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
"She admired herself conscientiously, standing before the glass doors, in
which she followed her own movements with profound and serious attention.
She walked with her head somewhat thrown back, in order to be able to see
whether her hips and loins swayed properly; went away, came back again,
and then, tired with her own movements, she sat down on a cushion and
remained opposite to her own reflection, with her eyes fixed on her face
in the glass, and her whole soul absorbed in that picture.
"Soon, I began to notice that she went out nearly every morning after
breakfast, and that she disappeared altogether until evening, and as I
felt rather anxious about this, I asked Mohammed whether he knew what
she could be doing during all these long hours of absence, but he replied
very calmly:
"'Do not be uneasy. It will be the Feast of Ramadan soon, and so she goes
to say her prayers.'
"He also seemed delighted at having Allouma in the house, but I never
once saw anything suspicious between them, and so I accepted the
situation as it was, and let time, accident, and life act for themselves.
"Often, after I had inspected my farm, my vineyards, and my clearings, I
used to take long walks. You know the magnificent forests in this part of
Algeria, those almost impenetrable ravines, where fallen pine trees hem
the mountain torrents, and those little valleys filled with oleanders,
which look like oriental carpets stretching along the banks of the
streams. You know that at every moment, in these woods and on these
hills, where one would think that nobody had ever penetrated, one
suddenly sees the white dome of a shrine that contains the bones of a
humble, solitary marabout, which was scarcely visited from time to time,
even by the most confirmed believers, who had come from the neighboring
villages with a wax candle in their pocket, to set up before the tomb of
the saint.
"Now one evening as I was going home, I was passing one of these
Mohammedan chapels, and, looking in through the door, which was always
open, I saw a woman praying before the altar. That Arab woman, sitting on
the ground in that dilapidated building, into which the wind entered as
it pleased, and heaped up the fine, dry pine needles in yellow heaps in
the corners. I went near to see better, and recognized Allouma. She
neither saw nor heard me, so absorbed was she with the saint, to whom she
was speaking in a low voice, as she thought that she was alone with him,
and telling this servant of God all her troubles. Sometimes she stopped
for a short time to think, to try and recollect what more she had to say,
so that she might not forget anything that she wished to confide to him;
then, again, she would grow animated, as if he had replied to her, as if
he had advised her to do something that she did not want to do, and the
reasons for which she was impugning, and I went away as I had come,
without making any noise, and returned home to dinner.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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