Short stories, French -- Translations into English
But Boule de Suif became angry immediately because she was a partisan
of the Bonapartes. She turned as red as a cherry and stuttering
with indignation:--"I should have like to see you in his place,
you and your friends! It would have been nice, oh yes! It is you
who betrayed the poor man! If we were ruled by rascals like you,
there would remain nothing else to do for us but leave France."--Impassive,
Cornudet kept a superior and contemptuous smile, but one could feel
that big words were impending, when the Count interposed and, not
without some difficulty, calmed the exasperated girl by proclaiming
authoritatively that all sincere opinions should be respected.
However, the Countess and the wife of the Cotton manufacturer, who
bore in their hearts the unreasoning hatred of all decent people
for the Republic, and that predilection which all women have for
the pomp of despotic Governments, felt irresistibly attracted toward
this dignified prostitute whose opinions were very much like theirs.
The basket was empty. The ten of them had easily consumed its
contents, regretting that it was not larger. The conversation
continued for some time, though it flagged since they had finished
eating.
The night was falling; darkness gradually grew deeper and deeper,
and the cold, felt more during digestion, made Boule De Suif shiver
notwithstanding her corpulence. Then Madame de Bréville offered
her her foot-warmer, the coal of which had been renewed several
times since the morning, and she accepted it willingly, for she felt
her feet frozen. Mesdames Carré-Lamadon and Loiseau gave theirs
to the Nuns.
The driver had lighted his lanterns. They threw a bright gleam
on the cloud of vapor rising from the perspiring backs of the rear
horses, and on both sides of the road the snow seemed to unroll
under the mobile light of the lamps.
Nothing could be distinguished in the coach; suddenly there was
a movement between Boule de Suif and Cornudet; and Loiseau, whose
eyes scanned the darkness, through that he saw the long-bearded
man jump up, as if he had received a noiseless but well aimed blow.
Tiny lights appeared ahead on the road. It was Tôtes. They had
traveled eleven hours which, added to the hours of rest given in
four times to the horses for feeding and breathing, made fourteen
hours. They entered the town and the coach stopped in front of
the Hotel du Commerce.
The door of the coach opened. A well known noise startled all
the passengers; it was the clanging of a scabbard on the pavement.
Then the voice of a German called out something.
Although the coach was at a standstill, nobody got off, as if they
were expecting to be massacred the moment they left the coach.
Then the driver appeared, holding in his hand one of his lanterns
which suddenly lighted the interior of the coach and shoed two rows
of frightened faces, whose mouths were agape and eyes wide open in
surprise and terror.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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