Life by de Maupassant Guy; Pearson Roger; & Roger Pearson

Life by de Maupassant Guy; Pearson Roger; & Roger Pearson

Author:de Maupassant, Guy; Pearson, Roger; & Roger Pearson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oxford University Press
Published: 2013-12-15T16:00:00+00:00


VIII

Rosalie had left the house, and Jeanne was approaching the term of her difficult pregnancy. She felt no pleasure in her heart at the prospect of becoming a mother, for she had suffered too much unhappiness. She awaited the arrival of her child without curiosity, burdened rather by apprehension and the thought of nameless misfortunes yet to come.

Spring had arrived very gradually. The bare trees shook gently in a breeze that was still cool, but in the wet grass along the ditches, where autumn leaves lay rotting, the yellow primroses were beginning to show themselves. The entire plain, the farmyards and the waterlogged fields, gave off a damp smell, like the aroma of something fermenting. And a host of tiny green shoots were emerging from the brown soil and gleaming brightly in the sunshine.

A large woman, as stout as a castle keep, had taken Rosalie’s place and supported the Baroness on her monotonous walks up and down the avenue, where the trail left by her dragging foot remained constantly muddy and wet.

Papa gave his arm to Jeanne, who had grown heavy herself now and was still not well; and Aunt Lison, anxiously preoccupied by the coming event, took her hand on the other side, deeply perturbed by this mysterious process that she herself would never experience.

They walked along together like this for hours on end, scarcely exchanging a word, while Julien went out riding all over the countryside, having suddenly acquired a taste for this pursuit.

Nothing further happened to interrupt their drab routine. The Baron, his wife, and the Vicomte paid a visit to the Four villes, with whom Julien already seemed very well acquainted, though no one quite knew how. Another formal visit was exchanged with the Brisevilles, still buried away in their sleepy manor.

One afternoon, about four o’clock, as two people on horseback, a man and a woman, came trotting into the courtyard at the front of the house, Julien entered Jeanne’s bedroom in a great state of excitement.

‘Quick, quick, you must go down. It’s the Fourvilles. It’s only a casual visit, nothing more, on account of your condition. Tell them I’ve gone out but that I’ll be back presently. I’m just going to smarten up.’

Surprised, Jeanne went downstairs. A pale, pretty young woman, with an unhappy face, blazing eyes, and lustreless fair hair that looked as if not a single ray of sunlight had ever touched it, calmly introduced her giant of a husband, a sort of bogeyman with a huge, red moustache. Then she continued:

‘We have had the opportunity of meeting Monsieur de Lamare on several occasions. He has told us how unwell you are, and we did not wish to wait a moment longer before paying you a simple neighbourly visit, without any fuss or formality. Indeed, as you see, we have come on horseback. The other day, moreover, I had the pleasure of receiving a visit from Madame, your mother, and the Baron.’

She spoke with complete assurance, in a tone at once intimate and well bred.



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