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
Caravan had expected some of those expressions that are said to "come
from the heart," and when he saw how his news was received, he left the
table, indignant at their calmness before their friend's sorrow, although
at that moment he was so dazed with grief, that he hardly felt it, and
went home. When he got in, his wife was waiting for him in her nightgown,
and sitting in a low chair by the open window, still thinking of the
inheritance.
"Undress yourself," she said; "we will talk when we are in bed."
He raised his head, and looking at the ceiling, he said:
"But ... there is nobody up there."
"I beg your pardon, Rosalie is with her, and you can go and take her
place at three o'clock in the morning, when you have had some sleep."
He only partially undressed, however, so as to be ready for anything that
might happen, and after tying a silk handkerchief round his head, he
joined his wife, who had just got in between the sheets, and for some
time they remained side by side, and neither of them spoke. She was
thinking.
Even in bed, her night-cap was adorned with a red bow, and was pushed
rather over one ear, as was the way with all the caps that she wore, and,
presently, she turned towards him and said:
"Do you know whether your mother made a will?"
He hesitated for a moment, and then replied:
"I ... I do not think so.... No, I am sure that she did not."
His wife looked at him, and she said, in a low, furious voice:
"I call that infamous; here we have been wearing ourselves out for ten
years in looking after her, and have boarded and lodged her! Your sister
would not have done so much for her, nor I either, if I had known how I
was to be rewarded! Yes, it is a disgrace to her memory! I daresay that
you will tell me that she paid us, but one cannot pay one's children in
ready money for what they do; that obligation is recognized after death;
at any rate, that is how honorable people act. So I have had all my worry
and trouble for nothing! Oh, that is nice! that is very nice!"
Poor Caravan, who felt nearly distracted, kept on saying:
"My dear, my dear, please, please be quiet."
She grew calmer by degrees, and, resuming her usual voice and manner, she
continued:
"We must let your sister know, to-morrow."
He started, and said:
"Of course, we must; I had forgotten all about it; I will send her a
telegram the first thing in the morning."
"No," she replied, like a woman who had foreseen everything; "no, do not
send it before ten or eleven o'clock, so that we may have time to turn
round before she comes. It does not take more than two hours to get here
from Charenton, and we can say that you lost your head from grief. If we
let her know in the course of the day, that will be soon enough, and will
give us time to look round."
But Caravan put his hand to his forehead, and, in the same timid voice
in which he always spoke of his chief, the very thought of whom made him
tremble, he said:
"I must let them know at the office."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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