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Selected Writings-Part28_Guy De Maupassant(1850-1893)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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"I gave orders for the horses to be put back into the stable, and

I sent my two soldiers to meet the others, and returned to the



house. Then the cure, Marchas and I took a mattress into the room

to put the wounded man on; the Sister tore up a table napkin in



order to make lint, while the three frightened women remained

huddled up in a corner.



"Soon I heard the rattle of sabers on the road, and I took a

candle to show a light to the men who were returning. They soon



appeared, carrying that inert, soft, long, and sinister object

which a human body becomes when life no longer sustains it.



"They put the wounded man on the mattress that had been prepared

for him, and I saw at the first glance that he was dying. He had



the death rattle, and was spitting up blood which ran out of the

corners of his mouth, forced out of his lungs by his gasps. The



man was covered with it! His cheeks, his beard, his hair, his

neck, and his clothes seemed to have been rubbed, to have been



dipped in a red tub; the blood had congealed on him, and had

become a dull color which was horrible to look at.



"The old man, wrapped up in a large shepherd's cloak,

occasionally opened his dull, vacant eyes. They seemed stupid



with astonishment, like the eyes of hunted animals which fall at

the sportsman's feet, half dead before the shot, stupefied with



fear and surprise.

"The cure exclaimed: 'Ah! there is old Placide, the shepherd from



Les Marlins. He is deaf, poor man, and heard nothing. Ah! Oh,

God! they have killed the unhappy man!' The Sister had opened



his blouse and shirt and was looking at a little blue hole in

the middle of his chest, which was not bleeding any more. 'There



is nothing to be done,' she said.

"The shepherd was gasping terribly and bringing up blood with



every breath. In his throat to the very depth of his lungs, they

could hear an ominous and continued gurgling. The cure, standing



in front of him, raised his right hand, made the sign of the

cross, and in a slow and solemn voice pronounced the Latin words



which purify men's souls. But before they were finished, the old

man was shaken by a rapid shudder, as if something had broken



inside him; he no longer breathed. He was dead.

"When I turned round I saw a sight which was even more horrible



than the death struggle of this unfortunate man. The three old

women were standing up huddled close together, hideous, and



grimacing with fear and horror. I went up to them, and they began

to utter shrill screams, while La Jean-Jean, whose leg had been



burned and could not longer support her, fell to the ground at

full length.



"Sister Saint-Benedict left the dead man, ran up to her infirm

old women, and without a word or a look for me wrapped their



shawls round them, gave them their crutches, pushed them to the

door, made them go out, and disappeared with them into the dark



night.

"I saw that I could not even let a hussar accompany them, for the



mere rattle of a sword would have sent them mad with fear.

"The cure was still looking at the dead man; but at last he



turned to me and said:

" 'Oh! What a horrible thing!' "



SIMON'S PAPA

Noon had just struck. The school-door opened and the youngsters



streamed out tumbling over one another in their haste to get out

quickly. But instead of promptly dispersing and going home to



dinner as was their daily wont, they stopped a few paces off,

broke up into knots and set to whispering.



The fact was that that morning Simon, the son of La Blanchotte,

had, for the first time, attended school.



They had all of them in their families heard of La Blanchotte;

and although in public she was welcome enough, the mothers among



themselves treated her with compassion of a some what disdainful

kind, which the children had caught without in the least knowing



why.

As for Simon himself, they did not know him, for he never went



abroad, and did not play around with them through the streets of

the village or along the banks of the river. So they loved him



but little; and it was with a certain delight, mingled with

astonishment that they gathered in groups this morning, repeating



to each other this sentence, concocted by a lad of fourteen or

fifteen who appeared to know all about it, so sagaciously did he



wink: "You know Simon --well, he has no papa."




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