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
Life seemed to have come to a standstill, the shops were closed, the
streets silent. From time to time an inhabitant, intimidated by their
silence, would flit rapidly along the pavement, keeping close to the
walls.
In this anguish of suspense, men longed for the coming of the enemy.
In the latter part of the day following the departure of the French
troops, some Uhlans, appearing from goodness knows where, traversed the
city hastily. A little later, a black mass descended from the direction
of Sainte-Catherine, while two more invading torrents poured in from the
roads from Darnetal and Bois-guillaume. The advance guards of the three
corps converged at the same moment into the square of the Hotel de
Ville, while battalion after battalion of the German army wound in
through the adjacent streets, making the pavement ring under their heavy
rhythmic tramp.
Orders shouted in strange and guttural tones were echoed back by the
apparently dead and deserted houses, while from behind the closed
shutters eyes peered furtively at the conquerors, masters by right of
might, of the city and the lives and fortunes of its inhabitants. The
people in their darkened dwellings fell a prey to the helpless
bewilderment which comes over men before the floods, the devastating
upheavals of the earth, against which all wisdom and all force are
unavailing. The same phenomenon occurs each time that the established
order of things is overthrown, when public security is at an end, and
when all that the laws of man or of nature protect is at the mercy of
some blind elemental force. The earthquake burying an entire population
under its falling houses; the flood that carries away the drowned body
of the peasant with the carcasses of his cattle and the beams torn from
his roof-tree; or the victorious army massacring those who defend their
lives, and making prisoners of the rest--pillaging in the name of the
sword, and thanking God to the roar of cannon--are so many appalling
scourges which overthrow all faith in eternal justice, all the
confidence we are taught to place in the protection of Providence and
the reason of man.
Small detachments now began knocking at the doors and then disappearing
into the houses. It was the occupation after the invasion. It now
behooved the vanquished to make themselves agreeable to the victors.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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