatanyofficecangoonwithclerkslikeyou？’IstartedatonceandwentdowntheSeine.Itwasadaylikethis，andItooktheMouche，togoasfarasSaintCloud.Ah！whatagoodthingitwouldhavebeenifmychiefhadrefusedmepermissiontoleavetheofficethatday！

"Iseemedtomyselftoexpandinthesun.Ilovedeverything——thesteamer，theriver，thetrees，thehousesandmyfellow—passengers.

Ifeltinclinedtokisssomething，nomatterwhat;itwaslove，layingitssnare.Presently，attheTrocadero，agirl，withasmallparcelinherhand，cameonboardandsatdownoppositeme.Shewasdecidedlypretty，butitissurprising，monsieur，howmuchprettierwomenseemtouswhenthedayisfineatthebeginningofthespring.Thentheyhaveanintoxicatingcharm，somethingquitepeculiaraboutthem.Itisjustlikedrinkingwineaftercheese.

"Ilookedatherandshealsolookedatme，butonlyoccasionally，asthatgirldidatyou，justnow;butatlast，bydintoflookingateachotherconstantly，itseemedtomethatwekneweachotherwellenoughtoenterintoconversation，andIspoketoherandshereplied.Shewasdecidedlyprettyandniceandsheintoxicatedme，monsieur！

"ShegotoutatSaint—Cloud，andIfollowedher.Shewentanddeliveredherparcel，andwhenshereturnedtheboathadjuststarted.Iwalkedbyherside，andthewarmthofthe’airmadeusbothsigh.’Itwouldbeveryniceinthewoods，’Isaid.’Indeed，itwould！’shereplied.

’Shallwegothereforawalk，mademoiselie？’

"Shegavemeaquickupwardlook，asiftoseeexactlywhatIwaslike，andthen，afteralittlehesitation，sheacceptedmyproposal，andsoonwewerethere，walkingsidebyside.Underthefoliage，whichwasstillratherscanty，thetall，thick，brightgreengrasswasinundatedbythesun，andtheairwasfullofinsectsthatwerealsomakinglovetooneanother，andbirdsweresinginginalldirections.Mycompanionbegantojumpandtorun，intoxicatedbytheairandthesmellofthecountry，andIranandjumped，followingherexample.Howsillyweareattimes，monsieur！

"Thenshesangunrestrainedlyathousandthings，operaairsandthesongofMusette！ThesongofMusette！Howpoeticalitseemedtome，then！

Ialmostcriedoverit.Ah！Thosesillysongsmakeusloseourheads;

and，believeme，nevermarryawomanwhosingsinthecountry，especiallyifshesingsthesongofMusette！

"Shesoongrewtired，andsatdownonagrassyslope，andIsatatherfeetandtookherhands，herlittlehands，thatweresomarkedwiththeneedle，andthatfilledmewithemotion.Isaidtomyself：

’Thesearethesacredmarksoftoil.’Oh！monsieur，doyouknowwhatthosesacredmarksoftoilmean？Theymeanallthegossipoftheworkroom，thewhisperedscandal，themindsoiledbyallthefilththatistalked;theymeanlostchastity，foolishchatter，allthewretchednessoftheireverydaylife，allthenarrownessofideaswhichbelongstowomenofthelowerorders，combinedtotheirfullestextentinthegirlwhosefingersbearthesacredmarksoftoil.

"Thenwelookedintoeachother’seyesforalongwhile.Oh！whatpowerawoman’seyehas！Howitagitatesus，howitinvadesourverybeing，takespossessionofus，anddominatesus！Howprofounditseems，howfullofinfinitepromises！Peoplecallthatlookingintoeachother’ssouls！Oh！monsieur，whathumbug！Ifwecouldseeintoeachother’ssouls，weshouldbemorecarefulofwhatwedid.However，Iwascaptivatedandwascrazyaboutherandtriedtotakeherintomyarms，butshesaid：’Pawsoff！’.ThenIkneltdownandopenedmyhearttoherandpouredoutalltheaffectionthatwassuffocatingme.Sheseemedsurprisedatmychangeofmannerandgavemeasidelongglance，asiftosay，’Ah！sothatisthewaywomenmakeafoolofyou，oldfellow！Verywell，wewillsee.’

"Inlove，monsieur，wearealwaysnovices，andwomenartfuldealers.

"NodoubtIcouldhavehadher，andIsawmyownstupiditylater，butwhatIwantedwasnotawoman’sperson，itwaslove，itwastheideal.

Iwassentimental，whenIoughttohavebeenusingmytimetoabetterpurpose.

"Assoonasshehadhadenoughofmydeclarationsofaffection，shegotup，andwereturnedtoSaint—Cloud，andIdidnotleaveheruntilwegottoParis;butshehadlookedsosadaswewerereturning，thatatlastI

askedherwhatwasthematter.’Iamthinking，’shereplied，’thatthishasbeenoneofthosedaysofwhichwehavebutfewinlife.’Myheartbeatsothatitfeltasifitwouldbreakmyribs.

"IsawheronthefollowingSunday，andthenextSunday，andeverySunday.ItookhertoBougival，Saint—Germain，Maisons—Lafitte，Poissy;

toeverysuburbanresortoflovers.

"Thelittlejade，inturn，pretendedtoloveme，until，atlast，Ialtogetherlostmyhead，andthreemonthslaterImarriedher.

"Whatcanyouexpect，monsieur，whenamanisaclerk，livingalone，withoutanyrelations，oranyonetoadvisehim？Onesaystoone’sself：

’Howsweetlifewouldbewithawife！’

"Andsoonegetsmarriedandshecallsyounamesfrommorningtillnight，understandsnothing，knowsnothing，chatterscontinually，singsthesongofMusetteatthe，topofhervoice（oh！thatsongofMusette，howtiredonegetsofit！）;quarrelswiththecharcoaldealer，tellsthejanitorallherdomesticdetails，confidesallthesecretsofherbedroomtotheneighbor’sservant，discussesherhusbandwiththetradespeopleandhasherheadsostuffedwithstupidstories，withidioticsuperstitions，withextraordinaryideasandmonstrousprejudices，thatI——forwhatIhavesaidappliesmoreparticularlytomyself——shedtearsofdiscouragementeverytimeItalktoher."

Hestopped，ashewasratheroutofbreathandverymuchmoved，andI

lookedathim，forIfeltpityforthispoor，artlessdevil，andIwasjustgoingtogivehimsomesortofanswer，whentheboatstopped.WewereatSaint—Cloud.

Thelittlewomanwhohadsotakenmyfancyrosefromherseatinordertoland.Shepassedclosetome，andgavemeasidelongglanceandafurtivesmile，oneofthosesmilesthatdriveyouwild.Thenshejumpedonthelanding—stage.Isprangforwardtofollowher，butmyneighborlaidholdofmyarm.Ishookmyselfloose，however，whereuponheseizedtheskirtofmycoatandpulledmeback，exclaiming："Youshallnotgo！

youshallnotgo！"insuchaloudvoicethateverybodyturnedroundandlaughed，andIremainedstandingmotionlessandfurious，butwithoutventuringtofacescandalandridicule，andthesteamboatstarted.

Thelittlewomanonthelanding—stagelookedatmeasIwentoffwithanairofdisappointment，whilemypersecutorrubbedhishandsandwhisperedtome：

"YoumustacknowledgethatIhavedoneyouagreatservice."

AQUEERNIGHTINPARIS

MattreSaval，notaryatVernon，waspassionatelyfondofmusic.Althoughstillyounghewasalreadybald;hewasalwayscarefullyshaven，wassomewhatcorpulentaswassuitable，andworeagoldpince—nezinsteadofspectacles.Hewasactive，gallantandcheerfulandwasconsideredquiteanartistinVernon.Heplayedthepianoandtheviolin，andgavemusicalswherethenewoperaswereinterpreted.

Hehadevenwhatiscalledabitofavoice;nothingbutabit，verylittlebitofavoice;buthemanageditwithsomuchtastethatcriesof"Bravo！""Exquisite！""Surprising！""Adorable！"issuedfromeverythroatassoonashehadmurmuredthelastnote.

HesubscribedtoamusicpublishinghouseinParis，andtheysenthimthelatestmusic，andfromtimetotimehesentinvitationsafterthisfashiontotheeliteofthetown：

"YouareinvitedtobepresentonMondayeveningatthehouseofM.

Saval，notary，Vernon，atthefirstrenderingof’Sais.’"

Afewofficers，giftedwithgoodvoices，formedthechorus.Twoorthreeladyamateursalsosang.Thenotaryfilledthepartofleaderoftheorchestrawithsomuchcorrectnessthatthebandmasterofthe190thregimentofthelinesaidofhim，oneday，attheCafedel’Europe"Oh！M.Savalisamaster.Itisagreatpitythathedidnotadoptthecareerofanartist."

Whenhisnamewasmentionedinadrawing—room，therewasalwayssomebodyfoundtodeclare："Heisnotanamateur;heisanartist，agenuineartist."

Andtwoorthreepersonsrepeated，inatoneofprofoundconviction：

"Oh！yes，agenuineartist，"layingparticularstressontheword"genuine."

EverytimethatanewworkwasinterpretedatabigParisiantheatreM.Savalpaidavisittothecapital.

Now，lastyear，accordingtohiscustom，hewenttohearHenriVIII.HethentooktheexpresswhicharrivesinParisat4：30P.M.，intendingtoreturnbythe12：35A.M.train，soasnottohavetosleepatahotel.

Hehadputoneveningdress，ablackcoatandwhitetie，whichheconcealedunderhisovercoatwiththecollarturnedup.

AssoonashesetfootontheRued’Amsterdam，hefelthimselfinquitejovialmood.Hesaidtohimself：

"Decidedly，theairofParisdoesnotresembleanyotherair.Ithasinitsomethingindescribablystimulating，exciting，intoxicating，whichfillsyouwithastrangelongingtodanceaboutandtodomanyotherthings.AssoonasIarrivehere，itseemstome，allofasudden，thatIhavetakenabottleofchampagne.Whatalifeonecanleadinthiscityinthemidstofartists！Happyaretheelect，thegreatmenwhomakethemselvesareputationinsuchacity！Whatanexistenceistheirs！"

Andbemadeplans;hewouldhavelikedtoknowsomeofthesecelebratedmen，totalkabouttheminVernon，andtospendaneveningwiththemfromtimetotimeinParis.

Butsuddenlyanideastruckhim.Hehadheardallusionstolittlecafesintheouterboulevardsatwhichwell—knownpainters，menofletters，andevenmusiciansgathered，andheproceededtogouptoMontmartreataslowpace.

Hehadtwohoursbeforehim.Hewantedtolookabouthim.Hepassedinfrontoftavernsfrequentedbybelatedbohemians，gazingatthedifferentfaces，seekingtodiscovertheartists.Finally，hecametothesignof"TheDeadRat，"and，alluredbythename，heentered.

Fiveorsixwomen，withtheirelbowsrestingonthemarbletables，weretalkinginlowtonesabouttheirloveaffairs，thequarrelsofLucieandHortense，andthescoundrelismofOctave.Theywerenolongeryoung，weretoofatortoothin，tiredout，usedup.Youcouldseethattheywerealmostbald;andtheydrankbeerlikemen.

M.Savalsatdownatsomedistancefromthemandwaited，forthehourfortakingabsinthewasathand.

Atallyoungmansooncameinandtookaseatbesidehim.ThelandladycalledhimM."Romantin."Thenotaryquivered.WasthistheRomantinwhohadtakenamedalatthelastSalon？

Theyoungmanmadeasigntothewaiter.

"Youwillbringupmydinneratonce，andthencarrytomynewstudio，15BoulevarddeClichy，thirtybottlesofbeer，andthehamIorderedthismorning.Wearegoingtohaveahousewarming."

M.Savalimmediatelyordereddinner.Then，hetookoffhisovercoat，sothathisdresssuitandhiswhitetiecouldbeseen.Hisneighbordidnotseemtonoticehim.Hehadtakenupanewspaper，andwasreadingit.

M.Savalglancedsidewaysathim，burningwiththedesiretospeaktohim.

Twoyoungmenentered，inredvestsandwithpeakedbeards，inthefashionofHenryIII.TheysatdownoppositeRomantin.

Thefirstofthepairsaid：

"Isitforthisevening？"

Romantinpressedhishand.

"Ibelieveyou，oldchap，andeveryonewillbethere.IhaveBonnat，Guillemet，Gervex，Beraud，Hebert，Duez，Clairin，andJean—PaulLaurens.

Itwillbeastunningaffair！Andwomen，too！Waittillyousee！Everyactresswithoutexception——ofcourseImean，youknow，allthosewhohavenothingtodothisevening."

Thelandlordoftheestablishmentcameacross.

"Doyouoftenhavethishousewarming？"

Thepainterreplied：

"Ibelieveyou，everythreemonths，eachquarter."

M.Savalcouldnotrestrainhimselfanylonger，andinahesitatingvoicesaid：

"Ibegyourpardonforintrudingonyou，monsieur，butIheardyournamementioned，andIwouldbeverygladtoknowifyoureallyareM.Romantin，whoseworkinthelastSalonIhavesomuchadmired？"

Thepainteranswered：

"Iamtheveryperson，monsieur."

Thenotarythenpaidtheartistaverywell—turnedcompliment，showingthathewasamanofculture.

Thepainter，gratified，thankedhimpolitelyinreply.

Thentheychattered.Romantinreturnedtothesubjectofhishouse—

warming，goingintodetailsastothemagnificenceoftheforthcomingentertainment.

M.Savalquestionedhimastoallthemenhewasgoingtoreceive，adding：

"Itwouldbeanextraordinarypieceofgoodfortuneforastrangertomeetatonetimesomanycelebritiesassembledinthestudioofanartistofyourrank."

Romantin，vanquished，replied：

"Ifitwouldbeagreeabletoyou，come."

M.Savalacceptedtheinvitationwithenthusiasm，reflecting：

"IshallhavetimeenoughtoseeHenriVIII."

Bothofthemhadfinishedtheirmeal.Thenotaryinsistedonpayingthetwobills，wishingtorepayhisneighbor’scivilities.Healsopaidforthedrinksoftheyoungfellowsinredvelvet;thenhelefttheestablishmentwiththepainter.

Theystoppedinfrontofaverylong，lowhouse，thefirststoryhavingtheappearanceofaninterminableconservatory.Sixstudiosstoodinarowwiththeirfrontsfacingtheboulevards.

Romantinwasthefirsttoenter，and，ascendingthestairs，heopenedadoor，andlightedamatchandthenacandle.

Theyfoundthemselvesinanimmenseapartment，thefurnitureofwhichconsistedofthreechairs，twoeasels，andafewsketchesstandingonthegroundalongthewalls.M.Savalremainedstandingatthedoorsomewhatastonished.

Thepainterremarked：

"Hereyouare！we’vegottothespot;buteverythinghasyettobedone."

Then，examiningthehigh，bareapartment，itsceilingdisappearinginthedarkness，hesaid：

"Wemightmakeagreatdealoutofthisstudio."

Hewalkedroundit，surveyingitwiththeutmostattention，thenwenton：

"Iknowsomeonewhomighteasilygiveahelpinghand.Womenareincomparableforhangingdrapery.ButIsenthertothecountryforto—dayinordertogetheroffmyhandsthisevening.Itisnotthatsheboresme，butsheistoomuchlackinginthewaysofgoodsociety.

Itwouldbeembarrassingtomyguests."

Hereflectedforafewseconds，andthenadded：

"Sheisagoodgirl，butnoteasytodealwith.IfsheknewthatIwasholdingareception，shewouldtearoutmyeyes."

M.Savalhadnotevenmoved;hedidnotunderstand.

Theartistcameovertohim.

"SinceIhaveinvitedyou，youwillassistmaaboutsomething."

Thenotarysaidemphatically：

"Makeanyuseofmeyouplease.Iamatyourdisposal."

Romantintookoffhisjacket.

"Well，citizen，towork！’Wearefirstgoingtocleanup."

Hewenttothebackoftheeasel，onwhichtherewasacanvasrepresentingacat，andseizedaveryworn—outbroom.

"Isay！JustbrushupwhileIlookafterthelighting."

M.Savaltookthebroom，inspectedit，andthenbegantosweepthefloorveryawkwardly，raisingawhirlwindofdust.

Romantin，disgusted，stoppedhim："Deucetakeit！youdon’tknowhowtosweepthefloor！Lookatme！"

Andhebegantorollbeforehimaheapofgrayishsweepings，asifhehaddonenothingelseallhislife.Then，hegavebarkthebroomtothenotary，whoimitatedhim.

Infiveminutes，suchacloudofdustfilledthestudiothatRormantinasked：

"Whereareyou？Ican’tseeyouanylonger."

M.Saval，whowascoughing，cameneartohim.Thepaintersaid：

"Howwouldyousetaboutmakingachandelier？"

Theother，surprised，asked：

"Whatchandelier？"

"Why，achandeliertolighttheroom——achandelierwithwax—candles."

Thenotarydidnotunderstand.

Heanswered："Idon’tknow."

Thepainterbegantojumpabout，crackinghisfingers.

"Well，monseigneur，Ihavefoundoutaway."

Thenhewentonmorecalmly：

"Haveyougotfivefrancsaboutyou？"

M.Savalreplied：

"Why，yes."

Theartistsaid："Well！you’llgooutandbuyformefivefrancs’worthofwax—candleswhileIgoandseethecooper."

Andhepushedthenotaryinhiseveningcoatintothestreet.Attheendoffiveminutes，theyhadreturned，oneofthemwiththewax—candlesandtheotherwiththehoopofacask.ThenRomantinplungedhishandintoacupboard，anddrewforthtwentyemptybottles，whichhefixedintheformofacrownaroundthehoop.

Hethenwentdownstairstoborrowaladderfromthejanitress，afterhavingexplainedthathehadmadeinterestwiththeoldwomanbypaintingtheportraitofhercat，exhibitedontheeasel.

Whenhereturnedwiththeladder，hesaidtoM.Saval：

"Areyouactive？"

Theother，withoutunderstanding，answered：

"Why，yes."

"Well，youjustclimbupthere，andfastenthischandelierformetotheringoftheceiling.Then，youputawax—candleineachbottle，andlightit.ItellyouIhaveageniusforlightingup.Butoffwithyourcoat，damnit！YouarejustlikeaJeames."

Thedoorwasopenedbrusquely.Awomanappeared，hereyesflashing，andremainedstandingonthethreshold.

Romantingazedatherwithalookofterror.

Shewaitedsomeseconds，crossingherarmsoverherbreast，andtheninashrill，vibrating，exasperatedvoicesaid：

"Ha！youdirtyscoundrel，isthisthewayyouleaveme？"

Romantinmadenoreply.Shewenton：

"Ha！youscoundrel！Youdidanicethinginparkingmeofftothecountry.You’llsoonseethewayI’llsettleyourjollification.Yes，I’mgoingtoreceiveyourfriends."

Shegrewwarmer.

"I’mgoingtoslaptheirfaceswiththebottlesandthewax—candles————"

Romantinsaidinasofttone：

"Mathilde————"

Butshedidnotpayanyattentiontohim;shewenton：

"Waitalittle，myfinefellow！waitalittle！"

Romantinwentovertoher，andtriedtotakeherbythehands.

"Mathilde————"

Butshewasnowfairlyunderway;andonshewent，emptyingthevialsofherwrathwithstrongwordsandreproaches.Theyflowedoutofhermouthlike，astreamsweepingaheapoffilthalongwithit.Thewordspouringforthseemedstrugglingforexit.Shestuttered，stammered，yelled，suddenlyrecoveringhervoicetocastforthaninsultoracurse.

Heseizedherhandswithoutherhavingnoticedit.Shedidnotseemtoseeanything，sotakenupwassheinscoldingandrelievingherfeelings.

Andsuddenlyshebegantoweep.Thetearsflowedfromhereyes，butthisdidnotstophercomplaints.Butherwordswereutteredinascreamingfalsettovoicewithtearsinitandinterruptedbysobs.Shecommencedafreshtwiceorthreetimes，tillshestoppedasifsomethingwerechokingher，andatlastsheceasedwitharegularfloodoftears.

Thenheclaspedherinhisarmsandkissedherhair，affectedhimself.

"Mathilde，mylittleMathilde，listen.Youmustbereasonable.Youknow，ifIgiveasupper—partytomyfriends，itistothankthesegentlemenforthemedalIgotattheSalon.Icannotreceivewomen.Yououghttounderstandthat.Itisnotthesamewithartistsaswithotherpeople."

Shestammered，inthemidstofhertears：

"Whydidn’tyoutellmethis？"

Hereplied：

"Itwasinordernottoannoyyou，nottogiveyoupain.Listen，I’mgoingtoseeyouhome.Youwillbeverysensible，verynice;youwillremainquietlywaitingformeinbed，andI’llcomebackassoonasit’sover."

Shemurmured：

"Yes，butyouwillnotbeginoveragain？"

"No，Isweartoyou！"

HeturnedtowardsM.Saval，whohadatlasthookedonthechandelier：

"Mydearfriend，Iamcomingbackinfiveminutes.Ifanyonearrivesinmyabsence，dothehonorsforme，willyounot？"

AndhecarriedoffMathilde，whokeptdryinghereyeswithherhandkerchiefasshewentalong.

Lefttohimself，M.Savalsucceededinputtingeverythingaroundhiminorder.Thenhelightedthewax—candles，andwaited.

Hewaitedforaquarterofanhour，halfanhour，anhour.Romantindidnotreturn.Then，suddenlytherewasadreadfulnoiseonthestairs，asongshoutedoutinchorusbytwentymouthsandaregularmarchlikethatofaPrussianregiment.Thewholehousewasshakenbythesteadytrampoffeet.Thedoorflewopen，andamotleythrongappeared——menandwomeninfile，twoandtwoholdingeachotherbythearmandstampingtheirheelsonthegroundtomarktime，advancedintothestudiolikeasnakeuncoilingitself.Theyhowled：

"Come，andletusallbemerry，Prettymaidsandsoldiersgay！"

M.Saval，thunderstruck，remainedstandingineveningdressunderthechandelier.Theprocessionofrevellerscaughtsightofhim，andutteredashout：

"AJeames！AJeames！"

Andtheybeganwhirlingroundhim，surroundinghimwithacircleofvociferations.Thentheytookeachotherbythehandandwentdancingaboutmadly.

Heattemptedtoexplain：

"Messieurs——messieurs——mesdames————"

Buttheydidnotlistentohim.Theywhirledabout，theyjumped，theybrawled.

Atlast，thedancingceased.M.Savalsaid：

"Gentlemen————"

Atallyoungfellow，fair—hairedandbeardedtothenose，interruptedhim：

"What’syourname，myfriend？"

Thenotary，quitescared，said：

"IamM.Saval."

Avoiceexclaimed：

"YoumeanBaptiste."

Awomansaid：

"Letthepoorwaiteralone！You’llendbymakinghimgetangry.He’spaidtowaitonus，andnottobelaughedatbyus."

Then，M.Savalnoticedthateachguesthadbroughthisownprovisions.

Oneheldabottleofwine，andtheotherapie.Thisonehadaloafofbread，andoneaham.

Thetall，fairyoungfellowplacedinhishandsanenormoussausage，andgaveorders：

"Here，goandarrangethesideboardinthecorneroverthere.Putthebottlesattheleftandtheprovisionsattheright."

Saval，gettingquitedistracted，exclaimed："But，messieurs，Iamanotary！"

Therewasamoment’ssilenceandthenawildoutburstoflaughter.Onesuspiciousgentlemanasked：

"Howcameyoutobehere？"

Heexplained，tellingabouthisprojectofgoingtotheopera，hisdeparturefromVernon，hisarrivalinParis，andthewayinwhichhehadspenttheevening.

Theysataroundhimtolistentohim;theygreetedhimwithwordsofapplause，andcalledhimScheherazade.

Romantindidnotreturn.Otherguestsarrived.M.Savalwaspresentedtothemsothathemightbeginhisstoryoveragain.Hedeclined;theyforcedhimtorelateit.Theyseatedandtiedhimononeofthreechairsbetweentwowomenwhokeptconstantlyfillinghisglass.Hedrank;helaughed;hetalked;hesang，too.Hetriedtowaltzwithhischair，andfellontheground.

Fromthatmoment，heforgoteverything.Itseemedtohim，however，thattheyundressedhim，puthimtobed，andthathewasnauseated.

Whenheawoke，itwasbroaddaylight，andhelaystretchedwithhisfeetagainstacupboard，inastrangebed.

Anoldwomanwithabroominherhandwasglaringangrilyathim.Atlast，shesaid：

"Clearout，youblackguard！Clearout！Whatrighthasanyonetogetdrunklikethis？"

Hesatupinbed，feelingveryillatease.Heasked：

"WhereamI？"

"Whereareyou，youdirtyscamp？Youaredrunk.Takeyourrottencarcassoutofhereasquickasyoucan——andlosenotimeaboutit！"

Hewantedtogetup.Hefoundthathewasinnoconditiontodoso.Hisclotheshaddisappeared.Heblurtedout：

"Madame，I————Thenheremembered.Whatwashetodo？Heasked：

"DidMonsieurRomantincomeback？"

Thedoorkeepershouted：

"Willyoutakeyourdirtycarcassoutofthis，sothatheatanyratemaynotcatchyouhere？"

M.Savalsaid，inastateofconfusion：

"Ihaven’tgotmyclothes;theyhavebeentakenawayfromme."

Hehadtowait，toexplainhissituation，givenoticetohisfriends，andborrowsomemoneytobuyclothes.HedidnotleaveParistillevening.

Andwhenpeopletalkaboutmusictohiminhisbeautifuldrawing—roominVernon，hedeclareswithanairofauthoritythatpaintingisaveryinferiorart.

EndOriginalShortStories，Vol.6.

ByGuydeMaupassantVOLUMEVI.

THATCOSTLYRIDE

USELESSBEAUTY

THEFATHER

MYUNCLESOSTHENES

THEBARONESS

MOTHERANDSON

THEHAND

ATRESSOFHAIR

ONTHERIVER

THECRIPPLE

ASTROLL

ALEXANDRE

THELOG

JULIEROMAINE

THERONDOLISISTERS

THATCOSTLYRIDE

Thehouseholdlivedfrugallyonthemeagerincomederivedfromthehusband’sinsignificantappointments.Twochildrenhadbeenbornofthemarriage，andtheearlierconditionofthestrictesteconomyhadbecomeoneofquiet，concealed，shamefacedmisery，thepovertyofanoblefamily——whichinspiteofmisfortuneneverforgetsitsrank.

HectordeGribelinhadbeeneducatedintheprovinces，underthepaternalroof，byanagedpriest.Hispeoplewerenotrich，buttheymanagedtoliveandtokeepupappearances.

Attwentyyearsofagetheytriedtofindhimaposition，andheenteredtheMinistryofMarineasaclerkatsixtypoundsayear.Hefounderedontherockoflifelikeallthosewhohavenotbeenearlypreparedforitsrudestruggles，wholookatlifethroughamist，whodonotknowhowtoprotectthemselves，whosespecialaptitudesandfacultieshavenotbeendevelopedfromchildhood，whoseearlytraininghasnotdevelopedtheroughenergyneededforthebattleoflifeorfurnishedthemwithtoolorweapon.

Hisfirstthreeyearsofofficeworkwereamartyrdom.

Hehad，however，renewedtheacquaintanceofafewfriendsofhisfamily——elderlypeople，farbehindthetimes，andpoorlikehimself，wholivedinaristocraticstreets，thegloomythoroughfaresoftheFaubourgSaint—

Germain;andhehadcreatedasocialcircleforhimself.

Strangerstomodernlife，humbleyetproud，theseneedyaristocratslivedintheupperstoriesofsleepy，old—worldhouses.Fromtoptobottomoftheirdwellingsthetenantsweretitled，butmoneyseemedjustasscarceonthegroundfloorasintheattics.

Theireternalprejudices，absorptionintheirrank，anxietylesttheyshouldlosecaste，filledthemindsandthoughtsofthesefamiliesoncesobrilliant，nowruinedbytheidlenessofthemenofthefamily.

HectordeGribelinmetinthiscircleayounggirlaswellbornandaspoorashimselfandmarriedher.

Theyhadtwochildreninfouryears.

Forfouryearsmorethehusbandandwife，harassedbypoverty，knewnootherdistractionthantheSundaywalkintheChamps—Elyseesandafeweveningsatthetheatre（amountinginalltooneortwointhecourseofthewinter）whichtheyowedtofreepassespresentedbysomecomradeorother.

ButinthespringofthefollowingyearsomeovertimeworkwasentrustedtoHectordeGribelinbyhischief，forwhichhereceivedthelargesumofthreehundredfrancs.

Thedayhebroughtthemoneyhomehesaidtohiswife：

"MydearHenrietta，wemustindulgeinsomesortoffestivity——sayanoutingforthechildren."

Andafteralongdiscussionitwasdecidedthattheyshouldgoandlunchonedayinthecountry.

"Well，"criedHector，"oncewillnotbreakus，sowe’llhireawagonetteforyou，thechildrenandthemaid.AndI’llhaveasaddlehorse;theexercisewilldomegood."

Thewholeweeklongtheytalkedofnothingbuttheprojectedexcursion.

Everyevening，onhisreturnfromtheoffice，Hectorcaughtuphiselderson，puthimastridehisleg，and，makinghimbounceupanddownashardashecould，said：

"That’showdaddywillgallopnextSunday."

Andtheyoungsteramusedhimselfalldaylongbybestridingchairs，draggingthemroundtheroomandshouting：

"Thisisdaddyonhorseback！"