The Works of Guy de Maupassant, Volume VIII.Maupassant, Guy de
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The Works of Guy de Maupassant, Volume VIII.
Maupassant, Guy de
French fiction -- Translations into English; Short stories, French -- Translations into English
"For my part, whenever I come here I am seized with a wild desire to
be off with all those boats, to the north or the south. Only to think
that all those little sparks out there have just come from the
uttermost ends of the earth, from the lands of great flowers and
beautiful olive or copper colored girls, the lands of humming-birds,
of elephants, of roaming lions, of negro kings, from all the lands
which are like fairy tales to us who no longer believe in the White
Cat or the Sleeping Beauty. It would be awfully jolly to be able to
treat one's self to an excursion out there; but, then, it would cost a
great deal of money, no end--"
He broke off abruptly, remembering that his brother had that money
now; and released from care, released from laboring for his daily
bread, free, unfettered, happy, and light-hearted, he might go whither
he listed, to find the fair-haired Swedes or the brown damsels of
Havana. And then one of those involuntary flashes which were common
with him, so sudden and swift that he could neither anticipate them,
nor stop them, nor qualify them, communicated, as it seemed to him,
from some second, independent, and violent soul, shot through his
brain.
"Bah! He is too great a simpleton; he will marry that little
Rosemilly." He was standing up now. "I will leave you to dream of the
future. I want to be moving." He grasped his brother's hand and added
in a heavy tone:
"Well, my dear old boy, you are a rich man. I am very glad to have
come upon you this evening to tell you how pleased I am about it, how
truly I congratulate you, and how much I care for you."
Jean, tender and soft-hearted, was deeply touched.
"Thank you, my good brother--thank you!" he stammered.
And Pierre turned away with his slow step, his stick under his arm,
and his hands behind his back.
Back in the town again, he once more wondered what he should do, being
disappointed of his walk and deprived of the company of the sea by his
brother's presence. He had an inspiration. "I will go and take a glass
of liqueur with old Marowsko," and he went off toward the quarter of
the town known as Ingouville.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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