Maupassant Original Short Stories (180), Complete

G >> Guy de Maupassant >> Maupassant Original Short Stories (180), Complete


But Boule de Suif was indignant, for she was an ardent Bonapartist. She
turned as red as a cherry, and stammered in her wrath: "I'd just like to
have seen you in his place--you and your sort! There would have been
a nice mix-up. Oh, yes! It was you who betrayed that man. It would be
impossible to live in France if we were governed by such rascals as you!"

Cornudet, unmoved by this tirade, still smiled a superior, contemptuous
smile; and one felt that high words were impending, when the count
interposed, and, not without difficulty, succeeded in calming the
exasperated woman, saying that all sincere opinions ought to be
respected. But the countess and the manufacturer's wife, imbued with the
unreasoning hatred of the upper classes for the Republic, and instinct,
moreover, with the affection felt by all women for the pomp and
circumstance of despotic government, were drawn, in spite of themselves,
toward this dignified young woman, whose opinions coincided so closely
with their own.

The basket was empty. The ten people had finished its contents without
difficulty amid general regret that it did not hold more. Conversation
went on a little longer, though it flagged somewhat after the passengers
had finished eating.

Night fell, the darkness grew deeper and deeper, and the cold made Boule
de Suif shiver, in spite of her plumpness. So Madame de Breville offered
her her foot-warmer, the fuel of which had been several times renewed
since the morning, and she accepted the offer at once, for her feet were
icy cold. Mesdames Carre-Lamadon and Loiseau gave theirs to the nuns.

The driver lighted his lanterns. They cast a bright gleam on a cloud of
vapor which hovered over the sweating flanks of the horses, and on the
roadside snow, which seemed to unroll as they went along in the changing
light of the lamps.

All was now indistinguishable in the coach; but suddenly a movement
occurred in the corner occupied by Boule de Suif and Cornudet; and
Loiseau, peering into the gloom, fancied he saw the big, bearded democrat
move hastily to one side, as if he had received a well-directed, though
noiseless, blow in the dark.

Tiny lights glimmered ahead. It was Totes. The coach had been on the road
eleven hours, which, with the three hours allotted the horses in four
periods for feeding and breathing, made fourteen. It entered the town,
and stopped before the Hotel du Commerce.

The coach door opened; a well-known noise made all the travellers start;
it was the clanging of a scabbard, on the pavement; then a voice called
out something in German.

Although the coach had come to a standstill, no one got out; it looked as
if they were afraid of being murdered the moment they left their seats.
Thereupon the driver appeared, holding in his hand one of his lanterns,
which cast a sudden glow on the interior of the coach, lighting up the
double row of startled faces, mouths agape, and eyes wide open in
surprise and terror.

Beside the driver stood in the full light a German officer, a tall young
man, fair and slender, tightly encased in his uniform like a woman in her
corset, his flat shiny cap, tilted to one side of his head, making him
look like an English hotel runner. His exaggerated mustache, long and
straight and tapering to a point at either end in a single blond hair
that could hardly be seen, seemed to weigh down the corners of his mouth
and give a droop to his lips.

In Alsatian French he requested the travellers to alight, saying stiffly:

"Kindly get down, ladies and gentlemen."

The two nuns were the first to obey, manifesting the docility of holy
women accustomed to submission on every occasion. Next appeared the count
and countess, followed by the manufacturer and his wife, after whom came
Loiseau, pushing his larger and better half before him.

"Good-day, sir," he said to the officer as he put his foot to the ground,
acting on an impulse born of prudence rather than of politeness. The
other, insolent like all in authority, merely stared without replying.

Boule de Suif and Cornudet, though near the door, were the last to
alight, grave and dignified before the enemy. The stout girl tried to
control herself and appear calm; the democrat stroked his long russet
beard with a somewhat trembling hand. Both strove to maintain their
dignity, knowing well that at such a time each individual is always
looked upon as more or less typical of his nation; and, also, resenting
the complaisant attitude of their companions, Boule de Suif tried to wear
a bolder front than her neighbors, the virtuous women, while he, feeling
that it was incumbent on him to set a good example, kept up the attitude
of resistance which he had first assumed when he undertook to mine the
high roads round Rouen.

They entered the spacious kitchen of the inn, and the German, having
demanded the passports signed by the general in command, in which were
mentioned the name, description and profession of each traveller,
inspected them all minutely, comparing their appearance with the written
particulars.

Then he said brusquely: "All right," and turned on his heel.

They breathed freely, All were still hungry; so supper was ordered. Half
an hour was required for its preparation, and while two servants were
apparently engaged in getting it ready the travellers went to look at
their rooms. These all opened off a long corridor, at the end of which
was a glazed door with a number on it.

They were just about to take their seats at table when the innkeeper
appeared in person. He was a former horse dealer--a large, asthmatic
individual, always wheezing, coughing, and clearing his throat. Follenvie
was his patronymic.

He called:

"Mademoiselle Elisabeth Rousset?"

Boule de Suif started, and turned round.

"That is my name."

"Mademoiselle, the Prussian officer wishes to speak to you immediately."

"To me?"

"Yes; if you are Mademoiselle Elisabeth Rousset."

She hesitated, reflected a moment, and then declared roundly:

"That may be; but I'm not going."

They moved restlessly around her; every one wondered and speculated as to
the cause of this order. The count approached:

"You are wrong, madame, for your refusal may bring trouble not only on
yourself but also on all your companions. It never pays to resist those
in authority. Your compliance with this request cannot possibly be
fraught with any danger; it has probably been made because some formality
or other was forgotten."

All added their voices to that of the count; Boule de Suif was begged,
urged, lectured, and at last convinced; every one was afraid of the
complications which might result from headstrong action on her part. She
said finally:

"I am doing it for your sakes, remember that!"

The countess took her hand.

"And we are grateful to you."

She left the room. All waited for her return before commencing the meal.
Each was distressed that he or she had not been sent for rather than this
impulsive, quick-tempered girl, and each mentally rehearsed platitudes in
case of being summoned also.

But at the end of ten minutes she reappeared breathing hard, crimson with
indignation.

"Oh! the scoundrel! the scoundrel!" she stammered.

All were anxious to know what had happened; but she declined to enlighten
them, and when the count pressed the point, she silenced him with much
dignity, saying:

"No; the matter has nothing to do with you, and I cannot speak of it."

Then they took their places round a high soup tureen, from which issued
an odor of cabbage. In spite of this coincidence, the supper was
cheerful. The cider was good; the Loiseaus and the nuns drank it from
motives of economy. The others ordered wine; Cornudet demanded beer. He
had his own fashion of uncorking the bottle and making the beer foam,
gazing at it as he inclined his glass and then raised it to a position
between the lamp and his eye that he might judge of its color. When he
drank, his great beard, which matched the color of his favorite beverage,
seemed to tremble with affection; his eyes positively squinted in the
endeavor not to lose sight of the beloved glass, and he looked for all
the world as if he were fulfilling the only function for which he was
born. He seemed to have established in his mind an affinity between the
two great passions of his life--pale ale and revolution--and
assuredly he could not taste the one without dreaming of the other.

Monsieur and Madame Follenvie dined at the end of the table. The man,
wheezing like a broken-down locomotive, was too short-winded to talk when
he was eating. But the wife was not silent a moment; she told how the
Prussians had impressed her on their arrival, what they did, what they
said; execrating them in the first place because they cost her money, and
in the second because she had two sons in the army. She addressed herself
principally to the countess, flattered at the opportunity of talking to a
lady of quality.

Then she lowered her voice, and began to broach delicate subjects. Her
husband interrupted her from time to time, saying:

"You would do well to hold your tongue, Madame Follenvie."

But she took no notice of him, and went on:

"Yes, madame, these Germans do nothing but eat potatoes and pork, and
then pork and potatoes. And don't imagine for a moment that they are
clean! No, indeed! And if only you saw them drilling for hours, indeed
for days, together; they all collect in a field, then they do nothing but
march backward and forward, and wheel this way and that. If only they
would cultivate the land, or remain at home and work on their high roads!
Really, madame, these soldiers are of no earthly use! Poor people have to
feed and keep them, only in order that they may learn how to kill! True,
I am only an old woman with no education, but when I see them wearing
themselves out marching about from morning till night, I say to myself:
When there are people who make discoveries that are of use to people, why
should others take so much trouble to do harm? Really, now, isn't it a
terrible thing to kill people, whether they are Prussians, or English, or
Poles, or French? If we revenge ourselves on any one who injures us we do
wrong, and are punished for it; but when our sons are shot down like
partridges, that is all right, and decorations are given to the man who
kills the most. No, indeed, I shall never be able to understand it."

Cornudet raised his voice:

"War is a barbarous proceeding when we attack a peaceful neighbor, but it
is a sacred duty when undertaken in defence of one's country."

The old woman looked down:

"Yes; it's another matter when one acts in self-defence; but would it not
be better to kill all the kings, seeing that they make war just to amuse
themselves?"

Cornudet's eyes kindled.

"Bravo, citizens!" he said.

Monsieur Carre-Lamadon was reflecting profoundly. Although an ardent
admirer of great generals, the peasant woman's sturdy common sense made
him reflect on the wealth which might accrue to a country by the
employment of so many idle hands now maintained at a great expense, of so
much unproductive force, if they were employed in those great industrial
enterprises which it will take centuries to complete.

But Loiseau, leaving his seat, went over to the innkeeper and began
chatting in a low voice. The big man chuckled, coughed, sputtered; his
enormous carcass shook with merriment at the pleasantries of the other;
and he ended by buying six casks of claret from Loiseau to be delivered
in spring, after the departure of the Prussians.

The moment supper was over every one went to bed, worn out with fatigue.

But Loiseau, who had been making his observations on the sly, sent his
wife to bed, and amused himself by placing first his ear, and then his
eye, to the bedroom keyhole, in order to discover what he called "the
mysteries of the corridor."

At the end of about an hour he heard a rustling, peeped out quickly, and
caught sight of Boule de Suif, looking more rotund than ever in a
dressing-gown of blue cashmere trimmed with white lace. She held a candle
in her hand, and directed her steps to the numbered door at the end of
the corridor. But one of the side doors was partly opened, and when, at
the end of a few minutes, she returned, Cornudet, in his shirt-sleeves,
followed her. They spoke in low tones, then stopped short. Boule de Suif
seemed to be stoutly denying him admission to her room. Unfortunately,
Loiseau could not at first hear what they said; but toward the end of the
conversation they raised their voices, and he caught a few words.
Cornudet was loudly insistent.

"How silly you are! What does it matter to you?" he said.

She seemed indignant, and replied:

"No, my good man, there are times when one does not do that sort of
thing; besides, in this place it would be shameful."

Apparently he did not understand, and asked the reason. Then she lost her
temper and her caution, and, raising her voice still higher, said:

"Why? Can't you understand why? When there are Prussians in the house!
Perhaps even in the very next room!"

He was silent. The patriotic shame of this wanton, who would not suffer
herself to be caressed in the neighborhood of the enemy, must have roused
his dormant dignity, for after bestowing on her a simple kiss he crept
softly back to his room. Loiseau, much edified, capered round the bedroom
before taking his place beside his slumbering spouse.

Then silence reigned throughout the house. But soon there arose from some
remote part--it might easily have been either cellar or
attic--a stertorous, monotonous, regular snoring, a dull, prolonged
rumbling, varied by tremors like those of a boiler under pressure of
steam. Monsieur Follenvie had gone to sleep.

As they had decided on starting at eight o'clock the next morning, every
one was in the kitchen at that hour; but the coach, its roof covered with
snow, stood by itself in the middle of the yard, without either horses or
driver. They sought the latter in the stables, coach-houses and barns
--but in vain. So the men of the party resolved to scour the country
for him, and sallied forth. They found them selves in the square, with
the church at the farther side, and to right and left low-roofed houses
where there were some Prussian soldiers. The first soldier they saw was
peeling potatoes. The second, farther on, was washing out a barber's
shop. An other, bearded to the eyes, was fondling a crying infant, and
dandling it on his knees to quiet it; and the stout peasant women, whose
men-folk were for the most part at the war, were, by means of signs,
telling their obedient conquerors what work they were to do: chop wood,
prepare soup, grind coffee; one of them even was doing the washing for
his hostess, an infirm old grandmother.

The count, astonished at what he saw, questioned the beadle who was
coming out of the presbytery. The old man answered:

"Oh, those men are not at all a bad sort; they are not Prussians, I am
told; they come from somewhere farther off, I don't exactly know where.
And they have all left wives and children behind them; they are not fond
of war either, you may be sure! I am sure they are mourning for the men
where they come from, just as we do here; and the war causes them just as
much unhappiness as it does us. As a matter of fact, things are not so
very bad here just now, because the soldiers do no harm, and work just as
if they were in their own homes. You see, sir, poor folk always help one
another; it is the great ones of this world who make war."

Cornudet indignant at the friendly understanding established between
conquerors and conquered, withdrew, preferring to shut himself up in the
inn.

"They are repeopling the country," jested Loiseau.

"They are undoing the harm they have done," said Monsieur Carre-Lamadon
gravely.

But they could not find the coach driver. At last he was discovered in
the village cafe, fraternizing cordially with the officer's orderly.

"Were you not told to harness the horses at eight o'clock?" demanded the
count.

"Oh, yes; but I've had different orders since."

"What orders?"

"Not to harness at all."

"Who gave you such orders?"

"Why, the Prussian officer."

"But why?"

"I don't know. Go and ask him. I am forbidden to harness the horses, so I
don't harness them--that's all."

"Did he tell you so himself?"

"No, sir; the innkeeper gave me the order from him."

"When?"

"Last evening, just as I was going to bed."

The three men returned in a very uneasy frame of mind.

They asked for Monsieur Follenvie, but the servant replied that on
account of his asthma he never got up before ten o'clock. They were
strictly forbidden to rouse him earlier, except in case of fire.

They wished to see the officer, but that also was impossible, although he
lodged in the inn. Monsieur Follenvie alone was authorized to interview
him on civil matters. So they waited. The women returned to their rooms,
and occupied themselves with trivial matters.

Cornudet settled down beside the tall kitchen fireplace, before a blazing
fire. He had a small table and a jug of beer placed beside him, and he
smoked his pipe--a pipe which enjoyed among democrats a
consideration almost equal to his own, as though it had served its
country in serving Cornudet. It was a fine meerschaum, admirably colored
to a black the shade of its owner's teeth, but sweet-smelling, gracefully
curved, at home in its master's hand, and completing his physiognomy. And
Cornudet sat motionless, his eyes fixed now on the dancing flames, now on
the froth which crowned his beer; and after each draught he passed his
long, thin fingers with an air of satisfaction through his long, greasy
hair, as he sucked the foam from his mustache.

Loiseau, under pretence of stretching his legs, went out to see if he
could sell wine to the country dealers. The count and the manufacturer
began to talk politics. They forecast the future of France. One believed
in the Orleans dynasty, the other in an unknown savior--a hero who
should rise up in the last extremity: a Du Guesclin, perhaps a Joan of
Arc? or another Napoleon the First? Ah! if only the Prince Imperial were
not so young! Cornudet, listening to them, smiled like a man who holds
the keys of destiny in his hands. His pipe perfumed the whole kitchen.

As the clock struck ten, Monsieur Follenvie appeared. He was immediately
surrounded and questioned, but could only repeat, three or four times in
succession, and without variation, the words:

"The officer said to me, just like this: 'Monsieur Follenvie, you will
forbid them to harness up the coach for those travellers to-morrow. They
are not to start without an order from me. You hear? That is
sufficient.'"

Then they asked to see the officer. The count sent him his card, on which
Monsieur Carre-Lamadon also inscribed his name and titles. The Prussian
sent word that the two men would be admitted to see him after his
luncheon--that is to say, about one o'clock.

The ladies reappeared, and they all ate a little, in spite of their
anxiety. Boule de Suif appeared ill and very much worried.

They were finishing their coffee when the orderly came to fetch the
gentlemen.

Loiseau joined the other two; but when they tried to get Cornudet to
accompany them, by way of adding greater solemnity to the occasion, he
declared proudly that he would never have anything to do with the
Germans, and, resuming his seat in the chimney corner, he called for
another jug of beer.

The three men went upstairs, and were ushered into the best room in the
inn, where the officer received them lolling at his ease in an armchair,
his feet on the mantelpiece, smoking a long porcelain pipe, and enveloped
in a gorgeous dressing-gown, doubtless stolen from the deserted dwelling
of some citizen destitute of taste in dress. He neither rose, greeted
them, nor even glanced in their direction. He afforded a fine example of
that insolence of bearing which seems natural to the victorious soldier.

After the lapse of a few moments he said in his halting French:

"What do you want?"

"We wish to start on our journey," said the count.

"No."

"May I ask the reason of your refusal?"

"Because I don't choose."

"I would respectfully call your attention, monsieur, to the fact that
your general in command gave us a permit to proceed to Dieppe; and I do
not think we have done anything to deserve this harshness at your hands."

"I don't choose--that's all. You may go."

They bowed, and retired.

The afternoon was wretched. They could not understand the caprice of this
German, and the strangest ideas came into their heads. They all
congregated in the kitchen, and talked the subject to death, imagining
all kinds of unlikely things. Perhaps they were to be kept as hostages
--but for what reason? or to be extradited as prisoners of war? or
possibly they were to be held for ransom? They were panic-stricken at
this last supposition. The richest among them were the most alarmed,
seeing themselves forced to empty bags of gold into the insolent
soldier's hands in order to buy back their lives. They racked their
brains for plausible lies whereby they might conceal the fact that they
were rich, and pass themselves off as poor--very poor. Loiseau took
off his watch chain, and put it in his pocket. The approach of night
increased their apprehension. The lamp was lighted, and as it wanted yet
two hours to dinner Madame Loiseau proposed a game of trente et un. It
would distract their thoughts. The rest agreed, and Cornudet himself
joined the party, first putting out his pipe for politeness' sake.

The count shuffled the cards--dealt--and Boule de Suif had thirty-one
to start with; soon the interest of the game assuaged the anxiety of the
players. But Cornudet noticed that Loiseau and his wife were in league to
cheat.

They were about to sit down to dinner when Monsieur Follenvie appeared,
and in his grating voice announced:

"The Prussian officer sends to ask Mademoiselle Elisabeth Rousset if she
has changed her mind yet."

Boule de Suif stood still, pale as death. Then, suddenly turning crimson
with anger, she gasped out:

"Kindly tell that scoundrel, that cur, that carrion of a Prussian, that I
will never consent--you understand?--never, never, never!"

The fat innkeeper left the room. Then Boule de Suif was surrounded,
questioned, entreated on all sides to reveal the mystery of her visit to
the officer. She refused at first; but her wrath soon got the better of
her.

"What does he want? He wants to make me his mistress!" she cried.

No one was shocked at the word, so great was the general indignation.
Cornudet broke his jug as he banged it down on the table. A loud outcry
arose against this base soldier. All were furious. They drew together in
common resistance against the foe, as if some part of the sacrifice
exacted of Boule de Suif had been demanded of each. The count declared,
with supreme disgust, that those people behaved like ancient barbarians.
The women, above all, manifested a lively and tender sympathy for Boule
de Suif. The nuns, who appeared only at meals, cast down their eyes, and
said nothing.

They dined, however, as soon as the first indignant outburst had
subsided; but they spoke little and thought much.

The ladies went to bed early; and the men, having lighted their pipes,
proposed a game of ecarte, in which Monsieur Follenvie was invited to
join, the travellers hoping to question him skillfully as to the best
means of vanquishing the officer's obduracy. But he thought of nothing
but his cards, would listen to nothing, reply to nothing, and repeated,
time after time: "Attend to the game, gentlemen! attend to the game!" So
absorbed was his attention that he even forgot to expectorate. The
consequence was that his chest gave forth rumbling sounds like those of
an organ. His wheezing lungs struck every note of the asthmatic scale,
from deep, hollow tones to a shrill, hoarse piping resembling that of a
young cock trying to crow.

He refused to go to bed when his wife, overcome with sleep, came to fetch
him. So she went off alone, for she was an early bird, always up with the
sun; while he was addicted to late hours, ever ready to spend the night
with friends. He merely said: "Put my egg-nogg by the fire," and went on
with the game. When the other men saw that nothing was to be got out of
him they declared it was time to retire, and each sought his bed.

They rose fairly early the next morning, with a vague hope of being
allowed to start, a greater desire than ever to do so, and a terror at
having to spend another day in this wretched little inn.

Alas! the horses remained in the stable, the driver was invisible. They
spent their time, for want of something better to do, in wandering round
the coach.

Luncheon was a gloomy affair; and there was a general coolness toward
Boule de Suif, for night, which brings counsel, had somewhat modified the
judgment of her companions. In the cold light of the morning they almost
bore a grudge against the girl for not having secretly sought out the
Prussian, that the rest of the party might receive a joyful surprise when
they awoke. What more simple?