Humiliation
by Guy de Maupassant (1850-1893)
Approximate Word Count: 2083
The two young women had the appearance of being buried in a bed of
flowers. They were alone in an immense landau filled with bouquets
like a giant basket. Upon the seat before them were two small
hampers full of Nice violets, and upon the bearskin which covered
their knees was a heap of roses, gillyflowers, marguerites,
tuberoses and orange flowers, bound together with silk ribbons,
which seemed to crush the two delicate bodies, only allowing to
appear above the spread-out, perfumed bed the shoulders, arms and
a little of their bodices, one of which was blue and the other
lilac.
The coachman's whip bore a sheath of anemones; the horses' heads
were decorated with wallflowers; the spokes of the wheels were
clothed in mignonette, and in place of lanterns, there were two
round, enormous bouquets, which seemed like the two eyes of this
strange, rolling, flowery beast.
The landau went along Antibes Street at a brisk trot, preceded,
followed and accompanied by a crowd of other garlanded carriages
full of women concealed under a billow of violets. For it was the
Flower Festival at Cannes
They arrived at the Fonciere Boulevard where the battle took place.
The whole length of the immense avenue, a double line of bedecked
equipages was going and coming, like a ribbon without end. They
threw flowers from one to the other. Flowers passed in the air like
balls, hit the fair faces, hovered and fell in the dust where an
army of street urchins gathered them.
A compact crowd, clamorous but orderly' looked on, standing in rows
upon the sidewalks and held in place by policemen on horseback who
passed along, pushing back the curious brutally with their feet, in
order that the villains might not mingle with the rich.
Now the people in the carriages recognized each other, called to
each other and bombarded one another with roses. A chariot full of
pretty young women, clothed in red like devils, attracted and held
all eyes. One gentleman who resembled the portraits of Henry IV,
threw repeatedly, with joyous ardor, a huge bouquet retained by an
elastic. At the threat of the blow the women lowered their heads
and hid their eyes, but the gracious projectile only described a
curve and again returned to its master, who immediately threw it
again to a new face.
The two young women emptied their arsenal with full hands and
received a shower of bouquets; then after an hour of battle, a
little wearied at the last, they ordered the coachman to take the
road to the Juan Gulf, which skirts the sea.
The sun disappeared behind the Esterel, outlining in black upon a
background of fire the lacy silhouette of the stretched-out
mountain. The calm sea was spread out blue and clear as far as the
horizon, where it mingled with the sky and with the squadron
anchored in the middle of the gulf, having the appearance of a
troop of monstrous beasts, unmovable upon the water, apocalyptic
animals, humpbacked and clothed in coats of mail, capped with thin
masts like plumes and with eyes that lighted up when night came on.
The young women, stretched out under the fur robe, looked upon it
languidly. Finally one of them said:
"How delicious these evenings are! Everything seems good. Is it not
so, Margot?"
The other replied: "Yes, it is good. But there is always something,
lacking."
What is it? For my part, I am completely happy. I have need of
nothing."
"Yes? You think so, perhaps. But whatever well-being surrounds our
bodies, we always desire something more--for the heart."
Said the other, smiling: "A little love?"
"Yes."
They were silent, looking straight before them; then the one called
Marguerite said: "Life does not seem supportable to me without
that. I need to be loved, if only by a dog. And we are all so,
whatever you may say, Simone."
"No, no, my dear. I prefer not to be loved at all than to be loved
by no one of importance. Do you think, for example, that it would
be agreeable to me to be loved by--by---"
She looked for someone by whom she could possibly be loved, casting
her eyes over the neighboring country. Her eyes, after having made
the tour of the whole horizon, fell upon the two metal buttons
shining on the coachman's back, and she continued, laughing, "By my
coachman?"
Mlle Marguerite scarcely smiled as she replied:
"I can assure you it is very amusing to be loved by a domestic.
This has happened to me two or three times. They roll their eyes so
queerly that one is dying to laugh. Naturally, the more one is
loved, the more severe she becomes, since otherwise, one puts
herself in the way of being made ridiculous for some very slight
cause, if anyone happened to observe it."
Mlle Simone listened, her look fixed straight before her; then she
declared:
"No, decidedly, the heart of my valet at my feet would not appear
to me sufficient. But tell me how you perceived that you were
loved."
"I perceived it in them as I do in other men; they become so
stupid!"
"But others do not appear so stupid to me when they are in love."
"Idiots, my dear, incapable of chatting, of answering, of
comprehending anything."
"And you? What effect did it have on you to be loved by a domestic?
Were you moved--flattered?"
"Moved? No. Flattered? Yes, a little. One is always flattered by
the love of a man, whoever he may be."
"Oh, now, Margot!"
"Yes, my dear. Wait! I will tell you a singular adventure that
happened to me. You will see what curious things take place among
us in such cases.
"It was four years ago in the autumn, when I found myself without
a maid. I had tried five or six, one after the other, all of them
incompetent, and almost despaired of finding one, when I read in
the advertisements of a newspaper of a young girl knowing how to
sew, embroider and dress hair, who was seeking a place and could
furnish the best of references. She could also speak English.
"I wrote to the address given, and the next day the person in
question presented herself. She was rather tall, thin, a little
pale, with a very timid air. She had beautiful black eyes, a
charming color, and she pleased me at once. I asked for her
references; she gave me one written in English, because she had
come, she said, from the house of Lady Ryswell, where she had been
for ten years.
"The certificate attested that the girl was returning to France of
her own will and that she had nothing to reproach her for during
her long service with her, except a little of the French
coquettishness.
"The modest turn of the English phrase made me smile a little, and
I engaged the maid immediately. She came to my house the same day;
she called herself Rose.
"At the end of a month I adored her. She was a treasure, a pearl,
phenomenon.
"She could dress my hair with exquisite taste; she could flute the
lace of a cap better than the best of the professionals, and she
could make frocks. I was amazed at her ability. Never had I been so
well served.
"She dressed me rapidly with an astonishing lightness of hand. I
never felt her fingers upon my skin, and nothing is more
disagreeable to me than contact with a maid's hand. I immediately
got into excessively idle habits, so pleasant was it to let her
dress me from head to foot, from chemise to gloves--this tall,
timid girl, always blushing a little and never speaking. After my
bath she would rub me and massage me while I slept a little while
on my divan; indeed, I came to look upon her more as a friend in
poorer circumstances than a servant.
"One morning the concierge, with some show of mystery, said he
wished to speak to me. I was surprised but let him enter. He was an
old soldier, once orderly for my husband.
"He appeared to hesitate at what he was going to say. Finally he
said stammeringly: 'Madame, the police captain for this district is
downstairs.'
"I asked: 'What does he want?'
"'He wants to search the house.'
"Certainly the police are necessary, but I do detest them. I never
can make it seem a noble profession. And I answered, irritated as
well as wounded:
"'Why search here? For what purpose? There has been no burglary?'
He answered:
"'He thinks that a criminal is concealed somewhere here.'
"I began to be a little afraid and ordered the police captain to be
brought that I might have some explanation. He was a man rather
well brought up and decorated with the Legion of Honor. He excused
himself, asked my pardon. then asserted that I had among my
servants a convict!
"I was thunderstruck and answered that I could vouch for every one
of them and that I would make a review of them for his
satisfaction.
"'There is Peter Courtin, an old soldier.'
"It was not he.
"'The coachman, Francis Pingau, a peasant, son of my father's
farmer.'
"It was not he.
"'A stableboy, also from Champagne and also a son of peasants I had
known, and no more except the footman, whom you have seen.'
"It was not any of them.
"'Then, sir, you see that you have been deceived.'
"'Pardon me, madame, but I am sure I am not deceived. As he has not
at all the appearance of a criminal, will you have the goodness to
have all your servants appear here before you and me, all of them?'
"I hesitated at first, then I yielded, summoning all my people, men
and women.
"He looked at them all for an instant, then declared:
"'This is not all.'
"'Your pardon, sir,' I replied; 'this is all, except my own maid
who could not possibly be confounded with a convict.'
"He asked: 'Could I see her too?'
"'Certainly.'
"I rang and Rose appeared immediately. Scarcely had she entered
when he gave a signal, and two men, whom I had not seen, concealed
behind the door, threw themselves upon her, seized her hands and
bound them with cords.
"I uttered a cry of fury and was going to try and defend her. The
captain stopped me:
"'This girl, madame, is a man who calls himself John Nicholas
Lecapet, condemned to death in 1879 for assassination preceded by
violation. His sentence was changed to life imprisonment. He
escaped four months ago. We have been on the search for him ever
since.'
"I was dismayed, struck dumb. I could not believe it. The policeman
continued, laughing:
"'I can only give you one proof. His right arm is tattooed.'
"His sleeve was rolled up. It was true. The policeman added,
certainly in bad taste:
"'Doubtless you will be satisfied without the other proofs.'
"And he led away my maid!
"Well, if you will believe it, the feeling which was uppermost in
me was that of anger at having been played with in this way,
deceived and made ridiculous; it was not shame at having been
dressed, undressed, handled and touched by this man,
but--a--profound humiliation--the humiliation of a woman. Do you
understand?"
"No, not exactly."
"Let us see. Think a minute. He had been condemned--for violation,
this young man--and that--that humiliated me--there! Now do you
understand?"
And Mlle Simone did not reply. She looked straight before her, with
her eyes singularly fixed upon the two shining buttons of the
livery and with that sphinx's smile that women have sometimes.
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