Mademoiselle Fifi

Boule de Suif replied curtly: "No, Sir."

But at dinner the coalition weakened. Loiseau spoke three unfortunate sentences. Each was racking his brains to find new examples and did not find any, when the Countess, possibly without premeditation, prompted by a vague desire to render homage to religion, questioned the elder of the two nuns about the most noteworthy deeds in the lives of the Saints. – Now, many Saints had committed acts which would be crimes in our estimation; but the Church absolves readily such transgressions when they are committed for the glory of God and the love of our neighbors. This was a powerful argument; the Countess made the most of it. Then, either by one of those tacit understandings, those veiled complaisances in which whoever wears the clerical garb excels, or through fortunate stupidity, serviable foolishness, the old nun brought a formidable support to the conspiracy. They thought she was timid; she showed herself bold, talkative, violent. This one was not trouble by the hesitations of casuistry; her doctrine seemed to be an iron bar; her faith never hesitated; her conscience had no scruples. She found quite natural Abraham's sacrifice, because she would immediately have killed her father and mother if she had received an order from heaven to do so; and in her opinion nothing could displease God if the motive were laudable. The Countess taking advantage of the sacred authority of her unexpected accomplice, led her on to make a kind of edifying paraphrase of this axiom of morality: "The end justifies the means."

She questioned her:

– "Then, Sister, you think that God accepts all methods and forgives the act when the motive is pure?"

– "Who could doubt it, Madame? An action condemnable in itself often becomes meritorious by the thought which inspires it."

And they continued in this way, unraveling God's intentions, forecasting his judgments, and making Him take interest in things that really did not concern Him at all.

All this was expounded in a veiled, clever, discreet and insinuating manner. But each word of the holy woman in cornet made a breach in the indignant resistance of the courtesan. Then the conversation drifting somewhat, the woman with the hanging rosary spoke of the Convents of her Order, of her Superior, of herself, and of her lovely neighbor, the dear Sister Saint-Nicephore. They had been called to Havre to nurse in the Hospitals hundreds of soldiers stricken with small-pox. She described them, those wretched victims, and gave details about their disease. And while they had been stopped on their way by the caprices of this Prussian Officer, a large number of Frenchmen, whom they would probably have saved, might die. It was her specialty to nurse soldiers; she had been in Crimea, in Italy, in Austria, and telling the story of her campaigns, she unexpectedly revealed herself one of those Nuns fond of drums and bugles, who seem to have been created to follow the armies in action, to pick soldiers during the vicissitudes of battles, and, better than a General, to tame with one word the rough and insubordinate troopers; a genuine martial and bellicose Nun, whose wrinkled and pitted face, looked like an image of the devastations of war.

No one uttered a word after she had concluded, so excellent seemed to be the effect of her discourse.

As soon as the meal was over, they went up quickly to their rooms and came down the next morning rather late.

Luncheon went off quietly. They were giving the seed that had been sown time to germinate and come to fruition.

The Countess proposed to take a walk in the afternoon; then the Count, as previously agreed, offered his arm to Boule de Suif and walked with her at some distance behind.

He spoke to her in that familiar, paternal and slightly contemptuous tone which sedate men assume when talking with women of loose morals, calling her: "my dear child," treating her from the height of his social position, his unquestionable honesty. He went straight to the core of the matter:

– "So you prefer to leave us here exposed like yourself to all the violence which would result from a defeat of the Prussian Army, rather than consent to one of those complaisances which you have had so often in your life" —

Boule de Suif did not answer.

He tried kindness, reasoning, sentiment. He managed to remain "Monsieur le Comte" even while showing himself gallant, when necessary, flattering, amiable. He praised to exaltation the services she would render them, spoke of their gratitude, then suddenly, using the familiar "thou," gaily: "And thou knowest, my dear, he might be proud of having tasted the charms of a pretty girl such as he won't find often in his own country."

Boule de Suif did not reply and joined the rest of the party.

As soon as they returned to the inn, she went up to her room and was not seen again. There was extreme anxiety. What was she going to do? If she resisted, what an embarrassment for them all?

The dinner hour struck; they waited for her in vain. Then Mr. Follenvie came in and announced that Mademoiselle Rousset did not feel well and that they might sit down to dinner. They all pricked their ears. The Count came near the inn-keeper and whispered: "Is it all right?" – "Yes."

For the sake of propriety, he did not say anything to his companions, but nodded to them slightly. Immediately a great sigh of relief went up from all breasts; joy brightened every face. Loiseau exclaimed: "By Jove, I'll treat to champagne if any is left in this house!" – And Madame Loiseau felt a pang when the inn-keeper returned with four bottles in his hand. Every one had suddenly become communicative and merry; a lively joy filled the hearts. The Count seemed to notice that Madame Carré-Lamadon was charming; the manufacturer paid compliments to the Countess; the conversation was lively, gay and full of witticisms.

Suddenly Loiseau, with an alarmed face, raised his arms and shouted: "Silence!" They all stopped talking, were surprised nay even frightened. Then he listened, said "Hush!" signaling with his two hands, raised his eyes to the ceiling, listened again and, in his natural voice, he resumed: "Don't be afraid, everything is all right!"

They hesitated to understand what he meant, but soon a smile lighted up all the faces.

After a quarter of an hour, he started again the same farce and repeated it often during the evening; he mimicked as if he were calling a person on the second floor and giving her equivocal advices drawn from his imagination of a commercial traveler. At times he assumed a dismal air and sighed: – "Poor girl!" – or he muttered in his teeth, with a peevish air: – "Rascal of a Prussian!" – Several times, when the others did not think of it, he called out repeatedly in a vibrating voice: "Enough! Enough!" and he added as if soliloquizing: – "Provided that we see her again and that the wretch does not kill her!"

Although such jokes were in very bad taste, they amused more than they shocked the company, for indignation like everything else depends on environment, and the atmosphere that had gradually developed around them was laden with naughty thoughts.

At dessert, even the women indulged in witty and discreet allusions. Their eyes were bright and gleaming; they had drunk considerably. The Count who, even in his moments of relaxation, preserved a dignified appearance, found a comparison with the end of winter in the polar regions and the joy of the ship-wrecked mariners when they see a way open to the South; and this comparison was greatly appreciated.

Loiseau, warmed up, rose to his feet with a glass of champagne in his hands: – "I drink to our deliverance!" – Everybody stood up; he was acclaimed. Even the two good sisters, urged by the ladies, consented to moisten their lips with the sparkling wine, which they had never tasted. They declared that it tasted like sparkling lemonade, but that it was finer.

Loiseau summed up the situation:

– "What a pity that there is no piano! We might have danced a quadrille!" —

Cornudet had not said a single word, nor made a single gesture; he even seemed to be plunged in very serious thoughts, and from time to time tugged furiously at his long beard as if he wanted to make it longer. Finally, toward midnight, as they were going to separate, Loiseau, who was unsteady on his feet slapped him suddenly on the stomach and spluttered: – "You are not in a gay mood to-night, you don't talk much, citoyen?" – But Cornudet raised briskly his head and casting a swift and terrible look at the company, fairly shouted: – "I tell you all, that you have behaved infamously!" – He got up, walked to the door and repeated once more: "Infamous!" and he disappeared.

This threw a chill at first. Loiseau nonplused, stood looking foolish; but he recovered his countenance and then suddenly began to laugh and repeat: – "Sour grapes! my dear Sir, sour grapes!" – The company did not understand what he meant; he explained the "mysteries of the hall" – Then there was a resumption of formidable gayety. The ladies were immensely amused. The Count and Mr. Carré-Lamadon laughed to tears. They could hardly believe their ears.

– "Why! are you sure? He wanted" – "I tell you that I saw it with my own eyes."

– "And she refused?"

– "Because the Prussian was in the next room."

– "Is it possible?"

– "I swear it is true!" —

The Count was choking with laughter. The manufacturer was compressing his stomach with his hands.

– "And you understand, to-night he does not think it is funny at all." —

And all three began to laugh again, choking, out of breath.

Thereupon they retired. But Madame Loiseau, who had the prickly disposition of a nettle remarked to her husband, at the moment they were going to bed: – "That stuck-up little Madame Carré-Lamadon laughed deceitfully all evening."

"You know, for women, when they chase uniforms, it does not make any difference whether the uniforms are French or Prussian. What a pity, oh Lord!" —

And all night, in the darkness of the hall there were light sounds like tremors, hardly audible, similar to murmurs, contacts of bare feet, imperceptible crackings. And they fell asleep quite late, certainly, because rays of light could be seen for a long time under the doors. Champagne has such effects; I understand it disturbs the sleep.

The next morning a bright winter sunshine made the snow dazzling. The coach, finally harnessed, was waiting at the door, while an army of white pigeons, ensconced in their white feathers, with their pink eyes spotted in the middle with small black dots, were walking leisurely between the legs of the six horses and picking their food from the steaming manure which they were scattering.

The driver, wrapped up in his sheepskin cloak, was up on his seat, smoking a pipe, and all the travelers, looking radiant, were having provisions packed up for the rest of the trip.

Boule de Suif only had not come down. She appeared.

She seemed to be rather confused, bashful; shyly, she walked up to her companions who, all with the same movement, turned away from her as if they had not seen her. The Count, dignified, took his wife by the arm and removed her from this impure contact.

The girl stood still, stupefied; then picking up all her courage she accosted the manufacturer's wife with a – "Good morning, Madame!" – humbly muttered. The other answered only with a short and impertinent nod accompanied by a look of outraged virtue. Everybody seemed to be busy and kept away from her as if she were carrying some infectious germs in her skirt. Then they rushed up to the coach, in which she entered last, without being helped by anyone, and silently she took the seat she had occupied during the final part of the journey.

They feigned not to see her, not to know her; but Mme. Loiseau, looking at her indignantly from a distance, told her husband half aloud: – "Fortunately I am not sitting next to her." —

The heavy coach started and the journey was resumed.

First nobody spoke. Boule de Suif did not dare raise her eyes. At the same time she felt indignant at all her companions, and humiliated for having yielded to the Prussian Officer into whose arms she had been hypocritically forced by them.

But the Countess, turning to Madame Carré-Lamadon, broke soon this painful silence.

– "I think you knew Madame d'Estrelles."

– "Yes, she is one of my friends."

– "What a charming woman!"

– "Fascinating! Really a select nature, besides highly educated, and an artist to the tips of her fingers. She sings delightfully and paints to perfection."

The manufacturer was talking with the Count, and in the middle of the clatter of the window-panes, one could catch here and there a word: – "Coupon – maturity – premium – term – "

Loiseau, who had stolen from the inn the old pack of cards, greasy after five years friction on dirty tables, started a game of "bezigue" with his wife.

The good sisters took from their belts the long rosaries, made simultaneously the sign of the cross and suddenly their lips began to move rapidly, becoming more and more accelerated, precipitating their vague murmur as if in a race of "orisons;" and now and then they kissed a medal, crossed themselves again, and resumed their swift and continuous mutterings.

Cornudet sat still and deep in thoughts. After they had traveled for three hours, Loiseau picked up his cards and said: – "I am hungry." Then his wife reached out for a package from which she drew a piece of cold veal. She cut it carefully in thin and neat slices and both began to eat.

– "Why shouldn't we do the same?" – said the Countess. Upon general consent, she unpacked the provisions prepared for the two couples. In one of those oval dishes, the cover of which bears a china hare, to show that a hare pie lies inside, there were exquisite delicatessen, the white streams of lard crossing the brown meat of the game, mixed with other fine chopped meats. A handsome piece of Swiss-cheese, wrapped in a newspaper, had taken on its fat surface the imprint: – "Sundry items."

The two sisters opened a hunk of sausage which smelled of garlic; and Cornudet plunging at the same time both his hands in the large pockets of his baggy overcoat, drew from one four hard-boiled eggs and from the other the crust of a loaf of bread. He removed the shells threw them under his feet, on the straw, and began to bite the eggs voraciously, dropping on his large beard small pieces of yellowish yolk which looked like stars.

Boule de Suif, in the haste and confusion of her departure, had not thought of taking provisions; and exasperated, suffocating with rage, she was looking on all those people who ate heartily. At first a tumultuous anger shook her, and she opened her mouth to tell them what she thought of them in a wave of insults that surged to her lips; but she could not speak, so exasperated was she with indignation.

Nobody looked at her, took notice of her. She felt drowned in the scorn of those honest rascals who had first sacrificed her and then cast her away like something unclean and of no further use. Then she thought of her large basket full of good things, which they had devoured greedily, of her two chickens shining in jelly, her pastry, her pears, her four bottles of claret; and suddenly, her furor having died out, like an over strung cord, she felt like crying. She made terrible efforts; stiffened herself up, swallowed her sobs like children, but the tears were surging, shining at the border of her eyelids, and soon two big tears breaking away from her eyes coursed slowly down her cheeks. Others followed them more swiftly, running like drops of water filtering through rocks and fell regularly on the rounded curve of her bosom. She remained upright, her eyes motionless, her face rigid and pale, hoping that the others would not notice her.

But the Countess noticed it and called her husband's attention with a sign. He shrugged his shoulders, as if to say: – "What can I do? It is not my fault!" – Madame Loiseau had a silent laugh of triumph and muttered: "She is weeping for shame!" —

The two good sisters had resumed their prayers after having rolled up in a paper the rest of their sausage.

Then Cornudet, who was digesting the eggs, stretched his long legs under the seat, sat back, crossed his arms, smiled like a man who has thought of a good joke and began to whistle the Marseillaise.

The faces of all the others darkened. Decidedly the popular song did not please his neighbors. They became nervous, fidgety, and seemed ready to howl like dogs that hear a barrel-organ. He noticed it, did not stop. At times he even pronounced the words:

Amour sacré del la patrie,Conduis, soutiens, nos bras vengeurs,Liberté, liberté chérie,Combats avec tes défenseurs.

The snow being harder, the coach traveled more quickly, and as far as Dieppe, during the long dreary hours of the trip, through the jostles of the road, during the twilight, and later in the thick darkness of the coach, he kept on with a fierce obstinacy his monotonous and revengeful whistling, compelling the fagged and exasperated hearers to follow the anthem from one end to the other, to remember every word that went with each measure.

And Boule de Suif was still weeping; and at times a sob, which she could not restrain, passed between two verses in the night.

FINIS

1

Note from Brett: The original uses "penertation" and "penertating" but I could not find this word anywhere so assumed it was a typographical error.

2

Note from Brett: The original uses "penertation" and "penertating" but I could not find this word anywhere so assumed it was a typographical error.

3

Duty

4

Note from Brett: The original uses "clowds," but I think "clouds" was intended.

5

Note from Brett: The original uses "fugutive," but, again, I think this is a typographical error as there is no such word.

6

Note from Brett: This translates, roughly, into "Oh! the rogue! the rogue!"

7

Note from Brett: This translates, roughly, into "citizen"

8

Note from Brett: I think this is an excellent, though unintentional, pun. "Pudor" is Spanish for "shame," but this meaning makes the sentence difficult to read (at best), although it does convey the intent. I think that the word intended is "powder," but left the original in case I am wrong