The Celebrated Short Stories of Guy de Maupassant: 100+ Classic Tales in One Edition. Guy de Maupassant

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      “Undoubtedly, madame. An action reprehensible in itself often derives merit from the thought which inspires it.”

      And in this wise they talked on, fathoming the wishes of God, predicting His judgments, describing Him as interested in matters which assuredly concern Him but little.

      All was said with the utmost care and discretion, but every word uttered by the holy woman in her nun’s garb weakened the indignant resistance of the courtesan. Then the conversation drifted somewhat, and the nun began to talk of the convents of her order, of her Superior, of herself, and of her fragile little neighbor, Sister St. Nicephore. They had been sent for from Havre to nurse the hundreds of soldiers who were in hospitals, stricken with smallpox. She described these wretched invalids and their malady. And, while they themselves were detained on their way by the caprices of the Prussian officer, scores of Frenchmen might be dying, whom they would otherwise have saved! For the nursing of soldiers was the old nun’s specialty; she had been in the Crimea, in Italy, in Austria; and as she told the story of her campaigns she revealed herself as one of those holy sisters of the fife and drum who seem designed by nature to follow camps, to snatch the wounded from amid the strife of battle, and to quell with a word, more effectually than any general, the rough and insubordinate troopers — a masterful woman, her seamed and pitted face itself an image of the devastations of war.

      No one spoke when she had finished for fear of spoiling the excellent effect of her words.

      As soon as the meal was over the travellers retired to their rooms, whence they emerged the following day at a late hour of the morning.

      Luncheon passed off quietly. The seed sown the preceding evening was being given time to germinate and bring forth fruit.

      In the afternoon the countess proposed a walk; then the count, as had been arranged beforehand, took Boule de Suif’s arm, and walked with her at some distance behind the rest.

      He began talking to her in that familiar, paternal, slightly contemptuous tone which men of his class adopt in speaking to women like her, calling her “my dear child,” and talking down to her from the height of his exalted social position and stainless reputation. He came straight to the point.

      “So you prefer to leave us here, exposed like yourself to all the violence which would follow on a repulse of the Prussian troops, rather than consent to surrender yourself, as you have done so many times in your life?”

      The girl did not reply.

      He tried kindness, argument, sentiment. He still bore himself as count, even while adopting, when desirable, an attitude of gallantry, and making pretty — nay, even tender — speeches. He exalted the service she would render them, spoke of their gratitude; then, suddenly, using the familiar “thou”:

      “And you know, my dear, he could boast then of having made a conquest of a pretty girl such as he won’t often find in his own country.”

      Boule de Suif did not answer, and joined the rest of the party.

      As soon as they returned she went to her room, and was seen no more. The general anxiety was at its height. What would she do? If she still resisted, how awkward for them all!

      The dinner hour struck; they waited for her in vain. At last Monsieur Follenvie entered, announcing that Mademoiselle Rousset was not well, and that they might sit down to table. They all pricked up their ears. The count drew near the innkeeper, and whispered:

      “Is it all right?”

      “Yes.”

      Out of regard for propriety he said nothing to his companions, but merely nodded slightly toward them. A great sigh of relief went up from all breasts; every face was lighted up with joy.

      “By Gad!” shouted Loiseau, “I’ll stand champagne all round if there’s any to be found in this place.” And great was Madame Loiseau’s dismay when the proprietor came back with four bottles in his hands. They had all suddenly become talkative and merry; a lively joy filled all hearts. The count seemed to perceive for the first time that Madame Carre-Lamadon was charming; the manufacturer paid compliments to the countess. The conversation was animated, sprightly, witty, and, although many of the jokes were in the worst possible taste, all the company were amused by them, and none offended — indignation being dependent, like other emotions, on surroundings. And the mental atmosphere had gradually become filled with gross imaginings and unclean thoughts.

      At dessert even the women indulged in discreetly worded allusions. Their glances were full of meaning; they had drunk much. The count, who even in his moments of relaxation preserved a dignified demeanor, hit on a much-appreciated comparison of the condition of things with the termination of a winter spent in the icy solitude of the North Pole and the joy of shipwrecked mariners who at last perceive a southward track opening out before their eyes.

      Loiseau, fairly in his element, rose to his feet, holding aloft a glass of champagne.

      “I drink to our deliverance!” he shouted.

      All stood up, and greeted the toast with acclamation. Even the two good sisters yielded to the solicitations of the ladies, and consented to moisten their lips with the foaming wine, which they had never before tasted. They declared it was like effervescent lemonade, but with a pleasanter flavor.

      “It is a pity,” said Loiseau, “that we have no piano; we might have had a quadrille.”

      Cornudet had not spoken a word or made a movement; he seemed plunged in serious thought, and now and then tugged furiously at his great beard, as if trying to add still further to its length. At last, toward midnight, when they were about to separate, Loiseau, whose gait was far from steady, suddenly slapped him on the back, saying thickly:

      “You’re not jolly tonight; why are you so silent, old man?”

      Cornudet threw back his head, cast one swift and scornful glance over the assemblage, and answered:

      “I tell you all, you have done an infamous thing!”

      He rose, reached the door, and repeating: “Infamous!” disappeared.

      A chill fell on all. Loiseau himself looked foolish and disconcerted for a moment, but soon recovered his aplomb, and, writhing with laughter, exclaimed:

      “Really, you are all too green for anything!”

      Pressed for an explanation, he related the “mysteries of the corridor,” whereat his listeners were hugely amused. The ladies could hardly contain their delight. The count and Monsieur Carre-Lamadon laughed till they cried. They could scarcely believe their ears.

      “What! you are sure? He wanted — — “

      “I tell you I saw it with my own eyes.”

      “And she refused?”

      “Because the Prussian was in the next room!”

      “Surely you are mistaken?”

      “I swear I’m telling you the truth.”

      The count was choking with laughter. The manufacturer held his sides. Loiseau continued:

      “So you may well imagine he doesn’t think this evening’s business at all amusing.”

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