original short stories-13-第6章

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〃He　left　a　twelve…year…old　child　and　a　widow；　my　mother's　sister。　　She
came　to　my　father's　house　with　the　boy；　while　we　were　living　at
Bertillon。　　I　was　then　seventeen。

〃You　have　no　idea　how　wonderful　and　precocious　this　Santeze　child　was。
One　might　have　thought　that　all　the　tenderness　and　exaltation　of　the
whole　race　had　been　stored　up　in　this　last　one。　　He　was　always　dreaming
and　walking　about　alone　in　a　great　alley　of　elms　leading　from　the　chateau
to　the　forest。　　I　watched　from　my　window　this　sentimental　boy；　who　walked
with　thoughtful　steps；　his　hands　behind　his　back；　his　head　bent；　and　at
times　stopping　to　raise　his　eyes　as　if　he　could　see　and　understand　things
that　were　not　comprehensible　at　his　age。

〃Often；　after　dinner　on　clear　evenings；　he　would　say　to　me：　'Let　us　go
outside　and　dream；　cousin。'　　And　we　would　go　outside　together　in　the
park。　　He　would　stop　quickly　before　a　clearing　where　the　white　vapor　of
the　moon　lights　the　woods；　and　he　would　press　my　hand；　saying：　'Look！
look！　but　you　don't　understand　me；　I　feel　it。　　If　you　understood　me；　we
should　be　happy。　　One　must　love　to　know！　　I　would　laugh　and　then　kiss
this　child；　who　loved　me　madly。

〃Often；　after　dinner；　he　would　sit　on　my　mother's　knees。　　'Come；　auntie；'
he　would　say；　'tell　me　some　love…stories。'　　And　my　mother；　as　a　joke；
would　tell　him　all　the　old　legends　of　the　family；　all　the　passionate
adventures　of　his　forefathers；　for　thousands　of　them　were　current；　some
true　and　some　false。　　It　was　their　reputation　for　love　and　gallantry
which　was　the　ruin　of　every　one　of　these…men；　they　gloried　in　it　and　then
thought　that　they　had　to　live　up　to　the　renown　of　their　house。

〃The　little　fellow　became　exalted　by　these　tender　or　terrible　stories；
and　at　times　he　would　clap　his　hands；　crying：　'I；　too；　I；　too；　know　how
to　love；　better　than　all　of　them！'

〃Then；　he　began　to　court　me　in　a　timid　and　tender　manner；　at　which　every
one　laughed；　it　was；　so　amusing。　　Every　morning　I　had　some　flowers　picked
by　him；　and　every　evening　before　going　to　his　room　he　would　kiss　my　hand
and　murmur：　'I　love　you！'

〃I　was　guilty；　very　guilty；　and　I　grieved　continually　about　it；　and　I
have　been　doing　penance　all　my　life；　I　have　remained　an　old　maidor；
rather；　I　have　lived　as　a　widowed　fiancee；　his　widow。

〃I　was　amused　at　this　childish　tenderness；　and　I　even　encouraged　him。
I　was　coquettish；　as　charming　as　with　a　man；　alternately　caressing　and
severe。　　I　maddened　this　child。　　It　was　a　game　for　me　and　a　joyous
diversion　for　his　mother　and　mine。　　He　was　twelve！　　think　of　it！　　Who
would　have　taken　this　atom's　passion　seriously？　　I　kissed　him　as　often　as
he　wished；　I　even　wrote　him　little　notes；　which　were　read　by　our
respective　mothers；　and　he　answered　me　by　passionate　letters；　which　I
have　kept。　　Judging　himself　as　a　man；　he　thought　that　our　loving　intimacy
was　secret。　　We　had　forgotten　that　he　was　a　Santeze。

〃This　lasted　for　about　a　year。　　One　evening　in　the　park　he　fell　at　my
feet　and；　as　he　madly　kissed　the　hem　of　my　dress；　he　kept　repeating：　'I
love　you！　　I　love　you！　　I　love　you！　　If　ever　you　deceive　me；　if　ever　you
leave　me　for　another；　I'll　do　as　my　father　did。'　　And　he　added　in　a
hoarse　voice；　which　gave　me　a　shiver：　'You　know　what　he　did！'

〃I　stood　there　astonished。　　He　arose；　and　standing　on　the　tips　of　his
toes　in　order　to　reach　my　ear；　for　I　was　taller　than　he；　he　pronounced　my
first　name：　'Genevieve！'　in　such　a　gentle；　sweet；　tender　tone　that　I
trembled　all　over。　　I　stammered：　'Let　us　return！　let　us　return！'　　He　said
no　more　and　followed　me；　but　as　we　were　going　up　the　steps　of　the　porch；
he　stopped　me；　saying：　'You　know；　if　ever　you　leave　me；　I'll　kill
myself。'

〃This　time　I　understood　that　I　had　gone　too　far；　and　I　became　quite
reserved。　　One　day；　as　he　was　reproaching　me　for　this；　I　answered：　'You
are　now　too　old　for　jesting　and　too　young　for　serious　love。　　I'll　wait。'

〃I　thought　that　this　would　end　the　matter。　　In　the　autumn　he　was　sent　to
a　boarding…school。　　When　he　returned　the　following　summer　I　was　engaged
to　be　married。　　He　understood　immediately；　and　for　a　week　he　became　so
pensive　that　I　was　quite　anxious。

〃On　the　morning　of　the　ninth　day　I　saw　a　little　paper　under　my　door　as　I
got　up。　　I　seized　it；　opened　it　and　read：　'You　have　deserted　me　and　you
know　what　I　said。　　It　is　death　to　which　you　have　condemned　me。　　As　I　do
not　wish　to　be　found　by　another　than　you；　come　to　the　park　just　where　I
told　you　last　year　that　I　loved　you　and　look　in　the　air。'

〃I　thought　that　I　should　go　mad。　　I　dressed　as　quickly　as　I　could　and　ran
wildly　to　the　place　that　he　had　mentioned。　　His　little　cap　was　on　the
ground　in　the　mud。　　It　had　been　raining　all　night。　　I　raised　my　eyes　and
saw　something　swinging　among　the　leaves；　for　the　wind　was　blowing　a　gale。

〃I　don't　know　what　I　did　after　that。　　I　must　have　screamed　at　first；　then
fainted　and　fallen；　and　finally　have　run　to　the　chateau。　　The　next　thing
that　I　remember　I　was　in　bed；　with　my　mother　sitting　beside　me。

〃I　thought　that　I　had　dreamed　all　this　in　a　frightful　nightmare。
I　stammered：　'And　what　of　him；　what　of　him；　Gontran？'　　There　was　no
answer。　　It　was　true！

〃I　did　not　dare　see　him　again；　but　I　asked　for　a　lock　of　his　blond　hair。
Herehere　it　is！〃

And　the　old　maid　stretched　out　her　trembling　hand　in　a　despairing
gesture。　　Then　she　blew　her　nose　several　times；　wiped　her　eyes　and
continued：

〃I　broke　off　my　marriagewithout　saying　why。　　And　II　always　have
remained　thethe　widow　of　this　thirteen…year…old　boy。〃　　Then　her　head
fell　on　her　breast　and　she　wept　for　a　long　time。

As　the　guests　were　retiring　for　the　night　a　large　man；　whose　quiet　she
had　disturbed；　whispered　in　his　neighbor's　ear：　〃Isn't　it　unfortunate　to；
be　so　sentimental？〃






THE　ENGLISHMAN　OF　ETRETAT

A　great　English　poet　has　just　crossed　over　to　France　in　order　to　greet
Victor　Hugo。　　All　the　newspapers　are　full　of　his　name　and　he　is　the　great
topic　of　conversation　in　all　drawing…rooms。　　Fifteen　years　ago　I　had
occasion　several　times　to　meet　Algernon　Charles　Swinburne。　　I　will
attempt　to　show　him　just　as　I　saw　him　and　to　give　an　idea　of　the　strange
impression　he　made　on　me；　which　will　remain　with　me　throughout　time。

I　believe　it　was　in　1867　or　in　1868　that　an　unknown　young　Englishman　came
to　Etretat　and　bought　a　little　but　hidden　under　great　trees。　　It　was　said
that　he　lived　there；　always　alone；　in　a　strange　manner；　and　he　aroused
the　inimical　surprise　of　the　natives；　for　the　inhabitants　were　sullen　and
foolishly　malicious；　as　they　always　are　in　little　towns。

They　declared　that　this　whimsical　Englishman　ate　nothing　but　boiled。
roasted　or　stewed　monkey；　that　he　would　see　no　one；　that　he　talked　to
himself　hours　at　a　time　and　many　other　surprising　things　that　made　people
think　that　he　was　different　from　other　men。　　They　were　surprised　that　he
should　live　alone　with　a　monkey。　　Had　it　been　a　cat　or　a　dog　they　would
have　said　nothing。　　But　a　monkey！　　Was　that　not　frightful？　　What　savage
tastes　the　man　must　have！

I　knew　this　young　man　only　from　seeing　him　in　the　streets。　　He　was　short；
plump；　without　being　fat；　mild…looking；　and　he　wore　a　little　blond
mustache；　which　was　almost　invisible。

Chance　brought　us　together。　　This　savage　had　amiable　and　pleasing
manners；　but　he　was　one　of　those　strange　Englishmen　that　one　meets　here
and　there　throughout　the　world。

Endowed　with　remarkable　intelligence；　he　seemed　to　live　in　a　fantastic
dream；　as　Edgar　Poe　must　have　lived。　　He　had　translated　into　English　a
volume　of　strange　Icelandic　legends；　which　I　ardently　desired　to　see
translated　into　French。　　He　loved　the　supernatural；　the　dismal　and
grewsome；　but　he　spoke　of　the　most　marvellous　things　with　a　calmness　that
was　typically　English；　to　which　his　gentle　and　quiet　voice　gave　a
semblance　of　reality　that　was　maddening。

Full　of　a　haughty　disdain　for　the　world；　with　its　conventions；　prejudices
and　code　of　morality；　he　had　nailed　to　his　house　a　name　that　was　boldly
impudent。　　The　keeper　of　a　lonely　inn　who　should　write　on　his　door：
〃Travellers　murdered　here！〃　could　not　make　a　more　sinister　jest。　　I　never
had　entered　his　dwelling；　whe