original short stories-13-第3章

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objected；　but　he　persisted。

〃It　is　as　mild　as　milk；　you　know；　I　can　drink　ten　or　a　dozen　glasses
without　any　ill　effects；　it　goes　down　like　sugar　and　does　not　go　to　the
head；　one　would　think　that　it　evaporated　on　the　tongue：　It　is　the　most
wholesome　thing　you　can　drink。〃

She　took　it；　for　she　really　enjoyed　it；　but　she　left　half　the　glass。

Then　Chicot；　in　an　excess　of　generosity；　said：

〃Look　here；　as　it　is　so　much　to　your　taste；　I　will　give　you　a　small　keg
of　it；　just　to　show　that　you　and　I　are　still　excellent　friends。〃　　So　she
took　one　away　with　her；　feeling　slightly　overcome　by　the　effects　of　what
she　had　drunk。

The　next　day　the　innkeeper　drove　into　her　yard　and　took　a　little　iron…
hooped　keg　out　of　his　gig。　　He　insisted　on　her　tasting　the　contents；　to
make　sure　it　was　the　same　delicious　article；　and；　when　they　had　each　of
them　drunk　three　more　glasses；　he　said　as　he　was　going　away：

〃Well；　you　know　when　it　is　all　gone　there　is　more　left；　don't　be　modest；
for　I　shall　not　mind。　　The　sooner　it　is　finished　the　better　pleased　I
shall　be。〃

Four　days　later　he　came　again。　　The　old　woman　was　outside　her　door
cutting　up　the　bread　for　her　soup。

He　went　up　to　her　and　put　his　face　close　to　hers；　so　that　he　might　smell
her　breath；　and　when　he　smelt　the　alcohol　he　felt　pleased。

〃I　suppose　you　will　give　me　a　glass　of　the　Special？〃　he　said。　　And　they
had　three　glasses　each。

Soon；　however；　it　began　to　be　whispered　abroad　that　Mother　Magloire　was
in　the　habit　of　getting　drunk　all　by　herself。　　She　was　picked　up　in　her
kitchen；　then　in　her　yard；　then　in　the　roads　in　the　neighborhood；　and　she
was　often　brought　home　like　a　log。

The　innkeeper　did　not　go　near　her　any　more；　and；　when　people　spoke　to　him
about　her；　he　used　to　say；　putting　on　a　distressed　look：

〃It　is　a　great　pity　that　she　should　have　taken　to　drink　at　her　age；　but
when　people　get　old　there　is　no　remedy。　　It　will　be　the　death　of　her　in
the　long　run。〃

And　it　certainly　was　the　death　of　her。　　She　died　the　next　winter。　　About
Christmas　time　she　fell　down；　unconscious；　in　the　snow；　and　was　found
dead　the　next　morning。

And　when　Chicot　came　in　for　the　farm；　he　said：

〃It　was　very　stupid　of　her；　if　she　had　not　taken　to　drink　she　would
probably　have　lived　ten　years　longer。〃






BOITELLE

Father　Boitelle　（Antoine）　made　a　specialty　of　undertaking　dirty　jobs　all
through　the　countryside。　　Whenever　there　was　a　ditch　or　a　cesspool　to　be
cleaned　out；　a　dunghill　removed；　a　sewer　cleansed；　or　any　dirt　hole
whatever；　he　way　always　employed　to　do　it。

He　would　come　with　the　instruments　of　his　trade；　his　sabots　covered　with
dirt；　and　set　to　work；　complaining　incessantly　about　his　occupation。
When　people　asked　him　then　why　he　did　this　loathsome　work；　he　would　reply
resignedly：

〃Faith；　'tis　for　my　children；　whom　I　must　support。　　This　brings　me　in
more　than　anything　else：'

He　had；　indeed；　fourteen　children。　　If　any　one　asked　him　what　had　become
of　them；　he　would　say　with　an　air　of　indifference：

〃There　are　only　eight　of　them　left　in　the　house。　　One　is　out　at　service
and　five　are　married。〃

When　the　questioner　wanted　to　know　whether　they　were　well　married；　he
replied　vivaciously：

〃I　did　not　oppose　them。　　I　opposed　them　in　nothing。　　They　married　just　as
they　pleased。　　We　shouldn't　go　against　people's　likings；　it　turns　out
badly。　　I　am　a　night　scavenger　because　my　parents　went　against　my
likings。　　But　for　that　I　would　have　become　a　workman　like　the　others。〃

Here　is　the　way　his　parents　had　thwarted　him　in　his　likings：

He　was　at　the　time　a　soldier　stationed　at　Havre；　not　more　stupid　than
another；　or　sharper　either；　a　rather　simple　fellow；　however。　　When　he　was
not　on　duty；　his　greatest　pleasure　was　to　walk　along　the　quay；　where　the
bird　dealers　congregate。　　Sometimes　alone；　sometimes　with　a　soldier　from
his　own　part　of　the　country；　he　would　slowly　saunter　along　by　cages
containing　parrots　with　green　backs　and　yellow　heads　from　the　banks　of
the　Amazon；　or　parrots　with　gray　backs　and　red　heads　from　Senegal；　or
enormous　macaws；　which　look　like　birds　reared　in　hot…houses；　with　their
flower…like　feathers；　their　plumes　and　their　tufts。　　Parrots　of　every
size；　who　seem　painted　with　minute　care　by　the　miniaturist；　God　Almighty；
and　the　little　birds；　all　the　smaller　birds　hopped　about；　yellow；　blue
and　variegated；　mingling　their　cries　with　the　noise　of　the　quay；　and
adding　to　the　din　caused　by　unloading　the　vessels；　as　well　as　by
passengers　and　vehicles；　a　violent　clamor；　loud；　shrill　and　deafening；　as
if　from　some　distant　forest　of　monsters。

Boitelle　would　pause；　with　wondering　eyes；　wide…open　mouth；　laughing　and
enraptured；　showing　his　teeth　to　the　captive　cockatoos；　who　kept　nodding
their　white　or　yellow　topknots　toward　the　glaring　red　of　his　breeches　and
the　copper　buckle　of　his　belt。　　When　he　found　a　bird　that　could　talk　he
put　questions　to　it；　and　if　it　happened　at　the　time　to　be　disposed　to
reply　and　to　hold　a　conversation　with　him　he　would　carry　away　enough
amusement　to　last　him　till　evening。　　He　also　found　heaps　of　amusement　in
looking　at　the　monkeys；　and　could　conceive　no　greater　luxury　for　a　rich
man　than　to　own　these　animals　as　one　owns　cats　and　dogs。　　This　kind　of
taste　for　the　exotic　he　had　in　his　blood；　as　people　have　a　taste　for　the
chase；　or　for　medicine；　or　for　the　priesthood。　　He　could　not　help
returning　to　the　quay　every　time　the　gates　of　the　barracks　opened；　drawn
toward　it　by　an　irresistible　longing。

On　one　occasion；　having　stopped　almost　in　ecstasy　before　an　enormous
macaw；　which　was　swelling　out　its　plumes；　bending　forward　and　bridling　up
again　as　if　making　the　court　curtseys　of　parrot…land；　he　saw　the　door　of
a　little　cafe　adjoining　the　bird　dealer's　shop　open；　and　a　young　negress
appeared；　wearing　on　her　head　a　red　silk　handkerchief。　　She　was　sweeping
into　the　street　the　corks　and　sand　of　the　establishment。

Boitelle's　attention　was　soon　divided　between　the　bird　and　the　woman；　and
he　really　could　not　tell　which　of　these　two　beings　he　contemplated　with
the　greater　astonishment　and　delight。

The　negress；　having　swept　the　rubbish　into　the　street；　raised　her　eyes；
and；　in　her　turn；　was　dazzled　by　the　soldier's　uniform。　　There　she　stood
facing　him　with　her　broom　in　her　hands　as　if　she　were　bringing　him　a
rifle；　while　the　macaw　continued　bowing。　　But　at　the　end　of　a　few　seconds
the　soldier　began　to　feel　embarrassed　at　this　attention；　and　he　walked
away　quietly　so　as　not　to　look　as　if　he　were　beating　a　retreat。

But　he　came　back。　　Almost　every　day　he　passed　before　the　Cafe　des
Colonies；　and　often　he　could　distinguish　through　the　window　the　figure　of
the　little　black…skinned　maid　serving　〃bocks〃　or　glasses　of　brandy　to　the
sailors　of　the　port。　　Frequently；　too；　she　would　come　out　to　the　door　on
seeing　him；　soon；　without　even　having　exchanged　a　word；　they　smiled　at
one　another　like　acquaintances；　and　Boitelle　felt　his　heart　touched　when
he　suddenly　saw；　glittering　between　the　dark　lips　of　the　girl；　a　shining
row　of　white　teeth。　　At　length；　one　day　he　ventured　to　enter；　and　was
quite　surprised　to　find　that　she　could　speak　French　like　every　one　else。
The　bottle　of　lemonade；　of　which　she　was　good　enough　to　accept　a
glassful；　remained　in　the　soldier's　recollection　memorably　delicious；　and
it　became　a　custom　with　him　to　come　and　absorb　in　this　little　tavern　on
the　quay　all　the　agreeable　drinks　which　he　could　afford。

For　him　it　was　a　treat；　a　happiness；　on　which　his　thoughts　dwelt
constantly；　to　watch　the　black　hand　of　the　little　maid　pouring　something
into　his　glass　while　her　teeth　laughed　more　than　her　eyes。　　At　the　end　of
two　months　they　became　fast　friends；　and　Boitelle；　after　his　first
astonishment　at　discovering　that　this　negress　had　as　good　principles　as
honest　French　girls；　that　she　exhibited　a　regard　for　economy；　industry；
religion　and　good　conduct；　loved　her　more　on　that　account；　and　was　so
charmed　with　her　that　he　wanted　to　marry　her。

He　told　her　his　intentions；　which　made　her　dance　with　joy。　　She　had　also
a　little　money；　left　her　by；　a　female　oyster　dealer；　who　had　picked　her
up　when　she　had　been　left　on　the　quay　at　Havre　b