Violated Page #2

"Violated" is a short story by Guy de Maupassant that explores themes of betrayal, desire, and the consequences of infidelity. Set in the context of a turbulent romantic affair, the narrative delves into the emotional turmoil faced by the characters as their illicit relationship unfolds. Maupassant's sharp observations of human nature and societal norms highlight the complexities of love and morality, leaving readers to reflect on the boundaries of passion and the repercussions of crossing them. The story is a poignant exploration of the darker aspects of human relationships, showcasing the author’s masterful ability to convey intense psychological depth within a compact narrative.

• Short story

								

alive, and my whole being was in a vibration and expansion, just as if I
had been smoking hashecah.

"Of course! That was it; I was dreaming while I was awake; but I saw the
door open and the marchioness come in, who had stepped down, out of her
frame. She had taken off her furbelows, and was in her nightgown. Her
high head-dress was replaced by a simple knot of ribbon, which confined
her powdered hair into a small chignon, but I recognized her quite
plainly, by the trembling light of the candle which she was carrying. It
was her face with its piercing eyes, its pointed nose and its smiling
and sensual mouth. She did not look so young to me as she appeared in
her portrait. Bah! Perhaps that was merely caused by the feeble,
flickering light! But I had not even time to account for it, not to
reflect on the strangeness of the sight, nor to discuss the matter with
myself and to say: 'Am I dead drunk, or is it a ghost?'

"No, I had no time, and that is the fact, for the candle was suddenly
blown out and the marchioness was in my bed and holding me in her arms,
and one fixed idea, the only one that I had, haunted me, which was:

"'Had the marchioness good limbs, and was she still frisky at seventy?'
And I did not care much if she was seventy and if she was a ghost or
not; I only thought of one thing: 'Has she really good limbs?'"

"By Jove, yes! She did not speak. Oh, marchioness! marchioness! And
suddenly in spite of myself and to convince myself that it was not a
mere fantastic dream, I exclaimed:

"'Why, good heavens! I am not dreaming!'

"'No, you are not dreaming,' two lips replied, trying to press
themselves against mine.

"But, oh! horror! The mouth smelt of cigars and brandy! The voice was
that of the little old man!

"With a bound I sent him flying on to the ground, and jumped out of bed,
shouting:

"'Beast! beast!'

"Then I heard the door slam, and bare feet pattering on the stairs as he
ran away; so I dressed hastily in the dark and went downstairs, still
shouting.

"In the hall below, where I could see through the upper windows that the
dawn was breaking, I met the broad-shouldered footman, who was holding a
great cudgel in his hand. He was bawling also, in Breton, and pointed to
the open door, outside where my dog was waiting. What could I say to
this savage who did not speak French? Should I face his cudgel? There
was no reason for doing so; and besides, I was even more ashamed than
furious; so I hastily took up my gun and my game-bag, which were in the
hall, and went off without turning round.

"Disgusted with sport in that part of the country, I returned to Brest
the same day, and there, timidly and with many precautions, I tried to
find out something about the little old man....

"'Oh, I know!' somebody replied at last to my question; 'you are
speaking of the manor-house at Hervénidozse, where the old countess
lives, who dresses like a man and sleeps with her coachman.'

"And with a deep sigh of relief, and much to the astonishment of my
informant, I replied:

"'Oh! so much the better!'"
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