BEL-AMI: THE HISTORY OF A SCOUNDREL. Guy de Maupassant

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СКАЧАТЬ smiled on perceiving Duroy, as though their eyes had already told secrets, and, taking a chair, sat down quietly in face of him, and making her friend sit down, too, gave the order in a clear voice: “Waiter, two grenadines!”

      Forestier, rather surprised, said: “You make yourself at home.”

      She replied: “It is your friend that captivates me. He is really a pretty fellow. I believe that I could make a fool of myself for his sake.”

      Duroy, intimidated, could find nothing to say. He twisted his curly moustache, smiling in a silly fashion. The waiter brought the drinks, which the women drank off at a draught; then they rose, and the brunette, with a friendly nod of the head, and a tap on the arm with her fan, said to Duroy: “Thanks, dear, you are not very talkative.”

      And they went off swaying their trains.

      Forestier laughed. “I say, old fellow, you are very successful with the women. You must look after it. It may lead to something.” He was silent for a moment, and then continued in the dreamy tone of men who think aloud: “It is through them, too, that one gets on quickest.”

      And as Duroy still smiled without replying, he asked: “Are you going to stop any longer? I have had enough of it. I am going home.”

      The other murmured: “Yes, I shall stay a little longer. It is not late.”

      Forestier rose. “Well, goodnight, then. Till tomorrow. Don’t forget. Seventeen Rue Fontaine, at halfpast seven.”

      “That is settled. Till tomorrow. Thanks.”

      They shook hands, and the journalist walked away.

      As soon as he had disappeared Duroy felt himself free, and again he joyfully felt the two pieces of gold in his pocket; then rising, he began to traverse the crowd, which he followed with his eyes.

      He soon caught sight of the two women, the blonde and the brunette, who were still making their way, with their proud bearing of beggars, through the throng of men.

      He went straight up to them, and when he was quite close he no longer dared to do anything.

      The brunette said: “Have you found your tongue again?”

      He stammered “By Jove!” without being able to say anything else.

      The three stood together, checking the movement, the current of which swept round them.

      All at once she asked: “Will you come home with me?”

      And he, quivering with desire, answered roughly: “Yes, but I have only a louis in my pocket.”

      She smiled indifferently. “It is all the same to me,”’ and took his arm in token of possession.

      As they went out he thought that with the other louis he could easily hire a suit of dress clothes for the next evening.

II

      Table of Contents

      “Monsieur Forestier, if you please?”

      “Third floor, the door on the left,” the concierge had replied, in a voice the amiable tone of which betokened a certain consideration for the tenant, and George Duroy ascended the stairs.

      He felt somewhat abashed, awkward, and ill at ease. He was wearing a dress suit for the first time in his life, and was uneasy about the general effect of his toilet. He felt it was altogether defective, from his boots, which were not of patent leather, though neat, for he was naturally smart about his foot-gear, to his shirt, which he had bought that very morning for four franc fifty centimes at the Masgasin du Louvre, and the limp front of which was already rumpled. His everyday shirts were all more or less damaged, so that he had not been able to make use of even the least worn of them.

      His trousers, rather too loose, set off his leg badly, seeming to flap about the calf with that creased appearance which secondhand clothes present. The coat alone did not look bad, being by chance almost a perfect fit.

      He was slowly ascending the stairs with beating heart and anxious mind, tortured above all by the fear of appearing ridiculous, when suddenly he saw in front of him a gentleman in full dress looking at him. They were so close to one another that Duroy took a step back and then remained stupefied; it was himself, reflected by a tall mirror on the first-floor landing. A thrill of pleasure shot through him to find himself so much more presentable than he had imagined.

      Only having a small shaving-glass in his room, he had not been able to see himself all at once, and as he had only an imperfect glimpse of the various items of his improvised toilet, he had mentally exaggerated its imperfections, and harped to himself on the idea of appearing grotesque.

      But on suddenly coming upon his reflection in the mirror, he had not even recognized himself; he had taken himself for someone else, for a gentleman whom at the first glance he had thought very well dressed and fashionable looking. And now, looking at himself carefully, he recognized that really the general effect was satisfactory.

      He studied himself as actors do when learning their parts. He smiled, held out his hand, made gestures, expressed sentiments of astonishment, pleasure, and approbation, and essayed smiles and glances, with a view of displaying his gallantry towards the ladies, and making them understand that they were admired and desired.

      A door opened somewhere. He was afraid of being caught, and hurried upstairs, filled with the fear of having been seen grimacing thus by one of his friend’s guests.

      On reaching the second story he noticed another mirror, and slackened his pace to view himself in it as he went by. His bearing seemed to him really graceful. He walked well. And now he was filled with an unbounded confidence in himself. Certainly he must be successful with such an appearance, his wish to succeed, his native resolution, and his independence of mind. He wanted to run, to jump, as he ascended the last flight of stairs. He stopped in front of the third mirror, twirled his moustache as he had a trick of doing, took off his hat to run his fingers through his hair, and muttered half-aloud as he often did: “What a capital notion.” Then raising his hand to the bell handle, he rang.

      The door opened almost at once, and he found himself face to face with a manservant out of livery, serious, clean-shaven, and so perfect in his get-up that Duroy became uneasy again without understanding the reason of his vague emotion, due, perhaps, to an unwitting comparison of the cut of their respective garments. The manservant, who had patent-leather shoes, asked, as he took the overcoat which Duroy had carried on his arm, to avoid exposing the stains on it: “Whom shall I announce?”

      And he announced the name through a door with a looped-back draping leading into a drawingroom.

      But Duroy, suddenly losing his assurance, felt himself breathless and paralyzed by terror. He was about to take his first step in the world he had looked forward to and longed for. He advanced, nevertheless. A fair young woman, quite alone, was standing awaiting him in a large room, well lit up and full of plants as a greenhouse.

      He stopped short, quite disconcerted. Who was this lady who was smiling at him? Then he remembered that Forestier was married, and the thought that this pretty and elegant blonde must be his friend’s wife completed his alarm.

      He stammered: “Madame, I am— “

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