A Woman's Life Page #4

"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.

								

noiseless races took place across the dewy grass or along the quiet
sandy roads. The short monotonous croak of the frogs was the only sound
that could be distinguished.

It seemed to Jeanne that her heart was getting bigger, becoming full of
whisperings like this clear evening, and of a thousand wandering desires
like these nocturnal insects whose quivering life surrounded her. An
unconscious sympathy drew her towards this living poetry and she felt
that joy and happiness were floating towards her through the soft white
night, and she began to dream of love.

Love! For two years she had been anxiously awaiting the time when it
would come to her, and now she was free to love, she had only to
meet--him! What should he be like? She did not know, and did not trouble
herself even to think about it. He would be himself, that was
enough. She only knew that she should adore him with her whole heart,
and that he would love her with all his strength, and she pictured
herself walking with him on evenings such as this, under the luminous
glow of the stars. They would walk hand in hand, pressing close to one
another, listening to the beating of their hearts, mingling their love
with the sweet clearness of the summer nights, and so united that by the
simple power of their love, they would easily divine each other's inmost
thoughts. And that would endure indefinitely, in the serenity of an
indestructible affection.

Suddenly she fancied he was there--close to her; and a vague feeling of
sensuality swept over her from head to foot. She unconsciously pressed
her arms against her breast, as if to clasp her dream to her; and
something passed over her mouth, held out towards the unknown, which
almost made her faint, as if the springtide wind had given her a kiss of
love.

All at once, on the road behind the château, she heard someone walking
in the night, and in the rapture of her love-filled soul, in a transport
of faith in the impossible, in providential hazards, in divine
presentiment, in the romantic combinations of Fate, she thought: "If it
should be he!" She anxiously listened to the steps of the traveler, sure
that he would stop at the gate to demand hospitality. But he had passed
by and she felt sad, as though she had experienced a deception; then
after a moment she understood the feverish excitement of her hopes, and
smiled at her own folly.

A little calmer, she let her thoughts float down the stream of a more
reasonable reverie, trying to pierce the shadows of the future and
planning out her life.

She would live here with him, in their quiet château overlooking the
sea. She would have two children, a son for him, and a daughter for
herself, and she pictured them running on the grass between the
plane-tree and the linden, while their father and mother followed their
movements with proud eyes, sometimes exchanging looks full of love above
their heads.

She stayed dreaming until the moon had finished her journey across the
sky, and began to descend into the sea. The air became cooler. Towards
the east the horizon was getting lighter. A cock crowed in the farm on
the right, others answered from the farm on the left, their hoarse
notes, coming through the walls of the poultry-houses, seeming to be a
long way off, and the stars were disappearing from the immense dome of
the sky which had gradually whitened. The little chirp of a bird
sounded; warblings, timid at first, came from among the leaves; then,
getting bolder, they became vibrating, joyous, and spread from branch to
branch, from tree to tree. Jeanne suddenly felt a bright light; and
raising her head, which she had buried in her hands, she shut her eyes,
dazzled by the splendor of the dawn.

A mountain of crimson clouds, partly hidden by the avenue of poplars,
cast a red glow over the awakened earth, and, breaking through the
bright clouds, bathing the trees, the plain, the ocean, the whole
horizon, in a fiery light, the blazing orb appeared.

Jeanne felt mad with happiness. A delirious joy, an infinite tenderness
before the splendor of nature filled her heart. It was her sunrise! her
dawn! the beginning of her life! the rising of her hopes! She stretched
out her arms towards the radiant space, with a longing to embrace the
sun; she wanted to speak, to cry aloud something divine like this
day-break; but she remained dumb in a state of impotent ecstasy. Then,
laying her forehead on her hands, her eyes filled with tears, and she
cried for joy.

When she again raised her head the glorious colors of the dawning day
had already disappeared. She felt calmer and a little tired and chilled.
Leaving the window open, she threw herself on the bed, mused for a few
minutes longer, then fell into such a sound sleep that she did not hear
her father calling her at eight o'clock, and only awoke when he came
into her room.

He wanted to show her the improvements that had been made in the
château; in her château.

The back of the house was separated from the village road, which
half-a-mile further on joined the high road from Havre to Fécamp, by a
large sort of court planted with apple-trees. A straight path went
across it leading from the steps of the house to the wooden fence, and
the low, thatched out-houses, built of flints from the beach, ran the
whole length of two sides of the court, which was separated from the
adjoining farms by two long ditches.

The roof of the château had been repaired, the woodwork restored, and
the walls mended; all the inside of the house had been painted and the
rooms had fresh hangings, and on the old decaying gray walls the snowy
shutters and the new plaster stood out like white stains. One of
Jeanne's windows was in the front of the house, which looked out over
the little wood and the wall of wind-torn elms, on to the sea.

Arm in arm Jeanne and the baron went all over the château without
missing a single corner, and then they walked slowly along the long
poplar avenues which enclosed the park, as it was called. The grass had
grown under the trees, making a green carpet, and the grove at the
bottom was delightfully pretty with its little winding paths, separated
by leafy walls, running in and out.

Jeanne was startled by a hare springing suddenly across their path; it
ran down the slope and made off towards the cliff, among the rushes.

After breakfast, Madame Adélaïde went to lie down as she had not yet
recovered from the fatigue of the journey, and the baron proposed that
he and Jeanne should walk to Yport. They set off, going through the
hamlet of Etouvent in which was situated Les Peuples, and three peasants
saluted them as if they had known them all their lives.

They entered the sloping woods which go right down to the sea, and soon
the village of Yport came in sight. The women, sitting at their doors
mending clothes, looked up as they passed. There was a strong smell of
brine in the steep street with the gutter in the middle and the heaps of
rubbish lying before the doors. The brown nets to which a few shining
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