Comedy of Marriage and Other Tales. Guy de MaupassantЧитать онлайн книгу.
possibly half an hour.
M. DE SALLUS [meditatively]
Half an hour plus a whole hour makes an hour and a half, does it not? Time seems to fly when you are with him.
MME. DE SALLUS
What do you mean by an hour and a half?
M. DE SALLUS
Just what I say. When I saw the carriage waiting at the door, I asked the footman, who was within. He told me that it was M. Jacques de Randol. “Has he been here long?” I asked. “He has been here since ten,” said the footman. Admitting that the man might have been mistaken, we will say, in the matter of a quarter of an hour, that would make an hour and a quarter, at the least.
MME. DE SALLUS
Oh, ho! What is this new attitude of yours? Have I not a right to receive whom I like now?
M. DE SALLUS
Oh, my dear, I deny you nothing, nothing, nothing. The only thing that astonishes me is that you do not know the difference between half an hour and an hour and a half.
MME. DE SALLUS
Are you looking for a scene? If you wish a quarrel, say so. I shall know how to answer you. You are simply in a bad temper. Go to bed and sleep, if you can.
M. DE SALLUS
I am not looking for a quarrel, neither am I in bad humor. I only state that time flies with you when you pass it in the company of Jacques de Randol.
MME. DE SALLUS
Yes, it does go quickly; far more quickly than when I am with you.
M. DE SALLUS
He is a very charming fellow, and I know you like him; and, moreover, he must like you very much, since he comes here every day.
MME. DE SALLUS
These insinuations are distasteful to me. Please speak plainly and say what you mean. Are you assuming the rôle of a jealous husband?
M. DE SALLUS
God forbid! I have too much confidence in you, and far too much esteem for you, to reproach you with anything, for I know that you have too much tact ever to give rise to calumny or scandal.
MME. DE SALLUS
Do not play with words. You think that M. Jacques de Randol comes too often to this house – to your house?
M. DE SALLUS
I do not find any fault with you for that.
MME. DE SALLUS
Thank you. You simply have not the right. However, since you adopt this attitude, let us settle this question once for all, for I loathe misunderstandings. It seems to me that you have an exceedingly short memory. Let me come to your aid. Be frank with me. Through some occurrence, the nature of which I do not know, your attitude is different today from that of the past two years. Cast your memory over the past, to the time when you began to neglect me in a manner that was plain to all. I became very uneasy. Then I knew – I was told, and I saw – that you were in love with Madame de Servières. I told you how hurt I was, how grieved I was. What did you reply? Just what every man replies when he no longer loves the woman who reproaches him. You shrugged your shoulders, smiled impatiently, told me I was mad, and then expounded to me – I must admit, in a most skillful manner – those grand principles of freedom in love that are adopted by every husband who deceives his wife and thinks she will not deceive him. You gave me to understand that marriage is not a bond, but simply an association of mutual interests, a social rather than a moral alliance; that it does not demand friendship or affection between married couples, provided there be no scandal. You did not absolutely confess the existence of your mistresses, but you pleaded extenuating circumstances. You were very sarcastic upon the subject of those poor, silly women who object to their husbands being gallant toward other women, since, according to you, such gallantry is one of the laws of the polished society to which you belong. You laughed at the foolish man who does not dare to pay compliments to a woman in the presence of his own wife, and ridiculed the gloomy look of a wife whose eyes follow her husband into every corner, imagining that because the poor man disappears into an adjoining room he is at the feet of a rival. All this was very airy, funny, and disagreeable, wrapped up in compliments and spiced with cynicism – sweet and bitter at the same time, and calculated to banish from the heart all love for a smooth, false, and well-bred man who could talk in such a manner. I understood, I wept, I suffered, and then I shut my door upon you. You made no objection; you judged me better than you thought; and since then we have lived completely separate lives. Such has been the case for the past two years, two long years and more, which certainly have not seemed more than six months to you. We go into society as usual, we return from society as usual, and we each enter our own temple of life. The situation was established by you in consequence of your first infidelity, an infidelity which has been followed by many others. I have said nothing; I have resigned myself to the situation; and I have banished you from my heart. Now that I have finished, what do you wish?
M. DE SALLUS
My dear, I am not asking for anything. I do not even wish to answer the very aggressive speech you have done me the honor to make. I only wish to give you advice – the advice of a friend – upon a situation that may possibly endanger your reputation. You are beautiful, always in the public eye, and much envied. Scandal could have easy birth.
MME. DE SALLUS
Pardon me. If we are to speak of scandal, I must have leave to balance my account with you.
M. DE SALLUS
Come, do not let us joke over this thing. I speak to you as a friend – seriously, as a friend. As to what you have said about me, it is all extremely exaggerated.
MME. DE SALLUS
Not at all. You have never tried to conceal, in fact, you have actually proclaimed to all the world your infidelities – a fact which gives me the right to go and do likewise, and, my friend, believe what I say —
M. DE SALLUS
One moment —
MME. DE SALLUS
Let me finish. According to you, I am beautiful, I am young, and yet condemned by my husband to live, and watch him live, as if I were a widow. Look at me [rises], is it just to consign me to play the rôle of an abandoned Ariadne, while my husband runs from this woman to that woman, and this girl to that girl? [Grows excited.] A faithful wife! I cry you mercy! Is a faithful wife compelled to sacrifice all her life, all her happiness, all her affections, everything, in fact, every privilege, every expectation, every claim, which is hers by birth and for which she has been born? Look at me! Am I made for a nunnery? The fact that I married you should answer that question. And yet, you, you, who took me from my father’s house, neglect me to run after others. And what others? I am not in their circle, neither am I one of those who would share your life with others. So much the worse for you – for I am free, and you have no right to give me advice since I am free.
M. DE SALLUS
My dear girl, be calm. You misunderstand me completely. I have never suspected you. Indeed, I have the most profound esteem and friendship for you – a loving friendship which grows greater every day. I have no wish to comment upon that past with which you reproach me so cruelly. Perhaps I am a little too – too – what shall I say?
MME. DE SALLUS
Oh! Say that you belong to the period of the Regency. I know that method of excusing all male weaknesses and follies. Oh! yes; that eighteenth century, that dainty century, so full of elegance, so full of delicious fantasies and adorable whims! Alas! my dear, that is ancient history.
M. DE SALLUS
No, no, you misunderstand me again. Believe me, I am and have been above everything too – too – much of a Parisian, too much accustomed to turning night into day, for the sedate life of marriage. I have been too much accustomed to go behind the scenes of theaters, to various clubs, to a thousand other forms of dissipation; and you know a man cannot change all at once, – it takes time. Marriage seeks to change us all too suddenly. It ought to