Works of Guy de Maupassant - Bedtime Stories for Middle School Students [II]

Author: (French) Guy de Maupassant
Publisher:
Publication Date: 2006-06-01
Features: They were more capable than their superiors, able to command the undisciplined old soldiers with just a single word. She was indeed a true military nurse, and her face, scarred by smallpox with countless pockmarks, was a testament to the devastation wrought by war. After she finished speaking, because the effect was so profound, no one else dared to say anything. After finishing their meal, everyone quickly returned to their rooms, and they did not come down the next morning until quite late. Lunch passed in quiet. They gave the seeds planted the previous night time to sprout and bear fruit. In the afternoon, at the Countess's suggestion, they went for a walk. As planned, the Count held the arm of Fleur-de-Lys and walked behind her. He conversed with her in the tone of a dignified man speaking to a courtesan—affectionate, casual, benevolent, yet tinged with condescension; he called her "my child." With his high social status and undeniable noble standing, he condescended to her, cutting straight to the point: "So, you would rather have us stay here, risk the dangers of Prussian brutality after their defeat, rather than be more accommodating and agree to do what you do for us all your life?" Fleur-de-Lys said nothing. He treated her with kindness, reasoning with her, appealing to her emotions. He knew how to maintain the persona of "Mr. Count" while, when needed, being attentive, flattering, and winning her favor. He emphasized how much help she could provide them and how grateful they would be; then, suddenly, he smiled, addressing her intimately as "you," saying, "You know, my dear, he will be able to boast in the future that he has tasted the flavor of a beauty so rare in their country." Fleur-de-Lys replied nothing and walked over to join the group in the distance.
Upon returning to the hotel, she immediately went upstairs to her room and never appeared again. Everyone grew anxious. What would she do? If she still refused, it would be terrible! Dinner time arrived, and she did not show up. Later, Monsieur Flaubert entered. He announced that Mademoiselle Roussé was feeling slightly unwell and that they could start without her. Everyone strained their ears to listen. The Count approached the owner and asked in a low voice, "Is it all right?"—"Yes, it is." To maintain decorum, he said nothing to his companions but merely nodded slightly at them. Instantly, everyone sighed in relief, their faces brightening with relief and joy. Monsieur Fleur-de-Lys shouted loudly, "Forget it! I'll buy everyone champagne. Does this hotel have any?" Madame Fleur-de-Lys, however, was heartbroken, for the owner soon returned with four bottles of wine in hand. Everyone suddenly became lively and boisterous, their hearts filled with a rather improper joy. The Count seemed to notice Madame Carre-Letton's plumpness, while Monsieur Carre-Letton, the cotton mill owner, fawned over the Countess. The conversation was lively and cheerful, filled with witty remarks and jokes. Suddenly, Monsieur Fleur-de-Lys, his face filled with alarm, raised his arms and shouted, "Shh!" Everyone was startled and stopped talking. Monsieur Fleur-de-Lys listened intently, cupped his hands to his mouth and whispered "Shh!" while looking up at the ceiling. After listening for a moment longer, he resumed his normal voice and said, "Don't worry, there's no problem." At first, everyone was confused, but soon they all smiled knowingly. A quarter of an hour later, he repeated the same performance, and it became a regular occurrence that evening. He often pretended to greet someone upstairs, offering puns and double entendres he had dredged up from his business mind. Sometimes he would feign a sorrowful expression, sighing, "Poor girl!" Or he would grit his teeth in anger, muttering, "Damn Prussians!" At times, everyone forgot about it, but he would suddenly raise his voice and shout, "Enough! Enough!" Then, as if talking to himself, he would add, "I hope we'll see her again. Don't let that rascal ruin her!" These jokes, though crude and vulgar, were still considered amusing by everyone, and no one was offended. For anger, like everything else, was relative to the circumstances, and the atmosphere surrounding them was filled with lewd thoughts. During the dessert and fruit, the women could not help but sparkle with eyes as they made very teasing but subtle remarks.
As they drank more wine, the Count maintained his dignified demeanor even while indulging in pleasure. He made a rather admired analogy, saying that the severe winter in the Arctic had passed, and a group of refugees trapped in the ice saw the road to the south had opened, so they were overjoyed. Monsieur Fleur-de-Lys, still in high spirits, stood up with a glass of champagne in hand and said, "To celebrate our liberation, let's drink to it!" Everyone rose and cheered for him. The two nuns, persuaded by the ladies, agreed to take a sip of this bubbly wine they had never tasted before. They said it was a bit like lemonade, but much better. Monsieur Fleur-de-Lys gave a summary of the situation: "Unfortunately, there's no piano, otherwise we could have a quadrille." Goujet remained silent and still. He seemed deeply immersed in serious thoughts, sometimes tugging at his thick mustache as if trying to make it longer.
Finally, as it neared midnight, the time to part came. Monsieur Fleur-de-Lys, already tipsy, suddenly patted Goujet's stomach lightly and mumbled, "You didn't say a word tonight. Why are you so unhappy, citizen?" But Goujet abruptly looked up, his gaze sweeping over everyone in the room with an intimidating intensity, and said, "Let me tell you all, what you just did was utterly shameless." With that, he stood up and walked to the door, repeating, "Utterly shameless!" before disappearing. Monsieur Fleur-de-Lys was taken aback by this, staring blankly in shock; everyone felt deeply disappointed. But after regaining his composure, he suddenly burst into laughter, muttering, "Can't have your fill of grapes and say they're sour, old friend. Too sour." When no one understood what he meant, he explained the "secret of the corridor." The ladies were delighted, as if mad, and everyone became cheerful once more.