Abellrang;itwasfordinner，andIwentdownstairs.MadameRadevintookmyarminaceremoniousmanner，andwepassedintothedining—room.
　　Afootmanwheeledintheoldmaninhisarmchair.Hegaveagreedyandcuriouslookatthedessert，asheturnedhisshakingheadwithdifficultyfromonedishtotheother.
　　Simonrubbedhishands："Youwillbeamused，"hesaid;andallthechildrenunderstandingthatIwasgoingtobeindulgedwiththesightoftheirgreedygrandfather，begantolaugh，whiletheirmothermerelysmiledandshruggedhershoulders，andSimon，makingaspeakingtrumpetofhishands，shoutedattheoldman："Thiseveningthereissweetcreamedrice！"Thewrinkledfaceofthegrandfatherbrightened，andhetrembledmoreviolently，fromheadtofoot，showingthathehadunderstoodandwasverypleased.Thedinnerbegan.
　　"Justlook！"Simonwhispered.Theoldmandidnotlikethesoup，andrefusedtoeatit;buthewasobligedtodoitforthegoodofhishealth，andthefootmanforcedthespoonintohismouth，whiletheoldmanblewsoenergetically，soasnottoswallowthesoup，thatitwasscatteredlikeasprayalloverthetableandoverhisneighbors.Thechildrenwrithedwithlaughteratthespectacle，whiletheirfather，whowasalsoamused，said："Isnottheoldmancomical？"
　　Duringthewholemealtheyweretakenupsolelywithhim.Hedevouredthedishesonthetablewithhiseyes，andtriedtoseizethemandpullthemovertohimwithhistremblinghands.Theyputthemalmostwithinhisreach，toseehisuselessefforts，histremblingclutchesatthem，thepiteousappealofhiswholenature，ofhiseyes，ofhismouthandofhisnoseashesmeltthem，andheslobberedonhistablenapkinwitheagerness，whileutteringinarticulategrunts.Andthewholefamilywashighlyamusedatthishorribleandgrotesquescene.
　　Thentheyputatinymorselonhisplate，andheatewithfeverishgluttony，inordertogetsomethingmoreassoonaspossible，andwhenthesweetenedricewasbroughtin，henearlyhadafit，andgroanedwithgreediness，andGontrancalledouttohim：
　　"Youhaveeatentoomuchalready;youcanhavenomore."Andtheypretendednottogivehimany.Thenhebegantocry;hecriedandtrembledmoreviolentlythanever，whileallthechildrenlaughed.
　　Atlast，however，theygavehimhishelping，averysmallpiece;andasheatethefirstmouthful，hemadeacomicalnoiseinhisthroat，andamovementwithhisneckasducksdowhentheyswallowtoolargeamorsel，andwhenhehadswallowedit，hebegantostamphisfeet，soastogetmore.
　　IwasseizedwithpityforthissaddeningandridiculousTantalus，andinterposedonhisbehalf：
　　"Come，givehimalittlemorerice！"ButSimonreplied："Oh！no，mydearfellow，ifheweretoeattoomuch，itwouldharmhim，athisage."
　　Iheldmytongue，andthoughtoverthosewords.Oh，ethics！Oh，logic！
　　Oh，wisdom！Athisage！Sotheydeprivedhimofhisonlyremainingpleasureoutofregardforhishealth！Hishealth！Whatwouldhedowithit，inertandtremblingwreckthathewas？Theyweretakingcareofhislife，sotheysaid.Hislife？Howmanydays？Ten，twenty，fifty，orahundred？Why？Forhisownsake？Ortopreserveforsometimelongerthespectacleofhisimpotentgreedinessinthefamily.
　　Therewasnothingleftforhimtodointhislife，nothingwhatever.
　　Hehadonesinglewishleft，onesolepleasure;whynotgranthimthatlastsolaceuntilhedied？
　　Afterwehadplayedcardsforalongtime，Iwentuptomyroomandtobed;Iwaslow—spiritedandsad，sad，sad！andIsatatmywindow.Notasoundcouldbeheardoutsidebutthebeautifulwarblingofabirdinatree，somewhereinthedistance.Nodoubtthebirdwassinginginalowvoiceduringthenight，tolullhismate，whowasasleeponhereggs.
　　AndIthoughtofmypoorfriend’sfivechildren，andpicturedhimtomyself，snoringbythesideofhisuglywife.
　　SUICIDES
　　ToGeorgesLegrand.
　　Hardlyadaygoesbywithoutourreadinganewsitemlikethefollowinginsomenewspaper：
　　"OnWednesdaynightthepeoplelivinginNo.40Ruede—————，wereawakenedbytwosuccessiveshots.TheexplosionsseemedtocomefromtheapartmentoccupiedbyM.X————.Thedoorwasbrokeninandthemanwasfoundbathedinhisblood，stillholdinginonehandtherevolverwithwhichhehadtakenhislife.
　　"M.X————wasfifty—sevenyearsofage，enjoyingacomfortableincome，andhadeverythingnecessarytomakehimhappy.Nocausecanbefoundforhisaction."
　　Whatterriblegrief，whatunknownsuffering，hiddendespair，secretwoundsdrivethesepresumablyhappypersonstosuicide？Wesearch，weimaginetragediesoflove，wesuspectfinancialtroubles，and，asweneverfindanythingdefinite，weapplytothesedeathstheword"mystery."
　　Aletterfoundonthedeskofoneofthese"suicideswithoutcause，"andwrittenduringhislastnight，besidehisloadedrevolver，hascomeintoourhands.Wedeemitratherinteresting.Itrevealsnoneofthosegreatcatastropheswhichwealwaysexpecttofindbehindtheseactsofdespair;butitshowsustheslowsuccessionofthelittlevexationsoflife，thedisintegrationofalonelyexistence，whosedreamshavedisappeared;itgivesthereasonforthesetragicends，whichonlynervousandhighstrungpeoplecanunderstand.
　　Hereitis：
　　"Itismidnight.WhenIhavefinishedthisletterIshallkillmyself.
　　Why？Ishallattempttogivethereasons，notforthosewhomayreadtheselines，butformyself，tokindlemywaningcourage，toimpressuponmyselfthefatalnecessityofthisactwhichcan，atbest，beonlydeferred.
　　"Iwasbroughtupbysimple—mindedparentswhowereunquestioningbelievers.AndIbelievedastheydid.
　　"Mydreamlastedalongtime.Thelastveilhasjustbeentornfrommyeyes.
　　"Duringthelastfewyearsastrangechangehasbeentakingplacewithinme.AlltheeventsofLife，whichformerlyhadtometheglowofabeautifulsunset，arenowfadingaway.Thetruemeaningofthingshasappearedtomeinitsbrutalreality;andthetruereasonforlovehasbredinmedisgustevenforthispoeticsentiment：’Wearetheeternaltoysoffoolishandcharmingillusions，whicharealwaysbeingrenewed.’
　　"Ongrowingolder，Ihadbecomepartlyreconciledtotheawfulmysteryoflife，totheuselessnessofeffort;whentheemptinessofeverythingappearedtomeinanewlight，thisevening，afterdinner.
　　"Formerly，Iwashappy！Everythingpleasedme：thepassingwomen，theappearanceofthestreets，theplacewhereIlived;andIeventookaninterestinthecutofmyclothes.Buttherepetitionofthesamesightshashadtheresultoffillingmyheartwithwearinessanddisgust，justasonewouldfeelwereonetogoeverynighttothesametheatre.
　　"ForthelastthirtyyearsIhavebeenrisingatthesamehour;and，atthesamerestaurant，forthirtyyears，Ihavebeeneatingatthesamehoursthesamedishesbroughtmebydifferentwaiters.
　　"Ihavetriedtravel.Thelonelinesswhichonefeelsinstrangeplacesterrifiedme.Ifeltsoalone，sosmallontheearththatIquicklystartedonmyhomewardjourney.
　　"Butheretheunchangingexpressionofmyfurniture，whichhasstoodforthirtyyearsinthesameplace，thesmellofmyapartments（for，withtime，eachdwellingtakesonaparticularodor）eachnight，theseandotherthingsdisgustmeandmakemesickoflivingthus.
　　"Everythingrepeatsitselfendlessly.ThewayinwhichIputmykeyinthelock，theplacewhereIalwaysfindmymatches，thefirstobjectwhichmeetsmyeyewhenIentertheroom，makemefeellikejumpingoutofthewindowandputtinganendtothosemonotonouseventsfromwhichwecanneverescape.
　　"Eachday，whenIshave，Ifeelaninordinatedesiretocutmythroat;
　　andmyface，whichIseeinthelittlemirror，alwaysthesame，withsoaponmycheeks，hasseveraltimesmademeweakfromsadness.
　　"NowIevenhatetobewithpeoplewhomIusedtomeetwithpleasure;I
　　knowthemsowell，IcantelljustwhattheyaregoingtosayandwhatI
　　amgoingtoanswer.Eachbrainislikeacircus，wherethesamehorsekeepscirclingaroundeternally.Wemustcircleroundalways，aroundthesameideas，thesamejoys，thesamepleasures，thesamehabits，thesamebeliefs，thesamesensationsofdisgust.
　　"Thefogwasterriblethisevening.Itenfoldedtheboulevard，wherethestreetlightsweredimmedandlookedlikesmokingcandles.Aheavierweightthanusualoppressedme.Perhapsmydigestionwasbad.
　　"Forgooddigestioniseverythinginlife.Itgivestheinspirationtotheartist，amorousdesirestoyoungpeople，clearideastothinkers，thejoyoflifetoeverybody，anditalsoallowsonetoeatheartily（whichisoneofthegreatestpleasures）.Asickstomachinducesscepticismunbelief，nightmaresandthedesirefordeath.Ihaveoftennoticedthisfact.PerhapsIwouldnotkillmyself，ifmydigestionhadbeengoodthisevening.
　　"WhenIsatdowninthearm—chairwhereIhavebeensittingeverydayforthirtyyears，Iglancedaroundme，andjustthenIwasseizedbysuchaterribledistressthatIthoughtImustgomad.
　　"ItriedtothinkofwhatIcoulddotorunawayfrommyself.Everyoccupationstruckmeasbeingworseeventhaninaction.ThenIbethoughtmeofputtingmypapersinorder.
　　"ForalongtimeIhavebeenthinkingofclearingoutmydrawers;for，forthelastthirtyyears，Ihavebeenthrowingmylettersandbillspell—mellintothesamedesk，andthisconfusionhasoftencausedmeconsiderabletrouble.ButIfeelsuchmoralandphysicallazinessatthesoleideaofputtinganythinginorderthatIhaveneverhadthecouragetobeginthistediousbusiness.
　　"Ithereforeopenedmydesk，intendingtochooseamongmyoldpapersanddestroythemajorityofthem.
　　"AtfirstIwasbewilderedbythisarrayofdocuments，yellowedbyage，thenIchoseone.
　　"Oh！ifyoucherishlife，neverdisturbtheburialplaceofoldletters！
　　"Andif，perchance，youshould，takethecontentsbythehandful，closeyoureyesthatyoumaynotreadaword，sothatyoumaynotrecognizesomeforgottenhandwritingwhichmayplungeyousuddenlyintoaseaofmemories;carrythesepaperstothefire;andwhentheyareinashes，crushthemtoaninvisiblepowder，orotherwiseyouarelost——justasI
　　havebeenlostforanhour.
　　"ThefirstletterswhichIreaddidnotinterestmegreatly.Theywererecent，andcamefromlivingmenwhomIstillmeetquiteoften，andwhosepresencedoesnotmovemetoanygreatextent.Butallatonceoneenvelopemademestart.Mynamewastracedonitinalarge，boldhandwriting;andsuddenlytearscametomyeyes.Thatletterwasfrommydearestfriend，thecompanionofmyyouth，theconfidantofmyhopes;andheappearedbeforemesoclearly，withhispleasantsmileandhishandoutstretched，thatacoldshiverrandownmyback.Yes，yes，thedeadcomeback，forIsawhim！Ourmemoryisamoreperfectworldthantheuniverse：itgivesbacklifetothosewhonolongerexist.
　　"WithtremblinghandanddimmedeyesIrereadeverythingthathetoldme，andinmypoorsobbingheartIfeltawoundsopainfulthatIbegantogroanasamanwhosebonesareslowlybeingcrushed.
　　"ThenItravelledovermywholelife，justasonetravelsalongariver.
　　Irecognizedpeople，solongforgottenthatInolongerknewtheirnames.
　　Theirfacesalonelivedinme.Inmymother’slettersIsawagaintheoldservants，theshapeofourhouseandthelittleinsignificantoddsandendswhichclingtoourminds.
　　"Yes，Isuddenlysawagainallmymother’soldgowns，thedifferentstyleswhichsheadoptedandtheseveralwaysinwhichshedressedherhair.Shehauntedmeespeciallyinasilkdress，trimmedwitholdlace;
　　andIrememberedsomethingshesaidonedaywhenshewaswearingthisdress.Shesaid：’Robert，mychild，ifyoudonotstandupstraightyouwillberound—shoulderedallyourlife.’
　　"Then，openinganotherdrawer，Ifoundmyselffacetofacewithmemoriesoftenderpassions：adancing—pump，atornhandkerchief，evenagarter，locksofhairanddriedflowers.Thenthesweetromancesofmylife，whoselivingheroinesarenowwhite—haired，plungedmeintothedeepmelancholyofthings.Oh，theyoungbrowswhereblondlockscurl，thecaressofthehands，theglancewhichspeaks，theheartswhichbeat，thatsmilewhichpromisesthelips，thoselipswhichpromisetheembrace！
　　Andthefirstkiss—thatendlesskisswhichmakesyoucloseyoureyes，whichdrownsallthoughtintheimmeasurablejoyofapproachingpossession！
　　"Takingtheseoldpledgesofformerloveinbothmyhands，Icoveredthemwithfuriouscaresses，andinmysoul，tornbythesememories，Isawthemeachagainatthehourofsurrender;andIsufferedatorturemorecruelthanallthetorturesinventedinallthefablesabouthell.
　　"Onelastletterremained.Itwaswrittenbymeanddictatedfiftyyearsagobymywritingteacher.Hereitis：
　　"’MYDEARLITTLEMAMMA：
　　"’Iamsevenyearsoldto—day.Itistheageofreason.Itakeadvantageofittothankyouforhavingbroughtmeintothisworld.
　　"’Yourlittleson，wholovesyou"’ROBERT.’
　　"Itisallover.Ihadgonebacktothebeginning，andsuddenlyIturnedmyglanceonwhatremainedtomeoflife.Isawhideousandlonelyoldage，andapproachinginfirmities，andeverythingoverandgone.Andnobodynearme！
　　"Myrevolverishere，onthetable.IamloadingitNeverrereadyouroldletters！"
　　Andthatishowmanymencometokillthemselves;andwesearchinvaintodiscoversomegreatsorrowintheirlives.
　　ANARTIFICE
　　Theolddoctorsatbythefireside，talkingtohisfairpatientwhowaslyingonthelounge.Therewasnothingmuchthematterwithher，exceptthatshehadoneofthoselittlefeminineailmentsfromwhichprettywomenfrequentlysuffer——slightanaemia，anervousattack，etc.
　　"No，doctor，"shesaid;"Ishallneverbeabletounderstandawomandeceivingherhusband.Evenallowingthatshedoesnotlovehim，thatshepaysnoheedtohervowsandpromises，howcanshegiveherselftoanotherman？Howcansheconcealtheintriguefromotherpeople’seyes？
　　Howcanitbepossibletoloveamidliesandtreason？"
　　Thedoctorsmiled，andreplied："Itisperfectlyeasy，andIcanassureyouthatawomandoesnotthinkofallthoselittlesubtledetailswhenshehasmadeuphermindtogoastray.
　　"Asfordissimulation，allwomenhaveplentyofitonhandforsuchoccasions，andthesimplestofthemarewonderful，andextricatethemselvesfromthegreatestdilemmasinaremarkablemanner."
　　Theyoungwoman，however，seemedincredulous.
　　"No，doctor，"shesaid;"oneneverthinksuntilafterithashappenedofwhatoneoughttohavedoneinacriticalsituation，andwomenarecertainlymoreliablethanmentolosetheirheadonsuchoccasions："
　　Thedoctorraisedhishands."Afterithashappened，yousay！NowI
　　willtellyousomethingthathappenedtooneofmyfemalepatients，whomIalwaysconsideredanimmaculatewoman.
　　"Ithappenedinaprovincialtown，andonenightwhenIwasasleep，inthatdeepfirstsleepfromwhichitissodifficulttorouseus，itseemedtome，inmydreams，asifthebellsinthetownweresoundingafirealarm，andIwokeupwithastart.Itwasmyownbell，whichwasringingwildly，andasmyfootmandidnotseemtobeansweringthedoor，I，inturn，pulledthebellattheheadofmybed，andsoonIheardabanging，andstepsinthesilenthouse，andJeancameintomyroom，andhandedmealetterwhichsaid：’MadameLelievrebegsDr.Simeontocometoherimmediately.’
　　"Ithoughtforafewmoments，andthenIsaidtomyself：’Anervousattack，vapors;nonsense，Iamtootired.’AndsoIreplied：’AsDr.
　　Simeonisnotatallwell，hemustbegMadameLelievretobekindenoughtocallinhiscolleague，MonsieurBonnet.’Iputthenoteintoanenvelopeandwenttosleepagain，butabouthalfanhourlaterthestreetbellrangagain，andJeancametomeandsaid：’Thereissomebodydownstairs;Idonotquiteknowwhetheritisamanorawoman，astheindividualissowrappedup，buttheywishtospeaktoyouimmediately.
　　Theysayitisamatteroflifeanddeathfortwopeople.’WhereuponI
　　satupinbedandtoldhimtoshowthepersonin.
　　"AkindofblackphantomappearedandraisedherveilassoonasJeanhadlefttheroom.ItwasMadameBertheLelievre，quiteayoungwoman，whohadbeenmarriedforthreeyearstoalargeamerchantinthetown，whowassaidtohavemarriedtheprettiestgirlintheneighborhood.
　　"Shewasterriblypale，herfacewascontractedasthefacesofinsanepeopleare，occasionally，andherhandstrembledviolently.Twiceshetriedtospeakwithoutbeingabletoutterasound，butatlastshestammeredout：’Come——quick——quick，doctor.Come——my——friendhasjustdiedinmybedroom.’Shestopped，halfsuffocatedwithemotion，andthenwenton：’Myhusbandwillbecominghomefromtheclubverysoon.’
　　"IjumpedoutofbedwithoutevenconsideringthatIwasonlyinmynightshirt，anddressedmyselfinafewmoments，andthenIsaid：’Didyoucomeashorttimeago？’’No，’shesaid，standinglikeastatuepetrifiedwithhorror.’Itwasmyservant——sheknows.’Andthen，afterashortsilence，shewenton：’Iwasthere——byhisside.’Andsheutteredasortofcryofhorror，andafterafitofchoking，whichmadehergasp，sheweptviolently，andshookwithspasmodicsobsforaminute：
　　ortwo.Thenhertearssuddenlyceased，asifbyaninternalfire，andwithanairoftragiccalmness，shesaid：’Letusmakehaste.’
　　"Iwasready，butexclaimed：’Iquiteforgottoordermycarriage.’
　　’Ihaveone，’shesaid;’itishis，whichwaswaitingforhim！’Shewrappedherselfup，soastocompletelyconcealherface，andwestarted.
　　"Whenshewasbymysideinthecarriageshesuddenlyseizedmyhand，andcrushingitinherdelicatefingers，shesaid，withashakingvoice，thatproceededfromadistractedheart：’Oh！ifyouonlyknew，ifyouonlyknewwhatIamsuffering！Ilovedhim，Ihavelovedhimdistractedly，likeamadwoman，forthelastsixmonths.’’Isanyoneupinyourhouse？’
　　Iasked.’No，nobodyexceptthose，whoknowseverything.’
　　"Westoppedatthedoor，andevidentlyeverybodywasasleep.Wewentinwithoutmakinganynoise，bymeansofherlatch—key，andwalkedupstairsontiptoe.Thefrightenedservantwassittingonthetopofthestairswithalightedcandlebyherside，asshewasafraidtoremainwiththedeadman，andIwentintotheroom，whichwasingreatdisorder.Wettowels，withwhichtheyhadbathedtheyoungman’stemples，werelyingonthefloor，bythesideofawashbasinandaglass，whileastrongsmellofvinegarpervadedtheroom.
　　"Thedeadman’sbodywaslyingatfulllengthinthemiddleoftheroom，andIwentuptoit，lookedatit，andtouchedit.Iopenedtheeyesandfeltthehands，andthen，turningtothetwowomen，whowereshakingasiftheywerefreezing，Isaidtothem：’Helpmetolifthimontothebed.’Whenwehadlaidhimgentlyonit，Ilistenedtohisheartandputalooking—glasstohislips，andthensaid：’Itisallover.’Itwasaterriblesight！
　　"Ilookedattheman，andsaid：’Yououghttoarrangehishairalittle.’
　　Thegirlwentandbroughthermistress’combandbrush，butasshewastrembling，andpullingouthislong，mattedhairindoingit，MadameLelievretookthecomboutofherhand，andarrangedhishairasifshewerecaressinghim.Shepartedit，brushedhisbeard，rolledhismustachesgentlyroundherfingers，then，suddenly，lettinggoofhishair，shetookthedeadman’sinertheadinherhandsandlookedforalongtimeindespairatthedeadface，whichnolongercouldsmileather，andthen，throwingherselfonhim，sheclaspedhiminherarmsandkissedhimardently.Herkissesfelllikeblowsonhisclosedmouthandeyes，hisforeheadandtemples;andthen，puttingherlipstohisear，asifhecouldstillhearher，andasifshewereabouttowhispersomethingtohim，shesaidseveraltimes，inaheartrendingvoice：
　　’Good—by，mydarling！’
　　"Justthentheclockstrucktwelve，andIstartedup.’Twelveo’clock！’
　　Iexclaimed.’Thatisthetimewhentheclubcloses.Come，madame，wehavenotamomenttolose！’Shestartedup，andIsaid：
　　’Wemustcarryhimintothedrawing—room.’Andwhenwehaddonethis，Iplacedhimonasofa，andlitthechandeliers，andjustthenthefrontdoorwasopenedandshutnoisily.’Rose，bringmethebasinandthetowels，andmaketheroomlooktidy.Makehaste，forHeaven’ssake！
　　MonsieurLelievreiscomingin.’
　　"Iheardhisstepsonthestairs，andthenhishandsfeelingalongthewalls.’Comehere，mydearfellow，’Isaid;’wehavehadanaccident.’
　　"Andtheastonishedhusbandappearedinthedoorwithacigarinhismouth，andsaid：’Whatisthematter？Whatisthemeaningofthis？’
　　’Mydearfriend，’Isaid，goinguptohim，’youfindusingreatembarrassment.Ihadremainedlate，chattingwithyourwifeandourfriend，whohadbroughtmeinhiscarriage，whenhesuddenlyfainted，andinspiteofallwehavedone，hehasremainedunconsciousfortwohours.
　　Ididnotliketocallinstrangers，andifyouwillnowhelpmedownstairswithhim，Ishallbeabletoattendtohimbetterathisownhouse.’
　　"Thehusband，whowassurprised，butquiteunsuspicious，tookoffhishat，andthenhetookhisrival，whowouldbequiteinoffensiveforthefuture，underthearms.Igotbetweenhistwolegs，asifIhadbeenahorsebetweentheshafts，andwewentdownstairs，whilehiswifeheldalightforus.WhenwegotoutsideIstoodthebodyup，soastodeceivethecoachman，andsaid：’Come，myfriend;itisnothing;youfeelbetteralreadyIexpect.Pluckupyourcourage，andmakeaneffort.Itwillsoonbeover.’ButasIfeltthathewasslippingoutofmyhands，I
　　gavehimaslapontheshoulder，whichsenthimforwardandmadehimfallintothecarriage，andthenIgotinafterhim.MonsieurLelievre，whowasratheralarmed，saidtome：’Doyouthinkitisanythingserious？’
　　TowhichIreplied：’No，’withasmile，asIlookedathiswife，whohadputherarmintothatofherhusband，andwastryingtoseeintothecarriage.
　　"Ishookhandswiththemandtoldmycoachmantostart，andduringthewholedrivethedeadmankeptfallingagainstme.WhenwegottohishouseIsaidthathehadbecomeunconsciousonthewayhome，andhelpedtocarryhimupstairs，whereIcertifiedthathewasdead，andactedanothercomedytohisdistractedfamily，andatlastIgotbacktobed，notwithoutswearingatlovers."
　　Thedoctorceased，thoughhewasstillsmiling，andtheyoungwoman，whowasinaverynervousstate，said："Whyhaveyoutoldmethatterriblestory？"
　　Hegaveheragallantbow，andreplied：
　　"SothatImayofferyoumyservicesiftheyshouldbeneeded."
　　DREAMS
　　Theyhadjustdinedtogether，fiveoldfriends，awriter，adoctorandthreerichbachelorswithoutanyprofession.
　　Theyhadtalkedabouteverything，andafeelingoflassitudecameoverthem，thatfeelingwhichprecedesandleadstothedepartureofguestsafterfestivegatherings.Oneofthosepresent，whohadforthelastfiveminutesbeengazingsilentlyatthesurgingboulevarddottedwithgas—lamps，withitsrattlingvehicles，saidsuddenly：
　　"Whenyou’venothingtodofrommorningtillnight，thedaysarelong."
　　"Andthenightstoo，"assentedtheguestwhosatnexttohim."Isleepverylittle;pleasuresfatigueme;conversationismonotonous.NeverdoIcomeacrossanewidea，andIfeel，beforetalkingtoanyone，aviolentlongingtosaynothingandtolistentonothing.Idon’tknowwhattodowithmyevenings."
　　Thethirdidlerremarked：
　　"Iwouldpayagreatdealforanythingthatwouldhelpmetopassjusttwopleasanthourseveryday."
　　Thewriter，whohadjustthrownhisovercoatacrosshisarm，turnedroundtothem，andsaid：
　　"Themanwhocoulddiscoveranewviceandintroduceitamonghisfellowcreatures，evenifitweretoshortentheirlives，wouldrenderagreaterservicetohumanitythanthemanwhofoundthemeansofsecuringtothemeternalsalvationandeternalyouth."
　　Thedoctorburstoutlaughing，and，whilehechewedhiscigar，hesaid：
　　"Yes，butitisnotsoeasytodiscoverit.Menhavehowevercrudely，beenseekingfor——andworkingfortheobjectyourefertosincethebeginningoftheworld.Themenwhocamefirstreachedperfectionatonceinthisway.Wearehardlyequaltothem."
　　Oneofthethreeidlersmurmured：
　　"Whatapity！"
　　Then，afteraminute’spause，headded：
　　"Ifwecouldonlysleep，sleepwell，withoutfeelinghotorcold，sleepwiththatperfectunconsciousnessweexperienceonnightswhenwearethoroughlyfatigued，sleepwithoutdreams."
　　"Whywithoutdreams？"askedtheguestsittingnexttohim.
　　Theotherreplied：
　　"Becausedreamsarenotalwayspleasant;theyarealwaysfantastic，improbable，disconnected;andbecausewhenweareasleepwecannothavethesortofdreamswelike.Weoughttodreamwaking."
　　"Andwhat’stopreventyou？"askedthewriter.
　　Thedoctorflungawaytheendofhiscigar.
　　"Mydearfellow，inordertodreamwhenyouareawake，youneedgreatpowerandgreatexerciseofwill，andwhenyoutrytodoit，greatwearinessistheresult.Now，realdreaming，thatjourneyofourthoughtsthroughdelightfulvisions，isassuredlythesweetestexperienceintheworld;butitmustcomenaturally，itmustnotbeprovokedinapainful，manner，andmustbeaccompaniedbyabsolutebodilycomfort.
　　ThispowerofdreamingIcangiveyou，providedyoupromisethatyouwillnotabuseit."
　　Thewritershruggedhisshoulders：
　　"Ah！yes，Iknow——hasheesh，opium，greentea——artificialparadises.
　　IhavereadBaudelaire，andIeventastedthefamousdrug，whichmademeverysick."
　　Butthedoctor，withoutstirringfromhisseat，said：
　　"No;ether，nothingbutether;andIwouldsuggestthatyouliterarymenshoulduseitsometimes."
　　Thethreerichbachelorsdrewclosertothedoctor.
　　Oneofthemsaid：
　　"Explaintoustheeffectsofit."
　　Andthedoctorreplied：
　　"Letusputasidebigwords，shallwenot？Iamnottalkingofmedicineormorality;Iamtalkingofpleasure.Yougiveyourselvesupeverydaytoexcesseswhichconsumeyourlives.Iwanttoindicatetoyouanewsensation，possibleonlytointelligentmen——letussayevenveryintelligentmen——dangerous，likeeverythingelsethatoverexcitesourorgans，butexquisite.Imightaddthatyouwouldrequireacertainpreparation，thatistosay，practice，tofeelinalltheircompletenessthesingulareffectsofether.
　　"Theyaredifferentfromtheeffectsofhasheesh，ofopium，ormorphia，andtheyceaseassoonastheabsorptionofthedrugisinterrupted，whiletheothergeneratorsofdaydreamscontinuetheiractionforhours.
　　"Iamnowgoingtotrytoanalyzethesefeelingsasclearlyaspossible.
　　Butthethingisnoteasy，sofacile，sodelicate，soalmostimperceptible，arethesesensations.
　　"ItwaswhenIwasattackedbyviolentneuralgiathatImadeuseofthisremedy，whichsincethenIhave，perhaps，slightlyabused.
　　"Ihadacutepainsinmyheadandneck，andanintolerableheatoftheskin，afeverishrestlessness.Itookupalargebottleofether，and，lyingdown，Ibegantoinhaleitslowly.
　　"AttheendofsomeminutesIthoughtIheardavaguemurmur，whicherelongbecameasortofhumming，anditseemedtomethatalltheinteriorofmybodyhadbecomelight，lightasair，thatitwasdissolvingintovapor.
　　"Thencameasortoftorpor，asleepysensationofcomfort，inspiteofthepainswhichstillcontinued，butwhichhadceasedtomakethemselvesfelt.Itwasoneofthosesensationswhichwearewillingtoendureandnotanyofthosefrightfulwrenchesagainstwhichourtorturedbodyprotests.
　　"SoonthestrangeanddelightfulsenseofemptinesswhichIfeltinmychestextendedtomylimbs，which，intheirturn，becamelight，aslightasifthefleshandtheboneshadbeenmeltedandtheskinonlywereleft，theskinnecessarytoenablemetorealizethesweetnessofliving，ofbathinginthissensationofwell—being.ThenIperceivedthatIwasnolongersuffering.Thepainhadgone，meltedaway，evaporated.AndI
　　heardvoices，fourvoices，twodialogues，withoutunderstandingwhatwassaid.Atonetimetherewereonlyindistinctsounds，atanothertimeawordreachedmyear.ButIrecognizedthatthiswasonlythehummingI
　　hadheardbefore，butemphasized.Iwasnotasleep;Iwasnotawake;I
　　comprehended，Ifelt，Ireasonedwiththeutmostclearnessanddepth，withextraordinaryenergyandintellectualpleasure，withasingularintoxicationarisingfromthisseparationofmymentalfaculties.
　　"Itwasnotlikethedreamscausedbyhasheeshorthesomewhatsicklyvisionsthatcomefromopium;itwasanamazingacutenessofreasoning，anewwayofseeing，judgingandappreciatingthethingsoflife，andwiththecertainty，theabsoluteconsciousnessthatthiswasthetrueway.
　　"AndtheoldimageoftheScripturessuddenlycamebacktomymind.
　　ItseemedtomethatIhadtastedoftheTreeofKnowledge，thatallthemysterieswereunveiled，somuchdidIfindmyselfundertheswayofanew，strangeandirrefutablelogic.Andarguments，reasonings，proofsroseupinaheapbeforemybrainonlytobeimmediatelydisplacedbysomestrongerproof，reasoning，argument.Myheadhad，infact，becomeabattlegroundofideas.Iwasasuperiorbeing，armedwithinvincibleintelligence，andIexperiencedahugedelightatthemanifestationofmypower.
　　"Itlastedalong，longtime.Istillkeptinhalingtheetherfrommyflagon.SuddenlyIperceivedthatitwasempty."
　　Thefourmenexclaimedatthesametime：
　　"Doctor，aprescriptionatonceforaliterofether！"
　　Butthedoctor，puttingonhishat，replied：
　　"Astothat，certainlynot;goandletsomeoneelsepoisonyou！"
　　Andheleftthem.
　　Ladiesandgentlemen，whatisyouropiniononthesubject？
　　SIMON’SPAPA
　　Noonhadjuststruck.Theschooldooropenedandtheyoungstersdartedout，jostlingeachotherintheirhastetogetoutquickly.Butinsteadofpromptlydispersingandgoinghometodinnerasusual，theystoppedafewpacesoff，brokeupintoknots，andbeganwhispering.
　　Thefactwasthat，thatmorning，Simon，thesonofLaBlanchotte，had，forthefirsttime，attendedschool.
　　TheyhadallofthemintheirfamiliesheardtalkofLaBlanchotte;and，althoughinpublicshewaswelcomeenough，themothersamongthemselvestreatedherwithasomewhatdisdainfulcompassion，whichthechildrenhadimitatedwithoutintheleastknowingwhy.
　　AsforSimonhimself，theydidnotknowhim，forheneverwentout，anddidnotrunaboutwiththeminthestreetsofthevillage，oralongthebanksoftheriver.Andtheydidnotcareforhim;soitwaswithacertaindelight，mingledwithconsiderableastonishment，thattheymetandrepeatedtoeachotherwhathadbeensaidbyaladoffourteenorfifteenwhoappearedtoknowallaboutit，sosagaciouslydidhewink.
　　"Youknow——Simon——well，hehasnopapa."
　　JustthenLaBlanchotte’ssonappearedinthedoorwayoftheschool.
　　Hewassevenoreightyearsold，ratherpale，veryneat，withatimidandalmostawkwardmanner.
　　Hewasstartinghometohismother’shousewhenthegroupsofhisschoolmates，whisperingandwatchinghimwiththemischievousandheartlesseyesofchildrenbentuponplayinganastytrick，graduallyclosedinaroundhimandendedbysurroundinghimaltogether.Therehestoodintheirmidst，surprisedandembarrassed，notunderstandingwhattheyweregoingtodowithhim.Buttheladwhohadbroughtthenews，puffedupwiththesuccesshehadmetwithalready，demanded：
　　"Whatisyourname，you？"
　　Heanswered："Simon."
　　"Simonwhat？"retortedtheother.
　　Thechild，altogetherbewildered，repeated："Simon."
　　Theladshoutedathim："OneisnamedSimonsomething——thatisnotaname——Simonindeed."
　　Thechild，onthebrinkoftears，repliedforthethirdtime：
　　"MynameisSimon."
　　Theurchinsbegantolaugh.Thetriumphanttormentorcried："Youcanseeplainlythathehasnopapa."
　　Adeepsilenceensued.Thechildrenweredumfoundedbythisextraordinary，impossible，monstrousthing——aboywhohadnotapapa;
　　theylookeduponhimasaphenomenon，anunnaturalbeing，andtheyfeltthathithertoinexplicablecontemptoftheirmothersforLaBlanchottegrowinguponthem.AsforSimon，hehadleanedagainstatreetoavoidfalling，andheremainedasifprostratedbyanirreparabledisaster.
　　Hesoughttoexplain，butcouldthinkofnothing—tosaytorefutethishorriblechargethathehadnopapa.Atlastheshoutedatthemquiterecklessly："Yes，Ihaveone."
　　"Whereishe？"demandedtheboy.
　　Simonwassilent，hedidnotknow.Thechildrenroared，tremendouslyexcited;andthosecountryboys，littlemorethananimals，experiencedthatcruelcravingwhichpromptsthefowlsofafarmyardtodestroyoneoftheirnumberassoonasitiswounded.Simonsuddenlyespiedalittleneighbor，thesonofawidow，whomhehadseen，ashehimselfwastobeseen，alwaysalonewithhismother.
　　"Andnomorehaveyou，"hesaid;"nomorehaveyouapapa."
　　"Yes，"repliedtheother，"Ihaveone."
　　"Whereishe？"rejoinedSimon.
　　"Heisdead，"declaredthebrat，withsuperbdignity;"heisinthecemetery，ismypapa."
　　Amurmurofapprovalroseamongthelittlewretchesasifthisfactofpossessingapapadeadinacemeteryhadcausedtheircomradetogrowbigenoughtocrushtheotheronewhohadnopapaatall.Andtheseboys，whosefatherswereforthemostpartbadmen，drunkards，thieves，andwhobeattheirwives，jostledeachothertopresscloserandcloser，asthoughthey，thelegitimateones，wouldsmotherbytheirpressureonewhowasillegitimate.
　　TheboywhochancedtobenextSimonsuddenlyputhistongueoutathimwithamockingairandshoutedathim：
　　"Nopapa！Nopapa！"
　　Simonseizedhimbythehairwithbothhandsandsettoworktodisablehislegswithkicks，whilehebithischeekferociously.Atremendousstruggleensuedbetweenthetwocombatants，andSimonfoundhimselfbeaten，torn，bruised，rolledonthegroundinthemidstoftheringofapplaudingschoolboys.Ashearose，mechanicallybrushingwithhishandhislittleblouseallcoveredwithdust，someoneshoutedathim：
　　"Goandtellyourpapa."
　　Thenhefeltagreatsinkingathisheart.Theywerestrongerthanhewas，theyhadbeatenhim，andhehadnoanswertogivethem，forheknewwellthatitwastruethathehadnopapa.Fullofpride，heattemptedforsomemomentstostruggleagainstthetearswhichwerechokinghim.
　　Hehadafeelingofsuffocation，andthenwithoutanysoundhecommencedtoweep，withgreatshakingsobs.Aferociousjoybrokeoutamonghisenemies，and，withoneaccord，justlikesavagesintheirfearfulfestivals，theytookeachotherbythehandanddancedroundhiminacircle，repeatingasarefrain：
　　"Nopapa！Nopapa！"
　　ButsuddenlySimonceasedsobbing.Hebecameferocious.Therewerestonesunderhisfeet;hepickedthemupandwithallhisstrengthhurledthemathistormentors.Twoorthreewerestruckandrushedoffyelling，andsoformidabledidheappearthattherestbecamepanic—stricken.
　　Cowards，asthemobalwaysisinpresenceofanexasperatedman，theybrokeupandfled.Leftalone，thelittlefellowwithoutafathersetoffrunningtowardthefields，forarecollectionhadbeenawakenedinhimwhichdeterminedhissoultoagreatresolve.Hemadeuphismindtodrownhimselfintheriver.
　　Heremembered，infact，thateightdaysbefore，apoordevilwhobeggedforhislivelihoodhadthrownhimselfintothewaterbecausehehadnomoremoney.Simonhadbeentherewhentheyfishedhimoutagain;andthewretchedman，whousuallyseemedtohimsomiserable，andugly，hadthenstruckhimasbeingsopeacefulwithhispalecheeks，hislongdrenchedbeard，andhisopeneyesfullofcalm.Thebystandershadsaid：
　　"Heisdead."
　　Andsomeonehadsaid：
　　"Heisquitehappynow."
　　AndSimonwishedtodrownhimselfalso，becausehehadnofather，justlikethewretchedbeingwhohadnomoney.
　　Hereachedthewaterandwatcheditflowing.Somefishweresportingbrisklyintheclearstreamandoccasionallymadealittleboundandcaughtthefliesflyingonthesurface.Hestoppedcryinginordertowatchthem，fortheirmaneuversinterestedhimgreatly.But，atintervals，asinatempestintervalsofcalmalternatesuddenlywithtremendousgustsofwind，whichsnapoffthetreesandthenlosethemselvesinthehorizon，thisthoughtwouldreturntohimwithintensepain：
　　"IamgoingtodrownmyselfbecauseIhavenopapa."
　　Itwasverywarm，fineweather.Thepleasantsunshinewarmedthegrass.
　　Thewatershonelikeamirror.AndSimonenjoyedsomeminutesofhappiness，ofthatlanguorwhichfollowsweeping，andfeltinclinedtofallasleepthereuponthegrassinthewarmsunshine.
　　Alittlegreenfrogleapedfromunderhisfeet.Heendeavoredtocatchit.Itescapedhim.Hefolloweditandlostitthreetimesinsuccession.Atlasthecaughtitbyoneofitshindlegsandbegantolaughashesawtheeffortsthecreaturemadetoescape.Itgathereditselfuponitshindlegsandthenwithaviolentspringsuddenlystretchedthemoutasstiffastwobars;whileitbeattheairwithitsfrontlegsasthoughtheywerehands，itsroundeyesstaringintheircircleofyellow.Itremindedhimofatoymadeofstraightslipsofwoodnailedzigzagoneontheother;whichbyasimilarmovementregulatedthemovementsofthelittlesoldiersfastenedthereon.Thenhethoughtofhishome，andthenofhismother，and，overcomebysorrow，heagainbegantoweep.Ashiverpassedoverhim.Hekneltdownandsaidhisprayersasbeforegoingtobed.Buthewasunabletofinishthem，fortumultuous，violentsobsshookhiswholeframe.Henolongerthought，henolongersawanythingaroundhim，andwaswhollyabsorbedincrying.
　　Suddenlyaheavyhandwasplaceduponhisshoulder，andaroughvoiceaskedhim：
　　"Whatisitthatcausesyousomuchgrief，mylittleman？"
　　Simonturnedround.Atallworkmanwithabeardandblackcurlyhairwasstaringathimgood—naturedly.Heansweredwithhiseyesandthroatfulloftears：
　　"Theybeatme——because——I——Ihaveno——papa——nopapa."
　　"What！"saidtheman，smiling;"why，everybodyhasone."
　　Thechildansweredpainfullyamidhisspasmsofgrief：
　　"ButI——I——Ihavenone."
　　Thentheworkmanbecameserious.HehadrecognizedLaBlanchotte’sson，and，althoughhimselfanewarrivalintheneighborhood，hehadavagueideaofherhistory.
　　"Well，"saidhe，"consoleyourself，myboy，andcomewithmehometoyourmother.Theywillgiveyou——apapa."
　　Andsotheystartedontheway，thebigfellowholdingthelittlefellowbythehand，andthemansmiled，forhewasnotsorrytoseethisBlanchotte，whowas，itwassaid，oneoftheprettiestgirlsofthecountryside，and，perhaps，hewassayingtohimself，atthebottomofhisheart，thatalasswhohaderredmightverywellerragain.
　　Theyarrivedinfrontofaveryneatlittlewhitehouse.
　　"Thereitis，"exclaimedthechild，andhecried，"Mamma！"
　　Awomanappeared，andtheworkmaninstantlyleftoffsmiling，forhesawatoncethattherewasnofoolingtobedonewiththetallpalegirlwhostoodausterelyatherdoorasthoughtodefendfromonemanthethresholdofthathousewhereshehadalreadybeenbetrayedbyanother.
　　Intimidated，hiscapinhishand，hestammeredout：
　　"See，madame，Ihavebroughtyoubackyourlittleboywhohadlosthimselfneartheriver."
　　ButSimonflunghisarmsabouthismother’sneckandtoldher，asheagainbegantocry：
　　"No，mamma，Iwishedtodrownmyself，becausetheothershadbeatenme——
　　hadbeatenme——becauseIhavenopapa."
　　Aburningrednesscoveredtheyoungwoman’scheeks;and，hurttothequick，sheembracedherchildpassionately，whilethetearscourseddownherface.Theman，muchmoved，stoodthere，notknowinghowtogetaway.
　　ButSimonsuddenlyrantohimandsaid：
　　"Willyoubemypapa？"
　　Adeepsilenceensued.LaBlanchotte，dumbandtorturedwithshame，leanedherselfagainstthewall，bothherhandsuponherheart.Thechild，seeingthatnoanswerwasmadehim，replied：
　　"Ifyouwillnot，Ishallgobackanddrownmyself."
　　Theworkmantookthematterasajestandanswered，laughing：
　　"Why，yes，certainlyIwill."
　　"Whatisyourname，"wentonthechild，"sothatImaytelltheotherswhentheywishtoknowyourname？"
　　"Philip，"answeredtheman：
　　Simonwassilentamomentsothathemightgetthenamewellintohishead;thenhestretchedouthisarms，quiteconsoled，ashesaid：
　　"Well，then，Philip，youaremypapa."
　　Theworkman，liftinghimfromtheground，kissedhimhastilyonbothcheeks，andthenwalkedawayveryquicklywithgreatstrides.
　　Whenthechildreturnedtoschoolnextdayhewasreceivedwithaspitefullaugh，andattheendofschool，whentheladswereonthepointofrecommencing，Simonthrewthesewordsattheirheadsashewouldhavedoneastone："HeisnamedPhilip，mypapa."
　　Yellsofdelightburstoutfromallsides.
　　"Philipwho？Philipwhat？WhatonearthisPhilip？WheredidyoupickupyourPhilip？"
　　Simonanswerednothing;and，immovableinhisfaith，hedefiedthemwithhiseye，readytobemartyredratherthanflybeforethem.Theschoolmastercametohisrescueandhereturnedhometohismother.
　　Duringthreemonths，thetallworkman，Philip，frequentlypassedbyLaBlanchotte’shouse，andsometimeshemadeboldtospeaktoherwhenhesawhersewingnearthewindow.Sheansweredhimcivilly，alwayssedately，neverjokingwithhim，norpermittinghimtoenterherhouse.
　　Notwithstanding，being，likeallmen，abitofacoxcomb，heimaginedthatshewasoftenrosierthanusualwhenshechattedwithhim.
　　Butalostreputationissodifficulttoregainandalwaysremainssofragilethat，inspiteoftheshyreserveofLaBlanchotte，theyalreadygossipedintheneighborhood.
　　AsforSimonhelovedhisnewpapaverymuch，andwalkedwithhimnearlyeveryeveningwhentheday’sworkwasdone.Hewentregularlytoschool，andmixedwithgreatdignitywithhisschoolfellowswithouteveransweringthemback.
　　Oneday，however，theladwhohadfirstattackedhimsaidtohim：
　　"Youhavelied.YouhavenotapapanamedPhilip."
　　"Whydoyousaythat？"demandedSimon，muchdisturbed.
　　Theyouthrubbedhishands.Hereplied：
　　"Becauseifyouhadonehewouldbeyourmamma’shusband."
　　Simonwasconfusedbythetruthofthisreasoning;nevertheless，heretorted：
　　"Heismypapa，allthesame."
　　"Thatcanverywellbe，"exclaimedtheurchinwithasneer，"butthatisnotbeingyourpapaaltogether."
　　LaBlanchotte’slittleonebowedhisheadandwentoffdreaminginthedirectionoftheforgebelongingtooldLoizon，wherePhilipworked.
　　Thisforgewasasthoughburiedbeneathtrees.Itwasverydarkthere;
　　theredglareofaformidablefurnacealonelitupwithgreatflashesfiveblacksmiths;whohammeredupontheiranvilswithaterribledin.
　　Theywerestandingenvelopedinflame，likedemons，theireyesfixedonthered—hotirontheywerepounding;andtheirdullideasroseandfellwiththeirhammers.
　　Simonenteredwithoutbeingnoticed，andwentquietlytopluckhisfriendbythesleeve.Thelatterturnedround.Allatoncetheworkcametoastandstill，andallthemenlookedon，veryattentive.Then，inthemidstofthisunaccustomedsilence，rosetheslenderpipeofSimon：
　　"Say，Philip，theMichaudeboytoldmejustnowthatyouwerenotaltogethermypapa."
　　"Whynot？"askedtheblacksmith，Thechildrepliedwithallinnocence：
　　"Becauseyouarenotmymamma’shusband."
　　Noonelaughed.Philipremainedstanding，leaninghisforeheaduponthebackofhisgreathands，whichsupportedthehandleofhishammerstandinguprightupontheanvil.Hemused.Hisfourcompanionswatchedhim，andSimon，atinymiteamongthesegiants，anxiouslywaited.
　　Suddenly，oneofthesmiths，answeringtothesentimentofall，saidtoPhilip：
　　"LaBlanchotteisagood，honestgirl，anduprightandsteadyinspiteofhermisfortune，andwouldmakeaworthywifeforanhonestman."
　　"Thatistrue，"remarkedthethreeothers.
　　Thesmithcontinued：
　　"Isitthegirl’sfaultifshewentwrong？Shehadbeenpromisedmarriage;andIknowmorethanonewhoismuchrespectedto—day，andwhosinnedeverybitasmuch."
　　"Thatistrue，"respondedthethreemeninchorus.
　　Heresumed：
　　"Howhardshehastoiled，poorthing，tobringupherchildallalone，andhowshehasweptalltheseyearsshehasnevergoneoutexcepttochurch，Godonlyknows."
　　"Thisisalsotrue，"saidtheothers.
　　Thennothingwasheardbutthebellowswhichfannedthefireofthefurnace.PhiliphastilybenthimselfdowntoSimon：
　　"GoandtellyourmotherthatIamcomingtospeaktoherthisevening."
　　Thenhepushedthechildoutbytheshoulders.Hereturnedtohiswork，andwithasingleblowthefivehammersagainfellupontheiranvils.
　　Thustheywroughttheironuntilnightfall，strong，powerful，happy，likecontentedhammers.Butjustasthegreatbellofacathedralresoundsuponfeastdaysabovethejinglingoftheotherbells，soPhilip’shammer，soundingabovetherest，clangedsecondaftersecondwithadeafeninguproar.Andhestoodamidtheflyingsparksplyinghistradevigorously.
　　TheskywasfullofstarsasheknockedatLaBlanchotte’sdoor.HehadonhisSundayblouse，acleanshirt，andhisbeardwastrimmed.Theyoungwomanshowedherselfuponthethreshold，andsaidinagrievedtone：
　　"Itisilltocomethuswhennighthasfallen，Mr.Philip."
　　Hewishedtoanswer，butstammeredandstoodconfusedbeforeher.
　　Sheresumed：
　　"Youunderstand，doyounot，thatitwillnotdoformetobetalkedaboutagain."
　　"Whatdoesthatmattertome，ifyouwillbemywife！"
　　Novoicerepliedtohim，buthebelievedthatheheardintheshadowoftheroomthesoundofafallingbody.Heenteredquickly;andSimon，whohadgonetobed，distinguishedthesoundofakissandsomewordsthathismothermurmuredsoftly.Then，allatonce，hefoundhimselfliftedupbythehandsofhisfriend，who，holdinghimatthelengthofhisherculeanarms，exclaimed：
　　"Youwilltellthem，yourschoolmates，thatyourpapaisPhilipRemy，theblacksmith，andthathewillpulltheearsofallwhodoyouanyharm."
　　Onthemorrow，whentheschoolwasfullandlessonswereabouttobegin，littleSimonstoodup，quitepalewithtremblinglips：
　　"Mypapa，"saidheinaclearvoice，"isPhilipRemy，theblacksmith，andhehaspromisedtopulltheearsofallwhodoesmeanyharm."
　　Thistimenoonelaughed，forhewasverywellknown，wasPhilipRemy，theblacksmith，andwasapapaofwhomanyoneintheworldwouldhavebeenproud.
　　EndOriginalShortStories，Vol.12.
　　ByGuydeMaupassantVOLUMEXII.
　　THECHILD
　　ACOUNTRYEXCURSION
　　ROSE
　　ROSALIEPRUDENT
　　REGRET
　　ASISTER’SCONFESSION
　　COCO
　　ADEADWOMAN’SSECRET
　　AHUMBLEDRAMA
　　MADEMOISELLECOCOTTE
　　THECORSICANBANDIT
　　THEGRAVE
　　THECHILD
　　Lemonnierhadremainedawidowerwithonechild.Hehadlovedhiswifedevotedly，withatenderandexaltedlove，withoutaslip，duringtheirentiremarriedlife.Hewasagood，honestman，perfectlysimple，sincere，withoutsuspicionormalice.
　　Hefellinlovewithapoorneighbor，proposedandwasaccepted.Hewasmakingaverycomfortablelivingoutofthewholesaleclothbusiness，andhedidnotforaminutesuspectthattheyounggirlmighthaveacceptedhimforanythingelsebuthimself.
　　Shemadehimhappy.Shewaseverythingtohim;heonlythoughtofher，lookedathercontinually，withworshipingeyes.Duringmealshewouldmakeanynumberofblunders，inordernottohavetotakehiseyesfromthebelovedface;hewouldpourthewineinhisplateandthewaterinthesalt—cellar，thenhewouldlaughlikeachild，repeating：
　　"Yousee，Iloveyoutoomuch;thatmakesmecrazy."
　　Shewouldsmilewithacalmandresignedlook;thenshewouldlookaway，asthoughembarrassedbytheadorationofherhusband，andtrytomakehimtalkaboutsomethingelse;buthewouldtakeherhandunderthetableandhewouldholditinhis，whispering：
　　"MylittleJeanne，mydarlinglittleJeanne！"
　　Shesometimeslostpatienceandsaid：
　　"Come，come，bereasonable;eatandletmeeat."
　　Hewouldsighandbreakoffamouthfulofbread，whichhewouldthenchewslowly.
　　Forfiveyearstheyhadnochildren.Thensuddenlysheannouncedtohimthatthisstateofaffairswouldsooncease.Hewaswildwithjoy.Henolongerleftherforaminute，untilhisoldnurse，whohadbroughthimupandwhooftenruledthehouse，wouldpushhimoutandclosethedoorbehindhim，inordertocompelhimtogooutinthefreshair.
　　Hehadgrownveryintimatewithayoungmanwhohadknownhiswifesincechildhood，andwhowasoneoftheprefect’ssecretaries.M.DuretourwoulddinethreetimesaweekwiththeLemonniers，bringingflowerstomadame，andsometimesaboxatthetheater;andoften，attheendofthedinner，Lemonnier，growingtender，turningtowardshiswife，wouldexplain："Withacompanionlikeyouandafriendlikehim，amaniscompletelyhappyonearth."
　　Shediedinchildbirth.Theshockalmostkilledhim.Butthesightofthechild，apoor，moaninglittlecreature，gavehimcourage.
　　Heloveditwithapassionateandsorrowfullove，withamorbidloveinwhichstuckthememoryofdeath，butinwhichlivedsomethingofhisworshipforthedeadmother.Itwasthefleshofhiswife，herbeingcontinued，asortofquintessenceofherself.Thischildwasherverylifetransferredtoanotherbody;shehaddisappearedthatitmightexist，andthefatherwouldsmotheritinwithkisses.Butalso，thischildhadkilledher;hehadstolenthisbelovedcreature，hislifewasatthecostofhers.AndM.Lemonnierwouldplacehissoninthecradleandwouldsitdownandwatchhim.Hewouldsitthiswaybythehour，lookingathim，dreamingofthousandsofthings，sweetorsad.Then，whenthelittleonewasasleep，hewouldbendoverhimandsob.
　　Thechildgrew.Thefathercouldnolongerspendanhourawayfromhim;
　　hewouldstaynearhim，takehimoutforwalks，andhimselfdresshim，washhim，makehimeat.Hisfriend，M.Duretour，alsoseemedtolovetheboy;hewouldkisshimwildly，inthosefrenziesoftendernesswhicharecharacteristicofparents.Hewouldtosshiminhisarms，hewouldtrothimonhisknees，bythehour，andM.Lemonnier，delighted，wouldmutter：
　　"Isn’theadarling？Isn’theadarling？"
　　AndM.Duretourwouldhugthechildinhisarmsandticklehisneckwithhismustache.
　　Celeste，theoldnurse，alone，seemedtohavenotendernessforthelittleone.Shewouldgrowangryathispranks，andseemedimpatientatthecaressesofthetwomen.Shewouldexclaim：
　　"Howcanyouexpecttobringachilduplikethat？You’llmakeaperfectmonkeyoutofhim."
　　Yearswentby，andJeanwasnineyearsold.Hehardlyknewhowtoread;
　　hehadbeensospoiled，andonlydidashesawfit.Hewaswillful，stubbornandquick—tempered.Thefatheralwaysgaveintohimandlethimhavehisownway.M.Duretourwouldalwaysbuyhimallthetoyshewished，andhefedhimoncakeandcandies.ThenCelestewouldgrowangryandexclaim：
　　"It’sashame，monsieur，ashame.Youarespoilingthischild.Butitwillhavetostop;yes，sir，Itellyouitwillhavetostop，andbeforelong，too."
　　M.Lemonnierwouldanswer，smiling：
　　"Whatcanyouexpect？Ilovehimtoomuch，Ican’tresisthim;youmustgetusedtoit."
　　Jeanwasdelicate，rather.Thedoctorsaidthathewasanaemic，prescribediron，raremeatandbroth.
　　Butthelittlefellowlovedonlycakeandrefusedallothernourishment;
　　andthefather，indespair，stuffedhimwithcream—puffsandchocolateeclairs.
　　Oneevening，astheyweresittingdowntosupper，Celestebroughtonthesoupwithanairofauthorityandanassurancewhichshedidnotusuallyhave.Shetookoffthecoverand，dippingtheladleintothedish，shedeclared：
　　"HereissomebrothsuchasIhavenevermade;theyoungonewillhavetotakesomethistime."
　　M.Lemonnier，frightened，benthishead.Hesawastormbrewing.
　　Celestetookhisplate，filleditherselfandplaceditinfrontofhim.
　　Hetastedthesoupandsaid：
　　"Itis，indeed，excellent."
　　Theservanttooktheboy’splateandpouredaspoonfulofsoupinit.
　　Thensheretreatedafewstepsandwaited.
　　Jeansmelledthefoodandpushedhisplateawaywithanexpressionofdisgust.Celeste，suddenlypale，quicklysteppedforwardandforciblypouredaspoonfuldownthechild’sopenmouth.
　　Hechoked，coughed，sneezed，spat;howling，heseizedhisglassandthrewitathisnurse.Shereceiveditfullinthestomach.Then，exasperated，shetooktheyoungshaver’sheadunderherarmandbeganpouringspoonfulafterspoonfulofsoupdownhisthroat.Hegrewasredasabeet，andhewouldcoughitup，stamping，twisting，choking，beatingtheairwithhishands.
　　Atfirstthefatherwassosurprisedthathecouldnotmove.Then，suddenly，herushedforward，wildwithrage，seizedtheservantbythethroatandthrewherupagainstthewallstammering：
　　"Out！Out！Out！youbrute！"
　　Butsheshookhimoff，and，herhairstreamingdownherback，hereyessnapping，shecriedout：
　　"What’sgettin’holdofyou？You’retryingtothrashmebecauseIammakingthischildeatsoupwhenyouarefillinghimwithsweetstuff！"
　　Hekeptrepeating，tremblingfromheadtofoot：
　　"Out！Getout—getout，youbrute！"
　　Then，wild，sheturnedtohimand，pushingherfaceupagainsthis，hervoicetrembling：
　　"Ah！——youthink—youthinkthatyoucantreatmelikethat？Oh！no.Andforwhom？——forthatbratwhoisnotevenyours.No，notyours！No，notyours——notyours！Everybodyknowsit，exceptyourself！Askthegrocer，thebutcher，thebaker，allofthem，anyoneofthem！"
　　Shewasgrowlingandmumbling，chokedwithpassion;thenshestoppedandlookedathim.
　　Hewasmotionlesslivid，hisarmshangingbyhissides.Afterashortpause，hemurmuredinafaint，shakyvoice，instinctwithdeepfeeling：
　　"Yousay？yousay？Whatdoyousay？"
　　Sheremainedsilent，frightenedbyhisappearance.Oncemorehesteppedforward，repeating：
　　"Yousay——whatdoyousay？"
　　Theninacalmvoice，sheanswered：
　　"IsaywhatIknow，whateverybodyknows."
　　Heseizedherand，withthefuryofabeast，hetriedtothrowherdown.
　　But，althoughold，shewasstrongandnimble.Sheslippedunderhisarm，andrunningaroundthetableoncemorefurious，shescreamed：
　　"Lookathim，justlookathim，foolthatyouare！Isn’thethelivingimageofM.Durefour？justlookathisnoseandhiseyes！Areyourslikethat？Andhishair！Isitlikehismother’s？Itellyouthateveryoneknowsit，everyoneexceptyourself！It’sthejokeofthetown！Lookathim！"
　　Shewenttothedoor，openedit，anddisappeared.
　　Jean，frightened，satmotionlessbeforehisplateofsoup.
　　Attheendofanhour，shereturnedgently，toseehowmattersstood.
　　Thechild，afterdoingawaywithallthecakesandapitcherfullofcreamandoneofsyrup，wasnowemptyingthejam—potwithhissoup—spoon.
　　Thefatherhadgoneout.
　　Celestetookthechild，kissedhim，andgentlycarriedhimtohisroomandputhimtobed.Shecamebacktothedining—room，clearedthetable，puteverythinginplace，feelingveryuneasyallthetime.
　　Notasinglesoundcouldbeheardthroughoutthehouse.Sheputherearagainst’shermaster’sdoor.Heseemedtobeperfectlystill.Sheputhereyetothekeyhole.Hewaswriting，andseemedverycalm.
　　Thenshereturnedtothekitchenandsatdown，readyforanyemergency.
　　Shesleptonachairandawokeatdaylight.
　　Shedidtheroomsasshehadbeenaccustomedtoeverymorning;shesweptanddusted，and，towardseighto’clock，preparedM.Lemonnier’sbreakfast.
　　Butshedidnotdarebringittohermaster，knowingtoowellhowshewouldbereceived;shewaitedforhimtoring.Buthedidnotring.
　　Nineo’clock，thenteno’clockwentby.
　　Celeste，notknowingwhattothink，preparedhertrayandstartedupwithit，herheartbeatingfast.
　　Shestoppedbeforethedoorandlistened.Everythingwasstill.Sheknocked;noanswer.Then，gatheringupallhercourage，sheopenedthedoorandentered.Withawildshriek，shedroppedthebreakfasttraywhichshehadbeenholdinginherhand.
　　Inthemiddleoftheroom，M.Lemonnierwashangingbyaropefromaringintheceiling.Histonguewasstickingouthorribly.Hisrightslipperwaslyingontheground，hisleftonestillonhisfoot.Anupturnedchairhadrolledovertothebed.
　　Celeste，dazed，ranawayshrieking.Alltheneighborscrowdedtogether.
　　Thephysiciandeclaredthathehaddiedataboutmidnight.
　　AletteraddressedtoM.Duretdurwasfoundonthetableofthesuicide.
　　Itcontainedthesewords：
　　"Ileaveandentrustthechildtoyou！"
　　ACOUNTRYEXCURSION
　　ForfivemonthstheyhadbeentalkingofgoingtotakeluncheoninoneofthecountrysuburbsofParisonMadameDufour’sbirthday，andastheywerelookingforwardveryimpatientlytotheouting，theyroseveryearlythatmorning.MonsieurDufourhadborrowedthemilkman’swagonanddrovehimself.Itwasaverytidy，two—wheeledconveyance，withacoversupportedbyfourironrods，withcurtainsthathadbeendrawnup，excepttheoneattheback，whichfloatedoutlikeasail.MadameDufour，resplendentinawonderful，cherrycoloredsilkdress，satbythesideofherhusband.
　　Theoldgrandmotherandagirlsatbehindthemontwochairs，andaboywithyellowhairwaslyingatthebottomofthewagon，withnothingtobeseenofhimexcepthishead.
　　WhentheyreachedthebridgeofNeuilly，MonsieurDufoursaid："Hereweareinthecountryatlast！"andatthatsignalhiswifegrewsentimentalaboutthebeautiesofnature.WhentheygottothecrossroadsatCourbevoietheywereseizedwithadmirationforthedistantlandscape.
　　OntherightwasArgenteuilwithitsbelltower，andaboveitrosethehillsofSannoisandthemillofOrgemont，whileonthelefttheaqueductofMarlystoodoutagainsttheclearmorningsky，andinthedistancetheycouldseetheterraceofSaint—Germain;andoppositethem，attheendofalowchainofhills，thenewfortofCormeilles.Quiteinthedistance;averylongwayoff，beyondtheplainsandvillage，onecouldseethesombregreenoftheforests.
　　Thesunwasbeginningtoburntheirfaces，thedustgotintotheireyes，andoneithersideoftheroadtherestretchedaninterminabletractofbare，uglycountrywithanunpleasantodor.Onemighthavethoughtthatithadbeenravagedbyapestilence，whichhadevenattackedthebuildings，forskeletonsofdilapidatedanddesertedhouses，orsmallcottages，whichwereleftinanunfinishedstate，becausethecontractorshadnotbeenpaid，rearedtheirfourrooflesswallsoneachside.
　　Hereandtheretallfactorychimneysroseupfromthebarrensoil.Theonlyvegetationonthatputridland，wherethespringbreezeswaftedanodorofpetroleumandslate，blendedwithanotherodorthatwasevenlessagreeable.Atlast，however，theycrossedtheSeineasecondtime，andthebridgewasadelight.Theriversparkledinthesun，andtheyhadafeelingofquietenjoyment，feltrefreshedastheydrankinthepurerairthatwasnotimpregnatedbytheblacksmokeoffactoriesnorbythemiasmafromthedepositsofnightsoil.AmanwhomtheymettoldthemthatthenameoftheplacewasBezons.MonsieurDufourpulledupandreadtheattractiveannouncementoutsideaneatinghouse：RestaurantPoulin，matelottesandfriedfish，privaterooms，arbors，andswings.
　　"Well，MadameDufour，willthissuityou？Willyoumakeupyourmindatlast？"
　　Shereadtheannouncementinherturnandthenlookedatthehouseforsometime.
　　Itwasawhitecountryinn，builtbytheroadside，andthroughtheopendoorshecouldseethebrightzincofthecounter，atwhichsattwoworkmenintheirSundayclothes.Atlastshemadeuphermindandsaid：
　　"Yes，thiswilldo;and，besides，thereisaview."
　　Theydroveintoalargefieldbehindtheinn，separatedfromtheriverbythetowingpath，anddismounted.Thehusbandsprangoutfirstandthenheldouthisarmsforhiswife，andasthestepwasveryhighMadameDufour，inordertoreachhim，hadtoshowthelowerpartofherlimbs，whoseformerslendernesshaddisappearedinfat，andMonsieurDufour，whowasalreadygettingexcitedbythecountryair，pinchedhercalf，andthen，takingherinhisarms，hesetherontheground，asifshehadbeensomeenormousbundle.Sheshookthedustoutofthesilkdressandthenlookedroundtoseeinwhatsortofaplaceshewas.
　　Shewasastoutwoman，ofaboutthirty—six，full—blown，anddelightfultolookat.Shecouldhardlybreathe，ashercorsetswerelacedtootightly，andtheirpressureforcedhersuperabundantbosomuptoherdoublechin.Nextthegirlplacedherhandonherfather’sshoulderandjumpeddownlightly.Theboywiththeyellowhairhadgotdownbysteppingonthewheel，andhehelpedMonsieurDufourtolifthisgrandmotherout.Thentheyunharnessedthehorse，whichtheyhadtiedtoatree，andthecarriagefellback，withbothshaftsintheair.Thementookofftheircoatsandwashedtheirhandsinapailofwaterandthenwentandjoinedtheladies，whohadalreadytakenpossessionoftheswings.
　　MademoiselleDufourwastryingtoswingherselfstandingup，butshecouldnotsucceedingettingastart.Shewasaprettygirlofabouteighteen，oneofthosewomenwhosuddenlyexciteyourdesirewhenyoumeettheminthestreetandwholeaveyouwithavaguefeelingofuneasinessandofexcitedsenses.Shewastall，hadasmallwaistandlargehips，withadarkskin，verylargeeyesandveryblackhair.Herdressclearlymarkedtheoutlinesofherfirm，fullfigure，whichwasaccentuatedbythemotionofherhipsasshetriedtoswingherselfhigher.Herarmswerestretchedupwardtoholdtherope，sothatherbosomroseateverymovementshemade.Herhat，whichagustofwindhadblownoff，washangingbehindher，andastheswinggraduallyrosehigherandhigher，sheshowedherdelicatelimbsuptothekneeseachtime，andthebreezefromherflyingskirts，whichwasmoreheadythanthefumesofwine，blewintothefacesofthetwomen，whowerelookingatherandsmiling.
　　Sittingintheotherswing，MadameDufourkeptsayinginamonotonousvoice：
　　"Cyprian，comeandswingme;docomeandswingme，Cyprian！"
　　Atlasthewent，andturninguphisshirtsleeves，asifundertakingahardpieceofwork，withmuchdifficultyhesethiswifeinmotion.Sheclutchedthetworopesandheldherlegsoutstraight，soasnottotouchtheground.Sheenjoyedfeelingdizzyatthemotionoftheswing，andherwholefigureshooklikeajellyonadish，butasshewenthigherandhigher;shebecametoogiddyandwasfrightened.Eachtimetheswingcamedownsheutteredapiercingscream，whichmadeallthelittleurchinsintheneighborhoodcomeround，anddownbelow，beneaththegardenhedge，shevaguelysawarowofmischievousheadsmakingvariousgrimacesastheylaughed.
　　Whenaservantgirlcameouttheyorderedluncheon.
　　"Somefriedfish，arabbitsaute，saladanddessert，"MadameDufoursaid，withanimportantair.
　　"Bringtwoquartsofbeerandabottleofclaret，"herhusbandsaid.
　　"Wewillhavelunchonthegrass，"thegirladded.
　　Thegrandmother，whohadanaffectionforcats，hadbeenrunningafteronethatbelongedtothehouse，tryingtocoaxittocometoherforthelasttenminutes.Theanimal，whowasnodoubtsecretlyflatteredbyherattentions，keptclosetothegoodwoman，butjustoutofreachofherhand，andquietlywalkedroundthetrees，againstwhichsherubbedherself，withhertailup，purringwithpleasure.
　　"Hello！"suddenlyexclaimedtheyoungmanwiththeyellowhair，whowaswanderingabout."Herearetwoswellboats！"Theyallwenttolookatthemandsawtwobeautifulcanoesinawoodenshed;theywereasbeautifullyfinishedasiftheyhadbeenornamentalfurniture.Theyhungsidebyside，liketwotall，slendergirls，intheirnarrowshininglength，andmadeonewishtofloatinthemonwarmsummermorningsandeveningsalongtheflower—coveredbanksoftheriver，wherethetreesdiptheirbranchesintothewater，wheretherushesarecontinuallyrustlinginthebreezeandwheretheswiftkingfishersdartaboutlikeflashesofbluelightning.
　　Thewholefamilylookedatthemwithgreatrespect.
　　"Oh，theyareindeedswellboats！"MonsieurDufourrepeatedgravely，asheexaminedthemlikeaconnoiseur.Hehadbeeninthehabitofrowinginhisyoungerdays，hesaid，andwhenhehadspatinhishands——andhewentthroughtheactionofpullingtheoars——hedidnotcareafigforanybody.HehadbeatenmorethanoneEnglishmanformerlyattheJoinvilleregattas.Hegrewquiteexcitedatlastandofferedtomakeabetthatinaboatlikethathecouldrowsixleaguesanhourwithoutexertinghimself.
　　"Luncheonisready，"thewaitresssaid，appearingattheentrancetotheboathouse，andtheyallhurriedoff.ButtwoyoungmenhadtakentheveryseatsthatMadameDufourhadselectedandwereeatingtheirluncheon.Nodoubttheyweretheownersofthesculls，fortheywereinboatingcostume.Theywerestretchedout，almostlyingonthechairs;
　　theyweresun—brownedandtheirthincottonjerseys，withshortsleeves，showedtheirbarearms，whichwereasstrongasablacksmith’s.Theyweretwostrong，athleticfellows，whoshowedinalltheirmovementsthatelasticityandgraceoflimbwhichcanonlybeacquiredbyexerciseandwhichissodifferenttothedeformitywithwhichmonotonousheavyworkstampsthemechanic.
　　Theyexchangedarapidsmilewhentheysawthemotherandthenaglanceonseeingthedaughter.
　　"Letusgiveupourplace，"oneofthemsaid;"itwillmakeusacquaintedwiththem."
　　Theothergotupimmediately，andholdinghisblackandredboatingcapinhishand，hepolitelyofferedtheladiestheonlyshadyplaceinthegarden.Withmanyexcusestheyaccepted，andthatitmightbemorerural，theysatonthegrass，withouteithertablesorchairs.
　　Thetwoyoungmentooktheirplates，knives，forks，etc.，toatablealittlewayoffandbegantoeatagain，andtheirbarearms，whichtheyshowedcontinually，ratherembarrassedthegirl.Sheevenpretendedtoturnherheadasideandnottoseethem，whileMadameDufour，whowasratherbolder，temptedbyfemininecuriosity，lookedatthemeverymoment，and，nodoubt，comparedthemwiththesecretunsightlinessofherhusband.Shehadsquattedherselfonground，withherlegstuckedunderher，afterthemanneroftailors，andshekeptmovingaboutrestlessly，sayingthatantswerecrawlingabouthersomewhere.MonsieurDufour，annoyedatthepresenceofthepolitestrangers，wastryingtofindacomfortablepositionwhichhedidnot，however，succeedindoing，andtheyoungmanwiththeyellowhairwaseatingassilentlyasanogre.
　　"Itislovelyweather，monsieur，"thestoutladysaidtooneoftheboatingmen.Shewishedtobefriendlybecausetheyhadgivenuptheirplace.
　　"Itis，indeed，madame，"hereplied."Doyouoftengointothecountry？"
　　"Oh，onlyonceortwiceayeartogetalittlefreshair.Andyou，monsieur？"
　　"Icomeandsleephereeverynight."
　　"Oh，thatmustbeverynice！"
　　"Certainlyitis，madame."Andhegavethemsuchapracticalaccountofhisdailylifethatitawakenedafreshintheheartsoftheseshopkeeperswhoweredeprivedofthemeadowsandwholongedforcountrywalks，tothatfoolishloveofnaturewhichtheyallfeelsostronglythewholeyearroundbehindthecounterintheirshop.
　　ThegirlraisedhereyesandlookedattheoarsmanwithemotionandMonsieurDufourspokeforthefirsttime.
　　"Itisindeedahappylife，"hesaid.Andthenheadded："Alittlemorerabbit，mydear？"
　　"No，thankyou，"shereplied，andturningtotheyoungmenagain，andpointingtotheirarms，asked："Doyouneverfeelcoldlikethat？"
　　Theybothbegantolaugh，andtheyastonishedthefamilywithanaccountoftheenormousfatiguetheycouldendure，oftheirbathingwhileinastateoftremendousperspiration，oftheirrowinginthefogatnight;
　　andtheystrucktheirchestsviolentlytoshowhowhollowtheysounded.
　　"Ah！Youlookverystrong，"saidthehusband，whodidnottalkanymoreofthetimewhenheusedtobeattheEnglish.Thegirlwaslookingatthemsidewaysnow，andtheyoungfellowwiththeyellowhair，whohadswallowedsomewinethewrongway，wascoughingviolentlyandbespatteringMadameDufour’scherry—coloredsilkdress.Shegotangryandsentforsomewatertowashthespots.