A Woman's Life Page #20

"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.

								

remaining leaves, and, through the bare trees, beyond the plain,
appeared the long, green line of the sea, covered with white-crested
waves. The plane-tree and the linden were being rapidly stripped of
their bright coverings by the cold wind, and showers of leaves fell to
the ground as each gust swept by.

Jeanne dressed herself, and for want of something better to do, went to
see the farmers. The Martins were very surprised to see her. Madame
Martin kissed her on both cheeks, and she had to drink a little glass of
noyau; then she went over to the other farm. The Couillards were also
very surprised when she came in; the farmer's wife gave two pecks at her
ears and insisted on her drinking a little glass of cassis; then she
went in to breakfast. And that day passed like the previous one, only it
was cold instead of damp, and the other days of the week were like the
first two, and all the weeks of the month were like the first one.

Little by little, Jeanne's regrets for those happy, distant lands
vanished; she began to get resigned to her life, to feel an interest in
the many unimportant details of the days, and to perform her simple,
regular occupations with care. A disenchantment of life, a sort of
settled melancholy gradually took possession of her. What did she want?
She did not know herself. She had no desire for society, no thirst for
the excitement of the world, the pleasures she might have had possessed
no attraction for her, but all her dreams and illusions had faded away,
leaving her life as colorless as the old tapestry chairs in the château
drawing-room.

Her relations with Julien had completely changed, for he became quite a
different man when they settled down after their wedding tour, like an
actor who becomes himself again as soon as he has finished playing his
part. He hardly ever took any notice of his wife, or even spoke to her;
all his love seemed to have suddenly disappeared, and it was very seldom
that he accompanied her to her room of a night. He had taken the
management of the estate and the household into his own hands, and he
looked into all the accounts, saw that the peasants paid their arrears
of rent, and cut down every expense. No longer the polished, elegant man
who had won Jeanne's heart, he looked and dressed like a well-to-do
farmer, neglecting his personal appearance with the carelessness of a
man who no longer strives to fascinate. He always wore an old velvet
shooting-jacket, covered all over with stains, which he had found one
day as he was looking over his old clothes; then he left off shaving,
and his long, untrimmed beard made him look quite plain, while his hands
never received any attention.

After each meal, he drank four or five small glasses of brandy, and when
Jeanne affectionately reproached him, he answered so roughly: "Leave me
alone, can't you?" that she never tried to reason with him again.

She accepted all this in a calm way that astonished herself, but she
looked upon him now as a stranger who was nothing whatever to her. She
often thought of it all, and wondered how it was that after having loved
and married each other in a delicious passion of affection they should
suddenly awake from their dream of love as utter strangers, as if they
had never lain in each other's arms. How was it his indifference did not
hurt her more? Had they been mistaken in each other? Would she have been
more pained if Julien had still been handsome, elegant and attractive?

It was understood that at the new year the baron and baroness were to
spend a few months in their Rouen house, leaving Les Peuples to the
young people who would become settled that winter, and so get accustomed
to the place where they were to pass their lives. Julien wanted to
present his wife to the Brisevilles, the Couteliers and the Fourvilles,
but they could not pay these visits yet because they had not been able
to get the painter to change the coat-of-arms on the carriage; for
nothing in the world would have persuaded Julien to go to the
neighboring château in the old family carriage, which the baron had
given up to him, until the arms of the De Lamares had been quartered on
it with those of the Leperthius des Vauds. Now there was only one man in
the whole province who made a speciality of coats-of-arms, a painter
from Bolbec, named Bataille, who was naturally in great request among
all the Normandy aristocracy; so Julien had to wait for some time before
he could secure his services.

At last, one December morning just as they were finishing lunch at Les
Peuples, they saw a man, with a box on his back, open the gate and come
up the path; it was Bataille. He was shown into the dining-room, and
lunch was served to him just as if he had been a gentleman, for his
constant intercourse with the provincial aristocracy, his knowledge of
the coats-of-arms, their mottoes and signification, made him a sort of
herald with whom no gentleman need be ashamed to shake hands.

Pencils and paper were brought, and while Bataille ate his lunch, the
baron and Julien made sketches of their escutcheons with all the
quarters. The baroness, always delighted when anything of this sort was
discussed, gave her advice, and even Jeanne took part in the
conversation, as if it aroused some interest in her. Bataille, without
interrupting his lunch, occasionally gave an opinion, took the pencil to
make a sketch of his idea, quoted examples, described all the
aristocratic carriages in Normandy, and seemed to scatter an atmosphere
of nobility all around him. He was a little man with thin gray hair and
paint-daubed hands which smelt of oil. It was said that he had once
committed a grave offense against public morality, but the esteem in
which he was held by all the titled families had long ago effaced this
stain on his character.

As soon as the painter had finished his coffee, he was taken to the
coach-house and the carriage was uncovered. Bataille looked at it, gave
an idea of the size he thought the shield ought to be, and then, after
the others had again given their opinions, he began his work. In spite
of the cold the baroness ordered a chair and a foot-warmer to be brought
out for her that she might sit and watch the painter. Soon she began to
talk to him, asking him about the marriages and births and deaths of
which she had not yet heard, and adding these fresh details to the
genealogical trees which she already knew by heart. Beside her, astride
a chair, sat Julien, smoking a pipe and occasionally spitting on the
ground as he watched the growth of the colored certificate of his
nobility. Soon old Simon on his way to the kitchen garden stopped, with
his spade on his shoulder, to look at the painting, and the news of
Bataille's arrival having reached the two farms the farmers' wives came
hurrying up also. Standing on either side of the baroness, they went
into ecstasies over the drawing and kept repeating: "He must be clever
to paint like that."

The shields on both carriage-doors were finished the next morning about
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