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Original Short Stories – Volume 04. Guy de MaupassantЧитать онлайн книгу.

Original Short Stories – Volume 04 - Guy de Maupassant


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forced him to his knees:

      “‘Beg for pardon,’ he said.

      “With eyes lowered, the scamp murmured:

      “‘I ask for pardon!’

      “Then his uncle lifted him to his feet, and dismissed him with a cuff which almost knocked him down again.

      “He made his escape, and I did not see him again that evening.

      “Cavalier appeared overwhelmed.’

      “‘He is a bad egg,’ he said.

      “And throughout the whole dinner, he kept repeating:

      “‘Oh! that worries me, monsieur, that worries me.’

      “I tried to comfort him, but in vain.

      “I went to bed early, so that I might start out at daybreak.

      “My dog was already asleep on the floor, at the foot of my bed, when I put out the light.

      “I was awakened toward midnight by the furious barking of my dog Bock. I immediately noticed that my room was full of smoke. I jumped out of bed, struck a light, ran to the door and opened it. A cloud of flames burst in. The house was on fire.

      “I quickly closed the heavy oak door and, drawing on my trousers, I first lowered the dog through the window, by means of a rope made of my sheets; then, having thrown out the rest of my clothes, my game-bag and my gun, I in turn escaped the same way.

      “I began to shout with all my might: ‘Cavalier! Cavalier! Cavalier!’

      “But the gamekeeper did not wake up. He slept soundly like an old gendarme.

      “However, I could see through the lower windows that the whole ground-floor was nothing but a roaring furnace; I also noticed that it had been filled with straw to make it burn readily.

      “Somebody must purposely have set fire to the place!

      “I continued shrieking wildly: ‘Cavalier!’

      “Then the thought struck me that the smoke might be suffocating him. An idea came to me. I slipped two cartridges into my gun, and shot straight at his window.

      “The six panes of glass shattered into the room in a cloud of glass. This time the old man had heard me, and he appeared, dazed, in his nightshirt, bewildered by the glare which illumined the whole front of his ‘house.

      “I cried to him:

      “‘Your house is on fire! Escape through the window! Quick! Quick!’

      “The flames were coming out through all the cracks downstairs, were licking along the wall, were creeping toward him and going to surround him. He jumped and landed on his feet, like a cat.

      “It was none too soon. The thatched roof cracked in the middle, right over the staircase, which formed a kind of flue for the fire downstairs; and an immense red jet jumped up into the air, spreading like a stream of water and sprinkling a shower of sparks around the hut. In a few seconds it was nothing but a pool of flames.

      “Cavalier, thunderstruck, asked:

      “‘How did the fire start?’

      “I answered:

      “‘Somebody lit it in the kitchen.’

      “He muttered:

      “‘Who could have started the fire?’

      “And I, suddenly guessing, answered:

      “‘Marius!’

      “The old man understood. He stammered:

      “‘Good God! That is why he didn’t return.’

      “A terrible thought flashed through my mind. I cried:

      “‘And Celeste! Celeste!’

      “He did not answer. The house caved in before us, forming only an enormous, bright, blinding brazier, an awe-inspiring funeral-pile, where the poor woman could no longer be anything but a glowing ember, a glowing ember of human flesh.

      “We had not heard a single cry.

      “As the fire crept toward the shed, I suddenly bethought me of my horse, and Cavalier ran to free it.

      “Hardly had he opened the door of the stable, when a supple, nimble body darted between his legs, and threw him on his face. It was Marius, running for all he was worth.

      “The man was up in a second. He tried to run after the wretch, but, seeing that he could not catch him, and maddened by an irresistible anger, yielding to one of those thoughtless impulses which we cannot foresee or prevent, he picked up my gun, which was lying on the ground. near him, put it to his shoulder, and, before I could make a motion, he pulled the trigger without even noticing whether or not the weapon was loaded.

      “One of the cartridges which I had put in to announce the fire was still intact, and the charge caught the fugitive right in the back, – throwing him forward on the ground, bleeding profusely. He immediately began to claw the earth with his hands and with his knees, as though trying to run on all fours like a rabbit who has been mortally wounded, and sees the hunter approaching.

      “I rushed forward to the boy, but I could already hear the death-rattle. He passed away before the fire was extinguished, without having said a word.

      “Cavalier, still in his shirt, his legs bare, was standing near us, motionless, dazed.

      “When the people from the village arrived, my gamekeeper was taken away, like an insane man.

      “I appeared at the trial as witness, and related the facts in detail, without changing a thing. Cavalier was acquitted. He disappeared that very day, leaving the country.

      “I have never seen him since.

      “There, gentlemen, that is my story.”

      THE STORY OF A FARM GIRL

      PART I

      As the weather was very fine, the people on the farm had hurried through their dinner and had returned to the fields.

      The servant, Rose, remained alone in the large kitchen, where the fire was dying out on the hearth beneath the large boiler of hot water. From time to time she dipped out some water and slowly washed her dishes, stopping occasionally to look at the two streaks of light which the sun threw across the long table through the window, and which showed the defects in the glass.

      Three venturesome hens were picking up the crumbs under the chairs, while the smell of the poultry yard and the warmth from the cow stall came in through the half-open door, and a cock was heard crowing in the distance.

      When she had finished her work, wiped down the table, dusted the mantelpiece and put the plates on the high dresser close to the wooden clock with its loud tick-tock, she drew a long breath, as she felt rather oppressed, without exactly knowing why. She looked at the black clay walls, the rafters that were blackened with smoke and from which hung spiders’ webs, smoked herrings and strings of onions, and then she sat down, rather overcome by the stale odor from the earthen floor, on which so many things had been continually spilled and which the heat brought out. With this there was mingled the sour smell of the pans of milk which were set out to raise the cream in the adjoining dairy.

      She wanted to sew, as usual, but she did not feel strong enough, and so she went to the door to get a mouthful of fresh air, which seemed to do her good.

      The fowls were lying on the steaming dunghill; some of them were scratching with one claw in search of worms, while the cock stood up proudly in their midst. When he crowed, the cocks in all the neighboring farmyards replied to him, as if they were uttering challenges from farm to farm.

      The girl looked at them without thinking, and then she raised her eyes and was almost dazzled at the sight of the apple trees in blossom. Just then a colt, full of life and friskiness, jumped over the ditches and then stopped suddenly, as if surprised at being alone.

      She also felt inclined to run; she felt inclined to move and to stretch her limbs and to repose in


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