selected writings-第30节

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the　day；　after　picking　hazelnuts　with　the　manservant　in　the　wood

behind　the　farm。　I　remember　it　all　as　clearly　as　what　happened

only　yesterday。



On　opening　the　door　of　the　linen…room；　I　saw　the　old　seamstress

lying　on　the　floor　by　the　side　of　her　chair；　her　face　turned　down

and　her　arms　stretched　out；　but　still　holding　her　needle　in　one

hand　and　one　of　my　shirts　in　the　other。　One　of　her　legs　in　a　blue

stocking；　the　longer　one　no　doubt；　was　extended　under　her　chair；

and　her　spectacles　glistened　by　the　wall；　where　they　had　rolled

away　from　her。



I　ran　away　uttering　shrill　cries。　They　all　came　running；　and　in　a

few　minutes　I　was　told　that　Mother　Clochette　was　dead。



I　cannot　describe　the　profound；　poignant；　terrible　emotion　which

stirred　my　childish　heart。　I　went　slowly　down　into　the

drawing…room　and　hid　myself　in　a　dark　corner；　in　the　depths　of　a

great；　old　arm…chair；　where　I　knelt　and　wept。　I　remained　there

for　a　long　time　no　doubt；　for　night　came　on。　Suddenly　some　one

came　in　with　a　lampwithout　seeing　me；　howeverand　I　heard　my

father　and　mother　talking　with　the　medical　man；　whose　voice　I

recognized。



He　had　been　sent　for　immediately；　and　he　was　explaining　the　cause

of　the　accident；　of　which　I　understood　nothing；　however。　Then　he

sat　down　and　had　a　glass　of　liqueur　and　a　biscuit。



He　went　on　talking；　and　what　he　then　said　will　remain　engraved　on

my　mind　until　I　die！　I　think　that　I　can　give　the　exact　words

which　he　used。



〃Ah！〃　said　he；　〃the　poor　woman！　she　broke　her　leg　the　day　of　my

arrival　here。　I　had　not　even　had　time　to　wash　my　hands　after

getting　off　the　diligence　before　I　was　sent　for　in　all　haste；　for

it　was　a　bad　case；　very　bad。



〃She　was　seventeen；　and　a　pretty　girl；　very　pretty！　Would　anyone

believe　it？　I　have　never　told　her　story　before；　in　fact　no　one

but　myself　and　one　other　person；　who　is　no　longer　living　in　this

part　of　the　country；　ever　knew　it。　Now　that　she　is　dead；　I　may　be

less　discreet。



〃A　young　assistant　teacher　had　just　come　to　live　in　the　village；

he　was　good…looking　and　had　the　bearing　of　a　soldier。　All　the

girls　ran　after　him；　but　he　was　disdainful。　Besides　that；　he　was

very　much　afraid　of　his　superior；　the　schoolmaster；　old　Grabu；

who　occasionally　got　out　of　bed　the　wrong　foot　first。



〃Old　Grabu　already　employed　pretty　Hortense；　who　has　just　died

here；　and　who　was　afterward　nicknamed　Clochette。　The　assistant

master　singled　out　the　pretty　young　girl；　who　was　no　doubt

flattered　at　being　chosen　by　this　disdainful　conqueror；　at　any

rate；　she　fell　in　love　with　him；　and　he　succeeded　in　persuading

her　to　give　him　a　first　meeting　in　the　hayloft　behind　the　school；

at　night；　after　she　had　done　her　day's　sewing。



〃She　pretended　to　go　home；　but　instead　of　going　downstairs　when

she　left　the　Grabus'；　she　went　upstairs　and　hid　among　the　hay；　to

wait　for　her　lover。　He　soon　joined　her；　and　he　was　beginning　to

say　pretty　things　to　her；　when　the　door　of　the　hayloft　opened　and

the　schoolmaster　appeared；　and　asked：　'What　are　you　doing　up

there；　Sigisbert？'　Feeling　sure　that　he　would　be　caught；　the

young　school…master　lost　his　presence　of　mind　and　replied

stupidly：　'I　came　up　here　to　rest　a　little　among　the　bundles　of

hay；　Monsieur　Grabu。'



〃The　loft　was　very　large　and　absolutely　dark。　Sigisbert　pushed

the　frightened　girl　to　the　further　end　and　said：　'Go　there　and

hide　yourself。　I　shall　lose　my　situation；　so　get　away　and　hide

yourself。'



〃When　the　schoolmaster　heard　the　whispering；　he　continued：　'Why；

you　are　not　by　yourself？'



〃　'Yes　I　am；　Monsieur　Grabu！'



〃　'But　you　are　not；　for　you　are　talking。'



〃　'I　swear　I　am；　Monsieur　Grabu。'



〃　'I　will　soon　find　out；'　the　old　man　replied；　and　double…locking

the　door；　he　went　down　to　get　a　light。



〃Then　the　young　man；　who　was　a　coward　such　as　one　sometimes

meets；　lost　his　head；　and　he　repeated；　having　grown　furious　all

of　a　sudden：　'Hide　yourself；　so　that　he　may　not　find　you。　You

will　deprive　me　of　my　bread　for　my　whole　life；　you　will　ruin　my

whole　career！　Do　hide　yourself！'



〃They　could　hear　the　key　turning　in　the　lock　again；　and　Hortense

ran　to　the　window　which　looked　out　on　to　the　street；　opened　it

quickly；　and　then　in　a　low　and　determined　voice　said：　'You　will

come　and　pick　me　up　when　he　is　gone；'　and　she　jumped　out。



〃Old　Grabu　found　nobody；　and　went　down　again　in　great　surprise。　A

quarter　of　an　hour　later；　Monsieur　Sigisbert　came　to　me　and

related　his　adventure。　The　girl　had　remained　at　the　foot　of　the

wall　unable　to　get　up；　as　she　had　fallen　from　the　second　story；

and　I　went　with　him　to　fetch　her。　It　was　raining　in　torrents；　and

I　brought　the　unfortunate　girl　home　with　me；　for　the　right　leg

was　broken　in　three　places；　and　the　bones　had　come　out　through

the　flesh。　She　did　not　complain；　and　merely　said；　with　admirable

resignation：　'I　am　punished；　well　punished！'



〃I　sent　for　assistance　and　for　the　workgirl's　friends　and　told

them　a　made…up　story　of　a　runaway　carriage　which　had　knocked　her

down　and　lamed　her；　outside　my　door。　They　believed　me；　and　the

gendarmes　for　a　whole　month　tried　in　vain　to　find　the　author　of

this　accident。



〃That　is　all！　Now　I　say　that　this　woman　was　a　heroine；　and　had

the　fiber　of　those　who　accomplish　the　grandest　deeds　in　history。



〃That　was　her　only　love　affair；　and　she　died　a　virgin。　She　was　a

martyr；　a　noble　soul；　a　sublimely　devoted　woman！　And　if　I　did　not

absolutely　admire　her；　I　should　not　have　told　you　this　story；

which　I　would　never　tell　anyone　during　her　life：　you　understand

why。〃



The　doctor　ceased；　mamma　cried　and　papa　said　some　words　which　I

did　not　catch；　then　they　left　the　room；　and　I　remained　on　my

knees　in　the　armchair　and　sobbed；　while　I　heard　a　strange　noise

of　heavy　footsteps　and　something　knocking　against　the　side　of　the

staircase。



They　were　carrying　away　Clochette's　body。







WHO　KNOWS？



My　God！　My　God！　I　am　going　to　write　down　at　last　what　has

happened　to　me。　But　how　can　I？　How　dare　I？　The　thing　is　so

bizarre；　so　inexplicable；　so　incomprehensible；　so　silly！



If　I　were　not　perfectly　sure　of　what　I　have　seen；　sure　that　there

was　not　in　my　reasoning　any　defect；　any　error　in　my　declarations；

any　lacuna　in　the　inflexible　sequence　of　my　observations；　I

should　believe　myself　to　be　the　dupe　of　a　simple　hallucination；

the　sport　of　a　singular　vision。　After　all；　who　knows？



Yesterday　I　was　in　a　private　asylum；　but　I　went　there

voluntarily；　out　of　prudence　and　fear。　Only　one　single　human

being　knows　my　history；　and　that　is　the　doctor　of　the　said

asylum。　I　am　going　to　write　to　him。　I　really　do　not　know　why？　To

disembarrass　myself？　Yea；　I　feel　as　though　weighed　down　by　an

intolerable　nightmare。



Let　me　explain。



I　have　always　been　a　recluse；　a　dreamer；　a　kind　of　isolated

philosopher；　easy…going；　content　with　but　little；　harboring

ill…feeling　against　no　man；　and　without　even　a　grudge　against

heaven。　I　have　constantly　lived　alone；　consequently；　a　kind　of

torture　takes　hold　of　me　when　I　find　myself　in　the　presence　of

others。　How　is　this　to　be　explained？　I　do　not　know。　I　am　not

averse　to　going　out　into　the　world；　to　conversation；　to　dining

with　friends；　but　when　they　are　near　me　for　any　length　of　time；

even　the　most　intimate　of　them；　they　bore　me；　fatigue　me；

enervate　me；　and　I　experience　an　overwhelming；　torturing　desire

to　see　them　get　up　and　go；　to　take　themselves　away；　and　to　leave

me　by　myself。



That　desire　is　more　than　a　craving；　it　is　an　irresistible

necessity。　And　if　the　presence　of　people　with　whom　I　find　myself

were　to　be　continued；　if　I　were　compelled；　not　only　to　listen；

but　also　to　follow；　for　any　length　of　time；　their　conversation；　a

serious　accident　would　assuredly　take　place。　What　kind　of

accident？　Ah！　who　knows？　Perhaps　a　slight　paralytic　stroke？

Probably！



I　like　solitude　so　much　that　I　cannot　even　endure　the　vicinage　of

other　beings　sleeping　under　the　same　roof。　I　cannot　live　in

Paris；　because　there　I　suffer　the　most　acute　agony。　I　lead　a

moral　life；　and　am　therefore　tortured　in　body　and　in　nerves　by

that　immense　crowd　which　swarms　and　lives　even　when　it　sleeps。

Ah！　the　sleeping　of　others　is　more　painful　still　than　their

conversation。　And　I　can　never　find　repose　when　I　know　and　feel

that　on　the　other　side　of　a　wall　several　existences　are

undergoing　these　regular　eclipses　of　reason。



Why　am　I　thus？　Who　knows？　The　cause　of　it　is　very　simple　perhaps。

I　get　tired　very　soon　of　everything　that　does　not　emanate　from

me。　And　there　are　many　people　in　similar　case。



We　are；　on　earth；　two　distinct　races。　Those　who　have　need　of

others；　whom　others　amuse；　engage　soothe；　whom　solitude　harasses；

pains；　stupefies；　like　the　movement　of　a　terrible　glacier　or　the

traversing　of　the　desert；　and　those；　on　the　contrary；　whom　others

weary；　tire；　bore；　silently　torture；　whom　isolation　calms　and

bathes　i