A Woman's Life Page #2

"A Woman's Life" (French: "Une vie") by Guy de Maupassant tells the poignant story of Jeanne, a young noblewoman in the 19th century, as she navigates the complexities of love, marriage, and societal expectations. Spanning her life from a romanticized youth to a disillusioned adulthood, the novel explores themes of gender, class, and the harsh realities faced by women. Through Jeanne's experiences, Maupassant critiques the constraints imposed by society and highlights the emotional turmoil that often accompanies personal choices. The narrative is both a reflection on the individual's struggle for autonomy and a subtle commentary on the limitations placed on women of the era.

								

legs; then she climbed up beside old Simon and enveloped herself in a
great rug, which covered her entirely. The concierge and his wife came
to shut the gate and wish them good-bye, and after some parting
instructions about the baggage, which was to follow in a cart, the
carriage started.

Old Simon, the coachman, with his head held down and his back bent under
the rain, could hardly be seen in his three-caped coat; and the moaning
wind rattled against the windows and swept the rain along the road.

The horses trotted briskly down to the quay, passed the row of big
ships, whose masts and yards and ropes stood out against the gray sky
like bare trees, and entered the long Boulevard du Mont Riboudet. Soon
they reached the country, and from time to time the outline of a
weeping-willow, with its branches hanging in a corpse-like inertness,
could be vaguely seen through the watery mist. The horses' shoes
clattered on the road; and the four wheels made regular rings of mud.

Inside the carriage they were silent; their spirits seemed damped, like
the earth. The baroness leaned back, rested her head against the
cushions, and closed her eyes. The baron looked out mournfully at the
monotonous, wet fields, and Rosalie, with a parcel on her knees, sat
musing in the animal-like way in which the lower classes indulge. But
Jeanne felt herself revive under this warm rain like a plant which is
put into the open air after being shut up in a dark closet; and the
greatness of her joy seemed to prevent any sadness reaching her heart.
Although she did not speak, she wanted to sing and to put her hand
outside and drink the water with which it would be filled; and the
desolate look of the country only added to the enjoyment she felt at
being carried along so swiftly, and at feeling herself sheltered in the
midst of this deluge.

Under the ceaseless rain a cloud of steam rose from the backs of the two
horses.

The baroness gradually fell asleep; her face, surrounded by six stiff
curls, sank lower and lower, though it was partly sustained by the three
big waves of her neck, the last curves of which lost themselves in the
amplitude of her chest. Her head, raised by each respiration, as
regularly sank again; her cheeks puffed out, and from her half-opened
lips issued a deep snore. Her husband leaned over towards her and softly
placed in her hands, crossed on her ample lap, a leather pocket-book.
The touch awoke her, and she looked at the object in her lap with the
stupefied look of one suddenly aroused from sleep. The pocket-book fell
and opened, and the gold and bank-notes it contained were scattered all
over the carriage. That woke her up altogether, and the
light-heartedness of her daughter found vent in a burst of laughter.

The baron picked up the money and placed it on her knees.

"There, my dear," he said. "That is all that is left of the farm at
Eletot. I have sold it to pay for the doing up of Les Peuples as we
shall live there so much now."

She counted the six thousand, four hundred francs, and put them quietly
into her pocket.

It was the ninth farm that they had sold out of the thirty-one left them
by their parents; but they still had about twenty thousand livres a year
coming in from property which, well-managed, would have easily brought
in thirty thousand francs. As they lived quietly, this income would have
been amply sufficient for them, if their lavish generosity had not
constantly exhausted their supplies. It drained their money from them as
the sun draws water from a swamp. The gold melted, vanished,
disappeared. How? No one knew. One of them was always saying: "I don't
know how it is, but I have spent a hundred francs to-day, and I haven't
anything to show for it."

To give was one of the great joys of their existence, and they perfectly
understood each other on this point in a way that was at once grand and
touching.

Jeanne asked: "Is my château looking beautiful now?"

"You will see, my child," answered the baron, gaily.

Little by little the violence of the storm diminished; soon there was
nothing more than a sort of mist, a very fine drizzling rain. The arch
of the clouds seemed to get higher and lighter; and suddenly a long
oblique sunbeam fell on the fields. Through the break in the clouds a
streak of blue sky could be seen, and then the rift got bigger as though
a veil were being drawn back, and a beautiful sky of a pure deep blue
spread itself out over the world. There was a fresh mild breeze like a
happy sigh from the earth, and from the gardens and woods came now and
again the merry song of a bird drying his wings.

The evening was drawing in; everyone inside the carriage, except Jeanne,
was asleep. Twice they had stopped at an inn, to rest the horses and
give them water and corn. The sun had set, and in the distance the bells
were ringing; in a little village the lamps were being lighted, and the
sky was studded with stars. Sometimes the lights of a homestead could be
seen, their rays piercing the darkness; and, all at once among the
fir-trees, behind a hill, the large, red, sleepy moon arose.

It was so mild that the windows were left down, and Jeanne, tired of
dreaming, and her stock of happy visions exhausted, was now sleeping.
Sometimes the numbness caused by resting too long in one position
aroused her, and she looked outside and saw the trees fly past her in
the clear night, or some cows, lying in a field, raise their heads at
the noise of the carriage. Then she settled herself in a fresh position,
and tried to continue an interrupted dream, but the continual rumbling
of the carriage sounded in her ears, confusing her thoughts, and she
shut her eyes again, her mind feeling as tired as her body.

At last the carriage stopped, and men and women came to the doors with
lanterns in their hands. They had arrived, and Jeanne, suddenly
awakened, sprang out, while her father and Rosalie, lighted by a farmer,
almost carried in the baroness; she was quite worn out, and, catching
her breath, she kept saying in a weak little voice: "Ah, my children!
what shall I do?" She would have nothing to eat or drink, but went to
bed and fell asleep at once.

Jeanne and the baron had supper alone. They smiled when their glances
met, and, at every moment, took each other's hands across the table;
then, both of them filled with a childish delight, they went over the
manor which had just been put in thorough repair.

It was one of those big, high, Normandy houses generally built of white
stone which turns gray, and which, large enough to accommodate a
regiment, have something of the farm about them as well as the château.

An immense hall, going from end to end, divided the house into two
parts, its large doors opening opposite each other. A double staircase
bestrode this entrance hall leaving the center empty, and, meeting at
the height of the first floor, formed a sort of bridge. On the
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