A Selection from the Writings of Guy De Maupassant, Vol. IMaupassant, Guy de
General
A Selection from the Writings of Guy De Maupassant, Vol. I
Maupassant, Guy de
France -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, French -- Translations into English
"But it was necessary to recover the corpse of the dead. I attached the
boy securely by the loins to the end of the pulley-rope; then I lowered
him slowly, and watched him disappear in the darkness. In the one hand
he had a lantern, and held on to the rope with the other. Soon I
recognized his voice, which seemed to come from the center of the
earth, crying:
"'Stop.'
"I then saw him fish something out of the water. It was the other limb.
He bound the two feet together, and shouted anew:
"'Haul up.'
"I commenced to wind him up, but I felt my arms strain, my muscles
twitch, and was in terror lest I should let the boy fall to the bottom.
When his head appeared over the brink, I asked:
"'What is it?' as though I only expected that he would tell me what he
had discovered at the bottom.
"We both got on to the stone slab at the edge of the well, and, face to
face, hoisted the body.
"Mother Lecacheur and Celeste watched us from a distance, concealed
behind the wall of the house. When they saw, issuing from the well, the
black slippers and white stockings of the drowned person, they
disappeared.
"Sapeur seized the ankles of the poor chaste woman, and we drew it up,
inclined, as it was, in the most immodest posture. The head was in a
shocking state, bruised and black; and the long, gray hair, hanging
down, was tangled and disordered.
"'In the name of all that is holy, how lean she is!' exclaimed Sapeur,
in a contemptuous tone.
"We carried her into the room, and as the women did not put in an
appearance, I, with the assistance of the lad, dressed the corpse for
burial.
"I washed her disfigured face. By the touch of my hand an eye was
slightly opened; it seemed to scan me with that pale stare, with that
cold, that terrible look which corpses have, a look which seems to come
from the beyond. I plaited up, as well as I could, her disheveled hair,
and I adjusted on her forehead a novel and singularly formed lock. Then
I took off her dripping wet garments, baring, not without a feeling of
shame, as though I had been guilty of some profanation, her shoulders
and her chest, and her long arms, slim as the twigs of branches.
"I next went to fetch some flowers, corn poppies, blue beetles,
marguerites, and fresh and perfumed herbs, with which to strew her
funeral couch.
"Being the only person near her, it was necessary for me to perform the
usual ceremonies. In a letter found in her pocket, written at the last
moment, she asked that her body be buried in the village in which she
had passed the last days of her life. A frightful thought then
oppressed my heart. Was it not on my account that she wished to be laid
at rest in this place?
"Toward the evening, all the female gossips of the locality came to
view the remains of the defunct; but I would not allow a single person
to enter; I wanted to be alone; and I watched by the corpse the whole
night.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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