A Woman's Life Page #8

"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.

								

"Heave oh!" which was the signal for them all to push together, and when
they came to the slant of the beach, the boat set off all at once,
sliding over the round pebbles, and making a grating noise like the
tearing of linen. It stopped short at the edge of the waves and they all
got in, except the two sailors, who pushed the boat off.

A light, steady breeze blowing towards the land just ruffled the surface
of the water. The sail was hoisted, filled out a little, and the boat
moved gently along hardly rocked by the waves.

At first they sailed straight out to sea. At the horizon the sky could
not be distinguished from the ocean; on land the high steep cliff had a
deep shadow at its foot. Behind could be seen the brown sails of the
boats leaving the white pier of Fécamp, and before lay a rounded rock
with a hole right through it, looking like an elephant thrusting its
trunk into the water.

Jeanne, feeling a little dizzied by the rocking of the boat, sat holding
one side with her hand, and looking out to sea; light, space and the
ocean seemed to her to be the only really beautiful things in creation.
No one spoke. From time to time old Lastique, who was steering, drank
something out of a bottle placed within his reach under the seat. He
smoked his stump of a pipe which seemed unextinguishable, and a small
cloud of blue smoke went up from it while another issued from the corner
of his mouth; he was never seen to relight the clay bowl, which was
colored blacker than ebony, or to refill it with tobacco, and he only
removed the pipe from his mouth to eject the brown saliva.

The baron sat in the bows and managed the sail, performing the duties of
a sailor, and Jeanne and the vicomte were side by side, both feeling a
little agitated. Their glances were continually meeting, a hidden
sympathy making them raise their eyes at the same moment, for there was
already that vague, subtle fondness between them which springs up so
quickly between two young people when the youth is good-looking and the
girl is pretty. They felt happy at being close together, perhaps because
each was thinking of the other.

The sun rose higher in the sky as if to consider from a better vantage
point the vast sea stretched out beneath him, while the latter, like a
coquette, enveloped herself in a light mist which veiled her from his
rays. It was a transparent golden haze which hid nothing but softened
everything. It gradually melted away before the sun's flaming darts, and
when the full heat of the day began it disappeared entirely, and the
sea, smooth as glass, lay glittering in the sun.

Jeanne murmured enthusiastically, "How lovely it is!"

The vicomte answered "Yes, it is indeed beautiful." And their hearts
felt as bright as the clear morning itself.

Suddenly, looking as if the cliff bestrode part of the sea, appeared the
great arcades of Etretat, high enough for a ship to pass underneath him
without the point of a sharp white rock rising out of the water before
the first one.

When they reached the shore, the vicomte lifted Jeanne out that she
should not wet her feet in landing, while the baron held the boat close
to the beach with a rope; then they went up the steep, shingly beach
side by side, both agitated by this short embrace, and they heard old
Lastique say to the baron:

"In my opinion they'd make a very handsome couple."

They had lunch in a little inn near the beach. On the sea they had been
quiet, but at the table they had as much to say as children let out of
school.

The most simple things gave rise to endless laughter. Old Lastique
carefully put his pipe, which was still alight, into his cap before he
sat down to table; and everyone laughed. A fly, attracted, no doubt, by
the sailor's red nose, persisted on settling on it, and when moving too
slowly to catch it he knocked it away, it went over to a very
fly-spotted curtain whence it seemed to eagerly watch the sailor's
highly-colored nasal organ, for it soon flew back and settled on it
again.

Each time the insect returned a loud laugh burst out, and when the old
man, annoyed by its tickling, murmured: "What a confoundly obstinate
fly!" Jeanne and the vicomte laughed till they cried, holding their
serviettes to their mouths to prevent themselves shrieking out loud.

When the coffee had been served Jeanne said:

"Suppose we go for a walk?"

The vicomte got up to go with her, but the baron preferred going out on
the beach to take his nap.

"You two go," he said. "You will find me here in an hour's time."

They walked straight along the road, passed a few cottages and a little
château which looked more like a big farm, and then found themselves in
an open valley. Jeanne had a singing in her ears, and was thrilled by a
strange sensation which she had never before experienced. Overhead was a
blazing sun, and on each side of the road lay fields of ripe corn
drooping under the heat. The feeble, continuous chirp of the swarms of
grasshoppers in the corn and hedges was the only sound to be heard, and
the sky of dazzling blue, slightly tinged with yellow, looked as though
it would suddenly turn red, like brass when it is put into a furnace.

They entered a little wood where the trees were so thick that no
sunbeams could penetrate their foliage; the grass had died from want of
light and fresh air, but the ground was covered with moss, and all
around was a cool dampness which chilled them after the heat of the sun.

"See, we could sit down over there," said Jeanne, looking around her as
they walked on.

Two trees had died, and through the break in the foliage fell a flood of
light, warming the earth, calling to life the grass and dandelion seeds,
and expanding the delicate flowers of the anemone and digitalis. A
thousand winged insects--butterflies, bees, hornets, big gnats looking
like skeleton-flies, ladybirds with red spots on them, beetles with
greenish reflections on their wings, others which were black and
horned--peopled this one warm and luminous spot in the midst of the cool
shadow of the trees.

Jeanne and the vicomte sat down with their heads in the shadow and their
feet in the light. They watched these tiny moving insects that a sunbeam
had called forth, and Jeanne said softly:

"How lovely the country is! Sometimes I wish I were a bee or a butterfly
that I might bury myself in the flowers."

They began talking about their own habits and tastes in a low,
confidential tone. He declared himself tired of his useless life,
disgusted with society; it was always the same, one never found any
truth, any sincerity. She would have liked to know what town-life was
like but she was convinced beforehand that society would never be so
pleasant as a country-life.

The nearer their hearts drew to one another the more studiously did they
address each other as "monsieur" and "mademoiselle"; but they could not
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