“It is a matter of importance.”
I got up, therefore, and followed him to the other end of the boat and
then he said:
“Monsieur, when winter comes, with its cold, wet and snowy weather,
your doctor says to you constantly: 'Keep your feet warm, guard against
chills, colds, bronchitis, rheumatism and pleurisy.'
“Then you are very careful, you wear flannel, a heavy greatcoat and
thick shoes, but all this does not prevent you from passing two months
in bed. But when spring returns, with its leaves and flowers, its warm,
soft breezes and its smell of the fields, all of which causes you vague
disquiet and causeless emotion, nobody says to you:
“'Monsieur, beware of love! It is lying in ambush everywhere; it is
watching for you at every corner; all its snares are laid, all its
weapons are sharpened, all its guiles are prepared! Beware of love!
Beware of love! It is more dangerous than brandy, bronchitis or
pleurisy! It never forgives and makes everybody commit irreparable
follies.'
“Yes, monsieur, I say that the French Government ought to put large
public notices on the walls, with these words: 'Return of spring. French
citizens, beware of love!' just as they put: 'Beware of paint:
“However, as the government will not do this, I must supply its place,
and I say to you: 'Beware of love!' for it is just going to seize you,
and it is my duty to inform you of it, just as in Russia they inform any
one that his nose is frozen.”
I was much astonished at this individual, and assuming a dignified
manner, I said:
“Really, monsieur, you appear to me to be interfering in a matter which
is no concern of yours.”
He made an abrupt movement and replied:
“Ah! monsieur, monsieur! If I see that a man is in danger of being
drowned at a dangerous spot, ought I to let him perish? So just listen
to my story and you will see why I ventured to speak to you like this.
“It was about this time last year that it occurred. But, first of all, I
must tell you that I am a clerk in the Admiralty, where our chiefs,
the commissioners, take their gold lace as quill-driving officials
seriously, and treat us like forecastle men on board a ship. Well, from
my office I could see a small bit of blue sky and the swallows, and I
felt inclined to dance among my portfolios.
“My yearning for freedom grew so intense that, in spite of my
repugnance, I went to see my chief, a short, bad-tempered man, who was
always in a rage. When I told him that I was not well, he looked at me
and said: 'I do not believe it, monsieur, but be off with you! Do you
think that any office can go on with clerks like you?' I started at once
and went down the Seine. It was a day like this, and I took the Mouche,
to go as far as Saint Cloud. Ah! what a good thing it would have been if
my chief had refused me permission to leave the office that day!
“I seemed to myself to expand in the sun. I loved everything--the
steamer, the river, the trees, the houses and my fellow-passengers. I
felt inclined to kiss something, no matter what; it was love, laying its
snare. Presently, at the Trocadero, a girl, with a small parcel in her
hand, came on board and sat down opposite me. She was decidedly pretty,
but it is surprising, monsieur, how much prettier women seem to us
when the day is fine at the beginning of the spring. Then they have an
intoxicating charm, something quite peculiar about them. It is just like
drinking wine after cheese.
“I looked at her and she also looked at me, but only occasionally, as
that girl did at you, just now; but at last, by dint of looking at each
other constantly, it seemed to me that we knew each other well enough
to enter into conversation, and I spoke to her and she replied. She was
decidedly pretty and nice and she intoxicated me, monsieur!
“She got out at Saint-Cloud, and I followed her. She went and delivered
her parcel, and when she returned the boat had just started. I walked
by her side, and the warmth of the 'air made us both sigh. 'It would be
very nice in the woods,' I said. 'Indeed, it would!' she replied. 'Shall
we go there for a walk, mademoiselie?'
“She gave me a quick upward look, as if to see exactly what I was like,
and then, after a little hesitation, she accepted my proposal, and soon
we were there, walking side by side. Under the foliage, which was still
rather scanty, the tall, thick, bright green grass was inundated by the
sun, and the air was full of insects that were also making love to one
another, and birds were singing in all directions. My companion began
to jump and to run, intoxicated by the air and the smell of the country,
and I ran and jumped, following her example. How silly we are at times,
monsieur!
“Then she sang unrestrainedly a thousand things, opera airs and the song
of Musette! The song of Musette! How poetical it seemed to me, then! I
almost cried over it. Ah! Those silly songs make us lose our heads; and,
believe me, never marry a woman who sings in the country, especially if
she sings the song of Musette!
“She soon grew tired, and sat down on a grassy slope, and I sat at her
feet and took her hands, her little hands, that were so marked with the
needle, and that filled me with emotion. I said to myself:
“'These are the sacred marks of toil.' Oh! monsieur, do you know
what those sacred marks of toil mean? They mean all the gossip of the
workroom, the whispered scandal, the mind soiled by all the filth
that is talked; they mean lost chastity, foolish chatter, all the
wretchedness of their everyday life, all the narrowness of ideas which
belongs to women of the lower orders, combined to their fullest extent
in the girl whose fingers bear the sacred marks of toil.
“Then we looked into each other's eyes for a long while. Oh! what power
a woman's eye has! How it agitates us, how it invades our very being,
takes possession of us, and dominates us! How profound it seems, how
full of infinite promises! People call that looking into each other's
souls! Oh! monsieur, what humbug! If we could see into each other's
souls, we should be more careful of what we did. However, I was
captivated and was crazy about her and tried to take her into my arms,
but she said: 'Paws off!'. Then I knelt down and opened my heart to her
and poured out all the affection that was suffocating me. She seemed
surprised at my change of manner and gave me a sidelong glance, as if to
say, 'Ah! so that is the way women make a fool of you, old fellow! Very
well, we will see.'
“In love, monsieur, we are always novices, and women artful dealers.
“No doubt I could have had her, and I saw my own stupidity later, but
what I wanted was not a woman's person, it was love, it was the ideal.
I was sentimental, when I ought to have been using my time to a better
purpose.
“As soon as she had had enough of my declarations of affection, she got
up, and we returned to Saint-Cloud, and I did not leave her until we got
to Paris; but she had looked so sad as we were returning, that at last I
asked her what was the matter. 'I am thinking,' she replied, 'that this
has been one of those days of which we have but few in life.' My heart
beat so that it felt as if it would break my ribs.
“I saw her on the following Sunday, and the next Sunday, and every
Sunday. I took her to Bougival, Saint-Germain, Maisons-Lafitte, Poissy;
to every suburban resort of lovers.
“The little jade, in turn, pretended to love me, until, at last, I
altogether lost my head, and three months later I married her.
“What can you expect, monsieur, when a man is a clerk, living alone,
without any relations, or any one to advise him? One says to one's self:
'How sweet life would be with a wife!'
“And so one gets married and she calls you names from morning till
night, understands nothing, knows nothing, chatters continually, sings
the song of Musette at the top of her voice (oh! that song of Musette,
how tired one gets of it!); quarrels with the charcoal dealer, tells
the janitor all her domestic details, confides all the secrets of
her bedroom to the neighbor's servant, discusses her husband with the
tradespeople and has her head so stuffed with stupid stories,
with idiotic superstitions, with extraordinary ideas and monstrous
prejudices, that I--for what I have said applies more particularly to
myself--shed tears of discouragement every time I talk to her.”
He stopped, as he was rather out of breath and very much moved, and I
looked at him, for I felt pity for this poor, artless devil, and I was
just going to give him some sort of answer, when the boat stopped. We
were at Saint-Cloud.
The little woman who had so taken my fancy rose from her seat in order
to land. She passed close to me, and gave me a sidelong glance and a
furtive smile, one of those smiles that drive you wild. Then she jumped
on the landing-stage. I sprang forward to follow her, but my neighbor
laid hold of my arm. I shook myself loose, however, whereupon he seized
the skirt of my coat and pulled me back, exclaiming: “You shall not go!
you shall not go!” in such a loud voice that everybody turned round and
laughed, and I remained standing motionless and furious, but without
venturing to face scandal and ridicule, and the steamboat started.
The little woman on the landing-stage looked at me as I went off with
an air of disappointment, while my persecutor rubbed his hands and
whispered to me:
“You must acknowledge that I have done you a great service.”