Original Short Stories — Volume 02Maupassant, Guy de
General
Original Short Stories — Volume 02
Maupassant, Guy de
Short stories, French -- Translations into English
“All at once a shrill cry, a woman's cry, pierced through the heavy
silence of the snow, and in a few minutes they brought back two
prisoners, an old man and a girl, whom I questioned in a low voice. They
were escaping from the Prussians, who had occupied their house during
the evening and had got drunk. The father was alarmed on his daughter's
account, and, without even telling their servants, they had made their
escape in the darkness. I saw immediately that they belonged to the
better class. I invited them to accompany us, and we started off again,
the old man who knew the road acting as our guide.
“It had ceased snowing, the stars appeared and the cold became intense.
The girl, who was leaning on her father's arm, walked unsteadily as
though in pain, and several times she murmured:
“'I have no feeling at all in my feet'; and I suffered more than she
did to see that poor little woman dragging herself like that through the
snow. But suddenly she stopped and said:
“'Father, I am so tired that I cannot go any further.'
“The old man wanted to carry her, but he could not even lift her up, and
she sank to the ground with a deep sigh. We all gathered round her, and,
as for me, I stamped my foot in perplexity, not knowing what to do, and
being unwilling to abandon that man and girl like that, when suddenly
one of the soldiers, a Parisian whom they had nicknamed Pratique, said:
“'Come, comrades, we must carry the young lady, otherwise we shall not
show ourselves Frenchmen, confound it!'
“I really believe that I swore with pleasure. 'That is very good of you,
my children,' I said; 'and I will take my share of the burden.'
“We could indistinctly see, through the darkness, the trees of a little
wood on the left. Several of the men went into it, and soon came back
with a bundle of branches made into a litter.
“'Who will lend his cape? It is for a pretty girl, comrades,' Pratique
said, and ten cloaks were thrown to him. In a moment the girl was lying,
warm and comfortable, among them, and was raised upon six shoulders.
I placed myself at their head, on the right, well pleased with my
position.
“We started off much more briskly, as if we had had a drink of wine, and
I even heard some jokes. A woman is quite enough to electrify Frenchmen,
you see. The soldiers, who had become cheerful and warm, had almost
reformed their ranks, and an old 'franc-tireur' who was following the
litter, waiting for his turn to replace the first of his comrades who
might give out, said to one of his neighbors, loud enough for me to
hear: “'I am not a young man now, but by---, there is nothing like the
women to put courage into you!'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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