original short stories-3-第5部分

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human　creature　the　eternal　injustice　of　implacable　nature！　　It　was　all
over　with　her；　without　her　ever　having　experienced；　perhaps；　that　which
sustains　the　greatest　outcasts　to　wit；　the　hope　of　being　loved　once！
Otherwise　why　should　she　thus　have　concealed　herself；　fled　from　the　face
of　others？　　Why　did　she　love　everything　so　tenderly　and　so　passionately；
everything　living　that　was　not　a　man？

〃I　recognized　the　fact　that　she　believed　in　a　God；　and　that　she　hoped　to
receive　compensation　from　the　latter　for　all　the　miseries　she　had
endured。　　She　would　now　disintegrate　and　become；　in　turn；　a　plant。　　She
would　blossom　in　the　sun；　the　cattle　would　browse　on　her　leaves；　the
birds　would　bear　away　the　seeds；　and　through　these　changes　she　would
become　again　human　flesh。　　But　that　which　is　called　the　soul　had　been
extinguished　at　the　bottom　of　the　dark　well。　　She　suffered　no　longer。
She　had　given　her　life　for　that　of　others　yet　to　come。

〃Hours　passed　away　in　this　silent　and　sinister　communion　with　the　dead。
A　pale　light　at　length　announced　the　dawn　of　a　new　day；　then　a　red　ray
streamed　in　on　the　bed；　making　a　bar　of　light　across　the　coverlet　and
across　her　hands。　　This　was　the　hour　she　had　so　much　loved。　　The　awakened
birds　began　to　sing　in　the　trees。

〃I　opened　the　window　to　its　fullest　extent　and　drew　back　the　curtains
that　the　whole　heavens　might　look　in　upon　us；　and；　bending　over　the　icy
corpse；　I　took　in　my　hands　the　mutilated　head　and　slowly；　without　terror
or　disgust；　I　imprinted　a　kiss；　a　long　kiss；　upon　those　lips　which　had
never　before　been　kissed。〃

Leon　Chenal　remained　silent。　　The　women　wept。　　We　heard　on　the　box　seat
the　Count　d'Atraille　blowing　his　nose　from　time　to　time。　　The　coachman
alone　had　gone　to　sleep。　　The　horses；　who　no　longer　felt　the　sting　of　the
whip；　had　slackened　their　pace　and　moved　along　slowly。　　The　drag；　hardly
advancing　at　all；　seemed　suddenly　torpid；　as　if　it　had　been　freighted
with　sorrow。

　　　　　＇Miss　Harriet　appeared　in　Le　Gaulois；　July　9；　1883；　under　the　title
　　　　　of　Miss　Hastings。　　The　story　was　later　revised；　enlarged；　and　partly
　　　　　reconstructed。　　This　is　what　De　Maupassant　wrote　to　Editor　Havard
　　　　　March　15；　1884；　in　an　unedited　letter；　in　regard　to　the　title　of　the
　　　　　story　that　was　to　give　its　name　to　the　volume：

　　　　　〃I　do　not　believe　that　Hastings　is　a　bad　name；　inasmuch　as　it　is
　　　　　known　all　over　the　world；　and　recalls　the　greatest　facts　in　English
　　　　　history。　　Besides；　Hastings　is　as　much　a　name　as　Duval　is　with　us。

　　　　　〃The　name　Cherbuliez　selected；　Miss　Revel；　is　no　more　like　an
　　　　　English　name　than　like　a　Turkish　name。　　But　here　is　another　name　as
　　　　　English　as　Hastings；　and　more　euphonious；　it　is　Miss　Harriet。
　　　　　I　will　ask　you　therefore　to　substitute　Harriet　for　Hastings。〃

　　　　　It　was　in　regard　to　this　very　tittle　that　De　Maupassant　had　a
　　　　　disagreement　with　Audran　and　Boucheron　director　of　the　Bouffes
　　　　　Parisiens　in　October；　1890　They　had　given　this　title　to　an　operetta
　　　　　about　to　be　played　at　the　Bouffes。　　It　ended　however；　by　their
　　　　　ceding　to　De　Maupassant；　and　the　title　of　the　operetta　was　changed
　　　　　to　Miss　Helyett。＇






LITTLE　LOUISE　ROQUE

The　former　soldier；　Mederic　Rompel；　familiarly　called　Mederic　by　the
country　folks；　left　the　post　office　of　Roiiy…le…Tors　at　the　usual　hour。
After　passing　through　the　village　with　his　long　stride；　he　cut　across　the
meadows　of　Villaume　and　reached　the　bank　of　the　Brindille；　following　the
path　along　the　water's　edge　to　the　village　of　Carvelin；　where　he
commenced　to　deliver　his　letters。　　He　walked　quickly；　following　the
course　of　the　narrow　river；　which　frothed；　murmured　and　boiled　in　its
grassy　bed　beneath　an　arch　of　willows。

Mederic　went　on　without　stopping；　with　only　this　thought　in　his　mind：　〃My
first　letter　is　for　the　Poivron　family；　then　I　have　one　for　Monsieur
Renardet；　so　I　must　cross　the　wood。〃

His　blue　blouse；　fastened　round　his　waist　by　a　black　leather　belt；　moved
in　a　quick；　regular　fashion　above　the　green　hedge　of　willow　trees；　and
his　stout　stick　of　holly　kept　time　with　his　steady　tread。

He　crossed　the　Brindille　on　a　bridge　consisting　of　a　tree　trunk；　with　a
handrail　of　rope；　fastened　at　either　end　to　a　stake　driven　into　the
ground。

The　wood；　which　belonged　to　Monsieur　Renardet；　the　mayor　of　Carvelin　and
the　largest　landowner　in　the　district；　consisted　of　huge　old　trees；
straight　as　pillars　and　extending　for　about　half　a　league　along　the　left
bank　of　the　stream　which　served　as　a　boundary　to　this　immense　dome　of
foliage。　　Alongside　the　water　large　shrubs　had　grown　up　in　the　sunlight；
but　under　the　trees　one　found　nothing　but　moss；　thick；　soft　and　yielding；
from　which　arose；　in　the　still　air；　an　odor　of　dampness　and　of　dead　wood。

Mederic　slackened　his　pace；　took　off　his　black　cap　adorned　with　red　lace
and　wiped　his　forehead；　for　it　was　by　this　time　hot　in　the　meadows；
though　it　was　not　yet　eight　o'clock　in　the　morning。

He　had　just　recovered　from　the　effects　of　the　heat　and　resumed　his　quick
pace　when　he　noticed　at　the　foot　of　a　tree　a　knife；　a　child's　small
knife。　　When　he　picked　it　up　he　discovered　a　thimble　and　also　a
needlecase　not　far　away。

Having　taken　up　these　objects；　he　thought：　〃I'll　entrust　them　to　the
mayor；〃　and　he　resumed　his　journey；　but　now　he　kept　his　eyes　open；
expecting　to　find　something　else。

All　of　a　sudden　he　stopped　short；　as　if　he　had　struck　against　a　wooden
barrier。　　Ten　paces　in　front　of　him　lay　stretched　on　her　back　on　the　moss
a　little　girl；　perfectly　nude；　her　face　covered　with　a　handkerchief。　　She
was　about　twelve　years　old。

Meredic　advanced　on　tiptoe；　as　if　he　apprehended　some　danger；　and　he
glanced　toward　the　spot　uneasily。

What　was　this？　　No　doubt　she　was　asleep。　　Then　he　reflected　that　a　person
does　not　go　to　sleep　naked　at　half…past　seven　in　the　morning　under　the
cool　trees。　　So；　then；　she　must　be　dead；　and　he　must　be　face　to　face　with
a　crime。　　At　this　thought　a　cold　shiver　ran　through　his　frame；　although
he　was　an　old　soldier。　　And　then　a　murder　was　such　a　rare　thing　in　the
country；　and；　above　all；　the　murder　of　a　child；　that　he　could　not　believe
his　eyes。　　But　she　had　no　wound…nothing　save　a　spot　of　blood　on　her　leg。
How；　then；　had　she　been　killed？

He　stopped　close　to　her　and　gazed　at　her；　while　he　leaned　on　his　stick。
Certainly　he　must　know　her；　for　he　knew　all　the　inhabitants　of　the
district；　but；　not　being　able　to　get　a　look　at　her　face；　he　could　not
guess　her　name。　　He　stooped　forward　in　order　to　take　off　the　handkerchief
which　covered　her　face；　then　paused；　with　outstretched　hand；　restrained
by　an　idea　that　occurred　to　him。

Had　he　the　right　to　disarrange　anything　in　the　condition　of　the　corpse
before　the　official　investigation？　　He　pictured　justice　to　himself　as　a
kind　of　general　whom　nothing　escapes　and　who　attaches　as　much　importance
to　a　lost　button　as　to　the　stab　of　a　knife　in　the　stomach。　　Perhaps　under
this　handkerchief　evidence　could　be　found　to　sustain　a　charge　of　murder；
in　fact；　if　such　proof　were　there　it　might　lose　its　value　if　touched　by
an　awkward　hand。

Then　he　raised　himself　with　the　intention　of　hastening　toward　the　mayor's
residence；　but　again　another　thought　held　him　back。　　If　the　little　girl
were　still　alive；　by　any　chance；　he　could　not　leave　her　lying　there　in
this　way。　　He　sank　on　his　knees　very　gently；　a　little　distance　from　her；
through　precaution；　and　extended　his　hand　toward　her　foot。　　It　was　icy
cold；　with　the　terrible　coldness　of　death　which　leaves　us　no　longer　in
doubt。　　The　letter　carrier；　as　he　touched　her；　felt　his　heart　in　his
mouth；　as　he　said　himself　afterward；　and　his　mouth　parched。　　Rising　up
abruptly；　he　rushed　off　under　the　trees　toward　Monsieur　Renardet's　house。

He　walked　on　faster　than　ever；　with　his　stick　under　his　arm；　his　hands
clenched　and　his　head　thrust　forward；　while　his　leathern　bag；　filled　with
letters　and　newspapers；　kept　flapping　at　his　side。

The　mayor's　residence　was　at　the　end　of　the　wood　which　served　as　a　park；
and　one　side　of　it　was　washed　by　the　Brindille。

It　was　a　big　square　house　of　gray　stone；　very　old；　and　had　stood　many　a
siege　in　former　days；　and　at　the　end　of　it　was　a　huge　tower；　twenty
metres　high；　rising　out　of　the　water。

From　the　top　of　this　fortress　one　could　formerly　see　all　the　surrounding
country。　　It　was　called　the　Fox's　tower；　without　any　one　knowing　exactly
why；　and　from　this　appellation；　no　doubt；　had　come　the　name　Renardet；
borne　by　the　owners　of　this　fief；　which　had　remained　in　the　same　family；
it　was　said；　for　more　than　two　hundred　years。　　For　the　Renardets　formed
part　of　the　upper　middle　class；　all　but　noble；　to　be　met　with　so　often　in
the　province　before　the　Revolution。

The　postman　dashed　into　the　kitchen；　where　the　servants　were　taking
breakfast；　and　exclaimed：

〃Is　the　mayor　up？　　I　want　to　speak　to　him　at　once。〃

Mederic　was　recognized　as　a　man　of　standing　and　authority；　and　they
understood　that　something　serious　had　happened。

As　soon　as　word　was　brought　to　Monsieur　Renardet；　he　ordered　the　postman
to　be　sent　up　to　him。　　Pale　and　out　of　breath；　with　his　cap　in　his　hand；
Mederic　found　the　mayor　seated　at　a　long　table　covered　with　scattered
papers。

He　was　a　large；　tall　man；　heavy　and　red…faced；　strong　as　an　ox；　and　was
greatly　liked　in　the　district；　although　of　an　excessively　violent
disposition。　　Almost　forty　years　old　and　a　widower　for　the　past　six
months；　he　lived　on　his　estate　like　a　country　gentleman。　　His　choleric
temperament　had　often　brought　him　into　trouble　from　which　the　magistrates
of　Roiiy…le…Tors；　like　indulgent　and　prudent　friends；　had　extricated　him。
Had　he　not　one　day　thrown　the　conductor　of　the　diligence　from　the　top　of
his　seat　because　he　came　near　running　over　his　retriever；　Micmac？　　Had　he
not　broken　the　ribs　of　a　gamekeeper　who　abused　him　for　having；　gun　in
hand；　passed　through　a　neighbor's　property？　　Had　he　not　even　caught　by
the　collar　the　sub…prefect；　who　stopped　over　in　the　village　during　an
administrative　circuit；　called　by　Monsieur　Renardet　an　electioneering
circuit；　for　he　was　opposed　to　the　government；　in　accordance　with　family
traditions。

The　mayor　a