The Works of Guy de Maupassant, Volume 2Maupassant, Guy de
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The Works of Guy de Maupassant, Volume 2
Maupassant, Guy de
French fiction -- Translations into English; Short stories, French -- Translations into English
The bridegroom was a good looking young fellow, Jean Patu, the richest
farmer in the neighborhood, but he was, above all things, an ardent
sportsman who seemed to lose all common sense in order to satisfy that
passion, and who spent large sums on his dogs, his keepers, his ferrets
and his guns. The bride, Rosalie Roussel, had been courted by all the
likely young fellows in the district, for they all thought her
prepossessing, and they knew that she would have a good dowry, but she
had chosen Patu, partly, perhaps, because she liked him better than she
did the others, but still more, like a careful Normandy girl, because he
had more crown pieces.
When they went in at the white gateway of the husband's farm, forty
shots resounded without their seeing those who fired, as they were
hidden in the ditches, and the noise seemed to please the men, who were
sprawling about heavily in their best clothes, very much; and Patu left
his wife, and running up to a farm servant whom he perceived behind a
tree, he seized his gun and fired a shot himself, kicking his heels
about like a colt. Then they went on, beneath the apple-trees which
were heavy with fruit, through the high grass and through the midst of
the calves, who looked at them with their great eyes, got up slowly and
remained standing, with their muzzles turned towards the wedding party.
The men became serious when they came within measurable distance of the
wedding dinner. Some of them, the rich ones, had on tall, shining silk
hats, which seemed altogether out of place there; others had old
head-coverings with a long nap, which might have been taken for
moleskin, while the humblest among them wore caps. All the women had on
shawls, which they wore loose on their backs, and they held the tips
ceremoniously under their arms. They were red, parti-colored, flaming
shawls, and their brightness seemed to astonish the black fowls on the
dung-heap, the ducks on the side of the pond, and the pigeons on the
thatched roofs.
The extensive farm buildings seemed to be waiting there, at the end of
that archway of apple trees, and a sort of vapor came out of the open
door and windows, and an almost overwhelming smell of eatables was
exhaled from the vast building, from all its openings and from all its
very walls. The string of guests extended through the yard; when the
foremost of them reached the house, they broke the chain and dispersed,
while behind they were still coming in at the open gate. The ditches
were now lined with urchins and poor curious people, and the shots did
not cease, but came from every side at once, and mingled a cloud of
smoke, and that smell which has the same intoxicating effects as
absinthe, with the atmosphere.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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