The Works of Guy de Maupassant, Vol. 1: Boule de Suif and Other StoriesMaupassant, Guy de
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The Works of Guy de Maupassant, Vol. 1: Boule de Suif and Other Stories
Maupassant, Guy de
French fiction -- Translations into English; Short stories, French -- Translations into English
I said to Emma two or three times:
"Above all things, don't make any noise on the stairs," to which she
replied, laughing:
"Are you afraid of being heard?"
"No," I said, "but I am afraid of waking the man who sleeps in the room
next to me, who is not at all well."
When I got near the house I felt as frightened as a man does who is
going to the dentist's. All the windows were dark, so no doubt everybody
was asleep, and I breathed again. I opened the door as carefully as a
thief, let my fair companion in, shut it behind me, and went upstairs on
tiptoe, holding my breath, and striking wax-matches lest the girl
should make a false step.
As we passed the landlady's door I felt my heart beating very quickly,
but we reached the second floor, then the third, and at last the fifth,
and got into my room. Victory!
However, I only dared to speak in a whisper, and took off my boots so as
not to make any noise. The tea, which I made over a spirit-lamp, was
soon drunk, and then I became pressing, till little by little, as if in
play, I, one by one, took off my companion's clothes, who yielded while
resisting, blushing, confused.
She had absolutely nothing more on except a short white petticoat when
my door suddenly opened, and Mme. Kergaran appeared with a candle in her
hand, in exactly the same costume as Emma.
I jumped away from her and remained standing up, looking at the two
women, who were looking at each other. What was going to happen?
My landlady said, in a lofty tone of voice which I had never heard from
her before:
"Monsieur Kervelen, I will not have prostitutes in my house."
"But, Madame Kergaran," I stammered, "the young lady is a friend of
mine. She just came in to have a cup of tea."
"People don't take tea in their chemise. You will please make this
person go directly."
Emma, in a natural state of consternation, began to cry, and hid her
face in her petticoat, and I lost my head, not knowing what to do or
say. My landlady added, with irresistible authority:
"Help her to dress, and take her out at once."
It was certainly the only thing I could do, so I picked up her dress
from the floor, put it over her head, and began to fasten it as best I
could. She helped me, crying all the time, hurrying and making all sorts
of mistakes and unable to find either buttonholes or laces, while Mme.
Kergaran stood by motionless, with the candle in her hand, looking at us
with the severity of a judge.
As soon as Emma was dressed, without even stopping to button her boots,
she rushed past the landlady and ran down stairs. I followed her in my
slippers and half undressed, and kept repeating: "Mademoiselle!
Mademoiselle!"
I felt that I ought to say something to her, but I could not find
anything. I overtook her just by the street-door, and tried to take her
into my arms, but she pushed me violently away, saying in a low, nervous
voice:
"Leave me alone, leave me alone!" and so ran out into the street,
closing the door behind her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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