Original Short Stories — Volume 07Maupassant, Guy de
General
Original Short Stories — Volume 07
Maupassant, Guy de
Short stories, French -- Translations into English
Rivet, who was very drunk, was plaguing Rosa, who was half choking with
laughter. Louise and Flora were holding him by the arms and trying
to calm him, as they were shocked at his levity after that morning's
ceremony; but Raphaele and Fernande were urging him on, writhing and
holding their sides with laughter, and they uttered shrill cries at
every rebuff the drunken fellow received.
The man was furious, his face was red, and he was trying to shake off
the two women who were clinging to him, while he was pulling Rosa's
skirt with all his might and stammering incoherently.
But Madame Tellier, who was very indignant, went up to her brother,
seized him by the shoulders, and threw him out of the room with such
violence that he fell against the wall in the passage, and a minute
afterward they heard him pumping water on his head in the yard, and when
he reappeared with the cart he was quite calm.
They started off in the same way as they had come the day before, and
the little white horse started off with his quick, dancing trot. Under
the hot sun, their fun, which had been checked during dinner, broke
out again. The girls now were amused at the jolting of the cart, pushed
their neighbors' chairs, and burst out laughing every moment.
There was a glare of light over the country, which dazzled their eyes,
and the wheels raised two trails of dust along the highroad. Presently,
Fernande, who was fond of music, asked Rosa to sing something, and she
boldly struck up the “Gros Cure de Meudon,” but Madame Tellier made her
stop immediately, as she thought it a very unsuitable song for such a
day, and she added:
“Sing us something of Beranger's.” And so, after a moment's hesitation,
Rosa began Beranger's song “The Grandmother” in her worn-out voice, and
all the girls, and even Madame Tellier herself, joined in the chorus:
“How I regret
My dimpled arms,
My nimble legs,
And vanished charms.”
“That is first rate,” Rivet declared, carried away by the rhythm, and
they shouted the refrain to every verse, while Rivet beat time on the
shaft with his foot, and with the reins on the back of the horse, who,
as if he himself were carried away by the rhythm, broke into a wild
gallop, and threw all the women in a heap, one on top of the other, on
the bottom of the conveyance.
They got up, laughing as if they were mad, and the Gong went on, shouted
at the top of their voices, beneath the burning sky, among the ripening
grain, to the rapid gallop of the little horse, who set off every time
the refrain was sung, and galloped a hundred yards, to their great
delight, while occasionally a stone-breaker by the roadside sat up and
looked at the load of shouting females through his wire spectacles.
When they got out at the station, the carpenter said:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account