An Adventure in Paris Page #2

"An Adventure in Paris" by Guy de Maupassant is a short story that follows the unexpected escapades of a young man wandering through the streets of Paris. As he navigates the vibrant city, he encounters a series of delightful and whimsical events that highlight the charm and unpredictability of urban life. Maupassant's keen observations and rich descriptions capture the essence of Parisian culture, while also exploring themes of love, chance, and the fleeting nature of happiness. Through its engaging narrative and relatable characters, the story invites readers to embrace the spontaneity of life and the adventures that await in the bustling city.

• Short story

								

dormant in her. And then, a woman who gives fifteen hundred francs for a
knick-knack is not to be met with every day.

But she was overcome by a feeling of delightful delicacy, and turning to
him, she said in a trembling voice: "Excuse me, Monsieur; no doubt I
have been rather hasty, as perhaps you had not finally made up your
mind." He, however, only bowed, and said: "Indeed, I had, Madame." And
she, filled with emotion, continued: "Well, Monsieur, if either to-day,
or at any other time, you change your mind, you can have this Japanese
figure. I only bought it because you seemed to like it."

He was visibly flattered, and smiled. "I should much like to find out
how you know who I am?" he said. Then she told him how she admired him,
and became quite eloquent as she quoted his works, and while they were
talking he rested his arms on a table, and fixed his bright eyes upon
her, trying to make out who and what she really was. But the shop-keeper,
who was pleased to have that living puff of his goods, called out, from
the other end of the shop: "Just look at this, Monsieur Varin; is it not
beautiful?"

And then everyone looked round, and she almost trembled with pleasure at
being seen talking so intimately with such a well-known man.

At last, however, intoxicated, as it were, by her feelings, she grew
bold, like a general does, who is going to give the order for an
assault. "Monsieur," she said, "will you do me a great, a very great
pleasure? Allow me to offer you this funny Japanese figure, as a
keepsake from a woman who admires you passionately, and whom you have
seen for ten minutes."

Of course he refused, and she persisted, but still he resisted her
offer, at which he was much amused, and at which he laughed heartily;
but that only made her more obstinate, and she said: "Very well, then, I
shall take it to your house immediately. Where do you live?"

He refused to give her his address, but she got it from the shop-keeper,
and when she had paid for her purchase, she ran out to take a cab. The
writer went after her, as he did not wish to accept a present for which
he could not possibly account. He reached her just as she was jumping
into the vehicle, and getting in after her, he almost fell onto her, and
then tumbled onto the bottom of the cab as it started. He picked himself
up, however, and sat down by her side, feeling very much annoyed.

It was no good for him to insist and to beg her; she showed herself
intractable, and when they got to the door, she stated her conditions.
"I will undertake not to leave this with you," she said, "if you will
promise to do all I want to-day." And the whole affair seemed so funny
to him that he agreed. "What do you generally do at this time?" she
asked him; and after hesitating for a few moments, he replied: "I
generally go for a walk." "Very well, then, we will go to the Bois de
Boulogne!" she said, in a resolute voice, and they started.

He was obliged to tell her the names of all the well-known women, pure
or impure, with every detail about them; their life, their habits, their
private affairs, and their vices; and when it was getting dusk, she said
to him: "What do you do every day at this time?" "I have some absinthe,"
he replied, with a laugh. "Very well, then, Monsieur," she went on,
seriously, "let us go and have some absinthe."

They went into a large café on the boulevard which he frequented, and
where he met some of his colleagues, whom he introduced to her. She was
half mad with pleasure, and she kept saying to herself: "At last! At
last!" But time went on, and she observed that she supposed it must be
about his dinner time, and she suggested that they should go and dine.
When they left Bignon's, after dinner, she wanted to know what he did
in the evening, and looking at her fixedly, he replied: "That depends;
sometimes I go to the theater." "Very well, then, Monsieur; let us go to
the theater."

They went to the Vaudeville with an order, thanks to him, and, to her
great pride, the whole house saw her sitting by his side, in the balcony
stalls.

When the play was over, he gallantly kissed her hand, and said: "It only
remains for me to thank you for this delightful day...." But she
interrupted him: "What do you do at this time, every night?" "Why ...
why ... I go home." She began to laugh, a little tremulous laugh. "Very
well, Monsieur ... let us go to your rooms."

They did not say anything more. She shivered occasionally, from head to
foot, feeling inclined to stay, and inclined to run away, but with a
fixed determination, after all, to see it out to the end. She was so
excited that she had to hold onto the baluster as she went upstairs, and
he came up behind her, with a wax match in his hand.

As soon as they were in the room, she undressed herself quickly, and
retired without saying a word, and then she waited for him, cowering
against the wall. But she was as simple as it was possible for a
provincial lawyer's wife to be, and he was more exacting than a pascha
with three tails, and so they did not at all understand each other. At
last, however, he went to sleep, and the night passed, and the silence
was only disturbed by the tick-tack of the clock, and she, lying
motionless, thought of her conjugal nights; and by the light of the
Chinese lantern, she looked, nearly heart-broken, at the little fat man
lying on his back, whose round stomach raised up the bed-clothes like a
balloon filled with gas. He snored with the noise of a wheezy organ
pipe, with prolonged snorts and comic chokings. His few hairs profited
by his sleep, to stand up in a very strange way, as if they were tired
of having been fastened for so long to that pate, whose bareness they
were trying to cover, and a small stream of saliva was running out of
one corner of his half-open mouth.

At last the daylight appeared through the drawn blinds; so she got up
and dressed herself without making any noise, and she had already half
opened the door, when she made the lock creak, and he woke up and rubbed
his eyes. He was some moments before he quite came to himself, and then,
when he remembered all that had happened, he said: "What! Are you going
already?" She remained standing, in some confusion, and then she said,
in a hesitating voice: "Yes, of course; it is morning..."

Then he sat up, and said: "Look here, I have something to ask you, in my
turn." And as she did not reply, he went on: "You have surprised me most
confoundedly since yesterday. Be open, and tell me why you did it all,
for upon my word I cannot understand it in the least." She went close up
to him, blushing like as if she had been a virgin, and said: "I wanted
to know ... what ... what vice ... really was, ... and ... well ...
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