Complete Original Short Stories of Guy De Maupassant — John Shaqi
Complete Original Short Stories of Guy De MaupassantMaupassant, Guy de
General
Complete Original Short Stories of Guy De Maupassant
Maupassant, Guy de
French fiction -- Translations into English; Short stories, French -- Translations into English
At last, at three o'clock, as they were in the midst of an apparently
limitless plain, with not a single village in sight, Boule de Suif
stooped quickly, and drew from underneath the seat a large basket
covered with a white napkin.
From this she extracted first of all a small earthenware plate and a
silver drinking cup, then an enormous dish containing two whole chickens
cut into joints and imbedded in jelly. The basket was seen to contain
other good things: pies, fruit, dainties of all sorts-provisions, in
fine, for a three days' journey, rendering their owner independent of
wayside inns. The necks of four bottles protruded from among the food.
She took a chicken wing, and began to eat it daintily, together with one
of those rolls called in Normandy “Regence.”
All looks were directed toward her. An odor of food filled the air,
causing nostrils to dilate, mouths to water, and jaws to contract
painfully. The scorn of the ladies for this disreputable female grew
positively ferocious; they would have liked to kill her, or throw, her
and her drinking cup, her basket, and her provisions, out of the coach
into the snow of the road below.
But Loiseau's gaze was fixed greedily on the dish of chicken. He said:
“Well, well, this lady had more forethought than the rest of us. Some
people think of everything.”
She looked up at him.
“Would you like some, sir? It is hard to go on fasting all day.”
He bowed.
“Upon my soul, I can't refuse; I cannot hold out another minute. All is
fair in war time, is it not, madame?” And, casting a glance on those
around, he added:
“At times like this it is very pleasant to meet with obliging people.”
He spread a newspaper over his knees to avoid soiling his trousers, and,
with a pocketknife he always carried, helped himself to a chicken leg
coated with jelly, which he thereupon proceeded to devour.
Then Boule le Suif, in low, humble tones, invited the nuns to partake of
her repast. They both accepted the offer unhesitatingly, and after a few
stammered words of thanks began to eat quickly, without raising their
eyes. Neither did Cornudet refuse his neighbor's offer, and, in
combination with the nuns, a sort of table was formed by opening out the
newspaper over the four pairs of knees.
Mouths kept opening and shutting, ferociously masticating and devouring
the food. Loiseau, in his corner, was hard at work, and in low tones
urged his wife to follow his example. She held out for a long time, but
overstrained Nature gave way at last. Her husband, assuming his politest
manner, asked their “charming companion” if he might be allowed to offer
Madame Loiseau a small helping.
“Why, certainly, sir,” she replied, with an amiable smile, holding out
the dish.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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