The Story of a Farm Girl Page #5

"The Story of a Farm Girl" by Guy de Maupassant is a poignant short story that explores the life of a young farm girl, reflecting on her experiences, dreams, and the harsh realities of rural existence. Through her eyes, Maupassant delves into themes of love, longing, and the burdens of societal expectations. The narrative captures the essence of rural life in 19th-century France, highlighting the contrast between innocence and the often harsh truths of adulthood. Maupassant's keen observational skills and rich character development invite readers to empathize with the protagonist's struggles and aspirations.

								


They lived together as man and wife, and one morning he said to her: “I
have put up our banns, and we will get married next month.”

She did not reply, for what could she say? She did not resist, for what
could she do?

PART IV

She married him. She felt as if she were in a pit with inaccessible
sides from which she could never get out, and all kinds of misfortunes
were hanging over her head, like huge rocks, which would fall on the
first occasion. Her husband gave her the impression of a man whom she
had robbed, and who would find it out some day or other. And then she
thought of her child, who was the cause of her misfortunes, but who was
also the cause of all her happiness on earth, and whom she went to see
twice a year, though she came back more unhappy each time.

But she gradually grew accustomed to her life, her fears were allayed,
her heart was at rest, and she lived with an easier mind, though still
with some vague fear floating in it. And so years went on, until the
child was six. She was almost happy now, when suddenly the farmer's
temper grew very bad.

For two or three years he seemed to have been nursing some secret
anxiety, to be troubled by some care, some mental disturbance, which was
gradually increasing. He remained sitting at table after dinner, with
his head in his hands, sad and devoured by sorrow. He always spoke
hastily, sometimes even brutally, and it even seemed as if he had a
grudge against his wife, for at times he answered her roughly, almost
angrily.

One day, when a neighbor's boy came for some eggs, and she spoke rather
crossly to him, as she was very busy, her husband suddenly came in and
said to her in his unpleasant voice: “If that were your own child you
would not treat him so.” She was hurt and did not reply, and then she
went back into the house, with all her grief awakened afresh; and at
dinner the farmer neither spoke to her nor looked at her, and he seemed
to hate her, to despise her, to know something about the affair at last.
In consequence she lost her composure, and did not venture to remain
alone with him after the meal was over, but left the room and hastened
to the church.

It was getting dusk; the narrow nave was in total darkness, but she
heard footsteps in the choir, for the sacristan was preparing the
tabernacle lamp for the night. That spot of trembling light, which was
lost in the darkness of the arches, looked to Rose like her last hope,
and with her eyes fixed on it, she fell on her knees. The chain rattled
as the little lamp swung up into the air, and almost immediately the
small bell rang out the Angelus through the increasing mist. She went up
to him, as he was going out.

“Is Monsieur le Cure at home?” she asked. “Of course he is; this is his
dinnertime.” She trembled as she rang the bell of the parsonage. The
priest was just sitting down to dinner, and he made her sit down also.
“Yes, yes, I know all about it; your husband has mentioned the matter to
me that brings you here.” The poor woman nearly fainted, and the priest
continued: “What do you want, my child?” And he hastily swallowed
several spoonfuls of soup, some of which dropped on to his greasy
cassock. But Rose did not venture to say anything more, and she got up
to go, but the priest said: “Courage.”

And she went out and returned to the farm without knowing what she was
doing. The farmer was waiting for her, as the laborers had gone away
during her absence, and she fell heavily at his feet, and, shedding a
flood of tears, she said to him: “What have you got against me?”

He began to shout and to swear: “What have I got against you? That I
have no children, by---. When a man takes a wife it is not that they
may live alone together to the end of their days. That is what I have
against you. When a cow has no calves she is not worth anything, and
when a woman has no children she is also not worth anything.”

She began to cry, and said: “It is not my fault! It is not my fault!”
 He grew rather more gentle when he heard that, and added: “I do not say
that it is, but it is very provoking, all the same.”

PART V

From that day forward she had only one thought: to have a child another
child; she confided her wish to everybody, and, in consequence of this,
a neighbor told her of an infallible method. This was, to make her
husband drink a glass of water with a pinch of ashes in it every
evening. The farmer consented to try it, but without success; so they
said to each other: “Perhaps there are some secret ways?” And they tried
to find out. They were told of a shepherd who lived ten leagues off, and
so Vallin one day drove off to consult him. The shepherd gave him a loaf
on which he had made some marks; it was kneaded up with herbs, and each
of them was to eat a piece of it, but they ate the whole loaf without
obtaining any results from it.

Next, a schoolmaster unveiled mysteries and processes of love which were
unknown in the country, but infallible, so he declared; but none of
them had the desired effect. Then the priest advised them to make
a pilgrimage to the shrine at Fecamp. Rose went with the crowd and
prostrated herself in the abbey, and, mingling her prayers with the
coarse desires of the peasants around her, she prayed that she might be
fruitful a second time; but it was in vain, and then she thought that
she was being punished for her first fault, and she was seized by
terrible grief. She was wasting away with sorrow; her husband was also
aging prematurely, and was wearing himself out in useless hopes.

Then war broke out between them; he called her names and beat her. They
quarrelled all day long, and when they were in their room together at
night he flung insults and obscenities at her, choking with rage, until
one night, not being able to think of any means of making her suffer
more he ordered her to get up and go and stand out of doors in the rain
until daylight. As she did not obey him, he seized her by the neck and
began to strike her in the face with his fists, but she said nothing
and did not move. In his exasperation he knelt on her stomach, and with
clenched teeth, and mad with rage, he began to beat her. Then in her
despair she rebelled, and flinging him against the wall with a furious
gesture, she sat up, and in an altered voice she hissed: “I have had
a child, I have had one! I had it by Jacques; you know Jacques. He
promised to marry me, but he left this neighborhood without keeping his
word.”

The man was thunderstruck and could hardly speak, but at last he
stammered out: “What are you saying? What are you saying?” Then she
began to sob, and amid her tears she continued: “That was the reason why
I did not want to marry you. I could not tell you, for you would have
left me without any bread for my child. You have never had any children,
so you cannot understand, you cannot understand!”

He said again, mechanically, with increasing surprise: “You have a
child? You have a child?”

“You took me by force, as I suppose you know? I did not want to marry
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