The moral of this short story seems to be that Love is the most noble of all feelings and even if you are a Rempailleuse, it will transform you like. Listen to 09 – La Rempailleuse and 16 other episodes by Les Contes De La Bécasse By Guy De Maupassant. No signup or install required. 12 févr. Buy the Kobo ebook Book La Rempailleuse by Guy de Maupassant at , Canada’s largest bookstore. + Get Free Shipping on books.
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HOWEVER, copyright law varies in other countries, and the work may still be under copyright in the country from which you are accessing this website. It is your responsibility to check the applicable copyright laws in your country before downloading this work. It was the end of the dinner that opened the shooting season.
The Marquis de Bertrans with reempailleuse guests sat around a brightly lighted table, covered with fruit and flowers. The conversation drifted to love.
Immediately there arose an animated discussion, the same eternal discussion as to whether it were possible to love more than once. Examples were given of persons l had loved once; these were offset by those who had loved violently many times. The men agreed that passion, like sickness, may attack the same person several times, unless it strikes to kill. This conclusion seemed quite incontestable.
09 – La Rempailleuse Les Contes De La Bécasse By Guy De Maupassant podcast
The women, however, who based their opinion on poetry rather than on practical observation, maintained that love, the great passion, may come rempailleuss once to mortals. It resembles lightning, they said, this love.
A heart once touched by it becomes forever such a waste, so ruined, so consumed, that no other strong sentiment can take root there, not even a dream. The marquis, who had indulged in many love affairs, disputed this belief. You quote examples of persons who have killed themselves for love, to prove the impossibility of a second passion.
La Rempailleuse et Autres Nouvelles
I wager that if they had not foolishly committed suicide, and so destroyed the possibility of a second experience, they would have found a new love, and still another, and so on till death. It is with love as with drink. He who has once indulged is forever a slave. It is a thing of temperament.
They chose the old doctor as umpire. He thought it was as the marquis had said, a thing of temperament. Ah, what a dream to rempailoeuse loved in such a way! What rmepailleuse to live for fifty-five years enveloped in an intense, unwavering affection! How this happy being must have blessed his life to be so adored! You even know him; it is Monsieur Chouquet, the chemist.
As to the woman, you also know her, the old chair-mender, who came every year to the chateau. The priest had preceded me. She wished to make us the executors of her will. In order that we might understand her conduct, she told us the story of her life. It is most singular and touching: Her father and mother were both chair-menders. She had never lived in a house. As a little child she wandered about with them, dirty, unkempt, hungry. They visited many towns, leaving their horse, wagon and dog just outside the limits, where the child played in the grass alone until her parents had repaired all the broken chairs in the place.
She never heard a word of affection. When she grew older, she fetched and carried the broken chairs. Then it was she made friends with the children in the street, but their parents always called them away and scolded them for speaking to the barefooted child. Often the boys threw stones at her. Once a kind woman gave her a few pennies. She saved them most carefully. The tears of the small bourgeois, one of those much-envied mortals, who, she imagined, never knew trouble, completely upset her.
She approached him and, as soon as she learned the cause of his grief, she put into his hands all her savings. He took them without hesitation and dried his eyes. Wild with joy, she kissed him. He was busy counting his money, and did not object. Seeing that she was not repulsed, she threw her arms round him and gave him a hug — then she ran away. Was it because she had sacrificed all her fortune that she became madly fond of this youngster, or was it because she had given him the first tender kiss?
The mystery is alike for children and for those of riper years. For months she dreamed of that corner near the cemetery and of the little chap. She stole a sou here and, there from her parents on the chair money or groceries she was sent to buy. When she returned to the spot near the cemetery she had two francs in her pocket, but he was not there.
He was sitting between a large red globe and a blue one. She only loved him the more, quite carried away at the sight of the brilliant-colored globes. She cherished the recollection of it forever in her heart. The following year she met him near the school, playing marbles. She rushed up to him, threw her arms round him, and kissed him so passionately that he screamed, in fear.
To quiet him, she gave him all her money. Three francs and twenty centimes! A real gold mine, at which he gazed with staring eyes. During the next four years she put into his hands all her savings, which he pocketed conscientiously in exchange for kisses. At one time it was thirty sous, at another two francs. Again, she only had twelve sous. She wept with grief and shame, explaining brokenly that it had been a poor year. The next time she brought five francs, in one whole piece, which made her laugh with joy.
She no longer thought of any one but the boy, and he watched for her with impatience; sometimes he would run to meet her.
This made her heart thump with joy. He had gone to boarding school. She found this out by careful investigation. Then she used great diplomacy to persuade her parents to change their route and pass by this way again during vacation. After a year of scheming she succeeded. She had not seen him for two years, and scarcely recognized him, he was so changed, had grown taller, better looking and was imposing in his uniform, with its brass buttons.
He pretended not to see her, and passed by without a glance. She wept for two days and from that time loved and suffered unceasingly. He never condescended to turn his head toward her. She loved him madly, hopelessly.
She said to me:. She continued their work. She was his wife. That night the chairmender threw herself into the river. A drunkard passing the spot pulled her out and took her to the drug store. Young Chouquet came down in his dressing gown to revive her. Without seeming to know who she was he undressed her and rubbed her; then he said to her, in a harsh voice:.
People must not do stupid things like that. He had spoken to her! She was happy for a long time. He refused remuneration for his trouble, although she insisted. She worked, thinking always of him.
She began to buy medicines at his pharmacy; this gave her a chance to talk to him and to see him closely. In this way, she was still able to give him money.
When she rempaillekse closed her pathetic story she entreated me to take her earnings to the man she loved. She had worked only that she might leave him something to remind him of her after her death. I gave the priest fifty francs for her funeral expenses.
The next morning I went to see the Chouquets.
N° La rempailleuse de chaise (R. Cavalié)
They were finishing breakfast, sitting opposite each other, fat and red, important and self-satisfied. They welcomed me and offered me some coffee, which I accepted. Then I began my story in a trembling voice, sure that they would be softened, even to tears.
His exasperated wife kept repeating: Oh, if I had only known rempailleue while she was alive, I should have had her thrown into prison. I promise you she would not have escaped. As what I have just told you seems to be very disagreeable, perhaps you would prefer to give this money to the poor.