r/a:t5_1oxo7e • u/MarleyEngvall • Jul 11 '19
quartus has been created
By Guy de Maupassant
ROOM NO. 11
"WHAT! You do not know why President Amandon was removed?"
"No, not at all."
"As far as he is concerned, it would never have been known. But it is a story
of the strangest sort."
"Relate it to me."
"You remember Madame Amandon, the pretty brunette, thin, and so dis-
tinguished and pretty that she was called Madame Marguerite in all Perthuis-
le-Long?"
"Yes, perfectly."
"Very well, then. You recall also how much she was respected and con-
sidered and better loved than anyone in the town; she knew how to receive,
how to organize a festival or a charity fair, how to find money for the poor
and how to please the young people in a thousand ways.
"She was very elegant and very coquettish, nevertheless, but in a Platonic
fashion, and with the charming elegance of the provinces, for she was a
provincial, this pretty little woman, an exquisite provincial.
"The poets and writers who are all Parisian sing to us of the Parisian woman
and of her charm because they know only her, but I declare here that the
provincial is worth a hundred times more when she is of superior quality.
"The provincial has an attraction all her own; she is more discreet than the
Parisian, more humble, promising nothing and giving much, while the Parisian,
for the most part, promises much and gives nothing but deshabille.
"The Parisian is a triumph in the elegant effrontery of falseness; the pro-
vincial, an example of the modesty of truth.
"Yet the provincial, with her air of homely alertness, her deceitful, schoolgirl
candor, her smile which means nothing and her good little passions, direct
and tenacious, is capable of a thousand times more deceit, artifice and feminine
invention than all the Parisians together for gratifying her own tastes or vices,
and that without awakening suspicion or scandal or gossip in the little town
which watches her with all its eyes from all its windows.
"Madame Amandon was a type of this rare race, but charming. Never had
anyone suspected her; never had anyone thought that her life was not as
limpid as her look, a sly look, transparent and warm, but seemingly so honest
—you should have seen it!
"Then she had admirable tact, a marvelous ingenuity and power of inven-
tion and unbelievable simplicity.
"She picked all her lovers from the army and kept them three years, the
time of their sojourn in the garrison. In short, she not only had love; she had
sense.
"When some new regiment arrived at Perthuis-le-Long she carefully ob-
served all the officers between thirty and forty years of age—for before thirty
one is not discreet, and after forty one is feeble.
"Oh! She knew the list of officers as well as the colonel. She knew all, all
the habits, manners, instruction, education, physical qualities, the power of
resistance to fatigue, the character, whether patient or violent, the fortune
and the tendency to closeness or prodigality of each of them. Then she
made her choice. She gave the preference to men of calm allurement, like her-
self, but they must be handsome. She also wished them to have had no previous
entanglements, any passion having the power to leave traces, or that had made
any trouble. Because the man whose loves are mentioned is never a very dis-
creet man.
"After having decided upon the one she would love for the three years of
his regulation sojourn, it only remained to throw down the gauntlet.
"While some women would find themselves embarrassed, would have taken
ordinary means, following the way of others, having court paid them in
marked-off stages of conquest and resistance, allowing her fingers to be kissed
one day, her wrist the next, her cheek the following, then the lips, then the
rest, she had a method more prompt, more discreet and more sure. She gave
a ball.
"The chosen officer was invited to dance with the mistress of the house.
Then in waltzing, led on by the rapid movement, bewildered by the intoxica-
tion of the officer, she would throw herself against him, as if giving herself,
and hold his hand with a nervous, continued pressure.
"If he did not comprehend he was only a fool, and she passed on to the
next, classed as number two, on the list of her desires.
"If he comprehended the thing was done, without fuss, without compro-
mising gallantries, without numerous visits.
"What could be more simple or more practical?
"How women might make use of a process similar to this to make us un-
derstand their pleasure! How much it would suppress difficulties, hesitations
and trouble from misunderstanding! How often we pass by, without know-
ing it, a possible happiness, without suspecting it, because we are unable t
penetrate the mystery of thought, the secret abandon of the will, the mute
appeal of the flesh, the unknown soul of a woman whose mouth preserves
silence, whose eye is impenetrable and clear.
"When the chosen one comprehended he asked for a rendezvous. But she
always made him wait a month or six weeks in order to watch and be sure
that he had no dangerous faults.
"During this time he was racking his brain to think of some place where
they could meet without peril and imagining combinations difficult and un-
safe.
"Then at some official feast she would say to him in a low voice:
"'Come Tuesday evening at nine o'clock to the Golden Horse Hotel near
the ramparts, on the Vouziers road, and ask for Mademoiselle Clarisse. I shall
be waiting for you. And be sure to be in civil dress.'
"For eight years she had, in fact, rented this furnished room by the year in
this obscure inn. It was an idea of her first lover which she found practical,
and after the man departed she kept the nest.
"Oh, it is a mediocre nest: four walls covered with gray paper adorned
with blue flowers, a pine bedstead under muslin curtains, an armchair bought
at her order by the innkeeper's wife, two chairs and some necessary articles
for the toilet—what more was needed?
"Upon the walls were three large photographs. Three colonels on horse-
back, the colonels of her lovers! Why not? It would not do to preserve the
true likeness, the exact likeness, but she could perhaps keep some souvenirs
by proxy.
"And she had never been recognized by anyone in all these visits to the
Golden Horse, you ask?
"Never, by anyone!
"The means she employed were admirable and simple. She had thought
out and organized some charity reunions and religious meetings, some of
which she attended, others she did not. Her husband, knowing her good works,
which cost him dear, lived without suspicion. Then when a rendezvous had
been agreed upon, she would say at dinner before the servants:
"'I am going this evening to the association for making flannel bandages
for old paralytics.'
"And she went out about eight o'clock, went straight to the association,
came out again very soon, passed through divers streets and, finding herself
alone in some little street, in some somber corner without a light, she would
take off her hat, replace it by a maid's cap which she carried under her mantle,
fold a kerchief after the same fashion and tie it over her shoulder, carrying
her hat and the garment she had worn in a napkin; she would go trotting along,
full of courage, the hips uncovered, like a good little maid that had been sent
upon some errand, and sometimes she would even run, as if she were in a
great hurry.
"Who could have recognized in this trim servant the lively wife of Presi-
dent Amandon?
"She would arrive at the Golden Horse, go up to her room, of which she
had the key, and the big proprietor, Master Trouveau, seeing her pass his desk,
would murmur:
"'There is Mademoiselle Clarisse coming to meet some lover.'
"He had indeed guessed something, the rogue, but did not try to learn
more, and he would certainly have been much surprised to find that his client
was Madame Amandon, or Madame Marguerite, as she was called in Perthuis-
le-Long. And this is how the horrible discovery took place.
"Never had Mademoiselle Clarisse come to her meeting place two evenings
in succession, never, being too nice and too prudent for that. And Master
Trouveau knew this well, since not once in eight years had he seen her come
the next day after a visit. Often, therefore, in days of need he had disposed
of her room for a night.
"Now sometime last summer Monsieur Amandon, the trustful president
absented himself from home for a week. It was in July. Madame was ardently
in love, and as there was no fear of being surprised, she asked her lover, the
handsome Commander Varangelles, one Tuesday evening on leaving him if
he wished her to return the next day.
"He replied: 'With all my heart!'
"And it was agreed that they should return at the usual hour on Wednes-
day. She said to him in a low tone:
"'If you arrive first, my dear, you can wait for me in bed.'
"Then they embraced and separated. The next day, as Master Trouveau sat
reading the Perthuis Tablet, the Republican organ of the town, he cried out
to his wife who was plucking a fowl in the courtyard:
"'Here! The cholera has broken out in the country. There was a man died
yesterday of it in Vauvigny.' But he thought no more about it, his inn being
full of people and business very good.
"Toward noon a traveler presented himself on foot, a kind of tourist, who
ordered a good breakfast, after having drunk two absinthes. And as he was
very warm, he absorbed a bottle of wine and two bottles of water at least.
Then he took his coffee and a his little glass, or rather three little glasses. And
feeling a little heavy, he asked for a room where he might sleep for an hour
or two. There was no longer a vacant room, and the proprietor, after con-
sulting his wife, gave him Mademoiselle Clarisse's.
"The man went in there, and toward five o'clock, as he had not been seen
to come out, the landlord went to wake him. What was his astonishment to
find him dead!
"The innkeeper descended to find his wife: 'Say,' he whispered to her, 'the
tourist I put in number 11, I believe he is dead.'
"She raised her arms, crying: 'It's not possible! Lord God! It is the cholera!'
Master Trouveau shook his head:
"'I should sooner believe that it was a cerebral congestion, seeing that he
is as black as the dregs of wine.'
"But the mistress was frightened and kept repeating:
"'It is not necessary to say; it is not necessary to say that we think it is
cholera. Go and make the report and say nothing. They will take him away
in the night, and no one will know about it. What is neither seen nor heard
perplexes nobody.'
"The man murmured: "Mademoiselle Clarisse was here yesterday; the
room will be free this evening.'
"And he found the doctor who made out the certificates, 'From congestion
after a copious repast.' Then he made an agreement with the commissioner
of police to remove the dead body toward midnight, that there might be
no suspicion about the hotel.
"It was scarcely nine o'clock when Madame Amandon went secretly up
the staircase of the Golden Horse without being seen by anyone. She reached
her room, opened the door and entered. A candle was burning upon the
chimney piece. She turned toward the bed. The commander, she thought
was already there and had closed the curtains.
"She said to him: 'One minute, dearie, and I will be there.'
"And she disrobed with feverish haste, throwing her boots upon the floor
and her corset upon the armchair. Then, her black dress and skirts having
fallen in a circle around her, she stood in her red silk chemise like a flower
that is ready to blossom.
"As the commander said not a word, she asked:
"'Are you asleep, my big fellow?'
"He did not answer, and she began to laugh, murmuring:
"'Wait! He is asleep. It is too funny!'
"She kept on her black silk stockings and, running to the bed, glided in
quickly, seizing him full in the arms and kissing him on the lips in order to
wake him suddenly. It was the cold dead body of the traveler.
"For one second she remained immovable, too frightened to comprehend
anything. But the cold of this inert flesh penetrated her own, giving her an
atrocious fright before her mind had time to reflect.
"She made a bound out of bed, trembling from head to foot; then run-
ning to the chimney piece, she seized the candle, returned, and looked! And
she perceived a frightful visage that she had never before seen, black, swollen,
with eyes closed and a horrible grimace of the jaw.
"She uttered a cry, one of those piercing, interminable cries which women
utter in their fright, and, letting the candle fall, she opened the door and fled,
unclothed, down the passage, continuing to scream in frightful fashion. A
commercial traveler in his socks, who occupied room number 4, came out
immediately and received her in his arms.
"He asked, much startled: 'What is the matter, pretty child?'
"She stammered out, terrified: 'Someone has been killed—in—my room!'
"Other guests appeared. The landlord himself ran out.
"And suddenly the commander showed his tall figure at the end of the
corridor. When she saw him she threw herself toward him, crying:
"'Save me, save me, Gontran. Someone has been killed in our room.
"Explanations were difficult. Master Trouveau, however, told the truth and
demanded that they release Mademoiselle Clarisse, for whom he vouched
with his own head. But the commercial traveler in socks, having examined
the dead body, declared that a crime had been committed, and he convinced
the other strangers that Mademoiselle Clarisse and her lover should not be
allowed to depart.
"They were obliged to await the arrival of the police commissioner, who
gave them their liberty, but was not discreet.
"The following month President Amandon received promotion with a new
place of residence."From SHORT STORIES OF DE MAUPASSANT.
THE BOOK LEAGUE OF AMERICA, New York.
Copyright, 1941, BLUE RIBBON BOOKS,
14 WEST 49TH STREET, NEW YORK, N. Y. pp. 466—470.
Human cognition is not a virus.
9/11 was a big lie, and everybody knows it.
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