original short stories-13-第14章

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species。　　The　latter　makes　all　sorts　of　trouble…scenes；　reproaches；　etc。；
while　the　former；　who　has　just　as　good　a　right　to　complain；　treats　you；
on　the　contrary；　as　though　you　were　the　special　Providence　of　his　hearth。

Well；　my　friend　was　a　quaint　little　woman；　a　brunette；　fanciful；
capricious；　pious；　superstitious；　credulous　as　a　monk；　but　charming。
She　had　a　way　of　kissing　one　that　I　never　saw　in　any　one　elsebut　that
was　not　the　attractionand　such　a　soft　skin！　　It　gave　me　intense　delight
merely　to　hold　her　hands。　　And　an　eyeher　glance　was　like　a　slow　caress；
delicious　and　unending。　　Sometimes　I　would　lean　my　head　on　her　knee　and
we　would　remain　motionless；　she　leaning　over　me　with　that　subtle；
enigmatic；　disturbing　smile　that　women　have；　while　my　eyes　would　be
raised　to　hers；　drinking　sweetly　and　deliciously　into　my　heart；　like　a
form　of　intoxication；　the　glance　of　her　limpid　blue　eyes；　limpid　as
though　they　were　full　of　thoughts　of　love；　and　blue　as　though　they　were　a
heaven　of　delights。

Her　husband；　inspector　of　some　large　public　works；　was　frequently　away
from　home　and　left　us　our　evenings　free。　　Sometimes　I　spent　them　with　her
lounging　on　the　divan　with　my　forehead　on　one　of　her　knees；　while　on　the
other　lay　an　enormous　black　cat　called　〃Misti；〃　whom　she　adored。　　Our
fingers　would　meet　on　the　cat's　back　and　would　intertwine　in　her　soft
silky　fur。　　I　felt　its　warm　body　against　my　cheek；　trembling　with　its
eternal　purring；　and　occasionally　a　paw　would　reach　out　and　place　on　my
mouth；　or　my　eyelid；　five　unsheathed　claws　which　would　prick　my　eyelids；
and　then　be　immediately　withdrawn。

Sometimes　we　would　go　out　on　what　we　called　our　escapades。　　They　were
very　innocent；　however。　　They　consisted　in　taking　supper　at　some　inn　in
the　suburbs；　or　else；　after　dining　at　her　house　or　at　mine；　in　making　the
round　of　the　cheap　cafes；　like　students　out　for　a　lark。

We　would　go　into　the　common　drinking　places　and　take　our　seats　at　the　end
of　the　smoky　den　on　two　rickety　chairs；　at　an　old　wooden　table。　　A　cloud
of　pungent　smoke；　with　which　blended　an　odor　of　fried　fish　from　dinner；
filled　the　room。　　Men　in　smocks　were　talking　in　loud　tones　as　they　drank
their　petits　verres；　and　the　astonished　waiter　placed　before　us　two
cherry　brandies。

She；　trembling；　charmingly　afraid；　would　raise　her　double　black　veil　as
far　as　her　nose；　and　then　take　up　her　glass　with　the　enjoyment　that　one
feels　at　doing　something　delightfully　naughty。　　Each　cherry　she　swallowed
made　her　feel　as　if　she　had　done　something　wrong；　each　swallow　of　the
burning　liquor　had　on　her　the　affect　of　a　delicate　and　forbidden
enjoyment。

Then　she　would　say　to　me　in　a　low　tone：　〃Let　us　go。〃　　And　we　would　leave；
she　walking　quickly　with　lowered　head　between　the　drinkers　who　watched
her　going　by　with　a　look　of　displeasure。　　And　as　soon　as　we　got　into　the
street　she　would　give　a　great　sigh　of　relief；　as　if　we　had　escaped　some
terrible　danger。

Sometimes　she　would　ask　me　with　a　shudder：

〃Suppose　they；　should　say　something　rude　to　me　in　those　places；　what
would　you　do？〃　　〃Why；　I　would　defend　you；　parbleu！〃　　I　would　reply　in　a
resolute　manner。　　And　she　would　squeeze　my　arm　for　happiness；　perhaps
with　a　vague　wish　that　she　might　be　insulted　and　protected；　that　she
might　see　men　fight　on　her　account；　even　those　men；　with　me！

One　evening　as　we　sat　at　a　table　in　a　tavern　at　Montmartre；　we　saw　an　old
woman　in　tattered　garments　come　in；　holding　in　her　hand　a　pack　of　dirty
cards。　　Perceiving　a　lady；　the　old　woman　at　once　approached　us　and
offered　to　tell　my　friend's　fortune。　　Emma；　who　in　her　heart　believed　in
everything；　was　trembling　with　longing　and　anxiety；　and　she　made　a　place
beside　her　for　the　old　woman。

The　latter；　old；　wrinkled；　her　eyes　with　red　inflamed　rings　round　them；
and　her　mouth　without　a　single　tooth　in　it；　began　to　deal　her　dirty　cards
on　the　table。　　She　dealt　them　in　piles；　then　gathered　them　up；　and　then
dealt　them　out　again；　murmuring　indistinguishable　words。　　Emma；　turning
pale；　listened　with　bated　breath；　gasping　with　anxiety　and　curiosity。

The　fortune…teller　broke　silence。　　She　predicted　vague　happenings：
happiness　and　children；　a　fair　young　man；　a　voyage；　money；　a　lawsuit；　a
dark　man；　the　return　of　some　one；　success；　a　death。　　The　mention　of　this
death　attracted　the　younger　woman's　attention。　　〃Whose　death？　　When？　　In
what　manner？〃

The　old　woman　replied：　〃Oh；　as　to　that；　these　cards　are　not　certain
enough。　　You　must　come　to　my　place　to…morrow；　I　will　tell　you　about　it
with　coffee　grounds　which　never　make　a　mistake。〃

Emma　turned　anxiously　to　me：

〃Say；　let　us　go　there　to…morrow。　　Oh；　please　say　yes。　　If　not；　you　cannot
imagine　how　worried　I　shall　be。〃

I　began　to　laugh。

〃We　will　go　if　you　wish　it；　dearie。〃

The　old　woman　gave　us　her　address。　　She　lived　on　the　sixth　floor；　in　a
wretched　house　behind　the　Buttes…Chaumont。　　We　went　there　the　following
day。

Her　room；　an　attic　containing　two　chairs　and　a　bed；　was　filled　with
strange　objects；　bunches　of　herbs　hanging　from　nails；　skins　of　animals；
flasks　and　phials　containing　liquids　of　various　colors。　　On　the　table　a
stuffed　black　cat　looked　out　of　eyes　of　glass。　　He　seemed　like　the　demon
of　this　sinister　dwelling。

Emma；　almost　fainting　with　emotion；　sat　down　on　a　chair　and　exclaimed：

〃Oh；　dear；　look　at　that　cat；　how　like　it　is　to　Misti。〃

And　she　explained　to　the　old　woman　that　she　had　a　cat　〃exactly　like　that；
exactly　like　that！〃

The　old　woman　replied　gravely：

〃If　you　are　in　love　with　a　man；　you　must　not　keep　it。〃

Emma；　suddenly　filled　with　fear；　asked：

〃Why　not？〃

The　old　woman　sat　down　familiarly　beside　her　and　took　her　hand。

〃It　was　the　undoing　of　my　life；〃　she　said。

My　friend　wanted　to　hear　about　it。　　She　leaned　against　the　old　woman；
questioned　her；　begged　her　to　tell。　　At　length　the　woman　agreed　to　do　so。

〃I　loved　that　cat；〃　she　said；　〃as　one　would　love　a　brother。　　I　was　young
then　and　all　alone；　a　seamstress。　　I　had　only　him；　Mouton。　　One　of　the
tenants　had　given　it　to　me。　　He　was　as　intelligent　as　a　child；　and　gentle
as　well；　and　he　worshiped　me；　my　dear　lady；　he　worshiped　me　more　than　one
does　a　fetish。　　All　day　long　he　would　sit　on　my　lap　purring；　and　all
night　long　on　my　pillow；　I　could　feel　his　heart　beating；　in　fact。

〃Well；　I　happened　to　make　an　acquaintance；　a　fine　young　man　who　was
working　in　a　white…goods　house。　　That　went　on　for　about　three　months　on　a
footing　of　mere　friendship。　　But　you　know　one　is　liable　to　weaken；　it　may
happen　to　any　one；　and；　besides；　I　had　really　begun　to　love　him。　　He　was
so　nice；　so　nice；　and　so　good。　　He　wanted　us　to　live　together；　for
economy's　sake。　　I　finally　allowed　him　to　come　and　see　me　one　evening。　　I
had　not　made　up　my　mind　to　anything　definite；　oh；　no！　　But　I　was　pleased
at　the　idea　that　we　should　spend　an　hour　together。

〃At　first　he　behaved　very　well；　said　nice　things　to　me　that　made　my　heart
go　pit…a…pat。　　And　then　he　kissed　me；　madame；　kissed　me　as　one　does　when
they　love。　　I　remained　motionless；　my　eyes　closed；　in　a　paroxysm　of
happiness。　　But；　suddenly；　I　felt　him　start　violently　and　he　gave　a
scream；　a　scream　that　I　shall　never　forget。　　I　opened　my　eyes　and　saw
that　Mouton　had　sprung　at　his　face　and　was　tearing　the　skin　with　his
claws　as　if　it　had　been　a　linen　rag。　　And　the　blood　was　streaming　down
like　rain；　madame。

〃I　tried　to　take　the　cat　away；　but　he　held　on　tight；　scratching　all　the
time；　and　he　bit　me；　he　was　so　crazy。　　I　finally　got　him　and　threw　him
out　of　the　window；　which　was　open；　for　it　was　summer。

〃When　I　began　to　bathe　my　poor　friend's　face；　I　noticed　that　his　eyes
were　destroyed；　both　his　eyes！

〃He　had　to　go　to　the　hospital。　　He　died　of　grief　at　the　end　of　a　year。
I　wanted　to　keep　him　with　me　and　provide　for　him；　but　he　would　not　agree
to　it。　　One　would　have　supposed　that　he　hated　me　after　the　occurrence。

〃As　for　Mouton；　his　back　was　broken　by　the　fall；　The　janitor　picked　up
his　body。　　I　had　him　stuffed；　for　in　spite　of　all　I　was　fond　of　him。
If　he　acted　as　he　did　it　was　because　he　loved　me；　was　it　not？〃

The　old　woman　was　silent　and　began　to　stroke　the　lifeless　animal　whose
body　trembled　on　its　iron　framework。

Emma；　with　sorrowful　heart；　had　forgotten　about　the　predicted　deathor；
at　least；　she　did　not　allude　to　it　again；　and　she　left；　giving　the　woman
five　francs。

As　her　husband　was　to　return　the　following　day；　I　did　not　go　to　the　house
for　several　days。　　When　I　did　go　I　was　surprised　at　not　seeing　Misti。
I　asked　where　he　was。

She　blushed　and　replied：

〃I　gave　him　away。　　I　was　uneasy。〃

I　was　astonished。

〃Uneasy？　　Uneasy？　　What　about？〃

She　gave　me　a　long　kiss　and　said　in　a　low　tone：

〃I　was　uneasy　about　your　eyes；　my　dear。〃

　　　　　Misti　appeared　in。　　Gil　Blas　of　January　22；　1884；　over　the　signature
　　　　　of　〃MAUFRIGNEUSE。〃






MADAME　HERMET

Crazy　people　attract　me。　　They　live　in　a　mysterious　land　of　weird　dreams；
in　that　impenetrable　cloud　of　dementia　where　all　that　they　have　witnessed
in　their　previous　life；　all　they　have　loved；　is　reproduced　for　them　in　an
imaginary　existence；　outside　of　all　laws　that　govern　the　things　of　this
life　and　control　human　thought。

For　them　there　is　no　such　thing　as　the　impossible；　nothing　is　improbable；
fairyland　is　a　constant　quantity　and　the　supernatural　quite　familiar。
The　old　rampart；　logic；　the　old　wall；　reason；　the　old　main　stay　of
thought；　good　sense；　break　down；　fall　and　crumble　before　their
imagination；　set　free　and　escaped　into　the　limitless　realm　of　fancy；　and
advancing　with　fabulous　bounds；　and　nothing　can　check　it。　　For　them
everything　happens；　and　anything　may　happen。　　They　make　no　effort　to
conquer　events；　to　overcome　resistance；　to　overturn　obstacles。　　By　a
sudden　caprice　of　their　flighty　imagination　they　become　princes；
emperors；　or　gods；　are　possessed　of　all　the　wealth　of　the　world；　all　the
delightful　things　of　life；　enjoy　all　pleasures；　are　always　strong；　always
beautiful；　always　young；　always　beloved！　　They；　alone；　can　be　happy　in
this　world；　for；　as　far　as　they　are　concerned；　reality　does　not　exist。
I　love　to　look　into　their　wandering　intelligence　as　one　leans　over　an
abyss　at　the　bottom　of　which　seethes　a　foaming　torrent　whose　source　and
destination　are　both　unknown。

But　it　is　in　vain　that　we　lean　over　these　abysses；　for　we　shall　never
discover　the　source　nor　the　destination　of　this　water。　　After　all；　it　is
only　water；　just　like　what　is　flowing　in　the　sunlight；　and　we　shall　learn
nothing　by　looking　at　it。

It　is　likewise　of　no　use　to　ponder　over　the　intelligence　of　crazy　people；
for　their　most　weird　notions　are；　in　fact；　only　ideas　that　are　already
known；　which　appear　strange　simply　because　they　are　no　longer　under　the
restraint　of　reason。　　Their　whimsical　source　surprises　us　because　we　do
not　see　it　bubbling　up。　　Doubtless　the　dropping　of　a　little　stone　into
the　current　was　sufficient　to　cause　these　ebullitions。　　Nevertheless
crazy　people　attract　me　and　I　always　return　to　them；　drawn　in　spite　of
myself　by　this　trivial　mystery　of　dementia。

One　day　as　I　was　visiting　one　of　the　asylums　the　physician　who　was　my
guide　said：

〃Come；　I　will　show　you　an　intere