Maupassant Original Short Stories (180), Complete

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


Night came on and wrapped the country in obscurity, and in the distance,
in a meadow, he saw a dark spot on the grass; it was a cow, and so he got
over the ditch by the roadside and went up to her without exactly knowing
what he was doing. When he got close to her she raised her great head to
him, and he thought: "If I only had a jug I could get a little milk." He
looked at the cow and the cow looked at him and then, suddenly giving her
a kick in the side, he said: "Get up!"

The animal got up slowly, letting her heavy udders bang down. Then the
man lay down on his back between the animal's legs and drank for a long
time, squeezing her warm, swollen teats, which tasted of the cowstall,
with both hands, and he drank as long as she gave any milk. But the icy
rain began to fall more heavily, and he saw no place of shelter on the
whole of that bare plain. He was cold, and he looked at a light which was
shining among the trees in the window of a house.

The cow had lain down again heavily, and he sat down by her side and
stroked her head, grateful for the nourishment she had given him. The
animal's strong, thick breath, which came out of her nostrils like two
jets of steam in the evening air, blew on the workman's face, and he
said: "You are not cold inside there!" He put his hands on her chest and
under her stomach to find some warmth there, and then the idea struck him
that he might pass the night beside that large, warm animal. So he found
a comfortable place and laid his head on her side, and then, as he was
worn out with fatigue, fell asleep immediately.

He woke up, however, several times, with his back or his stomach half
frozen, according as he put one or the other against the animal's flank.
Then he turned over to warm and dry that part of his body which had
remained exposed to the night air, and soon went soundly to sleep again.
The crowing of a cock woke him; the day was breaking, it was no longer
raining, and the sky was bright. The cow was resting with her muzzle on
the ground, and he stooped down, resting on his hands, to kiss those
wide, moist nostrils, and said: "Good-by, my beauty, until next time. You
are a nice animal. Good-by." Then he put on his shoes and went off, and
for two hours walked straight before him, always following the same road,
and then he felt so tired that he sat down on the grass. It was broad
daylight by that time, and the church bells were ringing; men in blue
blouses, women in white caps, some on foot, some in carts, began to pass
along the road, going to the neighboring villages to spend Sunday with
friends or relations.

A stout peasant came in sight, driving before him a score of frightened,
bleating sheep, with the help of an active dog. Randel got up, and
raising his cap, said: "You do not happen to have any work for a man who
is dying of hunger?" But the other, giving an angry look at the vagabond,
replied: "I have no work for fellows whom I meet on the road."

And the carpenter went back and sat down by the side of the ditch again.
He waited there for a long time, watching the country people pass and
looking for a kind, compassionate face before he renewed his request, and
finally selected a man in an overcoat, whose stomach was adorned with a
gold chain. "I have been looking for work," he said, "for the last two
months and cannot find any, and I have not a sou in my pocket." But the
would-be gentleman replied: "You should have read the notice which is
stuck up at the entrance to the village: 'Begging is prohibited within
the boundaries of this parish.' Let me tell you that I am the mayor, and
if you do not get out of here pretty quickly I shall have you arrested."

Randel, who was getting angry, replied: "Have me arrested if you like; I
should prefer it, for, at any rate, I should not die of hunger." And he
went back and sat down by the side of his ditch again, and in about a
quarter of an hour two gendarmes appeared on the road. They were walking
slowly side by side, glittering in the sun with their shining hats, their
yellow accoutrements and their metal buttons, as if to frighten
evildoers, and to put them to flight at a distance. He knew that they
were coming after him, but he did not move, for he was seized with a
sudden desire to defy them, to be arrested by them, and to have his
revenge later.

They came on without appearing to have seen him, walking heavily, with
military step, and balancing themselves as if they were doing the goose
step; and then, suddenly, as they passed him, appearing to have noticed
him, they stopped and looked at him angrily and threateningly, and the
brigadier came up to him and asked: "What are you doing here?" "I am
resting," the man replied calmly. "Where do you come from?" "If I had to
tell you all the places I have been to it would take me more than an
hour." "Where are you going to?" "To Ville-Avary." "Where is that?" "In
La Manche." "Is that where you belong?" "It is." "Why did you leave it?"
"To look for work."

The brigadier turned to his gendarme and said in the angry voice of a man
who is exasperated at last by an oft-repeated trick: "They all say that,
these scamps. I know all about it." And then he continued: "Have you any
papers?" "Yes, I have some." "Give them to me."

Randel took his papers out of his pocket, his certificates, those poor,
worn-out, dirty papers which were falling to pieces, and gave them to the
soldier, who spelled them through, hemming and hawing, and then, having
seen that they were all in order, he gave them back to Randel with the
dissatisfied look of a man whom some one cleverer than himself has
tricked.

After a few moments' further reflection, he asked him: "Have you any
money on you?" "No." "None whatever?" "None." "Not even a sou?" "Not even
a son!" "How do you live then?" "On what people give me." "Then you beg?"
And Randel answered resolutely: "Yes, when I can."

Then the gendarme said: "I have caught you on the highroad in the act of
vagabondage and begging, without any resources or trade, and so I command
you to come with me." The carpenter got up and said: "Wherever you
please." And, placing himself between the two soldiers, even before he
had received the order to do so, he added: "Well, lock me up; that will
at any rate put a roof over my head when it rains."

And they set off toward the village, the red tiles of which could be seen
through the leafless trees, a quarter of a league off. Service was about
to begin when they went through the village. The square was full of
people, who immediately formed two lines to see the criminal pass. He was
being followed by a crowd of excited children. Male and female peasants
looked at the prisoner between the two gendarmes, with hatred in their
eyes and a longing to throw stones at him, to tear his skin with their
nails, to trample him under their feet. They asked each other whether he
had committed murder or robbery. The butcher, who was an ex-'spahi',
declared that he was a deserter. The tobacconist thought that he
recognized him as the man who had that very morning passed a bad
half-franc piece off on him, and the ironmonger declared that he was the
murderer of Widow Malet, whom the police had been looking for for six
months.

In the municipal court, into which his custodians took him, Randel saw
the mayor again, sitting on the magisterial bench, with the schoolmaster
by his side. "Aha! aha!" the magistrate exclaimed, "so here you are
again, my fine fellow. I told you I should have you locked up. Well,
brigadier, what is he charged with?"

"He is a vagabond without house or home, Monsieur le Maire, without any
resources or money, so he says, who was arrested in the act of begging,
but he is provided with good testimonials, and his papers are all in
order."

"Show me his papers," the mayor said. He took them, read them, reread,
returned them and then said: "Search him." So they searched him, but
found nothing, and the mayor seemed perplexed, and asked the workman:

"What were you doing on the road this morning?" "I was looking for work."
"Work? On the highroad?" "How do you expect me to find any if I hide in
the woods?"

They looked at each other with the hatred of two wild beasts which belong
to different hostile species, and the magistrate continued: "I am going
to have you set at liberty, but do not be brought up before me again." To
which the carpenter replied: "I would rather you locked me up; I have had
enough running about the country." But the magistrate replied severely:
"be silent." And then he said to the two gendarmes: "You will conduct
this man two hundred yards from the village and let him continue his
journey."

"At any rate, give me something to eat," the workman said, but the other
grew indignant: "Have we nothing to do but to feed you? Ah! ah! ah! that
is rather too much!" But Randel went on firmly: "If you let me nearly die
of hunger again, you will force me to commit a crime, and then, so much
the worse for you other fat fellows."

The mayor had risen and he repeated: "Take him away immediately or I
shall end by getting angry."

The two gendarmes thereupon seized the carpenter by the arms and dragged
him out. He allowed them to do it without resistance, passed through the
village again and found himself on the highroad once more; and when the
men had accompanied him two hundred yards beyond the village, the
brigadier said: "Now off with you and do not let me catch you about here
again, for if I do, you will know it."

Randel went off without replying or knowing where he was going. He walked
on for a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes, so stupefied that he no
longer thought of anything. But suddenly, as he was passing a small
house, where the window was half open, the smell of the soup and boiled
meat stopped him suddenly, and hunger, fierce, devouring, maddening
hunger, seized him and almost drove him against the walls of the house
like a wild beast.

He said aloud in a grumbling voice: "In Heaven's name! they must give me
some this time!" And he began to knock at the door vigorously with his
stick, and as no one came he knocked louder and called out: "Hey! hey!
you people in there, open the door!" And then, as nothing stirred, he
went up to the window and pushed it wider open with his hand, and the
close warm air of the kitchen, full of the smell of hot soup, meat and
cabbage, escaped into the cold outer air, and with a bound the carpenter
was in the house. Two places were set at the table, and no doubt the
proprietors of the house, on going to church, had left their dinner on
the fire, their nice Sunday boiled beef and vegetable soup, while there
was a loaf of new bread on the chimney-piece, between two bottles which
seemed full.

Randel seized the bread first of all and broke it with as much violence
as if he were strangling a man, and then he began to eat voraciously,
swallowing great mouthfuls quickly. But almost immediately the smell of
the meat attracted him to the fireplace, and, having taken off the lid of
the saucepan, he plunged a fork into it and brought out a large piece of
beef tied with a string. Then he took more cabbage, carrots and onions
until his plate was full, and, having put it on the table, he sat down
before it, cut the meat into four pieces, and dined as if he had been at
home. When he had eaten nearly all the meat, besides a quantity of
vegetables, he felt thirsty and took one of the bottles off the
mantelpiece.

Scarcely had he poured the liquor into his glass when he saw it was
brandy. So much the better; it was warming and would instill some fire
into his veins, and that would be all right, after being so cold; and he
drank some. He certainly enjoyed it, for he had grown unaccustomed to it,
and he poured himself out another glassful, which he drank at two gulps.
And then almost immediately he felt quite merry and light-hearted from
the effects of the alcohol, just as if some great happiness filled his
heart.

He continued to eat, but more slowly, and dipping his bread into the
soup. His skin had become burning, and especially his forehead, where the
veins were throbbing. But suddenly the church bells began to ring. Mass
was over, and instinct rather than fear, the instinct of prudence, which
guides all beings and makes them clear-sighted in danger, made the
carpenter get up. He put the remains of the loaf into one pocket and the
brandy bottle into the other, and he furtively went to the window and
looked out into the road. It was still deserted, so he jumped out and set
off walking again, but instead of following the highroad he ran across
the fields toward a wood he saw a little way off.

He felt alert, strong, light-hearted, glad of what he had done, and so
nimble that he sprang over the enclosure of the fields at a single bound,
and as soon as he was under the trees he took the bottle out of his
pocket again and began to drink once more, swallowing it down as he
walked, and then his ideas began to get confused, his eyes grew dim, and
his legs as elastic as springs, and he started singing the old popular
song:

"Oh! what joy, what joy it is,
To pick the sweet, wild strawberries."

He was now walking on thick, damp, cool moss, and that soft carpet under
his feet made him feel absurdly inclined to turn head over heels as he
used to do when a child, so he took a run, turned a somersault, got up
and began over again. And between each time he began to sing again:

"Oh! what joy, what joy it is,
To pick the sweet, wild strawberries."

Suddenly he found himself above a deep road, and in the road he saw a
tall girl, a servant, who was returning to the village with two pails of
milk. He watched, stooping down, and with his eyes as bright as those of
a dog who scents a quail, but she saw him raised her head and said: "Was
that you singing like that?" He did not reply, however, but jumped down
into the road, although it was a fall of at least six feet and when she
saw him suddenly standing in front of her, she exclaimed: "Oh! dear, how
you frightened me!"

But he did not hear her, for he was drunk, he was mad, excited by another
requirement which was more imperative than hunger, more feverish than
alcohol; by the irresistible fury of the man who has been deprived of
everything for two months, and who is drunk; who is young, ardent and
inflamed by all the appetites which nature has implanted in the vigorous
flesh of men.

The girl started back from him, frightened at his face, his eyes, his
half-open mouth, his outstretched hands, but he seized her by the
shoulders, and without a word, threw her down in the road.

She let her two pails fall, and they rolled over noisily, and all the
milk was spilt, and then she screamed lustily, but it was of no avail in
that lonely spot.

When she got up the thought of her overturned pails suddenly filled her
with fury, and, taking off one of her wooden sabots, she threw it at the
man to break his head if he did not pay her for her milk.

But he, mistaking the reason of this sudden violent attack, somewhat
sobered, and frightened at what he had done, ran off as fast as he could,
while she threw stones at him, some of which hit him in the back.

He ran for a long time, very long, until he felt more tired than he had
ever been before. His legs were so weak that they could scarcely carry
him; all his ideas were confused, he lost recollection of everything and
could no longer think about anything, and so he sat down at the foot of a
tree, and in five minutes was fast asleep. He was soon awakened, however,
by a rough shake, and, on opening his eyes, he saw two cocked hats of
shiny leather bending over him, and the two gendarmes of the morning, who
were holding him and binding his arms.

"I knew I should catch you again," said the brigadier jeeringly. But
Randel got up without replying. The two men shook him, quite ready to ill
treat him if he made a movement, for he was their prey now. He had become
a jailbird, caught by those hunters of criminals who would not let him go
again.

"Now, start!" the brigadier said, and they set off. It was late
afternoon, and the autumn twilight was setting in over the land, and in
half an hour they reached the village, where every door was open, for the
people had heard what had happened. Peasants and peasant women and girls,
excited with anger, as if every man had been robbed and every woman
attacked, wished to see the wretch brought back, so that they might
overwhelm him with abuse. They hooted him from the first house in the
village until they reached the Hotel de Ville, where the mayor was
waiting for him to be himself avenged on this vagabond, and as soon as he
saw him approaching he cried:

"Ah! my fine fellow! here we are!" And he rubbed his hands, more pleased
than he usually was, and continued: "I said so. I said so, the moment I
saw him in the road."

And then with increased satisfaction:

"Oh, you blackguard! Oh, you dirty blackguard! You will get your twenty
years, my fine fellow!"




THE FISHING HOLE

"Cuts and wounds which caused death." Such was the charge upon which
Leopold Renard, upholsterer, was summoned before the Court of Assizes.

Round him were the principal witnesses, Madame Flameche, widow of the
victim, and Louis Ladureau, cabinetmaker, and Jean Durdent, plumber.

Near the criminal was his wife, dressed in black, an ugly little woman,
who looked like a monkey dressed as a lady.

This is how Renard (Leopold) recounted the drama.

"Good heavens, it is a misfortune of which I was the prime victim all the
time, and with which my will has nothing to do. The facts are their own
commentary, Monsieur le President. I am an honest man, a hard-working
man, an upholsterer, living in the same street for the last sixteen
years, known, liked, respected and esteemed by all, as my neighbors can
testify, even the porter's wife, who is not amiable every day. I am fond
of work, I am fond of saving, I like honest men and respectable
amusements. That is what has ruined me, so much the worse for me; but as
my will had nothing to do with it, I continue to respect myself.

"Every Sunday for the last five years my wife and I have spent the day at
Passy. We get fresh air, and, besides, we are fond of fishing. Oh! we are
as fond of it as we are of little onions. Melie inspired me with that
enthusiasm, the jade, and she is more enthusiastic than I am, the scold,
seeing that all the mischief in this business is her fault, as you will
see immediately.

"I am strong and mild tempered, without a pennyworth of malice in me. But
she! oh! la! la! she looks like nothing; she is short and thin. Very
well, she does more mischief than a weasel. I do not deny that she has
some good qualities; she has some, and very important ones for a man in
business. But her character! Just ask about it in the neighborhood, and
even the porter's wife, who has just sent me about my business--she
will tell you something about it.

"Every day she used to find fault with my mild temper: 'I would not put
up with this! I would not put up with that.' If I had listened to her,
Monsieur le President, I should have had at least three hand-to-hand
fights a month . . . ."

Madame Renard interrupted him: "And for good reasons, too; they laugh
best who laugh last."

He turned toward her frankly: "Well, I can't blame you, since you were
not the cause of it."

Then, facing the President again, he said:

"I will continue. We used to go to Passy every Saturday evening, so as to
begin fishing at daybreak the next morning. It is a habit which has
become second nature with us, as the saying is. Three years ago this
summer I discovered a place, oh! such a spot. Oh, dear, dear! In the
shade, eight feet of water at least and perhaps ten, a hole with cavities
under the bank, a regular nest for fish and a paradise for the fisherman.
I might look upon that fishing hole as my property, Monsieur le
President, as I was its Christopher Columbus. Everybody in the
neighborhood knew it, without making any opposition. They would say:
'That is Renard's place'; and nobody would have gone there, not even
Monsieur Plumeau, who is well known, be it said without any offense, for
poaching on other people's preserves.

"Well, I returned to this place of which I felt certain, just as if I had
owned it. I had scarcely got there on Saturday, when I got into Delila,
with my wife. Delila is my Norwegian boat, which I had built by
Fournaire, and which is light and safe. Well, as I said, we got into the
boat and we were going to set bait, and for setting bait there is none to
be compared with me, and they all know it. You want to know with what I
bait? I cannot answer that question; it has nothing to do with the
accident. I cannot answer; that is my secret. There are more than three
hundred people who have asked me; I have been offered glasses of brandy
and liqueur, fried fish, matelotes, to make me tell. But just go and try
whether the chub will come. Ah! they have tempted my stomach to get at my
secret, my recipe. Only my wife knows, and she will not tell it any more
than I will. Is not that so, Melie?"

The president of the court interrupted him.

"Just get to the facts as soon as you can," and the accused continued: "I
am getting to them, I am getting to them. Well, on Saturday, July 8, we
left by the twenty-five past five train and before dinner we went to set
bait as usual. The weather promised to keep fine and I said to Melie:
'All right for tomorrow.' And she replied: 'If looks like it,' We never
talk more than that together.

"And then we returned to dinner. I was happy and thirsty, and that was
the cause of everything. I said to Melie: 'Look here, Melie, it is fine
weather, suppose I drink a bottle of 'Casque a meche'.' That is a weak
white wine which we have christened so, because if you drink too much of
it it prevents you from sleeping and takes the place of a nightcap. Do
you understand me?

"She replied: 'You can do as you please, but you will be ill again and
will not be able to get up tomorrow.' That was true, sensible and
prudent, clear-sighted, I must confess. Nevertheless I could not resist,
and I drank my bottle. It all came from that.

"Well, I could not sleep. By Jove! it kept me awake till two o'clock in
the morning, and then I went to sleep so soundly that I should not have
heard the angel sounding his trump at the last judgment.

"In short, my wife woke me at six o'clock and I jumped out of bed,
hastily put on my trousers and jersey, washed my face and jumped on board
Delila. But it was too late, for when I arrived at my hole it was already
occupied! Such a thing had never happened to me in three years, and it
made me feel as if I were being robbed under my own eyes. I said to
myself: 'Confound it all! confound it!' And then my wife began to nag at
me. 'Eh! what about your 'Casque a meche'? Get along, you drunkard! Are
you satisfied, you great fool?' I could say nothing, because it was all
true, but I landed all the same near the spot and tried to profit by what
was left. Perhaps after all the fellow might catch nothing and go away.

"He was a little thin man in white linen coat and waistcoat and a large
straw hat, and his wife, a fat woman, doing embroidery, sat behind him.

"When she saw us take up our position close to them she murmured: 'Are
there no other places on the river?' My wife, who was furious, replied:
'People who have any manners make inquiries about the habits of the
neighborhood before occupying reserved spots.'

"As I did not want a fuss, I said to her: 'Hold your tongue, Melie. Let
them alone, let them alone; we shall see.'

"Well, we fastened Delila under the willows and had landed and were
fishing side by side, Melie and I, close to the two others. But here,
monsieur, I must enter into details.

"We had only been there about five minutes when our neighbor's line began
to jerk twice, thrice; and then he pulled out a chub as thick as my
thigh; rather less, perhaps, but nearly as big! My heart beat, the
perspiration stood on my forehead and Melie said to me: 'Well, you sot,
did you see that?'

"Just then Monsieur Bru, the grocer of Poissy, who is fond of gudgeon
fishing, passed in a boat and called out to me: 'So somebody has taken
your usual place, Monsieur Renard?' And I replied: 'Yes, Monsieur Bru,
there are some people in this world who do not know the rules of common
politeness.'

"The little man in linen pretended not to hear, nor his fat lump of a
wife, either."

Here the president interrupted him a second time: "Take care, you are
insulting the widow, Madame Flameche, who is present."

Renard made his excuses: "I beg your pardon, I beg your pardon; my anger
carried me away. Well, not a quarter of an hour had passed when the
little man caught another chub, and another almost immediately, and
another five minutes later.

"Tears were in my eyes, and I knew that Madame Renard was boiling with
rage, for she kept on nagging at me: 'Oh, how horrid! Don't you see that
he is robbing you of your fish? Do you think that you will catch
anything? Not even a frog, nothing whatever. Why, my hands are tingling,
just to think of it.'