A Woman's Life Page #7

"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.

								


Then he went in to say good-bye to the ladies.

III

The next Sunday the baroness and Jeanne went to mass out of deference to
their curé, and after it was over they waited to ask him to luncheon for
the following Thursday. He came out of the vestry with a tall,
good-looking, young man who had familiarly taken his arm.

As soon as he saw the two ladies he gave a look of pleased surprise, and
exclaimed:

"What a lucky thing! Madame la baronne and Mlle. Jeanne, permit me to
present to you your neighbor, M. le Vicomte de Lamare."

The vicomte bowed, expressed the desire he had long felt to make their
acquaintance, and began to talk with the ease of a man accustomed to
good society. His face was one that women raved about and that all men
disliked. His black, curly hair fell over a smooth, bronzed forehead,
and long, regular eyebrows gave a depth and tenderness to his dark eyes.
Long, thick lashes lent to his glance the passionate eloquence which
thrills the heart of the high-born lady in her boudoir, and makes the
poor girl, with her basket on her arm, turn round in the street, and the
languorous charm of his eyes, with their whites faintly tinged with
blue, gave importance to his least word and made people believe in the
profoundness of his thought. A thick, silky beard hid a jaw which was a
little heavy.

After mutual compliments he said good-bye to the ladies; and two days
afterwards made his first call at the château.

He arrived just as they were looking at a rustic-seat, placed only that
morning under the big plane-tree opposite the drawing-room windows. The
baron wanted to have another one under the linden to make a pair, but
the baroness, who disliked things to be exactly symmetrical, said no.
The vicomte, on being asked his opinion, sided with the baroness.

Then he talked about the surrounding country, which he thought very
"picturesque," and about the charming "bits" he had come across in his
solitary walks. From time to time his eyes met Jeanne's, as though by
chance; and she felt a strange sensation at these sudden looks which
were quickly turned away and which expressed a lively admiration and
sympathy.

M. de Lamare's father, who had died the year before, had known an
intimate friend of M. des Cultaux, the baroness's father, and the
discovery of this mutual acquaintance gave rise to endless conversation
about marriages, births, and relationships. The baroness, with
prodigious feats of memory, talked about the ancestors and descendants
of numerous families, and traversed the complicated labyrinths of
different genealogies without ever losing herself.

"Tell me, vicomte, have you ever heard of the Saunoys de Varfleur?
Gontran, the elder son, married Mademoiselle de Coursil, one of the
Coursil-Courvilles; and the younger married a cousin of mine,
Mademoiselle de la Roche-Aubert, who was related to the Crisanges. Now,
M. de Crisange was an intimate friend of my father, and no doubt knew
yours also."

"Yes, madame; was it not the M. de Crisange who emigrated, and whose son
ruined himself?"

"That is the very man. He had proposed for my aunt after the death of
her husband, the Comte d'Eretry, but she would not accept him because he
took snuff. By the way, do you know what has become of the Viloises?
They left Touraine about 1813, after a reverse of fortune, to go and
live in Auvergne; and I have never heard anything of them since."

"I believe, madame, that the old marquis was killed by a fall from a
horse, leaving one daughter married to an Englishman, and the other to a
rich merchant who had seduced her."

Names they had heard their parents mention when they were children
returned to their minds, and the marriages of these people seemed as
important to them as great public events. They talked about men and
women they had never seen as if they knew them well, and these people,
living so far away, talked about them in the same manner, and they felt
as though they were acquainted with each other, almost as if they were
friends, or relations, simply because they belonged to the same class
and were of equal rank.

The baron was rather unsociable, his philosophic views disagreeing with
the beliefs and prejudices of the people of his own rank, did not know
any of the families living near, and asked the vicomte about them.

"Oh, there are very good families around here," answered M. de Lamare,
in the same tone as he would have said that there were not many rabbits
on the hills, and he entered into details about them.

There were only three families of rank in the neighborhood; the Marquis
de Coutelier, the head of the Normandy aristocracy; the Vicomte and
Vicomtesse de Briseville, people who were very well-born but held
themselves rather aloof; and lastly, the Comte de Fourville, a sort of
fire-eater who was said to be worrying his wife to death, and who lived
in the Château de la Vrillette, which was built on a lake, passing his
time in hunting and shooting. A few parvenus had bought property in the
neighborhood, but the vicomte did not know them.

He rose to go, and his last look was for Jeanne as though he would have
made his adieu to her specially friendly and tender.

The baroness thought him charming and very comme il faut, and the
baron remarked that he was a very well-educated man. He was asked to
dinner the following week, and after that he visited the château
regularly.

Generally he came about four o'clock, joined the baroness in "her
avenue," and insisted on her leaning on his arm to take "her exercise."
When Jeanne was at home she supported her mother on the other side and
all three walked slowly up and down the long path. He did not talk to
the young girl but often his dark, velvety eyes met Jeanne's, which were
like blue agate.

Sometimes they walked down to Yport with the baron, and one evening, as
they were standing on the beach, old Lastique came up to them, and,
without taking his pipe from his mouth, for it would have been stranger
to see him without his pipe than without his nose, said:

"With this wind, M'sieu l'baron, you'd be able to go to Etretat and back
to-morrow quite easily."

Jeanne clasped her hands together; "Oh, papa! If only you would!"

The baron turned to M. de Lamare.

"Will you go, vicomte? We could have lunch over there." And the
excursion was planned for the following day.

The next morning Jeanne was up at daybreak. She waited for her father,
who took longer to dress, and then they walked over the dewy plain and
through the wood filled with the sweet song of the birds, down to Yport,
where they found the vicomte and old Lastique sitting on the capstan of
their little vessel.

Two sailors helped to start the boat, by putting their shoulders to the
sides and pushing with all their might. It was hard to move over the
level part of the beach, and Lastique slipped rollers of greased wood
under the keel, then went back to his place and drawled out his long
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