Short Story by Guy de Maupassant
IN THE OFFICE OLD MONGILET WAS LOOKED ON AS A
"character." He was an old employee, a good-natured creature, who had
never been outside Paris but once in his life.
It was the end of July, and we all went every Sunday
to roll in the grass, or bathe in the river in the country nearby. Asnieres,
Argenteuil, Chatou, Bougival, Maisons, Poissy, had their habitues and their
ardent admirers. We argued about the merits and advantages of all these places,
celebrated and delightful to all employees in Paris.
Old Mongilet would say:
"You are like a lot of sheep! A nice place,
this country you talk of!"
And we would ask:
"Well, how about you, Mongilet? Don't you ever
go on an excursion?"
"Yes, indeed. I go in an omnibus. When I have
had a good luncheon, without any hurry, at the wine shop below, I look up my
route with a plan of Paris and the time-table of the lines and connections. And
then I climb up on top of the bus, open my umbrella and off we go. Oh, I see
lots of things, more than you, I bet! I change my surroundings. It is as though
I were taking a journey across the world, the people are so different in one
street and another. I know my Paris better than anyone. And then, there is
nothing more amusing than the entresols. You would not believe what one sees in
there at a glance. One can guess a domestic scene simply by seeing the face of
a man shouting; one is amused on passing by a barber's shop to see the barber
leave his customer all covered with lather to look out in the street. One
exchanges heartfelt glances with the milliners just for fun, as one has no time
to alight. Ah, how many things one sees!
"It is the drama, real, true, natural drama
that one sees as the horses trot by. Heavens I I would not give my excursions
in the omnibus for all your stupid excursions in the woods."
"Come and try it, Mongilet, come to the country
once just to see."
"I was there once," he replied,
"twenty years ago, and you will never catch me there again."
"Tell us about it, Mongilet."
"If you wish to hear it. This is how it was:
You knew Boivin, the old clerk, whom we called Boileau?"
"Yes, perfectly."
"He was my office chum. The rascal had a house
at Colombes and always invited me to spend Sunday with him. He would say:
“Come alone, Maculotte (he called me Maculotte for
fun). You will see what a nice walk we shall take.”
"I let myself be trapped like an animal, and
set out one morning by the eight o'clock train. I arrived at a kind of town, a
country town where there is nothing to see, and I at length found my way to an
old wooden door with an iron bell, at the end of an alley between two walls.
"I rang, and waited a long time, and at last
the door was opened. What was it that opened it? I could not tell at the first
glance. A woman or an ape? The creature was old, ugly, covered with old clothes
that looked dirty and wicked. It had chickens' feathers in its hair and looked
as though it would devour me.
“What do you want?” she said.
“M. Boivin.”
“What do you want of him, of M. Boivin?”
"I felt ill at ease on being questioned by this
fury. I stammered: 'Why--he expects me.'
“Ah, it is you who are coming to lunch?”
“Yes,” I stammered, trembling.
"Then, turning toward the house, she cried in
an angry tone:
“Boivin, here is your man!”
"It was my friend's wife. Little Boivin
appeared immediately on the threshold of a sort of barrack of plaster covered
with zinc, that looked like a foot-warmer. He wore white duck trousers covered
with stains and a dirty Panama-hat.
"After shaking my hands warmly, he took me into
what he called his garden. It was at the end of another alleyway enclosed by
high walls and was a little square the size of a pockethandkerchief, surrounded
by houses that were so high that the sun could reach it only two or three hours
in the day. Pansies, pinks, wallflowers and a few rose bushes were languishing
in this airless well which was as hot as an oven from the refraction of heat
from the roofs.
“I have no trees,” said Boivin, 'but the neighbours'
walls take their place. I have as much shade as in a wood.”
"Then he took hold of a button of my coat and
said in a low tone:
“You can do me a service. You saw the wife. She is
not agreeable, eh? To-day, as I had invited you, she gave me clean clothes; but
if I spot them all is lost. I counted on you to water my plants.”
"I agreed. I took off my coat, rolled up my
sleeves, and began to work the handle of a kind of pump that wheezed, puffed
and rattled like a consumptive as it emitted a thread of water like a Wallace
drinking-fountain. It took me ten minutes to fill the watering-pot, and I was
in a bath of perspiration. Boivin directed me:
“Here--this plant--a little more; enough--now this
one.”
"The watering-pot leaked and my feet got more
water than the flowers. The bottoms of my trousers were soaking and covered
with mud. And twenty times running I kept it up, soaking my feet afresh each
time, and perspiring anew as I worked the handle of the pump. And when I was
tired out and wanted to stop, Boivin, in a tone of entreaty, said as he put his
hand on my arm:
“Just one more watering-potful--just one, and that
will be all.”
"To thank me he gave me a rose, a big rose, but
hardly had it touched my buttonhole than it fell to pieces, leaving of my
decoration only a hard little green knot. I was surprised, but said nothing.
"Mme Boivin's voice was heard in the distance:
'Are you ever coming? I tell you lunch is ready!”
"We went towards the foot-warmer. If the garden
was in the shade, the house, on the other hand, was in the blazing sun, and the
sweating-room of a Turkish bath is not so hot as my friend's dining-room was.
"Three plates, at the side of which were some
half-washed forks, were placed in a table of yellow wood. In the middle stood
an earthenware dish containing warmed-up boiled beef and potatoes. We began to
eat.
"A large water-bottle full of water lightly
coloured with wine attracted my attention. Boivin, embarrassed, said to his
wife:
“See here, my dear, just on a special occasion, are
you not going to give us a little undiluted wine?'
"She looked at him furiously.
“So that you may both get tipsy, is that it, and
stay here gabbing all day? A fine special occasion!”
"He said no more. After the stew she brought in
another dish of potatoes cooked with bacon. When this dish was finished, still
in silence, she announced:
“That is all! Now get out!”
"Boivin looked at her in astonishment.
“But the pigeon--the pigeon you plucked this
morning?”
"She put her hands on her hips:
“Perhaps you have not had enough? Because you bring
people here is no reason why we should devour all that there is in the house.
What is there for me to eat this evening?”
"We rose. Boivin whispered:
“Wait for me a second, and we will skip.”
"He went into the kitchen where his wife had
gone, and I overheard him say:
“Give me twenty sous, my dear.”
“What do you want with twenty sous?”
“Why, one does not know what may happen. It is
always better to have some money.”
"She yelled so that I should hear:
“No, I will not give it to you!
As the man has had luncheon here, the least he can
do is to pay your expenses for the day.”
"Boivin came back to fetch me. As I wished to
be polite I bowed to the mistress of the house, stammering:
“Madame--many thanks--kind welcome.”
“That's all right,' she replied. 'But do not bring
him back drunk, for you will have to answer to me, you know!'
"We set out. We had to cross a perfectly bare
plain under the burning sun. I attempted to gather a flower along the road and
gave a cry of pain. It had hurt my hand frightfully. They call these plants
nettles. And, everywhere, there was a smell of manure, enough to turn your
stomach.
"Boivin said, “Have a little patience and we
will reach the river bank.”
"We reached the river. Here there was an odour
of mud and dirty water, and the sun blazed down on the water so that it burned
my eyes. I begged Boivin to go under cover somewhere. He took me into a kind of
shanty filled with men, a river boatmen's tavern.
"He said:
“This does not look very grand, but it is very
comfortable.”
"I was hungry. I ordered an omelet. But lo and
behold, at the second glass of wine, that cursed Boivin lost his head, and I
understand why his wife gave him water in his wine.
"He got up, declaimed, wanted to show his
strength, interfered in a quarrel between two drunken men who were fighting,
and, but for the landlord, who came to the rescue, we should both have been
killed.
"I dragged him away, holding him up until we
reached the first bush, where I deposited him. I lay down beside him and
apparently I fell asleep. We must certainly have slept a long time, for it was
dark when I awoke. Boivin was snoring at my side. I shook him; he rose, but he
was still drunk, though a little less so.
"We set out through the darkness across the
plain. Boivin said he knew the way. He made me turn to the left, then to the
right, then to the left. We could see neither sky nor earth, and found
ourselves lost in the midst of a kind of forest of wooden stakes, that came as
high as our noses. It was a vineyard and these were the supports. There was not
a single light on the horizon. We wandered about in this vineyard for about an
hour or two, hesitating, reaching out our arms without coming to the end, for
we kept retracing our steps.
"At length Boivin fell against a stake that
tore his cheek and he remained in a sitting posture on the ground, uttering
with all his might long and resounding hellos, while I screamed 'Help! Help!'
as loud as I could, lighting wax-matches to show the way to our rescuers, and
also to keep up my courage.
"At last a belated peasant heard us and put us
on our right road. I took Boivin to his home, but as I was leaving him on the
threshold of his garden, the door opened suddenly and his wife appeared, a
candle in her hand. She frightened me horribly.
"As soon as she saw her husband, whom she must
have been waiting for since dark, she screamed, as she darted toward me:
“Ah, scoundrel, I knew you would bring him back
drunk!”
"My, how I made my escape, running all the way
to the station, and as I thought the fury was pursuing me I shut myself in an
inner room, as the train was not due for half an hour.
"That is why I never married, and why I never
go out of Paris."