The Works of Guy de Maupassant, Volume 4Maupassant, Guy de
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The Works of Guy de Maupassant, Volume 4
Maupassant, Guy de
French fiction -- Translations into English; Short stories, French -- Translations into English
He dared not call, knowing well that she would not respond, and he had
also a frightful dread of discovering them all at once.
The flourishes of the quadrilles, with the ear-splitting solos of the
cornet, the false shriek of the flute, the shrill squeaking of the
violin, irritated his feelings, and exasperated his sufferings. Wild and
limping music was floating under the trees, now feeble, now stronger,
wafted hither and thither by the breeze.
Suddenly, he said to himself, that possibly she had returned. Yes, she
had returned! Why not? He had stupidly lost his head, without cause,
carried away by his fears, by the inordinate suspicions which had for
some time overwhelmed him.
Seized by one of these singular calms which will sometimes occur in cases
of the greatest despair, he returned towards the ball-room.
With a single glance of the eye, he took in the whole room. He made the
round of the tables, and abruptly again found himself face to face with
the three women. He must have had a doleful and queer expression of
countenance, for all three together burst into merriment.
He made off, returned into the island, threw himself across the coppice
panting. He listened again, listened a long time, for his ears were
singing. At last, however, he believed he heard a little farther off a
little, sharp laugh, which he recognized at once; and he advanced very
quietly, on his knees, removing the branches from his path, his heart
beating so rapidly, that he could no longer breathe.
Two voices murmured some words, the meaning of which he did not
understand, and then they were silent.
Next, he was possessed by a frightful longing to fly, to save himself,
for ever, from this furious passion which threatened his existence. He
was about to return to Chatou and take the train, resolved never to come
back again, never again to see her. But her likeness suddenly rushed in
upon him, and he mentally pictured that moment in the morning when she
would wake in their warm bed, and would press herself coaxingly against
him, throwing her arms around his neck, her hair disheveled, and a little
entangled on the forehead, her eyes still shut and her lips apart ready
to receive the first kiss. The sudden recollection of this morning caress
filled him with frantic recollection and the maddest desire.
The couple began to speak again; and he approached, doubled in two. Then
a faint cry rose from under the branches quite close to him. He advanced
again, always as though in spite of himself, invisibly attracted, without
being conscious of anything ... and he saw them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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