original short stories-8-第24章

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beat！　　Then　I　would　get　up　and　go　out　on　the　doorstep　to　look　at　the　blue
sky　between　the　roofs。　　When　one　looks　up　at　the　sky　from　the　street；　it
looks　like　a　river　which　is　descending　on　Paris；　winding　as　it　flows；　and
the　swallows　pass　to　and　fro　in　it　like　fish。　　These　ideas　are　very
stupid　at　my　age！　　But　how　can　one　help　it；　monsieur；　when　one　has　worked
all　one's　life？　　A　moment　comes　in　which　one　perceives　that　one　could
have　done　something　else；　and　that　one　regrets；　oh！　　yes；　one　feels
intense　regret！　　Just　think；　for　twenty　years　I　might　have　gone　and　had
kisses　in　the　woods；　like　other　women。　　I　used　to　think　how　delightful　it
would　be　to　lie　under　the　trees　and　be　in　love　with　some　one！　　And　I
thought　of　it　every　day　and　every　night！　　I　dreamed　of　the　moonlight　on
the　water；　until　I　felt　inclined　to　drown　myself。

〃I　did　not　venture　to　speak　to　Monsieur　Beaurain　about　this　at　first。
I　knew　that　he　would　make　fun　of　me；　and　send　me　back　to　sell　my　needles
and　cotton！　　And　then；　to　speak　the　truth；　Monsieur　Beaurain　never　said
much　to　me；　but　when　I　looked　in　the　glass；　I　also　understood　quite　well
that　I　no　longer　appealed　to　any　one！

〃Well；　I　made　up　my　mind；　and　I　proposed　to　him　an　excursion　into　the
country；　to　the　place　where　we　had　first　become　acquainted。　　He　agreed
without　mistrusting　anything；　and　we　arrived　here　this　morning；　about
nine　o'clock。

〃I　felt　quite　young　again　when　I　got　among　the　wheat；　for　a　woman's　heart
never　grows　old！　　And　really；　I　no　longer　saw　my　husband　as　he　is　at
present；　but　just　as　he　was　formerly！　　That　I　will　swear　to　you；
monsieur。　　As　true　as　I　am　standing　here　I　was　crazy。　　I　began　to　kiss
him；　and　he　was　more　surprised　than　if　I　had　tried　to　murder　him。
He　kept　saying　to　me：　'Why；　you　must　be　mad！　　You　are　mad　this　morning！
What　is　the　matter　with　you？'　I　did　not　listen　to　him；　I　only　listened　to
my　own　heart；　and　I　made　him　come　into　the　wood　with　me。　　That　is　all。
I　have　spoken　the　truth；　Monsieur　le　Maire；　the　whole　truth。〃

The　mayor　was　a　sensible　man。　　He　rose　from　his　chair；　smiled；　and　said：
〃Go　in　peace；　madame；　and　when　you　again　visit　our　forests；　be　more
discreet。〃






MARTINE

It　came　to　him　one　Sunday　after　mass。　　He　was　walking　home　from　church
along　the　by…road　that　led　to　his　house　when　he　saw　ahead　of　him　Martine；
who　was　also　going　home。

Her　father　walked　beside　his　daughter　with　the　important　gait　of　a　rich
farmer。　　Discarding　the　smock；　he　wore　a　short　coat　of　gray　cloth　and　on
his　head　a　round…topped　hat　with　wide　brim。

She；　laced　up　in　a　corset　which　she　wore　only　once　a　week；　walked　along
erect；　with　her　squeezed…in　waist；　her　broad　shoulders　and　prominent
hips；　swinging　herself　a　little。　　She　wore　a　hat　trimmed　with　flowers；
made　by　a　milliner　at　Yvetot；　and　displayed　the　back　of　her　full；　round；
supple　neck；　reddened　by　the　sun　and　air；　on　which　fluttered　little　stray
locks　of　hair。

Benoist　saw　only　her　back；　but　he　knew　well　the　face　he　loved；　without；
however；　having　ever　noticed　it　more　closely　than　he　did　now。

Suddenly　he　said：　〃Nom　d'un　nom；　she　is　a　fine　girl；　all　the　same；　that
Martine。〃　　He　watched　her　as　she　walked；　admiring　her　hastily；　feeling　a
desire　taking　possession　of　him。　　He　did　not　long　to　see　her　face　again；
no。　　He　kept　gazing　at　her　figure；　repeating　to　himself：　〃Nom　d'un　nom；
she　is　a　fine　girl。〃

Martine　turned　to　the　right　to　enter　〃La　Martiniere；〃　the　farm　of　her
father；　Jean　Martin；　and　she　cast　a　glance　behind　her　as　she　turned
round。　　She　saw　Benoist；　who　looked　to　her　very　comical。　　She　called　out：
〃Good…morning；　Benoist。〃　　He　replied：　〃Good…morning；　Martine；　good…
morning；　mait　Martin；〃　and　went　on　his　way。

When　he　reached　home　the　soup　was　on　the　table。　　He　sat　down　opposite　his
mother　beside　the　farm　hand　and　the　hired　man；　while　the　maid　servant
went　to　draw　some　cider。

He　ate　a　few　spoonfuls；　then　pushed　away　his　plate。　　His　mother　said：

〃Don't　you　feel　well？〃

〃No。　　I　feel　as　if　I　had　some　pap　in　my　stomach　and　that　takes　away　my
appetite。〃

He　watched　the　others　eating；　as　he　cut　himself　a　piece　of　bread　from
time　to　time　and　carried　it　lazily　to　his　mouth；　masticating　it　slowly。
He　thought　of　Martine。　　〃She　is　a　fine　girl；　all　the　same。〃　　And　to　think
that　he　had　not　noticed　it　before；　and　that　it　came　to　him；　just　like
that；　all　at　once；　and　with　such　force　that　he　could　not　eat。

He　did　not　touch　the　stew。　　His　mother　said：

〃Come；　Benoist；　try　and　eat　a　little；　it　is　loin　of　mutton；　it　will　do
you　good。　　When　one　has　no　appetite；　they　should　force　themselves　to
eat。〃

He　swallowed　a　few　morsels；　then；　pushing　away　his　plate；　said：

〃No。　　I　can't　go　that；　positively。〃

When　they　rose　from　table　he　walked　round　the　farm；　telling　the　farm　hand
he　might　go　home　and　that　he　would　drive　up　the　animals　as　he　passed　by
them。

The　country　was　deserted；　as　it　was　the　day　of　rest。　　Here　and　there　in　a
field　of　clover　cows　were　moving　along　heavily；　with　full　bellies；
chewing　their　cud　under　a　blazing　sun。　　Unharnessed　plows　were　standing
at　the　end　of　a　furrow；　and　the　upturned　earth　ready　for　the　seed　showed
broad　brown　patches　of　stubble　of　wheat　and　oats　that　had　lately　been
harvested。

A　rather　dry　autumn　wind　blew　across　the　plain；　promising　a　cool　evening
after　the　sun　had　set。　　Benoist　sat　down　on　a　ditch；　placed　his　hat　on
his　knees　as　if　he　needed　to　cool　off　his　head；　and　said　aloud　in　the
stillness　of　the　country：　〃If　you　want　a　fine　girl；　she　is　a　fine　girl。〃

He　thought　of　it　again　at　night；　in　his　bed；　and　in　the　morning　when　he
awoke。

He　was　not　sad；　he　was　not　discontented；　he　could　not　have　told　what
ailed　him。　　It　was　something　that　had　hold　of　him；　something　fastened　in
his　mind；　an　idea　that　would　not　leave　him　and　that　produced　a　sort　of
tickling　sensation　in　his　heart。

Sometimes　a　big　fly　is　shut　up　in　a　room。　　You　hear　it　flying　about；
buzzing；　and　the　noise　haunts　you；　irritates　you。　　Suddenly　it　stops；　you
forget　it；　but　all　at　once　it　begins　again；　obliging　you　to　look　up。
You　cannot　catch　it；　nor　drive　it　away；　nor　kill　it；　nor　make　it　keep
still。　　As　soon　as　it　settles　for　a　second；　it　starts　off　buzzing　again。

The　recollection　of　Martine　disturbed　Benoist's　mind　like　an　imprisoned
fly。

Then　he　longed　to　see　her　again　and　walked　past　the　Martiniere　several
times。　　He　saw　her；　at　last；　hanging　out　some　clothes　on　a　line　stretched
between　two　apple　trees。

It　was　a　warm　day。　　She　had　on　only　a　short　skirt　and　her　chemise；
showing　the　curves　of　her　figure　as　she　hung　up　the　towels。　　He　remained
there；　concealed　by　the　hedge；　for　more　than　an　hour；　even　after　she　had
left。　　He　returned　home　more　obsessed　with　her　image　than　ever。

For　a　month　his　mind　was　full　of　her；　he　trembled　when　her　name　was
mentioned　in　his　presence。　　He　could　not　eat；　he　had　night　sweats　that
kept　him　from　sleeping。

On　Sunday；　at　mass；　he　never　took　his　eyes　off　her。　　She　noticed　it　and
smiled　at　him；　flattered　at　his　appreciation。

One　evening；　he　suddenly　met　her　in　the　road。　　She　stopped　short　when　she
saw　him　coming。　　Then　he　walked　right　up　to　her；　choking　with　fear　and
emotion；　but　determined　to　speak　to　her。　　He　began　falteringly：

〃See　here；　Martine；　this　cannot　go　on　like　this　any　longer。〃

She　replied　as　if　she　wanted　to　tease　him：

〃What　cannot　go　on　any　longer；　Benoist？〃

〃My　thinking　of　you　as　many　hours　as　there　are　in　the　day；〃　he　answered。

She　put　her　hands　on　her　hips。

〃I　do　not　oblige　you　to　do　so。〃

〃Yes；　it　is　you；〃　he　stammered；　〃I　cannot　sleep；　nor　rest；　nor　eat；　nor
anything。〃

〃What　do　you　need　to　cure　you　of　all　that？〃　she　asked。

He　stood　there　in　dismay；　his　arms　swinging；　his　eyes　staring；　his　mouth
agape。

She　hit　him　a　punch　in　the　stomach　and　ran　off。

From　that　day　they　met　each　other　along　the　roadside；　in　by…roads　or　else
at　twilight　on　the　edge　of　a　field；　when　he　was　going　home　with　his
horses　and　she　was　driving　her　cows　home　to　the　stable。

He　felt　himself　carried；　cast　toward　her　by　a　strong　impulse　of　his　heart
and　body。　　He　would　have　liked　to　squeeze　her；　strangle　her；　eat　her；
make　her　part