Original Short Stories — Volume 10Maupassant, Guy de
General
Original Short Stories — Volume 10
Maupassant, Guy de
Short stories, French -- Translations into English
“Do you know Pont Labbe? No? Well, then, it is the most Breton of all
this Breton Brittany, which extends from the promontory of Raz to the
Morbihan, of this land which contains the essence of the Breton manners,
legends and customs. Even to-day this corner of the country has scarcely
changed. I say 'even to-day,' for I now go there every year, alas!
“An old chateau laves the walls of its towers in a great melancholy pond,
melancholy and frequented by flights of wild birds. It has an outlet in a
river on which boats can navigate as far as the town. In the narrow
streets with their old-time houses the men wear big hats, embroidered
waistcoats and four coats, one on top of the other; the inside one, as
large as your hand, barely covering the shoulder-blades, and the outside
one coming to just above the seat of the trousers.
“The girls, tall, handsome and fresh have their bosoms crushed in a cloth
bodice which makes an armor, compresses them, not allowing one even to
guess at their robust and tortured neck. They also wear a strange
headdress. On their temples two bands embroidered in colors frame their
face, inclosing the hair, which falls in a shower at the back of their
heads, and is then turned up and gathered on top of the head under a
singular cap, often woven with gold or silver thread.
“The servant at our inn was eighteen at most, with very blue eyes, a pale
blue with two tiny black pupils, short teeth close together, which she
showed continually when she laughed, and which seemed strong enough to
grind granite.
“She did not know a word of French, speaking only Breton, as did most of
her companions.
“As my friend did not improve much, and although he had no definite
malady, the doctor forbade him to continue his journey yet, ordering
complete rest. I spent my days with him, and the little maid would come
in incessantly, bringing either my dinner or some herb tea.
“I teased her a little, which seemed to amuse her, but we did not chat,
of course, as we could not understand each other.
“But one night, after I had stayed quite late with my friend and was
going back to my room, I passed the girl, who was going to her room. It
was just opposite my open door, and, without reflection, and more for fun
than anything else, I abruptly seized her round the waist, and before she
recovered from her astonishment I had thrown her down and locked her in
my room. She looked at me, amazed, excited, terrified, not daring to cry
out for fear of a scandal and of being probably driven out, first by her
employers and then, perhaps, by her father.
“I did it as a joke at first. She defended herself bravely, and at the
first chance she ran to the door, drew back the bolt and fled.
“I scarcely saw her for several days. She would not let me come near her.
But when my friend was cured and we were to get out on our travels again
I saw her coming into my room about midnight the night before our
departure, just after I had retired.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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