The Inn Page #4

"The Inn" is a short story by Guy de Maupassant that explores themes of human nature, desire, and the complexities of relationships in a rustic setting. The narrative unfolds at a remote inn, where a chance encounter between the protagonist and a local innkeeper leads to a poignant examination of love, longing, and societal expectations. Through Maupassant's evocative prose and keen insights into character psychology, the story captures the intricacies of emotion and the impact of fleeting moments in life.

								

do howl, and he walked all about the house trying to find out where
the danger came from. When he got to the door, he sniffed beneath it,
smelling vigorously, with his coat bristling and his tail stiff, while
he growled angrily. Kunsi, who was terrified, jumped up, and, holding
his chair by one leg, he cried: “Don't come in, don't come in, or I
shall kill you.” And the dog, excited by this threat, barked angrily at
that invisible enemy who defied his master's voice. By degrees, however,
he quieted down and came back and stretched himself in front of the
fire, but he was uneasy and kept his head up and growled between his
teeth.

Ulrich, in turn, recovered his senses, but as he felt faint with terror,
he went and got a bottle of brandy out of the sideboard, and he drank
off several glasses, one after anther, at a gulp. His ideas became
vague, his courage revived and a feverish glow ran through his veins.

He ate scarcely anything the next day and limited himself to alcohol,
and so he lived for several days, like a drunken brute. As soon as he
thought of Gaspard Hari, he began to drink again, and went on drinking
until he fell to the ground, overcome by intoxication. And there he
remained lying on his face, dead drunk, his limbs benumbed, and snoring
loudly. But scarcely had he digested the maddening and burning liquor
than the same cry, “Ulrich!” woke him like a bullet piercing his brain,
and he got up, still staggering, stretching out his hands to save
himself from falling, and calling to Sam to help him. And the dog, who
appeared to be going mad like his master, rushed to the door, scratched
it with his claws and gnawed it with his long white teeth, while the
young man, with his head thrown back drank the brandy in draughts, as
if it had been cold water, so that it might by and by send his thoughts,
his frantic terror, and his memory to sleep again.

In three weeks he had consumed all his stock of ardent spirits. But his
continual drunkenness only lulled his terror, which awoke more furiously
than ever as soon as it was impossible for him to calm it. His fixed
idea then, which had been intensified by a month of drunkenness, and
which was continually increasing in his absolute solitude, penetrated
him like a gimlet. He now walked about the house like a wild beast in
its cage, putting his ear to the door to listen if the other were there
and defying him through the wall. Then, as soon as he dozed, overcome by
fatigue, he heard the voice which made him leap to his feet.

At last one night, as cowards do when driven to extremities, he sprang
to the door and opened it, to see who was calling him and to force him
to keep quiet, but such a gust of cold wind blew into his face that
it chilled him to the bone, and he closed and bolted the door again
immediately, without noticing that Sam had rushed out. Then, as he was
shivering with cold, he threw some wood on the fire and sat down in
front of it to warm himself, but suddenly he started, for somebody was
scratching at the wall and crying. In desperation he called out: “Go
away!” but was answered by another long, sorrowful wail.

Then all his remaining senses forsook him from sheer fright. He
repeated: “Go away!” and turned round to try to find some corner in
which to hide, while the other person went round the house still crying
and rubbing against the wall. Ulrich went to the oak sideboard, which
was full of plates and dishes and of provisions, and lifting it up
with superhuman strength, he dragged it to the door, so as to form a
barricade. Then piling up all the rest of the furniture, the mattresses,
palliasses and chairs, he stopped up the windows as one does when
assailed by an enemy.

But the person outside now uttered long, plaintive, mournful groans, to
which the young man replied by similar groans, and thus days and
nights passed without their ceasing to howl at each other. The one was
continually walking round the house and scraped the walls with his nails
so vigorously that it seemed as if he wished to destroy them, while the
other, inside, followed all his movements, stooping down and holding his
ear to the walls and replying to all his appeals with terrible cries.
One evening, however, Ulrich heard nothing more, and he sat down, so
overcome by fatigue, that he went to sleep immediately and awoke in
the morning without a thought, without any recollection of what had
happened, just as if his head had been emptied during his heavy sleep,
but he felt hungry, and he ate.

The winter was over and the Gemmi Pass was practicable again, so the
Hauser family started off to return to their inn. As soon as they had
reached the top of the ascent the women mounted their mule and spoke
about the two men whom they would meet again shortly. They were, indeed,
rather surprised that neither of them had come down a few days before,
as soon as the road was open, in order to tell them all about their long
winter sojourn. At last, however, they saw the inn, still covered with
snow, like a quilt. The door and the window were closed, but a little
smoke was coming out of the chimney, which reassured old Hauser. On
going up to the door, however, he saw the skeleton of an animal which
had been torn to pieces by the eagles, a large skeleton lying on its
side.

They all looked close at it and the mother said:

“That must be Sam,” and then she shouted: “Hi, Gaspard!” A cry from the
interior of the house answered her and a sharp cry that one might have
thought some animal had uttered it. Old Hauser repeated, “Hi, Gaspard!”
 and they heard another cry similar to the first.

Then the three men, the father and the two sons, tried to open the door,
but it resisted their efforts. From the empty cow-stall they took a
beam to serve as a battering-ram and hurled it against the door with all
their might. The wood gave way and the boards flew into splinters. Then
the house was shaken by a loud voice, and inside, behind the side board
which was overturned, they saw a man standing upright, with his hair
falling on his shoulders and a beard descending to his breast, with
shining eyes, and nothing but rags to cover him. They did not recognize
him, but Louise Hauser exclaimed:

“It is Ulrich, mother.” And her mother declared that it was Ulrich,
although his hair was white.

He allowed them to go up to him and to touch him, but he did not reply
to any of their questions, and they were obliged to take him to Loeche,
where the doctors found that he was mad, and nobody ever found out what
had become of his companion.

Little Louise Hauser nearly died that summer of decline, which the
physicians attributed to the cold air of the mountains.
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes